subjects derived from it, until the
herd-boy brought home the cow from the common pasture. On looking up,
the woman saw the cow standing and lowing at the byre door. She rose
from her seat, and went to admit and attend to the welcome guest. She
did not return to the house after an unusually protracted stay; and her
husband, beginning to be uneasy, and fearful lest the cow might have
kicked or hurt her, went to ascertain the cause of her tarrying. Struck
with horror, he found her talking in a fearful strain to an imaginary
second person, the cow still uncared for, and the milking-pail upside
down, she standing upon the bottom, busy adjusting a halter to one of
the beams, and imploring the ideal person not to go until she could get
all ready to accompany him to that happy land of which he spoke, and to
which he showed her the way. Her distressed husband, rushing forward,
clasped her in his arms as she was putting the noose over her head. She
screamed and resisted with all her energies, calling upon the phantom to
rescue her from her cruel husband. For several weeks she remained in
this state, confined and strictly watched. The surgeon succeeded in
subduing the disease; and when reason returned, she had no consciousness
of anything that had happened during the interval; but, with a grateful
heart, returned thanks to God for preservation and recovery.

My pride was wounded to observe that the surgeon thought I was insane,
for he quoted the above case as a parallel to mine. This I remonstrated
against; and, although I could perceive a credulous smile upon his
features, I at once cheerfully agreed to put myself under his care. When
he retired for the evening, I found that I was indebted for my escape
from death to a strange circumstance--the death of my uncle, my father's
brother, who had returned from the West Indies some years before with
considerable wealth and a broken constitution. We had never seen him
since his return. Prosperity had brought to him no pleasure, riches no
enjoyment. From being one of the most joyous and liberal of lads before
he left home, he had returned to his country sullen and avaricious; with
all his wealth, a poorer man, in mind, than when he left it--suffering
from a continued dread of poverty, and the victim of hypochondria.

"Poor John!" my father would say, "how I pity you! Your money is not
your own; you are only the gatherer for some other person. You dare not
enjoy a shilling; neither can y