sart mountains, pain is
thickly sown, and if we can tear up but one of these noxious weeds, or
more, if in its stead we can sow one seed of corn, or plant one fair
flower, let that be motive sufficient against suicide. Let us not
desert our task while there is the slightest hope that we may in a
future day do this.

"Indeed I dare not die. I have a mother whose support and hope I am. I
have a friend who loves me as his life, and in whose breast I should
infix a mortal sting if I ungratefully left him. So I will not die.
Nor shall you, my friend; cheer up; cease to weep, I entreat you. Are
you not young, and fair, and good? Why should you despair? Or if you
must for yourself, why for others? If you can never be happy, can you
never bestow happiness[?] Oh! believe me, if you beheld on lips pale
with grief one smile of joy and gratitude, and knew that you were
parent of that smile, and that without you it had never been, you
would feel so pure and warm a happiness that you would wish to live
for ever again and again to enjoy the same pleasure[.]

"Come, I see that you have already cast aside the sad thoughts you
before franticly indulged. Look in that mirror; when I came your brow
was contracted, your eyes deep sunk in your head, your lips quivering;
your hands trembled violently when I took them; but now all is
tranquil and soft. You are grieved and there is grief in the
expression of your countenance but it is gentle and sweet. You allow
me to throw away this cursed drink; you smile; oh, Congratulate me,
hope is triumphant, and I have done some good."

These words are shadowy as I repeat them but they were indeed words of
fire and produced a warm hope in me (I, miserable wretch, to hope!)
that tingled like pleasure in my veins. He did not leave me for many
hours; not until he had improved the spark that he had kindled, and
with an angelic hand fostered the return of somthing that seemed like
joy. He left me but I still was calm, and after I had saluted the
starry sky and dewy earth with eyes of love and a contented good
night, I slept sweetly, visited by dreams, the first of pleasure I had
had for many long months.

But this was only a momentary relief and my old habits of feeling
returned; for I was doomed while in life to grieve, and to the natural
sorrow of my father's death and its most terrific cause, immagination
added a tenfold weight of woe. I believed myself to be polluted by the
unnatural love I had inspir