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1Author:  Bennett Emerson 1822-1905Add
 Title:  The league of the Miami  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Whoever has attempted to trace through its various windings, or plunge into and divine the mysteries of that mysterious, inexplicable thing, the human heart, has ever found himself perplexed—lost in a mazy bewilderment. Well sung one of England's greatest poets, “The proper study of mankind is man,” for man is a strange, strange being; his life is a medley of inconsistencies—his heart a labyrinth of good and evil. There is in our nature a propensity, a desire for concealment, which may be termed somewhat hypocritical, and which gives the outward, and the inward man, two strong contrasting aspects. Were it not for this, we should not see the gentle smile upon the surface, while the death-worm was gnawing at the core. We should not be daily told that such an one is happy, such an one enjoys all the beauties of life, while he, or she, is looking forward to the cold and silent tomb to end the misery of a life of woe. Why is this? Why do we seek to seem other than we feel— than we are? Ah, there is the mystery. That it is so, none will deny. Were it not for this—were our features the index of our thoughts—where would be the sacredness of grief? or the holy charm of love? And is not one sacred to us? Does not the other seem holy in our eyes? Do we not hoard them in our heart of hearts, as the miser hoards his treasures from the gaze of the world? And do we not, like him, feel a secret pleasure in brooding over them in silence, alone? Could we not do this—did the world know us as we know ourselves—not all the terrors of death, not all the terrors of a great hereafter, would be sufficient to hinder thousands from rashly plunging into the mystic, UNKNOWN BEYOND! In this do we not behold an All-wise ordering? Madam:—When this reaches you, I shall probably be no more. I believe that we are often warned of our approaching dissolution, and I feel that mine is near at hand. What my end will be, God only knows; yet, while I contemplate and write, I shudder. Seven years ago, I placed in your charge Cicely Edgerton—”
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