ntellectual immortal
principle of soul. Van Helmont, indeed, was a sincere believer of Divine
Revelation. "The Lord Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life," says
with earnest humility this daring genius, in that noble chapter "On
the completing of the mind by the 'prayer of silence,' and the loving
offering tip of the heart, soul, and strength to the obedience of
the Divine will," from which some of the most eloquent of recent
philosophers, arguing against materialism, have borrowed largely in
support and in ornament of their lofty cause.

CHAPTER XXV.

My intercourse with Margrave grew habitual and familiar. He came to
my house every morning before sunrise; in the evenings we were again
brought together: sometimes in the houses to which we were both invited,
sometimes at his hotel, sometimes in my own home.

Nothing more perplexed me than his aspect of extreme youthfulness,
contrasted with the extent of the travels, which, if he were to be
believed, had left little of the known world unexplored. One day I asked
him bluntly how old he was.

"How old do I look? How old should you suppose me to be?"

"I should have guessed you to be about twenty, till you spoke of having
come of age some years ago."

"Is it a sign of longevity when a man looks much younger than he is?"

"Conjoined with other signs, certainly!"

"Have I the other signs?"

"Yes, a magnificent, perhaps a matchless, constitutional organization.
But you have evaded my question as to your age; was it an impertinence
to put it?"

"No. I came of age--let me see--three years ago."

"So long since? Is it possible? I wish I had your secret!"

"Secret! What secret?"

"The secret of preserving so much of boyish freshness in the wear and
tear of man-like passions and man-like thoughts."

"You are still young yourself,--under forty?"

"Oh, yes! some years under forty."

"And Nature gave you a grander frame and a finer symmetry of feature
than she bestowed on me."

"Pooh! pooh! You have the beauty that must charm the eyes of woman, and
that beauty in its sunny forenoon of youth. Happy man! if you love and
wish to be sure that you are loved again."

"What you call love--the unhealthy sentiment, the feverish folly--left
behind me, I think forever, when--"

"Ay, indeed,--when?"

"I came of age!"

"Hoary cynic! and you despise love! So did I once. Your time may come."

"I think not. Does any animal, except man, love its fellow she-animal