committing our loved ones to its charge, replant the uprooted tree of

humanity, and send to late posterity the tale of the ante-pestilential

race, the heroes and sages of the lost state of things.

Hope beckons and sorrow urges us, the heart beats high with expectation,

and this eager desire of change must be an omen of success. O come!

Farewell to the dead! farewell to the tombs of those we loved!--farewell

to giant London and the placid Thames, to river and mountain or fair

district, birth-place of the wise and good, to Windsor Forest and its

antique castle, farewell! themes for story alone are they,--we must live

elsewhere.

Such were in part the arguments of Adrian, uttered with enthusiasm and

unanswerable rapidity. Something more was in his heart, to which he dared

not give words. He felt that the end of time was come; he knew that one by

one we should dwindle into nothingness. It was not adviseable to wait this

sad consummation in our native country; but travelling would give us our

object for each day, that would distract our thoughts from the

swift-approaching end of things. If we went to Italy, to sacred and eternal

Rome, we might with greater patience submit to the decree, which had laid

her mighty towers low. We might lose our selfish grief in the sublime

aspect of its desolation. All this was in the mind of Adrian; but he

thought of my children, and, instead of communicating to me these resources

of despair, he called up the image of health and life to be found, where we

knew not--when we knew not; but if never to be found, for ever and for

ever to be sought. He won me over to his party, heart and soul.

428

The Last Man