ve had very long ears.
Nevertheless, Dannevig's reviews were for about a month a very
successful feature of our paper. They might be described as racy
little essays, bristling with point and epigram, on some subject
suggested by the title-pages of current volumes. At the end of that
time, however, books began to grow scarce in our office, and before
another month was at an end, we had no more need of a reviewer. My
friend was then to have his last trial as a reporter.

One of his first experiences in this new capacity was at a
mass-meeting preceding an important municipal election. Not daring to
send his "copy" to the printer without revision, I determined to
sacrifice two or three hours' sleep, and to await his return. But the
night wore on, the clock struck twelve, one, and two, and no Dannevig
appeared. I began to grow anxious; our last form went to press at four
o'clock, and I had left a column and a half open for his expected
report. Not wishing to resort to dead matter, I hastily made some
selections from a fresh magazine, and sent them to the foreman.

The next day, about noon, a policeman brought me the following note,
written in pencil, on a leaf torn from a pocket-book.

DEAR FRIEND;

I made a speech last night (and a very good one too) in behalf of
oppressed humanity, but its effect upon my audience was, to say the
least, singular. Its results, as far as I am personally concerned
were also somewhat unpleasant. Looking at myself in my pocketglass
this morning, I find that my nose has become disproportionately
prominent, besides showing an abnormal lateral development If you
would have the goodness to accompany the obliging gentleman, who is
the bearer of this, to my temporary lodgings, I will further explain
the situation to you. By the way, it is absolutely necessary that
you should come.

Yours in haste,

VICTOR J. ST. D. DANNEVIG, R.D.O.[A]

[Footnote A: Knight of the Order of Dannebrog.]

I found Dannevig, as I had expected, at the so-called Armory (the city
prison), in pleasant converse with half-a-dozen policemen, to whom he
was describing, with inimitable grace and good-humor, his adventures
of the preceding night. He was too absorbed in his narrative to notice
my arrival, and I did not choose to interrupt him.

"You can imagine, gentlemen," he was saying, accompanying his words
with the liveliest gesticulations, "how the rude contact of a
plebeian fist with my tend