are once used to, the Devil himself sometimes shall not be able to drive them off it. _Pray, my Dear_, quoth my mother, _have you not forgot to wind up the clock? ------Good G--!_ cried my father, making an exclamation, but taking care to moderate his voice at the same time, ----_Did ever woman, since the creation of the world, interrupt a man with such a silly question?_ Pray, what was your father saying? ------Nothing. CHAPTER II ------Then, positively, there is nothing in the question that I can see, either good or bad. ----Then, let me tell you, Sir, it was a very unseasonable question at least, --because it scattered and dispersed the animal spirits, whose business it was to have escorted and gone hand in hand with the _HOMUNCULUS_, and conducted him safe to the place destined for his reception. The HOMUNCULUS, Sir, in however low and ludicrous a light he may appear, in this age of levity, to the eye of folly or prejudice; --to the eye of reason in scientifick research, he stands confess’d--a BEING guarded and circumscribed with rights. ----The minutest philosophers, who, by the bye, have the most enlarged understandings (their souls being inversely as their enquiries), shew us incontestably, that the HOMUNCULUS is created by the same hand, --engender’d in the same course of nature, --endow’d with the same locomotive powers and faculties with us: --That he consists as we do, of skin, hair, fat, flesh, veins, arteries, ligaments, nerves, cartilages, bones, marrow, brains, glands, genitals, humours, and articulations; --is a Being of as much activity, --and, in all senses of the word, as much and as truly our fellow-creature as my Lord Chancellor of _England_. --He may be benefited, --he may be injured, --he may obtain redress; --in a word, he has all the claims and rights of humanity, which _Tully_, _Puffendorf_, or the best ethick writers allow to arise out of that state and relation. Now, dear Sir, what if any accident had befallen him in his way alone! --or that, through terror of it, natural to so young a traveller, my little Gentleman had got to his journey’s end miserably spent; --his muscular strength and virility worn down to a thread; --his own animal spirits ruffled beyond description, --and that in this sad disordered state of nerves, he had lain down a prey to sudden starts, or a series of melancholy dreams and fancies, for nine long, long months together. --I tremble to think what a foundation had been laid for a thousand weaknesses both of body and mind, which no skill of the physician or the philosopher could ever afterwards have set thoroughly to rights. CHAPTER III