The applause which greeted the Baron was deafening.  He was, beyond all doubt, one of the most popular members of the club.

“Speaking of whales,” said he, leaning gracefully against the table.

“Nobody has mentioned ’em,” said Johnson.

“True,” retorted the Baron; “but you always suggest them by your apparently unquenchable thirst for spouting—­speaking of whales, my friend Jonah, as well as the rest of you, may be interested to know that I once had an experience similar to his own, and, strange to say, with the identical whale.”

Jonah arose from his seat in the back of the room.  “I do not wish to be unpleasant,” he said, with a strong effort to be calm, “but I wish to ask if Judge Blackstone is in the room.”

“I am,” said the Judge, rising.  “What can I do for you?”

“I desire to apply for an injunction restraining the Baron from using my whale in his story.  That whale, your honor, is copyrighted,” said Jonah.  “If I had any other claim to the affection of mankind than the one which is based on my experience with that leviathan, I would willingly permit the Baron to introduce him into his story; but that whale, your honor, is my stock in trade—­he is my all.”

“I think Jonah’s point is well taken,” said Blackstone, turning to the Baron.  “It would be a distinct hardship, I think, if the plaintiff in this action were to be deprived of the exclusive use of his sole accessory.  The injunction prayed for is therefore granted.  The court would suggest, however, that the Baron continue with his story, using another whale for the purpose.”

“It is impossible,” said Munchausen, gloomily.  “The whole point of the story depends upon its having been Jonah’s whale.  Under the circumstances, the only thing I can do is to sit down.  I regret the narrowness of mind exhibited by my friend Jonah, but I must respect the decision of the court.”

“I must take exception to the Baron’s allusion to my narrowness of mind,” said Jonah, with some show of heat.  “I am simply defending my rights, and I intend to continue to do so if the whole world unites in considering my mind a mere slot scarcely wide enough for the insertion of a nickel.  That whale was my discovery, and the personal discomfort I endured in perfecting my experience was such that I resolved to rest my reputation upon his broad proportions only—­to sink or swim with him—­and I cannot at this late day permit another to crowd me out of his exclusive use.”

Jonah sat down and fanned himself, and the Baron, with a look of disgust on his face, left the room.

“Up to his old tricks,” he growled as he went.  “He queers everything he goes into.  If I’d known he was a member of this club I’d never have joined.”

“We do not appear to be progressing very rapidly,” said Doctor Johnson, rising.  “So far we have made two efforts to have stories told, and have met with disaster each time.  I don’t know but what you are to be congratulated, however, on your escape.  Very few of you, I observe, have as yet fallen asleep.  The next number on the programme, I see, is Boswell, who was to have entertained you with a few reminiscences; I say was to have done so, because he is not to do so.”