hour's
conversation, we became almost as intimate as when we were suffering
together under the ferule of old Swishtail. Jack told me that he had
quitted the army in disgust; and that his father, who was to leave him a
fortune, had died ten thousand pounds in debt: he did not touch upon
his own circumstances; but I could read them in his elbows, which were
peeping through his old frock. He talked a great deal, however, of runs
of luck, good and bad; and related to me an infallible plan for breaking
all the play-banks in Europe--a great number of old tricks;--and a vast
quantity of gin-punch was consumed on the occasion; so long, in fact,
did our conversation continue, that, I confess it with shame, the
sentiment, or something stronger, quite got the better of me, and I
have, to this day, no sort of notion how our palaver concluded.--Only,
on the next morning, I did not possess a certain five-pound note which
on the previous evening was in my sketch-book (by far the prettiest
drawing by the way in the collection) but there, instead, was a strip of
paper, thus inscribed:--

IOU Five Pounds. JOHN ATTWOOD, Late of the N--th Dragoons.

I suppose Attwood borrowed the money, from this remarkable and
ceremonious acknowledgment on his part: had I been sober I would just as
soon have lent him the nose on my face; for, in my then circumstances,
the note was of much more consequence to me.

As I lay, cursing my ill fortune, and thinking how on earth I should
manage to subsist for the next two months, Attwood burst into my little
garret--his face strangely flushed--singing and shouting as if it had
been the night before. "Titmarsh," cried he, "you are my preserver!--my
best friend! Look here, and here, and here!" And at every word Mr.
Attwood produced a handful of gold, or a glittering heap of five-franc
pieces, or a bundle of greasy, dusky bank-notes, more beautiful than
either silver or gold:--he had won thirteen thousand francs after
leaving me at midnight in my garret. He separated my poor little all, of
six pieces, from this shining and imposing collection; and the passion
of envy entered my soul: I felt far more anxious now than before,
although starvation was then staring me in the face; I hated Attwood for
CHEATING me out of all this wealth. Poor fellow! it had been better for
him had he never seen a shilling of it.

However, a grand breakfast at the Cafe Anglais dissipated my chagrin;
and I will do my friend the jus