"A Tale of the Ragged Mountains" - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

Paris had become a convert, in great measure, to the doctrines of
Mesmer. It was altogether by means of magnetic remedies that he had
succeeded in alleviating the acute pains of his patient; and this
success had very naturally inspired the latter with a certain degree
of confidence in the opinions from which the remedies had been educed.
The Doctor, however, like all enthusiasts, had struggled hard to
make a thorough convert of his pupil, and finally so far gained his
point as to induce the sufferer to submit to numerous experiments.
By a frequent repetition of these, a result had arisen, which of
late days has become so common as to attract little or no attention,
but which, at the period of which I write, had very rarely been
known in America. I mean to say, that between Doctor Templeton and
Bedloe there had grown up, little by little, a very distinct and
strongly marked rapport, or magnetic relation. I am not prepared to
assert, however, that this rapport extended beyond the limits of the
simple sleep-producing power, but this power itself had attained great
intensity. At the first attempt to induce the magnetic somnolency, the
mesmerist entirely failed. In the fifth or sixth he succeeded very
partially, and after long continued effort. Only at the twelfth was
the triumph complete. After this the will of the patient succumbed
rapidly to that of the physician, so that, when I first became
acquainted with the two, sleep was brought about almost
instantaneously by the mere volition of the operator, even when the
invalid was unaware of his presence. It is only now, in the year 1845,
when similar miracles are witnessed daily by thousands, that I dare
venture to record this apparent impossibility as a matter of serious
fact.
The temperature of Bedloe was, in the highest degree sensitive,
excitable, enthusiastic. His imagination was singularly vigorous and
creative; and no doubt it derived additional force from the habitual
use of morphine, which he swallowed in great quantity, and without
which he would have found it impossible to exist. It was his
practice to take a very large dose of it immediately after breakfast
each morning- or, rather, immediately after a cup of strong coffee,
for he ate nothing in the forenoon- and then set forth alone, or
attended only by a dog, upon a long ramble among the chain of wild and
dreary hills that lie westward and southward of Charlottesville, and
are there dignified by the title of the Ragged Mountains.
Upon a dim, warm, misty day, toward the close of November, and
during the strange interregnum of the seasons which in America is
termed the Indian Summer, Mr. Bedloe departed as usual for the
hills. The day passed, and still he did not return.
About eight o'clock at night, having become seriously alarmed at his
protracted absence, we were about setting out in search of him, when
he unexpectedly made his appearance, in health no worse than usual,
and in rather more than ordinary spirits. The account which he gave of
his expedition, and of the events which had detained him, was a
singular one indeed.
"You will remember," said he, "that it was about nine in the morning
when I left Charlottesville. I bent my steps immediately to the