inverted summit, the actual and absolute resemblance of a gigantic
wineglass.

"Now," said Mr. Brown, with that ironical bitterness so common to
intense despair, "now, that's what I call pleasant."

As if the elements were guided and set on by all the departed souls of
those whom Mr. Brown had at any time overreached in his profession,
scarcely had the afflicted broker uttered this brief sentence, before
a discharge of rain, tenfold more heavy than any which had yet fallen,
tumbled down in literal torrents upon the defenceless head of the
itinerant.

"This won't do," said Mr. Brown, plucking up courage and splashing out
of the little rivulet once more into terra firma, "this won't do: I
must find a shelter somewhere. Dear, dear, how the wet runs down me!
I am for all the world like the famous dripping well in Derbyshire.
What a beast of an umbrella! I'll never buy one again of an old lady:
hang me if I do."

As the miserable Morris uttered these sentences, which gushed out, one
by one, in a broken stream of complaint, he looked round and round--
before, behind, beside--for some temporary protection or retreat. In
vain: the uncertainty of the light only allowed him to discover houses
in which no portico extended its friendly shelter, and where even the
doors seemed divested of the narrow ledge wherewith they are, in more
civilized quarters, ordinarily crowned.

"I shall certainly have the rheumatism all this winter," said Mr.
Brown, hurrying onward as fast as he was able. Just then, glancing