ABSTRACT
The house was perfectly still within, but the wind blew shrilly round the outside, as it descended in frequent gusts from the neighbouring mountains. The book which I had chosen to amuse me, was of little service, for the perpetually busy intruder, Th ought, prevented my attending to the effusions of fancy, while such mysterious realities demanded my attention. As I contemplated the retrospect of my past life, I found that the prominent events had been in general anticipated by a presentiment, as extraordinary as it was certain. The impression of the moment when I called this circumstance to mind, rather inspired me with a calm and steady resolution, than any anticipation of approaching trials. I opened my book, hurried over a few pages, made two or three turns round the room, arranged my fire, and again, with a vacant eye, read several lines, without knowing the subject or even the words they presented. Finding that books could not divert the mind from the pressure of thought, I laid my volume on the table, and with folded arms began to muse without interruption.
