They are all
dear and sacred to me now, though I know they can come no more, and that
the hollow spaces of time between the Here and There--the Now and
Then--will reverberate forever with the echoes of many-voiced sorrows.
Could those who meet me look down into the depths of my ghastly and bitter
desolation, they would behold more appalling pictures of human agony than
ever mortal eye gazed upon since the opening of the day of time--since the
roses of Eden first bloomed and knew not the blight so soon to darken the
earthly paradise by the rivers of the east. But I wander from my subject.
I lived and worked on my father's farm until I was eighteen years of age.
As I have already said, even when a child I found myself sad and much
depressed at times. I could not bear the society of my companions, and at
such times would wander away alone to meditate and brood over my misery. At
the very threshold of life I was dissatisfied and discontented with my
surroundings. I was ever anxious and uneasy, ever longing for some
undefinable, unnamable something--I knew not what, but, O God, I knew the
desolation of feeling which was then mine.
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