He was ruined for a reading-man. About this period he also
had a perfect mania for flowers; observing which, and fancying I might
gratify my friend by such a mark of attention, I one day went to his
rooms with a large bouquet in either hand. He was not at home; but
having carelessly enough forgotten to lock his door, I commenced, _con
amore_, (anticipating the agreeable surprise which I should afford
him) to fill his vases with fresh, bright, and delicious summer
flowers, in lieu of the very mummies of their race by which they were
occupied. My work was in progress when Millington returned, but, oh!
good heavens! the rage, the profane, diabolical, incomprehensible rage
into which he burst! I shall never forget. Away went my beautiful, my
fragrant flowers, into the court, and seizing upon the remnant of the
mummies, as yet untouched by my sacrilegious fingers, he tossed them
into a drawer, double locked it, and ordered me out of the room.
Dreading a kick, I was off at his word; but had not proceeded half way
down stairs, when a hand from the rear, roughly grasped mine, and a
voice, in a wild and hurried manner, asked pardon for "intemperance."
I should have called it madness.
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