I looked at the person who addressed me; gradually
the figure became darker and darker, until it changed
to Mr Cophagus, with his stick up to his nose.
“Japhet, all nonsense—very good bridge—um—walk
over—find father—and so on.”
I dashed over the bridge, which appeared to float on
the water, and to be composed of paper, gained the
other side, and was received with shouts of congratulation,
and the embraces of the crowd. I perceived an
elderly gentleman come forward; I knew it was my father,
and I threw myself into his arms. I awoke, and
found myself rolling on the floor, embracing the bolster
with all my might. Such was the vivid impression
of this dream, that I could not turn my thoughts away
from it, and at last I considered that it was a divine
interposition. All my scruples vanished, and
before the day had dawned I determined that I would
follow the advice of Timothy. An enthusiast is
easily led to believe what he wishes, and he mistakes
his own feelings for warnings; the dreams arising
from his daily contemplations for the interference
of Heaven. He thinks himself armed by supernatural
assistance, and warranted by the Almighty to pursue
his course, even if that course should be contrary
to the Almighty’s precepts. Thus was I led
away by my own imaginings, and thus was my monomania
increased to an impetus which forced before it all
consideration of what was right or wrong.
Chapter XIX
An important chapter—I
make some important acquaintances, obtain
some important papers
which I am importunate to read through.
The next morning I told my dream to Timothy, who laughed
very heartily at my idea of the finger of Providence.
At last, perceiving that I was angry with him, he
pretended to be convinced. When I had finished
my breakfast, I sent to inquire the number in the
square of Lord Windermear’s town house, and
wrote the following simple note to his lordship, “Japhet
Newland has arrived from his tour at the Piazza,
Covent Garden.” This was confided to Timothy,
and I then set off with the other letter to Mr Masterton,
which was addressed to Lincoln’s Inn. By
reading the addresses of the several legal gentlemen,
I found out that Mr Masterton was located on the first
floor. I rang the bell, which had the effect
of “Open, Sesame,” as the door appeared
to swing to admit me without any assistance.
I entered an ante-room, and from thence found myself
in the presence of Mr Masterton—a little
old man, with spectacles on his nose, sitting at a
table covered with papers. He offered me a chair,
and I presented the letter.
“I see that I am addressing Mr Neville,”
said he, after he had perused the letter. “I
congratulate you on your return. You may not,
perhaps, remember me?”
“Indeed, sir, I cannot say that I do, exactly.”
“I could not expect it, my dear sir, you have
been so long away. You have very much improved
in person, I must say; yet still, I recollect your
features as a mere boy. Without compliment, I
had no idea that you would ever have made so handsome
a man.” I bowed to the compliment.
“Have you heard from your uncle?”
