had been made the tool, the cat’s-paw in a business from which his partners shrank.  Now, had the young man been as full of courage as he was of vulgar conceit, he might, I verily believe, have turned his hatred, and his knowledge of affairs, to very good account.  Lacking the spirit of the smallest animal that crawls, he was content to eject his odious malice in oaths and execrations, and to submit to his beating after all.  No sooner was the meeting at an end, than he left the Banking-house, and turned his steps towards home.  He had become—­as it was very natural he should—­a brute of a husband, and the terror of his helpless household.  He remembered, all at once, that he had been deeply aggrieved in the morning by Mrs Brammel; that as many as two of his shirt buttons had given way whilst he was in the act of dressing, and unable to contain himself after the treatment of Mr Bellamy, he resolved forthwith to have his vengeance out upon his wife.  But he had not walked a hundred yards, before his rancour and fury increased to such a height, that he was compelled to pull up short in the street, and to vow, with a horrible oath, that he would see all his partners roasting in the warmest place that he could think of, before he’d move one inch to save their souls from rotting.  So, instead of proceeding homeward, he turned back again, with a view to make this statement; but before he could reach the Banking-house, a wiser thought entered his head, and induced him to retrace his steps.  “He would go,” he said, “to his father; and lay his complaint there.  He would impeach all his partners, acknowledge his errors, and promise once more to reform.  His father, easy old fool, would believe him, forgive him, and do any thing else, in his joy.”  It was certainly a bright idea—­but, alas! his debts were so very extensive.  Bellamy’s threatening look rose before him, and made them appear even larger and more terrible than they were.  What if his father insisted upon his going to London, and doing any other dirty work which these fellows chose to put upon him?  Bellamy, he was sure, could make the old man do any thing.  No, it wouldn’t do.  He stamped his foot to the ground in vexation, and recurred to his original determination.  It was all he could do.  He must go to London, and take what indemnification he might in the domestic circle previously to starting.  And the miserable man did have his revenge, and did go to London.  He was empowered to borrow twenty thousand pounds from the London house, and he was furnished by Michael Allcraft with particulars explanatory of his commission.  And he walked into Lombard Street with the feelings of a culprit walking up the scaffold to his execution.  His pitiful heart deserted him at the very instant when he most needed its support.  He passed and repassed the large door of the establishment, which he saw opened and shut a hundred tines in a minute, by individuals, whose self-collectedness and independence, he would have given half his fortune to possess.