If they throw at each other, it takes
you in the back as you're turnin' a corner. I used to be getting hit all
over every night from SMALLEY'S aiming at dogs, and pigeons, and boys
like himself; but now I hire him to aim at me, exclusively, and I'm all
safe.--There he goes, now, misses me, and breaks another winder."
"Here, SMALLEY," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, as another stone, aimed at
MCLAUGHLIN, strikes himself, "take this other penny, and aim at _both_
of us."
Thus perfectly protected from painful contusion, although the air
continues full of stones, Mr. BUMSTEAD takes JOHN MCLAUGHLIN'S arm, as
they move onward, to protect the old man from harm, and is so careful to
pick out the choice parts of the road for him that their progress is
digressive in the extreme.
"I have heard," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, "that at one end of the pauper
burial-ground there still remains the cellar of a former chapel to the
Alms-House, and that you have broken through into it, and got a
stepladder to go down. Isthashso?"
"Yes; and there's coffins down there."
"Yours is a hic-stremely strange life, JOHN MCLAUGHLIN.
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