Breathes again the vows we breathed,
At beauty's shrine, when hearts were gay
And whisper'd truth;
It calls before our mental sight
Dear forms whose tuneful lips are mute,
Bright, sunny eyes long closed in night,
Warm hearts now silent as the lute
That charm'd our ears;
It thrills the breast with feelings deep,
Too deep for language to impart;
And bids the spirit joy and weep,
In tones that sink into the heart,
And melt in tears.
CHAPTER III
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
Fly this plague-stricken spot! The hot, foul air
Is rank with pestilence - the crowded marts
And public ways, once populous with life,
Are still and noisome as a churchyard vault;
Aghast and shuddering, Nature holds her breath
In abject fear, and feels at her strong heart
The deadly pangs of death.
Of Montreal I can say but little. The cholera was at its height,
and the fear of infection, which increased the nearer we approached
its shores, cast a gloom over the scene, and prevented us from
exploring its infected streets. That the feelings of all on board
very nearly resembled our own might be read in the anxious faces of
both passengers and crew. Our captain, who had never before hinted
that he entertained any apprehensions on the subject, now confided
to us his conviction that he should never quit the city alive:
"This cursed cholera!
