ether in such a manner that he shot up into the air,
quite thin and long, roaring aloud with pain all the time.

While this was going on with the barber, the two microscopists had
reconciled themselves in an instant on the appearance of the common
enemy, and made a united attack on the Amateur with much success. It
availed him nothing that, when he was sufficiently drubbed below, he
rose up to the cieling; for Leuwenhock and Swammerdamm had both seized
short thick sticks, and whenever the Amateur descended, they drove him
up again by blows, dexterously applied to that part of the body which
best can bear them. It was a pretty game of racket, at which the
Amateur, by compulsion indeed, played the most fatiguing, and at the
same time the most ungracious part, namely, that of the ball.

This war seemed to inspire the little-one with the greatest terror; she
clung to Peregrine, and entreated him to bear her away from such an
abominable uproar. This he could the less refuse, as there seemed to be
no need of him on the field of battle; and he therefore carried her
home, that is, into the apartments of his lodger. But no sooner had she
got there and found herself alone with Peregrine, than she employed all
the arts of the most refined coquetry to allure him into her snares.
However firmly he bore in mind that all this was merely falsehood, and
aimed at bringing his protege into captivity, yet such a dizziness of
the senses seized him, that he did not even think of the microscopic
glass, which might have served him as an active antidote. Master Flea
was again in danger; he was, however, saved this time by Mr. Swammer,
who entered with George Pepusch. The former appeared to be exceedingly
delighted, but the latter had wrath and jealousy in his burning
glances. Peregrine left the room, and with wounded heart he strolled
through the streets of Frankfort. He went through the gate and onwards,
till he reached the very spot where the strange adventure had happened
with his friend, Pepusch. Here he again thought over his wonderful
destiny; the image of Gamaheh appeared to him lovelier than ever; the
blood rolled more quickly in his veins, his pulse beat more violently,
and his breast seemed ready to burst with feverish desire. He felt only
too painfully the greatness of the sacrifice which he had just made,
and with which he fancied that he had lost all the happiness of life.

The night had drawn in when he returned to the city. With