severely. "Why does this mass-meeting, greatly under the influence of
inferior liquor as it plainly is, intrude thus upon the last hours of a
Ritualistic gentleman and a humorous publisher?"

"Because, Uncle JACK," returns EDWIN DROOD, holding his hands curiously
behind him as he speaks, "this is a night of general rejoicing
Bumsteadville, in honor of my reappearance; and, directed by your
landlord, Mr. SMYTHE, we have come out to make you join in our cheer. We
are all heartily sorry for the great anguish you have endured in
consequence of my unexplained absence. Let me tell you ow it was, as I
have already told all our friends here. You know where you placed me
while you were in your clove-trance, and I was o unbecomingly asleep, on
Christmas night. Well, I was discovered there, in less than three hours
thereafter, by JOHN MCLAUGHLIN, who carried me to his own house, and
there managed to awaken me. Recovering my senses, I was disgusted with
myself, ashamed of what had happened, and anxious to leave
Bumsteadville. I swore 'Old Mortarity' to secrecy--"

"--Which I have observed," explains MCLAUGHLIN, nodding.

"--And started immediately for Egypt, in Illinois," continues Mr. DROOD.
"There I went into railroading; am engaged to a nice little girl there;
and came back two days ago to explain myself all around, returning here,
I saw JOHN MCLAUGHLIN first, who told me that a certain Mr. CLEWS was
here to unravel the Mystery about me, and persuaded me to let Mr. CLEWS
work you into another visit to the cellar the Pauper Burial Ground, and
there appear to you as my own ghost, before finally revealing myself as
I now do."

The glassy eyes of the Ritualistic organist are fixed upon him in a most