terious faculty, by which, in coming
calamities, the dread of some fearful evil is anticipated, and that it
is possible to catch a dark presentiment of the sensations which they
subsequently produce. For my part I can neither analyze nor define it;
but on that day I knew it by painful experience, and so have a thousand
others in similar circumstances.

It was about the middle of winter. The day was gloomy and tempestuous,
almost beyond any other I remember; dark clouds rolled over the hills
about me, and a close sleet-like rain fell in slanting drifts that
chased each other rapidly towards the earth on the course of the blast.
The outlying cattle sought the closest and calmest corners of the fields
for shelter; the trees and young groves were tossed about, for the wind
was so unusually high that it swept in hollow gusts through them, with
that hoarse murmur which deepens so powerfully on the mind the sense of
dreariness and desolation.

As the shades of night fell, the storm, if possible, increased. The moon
was half gone, and only a few stars were visible by glimpses, as a rush
of wind left a temporary opening in the sky. I had determined, if the
storm should not abate, to incur any penalty rather than attend the
meeting; but the appointed hour was distant, and I resolved to be
decided by the future state of the night.

Ten o'clock came, but still there was no change: eleven passed, and on
opening the door to observe if there were any likelihood of its clearing
up, a blast of wind, mingled with rain, nearly blew me off my feet. At
length it was approaching to the hour of midnight; and on examining it a
third time, I found it had calmed a little, and no longer rained.

I instantly got my oak stick, muffled myself in my great coat, strapped
my hat about my ears, and, as the place of meeting was only a quarter of
a mile distant, I presently set out.

The appearance of the heavens was lowering and angry, particularly in
that point where the light of the moon fell against the clouds, from a
seeming chasm in them, through which alone she was visible. The edges of
this chasm were faintly bronzed, but the dense body of the masses that
hung piled on each side of her, was black and inpenetrable to sight. In
no other point of the heavens was there any part of the sky visible;
a deep veil of clouds overhung the whole horizon, yet was the light
sufficient to give occasional glimpses of the rapid shifting which took
place in th