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more edification； mare religion； in this than in all the 666
interpretations put together。〃
There is something very pleasant in the thought of these two sages
playing at jackstraws with the letters of the alphabet。 The task
which De Morgan and Dr。 Whewell； 〃the omniscient；〃 set themselves
would not be unworthy of our own ingenious scholars； and it might be
worth while for some one of our popular periodicals to offer a prize
for the best sentence using up the whole alphabet； under the same
conditions as those submitted to by our two philosophers。
This whole book of De Morgan's seems to me full of instruction。
There is too much of it； no doubt； yet one can put up with the
redundancy for the sake of the multiplicity of shades of credulity
and self…deception it displays in broad daylight。 I suspect many of
us are conscious of a second personality in our complex nature； which
has many traits resembling those found in the writers of the letters
addressed to Mr。 De Horgan。
I have not ventured very often nor very deeply into the field of
metaphysics； but if I were disposed to make any claim in that
direction； it would be the recognition of the squinting brain； the
introduction of the term 〃cerebricity〃 corresponding to electricity；
the idiotic area in the brain or thinking…marrow； and my studies of
the second member in the partnership of I…My…Self & Co。 I add the
Co。 with especial reference to a very interesting article in a late
Scribner； by my friend Mr。 William James。 In this article the reader
will find a full exposition of the doctrine of plural personality
illustrated by striking cases。 I have long ago noticed and referred
to the fact of the stratification of the currents of thought in three
layers； one over the other。 I have recognized that where there are
two individuals talking together there are really six personalities
engaged in the conversation。 But the distinct； separable；
independent individualities； taking up conscious life one after the
other； are brought out by Mr。 James and the authorities to which he
refers as I have not elsewhere seen them developed。
Whether we shall ever find the exact position of the idiotic centre
or area in the brain （if such a spot exists） is uncertain。 We know
exactly where the blind spot of the eye is situated； and can
demonstrate it anatomically and physiologically。 But we have only
analogy to lead us to infer the possible or even probable existence
of an insensible spot in the thinking…centre。 If there is a focal
point where consciousness is at its highest development； it would not
be strange if near by there should prove to be an anaesthetic
district or limited space where no report from the senses was
intelligently interpreted。 But all this is mere hypothesis。
Notwithstanding the fact that I am nominally the head personage of
the circle of Teacups； I do not pretend or wish to deny that we all
look to Number Five as our chief adviser in all the literary
questions that come before us。 She reads more and better than any of
us。 She is always ready to welcome the first sign of genius； or of
talent which approaches genius。 She makes short work with all the
pretenders whose only excuse for appealing to the public is that they
〃want to be famous。〃 She is one of the very few persons to whom I am
willing to read any one of my own productions while it is yet in
manuscript； unpublished。 I know she is disposed to make more of it
than it deserves； but； on the other hand； there are degrees in her
scale of judgment； and I can distinguish very easily what delights
her from what pleases only； or is； except for her kindly feeling to
the writer； indifferent； or open to severe comment。 What is curious
is that she seems to have no literary aspirations； no desire to be
known as a writer。 Yet Number Five has more esprit； more sparkle；
more sense in her talk； than many a famous authoress from whom we
should expect brilliant conversation。
There are mysteries about Number Five。 I am not going to describe
her personally。 Whether she belongs naturally among the bright young
people； or in the company of the maturer persons； who have had a good
deal of experience of the world； and have reached the wisdom of the
riper decades without losing the graces of the earlier ones； it would
be hard to say。 The men and women； young and old； who throng about
her forget their own ages。 〃There is no such thing as time in her
presence；〃 said the Professor； the other day； in speaking of her。
Whether the Professor is in love with her or not is more than I can
say； but I am sure that he goes to her for literary sympathy and
counsel； just as I do。 The reader may remember what Number Five said
about the possibility of her getting a sprained ankle； and her asking
the young Doctor whether he felt equal to taking charge of her if she
did。 I would not for the world insinuate that he wishes she would
slip and twist her foot a little；just a little； you know； but so
that it would have to be laid on a pillow in a chair； and inspected；
and bandaged； and delicately manipulated。 There was a banana…skin
which she might naturally have trodden on； in her way to the tea…
table。 Nobody can suppose that it was there except by the most
innocent of accidents。 There are people who will suspect everybody。
The idea of the Doctor's putting that banana…skin there！ People love
to talk in that silly way about doctors。
Number Five had promised to read us a narrative which she thought
would interest some of the company。 Who wrote it she did not tell
us； but I inferred from various circumstances that she had known the
writer。 She read the story most effectively in her rich； musical
voice。 I noticed that when it came to the sounds of the striking
clock； the ringing of the notes was so like that which reaches us
from some far…off cathedral tower that we wanted to bow our heads； as
if we had just heard a summons to the Angelus。 This was the short
story that Number Five read to The Teacups：
I have somewhere read this anecdote。 Louis the Fourteenth was
looking out； one day； from； a window of his palace of Saint…Germain。
It was a beautiful landscape which spread out before him； and the
monarch； exulting in health； strength； and the splendors of his
exalted position； felt his bosom swell with emotions of pride and
happiness： Presently he noticed the towers of a church in the
distance； above the treetops。 〃What building is that？〃 he asked。
〃May it please your Majesty； that is the Church of St。 Denis； where
your royal ancestors have been buried for many generations。〃 The
answer did not 〃please his Royal Majesty。〃 There； then； was the
place where he too was to lie and moulder in the dust。 He turned；
sick at heart； from the window； and was uneasy until he had built him
another palace； from which he could never be appalled by that fatal
prospect。
Something like the experience of Louis the Fourteenth was that of the
owner of
THE TERRIBLE CLOCK。
I give the story as transcribed from the original manuscript：
The clock was bequeathed to me by an old friend who had recently
died。 His mind had been a good deal disordered in the later period
of his life。 This clock； I am told； seemed to have a strange
fascination for him。 His eyes were fastened on it during the last
hours of his life。 He died just at midnight。 The clock struck
twelve； the nurse told me； as he drew his last breath； and then；
without any known cause； stopped； with both hands upon the hour。
It is a complex and costly piece of mechanism。 The escapement is in
front； so that every tooth is seen as it frees itself。 It shows the
phases of the moon； the month of the year； the day of the month； and
the day of the week； as well as the hour and minute of the day。
I had not owned it a week before I began to perceive the same kind of
fascination as that which its former owner had experienced。 This
gradually grew upon me； and presently led to trains of thought which
became at first unwelcome； then worrying； and at last unendurable。 I
began by taking offence at the moon。 I did not like to see that
〃something large and smooth and round；〃 so like the skull which
little Peterkin picked up on the field of Blenheim。 〃How many
times；〃 I kept saying to myself； 〃is that wicked old moon coming up
to stare at me？〃 I could not stand it。 I stopped a part of the
machinery； and the moon went into permanent eclipse。 By and by the
sounds of the infernal machine began to trouble and pursue me。 They
talked to me； more and more their language became that of
articulately speaking men。 They twitted me with the rapid flight of
time。 They hurried me； as if I had not a moment to lose。 Quick！
Quick！ Quick！ as each tooth released itself from the escapement。 And
as I looked and listened there could not be any mistake about it。 I
heard