276 I GO A -FISHING. 



flight, no rest, no succession of hours, events, or thoughts 

 has marked any advance. 



" I have been living forty years by the light of one 

 memory — by the side of one grave. 



"John, set the bottle down on the hearth. You may 

 go. You need not sit up for me. We will see each other 

 to bed to-night. Go, old fellow, and sleep soundly. 



" She was the purest angel that flesh ever imprisoned, 

 the most beautiful child of Eve. I can see her now. Her 

 eyes raying the light of heaven — her brow white, calm, 

 and holy — her lips wreathed with the blessing of her 

 smile. She was as graceful as a form seen in dreams, 

 and she moved through the scenes around her as you have 

 seen the angelic visitors of your slumber move through 

 crowded assemblies, without effort, apparently with some 

 superhuman aid. 



" She was fitted to adorn the splendid house in which 

 she was born and grew to womanhood. It was a grand 

 old place, built in the midst of a growth of oaks that 

 might have been there when Columbus discovered Amer- 

 ica, and seemed likely to stand a century longer. They 

 are standing yet, and the wind to-night makes a wild la- 

 ment through their branches. 



" I recall the scenery of the familiar spot. There was 

 a stream of water that dashed down the rocks a hundred 

 yards from the house, and which kept always full and 

 fresh an acre of pond, over which hung willows and ma- 

 ples and other trees, while on the surface the white blos- 

 som of the lotus nodded lazily on the ripples with Egyp- 

 tian sleepiness and languor. 



" The old house was built of dark stone, and had a 

 massive appearance, not relieved by the sombre shade in 

 which it stood. The sunshine seldom penetrated to the 



