I never
saw four such young men before! MONTGOMERIES, put up your penknife
thizinstant!"
Pushing aside the barrier of alpaca and whalebone from under his chin,
MONTGOMERY dashes wildly from the house, tears madly back to Gospeler's
Gulch, and astounds the Gospeler by his appearance.
"Oh, Mr. SIMPSON," he cries, as he is conducted to the door of his own
room, "I believe that I, too, inherit some tigerish qualities from that
tiger my father is said to have fought so often. I've had a political
discussion with Mr. DROOD in Mr. BUMSTEAD'S apartments, and, if I'd
stayed there a moment longer, I reckon I should have murdered somebody
in a moment of Emotional Insanity."
The Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON makes him unclose his clenched fist, in
which there appears to be one or two cloves, and then says: "I am
shocked to hear this, Mr. PENDRAGON. As you have no political influence,
and have never shot a _Tribune_ man, neither New York law nor society
would allow you to commit murder with impunity. I regret, too, to see
that you have been drinking, and would advise you to try a chapter from
one of Professor DE MILLE'S novels, as a mild emetic, before retiring.
After that, two or three sentences from one of Mr.
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