state of things must necessarily produce.
The first step was to discover the names and
addresses of these people: possessing which,
I should then be on the high road to the
cheapest market.

In the City of London, conducted by a
gentleman of the name of Perry, is an
organisation established, I believe, for the protection
of trade, called the Bankrupt and Insolvent
Registry Office. One part of Mr. Perry's
system is to send to subscribers of a small
annual sum a printed list, about once each
week, of the names and addresses of all
persons whose trading difficulties have
compelled them to give either a judge's order, a
bill of sale, or to sign a county court
judgment.* The date of the execution of these
instruments is carefully given, and every
information that will enable you to form a
judgment as to the pecuniary position and
struggles of a large number of the traders of
the country. I became a subscriber to Mr.
Perry's office, and received my lists every
week, which told me all, and more than I
required to know. In about two months,
with a little trouble and diplomatic skill,
aided by the all-powerful money that I had
at my command—I furnished a large house
from top to bottom in a style above the
average, and at less than one-fourth of the
usual cost. A couple of examples will explain
sufficiently how this was done.

* See Household Words, Volume vii. page 391.

Looking down my Trade Protection List one
morning carelessly over the breakfast-table,
my eye rested, amongst other things, upon
the following record of commercial distress;

JUDGE'S ORDERS.

Enoch Baxter, Cabinet-maker, 58, Great Carcass
Street, Sussex Town; Judge's Order for 22L. to
Robert Dunham and Co.; dated April 14th, 1857.

After breakfast, I walked out, and a
Sussex Town omnibus passing me at the
moment, I took my place outside, and in
half an hour's time I found myself walking
leisurely up Great Carcass Street. I stopped
before the window of Number Fifty-eight, a
small, unpretending shop, with no appearance
of abundance in the interior, and no
appearance of scarcity. There was a small
display of fire-screens, couches, card-tables,
easy-chairs, loo-tables, and a splendid marble-
topped sideboard, which particularly struck
my taste, and which I have now in my
possession, placed in the post of honour in my
luxurious dining-room. I opened the door
which clicked a small bell, and entered the
shop, when I was immediately waited upon
by a tall, quiet-looking, timid man, who
turned out to be the proprietor, Mr. Enoch
Baxter. It is impossible for me to explain
why I did so, but at the moment when he
advanced towards me, by a kind of impulse,
I rattled loudly some loose gold that I had
in my trousers' pocket, and the sound seemed
to have an electrical effect upon Mr. Baxter's
nerves. I asked to look at his Post Office
London Directory, and as he informed me
that he did not possess one, I observed his
countenance assume a desponding expression
of extreme disappointment. I asked the
price of a music-stool, and his face brightened
instantaneously with the hopeful expectation
of a customer. These little surface
indications taught me that Mr. Baxter was an
easily-managed, impressible man, and I
proceeded to manage him accordingly.

"Noble piece of furniture," I observed,
alluding to the marble-topped sideboard.

"Yes, sir," he replied quickly, with great
animation, "one of the most finished things
we ever turned out, and only sixty guineas."

"Ah," I returned in a desponding tone,
"such sums are rarely spent upon single
articles of furniture now, especially in these
days of commercial distress." The proprietor
gave vent to a heavy sigh.

"I should think," I continued in a
sympathising tone, "that the neighbourhood you
find yourself in, is scarcely adapted to the
class of articles you seem to produce?"

"It is not, sir," replied the proprietor;
"there is no local gentry, and our trade is
cut up by the cheap, advertising, rubbish
shops in other parts of the town."

"Walnut?" I inquired, again directing my
attention to the sideboard.

"No, sir; Pollard oak."

"Several large failures in the City again
this morning," I remarked, "and the Bank
rate of discount, I am told, is likely to go up
to twelve per cent." The gold, somehow,
again clinked in my pocket.

"Where will it all end? " sighed the
proprietor.

"Where?" I responded, walking round
the sideboard.

"Sir," said the proprietor, in an almost
affectionate manner, "if you would really like
that splendid article, I will knock off ten
guineas, and put it in to you at fifty."

"These things," I replied, "are all
regulated by the law of supply and demand, and
the state of the money-market; if I offered
you twenty-two pounds——"

The mention of that peculiar sum (the
amount of the judge's order) seemed to strike
him with a sudden pang; and I think he
staggered as he gasped out faintly—

"No, sir, no; it would not pay the cost of
the raw material."

The time, I considered, had now arrived for
me to take the decisive step. I calmly took
one of my address-cards from my pocketbook,
and wrote upon it my maximum
amount, five-and-twenty pounds.

"There," said I, as I placed it in the open
hand of the hesitating proprietor, " five-and-
twenty pounds; send the article home to
that address, and there is your money, cash
on delivery."

Late at night I found the sideboard