"
"And how came he here?" asked a figure who was evidently the
prototype of the fashion-plate in a magazine, and might be taken to
represent the vanities of the passing moment. "The fellow infringes
upon our rights by coming before his time."
"But you forget where we are," answered the Man of Fancy, who
overheard the remark. "The lower earth, it is true, will be
forbidden ground to him for many long years hence; but a castle in
the air is a sort of no-man's-land, where Posterity may make
acquaintance with us on equal terms."
No sooner was his identity known than a throng of guests gathered
about Posterity, all expressing the most generous interest in his
welfare, and many boasting of the sacrifices which they had made, or
were willing to make, in his behalf. Some, with as much secrecy as
possible, desired his judgment upon certain copies of verses or
great manuscript rolls of prose; others accosted him with the
familiarity of old friends, taking it for granted that he was
perfectly cognizant of their names and characters. At length,
finding himself thus beset, Posterity was put quite beside his
patience.
"Gentlemen, my good friends," cried he, breaking loose from a misty
poet who strove to hold him by the button, "I pray you to attend to
your own business, and leave me to take care of mine! I expect to
owe you nothing, unless it be certain national debts, and other
encumbrances and impediments, physical and moral, which I shall find
it troublesome enough to remove from my path.
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