The manuscript on the table which had hitherto remained perfectly
quiet, now rustled its leaves nervously, and finally flung
itself wide open. A murmur then arose, as of several voices, and
presently there appeared (though whether stepping from between
the leaves of the book itself, or growing together from the
surrounding atmosphere, the author could not well make out)
a number of peculiar-looking individuals, at the first glance
appearing to be human beings, though a clear investigation
revealed in each some odd lack or exaggeration of gesture,
feature, or manner, which might create a doubt as to whether they
actually were, after all, what they purported to be, or only some
_lusus naturæ_. But the author was not slow to recognize them,
more especially as, happening to cast a glance at the manuscript,
he noticed that it was such no longer, but a collection of
unwritten sheets of paper, blank as when it lay in the drawer at
the stationer's--unwitting of the lofty destiny awaiting it.

Here, then, were the immortal creations which were soon to
astound the world, come, in person, to pay their respects to the
author of their being. He arose and made a profound obeisance to
the august company, which they one and all returned, though in
such a queer variety of ways, that the author, albeit aware that
every individual had the best of reasons for employing, under
certain special circumstances, his or her particular manner of
salute, could scarcely forbear smiling at the effect they all
together produced in his own unpretending study.

"Your welcome visit," said the author, addressing his guests
with all the geniality of which he was master (for they
seemed somewhat stiff and ill-at-ease), "gives me peculiar