XV.
WHITHERWARD.
By pursuing the analogies of nature, the human mind reduces to order the vagaries of the imagination, and bodies them forth in forms of loveliness and in similitudes of heaven.
By an irrevocable decree of Nature's God, all his works are progressive in the direction of himself. This law is traceable from the molehill up to the mountain, from the mite up to the man. Geology, speaking to us from the depths of a past eternity, from annals inscribed upon the imperishable rock, utters not one syllable to contradict this tremendous truth. Millions of ages ago, she commenced her impartial record, and as we unroll it to-day, from the coal-bed and the marble quarry, we read in creation's dawn as plainly as we behold in operation around us, the mighty decree—Onward and Upward, Forever!
In the shadowy past this majestic globe floated through the blue ether, a boiling flood of lava. The elements were then unborn. Time was not; for as yet the golden laws of Kepler had not emerged from chaos. The sun had not hemmed his bright-eyed daughters in, nor marked out on the azure concave the paths they were to tread. The planets were not worlds, but shot around the lurid center liquid masses of flame and desolation. Comets sported at random through the sky, and trailed after them their horrid skirts of fire. The Spirit of God had not "moved upon the face of the waters," and rosy Chaos still held the scepter in his hand. But changes were at work. As the coral worm toils on in the unfathomable depths of ocean, laying in secret the foundations of mighty continents, destined as the ages roll by to emerge into light and grandeur, so the laws of the universe carried on their everlasting work.
An eternity elapsed, and the age of fire passed away. A new era dawned upon the earth. The gases were generated, and the elements of air and water overspread the globe. Islands began to appear, at first presenting pinnacles of bare and blasted granite; but gradually, by decay and decomposition, changing into dank marshes and fertile plains.
One after another the sensational universe now springs into being. This but prepared the way for the animated, and that in turn formed the groundwork and basis for the human. Man then came forth, the result of all her previous efforts—nature's pet, her paragon and her pride.
Reason sits enthroned upon his brow, and the soul wraps its sweet affections about his heart; angels spread their wings above him, and God calls him His child. He treads the earth its acknowledged monarch, and commences its subjection. One by one the elements have yielded to his sway, nature has revealed her hoariest secrets to his ken, and heaven thrown wide its portals to his spirit. He stands now upon the very acme of the visible creation, and with straining eye, and listening ear, and anxious heart, whispers to himself that terrific and tremendous word—Whitherward!
Late one afternoon in April, I was sitting on the grassy slope of Telegraph Hill, watching the waves of sunset as they rolled in from the west, and broke in crimson spray upon the peaks of the Contra Costa hills. I was alone; and, as my custom is, was ruminating upon the grand problem of futurity. The broad and beautiful bay spread out like a sea of silver at my feet, and the distant mountains, reflecting the rays of the setting sun, seemed to hem it in with barriers of gold. The city lay like a tired infant at evening in its mother's arms, and only at intervals disturbed my reflections by its expiring sobs. The hours of business I well knew had passed, and the heavy iron door had long since grated on its hinges, and the fire-proof shutter been bolted for the night. But I felt that my labors had just commenced. The duties of my profession had swallowed up thought throughout the long hours devoted to the cares of life, and it was not until I was released from their thraldom that I found myself in truth a slave. The one master-thought came back into my brain, until it burned its hideous image there in letters of fire—Whitherward! Whitherward!