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Nathan. Allow me to relate a tale.
Saladin. Why not?

I always was a friend of tales well told.
Nathan. “Well told”-that's not precisely my affair.


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Entered, according to the Act of Congress, by LEA AND BLANCHARD, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

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My heart can multiply thy image still;
Successful love may sate itself away,
The wretched are the faithful ; 'tis their fate
To have all feeling save the one decay,
And every passion into one dilate,
As rapid rivers into ocean pour;
But ours is fathomless, and hath no shore.

· LAMENT OF Tasso.

I know not whether it was, that my mind, fatigued and fretted by the rude and harsh thoughts and schemes by which it had been occupied, relieved itself by an instinctive return to hopes of softer texture, or whether some rosy-breathed, love-scarfed dream had lain beside me through the night and folded my spirit in its dewy airs; but when I awoke the only thought that occupied my mind was Emily Wilson. Her image seemed to invest my nature. My swerving temper had slid from beneath the weight of all other interests, and my disposition had no hue but that which it took from her bright presence. My memory, my consciousness, my fancy, all that makes the spiritual being, was saturated with her influence. As one that reclining supine on some high peak looks up toward the sky, and sees, above him and beside him, no form nor colour save the casing canopy of air, so was I shrouded in the dream of her loveliness.

The gray and mist-robed morning was shedding its still and pensive light through the untroubled air, as


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