The dinner when it appeared was excellent, and consisted of many more articles than I had ordered. After dinner, as I sat “trifling” with my cold brandy-and-water, an individual entered—a short, thick, dumpy man about thirty, with brown clothes and a broad hat, and holding in his hand a large leather bag. He gave me a familiar nod, and passing by the table, at which I sat, to one near the window, he flung the bag upon it, and seating himself in the chair with his profile towards me, he untied the bag, from which he poured a large quantity of sovereigns upon the table, and fell to counting them. After counting them three times, he placed them again in the bag, which he tied up; then taking a small book, seemingly an account-book, out of his pocket, he wrote something in it with a pencil; then putting it in his pocket, he took the bag, and unlocking a beaufet which stood at some distance behind him against the wall, he put the bag into a drawer; then again locking the beaufet, he sat down in the chair, then tilting the chair back upon its hind legs, he kept swaying himself backwards and forwards upon it, his toes sometimes upon the ground, sometimes mounting until they tapped against the nether side of the table, surveying me all the time with a queer kind of a side glance, and occasionally ejecting saliva upon the carpet in the direction of the place where I sat. “Fine weather, sir,” said I at last, rather tired of being skewed and spit at in this manner. “Why yaas,” said the figure; “the day is tolerably fine, but I have seen a finer.” “Well, I don’t remember to have seen one,” said I; “it is as fine a day as I have seen during the present season, and finer weather than I have seen during this season I do not think I ever saw before.” “The weather is fine enough for Britain,” said the figure, “but there are other countries besides Britain.” “Why,” said I, “there’s the States, ’tis true.” “Ever been in the States, Mr.?” said the figure quickly. “Have I ever been in the States,” said I, “have I ever been in the States?” “Perhaps you are of the States, Mr.; I thought so from the first.” “The States are fine countries,” said I. “I guess they are, Mr.” “It would be no easy matter to whip the States.” “So I should guess, Mr.” “That is single-handed,” said I. “Single-handed, no, nor double-handed either. Let England and France and the State which they are now trying to whip without being able to do it, that’s Russia, all unite in a union to whip the Union, and if instead of whipping the States they don’t get a whipping themselves, call me a braying jackass—”