'
* * * * *
'Black Friday it has been, and my heart is well nigh wearied
out. Shall I never be able to act and live with persons of
views high as my own? or, at least, with some steadiness of
feeling for me to calculate upon? Ah, me! what woes within and
without; what assaults of folly; what mean distresses; and,
oh, what wounds from cherished hands! Were ye the persons who
should stab thus? Had I, too, the Roman right to fold my
robe about me decently, and breathe the last sigh! The last!
Horrible, indeed, should sobs, deep as these, be drawn to all
eternity. But no; life could not hold out for more than one
lease of sorrow. This anguish, however, will be wearied out,
as I know by experience, alas! of how many such hours.'
* * * * *
'I am reminded to-day of the autumn hours at Jamaica Plain,
where, after arranging everything for others that they wanted
of me, I found myself, at last, alone in my still home, where
everything, for once, reflected my feelings. It was so still,
the air seemed full of spirits. How happy I was! with what
sweet and solemn happiness! All things had tended to a crisis
in me, and I was in a higher state, mentally and spiritually,
than I ever was before or shall be again, till death shall
introduce me to a new sphere.
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