| 378 he has now in the press a work on the Campaign of Napoleon in Egypt, dictated to him by that great commander whilst he was at St. Helena, a few months before his death, and which goes fully into all the details of that extraordinary movement. It will contain also, Napoleon's own views of the politics of the different Governments of Europe during the time.
From the Millennial Star.
THE DREAM.
The following facts came to our knowledge very soon after the melancholy fate of Mr. and Mrs. Foster, on board the Rothsay Castle steam packet, which our readers will remember was wrecked off Beaumaris in 1831. We at that time took a manuscript copy, only a few removes from the original, from a narration of the sisters by the lamented Mr. Foster. Considering it to be of an extraordinary nature, and being particularly requested, we have thought proper to record it in the pages of the Star.
THE SISTER'S TALE.
In A. D. 1814, the late Mr. and Mrs. F-, who were lost in August, 1831, on board the Rothsay Castle steam packet, were acquainted with three sisters, residing in London, and who belonged to a higher class of society. Two of these sisters were decidedly pious, but the third was volatile and just the contrary. They were all elderly, which rendered the gaiety of the third the less becoming, and also inclined her the more easily to take offence [offense] at any remarks made upon it. She hated the piety of her sisters, and opposed it in a very pettish and despiteful manner, though they endeavored seduously [sedulously] to accommodate themselves to her, and to render the difference between them as little disagreeable as possible.
One night, towards the close of 1814, she had been at an assembly very late, and the next morning at breakfast, was so remarkably different from her usual manner, that the sisters feared she was very unwell, or had met with some misfortune which deeply affected her. Instead of her incessant chat about every person she had met, and all that had been said and done, she sat sullen and silent and absorbed. The gloom of her brow was a mixture of temper and distress, and seemed to indicate a fixed and dogged resolution, founded on circumstances disagreeable to her, yet as if she was resolved to pursue her own will, though it should lead her into the utmost distress and trouble, rather than to follow the course which she knew to be right, but which would reduce her to submit her own will to the power and control of another. As she ate nothing, her sisters asked her if she was unwell? She answered, 'No.' 'What is the matter?' 'Nothing.' They were afraid something had distressed her. She said, 'I have no idea of people prying into matters that do not concern them.' The whole of the morning was passed alone by her, in her own room; and at dinner time, the same conduct recurred as in the morning. She scarcely eat [ate] anything; never spoke, except when she answered in an uncivil way, whatever was asked her; and all with an appearance of depression, obstinacy, and melancholy, that spread its influence very painfully over the cheerfulness of her companions. Thus have I heard the wolfish winds howl and mourn, as if they mourned their own work of desolation; and yet they ceased not to blow, and to rage, and to howl the more, as the destruction became the more frightful and universal.
She retired to rest late, and with the air of one who expects from sleep, neither alleviation nor refreshment. The next morning she scarcely touched her breakfast, and seemed in the same oppressed and uncomfortable state as on the preceding day. One of her affectionate sisters again addressed her. 'Anna, you are not well, is it your head that pains you?' She answered, 'I am well and nothing pains me.'-'Then you have something on your mind, and will you not tell us? Do we not love you?-Have we not the same earthly interests with you, and can we seek any good but yours, in an anxious wish to share your sorrows?' 'O! you have superstition enough of your own without more being added. I shall not tell you what ails me, so you have no occasion to press any further your curiosity. I dare say you would be delighted to know it, for you would think it some spiritual triumph, but I laugh at these things; I am not quite old enough yet, to become the victim of dreams and visions.' 'Anna, we do not live in dreams and visions.'-She answered sharply, 'No; and I do not mean that you should.' The sisters looked at each other and relapsed into silence. The second day passed as the first. Anna was gloomy and moody, and her sisters, both from pity and anxiety, were unhappy for her sake.
The third morning she again began the day as one who loathed the light, who had no interest in being, and to whom the lapse of time and the prospects of eternity, brought neither peace nor hope. As her sisters looked at her, one of them suddenly said, 'Anna, what was your dream?' She started and laughed wildly,
(page 378) |
