There
was once a man who had a mysterious exhibition of an animal, quite
unknown to naturalists, called "the wusser." Those curious
individuals who desired to see the wusser were introduced into an
apartment where appeared before them nothing more than a little lean
shrivelled hideous blear-eyed mangy pig. Everyone cried out
"Swindle!" and "Shame!" "Patience, gentlemen, be heasy," said the
showman: "look at that there hanimal; it's a perfect phenomaly of
hugliness: I engage you never see such a pig." Nobody ever had
seen. "Now, gentlemen," said he, "I'll keep my promise, has per
bill; and bad as that there pig is, look at this here" (he showed
another). "Look at this here, and you'll see at once that it's A
WUSSER." In like manner the Popjoy breed is bad enough, but it
serves only to show off the Galgenstein race; which is WUSSER.
Galgenstein had led a very gay life, as the saying is, for the last
fifteen years; such a gay one, that he had lost all capacity of
enjoyment by this time, and only possessed inclinations without
powers of gratifying them. He had grown to be exquisitely curious
and fastidious about meat and drink, for instance, and all that he
wanted was an appetite.
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