properly no-reasons, children not of _Something,_ but of mere
Idleness, Confusion, Inaction, Inarticulation, of _Nothing_ in
short! Let us leave them there, and profit by the hour which
yet is.

I ran away from London into Bristol and, South Wales, when the
heats grew violent, at the end of June. South Wales, North
Wales, Lancashire, Scotland: I roved about everywhere seeking
some Jacob's-pillow on which to lay my head, and dream of things
heavenly;--yes, that at bottom was my modest prayer, though I
disguised it from myself and the result was, I could find no
pillow at all; but sank into ever meaner restlessness, blacker
and blacker biliary gloom, and returned in the beginning of
September thoroughly eclipsed and worn out, probably the weariest
of all men living under the sky. Sure enough I have a fatal
talent of converting all Nature into Preternaturalism for myself:
a truly horrible Phantasm-Reality it is to me; what of heavenly
radiances it has, blended in close neighborhood, in intimate
union, with the hideousness of Death and Chaos;--a very ghastly
business indeed! On the whole, it is better to hold one's peace
about it. I flung myself down on sofas here,--for my little Wife
had trimmed up our little dwelling-place into quite glorious
order in my absence, and I had only to lie down: there, in
reading books, and other make-believe employments, I could at
least keep silence, which was an infinite relief. Nay,
gradually, as indeed I anticipated, the black vortexes and
deluges have subsided; and now that it is past, I begin to feel
myself better for my travels after all. For one thing,
articulate speech having returned to me,--you see what use I make
of it.