"And this!" the man drew the vail and bore one of the pictures to the light: "and this! what does it mean?"
"You are inquisitive, sir," replied Herman, somewhat confounded by the sudden disclosure of this singular picture, "why, in fact, Dr. Bulgin is writing a tract against immoral pictures."
"A-h!" responded the man, and picked from the table the Golden Ass of Apuleius, illustrated with plates, "what does this do here? Are these plates to be understood in a theological sense?"
"Dr. Bulgin is getting up a treatise upon the subject of immoral literature. He has that book as an example."
"And when he writes a treatise on the infernal regions, he'd send there for a piece of the brimstone as an example?"
"You are profane," said Herman, tartly; "let me hope that you will proceed to business."
The man placed his cloak on a chair, and his cap on the table. Then seating himself opposite the minister, he gazed steadily in his face. Herman grew red in the face, and felt as though he had suddenly been plunged into an oven.
"Your name is,—is,"—he hesitated.
"Don't you know me?" said the man.
"I,—I,—why,—I,—let me see."