fiendish despot rejoices, as he gains the victory; mark
the diabolical gambols with which he sports, and the demon glee with
which he performs his capricious but frightful exultations. But the
tyrant, after all, will become exhausted--his strength and power will
fail him; he will destroy his own subjects; he will become feeble, and
when he has nothing further on which to exercise his power, he will,
like many another tyrant before him, sink, and be lost in the ruin he
has made.

Again: Would you behold Industry? Here have its terrible spirits been
appointed their tasks. Observe the energy, the activity, the persevering
fury with which they discharge their separate duties. See how that
eldest son of Apollyon, with the appetite of hell, licks into his
burning maw every thing that comes in contact with his tongue of fire.
What quickness of execution, and how rapidly they pass from place to
place! how they run about in quest of employment! how diligently and
effectually they search every nook and corner, lest anything might
escape them! Mark the activity with which that strong fellow leaps
across, from beam to beam, seizing upon each as he goes. A different
task has been assigned to another: he attacks the rafters of the
roof--he fails at first, but, like the constrictor, he first licks over
his victim before he destroys it--bravo!--he is at it again--it gives
way--he is upon it, and about it; and now his difficulties are over--the
red wood glows, splits and crackles, and flies off in angry flakes,
in order to become a minister to its active and devouring master. See!
observe! What business--what a coil and turmoil of industry! Every
flame at work--no idle hand here--no lazy lounger reposing. No, no--the
industry of a hive of bees is nothing to this. Running up--running
down--running in all directions: now they unite together to accomplish
some general task, and again disperse themselves to perform their
individual appointments.

But hark! what comes here? Room for another element. 'Tis the windstorm,
that comes to partake in the triumph of the victory which his ministers
have assisted to gain. But lo! here he comes in person; and now they
unite--or how?--Do they oppose each other? Here does the windstorm drive
back the god of fire from his victim; again the fiery god attempts to
reach it; and again he feels that he has met more than his match. Once,
twice, thrice he has failed in getting at it. But is this conflict
real