f the morning stars when they sing
together, a wail among the glad voices of the sons of God, when they
shout for joy? In this world, and to the dulness of human perception,
when the sound of the impious words has died away, or a smile comes
back to the face clouded by the angry thought, the effect seems to
have ceased; but it may not be so. The word or the thought may be
wandering for ages, vibrating still, away off among the outer
creations of God. The angel that bore them at the beginning from the
lips or the heart, may be flying still, and generations and centuries
may have passed, before his journeying with them shall have ceased.

"It is a fanciful idea, that whatever we say or think, is immortal;
that every word we utter goes ringing through the universe forever;
that every thought of the heart becomes a creation, a thing of
vitality in some shape, starting forward among the things of some sort
of life, never to die! I have sometimes, in my dreamy hours,
speculated upon the truth of such a theory, and reasoned with myself
in favor of its reality. All I can say in its favor, however, is that
I cannot disprove it. It may be true, or it may not. There are other
mysteries quite as incomprehensible, the results of which we can see,
without being able to penetrate the darkness in which they dwell. But
assuming its truth, and appreciating the consequences which would
follow, we should rule the tongue with a sterner sway, and guard the
heart with a more watchful care than is our wont. Think of the obscene
word becoming a living entity, the profane oath a thing of life; the
filthy or impure thought, assuming form and vitality, all starting
forward to exist forever among the creations of infinite purity. Who
would own one of these ogres in comparison with the beautiful things
of God? Who would say of the obscene word, the profane oath, or the
filthy or impious thought, 'this is mine. I made it. I am the author
of its being--its creator!' And yet it may be so. If it is, there are
few of us who have not thrown into life much, very much to mar the
harmonies of nature, to throw discord among the spheres."

"Your statement," remarked Smith, "that accident has much to do with
making or marring the fortunes of men, is doubtless true. Men are
destroyed by accident, and their lives are sometimes saved by it. And
if you'll put away metaphysics, come out of the cloud in which you
have hid yourself in your dreamy speculations, I will