otch; but 'twasn't. Try't once more."

The astounded hearer feels the rope tugging at his own neck again, and,
with a half comprehension of the situation, calls "Stop!" in a
suffocating voice.

"Who's there?" comes from the darkness.

"JEREMY BENTHAM, late proprietor of first-class American Comic
Paper.--Died of Comic Serial.--Want to hang myself," is the jerky reply
from the other side.

"Got your own rope, sir?"

"No. One fell down on my shoulders just as I was wishing for it; but it
seems to be too elastic."

"That's the other end 'f _my_ rope, air," rejoins the second voice, as
in wrath. "I threw't over the branches and thought it had caught,
instead of that it let me down, sir."

"And drew me up," says Mr. BENTHAM.

Before another word can be spoken by either, the light of a dark-lantern
is flashed upon them. There is Mr. BUMSTEAD, not three yards from Mr.
BENTHAM; each with an end of the same rope about his neck, and the head
of the former turbaned with a damp towel.

"Are ye men?" exclaims the deep voice of Mr. MELANCTHON SCHENCK from
behind the lantern, "and would ye madly incur death before having taken
out life-policies in the Boreal?"

"And would my uncle celebrate my return in this style?" cried still
another voice from the darkness.

"Who's that spoke just then?" cries the Ritualistic organist.

The answer comes like the note of a trumpet:--

"EDWIN DROOD!"

At the same instant a great glare of light breaks upon the scene from a
bonfire of tar-barrels, ignited at the higher end of the cross-road by
young SMALLEY; and, to the mingled bewilderment and exasperation of Mr.
BUMSTEAD, the radiance reveals, as in noonday, Mr. SCHENCK and his
long-lost nephew standing before him; and, coming towards them in
festive procession from Gospeler's Gulch. MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON with
FLORA on his arm, the Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON escorting MAGNOLIA, Mr.
DIBBLE guarding Mrs. SIMPSON, Mr. CLEW'S arm in arm with JOHN
McLAUGHLIN. Father DEAN and Judge SWEENEY, Miss CAROWTHERS, and the
SMYTHES.

"Trying to hang yourselves!" exclaims Mr. DIBBLE, as the throng gathers
curiously around the two gentlemen of the rope.

"And my old friend BENTHAM, too!" cries the Gospeler.

"How perfectly ridiculous!" warbles FLORA.

Staring majestically from one face to the other, and from thence towards
the illuminating bonfire, Mr. BUMSTEAD, quite unconscious of the
picturesque effect of the towel on his head, deliberately d