gimentals is just the right thing, and no mistake?
Did Saint Paul and Saint, Saint, d----n the fellows, I forget their
names"----

"Saint Tammany," suggested his companion.

"I owe you a drink for that, Bill," said Haxall. "Yes, Saint Tammany.
Now, do you think them gentlemen, who I've heard, was real respectable
men, though it was rather a comedown to take to preaching, ever
sported such an infernal broadbrim as that, or turned out a tail as
broad as yours?"

The Quaker gentleman, who, at the commencement of the young scamp's
speech, as if frightened at the prospect of a colloquy he had
provoked, had betrayed a desire to escape from the crowd, seemed, as
the other proceeded, to have changed his mind, and listened to him
with the utmost calmness and imperturbable good humor. When the boy
had got through with his impertinences, which he ran over with great
volubility, garnishing them with many epithets we have omitted, and,
at the close, had received the applause of those like him, who stood
around, and, now, seemed waiting for a reply, the Quaker, with great
sweetness, answered--

"My young friend, it would ill become me to return a harsh word for
thy rather rude address, nor will my feelings towards thee and all in
thy unhappy condition, permit me to speak to thee, except in pity and
in sorrow."

"Go to h----l with your pity. Nobody asks you for it," exclaimed
Haxall, fiercely.

"Gently, boy, gently, and do not profane thy lips with such language.
Alas! thou hast been allowed to grow up like a wild animal, and
canst not be expected to know there are those who regard thee with
affection. But, surely, goodness can never be quite extinguished in
one who has the form of humanity. I see thou dost not know me?"

"Never set eyes on ye before, old square toes, and be d----d to you."

"Yet, I know thee, and, perhaps, the guilt is partly mine that thou
art even now what thou art. Thou hast, then, forgotten the man who,
only a year ago, jumped off Coenties Slip, and, by the kindness of
Providence, rescued a boy from drowning?"

"Have I forgot!" exclaimed Haxall, with a sudden revulsion of feeling.
"No, d----d me, not altogether. I thought there was something devilish
queer in your voice. So you was the man, and I am the b'hoy. Oh,
what a cussed beast I am to insult you! Give us your hand. I ask
your pardon, sir. I ask your pardon. And," he added, looking fiercely
round, "if there's a man here who crooks his thumb at y