,,the ,,angel ,,in ,,the ,,cloud ,,by ,,edwin ,w4 ,,fuller ,,privately ,,printed ,,mcmvii ,copyright1 #aijg ,sumner ,fuller ,parham ,,to ,,the ,,hallowed ,,memory ,,of ,,my ,,father1 ,,who1 ,,even ,,while ,i ,,was ,,gazing ,,upon ,,the ,,golden ,,city ,,passed ,,within ,,its ,,walls1 ,,this ,,little ,,volume ,,is ,,inscribed1 ,,with ,,tears4 ,,preface ,to those who may favor these pages with perusal1 ,i make this earnest request3 that1 if they commence1 they will read all4 ,knowing that the best mode of dealing with doubts is to state and refute1 successively1 ,i regret that the plan of the present work forces a separation of the statement and refutation4 ,to read one without the other were to defeat the object in view2 hence my request4 ,many of the subjects of thought are worn smooth with the touch of ages1 so that hope for originality is as slender as the bridge of ,al ,sirat2 but in the bulrush ark of self-confidence1 pitched with ,faith1 ,i commit my first-born to the ,nile of public opinion2 whether to perish by crocodile critics1 or bask in the palace of favor1 the ,future1 alone1 must determine4 ,may ,pharaoh's daughter find it6 ,e4 ,w4 ,f4 ,,louisburg1 ,jan4 #agth1 #ahga4 ,a ,,note ,first published more than thirty-five years ago1 in the lifetime of the poet1 ,,the ,,angel ,,in ,,the ,,cloud has long since passed not only out of print but out of the memory of most living men4 ,of the copies of the original edition1 only few are known to exist4 ,upon his surviving family is imposed the obligation1 and to them comes the privilege1 of rescuing from the realm of forgotten things these evidences of a graceful and genuine poetic gift in one whose memory they revere and whose genius they are unwilling to have die4 ,it is therefore with the sense of performing a grateful duty that they have caused to be printed this new edition of ,edwin ,fuller's poems1 in the hope and belief that others1 like themselves1 will value it both as friends of the gentle poet and as disinterested lovers of good literature4 ,august1 #aijg4 ,,the ,,angel ,,in ,,the ,,cloud ',twas noon in ,august1 and the sultry heat ,had driven me from sunny balcony ,into the shaded hall1 where spacious doors ,stood open wide1 and lofty windows held ,their sashes up1 to woo the breeze1 in vain4 ,the filmy lace that curtained them was still1 ,and every silken tassel hung a-plumb4 ,the maps and unframed pictures o'er the wall ,gave not a rustle2 only now and then ,was heard the jingling sound of melting ice1 ,deep in a massive urn1 whose silver sides ,with trickling dewbeads ran4 ,the little birds1 ,up in their cages1 perched with open beaks1 ,and throbbing throats1 upon the swaying rings1 ,or plashed the tepid water in their cups ,with eager breast4 ,my favorite pointer lay1 ,with lolling tongue1 and rapid panting sides1 ,beside my chair1 upon the matted floor4 ,all things spoke heat1 oppressive heat intense1 ,save swallows twittering up the chimney-flue1 ,whose hollow flutterings sounded cool alone4 ,to find relief ,i seized my hat and book1 ,and fled into the park4 ,along a path ,of smoothest gravel1 oval1 curving white1 ,between two rows of closely shaven hedge1 ,i passed towards a latticed summer-house2 ,a fairy bower1 built in ,eastern style1 ,with spires1 and balls1 and fancy trellis-work1 ,o'er which was spread the jasmine's leafy net1 ,to snare the straying winds4 ,within ,i fell ,upon a seat of woven cane1 and fanned ,my streaming face in vain4 ,the very winds ,seemed to have fled1 and left alone the heat ,to rise from parchd lawn and scorching fields1 ,like trembling incense to the blazing god4 ,the leaves upon the wan and yellow trees ,hung motionless1 as if of rigid steel2 ,and e'en the feath'ry pendula of spray1 ,with faintest oscillation1 dared not wave4 ,the withered flowers shed a hot perfume1 ,that sickened with its fragrance2 and the bees ,worked lazily1 as if they longed to kick ,the yellow burdens from their patient thighs1 ,and rest beneath the ivy parasols4 ,the butterflies refrained from aimless flight1 ,and poised on blooms with gaudy1 gasping wings4 ,the fountain scarcely raised its languid jet ,an inch above its tube2 the basin deigned ,a feeble ripple for its tinkling fall1 ,and rolled the little waves with noiseless beat ,against the marble side4 ,the bright-scaled fish ,all huddled 'neath the jutting ledge's shade1 ,where1 burnished like their magnet toy types1 ,they rose and fell as if inanimate2 ,or1 with a restless stroke of tinted fin1 ,turned in their places pettishly around2 ,while1 with each move1 the tiny whirlpools spun ,like crystal dimples on the water's face4 ,the sculptured lions crouched upon the edge1 ,with gaping jaws1 and stony1 fixd eyes1 ,that ever on the pool glared thirstily4 ,deep in the park1 beneath the trees1 were grouped ,the deer1 their noses lowered to the earth1 ,to snuff a cooler air2 their slender feet ,impatient stamping at the teasing flies2 ,while o'er their heads the branching antlers spread1 ,a mocking skeleton of shade6 ,a fawn1 ,proud of his dappled coat1 played here and there1 ,regardless of repose2 the silver bell1 ,that tinkled from a band of broidered silk1 ,proclaiming him a petted favorite4 ,save him alone1 all things in view sought rest1 ,and wearied ,nature seemed to yield the strife1 ,and smold'ring wait her speedy sacrifice4 ,the heat grew hotter as ,i watched its work1 ,and with its fervor overcome1 ,i rose1 ,and through the grounds1 towards an orchard bent ,my faltering steps in full despair of ease4 ,down through the lengthened rows of laden trees1 ,whose golden-freighted boughs o'erlapped the way1 ,i hurried till ,i reached the last confines4 ,here stood a gnarld veteran1 now too old ,to bear much fruit1 but weaving with its leaves ,so dense a shade1 the smallest fleck of sun ,could not creep through4 ,beneath it spread a couch ,of velvet moss1 fit for the slumbers of a king4 ,here prone ,i fell1 at last amid a scene ,that promised refuge from the glaring heat4 ,beyond me stretched the orchard's canopy ,of thick1 rank foliage1 almost drooping down ,upon the green plush carpet underneath4 ,close at my feet a crystal spring burst forth1 ,and rolled its gurgling waters down the glade ,now spreading in a rilling silver sheet ,o'er some broad rock1 then gath'ring at its base ,into a foamy pool that churned the sand1 ,and mingling sparks of shining isinglass1 ,it danced away o'er gleamy1 pebbly bed1 ,where1 midst the grassy nooks and fibrous roots1 ,the darting minnows played at hide and seek1 ,oft fluttering upwards1 to the top1 to spit ,a tiny bubble out1 or slyly snap ,th' unwary little insect hov'ring near2 ,till1 by its tributes widened to a brook1 ,it poured its limpid waters undefiled ,in to the river's dun and dirty waves1-- ,a type of childhood's guileless purity1 ,that mingling with the sordid world is lost4 ,far in the distance1 lofty mountains loomed1 ,their blue sides trembling in the sultry haze4 ,from me to them spread varicultured fields1 ,that formed a patchwork landscape1 which deserved ,the pencil of a ,rembrandt and his skill2 ,the hardy yellow stubble smoothly shaved1 ,with boldness lying 'neath the scorching sun2 ,the suffering corn1 with tasselled heads all bowed1 ,and twisted arms appealing1 raised to ,heaven2 ,the meadows faded by the constant blaze2 ,the cattle lying in the hedge's shade2 ,across the landscape drawn a glitt'ring band1 ,where winds the river1 like a giant snake1 ,the ripples flashing like his polished scales4 ,above the scene a lonely vulture wheeled1 ,turning with every curve from side to side1 ,as if the fierce rays broiled his dusky wings2 ,and circling onwards1 dwindled to a speck1 ,and in the distance vanished out of sight6 ,complete repose was stamped on everything1 ,save where a tireless ant tugged at a crumb1 ,to drag it o'er th' impeding spires of moss2 ,and one poor robin1 with her breast all pale ,and feather-scarce1 hopped wearily along ,the streamlet's edge1 with plaintive clock-like chirp1 ,and searching1 found and bore the curling worm1 ,up to the yellow-throated brood o'erhead4 ,behind the mountains reared the copper clouds ,of summer skies1 that whitened as they rose1 ,till bleached to snow1 they drifted dreamily1 ,like gleaming icebergs1 through the blue sublime4 ,and as they1 one by one1 sailed far away1 ,methought they were as ships from ,earth to ,heaven1 ,thus slowly floating to the ,eternal ,port4 ,the ,thunder's muttered growl my reverie broke1 ,and looking toward the ,west1 ,i saw a storm1 ,with gloomy wrath1 had thrown its dark-blue line ,of breastworks1 quiv'ring with each grand discharge ,of its own ordnance1 o'er th' horizon's verge4 ,some time it stood to gloat upon its prey1 ,then1 girding up its strength1 began its march4 ,extending far its black gigantic arms1 ,it grimly clambered up the tranquil sky2 ,till1 half-way up the arch1 its shaggy brows ,scowled down in rage upon the frightened earth2 ,while through its wind-cleft portals sped the darts1 ,that brightly hurtled through the sultry air4 ,and down the mountain-sides the shadow crept1 ,a dark veil spreading over field and wood1 ,thus adding gloom to ,nature's awful hush4 ,the fleecy racks had fled far to the ,east1 ,where sporting safely in the gilding light1 ,they mocked the angry monster's cumbrous speed4 ,then1 while ,i marked its progress1 came a train1 ,of dark and doubting thoughts into my mind1 ,and bitterly thus my reflections ran3 ,strange is the ,providence that rules the world1 ,that sets the ,medean course of ,nature's laws2 ,sometimes adapting law to circumstance1 ,but oftener making law fulfilled a curse4 ,yon brewing storm in verdant summer comes1 ,when vegetation spreads its foliage sails1 ,that1 like a full-rigged ship's1 are easier torn2 ,why comes it not in winter1 when the trees1 ,with canvas reefed by ,autumn's furling frosts1 ,could toss in nude defiance to the blast8 ,the murd'rous wind precedes the gentle shower ,and ere the suffering grain has quenched its thirst1 ,it bows the heavy head1 alone of worth1 ,and from the ripening stalk wrings out the life1 ,while gayly nod the heads of chaff unharmed4 ,the rank miasma floats in summer-time1 ,when man must brave its poisoned breath or starve2 ,it hovers sickliest over richest fields ,while over sterile lands the air is pure2 ,the tallest oak is by the lightning riven1 ,the hateful bramble on the ground is spared2 ,the crop man needs demands his constant work1 ,the weeds alone spring forth without the plow2 ,the sweetest flowers wear the sharpest thorns1 ,the deadliest reptiles lurk in fairest paths6 ,wherever ,nature shows her brightest smile1 ',tis but a mask to hide her darkest frown4 ,the tropics seem an ,eden of luscious fruits ,and flowers1 and groves of loveliest birds1 and lakes ,that mirror their gay plumage flitting o'er2 ,where man may live in luxury of thought1 ,without the crime of schemes1 or curse of toil-- ,the tropics seem a ,hell1 when all with life ,are stifled with the foul sirocco's breath2 ,when from the green-robed mountain's volcan top1 ,a fire-fountain spouts its blazing jet ,far up against the starry dome of ,heaven2 ,returning in its vast umbrella shape1 ,leaps in red cataracts adown the slope1 ,shaves clean the mountain of its emerald hair1 ,and leaves it bald with ashes on its head4 ,below1 the valley is a crimson sea1 ,whose glowing billows break to white-hot foam2 ,and as they surge amid the towering trees1 ,they1 tottering1 bow forever to the waves2 ,the leaves and branches1 crackling into flame1 ,leave only clotted cinders floating there2 ,the darting birds1 their gaudy plumage singed1 ,fall fluttering in1 with little puffs of smoke4 ,the fleeing beasts are lapped in1 bellowing1 ,and charred to coal1 drift idly with the tide4 ,the red flood1 breaking through the vale1 rolls on ,its devious way towards the sea2 the glare ,illuminating far its winding track1 ,as if a devil flew with flaming torch1 ,or when an earthquake gapes its black-lined jaws1 ,and1 growling1 gulps a city's busy throng ,into its greedy bowels4 ,or the sea bursts forth ,its bands of rock1 and laughing at 8,thus far60 ,rolls wildly over peopled towns1 and homes ,in fancied safety2 playing fearful pranks1 ,o'er which to chuckle in its briny bed2 ,jeering the stones because they cannot swim1 ,and crushing like a shell all work of wood2 ,docking the laden ships upon the hills1 ,and tossing lighter craft about like weeds2 ,till1 wearied with the spoiling1 sinks to rest4 ,thus ,nature to herself is but half kind1 ,but over man holds fullest tyranny2 ,and man1 a creature who cannot prevent ,his own existence6 ,why not happy made8 ,for surely 'twere as easy to create ,man in a state of happiness and good1 ,and keep him there1 as to create at all4 ,if misery's not deserved before his birth1 ,then misery must from purest malice flow2 ,yet malice none assign to ,providence4 ,but some may say3 ,were man thus happy made1 ,he would not be a person1 but a thing1 ,and lose the very seed of happiness1 ,the consciousness of merit4 ,grant 'tis true6 ,then why does merit rarely meet reward8 ,and why does there appear a tendency1 ,throughout the polity divine1 to mark ,with disapproval all the good in man1 ,and bless the evil8 ,through the entire world ,is felt this conflict3 some strange power within ,exciting us to good1 while all events ,proclaim its folly4 ,throughout ,nature's laws1 ,through man in every station1 up to ,god1 ,this fatal contradiction glares4 ,the storm1 ,with ruthless breath1 annihilates the cot ,that1 frail and humble1 shields the widow's head2 ,and while she reads within the use-worn ,book ,that none who trusts shall e'er be desolate1 ,the falling timbers crush the promise out1 ,and she is dead beneath her ruined home6 ,the prostrate cottage passed1 the very wind ,now howls a rough but fawning lullaby ,around the marble walls1 and lofty dome1 ,that shelter pride and heartless arrogance4 ,and when the ,boaz ,winter throws his skirt ,of purest white across the lap of ,earth1 ,and decks her bare arborial hair with gems1 ,whose feeblest flash would pale the ,koh-i-noor1 ,the rich1 alone1 find beauty in the scene1 ,and1 clad in thankless comfort1 brave the cold4 ,the gliding steels flash through the feathery drifts1 ,the jingling bells proclaiming happiness2 ,yet 'neath the furry robe the oath is heard1 ,and boisterous laughter at the ribald jest4 ,the coldest hearts beat 'neath the warmest clothes2 ,and often all the blessings wealth can give1 ,are heaped on one1 whose daily life reviles ,the very name of ,him who doth bestow4 ,while in a freezing garret1 o'er the coals ,that1 bluely flickering with the feeble flame1 ,seem cold themselves1 a trusting ,christian bends2 ,her faith all mocked by cruel circumstance4 ,the cold1 bare walls1 the chilling air-swept floor2 ,some broken stools1 a mattress stuffed with straw1 ,upholstering the apartment4 ,through the sash1 ,the wind1 with jaggd lips of broken glass1 ,shrieks in its freezing spite4 ,a cold-blued babe1 ,with face too thin to hold a dimple's print1 ,with famished gums tugs at the arid breast1 ,thrusting its bare1 splotched arms1 in eagerness1 ,from out the poor white blanket's ravelled edge4 ,beside the mother sits a little boy1 ,with one red frost-cracked hand spread out1 in vain1 ,to warm above the faintly-burning coals2 ,the other pressing hardly 'gainst his teeth ,a stale and tasteless loaf of smallest size1 ,which lifting often to the mother's view1 ,he offers part2 she only shakes her head1 ,and sadly smiles upon the gaunt young face4 ,yet in her basket1 on a pile of work1 ,an open ,bible lies with outstretched leaves1 ,whose verses speak in keenest irony3 8,do good10 and 8verily thou shalt be fed40 ,and so through all the world1 the righteous poor1 ,the wicked rich4 ,deceit1 and fraud1 and craft ,reap large rewards1 while pure integrity ,must gnaw the bone of faith with here and there ,a speck of flesh called consciousness of right1 ,to reach the marrow in another world4 ,but man within himself's the greatest paradox2 8,a little animal10 as ,voltaire says1 ,and yet a greater wonder than the sun1 ,or spangled firmament4 ,that little one ,can weigh and measure all the wheeling worlds1 ,but finds within his 8five feet0 home1 a ,sphinx ,whose riddle he can never solve4 8,thyself10 ,the oracles of old bade men to know1 ,as if to mock their very impotence2 ,and man1 to know himself1 for centuries ,has toiled and studied deep1 in vain4-- ,not man in flesh1 for blest ,hippocrates ,bright trimmed his lamp1 and passed it down the line1 ,and each disciple adding of his oil1 ,it blazes now above the ghastly corpse1 ,till every fibre1 every thread-like vein1 ,is known familiar as a city's streets2 ,the little muscle twitching back the lip1 ,rejoicing in a name that spans the page4 ,but man in mind1 that is not seen nor felt1 ,but only knows he is1 through consciousness4 ,he sees an outside world1 with all its throng ,of busy people who care not for him1 ,and only few that know he does exist2 ,and yet he feels the independent world ,is but effect produced upon himself1 ,the ,universe is packed within his mind1 ,his mind within its little house of clay4 ,what is that mind8 ,has it a formal shape8 ,and has it substance1 color1 weight1 or force8 ,what are the chains that bind it to the flesh8 ,that never break except in death1 though oft ,the faculties are sent far out through space8 ,where is it placed1 in head1 or hands1 or feet8 ,and can it have existence without place8 ,and if a place1 it must extension have1 ,and if extended1 it is matter proven4 ,poor man6 he has but mind to view mind with1 ,and might as well attempt to see the eye ,without a mirror6 ,true1 faint consciousness ,holds up a little glass1 wherein he sees ,a few vague facts that cannot satisfy4 ,for these1 and their attendant laws1 have fought ,the mental champions of the world till now ,that each may deck them in his livery1 ,and claim them as his own discovery4 ,hedged in1 man does not know that he is paled1 ,and struggles fiercely 'gainst the boundaries1 ,and strives to get a glimpse of those far realms ,of thought sublime1 where his short wings would sink ,with helpless fluttering1 through the vast profound4 ,upon the coals of curiosity1 ,a writhing worm1 he's laid2 and twists and turns1 ,to find1 in vain1 the healing salve of ,truth4 ,but grant that mind exists in fullest play3 ,how does it work and what its modes of thought8 ,here consciousness may act1 and hold to view ,a dim outline of powers1 contraposed4 ,in such a conflict1 every one may seize ,the doctrine suits him best4 ,hence different creeds-- ,desire battling reason1 reason will1 ,and will the weathercock of motive's wind2 ,motive the cringing slave of circumstance4 ,and here ,charybdis rises2 no control ,has man o'er circumstance1 but circumstance ,begets the motive governing the will2 ,then how can man be free8 ,yet some may say1 ,man can obey the motive1 or can not4 ,he can1 but only when a stronger rules4 ,that we without a motive never act1 ,i do declare1 though in the face of ,reid4 ,that that is strongest which impels1 a child ,might know1 although ,jouffroy exclaims1 8,you're reasoning in a circle40 ,let us place ,an iron fragment 'twixt two magnet-bars1 ,what one attracts is thereby stronger proved4 ,or it may be the really weaker one1 ,but yet1 because of nearness to the steel1 ,possess a relatively greater force4 ,and so of motives1 howe'er trivial they1 ,the one that moves is strongest to the mind4 ,to illustrate3 ,suppose ,i pare a peach2 ,a friend near by me banteringly asserts ,that ,i can not refrain from eating it4 ,two motives now arise--the appetite1 ,and the desire to prove my self-control4 ,i hesitate awhile1 then laughing say1 8,i would not give the peach to prove you wrong40 ,but as my teeth press on it1 pride springs up1 ,and bids me show that ,i am not the slave ,of appetite1 and far away ,i hurl ,the tinted1 fragrant sphere4 ,was not each thought ,spontaneous8 ,could ,i control their rise8 ,how perfectly absurd to talk of choice ,between two motives offered to the mind6 ,as if the motive was a horse we'd choose ,to pull our minds about4 ,there is no choice ,until the motive makes it2 then we choose1 ,not 'tween the motives1 but the acts4 ,if1 then1 ,the spring of action is the motive's power1 ,the motive being far beyond our sway1 ,where is our freedom8 ,but a fabled myth6 ,and man but differs from a star in this1-- ,the laws of stars are fixed and definite1 ,and every movement there can be foretold2 ,of man1 no deed can be foreseen till done4 ,at most we can but form a general guess ,how he will act1 at such a time and place4 ,even if we knew the motives that would rise1 ,we could not prophesy unless we knew ,our subject's frame of mind2 for differently1 ,on different minds1 same motives often act4 ,hence1 we can tell the conduct of a friend ,more surely than a stranger's1 since we know1 ,by long acquaintance1 how his motives work4 ,but should new motives rise1 we cannot tell ,until experience gives us data new4 ,thus we will ride beside a friend alone1 ,and show to him our money without fear1 ,because we know the motives--love for us1 ,honor1 and horror of disgraceful crime-- ,are stronger with him than cupidity4 ,but with a stranger we would feel unsafe2 ,nor would we trust our friend1 were we alone ,upon an island1 wrecked1 and without food1 ,and saw his eye with hunger glare1 and heard ,the famished motive whispering to him1 8,kill60 ,if he were free1 would we feel slightest fear8 ,for all his soul would shudder from the deed1 ,and never motive could impel such crime4 ,upon this principal all law is made2 ,for were man free he could not be controlled1 ,and all compliance would be his caprice4 ,but since he is the tyrant-motive's slave1 ,the law to govern motive only seeks ,and builds its sanction on the base of pain1 ,as motive strongest in the human heart4 ,it only falls below perfection's height1 ,because there are exceptions to the rule2 ,when hate and passion1 lust and greed of gold1 ,prove stronger than the fear of distant pain4 ,and could the law know fully every heart1 ,and vary sanction1 there would be no crime4 ,but law itself1 and the obeying world1 ,are proofs against the grosser form of ,fate3 ,that all is preordained1 nor can be changed4 ,all human life is vacillating life2 ,we make our plans each day1 then alter them4 ,we form resolves one hour that break the next1 ,and no one dares assert that he will act1 ,upon the morrow1 in a certain way2 ,but cries1 it all depends on circumstance4 ,and this is strange1 that while we cannot change ,our lives one tittle by our own free will1 ,we help1 each day1 to change our neighbor's course2 ,and he assists the motives changing ours4 ,for all relations to our fellow-men1 ,are powers that form our lives1 in spite of us4 ,but we may change our motives1 often do1 ,by changing place1 or circumstance of life1 ,by hearing1 reading1 or reflective thought2 ,yet are these very things from motives done1 ,and motives mocking all our vain commands4 ,one motive made the object of an act1 ,another rises subject of the act2 ,and to the final motive we can never reach4 ,the world's a self-adjusting1 vast machine1 ,whose human comparts cannot guide themselves2 ,and each is but a puppet to the whole1 ,yet adds its mite towards its government2 ,here1 in this motive circle1 lies all ,fate4 ,our fellow-men with motives furnish us1 ,while we contribute to their motive fund4 ,the real power1 hidden deep within1 ,escapes the eye of careless consciousness2 ,who proudly tells us we are action's cause4 ,upon this error men1 mistaken1 raise ,the edifice of law in all its forms2 ,that yet performs its varied functions well1 ,because it offers motives that restrain1 ,till stronger overcome1 and crime ensues4 ,the motive gibbet lifts its warning arms2 ,the pillory gapes its scolloped lips for necks2 ,the lash grows stiff with blood and shreds of flesh2 ,the treadmill yields beneath the wearied feet2 ,and ,sabbath after ,sabbath preachers tell ,of judgment1 and of awful ,hell1 and ,heaven2 ,all these1 to stronger make1 than lust of sin4 ,and yet1 to lead my reasoning to its end1 ,i find a chaos of absurdity4 ,if ,i am by an unruled motive driven1 ,why act at all8 ,why passive not recline ,upon the lap of destiny1 and wait her arms8 ,why struggle to acquire means of life1 ,when ,fate must fill our mouths or let us die8 ,why go not naked forth into the world1 ,and trust to ,fate for clothes8 ,why spring aside ,from falling weight1 or flee a burning house1 ,or fight with instinct strength the clasp of waves8 ,because we cannot help it2 every act ,behind it has a motive1 whose command ,we1 willing or unwilling1 must obey4 ,law governs motives1 motives create law2 ,between the reflex action man is placed1 ,the helpless shuttlecock of unjust ,fate6 ,now passive driven to commit a crime1 ,then by the driver laid upon the rack2 ,a ,zeno's slave1 compelled by ,fate to steal1 ,and then compelled by ,fate to bear the lash6 ,what gross injustice is the rule of life6 ,a sentient being made without a will1 ,and placed a cat's-paw in the hands of ,fate1 ,who rakes the moral embers for a sin1 ,that1 found1 must burn the helpless one alone4 ,all right and wrong1 and whate'er makes man man1 ,are gone1 and language is half obsolete2 ,no need of words to tell of moral worth ,existing not1 nor e'en conceivable2 ,no words of blame or commendation1 given ,according to the intention of a deed2 ,no words of cheer or comfort1 to incite1 ,for man must act without our useless tongues2 ,no words of prayer1 if ,fate supplies our wants2 ,no words of prayer1 if ,fate locks up her store2 ,no words of love1 for fondest love were loathed ,if fanned by ,fate to flame4 ,no words of hate1 ,for all forgive a wrong when helpless done2 ,the buds that bloom upon the desert heart ,lose all their sweetness when they're forced to grow2 ,all pleasure's marred because it is not earned1 ,and pain more painful since 'tis undeserved4 ,man falling from his high estate1 becomes ,a brute with keener sensibilities2 ,endowed with mind1 upon whose plastic face ,fate writes its batch of lies2 poor man believes1 ,and prates of moral agency1 and cants ,of good he does1 and evil that he shuns4 ,with blind content1 he rests in false belief1 ,and happy thus escapes the mental rack-- ,the consciousness of what he really is4 ,and yet why false belief8 ,the world believes1 ,and acting1 moves in general harmony2 ,could harmony from such an error flow8 ,would all believe1 would not some one ,have doubted by his works as well as faith8 ,the veriest skeptic walks the earth to-day1 ,as if he held the seal of freest will1 ,and shapes its course1 and judges all mankind ,by freedom's rule4 ,then may not that be true ,which most believe1 and those who doubt profess ,in every act2 as that which few believe ,and to which none conform8 ,two paths ,i see1 ,one marked ,free-,will1 the other ,fate4 ,the first1 ,extending far as human thought can reach1 ,through lovely meads with sweetest flowers1 and fruits ,of actions clearly shown as right and wrong1 ,because of choice 'twixt the two2 of laws ,with sanction suiting agents who are free2 ,of courts acquitting the insane of crime1 ,of crime made crime1 alone1 when done as crime1 ,of judgment passed by public sentiment ,on action in the ratio of liberty4 ,delightful view2 but seek an entrance there-- ,the towering bars of unruled motive stand ,before the path1 and none can overleap4 ,the field of ,fate lies open2 nothing bars ,our progress there4 ,a thousand different ways ,the path diverges4 ,every by-path leads ,to some foul pit or bottomless abyss4 ,along each side are strewed the whitening bones ,of venturous pilgrims1 lost amid its snares1 ,some broken on the rocks of gross decree1 ,who hold an unchanged destiny from birth2 ,who will not take a medicine if sick1 ,who cant of 8,to be1 will be10 and the time ,unalterably set to each man's life4 ,some stranded on the finer form of ,fate1 ,who say it works by means4 ,hence they believe ,in using all preventives to disease1 ,in going boating in a rubber belt1 ,in placing ,franklin rods upon a house1 ,in preaching1 and in praying men repent4 ,these1 when one dies1 cry out1 8,it was his time40 ,or if he should recover1 8,it was not40 ,their fate is always ex post facto fate1 ,and knowing not the future1 they abide ,the issue of events1 and then confirm ,their dogged dogmas4 ,still another class1 ,though fewer far in numbers1 perish here4 ,these are the sophists2 men who deeply dive ,beneath the surface of effect1 and trace ,our actions to their source4 ,they find that man1 ,made in the glorious image of his ,god1 ,is not an independent cause1 but works ,from motive causes out of his control4 ,they find that every mental act must flow ,from outside source1 then fearlessly ascend ,the chain of being to a height divine1 ,and dare to fetter the ,eternal mind1 ,and throw their bonds around ,omnipotence4 ,as well a spider in an eagle's nest ,might1 from his hidden web among the twigs1 ,attempt to throw his little gluey thread ,around the mottled wing1 whose muscled strength ,beats hurried vacuums in the ocean's spray1 ,or circling upward1 parts the thunder-cloud1 ,and bursts above2 and shaking off the mists1 ,with rigid feathers bright as burnished steel1 ,floats proudly through the tranquil air4 ,which realm ,shall now be mine1 ,free-,will or ,fate8 ,the one ,stands open wide1 but all in ruin ends2 ,the other1 fair if once within the pale2 ,but how to scale the barriers none can tell4 ,bah6 all is doubt4 ,i'll leave the mystic paths ,where1 on each side1 are ranged the phantom shapes ,of disputants1 alive and dead1 who fight1 ,with foolish zeal1 o'er myths intangible2 ,when each one cries 8,eureka60 for his creed4 ,that scarcely lives a day1 then yields its place4 ,a ,roman 'gainst a ,roman1 ,greek to ,greek1 ,a zealous ,omar with an ,ali paired2 ,a saintly ,pharisee in hot dispute ,with ,sadducees4 ,along th' illustrious rows ,of lesser lights1 who advocate the creeds ,of their respective masters1 we descend ,to later days and see ,titanic minds ,exert their giant strength to reach the truth1 ,and1 baffled1 fall4 ,locke1 ever elsewhere clear1 ,here mystified ,spinoza's dizzy wing ,o'erweighted by his strange 8imperium20 ,hobbes1 with his new intrinsic liberty2 ,and ,belsham's quaint reduction too absurd2 8,sufficient reason10 reared in ,leibnitz's strength2 ,reid1 ,collins1 ,edwards1 ,tappan1 ,priestley1 ,clarke1 ,all push each other from the door of ,truth4 ,none ever have1 nor ever will1 on earth1 ,reach truth of theory concerning ,fate4 ,it stands as whole from every touch of man ,as ocean's broad blue scroll1 whose rubber waves ,erase the furrows of the plowing keels4 ,then1 careless whether man be king or slave1 ,i'll take his actions1 whether free or not1 ,and trace them to their sources4 ,deep the dive1 ,but1 throwing off the buoys of ,charity ,and ,faith1 and all the prejudice of life1 ,i grasp the lead of ,doubt1 and downward sink ,into the cesspool of the human heart1 ,to find the fount1 that to the surface casts ,a thousand bubbles of such varied hues3 ,the pale white bubble of hypocrisy1 ,the murky bubble of revenge and hate1 ,the frail gilt bubble of ambition's hope1 ,the rainbow bubble of sweet love in youth1 ,the dull slime bubble of a sensual lust1 ,the crystal bubble of true charity6 ,instead of analyzing every fact ,of moral nature1 searching for its source1 ,i'll name a source most probable1 and try ,the facts upon it2 if they fit1 confirm1 ,if not1 reject4 ,with ,hobbes and ,paley then ,i join2 and here avow that all mankind ,have but one source of action--,love of self-- ,yet not self-love as understands the world1 ,for that's a name for error shown by few2 ,but natural instinct that impels all men ,to give self pleasure1 and to save it pain2 ,for pain and pleasure are ,life's only modes-- ,no neutral state--we suffer1 or enjoy2 ,and every action's linked with one of these4 ,we cannot act without a consciousness1 ,a consciousness of pleasure or of pain1 ,the very automatic workings of our frames ,are pleasures1 unmarked from their constancy2 ,but if impeded1 they produce a pain4 ,this instinct1 teaching us to pleasure seek1 ,and pain avoid1 none ever disobey2 ,for be their conduct what it may1 a crime ,or virtue1 greed or pure benevolence1 ,to find the greatest pleasure is their aim4 ,nay1 start not1 critic1 but attend the proofs4 ,a man exists within himself alone1 ,himself1 or he would lose identity4 ,to him the world exists but by effects ,upon himself4 ,his actions toward it then ,bear reference to himself4 ,he cannot act ,without affecting self4 ,his nature's law ,demands that self be dealt with pleasantly4 ,there is no pain or pleasure in the world1 ,but as he feels th' reality in self1 ,or fancies it by signs in other men4 ,this fancied pain is never real pain1 ,but yields a real reflex4 ,others' pain ,is never pain to us1 unless we know ,it does exist4 ,within a hundred yards ,a neighbor dies1 in agony intense1 ,and yet we feel no slightest trace of pain1 ,unless informed thereof4 ',tis only when we know1 ,and therefore are affected1 that we feel4 ,the modes of pain and pleasure are then two1 ,a real and a fancied one4 ,the first acute1 ,in ratio of our sensibilities2 ,the last in ratio of our image-power4 ,these gifts in different men unequal are1 ,and hence life's varied phases4 ,one may deem ,a real pain far greater than a pain ,in fancy formed1 from others' sufferings2 ,he eats alone1 and drives the starving off4 ,another's fancy paints more vividly1 ,and he endures keen hunger to supply ,the poor with food4 ,and so of pleasure too1-- ,and this moves all to shun the greatest pain1 ,and find the greatest pleasure4 ,different minds1 ,and each at different times of life1 possess ,a different standard of this highest good4 ,the swaddled infant wails for its own food1 ,because its highest pleasure is alone in sense2 ,the child will from its playmate hide a cake ,until it learns that praise for sharing it ,gives greater pleasure than the sweetened taste2 ,one boy at school proves insubordinate1 ,his schoolmates' praise he deems his highest good2 ,another studies well1 because he values more ,a parent's smile4 ,the murderer with his knife1 ,the maiden praying in her purity1 ,the miser dying over hoards of gold1 ,the widow casting thither her two mites1 ,a white-veil bending o'er the dying couch1 ,a stained beauty floating through the waltz1 ,the preacher's zeal1 the gambler's eager zest2 ,all have one motive1 greatest good to self6 ,the tender stop their ears1 and cry aloud3 8,what6 do you dare assert the gambler seeks ,with hellish zeal the faintest shade of good8 ,that he is holy as the ,man of ,god80 ,by no means1 yet he seeks his good the same4 ,not good as you've been taught to apprehend1 ,but good1 the greatest to his frame of mind4 ,do not exclaim that good is always good1 ,and never differs from itself4 ,anon ,we'll speak of abstract truths1 if such there be ,that good and pleasure are synonymous ,at times of action1 is most surely plain2 ,for pleasure's but the consciousness of good1 ,or satisfaction of our tendencies4 ,if all the gambler's soul is bent on gain1 ,then at the moment gain is greatest good2 ,but should you reason with him1 and explain ,another life1 and make it really seem ,to him the best1 he straight would change his course4 8,but10 cries my friend1 8the preacher1 if he's true1 ,must labor1 not for self1 but others' good2 ,and in proportion as the self's forgot1 ,and others cared for1 does his conduct rise40 ,but he can not1 if conscious1 forget self1 ,for everything he does is felt within2 ,but deeds for others' good a pleasure give2 ,if done in pain to self1 the pleasure's more4 ,to gain the pleasure1 self is put to pain1 ,just as a vesication brings relief4 ,if he refused to undergo the pain ,remorse would double it4 ,among his flock ,some one is sick2 to visit him is right1 ,and done1 affords a pleasure4 ,sweeter far ,that pleasure1 if he walks through snow and ice1 ,at duty's call6 ,sublime self-sacrifice1 ,of which men prate1 is nothing more nor less ,than base self-worship4 ,little pain endured ,t' avoid a great2 a smaller pleasure lost ,to gain a larger6 ,all the preacher's words1 ,that burn or die upon the stolid ear1 ,are spoken from this motive1 good to self4 ,you stare2 but it is true4 ,why does he preach8 ,to save men's souls8--,why does he try to save8 ,because he loves his fellow-men8 ,not so4 ,his love for them but to the pleasure adds1 ,which duty done confers2 but all his work ,must be with reference to himself alone1 ,though cunning self the real motive hides1 ,and leaves his broad philanthropy and love ,to claim the merit4 ,let a score of men1 ,the blackest sinners1 die4 ,he knows it not1 ,and feels no pang2 but if he is informed1 ,he suffers reflex pain4 ,and if his charge1 ,remorseful tortures for unfaithfulness4 ,and only is the state of souls to him ,of interest1 as they are known4 ,when known1 ,it is a source of pleasure or of pain ,which all his labor is to gain or shun4 8,this difference then10 says one1 8between men's lives2 ,some live for present1 some for future good4 ,the sensual care for self on earth alone1 ,the mystic cares for self beyond the grave40 ,both love a present self1 in present time4 ,they differ in their notions of its good4 ,the stern ascetic1 with his shirt of hair1 ,his bleeding penitential knees1 his fasts ,to almost death1 his soul-exhausting prayers1 ,is seeking1 cries the world1 good after death4 ,and yet his course of life is that alone ,which could yield pleasure in his state of mind4 ,he suffers1 it is true1 but hope of ,heaven ,thus rendered sure1 as much a present good ,is1 as the food that feasts the epicure4 ,the contemplation of his future home1 ,which he is thus securing1 is a balm ,that heals his stripes1 and sweetens all their pain4 ,the penance blows upon his blood-wealed breast ,are bliss compared to lashes of remorse4 ,so for the greater good1 the hope of ,heaven1 ,he undergoes 8the trivial pain of flesh40 ,the epicure cares not a fig for ,heaven1 ,but finds his greatest good in pleasing sense4 ,and so the man who gives his wealth away ,is just as selfish as the money-slave ,who grinds out life amid his dusty bags4 ,they both seek happiness with equal zest3 ,the one finds pleasure in the many thanks ,of those receiving1 or the public's praise1 ,or if concealed1 in consciousness of right2 ,the other in the consciousness of wealth4 ,if all men act from motives just the same1 ,where is the right and wrong8 ,in the effect8 ,the quality of actions must be judged ,from their intent1 and not their consequence4 ,if two men matches light for their cigars1 ,and from one careless dropped1 a house is burned1 ,is he that dropped it guiltier of crime ,than he whose match went out8 ,most surely no6 ,then is the miser blameless1 though he turn ,the helpless orphan freezing from his door2 ,and ,dives should not be commended more1 ,though all his goods to feed the poor he gives4 ,how then shall we determine quality ,of actions1 when their sources are the same1 ,and their effects possess no quality8 ,two dead men lie in blood beside the way1 ,the one shot by a friend1 an accident2 ,the other murdered for his gold4 ',tis plain ,no wrong lies in th' effects1 for both are 'like2 ,and of the agents1 he of accident ,had no intent1 and therefore did no wrong4 ,the other killed to satisfy the self1 ,a motive founding all the ,christian work1 ,and right if that is right4 ,the wrong ,then lies between the motive and effect1 ,and must exist in the effecting means4 ,yet how within the means is wrong proved wrong8 ,jouffroy would say1 because a disregard ,of others' rights2 for here he places good1 ,when classifying ,nature's moral facts4 ,he makes the child first serve flesh self1 ,then moral self1 and last to others' good ,ascend1 and general order4 ,what a myth6 ,as if man thought of others1 save effect ,from them upon himself4 ,but order gives ,a greater good to self2 therefore he joins ,his strength to others1 creates laws that bind ,himself and them1 and produce harmony4 ,he thus surrenders minor good of self1 ,to gain a greater4 ,this is all the need ,he has of order1 though ,jouffroy asserts ,that order universal is the ,good4 ,yet still he says that private good of each ,is but a fragment of the absolute1 ,and that regard for every being's rights ,is binding as the universal law6 ,regard for others' rights indeed1 when men ,unharmed agree to hang a man for crime6 ,not for the crime--that's past2 but to prevent ,a second crime1 which crime alone exists ,in apprehensive fancy4 ,thus for wrong ,that's but forethought1 they do a real wrong4 ,to save their rights from harm they fear may come4 ,they strip a fellow-man of actual right1 ,and highest1 right of life2 then dare to call ,their action pure1 divinely just1 and good1 ,and all the farce of empty names4 ,they make ,of gross injustice individual1 ,a flimsy justice1 for mankind at large1 ,and cry1 ,let it be done1 though ,heaven fall6 ,as if a whole could differ from its parts1 ,or right be made from wrong4 ,yet some may say ,that one is sacrificed for many's good1 ,or hung that many may avoid his fate2 ,and that his crime deserved what he received4 ,but law must value every man alike1 ,and cannot save one man1 or thousand men1 ,from future evil1 only possible1 ,by greatest evil to another man1 ,in its own view of justice4 ,nor can crime ,meet punishment1 at mortal hands1 by right1 ,for murder's murder1 done by one or twelve1 ,and legal murder's done in colder blood1 ,whose stains are chalked by vain authority4 ,authority6 the child of numbers and self-love6 ,regard for rights of things1 indeed1 when beasts ,and birds must yield their right of life that man ,may please his right of taste4 ,when1 during ,lent1 ,the holy-days of fasting and of prayer1 ,the scaly victims crowd the ,bishop's board1 ,their flesh unfleshed by ,conscience' pliant rule1 ,our palates must be for a moment pleased1 ,though costing something agonies of death2 ,and worse than robbers1 what we cannot give1 ,we dare to take4 ,they have no souls1 say you8 ,nor after death exist8 ,that nothing's lost1 ,philosophy maintains as axiom truth4 ,an object disappears1 but somewhere lives ,in other form4 ,the water-pool to mist ,is changed1 the powder into flame and smoke4 ,my pointer dies1 his body1 decomposed1 ,the air1 the soil1 and vegetation feeds2 ,yet still exists1 although disintegrate4 ,for there was something1 while the pointer lived1 ,that was not body1 but that governed it1 ,a spirit1 essence1 call it what you will1 ,a something seen but through phenomena1 ,and by them proved most clearly to exist4 ,a something1 not the feet that made them run1 ,a something1 not the eyes1 but knew they saw1 ,a something1 without which the eyes could see ,as much as glasses can without the eye1 ,the something1 8,carlo0 named1 that knew the name4 ,the pointer dies1 and we dissect the flesh4 ,all there1 none missing1 to the tiniest nerve2 ,yet something's gone1 the more important part1 ,and can you say that it has ceased to be1 ,when th' flesh1 inferior to it1 still exists8 ,the spirit1 if existent1 must be whole1 ,nor can be parted till material proven4 ,that ,carlo lives1 seems plain as ,i shall live2 ,he lived for self1 and so did ,i2 we fare ,alike in after-life1 we differ here ,in consciousness of immortality4 ,but ,i digress4 ,where is the right and wrong8 ,this is the ,gordian knot no sword can cut1 ,all sages of the world1 with wisdom-teeth1 ,have gnawed this file without the least effect4 ,the thousand savants of old ,greece and ,rome ,proclaimed a thousand theories of good1 ,that each1 successive1 proud devoid of truth4 ,a myriad moderns have advanced their views1 ,each gained a few disciples1 who avowed their truth1 ,and each1 by some one else1 been proven wrong4 ,a ,bentham marches out utility1 ,a moral test from benefit or harm4 ,as if the good depended on effect1 ,and good would not be good1 though universe ,in all its phases found no use6 ,and ,price ,parades his 8reason10 with its simple good2 ,who'd rather give the question up1 than err1 ,and so declares it cannot be defined4 ,then ,wollaston declares that good is truth1 ,which no one doubts1 far as it goes2 it goes ,toward good1 as far as truth1 its attribute2 ,beyond1 it cannot reach4 ,and ,montesquieu ,and ,clarke1 relation's order preach2 a rule ,that makes the growing grain1 or falling shower1 ,a moral agent1 capable of good4 ,then ,wolf and ,malebranche perfection see1 ,and therefore good1 in ,god2 but their sight fails1 ,and ,god may mirror good1 but man's weak eyes ,ne'er see it4 ,adam ,smith1 with 8sentiment0 ,proceeds to dress a thought1 and call it1 good2 ,and makes the abstract of a ,universe ,arise from puling human sympathy4 ,the largest concourse follow ,hutcheson1 ,although the greater part ne'er heard of him4 ,the world at large believes in moral sense2 ,they call it conscience6 ,oh the precious word6 ,though stretched and warped1 they almost deify1 ,and term it man's tribunal in his breast1 ,where he may judge his actions1 right or wrong4 ,what nonsense6 ,conscience is but consciousness ,of soul1 and idea of its good4 ,we form ,this idea from regard of fellow-men1 ,association1 and from thought4 ,we find ,sometimes the good of soul conflicts with flesh1 ,and when we know the soul above the flesh1 ,we yield to that the preference4 ,hence arise ,the foolish notions of self disregard4 ,the savage does not know he has a soul1 ,and therefore has no conscience4 ,he can steal ,without remorse4 ,but when he learns of soul1 ,he finds it has a good1 and by this test ,tries moral actions1 are they good for soul8 ,and this is conscience4 ,yet is conscience changed ,by circumstance4 ,the ,hindoo mother tears ,the helpless infant from her trickling breast1 ,to feed the crocodile1 and save her soul2 ,she's happier in its conscience-murdered wail ,than in its gleeful prattle on her knee4 ,and daily we see one commit a deed ,without a pang1 another dare not do4 ,if conscience may be warped but one degree ,by plain ,sorites1 it may be reversed1 ,and only prove an interested thought4 ,to abstract good no man has found the key1 ,though in the various forms of concrete good ,we see the similars1 and from these frame ,a good that serves the purposes of life4 ,we pass it as we do the concept1 8,man10 ,but never ope to count the attributes4 ,our purest right is but approximate ,to this vague abstract idea1 how obtained1 ,we know not4 ,plato says 'tis memory ,of previous life4 ,perhaps6 ',tis very dim ,in this2 and yet it rocks the cradle world ,as strongly as the baby man can bear ,and so of truth1 or aught abstract1 we know ,of such existence somewhere1 that is all4 8,but we10 cries one1 8do hold some abstract truth1 ,in perfect form4 ,the truth of science' laws1 ,the truths of numbers1 each are perfect truths40 ,the truths of science are hypotheses1 ,and only true as far as they explain4 ,but perfect truth must save all facts1 ,that ever rose or possibly can rise4 8,the priest of ,nature0 thought he held the truth ,when throughout space he tracked the motes of light1 ,and ground the sunbeams into dazzling dust4 ,our quivering waves through subtle ether flash1 ,and drown ,sir ,isaac's atoms in a flood ,of glorious truth2 till some new fact shall rise ,to give our truth the lie1 and cause a change ,of theory4 ,our numbers no truth have1 ,or but a shadow1 cast on ,earth by truth ,existent in some unknown world4 ,we make ,our little numbers fit the shadow's line ,as best they can1 and boast eternal truth6 ,yet take a simple form of numbers1 8two10 ,we cannot have a perfect thought of this1 ,because the mind directly asks1 two what8 ',tis not enough chameleon to feed ,on empty air4 ,two units1 we reply ,then what is meant by unity8 ,an 8,one10-- ,the mind can only cognize o-n-e1 ,which makes three units and not one4 ,the mind ,must have a concrete object to adjust ,the abstract on1 before it comprehends4 ,but two concretes are never two1 because ,they never can be proved exactly 'like4 ,to illustrate3 suppose two ivory balls1 ,of finest mold1 and equal weight1 precise ,as hair-hung scales1 arranged most delicate1 ,can prove2 yet they can not be shown ,to differ1 not the trillionth of a grain2 ,or if they could1 they may in density ,be unlike2 then to equal weight1 one must ,be larger by the trillionth of an inch4 ,even if alike in density and weight1 ,no one will dare assert that they possess ,a perfect similarity in all4 ,the abstract two is twice as much as one1 ,but our two balls unlike1 perforce must be ,greater or less than two of either one2 ,but two of one1 the same can never be ,on poor1 imperfect ,earth4 ,thus all our twos ,fall1 in some measure1 short of concept two4 ,and if we paint the concept to the eye1 ,the figure #b of finest stereotype1 ,beneath the microscope imperfect shows4 ,and so our perfect numbers1 wisdom's boast1 ,are faint1 uncertain shadows in the mind1 ,that we can never picture to the eye1 ,nor truthfully apply to anything4 ,we use a ragged1 ill-drawn substitute1 ,that answers all the purposes of life4 ,the truths of mathematics1 so sublime1 ,are never true to us1 concretely known2 ,and in the abstract so concealed are they1 ,no man can swear he has their perfect form4 ,we can't conceive a line without some breadth-- ,the perfect line possesses length alone2 ,earth never saw a pure right-angle drawn1 ,pythag'ras cannot prove his theorem1 ,the finest quadrant is but nearest truth1 ,the closest measures but approximate1 ,and all from ,sanconiathon to ,pierce1 ,with grandest soaring into ,number's realms1 ,have only fluttered feebly o'er the ground1 ,their heaven-strong wings by feebling matter tied4 ,man is a pris'ner1 but the prison walls ,are very vast2 so vast the universe ,lies1 like a mote1 within their mighty scope4 ,most are content to grovel on the earth1 ,some rise a little way1 and sink again2 ,and some1 on noble wing1 soar to the bounds1 ,and eager beat the bars4 ,beyond these walls ,the abstract lies1 and oft the straggling rays1 ,through crevices and chinks1 stray to our jail2 ,and these we fondly hug as truth4 ,poor man6 ,the glimpses of the great ,beyond have roused1 ,for centuries1 his curious soul to flight4 ,with eagle eye fixed on the distant goal1 ,he cleaves his way1 till dashed against the walls2 ,some fall with bruisd wing again to ,earth1 ,and some cling bravely there1 so eager they ,to reach the untouched prize1 and so intent ,their gaze upon its light1 they notice not ,the bounds1 till ,hamilton1 with wary eye1 ,discovers the ,eternal bounding line1 ,and sadly shows its hopeless fixity4 ,but man on ,earth ,i love to ridicule1 ,a little clod of sordid selfishness6 ,i'll take his mental acts of every kind ,and see how self originates them all2 ,i'll follow ,stewart1 since he classifies ,with shrewd discretion1 though his reasoning err1 ,he places first the appetites2 and these ,perforce are selfish1 as our self alone ,must feel and suffer with our wants4 ,our food ,tastes good alone to us4 ,the richest feast1 ,in others' mouths1 could never satisfy ,our appetite for food2 self must be fed4 ,desires are next2 and that of knowledge1 first1 ,is proven selfish1 by his quoted line ,from ,cicero--that 8knowledge is the food ,of mind0--and food is ever sought for self4 ,desire of social intercourse with men1 ,from thought that it will better self1 proceeds4 ,man's state is friendly1 not a state of war1 ,for instinct teaches him society ,will offer many benefits to self2 ,and only when he has a cause to fear ,that self will suffer1 does he learn to war4 ,desire to gain esteem1 is self in search ,of approbation2 like the appetite1 ,the end pursued affects alone the self4 ,and lastly ,stewart boasts posthumous fame1 ,when self1 as sacrificed1 can seek no good4 ,to prove the motive is a selfish good1 ,i'll not assert enjoyment after life1 ,but say1 the pleasure of the millions' praise1 ,anticipated in the present thought1 ,and intense consciousness of heroism1 ,far more than compensates the pangs of death4 ,a ,curtius leaping down the dread abyss1 ,enjoys his fame enough1 before he strikes1 ,to pay for every pain of mangling death4 ,affections next adorn the moral page4 ,at that of kindred1 mothers cry aloud3 8,for shame6 for shame6 do you pretend to say ,i love my child with any thought of self8 ,when ,i would lay my arm upon the block1 ,and have it severed for his slightest good60 ,i'll square your love by ,reason's rigid rule1 ,and test its source4 ,why do you love him so8 ,for benefit he has conferred1 or may8 ,no1 as the helpless babe1 demanding care1 ,you love him most4 ,your love is instinct then1 ,and like the cow her calf1 you love your child2 ,that you may care for him1 before self moves4 ,then do you love him always just the same1 ,when rude and bad as when obedient8 ,but ,i'll dissect your love1 and take away ,each part affecting self2 and see what's left4 ,he now has grown beyond your instinct love2 ,you love him1 first1 because he is your son1 ,and you would suffer blame1 if you did not2 ,you love him1 too1 because he does reflect ,a credit on yourself4 ,you feel assured ,that others thinking well of him1 think well ,of you4 ,because it flatters all your pride ,to think so fine a life is part of yours2 ,because his high opinion of your worth ,evokes a meet return2 because you look ,into the future1 and see honors bright ,awaiting you through him2 because you feel ,the world is praising you for loving him1 ,and would condemn you1 did you not4 ,and last1 ,you feel the pleasure deep of self-esteem1 ,because you fill the public's and your own ,romantic ideas of a mother's love4 ,let each component part be now destroyed1 ,and see if still you love him4 ,as a man1 ,he plunges into vice of vilest kinds2 ,his bright reflections on yourself are gone1 ,and people think the worse of you1 for him2 ,you never smile1 but frown1 upon him now1 ,but still you love him dearly6 ,to his vice ,he adds a crime1 a foul and blasting crime2 ,your pride is gone1 you feel a bitter shame1 ,a score of opposites to love creep in2 ,a righteous anger at his foolish sins1 ,a just contempt for nature1 weak as his2 ,but yet you love him fondly1 for the world ,is lauding you for 8mother's holy love02 ,and you delight its clinging strength to show1 ,you gain in public credit by your woes1 ,and get the soothing martyr's sympathy4 ,but let him still grow worse1 and sink so low1 ,that people say you are disgraced through him1 ,your warmest friends will not acquaintance own1 ,your love for such an object's ridiculed1 ,and gains respect from none4 ,your only chance ,is to disown him4 ,how you loud proclaim1 8,he's not my child but by the accident ,of birth60 ,do yet you love him in your heart8 ,this then because you think yourself so good1 ,so heaven-like1 for loving him disgraced1 ,you go to see him in the shameful jail2 ,he spits upon1 and beats you from his cell1 ,and tells you that he hates your very name4 ,now all your love is gone1 except the glow ,of pity for him chained to dungeon floor2 ,but he's released1 and deeper goes in crime2 ,then1 lastly1 ,pity yields4 ,your heart is stone6 ,but love was only touched in selfish part1 ,yet should you still deny your love is self's2 ,of several children1 do you not love most ,the one whose conduct pleases most yourself8 ,but love1 unselfish1 never could be moved ,by anything affecting self alone4 ,the throbbing hearts of lovers beat for self1 ,and this ,i'll prove1 though ,pyramus may vow ,he has no thought but ,thisbe4 ,take away ,love's sensual part1 which is an appetite1 ,and therefore selfish1 by its ,nature's law2 ,and what remains is1 first1 a slight conceit ,at our discernment in the choice we've made1 ,and then a pride that we have won the prize2 ,a pride1 that some one thinks we are the best2 ,a pleasure in her presence1 too1 we feel1 ,because in every look she manifests ,her preference for us4 ,this is flattering ,beyond all else that we have ever known4 ,a friend may raise our self-esteem1 indeed1 ,by showing constantly his own esteem1 ,but never can man's vanity receive ,a higher tribute than a woman's love6 ,this tribute1 we1 of course1 reciprocate1 ,and when together1 we increase self-love ,by mutual words expressing our regard4 ,yet when our love is deepest1 if we find ,our ,self is not so worshipped as we thought1 ,our love grows cold2 and when we are not loved ,we cease to love4 ,to illustrate permit3 ,you're on the topmost wave of fervid love-- ,a wilder flame than poets ever sung2 ,you've passed the timid declaration's bounds1 ,and revel in a full assured return4 ,there is no need for check upon your heart1 ,it has full leave to pour its gushing tide ,of feeling forth1 and meet responsive floods4 ,you meet her in the parlor's solitude1 ,no meddling eye to watch the sacred scene4 ,the purple curtains hang their corded folds ,before the tell-tale windows2 closed the door1 ,and sealed with softest list4 ,the rich divan ,is drawn before the ruddy grate that glows ,with red between the bars1 and blue above4 ,you sit beside ,the ,angel of your dreams1 ,and gaze in adoration4 ,what a form6 ,revealed in faultless symmetry by robes ,of rare1 exquisite elegance1 and taste1 ,that fit the tap'ring waist and arching neck4 ,and how superbly flow the torrents of her hair6 ,which she has shaken loose1 because 8it's you02 ,her great brown eyes that gaze so dreamily ,upon the flowers of the vellum-screen ,that wards the fire from her tinted cheek6 ,one hollow foot1 in dainty1 bronze bootee1 ,tapping the tufted lion on the rug2 ,a snowy hand with blazing solitaire-- ,the pledge of your betrothal--nestling soft ,within your own4 ,and thus you sit1 and breathe ,with tones so soft1 because the ear's so near1 ,the mutual confidence of little cares2 ,and how you longed for months to tell your love1 ,but feared a cold rebuke2 and how you dared ,to hope through all the gloom2 and how you grieved ,at every favor shown to other men2 ,how now the clouds have flown away1 ,and all is brightness1 joy1 and tender love4 ,then drawing nearer1 round the slender waist ,you pass an arm2 and nestling cheek to cheek1 ,palm throbbing palm1 you hush all useless words1 ,and thought meets thought1 in silent love4 ,and now and then1 you leave the cheek1 to kiss ,the coral lips2 yet not with transient touch1 ,but with a fervid1 lingering pressure there1 ,as if you longed to force the lips apart1 ,and drink the soul2 while both her melting orbs ,are drooped beneath your burning inch-near eyes4 ,the parting hour must come4 ,the good-night said1 ,you rise to leave2 and turning1 at the door1 ,you see her head drooped on the sofa's arm1 ,you fancy she is sighing that you're gone2 ,and stealing back on tiptoe1 gently raise ,the beauteous face1 and take it 'twixt your palms2 ,and gazing on the features radiant1 ,distorted queerly by your pressing hands1 ,you feel that life1 the parting cannot bear1 ,that you must stay forever there1 or die6 ,another effort1 one more nectar sip1 ,you rush from out the room1 and slam the door1 ,just on the steps1 you meet your rival's face4 ,he has an easy confidence1 and walks ,into the house1 as if it were his own4 ,poor fellow6 how you really pity him6 ,you can afford to be magnanimous1 ,and deprecate his certain1 cruel fate4 ,you murmur3 8,well1 he brings it on himself10 ,and turn to go4 ,the window's near the ground1 ,and slightly raised4 ,although you know it's mean1 ,you cannot now resist1 but creep up near1 ,and with a finger part the curtain's fringe4 ,you see your darling run across the room ,with both extended hands1 and hear her say3 8,oh ,fred6 ,i am so very glad you've come1 ,i feared that stupid thing would never leave1 ,i had to let him take my hand awhile1 ,and mumble over it1 to get him off40 ,you grasp the iron railing for support1 ,and1 faint and dizzy with the agony ,of love's departure1 cling till all has fled2 ,then stagger home without a trace of love4 ,yet only ,self is touched2 her beauty's there1 ,her sparkling wit1 and her intelligence1 ,her manner even1 towards you1 has not changed1 ,and1 were you with her1 she would be the same4 ,love's every motive disappeared with ,self1 ,no pride of conquest1 no romance of thought2 ,you meet no sympathy1 but ridicule6 ,a mother's love may last through injury1 ,because it reaps the self's reward of praise ,for constancy1 through wrong4 ,the lover's flame4 ,unless supplied with fuel-self1 dies out1 ,for1 burning1 'twould deserve supreme contempt4 ,the less affairs of life are traced to ,self4 ,the code of ,etiquette1 that ,chesterfield ,defines 8,benevolence in little things10 ,is but a scheme to give ,self consciousness ,of excellence in breeding1 and to keep 8,our ,circle0 sep'rate by its shibboleth4 ,the stately bow1 the graceful sip of wine1 ,the useless little finger's dainty crook ,in lifting up the fragile ,sevres cup1 ,the holding of the hat in morning calls1 ,the touch of it when passing through the streets1 ,the drawing of a glove1 the use of cane-- ,our every act is coupled with the thought ,how well ,self does all this4 ,our very words ,are used to gratify the self4 ,men talk ,by preference1 for they judge their words ,will gain them more applause than listening4 ,but if attention yields more fruit to ,self1 ,how patiently they hear the longest tale1 ,and laugh in glee at its insipid close6 ,if with superiors1 we attend1 because ,attention pleases more with them than words2 ,but if inferiors1 we must talk the most1 ,since their attention flatters us so much4 ,the cause of converse1 ,self1 is oftenest food4 ,how few the talks that are not spiced with 8,i10 ,what 8,i0 can do1 or did or will6 ,sometimes1 ,the ,self is held1 on purpose1 up for jest2 ,as when men tell a joke upon themselves4 ,but here the shame of conduct or mishap ,is more than balanced by the hearty laugh1 ,which gives its pleasant witness to our wit4 ,we never tell what will present ourselves ,in such an aspect laughter cannot heal2 ,although it compliments our telling powers4 ,attentions to the fair1 but seek for ,self ,their smiles of favor4 ,little deeds of love ,to those around us1 look for their reward4 ,the youth polite1 who gives his chair to ,age1 8,without a thought of ,self10 is yet provoked1 ,if ,age do not evince1 by nod or smile1 ,his obligation to that unthought ,self4 ,the very qualities we call innate1 ,arise and rule through ,self4 ,our reverence1 ,or tendency to worship1 is to gain ,a good4 ,religion grows this tendency ,into the various ,churches1 all whose ends ,are to secure eternal good for ,self4 ,and those who preach that man does sacrifice ,himself for fellow-men1 ,i ask1 why none ,will give his soul for others'8 ,many give ,the paltry life on ,earth for others' good2 ,the very stones would cry 8,o6 fool60 to him ,who'd yield his soul2 for that is highest ,self1 ,and nothing e'er can compensate its loss4 ,in all these things1 ,self stands behind the scenes1 ,and men see not the force that moves them on4 ,but in the boudoir1 'tis enthroned supreme1 ,and does not care to hide the cloven foot4 ,in every home1 the marble and the log1 ,in mammoth trunks1 and chests of simple pine1 ,in rosewood cases1 and the pasteboard box1 ,are crammed the slaves of ,self1 to poor and rich1 ,the clothes that1 fine or common1 feed its pride4 ,the velvets1 satins1 silken robes de flamme1 ,the worsted1 calico1 and homespun stripe2 ,the ,guipure1 ,valenciennes1 and ,appliqu1 ,the gimp1 galloon1 and shallow bias frill2 ,the ,talmas1 ,arabs1 basques and paletots1 ,the coarse plaid shawl1 the hood1 and woollen scarf2 ,the chignons1 chatelaines1 and plaited braids1 ,the beaded net1 and tight-screwed knot of hair2 ,the dazzling jewels1 ranged in season sets1 ,the pinchbeck1 gilt1 and waxen trinketry2 ,the tinted boots1 half-way the silken hose1 ,the shoes that tie o'er cotton blue-and-white2 ,the corset laced to hasten ready ,death1 ,the leather belt1 that cuts the broad1 thick waist2 ,the bosom heaving only waves of wire1 ,the bosom1 cotton stuffed1 beyond all shape2 ,the belladonna sparkling in the eye1 ,the finger tip1 and water without soap2 ,the rouge and carmine for the city cheeks1 ,the berries' ruddy juice for rural ones2 ,the pearly powder1 with its poisoned dust1 ,the cup of flour to ghastlify the face2-- ,all these1 and thousand fixtures none can count1 ,man's vanity1 and woman's love of show1 ,appropriate for ,self4 ,and such is ,man6 ,the puzzle of the ,universe6 ,within1 ,a giant to himself2 without1 a babe4 ,a giant that we cannot but despise1 ,a babe we must admire for his power4 ,his mind1 ,promethean spark divine1 can pierce ,the shadowy ,past1 and gaze in rapturous awe ,upon the birth of worlds1 that from the ,mind ,eternal spring to blazing entities1 ,and whirl their radiant orbs through cooling space2 ,or place the earth beneath its curious ken1 ,and with an 8,open ,sesame60 descend ,into its rocky chambers1 there unfold ,the stone archives1 and read their graven truths-- ,earth's history written by itself therein-- ,how age by age1 a globe of liquid fire1 ,it dimmer grew1 and dark and stiff1 ,and drying1 took a rough1 uneven face2 ,above the wave1 the mountain's smoking top ,appeared1 beneath it gaped the valley's gorge2 ,but smoking still1 it stood a gloomy globe1 ,naked and without life4 ,and how the trees ,and herbs their robes of foliage brought2 their form ,and life adapted to their heated bed4 ,and how a stream of animation poured ,upon its face1 when ready to sustain2 ,great beasts who trod the cindered soil unscathed1 ,and tramped the fervid plains with unscorched soles4 ,great fish whose hardened fins hot waters churned ,that steamed at every stroke4 ,how periods passed ,and fields and forests teemed with gentler life1 ,the waters wound in rivers to the sea1 ,then spread their vap'ry wings and fled to land4 ,the oceans tossed in bondage patiently2 ,volcanic mountains closed their festering mouths1 ,and ,earth made ready for her master1 ,man4 ,it traces ,man1 expelled from ,paradise1 ,along the winding track of centuries4 ,it marks his slow development1 from two1 ,to families1 and tribes1 and nations vast4 ,it gazes on the wondrous scenes of war1 ,and peace1 and battle plain1 and civic game2 ,and lives through each1 with all of real life1 ,except the body's presence there4 ,it turns ,from man to beasts and birds1 and careless strokes ,the lion's mane1 the humbird's scarlet throat4 ,it tracks the mammoth to his jungle home1 ,or creeps within the infusoria's cell4 ,it measures ,earth from pole to pole1 or weighs ,the bit of brass1 that lights the battery spark4 ,is ,earth too small1 it plumes its flight through space2 ,from world to world1 as bird from twig to twig1 ,it flies1 and furls its wing upon their discs1 ,to tell their weight1 and giant size1 or breathe ,their very air to find its gaseous parts4 ,now bathing in pale ,saturn's misty rings1 ,or chasing all the moons of ,jupiter ,behind his darkened cone4 ,the glorious sun1 ,with dazzling vapor robe1 and seas of fire1 ,whose cyclones dart the forkd flames far out1 ,to lap so hungrily amid the stars1 ,is but its playhouse1 where it rides the storms1 ,that sweep vast trenches through the surging fire1 ,in which the little ,earth could roll unseen2 ,or bolder still1 beyond our system's bounds1 ,it soars amid the wilderness of worlds2 ,finds one condemned to meet a doom of fire1 ,and makes its very flames inscribe their names1 ,in dusky lines1 upon the spectroscope4 ,with shuddering thought to see a world consumed1 ,the fate prepared for ours1 it lingers there ,until the lurid conflagration dies4 ,and then seeks ,earth1 and leaves the laggard1 ,light1 ,to plod its journey vast4 ,the smallest mote ,of dust that settles on an insect's wing1 ,it can dissect to atoms ultimate4 ,with these1 too small for sight1 may ,fancy deal1 ,and revel in her ,lilliputian realm4 ,these atoms forming all1 by ,boscovitch ,are proved1 in everything1 to be alike2 ,and ultimate1 since indivisible4 ,each in its place maintained by innate force ,and relatively far from each1 as ,earth ,from ,sun4 ,suppose1 then1 each to be a world1 ,peopled with busy life1 a human flood1 ,as earnest in their little plans as we1 ,as grand in their opinion of themselves6 ,oh6 what a depth of contrast for the mind6 ,the finest grain of sand1 upon the beach1 ,has in its form a million perfect worlds6 ,or take the other scale1 suppose the ,earth1 ,our great and glorious ,earth1 to only form ,the millionth atom of some grain of sand1 ,that shines unnoticed on an ocean's shore1 ,whose waves wash o'er our whirling stars and sun ,too insignificant to feel their surge4 ,another step on either side1 and mind1 ,in flesh1 shrinks from the giant grasp4 ,yet noble are its pinions1 strong their flight2 ,thrice1 only1 do they droop their baffled strength1 ,before the ,future1 ,infinite1 ,abstract6 ,the first is locked1 the second out of reach1 ,the third a maze that none can penetrate4 ,the first1 alone to inspiration opes2 ,the second dashed to ,earth her boldest wing1 ,spinoza's1 who essayed the idea ,god1 ,and grappling bravely with the grand concept1 ,so far above the utmost strength of ,man1 ,placed ,god's existence in extent and thought2 ,and filled all space with ,god4 ,the ,universe1 ,a bud or bloom of the ,eternal ,mind1 ,that opens like a flower into this form1 ,and may retract ,creation in ,itself6 ,alas6 that effort so sublime should end ,in mystery and doubt4 ,a ,universe1 ,how vast so ever1 has its bounds somewhere1 ,but ,space possesses none1 and ,god in ,space1 ,would be so far beyond ,creation's speck1 ,he scarce would know it did exist4 ,that part ,of ,mind1 expressed in matter1 would be lost ,amid the ,infinite domains of thought4 ,yet ,man in flesh1 the casket of the mind1 ,whose wondrous power ,i've told1 is ever chained1 ,a grovelling worm1 to ,earth1 and never leaves ,the sod where he must lie4 ,no time is his ,but present2 not a mem'ry of the past4 ,his very food1 while in his mouth1 alone1 ,tastes good4 ,he stands a dummy in the world1 ,that only acts when acted on4 ,how great ,the mystery of union 'tween the two6 ,a feather touches not the body1 but the mind ,perceives it2 yet the mind may live through scenes ,the body never knew1 nor can4 ,yet not ,with vivid life--the sense is lacking there4 ,the memory of a banquet may be plain1 ,so that the daintest dish could be described1 ,as well as if the eye and tongue were there2 ,the eye and tongue1 alone the present know1 ,and find no good in anything that's past4 ,all thought is folly1 every path is dark2 ,truth gleaming fairly in the distant haze1 ,on near approach becomes the blackest lie4 ,man and his soul may go1 nor will ,i fret ,to learn their mystic bonds4 ,a worm ,i am1 ,and worm ,i must remain1 till ,death shall burst ,the chrysalis1 and free the web-wound wings4 ,yet1 oh6 'twere grand to spurn the clogging ,earth ,and cleave the air towards yonder looming cloud2 ,to stand upon its red-bound crest and dare ,the storm-king's wildest wrath4 ,my thoughts ,grew dull1 my eyelids slowly closed1 the scene ,became confused and melted into sleep4 ,and far up in the blue1 as yet untouched ,by clouds1 ,i saw a white descending speck4 ,methought 'twas but a feather from the breast ,of some migrating swan1 that ,earthward fell1 ,and watched to see it caught upon the wind1 ,and sail a tiny kite to fairy land4 ,but circling down1 the speck became a dove1 ,a heron1 then a swan1 and larger still1 ,till ,i could mark a pair of great white wings1 ,between which hung its wondrous form4 ,still down ,it swept1 till scarce above the trees it stood1 ,resting on quivering wings1 as if it sought ,a place to 'light4 ,i saw then what it was1 ,a steed of matchless beauty1 agile grace1 ,combined with muscled strength2 but ere ,i drew ,the first long breath1 that follows such surprise ,it gently downward swooped1 and at my feet1 ,with dainty hoof1 the turf impatient pawed4 ,enrapt1 ,i gazed upon its beauteous form1 ,its sculptured head1 and countenance benign1 ,the soft sad eyes1 the arrow-pointed ears1 ,the scarlet nostrils opening like two flowers1 ,the sinewed neck1 curved like a swimming swan's1 ,the splendid mane1 a cataract of milk1 ,that poured its foaming torrents half to ,earth1 ,the tap'ring limbs1 tipped with pink-hued hoofs1 ,that touched our soil with a proud disdain2 ,the dazzling satin coat1 and netting veins1 ,and last the glorious wings1 whose feathers lapped ,like scales of creamy gold4 ,what seemed a cloth ,of woven snow1 with richest silver fringe1 ,draped with its gorgeous folds the shining flanks4 ,it was perfection's type1 the absolute1 ,not one defect2 the tiniest hair was smooth1 ,the smallest feather's edge unfrayed4 ,the eyes ,without the slightest bloodshot fleck1 or mote4 ,no fault the microscope could have revealed1 ,though magnifying many million times4 ,so great my wonder1 that ,i could not move1 ,but lay entranced1 while he stood waiting there2 ,till wearied with my long delay1 he raised ,his wings half-way1 and eager trembled them1 ,as bluebirds do when near their mate2 a neigh ,of trumpet tone aroused me4 ,then ,i sprang ,upon his back1 and wildly shouted 8,on60 ,a spring with gathered feet1 a clash of wings1 ,that made me cling in terror1 and we swept ,from ,earth into the air4 ,woods1 plains1 and streams ,flashed by beneath1 as1 up and on1 we charged ,straight to the frowning cloud4 ,my very brain ,reeled with our lightning speed1 and dizzy height1 ,and oh6 how silent was the air4 ,no sound1 ,except the steady beat of fanning wings1 ,that hurled us on a rod at every stroke4 ,the bellowing winds were loosed and fiercely met ,our flight4 ,they tossed the broad white mane across ,my shrinking shoulders1 like a scarf of silk2 ,they blew the strong-quilled feathers all awry1 ,and like a banner beat the silvered cloth2 ,but swerving not to right or left1 we pressed ,straight onward to the goal4 ,at last ,i reined ,my steed upon the shaggy ridge of clouds1 ,and caracoled along the beetling cliffs1 ,up to the very summit4 ,then ,i paused4 ,behind me lay the world with all its hum ,of life1 the distant city's veil of smoke1 ,the village gleaming white amid the trees2 ,the very orchard ,i had left1 now seemed ,a downy nest of green1 and far away ,i caught the shimmer of the sea1 where sails1 ,with glidings1 glittered like the snowy gulls4 ,behind all was serene1 before me seethed ,the caldron of the tempest's wrath4 ,thick clouds1 ,thrice tenfold blacker than the black outside ,we see1 deep in the crackling fire-crypts writhed1 ,and boiling rose and fell4 ,a deafening blast ,roaring its thunder voice above the scene1 ,as if the fiends of ,hell concocted there ,the scalding beverage of the damned4 ,my horse ,had snuffed the fumes1 and rearing on the brink1 ,that fearful brink1 an instant pawed the air1 ,and then sprang off4 ,a suffocating plunge1 ,through heat and blinding smoke1 while to his neck ,convulsively ,i clung6 ,down through the cloud1 ,until ,i gasped for breath1 and felt my brain ,was bursting with the fervid weight4 ,he stopped ,before a large pavilion1 round whose walls1 ,as faithful guard1 a whirlwind fierce revolved1 ,and at whose folded door1 with dazzling blade1 ,the lightning stood a sentinel4 ,my steed ,was passport1 and ,i passed within1 but stopped ,upon the threshold1 dumb with awe4 ,the walls ,seemed blazing mirrors1 whose bright polished sides 8,threw back in flaming lineaments0 the form ,of every object there1--a trembling wretch1 ,with pallid countenance1 shown ghastly red1 ,upon a horse of ,war's own direful hue1 ,i saw reflected there4 ,the floor seemed made ,of tesselated froth1 whose bubbles burst1 ,with constant hissing1 into rainbow sparks2 ,while like the sulph'rous canopy1 that drapes1 ,at evening's close1 a gory battle-field1 ,the roof of crimson vapor drooped and rose1 ,with every breath and every slightest sound4 ,and in the center of the glowing room1 ,upon a sapphire throne an ,angel sat1 ,upon whose brow ,rebuke and ,wisdom met4 ,he gazed upon me with such pitying look1 ,and yet withal so stern1 that all my pride ,was gone1 and humble as a conquered child1 ,i ran with trembling haste and near the throne ,kneeled down4 8,vain man10 he said1 8and hast thou dared ,to doubt the providence of ,god2 ,behold60 ,and1 lo6 one side of the pavilion rose1 ,and out before me lay ,immensity4 ,the frothy floor1 now crumbling from the edge1 ,dissolved away close to my very feet1 ,the walls contracted their three sides in one1 ,and ,i1 beside a throne ,i dared not grasp1 ,stood on a narrow ledge of fragile foam1 ,that clicked its thousand little globes of air1 ,with every motion of my feet4 ,far down ,below1 the black abyss of chaos yawned1 ,so vast1 ,i gasped while gazing1 and so deep1 ,the ,sun's swift arrowy rays flash down for years1 ,and scarcely reach the dark confines1 or fade ,amid the impenetrable gloom4 ,methought ',twas ,hell's wide jaws1 that opened underneath ,the ,universe1 to catch as crumbs the worlds ,condemned1 and shaken from their orbit's track4 ,and long ,i looked into the vast black throat1 ,to trace the murky glow of hidden fire1 ,or catch the distant roar4 ,but all was still2 ,no murmur broke the silence of its gloom1 ,no faintest glimmer told of lurking light1 ,no smoky volumes curdled in its depths2 ,as dark as ,egypt's plague1 serenely calm1 ,defying light1 the empty hall of ,space1 ,where twinkled not a star nor blazed a sun4-- ,a grand eternal night6 ,i shuddering turned1 ,with freezing blood to think of falling there1 ,and stretched a palsied hand to touch the throne4 ,the ,angel's eye was sterner1 as he waved ,towards my steed1 who seemed of marble carved4 ,the wings unfolded1 and he leaped in air1 ,beating from off the ledge the flakes of foam ,that sank1 with airy spirals1 out of sight4 ,with slanting flight across the gulf he sheared2 ,the moveless wings were not extended straight1 ,but stood1 at graceful angle1 o'er his back1 ,as1 swifter than a swooping kite1 he flashed ,adown the gloom4 ,his flowing mane broad borne ,out level1 like another wing2 his feet ,with slow ellipses moving alternate1 ,as if he trod an unseen path4 ',twas grand ,to see his graceful form1 more snowy white ,against the black relief1 sublimely float ,across the dark profound1 and down its depths1 ,pass from my view4 ,as when an ,eagle soars ,beyond our vision in the azure sky1 ,we wonder what he sees1 or whither flies1 ,so ,i stood wondering if he would return1 ,and what his destination down th' abyss4 ,above1 around1 all was infinitude ,of light and harmony4 ,the worlds moved on1 ,in mazy multitude1 without a jar1 ,star circling planet1 planet sun1 and suns ,in systems1 farther yet and farther still1 ,till multiplying millions mingled formed ,a sheet of milky hue4 ,and far beyond ,the last pale star1 appeared a dazzling spot1 ,that flamed with brightness so ineffable ,the eye shrank 'neath its gleam4 ,and from its light1 ,athwart the endless realms of space1 there streamed ,a radiance that illumed the ,universe1 ,and down across the chasm of ,chaos flung ,a wavering band of purple and of gold4 ,and in that distant spot my 'wildered eyes ,traced out the figure of a ,great ,white ,throne1 ,round which1 in grand and solemn majesty1 ,slow swept ,creation's boundless macrocosm4-- ,i felt too insignificant to pray1 ,but mutely waited for the ,angel's words4 ,he spoke not1 but the curtains closer drew1 ,and left a narrow opening in front4 ,then with a speed the lightning ne'er attained1 ,our cloud pavilion swiftly whirled through space4 ,a seed that would have slain me with its haste1 ,had not the ,angel been so near4 ,as on the cars1 ,we dash through towns1 and mark the hurrying lights1 ,or shudder at an engine rattling by2 ,so through our door1 ,i marked the countless worlds1 ,in clustering systems1 chained by gravity1 ,flash by an endless course4 ,a second's time ,sufficed to pass our little group of stars1 ,that waltz about our ,sun1 as if it lit ,the very ,universe4 ,then systems came1 ,round which our system moves1 and these ,round others1 till the series grew so vast ,i shrank from looking4 ,great ,alcyone1 ,our telescopic giantess1 a babe ,amid the monsters of the starry tribe1 ,the last familiar face in ,heaven's throng1 ,blazed by the door2 an instant1 out of sight6 ,and after all that we have known or named ,on ,earth were far behind1 the millions came ,in endless multitude2 and on we swept1 ,till worlds became a dull monotony1 ,and all the wonders of the ,heavens were shown4 ,a planet wheels its huge proportions past1 ,its pimpled face with red volcanoes thick1 ,that1 with our speed1 seem girdling bands of light2 ,a ,sun1 whose flame would fade our yellow spark1 ,roars out a moment at our narrow door ,as through its blaze we fly1 then dies away1 ,casting a weird and momentary gleam ,over the ,angel's unrelenting face2 ,a meteor tears its whizzing way along1 ,all showering off the scintillating sparks ,that mark its trail4 ,far off1 a comet runs ,its bended course1 the mighty fan-like tail ,lit with a myriad globes of dancing fire1 ,that seemed like ,argus' eyes on ,juno's bird4 ,and on we sped1 till one last ,sun appeared1 ,a monstrous hemisphere of concave shape1 ,and brilliancy intense2 it seemed to stand ,on great ,creation's bounds1 a lense of light4 ,close by its vast red rim we shaved1 and passed ,beyond1 to empty space unoccupied4 ,no world1 no sun1 no object passed the door2 ,the steady blue1 tinged with a brightening gold1 ,alone was seen4 ,still on and on we flew1 ,until a score of ages seemed elapsed1 ,and ,i had near forgotten ,earth and home4 ,and yet the air grew brighter1 till ,i feared ,that we approached a sun1 so infinite ,in light1 that ,i should sink in dazzled death4 ,we came to rest1 the curtains fell away1 ,and lo6 ,i stood within the light of ,heaven4 ,and oh6 its glorious light6 ,no angry red1 ,nor blinding white1 nor sickly yellow glare1 ,but one vast golden flood1 sublime1 serene1 ,no object near1 on which it could reflect1 ,it formed the very atmosphere itself1 ,an air in which the soul could bathe and breathe1 ,and ever live without its fleshly food4 ,no object near1 for on the farthest bounds ,of space immense as mortal can conceive1 ,creation hung1 a group of clustering motes1 ,where only suns were seen as tiny specks1 ,and ,earth and smaller stars were out of sight4 ,no object near1 for farther than the motes1 ,the walls of ,heaven1 in glorious grandeur loomed1 ,yet near as flesh and blood could bear4 ,how grand6 ,from infinite to infinite extent ,the glittering battlements were spread1 the height ,above conception1 built of purest gold1 ,yet gold transparent1 for ,i could discern ,though indistinctly1 domes and spires beyond1 ,and all the wondrous workmanship divine1 ,that blazed with jewels1 flashing varied hues ,in perfect union2 and bright happy fields1 ,that bloomed with flowers immortal1 in whose midst ,the crystal river ran4 ,and through the scenes ,thronged million forms1 that each sought happiness1 ,from million varied1 purified desires4 ,each face serenely bright as ,evening's star1 ,and some ,i thought ,i knew1 were dear to me2 ,but as ,i gazed1 they ever disappeared4 ,along the walls1 twelve gates of pearl were seen1 ,so great their breadth1 and high their jewelled arch1 ,that ,earth could almost trundle in untouched1 ,and in each arch was fixed a giant bell ,of silver1 with a golden tongue that hung1 ,a pendant sun4 ,so wide the silver lips1 ,that ,chimularee plucked up by the roots1 ,and as a clapper swung within its circ1 ,would tinkle1 like a pebble1 noiselessly ,against the rigid side4 ,and as the saved ,were brought in teeming host1 by ,angel bands1 ,before the gates1 the bells began their swing2 ,and to and fro the ponderous tongue was hurled1 ,till through the portals marched the shouting throng1 ,and then it fell against the bounding side4 ,and loud and long their booming thunder ,rends the golden air asunder1 ,while the ransomed1 passing under1 ,fall in praise beneath the bells1 ,whose mighty throbbing welcome tells2 ,and the ,angels hush their harps in wonder-- ,bells of ,heaven1 glory booming bells6 ,gentler now1 the silver's shiver ,purls the rippling waves that quiver ,through the ether's tide forever1 ,mellow as they left the bells1 ,whose softening vibrate welcome tells2 ,and the quavers play adown the river-- ,bells of ,heaven1 softly sobbing bells6 ,then the dreamy cadence dying1 ,sings as soft as zephyrs sighing2 ,faintest echoes cease replying ,to the murmur of the bells1 ,whose stilling tremor welcome tells1 ,faintly as the snow-flakes falling1 lying-- ,bells of ,heaven1 dreamy murmuring bells6 ,and in and out those ,gates of ,pearl1 there streamed ,a ceaseless throng of ,angels1 errand bound4 ,from one came forth a band of choristers1 ,with shining harps1 and sweeping out through space1 ,their long white lines bent gracefully1 they sang4 ,although so far away1 that purest air ,brought every note exquisite to my ear4 ',twas richly worth life's toil1 to catch one bar ,of ,heavenly melody4 ,oh6 ,i would give ,my pitiful existence1 once again ,to hear the strains that floated to me then1 ,so full1 so deep1 so ravishingly sweet2 ,now gentle as a mother's lullaby1 ,they almost died away1 then louder rose1 ,and rolled their volumes through the boundless realms1 ,that trembled with the diapason grand2 ,until eternal echoes caught the strain1 ,and glory in the highest swelled sublime4 ,entranced1 ,i lay with 'wildered half-closed eyes1 ,till from another gate1 another host ,marched forth1 the armies of the living ,god4 ,beneath their thunder-tread all ,heaven shook1 ,and at their head the tall ,archangel strode4 ,how grandly terrible his mien6 ,his face ,lit with a soul that only kneels to ,three2 ,the lofty brows drawn slightly to a frown ,the eyes that beam with vast intelligence1 ,the depths of distance piercing with their glance2 ,the chiselled lips1 compressed with stern resolve1 ,yet marked with lines and curves of tender love1 ,that ever with a sigh ,wrath's vial broke ,upon the doomed4 ,his splendid form so tall1 ,that as he paused a moment in the gate ,his dazzling crest just grazed the silver bell4 ,he wore no arms nor armor1 save a sword ,without a sheath1 that blazed as broad and bright ,as sunset bars that shear the zenith's blue-- ,a sword1 that falling flatly on the host ,of ,xerxes1 would have crushed them as we crush ,a swarm of ants4 ,an edge-stroke on the ,earth ,would gash the rocky shell to caverned fire4 ,unfolding wings would shake a continent1 ,he floated down the depths4 ,behind him came ,a million foll'wers1 counterparts in all1 ,save presence of command4 ,i wondered not ,that one should breathe upon the ,syrian might1 ,and still the sleeping hearts1 four thousand score4 ,and from ,creation's little corner came ,the ,guardian ,angels1 bearing in their arms ,their charges during life4 ,as laden bees1 ,they flew to ,heaven's hive2 and some passed by ,so closely ,i their burdens could discern2 ,and though they came from far-off1 unseen ,earth1 ,the stiffened forms were borne all tenderly4 ,some bore the dimpled babe1 with soft-closed eyes1 ,as if upon its mother's breast2 its hands1 ,unhardened yet by toil of life1 its face ,unfurrowed yet by care's sharp plough2 and some ,the age-bent form1 with ghostly silvered hair1 ,and features gaunt in death1 that would have seemed ,a hideous sight1 in any light but ,heaven's2 ,some bore the rich1 who made of ,mammon friends1 ,who wore the purple with a stainless soul2 ,some bore the poor1 who mastered poverty1 ,and broke the ashen crust beneath ,god's smile2 ,their work-worn hands now folded peacefully1 ,and passing towards the harp1 the weary feet1 ,so often blistered in life's bitter dust1 ,to tread with kings the golden streets of ,heaven2 ,and some the maiden form bore lovingly1 ,so fair1 they seemed twin sisters4 ,and ,i saw1 ,that1 passing through the amber air1 they caught ,its glowing dust upon them1 and were changed1 ,the livid to the radiant4 ,then as they ,approached the ,city1 all the walls were thronged1 ,and all the harps were throbbing to be swept4 ,and mid the throng there moved a dazzling ,form1 ,the jewels of whose crown were shaped like thorns4 ,he stood to welcome1 and the gates unclosed1 ,and passing through them1 all the death sealed eyes ,were opened1 and they lived6 ,and then ,i knew ,what happiness could mean4 ,to leave the ,earth1 ,with all its torturing pains and ills of flesh2 ,the lingering1 long disease1 the wasted frame1 ,and1 e'en in health1 the constant dread of death1 ,that like the sword of ,damocles impends1 ,and none may tell its fall4 ,and worse than flesh1 ,the tortures of the mind in fetters bound2 ,its chafings at its puling impotence1 ,its longing after things beyond its reach1 ,its craving after knowledge never given1 ,its constant discontent with present time1 ,its looking towards a future1 that but breaks ,to light alone in distance1 never near2 ,its maddening retrospect o'er wasted life1 ,and loss of golden opportunities2 ,its consciousness of merit none admit1 ,its sense of gross injustice from the world2 ,the forced reflections on the sway of self1 ,and consequent contempt for all mankind1 ,or shameful servitude to their regard2 ,the poisoned thorns1 that skirt the 8,narrow ,way02 ,the sneering laugh1 the tongue of calumny1 ,the envious spites and hates 'tween man and man1 ,the doubts that swarm with thought about our soul1 ,that whispers all our labor here is vain1 ,that death is but extinction1 ,heaven a myth6 ,to leave all these1 and find a perfect life1 ,to know that ,heaven is sure eternally1 ,that sickness ne'er again will waste our frame1 ,that death shall never come again4 ,the mind ,in perfect peace and happiness2 the hidden ,spread out before its ken2 a sweet content ,pervading every thought1 because 8just now0 ,yields happiness as great as future years2 ,because ,life's highest end is now attained4 ,the consciousness of merit1 with reward ,surpassing far all we deserved4 ,a ,home ,of perfect peace1 no envious spite or hate ,within its sacred walls1 but all pure love ,towards our fellows1 gratitude to ,god1 ,a gratitude that all ,eternal life ,will not suffice to prove4 ',twere joy enough ,to lie before the ,throne1 and ever cry ,our thanks for mercy so supreme6 ,and oh6 ,the vast tranquillity of those who feel ,that life on ,earth is ended1 ,heaven gained6 ,the ,angel marked my gaze of rapt delight1 ,and said1 8,wouldst thou go nearer80 ,swift as light ,we moved towards the ,city4 ,on the steps1 ,in dreamy ecstasy1 ,i lay1 afraid to move1 ,lest all the panorama should dissolve4 ,i cared not that ,i was unfit to go1 ,i cared not that ,i must return to ,earth2 ,i felt one moment in the ,golden walls ,was worth a dungeon's chains 8threescore and ten40 ,the glory of its music1 and its light1 ,grew too intense1 and sense forsook my brain4 ,again my eyes unclosed1 and 'mid the stars1 ,familiar faces of the telescope1 ,we sped1 while on the last confines of space1 ,the ,city lay with golden halo girt4 ,the systems passed1 we neared old homelike ,earth2 ,and far enough to take a hemisphere ,at single glance1 we paused4 ,the little globe ,was puffing on1 like ,kepler's idea-beast1 ,with breath like tides1 and echo sounds of life2 ,thus trundling on its journey round the sun ,while o'er its back swarmed men the parasites4 ,as rustic lad1 who visits some great town1 ,returns ashamed of humble country home1 ,so ,i now blushed to own the world ,i'd thought ,was once so great4 ,the ,angel pointed down1 ,and said1 8,behold the vast domains of ,earth6 ,behold the wondrous works of man1 that calls ,himself the measure of the ,universe6 ,those gleaming threads are rivers1 and the pools ,his boundless oceans4 ,those slow-gliding dots ,the gallant ships1 in which he braves the storms ,the largest white one1 see1 is laboring now ,beneath a cloud1 your hand from here might span2 ,what tiny tossings1 like a jasmine's bloom ,that drifts along the ripples of a brook6 ,now on the wave1 now 'neath it1 now 'tis gone2 ,the pool hath gulfed it like a flake of snow4 ,see1 there are railroad lines1 what works of art6 ,thou canst not see the blackened threadlike tracks1 ,but thou mayst see the thundering train1 that creeps ,across the landscape like a score of ants ,well laden1 tandem1 crawl across the floor4 ',twill take a day to reach yon smoky patch ,of pebbles6 ',tis a great metropolis6 ,where ,man is proud in power and lasting strength2 ,where ,art hath budded into perfect bloom1 ,where towering domes defy the touch of ,time1 ,and rock-ribbed structures reck not of his scythe ,on every side1 proclaimed ,creation's lord1 ,poor flattered ,man the title proudly takes-- ,one little gap of ,earth1 and not a spire ,would lift its gilded vane2 the very dust ,would never rise above the chasm's mouth4 ,and mark yon crowd outside the city's bounds1 ,they hail ,man's triumph over ,nature's laws2 ,he conquers gravity1 and dares to fly6 ,the speck-like globe slow rises in the air1 ,while all the throng below shout1 8,god-like ,man60 ,how pitiful6 ,the flag-decked car but drags ,its way1 a finger's breadth above their heads1 ,and falls1 a few leagues off1 into the sea2 ,when ships must rescue ,man1 the king of air6 8,he soon will touch the stars10 enthusiasts cry2 ,his highest flights ne'er reach the mountain-top1 ,that lifts its mole-hill head above the plain4 ,what different views above and underneath6 ,from one1 the silken pear cleaves through the cloud1 ,and floats1 beyond your vision1 in the blue1 ,and franchised ,man no longer wears ,earth's chain2 ,the other sees him drifting o'er the ground1 ,beneath the level of the hills around1 ,the captive still of watchful gravity4 ,upon yon strip of land1 two insect swarms ,are drawn up1 front to front1 in serried lines2 ,these are the armies1 'neath whose trampling tread ,the very ,earth doth tremble1 now they join ,in dreadful conflict4 ,from the battling ranks ,leap tiny bits of flame1 and puffs of smoke1 ,where thundering cannon belch their carnage forth2 ,the heated missile cleaves its sparkling way1 ,the screaming shell its smoke-traced curve2 the sword ,gleams redly with the varnish of its blood1 ,the bayonets like ripples on a lake4 ,how palsied every arm1 how still each heart6 ,if one discharge of ,heaven's artillery roared ,above their heads--not that faint mutter thou ,perchance hast heard from some electric cloud1 ,but when a meteor curves immensity1 ,and bursts in glittering fragments that would dash ,thy world an atom from their path4 ,but ,god ,hath thrown the blanket of ,his atmosphere ,around the ,earth1 and shield1 it from the jar ,of pealing salvos1 that reverberate ,through ,heaven's illimitable dome4 ,yet thou1 ,the meanest of thy race of worms1 hast dared ,to question ,god's designs4 ,know then that ,he ,ordains that all1 ,his glory shall work out4 ,the coral architect beneath the wave ,doth magnify ,him1 as the burning sun ,that lights a thousand worlds4 ,his power directs ,the mechanism of a ,universe1 ,whose vastness thou hast been allowed to see1 ,and yet the mottled sparrow in the hedge ,falls not without ,his notice4 ,magnitude ,is not the seal of power1 though man thinks so2 ,the least brown feather of the sparrow's wing1 ,in adaptation to its end displays ,god's wisdom1 as the ocean4 ,harmony ,is ,heaven's watchword1 key to all designs4 ,a tendency towards perfection's end ,pervades ,creation2 to this perfect end1 ,the polity ,divine is leading ,earth4 ,endowed with reason1 ,man1 perforce1 is free2 ,and ,god1 forseeing how he'll freely act1 ,adjusts all circumstance accordingly4 ,the order of this sequence1 ,man doth learn ,in part2 adapts himself to these fixed laws2 ,and thus is formed a general harmony4 ,although the individual may oppose1 ,his forseen freedom1 acting in a net ,of circumstance1 secures the wished-for end4 ,the bloodiest wars are sources of great good1 ,invasive floods rouse national energies1 ,or1 mingling1 form a greater people still2 ,hume's skepticism foils its own design1 ,and rouses lusty champions of the ,truth1 ,who build its walls far stronger than before4 ,poor sordid ,man6 like all your gold-slave race1 ,you deem wealth happiness4 ,hence1 all your doubts ,about ,god's providence are based on gold4 ,the wicked have it1 and the righteous not4 ,what you assert is oftenest reversed1 ,and in a census of the world1 you'd find ,the good1 in every land1 the wealthiest4 ,but ,earth is not the bar where ,man is judged2 ,but only where free-will and circumstance ,may join in general progress4 ,gold is good6 ,then good depends on use of circumstance1 ,and not on moral merit4 ,well 'tis so6 ,for were the righteous only blessed1 all men ,would righteousness pursue1 from sordid aims1-- ,the most devout1 who love their money best2 ,and thus good actions' essence would be lost1 ,that they be done for good1 within itself1 ,and not for benefit to be conferred4 ,then for your doubts about the righteous poor2 ,a certain law is fixed for general good1-- ,some actions yield a gain and some a loss4 ,a wicked man may use the first1 and gain1 ,a righteous man may use the last1 and lose2 ,the wicked does not gain by wickedness1 ,but by compliance with this natural law4 ,the righteous1 still as righteous1 might have gained ,by different course of conduct1 had he known2 ,but his condition now1 can but be changed ,by special miracle2 but miracles1 ,in favor of the righteous1 would destroy ,all strife for good as good4 ,their compensation in another world2 ,the poor may find ,and even here1 in consciousness of right1 ,in surety of ,heav'n1 and peace of mind4 ,and in the case you've stated1 like all those ,who talk as you have done1 you overdraw1 ,and color more with ,fancy than with ,truth4 ,you'll find no widow1 perfect in her trust1 ,as you've described1 who is so destitute4 ,go search the lanes and alleys2 where you find ,the greatest squalor1 there is greatest crime2 ,for poverty is oftenest but a name ,for reckless vice1 and vile depravity4 ,your case is but exception to the rule1 ,and not the rule1 of ,providence4 ,to give ,the righteous1 only1 wealth and worldly store ,would take away ,man's freedom1 and all good4 ,but ,i will answer in your folly's mode4 ,the justice1 then1 of ,nature's laws you doubt1 ,forgetting they are fixed for general good1 ,and not for individual4 ,these laws1 ,in their effects1 you praise as very good2 ,yet1 in their causes1 call the most unjust4 ,the fertile fields1 with grain for man's support1 ,are nourished by a miasmatic air1 ,that1 sickening but a few1 feeds all the world4 ,while1 were the air all pure1 a few were well1 ,and millions starving4 ,in the tropics1 too1 ,the scenes you deprecate1 themselves but cause ,the very beauties you admire4 ,unjust1 ,you would enjoy effects without a cause4 ,the goods of ,nature often take their rise ,from what to man proves evil4 ,for the goods1 ,he makes his mind to meet the evils2 then ,can he complain1 or think it hard to bear8 ,but ,nature's dealings towards ,man are just4 ,he knows that he is free1 and ,nature not2 ,if he opposes ,nature's laws and falls1 ,is ,nature to be blamed8 ,the widow's cot ,is frail2 the laws of general good require ,a storm2 it comes1 and shattered falls the cot4 ,should ,god have saved it by a miracle1 ,then all ,his people could demand the same1 ,and ,earth would soon become the bar of ,god1 ,god may exert a special providence1 ,but ,man may not detect it1 as the rule ,invariable of life1 and still be free2 ,for he were thus compelled to seek the good4 ,then ,nature1 over ,man1 holds not a tyranny1 ,but keeps the perfect pandect of her laws1 ,and ,man is free to obey them1 or oppose4 ,like shallow-thoughted reasoners of ,earth1 ,you make assertions without slightest proof1 ,or faintest shade of truth4 ,your thesis1 this3 ,god marks with disapproval all the good1 ,and blesses all the evil with ,his smile4 ,entirely false in every case6 ,the good ,are ever happiest1 in peace of mind1 ,in ease of conscience1 and the hope of ,heaven4 ,the wicked may be even rich1 but wealth ,and happiness are far from synonyms4 ,is happiness the child of circumstance1 ,or is it not the offspring of the mind8 ,and if the mind be tranquil and serene1 ,does happiness not follow everywhere8 ,the cause of doubt in you1 and many more1 ,is that the thousands who profess the good1 ,are ever mourning their unhappy lot1 ,and sighing o'er the gloomy1 narrow way2 ,the tribulation of the promise read1 ,without its good cheer context4 ,these are they ,who stamp with misery's blackest seal1 a life ,of righteousness4 ,by these you cannot judge1 ,for they are not what they profess1 and would ,be miserable in ,heaven1 unless changed4 ,but take the truly good1 one who's content ,to take whate'er befalls1 submissively2 ,who feels assured that all works for the best2 ,take him1 in all conditions1 rich or poor1 ,in sickness or in health1 in pain or ease2 ,compare your happy wicked1 with his gold1 ',twill not require a moment to decide ,which one is happier6 ,again1 you ask ,why ,man was not created happy1 and kept so8 ,his very freedom and intelligence ,prevents a forcd happiness4 ,the ends ,of all ,creation would be marred1 and ,man ,lose personality4 ,a happiness ,made universal1 asks morality ,that's universally compelled2 and lost ,is all the scheme of virtue and reward4 ,man1 forced to action would degenerate ,into a listless1 lifeless thing2 the world ,lose all its fine machinery of thought ,combined with action4 ,beautiful variety ,could not exist1 dull sameness would be life4 ,but ,man is placed1 with free intelligence1 ,amid surroundings from which he may cull ,a happiness intense1 whate'er their nature be4 ,if bright1 the consciousness they are deserved2 ,if gloomy1 sweet reflections that they drape ,a future all the brighter for their gloom4 ,but ,man1 within himself1 your puzzle proves2 ,and not to you alone1 for ,angel wings ,have hovered o'er your globe1 and ,angel minds ,peered curiously into his soul1 to learn ,its mysteries1 in vain4 ,the ,mind ,supreme ,that formed the soul1 alone can understand ,its wondrous depths4 ',tis not surprising then ,that ,man has tried in vain to know himself4 ,his mind1 compared with his body1 seems so great1 ,he deems its power unlimited4 ,he finds ,it weak1 before the barriers of thought1 ,that gird it1 mountain high1 on every side4 ,no path can he pursue that's infinite4 ,and few exist1 that do not thither lead4 ,hence all the vagaries that have obtained ,among your race4 ,the doubt of everything1 ,is only too far tracing of a thought ,into absurdity intense4 ,if you ,deem all the world effect upon yourself1 ,a principle of fairness would demand ,that you accord the right to other men4 ,the question then arises1 who is he ,that really does exist1 and all the rest ,his ideas8 ,sure your neighbor has the right ,to claim the honor1 just as well as you6 ,hume's foolish thought1 extended to its length1 ,will answer not a single end of life1 ,and terminates in nonsense none believe4 ,the conflict of the mental powers defeats ,your inquiries4 ,you cannot reconcile ,the unruled circumstance1 with ,man's free-will ,you deem the motive free1 and ,man its slave2 ,as if the motive1 unintelligent1 ,could have a freedom1 or a slavery6 ,you make the motive to exist within the mind1 ,when it1 perforce1 must be without4 ,you get ,the unruled motive from the circumstance1 ,when this itself must act upon the mind1 ,and if free motives rise within the mind1 ,they are a part1 and therefore mind is free4 ,and what you deemed a motive to the mind1 ,was mental action1 and its modes of thought4 ,the motive is confined to circumstance1 ,and mind the circumstance can oft control1 ,and even when it cannot1 acts at will4 ,the mind may to a kingdom be compared1 ,where ,reason occupies the throne4 ,beneath ,its scepter bow1 in perfect vassalage1 ,the faculties1 desires1 and appetites4 ,these then are acted on by motive powers1 ,and straight report the action to their king1 ,who does impartially decide for each4 ,the unruled motive is without the mind1 ,and forms no part of it1 although the parts1 ,receiving motive action1 so are called4 ,thus when you hunger1 the desire of food1 ,confined to mind1 is not a motive power2 ,but urged by motive bodily demand1 ,it tells the need to ,reason1 who decides4 ,thus when you pare your peach1 the tempting fruit ,and fleshly need1 move on the appetite1 ,who begs the ,reason for consent to eat2 ,your friend's opinion of your self-control1 ,is motive to ,desire of esteem1 ,who begs the ,reason to refuse consent4 ,the ,reason1 then1 like righteous judge1 decrees ,in favor of that one1 more strongly shown2 ,and feels a perfect freedom in its choice4 ',tis most unfair to wait the action's end1 ,then cry1 the mind was forced to choose this act2 ,but choice is ,reason's free decree4 ,sometimes ,the ,reason errs1 and evil then ensues2 ,but ,reason1 now more conscious that 'tis free1 ,regrets it had not acted otherwise4 ,by knowing what your reason deems the best1 ,you judge how other men will act4 ,you learn1 ,by intercourse1 what they permit to change ,the ,reason's sentence4 ,so1 while with a friend1 ,you show your wealth1 because you know he's free1 ,and can1 and will1 resist impulse to crime4 ,were he not free1 you'd dare not go alone ,with him1 for1 any moment1 might arise ,a motive irresistible1 and he ,would kill and rob1 because that motive's slave4 ,were he not free1 you were no more secure1 ,in pleasant parlance1 than on desert isle4 ,the laws are made for man1 alone1 as free4 ,for1 otherwise1 the motives they present ,were blind attempts so coincide with ,fate4 ,they would complete the gross absurdity1 ,of ,man collective governing himself1 ,and therefore free1 while individuals ,are helpless slaves of motives they but aid ,to furnish4 ,fate1 as held in fullest form1 ,yourself has proved the theory of fools2 ,for were it true1 a blind passivity ,were ,man's perfection on the ,earth4 ,compare ,the two2 ,free-will as held1 whate'er their faith1 ,by every one1 in daily practices2 ,a world of harmony1 for very wars ,yield good2 a mechanism complicate1 ,that even ,angels1 wondering at1 admire2 ,a world1 whose wondrous progress is maintained ,by practical belief in liberty4 ,and on the other hand1 behold a world ,of universal inactivity6 ,its millions starving for delinquent ,fate2-- ,i doubt your faith would last till dinner-time1 ,a morning's lapse would change a hungry globe ,to firm belief in free-will work for food4 ,with many1 ,god's foreknowledge binds free-will2 ,he knows the future1 how each man will act1 ,and man can never change from what ,god knows4 ,they reason thus1 that prescience is decree1 ,and what ,god knows will happen1 must take place4 ,that ,god may know the future of free-will ,i prove by this4 ,suppose two worlds alike1 ,and governed by two ,gods4 ,each one can see1 ,and foresee all transpires in both the worlds1 ,yet each o'er th' other's world exerts no power4 ,a man in one does wrong2 the other ,god ,may have foreseen the action for an age1 ,yet had not slightest power to cause or stop4 ,does his foreknowledge qualify the act8 ,if thus you can suppose1 why not believe1 ,when errors flow from opposite belief8 ,god in the future stands1 and waits for man1 ,who works the present1 only gift of ,time4 ,there is no future save in ,god's own mind4 ,man's future means continued present time2 ,god's future is but present time to ,him1 ,in which ,he lives1 not will live when it comes4 ,man's acts ,he sees as done1 not to be done4 ,and ,god compels not more than ,man does ,man1 ,who sees his fellow's deeds1 not causes them4 ,man only knows ,man's present acts2 but ,god ,the future sees1 as present to ,his mind4 ,to end with perfect proof1 you know you're free4 ,this all the world attests1 and each believes4 ,how subtle soe'er may his reasoning be1 ,he contradicts it throughout all his life2 ,and all his plans1 and all the right and wrong ,of self and friends he bases on free-will4 ,if disbelief no inconvenience prove1 ,few men believe what is not understood2 ,and yet the most familiar things of life ,are far beyond their comprehensions' power4 ,who understands the turning of the food ,to sinew1 muscle1 blood1 and bone8 yet who ,will starve because he knows not how 'tis done8 ,who understands the mystery of birth1 ,and when and where the soul originates8 ,and yet a million mothers bend1 to-day1 ,o'er tender babes1 and know that they exist2 ,a billion people know they once were born4 ,who understands the mystery of death1 ,and how the soul is severed from its clay8 ,yet who has not wept o'er departed ones1 ,received the dying clasp1 the dying look1 ,and known1 full well1 ,death's bitter1 bitter truth8 ,none comprehends the movement of a limb1 ,yet many boast the powers of their's might4 ,then why doubt freedom of the will1 when life1 ,in every phase1 but proves its certain truth8 ,the edifice of shallow theorists ,before the sweeping blade of practice falls4 ,your dive into the heart yields folly's fruit2 ,the selfish theory1 carried to its end1 ,makes wrong of right1 and overturns the world4 ,and strong it is in seeming2 for the self1 ,in human conduct1 plays important part4 ,but 'tis not action's only source1 nor dims ,the quality of every action's worth4 ',tis true that ,man exists in self alone1 ,and in himself feels pain or pleasure4 ,true1 ,an instinct teaches to avoid the one1 ,and seek the other2 true1 that every act1 ,how small soe'er1 gives pleasure or gives pain4 ,yet thousand deeds are done without regard ,to one or other1 or effect on ,self4 ,howe'er an action may affect the ,self1 ,if he that acts has not a thought of it1 ,the action is not selfish4 ,you appeal ,to ,man1 and so will ,i appeal to you4 ,you find a helpless brute1 with broken limb1 ,upon the roadside1 moaning out its pain4 ,now1 though to aid will surely pleasure give1 ,and to neglect will cause remorseful pain1 ,is there a single thought of this1 when you1 ,with kindest hand1 bind up the swollen bruise1 ,and hold the grateful water to its mouth8 ,is not each thought to ease the sufferer's pain8 ,is not the ,self first found1 when on your way ,you go1 with lighter heart1 for kindness done8 ,and while you think with pleasure on the deed1 ,would you not feel despised in your own eyes1 ,if consciousness revealed 'twas done for ,self8 ,but should you say that ,self was thus concealed1 ,and still evoked the deed1 the argument ,the same2 if ,self was out of thought1 the deed ,had other source4 ,in all1 you thus mistake ,the deed's effect1 unthought of1 for its source4 ,god1 in ,his wisdom1 hath affixed to good ,performed1 a pleasure1 and to evil1 pain4 ,but selfish actions are not good1 you've said1 ,and therefore cannot slightest pleasure yield4 ,here1 then1 your system contradicts itself2 ,all actions emanate from love of ,self1 ,to find the highest pleasure for that ,self2 ,and yet the pleasure's lost by very search2 ,what good soe'er apparently is sought1 ,the consciousness of selfish aims destroys4 ,and here is wisdom manifest4 ,when ,self ,would seek the good1 for pleasure to the ,self1 ,the pleasure is not found2 but when it seeks ,the good alone1 true pleasure is conferred4 ,i mean the ,self of soul1 not ,self of flesh2 ,for pleasure to the sense1 to be attained ,is sought2 these two are mingled intricate 7,and hard to separate71 in thousand ways4 ,but when ,man's higher ,self would seek its good1 ,it must forget the ,self4 ,in every case ,you instanced1 ,self of soul must be unthought1 ,for pleasure will not come at call of ,self4 ,your gambler none will doubt has selfish ends2 ,not so the preacher1 for his pleasure sought1 ,would ne'er be found2 it must be out of thought4 ,his burning eloquence1 his pastoral care1 ,can not proceed from any love of ,self1 ,for ,self would suffer1 when it knew their source2 ,but as he acts from love of good as good1 ,the ,self is happy4 ,when he ascertains ,that some have died in sin through his neglect1 ,the ,self is grieved1 not that it was uncared1 ,for care of ,self would not allay the pain1 ,but that a duty had not been performed2 ,that good had been neglected1 as a good4 ,the gambler's object may be highest good ,for ,self1 according to his estimate2 ,the preacher seeks a good1 but not for ,self2 ,when ,self appears1 the good to evil turns4 ,nor is the mystic selfish in his cave1 ,save that he buries talents in himself1 ,that might avail for good to other men2 ,but all his mind is bent on pleasing ,god1 ,his only thought of ,self is for its pain2 ,and this he deems acceptable to ,heaven4 ,you can not judge by your analysis1 ,but by what passes in the actor's mind4 ,one surely then could not be selfish termed1 ,who only lived to mortify the ,self1 ,howe'er mistaken may his conduct be4 ,nor is the man1 who gives his wealth away1 ,if from right principles he gives4 ',tis true1 ,he finds a pleasure in the deed when done1 ,but if to gain that pleasure he has given1 ,it turns to gall and wormwood in his grasp4 ,if two men matches light1 and know full well1 ,if one is dropped1 a house will be consumed1 ,he is the most guilty that allows its fall4 ,the miser1 then1 who knows he does a wrong1 ,is by that knowledge rendered criminal4 8,the quality of actions must be judged0 ,from their intents1 that often differ wide2 ,the man who shoots his friend by accident ,has no intent1 and therefore does no wrong2 ,but he who murders does a score of wrongs1-- ,a score of basest motives prompt the deed1 ,all centred in the ,self4 ,the ,christian's work ,must1 from its very nature1 have no ,self1 ,or it becomes unchristian4 ,man can judge1 ,not from effect1 but motives ascertained ,by inference1 and experience4 ,the law ,is formed hereon1 and modified by years4 ,time teaches men that punishment will stop1 ,and only punishment1 the spread of crime4 ,instinct and ,nature's order teaches you ,that pain must follow wrong4 ,a man commits ,a crime2 if left unpunished1 he repeats2 ,and others1 seeing his security1 ,will do as he has done4 ,so all mankind ,would hasten on to lawlessness and ruin4 ,but law1 for real wrong inflicts a wrong1 ,which would be just did it no farther go2 ,but it is proved expedient1 inasmuch ,as it prevents continued crime4 ,then death ,by law can not be murder termed1 since good ,in aim and end1 without malicious thought4 ,thus good to many flows from wrong to one 7,if that may wrong be termed that takes the rights ,by conduct forfeited71 who should receive1 ,though none reaped benefit4 ,for many's good1 ,the law is made1 yet never does a wrong ,to individuals1 unless deserved4 ,throughout your reas'ning1 like all ,earthly minds1 ,when dataless1 essaying hidden truths1 ,you wander blindly in conjecture's field1 ,and if you find the truth1 it is a chance4 ,you fain would raise a stone of skepticism1 ,by granting souls immortal unto beasts2 ,you prove your pointer must possess a soul1 ,and by your argument1 the trees have souls2 ,for when an oak has fallen1 every twig ,may still be there1 and something1 life1 be gone4 ,a chair1 a table1 anything you see1 ,possesses something1 not of any parts1 ,but that to which the parts are said1 belong1 ,then1 one by one1 take all the parts away1 ,the something called the table must exist1 ,for 'twas not in a part1 nor is removed4 ,the mind of beasts exists but through their flesh1 ,and is developed subject to its laws1 ,and flesh is the condition of their life4 ,when flesh dissolves1 the mind disintegrates1 ,and ceases to exist4 ,man feels within1 ,the consciousness of soul1 that would survive ,though flesh were torn to shreds upon the wheel4 ,the parts of soul that live alone through flesh1 ,must perish with it in the hour of death4 ,but having postulated ,self1 as source ,of human conduct1 you compel the acts ,to fit your theory4 ,you change effect ,for cause4 ,where'er a moral pleasure's found1 ,you judge that for its gain the deed was done2 ,as if the pleasure could be gained by search6 ,that ,self does enter largely into inner life ,is very plain1 for everything affects1 ,in some way1 ,self2 but does the mind regard ,effect1 or is its object something else8 ,the appetites1 affections1 and desires1 ,you make of selfish origin1 yet know ,that is not selfish1 which alone affects2 ,but acting with a reference to effect4 ,the appetites are instincts2 as you breathe1 ,you hunger1 thirst1 in helplessness4 ,not ,self1 ,but food or drink1 the object of your thought4 ,and even while the taste is in your mouth1 ,the mind dwells on the taste1 not on the ,self4 ,desires are partly selfish in their mode2 ,desire of knowledge1 seeking honor's meed1 ,is selfish2 led by curiosity1 ',tis not more selfish than an appetite4 ,desire of power1 esteem1 and wide-spread fame1 ,is selfish1 when the thought of their effect ,on ,self shapes out the conduct2 when desired ,for their own sake1 unselfish4 ,on the list ,affections terminate1 you falsely rail ,the mother1 and the lover2 both sincere1 ,and both without a thought of selfish aim4 ',tis no reproach to say the mother's love1 ,in fervid instinct1 and development1 ,is like the cow's1 that ,god in wisdom gives4 ,no love so pure as that which moves the cow ,to hover round her young1 to bear the blows ,impatient hunger deals the udder drained1 ,to smooth with loving tongue the tender coat1 ,or meet the playful forehead with her own2 ,with threatening horn1 to guard approach of harm2 ,and watch1 with ceaseless care1 the charge in sleep4 ,her careful love continues1 till the calf ,has grown beyond her need1 and ceases then4 ,a mother loves because it is her child3 ,this is the surest reason you could give4 ,th' affection is spontaneous in her breast1 ,but fed and strengthened by his life1 if good4 ,the opposites to love you named1 affect ,her love1 by not an injury done to ,self1 ,but by their evil1 which her soul abhors4 ,her son's antagonism's not to her1 ,but to the good she loves4 ,her heart withdraws ,its twining tendrils from unworthiness4 ,as usual1 you select supposed effects1 ,and then assume their causes4 ,could you see ,the mother's heart1 you'd find the loss of love ,caused not by wrong to her1 but wrong abstract ,developed in the concrete deeds of crime4 ,her love is governed by a moral sense1 ,or idea of the good2 the people's thought ,about herself comes in as after-part4 ,bad treatment to herself1 although it pain1 ,deals not a fatal blow to love1 except ,as showing lack of principle in him4 ,and so your lover is not hurt in ,self1 ,but moral sense4 ,the loved one's perfidy1 ,and not her ridicule1 beheads your love2 ,her stunning words were playful pleasantry1 ,did they not show the baseness of the heart4 ,indeed1 to turn your reasoning on yourself1 ,her manner even towards you has not changed1 ,and were you present1 she would still seem yours2 ,her eaves-dropped words do not affect the ,self1 ,save as they show her falsity of heart4 ,and tossing on your pillow1 through the night1 ,the crushing thought of wrecked integrity ,gives deeper pain than all her ridicule4 ,and ,self1 though pained at thought of being duped1 ,enjoys relief in thought of its escape4 ,to show that ,love is built on higher grounds ,than paltry good for ,self2 that it must have1 ,as corner-stone1 a percept of the good1 ,existing in the object loved1 suppose ,you're on the topmost height of wildest love1 ,your arm around her1 and your lingering kiss ,upon her lips2 and ,self is king of love4 ,she1 nestling on your shoulder1 finds 'tis wrong1 ,that love1 however true1 may grow too warm2 ,that every kiss1 however pure1 abstracts ,some little part from maiden modesty1 ,and steals a pebble from her honor's wall ,and rising with the firm resolve1 says1 8,cease1 ,unwind your arm1 restrain your fervid lips2 ,it may be wrong1 and right is surely safe60 ,now though the ,self is bitterly denied1 ,the rapturous clasp and tender kiss forbid1 ,is not your love increased a thousand-fold8 ,do not you feel intensely gratified ,at this assurance of her moral worth8 ,and would you1 for the world1 breath aught to cause ,her pain1 or least regret for her resolve8 ,how firm your trust1 how sweet your confidence6 ,you know 'twas not capricious prudery1 ,for your caresses had been oft received2 ,nor was it sly hypocrisy to win ,your heart1 for that was long since hers4 ,no thought1 ,but spotless purity1 inspired the act2 ,and you are happy1 though the ,self's denied4 ,the little things of life1 that men account ,without a moral value1 may be done ,with reference to ,self2 but oftenest1 ,the mind regards the act1 not its effect ,upon the ,self4 ,the code of ,etiquette1 ,the small amenities of social life1 ,the converse1 and the articles of dress1 ,may all belong to ,self2 but moral acts1 ,those known as right or wrong1 have higher source ,than ,self in any mode4 ,within ,man's breast ,there's something1 apprehending good and bad1 ,called conscience1 or the moral sense2 it views1 ,impartially1 each act of his1 decides ,its quality by rule of right and wrong2 ,all trust its judgments most implicitly4-- ,the good is found1 yields greatest happiness2 ,yet seek it for the sake of happiness1 ,and good is evil1 with its misery6 ,the good must be pursued1 because a good1 ,the evil shunned1 because an evil4 ,thus1 ,the moral sense discerns these qualities ,in others1 and directs our love4 ,a blow ,the deadliest to our love1 would be a blow ,aimed at the principle of good4 ,a love1 ,existing through the injuries done to ,self1 ,may meet the public's praise1 and feel its own2 ,but love would merit self-contempt1 that loved ,whate'er opposed the good4 ,the son may treat ,the mother with unkindness1 yet her love ,be undiminished2 if he lie1 or steal1 ,her love is less2 she cannot love his deed1 ,and cannot love the heart from which they flow ,so with the youth who gives his chair to ,age1 ,he does not so resent that ,self's denied ,its meed of thanks1 as that ingratitude ,should thus be manifest1 in little things4 ,a comrade1 served the same1 would anger cause4 ,but him who would give up the highest ,self1 ,the soul1 for others' good1 you deem a fool2 ,and ask why sacrifice ne'er claimed a soul8 ,because the soul cannot be sacrificed2 ,no harm to that can others benefit4 ,but if it could1 how truly grand the man ,who'd take eternal woe for fellow-men6 ,but ,god1 who makes the soul the care of life1 ,makes every soul stand for itself alone1 ,and in ,his wisdom hath ordained this law3 ,the greater good man gets for his own soul1 ,the greater good on others' he confers1 ,while evil to himself1 an evil gives4 ,then comes the question of this abstract good1 ,that moral sense declares the end of life4 ,what is its nature8 whence does it arise8 ,and whence does man derive the half-formed thought8 ,you have compared the systems that define1 ,each in its way1 the hidden theory4 ,none satisfy1 though each some element ,sets forth in clear distinctness4 ,take them all1 ,select the true of each1 as ,cousin does1 ,and will eclecticism satisfy8 ,and does the soul not cry for something more8 ,for something that it feels 'twill never reach1 ,the good1 as known to minds unclogged with flesh8 ,man takes the dim outlines of abstract thought1 ,and seeking to evolve their perfect form1 ,the very outlines grow more indistinct2 ,as gazing at a star will make it fade4 ,man's only forms of good are blent with flesh1 ,and when he seeks to take the flesh away1 ,and leave the abstract1 he is thus confused1 ,as if he should withdraw the wick and oil1 ,and seek to find the flame still in the lamp4 ,to learn the source of ideas of the ,good1 ,trace ,man collective1 to his babyhood2 ,for 'mid the prejudice of full-grown thought1 ,the truth would be effectually concealed4 ,through every people scattered o'er the globe1 ,there does prevail some idea of a ,god2 ,though rude and barbarous this idea be1 ,it still1 in some form1 does exist4 ,the good1 ,with all1 bears reference to this thought2 ,and what this ,deity approves is good1 ,and what ,he disapproves is bad4 ,men learn ,what ,he approves1 and what ,he disapproves1 ,by revelation1 inference1 and instinct4 ,god's sanction then is origin of ,good1 ,though afterwards men learn the sweet effects1 ,and practise it for its own sake2 and call ,their little effort1 grandest abstract truth4 ,developing in intellectual strength1 ,they plaster up this good in various forms1 ,until1 refined beyond all subtilty1 ,it seems to them a self-existent good4 ,the good is then a certain quality1 ,in actions1 or existence1 that assures ,divine approval4 ,this vast idea1 ,god1 ,creation sows in every human heart2 ,all ,nature's grand designs demand a ,god1 ,a ,god intelligent4 ,the same instinct ,that tells ,his being1 teaches what ,he loves2 ,and what ,he loves with every people's good4 ,but different nations entertain ideas ,diverse in reference to a ,deity1 ,and different notions of what pleases ,him4 ,one deems the care of ,god's child-gift her good2 ,another tears the heart-strings from her babe1 ,and feeds1 for good1 the sacred crocodile4 ,the good lies in the thought of pleasing ,god3 ,the consciousness that ,god is pleased with us1 ,a pleasure yields1 and good might there be sought ,for pleasure's sake1 and prove a selfish aim2 ,but moral selfishness a pain imparts1 ,and good1 for pleasure sought1 defeats the search4 ,the good is sought1 because it pleases ,god1 ,not with the doer1 but with what is done4 ,good has its origin in th' idea ,god1 ,and what ,he loves2 but to continue good ,it must retain approval in the act1 ,and not transfer it to the agent's self4 ,the consciousness that ,god approves a deed1 ,makes ,man approve1 and thus his mind is brought ,in correlation with the ,mind ,divine4 ,the man who does an alms1 if done to gain ,god's favor for himself1 feels selfish pain2 ,but if because the act1 not he1 will please1 ,he finds the pleasure4 ,man1 as time rolls on1 ,finds general laws that please or displease ,god1 ,and ranging1 under these1 subordinates ,amenable to them and not to ,god1 ,the moral quality of lesser deeds ,he reckons by these laws1 nor does ascend ,to ,god1 that gives their moral quality4 ,jouffroy1 in ,order1 placed the ,abstract ,good1 ,and paused a step below the real truth1 ,the idea ,god1 whence ,order emanates4 ,thus ,man1 progressing1 good withdraws from ,god ,and seems an independent entity1 ,and man denominates it1 ,abstract ,good4 ,he can attain the ,abstract but in part2 ,when mind is freed from flesh1 he may attain ,to its full grandeur4 ,here1 at most1 he grasps ,a faint outline1 and fits it on concrete4 ,no concept occupies one act of mind1 ,but opening the lettered label1 he ,may count the attributes1 and by an act ,complex1 of memory and cognition1 gain ,some idea of his ,abstract4 ,thus of 8,man10 ,one act can only cognize ,m-,a-,n1 ,but opening1 he finds the attributes1 ,as 8mammal10 8biped10 8vertebrate40 ,this act ,is complex1 and he cannot unitize1 ,save by the bundle of a word4 ,you've said ,it answers all the purposes of life1 ,then why seek more8 lest speculation vain ,point out dim realms1 where ,man can never tread1 ,these baffling thoughts are given1 as peacocks' feet1 ,to ,man's fond pride4 ,the simplest avenue ,of thought1 pursued1 will reach absurdity1 ,to comprehension finite4 ,even the truth ,of numbers you presume to doubt4 ,two balls1 ,you claim1 can ne'er be two unless alike4 ,you mingle quantity and number1 foolishly1 ,as if a ball the size of ,earth1 and one1 ,a tiny mustard-seed1 would not be two6 ,you deem all ,mathematics wide at fault1 ,because ,man's powers to illustrate are weak4 ,earth has oft seen a pure right angle drawn1 ,because ,man's sight could not detect a flaw2 ,and if to his discernment perfect made1 ,he must admit its perfect form4 ,if life1 ,in every intricate demand1 finds truth1 ,why seek to overturn by sophistry8 ,you see and know ,achilles far beyond ,the tortoise1 yet the super-wise must prove ,that he can never pass the creeping thing1 ,although his speed a hundred times as swift6 ,when ,man commences1 he may find a doubt ,in everything2 his life1 his neighbor's life1 ,the outside world1 may all be but a myth2 ,then let him so believe1 but let him act ,consistently2 but does the skeptic so8 ,he crams all ,nature in his little mind1 ,yet how he cringes to her slightest law6 ,he flees the rain1 and wards the cold1 or fears ,the lightning's glittering blow4 ,he doubts his frame ,can work by mechanism so absurd1 ,yet will not for a day refrain from food6 ,when ,man compares his body and his mind1 ,and tries the power of each1 he magnifies ,the mind to ,deity1 and yet how small ,compared with what it has to learn6 ,the more ,man knows1 the more he finds he does not know2 ,and as a traveller toiling up the hill1 ,each upward step reveals a wider view ,of fields of thought sublime he dares not hope ,to ever reach in life2 and wearily he sits ,him down upon the mountain-side1 so far ,beneath its untrod top1 and recklessly ,doubts everything1 because beyond his grasp4 ,all skeptic reasoning ends1 as did your own1 ,no fruit but blind bewilderment of thought6 ,and none but fools will e'er believe sincere ,the faith that doubts alone by theory1 ,and yet approves by practice4 ,such is yours2 ,the stern necessities of life demand ,a practical belief1 and such is given2 ,and still1 forsooth1 because your narrow mind ,cannot contain the ,truth in perfect form1 ,you dare deny it does exist4 ,but few ,of skeptic minds are let to live on ,earth1 ,and even these made instruments of good1 ,in calling forth defenders of the ,truth1 ,who add their strength to its ,eternal ,walls4 ,then here behold ,god's wisdom manifest6 ,amid the care of countless greater orbs1 ,he watches ,earth1 and knows its smallest thing4 ,while ,man1 as individual1 is free1 ,collective ,man is being surely led ,towards an end1 but when it will be reached1 ,god knows alone4 ,then ,man will be removed ,into a higher or a lower sphere1 ,as he has worthy proved4 ,with ,man 'twill be ,a great event2 his awful ,judgment-day6 ,when from those far-off realms1 the ,son shall come ,with ,angel retinue1 and through the worlds1 ,shall lead their solemn flight1 to where we stand2 ,and as the trump shall peal its clarion tones1 ,and beat away ,earth's gauze of atmosphere1 ,the millions living1 and the billions dead1 ,will leave the sod1 and 8caught up in the air10 ,shall stand before the ,throne1 to hear their doom4 ,then1 faces pale with fear1 and trembling limbs1 ,will be on every side1 as on the air ,they rest1 with nothing solid 'neath their feet2 ,and see dismantled ,earth burst into flames1 ,and reel along its track1 a globe of fire1 ,the volumed smoke1 a dusky envelope2 ,its revolutions wrapping pliant flames1 ,in scarlet girdles1 round its bulging waist1 ,and hurling streams of centrifugal sparks1 ,in broad red tangents1 from the burning orb4 ,upon the conflagration ,man will gaze1 ,with shuddering horror2 'tis his only home1 ,the scene of all his fame1 the source of wealth1 ,for which he toiled so wearily4 ,all gone6 ,he would not touch a mountain of pure gold1 ,for 'twould be useless now6 ,poor1 pauper ,man1 ,without his money1 chiefest aim of life1 ,stands homeless 'mid a ,universe1 to learn ,if ,god will be his ,father1 or his ,foe6 ,and from the blackness underneath1 the swarms ,of ,evil ones are thronged1 their hideous forms ,half shown in lurid light1 as here and there ,they flit1 like sharks1 expectant of their prey4 ,then comes the closing scene4 ,the sentence passed1 ,the righteous breaking forth to joyous praise1 ,shall thread ,creation's wondrous maze of life1 ,and with their ,leader1 sweep towards yon ,heaven2 ,while down the black abyss1 with cries of woe ,that make the darkness tremble1 the condemned ,are dragged1 into its gloom1--and all is o'er-- ,earth's ashes float in scattered clouds through space-- ,to ,man the grandest era of all ,time1 ,to ,god1 completion of ,salvation's scheme6 ,but ,man deems ,judgment too far off for thought1 ,nor will prepare for such a distant fate2 ,yet there is something1 far more sure than aught ,uncertain life can offer2 its decision1 too1 ,is just as final as the ,judgment doom2 ,and still 'tis oftenest farthest from the thought4 ',tis ,death1 the welcome or unwelcome guest ,of every man1 and yet how few prepare ,for its approach6 ,they give all else a care2 ,wealth1 honor1 fame1 get all their time1 ,while certain ,death's forgotten1 till disease ,gives warning2 then with hasty penitence1 ,the knees are worn1 the heart's thick rubbish cleared2 ,but oft too late2 the heart will not be cleared1 ,the stubborn knees will not consent to bend1 ,the house is set in order1 while the guest1 ,in sable robes1 stands at the throbbing door4 ,and now to close thy lesson1 look through this6 ,he gave to me a strangely fashioned glass1 ,through which1 when ,i had looked to ,earth1 ,i saw ,a long black wall1 that towered immensely high1 ,so none might see beyond4 ,before its length1 ,mankind were ranged1 all weaving busily2 ,the young and old1 the maiden and the man2 ,the infant hands unconscious plied the thread1 ,the aged with a feeble1 listless move4 ,they wove the warp of ,life1 and drew its thread ,from o'er the wall2 none knew how far its end ,was off1 nor when 'twould reach the busy hand1 ,nor did they care1 in aught by action shown1 ,but bending o'er their work1 without a glance ,towards the thread1 that still so smoothly ran1 ,they threw the shuttle back and forth again1 ,till suddenly the ravelled end appeared1 ,fell from the wall1 and to the shuttle crept2 ,and then the weaver laid his work aside1 ,with folded hands1 was wrapped within his warp1 ,to wait the ,master's sentence on his task4 ,i saw the thread1 in passing through their hands1 ,received the various colors1 from their touch1 ,and tinged the different patterns that they wove4 ,and oh6 how different in design6 ,some wove ,a spotless fabric1 whose pure simple plan ,was always ready for the ending thread2 ,come when it would1 no part was incomplete2 ,but what was done1 could bear th' ,inspector's eye4 ,and others wove a dark and dingy rag1 ,that bore no pattern1 save its filthiness2 ,fit garment for the fool who weaves for flames6 ,some wove the great red woof of war1 ,with clashing swords1 and crossing bayonets1 ,with ghastly bones1 and famished widows' homes1 ,with all the grim machinery of ,death1 ,to gain a paltry crown1 or curule chair2 ,perchance1 before the crown or chair is reached1 ,the thread gives out1 the work is incomplete1 ,and in the gory cloak his hands have wrought1 ,with all its stains unwashed1 the hero sleeps4 ,some shuttles shape the gilded temple1 ,fame1 ,and count on thread to weave its topmost dome2 ,but ere the lowest pinnacle is touched1 ,the brittle filament is snapped4 ,some weave ,the bema1 with its loud applause2 and some ,the gaudy chaplet of the bacchanal1 ,and others sweated bays of honest toil4 ,but all the fabrics bear the yellow stain ,of gold1 o'er which the sinner and the saint ,unseemly strive1 and he seems happiest ,whose work is yellowest4 ,along the wall1 8,a fountain filled with blood10 plays constantly1 ,where man may cleanse the fabric as he weaves2 ,yet few avail themselves2 the waters flow1 ,while ,man works on1 without regard to stains1 ,till thread worn thin arouses him to fear1 ,or breaks before the damning dyes are cleansed4 ,and down the line ,i ran my anxious eyes1 ,to find a weaver ,i might recognize1 ,and saw1 at last1 a form by mirrors known4 ,oh6 'twas a shameful texture that ,i wove1 ,so dark its hue1 so little saving white1 ,such seldom bathing in the fountain stream1 ,i could not look1 but bowed my blushing face1 ,and like the publican of old1 cried out1 8,be merciful to me a sinner60 8,rise60 ,the ,angel said1 8,and worship ,god alone1 ,return to ,earth1 enjoy an humble faith1 ,whose simple trust shall make thee happier ,than all the grandeur of philosophy4 ,should doubts arise1 remember1 ,god's designs ,above a finite comprehension stand1 ,and finite doubts1 about the ,infinite1 ,assume absurdity's intensest form4 ,man1 from the stand-point of the ,present1 looks1 ,and disappointed1 bitterly complains ,of what would move his deepest gratitude1 ,could he the issue of the morrow know4 ,god sees the future1 and in kindness deals ,to every man his complement of good4 ,remember then the weakness of thy mind1 ,nor doubt because thou canst not understand4 ,to gather scattered jewels thou must kneel2 ,so on thy knees seek truth1 and thou shalt find2 ,the nearer ,earth thy face1 the nearer ,heaven ,thy heart4 ,and now farewell60 ,i sprang to clasp ,his hand in gratitude1 but with a wave ,of parting benediction1 he was gone6 ,then in an instant1 like an aerolite1 ,with naught to bear me up1 ,i fell to ,earth1 ,swifter and swifter1 with increasing speed6 ,now bursting through a sunlit bank of cloud1 ,and clutching1 vainly1 at the yielding mist1 ,or through a cradling storm1 with thunder charged1 ,down through the open air1 whose parted breath ,hissed death into my ears1 while all below ,seemed rushing up to meet and mangle me4 ,i shrieked aloud1 8,oh save me60-- ,and awoke4 ,the day was o'er1 and night had drawn her shades2 ,the twinkling eyes of ,heaven shone through the leaves1 ,and lit the tiny rain-globes on the grass2 ,the cloud had passed1 and on th' horizon's verge1 ,a monster firefly1 with shimmering flash1 ,it slowly crawled behind the curve of death4 ,and evening's silence deeper seemed than noon's1 ,for not a sound disturbed the hush of night1 ,save katydids1 with quavering monotones1 ,returning contradictions from the trees4 ,all drenched and chilled1 with trembling limbs ,i rose1 ,and homeward bent my steps2 and pondering ,upon my dream1 this moral from it drew3 ,man cannot judge the ,eternal ,mind by his1 ,but must accept the mysteries of ,life1 ,as purposes ,divine1 with perfect ends4 ,and in our darkest clouds1 ,god's ,angels stand1 ,to work ,man's present and eternal good4 ,,the ,,village ,,on ,,the ,,tar ,,dedicated ,,to ,,pettigrew ,,council ,,no #a4 ,f4 ,,of ,t4 ,a drunkard in a distant town lay dying on his bed1 ,there was lack of woman's gentle touch about his fevered head1 ,but a comrade stood beside him1 and wiped the foam away1 ,that bubbled through his frothy lips1 to hear what he might say4 ,the poor inebriate faltered1 as he caught that comrade's eye1 ,and he said1 8',tis hard1 far1 far from home 'mid strangers thus to die4 ,take a message and a token to my friends away so far1 ,for ,louisburg's my native place1 the village on the ,tar4 8,tell my brothers and companions1 should they ever wish to know ,the story of the fallen1 ah6 the fallen one so low1 ,that we drank the whole night deeply1 and when at last 'twas o'er1 ,full many a form lay beastly drunk along the barroom floor4 ,and there were 'mid those wretches some who had long served sin1 ,their bloated features telling well what faithful slaves they'd been2 ,and some were young and had not on the ,hell-path entered far-- ,and one was from the village1 the village on the ,tar4 8,tell my mother that her other sons may still some comfort prove1 ,but ,i1 in even childhood1 would scorn that mother's love2 ,and when she called the children to lift up the evening prayer1 ,one form was always missing1 there was e'er one vacant chair1 ,for my father was a drunkard1 and even as a child ,he taught my little feet to tread the road to ruin wild2 ,and when he died and left us to dispute about his will1 ,i let them take whate'er they would1 but kept my father's #8still1' ,and with sottish love ,i used it till its venomed #8worm' did gnaw ,my soul1 my mind1 my very life1 in the village on the ,taw4,a 8,tell my sister oft to weep for me with sad and drooping head1 ,when she sees the wine flow freely1 that poison ruby red1 ,and to turn her back upon it1 with deep and burning shame1 ,for her brother fell before it and disgraced the fam'ly name4 ,and if a drunkard seeks her love1 oh6 tell her1 for my sake1 ,to shun the loathsome creature1 as she would a deadly snake1 ,and have the old #8still' torn away1 its fragments scattered far1 ,for the honor of the village1 the village on the ,tar4 8,there's another1 not a sister2 in the merry days of old1 ,you'd have known her by the dark blue eye1 and hair of wavy gold2 ,too gentle e'er to chide me1 too devoted e'er to hate1 ,she loved me1 though oft warned by all to shun the dreaded fate4 ,tell her the last night of my life--for ere the morning dawn1 ,my body will be tenantless1 my clay-chained spirit gone-- ,i dreamed ,i stood beside her1 and in those lovely blue depths saw ,the merry light that cheered me1 in the village on the ,taw4,a 8,i saw the old ,tar hurrying on its bubbles to the sea1 ,as men on life's waves e'er are swept towards eternity2 ,and the rippling waters mingled with the warbling of the birds1 ,returned soft silvery echoes to my deep impassioned words2 ,and in those listening ears ,i poured the sweet tho' time-worn story1 ,while swimming were those love-lit eyes1 in all their tear-pearled glory2 ,and her little hand was closely pressed in mine so brown and braw1 ,ah6 ,i no more shall meet her1 in the village on the ,taw40,a ,he ceased to speak1 and through his frame there ran a shiver slight1 ,his blood-shot eyes rolled inward and revealed their ghastly white1 ,his swollen tongue protruded1 o'er his face a pallor spread1 ,his comrade touched his pulse--'twas still--and he was with the dead4 ,the moon from her pavilion1 in the blue-draped fleecy cloud1 ,through the window o'er the corpse had thrown her pale but ghostly shroud1 ,the same moon that gazing upon that couch of straw4 ,was bathing in a silver flood the village on the ,taw4,a ,a ,the ,indian name of this river was ,taw4--,,publisher4 ,,requiescam ,oh6 give me a grave in a lone1 gloomy dell1 ,by the side of a deep1 swift creek1 ,where the ripples run like a tinkling bell1 ,through the grassy nooks1 where love so well ,the minnows to play hide and seek6 ,where in summer the thick twining foliage weaves ,a green1 arching roof upon high1 ,and the rain-drops fall from the dripping eaves1 ,like tears of grief from the weeping leaves ,on the face upturned to the sky6 ,where the silence frightens the birds away1 ,and all is still1 dreary and weird1 ,except1 perchance at the close of day1 ,the bittern's boom or the crane's hoarse bray1 ,floating over the swamp1 is heard4 ,where the dusky wolf and the antlered deer ,ever shun the dark1 haunted ground2 ,where the crouching panther ventures near1 ,his tawny coat all bristling with fear1 ,at the sight of the low1 red mound4 ,where at twilight gray1 the lone whippoorwill ,may perch on the stake at my head1 ,and with its unearthly1 tremulous trill ,the dreary gloom of the whole place fill ,with a requiem over the dead4 ,where the greater the ruin in earth's damp mold1 ,the greater the contrast will prove1 ,when the weary wings of my spirit ,i fold1 ,in heaven1 and swell with a bright harp of gold1 ,the grand pealing anthem of love4 ,february #ith1 #ahfg ,,lines ,,to ,,an ,,analytical ,,geometry ,,known ,,to ,,the ,,students ,,as 8,,miss ,,annie0 ,,written ,,at ,,the ,,university ,,of ,,north ,,carolina1 #ahff ,at 8,elysium0 chum and ,i were sitting1 ,across our vision memories flitting1 ,talking1 smoking1 often spitting ,on the hearth1 not on the floor2 ,when suddenly we heard a spluttering1 ,as of book leaves madly flutt'ring1 ,some one there seemed slowly mutt'ring1 ,at the bookcase1 not the door4 ,wildly springing to my feet 7,chum with fright seemed tied t' his seat71 ,dreading1 fearing ,i should meet ,what so like a ghost had spoken-- ,fellow members1 if you're able ,to believe what seemed a fable1 ,i saw 8,miss ,annie0 on the table1 ,with rage and anger almost choking4 ,then without a bow or bend1 ,sitting up upon one end1 ,without preface thus began-- ,while we both in wonder stared3 8,o ye worthless lazy scamps6 ,talk about your midnight lamps1 ,while ,i'm in the bookcase crampt1 ,to what can such ,sophs be compared8 8,here you'll sit and smoke and talk1 ,to-morrow morn to black-board walk1 ,seize your #8ruler' and your chalk1 ,then ,i hope get badly #8rushed4' ,oh6 the present generation1 ,such neglect to education1 ,blood and scissors6 thunderation60 ,she was so mad the tears forth gushed4 ,chum and ,i had heard enough ,to put us both in quite a huff1 ,so just to stop her noisome stuff ,i sprang and seized her by the collar4 ,george jumped up and grabbed the poker1 ,shouted1 8,edwin1 try to choke her6 ,we'll stop her mouth1 a darned old croaker1 ,squeeze her tight and make her #8holloa4'0 ,to the fire we held her near1 ,still she showed no signs of fear4 8,shall the red coals be your bier80 ,she shook her leaves and fluttered1 8,no40 ,now my face with anger flushes1 ,covered first with scarlet blushes1 ,i cried1 8,will you again e'er #8rush' us80 ,quoth ,miss ,annie1 8,evermore40 8,book or fiend10 ,i cried1 up starting1 8,be that word our sign of parting40 ,then ,i1 in my vengeance darting1 ,hurled her in the embers red4 ,she slightly quivered1 slowly burned2 ,from the sickening sight ,i turned1 ,yet from her this lesson learned1 ,prepare before you go to bed4 ,,lines ,,to ,,cousins ,c4 ,,and ,e4 ,,on ,,the ,,birth ,,of ,,their ,,little ,,daughter ,the marriage over1 from the train ,of watching seraphs1 one long strain ,of gratulation broke4 ,and then were still the rustling wings1 ,and fingers hushed the throbbing strings1 ,while thus an angel spoke3 8,who'll go to earth to bless this pair ,with angel child1 beneath their care ,be trained for bliss or woe80 ,he ceased1 and from the throng sprang three1 ,faith1 ,love1 and spotless ,purity4 ,these knelt1 and said 8,we'll go40 ,dear cousins1 to you these are sent1 ,three spirits in one being blent4 ,it is a jewel rare4 ,oh6 keep her pure as when first given1 ,guide her faith from ,earth to ,heaven1 ,guard her love with care4 ,may1 #ahfg4 ,,the ,,devil ,,outdone2 ,,or1 ,,the ,,guard ,,of ,,the ,,sulphur ,,lake ,to her who sent me the ,valentine with the cutting irony1 8,don't ,i look pretty in church80 these lines are respectfully inscribed4 ,not knowing her name1 ,i will call her 8,taters10 as she drew her elegant and tasty simile from that vegetable4 ,the ,devil was sitting one morning below1 ,and he seemed much perplexed as to what he must do1 ,for his dark brows would knit1 and he'd stamp on the ground1 ,and flap his great wings till floating around ,were the ashes and feathers4 ,at last with an air ,of resolve he threw himself back in his chair1 ,lit a brimstone cigar1 and touched a small bell4 ,an imp appeared1 bowed1 and on his face fell4 8,cloven-foot10 said the ,d----1 8what's the news from the fire80 8,my liege1 the great ape has ceased to inspire ,the victims with terror2 they fear him no more1 ,and continually crawl from the flames to the shore40 8,well1 ,cloven-foot1 ,i had most certainly thought ,when from ,africa's wilds that baboon you brought1 ,he'd prove such a guard for the great ,sulphur ,lake ,the wretches would ne'er cease before him to quake4 ,now go up to earth1 and search till you find ,something uglier far1 then quick seize and bind ,and bring it to me2 and if it beats the baboon ,i'll reward you4 ,be sure to return just as soon ,as 'tis possible1 and above all things to choose ,an object whose countenance never will lose ,its hideous novelty40 ,the imp bowed and withdrew1 ,and swiftly to earth on his errand he flew2 ,but in vain did he search where the gorillas roam1 ,or the jungles of ,bengal1 the fierce tiger's home4 ,in vain throughout ,europe he searched every place2 ,nowhere could he find the requisite face4 ,frustrated and weary1 with deep despair frantic1 ,he was skimming the waves of the tossing ,atlantic4 ,a few pinion strokes1 and he stood on the shore ,of the ,new ,world1 and through it began to explore4 ,but all was in vain1 till he chanced to alight ,in a sweet little village1 one smiling morn bright4 ,disguising himself1 he attended the church1 ,not hoping to find the object of search1 ,but just for the fun4 ,as he stood with the throng ,that were watching the ,college girls marching along1 ,he caught a slight glimpse of ,miss 8,tater's0 sweet face2 ,he sprang to her side1 clasped her in embrace1 ,and as he plunged downward he said to himself1 8,here's one will compete with the ,african elf40 ,he soon furled his wing on the ,plutonian shore1 ,and to his dark ruler his fair burden bore4 ,as the ,valentine sender came into sight ,the ,devil himself started back with affright4 8,whew6 whew60 whistled he1 8she'll do1 ,i declare6 ,go bring the baboon1 and let them compare40 ,the imp disappeared1 then returned with the ape1 ,a creature most frightful in feature and shape4 ,his head was oblong and perfectly bald1 ,running back from his eyes--no forehead at all2 ,his eyeballs were white1 their sockets deep red2 ,his long1 glistening teeth strung with human-flesh shred1 ,the gore of his victims from his fingers' ends flowed2 ,and round his lank limbs candescent chains glowed1 ,in front of ,miss 8,taters0 this creature was led2 ,he gave a look1 yelled1 and fainted stone dead4 8,by my tongs10 quoth the ,devil1 8she's rather too hard ,for the old fellow2 she'll make a capital guard4 ,take her down to the fire40 ,the imp led the way ,and far down they went from the clear light of day1 ,down1 down1 till the air was all smoky and red1 ,till the tumult of hell seemed bursting her head2 ,down1 down1 till the piteous wails and the moans ,of the tortured but echoed the jeers and the groans ,of the fiends4 ,down1 down1 till they came to the lake ,that scorches and scalds1 but never will slake ,the thirst of its victims4 ,far out on its breast ,it would heave them anon on the red foaming crest ,of a billow1 then plunge them far deeper beneath ,its boiling bosom1 in torture to seethe4 ,along the hot shore the poor creatures would crawl1 ,to pant and to rest from their terrible thrall4 ,from their bodies all smoking the lava would stream1 ,while the shriveled flesh peeled from each quiv'ring limb1 ,and their heart-piercing shrieks rose higher and higher1 ,as the tongue of each wave licked them back in the fire4 ,but as soon as ,miss 8,taters0 had come where they were ,every noise was hushed1 not a sound could you hear4 ',twas a wonder indeed1 and the wonder increased1 ,when the billows of crimson their torture surge ceased4 ,when the imp had examined more closely1 he found ,the victims had fainted1 the fire gone down4 ,he hurried her back to his master and said1 8,the fires are out1 and the wretches are dead40 8,what1 the fires extinguished6 those fires of old6 ,take her back6 ,i begin e'en myself to feel cold6 ,she'll ruin us all with her terrible face2 ,she's rather hard-favored for even this place40 ,april1 #ahfg4 ,,the ,,sunflower ,,lines ,,suggested ,,by ,,observing ,,gen4 ,,pettigrew',s ,,name ,,omitted ,,in ,,mrs4 ,,downing',s 8,,memorial ,,flowers0 ,,and ,,in ,,the 8,,southern ,,bouquet0 ,when poets cull memorial flowers1 ,with which our martyrs' graves to strew1 ,they choose no one in ,nature's bowers ,for ,pettigrew4 ,yet there is one1 and only one1 ,which truly represents his name2 ,a flower that revels in the sun1 ,and drinks his flame4 ,a flower that opens when1 all red1 ,the sun hath kissed the eastern skies2 ,but westward turned1 it droops its head ,and proudly dies4 ,thus when the sun of victory sheared ,its gory way o'er clouds of war1 ,this flower's tow'ring crest appeared ,a beacon star4 ,and in its gorgeous1 glorious rays1 ,this flower basked1 and only bowed ,when coming conquest's bloody haze ,that sun did shroud4 ,crushed flower1 with thy broken stem1 ,i'll keep thee near to typify ,the fallen form2 the hero's fame ,can never die4 ,june #aith1 #ahfg4 ,,an ,,elegy ,,written ,,on ,,the ,,rotunda ,,steps1 ,,university ,,of ,,virginia1 #ahfh ,the bell the knell of evening lecture tolls1 ,the thronging students pour from every door2 ,the tutor gathers up his notes and rolls1 ,and homeward wends his weary way once more4 ,the noisy crowd is gone1 there is a pause1 ,and hushed is all the busy hum and whirl1 ,save where from yonder room breaks loud applause ,that welcomes some professor's parting 8curl40 ,save that from yonder plain1 the lower lawn1 ,some base-ball novice makes harsh rhyms to psalm1 ,because a veteran1 with his hands of horn1 ,has 8pitched0 too 8hot0 a ball for his soft palm4 ,beneath those balconies1 along those rows1 ,where sinks the wall in many a jail-like cell1 ,each wrapped in silence now and in repose1 ,the minstrels of the 8,calathump0 do dwell4 ,the whispered call of evil-masking night1 ,the signal whistle of the well-known crew1 ,the bumping bang of 8blowers0 beat with might1 ,will often rouse the 8,nippers of ,peru40 ,for them in vain for hours their hearts will burn1 ,while busy housewives tremble at their noise1 ,and frightened children to their fathers turn1 ,too badly scared to think of play or toys4 ,oft has th' rotunda echoed to their songs1 ,in dulcet strains that on the still air broke2 ,oft has the lawn resounded with their gongs1 ,that roared and rattled 'neath their sturdy stroke4 ,let not their victims mock th' infernal din1 ,coal-scuttle drums1 and clarion paper trump2 ,but let them hear with a sardonic 8grin10 ,the hideous clamor of a 8,calathump40 ,the boast of ,mozart1 or ,beethoven's pride1 ,the sweetest notes ,von ,weber ever gave1 ,alike would prove harsh dissonance beside ,the gushing concord of one college stave4 ,to-night upon their pillows will be laid ,heads that are pregnant with some secret plan2 ,hands that a 8poker0 often may have swayed1 ,or waked to ecstasy an old tin pan4 ,in vain grave study holds before their gaze ,her ample page and honor's glittering roll2 ,the fire of 8frolic0 in their bosom plays1 ,and warms the devilish current of their soul4 ,full many a mind that might have nations hurled ,about as toys1 has hid its talents rare2 ,and many a voice that might have moved a world1 ,has cracked in shoutings on the midnight air4 ,some village ,hampden here by night may bawl1 ,some unknown ,milton1 but by no means mute2 ,some ,david that may soothe a savage ,saul1 ,as yet entirely guiltless of a lute4 ,the applause of gaping urchins to command1 ,the darkies' laughter at their quaint disguise1 ,a few short words from some one to the band1 ,this is their sole reward1 their hard-earned prize4 ,but who to dumb forgetfulness a prey1 ,would start to nip with dry and husky throttle8 ,whene'er they march along the ,devil's way1 ,they take his own peculiar seal1 the bottle4 ,amid the madding crowd that gathers thick1 ,a moving pandemonium they stray1 ,and down those much frequented walks of brick ,they hold the noisy tenor of their way4 ,,the ,,epigram ,here go at last1 all yelling to the town1 ,a band of youths to ,judson's too well known2 ,fair science ever met their darkest frown1 ,and foul intemperance marked them for her own4 ,small is their bounty1 but 8a drink0 they chime1 ,as round the crowded counter many jam2 ,each gives to ,judson 7all he has7 a dime1 ,each gets from him 7'tis all he wants7 a dram4 ,january1 #ahfh4 ,,fire ,,eyes ,hast thou on summer's eve ere marked ,the storm on cloud wings soaring high1 ,and spreading far his pinions black1 ,across the blue good-natured sky8 ,and hast thou seen from 'neath his brow ,the lightning's eye gleam fiercely bright1 ,as if to pierce a thousand foes ,with daggers of his living light8 ,as flash the lightnings in the skies1 ,so gleam1 when angry1 8,fire ,eyes40 ,hast thou on autumn eve e'er seen ,the sun just nestling on his pillow1 ,while sapphire clouds were silver-fringed1 ,as seafoam crests the surging billow8 ,and hast thou seen the golden gaze ,the sun bestows on ,nature fair1 ,that dyes the gorgeous landscape o'er ,and almost melts the amber air8 ,as beams the sun on autumn skies ,so smile1 when pleased1 bright 8,fire ,eyes40 ,,my ,,darling',s ,,jessamine ',twas only a sprig of white jessamine1 ,that came in a letter she wrote2 ,but ,i value it more than the costliest vine ,whose tendrils o'er marble-carved trellis-work twine3 ',twas worn at my darling one's throat4 ,a throat that encages the nightingale's trill1 ,and sweetens each silvery note1 ,and ,i think as ,i hear1 in a rapturous thrill1 ,her voice1 whose volume can heaven's dome fill1 ,that the angels have lent her a throat4 ,more sweet than exotics that ,fashion dupes wear ,as through the gay ballroom they float6 ,in the leaves of my ,bible ,i laid it with care1 ,more sacredly dear than a buried friend's hair ,since worn at my darling one's throat6 ,july1 #ahgj4 ,,the ,,parting ,,ship ,in pensive mood ,i stood upon the quay1 ,where busy ,commerce plied her energy2 ,where loading vessels hung their sails at rest1 ,and rose and fell1 upon the water's breast4 ,where busy little tugs with hissing steam ,buried their noses in the foaming stream4 ,near by1 a steamer in a paneled wharf ,chafed at her chains and panted to be off4 ,a strange1 mysterious ship1 no pennon bold ,her nation or her destination told2 ,no crew was seen1 no farewell song was sung1 ,no parting loved ones to each other clung2 ,no wife was weeping on her husband's neck1 ,no mother blessed her wayward boy on deck4 ,a ceaseless throng pressed through the cabin door1 ,as if they longed to leave their native shore2 ,no backward glance1 no tearful farewell view1 ,and no one seemed to think home worth adieu4 ,at last the bell was rung1 the plank was drawn1 ,and with a shivering sigh1 the ship was gone4 ,then as ,i marked her curving track of foam1 ,i wondered in what waters she would roam2 ,i thought of those on board1 the reckless air ,of their departure1 and ,i breathed a prayer4 ,a red-haired man stood turning up a wheel1 ,that wound a clanking chain upon a reel2 ,i laid a coin upon his brawny hand1 ,and asked him1 8,who thus leave their native land80 ,he leaned upon his wheel and closed one eye1 ,as if the lid were burdened with a sty2 ,then with a laugh he answered1 8,by the devil's spleen and liver1 ,it's on'y a ,fulton ferry-boat a'gwine a'gross ,east ,river40 ,,to ,m----1 ,,from ,e---- ,,written ,,on ,,the ,,fly-,,leaf ,,of ,a ,,bible ,one year of sweetest love intense6 ,one year of mutual confidence6 ,one year of gazing into eyes1 ,in which the love-light never dies6 ,one year of clasping hands1 that thrill ,with throbbing love from life's red rill ,one year of clouds1 whose transient shade ,the after glory brighter made6 ,one year of doubts1 whose fleeting rust ,could not corrode our links of trust6 ,one year of prayer1 whose pleading tone ,has for each other sued the ,throne6 ,one year together--may it prove ,prophetic of our earthly love6 ,one year each other's--may it be ,a type of our eternity6 ,sunday1 ,may1 #ahga4 ,,under ,,the ,,pines 8,,tell ,,them ,,to ,,bury ,,me ,,under ,,the ,,pines ,,at ,,home40 ,,from 8,,sea ,,gift40 ,i would not rest in the moldering tomb ,of the grim church-yard1 where the ivy twines1 ,but make me a grave in the forest's gloom1 ,where the breezes wave1 like a soldier's plume1 ,each dark-green bough of the dear old pines2 ,where the lights and shadows softly merge1 ,and the sun-flakes sift through the netted vines2 ,where the sea winds1 sad with the sob of the surge1 ,from the harp-leaves sweep a solemn dirge ,for the dead beneath the sighing pines4 ,when the winter's icy fingers sow ,the mound with jewels till it shines1 ,and cowled in hoods of glistening snow1 ,like white-veiled sisters bending low1 ,bow1 sorrowing1 the silent pines4 ,while others fought for cities proud1 ,for fertile plains and wealth of mines1 ,i breathed the sulph'rous battle cloud1 ,i bared my breast1 and took my shroud ,for the land where wave the grand old pines4 ,though comrades sigh and loved ones weep ,for the form shot down in the battle lines1 ,in my grave of blood ,i gladly sleep1 ,if the life ,i gave will help to keep ,the ,vandal's foot from the ,land of ,pines4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the ,vandal's foot hath pressed our sod1 ,his heel hath crushed our sacred shrines2 ,and1 bowing 'neath the chastening rod1 ,we lift our hearts and hands to ,god1 ,and cry3 8,oh6 save our ,land of ,pines60 ,,the ,,last ,,look ,,to ,,mary ,do not fasten the lid of the coffin down yet2 ,let me have a long look at the face of my pet4 ,please all quit the chamber and pull to the door1 ,and leave me alone with my darling once more4 ,is this little ,ethel1 so cold1 and so still6 ,beat1 beat1 breaking heart1 'gainst ,god's mystic will1 ,remember1 ,o ,christ1 thou didst dread thine own cup1 ,and while ,i drink mine1 let thine arm bear me up4 ,but the moments are fleeting3 ,i must stamp on my brain1 ,each dear little feature1 for never again ,can ,i touch her2 and only ,god measures how much ,affection a mother conveys by her touch4 ,oh6 dear little head1 oh6 dear little hair1 ,so silken1 so golden1 so soft1 and so fair1 ,will ,i never more smooth it8 ,oh6 help me1 my ,god1 ,to bear this worst stroke of the chastening rod4 ,those bright little eyes that used to feign sleep1 ,or sparkle so merrily1 playing at peep1 ,closed forever6 ,and yet they seemed closed with a sigh1 ,as if for our sake she regretted to die4 ,and that dear little mouth1 once so warm and so soft1 ,always willing to kiss you1 no matter how oft1 ,cold and rigid1 without the least tremor of breath1 ,how could you claim ,ethel1 ,o pitiless death6 ,her hands6 ,no1 'twill kill me to think how they wove ,through my daily existence a tissue of love4 ,each finger's a print upon memory's page1 ,that will brighten1 thank ,god6 and not dim with my age4 ,sick or well1 they were ready at every request ,to amuse us3 sweet hands6 they deserve a sweet rest4 ,their last little trick was to wipe 8,bopeep's0 eye1 ,their last little gesture1 to wave us good-bye4 ,little feet6 little feet1 how dark the heart's gloom1 ,where your patter is hushed in that desolate room6 ,for oh6 'twas a sight sweet beyond all compare1 ,to see little 8,frisky0 rock back in her chair4 99 99 99 99 99 ,o ,father6 have mercy1 and grant me thy grace ,to see1 through this frown1 the smile on thy face2 ,to feel that this sorrow is sent for the best1 ,and to learn from my darling a lesson of rest4 ,february #afth1 #ahge4 ,,lines ,,written ,,at ,,the ,,request ,,of ,,an ,,unknown ,,friend ,we've never met2 ,i've never pressed your hand1 ,nor caught the light of ,friendship in your eyes2 ,yet bound by grief1 between two graves we stand1 ,and mingle tears1 and hear each other's sighs4 ,the same dark wings have taken from each hearth ,the brightest jewel of the circle there1 ,and poor ,faith stumbles at the mound of earth1 ,and feebly yields her place to wan ,despair4 ,the same dear ,christ that took our little one1 ,and laid her precious head upon ,his breast1 ,in tender love called home your darling son ,to enter early his eternal rest4 ,but who could stand beside the open tomb1 ,and hear the clods fall on the coffin lid1 ,and see deep underneath the earthen gloom1 ,the dearest love of life forever hid8 ,could we not hear the grave's red lips proclaim1 8,i am the ,resurrection and the ,life10 ,and realize that ,death in ,jesus' name ,is only rest from labor1 pain1 and strife8 ',tis hard to feel assured our sainted dead ,are happy there1 as we could make them here2 ,we love them so we give them up with dread1 ,and lay them in ,christ's arms with doubt and fear4 ,oh6 for a faith that sees in all ,god sends ,the kindness of a father to his son2 ,that prays1 in every trial--if it ends ,in joy or grief1 8,thy will1 ,o ,lord1 be done40 ,beneath the same dark shadow let us kneel1 ,and lift our broken hearts in prayer to ,god ,that while ,he chastens1 ,he will help us feel ,the wisdom of ,his purpose in the rod4 ,we are not strangers now2 from heart to heart ,the electric chords of mutual sorrow thrill4 ,and clasping hands across the miles apart1 ,we stand resolved1 to 8suffer and be still40 ,,out ,,in ,,the ,,rain ,the night is dark and cold1 a beating rain ,falls ceaselessly upon the dripping roof2 ,the dismal wind1 with now a fierce1 wild shriek1 ,and now a hollow moan1 as if in pain1 ,circles the eaves1 and bends the tortured trees that wring ,their long1 bear hands in the bleak blast4 ,within ,our chamber all is bright and warm4 ,the fire ,burns with a ruddy blaze4 ,the shaded lamp ,softens the pictures on the wall1 and glows ,upon the flowers in the carpet1 till they seem ,all fresh and fragrant4 ,stretched upon the rug1 ,his collar gleaming in the fire-light1 little ,pip ,is sleeping on1 defiant of the storm without4 ,the very furniture enjoys the warmth1 ,and from its sides reflects the cheerful light4 ,up in its painted cage1 the little bird1 ,his yellow head beneath his soft1 warm wing1 ,is hiding4 ,oh6 my ,god1 out in the storm ,our little yellow head is beaten by the rain4 ,so lonely looks that precious little face ,up at the cold1 dark coffin's lid above1 ,in the bleak graveyard's solitude6 ,oh6 ,ethel darling1 do you feel afraid8 ,or is ,christ with you in your little grave8 ,when last we gazed upon those lovely eyes ,they looked so tranquil1 in their last repose1 ,we knew that ,christ's own tender hand had sealed ,their lids with ,his eternal peace4 ,oh6 darling1 are you happy up in heaven8 ,and do the angels part that golden hair ,as tenderly as we8 ,o ,saviour dear1 ,thou knowest childhood's tenderness4 ,amid ,the care of countless worlds1 sometimes descend ,from thine almighty throne of power1 and find ,that little yellow head1 and lay it on thy breast1 ,and smooth her brow with thine own pierced hand2 ,she'll kiss the wound and try to make it well4 ,and tell her how we love her memory here2 ,and let her sometimes see us1 that she may ,remember us4 ,o ,jesus1 we can trust ,her to thy care2 and when we lay us down ,to rest1 beside that lonely1 little grave1 ,oh6 let her meet us with her harp4 ,god help us both to make that meeting sure6 ,,the ,,lily ,,and ,,the ,,dew-,,drop ,deep in a cell of darkest green1 ,rayless and murky with unbroken gloom1 ,with downcast head and shrinking1 modest mien1 ,a lily of the valley shed her rare perfume1 ,breathed softly1 as a sea shell's murmur1 from her bloom ,an odor so exquisite1 none can tell1 ,if 'tis an odor or a whispered sigh ,that like the dying echoes of a bell ,falls on the raptured sense so dreamily1 ,the soul swoons in the tearful clasp of memory4 ,so when an old man hears a harvest song ,he used to sing1 or smells the new-mown hay1 ,a host of saddened recollections throng ,the dusty chambers of his heart1 and play ,upon the cobwebs there a soft olian lay4 7,unfinished47 ,,lines1 ,,written ,,after ,,having ,a ,,hemorrhage ,,from ,,the ,,lungs ,written a short time before his death and handed to his wife with the request1 8,do not open this until ,i am well1 or until my death40 ,life bloomed for me as if my path thro' ,eden ,led its flowery way4 ,success had crowned ,in many ways my efforts4 ,no dark strife ,with adverse ,fate its portent shadows cast ,across the calm blue scope of heaven4 ,and though ,pride often chafed at plain commercial life1 ,it was but transient1 for ambitious ,hope ,kept ever in my view ,fame's gilded dome1 ,upon whose highest pinnacle ,i chose my niche1 ,for vain conceit had whispered in my ear ,that ,i had ,genius to encharm the world1 ,and ,i looked forward to the loud applause ,of nations as a simple thing of time4 ,of death ,i thought but as a fright for those ,who have no destiny but dying4 ,mine ,would come in age1 but as a pallid seal ,to ,honor gained1 and ,life's long labors done4 ,yet ,i had felt the breath of ,asrael's wing ,when from my youthful head he took my father's hand1 ,and from my manhood's arms my only child1 ,and down the past a little mound of earth1 ,tombed with the darkest sorrow of our hearts1 ,still stands1 though veiling in the folds of time4 ,of heaven ,i thought but as a distant home1 ,a place of sweetest rest that ,i would gain1 ,when weary of the burden of the world4 ,thus gay of thought and bright of hope1 ,i moved ,amid the flowers of my way4 ,at once1 ,with scarce a rustle in the rose leaves1 came ,a shadowy form1 and standing silently ,before my pathway1 breathed a whispered sigh1 ,as if it loathed its office to perform2 ,then laid ,consumption's ghastly banner on my breast1 ,its pale folds crossed with fatal red4 ,the sky ,grew dark1 the rose leaves withered1 as the form ,withdrew1 still silently2 while ,i1 alone ,upon the roadside1 kneeled to pray for light4 ,the stunned surprise of sudden shattered hopes1 ,the faith of self-appointed destiny1 ,still turned my eyes toward the ,temple ,fame4 ,across its gilded dome a spotless cloud ,had drifted1 hiding it from view1 but lo6 ,the cloud1 unfolding snowy depths1 disclosed ,the glories of that 8,house not made with hands10 ,and bending from it1 so full of tenderness1 ,i could discern the loved ones 8gone before40 ,and over all ,i recognized the ,form ,whose brow endured ,gabbatha's shameful crown1 ,whose woe distilled itself in trickling blood1 ,by ,cedron's murmuring wave4 ,as tenderly ,as ever mother touched her babe1 ,he bore ,within ,his arms a little angel form1 ,with golden hair and blue expressive eyes1 ,one dimpled hand lay on ,his willing cheek1 ,while ,he bent down to meet the sweet caress1 ,the other1 with that well-remembered look ,she kissed1 and threw the kiss to me4 ,then down ,i bowed my face1 and longed to know mine end4 ',twere very sweet to leave all toil and care ,and join the blessed ones beyond the tide2 ,and still 'twere sweet beyond compare to wait ,till eventide with loved ones here1 and share ,their weal or woe4 ,then came a flute-like voice ,that thrilled the solemn air3 8,pursue thy way1 ,yet humbly walk and watch1 and if ,i come ,at midnight1 or at noon1 be ready40 ,thus ,i wish to live1 life's aims subserved to ,god2 ,and each continued day and hour regard ,as special gifts to be improved for ,him2 ,to wear the girdle of the world about my loins ,so loosely that a moment will suffice ,to break the clasp1 and lay it down4 ,,the ,,end