In nearly every Government office there is one impecunious black sheep,--one clerk who is always hovering on the edge of the precipice of insolvency, over which he finally tumbles, to creep out with life indeed, but with scars and bruises which last him during the remainder of his official existence. This character was in the Tin-Tax Office played by Mr. Rittman, who for years had been "in difficulties," and was thoroughly versed in every species of money-borrowing, were it the loan-simple from a friend, the loan-complex on a bill with a friend's name, the life-insurance facile, the loan-office ruinous, the bill of sale advertised, or the pawnbroker low. As yet no learned Commissioner had sat in judgment on Mr. Rittman's pecuniary transactions, but he had been in sponging-houses, in Whitecross Street, and in the Queen's Bench; and though his end was rapidly approaching (for he had a couple of sons verging on manhood, and apparently inheriting all their father's frailties), he was never despondent, but maintained a creditable appearance and a cheerful manner. To him Mr. Pringle had gone, on the day before that on which we first made his acquaintance; and Mr. Rittman, from the young man's manner on entering the room, at once guessed the object of his visit. "How do, Rittman?" commenced Mr. Pringle. "Good morning, my dear sir--good morning!" said the gentleman addressed, laying down his pen and bowing pleasantly. He had on a voluminous white waistcoat, a great show of shirt-wristband, and before him, in a tumbler, stood some choice flowers. "Seldom you come down to this part of the building; keep to the more aristocratic end--eh?" and Mr. Rittman smiled, and showed a good set of teeth. "No! I don't know--the truth is--I want some advice, and I think you're the man to give it to me." "My dear sir, I shall be delighted. What is it?" (this thrown off at a tangent to a messenger who appeared in the doorway, saying, "Ere's Brown's man agen, Mr. Rittman"). "Ah! Brown's man; well, you'd better say I've not yet returned from Jersey, but you expect me on Tuesday.--And now, my dear sir; you were saying--some advice?" "Well, the fact is, Rittman, I'm hard up, and I want to borrow some money; and I thought you could--" "Not lend you any? that would be almost too delicious, my dear sir. You didn't think I could lend you any?" and Mr. Rittman screamed with laughter at the absurdity of the idea. "No, no, of course not; but I thought you might tell me where I could get it." "Oh, that's a totally different thing; of course I can. I rather pique myself upon knowing more about such matters than most men. Of course I can. Now, let me see--what security can you give?" "Eh?" asked Mr. Pringle.