ard to a supper of steak and
onions, with bottled stout, on a Saturday night, as a great treat, now
finds one hundred pounds a month insufficient to pay her wine merchant
and her confectioner. I am obliged to deal with each case according to
its peculiarities. Genuine undeserved Ruin seldom knocks at my doer. Mine
is a perpetual battle with people who imbibe trickery at the same rate as
they dissolve their fortunes. I am a hard man, of course. I should not be
fit for my pursuit if I were not; but when, by a remote chance, honest
misfortune pays me a visit, as Rothschilds amused himself at times by
giving a beggar a guinea, so I occasionally treat myself to the luxury of
doing a kind action. My favorite subjects for this unnatural generosity,
are the very young or the poor, innocent, helpless people, who are unfit
for the war of life. Many among my clients (especially those tempered in
the "ice book" of fashion and high-life--polished and passionless) would
be too much for me, if I had not made the face, the eye, the accent, as
much my study as the mere legal and financial points of discount To show
what I mean, I will relate what happened to me not long since:--

One day, a middle-aged man in the usual costume of a West-End shopman,
who had sent in his name as Mr. Axminster, was shown into my private
room. After a little hesitation, he said, "Although you do not know me,
living at this end of the town, I know you very well by reputation, and
that you discount bills. I have a bill here which I want to get
discounted. I am in the employ of Messrs. Russle and Smooth. The bill is
drawn by one of our best customers, the Hon. Miss Snape, niece of Lord
Blimley, and accepted by Major Munge, whom, no doubt, you know by name.
She has dealt with us for some years--is very, very extravagant; but
always pays." He put the acceptance--which was for two hundred
pounds--into my hands.

I looked at it as scrutinizingly as I usually do at such paper The
Major's signature was familiar to me; but having succeeded to a great
estate, he had long ceased to be a customer. I instantly detected a
forgery; by whom?--was the question. Could it be the man before me?
Experience told me it was not. Perhaps there was something in the
expression of my countenance which Mr. Axminster did not like, for he
said, "It is good for the amount, I presume?"

I replied, "Pray, sir, from whom did you get this bill?"

"From Miss Snape herself."

"Have you circ