There I lay for weeks in a brain fever and talked--
as they assure me--the wildest nonsense. The landlord had first guessed
that something was amiss on finding the front door open when he came
down at five o'clock. I must have turned to the left on leaving the
house, travelled up the road for a hundred yards, and then struck almost
at right angles across the moor. One of my shoes was found a furlong
from the highway, and this had guided them. Of course they found no
coffin beside me, and I was prudent enough to hold my tongue when I
became convalescent. But the effect of that night was to shatter my
health for a year and more, and force me to throw up my post of School
Inspector. To this day I have never examined the school at Pitt's
Scawens. But somebody else has; and last winter I received a letter,
which I will give in full:--
21, Chesterham Road, KENSINGTON, W.
December 3rd, 1891.
Dear Wraxall,--
It is a long time since we have corresponded, but I have just
returned from Cornwall, and while visiting Pitt's Scawens
professionally, was reminded of you. I put up at the inn where
you had your long illness.
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