V. Portrait-sketch of myself and the false Noah, made at the time, and
showing how difficult it would have been for any member of my family,
save myself, to tell us apart.
VI. A cathode-ray photograph of the whale, showing myself, the original
Jonah, seated inside.
VII. Facsimiles of the Shakespeare autographs, proving that he knew
neither how to write nor to spell, and so of course proving effectually
that I was not the author of his works.
It must be confessed that I read this article of Munchausen's with
amazement, and I awaited with much excited curiosity the coming again of
the manipulator of my type-writing machine. Surely a revelation of this
nature should create a sensation in Hades, and I was anxious to learn
how it was received. Boswell did not materialize, however, and for five
nights I fairly raged with the fever of curiosity, but on the sixth
night the familiar tinkle of the bell announced an arrival, and I flew
to the machine and breathlessly cried:
“Hullo, old chap, how did it come out?”
The reply was as great a surprise as I have yet had, for it was not
Boswell, Jim Boswell, who answered my question.