may now be clear: they are as much the result of other circumstances
as of the action of the stream: their history is fitful: they give us
no sure intelligence of the future course of the stream, or of the
nature of its waters; and may scarcely shew more than that it has not
been always as it is. The actions of men are often but little better
indications of the men themselves....

'There is frequently much selfishness about remorse. Put what has been
done at the worst. Let a man see his own evil word or deed in full
light, and own it to be black as hell itself. He is still here. He
cannot be isolated. There still remain for him cares and duties; and
therefore hopes. Let him not in imagination link all creation to his
fate. Let him yet live in the welfare of others, and, if it may be so,
work out his own in this way; if not, be content with theirs. The
saddest cause of remorseful despair is when a man does something
expressly contrary to his character--when an honourable man, for
instance, slides into some dishonourable action; or a tender-hearted
man falls into cruelty from carelessness; or, as often happens, a
sensitive nature continues to give the greatest pain to others' from
temper, feeling all the time perhaps more deeply than the persons
aggrieved. All these cases may be summed up in the words, "That which
I would not, that I do"--the saddest of all human confessions, made
by one of the greatest men. However, the evil cannot be mended by
despair. Hope and humility are the only supports under this burden.'

As our space presses, the passages we give must necessarily be short.
The beauty of the few sentences following will not be disputed. They
are taken from a 'Chapter of Consolations' in _Companions of my
Solitude_, and will serve to exhibit our author's style under one of
its more animated aspects:--