superior sentiment she ruled over him.

Sentiment, indeed, underlies everything that is great or lovely or
enduring on this earth. It is the joy of festivals, the animating soul
of patriotism, the bond of families, the beauty of religious,
political, and social institutions. It has consecrated Thermopylae, the
Parthenon, the Capitol, the laurel crown, the conqueror's triumphal
procession, the epics of Homer, the eloquence of Demosthenes, the muse
of Virgil, the mediaeval cathedral, the town-halls of Flanders, the
colleges of Oxford and Cambridge, the struggles of the Puritans, the
deeds of Gustavus Adolphus, the Marseilles hymn, the farewell address of
Washington. There is no poetry without it, nor heroism, nor social
banqueting. What is Christmas without the sentiments which hallow the
evergreen, the anthem, the mistletoe, the family reunion? What is even
tangible roast-beef and plum-pudding without a party to enjoy them; and
what is the life of the party but the interchange of sentiments? Why is
a cold sleigh-ride, or the ascent of a mountain, or a voyage across the
Atlantic, or a rough journey under torrid suns to the consecrated
places,--why are these endurable, and even pleasant? It is because the
sentiments which prompt them are full of sweet and noble inspiration.
The Last Supper, and Bethany, and the Sepulchre are immortal, because
they testify eternal love. Leonidas lives in the heart of the world
because he sacrificed himself to patriotism. The martyrs are objects of
unfading veneration, because they died for Christianity.

In the same way Héloïse is embalmed in the affections of all nations
because she gave up everything for an exalted sentiment which so
possessed her soul that neither scorn, nor pity, nor ascetic severities,
nor gloomy isolation, nor ingratitude, nor a living death could
eradicate or weaken it,--an unbounded charity which covered with its