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What is bread, or wine, or debauchery, or fame—what is all that passion craves, or fancy covets, beside the daring presence of that ever-blessed peace, the soul of honor,—

That "more true joy Marcellus exiled feels, Than Cæsar, with a senate at his heels"?

SECTION XX.

IMMORTALITY INFERRED.

Seen in the light of this theory, is there any thing in nature that does not fit some purpose, and do some good? Look at the plain necessities of the soul, and then at the variety and compensation which fill those necessities as far as the harmony of the universe and the good of all will permit, and then let us ask ourselves, is the soul immortal?—If it be not, we shall not be extant to complain; but is there not a plain intention that we shall be extant, and rejoice thereat? We have filled none of our ideals; we have accomplished nothing; not two men in a generation attain a mental balance. We come in a hurry—we whirl through our lives—we scarcely ask whether the earth is eternal—and away we go, full of an infinite speculation—certain of some things, doubtful of most, and all this to no further purpose than to keep up this

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