sounds of execration, and the vision of violent death.

Times of heroism are generally times of terror, but the day never shines in which this element may not work. The circumstances of man, we say, are historically somewhat better in this country and at this hour than perhaps ever before. More freedom exists for culture. It will not now run against an axe at the first step out of the beaten track of opinion. But whoso is heroic will always find crises to try his edge. Human virtue demands her champions and martyrs, and the trial of persecution always proceeds. It is but the other day that the brave Lovejoy gave his breast to the bullets of a mob, for the rights of free speech and opinion, and Idied when it was better not to live.'

I see not any road of perfect peace which a man can walk, but after the counsel of his own bosom. Let him quit too much association, let him go home much, and stablish himself in those courses he approves. The unremitting retention of simple and high sentiments in obscure duties is hardening the character to that temper which will work with honor, if need be in the tumult, or on the scaffold. Whatever outrages have happened to men may befall

man again; and very easily there appear any signs of a Coarse slander, fire, tar and gibbet, the youth may freely mind and with what sweetness and inquire how fast he ca duty, braving such penalties please the next newspaper 2-ber of his neighbors to pro incendiary.

It may calm the app

the most susceptible her bound Nature has set of malice. We rapidly which no enemy can f

Thou art que :

In the gloom of our in the hour when w voices, who does not safely to an end their that sees the meannes congratulates Washing wrapped in his shro he was laid sweet in manity not yet subj

not sometimes envy.

no more to suffer from the tumults of the natural world, and await with curious complacency the speedy term of his own conversation with finite nature? And yet the love that will be annihilated sooner than treacherous has already made death impossible, and affirms itself no mortal but a native of the deeps of absolute and inextinguishable being.

IX

THE OVER-SOUL

"BUT souls that of his own good life partake,
He loves as his own self; dear as his eye
They are to Him: He'll never them forsake:
When they shall die, then God himself shall die:
They live, they live in blest eternity."

Henry More.

Space is ample, east and west,

But two cannot go abreast,

Cannot travel in it two:

Yonder masterful cuckoo

Crowds every egg out of the nest,
Quick or dead, except its own;

A spell is laid on sod and stone,

Night and Day 've been tampered with,
Every quality and pith

Surcharged and sultry with a power

That works its will on age and hour.