nounced himself as the Mancus, the Wonder of Pandapolis, the renowned inventor of Anti-bluebottle Pills and Parabolical Ointment, and requested me to rise at once and accompany him.
Who had sent him? Where was his warrant? I had an important appointment in another hour or two. I dared not stir without an order from Doctor Julius.
'Tush!' he answered testily, 'this is trifling—Julius is waiting for you. Florian is away—they are all away. They all rushed off to see the grand duel. The whole city will be present. But I don't care. Buy some of my pills; you'll want 'em, and ointment too. Julius is waiting. Julius is rough and ready, and can keep the Demon quiet. Good thing for you. Are you coming or not? Poor fool—to fight with Partigan! As well blow himself up with an earthquake. But wait till you are my age, wait till you are five thousand years old. Your blood won't be so hot—he! ha! ho! Come along; all isn't well that doesn't end well. Julius has got you in hand. Julius is a genius, and leads us all by the nose. Come; dear, dear, how the time slips away. I'm to be renewed in seven years, then I'll be young again—ugh, ugh, ugh! Buy some of my pills; they're better than Blowhard's; only a guinea a box.'
While the querulous old creature rattled on in this way, I was getting myself ready. It did not take me long to my face a dry polish, to comb my hair with my lingers, and brush my clothes with my pocket-handkerchief. We at last issued forth into the street, where we found Doctor Julius, seated in his buggy, waiting for me impatiently, took my place without saying a word, and away we drove.
Our journey was a comparatively short one. A rapid drive through half a dozen streets, and then into a magnificent, brilliantly-lighted corridor which seemed to be more than two miles in length. It was thronged with people, all
