2. While you are gazing on that sun which is plunging into the vault of the west, another observer admires him emerging from the gilded gates of the east. By what inconceivable power does that agèd star, which is sinking fatigued and burning in the shades of the evening, re-appear at the same instant fresh and humid with the rosy dew of the morning? At every hour of the day the glorious orb is at once rising, resplendent as noonday, and setting in the west; or rather our senses deceive us, and there is, properly speaking, no east or west, no north or south, in the world.
3. In all natural and spiritual transactions, so far as they come within the sphere of human agency, there are three distinct elements: there is an element of endeavor, of mystery, and of result; in other words, there is something for man to do, there is something beyond his knowledge and control, there is something achieved by the co-operation of these two. Man sows the seed, he reaps the harvest; but between these two points occurs the middle condition of mystery. He casts the seed into the ground; he sleeps and rises night and day; but the seed springs and grows up, he knows not how: yet, when the fruit is ripe, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. That is all he knows about it. There is something for him to do, something for him to receive; but between the doing and receiving there is a mystery.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, p. 83; No. 2, pp. 77, 79; No. 3, pp. 74, 91; No. 4, pp. 35, 53.
DECLAMATORY.
1. You speak like a boy,—like a boy who thinks the old gnarled oak can be twisted as easily as the young sapling. Can I forget that I have been branded as an outlaw, stigmatized as a traitor, a price set on my head as if I had been a wolf, my family treated as the dam and cubs of the hill-fox, whom all may torment, vilify, degrade, and insult; the very name which came to me from a long and noble line of martial ancestors denounced, as if it were a spell to conjure up the devil with?
2. I have been accused of ambition in presenting this measure,—inordinate ambition. If I had thought of myself only, I should have never brought it forward. I know well the perils to which I expose myself,—the risk of alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect of making new ones (if any new ones could compensate for the loss of those we have long tried and loved), and the honest misconception both of friends and foes. Ambition!—yes, I have ambition; but it is the ambition of being the humble instrument in the hands of Providence to reconcile a divided people, once more to revive concord and harmony in a distracted land; the pleasing ambition of contemplating the glorious spectacle of a free, united, prosperous, and fraternal people.
3. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of Independence is indeed motionless; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed: but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men, "make it life to live,"—these cannot expire.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, pp. 66, 75; No. 3, pp. 50, 68, 84; No. 4, pp. 40, 55.
DRAMATIC OR EMOTIONAL.
1. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!
I feel my heart new opened. Oh, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspéct of princes and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And, when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.