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1. I ROAM out in the twilight,

Heart-broken and alone, Till the night-winds and the dropping dews

Have chilled me to the bone.
For I feel that when unkindoess

Lieth freezing on the heart,
It is happier to be cheerless too,
In every other part.

The glow upon that cypress,

Where my sire's cold ashes sleep,
Would melt me into tears, had I

Spirit enough to weep:
But the grief that gnaws within me

Will not be this out-thrown;
For despair hath round it closed, and shut
The reptile in the stone.

III. My father! oh, my father!

Too early was I left,
Of thy care, and well remembered love,

And wisdom, all bereft.
Though thou blessed art in Heaven,

Couldst thou see the withered brow,
And the dim eye of thy first-boru son,

Thou'd'st weep for him e'en now.


“ Now Hospitality, to cheer the gloom
Of winter, invitation sends abroad :
The rural housewife lays the aynnal block
Of Christmas on the hearth, and bids a blaze
Of tenfold brightness glad its sable spot;
Then sprucely decks the window with fresh sprigs
Of evergreens, trinmphant o'er the storms
Of fading time, wbite ever social mirth
And rival kindness load the smoking board.

Yet, notwithstanding all these deficiences and annoyances, association often makes the anticipation of winter highly pleasurable; while the thought of Christmas touches a chord in many hearts which never vibrates so gladly to the premonition of another period. The name is confessedly by no means appropriate or happy. but it is one which, embalmed by many predilections, is not likely soon to be relinquished.

Reader! thou wast once a schoolboy; Eton, Harrow, or Rugby, may have poured into thy mind the streams of classic lore from the twigs of the birch, and made thee profoundly mathematical, after inscribing on thy bare and shivering back some of the diagrams of Euclid. Hast thou never seen the tribes of little happy mortals filling post-chaises and coaches, and passing down the roads leading to the metropolis, shouting and laughing at the thought of their six weeks' emancipation, as if they were an age, and school were a dungeon, and the pedagogue an ogre?

Verily, I'd go several miles a-foot to partake their glee--to put out my arms, that they might spring at once to the ground, joyous to them as Britain's soil to the slave—to see Pincher, against all laws, invading the parlour, mounted by the little urchin, wild with delight—and the black cat patted and kissed—and to hear the exclamations, O mamma, the silver peg of my top came out!"--" Papa, here's my last copy book !" -and “ Harriet, I'm so glad I'm come, a’n't you now ?”

Nor is it to be supposed that joy is exclusively confined to the utterers of such sounds. Undoubtedly it is participated, in no small degree, by those to whom they are addressed; and by him who, for a long half-year, has been familiar with others of a different character. To have done for a time with the drawling repetition of

hic, hæc, hoc," and six times five are thirty ;" with the reiterated explanation of the same arithmetical rules and grammatical principles; and with the propounding of the questions What Roman Emperor invaded Britain? or What is an Isthmus?.-is to reach a summation" more“ devoutly to be wished” than any can appreciate, except those who, having borne the ponderous burden, exult at its removal. To such a man, the final shutting of his desk must be like the key.note of a delicious melody, and the last “ Good bye, sir,” grateful as friendship’s warmest recognition.

At this period, too, the social principle is ordinarily cherished with peculiar attention and fondness. Truly is it said

“ Close and closer then we knit

Hearts and hands together,
Where our fire-side comforts sit

In the mildest weather;
Oh! they wander wide, who roam,

For the joys of life, from home.” Those who are in the very prime of existence, may be found surrounded by their children, often long and widely separated. In exchange for school stories, and accidents, and successes, they relate to the little blooming throng the circumstances of their own early days, and puzzle them with questions and riddles, at which: they once looked up to the ceiling with a finger on the lip, in vain ; and to which they once replied, “0, papa, I can't guess—do, do, tell me!" Who have the preponderance of happiness at such times--the affectionate parents thus employed, or those who, with shining faces, are seated in the lap, and climbing about the knees- confess myself unable to determine.


Winter, considered abstractedly, stands immeasureably behind its precursors in engaging qualities. It has not the verdant mantle, so gaily, and richly, and tastefully adorned, in which they successfully appear, por the bright and enlivening beams in which they trip along the plain, nor the fair blue canopy beneath which they perform their gambols and pour out their varied delights. No! it has not the golden riches of autumn, the voluptuous treasures of summer, nor the“ breathing fragrance” and halcyon warblings of spring, Sometimes, indeed, it seems disposed to try its powers of imitation, as if envious of their fame, but its attempts are ordinarily feeble; still, like the occasional hilarity of age, they please—not so much, however, from striking resemblance, as from contrast with the deep desolation in which they originate. Winter commonly brings with it days so short and gloomy, that our labours are closed almost as soon as begun,-cold so intense as to drive us to undue effort or indulgence, to escape its temporary or permanent inconveniencies,winds which whistle through avery avenue, and seem equally intent on ravaging our frames and our dwellings,-rain, hail, and snow, inducing the dolorous exclamations of Sterne's starling, “ I can't get out: I can't get out!”-ice which makes many things, like much of the poetry and prose of the age, want fire," —and thaws, which bespatter us at every step with dirt, reminding us of our kinship with what we presume most unpleasant and obnoxious,

to Cowper's-it often contains P. S., intimating my thankfulness “ for the fish;" and not unfrequently a likeness to that of others almost equally distinguished who thought a few new volumes wet from the press no unacceptable present. Besides, the coach occupied only by passengers might contain some of the literati," and then I would joyfully prefer their society over the plain roast beef and plum-pudding of Old England, to the discussions of “ the prime haunch," the “moorgame," and the nondescript kickshaws of an epicure table. But why that significant smile, gentle reader ? If I am growing egotistical, I will not long be garrulous; and perhaps my desultory lucubrations may smooth some wrinkled brow, by calling up kindly associations, should they have no such effect upon thee.

The fact is, I seized my goose-quill as a lover of cheerfulness, and I mean to be its advocate, I have no sympathy with the long-faced and imperturbable beings, who look as blank, and dull, and laughterhating, as if vinegar was their only beverage, and who, were all the world's wit concentrated would merely

“ Grin horribly a ghastly smile." No! if they are determined never to inspire happiness, I would have them never impair it. Solitude is the place for owls and bats ; or, if they must have society, it should be that of each other. Well is it for them, and perhaps for me, that my charge is so ineffective :hence! hence ! “ Procul, procul, este profani!”


Not a few of our old-fashioned couples make way for the same feeling, though in them it beare a more staid and sober character. They are not satisfied without assembling their children and grandchildren around their board ; and nothing that can be avoided, prevents the gratification of the parental desire, There is no weakness in this: it presents a delightful contrast to the family feuds unhappily common, and indicates the maintenance of that kindly feeling with which nature is instinct, and which violence only can eradicate. Such a scene yields an ornament to the aged, and a pledge to the young; it wears a peculiar tinge of loveliness,—it is irradiated by many bright beams, which, like those of the sun setting in all its glory, not only impart a splendour to the day that is declining, but promise that others succeeding it shall be graced with similar effalgence,

Even the less affectionate intercourse of life receives a tone from those domestic engagements and delights, which are its fairest, finest specimens. In our provin'cial towns, as well as in the metropolis, there is an interchange and binding of thought and feeling, to which other seasons are not so favourable. The favourite author may now be tasked for our friend's advantage, until his admiration of the pencilled passages equals our own,—the knotty point often agitated, may now properly be set again in motion, that like the hurried steps of the traveller it may the sooner find rest,-anecdotes of ourselves or our contemporaries will now find attentive and grateful auditors, and those who have manuscript poems or essays, soliciting " candid opipions,” may now bring them forth with the best chance of regard.

Such engagements have usually the extraordinary stimulus afforded by a visitor. If he be a man of intelligence, or if the lady be “intelligent," a visit will doubtless be appreciated in town ; but if the individual would be truly distinguished, let him determine to spend his Christmas in some little favoured part of the kingdom, many a mile from the dark and dense atmosphere of the “ great village.' The arrival of such a personage is a new era in their history, During his stay, the unlocking of his own ample stores has the effect of opening others, wasting from concealment; and when he is gone-gone with many a longing eye and sorrowful heart-bis visit is reckoned froin, as if the almanack embalmed it, like Shrove-Tuesday, or Whitsun-Eve. And well it may be ; for though every circle may have its oracle,, yet even he gets weary of playing this character, and is glad to listen where he has been accustomed to speak- or at least to give only his part to the evening's conversation, which he has often found as impossible to maintain alone, as it is to make up a concert with a solitary fiddle, or mince pies with only currants or plums.

A sly satire was doubtless intended by a pair of prints which I only recently saw. One exhibited a stage coach going to London the day before Christmas. Pheasants, turkeys, hares, partridges, &c. &c. filled it instead of passengers--substantial proofs indeed, of the benevolence which some posses, and not a few embody. Its companion depicted the London coach proceeding on its way, but with no such incumbrances. Were it necessary, I could up the glove in behalf of my Southern friends, and in my own name cast on its author the insinuation; for my correspondence has one resemblance


For ever thine-whale'er this beart betide

For ever mine-where'er our lot be cast
Fate that may rob us of all wealth beside,

Shall leave us love till life itself be past.
The world may wrong us, we will brave its hate,

False friends may change, and falser hopes decline : Thongh bowed by cankering cares, we'll sinile at fate,

Since though art mine belov'd, and I am thine. For ever thine-when circling years have spread

Time's snowy blossoms o'er thy placid brow; When yoath's rich glow, its “ purple light" is fled,

And lillies bloom, where roses flourish now. Say, shall I love the fading beauty less,

Whose spring-tide radience has been wholly mine? Nn-come what will, thy steadfast truth I'll bless,

In youth, in age-thive own, for ever thine, For ever thine-at evening's dewy hour,

When gentle hearts to tenderest thoughts incline; When balmiest odonrs from each closing flower,

Are breathing round me--tbine, for ever thine. For ever thine-'mid fashion's heartless throng,

In courtly bowers, at folly's gilded sbrine ; Smiles on my cheek, light words upon my tongne,

My deep breast still is thine-for ever thine. Still ever thine-amid the boisterous crowd,

Where the jet sparkles with the sparkling wice ; I may not name thy gentle name aloud,

But drink to thee in thought--for ever thine. I would not, sweet, profane that silvery sound,

The depths of love, could such rude hearts divorce? Let the loud laughter peal, the toast go round

My thoughts, my thoughts, are thine, for ever thipe.



This may


held me, he ran towards me, fell upon my neck, and wept--for the first time since the catastrophe had hap

pened. He wept very long : but at last he seemed, in A few years before I left India, a young man had some degree, relieved ; and raising himself, he took me brought me some very strong letters of recommenda- by the hand, and led me to the coffin. tion from some of my connexions in England, whom I The freshness of life had passed away, but even now was most happy and desirous to oblige. He had, in she was surpassingly beautiful. Cold, marble-pale, consequence, remained some time under my roof; du- and rigid, she looked like one of the beautiful sculpring which period, his fine disposition and talents, his tures which are placed upon old tombs, in effigy of those amiable heart, and his winning fascination of mavner, who sleep below. The face alone was uncovered ; long had created between us a friendship very unlike any- grave clothes closely enveloped the whole frame to the thing which usually exists between men of such diffe- neck, and a napkin was over her brow, So smooth and rent ages as we were. He was above twenty years my

softly white was the flesh, that it could scarcely be disjunior,—and yet our liaison was more like that of con- tinguished where the one ended, and the other began. temporaries than of separate generations,

From beneath this, however, one long tress of hair esbe considered the more strange on account of the habits caped, which, passing across the cheek, rested upon the and temperament which I have described as mine, from shroud. This struck me more than all, for this gave so very early a period of my life—and I first thought the contrast of life with the perfect deadliness of all so myself. But I found that the boyant animation and else, So still in the stillness of peace--so calm in the liveliness of my young friend were of the greatest be- calmness of purity—was this corpse of loveliness and nefit to me ; and, while they gave relief to the usual virtue, that one scarce could think that the King of gloomy condition of my spirits and demeanor, they Terrors had claimed it for his own, It looked, as I concurrently diminished its unpleasantness to him- have said, more like the figure on a pale sarcophagusself. On the other hand I made a point of exerting or, perhaps, more like one in a deep, a very deep sleep myself to render my house agreeable to him at first, -than the soulless wreck of passed humanity. But and afterwards, he equally strove to prevent my relap- this one tress of bright hair, shining on the white skin, sing into my usual state, To effect this, he so modi. like a fling of golden sun-light upon snow, recalled the fied his youthful feelings and manners, as to enliven terrible truth at once. The hair is the latest portion of without shocking the mind of a melancholy man. If the human frame to betray the consequence of death. he had been less delicate, considerate, and intuitively) While the eyes become glazed, and the nerves fixed. skillful, he probably would have produced diametri- and the flesh grows colourless and icy cold—the hair cally the contrary effect from that which it was his en- is the same that it was when it added so much beauty deavour to work. But, as it was, during the time he to beautiful life-when it waved in the wind, or was with me, I certainly was better at ease than I had gleamed in the sun, as the quick motion of youth been for years ; and when we parted, it was as I have might influence. mentioned with sentiments of friendship very unusual Yes, she was, indeed, lovely and what was this to arise betwen two men in every point so dissimilar. loveliness now ?---almost already touched by that decay, The very difference, however, of our ages was, 1 sus- from which, though we know it to be invariable, our pect, rather of advantage than detriment to the feelings nature causes us to shrink so sickeningly! Sad, indeed, with which L- regarded me. I had more and het- is it, to gaze upon a face we love, beaming in all the ter influence over him than a man of his own standing brightness of beautiful youth, and to reflect that that ever could have acquired-while there was none of the flesh moulder, and finally become dust-that those eyes constraint and awkwardness which young people usu- will cease to be, and nothing remain but an hideous ally experience in any very constant intercourse with and revolting bone undistinguishable from that which companions more advanced in life.

formed the head of the coarsest or most brutal, What, It certainly would not be imagined, from what I have then, must it be to look upon a countenance thus beau. said, that this young man could have any connexion tiful and thus loved, when this terrible and disgusting with the disappointments and pain which attended my process has nearly begun ?---but this is a part of the return to England—but so it was. About a year and subject too horrid to be dwelled upon. a half before I quitted India, he was about to be mar. There is, however, another idea, wbich has always ried to a young and charming person, to whom he was arisen within me, with a revolted feeling, when I have attached with all the characteristic ardour of his dispo- gazed on one thus about to be placed in the grave. I sition—and from, the little I saw of her, appeared mean all the preparation (I might almost say decoration) equally to deserve and repay his affection. I was to which the senseless clay has undergone, to be laid in have been present at their marriage; but, alas ! a few its fellow earth. Why that livery of death—that unidays before that on which it wast to take place, the form of the grave, in which all are equally wrapped ? poor girl was carried off by one of those rapid and vio- The ruling passion even of Narcissa is not strong after lent diseases, which are, in that country so common. In tropical climates, too, decomposition follows death in which we chanced to be habited when the spirit so speedily, that interment is necessarily almost imme- passed, might, one would think, suffice to decorate the diate. She was accordingly to be buried the morning physical body which is left behind. But this coffin, after her decease; and I went to assist and support into which I looked, was, besides all this, quilted

during the ceremony, at which, in despite of all throughout with satin ; and a pillow of the same maI could urge, he insisted on being present.

terial supported the head, as if the fair cheek could now I found him in the room with the corpse. He was taste its softness! Alas! alas ! how paltry do those sitting beside it when I entered; but the moment he be- mockeries appear to us at such a moment.

I had ample time to gaze my fill, and to think of all those things, and many more; for L-- placed himself at the head of the coffin, and remained there, with his head bowed in his hands upon its edge. Low deep groans struggled from him at intervals and the cold sweat was clammy on his brow. At length they came to fasten down the coffin. I wanted him to go with me from the room; but the paroxysms of his despair were so terrible, when I strove to draw him towards the door, that I thought it better to desist. He fung himself upon the body, and fastened his lips upon hers —now so damp and rigid, There he lay, as if he would have lain for ever ; at last I gently raised him, and signed to the men to replace the lid. They did so at

L-- gazed at them as if he had been changed to a stone: but when he heard the grinding sound of the first scerw, as it was driven down into the wood, he uttered a loud and terrible shriek, and fell senseless into my arms.

Upon the silken couch he laid

The maiden's drooping head ;
The flowers, before the bride to fade,

Were scattered o'er the dead.
He knelt by her the live-long night,

And only once spoke he“Oh, when the shaft was on its flight,

Why did it not pierce me?"
He built a chapel where she slept,

For prayer and holy strain :
One midnight by the grave he wept-

He never saw again.
Without a name, withont a crest,

He sou :ht the Holy Land :
St. Marie, give his soul good rest-

He died there sword in hand.





“ O Go not forth to-night, my child,

O go not forth to-night; The rain beats down, the wind is wild,

And not a star has light." “ The rain it will but wash my plume,

The wind but wave it dry;
And for such quest as mine, mirk gloom

Is welcome in the sky.
And little will the warder know,

What step is gliding near ;
One only eye will watch below,

One only ear will hear. A bundred men keep watch and ward,

But what is that to me?
And when hath ever Love been barred

From where he wills to be?
Go, motber, with thy maiden band,

And make the chamber bright,
The lovliest lady in the land

Will be my guest to-night."
He fung him on his raven steed-

He spurr'd it o'er the plain;
The bird, the arrow, have such speed :-

His mother called in vain. “ His sword is sharp, his steed is fleet,

St. Marie, be his guide ;
And I'll go make a welcome meet

For his young stranger bride."
And soon the waxen tapers threw

Their fragrauce on the air,
And flowers of every morning hue

Yielded their sweet lives there.
Around the walls an eastern loom

Had hoog its purple fold-
A hundred lamps lit ap the room,

And every lamp was gold.
A horn is beard, the drawbridge falls-

“ Oh. welcome ! 'tis my son!” A cry of joy ran throngh the halls

* And bis tair bride is won," Biit that fair face is very pale,

Too pale to suit a bride :
Ab, blood is on her silvery veil-

The blood flows from her side.

The ignorance which prevails among all ranks and classes of society, in this country, upon the subject of coffee, has been to us the source of a deep and abiding melancholy. How many times have we sat, like Rachel, in the drawing-rooms of the rich and noble, and felt the big tears chasing each other down our manly cheeks, as we saw and tasted the tepid and muddy decoction, which the urbanity of our manners forced us to filter in tea-spoonfuls through our throats, notwithstanding the nausea and slight convulsive tendency which each succeeding spoonful contributed to increase! We have met with ladies too, false deceitful syrens, wbo prided themselves on their proficiency in the art of making coffee, who assured us that good coffee was almost never to be got, that they could drink it no where except in their own houses, and that they were hapy to have found at last one able to appreciate the value of so delicious a beverage.

Animated by such sympathetic and beautiful observations, the cloud has for a moment passed off our brow, the sunshine of hope again sparkled in our expressive eye, and we almost believed, with a bounding heart, that we had at length discovered the darling object of our unceasing anxiety—a female capable, as Sir Henry Steuart would say,

“ of giving immediate effect to coffee." If she was unmarried, we determined to throw ourself and fortune at her feet: if she was a wife, we eagerly ruminated on the contingencies which might put a speedy termination to the existence of her husband. Alas! it was a dream that had a stormy wakening! Soon, too soon, were we recalled to reality! The servant brought us a cup of coffee, “ weak as water, and cool as a zephyr," distinguished only by a slight bitterness of flavour, indicating that the berry had been roasted to a cinder, and then pulverized at a single beat, and that boiling water was an article of which the household lived in the profoundest ignorance. Nothing could bave increased our despair but the appaling fear, which flashed upon us like lightning, that the poisonous liquid we had been induced to drink might have owed its existence to an in. fusion of that most disgraceful of all human inventions -Hunt's roasted corn!

Since the year 1652, coffee has been drank in this country, and since the year 1652, the art of making it has remained stationery. It is far otherwise in France. There are at this moment three thousand coffee-houses in Paris, and the presiding goddess of each coffee-house

devotes her life and her abilities to the making of coffee. No wonder that the Emperor Alexander fell in love with one of these fascinating beings, and “ looked and sipped, and sipped and looked, and sipped again." If there is any one talent which we admire in the Parisians more than all therest, it is that of making coffee. Bernier, the traveller, when at Grand Cairo, was asured that there were only two persons iu that large city, who were able to prepare the beverage in that high perfection to which he had been accustomed at Paris. Can imagination cnojure up to itself any picture more perfectly epicurean and delightful, than a company of French ladies and gentlemen, who have retired to the saloon or drawing-room, after a splendid dinner, and are there luxuriating over this ambrosial liquor, whether the café noir, pure as amber and strong as brandy, be preferred, or the café à lait, hot from the percolater coffee-pot, and enriched with a glorious infusion of boiling cream!

To us the recollection of the coffee we have drunk at Paris, constitutes the chief enjoyment we experience in the exercise of memory.

There is a softened melancholy in the reminiscence, that seems to shed a benigner influence over the weak tea, which it is now onr destiny to swallow. In the minds of all men, indeed, coffee ought to be associated with everything that is classical and dignified. Without coffee Schiller would never have written “ Wallenstein;" it was to him the very fountain of inspiration, Without coffee Buona. parte would never have been Emperor of France, and let it be recorded to his honour, that the conqueror of Europe has left behind him a receipt for making coffee, “Coffee,” says Dr. Kitchener, as used on the con. tinent, serves the double purpose of an agreeable tonic, and an exhilarating beverage." “ Coffee,” says an old writer," fortifies the soul within, quickens the spirits, and makes the heart lightsome.'

pain. I have benevolence, which sheds itself in charity and love over a worm! For what-merciful God-for what are these blessings of nature or of learning ? The instant I employ them I must enter among men; the moment I enter among men, my being blackens into agony. Laughter grins upon me, terror dogs my steps, I exist upon poisons, and my nourishment is scorn.

At my birth the nurse refused me suck; my mother saw me and became delirious; my father ordered that I should be stified as a monster. The physicians saved my life; accursed be they for the act!

One woman, she was old and childish, took compassion upon me; she reared and fed me. I grew up-I asked for something to love ; I loved every thing; the common earth ; the fresh grass; the living insect; the household brute ; from the dead stone 1 trod on, to the sublime countenance of man, made to behold the stars and scorn me; from the noblest thing to the prettiest ; the fairest to the foulest; I loved them all. I knelt to my mother, and besought her to love me; she shuddered. I Aed to my father, and he spurned me! The lowest minion of the human race that had its limbs shapen and its countenance formed, refused to consort with me; the very dog (I only dared to seek out one that seemed more rugged than its fellows), the very dog dreaded me and slunk away. I grew up lonely and wretched; I was like the reptile whose prison is the stone's heart; immured in the eternal penthouse of a solitude to which the breath of fellowship never came; girded with a wall of barrepness, and fint, and doomed to vegetate and batten on my own suffocating and poisoned meditations. But while this was my heart's dungeon, they could not take from the external senses the sweet face of the universal nature ; they could not bar me from commune with the mighty dead. Earth opened to me her marvels, and the volumes of the wise their stores. I read, I mused, I examined, I descended into the deep wells of truth, and mirrored in my soul the ho. liness of her divine beauty. The past lay before me like a scroll; the mysteries of this breathing world rose from the present like clouds ; even of the dark future, experience shadowed forth something of a token and a sign ; and over the wonders of the world, I hung the intoxicating and mingled spells of poesy and of knowledge, But I could not without a struggle live in a world of love, and be the only thing doomed to hatred: “ I will travel,” said I, " to other quarters of the globe, All earth's tribes have not the proud stamp of angels and of gods, and amongst its infinite variety, I may find a being who will not sicken at myself."

I took leave of the only one who had not loathed me -the woman who had given me food, and reared me up to life. She had now become imbecile, and doting, and blind, so she did not disdain to lay her hand upon my distorted head, and to bless me. “ But better," said she, even as she blessed me, and in despite of her do. tage, better that you had perished in the womb. And I laughed with a loud laugh when I heard her, and rushed from the house.

One evening, in my wanderings, as I issued from a wood, I came abruptly upon the house of a village priest. Around it, from a thick and lofty fence of shrubs, which the twilight of summer bathed in dew, the honeysuckle, and the sweetbrier, and the wild rose, sent forth those gifts of fragrance and delight which



I am the eldest son of a numerous family, noble in birth, and eminent for wealth, My brothers are a vigorous and comely race : my sisters are more beantiful than dreams. By what fatality was it then that I alone was thrust into this glorious world distorted, and dwarflike, and hideous ; my limbs a mockery, my countenance a horror, myself a blackness on the surface of the creation—a discord in the harmony of nature, a living misery, an animated curse ? I am shut out from the aims and objects of my race ; with the deepest sources of affection in my heart, I am doomed to find no living thing on which to pour them. Love-out upon the word-I am its very loathing and abhorrence; friendship turns from me in disgust; pity beholds me, and withers to aversion. Wheresoever I wander, I am encompassed with hatred as with an atmosphere. Whatever I attempt, I am in the impassable circle of dreadful and accursed doom. Ambition, pleasure, philan. throphy, fame, the common blessings of social intercourse, are all as other circles, which mine can touch but in one point, and that point is torture. I have knowledge, to which the wisdom of ordinary sages is as dust to golii.

I have energies to which relaxation is

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