under false
pretences, and this is their lot after death. Their subterranean
dwellings are paved and lined with gold, yet they are always wretched,
for they know no other delight than to amass gold for its own sake."

I grew melancholy as I reflected on the lot of these men.

"At least my lot will not be with them," I said to myself. "I hope it
cannot be said of me that I worship gold. If I have made the converting
of other metals into gold the study of my life, it was not for the sake
of the yellow metal, but from the pure love of science like those
philosophers of the first halls."

"True," said my friend, in reply to my meditations, "and yet methinks
their lot pleased you but little. The study of science for the sake of
science and without other object, is little better than the grubbing of
gold for the sake of gold. Think you not that a man's life ought to have
a little higher aim?"

"Certainly," said I, "that our studies may be useful to others, that our
discoveries may benefit mankind to the end, that we may become more
civilised, more intellectual, more virtuous, more moral."

"If then," replied the sage, "you admit this to be the true end of the
life of man, why do you persist in following the one study of converting
baser metals into gold, which, if the secret is once made known, could
not be of the slightest service to mankind at large, whilst you would
only reap the selfish and vain satisfaction of having discovered the
secret, whereas the precious time that has been wasted in this useless
study would have been better employed in experiments that might tend to
discoveries beneficial to the whole human race."

The argument of my venerable guide made a deep impression on me, and I
reflected a moment.

"Is it possible," thought I, "that all my life has been a mistake. Have
I mistaken mere vain and selfish ambition for that pure love of science
that dignifies and elevates the human mind? No," I answered to myself,
"not exactly; and yet I have been mistaken in studying alchemy; for
surely we ought to consider the end of whatever study we pursue, which
end ought to be in some way or other useful to mankind at large. Now,
supposing, after having wasted the energies of a lifetime in pursuit of
the philosopher's stone, I had at length discovered the secret, it could
only benefit myself, and my aim after all was no higher than that of
those wretched spirits whose lot I shrank from. You are right, O sage. I
will