vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why not advance science
in its most difficult and vital aspect--the knowledge of the brain? Had
I even the secret of one such mind--did I hold the key to the fancy of
even one lunatic--I might advance my own branch of science to a pitch
compared with which Burdon-Sanderson s physiology or Ferrier s
brain-knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient
cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good
cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an
exceptional brain, congenitally?
How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I
wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has
closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How
many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives?
To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope,
and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great
Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to
profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be
angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on
hopeless and work. Work! work!
If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there--a
good, unselfish cause to make me work--that would be indeed happiness.
_Mina Murray s Journal._
_26 July._--I am anxious, and it soothes me to express myself here; it
is like whispering to one s self and listening at the same time. And
there is also something about the shorthand symbols that makes it
different from writing. I am unhappy about Lucy and about Jonathan. I
had not heard from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned; but
yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent me a letter from
him. I had written asking him if he had heard, and he said the enclosed
had just been received. It is only a line dated from Castle Dracula,
and says that he is just starting for home. That is not like Jonathan;
I do not understand it, and it makes me uneasy. Then, too, Lucy,
although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of walking in
her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about it, and we have decided
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