something quite different. I was then under three years old—not strong on my feet—and my father led me along the old Yarmouth jetty, which was full of holes, through which I saw the swaying waters below, and was frightened—as I well remember. I may have been occupied with this idea on the second occasion. The other anecdote is yet more odd. When the great comet of 1811 appeared, I was nine years old. Night after night that autumn the whole family went up to the long range of windows in my father’s warehouse to see the comet. I was obliged to go with them, but I never once saw it! My heart used to swell with disappointment and mortification. No effort was wanting on my part; and parents, brothers, and sisters used to point and say: ‘Why, there! Why, it is as large as a saucer! You might as well say you cannot see the moon!’ I could not help it; I never saw it, and I have not got over it yet. The only thing I can suppose is that I must have been looking for something
