of his mercantile establishment. There was but time to turn the key and
draw the curtains before the procession halted. Such behavior may have
perplexed Potts, but daunt him it could not. From Chislett's top step he
read Chislett's letter to the delighted throng, a letter in which Potts
was said to bear an unblemished reputation, and to be a gentleman and a
scholar, amply meriting any trust that might be reposed in him.

From Chislett's they moved on to the foot of the stairs leading to the
_Argus_ office. Potts sent Big Joe up for twenty-five copies of the
latest number, and, standing on the coal box, he gallantly distributed
these to the crowd as it filed before him, intoning from memory,
meantime, snatches of the eulogy, while the crowd flourished the papers
and gurgled noisily.

A brief plunge into the lethal flood at Skeyhan's, and they came once
more abroad, this time closing the Boston Cash Store most expeditiously.
Potts, enthroned upon a big box in front, among bolts of muslin, straw
hats, and bunches of innocent early lettuce, read the splendid tribute
of the store's proprietor to his capacity as an expert in jurisprudence
and his fitness for a seat of judicial honor. The bank and Chislett's
being still closed, the little street, except in the near vicinity of
Potts, began to sleep in a strange calm.

There were other doors to conquer, however, and Potts, at the head of
his _Argus_-waving crowd of degenerates, vanquished them all.

Up and down he wandered busily, doors closing and curtains falling
swiftly at his approach. Then would he turn majestically, and say, with
a hand raised, "My friends, a moment's silence, while I read you this
magnificent tribute from one who is unfortunately not among us."