twenty pounds, I can master this millionaire and tame this Earthly
Providence. Behind us lies penury and squalor, before us glitters
jewelled opulence. You will be at 1542 Park Lane to-morrow WITH
THE DIBS?--Yours expectantly,

MONTAGUE TIGG.


From Mr. David Crimp to Montague Tigg, Esq.
The Golden Balls, May 28.


Dear Mr. Tigg,--You always WERE full of your chaff, but you must
have been drinking when you wrote all that cock-and-a-bull gammon.
Thirty pounds! No; nor fifteen; nor as many pence. I never heard
of the party you mention by the name of the Count of Monte Cristo;
and as for the Prince, he's as likely to be setting out for
Boulogne with an eagle as you are to start a monkey and a barrel-
organ in Jericho; or may be THAT'S the likeliest of the two. So
stow your gammon, and spare your stamps, is my last word.--Yours
respectfully to command,

D. CRIMP.



LETTER: From Christian to Piscator.