he reached this wonderful prophetic Hebron (a true Old-Clothes Jewry) where
he now dwells?

"To all these natural questions the voice of public History is as yet
silent. Certain only that he has been, and is, a Pilgrim, and Traveller
from a far Country; more or less footsore and travel-soiled; has parted
with road-companions; fallen among thieves, been poisoned by bad cookery,
blistered with bug-bites; nevertheless, at every stage (for they have let
him pass), has had the Bill to discharge. But the whole particulars of his
Route, his Weather-observations, the picturesque Sketches he took, though
all regularly jotted down (in indelible sympathetic-ink by an invisible
interior Penman), are these nowhere forthcoming? Perhaps quite lost: one
other leaf of that mighty Volume (of human Memory) left to fly abroad,
unprinted, unpublished, unbound up, as waste paper; and to rot, the sport
of rainy winds?

"No, _verehrtester Herr Herausgeber_, in no wise! I here, by the
unexampled favor you stand in with our Sage, send not a Biography only, but
an Autobiography: at least the materials for such; wherefrom, if I
misreckon not, your perspicacity will draw fullest insight: and so the
whole Philosophy and Philosopher of Clothes will stand clear to the
wondering eyes of England, nay thence, through America, through Hindostan,
and the antipodal New Holland, finally conquer (_einnehmen_) great part of
this terrestrial Planet!"

And now let the sympathizing reader judge of our feeling when, in place of
this same Autobiography with "fullest insight," we find--Six considerable
PAPER-BAGS, carefully sealed, and marked successively, in gilt China-ink,
with the symbols of the Six southern Zodiacal Signs, beginning at Libra; in
the inside of which sealed Bags lie miscellaneous masses of Sheets, and