the character
of his son-in-law, he, very naturally, considered himself engaged to
her. There was still one little point in the matter of some importance,
namely, that the young lady herself had not heard a syllable about the
affair, and could not possibly have the very faintest inkling what was
going forward.

At an excessively early hour of the morning, after the strange
adventures which we have, in our first chapter, described as having
been met with by Tussmann at the foot of the Townhouse Tower, and in
the wineshop in Alexander Street, the said Clerk of the Privy Chancery
came bursting, pale and wild, with distorted features, into his friend
Bosswinkel's bedroom. The Commissionsrath was much alarmed and
exercised in his mind, for Tussmann had never come in upon him at such
an hour, and his manner and appearance clearly indicated that something
most remarkable had been happening.

"What, in the name of Heaven, is the matter with you?" Bosswinkel
cried. "Where have you been? What have you been up to? You look like I
don't know what!"

Tussmann threw himself feebly into an arm-chair, and it was not till he
had gasped for breath during several minutes that he was able to begin
to speak--which he did in a whimpering voice.

"Bosswinkel! here, as you see me, in these self-same clothes, with
'Thomasius on Diplomatic Acumen' in my pocket, I come straight here
from Spandau Street, where I have been running up and down, and
backwards and forwards, ever since the clock struck twelve last night.
I have not set a foot across my own doorstep, or seen the sight of a
bed, nor have I closed an eye the whole livelong night!"

And he told the Commissionsrath all that had happened to him from the
time when he first came across the mysterious and fabulous sort of
Goldsmith, till he had made his escape from the winehouse as fast as he
could, in his terror at the sorcery which was going on there.

"Tussmann, old fellow," said Bosswinkel, "I see what it is, you're not
accustomed to liquoring up. You go to your bed every night at eleven
o'clock, after a couple of glasses of beer, and last night you went and
took more liquor than was good for you, long after you ought to have
been asleep; no wonder you had a lot of funny dreams."

"What!" Tussmann cried; "you think I was asleep, do you, and dreaming?
Don't you know I'm pretty well up in the subject of sleep and dreams.
I'll prove to you out of Rudow's 'Theory of Sleep,' and explain