The Man from Archangel

On the fourth day of March, in the year 1867, being at that time in
my five-and-twentieth year, I wrote down the following words in my
note-book--the result of much mental perturbation and conflict:--

"The solar system, amidst a countless number of other systems as
large as itself, rolls ever silently through space in the direction
of the constellation of Hercules. The great spheres of which it is
composed spin and spin through the eternal void ceaselessly and
noiselessly. Of these one of the smallest and most insignificant
is that conglomeration of solid and of liquid particles which we
have named the earth. It whirls onwards now as it has done before
my birth, and will do after my death--a revolving mystery, coming
none know whence, and going none know whither. Upon the outer
crust of this moving mass crawl many mites, of whom I, John
M'Vittie, am one, helpless, impotent, being dragged aimlessly
through space. Yet such is the state of things amongst us that the
little energy and glimmering of reason which I possess is entirely
taken up with the labours which are necessary in order to procure
certain metallic disks, wherewith I may purchase the
chemical elements necessary to build up my ever-wasting tissues,
and keep a roof over me to shelter me from the inclemency of the
weather. I thus have no thought to expend upon the vital questions
which surround me on every side. Yet, miserable entity as I am, I
can still at times feel some degree of happiness, and am even--save
the mark!--puffed up occasionally with a sense of my own
importance."

These words, as I have said, I wrote down in my note-book, and they
reflected accurately the thoughts which I found rooted far down in
my soul, ever present and unaffected by the passing emotions of the
hour. At last, however, came a time when my uncle, M'Vittie of
Glencairn, died--the same who was at one time chairman of
committees of the House of Commons. He divided his great wealth
among his many nephews, and I found myself with sufficient to
provide amply for my wants during the remainder of my life, and
became at the same time owner of a bleak tract of land upon the
coast of Caithness, which I think the old man must have bestowed
upon me in derision, for it was sandy and valueless, and he had
ever a grim sense of humour. Up to this time I had been an
attorney in a midland town in England. Now I saw that I could put
my thoughts into effect, and, leaving all petty and sordid aims,
could elevate my mind by the study of the secrets of nature. My
departure from my English home was somewhat accelerated by the fact
that I had nearly slain a man in a quarrel, for my temper was
fiery, and I was apt to forget my own strength when enraged.
There was no