These things gave me some heart, so that at last, I went up to the “sprouts” with less reluctance, and began to try to pay off my persecutors in their own coin. On one occasion, a dwarfish little lawyer, who reminded me of “Quilp,” commenced his examination in behalf of a note-shaver who held a thousand dollar note, which it seemed he had bought for seven hundred dollars. After the oath had been administered the little “limb of the law” arranged his pen, ink and paper, and in a loud voice, and with a most peremptory and supercilious air, asked: “What is your name, sir?” I answered him, and his next question, given in a louder and more peremptory tone, was: “What is your business?” “Attending bar,” I meekly replied. “Attending bar!” he echoed, with an appearance of much surprise; “Attending bar! Why, don’t you profess to be a temperance man--a teetotaler?” “I do,” I replied. “And yet, sir, do you have the audacity to assert that you peddle rum all day, and drink none yourself?” “I doubt whether that is a relevant question,” I said in a low tone of voice. “I will appeal to his honor the judge, if you don’t answer it instantly,” said Quilp in great glee. “I attend bar, and yet never drink intoxicating liquors,” I replied. “Where do you attend bar, and for whom?” was the next question. “I attend the bar of this court, nearly every day, for the benefit of two-penny, would-be lawyers and their greedy clients,” I answered. A loud tittering in the vicinity only added to the vexation which was already visible on the countenance of my interrogator, and he soon brought his examination to a close. On another occasion, a young lawyer was pushing his inquiries to a great length, when, in a half laughing, apologetic tone, he said: “You see, Mr. Barnum, I am searching after the small things; I am willing to take even the crumbs which fall from the rich man’s table!” “Which are you, Lazarus, or one of the dogs?” I asked. “I guess a blood-hound would not smell out much on this trail,” he said good-naturedly, adding that he had no more questions to ask. I still continued to receive many offers of pecuniary assistance, which, whenever proposed in the form of a gift, I invariably refused. In a number of instances, personal friends tendered me their checks for $500, $1,000, and other sums, but I always responded in substance: “Oh, no, I thank you; I do not need it; my wife has considerable property, besides a large income from her Museum lease. I want for nothing; I do not owe a dollar for personal obligations that is not already secured, and when the clock creditors have fully investigated and thought over the matter, I think they will be content to divide my property among themselves and let me up.”