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Memoirs of William Miller - Sylvester Bliss

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The next day he again called on Mr. <strong>Miller</strong>, and<br />

looked as though he had been in the greatest mental<br />

agony.<br />

“Why, Mr. <strong>Miller</strong>,” said he, “I am going to hell.<br />

I have not slept a wink since I was here yesterday. I<br />

have looked at the question in every light, and the<br />

vision must terminate about A. D. 1843; and I am<br />

unprepared, and must go to hell.”<br />

Mr. <strong>Miller</strong> calmed him, and pointed him to the<br />

ark <strong>of</strong> safety; and in about a week, calling each day<br />

on Mr. M., he found peace to his soul, and went on<br />

his way rejoicing, as great a monomaniac as Mr.<br />

<strong>Miller</strong>. He afterwards acknowledged that, till he<br />

made the figures 1843, he had no idea <strong>of</strong> the result<br />

to which he was coming.<br />

Notes:<br />

1. Mr. <strong>Miller</strong> never regarded this dream as at all<br />

ominous; and yet, through life, it <strong>of</strong>ten recurred<br />

to his mind. On the occasion <strong>of</strong> his first visit to<br />

Boston, he was presented with a small Polyglot<br />

210

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