ne Black Spot.

THE GENTLEMAN BEGGAR.

One morning, about five years ago, I called by appointment on Mr. John
Balance, the fashionable pawnbroker, to accompany him to Liverpool, in
pursuit of a Levanting customer--for Balance, in addition to pawning,
does a little business in the sixty per cent. line. It rained in torrents
when the cab stopped at the passage which leads past the pawning-boxes to
his private door. The cabman rang twice, and at length Balance appeared,
looming through the mist and rain in the entry, illuminated by his
perpetual cigar. As I eyed him rather impatiently, remembering that
trains wait for no man, something like a hairy dog, or a bundle of rags,
rose up at his feet, and barred his passage for a moment. Then Balance
cried out with an exclamation, in answer apparently to a something I
could not hear, "What, man alive!--slept in the passage!--there, take
that, and get some breakfast, for Heaven's sake!" So saying, he jumped
into the "Hansom," and we bowled away at ten miles an hour, just catching
the Express as the doors of the station were closing. My curiosity was
full set--for although Balance can be free with his money, it is not
exactly to beggars that his generosity is usually displayed; so when
comfortably ensconced in a _coupe_ I finished with--

"You are liberal with your money this morning; pray, how often do you
give silver to street-cadgers?--because I shall know now what walk to
take when flats and sharps leave off buying law."

Balance, who would have made an excellent parson if he had not been bred
to a case-hardening trade, and has still a soft bit left in his heart
that is always fighting with his hard head, did not smile at all, but
looked as grim as if squeezing a lemon into his Saturday night's punch.
He answered slowly, "A cadger--yes; a beggar--a miserable wretch, he is
now; but, let me tell you, Master David, that that miserable bundle of
rags was born and bred a gentleman--the son of a nobleman, the husband of
an heiress, and has sat and dined at tables where you and I, Master
David, are only allowed to view the plate by favor of the butler. I have
lent him thousands, and been well paid. The last thing I had from him was
his court-suit; and I hold now his bill for one hundred pounds that will
be paid, I expect, when he dies."

"Why, what nonsense you are talking! you must be dreaming this morning.
However, we are alone; I'll light a weed, in defiance of Railway-