He started, as he spoke, for the door of the private-office, intending
to lock it and remove the key; but the unhappy Ritualist, fathoming his
design, was there before him, and tore open the door for his own speedy
egress.

"Mr. SCHENCK," observed the Gospeler, turning and pausing in the
doorway, "you allow your business-energy to violate all the most
delicate amenities of private life, and will yet drive some maddened
mortal to such resentful use of pistol, knife, or poker, as your
mourning family shall sincerely deplore. The articles on Free Trade and
Protection in the daily papers have hitherto been regarded as the climax
of all that utterly wearies the long-suffering human soul; but I tell
you, as a candid friend, that they are but little more depressing and
jading to the vital powers than your unceasing mention of
life-insurance."

"These are strong words, sir," answered Mr. SCHENCK, incredulously. "The
editorial articles to which you refer are considered the very drought of
journalism; those by Mr. GREELEY, especially, being so dry that they are
positively dangerous reading without a tumbler of water."

"Yon brought the comparison upon yourself, Mr. SCHENCK. Good day."

Thus speaking, the Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON hurried nervously from the
Boreal temple; not fairly satisfied that he had escaped a Policy until
he found himself safely emerged on Broadway and turning a corner toward
Nassau Street. Beaching the latter bye-way, after a brief interval of
sharp walking, he entered a building nearly opposite that in which was
the office of Mr. DIBBLE; and, having ascended numerous flights of