genius!” And on this notion he laboured to embroil and perplex the plain course of his duties, until he sometimes brought himself and his client into much unnecessary peril of discovery. However, as yet no discovery had been made. The ease of a man of genius is delightful. As the distributor of the “Mercury,” Slippery Dick had the privilege of the entré to Mr. Mule’s breakfast-room; but as the disburser of infinite private news, which never found its way into the Mercury, Slippery Dick was indispensable. Philosophically speaking, he was one of the “conditions of the possibility” of breakfast; not the urn, or the coffee-pot, more so. With what ineffable impudence did he deliver his ineffable budget of lies! How, like Cæsar, or an Indian juggler, did he play with three balls at once; weaving a political lie for Mr. Mule, and interweaving it at the same time with the cross threads of two scandalous lies for the use of the old aunt!—How, like the knave that he was, how, like Slippery Dick in his best days, did he carry on a collateral stream of pantomime communication with Miss Fanny, terminating (as a matter of course) in the dexterous insinuation into her hand of some fresh pleading on the part of his client!—In this way had a long “suit” been conducted between the lovers; but, in all processes, whether in courts of law or of love, it is well known that many questions will arise which cannot be discussed in writing; oral depositions must be had; oaths must be administered; the book must be kissed. For some such purposes, and as the result of the correspondence, Miss Fanny at length granted to Mr. Ferdinand a series of nocturnal interviews at the window; of which the tenth was granted this very evening. Genius of youthful love protect it from detection! And now, having unfolded three-fourths of our little drama by stretching the characters and situation of the chief persons on the stage, let the rest unfold itself as rapidly as possible; and, if possible, in three pages, and in time for this Number of the Quarterly Magazine.
IV.—GHOSTS.
Fanny, the loveliest of roses, was standing (as we have said) at the window; and the cornet was outside on the lawn. Now it happened naturally enough, whether it were for the purpose of whispering, or of impressing something or other with particular emphasis upon the cornet’s attention, or for any other purpose which it does not become a gentleman to look into too narrowly, that Miss Fanny bent her head downwards in answer to some supplicating tones of Mr. Ferdinand. But, good heavens! to see the absurdity and limited views of master-builders! Solely intent upon the very subordinate consideration of preventing robbers from stepping into the windows, the poor ignorant man, who
