til the end of September he used the
world as if it were his.

But then, a change came o'er the spirit of his red mustaches. They
ceased to sport about his nose. They were distinctly less playful than
they had been, and by degrees they became positively stiff. In the mean
time, Mr. Gallivant had returned to his law office. He had also gone
back to live in Harlem, and one night last December he shut himself in
his room--a hall bed-chamber on the third floor, rear--sat himself upon
the only chair at hand, stretched his legs in front of him, thrust his
hands in his pockets, and murmured:

"I feel curiously like writing an essay on the 'Vanity of Human Wishes'!

"Let me see, let me see," he continued in a ruminating tone, "what's to
be done?"

[Illustration: "LET ME SEE--WHAT'S TO BE DONE?"]

He ran his hands through his pockets and produced a handful of change.
Inspired by this success he rose and went to the closet and continued
his search through a choice collection of coats, waistcoats, and
trowsers that hung upon its hooks. "Nine dollars and seventy-six cents!"
he said, when he had counted the proceeds of his investigation. "Well,
I've had a great variety of ups and downs in my short but checkered
career, but I never thought the sum total of my cash assets would be
expressed in nine dollars and seventy-six cents! After all, life is but
an insubstantial pageant, so I think I'll take a pony of brandy and go
to bed."

The next day Mr. Gallivant was at his office bright and early. His face
shone with its perennial radiance, but his mustache told a cheerless
tale. Mr. Gallivant had a number of principles. That which led all the
rest was his steadfast refusal to borrow money. He sat down to the
contemplation of ways and means, therefore, without the usual recourse
taken by impecunious gentlemen with a large circle of wealthy
acquaintances to relieve temporary embarrassments. He drew his
check-book from his desk and made a careful calculation. "There's the
judgment and costs in the Gauber case," he said, "the interest of
Robbins's mortgage, the $3000 paid to settle Riker _vs._ Buckmaster,
and the money Hunt paid my client Frabsley. Deduct these from my balance
in bank, and I have left of my own money the munificent sum of $2.17.
There's no way out of it--I must draw on Thwicket!"

It must be owned that in the privacy of his office this conclusion
brought something very like a frown upon Mr. Gallivant's brow. "It'll
r