man may have a cigarette,
States where any man may have ten wives, very strict prohibition States,
very lax divorce States--all these large local vagaries had prepared
Cyrus Pym's mind for small local vagaries in a smaller country.
Infinitely more remote from England than any Russian or Italian,
utterly incapable of even conceiving what English conventions are,
he could not see the social impossibility of the Court of Beacon. It is
firmly believed by those who shared the experiment, that to the very
end Pym believed in that phantasmal court and supposed it to be
some Britannic institution.

Towards the synod thus somewhat at a standstill there approached
through the growing haze and gloaming a short dark figure with a walk
apparently founded on the imperfect repression of a negro breakdown.
Something at once in the familiarity and the incongruity of this
being moved Michael to even heartier outbursts of a healthy
and humane flippancy.

"Why, here's little Nosey Gould," he exclaimed. "Isn't the mere
sight of him enough to banish all your morbid reflections?"

"Really," replied Dr. Warner, "I really fail to see how Mr. Gould
affects the question; and I once more demand--"

"Hello! what's the funeral, gents?" inquired the newcomer with the air
of an uproarious umpire. "Doctor demandin' something? Always the way
at a boarding-house, you know. Always lots of demand. No supply."

As delicately and impartially as he could, Michael restated his position,
and indicated generally that Smith had been guilty of certain dangerous
and dubious acts, and that there had even arisen an allegation that
he was insane.

"Well, of course he is," said Moses Gould equably; "it don't
need old 'Olmes to see that. The 'awk-like face of 'Olmes,"
he added with abstract relish, "showed a shide of disappointment,
the sleuth-like Gould 'avin' got there before 'im."

"If he is mad," began Inglewood.

"Well," said Moses, "when a cove gets out on the tile the first night
there's generally a tile loose."

"You never objected before," said Diana Duke rather stiffly,
"and you're generally pretty free with your complaints."

"I don't compline of him," said Moses magnanimously, "the poor chap's
'armless enough; you might tie 'im up in the garden here and 'e'd
make noises at the burglars."

"Moses," said Moon with solemn fervour, "you are the incarnation
of Common Sense. You think Mr. Innocent is mad. Let me introduce you
to the incarn