But, however it may lower Mr. Peregrine Tyss with the ladies, it must not be concealed that, in spite of all his enthusiasm, he gaped twice, and so loudly, that a drunkard in the streets below called out to him, "Holla! you there with the white nightcap, don't swallow me." This of course was a sufficient cause for his dashing down the window so violently, that the frame rattled again. It is even affirmed that, in so doing, he cried out loud enough, "Impudent scoundrel!" But this cannot be relied upon, as it by no means accords with his general suavity of disposition. Enough; he shut the window, and went to bed. The necessity for sleep, however, seemed to be superseded by that immoderate gaping. Thoughts upon thoughts crossed his brain, and with peculiar vividness came before his eyes the surmounted danger, when a darker power would have tempted him to the use of the microscopic glass; and now it became plain to him that Master Flea's mysterious present, however well intended, was yet in all respects a gift from hell. "How!" said Peregrine to himself,--"for a man to read the most hidden thoughts of his brothers! Does not this fateful gift bring upon him the dreadful destiny of the Wandering Jew, who wandered through the motliest crowds of life, as through a desert, without joy, without hope, without pain, in dull indifference, which is the caput mortuum of despair? Always trusting anew and always most bitterly deceived, how can it be otherwise than that distrust, hatred, jealousy, vindictiveness, would nestle firmly in the soul, destroying every trace of that human principle, which shows itself in benevolence and gentle confidence. No, your friendly face, your smooth words, shall not deceive me;--you, who in your inmost heart are concealing perhaps unmerited hate against me: I will hold you for my friend, I will do you as much good as I can, I will open my soul to you, because it gratifies me, and the bitter feeling of the moment, if you should deceive me, is little in comparison with the joys of a past dream. Even too the real friends, who truly mean you well--how changeable is the mind of man!--may not an evil coincidence of circumstances, a misinclination growing out of the whims of chance, create transitory hatred in the bosom of the dearest friends? The unlucky glass shows the thoughts, distrust immediately occupies the mind, and in unjust wrath I push from me the real friend, and this poison goes on, eating deeper and deeper into the roots of life, till I am at variance with every thing, even with myself.--No; it is rank impiety to wish for an equality with the Eternal Power, who sees through the heart of man, because he is its master. Away, away with the unlucky gift!"