outlandish places of the earth. I went into my own little room, and sat
down in my chair in a perspiration, and wondered helplessly what was to
be done next. In this anxious frame of mind, other men might have ended
by working themselves up into a fever; I ended in a different way. I lit
my pipe, and took a turn at ROBINSON CRUSOE.

Before I had been at it five minutes, I came to this amazing bit--page
one hundred and sixty-one--as follows:

"Fear of Danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than Danger
itself, when apparent to the Eyes; and we find the Burthen of Anxiety
greater, by much, than the Evil which we are anxious about."

The man who doesn't believe in ROBINSON CRUSOE, after THAT, is a man
with a screw loose in his understanding, or a man lost in the mist of
his own self-conceit! Argument is thrown away upon him; and pity is
better reserved for some person with a livelier faith.

I was far on with my second pipe, and still lost in admiration of that
wonderful book, when Penelope (who had been handing round the tea) came
in with her report from the drawing-room. She had left the Bouncers
singing a duet--words beginning with a large "O," and music to
correspond. She had observed that my lady made mistakes in her game
of whist for the first time in our experience of her. She had seen
the great traveller asleep in a corner. She had overheard Mr. Franklin
sharpening his wits on Mr. Godfrey, at the expense of Ladies' Charities
in general; and she had noticed that Mr. Godfrey hit him back again
rather more smartly than became a gentleman of his benevolent character.
She had detected Miss Rachel, apparently engaged in appeasing Mrs.
Threadgall by showing her some photographs, and really occupied in