“Well, let us hear it,” said the stranger.
“Why, sir, he imagines that he has discovered a definition for 'nothing.' The definition, however, will make you smile.”
“And what, pray, is it?”
“Nothing,” he says, “is—a footless stocking without a leg; and maintains that he ought to hold the first rank as a philosopher for having invented the definition, and deserves a pension from the crown.”
“Who are these two men dressed in black, walking arm in arm?” asked the stranger. “They appear to be clergymen.”
“Yes, sir,” replied his conductor, “so they are; two celebrated polemical controversialists, who, when they were at large, created by their attacks, each upon the religion of the other, more ill-will, rancor and religious animosity, than either of their religions, with all their virtues, could remove. It is impossible to describe the evil they did. Ever since they came here, however, they are like brothers. They were placed in the same room, each in a strong strait-waistcoat, for the space of three months; but on being allowed to walk about, they became sworn friends, and now amuse themselves more than any other two in the establishment. They indulge in immoderate fits of laughter, look each other knowingly in the face, wink, and run the forefinger up the nose, after which their mirth bursts out afresh, and they laugh until the tears come down their cheeks.”
The stranger, who during all this time was on the lookout for poor Fenton, as was old Corbet, could observe nobody who resembled him in the least.
“Have you females in your establishment?” he asked.
“No, sir,” replied the gentleman; “but we are about to open an asylum for them in a detached building, which is in the course of being erected. Would you wish to hear any further details of these unhappy beings,” he asked.
“No, sir,” replied the stranger. “You are very kind and obliging, but I have heard enough for the present. Have you a person named Fenton in your establishment?”