MULCIBER SMITH. 527 



torn instantly recurred to his remembrance, and he was now deep in the 

 inquiry whether Fred's foolish prank might, by any roundabout possi- 

 bility, among the chances and changes of this odd world, " somehow or 

 other" help to extricate him from his difficulties. A most unexpected 

 accident fate, in fact had wafted him to an unknown district ; and 

 here, from the lips of his friend, he had been listening to the story of a 

 silly adventure, and to a mad-brained project which common sense fairly 

 laughed at ; but was it good philosophy to despise an agent because it 

 seemed absurd, puerile, and unlikely ? Fairly afloat in the regions of 

 speculation, Mulciber speedily forgot the troubles of his companions in 

 the greater fascination of his own, and he sauntered away from the party 

 to indulge in a little lonely meditation. 



At how slight a feather will a sinking man catch ! Freed from the 

 perplexities of his actual condition, Mulciber would have turned from 

 such a scheme with contempt ; but sore pressed by the sickening anxiety 

 which now disturbed his better reason, and unable to devise a means of 

 instant relief, he seriously disposed himself to weigh the probabilities of 

 a scheme, the mere proposal of which, in a healthier state of mind, he 

 would have considered as insulting. Besides, there was, indeed, some- 

 thing paltry and contemptible about the affair, which squared not well with 

 his notions of propriety ; yet when poverty and want become objects of 

 one's apprehensions, one's native delicacy of sentiment begins to falter : 

 this fact does not read well, but the truth of it is nevertheless too cer- 

 tain ; and those who have had the bitter misery to experience such a 

 measure of adversity, would attest it if they durst. 



Absorbed in these reflections, he unconsciously strolled to a consider- 

 able distance from the river, and overcome by the oppressive heat of the 

 afternoon he sate himself down on the shady side of a hedge, intending 

 to rejoin his friends after a little rest ! The grass was a verdant cushion, 

 the blue sky a pleasant canopy ; he looked into it, not to read the stars, 

 to be sure for none were there but to wonder what Fate had in store 

 for him ; he mused and dosed, dosed on and slumbered, slumbered and 

 slept slept like a very top ! From four in the afternoon until seven 

 in the evening, three mortal hours, had Mulciber slept the sleep of utter 

 oblivion. He had heard not the shouts of his friends ; the name of 

 Smith is not good for shouting at any time, or under any circumstances ; 

 and they had long since departed : and he awoke now, not from any 

 external disturbances, but simply from having slept long enough. Alas'! 

 too long. He rubbed his eyes, as sleepers awakened are wont to do ; 

 and wondered where he was, as sleepers in strange places are accustomed 

 to wonder on regaining their consciousness. Mulciber had thrown off 

 his coat and hat previously to assuming his pastoral attitude, for the 

 double purpose of enjoying greater coolness and comfort ; he arose and 

 looked for them, but them he found not. A coat and a hat were, indeed, 

 there the one of plush, faded, and much, very much, worse, for wear ; 

 the other might have been of felt, but an oilskin covered the original 

 fabric, the shape equivocal, and the aspect villainous. Mulciber looked 

 around him, but could descry no human being ; he went from field to 

 field, and called out with a loud cry, but he saw no body, and no body 

 appeared to hear him ; he traversed many hedges, and investigated the 

 dried-up ditches, but the search was fruitless. He retraced his steps to 



