persuasion, and had been taken into partnership by Brough for a matter of thirty thousand pounds: and a very good bargain too.  I was told in the strictest confidence that the house one year with another divided a good seven thousand pounds: of which Brough had half, Hoff two-sixths, and the other sixth went to old Tudlow, who had been Mr. Brough’s clerk before the new partnership began.  Tudlow always went about very shabby, and we thought him an old miser.  One of our gents, Bob Swinney by name, used to say that Tudlow’s share was all nonsense, and that Brough had it all; but Bob was always too knowing by half, used to wear a green cutaway coat, and had his free admission to Covent Garden Theatre.  He was always talking down at the shop, as we called it (it wasn’t a shop, but as splendid an office as any in Cornhill)—he was always talking about Vestris and Miss Tree, and singing

“The bramble, the bramble,
The jolly jolly bramble!”

one of Charles Kemble’s famous songs in “Maid Marian;” a play that was all the rage then, taken from a famous story-book by one Peacock, a clerk in the India House; and a precious good place he has too.

When Brough heard how Master Swinney abused him, and had his admission to the theatre, he came one day down to the office where we all were, four-and-twenty of us, and made one of the most beautiful speeches I ever heard in my life.  He said that for slander he did not care, contumely was the lot of every public man who had austere principles of his own, and acted by them austerely; but what he did care for was the character of every single gentleman forming a part of the Independent West Diddlesex Association.  The welfare of thousands was in their keeping; millions of money were daily passing through their hands; the City—the country looked upon them for order, honesty, and good example.  And if he found amongst those whom he considered as his children—those whom he loved as his own flesh and blood—that that order was departed from, that that regularity was not maintained, that that good example was not kept up (Mr. B. always spoke in this emphatic way)—if he found his children departing from the wholesome rules of morality, religion, and decorum—if he found in high or low—in the head clerk at six hundred a year down to the porter who cleaned the steps—if he found the slightest taint of dissipation, he would cast the offender from him—yea, though he were his own son, he would cast him from him!

As he spoke this, Mr. Brough burst into tears; and we who didn’t know what was coming, looked at each other as pale as parsnips: all except Swinney, who was twelfth clerk, and made believe to whistle.  When Mr. B. had wiped his eyes and recovered himself, he turned round; and oh, how my heart thumped as he looked me full in the face!  How it was relieved, though, when he shouted out in a thundering voice—

“Mr. Robert Swinney!”

“Sir to you,” says Swinney, as cool as possible, and some of the chaps began to titter.

“Mr. Swinney!” roared Brough, in a voice still bigger than before, “when you came into this office—this family, sir, for such it is, as I am proud to say—you found three-and-twenty as pious and well-regulated young men as ever laboured together—as ever had confided to them the wealth of this mighty capital and famous empire.  You found, sir, sobriety, regularity, and decorum; no profane songs were uttered in this place sacred to—to business; no slanders were whispered against the heads of the establishment—but over them I pass: I can afford, sir, to pass them by—no worldly conversation or foul jesting disturbed the attention of these gentlemen, or desecrated the peaceful scene of their labours.  You found Christians and gentlemen, sir!”

“I paid for my place like the rest,” said Swinney.  “Didn’t my governor take sha-?”

“Silence, sir!  Your worthy father did take shares in this establishment, which will yield him one day an immense profit.  He did take shares, sir, or you never would have been here.  I glory in saying that every one of my young friends around me has a father, a brother, a dear relative or friend, who is connected in a similar way with our glorious enterprise; and that not one of them is there but has an interest in procuring, at a liberal commission, other persons to join the ranks of our Association.  But, sir, I am its chief.  You will find, sir, your appointment signed by me; and in like manner, I, John Brough, annul it.  Go from us, sir!—leave us—quit a family that can no longer receive you in its bosom!  Mr. Swinney, I have wept—I have prayed, sir, before I came to this determination; I have taken counsel, sir, and am resolved.  Depart from out of us!

“Not without three months’ salary, though, Mr. B.: that cock won’t fight!”

“They shall be paid to your father, sir.”

“My father be hanged!  I tell you what, Brough, I’m of age; and if you don’t pay me my salary, I’ll arrest you,—by Jingo, I will!  I’ll have you in quod, or my name’s not Bob Swinney!”

“Make out a cheque, Mr. Roundhand, for the three months’ salary of this perverted young man.”

“Twenty-one pun’ five, Roundhand, and nothing for the stamp!” cried out that audacious Swinney.  “There it is, sir, re-ceipted.  You needn’t cross it to my banker’s.  And if any of you gents like a glass of punch this evening at eight o’clock, Bob Swinney’s your man, and nothing to pay.  If Mr. Brough would do me the honour to come in and take a whack?  Come, don’t say no, if you’d rather not!”

We couldn’t stand this impudence, and all burst out laughing like mad.

“Leave the room!” yelled Mr. Brough, whose face had turned quite blue; and so Bob took his white hat off the peg, and strolled away with his “tile,” as he called it, very much on one side.  When he was gone, Mr. Brough gave us another lecture, by which we all determined to profit; and going up to Roundhand’s desk put his arm round his neck, and looked over the ledger.

“What money has been paid in to-day, Roundhand?” he said, in a very kind way.

“The widow, sir, came with her money; nine hundred and four ten and six—say 904l. 10s. 6d.  Captain Sparr, sir, paid his shares up; grumbles, though, and says he’s no more: fifty shares, two instalments—three fifties, sir.”

“He’s always grumbling!”

“He says he has not a shilling to bless himself with until our dividend day.”

“Any more?”

Mr. Roundhand went through the book, and made it up nineteen hundred pounds in all.  We were doing a famous business now; though when I came into the office, we used to sit, and laugh, and joke, and read the newspapers all day; bustling into our seats whenever a stray customer came.  Brough never cared about our laughing and singing then, and was hand and glove with Bob Swinney; but that was in early times, before we were well in harness.

“Nineteen hundred pounds, and a thousand pounds in shares.  Bravo, Roundhand—bravo, gentlemen!  Remember, every share you bring in brings you five per cent. down on the nail!  Look to your friends—stick to your desks—be regular—I hope none of you forget church.  Who takes Mr. Swinney’s place?”

“Mr. Samuel Titmarsh, sir.”

“Mr. Titmarsh, I congratulate you.  Give me your hand, sir: you are now twelfth clerk of this Association, and your salary is consequently increased five pounds a year.  How is your worthy mother, sir—your dear and excellent parent?  In good health I trust?  And long—long, I fervently pray, may this office continue to pay her annuity!  Remember, if she has more money to lay out, there is higher interest than the last for her, for she is a year older; and five per cent. for you, my boy!  Why