tell you what, my covey, if I can’t give you satisfaction in money, you shall give me the satisfaction of a gentleman, if you don’t take care what you are about, you old tinker.  By Jove, I’ll order pistols and coffee for two to-morrow morning at Napoleon’s column, and let the daylight through your carcass if you utter another syllable about the bill.  Why, now, you stare as Balaam did at his ass, when he found it capable of holding an argument with him!”

And true enough, Jorrocks was dumbfounded at this sort of reply from a creditor, it not being at all in accordance with the Lex mercatoria, or law of merchants, and quite unknown on ’Change.  Before, however, he had time to recover his surprise, all the passengers having entered the roped area, one of the green-coated gentry gave him a polite twist by the coat-tail, and with a wave of the hand and bend of his body, beckoned him to proceed with the crowd into the guard-house.  After passing an outer room, they entered the bureau by a door in the middle of a wooden partition, where two men were sitting with pens ready to enter the names of the arrivers in ledgers.

“Votre nom et designation?” said one of them to Mr. Jorrocks—­who, with a bad start, had managed to squeeze in first—­to which Mr. Jorrocks shook his head.  “Sare, what’s your name, sare?” inquired the same personage.  “JORROCKS,” was the answer, delivered with great emphasis, and thereupon the secretary wrote “Shorrock.” “—­Monsieur Shorrock,” said he, looking up, “votre profession, Monsieur?  Vot you are, sare?” “A grocer,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, which caused a titter from those behind who meant to sink the shop.  “Marchand-Epicier,” wrote the bureau-keeper.  “Quel age avez-vous, Monsieur?  How old you are, sare?” “Two pound twelve,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, surprised at his inquisitiveness.  “No, sare, not vot monnay you have, sare, hot old you are, sare.”  “Well, two pound twelve, fifty-two in fact.”  Mr. Jorrocks was then passed out, to take his chance among the touts and commissionaires of the various hotels, who are enough to pull passengers to pieces in their solicitations for custom.  In Boulogne, however, no man with money is ever short of friends; and Thompson having given the hint to two or three acquaintances as he rode up street, there were no end of broken-down sportsmen, levanters, and gentlemen who live on the interest of what they owe other people, waiting to receive Mr. Jorrocks.  The greetings on their parts were most cordial and enthusiastic, and even some who were in his books did not hesitate to hail him; the majority of the party, however, was composed of those with whom he had at various tunes and places enjoyed the sports of the field, but whom he had never missed until they met at Boulogne.