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Updated: October 7, 2025
"Ah, Jeff, my boy, glad I've found you all together," cried my friend, wringing my hand and raising his hat to the ladies. "Just come over to say good-bye. I'm engaged again on the Evergreen Isle same salary and privileges as before freer scope, if possible, than ever." "And where are you going to, Mr Biquitous?" asked my mother.
He is a strange being this friend, who crops up at all sorts of unexpected times, and in divers places, when one least expects him. His name is U. Biquitous. "My dear Childers," said he, when I had explained matters, "you are a victim; you are the victim of self-delusion. You were victimised by self-delusion when I first met you, at the time you thought you had discovered perpetual motion.
I fired at the other, who, leaping nearly his own height into the air, fell with a crash down the staircase. He sprang up, however, instantly, and both men bolted out at the front door and fled. The Englishman turned to thank me for my timely aid, but, instead of speaking, looked at me with amused surprise. "Can it be?" I exclaimed; "not possible! you, Biquitous?"
"Why, Mr Biquitous," said Bella, looking up from her drawing, with a slight elevation of the eyebrows, "I thought you were a married man." "Ah! Mrs Naranovitsch, I understand your reproofs; but that, madam, I call a celestial joy. Looking into my wife's blue eyes is what I call star-gazing, and that is a celestial, not a terrestrial, occupation.
It came through my eccentric friend U. Biquitous, who, after going through the Russo-Turkish war as correspondent of the Evergreen Isle, had proceeded in the same capacity to Greece.
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