they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in the
minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike science,
and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was baffled in
every attempt I made for this purpose. Their pronunciation was quick, and
the words they uttered, not having any apparent connection with visible
objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could unravel the
mystery of their reference. By great application, however, and after having
remained during the space of several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I
discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of
discourse; I learned and applied the words, _fire, milk, bread,_ and
_wood._ I learned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth
and his companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only
one, which was _father._ The girl was called _sister_ or
_Agatha,_ and the youth _Felix, brother,_ or _son_. I cannot
describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of
these sounds and was able to pronounce them. I distinguished several other
words without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as _good,
dearest, unhappy._
I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of
the cottagers greatly endeared them to me; when they were unhappy, I
felt depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathised in their joys. I saw
few human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter the
cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the
superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive,
often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that
he called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a
cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure
even upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled
with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I
generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after
having listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus
with Felix. He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my
unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his
friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more
cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old
man.
I could mention innumerable instances which, although slight, marked
the dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty
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