‘“What!” says the old gentleman, “not marry my daughter! Won’t you, Mooney? Not if I make her? Won’t you? Won’t you?” ‘“No,” says Mooney, “I won’t. And if anybody asks me any more, I’ll run away, and never come back again.” ‘“Mr. Grig,” says the old gentleman, “the stars must be obeyed. You have not changed your mind because of a little girlish folly—eh, Mr. Grig?” ‘Tom, gentlemen, had had his eyes about him, and was pretty sure that all this was a device and trick of the waiting-maid, to put him off his inclination. He had seen her hiding and skipping about the two doors, and had observed that a very little whispering from her pacified the Salamander directly. “So,” thinks Tom, “this is a plot—but it won’t fit.” ‘“Eh, Mr. Grig?” says the old gentleman. ‘“Why, Sir,” says Tom, pointing to the crucible, “if the soup’s nearly ready—” ‘“Another hour beholds the consummation of our labours,” returned the old gentleman. ‘“Very good,” says Tom, with a mournful air. “It’s only for two months, but I may as well be the richest man in the world even for that time. I’m not particular, I’ll take her, Sir. I’ll take her.” ‘The old gentleman was in a rapture to find Tom still in the same mind, and drawing the young lady towards him by little and little, was joining their hands by main force, when all of a sudden, gentlemen, the crucible blows up, with a great crash; everybody screams; the room is filled with smoke; and Tom, not knowing what may happen next, throws himself into a Fancy attitude, and says, “Come on, if you’re a man!” without addressing himself to anybody in particular. ‘“The labours of fifteen years!” says the old gentleman, clasping his hands and looking down upon the Gifted, who was saving the pieces, “are destroyed in an instant!”—And I am told, gentlemen, by-the-bye, that this same philosopher’s stone would have been discovered a hundred times at least, to speak within bounds, if it wasn’t for the one unfortunate circumstance that the apparatus always blows up, when it’s on the very point of succeeding. ‘Tom turns pale when he hears the old gentleman expressing himself to this unpleasant effect, and stammers out that if it’s quite agreeable to all parties, he would like to know exactly what has happened, and what change has really taken place in the prospects of that company. ‘“We have failed for the present, Mr. Grig,” says the old gentleman, wiping his forehead. “And I regret it the more, because I have in fact invested my niece’s five thousand pounds in this glorious speculation. But don’t be cast down,” he says, anxiously—“in another fifteen years, Mr. Grig—” “Oh!” cries Tom, letting the young lady’s hand fall. “Were the stars very positive about this union, Sir?” ‘“They were,” says the old gentleman. ‘“I’m sorry to hear it,” Tom makes answer, “for it’s no go, Sir.” ‘“No what!” cries the old gentleman.