Peter
Vanderclump, left London to transact some business of importance with a
correspondent at Hamburgh, leaving his brother Anthony to the loneliness
of their gloomy house in St. Mary Axe. Week after week passed away, and
Mr. Peter was still detained at Hamburgh. Who would have supposed that
his society could have been missed? that the parlour could have seemed
more dismally dull by the absence of one of those from whom it chiefly
derived its character of dulness? Mr. Anthony took up his largest
meerchaum, and enveloped himself in its smoke by the hour; but the
volumes of smoke cleared away, and no Peter Vanderclump appeared emerging
from the mist. Mr. Anthony brought some of his heavy folios from below;
and, in their pages of interest, (no common, but often compound, interest,)
lost, for awhile, the dreary sense of loneliness. But, a question
was to be asked! Peter's solemn "yah" or "nien" was waited for in
vain. Forgetful, and almost impatient, Anthony looked up--the chair
was unoccupied which his brother had constantly filled.
Mr. Anthony began to sigh--he got into a habit of sighing. Betty and
Molly (they were soft-hearted baggages) felt for their master--pitied
their poor master! Betty was placing the supper on the table one evening,
when her master sighed very heavily.
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