“Because it's just as likely that I never present it! I am the slave of the humor I find myself in, and I rarely do anything that costs me the slightest effort.” I said this with a close and, indeed, a servile imitation of Charles Matthews in “Used Up;” but it was a grand success, and Buller was palpably vanquished.
“Well, for George's sake, I hope your mood may be the favorable one. Is there anything more I can do for you? Can you think of nothing wherein I may be serviceable?”
“Nothing. Stay, I rather think our people at home might with propriety show my old friend Hirsch here some mark of attention for his conduct towards me. I don't know whether they give a C.B. for that sort of thing, but a sum,—a handsome sum,—something to mark the service, and the man to whom it was rendered. Don't you think 'we' could manage that?”
“I 'll see what can be done. I don't despair of success.”
“As for your share in the affair, Buller, I 'll take care that it shall be mentioned in the proper quarter. If I have a characteristic,—my friends say I have many,—but if I have one, it is that I never forget the most trifling service of the humblest of those who have aided me. You are young, and have your way to make in life. Go back, therefore, and carry with you the reflection that Potts is your friend.”
I saw he was affected at this, for he covered his face with his handkerchief and turned away, and for some seconds his shoulders moved convulsively.
“Yes,” said I, with a struggle to become humble, “there are richer men, there are men more influential by family ties and connections, there are men who occupy a more conspicuous position before the public eye, there are men who exercise a wider sway in the world of politics and party; but this I will say, that there is not one—no, not one—individual in the British dominions who, when you come to consider either the difficulties he has overcome, the strength of the prejudices he has conquered, the totally unassisted and unaided struggle he has had to maintain against not alone the errors, for errors are human, but still worse, the ungenerous misconceptions, the—I will go further, and call them the wilful misrepresentations of those who, from education and rank and condition, might be naturally supposed—indeed, confidently affirmed to be—to be—”
“I am certain of it!” cried he, grasping my hand, and rescuing me from a situation very like smothering,—“I am certain of it!” And with a hurried salutation, for his feelings were evidently overcoming him, he burst away, and descended the stairs five steps at a time; and although I was sorry he had not waited till I finished my peroration, I was really glad that the act had ended and the curtain fallen.
“What a deal of bad money passes current in this world,” said I, as I was alone; “and what a damper it is upon honest industry to think how easy it is to eke out life with a forgery!”
“What do you say to a dinner with me at the 'Swan' in Innspruck, Potts?” cried out Boiler, from the courtyard.