o prudent was he,
that but for turnpikes, postage-stamps, and king's taxes, he hardly had
occasion to change a five-pound note of his wife's fortune.

To tell the truth, Mr. Walker had determined to make his fortune. And
what is easier in London? Is not the share-market open to all? Do
not Spanish and Columbian bonds rise and fall? For what are companies
invented, but to place thousands in the pockets of shareholders and
directors? Into these commercial pursuits the gallant Captain now
plunged with great energy, and made some brilliant hits at first
starting, and bought and sold so opportunely, that his name began to
rise in the City as a capitalist, and might be seen in the printed list
of directors of many excellent and philanthropic schemes, of which there
is never any lack in London. Business to the amount of thousands was
done at his agency; shares of vast value were bought and sold under his
management. How poor Mr. Eglantine used to hate him and envy him, as
from the door of his emporium (the firm was Eglantine and Mossrose now)
he saw the Captain daily arrive in his pony-phaeton, and heard of the
start he had taken in life.

The only regret Mrs. Walker had was that she did not enjoy enough of her
husband's society. His business called him away all day; his business,
too, obliged him to leave her of evenings very frequently alone; whilst
he (always in pursuit of business) was dining with his great friends at
the club, and drinking claret and champagne to the same end.

She was a perfectly good-natured and simple soul, never made him a
single reproach; but when he could pass an evening at home with her
she was delighted, and when he could drive with her in the Park she was
happy for a week after. On these occasions, and in the fulness of her
heart, she would drive to her mother and tell her story. "Howard drove
with me in the Park yesterday, Mamma;" and "Howard has promised to
take me to the Opera," and so forth. And that evening the manager, Mr.
Gawler, the first tragedian, Mrs. Serle and her forty pupils, all the
box-keepers, bonnet-women--nay, the ginger-beer girls themselves at "The
Wells," knew that Captain and Mrs. Walker were at Kensington Gardens,
or were to have the Marchioness of Billingsgate's box at the Opera. One
night--O joy of joys!--Mrs. Captain Walker appeared in a private box
at "The Wells." That's she with the black ringlets and Cashmere shawl,
smelling-bottle, and black-velvet gown, and bird