"
Leaping forward, the Reverend OCTAVIUS wrung both the black worsted
gloves of Mr. BENTHAM, and introduced the latter to the old lawyer and
his ward.
"He did indeed save all but my head from the conflagration, and
extinguished that, even, before it was much charred," cried the grateful
Ritualist, with marked emotion.--"But, JEREMY, why this aspect of
depression?"
"OCTAVIUS, old friend," said BENTHAM, his hollow voice quivering, "let
no man boast himself upon the gaiety of his youth, and fondly
dream--poor self-deceiver!--that his maturity may be one of revelry. You
know what I once was. Now I am conducting a first-class American Comic
Paper."
Commiseration, earnest and unaffected, appeared upon every countenance,
and Mr. DIBBLE was the first to break the ensuing deep silence.
"If I am not mistaken, then," observed the good lawyer, quietly, "the
scene of your daily loss of spirits is in the same building with our
young friend, Mr. PENDRAGON, whom you may know."
"I do know him, sir; and that his sister has lately come unto him. His
room, by means of outside shutters, was once a refuge to me from the
Man"--Here Mr.
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