watch, etc., and a few rascally counters in my pocket. Was
soon obliged to sell my horse, and live on the proceeds.
Still straitened for cash, I sold my watch, and made a shift
to get home, where my friends supplied me with another horse
and another watch. My horse is sold again, and my watch
goes, I expect, this week; thus you see how I lay up cash."

How like him! To another college friend, James Hervey Bingham, whom he
calls, by turns, "brother Jemmy," "Jemmy Hervey," and "Bingham," he
discourses thus:

"Perhaps you thought, as I did, that a dozen dollars would
slide out of the pocket in a Commencement jaunt much easier
than they would slide in again after you got home. That was
the exact reason why I was not there.... I flatter myself
that none of my friends ever thought me greatly absorbed in
the sin of avarice, yet I assure you, Jem, that in these
days of poverty I look upon a round dollar with a great deal
of complacency. These rascal dollars are so necessary to the
comfort of life, that next to a fine wife they are most
essential, and their acquisition an object of prime
importance. O Bingham, how blessed it would be to retire
with a decent, clever bag of Rixes to a pleasant country
town, and follow one's own inclination without being
shackled by the duties of a profession!"

To the same friend, whom he now addresses as "dear Squire," he
announces joyfully a wondrous piece of luck:

"My expenses [to Albany] were all amply paid, and on my
return I put my hand in my pocket and found one hundred and
twenty dear delightfuls! Is not that good luck? And these
dear delightfuls were, 'pon honor, all my own; yes, every
dog of them!"

To which we may add from another source, that they were straightway
transferred to his father, to whom they were dear delightfuls indeed,
for he was really getting to the end of his tether.

The schoolmaster lived, it appears, on the easiest terms with his
pupils, some of whom were older than himself. He tells a story of
falling in with one of them on his journey to school, who was mounted
"on the ugliest horse I ever saw or heard of, except Sancho Panza's
pacer." The schoolmaster having two good horses, the pupil mounted one
of them, strapped his bag to his own forlorn animal and drove him
before, where his odd gait and frequent stumblings kept them amused.
At