mother sat weeping by the side of my bed; her
suppressed sob was the first sound that fell upon my ear. Never can I
forget that moment!--her melting woe, as she sat stooping towards me;
the anguish expressed in my father's countenance, as he stood supporting
himself upon the back of her chair, his eyes bent on my face. I turned
myself upon my pillow, and gave vent to a flood of tears.

Before a word had been exchanged, the surgeon, to whose exertions I was
indebted for my restoration to life, entered. To his inquiries after me,
my mother answered, that, for the last few hours, I had been in a quiet
sleep, and had just moved and turned as if I had awakened; but that,
agreeable to his desire, she had not spoken to me. Without answering
her, he stooped over the bed to feel my pulse. I turned to him, and
inquired what had happened. A mutual explanation took place. That I had
attempted suicide, both he and my parents believed, until, to vindicate
myself, I gave them a minute account of the object I had in view in what
I had done. He listened with intense interest, not unmixed with
astonishment, as he gradually drew from me an account of my long train
of mental anguish. I could at once perceive that he did not ridicule me,
but rather sympathised with me, and blamed me much for not making my
case known long before, as it was not, he hoped, beyond the reach of
medicine. He told me of several cases in which he had been successful,
nearly similar to my own, although not to the extent of duration and
variety of change. The following, which had nearly been as fatal, and
would have been as inexplicable, made the greatest impression on me.

The subject of his narrative was the wife of a near neighbour of ours,
who had been dead for some years. At the time both were well stricken in
age, and remarkable both for their piety and walk in life. Their family,
the greater part of whom were alive, had all reached manhood, and were
engaged in active duties in different parts of the country. The old
couple themselves were living on the fruits of their early industry and
economy, in a small solitary cottage, calmly closing the evening of a
well-spent life. The first attack of the malady was sudden and severe,
its approach being unperceived by any one, even by the sufferer. Both
had spent the day at church, and returned, conversing with their
neighbours, until they reached their own cottage, where they sat reading
their Bible, or conversing on