Litchfield enquirer., 1860-08-16
Eflislellallp.
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(From the Hartford Evening Press.) A NEW VISION OF SIN."


 In the following narration beg the pub lie to believe that have no ulterior purpose to accomplish, that enter upon no Quixotic tilt, and that do not claim any new revel- ation to me of the relation between evil hab- it's here aud retribution hereafter. l have no expectation or desire to frighten this world into propricty And 1 may as well state, that am not, so far as l am aware, connected with any of the so-called moral reform societies, as agent, reformed specimen, or otherwise. The narrative am about to make, differs from most others of it's kind in one important particular-it is true.
 In the winter of 1850 I was member of one of the leading Colleges of this country. was in moderate circumstances pecuniarily, though was perhaps better furnished with less fceting riches than many others. Twas an inccssant and indiscriminate reader of books. For the solid sciences l had no par ticular fancy, but with mental modes and habits, and especially with the eccentric and fantastic in the intellectual and spiritual op- erations 1 was tolcrabIy familiar. All the
 literature of the supernatural was as real to me as the laboratory of the chemist, where 1 saw the continual struggle of material sub- stances to evolve themselves into more vol atie, less palpable and coarse forms. My imagination, naturally vivid, stimulated by such repasts, nearly mastered me. At times I could scarcely tell where the material ceased and the immaterial began, (if l may so express it); so that once and again 1 walked, as it seemed, from the solid earth onward upon an impalpable plain, when l heard the same voices, think, that Joan oi Arc heard call to her in the garden at Dom Remy. She was inspired, however, while only lacked exercise. 1 do not mean this ir any literal sense; 1 only describe a state oi mind. Twas at this time of spare habit excitable temperament. l was ambitious, proud, and extremely sensitive. l cannot deny that had seen something of the world and had contracted about the average bad habits of young men who have the sole care of themselves, and rather bungle the matter It is necessary to this relation to admit that had seen trife more of what is called life than young man ought to see, but al this period l was not only sick of my experi ence, but my habits were as correct as those Of any Pharisee in our college, ana we had some very favorable specimens of that an- cient sect.
 Nor can deny that at this period of my life was in peculiar mental condition. well remember an illustration of it. sa, writing late one night, copying an article fo, "My Grandmother's Review" (publishei near Boston )-a merely manual task, leay ing my thoughts free. It was in June, sul try night, and about midnight wind arose pouring in through the open windows full 0 mournfnl reminiscence, not o: this, but e other summers. The same wind that D Quincy heard at noon day in midsummer blowing through the room where he stood, mere boy, by tho side of his dead sister, wind centuries old. As I wrote on mechal ically became conscious of a presence in tn room, though did not lift my eyes from tn paper on which I wrote. Gradually cam to know that my grandmother dead so lon