"I see no burn upon
it," said the Hungarian; "but in the name of Gott, how could you
set it on fire without burning it?" "I never set it on fire at
all," said the jockey; "I set this on fire," showing us a piece of
half-burnt calico. "I placed this calico above it, and lighted not
the handkerchief, but the rag. Now I will show you something else.
I have a magic shilling in my pocket, which I can make run up along
my arm. But, first of all, I would gladly know whether either of
you can do the like." Thereupon the Hungarian and myself, putting
our hands into our pockets, took out shillings, and endeavoured to
make them run up our arms, but utterly failed; both shillings,
after we had made two or three attempts, falling to the ground.
"What noncomposses you both are," said the jockey; and placing a
shilling on the end of the fingers of his right hand he made
strange faces to it, drawing back his head, whereupon the shilling
instantly began to run up his arm, occasionally hopping and jumping
as if it were bewitched, always endeavouring to make towards the
head of the jockey.
"How do I do that?" said he, addressing himself to me. "I really
do not know," said I, "unless it is by the motion of your arm."
"The motion of my nonsense," said the jockey, and, making a
dreadful grimace, the shilling hopped upon his knee, and began to
run up his thigh and to climb up his breast.
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