Page:Thomas De Quincey The Defier of Ghosts Manuscript.pdf/1

The Defier of Ghosts.   1       

Mr. Counsellor Gerstensaft was rela reclining in a window-seat, having just finished his sixth pipe, and was considering with himself—what a great man the world had lost in himself: “Or perhaps not lost!” said he. Grant thatIf Ruhethal, his birth-place, werewas blind to his merits,—Ruhethal was a dark—ignor poor—ignorant—benighted town. All pla towns were not like Ruhethal: there were towns that of a very different descriptioncharacter; for instance Klatschausen a—a town in the highest degree enlightened; “a truly discriminating town!” exclaimed he; for there only had Mr. Counsellor Gerstensatft met with any success in his profession. So much indeed, that the corporation had given him hopes that that on the ensuing of electing him their Recorder on: and the late record Recorder’s widow had given him hopes of a still more flattering to his heartfeeling.——The day of election, as the Almanack informed him, must by this time have passed: and he was just a breath beginning to “make his moan” on the tardiness of the Post-Office, when he heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs and his name own name loudly pronounced in the street;;—“which was the house of Mr. Counsellor Gerstensaft?” The nextIn the same moment after the rider dis horseman dis-
-mounted, ran up the steps, and rang the bell. Every heavy boots of a courier were heard clattering up the steps, and the door-bell rang out an alarum of joyous agitat-
-ion to the Counsellor’s hopesheart. His hopes were not decievedconfirmed: it was anIt was an express d from the town-council of Klatsch-
-hausen, announcing to him histo his elect appointment to the Recordership—and convey-
-ing the general congratulations of the corporation, and withtheir their wishes the general expression of their wishes that he would soon arrive to take up his abode amongst them.

 

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The last day of his residence in Ruhethal had at length arrived; and from the top--most window of his house Mr. Recorder threw down a looks of indulgent tender pity upon the poor infatuated town that lay ben beneath him. “Poor erring place!” said he; most certainly as the Horatian Flaccus observed Quos deus vult perdere, prius de-
-mentat. But bitterly I shall be avenged. Soon, too soon (I fear), will Ruhethal be taught to know. .