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!"