up in admiration, and
declare that it appeared almost sinful for an old man like him to enjoy
himself so keenly. I know not when I more deeply felt the happiness and
the holiness of existence, the wealth of intellect, and the blessings of
our fancies, sympathies, and affection, than I used to do as this
singular stranger sate with me on the turf-seat at the vine-covered end
of the old cottage, which then made my temporary residence, on the
serene evenings of that season, over our rustic tea-table, and with the
spicy breath of the wall-flowers of that little garden breathing around
us, and held conversation on many a subject of moral and intellectual
speculation which then deeply interested me. In some of those evening
hours he at length gave me glimpses into his past existence. Things more
strange and melancholy than I could ever have suspected had passed over
him, and only the more interested me in him.

Such had been our acquaintance for some months, when, one evening,
happening to be in the neighboring town, and passing through a
densely-populated part of it, I saw a number of people crowding into a
chapel. With my usual curiosity in all that relates to the life, habits,
and opinions of my fellow-men, I entered, and was no little surprised to
behold my ancient friend in the pulpit. As I believed he had not
observed me enter, and as I was desirous to hear my worthy friend, thus
most unexpectedly found in this situation, without attracting his
attention, I therefore seated myself in the shade of a pillar, and
awaited the sermon. My surprise, as I listened to it, was excessive, on
more accounts than one. I was surprised at the intense, fervid, and
picturesque blaze of eloquence that breathed forth from the preacher,
seeming to light up the whole place, and fill it with an unearthly and
cloudy fire. I was more astonished by the singularity and wildness of
the sentiments uttered. I looked again and again at the rapt and
ecstatic preacher. His frame seemed to expand, and to be buoyed up, by
his glowing enthusiasm, above the very height of humanity. His hair,
white as snow, seemed a pale glory burning round his head, and his
countenance, warm with the expression of his entranced spirit, was
molten into the visage of a pleading seraph, who saw the terrors of the
Divinity revealed before him, and felt only that they for whom he
wrestled were around him. _They_ hung upon that awful and unearthly
countenance with an intensity