o him I felt that I owed all the knowledge I possessed of
commercial affairs, as from my first entrance into the office he took
notice of me, and gave me the instruction I so much required. My chief
friend was Harry Bracewell, who was also a favourite with Mr Swab, and
had received the same instruction from him that I had obtained. Mr
Swab was not at all ashamed of his origin. He used to tell us that he
had risen, not from the gutter, but from the mud, like other strange
animals, having obtained his livelihood in his early days by hunting at
low tide for whatever he could pick up along the shore, thrown overboard
from the lighters or similar vessels unloading at the quays. At length
it was his good fortune to pick a purse out of the mud containing ten
golden guineas, and, as he used to tell us, being convinced that he
should never have a find like it, he resolved to quit his occupation,
for which he had no particular fancy, and endeavour to obtain a
situation where he might have a prospect of rising in the world. Though
he could neither read nor write, he was well aware that those
acquirements were necessary for his advancement, as also that a decent
suit of clothes would greatly contribute to his obtaining a respectable
place. These objects were now within his reach. The most easily
attained was the suit of clothes, and these he bought, with a cap and a
good pair of shoes, at a slopseller's, including three shirts, a
necktie, and other articles of clothing, for the moderate sum of 2
pounds, 13 shillings and 6 pence. He had taken good care not to let the
slopseller know of his wealth; indeed, that fact he kept locked in his
own bosom, as he did his purse in a place in which no one was likely to
discover it. The balance of the ten pounds into which he had broken he
expended in supporting himself while he acquired the first rudiments of
knowledge, with the aid of a friend, the keeper of a second-hand
bookstall, a broken-down schoolmaster, who, strange to say, still
retained a pleasure in imparting instruction to the young. Nicholas
Swab first bought a spelling-book, and then confessed that he should
find it of no use unless Mr Vellum would explain to him the meaning of
the black marks on the pages.

"Then you do not know your letters, my poor boy?" said the old man in a
tone of commiseration.

"No, sir, I don't; but I soon will, if you'll tell them to me," answered
Nicholas in a confident tone.

"Sit down on