and succulent juices possessed him as with one idea.
The grave man had some singularly shaped packages, too in his possession beside his complement of baggage; packages which had caused considerable speculation among his companions. They were not round neither were they oval nor were they quite square; but they were made of wicker-work externally at least, and they had a slight canvass covering. What could they contain? Not merchandize or gold—they were too light; not provisions—for he never opened them; not wine—for they were not secure; not clothing—for his apparel was in a box by itself: yet he strapped them to the back of a mule with great care. At length, one of the most curious of his fellow-travellers took advantage of his absence at a meal, to raise the canvass covering of one of the packages; he uplifted the lid, with some trouble, and looked within. There was nothing. He lifted up the cover of the other, raised the lid, and peeped into that. After all his conjectures and anticipations, he was grieved to find that both the bulky hampers contained—nothing.
