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knowledge, and thus he was often at a loss to account for the forcible
impressions which had been made upon my fancy.
A favorite topic with me was the popular belief in omens--a belief
which, at this one epoch of my life, I was almost seriously disposed
to defend. On this subject we had long and animated discussions--he
maintaining the utter groundlessness of faith in such matters,--I
contending that a popular sentiment arising with absolute spontaneity-
that is to say, without apparent traces of suggestion--had in itself the
unmistakable elements of truth, and was entitled to as much respect
as that intuition which is the idiosyncrasy of the individual man of
genius.
The fact is, that soon after my arrival at the cottage there had
occurred to myself an incident so entirely inexplicable, and which had
in it so much of the portentous character, that I might well have been
excused for regarding it as an omen. It appalled, and at the same time
so confounded and bewildered me, that many days elapsed before I could
make up my mind to communicate the circumstances to my friend.
Near the close of exceedingly warm day, I was sitting, book in hand, at
an open window, commanding, through a long vista of the river banks, a
view of a distant hill, the face of which nearest my position had been
denuded by what is termed a land-slide, of the principal portion of its
trees. My thoughts had been long wandering from the volume before me to
the gloom and desolation of the neighboring city. Uplifting my eyes
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