him, he was within a few hours of giving his enemies the slip for
ever.--I hope not, answered Eugenius, with tears trickling down his
cheeks, and with the tenderest tone that ever man spoke.--I hope not,
Yorick, said he.--Yorick replied, with a look up, and a gentle squeeze
of Eugenius's hand, and that was all,--but it cut Eugenius to his
heart.--Come,--come, Yorick, quoth Eugenius, wiping his eyes, and
summoning up the man within him,--my dear lad, be comforted,--let not
all thy spirits and fortitude forsake thee at this crisis when thou most
wants them;--who knows what resources are in store, and what the power
of God may yet do for thee!--Yorick laid his hand upon his heart, and
gently shook his head;--For my part, continued Eugenius, crying bitterly
as he uttered the words,--I declare I know not, Yorick, how to part with
thee, and would gladly flatter my hopes, added Eugenius, chearing up
his voice, that there is still enough left of thee to make a bishop,
and that I may live to see it.--I beseech thee, Eugenius, quoth Yorick,
taking off his night-cap as well as he could with his left hand,--his
right being still grasped close in that of Eugenius,--I beseech thee to
take a view of my head.--I see nothing that ails it, replied Eugenius.
Then, alas! my friend, said Yorick, let me tell you, that 'tis so
bruised and mis-shapened with the blows which...and..., and some others
have so unhandsomely given me in the dark, that I might say with Sancho
Panca, that should I recover, and 'Mitres thereupon be suffered to
rain down from heaven as thick as hail, not one of them would fit
it.'--Yorick's last breath was hanging upon his trembling lips ready to
depart as he uttered this:--yet still it was uttered with something of
a Cervantick tone;--and as he spoke it, Eugenius could perceive a stream
of lambent fire lighted up for a moment in his eyes;--faint picture of
those flashes of his spirit, which (as Shakespeare said of his ancestor)
were wont to set the table in a roar!

Eugenius was convinced from this, that the heart of his friend was
broke: he squeezed his hand,--and then walked softly out of the room,
weeping as he walked. Yorick followed Eugenius with his eyes to the
door,--he then closed them, and never opened them more.

He lies buried in the corner of his church-yard, in the parish of...,
under a plain marble slab, which his friend Eugenius, by leave of his
executors, laid upon his grave, with no more than these t