Dr. John, for his part, held his turban at arm’s length between his finger and thumb, and looked at it with a mixture of reverence and embarrassment highly provocative of laughter. The contemplation over, he was about coolly to deposit the delicate fabric on the ground between his feet; he seemed to have no shadow of an idea of the treatment or stowage it ought to receive; if his mother had not come to the rescue, I think he would finally have crushed it under his arm like an opera-hat; she restored it to the bandbox whence it had issued.