As the faint
driver, trembling with nervous debility from great excess of deathly
admonition addressed to him, through the front window of his hack, all
the way from the ferry, checked his horses in one feeble gasp of
remaining strength, the Reverend OCTAVIUS stepped forth from the doorway
to greet Mr. SCHENCK and the dark-complexioned, sharp-eyed young brother
and sister who came with him.
"Now remember, fellow," said Mr. SCHENCK to the driver, after he had
come out of the vehicle, shaking his cane menacingly at him as he spoke,
"I've warned you, in time, to prepare for death, and given you a
Schedule of our rates to read to your family. If you should die of
apoplexy in a week, as you probably will, your wife must pick rags, and
your children play a harp and fiddle. Dream of it, think of it,
dissolute man, and take a Policy in the Boreal."
As the worn-out hackman, too despondent at thought of his impending
decease and family-bankruptcy to make any other answer than a groan,
drove wretchedly away, the genial Mr. SCHENCK hoarsely introduced the
young PENDRAGONS to the Gospeler, and went with them after the latter
into the house.
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