called them, and devoted themselves to the diffusion of a knowledge of transcendental geography.
"Indeed," she added, "the study of this noble science is so fascinating, that it takes away all desire for those amusements and occupations in which the generality of mankind waste so much precious time."
I thought that time could not be so very precious to those who spent it in the acquisition and propagation of such a very useless science as transcendental geography, but I did not say so for fear of offending her. If only, I thought, I could persuade her and others to leave this absurd pseudo-science alone, and study the tenets and elevating teachings of the Church of England, how much more profitably their time would be occupied!
I occasionally went to hear some of the most celebrated professors of transcendental geography lecture in the great halls I have before alluded to. These lectures were delivered in the musical language employed by other lecturers and public speakers, but it struck me that the music was generally of a dull character, and the audience were seldom roused to the pitch of excitement and interest they displayed when they were addressed by other lecturers. In fact, the majority seemed rather bored than interested, and many would fall asleep during the delivery of the lecture. All appeared relieved when it came to an end. They seemed, in fact, to attend the lectures as a sort of duty, and were glad when it was over.
After the first emotions of surprise and curiosity had subsided, I found these everlasting dissertations on a country and people of which, if they had any real existence, the speakers could know nothing at all, insufferably dull, and I wondered what could induce this
