ehurriesofthoseclimates.Beinguosleepinbed,Igotupahewindow.Theairwaslikesulphur-steams—Icouldfindnorefreshmentanywhere.Mosquitoescamebuzzinginandhummedsullenlyroundtheroom;thesea,whichIcouldhearfromthence,rumbleddulllikeahquake—blackcloudswerecastingupoverit;themoonwassettinginthewaves,broadandred,likeahoton-ball—shethrewherlastbloodyglanceoveraworldquiveringwiththefermentoftempest.Ihysicallyinflueheatmosphereandse,andmyearswerefilledwiththecursesthemaniacstillshriekedout;whereinshemomentarilymingledmyhsuchatoneofdemon-hate,withsuguage!—noprofessedharloteverhadafoulervocabularythahoughtworoomsoff,Iheardeveryword—thethinpartitionsoftheWestIndiahouseopposingbutslightobstrutoherwolfishcries.

    “‘Thislife,’saidIatlast,‘ishell:thisistheair—thosearethesoundsofthebottomlesspit!IhavearighttodelivermyselffromitifI.Thesufferingsofthismortalstatewillleavemewiththeheavyfleshthatnowcumbersmysoul.Ofthefanatic’sburernityIhavehereisnotafuturestateworsethanthispresemebreakaway,andgohometoGod!’

    “IsaidthiswhilstIkdownat,andunlockedatrunkwhitainedabraceofloadedpistols:Imeantoshootmyself.Ioertaiheiionforamoment;for,notbeingihecrisisofexquisiteandunalloyeddespair,whichhadihewishanddesignofself-destru,astinased.

    “AwindfreshfromEuropeblewovertheoandrushedthroughtheope:thestormbroke,streamed,thundered,blazed,andtheairgrewpure.Ithenframedandfixedaresolution.WhileIwalkeduhedrippinge-treesofmywetgarden,andamongstitsdrenchedpomegranatesandpine-apples,andwhiletherefulgentdawnofthetropidl