The eyes of the little gentleman flashed fire as he spoke, and Farragio for the first time in his life felt affrighted. He retreated a few steps and repeated with a trembling voice--"at my elbow for a month--fire and misery, how--how can that be? I--I--never saw you in--in my life before." "Well, Farragio," and he pronounced the name with great familiarity, "whether you ever saw me or not, I have been your constant attendant for a month past, and I have had a peculiar regard for you ever since you were born." Farragio's astonishment increased, and he gazed for some minutes in mute wonder upon the little stranger. A little reflection, however, soon restored his courage, and in an unusually authoritative tone he demanded the name of his visiter, and the purport of his singular and unceremonious visit. "Oh!" replied the little fellow with a careless shake of his head, "it's of no importance." By this time the supper was ready, and placing his dishes upon the table, Farragio invited his guest to partake of the fare, which consisted of ham and chicken, with cheese, hot rolls and tea. The little man did not wait for a second invitation, but immediately took his seat at the table and commenced breaking a roll with his fingers. "Will you take some ham?" asked Farragio in a tone of true hospitality, and appearing to forget that his guest was an intruder upon the peace of his kitchen. "Ham--no, no, no, I hate ham--hate it with a perfect hatred, and have hated it since the foun--foundation of the Chris--Chris--Christian--since the foundation of the world. The followers of Mahomet are right, and the outlaw Turk, that is outlawed by re--re--reli--religious dispensations, which are always arbitrary in the extreme, I say he displays more sound judgment than all the philosophers that ever lived, that is--I mean those of them who have ever had any thing to do with ho--ho--ugh--hog." Farragio helped himself largely to ham, swearing he was no follower of Mahomet, and if he was, and held emperorship from Mecca to Jerusalem, he'd eat ham till he died. The little stranger manifested no surprise at this bold speech of Farragio, but continued to eat his roll in a very business like manner. "Take some chicken," said Farragio after a short pause, which was permitted for the sake of convenience, "Take some chicken," and accompanying the request with an action suited to the unrestrained offering of a generous heart, he threw the west end of a rooster upon his plate. "Chicken--chicken--yes, I like chicken, so did Socrates like it. Socrates was a favorite of mine. When he was dying he ordered a cock to be sacrificed to Esculapius--poor fellow, he thought his soul would ascend through the flame up to the gods, but he was mistaken; his soul was safe enough in other hands." "I understood it sprouted hemlock," said Farragio knowingly. "And where?" "On the south side of the Temple of Minerva, wherever that was."