feel warm. There is no saying how long I
might have remained in the business of an
Innocent Holder, if it had not been for the
notorious case of Pendragon and Fitzhobbledehoy.
This sprang out of a stroke of genius
—clever, but dangerous—on the part of the
unscrupulous Owen Griffiths and Affy Davit,
Esquire, alias Mr. Barking, and many other
names, too numerous to specify.

The Honourable Algernon Fitzhobbledehoy
was a young man about town of very expensive
habits, with considerable property in
possession, and more considerable property
in expectation. He was a long person full
six feet in height; long in the legs, which
inclined inwards a little at the knees; long
and crane-like in the neck; a long nose, with
a long upper jaw, and a low retreating
forehead. He had gone the regular round of
education—private tutor, university, and so
forth; but it had not added much strength to
a naturally weak intellect. He had gone the
regular round of idleness and dissipation; and
experience seemed to have left him younger
and more gushing than ever. His heart was
soft, impressionable, and sentimental; and he
fell desperately in love with a ballet-dancer.
She was ten years his senior, saw her
advantage; and, in a few weeks, but for an
unlucky volume of poetry, the Honourable
Algernon Fitzhobbledehoy would have been
a married man.

Mademoiselle Celestina Pomade, as she
styled herself, had been to Paris, where she
had acquired a French accent, and a foreign
fascination of manner; but her birth-place
was Ludlow, her name was Griffiths, and she
was a niece to Owen Griffiths, my faithful
ally. Amongst other presents which the
enamoured Algernon had given his Celestina
was a volume of miscellaneous verses, on the
clear, white fly-leaf of which he had written
"to my beloved Celestina Pomade, from her
ever affectionate and devoted Algernon
Fitzhobbledehoy." The signature was bold,
rather below the other writing, and full
across the centre of the sheet.

Owen Griffiths called upon his niece one
morning at her lodgings, and was shown into
a handsomely-furnished sitting-room, where
he was left for some time; as the young lady
had not yet come down from her chamber.
To amuse himself, he took up some of the
books upon the table, and amongst the rest
the volume of poetry, when his eye soon
rested upon the signature of the young man
about town. Knowing the writer, and having
no scruples of conscience, he conveyed the
book to the broad pocket of his coat, and
took his leave at the earliest possible moment
after his unsuspecting relative thought proper
to make her appearance. In a very short
time the valuable counsels of Affy Davit
were called in, and with a chemical preparation
which that useful friend and companion
had often used in his younger days, the
words of affection on the leaf of the book
were obliterated, for ever, without a mark,
and nothing left but the bold signature of
Algernon Fitzhobbledehoy across the blank
page. The paper was torn out, cut, trimmed,
filled up in the form of a bill of exchange for
two thousand five hundred pounds, payable
one month after date (the date being thrown
back eighteen days), and then both Owen
Griffiths and Billy Affy Davit, thoroughly
disguised, went boldly before the Stamp
Commissioners at Somerset House, told
their story, paid the ten pounds penalty,
and the cost of the stamp, and in one of
those many moments of official indolence,
just before the termination of office hours,
they got their instrument made legally
complete.

Of course I knew nothing of these
proceedings until some time afterwards, and of
course the bill came regularly to me. At the
expiration of the short time the bill had to
run I made application to the astonished
Algernon Fitzhobbledehoy for payment, and
the unexpected demand almost deprived him
of the little wit he ever had at command.
He was, without exception, the weakest man
I ever had to deal with; but your very weak
men are not the best subjects for an Innocent
Holder's trade. They want too much propping
up, they consult too many friends and legal
advisers, and the result is that they go to
law, when your stronger debtor or victim
arranges for himself.

This was the case with the Honourable
Algernon Fitzhobbledehoy, and hence the
celebrated civil cause wherein I was the
plaintiff and he was the defendant. Of course
I gained the day—the Innocent Holder always
does and must—though the jury winced a
little when told by the judge what form their
decision must take. The Honourable Algernon
could not deny his handwriting; I
obtained an order for principal, costs, and
interest, and the impartial justice of the law
was vindicated. The case was so notorious
at the time, that I retired, at once, from,
business, and the Honourable Algernon
Fitzhobbledehoy, though he retired from the
court under the strong impression that he
was a deeply injured man, had had full value
for his money, in my belief, in being saved
(as he was) from a weak and imprudent
marriage.

Though I am no longer an Innocent Holder,
there are plenty of my trade left, and men of
the Affy Davit and Owen Griffiths class
have not to go far in search of a receiver.
Many men, whose early days were brighter
than mine, are found with capital to buy
acceptances, asking no questions from the
seller as long as the article is cheap. With
something of the pride of an old conjuror
exposing his tricks, I record my plans and
operations, in the hope of again warning
those who have been often warned before to
little purpose. If people will shut their eyes,
and close their ears, they must not complain