Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/68

58 —how terrible! I wept, I sobbed. Despair seemed taking up its residence in my bosom. I fled from the scene; again I turned; one more look; I wrung my hands in agony, and my heart spontaneously exclaimed: Dear, ever dear parent, once more farewell; dear, much loved sisters, brothers, and thou, sweet innocent, thou smiling, thoughtless, and therefore happy babe, once more farewell; and you, dear second parents, and thou sister of the friend of my soul, with the beauteous cherub, whose infantile caresses, while pouring into my ear the interesting tale, were as balm to my wounded spirit—farewell, Oh! farewell forever! and you, ye many kind, religious connexions, with whom I have often wept, and prayed, and joyed, and sorrowed, once more I bid you adieu; adieu ye flowery walks, where I have spent so many happy hours; ye thick embowering shades, reared by these hands, ye health-restoring herbs, ye sweet delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, receive my last farewell. Still I lingered—still I gazed around, and yet again, another look—'tis past, and I am gone forever. I turned from the view, and have never since beheld those charming scenes. I wonder much my agitated spirits had not insured a fever; but God preserved me, and leading my mind to the consideration of scenes beyond the present state, I was enabled to proceed, until I beheld, in perspective, the spires of the opulent city, which I was approaching. The opening prospect, with the additional sound of a fine ring of bells from Shannon steeple (a church standing on an eminence upon the river Lee, the bells of which are heard at an immense distance), gave a new tone to my mind. I had many friends in the city of Cork, and I endeavoured to derive consolation from their unquestioned attachment. I had frequently preached in this city, and I had reason to suppose my labours had been acceptable. In the city of Cork, my paternal grandmother, with her daughter, my aunt Champion, and her children, still lived. My society would be sought, and I should again be engaged in preaching; these considerations lessened the weight of affliction, by which I had been sorely pressed. I arrived at the mansion of my grandmother, some time before sunset, and I was very joyfully received; but when I had communicated my plan, the countenances both of my grandmother, and my aunt, decidedly evinced their displeasure; they censured me with severity, and I keenly felt their rebukes. I assured them, I came not to solicit aid; and rising from my chair, I bade them formally adieu, quitting their presence, and their house. The eldest daughter of my aunt, a very beautiful young lady, and as good as