He no sooner appeared than the ostler, who was standing at the door, exclaimed, “Master! master! here’s Mr. Bartlet’s horse come without him.” Stephen, having discovered the name of the owner of the gelding, said to the innkeeper, “Mr. Bartlet being engaged with some gentlemen at play in Ingatestone, he requests you to send him fifteen guineas, and to keep his horse in pledge in the mean time, until he comes himself in the evening.” “Ay, ay,” replied the innkeeper, “a hundred guineas, if he stood in need of them.” So Bunce, having received the fifteen guineas, prosecuted his journey to London. In a few hours, Mr. Bartlet came puffing and blowing, and covered with perspiration and dust. The innkeeper accosted him, saying, “Oh! dear sir, why need you have sent your gelding, and so put yourself to the trouble of coming in this sultry weather on foot, for the small sum of fifteen guineas, when you might have commanded ten times as much without a pledge?”--“What!” cried the gentleman, “has the fellow, then, brought my gelding hither? A villain! he was pretty honest in that; but I find the rogue has made me pay fifteen guineas for hearing one tune of the fairies.” Bunce was an industrious man, and frequented the billiard-tables, the cockpits, and every place where he thought that a penny would come in his way. Though his funds often afforded him the means of reformation, he naturally hated virtue and honesty; he, therefore, with redoubled keenness, pursued his depredations. Once, upon foot, he met with a butcher between Paddington and London, who, being a strong, lusty fellow, was not disposed to give his contribution to Bunce without an exchange of blows. The cudgelling commenced, and, though the butcher acted his part well, yet Bunce was victorious. The conqueror, on searching for his spoil, found the immense sum of fourpence in his pockets. “Is this all you have got?” “And too much to lose,” said the butcher. “You villain!” cried Bunce, “if you’d fight at this rate for a groat, what a plague would you have done if you’d had more money?” This was rather an unfortunate adventure, to have lost so much time and given so many blows for so little; but, returning home, he observed a goldsmith, who was a far richer prize than a butcher, telling a large sum of money in his shop. His eyes instantly sparkled, and his invention awoke. He went into an old shop in the vicinity, and purchased one farthing’s worth of salt. Then, hastening into the goldsmith’s shop, he threw the whole in his eyes; so that while he was rubbing his peepers, and stamping with rage, Bunce went off with about fifty pounds--a tolerable return for the outlay of a farthing.