ut my hand to him in
parting; he gave it a strong and warm pressure, and said, "Adieu! we
shall meet again."

DIALOGUE THE FOURTH. THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY.

The impression made upon my mind by the stranger with whom we became
acquainted at Paestum was of the strongest and most extraordinary kind.
The memory of his person, his dress, his manners, the accents of his
voice, and the tone of his philosophy, for a long while haunted my
imagination in a most unaccountable manner, and even formed a part of my
dreams. It often occurred to me that this was not the first time that I
had seen him; and I endeavoured, but in vain, to find some type or image
of him in former scenes of my life. I continually made inquiries
respecting him amongst my acquaintance, but I could never be sure that
any of them knew him, or even had seen him. So great were his
peculiarities, that he must have escaped observation altogether; for, had
he entered the world at all, he must have made some noise in it. I
expressed so much interest on this subject, that at last it became a
source of ridicule amongst my acquaintance, who often asked me if I had
not yet obtained news of my spirit-friend or ghost-seer.

After my return from Naples to Rome, I was almost immediately recalled to
England by a melancholy event--the death of a very near and dear
relation--and I left my two friends, Ambrosio and Onuphrio, to pursue
their travels, which were intended to be of some extent and duration.

In my youth, and through the prime of manhood, I never entered London
without feelings of pleasure and hope. It was to me as the grand theatre
of intellectual activity, the field of every species of enterprise and
exertion, the metropolis of the world of business, thought, and action.
There I was sure to find the friends and companions of my youth, to hear
the voice of encouragement and praise. There, society of the most
refined kind offered daily its banquets to the mind with such variety
that satiety had no place in them, and new objects of interest and
ambition were constantly exciting attention either in politics,
literature, or science.

I now entered this great city in a very different tone of mind--one of
settled melancholy; not merely produced by the mournful event which
recalled me to my country, but owing, likewise, to an entire change in
the condition of my physical, moral, and intellectual being. My health
was gone, my ambition was satisfied,