“My condition was pitiable.  For the past twelve months I had not earned a cent, and of my small capital there now remained but two pounds to ward the hound of starvation from my door.  In the moonlight I could perceive all the bareness of the apartment.  Would to God Fancy would ride to me on this moonbeam and give me inspiration!  ’Twas indeed weird—­this silver ethereal path connecting the moon with the earth, and the more I gazed along it, the more I wished to leave my body and escape to the star-lighted vaults.  Certainly, from a conversation I had once had with a member of the New Occult Society, I believed it possible by concentrating all the mental activities in one channel, so to overcome the barriers which prevent the soul visiting scenes of the ethereal world, as to pass materialized to the spot upon which the ideas are fixed.  But although I had essayed—­how many times I do not like to confess—­to gain that amount of concentration necessary for the separation of the soul from the body, up to the present all my attempts had been fruitless.  Doubtless there had been a something—­too minute even for definition—­that had interrupted my self-abstraction—­a something that had wrecked my venture, just when I felt it to be on the verge of completion.  And was it likely that now, when my ideas were misty and vague, I should be more successful?  I wanted to quit the cruel bonds of nature and be free—­free to roam and ramble.  But where?

“At length, as I gazed into the moonlight, I lost all cognizance of the objects around me, and my eyes became fixed on the mountains of the moon, which I discovered, with a start, were no longer specks.  I found, to my amazement, I had left my body and was careering swiftly through space—­infinite space.  The range opened up in front of me, spreading out far and wide, winding, black and awful—­their solemn grandeur lost in that terrible desolation which makes the moon appear like a hideous nightmare.  I could see with amazing clearness the sides of the mountains; there were enormous black fissures, some of them hundreds of feet in width—­and the more I gazed the more impressed I grew with the silence.  There was no life.  There were no seas, no lakes, no trees, no grass, no sighing nor moaning of the wind, nothing to remind me of the earth I now found to my terror I had actually quitted.  Everything around me was black—­the sky, the mountains, the vast pits, the dried-up mouths of which gaped dismally.

“With the movements of a man in a fit, I essayed to hinder the finis of my mad plunge.  I waved my limbs violently, kicking out and shrieking in the agonies of fear.  I cursed and prayed, wept and laughed alternately, did everything, yet nothing, that could save me from contact with the lone desert so horribly close.  Nearer and nearer I approached, until at last my feet rested on the hard caked soil.  For the first few minutes after my arrival I was too overwhelmed with fear to do other than remain stationary.  The ground beneath my feet swarmed with myriads of foul and long-legged insects, things with unwieldy pincers and protruding eyes; things covered with scaly armour; hybrids of beetles and scorpions.  I have a distinct recollection of one huge-jointed centipede making a vicious grab at my leg; he failed to make his teeth meet in anything tangible, and emitting a venomous hiss disappeared in a circular pit.