"Who gave you the information?" "O, I--I saw--rea--hea--heard my master Incholese talk about once when he wished to appear like a philosopher before some of his company." "Who told him?" "Who? Why I've heard him say a thousand times that he was a real _Mimalone_, whatever that is, and for years had slept on _bindweed_ and practised the arts of a fellow they call Dic--Dip--Dith--Dithy"-- "Dithyrambus I suppose you mean." "Aye, that's the fellow." "A particular friend of mine, I dined with him twice, and the last time left him drunk under the table." "_His_ soul sprouted grapes I've heard, and was the first cause of vineyards being planted in Edge e--e--Edge"-- "Egypt you mean to say." "Yes." "That's not exactly correct, but it will answer about as well as any thing else." "Do you like cheese?" "I was formerly very fond of it, but I once saw Cleopatra, Mark Antony's magnet as she was called, faint away at the sight of a skipper, and since then I've only touched cheese at times, and then sparingly.--I saw ten million skippers at once fighting over a bit of cheese not bigger than your thumb in that same Cleopatra's stomach, and that too on the very night she dissolved her costly ear-bob to match old Mark's greatness. But I never said any thing about it." "You must be pretty old, I guess; I've often heard my master talk of that Clipatrick, and he said she died several hundred years ago. I've heard him say she was the very devil, and must have been trans, trans"-- "Transfused. I take the liberty of helping you along." "Yes, transfused--her spirit transfused down through {370} mummies and the like, till it reached the old Doge's daughter, for he swears she's the very dev"-- "Don't take that name in vain too often; a little pleasantry is admissable, but jokes themselves turn to abuse when repeated too many times--say Triptolemus, a term quite as significant, and not so much used." "Triptolemus, hey--and who's Triptolemus? I don't mean him. I mean the old dev--devil himself." Farragio shuddered as he uttered the last words, for the countenance of his heretofore pleasant and good humored companion changed to a frown of the darkest hue, and Farragio imagined he saw a stream of fire issuing from his mouth and nostrils; terrified, he dropped his knife and fork, and fled trembling into the farthest corner of his kitchen. "Have you any wine?" asked the little gentleman, in a tone of condescension.