'Water-rate?' said His Majesty.

'No, no,' I returned.

'Gas? Assessed? Sewers?' said His Majesty.

'You misunderstand me,' I replied, soothingly. 'Not that sort of
collector at all: a collector of facts.'

'Oh, if it's only facts,' cried the King of the Bill-Stickers,
recovering his good-humour, and banishing the great mistrust that
had suddenly fallen upon him, 'come in and welcome! If it had been
income, or winders, I think I should have pitched you out of the
wan, upon my soul!'

Readily complying with the invitation, I squeezed myself in at the
small aperture. His Majesty, graciously handing me a little three-
legged stool on which I took my seat in a corner, inquired if I
smoked.

'I do; - that is, I can,' I answered.

'Pipe and a screw!' said His Majesty to the attendant charioteer.
'Do you prefer a dry smoke, or do you moisten it?'

As unmitigated tobacco produces most disturbing effects upon my
system (indeed, if I had perfect moral courage, I doubt if I should
smoke at all, under any circumstances), I advocated moisture, and
begged the Sovereign of the Bill-Stickers to name his usual liquor,