they seek a sad and solitary satisfaction in the greatness of their
contempt for life. But neither does this satisfy: disdain is not a
beverage, and contempt is not food.

Such are the destinies of the heart, to which God is wanting. But I
hope, Gentlemen, that you have here some remonstrances to offer. I have
just spoken of the pleasures of sense, of pride, of vanity, and I have
made no allusion to those affections in which the heart manifests its
highest qualities. Shall we forget the joys of pure love? the domestic
hearth? friendship? country? Do not fear that, having given myself up
to a fit of misanthropy, I am come hither to blaspheme the true
happinesses of life. But do the affections of earth offer us sufficient
guarantees? We have need of the infinite to answer to the immensity of
our desires; in the presence of those we love, have we no need of the
Eternal that we may lean our hearts on Him? Will not all human love
become a source of torment, if we have no faith in the love of Him who
will stamp holy affections with the seal of His own eternity?

A single question will suffice to enlighten us on this head. Do you know
the feeling of anxiety? We all know it, though in different degrees.
Epidemical disease may appear. The cholera has started on its course; it
has left the interior of Asia, and is approaching. The report is current
that neighboring cities have begun to feel its ravages. Those we
love--in a month, in a week, where will they be? War is declared. We
hear of preparations for death; the sovereigns of Europe apply
themselves to calculations which seem to portend torrents of blood. If
war breaks out, that brother, that son, who will have to take up arms,
that daughter who will one day perhaps find herself at the mercy of an
unbridled soldiery----. But let us not look for examples so far away.
Have you no dear one in a distant land of whom you are expecting