I hid my face in my hands.  The twitter of the young birds going to rest, and their rustling among the trees, disturbed the still evening-air—­the crickets chirped—­the aziolo cooed at intervals.  My thoughts had been of death—­these sounds spoke to me of life.  I lifted up my eyes—­a bat wheeled round—­the sun had sunk behind the jagged line of mountains, and the paly, crescent moon was visible, silver white, amidst the orange sunset, and accompanied by one bright star, prolonged thus the twilight.  A herd of cattle passed along in the dell below, untended, towards their watering place—­the grass was rustled by a gentle breeze, and the olive-woods, mellowed into soft masses by the moonlight, contrasted their sea-green with the dark chestnut foliage.  Yes, this is the earth; there is no change—­no ruin—­no rent made in her verdurous expanse; she continues to wheel round and round, with alternate night and day, through the sky, though man is not her adorner or inhabitant.  Why could I not forget myself like one of those animals, and no longer suffer the wild tumult of misery that I endure?  Yet, ah! what a deadly breach yawns between their state and mine!  Have not they companions?  Have not they each their mate—­their cherished young, their home, which, though unexpressed to us, is, I doubt not, endeared and enriched, even in their eyes, by the society which kind nature has created for them?  It is I only that am alone—­I, on this little hill top, gazing on plain and mountain recess—­on sky, and its starry population, listening to every sound of earth, and air, and murmuring wave,—­I only cannot express to any companion my many thoughts, nor lay my throbbing head on any loved bosom, nor drink from meeting eyes an intoxicating dew, that transcends the fabulous nectar of the gods.  Shall I not then complain?  Shall I not curse the murderous engine which has mowed down the children of men, my brethren?  Shall I not bestow a malediction on every other of nature’s offspring, which dares live and enjoy, while I live and suffer?

Ah, no!  I will discipline my sorrowing heart to sympathy in your joys; I will be happy, because ye are so.  Live on, ye innocents, nature’s selected darlings; I am not much unlike to you.  Nerves, pulse, brain, joint, and flesh, of such am I composed, and ye are organized by the same laws.  I have something beyond this, but I will call it a defect, not an endowment, if it leads me to misery, while ye are happy.  Just then, there emerged from a near copse two goats and a little kid, by the mother’s side; they began to browze the herbage of the hill.  I approached near to them, without their perceiving me; I gathered a handful of fresh grass, and held it out; the little one nestled close to its mother, while she timidly withdrew.  The male stepped forward, fixing his eyes on me:  I drew near, still holding out my lure, while he, depressing his head, rushed at me with his horns.  I was a very fool; I knew it, yet I yielded to my rage.  I snatched up a