round and above in despair; suddenly we feel within us a new impulse and a new power! we feel a vague sympathy with _that_ unknown region which spreads beyond this great net,--_that limitless beyond_ hath a mystic affinity with a part of our own frame; we unconsciously extend our wings (for the soul to us is as the wings to the fly!); we attempt to rise,--to soar above this perilous snare, from which we are unable to crawl. The old spider watcheth us in self-hugging quiet, and, looking up to our native air, we think,--now shall we escape thee. Out on it! We rise not a hair’s breadth: we have the _wings_, it is true, but the _feet_ are fettered. We strive desperately again: the whole web vibrates with the effort; it will break beneath our strength. Not a jot of it! we cease; we are more entangled than ever! wings, feet, frame, the foul slime is over all! where shall we turn? every line of the web leads to the one den,--we know not,--we care not,--we grow blind, confused, lost. The eyes of our hideous foe gloat upon us; she whetteth her insatiate maw; she leapeth towards us; she fixeth her fangs upon us; and so endeth my parallel! * One ought, however, to be very cautious before one condemns a philosopher. The master’s opinions are generally pure: it is the conclusions and corollaries of his disciples that “draw the honey forth that drives men mad.” Schlegel seems to have studied Spinoza _de fonte_, and vindicates him very earnestly from the charges brought against him,--atheism, etc.--ED. But what has this to do with my tale? Ay, Reader, that is thy question; and I will answer it by one of mine. When thou hearest a man moralize and preach of Fate, art thou not sure that he is going to tell thee of some one of his peculiar misfortunes? Sorrow loves a parable as much as mirth loves a jest. And thus already and from afar, I prepare thee, at the commencement of this, the third of these portions into which the history of my various and wild life will be divided, for that event with which I purpose that the said portion shall be concluded. It is now three months after my entire recovery from my wounds, and I am married to Isora!--married,--yes, but _privately_ married, and the ceremony is as yet closely concealed. I will explain.