is dreams of paradise below: and then he
contemplated his present condition, and notwithstanding his resolution
was unabated, yet in spite of all his struggles, a tear bedewed his
cheek. He felt that his fate was hard, but he _knew_ that his course
was proper, and he resolved to fulfil his vow. But with his sadness,
gloomy forebodings, and deep and unusual thoughts obtruded. In the
scene of death and carnage that was about to ensue, it occurred to him
more than once that it might be his lot to fall. This was a painful
thought. He was brave in conflict, and would not have hesitated to
rush reckless into the midst of danger; but he was calm now, and the
thought of death was appalling. He would have preferred to die on a
nobler field, if he were to fall in battle. He did not wish to die in
his _youth_, to be cut off, without accomplishing the many ends he had
so often meditated, and without reaping a few of the sweets of life as
the reward of his voluntary sacrifice. He also desired to appear once
more in the busy and detracting world, to vindicate the character that
might have been unjustly aspersed, to reward the true friendship of
those whose confidence had never been shaken, and to rebuke, perhaps
forgive, the enemies who had recklessly pursued him. But another, and
yet a more stirring and important thought obtruded upon his
reflections. It was one he had never seriously considered before, and
it now operated upon him with irresistible power. It was a thought of
things _beyond_ the grave. The stillness of midnight, the million
stars above him, the blue eternal expanse through which they were
distributed--the repose of the invisible winds, that late had howled
around him--the never-ceasing flow of the ice-bound stream before him,
and the continual change of hill and valley--now desolate, and clothed
in frosty vestments, and anon with verdure and variegated
beauty--constrained him to acknowledge in the secret portals of his
breast that there was a great, ever-existing Creator. He then called
to mind the many impressive lessons of a pious mother, which he had
subsequently disregarded. He remembered the things she had read to him
in the book of books--the words of prayer she taught him to utter
every eve, ere he closed his eyes in slumber--and he _now_ repeated
that humble petition with all the fervency of a chastened spirit. He
felt truly convinced of the fallacy of setting the heart and the
affections altogether on the th