more than once, one of the afore-described combinations of a maiden, moonlight, and midsummer madness, had affected me with a horrid dizziness, a feeling, too distressing for utterance, that I was upon the point of proposing. It is a kind of emotional vertigo, this, a rush of romance to the head, and, once experienced, the very thought of its possible recurrence is indescribably alarming. I was like a man who has been threatened with smallpox: I felt that I could not get my fill of vaccination. The only adequate measure was to make myself as ineligible as possible; and I knew that I had taken a long stride in this direction when I eliminated the bath-tub.
Behold me, then, fairly launched upon my plans. I drew them with the utmost care, upon a fair sheet of paper, and, on a morning to be marked with a white stone, proceeded with my design in my pocket to the office of an architect of my acquaintance.
One of the most surprising things about an
