Life was dear to me.

No consideration was present that enjoined me to relinquish it.

Sacred duty combined with every spontaneous sentiment to endear to me my being.

Should I not shudder when my being was endangered?
But what emotion should possess me when the arm lifted aginst me was Wieland's?
Ideas exist in our minds that can be accounted for by no established laws.

Why did I dream that my brother was my foe?
Why but because an omen of my fate was ordained to be communicated?
Yet what salutary end did it serve?
Did it arm me with caution to elude, or fortitude to bear the evils to which I was reserved?
My present thoughts were, no doubt, indebted for their hue to the similitude existing between these incidents and those of my dream.