s order, by which it
resembled the gigantesque features of the old Greek master. I will
illustrate my meaning by a single instance from each. In Aristophanes's
"Clouds," Strepsiades is being initiated into the Socratic
_Phrontisterium_, and in the course of the ceremony Socrates directs his
pupil's attention to the moon for certain mysterious purposes. But the
moon only reminds Strepsy of numerous imperturbable duns that storm
about his ears with lunar exactness, (literally so, since the Greeks
paid, or refused to pay, regularly on the last day of the month,)--and
here it is that the opportunity is offered for a monstrous stroke of
humor; for, at this crisis, Strepsy is made to exclaim, "Some magic is
it, O Socrates, about the moon? Well! since you are up to that sort of
thing, what do you say, now, to a spell by which I could snap the old
monster out of her course for a generation or so?" Now for the parallel
case from De Quincey. It is from his paper on "California," a
politico-economical treatise. The author's object is to illustrate the
fact that scarcity of gold is not due to its non-existence, but to the
difficulty of obtaining it. "Emeralds and sapphires," says he, "are
lying at this moment in a place which I could indicate, and no policeman
is on duty in the whole neighborhood to hinder me or the reader from
pocketing as many as we please. We are also at perfect liberty to pocket
the anchors of Her Majesty's ship the Victoria, (one hundred and twenty
guns,) and to sell them for old iron. Pocket them by all means, and I
engage that the magistrate sitting at the Thames police-office will have
too much respect for your powers to think of detaining you. If he does,
your course is to pocket the police-office, and all which it inherits.
The man that pockets an anchor may be a dangerous customer, but not a
customer to be sneezed at." This strikes us as very similar to
Strepsiades's bagging the moon.]

It is impossible to be exhaustive upon such a subject as that which I
have undertaken. I shall select, therefore, two prominent centres, about
which the thoughts which I wish to present naturally revolve: De
Quincey's childhood, and his opium-experiences.

Thomas de Quincey--hierophant, rhapsodist, philosopher--was born at
Greenhay, then a suburb of Manchester, in Lancashire County, England, on
the 15th of August, 1785. According to his own account, the family of
the De Quinceys was of Norwegian origin; and after its tra