ile it hides the wound. I long rather for the
Christian spirit, which even on the cross prays, "Father,
forgive them," and rises above fortitude to heavenly
satisfaction.'

* * * * *

'Remember that only through aspirations, which sometimes
make me what is called unreasonable, have I been enabled to
vanquish unpropitious circumstances, and save my soul alive.'

* * * * *

'All the good I have ever done has been by calling on every
nature for its highest. I will admit that sometimes I have
been wanting in gentleness, but never in tenderness, nor in
noble faith.'

* * * * *

'The heart which hopes and dares is also accessible to terror,
and this falls upon it like a thunderbolt. It can never defend
itself at the moment, it is so surprised. There is no defence
but to strive for an equable temper of courageous submission,
of obedient energy, that shall make assault less easy to the
foe.

'_This_ is the dart within the heart, as well as I can tell
it:--At moments, the music of the universe, which daily I am
upheld by hearing, seems to stop. I fall like a bird when the
sun is eclipsed, not looking for such darkness. The sense of
my individual law--that lamp of life--flickers. I am repelled
in what is most natural to me. I feel as, when a suffering
child, I would go and lie with my face to the ground, to sob
away my little life.'

* * * * *

'In early years, when, though so frank as to the thoughts of
the mind, I put no heart confidence in any human being, my
refuge was in my journal. I have burned those records of my
youth, with its bitter tears, and struggles, and aspirations.
Those aspirations were high, and have gained only broader
foundations and wider reach. But the leaves had done their
work. For years to write there, instead of speaking, had
enabled me to soothe myself; and the Spirit was often my
friend, when I sought no other. Once again I am willing to
take up the cross of loneliness. Resolves are idle, but the
anguish of my soul has been, deep. It will not be easy to
profane life by rhetoric.'

* * * * *

'I woke thinking of the monks of La Trappe;--how could they
bear their silence? When the game