"Don't believe that," said the Jew. "When a man's his own enemy, it's only because he's too much his own friend, not because he's careful for every body but himself. Pooh! pooh! There ain't such a thing in nature."
"There oughtn't to be, if there is," replied Mr. Bolter.
"That stands to reason," said the Jew. "Some conjurers say that number three is the magic number, and some say number seven. It's neither, my friend, neither. It's number one."
"Ha! ha!" cried Mr. Bolter. "Number one for ever."
"In a little community like ours, my dear," said the Jew, who felt it necessary to qualify this position, "we have a general number one; that is, you can't consider yourself as number one without considering me too as the same, and all the other young people."
"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Mr. Bolter.
"You see," pursued the Jew, affecting to disregard this interruption, "we are so mixed up together and identified in our interests that