“Faith of my father! if that be the case, then my master will get as fat a slice as any of them,” rejoined Tickler, rising from his seat with regained spirits, and grasping the other warmly by the hand.  “And now, seeing that we fellow kindred professions, we will be free in our advances, and settle this matter over a punch.”  Mr. Tickler rang the bell, and when the servant appeared, ordered two stout punches.  Having exchanged compliments, and commenced sipping at their straws, Mr. Tickler touched the man of the newspapers confidentially on the arm, and whispered in his ear, that not having a dollar to his pocket, he began to think General Roger Potter, as he was called, had brought him to a whistling market, on a fool’s errand.  “Honestly, friend,” he continued, “I was when you entered thinking how best to escape the landlord, for I see he is a sharp fellow; and this paying two dollars and three quarters a day is a thing not so easily done with an empty pocket.”

“A very common thing, a very common thing, Mr. Tickler; and though the wits of the landlord are sharp enough, it is no rare thing for him to get shorn by those who seek meat-offerings of the government.”

Here Tickler’s mind seemed to run back to a subject upon which it was wont to dwell-the style of his dress.  And, throwing himself back in his chair, he raised his right foot upon his left knee, and inquired of Mr. Stretcher how he liked the style of his boots, which were of the brightest leather, and so tight that when he walked, it was with the caution of one stepping upon eggs, and in fear of having to pay for the broken ones.  Stretcher expressed himself delighted.  In truth, he was not long in discerning the critic’s little weaknesses; and to the end of flattering them, told him that he was in every particular of dress, the most stylish gentleman it had been his good fortune to meet for many a day.  And this so pleased Mr. Tickler, that he would have ordered a second punch, but that the adept declared it was a custom with him never to drink more than one, not even with his oldest friends.

And though Stretcher drank his punch freely enough, he was somewhat disappointed at the developments made by the critic concerning his master.  As for the secretary, he set him down in his heart as not only a curious specimen of pedantry, but the most fashionable poor gentleman he had ever seen in search of office; and heaven knows he had seen enough of them.

“It is said of the general,” spoke Stretcher, laconically, as he set down his glass and commenced to stroke his beard, “that he has means enough at his command!”

“Upon my faith I know but little of his means, except that I have seen him with a purse full of gold, which is saying something for his means.  And he pays readily enough for all he gets, which is more.”