He often tried, in odd half-hours of conversation to infuse into Newman a little of his own spiritual starch, but Newman's personal texture was too loose to admit of stiffening.

His mind could no more hold principles than a sieve can hold water.

He admired principles extremely, and thought Babcock a mighty fine little fellow for having so many.

He accepted all that his high-strung companion offered him, and put them away in what he supposed to be a very safe place; but poor Babcock never afterwards recognized his gifts among the articles that Newman had in daily use.
They traveled together through Germany and into Switzerland, where for three or four weeks they trudged over passes and lounged upon blue lakes.

At last they crossed the Simplon and made their way to Venice.
Mr.Babcock had become gloomy and even a trifle irritable; he seemed moody, absent, preoccupied; he got his plans into a tangle, and talked one moment of doing one thing and the next of doing another.