THE DARK DAY. 101
and while she instilled into their minds lessons of early love to God, and reverence to parents, would beguile them into attention, by finding points of resemblance of the dark clouds that skirted the horizon of the west, to some of those turreted towers that she had passed in her journeys in Europe, and the western shores of Asia. “I have sat, and watched her, till I doubted whether it was the reflected rays of the sun, or the effect of purest inspiration that lighted up her face.
“My mind slowly recovered its tone; indeed I was blest with an unusual tranquillity. I gazed upon the windows of the distant church, and as the last beam of the sun trembled upon its fantastic, diamond windows, I thought of her who lay low and cold beneath its eaves.
“There was a method in the arrangement of my thoughts that gave me hope. I felt none of those mental aberrations that had previously distinguished my most favoured moments. even felt a hope that I should once more be as other men.
I
“As the sun went down, 1 could perceive the edge of the horizon dimmed with a rising cloud; it rose slowly and heavily; it had nothing fantastic in its form; it was solid, and dark. I knew its portent, and retired. That restive wakefulness, that had hitherto marked my nights, was no longer felt; I was pressed down with a dullness; a stupor came over me, and I prepared for rest. Hitherto I had known little of dreams; or it may be that I cannot now distinguish between the operations of my mind, when sleeping, and when awake; they were not essentially different. A consciousness of some undefined danger-a fear of misapprehension, a sense of oppression, and an inability to make my words express my thoughts-these were sensations of all times and all seasons. But I had scarcely disposed myself upon the little couch in my room, when my mind became unusually active. All my existence seemed crowded into a moment, and in that moment was the presence of Miriam. I was sitting with her upon the very point of the beach on which I have so often indulged my reflections. I remember now, with strange distinctness, every little circumstance of that dream. I saw the waves spend their little force upon the bankand could feel each ripple, which crept far up the sand moisten my feet, and give a cooling freshness to my frame.
“Miriam was discoursing, and 1 gazing with intensity upon her face; when suddenly, I thought the dimness of that dark day came upon usdeeper and blacker, but not with its stillness. I could see the sun in the heavens, but it was shorn of its beams-lurid, but not bright; and the deep peals of thunder were sounding along the bay, and echoing from every height-I turned for a moment from the scene, and Miriam was gone. I saw her then upon the waves which the storm had lifted up-through the gloom I saw her clinging with one hand to the remnant of a wreck, and with the other beckoning to me for help. I started to plunge into the channel, but an unknown power held me to the groundanother effort, and I sprung from my couch. The scene had indeed changed, but scarcely for the better; my mind was affected with the dream, and I rushed to the window of my room; what a scene was presented-the firmament was lighted up by one sheet of fire, and the wretched building in which I was confined, seemed to reel with the effect of the thunder. I was drenched with the rain which poured in torrents upon me, and felt that some evil out of the ordinary course of nature, was approaching. I cried aloud for help, but the reverberations of the thunder, mocked my voice; my eyes were seared with the flash of the lightning; yet I gazed on, as if in hopes of meeting some object amid the rage of elements around me. Though much of the terror of my dream was upon me, I did not then feel as I had before; I certainly was unconscious of insanity; my mind, so far as the horrors of the scene and the recent shock of the dream would permit, was unusually regular. I mention this now, because I know you will think that what I have yet to say, has more of insanity in it than my former feelings. Such was the unabated glare of light, that I could perceive distant objects with all the distinctness of day. My eye, for a moment, rested upon the distant church; while I gazed, another flash of lightning gave new forms to my perceptions, and I saw a figure-distinctly, clearly, saw a female form. I gazed with eagerness -it was MIRIAM. With every flash of lightning, she was nearer, and more and more visible. It was reality; there could be no deception; every other object was natural. I beat upon the wall; it sent back its echo, and I felt a sense of pain from my effort. I closed my eyes, and when again I looked, she was there. She was, as I had seen her; there was nothing of death or the grave upon her; the lightning, did indeed, throw a paleness upon her visage, and tipped with fire, her hair which the wind blew wildly about. But it was Miriam's form, light and graceful; it was her face, solemn, but benignant. She approach ed and spoke; from a world of voices, I should know hers. You are incredulous; but I have learned-learned by bitter experience, to distinguish between the phantoms of a feverish brain, and the plain visible objects that heaven and earth present to our onward senses. And, as true as we now gaze upon yonder rook, rising amidst the waters; so true I saw the form of Miriam, and heard her voice-clear, distinct and solemn, audible, amidst the most appalling peals of thunder. I stretched out my hands to clasp hers-but though visible and distinct, I could not reach it. I called upon her name; she waved her hand, and retired rapidly from me-1 cried aloud, but only the thunder answered-I reached forth from my window, to gaze with greater intensity-I saw her still. The lightnings were playing harmlessly around her-new life and new strength were infused into my frame. I scattered the fastening of my abode-I felt that no human grasp could hold me. One strong effort more, and all would be accomplished.—
