Excerpt from The Wanderer, Vol. 2

Pandere res alta terrâ et caligine mersas.

I'll shew your Grace the strangest sight, -
Body o'me, what is it, Butts? - Henry the Eighth.

"Of the desolation of mind into which the rejection of my appeal plunged me, I can give no account, for I retain no distinguishing image. All colours disappear in the night, and despair has no diary, - monotony is her essence and her curse. Hours have I walked in the garden, without retaining a single impression but that of the sounds of my footsteps, - thought, feeling, passion, and all that employs them, - life and futurity, extinct and swallowed up. I was already like an inhabitant of the land where "all things are forgotten." I hovered on the regions of mental twilight, where the "light is as darkness."

About the Publisher

Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully, any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.