“I have been much deceived in you,” said the man.

And the friend made a face at him and went away.

A little after, they both died, and came together before the great white Justice of the Peace. It began to look black for the friend, but the man for a while had a clear character and was getting in good spirits.

“I find here some record of a quarrel,” said the justice, looking in his notes. “Which of you was in the wrong?”

“He was,” said the man. “He spoke ill of me behind my back.”

“Did he so?” said the justice. “And pray how did he speak about your neighbours?”

“Oh, he had always a nasty tongue,” said the man.

“And you chose him for your friend?” cried the justice. “My good fellow, we have no use here for fools.”

So the man was cast in the pit, and the friend laughed out aloud in the dark and remained to be tried on other charges.

XI.—THE READER.

“I never read such an impious book,” said the reader, throwing it on the floor.

“You need not hurt me,” said the book; “you will only get less for me second hand, and I did not write myself.”

“That is true,” said the reader. “My quarrel is with your author.”

“Ah, well,” said the book, “you need not buy his rant.”

“That is true,” said the reader. “But I thought him such a cheerful writer.”

“I find him so,” said the book.

“You must be differently made from me,” said the reader.

“Let me tell you a fable,” said the book.  “There were two men wrecked upon a desert island; one of them made believe he was at home, the other admitted—”

“Oh, I know your kind of fable,” said the reader. “They both died.”

“And so they did,” said the book. “No doubt of that. And everybody else.”

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