middle-aged lady, but he instantly fancied himself
in the room of the "Institution for the cure of the crooked and
deformed," where casts of mis-shapen limbs are displayed in naked
reality on the wall. Yet there was this difference, in the institution
the casts were taken at the entry of the patient; but here they were
retained and guarded in the heart while the sound persons went away.
They were, namely, casts of female friends, whose bodily or mental
deformities were here most faithfully preserved.

With the snake-like writhings of an idea he glided into another female
heart; but this seemed to him like a large holy fane. [*] The white dove of
innocence fluttered over the altar. How gladly would he have sunk upon
his knees; but he must away to the next heart; yet he still heard the
pealing tones of the organ, and he himself seemed to have become a newer
and a better man; he felt unworthy to tread the neighboring sanctuary
which a poor garret, with a sick bed-rid mother, revealed. But God's
warm sun streamed through the open window; lovely roses nodded from
the wooden flower-boxes on the roof, and two sky-blue birds sang
rejoicingly, while the sick mother implored God's richest blessings on
her pious daughter.

* temple

He now crept on hands and feet through a butcher's shop; at least on
every side, and above and below, there was nought but flesh. It was the
heart of a most respectable rich man, whose name is certain to be found
in the Directory.

He was now in the heart of the wife of this worthy gentleman. It was an
old, dilapidated, mouldering dovecot. The husband's portrait was used as
a weather-cock, which was connected in some way or other with the doors,
and so they opened and shut of their own accord, whenever the stern old
husband turned round.

Hereupon he wandered into a boudoir formed entirely of mirrors, like
the one in Castle Rosenburg; but here the glasses magnified to an
astonishing degree. On the floor, in the middle of the room, sat, like a
Dalai-Lama, the insignificant "Self" of the person, quite confounded at
his own greatness. He then imagined he had got into a needle-case full
of pointed needles of every size.

"This is certainly the heart of an old maid," thought he. But he was
mistaken. It was the heart of a young military man; a man, as people
said, of talent and feeling.

In the greatest perplexity, he now came out of the last heart in the
row; he was unable to put his though