I now come to the mention of a person with whose name
the most turbulent sensations are connected. It is with a
shuddering reluctance that I enter on the province of describing
him. Now it is that I begin to perceive the difficulty
of the task which I have undertaken; but it would
be weakness to shrink from it. My blood is congealed; and
my fingers are palsied when I call up his image. Shame
upon my cowardly and infirm heart! Hitherto I have proceeded
with some degree of composure, but now I must
pause. I mean not that dire remembrance shall subdue
my courage or baffle my design, but this weakness cannot
be immediately conquered. I must desist for a little while.

I have taken a few turns in my chamber, and have
gathered strength enough to proceed. Yet, have I not projected
a task beyond my power to execute? If thus, on the
very threshold of the scene, my knees falter and I sink,
how shall I support myself, when I rush into the midst of
horrors such as no heart has hitherto conceived, nor tongue
related? I sicken and recoil at the prospect, and yet my
irresolution is momentary. I have not formed this design

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

upon slight grounds, and though I may at times pause and
hesitate, I will not be finally diverted from it.

And thou, O most fatal and potent of mankind, in what
terms shall I describe thee? What words are adequate to
the just delineation of thy character? How shall I detail the
means which rendered the secrecy of thy purposes unfathomable?
But I will not anticipate. Let me recover,
if possible, a sober strain. Let me keep down the flood of
passion that would render me precipitate or powerless. Let
me stifle the agonies that are awakened by thy name. Let
me, for a time, regard thee as a being of no terrible attributes.
Let me tear myself from contemplation of the evils
of which it is but too certain that thou wast the author, and
limit my view to those harmless appearances which attended
thy entrance on the stage.

One sunny afternoon, I was standing in the door of my
house, when I marked a person passing close to the edge of
the bank that was in front. His pace was a careless and
lingering one, and had none of that gracefulness and ease
which distinguish a person with certain advantages of education
from a clown. His gait was rustic and awkward.
His form was ungainly and disproportioned. Shoulders
broad and square, breast sunken, his head drooping, his
body of uniform breadth, supported by long and lank legs,
were the ingredients of his frame. His garb was not ill
adapted to such a figure. A slouched hat, tarnished by the
weather, a coat of thick grey cloth, cut and wrought, as it
seemed, by a country tailor, blue worsted stockings, and
shoes fastened by thongs, and deeply discolored by dust,
which brush had never disturbed, constituted his dress.

There was nothing remarkable in these appearances;
they were frequently to be met with on the road, and in
the harvest field. I cannot tell why I gazed upon them,
on this occasion, with more than ordinary attention, unless
it were that such figures were seldom seen by me, except
on the road or field. This lawn was only traversed by men
whose views were directed to the pleasures of the walk, or
the grandeur of the scenery.

He passed slowly along, frequently pausing, as if to examine
the prospect more deliberately, but never turning his

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

eye towards the house, so as to allow me a view of his
countenance. Presently, he entered a copse at a small
distance, and disappeared. My eye followed him while he
remained in sight. If his image remained for any duration
in my fancy after his departure, it was because no other
object occurred sufficient to expel it.

I continued in the same spot for half an hour, vaguely,
and by fits, contemplating the image of this wanderer, and
drawing, from outward appearances, those inferences, with
respect to the intellectual history of this person, which
experience affords us. I reflected on the alliance which
commonly subsists between ignorance and the practice of
agriculture, and indulged myself in airy speculations as to
the influence of progressive knowledge in dissolving this alliance,
and embodying the dreams of the poets. I asked
why the plough and the hoe might not become the trade of
every human being, and how this trade might be made conducive
to, or, at least, consistent with the acquisition of wisdom
and eloquence.

Weary with these reflections, I returned to the kitchen to
perform some household office. I had usually but one
servant, and she was a girl about my own age. I was busy
near the chimney, and she was employed near the door of
the apartment, when some one knocked. The door was
opened by her, and she was immediately addressed with
“Pry'thee, good girl, canst thou supply a thirsty man with
a glass of buttermilk?” She answered that there was none
in the house. “Aye, but there is some in the dairy yonder.
Thou knowest as well as I, though Hermes never taught
thee, that though every dairy be a house, every house is not
a dairy.” To this speech, though she understood only a
part of it, she replied by repeating her assurances, that she
had none to give. “Well, then,” rejoined the stranger, “for
charity's sweet sake, hand me forth a cup of cold water.”
The girl said she would go to the spring and fetch it.
“Nay, give me the cup, and suffer me to help myself.
Neither manacled nor lame, I should merit burial in the maw
of carrion crows, if I laid this task upon thee. She gave
him the cup, and he turned to go to the spring.

I listened to this dialogue in silence The words uttered

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

by the person without, affected me as somewhat singular,
but what chiefly rendered them remarkable, was the tone
that accompanied them. It was wholly new. My brother's
voice and Pleyel's were musical and energetic. I had
fondly imagined, that, in this respect, they were surpassed
by none. Now my mistake was detected. I cannot pretend
to communicate the impression that was made upon
me by these accents, or to depict the degree in which force
and sweetness were blended in them. They were articulated
with a distinctness that was unexampled in my experience.
But this was not all. The voice was not only
mellifluent and clear, but the emphasis was so just, and the
modulation so impassioned, that it seemed as if a heart of
stone could not fail of being moved by it. It imparted to
me an emotion altogether involuntary and incontrolable.
When he uttered the words, “for charity's sweet sake,” I
dropped the cloth that I held in my hand, my heart overflowed
with sympathy, and my eyes with unbidden tears.

This description will appear to you trifling or incredible.
The importance of these circumstances will be manifested
in the sequel. The manner in which I was affected on this
occasion, was, to my own apprehension, a subject of astonishment.
The tones were indeed such as I never heard before;
but that they should, in an instant, as it were, dissolve
me in tears, will not easily be believed by others, and can
scarcely be comprehended by myself.

It will be readily supposed that I was somewhat inquisitive
as to the person and demeanor of our visitant. After a
moment's pause, I stepped to the door and looked after him.
Judge my surprise, when I beheld the self same figure that
had appeared a half hour before upon the bank. My
fancy had conjured up a very different image. A form,
and attitude, and garb, were instantly created worthy to accompany
such elocution; but this person was, in all visible
respects, the reverse of this phantom. Strange as it may
seem, I could not speedily reconcile myself to this disappointment.
Instead of returning to my employment, I threw
myself in a chair that was placed opposite the door, and
sunk into a fit of musing.

My attention was, in a few minutes, recalled by the

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

stranger, who returned with the empty cup in his hand. I
had not thought of the circumstance, or should certainly have
chosen a different seat. He no sooner shewed himself,
than a confused sense of impropriety, added to the suddenness
of the interview, for which, not having foreseen it, I
had made no preparation, threw me into a state of the most
painful embarrassment. He brought with him a placid
brow; but no sooner had he cast his eyes upon me than his
face was as glowingly suffused as my own. He placed
the cup upon the bench, stammered out thanks, and
retired.

It was some time before I could recover my wonted
composure. I had snatched a view of the stranger's countenance.
The impression that it made was vivid and indelible.
His cheeks were pallid and lank, his eyes sunken, his
forehead overshadowed by coarse straggling hairs, his teeth
large and irregular, though sound and brilliantly white, and
his chin discolored by a tetter. His skin was of coarse
grain, and sallow hue. Every feature was wide of beauty,
and the outline of his face reminded you of an inverted
cone.

And yet his forehead, so far as shaggy locks would allow
it to be seen, his eyes lustrously black, and possessing, in
the midst of haggardness, a radiance inexpressibly serene
and potent, and something in the rest of his features, which
it would be in vain to describe, but which served to betoken
a mind of the highest order, were essential ingredients in
the portrait. This, in the effects which immediately flowed
from it, I count among the most extraordinary incidents of my
life. This face, seen for a moment, continued for hours to
occupy my fancy, to the exclusion of almost every other
image. I had purposed to spend the evening with my
brother, but I could not resist the inclination of forming a
sketch upon paper of this memorable visage. Whether my
hand was aided by any peculiar inspiration, or I was deceived
by my own fond conceptions, this portrait, though
hastily executed, appeared unexceptionable to my own
taste.

I placed it at all distances, and in all lights; my eyes
were riveted upon it. Half the night passed away in

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

wakefulness and in contemplation of this picture. So flexible,
and yet so stubborn, is the human mind. So obedient to impulses
the most transient and brief, and yet so unalterably
observant of the direction which is given to it! How little
did I then foresee the termination of that chain, of which
this may be regarded as the first link?

Next day arose in darkness and storm. Torents of rain
fell during the whole day, attended with incessant thunder,
which reverberated in stunning echoes from the opposite
declivity. The inclemency of the air would not allow me
to walk out. I had, indeed, no inclination to leave my
apartment. I betook myself to the contemplation of this
portrait, whose attractions time had rather enhanced than
diminished. I laid aside my usual occupations, and seating
myself at a window, consumed the day in alternately looking
out upon the storm, and gazing at the picture which lay upon
a table before me. You will, perhaps, deem this conduct
somewhat singular, and ascribe it to certain peculiarities of
temper. I am not aware of any such peculiarities. I can
account for my devotion to this image no otherwise, than by
supposing that its properties were rare and prodigious. Perhaps
you will suspect that such were the first inroads of a
passion incident to every female heart, and which frequently
gains a footing by means even more slight, and more improbable
than these. I shall not controvert the reasonableness
of the suspicion, but leave you at liberty to draw, from my
narrative, what conclusions you please.

Night at length returned, and the storm ceased. The air
was once more clear and calm, and bore an affecting contrast
to that uproar of the elements by which it had been preceded.
I spent the darksome hours, as I spent the day,
contemplative and seated at the window. Why was my
mind absorbed in thoughts ominous and dreary? Why did
my bosom heave with sighs, and my eyes overflow with
tears? Was the tempest that had just past a signal of the
ruin which impended over me? My soul fondly dwelt
upon the images of my brother and his children, yet they
only increased the mournfulness of my contemplations.
The smiles of the charming babes were as bland as formerly.
The same dignity sat on the brow of their father, and yet I

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

thought of them with anguish. Something whispered that
the happiness we at present enjoyed was set on mutable
foundations. Death must happen to all. Whether our
felicity was to be subverted by it tomorrow, or whether it
was ordained that we should lay down our heads full of
years and of honor, was a question that no human being
could solve. At other times, these ideas seldom intruded.
I either forbore to reflect upon the destiny that is reserved
for all men, or the reflection was mixed up with images that
disrobed it of terror; but now the uncertainty of life occurred
to me without any of its usual and alleviating accompaniments.
I said to myself, we must die. Sooner or later,
we must disappear for ever from the face of the earth.
Whatever be the links that hold us to life, they must be
broken. This scene of existence is, in all its parts, calamitous.
The greater number is oppressed with immediate
evils, and those, the tide of whose fortunes is full, how small
is their portion of enjoyment, since they know that it will
terminate.

For some time I indulged myself, without reluctance, in
these gloomy thoughts; but at length, the dejection which
they produced became insupportably painful. I endeavored
to dissipate it with music. I had all my grandfather's melody
as well as poetry by rote. I now lighted by chance on
a ballad, which commemorated the fate of a German Cavalier,
who fell at the siege of Nice under Godfrey of Bouillon.
My choice was unfortunate, for the scenes of violence and
carnage which were here wildly but forcibly portrayed, only
suggested to my thoughts a new topic in the horrors of war.

I sought refuge, but ineffectually, in sleep. My mind
was thronged by vivid, but confused images, and no effort
that I made was sufficient to drive them away. In this situation
I heard the clock, which hung in the room, give the
signal for twelve. It was the same instrument which formerly
hung in my father's chamber, and which, on account
of its being his workmanship, was regarded, by every one of
our family, with veneration. It had fallen to me, in the division
of his property, and was placed in this asylum. The
sound awakened a series of reflections respecting his death.
I was not allowed to pursue them; for scarcely had the

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

vibrations ceased, when my attention was attracted by a whisper,
which, at first, appeared to proceed from lips that were
laid close to my ear.

No wonder that a circumstance like this startled me. In
the first impulse of my terror, I uttered a slight scream, and
shrunk to the opposite side of the bed. In a moment, however,
I recovered from my trepidation. I was habitually indifferent
to all the causes of fear, by which the majority are
afflicted. I entertained no apprehension of either ghosts or
robbers. Our security had never been molested by either,
and I made use of no means to prevent or counterwork
their machinations. My tranquillity, on this occasion, was
quickly retrieved. The whisper evidently proceeded from
one who was posted at my bedside. The first idea that
suggested itself was, that it was uttered by the girl who lived
with me as a servant. Perhaps, somewhat had alarmed
her, or she was sick, and had come to request my assistance.
By whispering in my ear, she intended to rouse without
alarming me.

Full of this persuasion, I called; “Judith,” said I, “is it
you? What do you want? Is there any thing the matter
with you?” No answer was returned. I repeated my inquiry,
but equally in vain. Cloudy as was the atmosphere,
and curtained as my bed was, nothing was visible. I withdrew
the curtain, and leaning my head on my elbow, I listened
with the deepest attention to catch some new sound.
Meanwhile, I ran over in my thoughts, every circumstance
that could assist my conjectures.

My habitation was a wooden edifice, consisting of two
stories. In each story were two rooms, separated by an
entry, or middle passage, with which they communicated by
opposite doors. The passage, on the lower story, had doors
at the two ends, and a staircase. Windows answered to the
doors on the upper story. Annexed to this, on the eastern
side, were wings, divided, in like manner, into an upper and
lower room; one of them comprised a kitchen, and chamber
above it for the servant, and communicated, on both stories,
with the parlor adjoining it below, and the chamber adjoining
it above. The opposite wing is of smaller dimensions,
the rooms not being above eight feet square. The lower of

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

these was used as a depository of household implements, the
upper was a closet in which I deposited my books and
papers. They had but one inlet, which was from the
room adjoining. There was no window in the lower one,
and in the upper, a small aperture which communicated
light and air, but would scarcely admit the body. The door
which led into this, was close to my bed-head, and was
always locked, but when I myself was within. The avenues
below were accustomed to be closed and bolted at nights.

The maid was my only companion, and she could not
reach my chamber without previously passing through the
opposite chamber, and the middle passage, of which, however,
the doors were usually unfastened. If she had occasioned
this noise, she would have answered my repeated
calls. No other conclusion, therefore, was left me, but
that I had mistaken the sounds, and that my imagination
had transformed some casual noise into the voice of a human
creature. Satisfied with this solution, I was preparing
to relinquish my listening attitude, when my ear was
again saluted with a new and yet louder whispering. It appeared,
as before, to issue from lips that touched my pillow.
A second effort of attention, however, clearly shewed
me, that the sounds issued from within the closet, the door
of which was not more than eight inches from my pillow.

This second interruption occasioned a shock less vehement
than the former. I started, but gave no audible token
of alarm. I was so much mistress of my feelings, as to
continue listening to what should be said. The whisper
was distinct, hoarse, and uttered so as to shew that the
speaker was desirous of being heard by some one near,
but, at the same time, studious to avoid being overheard
by any other.

“Stop, stop, I say; madman as you are! there are better
means than that. Curse upon your rashness! There
is no need to shoot.”

Such were the words uttered in a tone of eagerness and
anger, within so small a distance of my pillow. What construction
could I put upon them? My heart began to palpitate
with dread of some unknown danger. Presently,
another voice, but equally near me, was heard whispering

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

in answer. “Why not? I will draw a trigger in this business,
but perdition be my lot if I do more.” To this, the
first voice returned, in a tone which rage had heightened in
a small degree above a whisper, “Coward! stand aside,
and see me do it. I will grasp her throat; I will do her
business in an instant; she shall not have time so much as
to groan.” What wonder that I was petrified by sounds
so dreadful! Murderers lurked in my closet. They were
planning the means of my destruction. One resolved to
shoot, and the other menaced suffocation. Their means
being chosen, they would forthwith break the door. Flight
instantly suggested itself as most eligible in circumstances
so perilous. I deliberated not a moment; but, fear adding
wings to my speed, I leaped out of bed, and scantily robed
as I was, rushed out of the chamber, down stairs, and into
the open air. I can hardly recollect the process of turning
keys, and withdrawing bolts. My terrors urged me forward
with almost a mechanical impulse. I stopped not
till I reached my brother's door. I had not gained the
threshold, when, exhausted by the violence of my emotions,
and by my speed, I sunk down in a fit.

How long I remained in this situation I know not. When
I recovered, I found myself stretched on a bed, surrounded
by my sister and her female servants. I was astonished at
the scene before me, but gradually recovered the recollection
of what had happened. I answered their importunate
inquiries as well as I was able. My brother and Pleyel,
whom the storm of the preceding day chanced to detain
here, informing themselves of every particular, proceeded
with lights and weapons to my deserted habitation. They
entered my chamber and my closet, and found every thing in
its proper place and customary order. The door of the closet
was locked, and appeared not to have been opened in my
absence. They went to Judith's apartment. They found
her asleep and in safety. Pleyel's caution induced him to
forbear alarming the girl; and finding her wholly ignorant
of what had passed, they directed her to return to her
chamber. They then fastened the doors, and returned.

My friends were disposed to regard this transaction as a
dream. That persons should be actually immured in this

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

closet, to which, in the circumstances of the time, access
from without or within was apparently impossible, they
could not seriously believe. That any human beings had
intended murder, unless it were to cover a scheme of pillage,
was incredible; but that no such design had been
formed, was evident from the security in which the furniture
of the house and the closet remained.

I revolved every incident and expression that had occurred.
My senses assured me of the truth of them, and yet
their abruptness and improbability made me, in my turn,
somewhat incredulous. The adventure had made a deep
impression on my fancy, and it was not till after a week's
abode at my brother's, that I resolved to resume the possession
of my own dwelling.

There was another circumstance that enhanced the mysteriousness
of this event. After my recovery it was obvious
to inquire by what means the attention of the family had been
drawn to my situation. I had fallen before I had reached
the threshold, or was able to give any signal. My brother
related, that while this was transacting in my chamber, he
himself was awake, in consequence of some slight indisposition,
and lay, according to his custom, musing on some
favorite topic. Suddenly the silence, which was remarkably
profound, was broken by a voice of most piercing
shrillness, that seemed to be uttered by one in the hall below
his chamber. “Awake! arise!” it exclaimed, “hasten
to succor one that is dying at your door.”

This summons was effectual. There was no one in the
house who was not roused by it. Pleyel was the first to
obey, and my brother overtook him before he reached the
hall. What was the general astonishment when your friend
was discovered stretched upon the grass before the door,
pale, ghastly, and with every mark of death!

This was the third instance of a voice, exerted for the
benefit of this little community. The agent was no less inscrutable
in this, than in the former case. When I ruminated
upon these events, my soul was suspended in wonder
and awe. Was I really deceived in imagining that I
heard the closet conversation? I was no longer at liberty
to question the reality of those accents which had formerly

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

recalled my brother from the hill; which had imparted
tidings of the death of the German lady to Pleyel; and
which had lately summoned them to my assistance.

But how was I to regard this midnight conversation?
Hoarse and manlike voices conferring on the means of
death, so near my bed, and at such an hour! How had
my ancient security vanished! That dwelling, which had
hitherto been an inviolate asylum, was now beset with danger
to my life. That solitude, formerly so dear to me,
could no longer be endured. Pleyel, who had consented
to reside with us during the months of spring, lodged in the
vacant chamber, in order to quiet my alarms. He treated
my fears with ridicule, and in a short time very slight traces
of them remained; but as it was wholly indifferent to him
whether his nights were passed at my house or at my brother's,
this arrangement gave general satisfaction.