paralleled
appearances, with the date, day, hour, minute, and precise second
at which they were visible: all of which were to form the data of a
voluminous treatise of great research and deep learning, which should
astonish all the atmospherical wiseacres that ever drew breath in any
part of the civilised globe.

He threw himself back in his easy-chair, wrapped in contemplations of
his future greatness. The mysterious light appeared more brilliantly
than before, dancing, to all appearance, up and down the lane, crossing
from side to side, and moving in an orbit as eccentric as comets
themselves.

The scientific gentleman was a bachelor. He had no wife to call in and
astonish, so he rang the bell for his servant.

'Pruffle,' said the scientific gentleman, 'there is something very
extraordinary in the air to-night? Did you see that?' said the
scientific gentleman, pointing out of the window, as the light again
became visible.

'Yes, I did, Sir.'

'What do you think of it, Pruffle?'

'Think of it, Sir?'

'Yes. You have been bred up in this country. What should you say was the
cause for those lights, now?'

The scientific gentleman smilingly anticipated Pruffle's reply that he
could assign no cause for them at all. Pruffle meditated.

'I should say it was thieves, Sir,' said Pruffle at length.

'You're a fool, and may go downstairs,' said the scientific gentleman.

'Thank you, Sir,' said Pruffle. And down he went.

But the scientific gentleman could not rest under the idea of the
ingenious treatise he had projected being lost to the world, which must
inevitably be the case if the speculation of the ingenious Mr. Pruffle
were not stifled in its birth. He put on his hat and walked quickly down
the garden, determined to investigate the matter to the very bottom.

Now, shortly before the scientific gentleman walked out into the garden,
Mr. Pickwick had run down the lane as fast as he could, to convey a
false alarm that somebody was coming that way; occasionally drawing back
the slide of the dark lantern to keep himself from the ditch. The alarm
was no sooner given, than Mr. Winkle scrambled back over the wall, and
Arabella ran into the house; the garden gate was shut, and the three
adventurers were making the best of their way down the lane, when they
were startled by the scientific gentleman unlocking his garden gate.

'Hold hard,' whispered Sam, who was, of course, the first of the party.
'Show a light for j