156 Friar Bacon's Key. [Aueusr, 
appeared as so much tedious prologue to the grand drama, or skirmishing, 
by way of prelude, to the grand engagement. But still, in spite of my 
disregard or contempt, I grew out of patience’ as the delay continued. 
First I tried my snuff-box—next I beat the devil’s tattoo with my feet— 
next I grew hot—then hotter—then boiling hot—then red-hot—till by 
the time the orator had come to lot ninety-seven, an antique key, the 
fever had exhausted itself, and with itself, exhausted me; and the 
previous tension of the nerves was succeeded by a gentle inclina- 
tion to drowsiness, which was only at all resisted or kept back by the 
unaccountable interest I all at once seemed to take in this old key. It 
was only a key, and old, and green as the copper sheathing of a vessel 
after a twelvemonth’s voyage ;—nothing more than an old-fashioned 
massive key with a sliding ring in place of the fixed one that crowns the 
modern handle. But for all this I could not help listening, as the price 
rose, and what was worse, bidding, though every “ I thank you, Sir,” of 
the auctioneer, sounded in my ears marvellously like, “ well nibbled, 
gudgeon ; take another snap, fool ; the hook is not well in your gullet 
yet !” 
* Gentleman,” said the orator, “this key is—a key—I mean a key 
katerochen—that is, ladies, par excellence,—the key of keys,—it can be 
traced up into the possession of the celebrated Friar Bacon, the inventor’ 
of gunpowder. Look at it, ladies and gentlemen,—smell it,—taste it.” 
Here Mr. Fudge suited the action to the word, and, licking his lips, went 
on with an air of ineffable relish.“ Excellent! I protest it has the true 
antique relish—none of your modern rust, but the genuine tinge of the 
olden time. No one can be deceived in that matter.” 
« But are you quite sure it belonged to Friar Bacon?” asked a little, 
limping antiquarian, who looked amongst men much as a turnspit does: 
amongst dogs.— “ But are you quite sure ?” 
“ Terque quaterque,” replied the orator. : 
** Because I don’t buy for myself; I am only the lion’s jackall, you 
know.—Ha! ha!” 
« His jack-ass, rather,” muttered a young man, who stood between me 
and the limping querist. 
“ You may rely upon its being genuine,” continued the orator, seeing 
the little man still hesitate, though half convinced by the Latin which he 
did not understand, and by his own joke of the jackall—“< You may rely 
upon its being genuine.— Allow me to say five guineas, just to begin with, 
though, I trust, we shall not stop short of a hundred.” “ee 
The little man nodded. 
« Thank you, Sir,” said the orator, bowing.—“ Five guineas, gentle-, 
men, is bid for this rare piece of antiquity, this gem that has existed 
almost three hundred years.” 
“ Nearer six,” cried my young neighbour,—“ that is, if it belonged, 
as you say it did, to Roger Bacon, the monk of Brazen-nose.” 
Mr. Fudge coloured up to his eyes at this unsolicited correction of his 
chronology ; but, as it was his business to buy golden opinions of all men, 
he replied, with a bow and a smile—the two usual adjuncts, by the way, 
hundred years old.— Will no lady or gentleman say any thing?—Going for 
five guineas.— Really it is a mere giving away of this valuable relic.—‘ Six,” 
—Thank you, Sir,—* Eight,—Ten,—Twenty.— Twenty-five. Twenty- 
five guineas are bid for Friar Bacon’s key —Going,—going,— going for 
of all his replies —“ Much obliged to you, Sir, for the ng’ Going fr 
¢ 
3. 
