and a new one fitted on. Unfortunately for the expression--being
put up by a squint-eyed mason, who, at the time, had a bad stitch
in the same side--the new nose stands a little awry, in the same
direction.

Of one thing, however, I am proud. The horizontal dimensions of
the new part are unreduced.

Large as the chimney appears upon the roof, that is nothing to
its spaciousness below. At its base in the cellar, it is
precisely twelve feet square; and hence covers precisely one
hundred and forty-four superficial feet. What an
appropriation of terra firma for a chimney, and what a huge load
for this earth! In fact, it was only because I and my chimney
formed no part of his ancient burden, that that stout peddler,
Atlas of old, was enabled to stand up so bravely under his pack.
The dimensions given may, perhaps, seem fabulous. But, like those
stones at Gilgal, which Joshua set up for a memorial of having
passed over Jordan, does not my chimney remain, even unto this
day?

Very often I go down into my cellar, and attentively survey that
vast square of masonry. I stand long, and ponder over, and
wonder at it. It has a druidical look, away down in the
umbrageous cellar there whose numerous vaulted passages, and far
glens of gloom, resemble the dark, damp depths of primeval woods.
So strongly did this conceit steal over me, so deeply was I
penetrated with wonder at the chimney, that one day--when I was a
little out of my mind, I now think--getting a spade from the
garden, I set to work, digging round the foundation, especially