{*1} He was indubitably
      a—”

“How can you?—how—can—you?”—interrupted the object of my
animadversions, gasping for breath, and tearing off, with a desperate
exertion, the bandage around its jaws—“how can you, Mr. Lackobreath, be
so infernally cruel as to pinch me in that manner by the nose? Did you
not see how they had fastened up my mouth—and you must know—if you know
any thing—how vast a superfluity of breath I have to dispose of! If you
do not know, however, sit down and you shall see. In my situation it is
really a great relief to be able to open ones mouth—to be able to
expatiate—to be able to communicate with a person like yourself, who do
not think yourself called upon at every period to interrupt the thread
of a gentleman’s discourse. Interruptions are annoying and should
undoubtedly be abolished—don’t you think so?—no reply, I beg you,—one
person is enough to be speaking at a time.—I shall be done by and by,
and then you may begin.—How the devil sir, did you get into this
place?—not a word I beseech you—been here some time myself—terrible
accident!—heard of it, I suppose?—awful calamity!—walking under your
windows—some short while ago—about the time you were
stage-struck—horrible occurrence!—heard of “catching one’s breath,”
eh?—hold your tongue I tell you!—I caught somebody else’s!—had always
too much of my own—met Blab at the corner of the street—wouldn’t give
me a chance for a word—couldn’t get in a syllable edgeways—attacked,
consequently, with epilepsis—Blab made his escape—damn all fools!—they
took me up for dead, and put me in this place—pretty doings all of
them!—heard all you said about me—every word a
lie—horrible!—wonderful!—outrageous!—hideous!—incomprehensible!—et
cetera—et cetera—et cetera—et cetera—”

      It is impossible to conceive my astonishment at so unexpected a
      discourse, or the joy with which I became gradually convinced
      that the breath so fortunately caught by the gentleman (whom I
      soon recognized as my neighbor Windenough) was, in fact, the
      identical expiration mislaid by myself in the conversation with
      my wife. Time, place, and circumstances rendered it a matter
      beyond question. I did not, however, immediately release my hold
      upon Mr. W.’s proboscis—not at least during the long period in
      which the inventor of Lombardy poplars continued to favor me with
      his explanations. In this respect I was actuated by that habitual prudence which
      has ever been my predominating trait. I reflected that many
      difficulties might still lie in the path of my preservation which
      only extreme exertion on my part would be able to surmount. Many
      persons, I considered, are prone to estimate commodities in their
      possession—however valueless to the then proprietor—however
      troublesome, or distressing—in direct ratio with the advantages
      to be derived by others from their attainment, or by themselves
      from their abandonment. Might not this be the case with Mr.
      Windenough? In displaying anxiety for the breath of which he was
      at present so willing to get rid, might I not lay myself open to
      the exactions of his avarice? There are scoundrels in this world,
      I remembered with a sigh, who will not scruple to take unfair
      opportunities with even a next door neighbor, and (this remark is
      from Epictetus) it is precisely at that time when men are most
      anxious to throw off the burden of their own calamities that they
      feel the least desirous of relieving them in others. Upon considerations similar to these, and still retaining my
      grasp upon the nose of Mr. W., I accordingly thought proper to
      model my reply. “Monster!” I began in a tone of the deepest indignation—“monster
      and double-winded idiot!—dost thou, whom for thine iniquities it
      has pleased heaven to accurse with a two-fold respimtion—dost
      thou, I say, presume to address me in the familiar language of an
      old acquaintance?—‘I lie,’ forsooth! and ‘hold my tongue,’ to be
      sure!—pretty conversation indeed, to a gentleman with a single
      breath!—all this, too, when I have it in my power to relieve the
      calamity under which thou dost so justly suffer—to curtail the
      superfluities of thine unhappy respiration.”

      Like Brutus, I paused for a reply—with which, like a tornado, Mr.
      Windenough immediately overwhelmed me. Protestation followed upon
      protestation, and apology upon apology. There were no terms with
      which he was unwilling to comply, and there were none of which I
      failed to take the fullest advantage. Preliminaries being at length arranged, my acquaintance delivered
      me the respiration; for which (having carefully examined it) I
      gave him afterward a receipt. I am aware that by many I shall be held to blame for speaking in
      a manner so cursory, of a transaction so impalpable. It will be
      thought that I should have entered more minutely, into the
      details of an occurrence by which—and this is very true—much new
      light might be thrown upon a highly interesting branch of
      physical philosophy. To all this I am sorry that I cannot reply. A hint is the only
      answer which I am permitted to make. There were circumstances—but
      I think it much safer upon consideration to say as little as
      possible about an affair so delicate—so delicate, I repeat, and
      at the time involving the interests of a third party whose
      sulphurous resentment I have not the least desire, at this
      moment, of incurring. We were not long after this necessary arrangement in effecting an
      escape from the dungeons of the sepulchre. The united strength of
      our resuscitated voices was soon sufficiently apparent. Scissors,
      the Whig editor, republished a treatise upon “the nature and
      origin of subterranean noises.” A reply—rejoinder—confutation—and
      justification—followed in the columns of a Democratic gazette. It
      was not until the opening of the vault to decide the controversy,
      that the appearance of Mr. Windenough and myself proved both
      parties to have been decidedly in the wrong. I cannot conclude these details of some very singular passages in
      a life at all times sufficiently eventful, without again
      recalling to the attention of the reader the merits of that
      indiscriminate philosophy which is a sure and ready shield
      against those shafts of calamity which can neither be seen, felt
      nor fully understood.