We walked up and down before the stretches of painted canvas, balancing in our desire a sword-swallower against an Indian Princess.

(3) Kasyapa, "swallower of light."

Whether this taste is to be considered as a proof of the weakness of our judgment, or of innate inquisitiveness, which stimulates us to enlarge the sphere of our knowledge, must be left to the decision of metaphysicians; it is sufficient for our present purpose to know that it gave rise to a numerous class of impostors in the shape of quacks, mountebanks, poison-swallowers, fire-eaters, and pill-mongers.

" "Nay, nay, I am not a swallower of my own words, young Signore; but my duty to Levi must not be forgotten.

The only drawback to our food was the flour of which the chupatties were made; it was coarse to a degree, and seemed to consist chiefly of minute speckly pieces of husk, which used to tickle our throats up in the most unpleasant manner, and had a nasty habit of choking the swallower, in addition to being highly indigestible.

They were, originally, an island belonging to Earl Goodwin, when a sudden and mighty inundation of the sea overwhelmed with light sand, 'where-with,' as an old writer hath it, 'it not only remayneth covered ever since, but is become withall a most dreadful gulfe and shippe swallower.

Scarlet and yellow booths, gilded roundabouts, sword-swallowers in purple fleshings, Amazons in green plush and spangles were gay enough.

The Fabiani family was late in arriving, but a spot was found, between the sword-swallower and the Circassian lady, which suited Cleofonte's purpose.

The sword-swallower next them was already busy, and the Homme Sauvage, a hirsute person, whose unprofessional mien was both kind and peaceable (as Yvonne had discovered unofficially last night), was roaring horribly, at two sous the head, in his enclosure near by.

And a few hermits and sword-swallowers, And all the cast-aways that Holy Church Must put in cagescagesto the end!

Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little girls, country Jakes, policemen, fat ladies, thin men, sword swallowers, wild men of Borneo, armless wonders and charioteers, some of them well in their cups, all of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and colour round them and by the familiar faces strangely unfamiliar under bizarre wigs and barbaric paint.

Margaret Byng, by F.C. PHILLIPS and FENDALL, is a clever sensational story, spun out into two volumes, which can be devoured by the accomplished novel-swallower in any two hours' train journey, and can be highly recommended for this particular purpose.