es in those
blest dreams wherein we live over again the hours of past endearment? A
belief of this kind would, I should think, be a new incentive to
virtue; rendering us circumspect even in our most secret moments, from
the idea that those we once loved and honoured were invisible witnesses
of all our actions.

It would take away, too, from that loneliness and destitution which we
are apt to feel more and more as we get on in our pilgrimage through
the wilderness of this world, and find that those who set forward with
us, lovingly and cheerily, on the journey, have, one by one, dropped
away from our side. Place the superstition in this light, and I
confess I should like to be a believer in it. I see nothing in it that
is incompatible with the tender and merciful nature of our religion,
nor revolting to the wishes and affections of the heart.

There are departed beings that I have loved as I never again shall
love in this world;--that have loved me as I never again shall be
loved! If such beings do ever retain in their blessed spheres the
attachments which they felt on earth--if they take an interest in the
poor concerns of transient mortality, and are permitted to hold
communion with those whom they have loved on earth, I feel as if now,
at this deep hour of night, in this silence and solitude, I could
receive their visitation with the most solemn, but unalloyed delight.

In truth, such visitations would be too happy for this world; they
would be incompatible with the nature of this imperfect state of
being. We are here placed in a mere scene of spiritual thraldom and
restraint. Our souls are shut in and limited by bounds and barriers;
shackled by mortal infirmities, and subject to all the gross
impediments of matter. In vain would they seek to act independently of
the body, and to mingle together in spiritual intercourse. They can
only act here through their fleshy organs. Their earthly loves are
made up of transient embraces and long separations. The most intimate
friendship, of what brief and scattered portions of time does it
consist! We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words
and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short
moments-and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know
nothing of each other. Or, granting that we dwell together for the
full season of this our mortal life, the grave soon closes its gates
between us, and then our spirits are doomed to remain in s