in a loose morning gown. The expression of his
countenance would have been bluff but for a certain sinister glance, and
his complexion might have been called rubicund but for a considerable
tinge of bilious yellow. He eyed me askance as I entered. The other, a
pale, shrivelled-looking person, sat at a table apparently engaged with
an account-book; he took no manner of notice of me, never once lifting
his eyes from the page before him.
'Well, sir, what is your pleasure?' said the big man, in a rough tone, as
I stood there, looking at him wistfully--as well I might--for upon that
man, at the time of which I am speaking, my principal, I may say my only,
hopes rested.
'Sir,' said I, 'my name is so-and-so, and I am the bearer of a letter to
you from Mr. so-and-so, an old friend and correspondent of yours.'
The countenance of the big man instantly lost the suspicious and lowering
expression which it had hitherto exhibited; he strode forward, and,
seizing me by the hand, gave me a violent squeeze.
'My dear sir,' said he, 'I am rejoiced to see you in London. I have been
long anxious for the pleasure--we are old friends, though we have never
before met. Taggart,' said he to the man who sat at the desk, 'this is
our excellent correspondent, the friend and pupil of our other excellent
correspondent.'
The pale, shrivelled-looking man slowly and deliberately raised his head
from the account-book, and surveyed me for a moment or two; not the
slightest emotion was observable in his countenance. It appeared to me,
however, that I could detect a droll twinkle in his eye: his curiosity,
if he had any, was soon gratified; he made me a kind of bow, pulled out a
snuff-box, took a pinch of snuff, and again bent his head over the page.
'And now, my dear sir,' said the big man, 'pray sit down, and tell me the
cause of your visit. I hope you intend to remain here a day or two.'
'More than that,' said I, 'I am come to take up my abode in London.'
'Glad to hear it; and what have you been about of late? got anything
which will suit me? Sir, I admire your style of writing, and your manner
of thinking; and I am much obliged to my good friend and correspondent
for sending me some of your productions. I inserted them all, and wished
there had been more of them--quite original, sir, quite: took with the
public, especially the essay about the non-existence of anything. I
don't exactly agree with you though; I have my own peculia
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