As for Teufelsdrockh, except by his nightly appearances at the _Grune
Gans_, Weissnichtwo saw little of him, felt little of him. Here, over his
tumbler of Gukguk, he sat reading Journals; sometimes contemplatively
looking into the clouds of his tobacco-pipe, without other visible
employment: always, from his mild ways, an agreeable phenomenon there;
more especially when he opened his lips for speech; on which occasions the
whole Coffee-house would hush itself into silence, as if sure to hear
something noteworthy. Nay, perhaps to hear a whole series and river of the
most memorable utterances; such as, when once thawed, he would for hours
indulge in, with fit audience: and the more memorable, as issuing from a
head apparently not more interested in them, not more conscious of them,
than is the sculptured stone head of some public fountain, which through
its brass mouth-tube emits water to the worthy and the unworthy; careless
whether it be for cooking victuals or quenching conflagrations; indeed,
maintains the same earnest assiduous look, whether any water be flowing or
not.

To the Editor of these sheets, as to a young enthusiastic Englishman,
however unworthy, Teufelsdrockh opened himself perhaps more than to the
most. Pity only that we could not then half guess his importance, and
scrutinize him with due power of vision! We enjoyed, what not three men
Weissnichtwo could boast of, a certain degree of access to the Professor's
private domicile. It was the attic floor of the highest house in the
Wahngasse; and might truly be called the pinnacle of Weissnichtwo, for it
rose sheer up above the contiguous roofs, themselves rising from elevated
ground. Moreover, with its windows it looked towards all the four _Orte_
or as the Scotch say, and we ought to say, _Airts_: the sitting room
itself commanded three; another came to view in the _Schlafgemach_
(bedroom) at the opposite end; to say nothing of the kitchen, which offered