You have a confused idea of calling Dalton--Xenophon. You think the
meeting broke up with a chorus, and that somebody--you cannot tell
who--broke two or three glasses. You remember questioning yourself very
seriously as to whether you were, or were not, tipsy. You think you
decided that you were not, but--might be.
You have a confused recollection of leaning upon some one, or something,
going to your room; this sense of a desire to lean, you think, was very
strong. You remember being horribly afflicted with the idea of having
tried your night-key at the tutor's door, instead of your own; you
remember further a hot stove,--made certain indeed by a large blister
which appeared on your hand next day. You think of throwing off your
clothes by one or two spasmodic efforts,--leaning in the intervals
against the bedpost.
There is a recollection of an uncommon dizziness afterward, as if your
body was very quiet, and your head gyrating with strange velocity, and a
kind of centrifugal action, all about the room, and the college, and
indeed the whole town. You think that you felt uncontrollable nausea
after this, followed by positive sickness,--which waked your chum, who
thought you very incoherent, and feared derangement.
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