All the authentic records, from which this wonderful history has been
taken, agree in one point,--and the chronicle of centuries confirms
it,--that in the night when Mr. Peregrine Tyss returned home as a happy
lover, the full moon shone very brightly; it seems therefore natural
enough, that, instead of going to rest, he seated himself at the open
window, to stare at the moon, and think of his beloved, according to
the usual custom of gentlemen, more particularly if they happen to be
somewhat romantic--when under the influence of the tender passion.

But, however it may lower Mr. Peregrine Tyss with the ladies, it must
not be concealed that, in spite of all his enthusiasm, he gaped twice,
and so loudly, that a drunkard in the streets below called out to him,
"Holla! you there with the white nightcap, don't swallow me." This of
course was a sufficient cause for his dashing down the window so
violently, that the frame rattled again. It is even affirmed that, in
so doing, he cried out loud enough, "Impudent scoundrel!" But this
cannot be relied upon, as it by no means accords with his general
suavity of disposition. Enough; he shut the window, and went to bed.
The necessity for sleep, however, seemed to be superseded by that
immoderate gaping. Thoughts upon thoughts crossed his brain, and with
peculiar vividness came before his eyes the surmounted danger, when a
darker power would have tempted him to the use of the microscopic
glass; and now it became plain to him that Master Flea's mysterious
present, however well intended, was yet in all respects a gift from
hell.

"How!" said Peregrine to himself,--"for a man to read the most hidden
thoughts of his brothers! Does not this fateful gift bring upon him the
dreadful destiny of the Wandering Jew, who wandered through the
motliest crowds of life, as through a desert, without joy, without
hope, without pain, in dull indifference, which is the caput mortuum of
despair? Always trusting anew and always most bitterly deceived, how
can it be otherwise than that distrust, hatred, jealousy,
vindictiveness, would nestle firmly in the soul, destroying every trace
of that human principle, which shows itself in benevolence and gentle
confidence. No, your friendly face, your smooth words, shall not
deceive me;--you, who in your inmost heart are concealing perhaps
unmerited hate against me: I will hold you for my friend, I will do you
as much good as I can, I will open my soul to you, beca