an agent, or an insurance-broker, came dragging in, by the collar, some
Safe Risk, just captured, there was an actual contest to see who should
be most polite to the panting but healthy stranger, and obtain his
private biography for the consideration of the Company.

The Reverend OCTAVIUS studied these sprightly little scenes with
unspeakable interest until the arrival of Mr. SCHENCK, and then followed
that popular benefactor into his private office with the air of a man
who had gained a heightened admiration for his species.

"So you have come to your senses at last!" said Mr. SCHENCK, hastily
drawing his visitor toward a window in the side-room to which they had
retired. "Let me look at your tongue, sir."

"What do you mean?" asked the Gospeler, endeavoring to draw back.

"I mean what I say. Let--me--see--your--tongue.--Or, stop!" said Mr.
SCHENCK, seized with a new thought, "I may as well examine your general
organization first." And, flying at the astounded Ritualistic clergyman,
he had sounded his lungs, caused a sharp pain in his liver, and felt his
pulse, before the latter could phrase an intelligent protest.

"You may die at any moment, and probably will," concluded Mr. SCHENCK,
thoughtfully; "but still, on the score of friendship, we'll give you a
Policy for a reasonable amount, and take the chance of being able to
compromise with your mother on a certain per centage after the funeral."

"I don't want any of your plagued policies!" exclaimed the irritated
Gospeler, pushing away the hand striving to feel his pulse again.