The subjects "fell down, twisted their mouths, rolled their eyes, and appeared to be in converse with the devil." New sects arose, whose only doctrinal characteristic was some hysterical extravagance or belief which they deemed essential to salvation. Of such were the Adamites, who considered it their duty to go through the streets in that simplicity of attire which our first parents indulged in before their enlightenment. Besides these there were the Taciturn, the Perfect, the Impeccable, the Liberated Brethren, the Bewailers, the Rejoicers, the Indifferent, the Sanguinarians, and many others. These claimed the gift of prophecy, the power to hold direct intercourse with God, to drive out evil spirits, to have visions, ectasies, trances, convulsive seizures of miraculous character, and, of course, the right to persecute all opponents.
Such are some of the extreme limits to which nervous aberration can reach. To pursue the subject to its full extent would require the writing of a volume. How far the human mind can, unaided, control the predisposition to erratic conduct which is so often inherent in those of nervous temperaments, is a question of great importance. Doubtless there are differences in this respect—some are strong, while others are feeble—all, however, can do something, and many can so regulate their lives, their thoughts, and their emotions as to counteract existing tendencies, and prevent the formation of others equally powerful to cause disease.
William A. Hammond, M. D.
THE DEATH OF HOPE.
HE went: she watched him from the garden gate—
He who had been her life's delight and blessing—
He went—and left her sad and desolate,
Missing his loving words and fond caressing.
"But he will come again," she said, "though now
He leaves me thus, alas! with chilly scorning.
He knows I love him"—here her head drooped low
And tears fell—"I shall see him in the morning."
And in the morning with a fluttering heart
She went about the house, still watching, listening:
Each rustling leaf made painful flushes start,
And in her eyes the unshed tears were glistening.
But the day passed—and still he sent no word,
And came not—and yet sadder was the morrow,
Until her heart grew sick with hope deferred,
And wan and pale her cheek with silent sorrow.
And slow the days grew into weeks, and sleep
Forsook her pillow, and at midnight kneeling,
God's pitying angels heard her sorely weep.
And Christ drew near with balm of heavenly healing.
