“All the effect of competition, sir,” answered the man quietly. “Fine thing competition. We should none of us enjoy the satisfaction of being ruined, if it was not for competition; and the beautiful principle of it is, sir, that it makes a man consider that he is greatest honoured who is soonest ruined; therefore we all run a race—and a very anxious race it is, I assure you. We undersell each other—we dispose of our goods at a certain loss—we even give them away—and happy is the man who is ruined before his rivals. Admirable thing, competition! Where shall I send them, sir?”
“Send them to Master Porphyry, on board the ship Albatross, now in the harbour, and I will call and pay you before I depart,” replied the young merchant.
“Don’t hurry yourself, sir,” said the tradesman. “Don’t hurry yourself, I entreat. Nay, I should be just as well pleased were you to forget it altogether, for then I shall be a step nearer to the honour I so much covet—the distinction of being ruined before any other person in the same line of business in my immediate neighbourhood. I am grateful to you for your favours. Any thing you may require, sir—the most extensive order you can give me I shall be happy to supply on the same advantageous terms. Any thing you like to accept, sir, is at your disposal. I implore you to have the generosity to assist in my ruin.”
Zabra and his companion, at last, with great difficulty, got out of the shop, and proceeded, unmolested, on their way, till they came to an opening in the street, where several men seemed to be preaching from little elevations, each to his own separate congregation, yet frequently alluding to their coadjutors, in such terms as clearly proved that they were rivals in the trade they had adopted.
“Come, my children, to me, and I will expound to you the law by which alone you can be saved from everlasting punishment,” exclaimed a fat faced little old man to his audience. “Fly from the things of this world—pay your teachers liberally—care not for eating or drinking, or amusing yourselves with idle pleasures, and you shall live in eternal happiness!”
“Fire and brimstone! Flame and torment! Prepare for these, my beloved brethren!” shouted a lank fellow with a most hypocritical physiognomy. “Ye who are the elect shall enjoy the good things, but scorching and burning shall be the everlasting portion of those who are not of our communion.”
“Heed not the voices of ungodly men, to whom the evangelical grace has not descended,” cried a stern-visaged preacher. “Our way is a way of mercy, a way of charity, and a way of peace. But rejoice, oh my hearers! for the time is not afar off when we will smite the unbelievers from shoulder to hip, till their name be utterly removed from the land.”
“Hear a voice which none can understand, but which is sent to enlighten the universe,” screamed one, whose brilliant eyes and wild expression of countenance seemed marked by the influence of insanity—“Hu—ugh—hullabaloo—scrikey-smash—drido—snolk—hi ha botherum—pickwickicksicceriggidiggy——”
“I tell thee, friend, thy way is the way of perdition, humph,” exclaimed another, with a nasal twang, and a clean sleek appearance. “Verily it is the way of the bottomless pit. There is no virtue save under a beaver with a broad brim, humph! and the spirit can only be found in vestments of a formal cut, and of a drab colour, humph!”
“Leave those heretics, my children, who can only hurry you on the road of iniquity, and enter the bosom of the true church,” shouted a brawny fellow in the dress of a mendicant. “Here is holy water, and here are relics that have the power of saving your souls from purgatory.”