Through his best hexameter spectacles he surveyed the dark-eyed
daughter of the Nile who was telling his fortune with a strong
Irish accent; all went smoothly until the prophetess happened to
see the Professor's sunburnt nose, fiery red from the four days'
run in wind and rain, and said warningly,--

"You are too fond of good eating and drinking; you drink too much,
and unless you are more temperate you will die in twenty years."
That was too much for the Professor, whose occasional glass of
beer--a habit left over from his student days--would not discolor
the nose of a humming-bird.

There were no end of illusions, mysteries, and deceptions. The
greatest mystery of all was the eager desire of the people to be
deceived, and their bitter and outspoken disappointment when they
were not. As the Professor remarked,--

"There never has been but one real American, and that was Phineas
T. Barnum. He was the genuine product of his country and his
times,--native ore without foreign dross. He knew the American
people as no man before or since has known them; he knew what the
American people wanted, and gave it to them in large unadulterated
doses,--humbug."

Tuesday morning was spent in giving the machine a thorough
inspection, some lost motion in the eccentric was taken up, every
nut and screw tightened, and the cylinder and intake mechanism
washed out with gasoline.