s as an infant's cheeks,
appears the most distant array of its ponderous and mighty worlds. They
walked through an old doorway, and the pilgrim was not a little
astonished when he found himself entirely surrounded by strange plants,
and saw all the charms of the most beautiful garden hidden beneath the
ruins. A small stone house built in recent style, with large windows,
lay in the rear. There stood an old man behind the broad-leafed
shrubbery, employed in tying the drooping branches to some little
props. His female guide led the pilgrim to him, and said, "Here is
Henry, after whom you have inquired so often."

As the old man turned around, Henry fancied that he saw the miner
before him.

"This is the physician Sylvester," said the little girl.

Sylvester was glad to see him, and said, "it is a long time since I saw
your father. We were both young then. I was quite solicitous to teach
him the treasures of the Fore-time, the rich legacies bequeathed to us
by a world too early separated from us. I noticed in him the tokens of
a great artist; his eye flashed with the desire to become a correct
eye, a creative instrument; his face indicated inward constancy and
persevering industry. But the present world had already taken hold of
him too deeply; he would not listen to the call of his own nature. The
stern hardihood of his native sky had blighted in him the tender buds
of the noblest plants; he became an able mechanic, and inspiration
seemed to him but foolishness."

"Indeed," said Henry, "I often observed a silent sadness within him. He
always labored from mere habit, and not for any pleasure. He seems to
feel a want, which the peaceful quiet and comfort of his life, the
pleasure of being honored and beloved by his townsmen, and consulted in
all important affairs of the city, cannot satisfy. His friends consider
him very happy; but they know not how weary he is of life, how empty
the world appears to him, how he longs to depart from it; and that he
works so industriously not so much for the sake of gain, as to
dissipate such moods."

"What I am most surprised at," replied Sylvester, "is that he has
committed your education entirely into the hands of your mother, and
has carefully abstained from taking any part in your development, nor
has ever held you to any fixed occupation. You can happily say that you
have been permitted to grow up free from all parental restraints; for
most men are but the relics of a feast which