Gingham, big with his scheme, was now like a gladiator prepared for every thrust. “At home,” said he, “I have all the concurrence, all the authority I need, with many good wishes to boot; and, as to pecuniary support, I can have whatever amount is required. All that I settled before I left Falmouth, or have since arranged by correspondence. Here I ask for countenance only so far as my plan is found, on trial, to aid the public service. Let that once become manifest, and I doubt not we shall find all the favour we want.” “Only sorry your plan was not thought of before. It might have spared our Commander much anxiety, and our soldiers many privations.” Swelling with the plenitude of his anticipations, Gingham began to dogmatise. “In London,” said he, “credit is equivalent to cash. Here, at headquarters, the case is different. In London, so long as my banker will honour my cheques, I have cash at command. Here, I may possess unlimited power to draw bills, yet not be able to raise a rap. What makes the difference?” “Here, your resource is at a distance; there, your banker is close at hand.” I was more disposed, though, to chew upon Gingham’s ideas than to discuss them, and we again rode on in silence. At length I bolted out a difficulty. “Well, we make an issue in cash—say a hundred thousand dollars, for the pay of the troops. These dollars are distributed, and spent; the whole sum evaporates. How do you get them together again, for a second payment?” “I don’t expect to get them all,” said Gingham, scornfully. “But suppose I can get a part of them, say half. That, I think, I shall manage; for, observe, ten dollars are quite as many as you can carry about your person without annoyance. Undoubtedly, then, many individuals, receiving a payment in dollars, will be glad enough to lodge them in a bank, when there’s a bank at hand. And when I have issued my paper, payable at demand, many, I make no question, will much rather take it, than burden themselves with a load of specie.”