as one upon the inexhaustible sea. Besides, any slight
mistake as to the letter of the number, could not affect the horror of the
final prospect. I saw by the imprint, and I heard, that this work emanated
from London, a vast centre of mystery to me, and the more so, as a thing
unseen at any time by my eyes, and nearly 200 miles distant. I felt the
fatal truth, that here was a ghostly cobweb radiating into all the
provinces from the mighty metropolis. I secretly had trodden upon the
outer circumference, had damaged or deranged the fine threads and
links,--concealment or reparation there could be none. Slowly perhaps, but
surely, the vibration would travel back to London. The ancient spider that
sat there at the centre, would rush along the network through all
longitudes and latitudes, until he found the responsible caitiff, author
of so much mischief. Even, with less ignorance than mine, there _was_
something to appal a child's imagination in the vast systematic machinery
by which any elaborate work could disperse itself, could levy money, could
put questions and get answers--all in profound silence, nay, even in
darkness--searching every nook of every town, and of every hamlet in so
populous a kingdom. I had some dim terrors, also, connected with the
Stationers' Company. I had often observed them in popular works
threatening unknown men with unknown chastisements, for offences equally
unknown; nay, to myself, absolutely inconceivable. Could _I_ be the
mysterious criminal so long pointed out, as it were, in prophecy? I
figured the stationers, doubtless all powerful men, pulling at one rope,
and my unhappy self hanging at the other end. But an image, which seems
now even more ludicrous than the rest, at that time was the one most
connected with the revival of my grief. It occurred to my subtlety, that
the Stationers' Company, or any other company, could not possibly demand
the money until they had delivered the volumes. And, as no man could say
that I had ever positively refused to receive them, they would have no
pretence for not accomplishing this delivery in a civil manner. Unless I
should turn out to be no customer at all, at present it was clear that I
had a right to be considered a most excellent customer; one, in fact, who
had given an order for fifteen thousand volumes. Then rose up before me
this great opera-house "scena" of the delivery. There would be a ring at
the front door. A waggoner in the front, with a blan