thoughts, a compound of reason and insanity, haunted me till the morning. Trimidad and Emily, the Nine-Pin Rock, and the mysterious Eugenia, with her supposed son; the sinking wreck, and the broken schooner, a]l appeared separately or together.
"When nature rests,
Oft, in her absence, mimic fancy wakes."
I thought I saw Emily standing on the pinnacle of the Nine-Pin Rock, just as Lord Nelson is represented on the monument in Dublin, or Bonaparte in that of the Place Vendome; but with a grace as far superior to either, as the Nine-Pin Rock is in majesty and natural grandeur to those works of human art.
Emily, I thought, was clad in complete mourning, but looking radiant in health and loveliness, although with a melancholy countenance. The dear image of my mistress seemed to say, " I shall never come down from this pinnacle without your assistance." "Then," thinks I, "you
