ow me
also to remark, that a dying clergyman like yourself might employ his
last moments better than encouraging a Southern destroyer of human
life."

"I do not, cannot believe that MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON is guilty," said Mr.
SIMPSON, firmly. "Having his full confidence, and thoroughly knowing his
nature, I am sure of his innocence, let appearances be what they may.
Consequently, it is my determination to befriend him."

"And you will not have your life insured?"

"I will not, sir. Please stop bothering me."

"And you call yourself a clergyman!" cried Mr. SCHENCK, with intense
scorn. "You pretend to be a Ritualistic spiritual guide; you champion
people who slay the innocent and steal devout men's umbrellas; and yet
you do not scruple to leave your own high-church Mother entirely without
provision at your death.--In such a case," continued the speaker,
rising, while his manner grew ferocious with determination--"in such a
case, all other arguments having failed, my duty is plain. Yon shall not
leave this room, sir, until you have promised to take out a Boreal
Policy."

He started, as he spoke, for the door of the private-office, intending
to lock it and remove the key; but the unhappy Ritualist, fathoming his
design, was there before him, and tore open the door for his own speedy
egress.

"Mr. SCHENCK," observed the Gospeler, turning and pausing in the
doorway, "you allow your business-energy to violate all the most
delicate amenities of private life, and will yet drive some maddened
mortal to such resentful use of pistol, knife, or poker, as your
mourning family shall sincerely deplore. The articles on Free Trade and
Protection in the daily papers have hitherto been regarded as the climax
of all that utterly wearies the long-suffering human soul; but I tell
you, as a candid friend, that they are but little more depressing and
jading to the vital powers than your unceasing mention of
life-insurance."

"These are strong words, sir," answered Mr. SCHENCK, incredulously. "The
editorial articles to which you refer are considered the very drought of
journalism; those by Mr. GREELEY, especially, being so dry that they are
positively dangerous reading without a tumbler of water."

"Yon brought the comparison upon yourself, Mr. SCHENCK. Good day."

Thus speaking, the Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON hurried nervously from the
Boreal temple; not fairly satisfied that he had escaped a Policy until
he found himself safely emerge