to meet both, brought him speedily into that position when a man accepts
without hesitation the slightest offer of aid. The man who had had an
income of £15,000 a year, and settled £20,000 on his wife, allowed a
poor friend to pay a bill for £5 for him, and clutched eagerly at a £50
note when displayed to him by another. Extravagance is the father of
meanness, and Sheridan was often mean in the readiness with which he
accepted offers, and the anxiety with which he implored assistance. It
is amusing in the present day to hear a man talk of 'a debt of honour,'
as if all debts did not demand honour to pay them--as if all debts
incurred without hope of repayment were not dishonourable. A story is
told relative to the old-fashioned idea of a 'debt of honour.' A
tradesman, to whom he had given a bill for £200, called on him for the
amount. A heap of gold was lying on the table. 'Don't look that way,'
cried Sheridan, after protesting that he had not a penny in the world,
'that is to pay a debt of honour.' The applicant, with some wit, tore up
the bill he held. 'Now, Mr. Sheridan,' quoth he, 'mine is a debt of
honour too.' It is to be hoped that Sheridan handed him the money.

The story of Gunter's bill is not so much to his credit, Hanson, an
ironmonger, called upon him and pressed for payment. A bill sent in by
the famous confectioner was lying on the table. A thought struck the
debtor, who had no means of getting rid of his importunate applicant.
'You know Gunter?' he asked. 'One of the safest men in London,' replied
the ironmonger. 'Then will you be satisfied if I give you his _bill_ for
the amount?'--'Certainly.' Thereupon Sheridan handed him the neatly
folded account and rushed from the room, leaving the creditor to
discover the point of Mr. Sheridan's little fun.

Still Sheridan might have weathered through the storm. Drury Lane was a
mine of wealth to him, and with a little care might have been really