His anticipations were thus far vague and indefinite; but they
sufficed to poison every moment of his being, and devote him to
ceaseless anguish.



Chapter II


Early in the morning of a sultry day in August, he left
Mettingen, to go to the city. He had seldom passed a day from
home since his return from the shores of the Ohio. Some urgent
engagements at this time existed, which would not admit of
further delay. He returned in the evening, but appeared to be
greatly oppressed with fatigue. His silence and dejection were
likewise in a more than ordinary degree conspicuous. My
mother's brother, whose profession was that of a surgeon,
chanced to spend this night at our house. It was from him that
I have frequently received an exact account of the mournful
catastrophe that followed.

As the evening advanced, my father's inquietudes increased.
He sat with his family as usual, but took no part in their
conversation. He appeared fully engrossed by his own
reflections. Occasionally his countenance exhibited tokens of
alarm; he gazed stedfastly and wildly at the ceiling; and the
exertions of his companions were scarcely sufficient to
interrupt his reverie. On recovering from these fits, he
expressed no surprize; but pressing his hand to his head,
complained, in a tremulous and terrified tone, that his brain