274 A HUMAN HEART. 



regularity ; they were attenuated the whole form was attenuated, 

 and probably had wasted from inanition as much as from natural 

 decadence. Also, the limbs in their outline attracted us, which 

 were, or in youth had been, of a remarkable symmetry ; they were 

 now stiff, and the flesh upon them indurated to the degree of iron. 

 In one hand, or near the fingers of one hand, on the table, was a 

 pen, close to it paper, and a stand, in which once had been ink, but 

 which now merely contained its sediment dried. We seized 

 eagerly upon the paper, which we perceived was traced with cha- 

 racters in writing; but, scanning it devouringly, were disappointed 

 on finding it to include only two sentences (the last of this volume). 

 They served, however, to stimulate our curiosity in search of more. 

 Seeking around the cabin, we observed that it was divided into two 

 compartments, small, miserable, dilapidated. The feature by which 

 we were most struck was the multitude of books, scattered, or rather 

 heaped in profound disorder, and in the most profuse quantity. 

 Looking a little further, we saw a mirror, with a covering, which 

 once it was intended should conceal it, half torn from it; subse- 

 quently we saw a guitar, the chords snapped, and finally a ponderous 

 chest. The last now was the most interesting object. It was se- 

 cured with a strong fastening, but to us it was but a slight obstruc- 

 tion^we surmounted it, prosecuting the work of enquiry. It con- 

 tained three portraits and a manuscript, which we have here termed 

 memoir. It presented little besides a scanty assortment of wearing 

 apparel : the faded remnant of a shawl, a brooch, a ring formed the 

 total. 



The manuscript, doubtless, above all rivetted us. The hand- 

 writing was delicate, but so small, so obscure, that it required study 

 to decipher it. It was not on full sheets, but the minutest divisions 

 of letter-sheets, and the most costly description of vellum. It ap- 

 peared to comprise much a lengthened history ; but as in result 

 it proves merely passages of a history, for the most part incomplete, 

 unperfected details. It ceased, however, to occupy us longer at 

 that moment ; our whole thoughts directed themselves to the dis- 

 posal of itself the figure. We consulted, and unanimously it was 

 resolved, the most fastidious respect should attend its obsequies, and 

 there was a general feeling that, in accordance with the classic so- 

 lemnities of the ancient Greeks, it shonld be consigned to the flames 

 of a funeral pile burned, and its ashes decorously gathered and de- 

 posited in a marble urn. The portraits we regarded as too sacred 

 for our cold and uninterested affections, and decreed them therefore 

 to a participation in the same destiny. In one flame ascended, in 

 one vase mingles the dust of all of Aer, and of the images of those 

 who to her were as the springs of life the fountains of immortality 

 and in dedication to their memory, the pilgrim, who by the ten- 

 derness of his sensibility shall be drawn thither, may see, denotive 

 of the spot whence that flame ascended, an uninscribed, simple, 

 white monumental spire. 



There remains little to add. The memoir, as it i? here presented, 

 is in that state scrupulously exact in which its present possessor 

 found it not a line altered a syllable erased* As a literary pro- 



