ered by a
resplendent vision. Then he said:--

"What do I regard? Is it a dream, or have I again got them--thees
jimjams? My best friend and my best--I mean my ONLY--wife! Embrace me!"

He gave me an enthusiastic embrace and a wink like sheet-lightning,
passed quickly to his wife, before whom he dropped on one knee, raised
the toe of her slipper to his lips, and then sank on the sofa in
simulated collapse, murmuring, "Thees is too mooch of white stone for
one day!"

Through all this I saw his wife regarding him with exactly the same
critically amused expression with which she had looked upon him in the
days of their strange courtship. She evidently had not tired of his
extravagance, and yet I feel as puzzled by her manner as then. She rose
and said: "I suppose you have a good deal to say to each other, and I
will leave you by yourselves." Turning to her husband, she added, "I
have already spoken about the Aztec manuscript."

The word brought Enriquez to his feet again. "Ah! The little old
nigger--you have read?" I began to understand. "My wife, my best
friend, and the little old nigger, all in one day. Eet is perfect!"
Nevertheless, in spite of this ecstatic and overpowering combination,
he hurried to take his wife's hand; kissing it, he led her to a door
opening into another room, made her a low bow to the ground as she
passed out, and then rejoined me.

"So these are the little old niggers you spoke of in your note," I said,
pointing to the manuscript. "Deuce take me if I understood you!"

"Ah, my leetle brother, it is YOU who have changed!" said Enriquez
dolorously. "Is it that you no more understand American, or have the
'big head' of the editor? Regard me! Of these Aztecs my wife have made
study. She have pursued the little nigger to his cave, his grotto, where
he is dead a thousand year. I have myself assist, though I like it not,
because thees mummy, look you, Pancho, is not lively. And the mummy who
is not dead, believe me! even the young lady mummy, you shall not take
to your heart. But my wife"--he stopped, and kissed his hand toward the
door whence she had flitted--"ah, SHE is wonderful! She has made the
story of them, the peecture of them, from the life and on the instant!
You shall take them, my leetle brother, for your journal; you shall
announce in the big letter: 'Mooch Importance. The Aztec, He is Found.'
'How He Look and Lif.' 'The Everlasting Nigger.' You shall sell many
paper, and Urania shall