"That's JACK BUMSTEAD'S playing," whispers EDWIN DROOD; "and he must be
breathing this way, too, for I can smell the cloves."

"O, take me home," cries FLORA, suddenly throwing her hoop over the
young man's neck, and dragging him violently after her. "I think cloves
are perfectly disgusting."

At the door of the Alms-House the pretty Flowerpot blows a kiss to
EDWIN, and goes in. He makes one trial of his ball against the door, and
goes off. She is an in-fant, he Js an off-'un.



CHAPTER IV.

MR. SWEENEY.

Accepting the New American Cyclopaedia as a fair standard of
stupidity--although the prejudice, perhaps, may arise rather from the
irascibility of the few using it as a reference, than from the calm
judgment of the many employing it to fill-out a showy book-case--then
the newest and most American Cyclopaedist in Bumsteadville is Judge
SWEENEY.

[Footnote: Mr. SAPBEA, the original of this character In Mr. DICKENS'
romance, is an auctioneer. The present Adapter can think of no nearer
American equivalent, in the way of a person at once resident in a suburb
and who sells to the highest bidder, than a supposable member of the New
York judiciary.]