I received a letter from him, when he was in Paris; desiring me to act upon the above-named disposition of his property. I was told to search in an old sea-chest with the arms of the ancient "Dutch Republic" painted upon it, and with a solid iron lock upon its front like that to a church door. Mr. Carrodus kept this chest in a corner in his bedroom under a dozen Viennese blankets. And an immense furred cloak from Astrakan, considerably the worse for wear, used to be loosely thrown over it; upon which a cat dozed.

According to Mr. Carrodus's minute directions, therefore, in a lock-up quaintly constructed in a corner of this old box, I discovered (covered with some reverend Latin books) a parcel of papers-very neatly kept. In his well-known, small, beautiful, carefully-punctuated handwriting I came upon THIS-placed in an envelope directed to me, and sealed with the "Carrodus wyvern." The words were these:

"MY DEAR FRIEND H. J.-This manuscript which now comes into your trustworthy hands, owing to a remarkable accident, has formed the labour-off and on'-(to employ the usual expression) of sixteen years nearly. For I think it right that you should know that I commenced this mysterious book in June, 1856, in Londontherefore this is a long period. It may do you good. It can do ME no good. I do not need any help derivable from it. I seek neither honour nor profit-needing neither. All that I would remark is THAT IT IS TRUE. The conditions that I impose are that you do it justice in the way in which you print it-in the mode in which you publish. I have means to punish any infraction of this injunction. As to the merits of the Book-this is the fact. THAT THOSE WORTHY ONES HAVE COMMENDED IT OF WHOM YOU LITTLE DREAM. If you search in the Encyclopædias you will find accounts of a 'Brotherhood' which is supposed to have existed, and which preferred singular claims adjudged of the most preposterous kind. In all channels except in those supposed to trace from the persons themselves-they are derided as egregious mountebanks where they are not sneered at (objectors have yet a sort of latent fear of doing more than this)-as fools-or at the most as mistaken enthusiasts. I have been in search of traces of this Society FOR A LONG LIFETIME. And in order to discover something to reward me or at all events to cheer me on-I have wandered into most countries of the world. I am still upon this quest; important to me-Quixotic-nay, mad to the large-nay, to the immense majority of people. I want seriously to explore to some means of communication with these 'INVISIBLES.' I do not know whether the remainder of my life will admit of this

IT MAY. These men are the disciples of Theophrastus Paracelsus -of Jacob Boehme or Boehmen. They are innocent, holy-REAL CHRISTIANS. As to the rejection of them-so much for the 'influence of authority in matters of opinion.' The world may or may not-mark their 'footsteps' as it pleases. Farewell! I shall always be aware of what you do from that place to which I retire. Farewell, H.-J.-! and prosper. There is something candid, speculative, and unprejudiced about you; otherwise you never would have had any confidential request similar to this addressed to you-least of all any expression of opinions which I may have formed, or any impartment which I might have desired to make to the world-to which ordinary world in no measure do I wish to belong.

"PARIS :-The Tenth of June, 1870."

Such was this strange letter to me.

Note:-Remarkable events followed in France after this date; as all the world knows.*

The reader now understands how this Book came into my hands, and he sees (now) that which I have done and am doing with it. I was at first reluctant -very reluctant to publish. "One of the Thirty". (this strange work of a very strange man)-is, however, now set afloat in the world of publicity to take its fortune. Go forth, then, thou queer Book of my friend, Mr. Carrodus! Go forth into the "world of thought;" and thou mayest perhaps encounter some persons that will understand thee. As for the general public-they will read thee for thy excitements-thy TRUE excitements. My part in thee is only that of the medium to put thee forth. Thou art put forth. Thou hast been conceived and borne-and thou art now "born." Let the world hear thy infant wail in first drawing the breath of literary life. Thou hast thy name and thy godfather. And now take thy "fortune." For the never-failing, infallible stars have written it for thee already over

*The reader will remember the red-crosses which swept through Western Europe during the latter part of the year 1870 (sign of the R.C.?), and which were to be encountered at every corner even in London, although so unlikely to have such strange marks displayed in it.

thy head-in thy horoscope. For books have horoscopes. As for me

"I am weary of hunting

And fain would lie down."

And I will just close with one word: Having read the book, if thou likest it-dear reader-say so; and if thou likest the book not-why, say that also-only not in a hurry of objection to it, because that, I am sure would be unworthy my reader.