Mrs. Jericho had the profoundest opinion of the powers of her husband: she believed him capable of any amount of money. Nevertheless, the man would reject the flattery sometimes with argument, sometimes with indignation. Again and again the husband assured his wife, he must—and no help for it—die a beggar; but the woman armed her heart with incredulity—she laughed, and would not believe it. Indeed, it seemed her one purpose to show and to preach an inextinguishable belief in the pocket of her husband. Everywhere, she made converts. Tradesmen bowed down to her and believed her. On all sides, dealers—cautious, knowing men, made circumspect by wives and children—humbled themselves at the door of her pony phaeton, taking orders. Mrs. Jericho did so possess them with a faith in Jericho, that had she required the doorway to be laid with velvet or cachemire, there would have been no scruple of hesitation in the dealer; the foot-cloth would have been surely opened out, and put down. Moreover, Mrs. Jericho was aided by her two daughters whom, on her second marriage, she had handsomely presented to Mr. Jericho; further enhancing the gift with a son; a young gentleman declared by the partiality of friends to be born for billiards. Mr. Jericho was forty when he married; therefore that, in one day, he should find himself the father of three children, was taking the best means to make up for the negligence of former years. Mrs. Captain Pennibacker was made a widow at two-and-twenty by an East Indian bullet; but it was not until she had laboured for eight years to become calm about Pennibacker, that she fluttered towards Jericho. And thus, at one blow, she made him her second husband, and the second father of Pennibacker’s son and daughters. Offering such treasures to Mr. Solomon Jericho, she naturally thought he could not make too much of them. And for a season, Mr. Jericho showed a proper sense of his good fortune; yet, though his wife would never fail to assure him that he possessed a priceless treasure in herself and children, as time wore on, the ungrateful man would now and then look doubtfully at the family jewels. Somehow, the Pennibackers failed to see in Mr. Jericho a flesh and blood father-in-law. From their earliest introduction to him, they considered him as they would consider a rich plum cake; to be sliced, openly or by stealth, among them. As they grew up, Mr. Jericho merely held in their opinion the situation of the person who paid the bills. It was, we say, the household superstition that Jericho had an unknown amount of wealth. Hence, he met with little thanks for what he gave; for the recurring thought would still condemn him for what he kept back. He possessed a sea of money; and yet he was mean enough to filter his gold by drops. In a word, he never gave anything that he, the donor, did not appear to the son or daughter receiving, the paltriest of human creatures.