I spent much of my life in these solitary rambles; there
were particular places to which I gave names, and visited them at
regular intervals. Moonlight was particularly agreeable to me, but
most of all I enjoyed a thick, foggy night. At times, during these
walks, I would be excessively oppressed by an indefinite and deep
feeling of melancholy. Without knowing why, I would be so unhappy as
to wish myself annihilated, and suddenly it would occur to me that my
friends at home were suffering some dreadful calamity, and so vivid
would be the impression, that I would hasten home with all speed to
see what had taken place. At such seasons I felt a morbid love for my
friends that would almost burn up my soul, and yet, at the least
provocation from them, I would fly into an uncontrollable passion and
foam like a little fury. I was called a dreadful-tempered boy; but the
Lord knows that I never occasioned pain to any animal, whether human
or brutal, without suffering untold agonies in consequence of it. I
cannot, even now, without feelings of deep sorrow, call to mind the
alternate fits of corroding melancholy, irritation, and bitter remorse
which I then endured. These fits of melancholy were most constant and
oppressive during the autumnal months.
"I very early learned to read, and soon became immoderately attached
to books. In the Bible I read the first chapters of Job, and parts of
Ezekiel, Daniel, and Revelation, with most intense delight, and with
such frequency that I could repeat large portions from memory long
before the age at which boys in the country are usually able to read
plain sentences.
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