The Black-Sealed Letter: Or, The Misfortunes of a Canadian Cockney.Spedon, Andrew Learmont
General
The Black-Sealed Letter: Or, The Misfortunes of a Canadian Cockney.
Spedon, Andrew Learmont
Canadian fiction
But worse than all, I have done injustice to my
Maker. I have mocked at His mercy. I have insulted His dignity. I have
trampled upon His laws. _Oh! miserable wretch that I have been!_
However, I have resolved to live a better life. I trust to God that
through His divine power I shall be enabled to abstain from intoxicating
liquor and evil company."
"I intend returning to England in December next," continued Frederick,
after a few moments silence. "Yesterday I met with a gentleman who
formerly belonged to London, and with whom I was somewhat acquainted. He
is now a resident of Hamilton, some 50 miles from here, and does a large
business as an upholsterer. He offered me immediate employment, at $1.50
per day. I have engaged with him for two months, at the expiration of
which time, if health permit, I will ship myself for England. So that no
time may be lost I shall leave for Hamilton to-morrow morning, to be
ready to commence work on Monday.
"Now, sir, as you intend remaining in Toronto for a week or two you will
indeed favor me by calling at the Post-Office, especially when the next
English Mail arrives, and any letters or newspapers addressed to me,
please forward immediately."
I promised faithfully to do so:--and having thanked him for his favors I
bade him good-bye for the present, expressing a wish that I would find
him in a happier state of feelings at our next interview.
CHAPTER IX.
Having returned to the hotel at which I was staying I retired
immediately to bed. I slept but little during the night, my fancy having
been kept awake by the expressive interview of the preceding evening.
The eventful narrative of Frederick Charlston's career was ever present
to my mind, producing feelings akin to those of an experienced reality.
But the most striking characteristic was the singular dream to which I
have alluded. Dreams in general are nothing more than the echoes of the
soul, or the breathings of imagination when the consciousness of the
mind is in a latent state. Some dreams however, may be the productions
of a spiritual agency photographing as it were through the electric
telegraph of the soul the impressions of the real event upon the mind of
the person who is absent, causing strange forebodings to loom up in the
horizon of imagination. Be this as it may, it is a well known fact, that
dreams have been occasionally verified. Thousands of them, however, are
by the dreamer construed to suit circumstances. But the millions of
these visions that arise nightly from the bed-chambers of the world are
nothing more than the flickerings of the mind, at random, and like
vapor, arising into the atmosphere of the soul, frequently assuming a
variety of fantastic forms as a metamorphoses of preconceived ideas.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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