ABSTRACT
After a walk of some miles from the town of Gullgudgeon, where no information was to be obtained of Anthelia, their path wound along the shores of a lonely lake, embosomed in dark pine-groves and precipitous rocks. As they passed near a small creek, they observed a gentleman just stepping into a boat, who paused and looked up at the sound of their approximation; and Mr. Fax immediately recognized the poeticopolitcal, rhapsodicoprosaical, deisidæmoniacoparadoxo-graphical, pseudolatreiological, transcendental meteorosophist, Moley Mystic, Esquire, of Cimmerian Lodge. This gentleman’s Christian name, according to his own account, was improperly spelt with an e, and was in truth nothing more nor less than “That Moly, Which Hermes erst to wise Ulysses gave;”
