chosen my boat, and laid in my scant stores. I have selected a few books;

the principal are Homer and Shakespeare--But the libraries of the world

are thrown open to me--and in any port I can renew my stock. I form no

expectation of alteration for the better; but the monotonous present is

intolerable to me. Neither hope nor joy are my pilots--restless despair

and fierce desire of change lead me on. I long to grapple with danger, to

be excited by fear, to have some task, however slight or voluntary, for

each day's fulfilment. I shall witness all the variety of appearance, that

the elements can assume--I shall read fair augury in the rainbow--

menace in the cloud--some lesson or record dear to my heart in

everything. Thus around the shores of deserted earth, while the sun is

high, and the moon waxes or wanes, angels, the spirits of the dead, and the

ever-open eye of the Supreme, will behold the tiny bark, freighted with

Verney--the LAST MAN.

THE END.

615

The Last Man