knew I couldn't be mistaken."

I was greatly mystified at discovering the first tenor voice of
Épernay in an aged man; but the catechism now commencing, I thought
only of listening.

"The barleycorns of your native North having been partially cleaned
out of your hair by contact with the two enchanted steeds--the steed
you bridled without a head, and the steed that ran away with you
without legs," said the Ancient--"we have brought you hither for
examination. We might have gone much farther with the physical tests:
we might have forced you, at the present session, to relieve yourself
of those envelopes considered indispensable by all Europeans beneath
your own latitude, and in our presence perform the sword-dance."

"So be it," said the disciple, executing a galvanic figure with his
legs, his countenance still like marble.

"If we demanded the head of your best friend, would you bring it in?"

"I am the countryman of Lady Macbeth," replied the red nose. "Give me
the daggers."

"We would fain dispense with that proof, necessarily painful to a man
of such evident sensibility as yours." The red nose bowed. "What is
your name?"

He pronounced it--apparently MacMurtagh.

"In future, among us, you are named Meurtrier."