but you don't, one mite or morsel; but men are made
differently, some people's narves operate on the brain
sens_itively_ and give them exquisite pain or excessive
pleasure; other folks seem as if they had no narves at
all. You understand my words, but you don't enter into
my feelings. Distressing images rise up in my mind in
such rapid succession, I can't master them, but they
master me. They come slower to you, and the moment you
see their shadows before you, you turn round to the light,
and throw these dark figures behind you. I can't do that;
I could when I was younger, but I can't now. Reason is
comparing two ideas, and drawing an inference. Insanity
is, when you have such a rapid succession of ideas, that
you can't compare them. How great then must be the pain
when you are almost pressed into insanity and yet retain
your reason? What is a broken heart? Is it death? I think
it must be very like it, if it is not a figure of speech,
for I feel that my heart is broken, and yet I am as
sensitive to pain as ever. Nature cannot stand this
suffering long. You say these good people have come to
take their last farewell of me; most likely, Sam, it _is_
a last farewell. I am an old man now, I am well stricken
in years; shall I ever live to see my native land again?
I know not, the Lord's will be done! If I had a wish, I
should desire to return to be laid with my kindred, to
repose in death with those that were the companions of
my earthly pilgrimage; but if it be ordered otherwise.
I am ready to say with truth and meekness, 'Lord, now
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'"