Meantime, the boy has been despatched to Berners Street to obtain information from certain lists in the possession of that mysterious body known as the T. P. S., which are open to the privileged in that thoroughfare; and Sixty per Cent. occupies himself with consulting the rack of books on his desk, containing Burke, Debrett, the Army List, the University Calendars, the Clergy List, &c., according to what may be your requirements; and when the boy has returned with satisfactory accounts of yourself or your securities, your signature on some neatly written slips of blue paper produces the cheque that relieves your necessities. ‘Not half a bad fellow,’ you tell your friends; and you are convinced he is the victim of prejudice. But woe betide you, should the time ever come when, the end of your tether reached, you plead delay or ask abatement of your bond! There is no mercy in that hawk face, pleasantly though it can smile; and the soft, well-kept hands can strike like a hawk’s talons when the occasion arises. There are times—usually early, before the ordinary hours of business—when Sixty per Cent. may be found in conversation at his office with a shady-looking individual who has ‘minion of the law’ stamped legibly on his countenance; and the tone in which the usurer utters such sentences as ‘Broke at Doncaster last week’—‘The writs are out already’—‘Sell him up, stock, lock, and barrel’—‘Going to bolt, I believe’—‘Hang his wife and family!’ &c., is rather different from the suave accents in which he usually addresses his clients. He is fond of music, and is a pretty regular frequenter of the opera on Saturday nights during the season; and in the lobby, often manages to combine a little business with his pleasure, especially in the Epsom, Ascot, and Newmarket July weeks, when backers have had what is termed a facer. He sports a smart mail phaeton with a pair of high stepping bays; and as he drives round the park of an afternoon, he can impart a pretty considerable amount of information to any friend who happens to be with him regarding the occupants of the drags and victorias that they meet. He has his ‘bad times,’ like everybody else, and when, as occasionally happens, he has an enforced interview with one of Her Majesty’s judges, he is obliged to listen to some remarkably plain speaking in respect of his little transactions; and should a vaulting ambition induce him to seek membership in any more respectable club than the third-rate ‘proprietary pothouse,’ his _amour propre_ is liable to be considerably wounded by the extent of the ‘pilling’ he is subjected to. As a rule, however, he is early taught to ‘keep his place,’ and ‘recreates’ himself with gambling in stocks, buying old china, or breeding poultry; jingles the sovereigns in his pocket, and snaps his fingers at the world and its opinion. PROFESSOR SHELDON ON BUTTERINE.