Myself. No, no; but never mind. I’m delighted to see you. Your speech on your ointment awoke in my bosom an intense longing to see this place; and I’ve come almost specially to see for myself its wonders. I hope, therefore, Mr. Eli, you have no special engagement this morning.
“And suppose I have not?”
Myself. In that case I trust you will be my cicerone. I am extremely anxious to know the history and traditions of the wonderful well.
“I’ll accompany you with pleasure, and tell its wondrous history. When shall we start?”
Myself. Now, if you please.
Just as we reached the lower part of the principal street, we saw a man with measured steps approaching us. The man had a leathern strap fastened round his neck, at the other end of which was suspended a large bell, a cushion being buckled to the right knee. Every time the cushioned knee came forward the bell jingled, and it being of considerable size its tones could be heard a long distance from the scene of the man’s perambulations. When he came up to the place where we were standing, I asked Mr. Eli the question,—
“Is that man mad?”
“By no means: he is in his right mind.”
Myself. No sane man, I should think, would be guilty of such folly.
“The man,” replied Mr. Eli, “is doing a Christian duty.”