air as he was
inditing the 'aulos.'"

"Giving the lambda a fillip with my finger, I turned it upside down. So
the sentence now read 'o nous estin augos', and is, you perceive, the
fundamental doctrines in his metaphysics."

"Were you ever at Rome?" asked the restaurateur, as he finished his
second bottle of Mousseux, and drew from the closet a larger supply of
Chambertin.

"But once, Monsieur Bon-Bon, but once. There was a time," said the devil,
as if reciting some passage from a book--"there was a time when occurred
an anarchy of five years, during which the republic, bereft of all its
officers, had no magistracy besides the tribunes of the people, and
these were not legally vested with any degree of executive power--at
that time, Monsieur Bon-Bon--at that time only I was in Rome, and I have
no earthly acquaintance, consequently, with any of its philosophy." (*2)

{*2} Ils ecrivaient sur la Philosophie (_Cicero, Lucretius,
Seneca_) mais c'etait la Philosophie Grecque.--_Condorcet_.

"What do you think of--what do you think of--hiccup!--Epicurus?"

"What do I think of whom?" said the devil, in astonishment, "you
cannot surely mean to find any fault with Epicurus! What do I think of
Epicurus! Do you mean me, sir?--I am Epicurus! I am the same philosopher
who wrote each of the three hundred treatises commemorated by Diogenes
Laertes."

"That's a lie!" said the metaphysician, for the wine had gotten a little
into his head.

"Very well!--very well, sir!--very well, indeed, sir!" said his Majesty,
apparently much flattered.

"That's a lie!" repeated the restaurateur, dogmatically; "that's
a--hiccup!--a lie!"

"Well, well, have it your own way!" said the devil, pacifically, and
Bon-Bon, having beaten his Majesty at argument, thought it his duty to
conclude a second bottle of Chambertin.

"As I was saying," resumed the visiter--"as I was observing a little
while ago, there are some very outre notions in that book of yours
Monsieur Bon-Bon. What, for instance, do you mean by all that humbug
about the soul? Pray, sir, what is the soul?"

"The--hiccup!--soul," replied the metaphysician, referring to his MS.,
"is undoubtedly-"

"No, sir!"

"Indubitably-"

"No, sir!"

"Indisputably-"

"No, sir!"

"Evidently-"

"No, sir!"

"Incontrovertibly-"

"No, sir!"

"Hiccup!--"

"No, sir!"

"And beyond all question, a-"

"No sir, the soul is no such thing!" (Here the philosopher, looking
daggers