Her hands are
now resting over your head!" shouted the medium; and the pallid
emotionless man said, with a slight tremor in his voice, "Pray tell me
who this mysterious visitant may be!" "It is your mother." "Oh," said
Greville, "I am delighted to hear that!" "She says she is perfectly
happy, and she watches you constantly." "Dear soul!" muttered the
imperturbable one. "She tells me you will join her soon, and be happy
with her." Then Greville said gravely, in dulcet tones, "That is
extremely likely, for I am going to take tea with her at five o'clock!"
He had led on the poor swindler in his usual fashion; and he never
hinted at the fact that his mother was nearly a century old. His friends
were "pumped" in the same subtle manner; and the immortally notorious
memoirs are strewn with assassinated characters.
As we study the phenomena indicated by these memoirs, we begin to wonder
whether friendship is or is not extinct. Men are gregarious, and flocks
of them meet together at all hours of the day and night. They exchange
conventional words of greeting, they wear happy smiles, they are
apparently cordial and charming' one with another; and yet a rigidly
accurate observer may look mournfully for signs of real friendship.
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