my story which terminated with my departure, as his companion,
for Europe, his pauses were, I thought, a little longer and more museful
than I liked. At this period, our first conference ended. After a talk,
which had commenced at a late hour, and had continued many hours, it was
time to sleep, and it was agreed that next morning the conference should
be renewed.

On retiring to my pillow, and reviewing all the circumstances of this
interview, my mind was filled with apprehension and disquiet. I seemed
to recollect a thousand things, which showed that Ludloe was not fully
satisfied with my part in this interview. A strange and nameless mixture
of wrath and of pity appeared, on recollection, in the glances which,
from time to time, he cast upon me. Some emotion played upon his
features, in which, as my fears conceived, there was a tincture of
resentment and ferocity. In vain I called my usual sophistries to
my aid. In vain I pondered on the inscrutable nature of my peculiar
faculty. In vain I endeavoured to persuade myself, that, by telling the
truth, instead of entitling myself to Ludloe's approbation, I should
only excite his anger, by what he could not but deem an attempt to
impose upon his belief an incredible tale of impossible events. I had
never heard or read of any instance of this faculty. I supposed the case
to be absolutely singular, and I should be no more entitled to credit in
proclaiming it, than if I should maintain that a certain billet of wood
possessed the faculty of articulate speech. It was now, however,
too late to retract. I had been guilty of a solemn and deliberate
concealment. I was now in the path in which there was no turning back,
and I must go forward.

The return of day's encouraging beams in some degree quieted my
nocturnal terrors, and I went, at the appointed hour, to Ludloe's
presence. I found him with a much more cheerful aspect than I expected,
and began to chide myself, in secret, for the folly of my late
apprehensions.

After a little pause, he reminded me, that he was only one among many,
engaged in a great and arduous design. As each of us, continued he, is
mortal, each of us must, in time, yield his post to another.--Each of us
is ambitious to provide himself a successor, to have his place filled
by one selected and instructed by himself. All our personal feelings and
affections are by no means intended to be swallowed up by a passion for
the general interest; when they can be