detail the particulars of Peters' voyage."

I assented to his suggestions, thanking him for the clear description
which he had given of that strange region, and for the pains he had
taken to draft of it so accurate a map--which map he allowed me to
retain. I was about to ask a question, when the door opened, and Doctor
Castleton rushed into the room.

"Well, how's the old man?" he asked.

We described Peters' condition; and I even recounted a few of the facts
which Bainbridge had just imparted to me. Then I asked the question
which Castleton's abrupt entry had delayed.

"But," I asked, "has not Peters' imagination, owing to the
administration of drugs, been unnaturally stimulated? There are drugs
which it is commonly believed may have a wonderful effect in stimulating
the imagination to flights of marvellous grandeur."

"No," said Bainbridge. "The doctor here will say the same. No drug on
earth could produce even an approach to such an effect."

"Certainly not," said Castleton. "The mass of laymen are not only
ignorant--excuse me, sir, but I know you want the facts--not only
ignorant, but extremely and persistently ignorant on this subject. I
have heard it said that Byron drank twelve--or perhaps twenty--bottles
of wine the night he wrote 'The Corsair.' If he did, he simply wrote
'The Corsair' in spite of the wine. I have heard it stated that Poe was
intoxicated when he wrote 'The Raven'--which is not only an untrue
statement but one that could not possibly be true, and which certainly