Wieland; Or, The Transformation: An American Tale

as when I before beheld him. His garb was equally negligent and rustic. I gazed upon his countenance with new curiosity. My situation

t was wholly uncertain, whether he were an object to be dreaded or

Notwithstanding the uncouthness of his garb, his manners were not unpolished. All topics were handled by him with skill, and without pedantry or affectation. He uttered no sentiment calculated to produce a disadvantage

repeated. Each day introduced us to a more intimate acquaintance with his sentiments, but left us wholly in the dark, concerning that about which we

ill think the circumstances warranted. Not a gesture, or glance, or accent, that was not, in our private assemblies, discussed, and inferences deduced from it. It may well be thought that he modelled his behaviour by an

the exact observance. Inquiries into our condition are allowable when they are prompted by a disinterested concern for our welfare; and this solicitude is not only pardonable, but may justly be dem

een the religion and habits of a Spaniard, with those of a native of Britain. He expressed his astonishment at meeting our guest in this corner of the globe, especially as, when they part

square their faith by the same precepts; their ideas are drawn from the same fountains of literature, and they speak dialects of the same tongue; their g

able. If not bound to one spot by conjugal or parental ties, or by the nature of that employment to which we are

ting curiosity in us, the gloom of his countenance was deepened, his eyes sunk to the ground, and his wonted air was not resumed without visible struggle. Hence, it was obvious to infer, that some incidents of his life were reflected on by him with regret; and that, since these inci

uestions might have been put in such terms, that no room should be left for the pretence of misapprehension, and if modesty merely had been the obstacle,

, the words and looks of this man were objects of my particular attention. The subject was extraordinary; and any one whose experience or reflections could throw

ormerly heard stories that resembled this in some of their mysterious circumstances, but they were, commonly, heard by me with co

lific, and if he did not persuade us, that human beings are, sometimes, admitted to a sensible intercourse with the author of nature, he, at least, won over our inclination to the cause. He merely deduced, from his own reasonings

of consequence, least entitled to credit, were yet rendered probable by the exquisite art of this rhetorician. For every difficulty that was suggested, a ready and plausible solution was furnished. Mysterious voices had always a share in producing the catastrophe, but they were always to be explained o

when the latter was disposed to deny it, and had found, as he imagined, footsteps of an human agent. Pleyel was by no means equally credulous. He scrupled not to deny faith

ings of an higher order, he would believe only when his own ears were assailed in a manner which could not be otherwise accounted for. Civility forbad him to contradict my brother or myself, but his understanding refused to acquiesce in our te

he voice appeared to come from the cieling was to be considered as an illusion of the fancy. The cry for help, heard in the hall on the night of my adventure, was to be ascribed to an human creature, who actually stood in the hall when he uttered it. It was of no moment, he said, that we could not explain by what motives he that made the signal was led hither. How imperfectly acquainted were we with th

was insufficient to impart conviction to us. As to the treason that was meditated against me, it was doubtless just to conclude that it was either real o

communication of it to others; Hence he was regarded as an inestimable addition to our society. Considering the distance of my brother's house from the city, he was frequently prevailed upon to pass the night where he spent the evening. Two days seldom elaps

he gleam of a former sun-shine. Carwin never parted with his gravity. The inscrutableness of his character, and the uncertainty wheth

be remarked by my friends. My brother was always a pattern of solemnity. My sister was clay, moulded by the circumstances in which she happened to be

ruit of exertion. When his thoughts wandered from the company, an air of dissatisfaction and impatience stole across his features. Even the punctuality and frequency of his visits were somewhat lessened

axon lady: it was not a contagious emanation from the countenances of Wieland or Carwin. There was but one other source whence it cou