to doubt, and yet a few who will find much
to ponder upon in the characters here graven with a stylus of iron.

The year had been a year of terror, and of feeling more intense than
terror for which there is no name upon the earth. For many prodigies and
signs had taken place, and far and wide, over sea and land, the black
wings of the Pestilence were spread abroad. To those, nevertheless,
cunning in the stars, it was not unknown that the heavens wore an aspect
of ill; and to me, the Greek Oinos, among others, it was evident that
now had arrived the alternation of that seven hundred and ninety-fourth
year when, at the entrance of Aries, the planet Jupiter is enjoined with
the red ring of the terrible Saturnus. The peculiar spirit of the skies,
if I mistake not greatly, made itself manifest, not only in the physical
orb of the earth, but in the souls, imaginations, and meditations of
mankind.

Over some flasks of the red Chian wine, within the walls of a noble
hall, in a dim city called Ptolemais, we sat, at night, a company of
seven. And to our chamber there was no entrance save by a lofty door of
brass: and the door was fashioned by the artisan Corinnos, and, being of
rare workmanship, was fastened from within. Black draperies, likewise in
the gloomy room, shut out from our view the moon, the lurid stars, and
the peopleless streets--but the boding and the memory of Evil, they
would not be so excluded. There were things around us and about of which
I can render no distinct account--things material and spiritual--
heaviness in the atmosphere--a sense of suffocation--anxiety--and, above
all, that terrible state of existence which the nervous experience when
the senses are keenly living and awake, and meanwhile the powers of
thought lie dormant. A dead weight hung upon us. It hung upon our
limbs--upon the household furniture--upon the goblets from which we
drank; and all things were depressed, and borne down thereby--all things
save only the flames of the seven iron lamps which illumined our revel.
Uprearing themselves in tall slender lines of light, they thus remained
burning all pallid and motionless; and in the mirror which their lustre
formed upon the round table of ebony at which we sat each of us there
assembled beheld the pallor of his own countenance, and the unquiet
glare in the downcast eyes of his companions. Yet we laughed and were
merry in our proper way--which was hysterical; and sang the songs of
Anacreon--