"'Sir,' said he, 'this is—dear me, is it possible two people should be so much alike?—your brother's last account before he went.'
"I could not help saying, 'He is gone to his last account now, sir.' If it had been to save my life, I could never check my fun.
"'Lord, how like Mr. Robert that is!' said the upholsterer.
"'What is the amount?' said I.
"'Fourteen hundred and seventy-two pounds, thirteen shillings, and ninepence halfpenny. As for interest, Mr. Daly, I don't want it.'
"'Sir,' said I, drawing out of my pocket a handkerchief whiter than unsunned snow, 'I honour and reverence you. I can now account for the high respect and veneration with which my poor brother Bob used to speak of you and write about you. You shall judge what he has done;—he has died worth three thousand five hundred pounds; the claims upon him are numerous and heavy; in his letter, the last I ever received from him, he directs me to make an equitable division of his property.'
"'Poor fellow!' said the cabinet-maker.
"'An innocent young creature, with three children,' said I, 'first claims his care.'
"'Dear me!' said the man. 'Rely upon it I won't interfere there. No, no. I gave him credit further than he asked it. I won't visit his sins upon those who, perhaps, are helpless, and certainly blameless in this affair.'