over of each leaf was an immense labor. Then I read yet another page,
but with the utmost difficulty; for, notwithstanding the eagerness of my
mind, my eyes began to remain more and more rigidly fixed on the center
of the leaf, so that I could scarcely force them to follow the lines.
Here I read that the bride-elect, her year of preparation being over,
rises before daylight, and goes out alone to an appointed place at a
great distance from the house, there to pass several hours in solitude
and silence, communing with her own heart. Meanwhile, in the house all
the others array themselves in purple garments, and go out singing at
sunrise to gather flowers to adorn their heads; then, proceeding to the
appointed spot, they seek for their new mother, and, finding her, lead
her home with music and rejoicing.

When, reading in this miserable, painful way, I had reached the bottom
of the page, and attempted to turn it over, I found that I could no
longer move my hand--my arms being now like arms of iron, absolutely
devoid of sensation, while my hands, rigidly grasping the book like the
hands of a frozen corpse, held it upright and motionless before me. I
tried to start up and shake off this strange deadness from my body, but
was powerless to move a muscle. What was the meaning of this condition?
for I had absolutely no pain, no discomfort even; for the sensation of
intense cold had almost ceased, and my mind was active and clear, and I
could hear and see, and yet was as powerless as if I had been buried in
a marble coffin a thousand fathoms deep in earth.

Suddenly I remembered the draught from the bottle, and a terrible doubt
shot through my heart. Alas! had I mistaken the meaning of those strange
words I had read?--was _death_ the cure which that mysterious
vessel promised to those who drank of its contents? "When life becomes a
burden, it is good to lay it down"; now too late the words of the