As to the reality of their existence
and the harmlessness of their character, I knew no difference between
them and any other of the objects which met my eye. They were as
familiar to me as the forms of my parents and my brother; they made up
a part of my daily existence, and were as really the subjects of my
consciousness as the little bench on which I sat in the corner by my
mother's knee, or the wheels and sticks and strings with which I
amused myself upon the floor. I indeed recognized a striking
difference between them and the things which I could feel and handle,
but to me this difference was no more a matter of surprise than that
which I observed between my mother and the black woman who so often
came to work for her; or between my infant brother and the little
spotted dog Brutus of which I was so fond. There was no time, or
place, or circumstance, in which they did not occasionally make their
appearance. Solitude and silence, however, were more favorable to
their appearance than company and conversation. They were more pleased
with candle-light than the daylight. They were most numerous,
distinct, and active when I was alone and in the dark, especially when
my mother had laid me in bed and returned to her own room with the
candle. At such times, I always expected the company of my serial
visitors, and counted upon it to amuse me till I dropped asleep.
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