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Rh culty divine," who know when to sneer wisely, — if they sneer at all! The habitual cynic is— in plain words— a fool! He does not see beyond his own nose, or dream that anybody else has either a longer nose than himself, or a stronger vision; should such an one announce that he had seen, a stone's throw off,—le diable! what a wretch! The opinion of such noseologists to the contrary, we aver that Faith can find "the evidence of things unseen," only as it is mated with the actual—how can it be thought or expressed otherwise?—and this necessity for the actual, is the true old Pantheistic element, though modern ethics will be gravely horrified by the profane juxtaposition! The Elder Penatese were things— ours are words; but not the less things for all that, if they be sacred

Well, what does all this lead to? We are not very clear ourselves, unless we classify it under an indefinite article, as "the premonilaries!" — premising that "thereby hangs a tale,"—a tale—though it be a "Bear story,"-of higher import and severer teachings than the name would promise: which traces and arranges the progress and the incidents which led to anew birth of the spiritual life within us. Which taught us, a mad and raving sceptic, through the simplest and most natural means—curiously enough presented indeed—that first and most sublime of truths— God is! Which has linked the "pathless desolation" and "the lowly instrument" forever with our memories of adoring gratitude, of love and awe, and left them to us the sentient demonstrations, strong as proof of holy writ, of a benevolent and active Providence— wielding appreciable laws inscrutably on our behalf!

But now for our story! As is the case with most hot-blooded dreamy enthusiasts, life very soon reacted upon me. Indeed I had scarcely stepped beyond the threshold of the closet and found myself under the sun, out in the broad world,before the sickness of revulsion came over me. I fell the thin wings of the delicate visions I had nurtured in scholastic shades, wilt and curl up, as I have seen the dewflower petals beneath a flaming noon. Ah! a grievous sickness — almost unto death — that was, when I saw those exquisite frail things all dying. They were the creatures of the soul's first springtime, of softer glowing hues, and breathing fresher odors than ever come again; and what the sun had spared — when the tinkling trample of the curt, gray frost went over them — were snapped and strewed — stark in their own beauties — dead! The glory and the joy passed from the earth with them — a huge Desolation spinning on its poles — I stood up, on its wide blank, deaf and blind, with one word burning in ghastly light through darkened brain and soul — a curse! It was a purpose — it was a savage exstacy, to live to curse all, — God, woman, man! To walk through life till I chose to die, hating and defiant. I laughed hoarsely as I hugged the pleasant madness to my heart. O, rare and mirthfullest conceit! Revenge! Hate! Scorn! Ha! ha! right royal brotherhood, for the stout spirit. What a carnival the game of life will be to us — only we won't throw sugar plumbs. I lie down upon the grass and sob and pule like a tripping Cupid over his crushed flowers? Manly employment that! when here is a world swarming with fools to scorn; and a wide air tremulous with the beat of hearts to trample on; a universe pregnant with some hideous Power, to be defied! And then the proud exultation — to stalk on beneath his own lights, wronging his creatures, and taunting him to send his bolts! A new energy was possessing me. Life became stronger than it had ever been before, though my body was wasting. When the first wild whirl of this delirious excitement had passed away, the horrible transformation was completed, for an ashy-pale, cold twilight, which no sunshine could dispel or warm, had settled upon my whole being — an icy ring palpably clung around my heart which beat sharply and fast in the centre — my forehead was cold, but the brain was seething and glowing behind it. 1 felt a chill unnatural flaming in my eyes. f was afraid to look at them; 1 saw little children shrink in affright as they gazed at me. Then I knew there was hate and hell in them, and felt glad (for there was some of the old leaven left in spite of me) that Innocence would be alarmed of its own instincts, and avoid me. I was stolidly sullen or hysterically merry, and felt the strangest inclination to laugh when I saw others weep. I enjoyed the whinings of a funeral beyond expression. I would hide my face in my handkerchief, and laugh until my sides ached at what were to others the most touching exhibitions of grief. But the sympathetic furor of religious enthusiasm