’On the contrary, every one declares that originality constitutes the most remarkable feature of my writings; the man has some faults, they say, but want of originality is certainly not one of them.  He is quite different from others—­a certain newspaper, it is true, the—­I think, once insinuated that in a certain work of mine I had taken a hint or two from the writings of a couple of authors which it mentioned; it happened, however, that I had never even read one syllable of the writings of either, and of one of them had never even heard the name; so much for the discrimination of the —–.  By the bye, what a rascally newspaper that is!’

‘A very rascally newspaper,’ said I.

CHAPTER LXVII

Disturbed slumbers—­The bed-post—­Two wizards—­What can I do?—­Real library—­The Rev. Mr. Platitude—­Toleration to Dissenters—­Paradox—­Sword of St. Peter—­Enemy to humbug—­High principles—­False concord—­The damsel—­What religion?—­Further conversation—­That would never do!—­May you prosper.

During the greater part of that night my slumbers were disturbed by strange dreams.  Amongst other things, I fancied that I was my host; my head appeared to be teeming with wild thoughts and imaginations, out of which I was endeavouring to frame a book.  And now the book was finished and given to the world, and the world shouted; and all eyes were turned upon me, and I shrank from the eyes of the world.  And, when I got into retired places, I touched various objects in order to baffle the evil chance.  In short, during the whole night, I was acting over the story which I had heard before I went to bed.

At about eight o’clock I awoke.  The storm had long since passed away, and the morning was bright and shining; my couch was so soft and luxurious that I felt loth to quit it, so I lay some time, my eyes wandering about the magnificent room to which fortune had conducted me in so singular a manner; at last I heaved a sigh; I was thinking of my own homeless condition, and imagining where I should find myself on the following morning.  Unwilling, however, to indulge in melancholy thoughts, I sprang out of bed and proceeded to dress myself, and, whilst dressing, I felt an irresistible inclination to touch the bed-post.

I finished dressing and left the room, feeling compelled, however, as I left it, to touch the lintel of the door.  Is it possible, thought I, that from what I have lately heard the long-forgotten influence should have possessed me again? but I will not give way to it; so I hurried downstairs, resisting as I went a certain inclination which I occasionally felt to touch the rail of the banister.  I was presently upon the gravel walk before the house:  it was indeed a glorious morning.  I stood for some time observing the golden fish disporting in the waters of the pond, and then strolled about amongst the noble trees of the park; the beauty and freshness of the morning—­for