labor for the
garner. This is man's first duty, and the diviner he is the more
divinely will he execute it.

That such a gospel as this could find utterance in the pages of the
"Edinburgh Review" is curious enough; and it is scarcely less
surprising that the "Sartor Resartus" should make its first appearance
in the somewhat narrow and conservative pages of Fraser. Carlyle has
clearly written his own struggles in this book,--his struggles and his
conquests. From the "Everlasting No,"--that dreadful realm of
enchantment, where all the forms of nature are frozen forever in dumb
imprisonment and despair,--the great vaulted firmament no longer
serene and holy and loving as God's curtain for his children's
slumbers, but flaming in starry portents, and dropping down over the
earth like a funeral pall; through this region of life-semblance and
death-reality the lonely and aching pilgrim wanders,--questioning
without reply,--wailing, broken, self-consuming,--looking with eager
eyes for the waters of immortality, and finding nothing but pools of
salt and Marahs of bitterness. Herein is no Calvary, no
Cross-symbolism, by whose miraculous power he is relieved of his
infinite burden of sorrow, starting onward with hope and joy in his
heart; nor does he ever find his Calvary until the deeps of his
spiritual nature are broken up and flooded with celestial light, as he
knocks reverently at the portals of heaven for communion with his
Father who is in heaven. Then bursts upon him a new significance from
all things; he sees that the great world is but a fable of divine
truth, hiding its secrets from all but the initiated and the worthy,
and that faith, and trust, and worship are the cipher, which unlocks
them all. He thus arrives at the plains of heaven in the region of the
"Everlasting Yes." His own soul lies naked and resolved before
him,--its unspeakable greatness, its meaning, faculty, and
destiny. Work, and dutiful obedience to the laws of work, are the
outlets of his power; and herein he finds peace and rest to his soul.

That Carlyle is not only an earnest, but a profoundly religious man,
these attempted elucidations of his teachings will abundantly
show. His religion, however, is very far remote from what is called
religion in this day. He has no patience with second-hand
beliefs,--with articles of faith ready-made for the having.
Whatsoever is accepted by men because it is the tradition of their
fathers, and not a deep convi