heart! Hitherto I have proceeded with some degree of composure,
but now I must pause. I mean not that dire remembrance shall
subdue my courage or baffle my design, but this weakness cannot
be immediately conquered. I must desist for a little while.

I have taken a few turns in my chamber, and have gathered
strength enough to proceed. Yet have I not projected a task
beyond my power to execute? If thus, on the very threshold of
the scene, my knees faulter and I sink, how shall I support
myself, when I rush into the midst of horrors such as no heart
has hitherto conceived, nor tongue related? I sicken and recoil
at the prospect, and yet my irresolution is momentary. I have
not formed this design upon slight grounds, and though I may at
times pause and hesitate, I will not be finally diverted from
it.

And thou, O most fatal and potent of mankind, in what terms
shall I describe thee? What words are adequate to the just
delineation of thy character? How shall I detail the means
which rendered the secrecy of thy purposes unfathomable? But I
will not anticipate. Let me recover if possible, a sober
strain. Let me keep down the flood of passion that would render
me precipitate or powerless. Let me stifle the agonies that are
awakened by thy name. Let me, for a time, regard thee as a
being of no terrible attributes. Let me tear myself from
contemplation of the evils of which it is but too certain that
thou wast the author, and limit my view to those harmless
appearances which attended thy entrance on the stage.

One sunny afternoon, I was standing in the door of my house,