resent troubles and anxieties, would it not be wise,
seeing that authorship causes you so much trouble and anxiety, to give it
up altogether?"

"Were you an author yourself," replied my host, "you would not talk in
this manner; once an author, ever an author--besides, what could I do?
return to my former state of vegetation? no, much as I endure, I do not
wish that; besides, every now and then my reason tells me that these
troubles and anxieties of mine are utterly without foundation; that
whatever I write is the legitimate growth of my own mind, and that it is
the height of folly to afflict myself at any chance resemblance between
my own thoughts and those of other writers, such resemblance being
inevitable from the fact of our common human origin. In short--"

"I understand you," said I; "notwithstanding your troubles and anxieties
you find life very tolerable; has your originality ever been called in
question?"

"On the contrary, every one declares that originality constitutes the
most remarkable feature of my writings; the man has some faults, they
say, but want of originality is certainly not one of them. He is quite
different from others--a certain newspaper, it is true, the --- I think,
once insinuated that in a certain work of mine I had taken a hint or two
from the writings of a couple of authors which it mentioned; it happened,
however, that I had never even read one syllable of the writings of
either, and of one of them had never even heard the name; so much for the
discrimination of the -----By-the-bye, what a rascally newspaper that
is!"

"A very rascally newspaper," said I.

CHAPTER LXVII.

Disturbed Slumbers--The Bed-Post--Two Wizards--What can I Do?--Real
Library--The Rev. Mr. Platitude--Toleration to Dissenters--Paradox--Sword
of St. Peter--Enemy to Humbug--High Principles--False Concord--The
Damsel--What Religion?--Farther Conversation--That would never Do!--May
you Prosper.

During the greater part of that night my slumbers were disturbed by
strange dreams. Amongst other things, I fancied that I was my host; my
head appeared to be teeming with wild thoughts and imaginations, out of
which I was endeavouring to frame a book. And now the book was finished
and given to the world, and the world shouted; and all eyes were turned
upon me, and I shrunk from the eyes of the world. And, when I got into
retired places, I touched various objects in order to baffle the evil
chance. In short,