“And the profits are large?” said I.

“Tremendous!” said he.

I wavered again, and began to think here were greater expectations than my own.

“I think I shall trade, also,” said he, putting his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, “to the West Indies, for sugar, tobacco, and rum.  Also to Ceylon, specially for elephants’ tusks.”

“You will want a good many ships,” said I.

“A perfect fleet,” said he.

Quite overpowered by the magnificence of these transactions, I asked him where the ships he insured mostly traded to at present?

“I haven’t begun insuring yet,” he replied.  “I am looking about me.”

Somehow, that pursuit seemed more in keeping with Barnard’s Inn.  I said (in a tone of conviction), “Ah-h!”

“Yes.  I am in a counting-house, and looking about me.”

“Is a counting-house profitable?” I asked.

“To — do you mean to the young fellow who’s in it?” he asked, in reply.

“Yes; to you.”

“Why, n-no:  not to me.”  He said this with the air of one carefully reckoning up and striking a balance.  “Not directly profitable.  That is, it doesn’t pay me anything, and I have to — keep myself.”

This certainly had not a profitable appearance, and I shook my head as if I would imply that it would be difficult to lay by much accumulative capital from such a source of income.

“But the thing is,” said Herbert Pocket, “that you look about you.  That’s the grand thing.  You are in a counting-house, you know, and you look about you.”

It struck me as a singular implication that you couldn’t be out of a counting-house, you know, and look about you; but I silently deferred to his experience.

“Then the time comes,” said Herbert, “when you see your opening.  And you go in, and you swoop upon it and you make your capital, and then there you are!  When you have once made your capital, you have nothing to do but employ it.”

This was very like his way of conducting that encounter in the garden; very like.  His manner of bearing his poverty, too, exactly corresponded to his manner of bearing that defeat.  It seemed to me that he took all blows and buffets now, with just the same air as he had taken mine then.  It was evident that he had nothing around him but the simplest necessaries, for everything that I remarked upon turned out to have been sent in on my account from the coffee-house or somewhere else.

Yet, having already made his fortune in his own mind, he was so unassuming with it that I felt quite grateful to him for not being puffed up.  It was a pleasant addition to his naturally pleasant ways, and we got on famously.  In the evening we went out for a walk in the streets, and went half-price to the Theatre; and next day we went to church at Westminster Abbey, and in the afternoon we walked in the Parks; and I wondered who shod all the horses there, and wished Joe did.