uently seems so impertinent, for I could write
at midnight very well without a candle. I contemplated all Nature at
rest; the rocks, even grown darker in their appearance, looked as if they
partook of the general repose, and reclined more heavily on their
foundation. "What," I exclaimed, "is this active principle which keeps
me still awake? Why fly my thoughts abroad, when everything around me
appears at home?" My child was sleeping with equal calmness--innocent
and sweet as the closing flowers. Some recollections, attached to the
idea of home, mingled with reflections respecting the state of society I
had been contemplating that evening, made a tear drop on the rosy cheek I
had just kissed, and emotions that trembled on the brink of ecstasy and
agony gave a poignancy to my sensations which made me feel more alive
than usual.

What are these imperious sympathies? How frequently has melancholy and
even misanthropy taken possession of me, when the world has disgusted me,
and friends have proved unkind. I have then considered myself as a
particle broken off from the grand mass of mankind; I was alone, till
some involuntary sympathetic emotion, like the attraction of adhesion,
made me feel that I was still a part of a mighty whole, from which I
could not sever myself--not, perhaps, for the reflection has been carried
very far, by snapping the thread of an existence, which loses its charms
in proportion as the cruel experience of life stops or poisons the
current of the heart. Futurity, what hast thou not to give to those who
know that there is such a thing as happiness! I speak not of
philosophical contentment, though pain has afforded them the strongest
conviction of it.

After our coffee and milk--for the mistress of the house had been roused
long before us by her hospitality--my baggage was taken forward in a boat
by my host, because the car could not safely have been brought to the
house.

The road at first was very rocky and troublesome, but our driver was
careful, and the horses accustomed to the frequent and sudden acclivities
and descents; so that, not apprehending any danger, I played with my
girl, whom I would not leave to Marguerite's care, on account of her
timidity.

Stopping at a little inn to bait the horses, I saw the first countenance
in Sweden that displeased me, though the man was better dressed than any
one who had as yet fallen in my way. An altercation took place between
him and my host,