side table and put it into my hand. "It is
the Jena edition," he said. It struck me that
his name might be in the title-page. I glanced
at it. No! There was " From the author"
there, however— the author having been dead
nearly two hundred years!  I thought this
was a joke —the offspring of that queer
jocosity which so often belongs to enthusiasm.
Accordingly I smiled. He took away the book
somewhat abruptly, and put it down again.

The dinner made its appearance. " Ah,"
I thought, as I surveyed the viands, " I know
your names, my friends. You are cod —you
are mutton. Could I only know those of my
entertainer! "  I foresaw that I should presently
have to take wine with one of them.
Then, again, I was constantly obliged to keep
my eyes upon each; for if I wanted to call
their attention, how do so, if I didn't know
their name?

Dinner went on. I happened to make
some observation to the daughter. The old
gentleman looked up —"Eh ?"

"I beg your pardon," I said, " I was
speaking to Miss —(that terrible pause
again!) to your daughter."

I glanced at the end of a fork, in a knowing
way, soon after this. There was a chance
of an initial there, at all events. But no;
he must needs have a crest! How I
abominated his barbarous ancestral pride! It was
a stag. Everybody carries a stag. Had it
been a pelican with young, which a certain
great family (with the same sucking
propensities, no doubt) carries, I might have
guessed that he was one. As ill-luck would
have it, he observed my glance at the stag.

"It is a pretty crest, is it not, Mr. Herbert ?"

"Very," said I; and then I thought I had
hit on something very ingenious. So I went on
carelessly, " Do all your name bear the same?"

"Except the Devonshire ones —for they
vary the name a little," answered the daughter.
Doubtless she took it, as a matter of course,
that I knew their name. I grew morbid.
What right had I to be eating this old gentleman's
dinner, when I was a perfect stranger
to him?

Lucky Devonshire people, thought I, who
know what the name is! " Ah," I resumed,
" they called themselves —" (what a pause
that was!)

"They add an ' i,'" she said, quietly.

"Add an ' i',' " I thought. Where, and how?
Was the name Tomkins, and had the Devonshire
people Italianised the patronymic into
Tomkinsi? I had a vague idea of getting up
a quarrel with the old gentleman, and
compelling him to give me his card. That would
bring the affair to a crisis, at all events!
Meanwhile, dessert was put on the table. I
saw that it would be at once ill-bred and dull
to harp upon names any longer, so was
preparing to resign myself to fate, when the
old gentleman, arousing himself from an
abstracted muse, said, " Pray, Sir, what do
you think of the doctrine of metempsychosis?"

I drew myself up for a slight prolusion,
when, to my astonishment, the daughter
suddenly rose, and said, coaxingly, " Well, never
mind, Papa, to-night. Mr. Herbert knows
it all."

I looked at her with calm surprise. She
moved round towards me, and whispered,
"Well, Sir, if you don't think there is any
danger of over-excitement— "

There was a decided probability of my over-
excitement ending in my temporary insanity,
I could plainly see. I held my tongue; and
what did the old gentleman do, but coolly
begin a metaphysical harangue— the end and
upshot of which was, that he was the
temporary embodiment of the luminous intellect
of Benedict de Spinoza!

"That's your name, is it, Sir? " said I,
"I'm delighted to hear it." Here I jumped
up. " Monsieur de Spinoza, permit me to
wish you good evening!"

There suddenly occurred to me Dugald
Stewart's observation, that a tendency to
insanity may often be combined with high
metaphysical acumen —and that the united
phenomena precisely accounted for the whole
proceedings of my eccentric friend. He
evidently considered me, however, a firm believer
in his theory about himself; while his
daughter as evidently considered me a
professional gentleman, who had been sent by one of
the family to observe his present condition.

What to do ?  I heartily wished the old
man at his original Amsterdam. It seemed
likely that his aberration was recent and
temporary. Presently, he sank into a  doze.

"Well, doctor," said the girl, in a low voice,
" What do you think of his case ? I admire
the tact with which, during dinner, you
avoided inciting him, by confining yourself in
conversation to trifles."

This unconscious judgment on my conversation
and its value was, of course, highly
flattering. I was about to reply, when the
servant entered with —a census paper to be
filled up.

"Now, I reflected, with a savage joy, "I
shall know my friend's name at last. But
how will he describe himself?"

"You had better write the name, and so
on," said the girl, half-smiling. " Really, I
ought not to laugh, but consider what Papa
might write! Pray do it while I leave you
for a minute."

So here was I, in the crisis of my fatal
ignorance at last! I could not fill it up, of
course- and let me tell you, my dear
expectant reader, with every wish for your
curiosity, that you are the proper person— to
FILL UP THE CENSUS RETURN!

Nearly ready (with a copious Index,) Price Three Shillings,
THE FIRST VOLUME OF THE
HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE OF
CURRENT EVENTS.
Being a complete Record of the events of the year
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY.