greatly mistaken," returned the Gospeler, sternly. "I saw
you standing in the bar-room of the hotel, just now, as we came up."

"Yes," sighed the stranger, "I was there--waiting for a Western
friend--when you passed in. And has sorrow, then, so changed me, that
you do not know me? Alas! alack! woe's me!"

"BENTHAM, you say?" cried the Ritualistic clergyman, with a start, and
sudden change of countenance. "Surely you're not the rollicking
fellow-student who saved my life at Yale?"

"I am! I am!" sobbed the other, smiting his bosom. "While studying
theology, you'd gone to sleep in bed reading the Decameron. I, in the
next room, suddenly smelt a smell of wood burning. Breaking into your
apartment, I saw your candle fallen upon your pillow and your head on
fire. Believing that, if neglected, the flames would spread to some
vital part, I seized a water-pitcher and dashed the contents upon you.
Up you instantly sprang, with a theological expression on your lips, and
engaged me in violent single combat. "Madman!" roared I, "is it thus you
treat one who has saved your life?" Falling upon the floor, with a black
eye, you at once consented to be reconciled; and, from that hour forth,
we were both members of the same secret society."

Leaping forward, the Reverend OCTAVIUS wrung both the black worsted
gloves of Mr. BENTHAM, and introduced the latter to the old lawyer and
his ward.

"He did indeed save all but my head from the conflagration, and
extinguished that, even, before it was much charred," cried the grateful
Ritualist, with marked emotion.--"But, JEREMY, why this aspect of
depression?"

"OCTAVIUS, old friend," said BENTHAM, his hollow voice quivering, "let
no man boast himself upon the gaiety of his youth, and fondly
dream--poor self-deceiver!--that his maturity may be one of revelry. You
know what I once was. Now I am conducting a first-class American Comic
Paper."

Commiseration, earnest and unaffected, appeared upon every countenance,
and Mr. DIBBLE was the first to break the ensuing deep silence.

"If I am not mistaken, then," observed the good lawyer, quietly, "the
scene of your daily loss of spirits is in the same building with our
young friend, Mr. PENDRAGON, whom you may know."

"I do know him, sir; and that his sister has lately come unto him. His
room, by means of outside shutters, was once a refuge to me from the
Man"--Here Mr. BENTHAM'S face flamed with inconceivable hatred--"who
came to tell me jus