dispose of their uniforms to, when hard pressed with debts of honour, if
I may judge from their coats and epaulets diversifying the window with
their backs towards the public. The same party bought in one lot the
portmanteau, the bag, the desk, the dressing-case, the hat-box, the
umbrella, strap, and walking-stick. On my remarking that I should have
thought those articles not quite in his line, he said: "No more ith a
man'th grandmother, Mithter Chrithtopher; but if any man will bring hith
grandmother here, and offer her at a fair trifle below what the'll feth
with good luck when the'th thcoured and turned--I'll buy her!"

These transactions brought me home, and, indeed, more than home, for they
left a goodish profit on the original investment. And now there remained
the writings; and the writings I particular wish to bring under the
candid attention of the reader.

I wish to do so without postponement, for this reason. That is to say,
namely, viz. i.e., as follows, thus:--Before I proceed to recount the
mental sufferings of which I became the prey in consequence of the
writings, and before following up that harrowing tale with a statement of
the wonderful and impressive catastrophe, as thrilling in its nature as
unlooked for in any other capacity, which crowned the ole and filled the
cup of unexpectedness to overflowing, the writings themselves ought to
stand forth to view. Therefore it is that they now come next. One word
to introduce them, and I lay down my pen (I hope, my unassuming pen)
until I take it up to trace the gloomy sequel of a mind with something on
it.

He was a smeary writer, and wrote a dreadful bad hand. Utterly
regardless of ink, he lavished it on every undeserving object--on his
clothes, his desk, his hat, the handle of his tooth-brush, his umbrella.