I stopped the preliminary slap, but before I could hit him, his terrible left fist reached my head again; and down I fell once more—­upon the hearth-rug this time—­not over-heavily.

“Sir,” said Gentleman Jones, making me a bow, “you have now received your first lesson in morality.  Always speak the truth; and never say what is false of another man behind his back.  To-morrow, with your kind permission, we will finally settle the adjourned question of the caricature.  Good-night.”

I was far too sensible a man to leave the settling of that question to him.  The first thing in the morning I sent a polite note to Gentleman Jones, informing him that I had abandoned all idea of exhibiting his likeness to the public in my series of prints, and giving him full permission to inspect every design I made before it went out of the prison.  I received a most civil answer, thanking me for my courtesy, and complimenting me on the extraordinary aptitude with which I profited by the most incomplete and elementary instruction.  I thought I deserved the compliment, and I think so still.  Our conduct, as I have already intimated, was honorable to us, on either side.  It was honorable attention on the part of Gentleman Jones to correct me when I was in error; it was honorable common sense in me to profit by the correction.  I have never seen this great man since he compounded with his creditors and got out of prison; but my feelings toward him are still those of profound gratitude and respect.  He gave me the only useful teaching I ever had; and if this should meet the eye of Gentleman Jones I hereby thank him for beginning and ending my education in two evenings, without costing me or my family a single farthing.

CHAPTER III.

To return to my business affairs.  When I was comfortably settled in the prison, and knew exactly what I owed, I thought it my duty to my father to give him the first chance of getting me out.  His answer to my letter contained a quotation from Shakespeare on the subject of thankless children, but no remittance of money.  After that, my only course was to employ a lawyer and be declared a bankrupt.  I was most uncivilly treated, and remanded two or three times.  When everything I possessed had been sold for the benefit of my creditors, I was reprimanded and let out.  It is pleasant to think that, even then, my faith in myself and in human nature was still not shaken.

About ten days before my liberation, I was thunderstruck at receiving a visit from my sister’s mahogany-colored husband, Mr. Batterbury.  When I was respectably settled at home, this gentleman would not so much as look at me without a frown; and now, when I was a scamp, in prison, he mercifully and fraternally came to condole with me on my misfortunes.  A little dexterous questioning disclosed the secret of this prodigious change in our relations toward each other, and informed me of a family event which altered my position toward my sister in the most whimsical manner.