[_They do so. Surveyor drinks his full share of Heidsieck, and smokes a cigar of full size and flavour. He and Builder exchange reminiscences concerning past professional experiences, the "tricks of trade," diverse devices for "dodging the Act," &c., &c. Surveyor explains how stubborn builders ("not like you, you know"), who don't do the thing handsome, often suffer by having to run themselves to expenses that might have been avoided--and serve 'em right too! Also, how others, without a temper above "tips," and of a generally gentlemanly tone of mind, save themselves lots of little extras, which, maybe, the letter of the law would exact, but which a Surveyor of sense and good feeling can get over, "and no harm done, neither, to nobody." As the wine circulates, it is noticeable that good-fellowship grows almost boisterous, and facetiousness mellows into chuckling cynicism of the winking, waggish, "we all do it" sort._ _Surveyor_ (_tossing off last glass, and smacking his lips_). Well, well, the best of friends must part, and I guess I must be toddling. Very glad to have met you, I'm sure, and a better bit of building than yours yonder I haven't seen for some time. Seems a pity, hanged if it don't, that you should have to put yourself to such an additional outlay--ah, by the way, _what_ did you say it would cost you? _Builder_. Oh, about ten pounds, I suppose. _Surveyor_ (_lighting another cigar_). Humph! (_Puff' puff!_) Pity--pity! (_Puff! puff!_) Now look here, my boy--(_confidentially_)--suppose you and me just divide that tenner between us, five to you, and five to me; and, as to the "underpinning"--well, nobody'll be a bit the wiser, and the building won't be a halfpenny the worse, _I'll_ bet my boots. Come, is it a bargain? [_After a little beating about the bush, the little "job" is arranged amicably, on the practical basis of "a fiver each, and mum's the word on both sides," thus evading the law, saving the Builder a few pounds, and supplementing the salary of the Surveyor. Ulterior results, unsanitary or otherwise, do not come within the compass of this sketch._ * * * * * STRANGER THAN FICTION! (_POSTMARKS--LEEDS, HULL, AND ELSEWHERE._) Mr. Punch was assisting at a Congress. The large room in which that Congress was being held was crowded, and consequently the heat was oppressive. The speeches, too, were not particularly interesting, and the Sage became drowsy. It was fortunate, therefore, that a fair maiden in a classical garb (who suddenly appeared seated beside him) should have addressed him. The interruption reassembled in their proper home his wandering senses. "I fear, _Mr. Punch_," said the fair maiden, looking at herself in a small mirror which she was holding in her right hand, "that you are inclined to go to sleep."