Quintessence, _qui par engin mirificque jectoit les maisons par les
fenestres_[11.2].

It was the custom for the guests to assemble at dinner on the day of
the ball, and depart on the following morning after breakfast. Sleep
during this interval was out of the question: the ancient harp of
Cambria suspended the celebration of the noble race of Shenkin, and
the songs of Hoel and Cyveilioc, to ring to the profaner but more
lively modulation of _Voulez vous danser, Mademoiselle?_ in
conjunction with the symphonious scraping of fiddles, the tinkling of
triangles, and the beating of tambourines. Comus and Momus were the
deities of the night; and Bacchus of course was not forgotten by the
male part of the assembly (with them, indeed, a ball was invariably a
scene of "_tipsy dance and jollity_"): the servants flew about with
wine and negus, and the little butler was indefatigable with his
corkscrew, which is reported on one occasion to have grown so hot
under the influence of perpetual friction that it actually set fire to
the cork.

The company assembled. The dinner, which on this occasion was a
secondary object, was despatched with uncommon celerity. When the
cloth was removed, and the bottle had taken its first round, Mr
Cranium stood up and addressed the company.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said he, "the golden key of mental
phaenomena, which has lain buried for ages in the deepest vein of the
mine of physiological research, is now, by a happy combination of
practical and speculative investigations, grasped, if I may so
express myself, firmly and inexcusably, in the hands of
physiognomical empiricism." The Cambrian visitors listened with