The gentleman then informed me that the spirit of Socrates had delivered
this special revelation in the course of the night. “My friend, I hope
you are pretty well. There are two in this railway carriage. How do you
do? There are seventeen thousand four hundred and seventy-nine spirits
here, but you cannot see them. Pythagoras is here. He is not at liberty
to mention it, but hopes you like travelling.” Galileo likewise had
dropped in, with this scientific intelligence. “I am glad to see you,
_amico_. _Come sta_? Water will freeze when it is cold enough.
_Addio_!” In the course of the night, also, the following phenomena had
occurred. Bishop Butler had insisted on spelling his name, “Bubler,” for
which offence against orthography and good manners he had been dismissed
as out of temper. John Milton (suspected of wilful mystification) had
repudiated the authorship of Paradise Lost, and had introduced, as joint
authors of that poem, two Unknown gentlemen, respectively named Grungers
and Scadgingtone. And Prince Arthur, nephew of King John of England, had
described himself as tolerably comfortable in the seventh circle, where
he was learning to paint on velvet, under the direction of Mrs. Trimmer
and Mary Queen of Scots.
If this should meet the eye of the gentleman who favoured me with these
disclosures, I trust he will excuse my confessing that the sight of the
rising sun, and the contemplation of the magnificent Order of the vast
Universe, made me impatient of them. In a word, I was so impatient of
them, that I was mightily glad to get out at the next station, and to
exchange these clouds and vapours for the free air of Heaven.
By that time it was a beautiful morning. As I walked away among such
leaves as had already fallen from the golden, brown, and russet trees;
and as I looked around me on the wonders of Creation, and thought of the
steady, unchanging, and harmonious laws by which they are sustained; the
gentleman’s spiritual intercourse seemed to me as poor a piece of
journey-work as ever this world saw. In which heathen state of mind, I
came within view of the house, and stopped to examine it attentively.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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