196 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IV. 



But your most kind, welcome, very delightful letter urging it on 

 me, and reminding me of what, in the ungeographical cast of 

 my brain, I had absolutely forgotten the nearness of Birming- 

 ham to London, has set me a thinking again on the matter, and 

 I think I shall be able to accomplish it. Although my plans 

 are still green and immature, I write that the damping of your 

 thoughts 011 seeing me, which my last letter may have occasioned, 

 may be effaced by the shadow at least of a hope. I shall not 

 stay long in Birmingham ; probably come away before the end 

 of the time. Samuel Brown will go up with me (if I go ; if I 

 don't, he says, he will not either), and he'll go on to London too ; 

 so that, if things work well, we'll give you enough of our poor 

 presence. 



" If I had been brought up at the desk in the ' Dr. -Sir' one- 

 page school of correspondence, I would stop here, having written 

 what I took up the paper to tell you about ; but, if you oblige, 

 me to write letters to you, you must read all I write you. And 

 having discoursed largely on rational matters, like an oracle, I 

 must now have a little room allowed me for some antic gambols. 

 I have had a huge share of misfortunes lately, all of which have 

 concerned my upper works. They have been capital occurrences ; 

 and have come nigh unto affecting of my brain. I am still, 

 however, lucid, and take the opportunity to record them for your 

 benefit. I think I forgot, some long while ago, to tell you that, 

 when I one evening, ' high as heaven exulting,' clomb Arthur 

 Seat, a breeze, an envious puff, whirled my good hat ' sheer o'er 

 the crystal battlement' of the lofty pinnacle. I rushed in 

 desperation after it, but the hat, having taken a side chase 

 before it descended (?), was whisked out of sight before I could 

 follow in hot pursuit. I galloped down to the Hunters' Bog at 

 break-neck speed, but all to no avail (here I want a line from 

 Gray's Elegy, written in anticipation of this event, to the effect, 

 ' Nor on the hill nor in the log was he) ; no hat could I see, and 

 no hat did I find. I strongly fancy that it ascended, and was 

 borne aloft by some ' cross wind' to the limbo of vanity, which, 

 as according to Milton it contains monks' cowls, could never 

 refuse a place to a good twenty shillings' stuff hat, not much the 

 worse of wear. If it was refused admittance there, I incline to 



