"
"It's certainly a very damp one," says MCLAUGHLIN, silently urging his
strange companion to support a little more of his own weight in
walking. "But it has its science. Over in the Ritualistic burial-yard, I
tap the wall of a vault with my trowel-handle, and if the sound is
hollow I say to myself: 'Not full yet.' Say it's the First of May, and I
tap a coffin, and don't hear anything more in it, I say: 'Either you're
not a woman in there, or, if you are, you never kept house.'--Because,
you see, if it was a woman that ever kept house, it would take but the
least thing in the world to make her insist upon 'moving' on the First
of May."
"Won'rful!" says Mr. BUMSTEAD. "Sometime when you're sober, JOHN
MCLAUGHLIN, I'll do a grave or two with you."
On their way they reach a bar-room, into which Mr. BUMSTEAD is anxious
to take Old Mortarity, for the purpose of getting something to make the
latter stronger for his remaining walk. Failing in his ardent entreaties
to this end--even after desperately offering to eat a few cloves himself
for the sake of company--he coldly bids the stone-cutter good-night, and
starts haughtily in a series of spirals for his own home.
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