commit technical burglary in a house left perfectly open to all comers. I replied, therefore,—
"Thieves, I mean."
"Oh! thieves. There are no such creatures among us, or, at least, are as phenomenal as cannibals were in your time. No: we need close our doors against nothing more formidable than cold or wet."
While thus talking, we had reached the roof. It was covered with a dense, closely shaven sward. Closely shaven, at least, it appeared to me. But, in reality, the grass was of a species that never grew beyond little more than an inch in length, the result of long-continued selection. Warning me to avoid the grass, on which the dew was falling, he led the way to a stone platform, whence was visible an extensive view of the surrounding country. After pointing out the more interesting features of the scene, especially a glimpse of the Hudson in the distance, he began,—
"I see you are anxious to speak about something."
"I may well be so," was my reply. "You know how I came into this strange illusion, and you alone have the power to bring it to a termination. It is not unpleasant meanwhile; but, should it last too long, it might become to me too much of a reality."
Even by the indistinct moonlight I could perceive that my host's face was troubled and anxious. He regarded me for a few moments in silence, then answered by a question.
"You have, then, a strong conviction that this is not your real existence?"
"Strong conviction!" I exclaimed, amazed at such a question. "I am certain that it is not."
