The power of sympathy: or, The triumph of nature. Founded in truth.Brown, William Hill
General
The power of sympathy: or, The triumph of nature. Founded in truth.
Brown, William Hill
Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
P. S. THEY say life is a blessing and it is our duty to improve and
enjoy it; but when life becomes insupportable and we find no blessing in
it—have we not a right to resign it?
Farewel!
LETTER XLIX.
_The Hon. Mr._ HARRINGTON to the _Rev. Mr._ HOLMES.
_Boston._
ACCUMULATED sorrows continue to break over my devoted head.
_Harriot_ is at times deprived of her reason, and we have no expectation
of her recovery—my son is deeply affected—he seems strangely disordered.
REVOLVING in my mind all these things and the unhappy affair that led to
them, the whole train of my past life returned fresh upon my mind.
Pained with the disagreeable picture, and oppressed with the weight of
my affliction, I sunk down to sleep: These circumstances had so strongly
impressed my imagination that they produced the following Dream—My blood
is chilled with horrour as I write.
METHOUGHT I suddenly found myself in a large, open field, waste and
uncultivated—here I wandered in a solitary manner for some time—grief
seized my heart at the awful appearance of the place, and I cried
aloud—“How long shall I travel here, alone and friendless—a dusky mist
swims before my sight, and the obscure horizon seems only to inclose
this dismal wild!” Having advanced a few steps, I thought a light at a
distance appeared to my doubtful view. Faint with fatigue, I approached
it, and had the satisfaction to behold a person of the most benign
aspect—a quiet serenity was painted on his brow, happiness ineffable
beamed from his Divine countenance—Joy leaped in my bosom, and in the
ecstasy of passion I endeavoured to clasp the blessed spirit to my
heart; but it vanished in my embrace.
“TEACH me, blessed shade,” said I, with a trembling voice—“Teach me to
find the habitations of men—What do I here?—Why am I doomed to explore
the barren bosom of this baleful desert?” “This,” returned the spirit,
in a voice, which, while it commanded veneration and love, struck awe
and terrour into my soul—“_This_ is not the habitation of the sons of
mortality—it is the place appointed to receive the souls of all men,
after they have resigned the bodies they animated on earth. Those who
have violated the laws of reason, humanity, religion, and have
dishonoured their God, here meet the punishment due to their crimes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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