Though it was past supper time, I detained them a while longer on the
hill, and made a trial whether truth were more powerful than fiction.
We looked again towards the town, no longer arrayed in that icy splendor
of earth, tree, and edifice, beneath the glow of a wintry midnight, which
shining afar through the gloom of a century had made it appear the very
home of visions in visionary streets. An indistinctness had begun to
creep over the mass of buildings and blend them with the intermingled
tree-tops, except where the roof of a statelier mansion, and the steeples
and brick towers of churches, caught the brightness of some cloud that
yet floated in the sunshine. Twilight over the landscape was congenial
to the obscurity of time. With such eloquence as my share of feeling and
fancy could supply, I called back hoar antiquity, and bade my companions
imagine an ancient multitude of people, congregated on the hillside,
spreading far below, clustering on the steep old roofs, and climbing the
adjacent heights, wherever a glimpse of this spot might be obtained. I
strove to realize and faintly communicate the deep, unutterable loathing
and horror, the indignation, the affrighted wonder, that wrinkled on
every brow, and filled the universal heart.
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