THE STRANGER’S MANUSCRIPT.
‘I pass over my boyhood.
‘I had now entered upon my sixteenth spring, and with less unhappiness, perchance, than ordinarily meets us in this world. Sadness I had known, but unkindness I had never felt; nor had a suspicion of how very opposed the heart is to rectitude, found a lodgment in my mind. I was on the point of visiting the metropolis; and I know I felt as boys mostly do on their entering into the great world—elated with the thoughts of what I was to see and meet with, in a scene I had heard so much about. I talked of little else; and when the day came heralded by a morning of unusual loveliness, my happiness almost sickened me. I remember I went out into the fields, and every thing looked gayer and brighter than I had ever seen it. The flowers looked prettier—the dew was brighter—the birds chirped to me as I passed them—and a subtle spirit of life seemed to pervade all things and participate in my happiness. I returned home happy, and strove to while off the hours preceding my departure (for I was not to leave till the afternoon)—but ere that afternoon came, a dingy, dusky atmosphere, spread itself all about the earth, and the very sky looked, as I thought, fiendish—threatening. I shall not soon forget how soon it was communicated to my feelings. My spirits sunk down. A fearful change seemed working itself through my disposition, which amazed and maddened me. I answered those sharply, who interrogated me as to the cause of it. I gave my orders harshly. I ran from room to room, absent and thoughtful. In fine, all my characteristic amiableness had gone from me, and I seemed transformed into something devilish. I was changed as I suppose those spirits will be at the last day, when they turn half hoping to the judgment seat, and, reading their condemnation there, instantly become fiends.
‘A gentle tap was heard at the door, and my mother glided silently into the room; and seating herself beside me, she laid my head upon her bosom. She parted the dark curls from my forehead, and I felt her lips pressed feverishly upon it, and a tear fell upon my face—one of her tears! I opened my eyes at this and looked her full in the face—O! how she looked—pale—wan—beautiful.
“My son—my son—speak to me”—Staring her full in the face, I drew my hand half unconsciously over my eyes—then, recollection suddenly returning, I knelt wildly at her feet—
“Your blessing—Mother!” I gasped.
“Bless thee—bless thee—my boy!” I started up—screamed—and fled from the room. It seemed as if I was mad at her—mad even in my idolatry; and I verily believe I struck her, for I heard her groan and fall heavily upon the floor.
‘Before I slept I was upon the ocean—and I have a dim recollection that there was a storm—that the green and crested billows hissed angrily as the thunder growled over them—that the ship went forward like a mad horse plowing through whole mountains of water, and shaking off the white surf from her bows in sheets of silver—and I remember that the violence of the tempest seemed to harmonize awfully with the loud passions within me.