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Updated: June 7, 2025
His story was this: He had been originally nurtured among the crazy society of Neskyeuna Shakers, where he had been a great prophet; in their cracked, secret meetings having several times descended from heaven by the way of a trapdoor, announcing the speedy opening of the seventh vial, which he carried in his vest-pocket; but, which, instead of containing gunpowder, was supposed to be charged with laudanum.
Frightened by the shaking he had just received, and not in a condition to reflect with his usual prudence, Lambernier mechanically obeyed this order; he hunted in his pockets for some time, and at last took a carefully folded paper from his vest-pocket, saying with a stunned air: "Here it is. It is worth ten louis."
They teach as no other order of teachers can, that the days and duties of life may be so cast under foot as to exalt one to be only a little lower than the angels. In fine, through them is made visible the value of the individual soul; and thus we see, as in the central idea of our author, that "that which moulds itself from within is free." Jenkins's Vest-Pocket Lexicon.
He was just about to spring into the apartment and tear the paper from Jessie Bain's hands, when he saw her fall lifeless by the couch. Quickly he flung the portières aside and sprang into the apartment. It was but the work of a moment to secure the document, and to thrust it in his vest-pocket.
And, drawing from his vest-pocket a medallion, he presented it to M. Moriaz, who, after having looked at it, passed it over to his daughter. The medallion contained the portrait of a woman with blond hair, blue eyes, a refined, lovely mouth, a fragile, delicate being with countenance at the same time sweet and sad, the face of an angel, but an angel who had lived and suffered.
Sprudell meanwhile was revolving in his mind the best method of imparting effectively and dramatically the news which was burdening him. He considered beginning with a Latin quotation from his Vest-Pocket Manual "Labor omnia vincit" or something like that but ended, when he felt the right moment had arrived, by stating the fact bluntly and abruptly: "I'm going to be as rich as Croesus."
As I stepped into the taxi the vest-pocket edition of Nick Carter with whom I had ridden up from the city a few hours earlier darted out from the alley where he had been lurking. Again I waved a hand derisively toward him. The chauffeur threw in the clutch and we moved swiftly down the hill. The little sleuth wheeled off in the direction of the nearest drug store.
"Bertha and I both saw her find a bill in an old vest-pocket one day, and put it in her own. Bertha spoke about it to me, but it wasn't my business. Finding isn't stealing." "It isn't quite honest to keep what we find," said Miss Eunice. "We should try to restore it to the owner." "But how could she find the owner?" said Gretchen, eagerly. "He might be away over in Germany, or or anywhere."
Here was the policeman on the beat one of those creatures of Penfield's vaunted vest-pocket crew invited in for a bite and sup by the steward of the house. The steward called away, he had drifted naturally into a gentle nap. And now "Glad I'm not in his shoes!" mused P. Sybarite. And yet.... Urgent second thought changed the tenor of his temper toward the sleeper.
Dropping all of his packages, and fishing the cigars from a top vest-pocket, he stalked boldly into the bedroom. "Say!" he began, "here's a couple o' flora dee rope. Smoke you' blamed haid off!" Then, as Barber, grunting, reached a grateful hand for the gift, "An', say! I've brung the kid some more of all what y' burned up. So tell me right now if y' got any objections." "No-o-o-o!" crossly.
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