"All malice, and not a bit of truth in it," said our aunt.

The painter, who wanted to get to Paradise, had to go up a

staircase which he had himself painted, but which no man could

mount. That was to expiate his sins against perspective. All the

plants and buildings, which the property-man had placed, with infinite

pains, in countries to which they did not belong, the poor fellow

was obliged to put in their right places before cockcrow, if he wanted

to get into Paradise. Let Herr Fabs see how he would get in himself;