ass of water
he held in his hand, and took a hearty draught, and precipitately
departed. I traveled on. I was bewildered--in a maze, from which I found it
impossible to extricate myself. I made inquiries about my friend, but the
people stared and laughed, as though there was something extraordinary
about me. I wandered about till nightfall, and at last found shelter in a
cottage by the road-side, which was inhabited by an infirm old woman.

The next day I returned to the village. I called upon a gentleman with
whom I was intimately acquainted. I thought he might be able to give me
some tidings of my friend. When I was ushered into his presence he did not
know me. I was incredulous. Was I no longer myself? Had I changed my
identity? Whence this mystery? I was unable to fathom it. I handed my card
to him; he looked at it, and returned it, saying he did not know Mr.
Hoffmeister. The card was that of my friend. How it had come into my
possession I knew not. I apologized for the error, and informed him that
my name was not Hoffmeister, but Heinrich Gottlieb Langstroem. My surprise
may be conceived, when he informed me Langstroem--in fact, that I myself was
dead, and that my body had been found in the stream that flowed past the
village the day previously! I was ready to sink through the floor, and
could not find language to reply to the monstrous falsehood. I rushed from
his presence, feeling assured that some conspiracy was afoot to drive me
mad. I must have become so, or I never would have been exposed to the
extraordinary delusion to which I afterward became a victim.

I entered a house of public entertainment, and determined to solve this
dreadful enigma. I was, unfortunately, acquainted with the doctrines of
Pythagoras, and, at the time to which I refer, no doubt insane.

I requested to be shown into a room, where I could arrange my dress. I was
conducted into a chamber, in which all things necessary for that purpose
were provided. My object, however, was of greater consequence than this. I
wished to unravel the strange mystery that surrounded me--to discover, in a
word, whether I were really myself, or some other person. There was no way
of freeing myself from this horrible suspense and uncertainty than by
examining my features in the looking-glass. There was one placed upon a
dressing-table, but I shrank from it as though it had been a demon. I
dreaded to approach it; I feared to look into it, lest it should confirm