The heart
recognizes the organic law of its own life: _the constant recurrence of
new effort sinking but to recover itself in accurately proportioned
rest, rising again in ever-renewed exertion, to sink again in ever-new
repose_; feeling seems clothing itself with living form, while the
divine attribute, Order, marks for the ear, as it links in mystic Unity,
the flying footsteps of that forever invisible element by which all
mortal being is conditioned and limited: TIME!
'There is no architect
Can build as the Muse can;
She is skilful to select
Materials for her plan.
'She lays her beams in music,
In music every one,
To the cadence of the whirling world
Which dances round the sun.
'That so they shall not be displaced
By lapses or by wars,
But for the love of happy souls
Outlive the newest stars.'
EMERSON.
'OUR ARTICLE.'
'John,' said I to my husband, as he came home from business, and settled
into an armchair for half an hour's rest before dinner, 'I think of
writing an article for THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY.'
'Humph!' said my husband.
Now 'humph' bears different interpretations; it may argue assent,
indifference, disgust, disapprobation--in all cases it is aggressive;
but this 'humph' seemed to be a combination of at least three of the
above-mentioned frames of mind.
Natural indignation was about taking full possession of me, but
reflection stepped in, and I preserved a discreet silence.
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