es in this matter have been purely
scientific."

"I have no doubt of it," returned the first Lord, with a smile,
"nevertheless the tendency of your labours is towards destruction; and
my reference to the fact is merely for the purpose of informing you that
there are many other inventors who have claimed my attention to their
designs, and that you must not expect an immediate decision in regard to
yours."

With this I was politely bowed out, and as I passed down the corridor, I
could not help feeling disappointed at the rather faint success of my
visit. The idea, too, that I was a would-be destroyer of my species had
never before occurred to me, my whole soul and faculties having hitherto
been engrossed in the simple idea of perfecting a chemical explosive and
a mechanical contrivance. Thus, unintentionally, do we sometimes lend
ourselves to that from which our hearts revolt.

I noticed, too, that the servant who had been summoned by the first Lord
while we were discussing the torpedo, was particularly attentive to me,
and very careful in seeing me off the premises; and then, for the first
time, it flashed across my mind that I had been taken for a madman.

I was so tickled with the idea, that I burst into a sudden fit of hearty
laughter, an act which induced a little boy, a policeman, and an old
woman, who chanced to be passing, to imbibe the erroneous view of the
first Lord.

However, although grievously disheartened, I was not subdued. Hope,
which tells so many flattering tales, told me that after proper
consideration the Admiralty would infallibly perceive the value of my
invention; and in regard to the destruction of my fellow-creatures, I
consoled myself with the reflection that torpedoes were much more
calculated for defensive than offensive warfare.

Before quitting this subject, I may state that from that day to this, I
have never heard from the Admiralty in reference to my invention. This
fact gives me no pain now, although it did at first. I will explain
why.

There is a friend of mine--a grave, kindly, young man, yet withal
sarcastic and eccentric--who met me immediately after my visit to the
Admiralty. He is a strange being this friend, who crops up at all sorts
of unexpected times, and in divers places, when one least expects him.
His name is U. Biquitous.

"My dear Childers," said he, when I had explained matters, "you are a
victim;--you are the victim of self-delusion. You were victimised