a stout, burly man, and quite communicative. From him Edward learned
much of importance. Mr. Blinge was his name. He was an inveterate
smoker, and his pet was a little black pipe, dingy and old, and by
not a few deemed a nuisance to "The Bull's Horn." This he held
between his teeth, and, seating himself behind his bar, puffed away
on the high-pressure principle.

Edward had not been many minutes in his room before Mr. Blinge
entered with his pet in his mouth, hoped he did n't intrude,
apologized, and wished him to walk below, saying that by so doing he
might become acquainted with some "rare souls."

By "below" was meant a large, square room, on the ground floor, of
dimensions ample enough to hold a caucus in. By some it was called a
"bar-room," by others the "sitting-room," and others the
"gentlemen's parlor."

Entering, Edward encountered the gaze of about twenty individuals.
Old gentlemen with specs looked beneath them, and young gentlemen
with papers looked above them. A young man in white jacket and green
apron was endeavoring to satisfy the craving appetites of two
teamsters, who were loudly praising the landlord's brandy, and
cursing the bad state of the roads in a manner worthy of "our army
in Flanders."

One young man, in particular, attracted the attention of our hero.
He was genteelly dressed, and possessed an air of dignity and
self-command, that would obtain for him at once the good will of
any. Edward was half inclined to believe his circumstances to be
somewhat similar to his own. He was reading an evening paper, but,