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Ossoli, Margaret Fuller, 1810-1850

"Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli, Volume II"

It was sublime indeed,--a
never-to-be-forgotten presentation of stern, serene realities. At last
came the signs of day,--the gradual clearing and breaking up; some
faint sounds from I know not what; the little flies, too, arose from
their bed amid the purple heather, and bit me. Truly they were very
welcome to do so. But what was my disappointment to find the mist so
thick, that I could see neither lake nor inn, nor anything to guide
me. I had to go by guess, and, as it happened, my Yankee method served
me well. I ascended the hill, crossed the torrent, in the waterfall,
first drinking some of the water, which was as good at that time as
ambrosia. I crossed in that place, because the waterfall made steps,
as it were, to the next hill. To be sure, they were covered with
water, but I was already entirely wet with the mist, so that it
did not matter. I kept on scrambling, as it happened, in the right
direction, till, about seven, some of the shepherds found me. The
moment they came, all my feverish strength departed, and they carried
me home, where my arrival relieved my friends of distress far greater
than I had undergone; for I had my grand solitude, my Ossianic
visions, and the pleasure of sustaining myself; while they had only
doubt, amounting to anguish, and a fruitless search through the night.


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