to strip them off; you can, at best, but rend them asunder
for moments, and look through.

'Fortunatus had a wishing Hat, which when he put on, and wished
himself Anywhere, behold he was There. By this means had Fortunatus
triumphed over Space, he had annihilated Space; for him there was no
Where, but all was Here. Were a Hatter to establish himself, in the
Wahngasse of Weissnichtwo, and make felts of this sort for all
mankind, what a world we should have of it! Still stranger, should, on
the opposite side of the street, another Hatter establish himself; and
as his fellow-craftsman made Space-annihilating Hats, make
Time-annihilating! Of both would I purchase, were it with my last
groschen; but chiefly of this latter. To clap-on your felt, and,
simply by wishing that you were Any_where_, straightway to be _There_!
Next to clap-on your other felt, and, simply by wishing that you were
Any_when_, straightway to be _Then_! This were indeed the grander:
shooting at will from the Fire-Creation of the World to its
Fire-Consummation; here historically present in the First Century,
conversing face to face with Paul and Seneca; there prophetically in
the Thirty-first, conversing also face to face with other Pauls and
Senecas, who as yet stand hidden in the depth of that late Time!

'Or thinkest thou it were impossible, unimaginable? Is the Past
annihilated, then, or only past; is the Future non-extant, or only
future? Those mystic faculties of thine, Memory and Hope, already
answer: already through those mystic avenues, thou the Earth-blinded
summonest both Past and Future, and communest with them, though as yet
darkly, and with mute beckonings. The curtains of Yesterday drop down,
the curtains of Tomorrow roll up; but Yesterday and Tomorrow both
_are_. Pierce through the Time-element, glance into the Eternal.
Believe what thou findest written in the sanctuaries of Man's Soul,
even as all Thinkers, in all ages, have devoutly read it there: that
Time and Space are not God, but creations of God: that with God as it
is a universal HERE, so is it an everlasting NOW.

'And seest thou therein any glimpse of IMMORTALITY?--O Heaven! Is the
white Tomb of our Loved One, who died from our arms, and had to be
left behind us there, which rises in the distance, like a pale,
mournfully receding Milestone, to tell how many toilsome uncheered
miles we have journeyed on alone,--but a pale spectral Illusion! Is
the lost Friend still mysteriously