L'ENVOI.
A GOOD many years have elapsed since the events I have related. With the Professor's departure from England I ceased all connection with magic as a profession, my performances having since that time been limited to occasional exhibitions en amateur at juvenile parties, where I find myself greatly respected. A very few words will suffice for the little that remains to be told.
Aunt Priscilla has gone to her rest. The Major, my mother, and Jemima still flourish, the Major as upright as ever, but scarcely so active; my mother, calm and placid; Jemima despotic as of yore, but still troubled in her mind at having, as she considers, obtained Uncle Bumpus' legacy under false pretences.
Peter, after a short period of probation, decided to continue Uncle Bumpus' business, and tells me that he does not find it nearly so bad as imagination painted it. I myself have been for some years (I will not say how many) in practice as a solicitor, and am gradually achieving a very comfortable connection. I am glad to be able, with more intimate acquaintance, to exonerate the members of that highly respectable profession from the piratical imputation so rashly cast upon them by Dibley Secundus in my Dumpton College days. On the other hand, I am constantly tracing in my new profession some pleasant little trait which reminds me of my old one. The constant endeavour to make a thing appear something totally different, the frequent protestations (though couched in more elaborate language) that there is "no deception," and last, but not least, the rapid disappearance, in many of its processes, of the coin of the realm, are instances of this mysterious affinity, and make me feel that, although I no longer wield the magic wand, I may still fairly subscribe myself
CONJURER DICK.
THE END.