then, of the union of wisdom with wealth—­true wisdom with real wealth; lastly, and above all, he was thrown by the Delphians from a rock on account of his wit:  he is typical, therefore, of death—­the shedding of blood—­as a result of wisdom, this thought being an elaboration of Solomon’s great maxim, “in much wisdom is much sorrow.”  But how accurately all this fitted in with what would naturally be the doctrines of the men on whose track I was!  I could no longer doubt the justness of my reasonings, and immediately, while you slept, I set off for London.

’Of my haps in London I need not give you a very particular account.  The meeting was to be held on the 15th, and by the morning of the 13th I had reached a place called Wargrave, on the Thames.  There I hired a light canoe, and thence proceeded down the river in a somewhat zig-zag manner, narrowly examining the banks on either side, and keeping a sharp out-look for some board, or sign, or house, that would seem to betoken any sort of connection with the word “Aesopi.”  In this way I passed a fruitless day, and having reached the shipping region, made fast my craft, and in a spirit of diablerie spent the night in a common lodging-house, in the company of the most remarkable human beings, characterised by an odour of alcohol, and a certain obtrusive bonne camaraderie which the prevailing fear of death could not altogether repress.  By dawn of the 14th I was on my journey again—­on, and ever on.  Eagerly I longed for a sight of the word I sought:  but I had misjudged the men against whose cunning I had measured my own.  I should have remembered more consistently that they were no ordinary men.  As I was destined to find, there lay a deeper, more cabalistic meaning in the motto than any I had been able to dream of.  I had proceeded on my pilgrimage down the river a long way past Greenwich, and had now reached a desolate and level reach of land stretching away on either hand.  Paddling my boat from the right to the left bank, I came to a spot where a little arm of the river ran up some few yards into the land.  The place wore a specially dreary and deserted aspect:  the land was flat, and covered with low shrubs.  I rowed into this arm of shallow water and rested on my oar, wearily bethinking myself what was next to be done.  Looking round, however, I saw to my surprise that at the end of this arm there was a short narrow pathway—­a winding road—­leading from the river-bank.  I stood up in the boat and followed its course with my eyes.  It was met by another road also winding among the bushes, but in a slightly different direction.  At the end of this was a little, low, high-roofed, round house, without doors or windows.  And then—­and then—­tingling now with a thousand raptures—­I beheld a pool of water near this structure, and then another low house, a counterpart of the first—­and then, still leading on in the same direction, another pool—­and then a great rock, heart-shaped—­and