long efforts has broken his chain, still in his flight drags a heavy
portion of it after him."--Persius, Sat., v. 158.]

We still carry our fetters along with us. 'Tis not an absolute liberty;
we yet cast back a look upon what we have left behind us; the fancy is
still full of it:

"Nisi purgatum est pectus, quae praelia nobis
Atque pericula tunc ingratis insinuandum?
Quantae connscindunt hominem cupedinis acres
Sollicitum curae? quantique perinde timores?
Quidve superbia, spurcitia, ac petulantia, quantas
Efficiunt clades? quid luxus desidiesque?"

["But unless the mind is purified, what internal combats and dangers
must we incur in spite of all our efforts! How many bitter
anxieties, how many terrors, follow upon unregulated passion!
What destruction befalls us from pride, lust, petulant anger!
What evils arise from luxury and sloth!"--Lucretius, v. 4.]

Our disease lies in the mind, which cannot escape from itself;

"In culpa est animus, qui se non effugit unquam,"
--Horace, Ep., i. 14, 13.

and therefore is to be called home and confined within itself: that is
the true solitude, and that may be enjoyed even in populous cities and
the courts of kings, though more commodiously apart.

Now, since we will attempt to live alone, and to waive all manner of