could devise; but even these were nothing
compared to the mysterious influence of the place
itself upon my nervous system, particularly when
I found myself there alone. In the tales with
which my head was filled, many of them the wild
fancies of Grimm, Hoffman, or Musaeus, nothing
was more common than to read how some eager
student of the black art, deep in the mystery of
forbidden knowledge, had, by some chance
combination, by some mere accidental admixture of
this ingredient with that, suddenly arrived at the
great SECRET, that terrible mystery which for
centuries and centuries had evaded human
search. How often have I watched the fluid as
it boiled and bubbled in the retort, till I thought
the air globules, as they came to the surface,
observed a certain rhythm and order. Were
these, words? Were they symbols of some
hidden virtue in the liquid? Were there
intelligences to whom these could speak, and thus
reveal a wondrous history? And then, again,
with what an intense eagerness have I gazed on
the lurid smoke that arose from some smelting
mass, now fancying that the vapour was about
to assume form and substance, and now, imagining
that it lingered lazily, as though waiting for
some cabalistic word of mine to give it life
and being? How heartily did I censure the
folly that had ranked alchemy amongst the
absurdities of human invention. Why rather had
not its facts been treasured and its discoveries
recorded, so that, in some future age a great
intelligence arising, might classify and arrange
them, showing, at least, what were practicable
and what were only evasive. Alchemists were,
certainly, men of pure lives, self-denying, and
humble. They made their art no stepping-stone
to worldly advancement or success, they sought
no favour from princes, nor any popularity from
the people; but, retired and estranged from al
l the pleasures of the world, followed, their one
pursuit, unnoticed and unfriended. How cruel,
therefore, to drag them forth from their lonely
cells, and expose them to the gaping crowd as
devil worshippers! How inhuman to denounce
men whose only crimes were lives of solitude and
study! The last words of Peter von Vordt,
burned for a wizard, at Haarlem, in 1306, were,
"Had they left this poor head a little longer on
my shoulders, it would have done more for
human happiness than all this bonfire!"

How rash and presumptuous is it, besides,
to set down any fixed limits to man's knowledge!
Is not every age au advance upon its predecessors,
and are not the commonest acts of our
present civilisation perfect miracles as compared
with the usages of our ancestors? But why do I
linger on this theme, which I only introduced to
illustrate the temper of my boyish days? As I
grew older, books of chivalry and romance took
possession of my mind, and my passion grew for
lives of adventure. Of all kinds of existence,
none seemed to me so enviable as that of those
men, who, regarding life as a vast ocean, hoisted
sail, and set forth, not knowing nor caring
whither, but trusting to their own manly spirit
for extrication out of whatever difficulties might
beset them. What a narrow thing, after all,
was our modern civilisation, with all its forms
and conventionalities, with its gradations of rank
and its orders! How hopeless for the
adventurous spirit to war with the stern discipline of
an age that marshalled men in ranks like soldiers,
and told that each could only rise by successive
steps! How often have I wondered was there
any more of adventure left in life? Were there
incidents in store for him who, in the true spirit
of an adventurer, should go in search of them?
As for the newer worlds of Australia and
America, they did not possess for me much
charm. No great association linked them with
the past; no echo came out of them of that
heroic time of feudalism, so peopled with
heartstirring characters. The life of the bush or
the prairie had its incidents, but they were
vulgar and common-place; and worse, the
associates and companions of them were more vulgar
still. Hunting down Pawnees or buffaloes was
as mean and ignoble a travesty of feudal
adventure, as was the gold digging at Bendigo of the
learned labours' of the alchemist. The perils were
unexciting, the rewards prosaic and commonplace.
No. I felt that Europe in some remote
regions and the East in certain less visited
tracts must be the scenes best suited to my
hopes. With considerable labour I could spell
my way through a German romance, and I saw,
in the stories of Fouquè, and even of Goethe,
that there still survived in the mind of Germany
many of the features which gave the colouring
to a feudal period. There was, at least, a dreamy
indifference to the present, a careless abandonment
to what the hour might bring forth, so
long as the dreamer was left to follow out his
fancies in all their mysticism, that lifted men
out of the vulgarities of this work-o'-day world;
and I longed to see a society where learning
consented to live upon the humblest pittance,
and beauty dwelt unflattered in obscurity.

I was now entering upon manhood, and my
father—- having with that ambition so natural to
an Irish parent who aspires highly for his only
son, destined me for the Bar—-  made me a student
of Trinity College, Dublin.

What a shock to all the romance of my life
were the scenes into which I now was thrown
! With hundreds of companions to choose from, I
found not one congenial to me. The reading
men, too deeply bent upon winning honours,
would not waste a thought upon what could not
advance their chances of success. The idle,
only eager to get through their career undetected
in their ignorance, passed lives of wild excess or
stupid extravagance.

What was I to do amongst such associates?
What I did do—-  avoid them, shun them, live in
utter estrangement from all their haunts, their
ways, and themselves. If the proud man who
has achieved success in life encounters immense
difficulties when, separating himself from his
fellows, he acknowledges no companionship, nor
admits any to his confidence, it may be imagined
what must be the situation of one who adopts
this isolation without any claim to superiority