My agony was at
      length insufferable, and I awoke just in time to perceive that a
      rat had ran off with the lighted candle from the stand, but _not_
      in season to prevent his making his escape with it through the
      hole. Very soon, a strong suffocating odor assailed my nostrils;
      the house, I clearly perceived, was on fire. In a few minutes the
      blaze broke forth with violence, and in an incredibly brief
      period the entire building was wrapped in flames. All egress from
      my chamber, except through a window, was cut off. The crowd,
      however, quickly procured and raised a long ladder. By means of
      this I was descending rapidly, and in apparent safety, when a
      huge hog, about whose rotund stomach, and indeed about whose
      whole air and physiognomy, there was something which reminded me
      of the Angel of the Odd,—when this hog, I say, which hitherto had
      been quietly slumbering in the mud, took it suddenly into his
      head that his left shoulder needed scratching, and could find no
      more convenient rubbing-post than that afforded by the foot of
      the ladder. In an instant I was precipitated and had the
      misfortune to fracture my arm. This accident, with the loss of my insurance, and with the more
      serious loss of my hair, the whole of which had been singed off
      by the fire, predisposed me to serious impressions, so that,
      finally, I made up my mind to take a wife. There was a rich widow
      disconsolate for the loss of her seventh husband, and to her
      wounded spirit I offered the balm of my vows. She yielded a
      reluctant consent to my prayers. I knelt at her feet in gratitude
      and adoration. She blushed and bowed her luxuriant tresses into
      close contact with those supplied me, temporarily, by Grandjean. I know not how the entanglement took place, but so it was. I
      arose with a shining pate, wigless; she in disdain and wrath,
      half buried in alien hair. Thus ended my hopes of the widow by an
      accident which could not have been anticipated, to be sure, but
      which the natural sequence of events had brought about. Without despairing, however, I undertook the siege of a less
      implacable heart. The fates were again propitious for a brief
      period; but again a trivial incident interfered. Meeting my
      betrothed in an avenue thronged with the _élite_ of the city, I
      was hastening to greet her with one of my best considered bows,
      when a small particle of some foreign matter, lodging in the
      corner of my eye, rendered me, for the moment, completely blind. Before I could recover my sight, the lady of my love had
      disappeared—irreparably affronted at what she chose to consider
      my premeditated rudeness in passing her by ungreeted. While I
      stood bewildered at the suddenness of this accident, (which might
      have happened, nevertheless, to any one under the sun), and while
      I still continued incapable of sight, I was accosted by the Angel
      of the Odd, who proffered me his aid with a civility which I had
      no reason to expect. He examined my disordered eye with much
      gentleness and skill, informed me that I had a drop in it, and
      (whatever a “drop” was) took it out, and afforded me relief. I now considered it high time to die, (since fortune had so
      determined to persecute me,) and accordingly made my way to the
      nearest river. Here, divesting myself of my clothes, (for there
      is no reason why we cannot die as we were born), I threw myself
      headlong into the current; the sole witness of my fate being a
      solitary crow that had been seduced into the eating of
      brandy-saturated corn, and so had staggered away from his
      fellows. No sooner had I entered the water than this bird took it
      into its head to fly away with the most indispensable portion of
      my apparel. Postponing, therefore, for the present, my suicidal
      design, I just slipped my nether extremities into the sleeves of
      my coat, and betook myself to a pursuit of the felon with all the
      nimbleness which the case required and its circumstances would
      admit. But my evil destiny attended me still. As I ran at full
      speed, with my nose up in the atmosphere, and intent only upon
      the purloiner of my property, I suddenly perceived that my feet
      rested no longer upon _terra-firma_; the fact is, I had thrown
      myself over a precipice, and should inevitably have been dashed
      to pieces but for my good fortune in grasping the end of a long
      guide-rope, which depended from a passing balloon. As soon as I sufficiently recovered my senses to comprehend the
      terrific predicament in which I stood or rather hung, I exerted
      all the power of my lungs to make that predicament known to the
      æronaut overhead. But for a long time I exerted myself in vain. Either the fool could not, or the villain would not perceive me. Meantime the machine rapidly soared, while my strength even more
      rapidly failed. I was soon upon the point of resigning myself to
      my fate, and dropping quietly into the sea, when my spirits were
      suddenly revived by hearing a hollow voice from above, which
      seemed to be lazily humming an opera air. Looking up, I perceived
      the Angel of the Odd. He was leaning with his arms folded, over
      the rim of the car; and with a pipe in his mouth, at which he
      puffed leisurely, seemed to be upon excellent terms with himself
      and the universe. I was too much exhausted to speak, so I merely
      regarded him with an imploring air. For several minutes, although he looked me full in the face, he
      said nothing. At length removing carefully his meerschaum from
      the right to the left corner of his mouth, he condescended to
      speak. “Who pe you,” he asked, “und what der teuffel you pe do dare?”

      To this piece of impudence, cruelty and affectation, I could
      reply only by ejaculating the monosyllable “Help!”

      “Elp!” echoed the ruffian—“not I. Dare iz te pottle—elp yourself,
      und pe tam’d!”

      With these words he let fall a heavy bottle of Kirschenwasser
      which, dropping precisely upon the crown of my head, caused me to
      imagine that my brains were entirely knocked out. Impressed with
      this idea, I was about to relinquish my hold and give up the
      ghost with a good grace, when I was arrested by the cry of the
      Angel, who bade me hold on. “Old on!” he said; “don’t pe in te urry—don’t.