make a sociable visit to me. He was serious almost to sadness,
but with a gentleness that could not but raise in whomsoever he
had addressed an implicit sympathy. He led almost immediately to
those subjects on which he loves to

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dwell--Death and Immortality, and the assured misery of all
stations and all seasons in this vain and restless world.

I ventured not to contradict him with my happier sentiments, lest
I should awaken some fresh pain. I heard him, therefore, in
quiet and meditative silence, or made but such general answers as
could hazard no allusions. Yet, should I ever see him in better
spirits, I shall not scruple to discuss, in such a way as I can,
this point, and to vindicate as well as I am able my opposite
opinion.

He told me he had heard a fifth week was to be now added to this
excursion, and he confessed a most anxious solicitude to be gone
before that time. He dropped something, unexplained, yet very
striking, of a peculiar wish to be away ere some approaching
period.

I felt his meaning, though I had no key to it; I felt that he
coveted to spend in quiet the anniversary of the day on which he
lost his lady. You may believe I could say nothing to it; the
idea was too tender for discussion; nor can I divine whether or
not he wishes to open more on this subject, or is better pleased
by my constant silence to his own allusions. I know not, indeed,