“Of course,” replied Abel, in a tone that General Belch did not entirely comprehend—“of course no gentleman knows any thing of politics. Gentlemen are the natural governors of a country; and where they are not erected into a hereditary governing class, self-respect forbids them to mix with inferior men—so they keep aloof from public affairs. Good Heavens! what gentleman would be guilty of being an alderman in this town! Why, as you know, my dear Belch, nothing but my reduced circumstances induces me to go to Congress. By-the-by—”
“Well, what is it?” asked the General.
“I’m dreadfully hard up,” said Abel. “I have just the d——est luck you ever conceived, and I must raise some money.”
The fat nose glistened again, while the General sat silently pondering.
“I can lend you a thousand,” he said, at length.
“Thank you. It will oblige me very much.”
“Upon conditions,” added the General.
“Conditions?” asked Abel, surprised.
“I mean understandings,” said the General.
“Oh! certainly,” answered Abel.