had not “softened his manners” and had “permitted them to be fierce”—­ tremendously fierce; he had the most complete command over his temper—­I mean over his good temper, which he scarcely ever allowed to appear:  you could not put him out of humour—­that is, out of the ill-humour which he thought to be fitting for a head-master.  His red shaggy eyebrows were so prominent, that he habitually used them as arms and hands for the purpose of pointing out any object towards which he wished to direct attention; the rest of his features were equally striking in their way, and were all and all his own; he wore a fancy dress partly resembling the costume of Napoleon, and partly that of a widow-woman.  I could not by any possibility have named anybody more decidedly differing in appearance from the rest of the human race.

“Whom do you name?”—­“I name John Keate.”—­“Now, what do you see?” said the wizard to the boy.—­“I see,” answered the boy, “I see a fair girl with golden hair, blue eyes, pallid face, rosy lips.”  There was a shot!  I shouted out my laughter to the horror of the wizard, who perceiving the grossness of his failure, declared that the boy must have known sin (for none but the innocent can see truth), and accordingly kicked him downstairs.

One or two other boys were tried, but none could “see truth”; they all made sadly “bad shots.”

Notwithstanding the failure of these experiments, I wished to see what sort of mummery my magician would practise if I called upon him to show me some performances of a higher order than those which had been attempted.  I therefore entered into a treaty with him, in virtue of which he was to descend with me into the tombs near the Pyramids, and there evoke the devil.  The negotiation lasted some time, for Dthemetri, as in duty bound, tried to beat down the wizard as much as he could, and the wizard, on his part, manfully stuck up for his price, declaring that to raise the devil was really no joke, and insinuating that to do so was an awesome crime.  I let Dthemetri have his way in the negotiation, but I felt in reality very indifferent about the sum to be paid, and for this reason, namely, that the payment (except a very small present which I might make or not, as I chose) was to be contingent on success.  At length the bargain was made, and it was arranged that after a few days, to be allowed for preparation, the wizard should raise the devil for two pounds ten, play or pay—­no devil, no piastres.

The wizard failed to keep his appointment.  I sent to know why the deuce he had not come to raise the devil.  The truth was, that my Mahomet had gone to the mountain.  The plague had seized him, and he died.