Accordingly, he spoke to Sam on the subject, informing him that he (John) had been asked to take office as a new-fangled Town-Councillor. What did he think of it? Would it be wise or prudent for him to comply with the request?
"Will they pay you for it?" enquired Sammy with a quick interrogative glance at his brother.
"O, no!" John replied, "there 'll be no pay for th' job—nothing for it but the honour of the position."
"Humph! honour be hanged!" responded Sam, "let me gi'e thee a bit of advice, John; whenever thae does ought for nought, do it for thae-sell!"
On one occasion Mr Sam Brooks had advertised for a dog. Sitting in his breakfast-room, which looked out towards the entrance gate, he saw a rough tyke of a youth coming along the drive partly dragging, partly holding back with a cord, a mongrel-looking brute that had been sent in answer to the advertisement.
Mr Brooks, rising, went to the door and accosted the youth:
"What have you got there, my lad?"
"A dog that mi feyther has sent."
"Thae feyther has sent it, has he? Hum!" (The millionaire banker walked leisurely round the animal and surveyed its points.)