Had you but seen his pale, pale blanched cheek!
He would not eat.--O Christ!

THE BERYL.

In the summer of the year 18--, I was the only passenger on board the
merchantman, Alceste, which was bound to the Brazils. One fine
moonlight night, I stood on the deck, and gazed on the quiet ocean, on
which the moon-beams danced. The wind was so still, that it scarcely
agitated the sails, which were spread out to invite it. I looked
round; it was the same on every side--a world of waters: not a single
object diversified the view, or intercepted the long and steady glance
which I threw over the ocean. I have heard many complain of the
sameness and unvarying uniformity of the objects which oppose
themselves to the eye of the voyager. I feel differently; I can gaze
for hours, without weariness, on the deep, occupied with the thought
it produces; I can listen to the rush of the element as the vessel
cleaves it, and these things have charms for me which others cannot
perceive.

I heard, on a sudden, a noise, which seemed to proceed from the
captain's cabin, and I thought I could distinguish the voices of
several men, speaking earnestly, though in a suppressed tone. I
cautiously drew near the spot from whence the noise arose, but the
alarm was given, and I could see no one. I retired to rest, or rather
to lie down; for I felt that heavy and foreboding sense of evil
overpower me, which comes we know not how or wherefore; and I could
not sleep, knowing that there had been disputes between the captain
and his men, respecting some point of discipline, and I feared to
think what might be the consequences. I lay a long time disturbed with