prisoner thinks that he is forgotten by the outside world, then he loses
that strength which sustained him while he believed himself remembered.

It was the lot of Brandon to have this sense of utter desolation: to
feel that in all the world there was not one human being that knew of
his fate; and to fear that the eye of Providence only saw him with
indifference. With bitterness he thought of the last words of his
father's letter: "If in that other world to which I am going the
disembodied spirit can assist man, then be sure, O my son, I will assist
you, and in the crisis of your fate I will be near, if it is only to
communicate to your spirit what you ought to do."

A melancholy smile passed over his face as he thought of what seemed to
him the utter futility of that promise.

Now, as the weeks passed, his whole mode of life affected both mind and
body. Yet, if it be the highest state of man for the soul to live by
itself, as Socrates used to teach, and sever itself from bodily
association, Brandon surely had attained, without knowing it, a most
exalted stage of existence. Perhaps it was the period of purification
and preparation for future work.

The weather varied incessantly, calms and storms alternating; sometimes
all the sea lying dull, listless, and glassy under the burning sky; at
other times both sea and sky convulsed with the war of elements.

At last there came one storm so tremendous that it exceeded all that
Brandon had ever seen any where.

The wind gathered itself up from the south-east, and for a whole day the