"To think," he observed, as he peered into the cavities, "that in this small compass should abide the passions, the emotions, the meannesses, the noble aspirations, the sordid desires, the selfish instincts and the power to resist them, the sense of duty, the conscious deceits, the lust for power, the grovelling worship, the filthy qualities of animalism, the secret promptings, and all the motley mental and moral attributes which make a man! To think that from this small compass have sprung all that constitutes man's history--religion, ethics, the rise and fall of nations, music, poetry, law, and science! How grand, how noble does this man, who represents humankind, think himself! What works he has executed, what marvels discovered! But if the truth were known, he is a mere dabbler, who, out of his conceit, magnifies the smallest of molehills into the largest of mountains. He can build a bridge, but he cannot make a flower that shall bloom to-day and die to-morrow. He can destroy, but he cannot create. In the open page of Nature he makes the most trivial of discoveries, and he straightway writes himself up in letters of gold and builds monuments in his honour. The stars mock him; the mountains of snow look loftily down upon the pigmy; the gossamer fly which his eyes can scarcely see triumphs over his highest efforts. But he has invented for himself a supreme shelter for defeat and decay. Dear me, dear me--I cannot find it!" "What are you looking for?" I asked. "Be kind enough to leave my brains alone." For he was industriously probing them with some sensitive instrument. "I am looking for your grand invention, your soul. I am wondrously wise, but I have never yet been able to discover its precise locality." After some further search he shut up my head, so to speak, and my fancies took another direction. All these vagaries seemed to be tumbling over each other in my brain as I rose from my bed on the floor. "Had a good night?" asked Devlin. "If being asleep," I replied, "means having a good night, I have had it. But my head is in a whirl, nevertheless." "Keep it cool if you can," said Devlin, "for what you have to go through. You will find water and soap inside." He pointed to the little closet adjoining his room, and there I found all that was necessary for my toilet. I had just finished when Fanny knocked at the door. "It's all right, Fanny," I cried. "You can get breakfast ready." "And don't forget," added Devlin, "the extra rasher for me. How is dear Lemon?" That she did not reply and was heard beating a hasty retreat caused a broad grin to spread over Devlin's face. "I have provided," he said, "for that worthy creature something of an entertaining, not to say enthralling, nature, which she can dilate upon to the last hour of her life. And yet she is not grateful."