chance, honest misfortune pays me a visit, as Rothschilds amused himself at times by giving a beggar a guinea, so I occasionally treat myself to the luxury of doing a kind action.  My favorite subjects for this unnatural generosity, are the very young or the poor, innocent, helpless people, who are unfit for the war of life.  Many among my clients (especially those tempered in the “ice book” of fashion and high-life—­polished and passionless) would be too much for me, if I had not made the face, the eye, the accent, as much my study as the mere legal and financial points of discount To show what I mean, I will relate what happened to me not long since:—­

One day, a middle-aged man in the usual costume of a West-End shopman, who had sent in his name as Mr. Axminster, was shown into my private room.  After a little hesitation, he said, “Although you do not know me, living at this end of the town, I know you very well by reputation, and that you discount bills.  I have a bill here which I want to get discounted.  I am in the employ of Messrs. Russle and Smooth.  The bill is drawn by one of our best customers, the Hon. Miss Snape, niece of Lord Blimley, and accepted by Major Munge, whom, no doubt, you know by name.  She has dealt with us for some years—­is very, very extravagant; but always pays.”  He put the acceptance—­which was for two hundred pounds—­into my hands.

I looked at it as scrutinizingly as I usually do at such paper The Major’s signature was familiar to me; but having succeeded to a great estate, he had long ceased to be a customer.  I instantly detected a forgery; by whom?—­was the question.  Could it be the man before me?  Experience told me it was not.  Perhaps there was something in the expression of my countenance which Mr. Axminster did not like, for he said, “It is good for the amount, I presume?”

I replied, “Pray, sir, from whom did you get this bill?”

“From Miss Snape herself.”

“Have you circulated any other bills made by the same drawer?”

“O yes!” said the draper, without hesitation; “I have paid away a bill for one hundred pounds to Mr. Sparkle, the jeweller, to whom Miss Snape owed twenty pounds.  They gave me the difference.”

“And how long has that bill to run now?”

“About a fortnight.”

“Did you indorse it?”

“I did.  Mr. Sparkle required me to do so, to show that the bill came properly into his possession.”

“This second bill, you say is urgently required to enable Miss Snape to leave town?”

“Yes; she is going to Brighton for the winter.”

I gave Mr. Axminster a steady, piercing look of inquiry.  “Pray, sir,” I said, “could you meet that one hundred pounds bill, supposing it could not be paid by the accepter?”

“Meet it!” The poor fellow wiped from his forehead the perspiration which suddenly broke out at the bare hint of a probability that the bill would be dishonored—­“Meet it?  O no!  I am a married man, with a family, and have nothing but my salary to depend on.”