his tribe, he will
do anything for a pint of whisky. But what shall we call him? Jamaica
Street, I fear, will hardly do for a designation."

"Call him THE M'CLOSKIE. It will be sonorous in the ears of the Saxon!"

"Bravo!" and another chief was added to the roll of the clans.

"Now," said Bob, "we must put you down. Recollect, all the management,
that is, the allocation, will be intrusted to you. Augustus--you haven't
a middle name, I think?--well then, suppose we interpolate 'Reginald';
it has a smack of the crusades. Augustus Reginald Dunshunner, Esq.
of--where, in the name of Munchausen!"

"I'm sure I don't know. I never had any land beyond the contents of a
flower-pot. Stay--I rather think I have a superiority somewhere about
Paisley."

"Just the thing!" cried Bob. "It's heritable property, and therefore
titular. What's the denomination?"

"St. Mirrens."

"Beautiful! Dunshunner of St. Mirrens, I give you joy! Had you
discovered that a little sooner--and I wonder you did not think of
it--we might both of us have had lots of allocations. These are not
the times to conceal hereditary distinctions. But now comes the serious
work. We must have one or two men of known wealth upon the list. The
chaff is nothing without a decoy-bird. Now, can't you help me with a
name?"

"In that case," said I, "the game is up, and the whole scheme exploded.
I would as soon undertake to evoke the ghost of Croesus."

"Dunshunner," said Bob, very seriously, "to be a man of information, you
are possessed of marvellous few resources. I am quite ashamed of you.
Now listen to me. I have thought deeply upon this subject, and am quite
convinced that, with some little trouble, we may secure the cooperation
of a most wealthy and influential body--one, too, that is generally
supposed to have stood aloof from all speculation of the kind, and whose
name would be a tower of strength in the moneyed quarters. I allude,"
continued Bob, reaching across for the kettle, "to the great dissenting
interest."

"The what?" cried I, aghast.

"The great dissenting interest. You can't have failed to observe the row
they have lately been making about Sunday travelling and education. Old
Sam Sawley, the coffin-maker, is their principal spokesman here; and
wherever he goes the rest will follow, like a flock of sheep bounding
after a patriarchal ram. I propose, therefore, to wait upon him
to-morrow, and request his cooperation in a scheme which is not only