I lingered at this enchanted spot for hours, indeed, until the assembly dispersed, each member seeking his abode, with brain fired by alcoholic stimulants, and yet apparently none the worse for what he had taken. Highly pleased with my reception and entertainment, I separated from my good friends, and thinking I should like to take a walk, wandered forth, under the glorious orbs of early morn. My brain was heated and all astir with phantom-like thoughts flitting through it. I soon paused upon a bridge of the Thames, and at once a desire entered my mind to fling myself into the river’s depths. I wondered what effect such an act would have upon me; I knew that I was a disembodied spirit, and therefore could not destroy my existence; still I did not know but I might experience some shock to my system, like that felt by drowning mortality. However, I determined to take the leap, which I did. No sooner had I done so than, instead of sinking under the water, I found myself slowly rising. I could not feel the water at all; it seemed as though I were floating upward upon a cloud. Rising still higher and higher, I at length found myself resting upon a strip of rocky, barren land; I knew that I was again beyond the bounds of earth, but in what part of spirit life I was entirely ignorant; all was dreary and desolate. By this time I had recovered in a measure from the effects of the wine-bibbing, and thought and memory again went bounding through my mind with startling intensity. Resting against a giant rock, that reared its head far upward toward the murky sky, I gave myself up to gloomy retrospection. What good had I done,—what work accomplished? Nothing; I had again fallen before the tempter; I was weak and helpless, powerless of will, of no use to myself nor to my kind! Why, oh, why must I continue to drag out such a shameful existence? Thus I mused and mourned, groaning deep in agony of spirit; my remorse was genuine, but I had not the power (or rather I thought I had not) to again rise after this my latest fall from self-respect. The hot sun came out and glowed with a lurid light; not a shrub or trace of vegetation were to be seen; all was stony and barren,—no sign of life, except far up, perched on the crags, there sat a bird of sable plumage, that now and then flapped its wings, and seemed to mutter and croak in mockery of my torment. I remembered the “Raven” of the American poet, and wondered if this too was a creation of my fevered brain, and I was to be haunted henceforth with the presence of this ominous creature. At last it flapped its wings and flew away, and I sank into a kind of half-dreamless lethargy, which lasted I know not how long; but at length I was aroused by the touch of a cool hand upon my head, to find the presence of my missionary guide, “Benja.”