Chapter XXI—The Choice Of Pursuits.
"For what then was I born? to fill the circling year
With daily toil for daily bread, with sordid pains and pleasures?
To walk this chequered world, alternate light and darkness,
The day-dreams of deep thought followed by the night-dreams of fancy?
To be one in a full procession?—to dig my kindred clay?
To decorate the gallery of art? to clear a few acres of forest?
For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee life!"