We drank a good deal of ale, and he
lost his balance. I kept mine. I saw he had a pretty large amount of money,
and doubted his ability to keep as good a watch over it as he ought to. So
I took him home with me. On the way he would talk uneasily about garrote
robberies, but I refused to encourage him.
"You want to know about that alarming conversation? Well,"--(here Mr.
Glover was so overcome with merriment, that, after a proper time, the
interposition of official authority became necessary,)--"well, I am an
engraver. My business is mainly to cut heads. Sometimes I use steel,
sometimes copper. My brother, who is also an engraver, and I were
discussing a new commission. I told him I should make use of a good bit of
steel, which had already been engraved upon, but not so deeply but that the
lines could be easily removed, excepting the eyes, which would have to be
scraped away. My allusion to proof is easily explained: it is common for
engravers to have a proof-impression taken of their work after it is
finished, by which they are enabled to detect any imperfections, and remedy
them.
"I am very sorry that my young friend should have considered me so much of
a blood-thirsty ruffian. But the ale of Boston is no doubt strange to him,
and his confusion at finding himself in a large city quite
natural. Besides, his suspicions were in some degree reciprocated. When I
saw him flying out of the window, I was convinced that he must be an
ingenious burglar, and instantly ran back to examine my tools.
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