es very fragrant); fourth, one wax candle;
fifth, one china tinder-box; sixth, one bottle of Eau de Cologne;
seventh, one paper of loaf sugar, nicely broken into sugar-bowl size;
eighth, one silver teaspoon; ninth, one glass tumbler; tenth, one glass
decanter of cool pure water; eleventh, one sealed bottle containing a
richly hued liquid, and marked "Otard."

"I wonder now what O-t-a-r-d is?" soliloquised Israel, slowly spelling
the word. "I have a good mind to step in and ask Dr. Franklin. He knows
everything. Let me smell it. No, it's sealed; smell is locked in. Those
are pretty flowers. Let's smell them: no smell again. Ah, I see--sort of
flowers in women's bonnets--sort of calico flowers. Beautiful soap. This
smells anyhow--regular soap-roses--a white rose and a red one. That
long-necked bottle there looks like a crane. I wonder what's in that?
Hallo! E-a-u--d-e--C-o-l-o-g-n-e. I wonder if Dr. Franklin understands
that? It looks like his white wine. This is nice sugar. Let's taste.
Yes, this is very nice sugar, sweet as--yes, it's sweet as sugar; better
than maple sugar, such as they make at home. But I'm crunching it too
loud, the Doctor will hear me. But here's a teaspoon. What's this for?
There's no tea, nor tea-cup; but here's a tumbler, and here's drinking
water. Let me see. Seems to me, putting this and that and the other
thing together, it's a sort of alphabet that spells something. Spoon,
tumbler, water, sugar,--brandy--that's it. O-t-a-r-d is brandy. Who put
these things here? What does it all mean? Don't put sugar here for show,
don't put a spoon here for ornament, nor a jug of water. There is only
one meaning to it, and that is a very polite invitation from some
invisible person to help myself, if I like, to a glass of brandy and
sugar, and if I don't like, let it alone. That's my reading. I have a
good mind to ask Doctor Franklin about it, though, for there's just a
chance I may be mistaken, and these things here be some other person's
private property, not at all meant for me to help myself from. Cologne,
what's that--never mind. Soap: soap's to wash with. I want to use soap,
anyway. Let me see--no, there's no soap on the wash-stand. I see, soap
is not given gratis here in Paris, to boarders. But if you want it, take
it from the marble, and it will be charged in the bill. If you don't
want it let it alone, and no charge. Well, that's fair, anyway. But then
to a man who could not afford to use soap, such