A friend of mine says that he would
like to catch him and keep him in a bottle, and label it 'the learned
homunculus.'"
"What dialect is it he is talking in?" said Henry; "I don't remember to
have heard it before."
The publisher smiled: "My dear fellow, you must be careful what you say.
That is what we call 'the Oxford voice.'"
"How remarkable!" said Henry, his attention called off by a being with a
face that half suggested a faun, and half suggested a flower,--a small,
olive-skinned face crowned with purply black hair, that kept falling in
an elflock over his forehead, and violet eyes set slant-wise. He was
talking earnestly of fairies, in a beautiful Irish accent, and Henry
liked him. The attraction seemed mutual, and Henry found himself drawn
into a remarkable relation about a fairy-hill in Connemara, and fairy
lights that for several nights had been seen glimmering about it; and
how at last he--that is, the narrator--and a particularly hard-headed
friend of his had kept watch one moonlit night, with the result that
they had actually seen and talked with the queen of the fairies and
learned many secrets of the ----.
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