She has a most
pale and plaintive countenance, and seems to fix her eyes mournfully
upon me. The family have long since retired. I have heard their steps
die away, and the distant doors clap to after them. The murmur of
voices, and the peal of remote laughter, no longer reach the ear. The
clock from the church, in which so many of the former inhabitants of
this house lie buried, has chimed the awful hour of midnight.
I have sat by the window and mused upon the dusky landscape, watching
the lights disappearing, one by one, from the distant village; and the
moon rising in her silent majesty, and leading up all the silver pomp
of heaven. As I have gazed upon these quiet groves and shadowy lawns,
silvered over, and imperfectly lighted by streaks of dewy moonshine,
my mind has been crowded by "thick-coming fancies" concerning those
spiritual beings which
------"walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep."
Are there, indeed, such beings? Is this space between us and the deity
filled up by innumerable orders of spiritual beings, forming the same
gradations between the human soul and divine perfection, that we see
prevailing from humanity downwards to the meanest insect? It is a
sublime and beautiful doctrine, inculcated by the early fathers, that
there are guardian angels appointed to watch over cities and nations;
to take care of the welfare of good men, and to guard and guide the
steps of helpless infancy.
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