A few hours before _Yorick_ breathed his last, _Eugenius_ stept in with an intent to take his last sight and last farewell of him. Upon his drawing _Yorick's_ curtain, and asking how he felt himself, _Yorick_ looking up in his face took hold of his hand, --and after thanking him for the many tokens of his friendship to him, for which, he said, if it was their fate to meet hereafter, --he would thank him again and again, --he told 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 Pana_, 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." 
A few hours before Yorick breathed his last, Eugenius took his final farewell of him. Upon his drawing Yorick's curtain, and asking how he felt, Yorick looked up in his face and grasped his hand. After thanking him for the many tokens of his friendship, Yorick told him he was within a few hours of giving his enemies the slip for ever.
'I hope not,' answered Eugenius tenderly, with tears trickling down his cheeks.
Yorick replied only with a look and a gentle squeeze of Eugenius's hand, which cut him to the heart.
'Come, come, Yorick,' said he, 'my dear lad, be comforted, let not thy fortitude forsake thee now; who knows what the power of God may yet do for thee?'
Yorick gently shook his head.
Eugenius continued, crying bitterly, 'I know not, Yorick, how to part with thee. I hope that thou mayst still live long enough to be made a bishop.'
'I beseech thee, Eugenius,' said Yorick, taking off his night-cap with his left hand, his right still grasping that of Eugenius, 'I beseech thee to take a view of my head.'
'I see nothing wrong with it.'
'Alas! my friend,' said Yorick, ''tis so bruised and mis-shapen with the blows which ***** and ***** have given me in the dark, that I might say with Sancho Panza, that should I recover, and bishops' mitres "rain down from heaven as thick as hail, not one of them would fit."'
