ow me as the handicraftsman.

"It is tame, dull, and commonplace," said the brilliant one, in a
tone of contempt; and there were many present to agree with him.

Like the strokes of a hammer upon my heart, came these words of
condemnation. "Tame, dull, and commonplace!" And was it, indeed, so?
Yes; I felt that what he uttered was true. That my powers were
exceedingly limited, and my gifts few. Oh, what would I not have
then given for brilliant endowments like those possessed by him from
whom had fallen the words of condemnation?

"You will admit," said one--I thought it strange at the time that
there should be even one to speak a word in favor of my poor
performance--"that it will do good?"

"Good!" was answered, in a tone slightly touched by contempt. "Oh,
yes; it will do good!" and the brilliant one tossed his head.
"Anybody can do good!"

I went home with a perturbed spirit. I had work to do; but I could
not do it. I sat down and tried to forget what I had heard. I tried
to think about the tasks that were before me. "Tame, dull, and
commonplace!" Into no other form would my thoughts come.

Exhausted, at last, by this inward struggle, I threw myself upon my
bed, and soon passed into the land of dreams.

Dream-land! Thou art thought by many to be _only_ a land of fantasy
and of shadows. But it is not so. Dreams, for the most part, _are_
fantastic; but all are not so. Nearer are we to the world of
spirits, in sleep; and, at times, angels come to us with lessons of
wisdom, darkly veiled under similitude, or written in characters of
light.

I passed into dream-land; but my thoughts went on in the same
current. "Tame, dull, and commonplace!" I felt the condemnation more
strongly than before.

I was out in the open air, and around me were mountains, trees,
green fields, and running waters; and above all bent the sky in its
azure beauty. The sun was just unveiling his face in the east, and
his rays were lighting up the dew-gems on a thousand blades of
grass, and making the leaves glitter as if studded with diamonds.

"How calm and beautiful!" said a voice near me. I turned, and one
whose days were in the "sear and yellow leaf," stood by my side.

"But all is tame and commonplace," I answered. "We have this over
and over again, day after day, month after month, and year after
year. Give me something brilliant and startling, if it be in the
fiery comet or the rushing storm. I am sick of the commonplace!"

"And