re kindness, or pretended friendship,
than I thought him capable of, and invited me into his private room, an
apartment about the size of a sugar box, and about as rough. It
contained two chairs, a desk, and a pair of old boots, much the worse
for wear.

Upon the rough wall of the office was a portrait of Queen Victoria in
her coronation robes, done in yellow, and dear at any price. On the desk
was a print of Hobart Town, and beneath it was a black profile of the
commissioner; at least, he informed me that it was intended as a
surprising likeness of him, but I thought it would astonish no one but
his mother, in case the old lady ever saw it. It was cut from a piece of
black paper by a man who was before him for being drunk, and had no
funds to pay his fine, and so thought to conciliate his judge, which he
succeeded in doing, if report was true.

After I had sufficiently admired the contour of the head, and the other
striking features of the paper counterfeit, Mr. Sherwin invited me to be
seated, and asked what I would "take," and appeared to be somewhat
surprised when I told him that I didn't care about drinking.

Notwithstanding my refusal, the commissioner unlocked his desk and took
out two very dirty wine glasses, and then displayed, with a solemn
flourish, a black bottle partly filled with a dark liquid which he
called wine; but I would have sworn, without tasting that it was bilge
water.

"Now," said Mr. Sherwin, waving me to a seat opposite to the desk, "we
can be comfortable and chatty. We have wine and good fellowship, and
what more can we desire?

"And how is our friend Frederick?" the commissioner inquired, after
filling the glasses and re-corking the bottle, as though he feared the
strength of the black stuff would evaporate if left exposed to the air.

I replied that my friend and companion was as "well as could be
expected" with such an accusation hanging over his head, and that he
would have accompanied me had his presence not have been needed at the
store to wait on customers, and to attend to the wants of the wounded
man, Mr. Critchet.

"Don't give yourselves any uneasiness on that silly charge," the
commissioner said, with a smile that was intended to be engaging, but I
shuddered at it, it was so cold and fiendish. "I am perfectly satisfied
that Follet lied to me, and any time you wish to proceed against him for
perjury I will grant a warrant, and will also release you and your
friend from bail