tion of his harsh sentence against Mr. Ferdinand; and finally, the illuminated Juba, the original materia litis and perpetual memento to his wrath, departed this life. And thus it came about, that, even upon those days when he read Happelius upon Basilisks, Mr. Mule was now accustomed to commute his original anathema for the gentler doom of—“Sir, I shall live to see him banished.”
This sentence, in one sense, Mr. Mule lived in fact to accomplish. After the battle of Leipsic, Mr. Ferdinand, having been severely wounded, had received leave of absence, and had returned to his native place. No sooner was he tolerably convalescent than parties innumerable were formed to welcome him home; at which parties he sometimes met Miss Fanny, who inflicted deeper wounds than those which he had received at Leipsic. It was evident from all writers on the subject that there was but one cause; and this he laboured to obtain through a series of tender epistles to the young lady. One of these, a booby of a servant lad delivered by mistake to Mr. Mule himself, who read it; and, in the first moment of his anger, recurred to the old sentence of hanging; and, as to banishment from Miss Fanny’s society through any possible channel, personal or by letter, that he decreed extempore; to enforce which sentence, the old aunt was summoned to his assistance. Now, as this interdict was little short of Mr. Mule’s worst and original malediction to Mr. Ferdinand, he resolved to countermine the old lady—or, to speak freely, the two old ladies; and, for this purpose, he addressed himself to Hermes Trismegistus.
“Hermes Trismegistus,” as he was called by the literati of the town,—“Slippery Dick,” as he was called by every body else,—demands a few words of special notice, both because he was a great man, and because we rely upon him as our Deus ex machinû for the catastrophe of our tale. In gratitude for this assistance, we dedicate this paragraph to his biography. Slippery Dick was, at this time, a sort of runner to the “German Mercury,” a newspaper published twice a week; he held the office also of “wonder-maker” to that journal, and personally distributed it within the limits of the town. Hence it was that he had gained the honour of his classical designation. He had, however, other titles to that honour: for he was a forensic person, and had been much connected with courts of justice in his early days; he was an eloquent person; and, finally, he was a thief. At least, he had been a thief; that was the calling in which he commenced the business of life; and, being then resident in a great city, a very lucrative calling it was. Still, he found that many inconveniences arose from being a rogue; and in great cities it is astonishing with what ease a man of talents may emerge into a
