suggestion came to him. He got it by treading on the toe of a market porter, who cursed him with a volubility that only time and a natural leaning that way could have made perfect. Instead of replying with some graceful oaths of his own, George felt inclined to invite his unknown friend to a drink. 

 "Swearing's a habit," said George chuckling, "and a damn bad habit too. Yes, by St. Christopher, that ought to do for Old Joe! There's something rich about a vice like that, and if it doesn't hit him in the eye straight away he's not the benevolent old man I take him to be." 

 Somebody ran into George as he entered the office, and Mr. Early promptly rattled out a string of oaths, just by way of practice. 

 The language that afternoon was such as Fairbrothers' had never known since the firm started. George swore at the office-boys and his fellow-clerks for no apparent reason; and whenever he had occasion to make a remark naturally inoffensive, he seasoned it with unparliamentary expressions. He deftly mixed his obscenity with a good humour that was unmistakable, so that no person could say his language was anything but a vicious habit. 

 "This suits me down to the ground," thought George; "I should never have believed I could pick up anything so quickly; it's easier than learning French." 

 When George Early started on a thing he didn't do it by halves. In the present case he made such rapid progress that he was firmly convinced the following morning would see him proficient. 

 He remembered with pleasure that it was the morning on which Joseph Fairbrother was to show some fair Sunday School teachers over the building. Nothing could be better. On their arrival he would drop some tame expletives sufficient to arouse the attention of the lady visitors; on their departure he would try something a little stronger. Some of them would be sure to point out his depravity to the principal, and as soon as that charitable gentleman began to keep his ears open George felt sure he could give him all the language he wanted. 

 That night the ambitious clerk wallowed in an atmosphere of profanity. He cursed the 'bus conductor and the 'bus driver, and the passengers, according to their size and fighting weight. He swore at every one who pushed against him, and a good many who didn't. He cursed dogs and telegraph-boys, and even lamp-posts. Once he nearly said something rude to a policeman, and only just pulled up in time to save himself. 

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