itration of the destinies, that conclude into precision of doom what we
feebly and blindly began; and force us, when our indiscretion serves us,
and our deepest plots do pall, to the confession that "there's a divinity
that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will."

Is not this a mystery of life?

Be it so, then. About this human life that is to be, or that is, the wise
religious men tell us nothing that we can trust; and the wise
contemplative men, nothing that can give us peace. But there is yet a
third class to whom we may turn--the wise practical men. We have sat at
the feet of the poets who sang of heaven, and they have told us their
dreams. We have listened to the poets who sang of earth, and they have
chanted to us dirges and words of despair. But there is one class of men
more--men, not capable of vision, nor sensitive to sorrow, but firm of
purpose; practised in business; learned in all that can be (by handling)
known. Men whose hearts and hopes are wholly in this present world; from
whom, therefore, we may surely learn, at least, how, at present,
conveniently to live in it. What will _they_ say to us, or show us by
example? These kings--these councilors--these statesmen and builders of
kingdoms--these capitalists and men of business, who weigh the earth, and
the dust of it, in a balance. They know the world, surely; and what is the
mystery of life to us is none to them. They can surely show us how to
live, while we live, and to gather out of the present world what is best.

I think I can best tell you their answer by telling you a dream I had
once. For though I am no poet, I have dreams sometimes. I dreamed I was at
a child's May-day party, in which every means of entertainment had been
provided for them by a wise and kind host. It was in a stately house, with
beautiful gardens attached to it; and the children had been set free in
the rooms and gardens, with no care whatever but how to pass their
afternoon rejoicingly. They did not, indeed, know much about what was to
happen next day; and some of them, I thought, were a little frightened,
because there was a chance of their being sent to a new school, where
there were examinations; but they kept the thoughts of that out of their
heads as well as they could, and resolved to enjoy themselves. The house,
I said, was in a beautiful garden, and in the garden were all kinds of
flowers; sweet, grassy banks for rest; and smooth lawns for play; and
pleasant stream