text:  Heavens! when I look back to the sufferings which I have witnessed or heard of even from this one brief London experience I say if life could throw open its long suits of chambers to our eyes from some station _beforehand_ if from some secret stand we could look _by anticipation_ along its vast corridors and aside into the recesses opening upon them from either hand halls of tragedy or chambers of retribution simply in that small wing and no more of the great caravanserai which we ourselves shall haunt simply in that narrow tract of time and no more where we ourselves shall range and confining our gaze to those and no others for whom personally we shall be interested what a recoil we should suffer of horror in our estimate of life! What if those sudden catastrophes or those inexpiable afflictions which _have_ already descended upon the people within my own knowledge and almost below my own eyes all of them now gone past and some long past had been thrown open before me as a secret exhibition when first I and they stood within the vestibule of morning hopes; when the calamities themselves had hardly begun to gather in their elements of possibility and when some of the parties to them were as yet no more than infants! The past viewed not _as_ the past but by a spectator who steps back ten years deeper into the rear in order that he may regard it as a future; the calamity of 1840 contemplated from the station of 1830--the doom that rang the knell of happiness viewed from a point of time when as yet it was neither feared nor would even have been intelligible--the name that killed in 1843 which in 1835 would have struck no vibration upon the heart--the portrait that on the day of her Majesty's coronation would have been admired by you with a pure disinterested admiration but which if seen to-day would draw forth an involuntary groan--cases such as these are strangely moving for all who add deep thoughtfulness to deep sensibility