g
forward again to the front of his carriage where all the gaping crowd
could catch every word, he exclaimed:

"Gentlemen, you look astonished! You seem to wonder and ask yourselves
who is this modern Quixote. What mean this costume of by-gone
centuries--this golden chariot--these richly caparisoned steeds? What is
the name and purpose of this curious knight-errant? Gentlemen, I will
condescend to answer your queries. I am Monsieur Mangin, the great
charlatan of France! Yes, gentlemen, I am a charlatan--a mountebank; it
is my profession, not from choice, but from necessity. You, gentlemen,
created that necessity! You would not patronize true, unpretending,
honest merit, but you are attracted by my glittering casque, my sweeping
crest, my waving plumes. You are captivated by din and glitter, and
therein lies my strength. Years ago, I hired a modest shop in the Rue
Rivoli, but I could not sell pencils enough to pay my rent, whereas, by
assuming this disguise--it is nothing else--I have succeeded in
attracting general attention, and in selling literally millions of my
pencils; and I assure you there is at this moment scarcely an artist in
France or in Great Britain who don't know that I manufacture by far the
best blacklead pencils ever seen."

And this assertion was indeed true. His pencils were everywhere
acknowledged to be superior to any other.

While he was thus addressing his audience, he would take a blank card,
and with one of his pencils would pretend to be drawing the portrait of
some man standing near him; then showing his picture to the crowd, it
proved to be the head of a donkey, which, of course, produced roars of
laughter.

"There, do you see what wonderful pencils these are? Did you ever behold
a more striking likeness?"

A hearty laugh would be sure to follow, and then he would exclaim: "Now
who will have the first pencil--only five sous." One would buy, and then
another; a third and a fourth would follow; and with the delivery of
each pencil he would rattle off a string of witticisms which kept his
patrons in capital good-humor; and frequently he would sell from two
hundred to five hundred pencils in immediate succession. Then he would
drop down in his carriage for a few minutes and wipe the perspiration
from his face, while his servant played another overture on the organ.
This gave his purchasers a chance to withdraw, and afforded a good
opportunity for a fresh audience to congregate. Then would f