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 behind it. Yet I conole myelf with reflecting, that mine does not differ from the common lot of mortals, who to dream away their lives, conecrate the better part of it to a phantom of the imagination, and pend upon this creature of the brain their whole activity. All enthuiam, all catle-building in the air, whether it relate to heaven or earth, is idlenes and folly; nor is a devout better than an amorous caprice. Every human being whoe thoughts are turned inwards upon himelf, whether immured in a cell, or wandering about the fields and forets, gaping at the moon, toing traws and flowers in a melancholic mood into the brook that murmurs by him, or ighing out his elegy to rocks and rivers, or the litening queen of night; is a eneles dreamer. For the Spirit of contemplation, let him be of what ort he may, if he does not walk behind the plough, or take the hoe or pade in his hand, is the vilet puppet upon the tage of human life. To have engrafted young