ed my attention. Here my sadness was converted into
peaceful melancholy--here my slumbers were sound, and my pleasures
enhanced.

"As most free from interruption, I chose this as the scene of my
midnight interviews with Judith. One evening, as the sun declined, I was
seated here, when I was alarmed by your approach. It was with difficulty
that I effected my escape unnoticed by you.

"At the customary hour, I returned to your habitation, and was made
acquainted by Judith, with your unusual absence. I half suspected the
true cause, and felt uneasiness at the danger there was that I should be
deprived of my retreat; or, at least, interrupted in the possession
of it. The girl, likewise, informed me, that among your other
singularities, it was not uncommon for you to leave your bed, and walk
forth for the sake of night-airs and starlight contemplations.

"I desired to prevent this inconvenience. I found you easily swayed
by fear. I was influenced, in my choice of means, by the facility and
certainty of that to which I had been accustomed. All that I forsaw was,
that, in future, this spot would be cautiously shunned by you.

"I entered the recess with the utmost caution, and discovered, by your
breathings, in what condition you were. The unexpected interpretation
which you placed upon my former proceeding, suggested my conduct on
the present occasion. The mode in which heaven is said by the poet, to
interfere for the prevention of crimes, [**] was somewhat analogous to my
province, and never failed to occur to me at seasons like this. It
was requisite to break your slumbers, and for this end I uttered the
powerful monosyllable, "hold! hold!" My purpose was not prescribed by
duty, yet surely it was far from being atrocious and inexpiable. To
effect it, I uttered what was false, but it was well suited to my
purpose. Nothing less was intended than to injure you. Nay, the evil
resulting from my former act, was partly removed by assuring you that in
all places but this you were safe.

* BILOQUIUM, or ventrilocution. Sound is varied according to
the variations of direction and distance. The art of the
ventriloquist consists in modifying his voice according to
all these variations, without changing his place. See the
work of the Abbe de la Chappelle, in which are accurately
recorded the performances of one of these artists, and some
ingenious, though unsatisfactory speculations are given on