And here let us turn aside to embalm the memory of another old stager, well known and much liked in his day, William Rigby. A gentleman in his bearing, endowed with no slight powers of conversation; clever, witty, social, convivial, he was a most popular man in his circle. And, besides, he played a hand at whist second to none, which always made him a welcome guest at houses where card tables appeared. He was a tall, handsome man, with eyes twinkling with the humour and jocularity which made him such an agreeable companion. And shall we forget Devaynes, that nonpareil of an amateur in the conjuring line? Talk not to us of your wizards of the north, or of the south, or of the east, or of the west. Devaynes was worth them all put together. How we have stared in our boyish days, half in wonder and half in alarm, at his wonderful tricks, perfectly convinced in our own mind that such an accomplished master of arts must assuredly be in league with some unmentionable friend in the unseen world. As you sat at table with him, your piece of bread would suddenly begin to walk towards him. Before you had recovered from this astonishment your wine glass would start after it, next your knife and fork, and then your plate would move, like a hen after its chickens, in the same direction. And then how he would swallow dishes, joints of meat, decanters, and everything that came in his way. He was a perfect terror to the market-women, who really believed that he was on the most intimate terms with the unmentionable old gentleman aforesaid. Having made his purchases and got his change for his guinea or half guinea, he would put the coin into their hand, and say to them, “Now, hold it fast, and be sure you have it;” and then, before leaving them, he would add, “Look again, and be certain,” when, the hand being opened, there was either nothing in it, or perhaps a farthing, or a sixpence. And even when the joke was over, and he had left the market, they eyed the fairy money both with suspicion and alarm, lest it should disappear, and were never easy until they had paid it away in change to some other customer. How well we remember these things! The performer of them was a quiet, unassuming man, much respected by all who knew him, and certainly one of whom it could not be said that he was “no conjuror.” CHAPTER XVII.