than Neal's, the latter distanced him. Before three years passed
he had shrunk up so much that he could not walk abroad of a windy
day without carrying weights in his pockets to keep him firm on the
earth which he once trod with the step of a giant. He again sought
the schoolmaster, with whom, indeed, he associated as much as
possible. Here he felt certain of receiving sympathy; nor was he
disappointed. That worthy but miserable man and Neal often retired
beyond the hearing of their respective wives, and supported each
other by every argument in their power. Often have they been heard
in the dusk of evening singing behind a remote hedge that melancholy
ditty, "Let us BOTH be unhappy together," which rose upon the
twilight breeze with a cautious quaver of sorrow truly heartrending
and lugubrious.

"Neal," said Mr. O'Connor on one of those occasions, "here is a
book which I recommend to your perusal; it is called 'The Afflicted
Man's Companion'; try if you cannot glean some consolation out of
it."

"Faith," said Neal, "I'm forever oblaged to you, but I don't want
it. I've had 'The Afflicted Man's Companion' too long, and not an
atom o' consolation I can get out of it. I have ONE o' them, I tell
you; but, be my sowl, I'll not undertake A PAIR o' them. The very
name's enough for me." They then separated.

The tailor's vis vitae must have been powerful or he would have
died. In two years more his friends could not distinguish him from
his own shadow, a circumstance which was of great inconvenience
to him. Several grasped at the hand of the shadow instead of his;
and one man was near paying it five and sixpence for making a