It is pleasant to believe the sun is restoring its expended energy by condensation, and that the so-called human race is in the morning of its existence; and it is necessary that the majority should believe so, for otherwise the business of the world would not get done. The happiest cynic would be depressed by the sight of humanity sitting with folded hands, waiting apathetically for the end.
Perhaps the best way to get acquainted with the self-styled human race is to collect money from it.
TO A WELL-KNOWN GLOBE.
I would not seem to slam our valued planet,—
Space, being infinite, may hold a worse;
Nor would I intimate that if I ran it
Its vapors might disperse.
Within our solar system, or without it,
May be a world less rationally run;
There may be such a geoid, but I doubt it—