if
all the islands were blessed, and all the fields Elysian; if all
eyes were cheerful and all the hearts joyful,--yes, then--no! even
then, had God, through this very blessedness, made to our spirits
the _promise_, the _oath_ of eternal duration! But, now, O God!
when so many houses are houses of mourning, so many fields
battlefields, so many cheeks pale, when we pass before so many eyes
red with weeping or closed in death: Oh! can the grave, that haven
of salvation, be the last swallowing, unyielding whirlpool? No, the
trampled worm dares raise itself towards its Creator, and say,
"Thou durst not create me only to suffer!"'"

I was listening with closed eyes to the reading, the quiet rhythm of the
sentences, and the calm, deep music of his voice, sounding ineffably
soothing, when a quaver, then a break in his voice, just as he repeated
the last words, made me look toward him. The calm, strong man was
weeping silently; and just then he broke into a paroxysm of sobs that
shook his strong frame as by a palsy. Dear Lord! what hidden grief there
is in the world! Who would ever dream that the calm exterior of this
reasoning, cultivated atheist concealed such hidden fires? It was no
time to talk; I let the poor fellow alone. After a few moments he dried
his eyes, and said:--

"I am quite ashamed of this snivelling, Father. I shouldn't have
attempted to read this. It always upsets me."

"Never mind, my poor boy," I said. "It is good for men sometimes to
weep." I thought in my own mind, My little child will be in safe hands.

"Now, put it aside," I said gently, "and let us talk."

"One sentence more, Father, just to get over this weakness."

"'Ah, Carlson (Carlson stands for myself), upon what a beautiful
world do you throw your immeasurable gravestone, that no time can
lift. Your difficulties, which are founded on the _necessary_
uncertainties of men, if solved, would only have the effect to
destroy our _faith_; which is the solution of a thousand other
difficulties; without which our existence is without aim, our pains
without solution, and the Godlike Trinity within our breasts three
avenging angels. From the formless earthworm up to the beaming
human countenance; from the chaos of the first day up to the
present age of the world; from the first faint motion of the heart
to its full, bold throbbing in the breast of