"How are you, Lynch?" exclaimed the dilapidated individual, extending his hand.
"How do you do, Farringford?" replied Lynch.
Farringford! This must be the decayed steamboat owner of whom Lynch had before spoken to me. He was apparently about forty-five years of age, and he looked as though the world had used him very roughly.
"I'm glad to see you, Lynch," said Farringford. "I'm always glad to see an old friend. I'm hard up, and I want to borrow a dollar."
Lynch took two half dollars in silver from his pocket. Perhaps the present generation of young people never saw a half dollar; but it is true that there was a time when such a coin was in general use! He handed the money to the seedy gentleman, and then said something to him in a whisper, which I could not hear, though I had planked myself close by the side of the villain. Lynch then turned to cross the street, and I started to follow him.
Phil meets Leonidas Lynchpinne. Page 100.
"See here, my lad," said Farringford, grasping me by the arm.
"Let me alone!" I cried, struggling to escape, fearful that I should lose sight of Lynch.