At this answer my friend Jack Tickle threw himself upon the bed, where he rolled over and over, until his coat was covered with down and feathers, which cooled his transports a little. "I see," said he, "I see! It was the last of the family; for hatters' tick was exhausted! Right, Dawky; in such straits of credit, I think I should have jumped after mine! Who would not fight, roast, or drown, for his hat, when it was the last decent one he ever expected to have on his head? I am glad _this_ was the cause: it makes me think better of you. I thought, like the rest, it was on account of your disappointment from the adorable Betty--" "The devil take Betty!" said I, but without well knowing why. "He _has!_" cried Jack, uproariously; "at least a _poor_ devil has. She has thrown away her seventy thousand upon a fellow no more to be compared with you than a tame goose with a wild one: and instead of spending it like a man, the rascal will buy stocks, and save it. I say, Dawky, you must have been surprised at her conduct--as we all were;--really, we thought you had her; and there was no one more certain than the fair Miss Smith." "The devil take the fair Miss Smith!" said I. "He will," said Tickle, shaking his head and laughing; "or, if _he_ don't, I don't know who will; for it is a clear matter--dad's done up entirely, and they say the sheriff is already making an inventory of his chattels. A great pity, Dawky; for, if she had but money, Miss Smith would be certainly an angel incarnate--a nymph, a houri--the finest woman in town. I say, Dawky, I think she almost had you!" CHAPTER III. IN WHICH SHEPPARD LEE IS PREPARED FOR THE BRILLIANT DESTINY THAT AWAITS HIM. There were many things in the conversation of my friend Tickle which I did not exactly comprehend, though I had a vague, confused appreciation of all, and afterward understood him well enough. The fact is, I was in the same difficulty which had beset me when scarce warm in the body of Mr. Higginson, that is, a confusion of characters, propensities, and associations, only that the last were imperfect, as if my memory had suddenly given way; and besides, the difficulty was in both cases increased by the feeling of amazement with which, for several hours, when properly conscious of it, I pondered over the marvel of my transformation. How such a thing could happen, or had happened, I knew no more than the man in the moon: it was a new thing in the history of man, and there was nothing in philosophy (at least, such philosophy as I had at that time) to explain it. I had certainly done nothing, on my part, in either case, to effect a change, save merely wishing it; and it seemed to me that I possessed a power, never before known to a human being, of transferring my spirit from body to body, whenever I willed, at least, under certain circumstances. But on this subject I will have more to say hereafter.