Before I am summoned to that offended tribunal, to propitiate which I
have passed so many years in penitence and prayer, let me record for
the benefit of others the history of one, who, yielding to fatal
passion, embittered the remainder of his own days, and shortened those
of the adored partner of his guilt. Let my confession be public, that
warning may be taken from my example; and may the sincerity with which I
acknowledge my offence, and the tears which I have shed, efface it from
the accumulated records of the wilfulness and disobedience of man!
In a few days this attenuated frame will be mingled with the dust from
which it sprung, and scattered by the winds of heaven, or by the labour
of future generations, as chance may dictate, will yield sustenance to
the thistle which wars against the fertility of nature, or the grain
which is the support of our existence,--to the nightshade with its
deadly fruit, or the creeping violet with its sweet perfume. The heart
which has throbbed so tumultuously with the extreme of love, and which
has been riven with the excess of woe, will shortly pant no more. The
mind which has been borne down by the irresistible force of
passion,--which has attempted to stem the torrent, but in vain, and,
since the rage of it has passed away, has been left like the once
fertile valley which has been overflown, a waste of barrenness and
desolation,--will shortly cease from its wearied action. In a few brief
days I must appear in the presence of an offended, yet merciful Saviour,
who, offering every thing, weeps at the insanity of our rejection.
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