Frankenstein

LETTER I


_To Mrs. Saville, England_


ST. PETERSBURGH, _Dec. 11, 17--._



You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the
commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such
evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday; and my first
task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare, and increasing
confidence in the success of my undertaking.

I am already far north of London; and as I walk in the streets
of Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my
cheeks, which braces my nerves, and fills me with delight.
Do you understand this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled
from the regions towards which I am advancing, gives me a
foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by this wind of
promise, my day dreams become more fervent and vivid. I try in
vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of frost and
desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the
region of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for
ever visible; its broad disk just skirting the horizon, and
diffusing a perpetual splendour. There--for with your leave,
my sister, I will put some trust in preceding navigators--there
snow and frost are banished; and, sailing over a calm sea, we
may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in beauty
every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe.
Its productions and features may be without example, as the
phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those
undiscovered solitudes. What may not be expected in a country
of eternal light? I may there discover the wondrous power which
attracts the needle; and may regulate a thousand celestial
observations, that require only this voyage to render their
seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I shall satiate my
ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never
before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by
the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are
sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death, and to
induce me to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a
child feels when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday
mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river. But,
supposing all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest
the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all mankind to
the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole to
those countries, to reach which at present so many months are
requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which,
if at all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such
as mine.

These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I
began my letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm
which elevates me to heaven; for nothing contributes so much to
tranquillise the mind as a steady purpose--a point on which the
soul may fix its intellectual eye. This expedition has been
the favourite dream of my early years. I have read with ardour
the accounts of the various voyages which have been made in the
prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean through the
seas which surround the pole. You may remember that a history
of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the
whole of our good uncle Thomas's library. My education was
neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading. These
volumes were my study day and night, and my familiarity with
them increased that regret which I had felt, as a child, on
learning that my father's dying injunction had forbidden my
uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.

These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those
poets whose effusions entranced my soul, and lifted it to
heaven. I also became a poet, and for one year lived in a
Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might
obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and
Shakspeare are consecrated. You are well acquainted with my
failure, and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just
at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my
thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.

Six years have passed since I resolved on my present
undertaking. I can, even now, remember the hour from which I
dedicated myself to this great enterprise. I commenced by
inuring my body to hardship. I accompanied the whale-fishers
on several expeditions to the North Sea; I voluntarily endured
cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often worked harder
than the common sailors during the day, and devoted my nights
to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those
branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer
might derive the greatest practical advantage. Twice I
actually hired myself as an under-mate in a Greenland whaler,
and acquitted myself to admiration. I must own I felt a little
proud when my captain offered me the second dignity in the
vessel, and entreated me to remain with the greatest
earnestness; so valuable did he consider my services.

And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some
great purpose? My life might have been passed in ease and
luxury; but I preferred glory to every enticement that wealth
placed in my path. Oh, that some encouraging voice would
answer in the affirmative! My courage and my resolution is
firm; but my hopes fluctuate and my spirits are often
depressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult
voyage, the emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude:
I am required not only to raise the spirits of others, but
sometimes to sustain my own, when theirs are failing.

This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia.
They fly quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is
pleasant, and, in my opinion, far more agreeable than that of
an English stage-coach. The cold is not excessive, if you are
wrapped in furs--a dress which I have already adopted; for
there is a great difference between walking the deck and
remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise
prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins.
I have no ambition to lose my life on the post-road between
St. Petersburgh and Archangel.

I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three
weeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can
easily be done by paying the insurance for the owner, and to
engage as many sailors as I think necessary among those who are
accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not intend to sail until
the month of June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister,
how can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many
months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet.
If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never.

Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down
blessings on you, and save me, that I may again and again
testify my gratitude for all your love and kindness.--Your
affectionate brother,
R. WALTON.


LETTER II

_To Mrs. Saville, England_


_ARCHANGEL, March 28th, 17--._

How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost
and snow! yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise.
I have hired a vessel, and am occupied in collecting my sailors;
those whom I have already engaged appear to be men on whom I
can depend, and are certainly possessed of dauntless courage.

But I have one want which I have never yet been able to
satisfy; and the absence of the object of which I now feel as
a most severe evil. I have no friend, Margaret: when I am
glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to
participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no
one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I shall commit
my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for
the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man
who could sympathise with me; whose eyes would reply to mine.
You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel
the want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet
courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capacious
mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve or amend my plans.
How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother!
I am too ardent in execution, and too impatient of difficulties.
But it is a still greater evil to me that I am self-educated:
for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a common,
and read nothing but our uncle Thomas's books of voyages.
At that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets
of our own country; but it was only when it had ceased to be
in my power to derive its most important benefits from such
a conviction that I perceived the necessity of becoming
acquainted with more languages than that of my native country.
Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate than
many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more,
and that my day dreams are more extended and magnificent; but
they want (as the painters call it) _keeping_; and I greatly need
a friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic,
and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.

Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no
friend on the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among
merchants and seamen. Yet some feelings, unallied to the dross
of human nature, beat even in these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant,
for instance, is a man of wonderful courage and enterprise;
he is madly desirous of glory: or rather, to word my phrase more
characteristically, of advancement in his profession. He is
an Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional
prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest
endowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him on
board a whale vessel: finding that he was unemployed in this city,
I easily engaged him to assist in my enterprise.

The master is a person of an excellent disposition, and is
remarkable in the ship for his gentleness and the mildness of
his discipline. This circumstance, added to his well known
integrity and dauntless courage, made me very desirous to
engage him. A youth passed in solitude, my best years spent
under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the
groundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense
distaste to the usual brutality exercised on board ship: I have
never believed it to be necessary; and when I heard of a
mariner equally noted for his kindliness of heart, and the
respect and obedience paid to him by his crew, I felt myself
peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his services.
I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a lady
who owes to him the happiness of her life. This, briefly, is
his story. Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady of
moderate fortune; and having amassed a considerable sum in
prize-money, the father of the girl consented to the match.
He saw his mistress once before the destined ceremony; but she
was bathed in tears, and, throwing herself at his feet, entreated
him to spare her, confessing at the same time that she loved
another, but that he was poor, and that her father would never
consent to the union. My generous friend reassured the
suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover,
instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm
with his money, on which he had desired to pass the remainder
of his life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together
with the remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then
himself solicited the young woman's father to consent to her
marriage with her lover. But the old man decidedly refused,
thinking himself bound in honour to my friend; who, when he
found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor returned
until he heard that his former mistress was married according
to her inclinations. "What a noble fellow!" you will exclaim.
He is so; but then he is wholly uneducated: he is as silent as
a Turk, and a kind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which,
while it renders his conduct the more astonishing, detracts
from the interest and sympathy which otherwise he would command.

Yet do not suppose, because I complain a little, or because I
can conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know,
that I am wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as
fate; and my voyage is only now delayed until the weather shall
permit my embarkation. The winter has been dreadfully severe;
but the spring promises well, and it is considered as a
remarkably early season; so that perhaps I may sail sooner than
I expected. I shall do nothing rashly: you know me
sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness
whenever the safety of others is committed to my care.

I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of
my undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a
conception of the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and
half fearful, with which I am preparing to depart. I am going
to unexplored regions, to "the land of mist and snow;" but I
shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be alarmed for my
safety, or if I should come back to you as worn and woeful as
the "Ancient Mariner?" You will smile at my allusion; but I
will disclose a secret. I have often attributed my attachment
to, my passionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of
ocean, to that production of the most imaginative of modern
poets. There is something at work in my soul which I do not
understand. I am practically industrious--painstaking;--a
workman to execute with perseverance and labour:--but besides
this, there is a love for the marvellous, a belief in the
marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me
out of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and
unvisited regions I am about to explore.

But to return to dearer considerations. Shall I meet you
again, after having traversed immense seas, and returned by the
most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare not expect
such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the
picture. Continue for the present to write to me by every
opportunity: I may receive your letters on some occasions when
I need them most to support my spirits. I love you very tenderly.
Remember me with affection, should you never hear from me
again.--Your affectionate brother,

ROBERT WALTON.


LETTER III

_To Mrs. Saville, England_
_July 7th, 17--._


MY DEAR SISTER,--I write a few lines in haste, to say that I am
safe, and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach
England by a merchantman now on its homeward voyage from
Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my native
land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good spirits:
my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose; nor do the
floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the
dangers of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to
dismay them. We have already reached a very high latitude; but
it is the height of summer, and although not so warm as in
England, the southern gales, which blow us speedily towards
those shores which I so ardently desire to attain, breathe a
degree of renovating warmth which I had not expected.

No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure
in a letter. One or two stiff gales, and the springing of a
leak, are accidents which experienced navigators scarcely
remember to record; and I shall be well content if nothing
worse happen to us during our voyage.

Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured that for my own sake, as
well as yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be
cool, persevering, and prudent.

But success _shall_ crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus
far I have gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas:
the very stars themselves being witnesses and testimonies of
my triumph. Why not still proceed over the united yet obedient
element? What can stop the determined heart and resolved will
of man?

My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I
must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!
R. W.


LETTER IV

_To Mrs, Saville, England_

_August 5th, 17--._


So strange an accident has happened to us that I cannot forbear
recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me
before these papers can come into your possession.

Last Monday (July 31st), we were nearly surrounded by ice,
which closed in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the
sea-room in which she floated. Our situation was somewhat
dangerous, especially as we were compassed round by a very
thick fog. We accordingly lay to, hoping that some change
would take place in the atmosphere and weather.

About two o'clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld,
stretched out in every direction, vast and irregular plains of
ice, which seemed to have no end. Some of my comrades groaned,
and my own mind began to grow watchful with anxious thoughts,
when a strange sight suddenly attracted our attention, and
diverted our solicitude from our own situation. We perceived
a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, pass on
towards the north, at the distance of half a mile: a being
which had the shape of man, but apparently of gigantic stature,
sat in the sledge, and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid
progress of the traveller with our telescopes, until he was
lost among the distant inequalities of the ice.

This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We were, as we
believed, many hundred miles from any land; but this apparition
seemed to denote that it was not, in reality, so distant as we
had supposed. Shut in, however, by ice, it was impossible to
follow his track, which we had observed with the greatest attention.

About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground sea;
and before night the ice broke, and freed our ship. We, however,
lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those
large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of
the ice. I profited of this time to rest for a few hours.

In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon
deck, and found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel,
apparently talking to some one in the sea. It was, in fact, a
sledge, like that we had seen before, which had drifted towards
us in the night, on a large fragment of ice. Only one dog
remained alive; but there was a human being within it, whom the
sailors were persuading to enter the vessel. He was not, as
the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some
undiscovered island, but an European. When I appeared on deck,
the master said, "Here is our captain, and he will not allow
you to perish on the open sea."

On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English,
although with a foreign accent. "Before I come on board your
vessel," said he, "will you have the kindness to inform me
whither you are bound?"

You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question
addressed to me from a man on the brink of destruction, and to
whom I should have supposed that my vessel would have been a
resource which he would not have exchanged for the most
precious wealth the earth can afford. I replied, however, that
we were on a voyage of discovery towards the northern pole.

Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied, and consented to come
on board. Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus
capitulated for his safety, your surprise would have been
boundless. His limbs were nearly frozen, and his body
dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering. I never saw a
man in so wretched a condition. We attempted to carry him into
the cabin; but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he
fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and
restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy, and
forcing him to swallow a small quantity. As soon as he showed
signs of life we wrapped him up in blankets, and placed him
near the chimney of the kitchen stove. By slow degrees he
recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored him wonderfully.

Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak;
and I often feared that his sufferings had deprived him of
understanding. When he had in some measure recovered, I
removed him to my own cabin, and attended on him as much as my
duty would permit. I never saw a more interesting creature:
his eyes have generally an expression of wildness, and even
madness; but there are moments when, if any one performs an act
of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling
service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with
a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled.
But he is generally melancholy and despairing; and sometimes he
gnashes his teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that
oppresses him.

When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to
keep off the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions;
but I would not allow him to be tormented by their idle
curiosity, in a state of body and mind whose restoration
evidently depended upon entire repose. Once, however, the
lieutenant asked, Why he had come so far upon the ice in so
strange a vehicle?

His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest
gloom; and he replied, "To seek one who fled from me."

"And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?"

"Yes."

"Then I fancy we have seen him; for the day before we picked
you up, we saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it,
across the ice."

This aroused the stranger's attention; and he asked a multitude
of questions concerning the route which the daemon, as he
called him, had pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with
me, he said,--"I have, doubtless, excited your curiosity, as
well as that of these good people; but you are too considerate
to make inquiries."

"Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in
me to trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine."

"And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation;
you have benevolently restored me to life."

Soon after this he inquired if I thought that the breaking up
of the ice had destroyed the other sledge? I replied that I
could not answer with any degree of certainty; for the ice
had not broken until near midnight, and the traveller might
have arrived at a place of safety before that time; but of this
I could not judge.

From this time a new spirit of life animated the decaying frame
of the stranger. He manifested the greatest eagerness to be
upon deck, to watch for the sledge which had before appeared;
but I have persuaded him to remain in the cabin, for he is far
too weak to sustain the rawness of the atmosphere. I have
promised that some one should watch for him, and give him
instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.

Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence
up to the present day. The stranger has gradually improved in
health, but is very silent, and appears uneasy when any one
except myself enters his cabin. Yet his manners are so
conciliating and gentle that the sailors are all interested in
him, although they have had very little communication with him.
For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother; and his
constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion.
He must have been a noble creature in his better days, being
even now in wreck so attractive and amiable.

I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should
find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who,
before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should have been
happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart.

I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at
intervals, should I have any fresh incidents to record.


_August 13th, 17--._

My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at
once my admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree.
How can I see so noble a creature destroyed by misery, without
feeling the most poignant grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise;
his mind is so cultivated; and when he speaks, although his
words are culled with the choicest art, yet they flow with
rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.

He is now much recovered from his illness, and is continually
on the deck, apparently watching for the sledge that preceded
his own. Yet, although unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied
by his own misery but that he interests himself deeply in the
projects of others. He has frequently conversed with me on
mine, which I have communicated to him without disguise.
He entered attentively into all my arguments in favour of my
eventual success, and into every minute detail of the measures
I had taken to secure it. I was easily led by the sympathy
which he evinced to use the language of my heart; to give
utterance to the burning ardour of my soul; and to say, with
all the fervour that warmed me, how gladly I would sacrifice my
fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the furtherance of my
enterprise. One man's life or death were but a small price to
pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought; for
the dominion I should acquire and transmit over the elemental
foes of our race. As I spoke, a dark gloom spread over my
listener's countenance. At first I perceived that he tried to
suppress his emotion; he placed his hands before his eyes; and
my voice quivered and failed me, as I beheld tears trickle fast
from between his fingers--a groan burst from his heaving
breast. I paused;--at length he spoke, in broken accents:--
"Unhappy man! Do you share my madness? Have you drank also of
the intoxicating draught? Hear me--let me reveal my tale, and
you will dash the cup from your lips!"

Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity; but
the paroxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame his
weakened powers, and many hours of repose and tranquil
conversation were necessary to restore his composure.

Having conquered the violence of his feelings, he appeared to
despise himself for being the slave of passion; and quelling
the dark tyranny of despair, he led me again to converse
concerning myself personally. He asked me the history of my
earlier years. The tale was quickly told: but it awakened
various trains of reflection. I spoke of my desire of finding
a friend--of my thirst for a more intimate sympathy with a
fellow mind than had ever fallen to my lot; and expressed my
conviction that a man could boast of little happiness, who did
not enjoy this blessing.

"I agree with you," replied the stranger; "we are unfashioned
creatures, but half made up, if one wiser, better, dearer than
ourselves--such a friend ought to be--do not lend his aid to
perfectionate our weak and faulty natures. I once had a
friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled,
therefore, to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and
the world before you, and have no cause for despair. But I--I
have lost everything, and cannot begin life anew."

As he said this, his countenance became expressive of a calm
settled grief that touched me to the heart. But he was silent,
and presently retired to his cabin.

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply
than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea,
and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems
still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth.
Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be
overwhelmed by disappointments; yet when he has retired into
himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo
around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express concerning this
divine wanderer? You would not if you saw him. You have been
tutored and refined by books and retirement from the world, and
you are, therefore, somewhat fastidious; but this only renders
you the more fit to appreciate the extraordinary merits of this
wonderful man. Sometimes I have endeavoured to discover what
quality it is which he possesses that elevates him so
immeasurably above any other person I ever knew. I believe it
to be an intuitive discernment; a quick but never-failing power
of judgment; a penetration into the causes of things,
unequalled for clearness and precision; add to this a facility
of expression, and a voice whose varied intonations are
soul-subduing music.


_August 19th, 17--._

Yesterday the stranger said to me, "You may easily perceive,
Captain Walton that I have suffered great and unparalleled
misfortunes. I had determined, at one time, that the memory of
these evils should die with me; but you have won me to alter my
determination. You seek for knowledge and wisdom, as I once
did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes
may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been. I do not
know that the relation of my disasters will be useful to you;
yet, when I reflect that you are pursuing the same course,
exposing yourself to the same dangers which have rendered me
what I am, I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my
tale; one that may direct you if you succeed in your
undertaking, and console you in case of failure. Prepare to
hear of occurrences which are usually deemed marvellous. Were
we among the tamer scenes of nature, I might fear to encounter
your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule; but many things will
appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions which
would provoke the laughter of those unacquainted with the
ever-varied powers of nature:--nor can I doubt but that my tale
conveys in its series internal evidence of the truth of the
events of which it is composed."

You may easily imagine that I was much gratified by the offered
communication; yet I could not endure that he should renew his
grief by a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest
eagerness to hear the promised narrative, partly from curiosity,
and partly from a strong desire to ameliorate his fate, if it
were in my power. I expressed these feelings in my answer.

"I thank you," he replied, "for your sympathy, but it is
useless; my fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one
event, and then I shall repose in peace. I understand your
feeling," continued he, perceiving that I wished to interrupt
him; "but you are mistaken, my friend, if thus you will allow
me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny listen to my
history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is determined."

He then told me that he would commence his narrative the next
day when I should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the
warmest thanks. I have resolved every night, when I am not
imperatively occupied by my duties, to record, as nearly as
possible in his own words, what he has related during the day.
If I should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This
manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure; but
to me, who know him, and who hear it from his own lips, with
what interest and sympathy shall I read it in some future day!
Even now, as I commence my task, his full-toned voice swells in
my ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their
melancholy sweetness; I see his thin hand raised in animation,
while the lineaments of his face are irradiated by the soul
within. Strange and harrowing must be his story; frightful the
storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course, and
wrecked it--thus!

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