idea has frequently struck me of late, that we might do something together:—it seems to me as if we were cut out for partners—eh?"
"My capital is anything but large" said Hugh, "£150 is rather a small amount to commence any business with, excepting that of match or broom merchant."
"I've £200," said Slinger, "there's a clear £350 to start with."
"But mine is a much less sum than your's, Slinger; so if we do anything together, you must put £50 into a bank, if there is one in Melbourne, in your own name."
"Oh!—oh!—yes of course I must," said Slinger, at the same time with a "mental reservation" to do nothing of the sort. Would that all "mental reservations" could boast of such disinterested and pure motives.
"Hugh Raymond and Co., General Merchants," he continued. —"Is it a bargain? —Yes: then give me your hand my boy." The spirit of honesty seemed to bind those hands together as if loath to part them, for they continued their grasp for some minutes. Then Slinger proceeded, addressing himself to the now deserted berths, "If any of you know any just cause or impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in the bonds of partnership, why out with it.—No answer? "Well, that's settled:" and picking up a piece of chalk, which was lying on the floor of the cabin, he wrote several times, as he said, just to get his hand in, "Raymond & Co."
"No! no!" said Hugh, "it shall be Slinger and Co."
The point admitted of argument:—so it was left to chance.—
"Head or tail," said Slinger, producing a shilling. —"Tail—you lose; henceforth I shall be known as the Co.; and there's an end of that. —Signed, sealed, and delivered on board the 'Big Ann,' this nineteenth day of July—and all that
