CHAPTER VIII.—IN WHICH WE TAKE SUPPER WITH THE FIRST CÆSAR OF THE CORPORATIONS
HE next day, on the steps of the Capitol, I met the Hon. Bonaparte Squares, a large, portly, handsome man with a deep, musical voice and a brown mustache and goatee, He seized my hand and shook it warmly.
“Old man,” he said, “I've been looking for you ever since we parted at Niagara Falls. I heard you were here, and I want to have a talk with you.”
I went aside with him.
“First,” he added, “I want to pay you that fifty dollars with interest to date. I couldn't find you after the tight-rope performance or I should have paid you then.”
“Give me the principal, never mind the interest,” I said.
“I insist,” said he. “Here are seventy-five dollars. Please forgive me—the thing had slipped my mind.”