the sky, how the vapours struggle with the still yet feeble stars:
even so have the mists of error been pierced, though not scattered, by
the dim but holy lights of past wisdom, and now the morning is at
hand, and in that hope we journey on, doubtful, but not utterly in
darkness. Nor is this all my hope; there is a loftier and more steady
comfort than that which mere philosophy can bestow. If the certainty
of future fame bore Milton rejoicing through his blindness, or cheered
Galileo in his dungeon, what stronger and holier support shall not be
given to him who has loved mankind as his brothers, and devoted his
labours to their cause?--who has not sought, but relinquished, his own
renown?---who has braved the present censures of men for their future
benefit, and trampled upon glory in the energy of benevolence? Will
there not be for him something more powerful than fame to comfort his
sufferings and to sustain his hopes? If the wish of mere posthumous
honour be a feeling rather vain than exalted, the love of our race
affords us a more rational and noble desire of remembrance. Come what
will, that love, if it animates our toils and directs our studies,
shall when we are dust make our relics of value, our efforts of avail,
and consecrate the desire of fame, which were else a passion selfish
and impure, by connecting it with the welfare of ages and the eternal
interests of the world and its Creator! Come, we will to bed."




CHAPTER XL.

A man may be formed by nature for an admirable citizen, and yet, from
the purest motives, be a dangerous one to the State in which the
accident of birth has placed him.--STEPHEN MONTAGUE.