“RESPECTED SIR,—Was sorry after you streaked off yesterday that had not kept you longer. You was scarce gone out of the gate as one might say, when in comes a gent, no end of a nob, beats you as one might say in some respects, and a head of hair as good. Known by the name of Hearty,—Hearty Wibraham, Esquire, but friends prefers callin’ him Hearty, such bein’ his character. And hearty he were with my brandy, I do assure you, and no mistake. This gent say as he want to establish a hagency for the sale of first–class Hettons to the members of the _bone tons_: was I agreeable to supply him? So I say, ‘Certainly, by all means, if I see my way to my money.’ And then he breaks out, in a manner as would frighten some hands, about the artlessness of the age, the suspiciousness of commercial gents, and confidence between man and man. ‘Waste of time,’ says I; ‘coals is coals now, and none of them leaves this yard for nothing. Better keep that sort of stuff,’ says I, ‘for the green young gent from Hoxford as was here just now.’ ‘What,’ says he, ‘Hoxford man after a situation?’ ‘ Yes,’ I says, ‘nice young gent, only under a cloud.’ Says he, ‘I loves a Hoxford man; hope he has got some money.’ ‘ For what?’ I says; ‘have you got anything good for him to invest in?’ ‘Havenʼt I?’ he says; ‘take a little more brandy, old chapʼ—my own brandy, mind you, blow me if he ainʼt a hearty one. Well, I canʼt tell you half he said, not being a talkative man myself, since the time as I lost Mrs. Clinkers. Only the upshot of it is, I think you couldnʼt do no harm by callinʼ, if he write you as he said he would. “Yours to command, and hope you didnʼt get wet, “ROBERT CLINKERS, Jun., for POKER, CLINKERS, and Co., Coal Merchants, West London Terminuss, Hammersmith. “N.B.—Coke supplied in your own sacks, on the most moderate terms.” By the next delivery, Cradock got another letter, far more elegantly written, but not half so honest. “Mr. Hearty Wibraham, having heard of Mr. Charles Newman from a mutual friend, Mr. Clinkers, of Hammersmith, presents his compliments to the former gentleman, and thinks it might be worth Mr. Newmanʼs while to call upon him, Mr. H. W., at six oʼclock this evening, supposing the post to do its duty, which it rarely does. Hearty Wibraham, No. 66, Aurea Themis Buildings, Notting Hill district. N.B.—The above is _bonâ fide_. References will be required. But perhaps they may be dispensed with. “H. W.” “Well,” said Cradock to Wena, shivering as he said it, for the cold was striking into him, “you see we are in request, my dear. Not that I have any high opinion of Mr. Hearty Wibraham; as a gentleman, I mean. But for all that he may be an honest man. And beggars—as you know, Wena, dear, when you sit up so prettily—beggars must not be choosers. Do you think you could walk so far, Wena? If you could, it would do you good, my beauty; and Iʼll see that you are not run over.”