Free the air was not, or the street silent.  Oh, how I longed then for the dear soothings of maternal Nature, as my wounded heart was still further stung by the roar of heartless merriment from the public-house, by the sight of the drunkard reeling home, having lost the memory of what he would find there in oblivious debauch, and by the more appalling salutations of those melancholy beings to whom the name of home was a mockery.  I ran on at my utmost speed until I found myself I knew not how, close to Westminster Abbey, and was attracted by the deep and swelling tone of the organ.  I entered with soothing awe the lighted chancel, and listened to the solemn religious chaunt, which spoke peace and hope to the unhappy.  The notes, freighted with man’s dearest prayers, re-echoed through the dim aisles, and the bleeding of the soul’s wounds was staunched by heavenly balm.  In spite of the misery I deprecated, and could not understand; in spite of the cold hearths of wide London, and the corpse-strewn fields of my native land; in spite of all the variety of agonizing emotions I had that evening experienced, I thought that in reply to our melodious adjurations, the Creator looked down in compassion and promise of relief; the awful peal of the heaven-winged music seemed fitting voice wherewith to commune with the Supreme; calm was produced by its sound, and by the sight of many other human creatures offering up prayers and submission with me.  A sentiment approaching happiness followed the total resignation of one’s being to the guardianship of the world’s ruler.  Alas! with the failing of this solemn strain, the elevated spirit sank again to earth.  Suddenly one of the choristers died—­he was lifted from his desk, the vaults below were hastily opened—­he was consigned with a few muttered prayers to the darksome cavern, abode of thousands who had gone before—­now wide yawning to receive even all who fulfilled the funeral rites.  In vain I would then have turned from this scene, to darkened aisle or lofty dome, echoing with melodious praise.  In the open air alone I found relief; among nature’s beauteous works, her God reassumed his attribute of benevolence, and again I could trust that he who built up the mountains, planted the forests, and poured out the rivers, would erect another state for lost humanity, where we might awaken again to our affections, our happiness, and our faith.

Fortunately for me those circumstances were of rare occurrence that obliged me to visit London, and my duties were confined to the rural district which our lofty castle overlooked; and here labour stood in the place of pastime, to occupy such of the country people as were sufficiently exempt from sorrow or disease.  My endeavours were directed towards urging them to their usual attention to their crops, and to the acting as if pestilence did not exist.  The mower’s scythe was at times heard; yet the joyless haymakers after they had listlessly turned the grass, forgot