e Boundary of Another World?"--(My dear sir, it will
make your hair stand quite refreshingly on end.) In that work you will
read that when gentlemen's or ladies' spirits travel off a few score or
thousand miles to visit a friend, their bodies lie quiet and in a torpid
state in their beds or in their arm-chairs at home. So in this way, I
am absent. My soul whisks away thirty years back into the past. I am
looking out anxiously for a beard. I am getting past the age of loving
Byron's poems, and pretend that I like Wordsworth and Shelley much
better. Nothing I eat or drink (in reason) disagrees with me; and I know
whom I think to be the most lovely creature in the world. Ah, dear maid
(of that remote but well-remembered period), are you a wife or widow
now?--are you dead?--are you thin and withered and old?--or are you
grown much stouter, with a false front? and so forth.

O Eliza, Eliza!--Stay, WAS she Eliza? Well, I protest I have forgotten
what your Christian name was. You know I only met you for two days, but
your sweet face is before me now, and the roses blooming on it are as
fresh as in that time of May. Ah, dear Miss X----, my timid youth
and ingenuous modesty would never have allowed me, even in my private
thoughts, to address you otherwise than by your paternal name, but THAT
(though I conceal it) I remember perfectly well, and that your dear and
respected father was a brewer.

CARILLON.--I was awakened this morning with the chime which Antwerp
cathedral clock plays at half-hours. The tune has been haunting me ever
since, as tunes will. You dress, eat, drink, walk and talk to yourself
to their tune: their inaudible jingle accompanies you all day: you read
the sentences of the paper to their rhythm. I tried uncouthly to imitate
the tune to the ladies of the family at breakfast, and they say it is
"the shadow dance of Dinorah." It may be so. I dimly remember that my
body was once present during the performance of that opera, whilst my
eyes were closed, and my intellectual faculties dormant at the back
of the box; howbeit, I have learned that shadow dance from hearing it
pealing up ever so high in the air, at night, morn, noon.

How pleasant to lie awake and listen to the cheery peal! whilst the old
city is asleep at midnight, or waking up rosy at sunrise, or basking in
noon, or swept by the scudding rain which drives in gusts over the broad
places, and the great shining river; or sparkling in snow which dresses