[Pg 1]
Vide p. 21.
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Third Edition.
LONDON:
G. J. PALMER, 32, LITTLE QUEEN STREET,
LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS.
1866.
Chapter I. | 3 |
Chapter II. | 15 |
Chapter III. | 23 |
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CAUGHT NAPPING.
HOW I FOUND MYSELF IN THE CATACOMBS.
I am an Anglican of the Anglicans, I mean that Iam τετράγωνος a Perfect Man, with four angles impingingupon my neighbours and producing amongthem many a sore. Whithersoever I go, intowhatsoever society, I take my angles with me.They do much damage, but they establish theprinciple of Anglicanism.
My object in writing these lines is to announcea very remarkable phenomenon which occurred theother day, and which may prove of interest to thePsychologist.
I was sitting in my study before the fire readingthe Guardian, which is the 40th article of my[Pg 4]creed, with my feet upon the mantle-piece, and myspectacles upon my nose. Whilst perusing withthe utmost profit and gratification the letters ofMessrs. Marriott and Milton on the Ritual question,an indescribable obfuscation stole over my faculties.My chin, which, on principle, I keep well elevated,sank upon my bosom, which is boney. My eyesbegan to close, an Æolean note issued at intervalsfrom my nostrils. The Guardian slipped from myfingers, and to my obscured fancy appeared to slideaway into utter vacuity. The ranges of booksupon my shelves seemed to undergo changes. Thelibrary of Anglo-Catholic theology began to dance,whilst the library of the Fathers retired intovacuum—but not the same vacuum into which theGuardian had slipped, one totally distinct.
These facts will prove my abnormal condition.
What Anglican, waking or dreaming wouldpicture Sancroft and Andrews, Bull and Cosin,capering in a reel? I record my impressions circumstantially,as they led to a very extraordinaryphase in my existence, for which I am totallyunable to account. That I dreamt what follows issimply impossible; the phenomena of dreamsdepend entirely upon the existence of imaginativefaculties, but these are entirely deficient in Anglicanskulls. What I relate must th