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. BENTHAM'S face flamed with inconceivable hatred--"who
came to tell me just how an American first-class Comic Paper _should_ be
conducted."

"At what time does your rush of subscribers cease?"

"As soon as I begin to charge anything for my paper."

"And the newsmen, who take it by the week,--what is their usual time for
swarming in your office?"