188 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IV. 



ing double tides. Whatever be the explanation, the case was 

 this, that my soul was carried away by goblins grim, and hurled 

 with a splash into the Eed Sea, where it was tied to one of the 

 rotten wheels of Pharaoh's broken chariot, now converted into a 

 mermaid's bathing coach. There it was left lying, ' deeper than 

 plummet ever sounded/ many millions of fathoms deeper, for it 

 was converted into lead, and not having a string attached to it, 

 it dived to the bottom in a moment of time ; and all the horrid 

 ugly creatures that are permitted to torment ill-regulated 

 minds, learning from the dull air of the mansion (the body) 

 that the soul was not at home, took up their abode in its de- 

 serted temple, and indulged in their hideous cantrips, till even 

 a 'bottle imp' was tired of their presence. It was doubtless 

 some corner of my mortal parts that had got out of repair, a 

 lobe of the liver, or a pouch of the stomach, or a fold of the 

 midriff, which set the faculties that are under their influence 

 out of balance, and tormented me. In these circumstances, an 

 ounce of Epsom salts will effect more than an aphorism of 

 Plato. I am now in possession of my soul again, not to the full 

 as good as before, but still tolerably well ; and so I'll try and 

 write you a more readable letter than the last was, though the 

 brevity of time tells me I shall be able to scribble very little. 



" I wrote to father yesterday, in reply to a kind letter from 

 him, saying that I should certainly return at the time I stated. 

 I must return immediately and study for my passing. 



" They must all excuse me not writing, as I shall be so soon 

 home, that I may much better keep what I have to say till 1 

 come home, than hastily scrawl it from here. I shall moreover 

 have many things to do before leaving London, and writing 

 won't at all suit me, in these circumstances. Three or four 

 days ago the weather was pleasantly warm ; to-day it is freezing 

 cold, and snow is falling thickly on the paths ; all the pretty 

 flowers will be killed, and the young buds be nipt by this un- 

 timely frost. A little squirrel, that lies near me, has played 

 about a short while ; but even his warm fur was too thin to shut 

 out the cold, and he has crept into his dormitory, and rolled 

 himself round and round and round till nothing but the tip of 

 his tail peeps from beneath his bedclothes. How cold and sad 



