, they
echo likewise over her lonely resting-place; and she who sleeps
beneath is included in the call to the resurrection, in the name of
Him who spake to his disciples:

"John baptized you with water, but I will baptize you with the Holy
Ghost!"

THE THORNY ROAD OF HONOUR

An old story yet lives of the "Thorny Road of Honour," of a marksman,
who indeed attained to rank and office, but only after a lifelong and
weary strife against difficulties. Who has not, in reading this story,
thought of his own strife, and of his own numerous "difficulties?" The
story is very closely akin to reality; but still it has its harmonious
explanation here on earth, while reality often points beyond the
confines of life to the regions of eternity. The history of the world
is like a magic lantern that displays to us, in light pictures upon
the dark ground of the present, how the benefactors of mankind, the
martyrs of genius, wandered along the thorny road of honour.

From all periods, and from every country, these shining pictures
display themselves to us; each only appears for a few moments, but
each represents a whole life, sometimes a whole age, with its
conflicts and victories. Let us contemplate here and there one of the
company of martyrs--the company which will receive new members until
the world itself shall pass away.

We look down upon a crowded amphitheatre. Out of the "Clouds" of
Aristophanes, satire and humour are pouring down in streams upon the
audience; on the stage Socrates, the most remarkable man in Athens, he
who had been the shield and defence of the people against the thirty
tyrants, is held up mentally and bodily to ridicule--Socrates, who
saved Alcibiades and Xenophon in the turmoil of battle, and whose
genius soared far above the gods of the ancients. He himself is
present; he has risen from the spectator's bench, and has stepped
forward, that the laughing Athenians may well appreciate the likeness
between himself and the caricature on the stage: there he stands
before them, towering high above them all.

Thou juicy, green, poisonous hemlock, throw thy shadow over
Athens--not thou, olive tree of fame!

Seven cities contended for the honour of giving birth to Homer--that
is to say, they contended after his death! Let us look at him as he
was in his lifetime. He wanders on foot through the cities, and
recites his verses for a livelihood; the thought for the morrow turns
his hair grey! He, the great