and labored through all their days for such an end as this! Escape
from death! ... alas, there is no escape, . . 'tis evident we all
must die, . . die, and with dust-quenched eyes unlearn our knowledge
of the sun, the stars, the marvels of the universe,--for us no
more shall the flowers bloom or the sweet birds sing; the poem of
the world will write itself anew in every roseate flushing of the
dawn,--but we,--we who have joyed therein,--we who have sung the
praises of the light, the harmonies of wind and sea, the
tunefulness of woods and fields,--we whose ambitious thoughts have
soared archangel-like through unseen empyreans of space, there to
drink in a honeyed hope of Heaven,--we shall be but DEAD! ...
mute, cold, and stirless as deep, undug stones, . . dead! ... Ah
God, thou Utmost Cruelty!"--and in a sudden access of grief and
passion he raised one hand and shook it aloft with a menacing
gesture--"Would I might look upon Thee face to face, and rebuke
Thee for Thy merciless injustice!"

He spoke wildly as though possessed by a sort of frenzy,--his
unknown companion heard him with an air of mild and pitying
patience.

"Peace--peace! Blaspheme not the Most High, my son!" he said
gently, yet reproachfully. "Distraught as thou dost seem with some
strange misery, and sick with fears, forbear thine ignorant fury
against Him who hath for love's dear sake alone created thee.
Control thy soul in patience!--surely thou art afflicted by thine
own vain and false imaginings, which for a time contort and darken
the clear light of truth. Why dost thou thus disquiet thyself
concerning the end of life, seeing that verily it hath NO end? ...
and that what we men call death is not a conclusion but merely a