on a tight-rope?
I once saw him poised over the Niagara rapids; and I wondered how he
could stand there, with the boiling abyss below him, as safe as I stood
on the Suspension-Bridge. Well, it was chalk, Madam. Before he commenced
his perilous journey, he chalked well his pliant sole. I can assure you
that many a fall may be saved us in this world, if we look to it that
our soles be well chalked. I should not, of course, allude to any sudden
slips that you or I may have made on our treacherous road; we have, of
course, recovered our equilibrium. But some soles are very apt to give
way. They used to scratch them, in my infancy, to insure uprightness in
the wearer. But the maternal scissor-points are not always at hand. The
basket has long been put religiously by, and the busy fingers that once
used it have ceased to be plied for our comfort and convenience. Still
we must cross the dangerous way, and with untried steps. What is
Blondin's rope to the narrow, uncertain bridge which ever and anon
appears before us in the road of life? What are the yeasty waters of
that green river to the deep and dark tide which awaits our fall from
the single strand that spans it? The audience of the world is looking on
at our passage, and few among them care for our danger or are interested
in our success. Yet there are some. Some hearts are beating high; some
tearful eyes are strained to watch our progress; some breaths come
quickly as we move on; and some fervent prayers are passionately offered
up for our safety. We cannot broaden the bridge; it hangs poised by the
hand of Destiny from shore to shore; alone and unsupported must we
cross, and the shades of night gather around before we reach the
friendly foothold beyond. We dare not look back, we cannot turn back; we
must go on, and never tarry an instant. Let us chalk our soles well,
then, Madam, and show to others more timid, more thoughtless, that the
frail pathway may be securely trod. Nay, more, let us hew out the pure,
white, friendly rock we know of, and make surer the unworn, unfamiliar,
unexperienced soles of our brethren with it, that they may travel on,
erect and fearless. Let us throw the old shoe after them, that good luck
may attend their way.

Ah, we are multifariously shod for the journey of life! The soft step on
the nursery-floor, the joyous bound of the youth's play-ground, the
proud step of self-supporting manhood, the careful tread of timid
age,--all have their fitti