54 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. 



" traced along the bell-wire half round the room, to the 

 "door opposite. The wire had been melted here and 

 " there ; the gilding on the frames of two pictures 

 " on the wall had contracted into transverse bands, alter- 

 nating with bands of black destitute of gold ; the door 

 "had been thrown off its hinges, though these were 

 " unusually massive ; and a few other freaks of this 

 " playful character had sated the lightning's ire. 



" St. John thus recalls to my memory one result of this 

 "storm: ' Do you recollect Newell's account of that 

 " ? event (the thunderbolt/) in his letter to Poole ? We 

 "'amused ourselves with its diction, counting the 

 " ' prodigious number of was-es crowded into the 

 "'sentences. "I was," and "he was," and "it was," etc., 

 " ' without end. I think you copied the letter, and fairly 

 " ' foamed with laughter ; — bad boys as we were ! ' 



" My friend John Brown wrote me, / think, but one 

 "letter. I left him ill of consumption ; and the summer 

 " had scarcely set in, when he died at home in Poole. The 

 " death of my early friend did not affect my feelings in 

 " any appreciable degree. It seemed as if I had forgotten 

 "him. I was much ashamed of this, and, I may say, 

 "even shocked ; but, as it was, new scenes, new friend- 

 " ships, had come in, and, what was perhaps more to 

 "the point, I had, since I parted from him, brief as the 

 " period really was, changed from the boy into the man. 

 " Thus there seemed a great chasm between my present 

 "feelings, aspirations, and habits of thought, and those 

 " of only a few months before ; and it had so happened 

 " that this physical transition had been exactly coin- 

 " cident with the change of place and circumstances. 

 " John Brown seemed to belong to another era, which 

 " had faded away. It was true, in more than one sense, 

 " that I had migrated to \ The New World.' 



