grief I seemed to tread air, while the spirit of good shed round me an ambrosial atmosphere, which blunted the sting of sympathy, and purified the air of sighs.  If my wearied soul flagged in its career, I thought of my loved home, of the casket that contained my treasures, of the kiss of love and the filial caress, while my eyes were moistened by purest dew, and my heart was at once softened and refreshed by thrilling tenderness.

Maternal affection had not rendered Idris selfish; at the beginning of our calamity she had, with thoughtless enthusiasm, devoted herself to the care of the sick and helpless.  I checked her; and she submitted to my rule.  I told her how the fear of her danger palsied my exertions, how the knowledge of her safety strung my nerves to endurance.  I shewed her the dangers which her children incurred during her absence; and she at length agreed not to go beyond the inclosure of the forest.  Indeed, within the walls of the Castle we had a colony of the unhappy, deserted by their relatives, and in themselves helpless, sufficient to occupy her time and attention, while ceaseless anxiety for my welfare and the health of her children, however she strove to curb or conceal it, absorbed all her thoughts, and undermined the vital principle.  After watching over and providing for their safety, her second care was to hide from me her anguish and tears.  Each night I returned to the Castle, and found there repose and love awaiting me.  Often I waited beside the bed of death till midnight, and through the obscurity of rainy, cloudy nights rode many miles, sustained by one circumstance only, the safety and sheltered repose of those I loved.  If some scene of tremendous agony shook my frame and fevered my brow, I would lay my head on the lap of Idris, and the tumultuous pulses subsided into a temperate flow —­her smile could raise me from hopelessness, her embrace bathe my sorrowing heart in calm peace.  Summer advanced, and, crowned with the sun’s potent rays, plague shot her unerring shafts over the earth.  The nations beneath their influence bowed their heads, and died.  The corn that sprung up in plenty, lay in autumn rotting on the ground, while the melancholy wretch who had gone out to gather bread for his children, lay stiff and plague-struck in the furrow.  The green woods waved their boughs majestically, while the dying were spread beneath their shade, answering the solemn melody with inharmonious cries.  The painted birds flitted through the shades; the careless deer reposed unhurt upon the fern—­the oxen and the horses strayed from their unguarded stables, and grazed among the wheat, for death fell on man alone.