ty, one feels most
strongly that it is but the harbinger of something else,--that the
ceaseless play of phenomena is no mere sport of Titans, but an orderly
scene, with its reason for existing, its

"One divine far-off event
To which the whole creation moves."

Difficult as it is to disentangle the elements of reasoning that enter
into these complex groups of feeling, one may still see, I think, that
it is speculative interest in the world, rather than anxious interest in
self, that predominates. The desire for immortality in its lowest phase
is merely the outcome of the repugnance we feel toward thinking of the
final cessation of vigorous vital activity. Such a feeling is naturally
strong with healthy people. But in the mood which I have above tried to
depict, this feeling, or any other which is merely self-regarding, is
lost sight of in the feeling which associates a future life with some
solution of the burdensome problem of existence. Had we but faith enough
to lighten the burden of this problem, the inferior question would
perhaps be less absorbing. Could we but know that our present lives
are working together toward some good end, even an end in no wise
anthropomorphic, it would be of less consequence whether we were
individually to endure. To the dog under the knife of the experimenter,
the world is a world of pure evil; yet could the poor beast but
understand the alleviation of human suffering to which he is
contributing, he would be forced to own that this is not quite true;
and if he were also a heroic or Christian dog, the thought would perhaps
take away from death its sting. The analogy may be a crude one; but
the reasonableness of the universe is at least as far above our
comprehension as the purposes of man surpass the understanding of the
dog. Believing, however, though as a simple act of trust, that the end
will crown the work, we may rise superior to the question which has here
concerned us, and exclaim, in the supreme language of faith, "Though He
slay me, yet will I trust in Him!"

July, 1875.

II. "THE TO-MORROW OF DEATH."

Few of those who find pleasure in frequenting bookstores can have failed
to come across one or more of the profusely illustrated volumes in which
M. Louis Figuier has sought to render dry science entertaining to the
multitude. And of those who may have casually turned over their pages,
there are probably none, competent to form an opinion, who ha