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had made of the scarabæus. You recollect also, that I became quite vexed
at you for insisting that my drawing resembled a death's-head. When you
first made this assertion I thought you were jesting; but afterwards
I called to mind the peculiar spots on the back of the insect, and
admitted to myself that your remark had some little foundation in fact.
Still, the sneer at my graphic powers irritated me--for I am considered
a good artist--and, therefore, when you handed me the scrap of
parchment, I was about to crumple it up and throw it angrily into the
fire."
"The scrap of paper, you mean," said I.
"No; it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I supposed it
to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I discovered it, at once,
to be a piece of very thin parchment. It was quite dirty, you remember.
Well, as I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my glance fell
upon the sketch at which you had been looking, and you may imagine my
astonishment when I perceived, in fact, the figure of a death's-head
just where, it seemed to me, I had made the drawing of the beetle. For
a moment I was too much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my
design was very different in detail from this--although there was a
certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took a candle, and
seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded to scrutinize the
parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own sketch
upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first idea, now, was mere
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