An American traveler, let us say, lands at Calais with a pocket full of American money; his purse may fairly bulge. But he cannot buy so much as a newspaper or a breakfast roll with it. As far as his ability to purchase the very necessities of life is concerned, he might as well be penniless. His American money is worthless to him on that other shore until he has exchanged it for the coin of the realm.

The secret of success lies never in the amount of money, but in the relation of income to outgo; as if, after expense has been fixed at a certain point, then new and steady rills of income, though never so small, being added, wealth begins.

And, besides, he was the most flatterable creature that ever was known; for there was a method of resignation to him, and treating him with little meals, and private, with his pipe, at ease, which certainly captivated him.

Manuel points out that the real cost of corruption is not what is actually embezzled or creamed off the top: The best thing these people could do is just take from the public treasury directly, because that would be much less expensive.