me to invectives if not to stripes. This
circumstance induced me to be silent to all others, on the subject of my
discovery. But, added to this, was a confused belief, that it might
be made, in some way instrumental to my relief from the hardships and
restraints of my present condition. For some time I was not aware of the
mode in which it might be rendered subservient to this end.

Chapter II.

My father's sister was an ancient lady, resident in Philadelphia, the
relict of a merchant, whose decease left her the enjoyment of a frugal
competence. She was without children, and had often expressed her desire
that her nephew Frank, whom she always considered as a sprightly and
promising lad, should be put under her care. She offered to be at the
expense of my education, and to bequeath to me at her death her slender
patrimony.

This arrangement was obstinately rejected by my father, because it was
merely fostering and giving scope to propensities, which he considered
as hurtful, and because his avarice desired that this inheritance
should fall to no one but himself. To me, it was a scheme of ravishing
felicity, and to be debarred from it was a source of anguish known to
few. I had too much experience of my father's pertinaciousness ever to
hope for a change in his views; yet the bliss of living with my aunt,
in a new and busy scene, and in the unbounded indulgence of my literary
passion, continually occupied my thoughts: for a long time these
thoughts were productive only of despondency and tears.

Time only enhanced the desirableness of this scheme; my new faculty
would naturally connect itself with these wishes, and the question could
not fail to occur whether it might not aid me in the execution of my
favourite plan.

A thousand superstitious tales were current in the family. Apparitions
had been seen, and voices had been heard on a multitude of occasions. My
father was a confident believer in supernatural tokens. The voice of
his wife, who had been many years dead, had been twice heard at midnight
whispering at his pillow. I frequently asked myself whether a scheme
favourable to my views might not be built upon these foundations.
Suppose (thought I) my mother should be made to enjoin upon him
compliance with my wishes?

This idea bred in me a temporary consternation. To imitate the voice of
the dead, to counterfeit a commission from heaven, bore the aspect of
presumption and impiety. It seemed an offence wh