CHAPTER XI.
When I began this autobiographical sketch of the last few weeks of my existence, I had conceived, as I have already said, the notion of making it chiefly a guide to conduct for my young disciple, Dale Kynnersley.
Not only was it to explain to him clearly the motives which led to my taking any particular line of action with regard to his affairs, and so enable me to escape whatever blame he might, through misunderstanding, be disposed to cast on me, but also to elevate his mind, stimulate his ambitions, and improve his morals.

It was to be a Manual of Eumoiriety.
It was to be sweetened with philosophic reflections and adorned with allusions to the lives of the great masters of their destiny who have passed away.

It was to have been a pretty little work after the manner of Montaigne, with the exception that it ran of its own accord into narrative form.

But I am afraid Lola Brandt has interposed herself between me and my design.

She had brought me down from the serene philosophic plane where I could think and observe human happenings and analyse them and present them in their true aspect to my young friend.
She has set me down in the thick of events--and not events such as the smiling philosopher is in the habit of dealing with, but lunatic, fantastic occurrences with which no system of philosophy invented by man is capable of grappling.