They are dead, and but one feeling in such a solitude
can persuade me to preserve my life. If I were engaged in any high
undertaking or design, fraught with extensive utility to my fellow
creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. But such is not my destiny;
I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence;
then my lot on earth will be fulfilled and I may die."
My beloved Sister, September 2nd
I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant whether I am ever
doomed to see again dear England and the dearer friends that inhabit
it. I am surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no escape and
threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows whom I
have persuaded to be my companions look towards me for aid, but I have
none to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our
situation, yet my courage and hopes do not desert me. Yet it is
terrible to reflect that the lives of all these men are endangered
through me. If we are lost, my mad schemes are the cause.
And what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hear
of my destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years will
pass, and you will have visitings of despair and yet be tortured by
hope. Oh! My beloved sister, the sickening failing of your heart-felt
expectations is, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death.
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