When we were on the way home, I observed that, although the singular and fatal accident which befell the young man in the prison excited very little interest at the time of its occurrence, yet no sooner had they who witnessed it got clear of the island, than it was given with every possible ornament; so that it would be as easy to recognize the plain fact, when decked out by their elucidations, as it would be to understand the sense of an original author, after it has come through the hands of half a hundred commentators.  But human nature is a darker enigma than any you could find, in the “Lady’s Magazine.”  Who would suppose, for instance, that it was the same motive which set their tongues wagging now, that had chained their spirits by the strong force of the marvellous and the terrible, while they were in prison!  Yet this was the fact; but their influence hung while there, like the tyrant’s sword, over each individual head; and until the danger of falling asleep in the “Prison” was past, they could feel no interest for anything beyond themselves.  In both cases, however, they were governed by the force of the marvellous and the terrible.

When we had finished our journey for the day, I was glad to find a tolerable bed; and never did man enjoy such a luxury of sweet sleep as I did that night.  My old companion, too, evinced an attention to me seldom experienced in an accidental traveller.  She made them get down water and bathe my feet, and asked me at what hour I would set out in the morning, telling me that she would see my clothes brushed, and everything done herself—­so minute was the honest creature in her little attentions.  I told her I would certainly take a nap in the morning, as I had slept so little for the last three nights, and was besides so fatigued.  “Musha to be sure, and why not, agra! afther the hard bout you had in that blessed Island! betoken that you’re tinder and too soft rared to bear it like them that the work hardens; sleep!—­to be sure you’ll sleep your fill—­you want it, in coorse; and now go to bed, and you’ll appear quite another man in the mornin’, plaise God!”

I did not awake the next morning till ten o’clock, when I found the sun shining full into the room.  I accordingly dressed myself partially, and I say partially—­for I was rather surprised to find an unexpected chasm in my wardrobe; neither my hat, coat, nor waistcoat being forthcoming.  But I immediately made myself easy, by supposing that my kind companion had brought them to be brushed.  Yet I relapsed into something more than surprise when I saw my fellow-traveler’s redoubtable jacket lying on the seat of a chair, and her hare’s-skin cap on the top of it.  My misgivings now were anything but weak; nor was I at all improved, either in my religion or philosophy, when, on calling up the landlady I heard that my two companions had set out that morning at four o’clock.  I then inquired about my clothes, but all to no purpose; the poor landlady knew nothing about them:  which,