Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

244 RAVENSHOE.
that you are terribly wide awake, and, when the candle is blown
out, you will be all ready for a regular Walpurgis night.
Charles, poor lad, had not as yet had much experience of Walpurgis nights. Before his catastrophe he had never had one. He
had been used to tumble tired into his bed, and sleep a heavy,
dreamless sleep till an hour before waking. Then, indeed, he
might begin to dream of his horses, and his dogs, and so on, and
then gradually wake into a state more sweet than the sweetest
dream, — that state in which sense is awake to all outward objects, but in which the soul is taking its few last airy flutters
round its home, before coming to rest for the day. But, even
since then, he had not had experience enough to make him dread
the night. The night he came home from St. John's Wood, he
thought he would go to bed and sleep it off. Poor fellow!
A fellow-servant slept in the same room with him, — the
younger and better-tempered of the two (though Charles had no
complaint against either of them). The lad was asleep; and,
before Charles put out the light, he looked at him. His cheek
was laid on his arm, and he seemed so calm and happy that
Charles knew he was not there, but far away. He was right.
As he looked, the lad smiled, and babbled of something inl his'
dream. Strange! the soul had still sufficient connection with the
body to make it smile.
" I wonder if Miss Martineau or Mr. Atkinson ever watched
the face of one who slept and dreamt," said Charles, rambling on
as soon as he had got into bed. " Pish! why that fellow's body
is the mere tool of his soul. His soul is out a-walking, and his
body is only a log. Hey, that won't do; that's as bad as Miss
Martineau. I should have said that his body is only a fine piece
of clockwork. But clockwork don't smile of itself. My dear
Madam, and Mr. Atkinson, I am going to leave my body behind,
and be. off at Ravenshoe in five minutes. That is to say, I am
-going to sleep."
He was, was he? Why no, not just at present. If he had
meant to do so, he had, perhaps, better not have bothered himself
about "Letters on the laws of man's nature "; for, when he had
done his profound cogitations about them, as above, he thought
that he had got a - well, say a pulex, in his bed. There was no
more a pulex than there was a scorpion; but he had an exciting
chase after an imaginary one, like our old friend Mr. Sponge
after an imaginary fox at Laverick Wells. After this, he had
an irritation where he could n't reach, that is to say, in the middle
of his back; then he had the same complaint where he could
reach,- and used a certain remedy (which is a pretty way of saying that he scratched himself); then he had the cramp in his
right leg; then he had the cramp in his left leg; then he grew