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-law, while you spin that yarn; for, true or untrue, it will fill up the time to Liverpool.”

“As for yarn,” replied Balance, “the whole story is short enough; and as for truth, that you may easily find out if you like to take the trouble.  I thought the poor wretch was dead, and I own it put me out meeting him this morning, for I had a curious dream last night.”

“Oh, hang your dreams!  Tell us about this gentleman beggar that bleeds you of half-crowns—­that melts the heart even of a pawnbroker!”

“Well, then, that beggar is the illegitimate son of the late Marquis of Hoopborough by a Spanish lady of rank.  He received a first rate education, and was brought up in his father’s house.  At a very early age he obtained an appointment in a public office, was presented by the marquis at court, and received into the first society, where his handsome person and agreeable manners made him a great favorite.  Soon after coming of age, he married the daughter of Sir E. Bumper, who brought him a very handsome fortune, which was strictly settled on herself.  They lived in splendid style, kept several carriages, a house in town, and a place in the country.  For some reason or other, idleness, or to please his lady’s pride he said, he resigned his appointment.  His father died, and left him nothing; indeed, he seemed at that time very handsomely provided for.