uits, I was of a joyous
and hoping disposition. All was sunshine to me; even the blighting of my
prospects at college affected not a mind which felt a consciousness of
being able to soar to any height; a thousand projects floated through
it, each of which, for a season, seemed sufficient to rear me to the
pinnacle of fortune and fame. Thus had I dreamed on for three years. One
of my many objects of study engrossed the greater portion of my
thoughts--the mysterious tie that united soul and body. Could I untie
this Gordian knot--and I was vain enough to hope I might--then would I
rank amongst earth's brightest ornaments, and fill a niche with Newton
and Bacon. This extraordinary subject had even when at school, engaged
the greater part of my thoughts. Often have I left my fellows at play,
and stolen to some distant part of the churchyard, to muse and commune
with myself, not without a boyish hope that some kind tenant of the tomb
would reveal to me his mighty secret. Void of fear, I have implored the
presence of spirits under the cloud of night. The feeling that filled my
mind was an enthusiasm, which, though years and changes have rolled over
my head, is still remembered with a sensation of pleasure.

I had kept my school for three years, to the satisfaction of the
parents of my pupils and my own. My cup of enjoyment was full to
overflowing. I had proceeded so far with several works of science; every
one of which, ere I began, was to establish my fame, but each was
quickly abandoned for some new idea. I had resumed again the first
object of my inquiry, and was busily arranging materials for effecting
the glorious discovery, when I was seized by an epidemic fever that was
committing fearful ravages in the parish. All after this, for several
weeks, is a blank in my memory, a hiatus in my consciousness. Contrary
to the expectations of all that attended, I became convalescent. My
strength slowly returned; but my mind had undergone a complete change:
its buoyancy had fled, and no longer, like a butterfly, fluttering from
one flower of fancy to another, it was fixed on the one engrossing
object; yet I was conscious that the faculties of which I had once felt
so proud, were now weak as those of an infant; and, dreamy and listless,
I began to wander into the fields. My school had broken up. The greater
part of my pupils were with a successful competitor who now supplied my
place. This deepened my gloom; and I often returned with