 own history and
        misfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays unbounded
        knowledge, and a quick and piercing apprehension. His eloquence is
        forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates a pathetic
        incident, or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love, without
        tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days of his
        prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin! He seems to feel
        his own worth, and the greatness of his fall.
            »When younger,« said he, »I believed myself destined for some great
        enterprise. My feelings are profound; but I possessed a coolness of
        judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of
        the worth of my nature supported me, when others would have been
        oppressed; for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those
        talents that might be useful to my fellow-creatures. When I reflected on
        the work I had completed, no less a one than the creation of a sensitive
        and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of common
        projectors. But this thought, which supported me in the commencement of
        my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the dust. All my
        speculations and hopes are as nothing; and, like the archangel who
        aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell. My imagination
        was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application were intense; by
        the union of these qualities I conceived the idea, and executed the
        creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect, without passion, my
        reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod heaven in my thoughts,
        now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of their effects.
        From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty ambition; but
        how am I sunk! Oh! my friend, if you had known me as I once was, you
        would not recognise me in this state of degradation. Despondency rarely
        visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me on, until I fell,
        never, never again to rise.«
            Must I then lose this admirable being? I have longed for a friend; I
        have sought one who would sympathise with and love me. Behold, on these
        desert seas I have found such a one; but, I fear, I have gained him only
        to know his value, and lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he
        repulses the idea.
            »I thank you, Walton,« he said, »for your kind intentions towards so
        miserable
