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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 60, October 1862"

I wonder what it is. Can it be a misstep, in the
darkness, into the abyss between the land of waking and the land where
there are nor years nor months nor days, where the soul abides in
Lethe,--save when some wing troubles the waters for a little while?
I was wearied, with the weariness of one having come from long
journeying. I closed my eyes again, and tried to sleep. Chloe looked in
at me.
"Have you had a nice sleep, Miss Anna?" she asked, as I moved at her
coming.
"I fear not, Chloe," I said; "my head doesn't behave nicely since I
awoke. Bring me the bottle of chloroform: it's just there, upon the
bureau."
Chloe went hurrying, bustling out of the room, and brought me the
chloroform from some other part of the house.
"Where did you bring this from?" I asked; "do you use chloroform?"
"I've a horror of all pisons," said Chloe; "I didn't like to leave this
near you; pisons is very bad for young people."
Smiling at Chloe's prudent fears for me, I inhaled a little of the
friend, dangerous, and to be trusted only a little way, like the most of
friends, and gave it back to Chloe. The honest woman restored it to her
pocket in the presence of my two eyes. I had had enough of it, and I let
her carry it away,--a victory she enjoyed, I knew, and it cost me
nothing, save a smile at her idle fears for me.


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