Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/78

68 when the prospect before me was at least uncertain; but I have been, all my days, a mystery to myself, nor is this mystery yet unravelled. I retired this night to bed, but did not close my eyes, until near the dawn of day; yet my reflections upon my pillow were charming; I clearly saw the good hand of God, in all my movements; I was enchanted with every thing I had seen, and with the prospect of what I had still to see. O! how sweet, in early life, are those sensations, which are the offspring of vigorous hope; how great are the joys of expectation! No one ever derived more high-wrought pleasures from hope, than myself. I quitted my bed just at the dawn of day, after a refreshing slumber; I had apprized the people at the stage house, the evening before, that I should walk on, and let the stage overtake me; this I did, and a most delightful walk I had. I met the Aurora, the rising sun, the waking songsters of the hedges, the lowing tenants of the mead, the lusty labourer, with his sithe, preparing to cut down the bending burden of the flowery meadow. The increasing beauty of the surrounding scenes, the fragrant scent of the new-mowed hay, all, all, were truly delightful, and thus enchanted, with spirits light as air, I passed on, till I reached the Devizes, nineteen miles from Bath, where, after I had breakfasted, the coach overtook me, in which I was soon seated, finding a ride, after walking, more abundantly refreshing; we rolled over the finest road in the world, with such rapidity, that we reached London before sunset. How much was my heart elated, as I passed over this charming country; how did it palpitate with pleasure, as I advanced toward the Metropolis; yet still I had no fixed plan, nor knew I what I should do, or whither repair! True, I had some letters to deliver, but, in the hurry of my spirits, I had forgotten them; and on being set down at the stage house in London, I left my trunk without a single line of intimation to whom it belonged, and wandered about the city, feasting my eyes with the variety, which it presented, "till twilight grey had, in her sober livery, all things clad," when I began to turn my thoughts towards a shelter for the night. I entered a tavern, requesting a supper, and a lodging, both of which were readily granted; I sat pensive, I was weary, my spirits sunk, I eat little, and retiring to my chamber, after securing the door, I fell on my knees, beseeching the Father of mercies to have compassion upon me. I wept, I wished myself at home, and my heart seemed to die within me, at the consideration that I could not return, without fulfilling the predictions of my matron friend: "You will return," said she, "and perhaps find this door shut against you." Never, said I, never; I will