The sun was now setting and the temple of Neptune was glowing with its last purple rays.  We were informed that our horses were waiting, and that it was time for us to depart to our lodgings at Eboli.  I asked the stranger to be our companion and to do us the honour to accept of a seat in our carriage.  He declined the invitation, and said:  “My bed is prepared in the casina here for this night, and to-morrow I proceed on a journey connected with scientific objects in the parts of Calabria the scene of the terrible earthquakes of 1783.”  I held out my hand to him in parting; he gave it a strong and warm pressure, and said, “Adieu! we shall meet again.”

DIALOGUE THE FOURTH.  THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY.

The impression made upon my mind by the stranger with whom we became acquainted at Paestum was of the strongest and most extraordinary kind.  The memory of his person, his dress, his manners, the accents of his voice, and the tone of his philosophy, for a long while haunted my imagination in a most unaccountable manner, and even formed a part of my dreams.  It often occurred to me that this was not the first time that I had seen him; and I endeavoured, but in vain, to find some type or image of him in former scenes of my life.  I continually made inquiries respecting him amongst my acquaintance, but I could never be sure that any of them knew him, or even had seen him.  So great were his peculiarities, that he must have escaped observation altogether; for, had he entered the world at all, he must have made some noise in it.  I expressed so much interest on this subject, that at last it became a source of ridicule amongst my acquaintance, who often asked me if I had not yet obtained news of my spirit-friend or ghost-seer.

After my return from Naples to Rome, I was almost immediately recalled to England by a melancholy event—­the death of a very near and dear relation—­and I left my two friends, Ambrosio and Onuphrio, to pursue their travels, which were intended to be of some extent and duration.

In my youth, and through the prime of manhood, I never entered London without feelings of pleasure and hope.  It was to me as the grand theatre of intellectual activity, the field of every species of enterprise and exertion, the metropolis of the world of business, thought, and action.  There I was sure to find the friends and companions of my youth, to hear the voice of encouragement and praise.  There, society of the most refined kind offered daily its banquets to the mind with such variety that satiety had no place in them, and new objects of interest and ambition were constantly exciting attention either in politics, literature, or science.