‘thruſt out of the character he had ſtudied; and who, now his exiſtence is annihilated among men, cannot even figure as a ghoſt.’
This addreſs was a word in ſeaſon. The ſpirit was as much enraged with his rival, as whilom king Philip with the falſe Sebaſtian, or the Czar Boris with the monk Geiska, who acted the falſe Demetrius. In imitation of the Hirſchberg mode of adminiſtering juſtice, he would have proceeded to inſtant execution, if his curioſity had not been excited to learn the adventures of the maſk. ‘Get up, comrade,’ he ſaid, ‘and do as thou art bid.’ He then, having firſt drawn out his horſe’s fourth leg from between his ribs, made up to the coach-door, and opened it, with an intention of ſaluting the company.
But the inſide of the carriage was ſtill as the grave; terror had ſo violently agitated the ladies’ nervous ſyſtem, that the ſpirits had taken ſhelter, one and all, from the external organs of ſenſe, behind the
