“Yes, sir;” replied the obedient Quagga.
“Your father does a deal of good, sir, with his charities,” he resumed. “Ah! charity’s a fine thing!—an admirable thing! I do a wonderful deal of good myself that way sometimes. I give the poor all the bad coin that comes into my hands. I do a deal of good I assure you. Your father enjoys a great reputation for integrity in his dealings. Nothing like it, sir;—It is always at a premium. Hope you will tread in your father’s footsteps; and if you should have a desire for speculating, I trust the credit I possess will induce you to place confidence in me. I should recommend you to invest largely in the shares of the Madagascar Silk Worm Company, and the Timbuctoo Beet-root Sugar Joint Stock Association. I have some shares at my disposal, which, although they’re now very high in the market, to oblige the son of so respectable a man as my correspondent, master Porphyry, I would let you have at a fair price,—say the first at 95⅞, and the other at 80.”
“I am obliged to you,” replied Oriel Porphyry; “but I have no desire to speculate in such things at present.”
“Very good—very good,” said the broker, not at all disconcerted at the failure of his schemes. “Caution is advisable in all mercantile transactions, and I am the last person in the world to suggest any thing to you, which I do not think would turn to your advantage. Perhaps you have bullion to dispose of? If so, I could afford a very handsome per centage, and exchange with you to a considerable amount in notes of one of the most steady banks in the country—that of Mangel Wurzel, Carrots and Co. at Lattakoo.”
“I’m much obliged to you; but as my stay in this part of the world must be brief, it would not be advisable to change my bullion into the paper currency of the country;” said Oriel.
“True—true;” remarked master Boor, and a cloud did pass over his gloomy countenance when he found he could not dispose of any of his unprofitable speculations. “You are right. So you do not intend staying here? Fine country. No kings—none of that nonsense. Every man does just as he likes, and cares for nobody.—Quagga! you rascal, I’ll have you flayed alive if you don’t finish that intricate account with Botherem, Blunder, and Bigfist, in an hour.” The frightened clerk began to write away with the speed of a steam-engine. “In no place in the world is the right of opinion so much respected.—Quagga, you scoundrel! I understand you spoke at the Universal Consolidated Democratic Discussion Society, against the measure now before the legislature for the tax on tenpenny nails. How dare you oppose my political sentiments! This is insolence, sir—treason, anarchy, and rebellion! If ever I hear you entertain an opinion different from mine again, I’ll have you inclosed within four stone walls and starve you upon a mouthful a day.”
Quagga trembled like an aspen, and did not dare lift his eyes from the book.
“Yes, sir, I repeat, this is the only country on the face of the globe, where mankind enjoy a perfect state of civil and religious liberty. What do they think of us, sir, in Columbia? Don’t they envy us our noble institutions, ey? Our excellent government—our enlightened people?”
“Why, those who ever do think of the African states—”
“Ever think of them!” cried the old fellow, with emphasis, interrupting the speaker; “they must always think of them. They cannot help drawing comparisons, sir, with their own wretched state; and they must therefore be wonderfully desirous of sharing in the blessings we enjoy.”