We must get to
      press,’ said the foreman, who was over head and ears in work;
      ‘just stick in some other letter for o; nobody’s going to read
      the fellow’s trash anyhow.’

      ‘Wery well,’ replied Bob, ‘here goes it!’ and off he hurried to
      his case, muttering as he went: ‘Considdeble vell, them ere
      expressions, perticcler for a man as doesn’t swar. So I’s to
      gouge out all their eyes, eh? and d-n all their gizzards! Vell! this here’s the chap as is just able for to do it.’ The fact is
      that although Bob was but twelve years old and four feet high, he
      was equal to any amount of fight, in a small way. The exigency here described is by no means of rare occurrence in
      printing-offices; and I cannot tell how to account for it, but
      the fact is indisputable, that when the exigency does occur, it
      almost always happens that x is adopted as a substitute for the
      letter deficient. The true reason, perhaps, is that x is rather
      the most superabundant letter in the cases, or at least was so in
      the old times—long enough to render the substitution in question
      an habitual thing with printers. As for Bob, he would have
      considered it heretical to employ any other character, in a case
      of this kind, than the x to which he had been accustomed. ‘I shell have to x this ere paragrab,’ said he to himself, as he
      read it over in astonishment, ‘but it’s jest about the awfulest
      o-wy paragrab I ever did see’: so x it he did, unflinchingly, and
      to press it went x-ed. Next morning the population of Nopolis were taken all aback by
      reading in ‘The Tea-Pot,’ the following extraordinary leader:

      ‘Sx hx, Jxhn! hxw nxw? Txld yxu sx, yxu knxw. Dxn’t crxw, anxther
      time, befxre yxu’re xut xf the wxxds! Dxes yxur mxther knxw
      yxu’re xut? Xh, nx, nx!—sx gx hxme at xnce, nxw, Jxhn, tx yxur
      xdixus xld wxxds xf Cxncxrd! Gx hxme tx yxur wxxds, xld xwl,—gx! Yxu wxn’t? Xh, pxh, pxh, Jxhn, dxn’t dx sx! Yxu’ve gxt tx gx, yxu
      knxw, sx gx at xnce, and dxn’t gx slxw; fxr nxbxdy xwns yxu here,
      yxu knxw. Xh, Jxhn, Jxhn, Jxhn, if yxu dxn’t gx yxu’re nx
      hxmx—nx! Yxu’re xnly a fxwl, an xwl; a cxw, a sxw; a dxll, a
      pxll; a pxxr xld gxxd-fxr-nxthing-tx-nxbxdy, lxg, dxg, hxg, xr
      frxg, cxme xut xf a Cxncxrd bxg. Cxxl, nxw—cxxl! Dx be cxxl, yxu
      fxxl! Nxne xf yxur crxwing, xld cxck! Dxn’t frxwn sx—dxn’t! Dxn’t
      hxllx, nxr hxwl, nxr grxwl, nxr bxw-wxw-wxw! Gxxd Lxrd, Jxhn, hxw
      yxu dx lxxk! Txld yxu sx, yxu knxw,—but stxp rxlling yxur gxxse
      xf an xld pxll abxut sx, and gx and drxwn yxur sxrrxws in a
      bxwl!’

      The uproar occasioned by this mystical and cabalistical article,
      is not to be conceived. The first definite idea entertained by
      the populace was, that some diabolical treason lay concealed in
      the hieroglyphics; and there was a general rush to Bullet-head’s
      residence, for the purpose of riding him on a rail; but that
      gentleman was nowhere to be found. He had vanished, no one could
      tell how; and not even the ghost of him has ever been seen since. Unable to discover its legitimate object, the popular fury at
      length subsided; leaving behind it, by way of sediment, quite a
      medley of opinion about this unhappy affair. One gentleman thought the whole an X-ellent joke. Another said that, indeed, Bullet-head had shown much X-uberance
      of fancy. A third admitted him X-entric, but no more. A fourth could only suppose it the Yankee’s design to X-press, in
      a general way, his X-asperation. ‘Say, rather, to set an X-ample to posterity,’ suggested a fifth. That Bullet-head had been driven to an extremity, was clear to
      all; and in fact, since that editor could not be found, there was
      some talk about lynching the other one. The more common conclusion, however, was that the affair was,
      simply, X-traordinary and in-X-plicable. Even the town
      mathematician confessed that he could make nothing of so dark a
      problem. X, everybody knew, was an unknown quantity; but in this
      case (as he properly observed), there was an unknown quantity of
      X. The opinion of Bob, the devil (who kept dark about his having
      ‘X-ed the paragrab’), did not meet with so much attention as I
      think it deserved, although it was very openly and very
      fearlessly expressed. He said that, for his part, he had no doubt
      about the matter at all, that it was a clear case, that Mr.
      Bullet-head ‘never could be persuaded fur to drink like other
      folks, but vas continually a-svigging o’ that ere blessed XXX
      ale, and as a naiteral consekvence, it just puffed him up savage,
      and made him X (cross) in the X-treme.’




METZENGERSTEIN


     Pestis eram vivus—moriens tua mors ero. —_Martin Luther_

      Horror and fatality have been stalking abroad in all ages. Why
      then give a date to this story I have to tell? Let it suffice to
      say, that at the period of which I speak, there existed, in the
      interior of Hungary, a settled although hidden belief in the
      doctrines of the Metempsychosis. Of the doctrines themselves—that
      is, of their falsity, or of their probability—I say nothing. I
      assert, however, that much of our incredulity—as La Bruyère says
      of all our unhappiness—“_vient de ne pouvoir être seuls_.” {*1}

      But there are some points in the Hungarian superstition which
      were fast verging to absurdity. They—the Hungarians—differed very
      essentially from their Eastern authorities. For example, “_The
      soul_,” said the former—I give the words of an acute and
      intelligent Parisian—“_ne demeure qu’un seul fois dans un corps
      sensible: au reste—un cheval, un chien, un homme même, n’est que
      la ressemblance peu tangible de ces animaux._”

      The families of Berlifitzing and Metzengerstein had been at
      variance for centuries. Never before were two houses so
      illustrious, mutually embittered by hostility so deadly. The
      origin of this enmity seems to be found in the words of an
      ancient prophecy—“A lofty name shall have a fearful fall when, as
      the rider over his horse, the mortality of Metzengerstein shall
      triumph over the immortality of Berlifitzing.”

      To be sure the words themselves had little or no meaning. But
      more trivial causes have given rise—and that no long while ago—to
      consequences equally eventful. Besides, the estates, which were
      contiguous, had long exercised a rival influence in the affairs
      of a busy government. Moreover, near neighbors are seldom
      friends; and the inhabitants of the Castle Berlifitzing might
      look, from their lofty buttresses, into the very windows of the
      palace Metzengerstein.