My neighbours are of opinion that I am a great reader, and so I am, but only of those features--my real library is that picture." "But how did you obtain it ?" said I.
"Some years ago a travelling painter came into this neighbourhood, and my jolly host, at the request of his wife, consented to sit for his portrait; she highly admired the picture, but she soon died, and then my fat friend, who is of an affectionate disposition, said he could not bear the sight of it, as it put him in mind of his poor wife.

I purchased it of him for five pounds--I would not take five thousand for it; when you called that picture a daub, you did not see all the poetry of it." We sat down to breakfast; my entertainer appeared to be in much better spirits than on the preceding day; I did not observe him touch once; ere breakfast was over a servant entered--"The Reverend Mr.Platitude, sir," said he.
A shade of dissatisfaction came over the countenance of my host.

"What does the silly pestilent fellow mean by coming here ?" said he, half to himself; "let him come in," said he to the servant.
The servant went out, and in a moment reappeared, introducing the Reverend Mr.Platitude.

The Reverend Mr.Platitude, having what is vulgarly called a game leg, came shambling into the room; he was about thirty years of age, and about five feet three inches high; his face was of the colour of pepper, and nearly as rugged as a nutmeg grater; his hair was black; with his eyes he squinted, and grinned with his lips, which were very much apart, disclosing two very irregular rows of teeth; he was dressed in the true Levitical fashion, in a suit of spotless black, and a neckerchief of spotless white.
The Reverend Mr.Platitude advanced winking and grinning to my entertainer, who received him politely but with evident coldness; nothing daunted, however, the Reverend Mr.Platitude took a seat by the table, and, being asked to take a cup of coffee, winked, grinned, and consented.
In company I am occasionally subject to fits of what is generally called absence; my mind takes flight and returns to former scenes, or presses forward into the future.

One of these fits of absence came over me at this time--I looked at the Reverend Mr.Platitude for a moment, heard a word or two that proceeded from his mouth, and saying to myself, "You are no man for me," fell into a fit of musing--into the same train of thought as in the morning, no very pleasant one--I was thinking of the future.
I continued in my reverie for some time, and probably should have continued longer, had I not been suddenly aroused by the voice of Mr.
Platitude raised to a very high key.