Well might his heart-crushed father sob aloud, "He seemed to tread the
earth as a spirit from some better world." The author of "Horae
Subsecivae" aptly quotes Shakspeare's memorable words, in connection
with the tragic bereavement of that autumnal day in Vienna:--
"The idea of thy life shall sweetly creep
Into my study of imagination;
And every lovely organ of thy life
Shall come apparelled in more precious habit,
More moving delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of my soul,
Than when thou liv'dst indeed."
Standing by the grave of this young person, now made so renowned by the
genius of a great poet, whose song has embalmed his name and called the
world's attention to his death, the inevitable reflection is not of
sorrow. He sleeps well who is thus lamented, and "nothing can touch
him further."
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM.
It is not yet a year since I ceased to act as a Spiritual Medium. (I am
forced to make use of this title as the most intelligible, but I do it
with a strong mental protest.) At first, I desired only to withdraw
myself quietly from the peculiar associations into which I had been
thrown by the exercise of my faculty, and be content with the simple
fact of my escape.
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