His Majesty entered the office--a portly, rather flabby man, with the face of a gentleman, rendered unspeakably pathetic and absurd by the great sabre at his side and the peacock's feather in his hat.
"I have called to remind you, Mr.Pinkerton, that you are somewhat in arrear of taxes," he said, with old-fashioned, stately courtesy.
"Well, your Majesty, what is the amount ?" asked Jim; and when the figure was named (it was generally two or three dollars), paid upon the nail and offered a bonus in the shape of Thirteen Star.
"I am always delighted to patronise native industries," said Norton the First.

"San Francisco is public-spirited in what concerns its Emperor; and indeed, sir, of all my domains, it is my favourite city." "Come," said I, when he was gone, "I prefer that customer to the lot." "It's really rather a distinction," Jim admitted.

"I think it must have been the umbrella racket that attracted him." We were distinguished under the rose by the notice of other and greater men.

There were days when Jim wore an air of unusual capacity and resolve, spoke with more brevity like one pressed for time, and took often on his tongue such phrases as "Longhurst told me so this morning," or "I had it straight from Longhurst himself." It was no wonder, I used to think, that Pinkerton was called to council with such Titans; for the creature's quickness and resource were beyond praise.

In the early days when he consulted me without reserve, pacing the room, projecting, ciphering, extending hypothetical interests, trebling imaginary capital, his "engine" (to renew an excellent old word) labouring full steam ahead, I could never decide whether my sense of respect or entertainment were the stronger.