oon was at its
highest flood of light. I was at the highest tide of will-might. That
night, if any one had told me I could not do that which I had a wish to
accomplish, I would have made my desire triumphant, or death would have
been my only conqueror. Oh! it is dreadful to have such a nature handed
down from the dark past, and thrust into one's life, to be battled with,
to be hewn down at last, unless the lightning of God's wrath cleaves
into the spirit and wakes up the volcano, which forever after emits only
fire and sulphur. There's yet one way more, after the lightning-stroke
comes,--something unutterable, something that canopies the soul with
doom, and forever the spirit tries to raise its wings and fly away, but
every uplifting strikes fire, until, singed, scorched, burnt, wings grow
useless, and droop down, never more to be uplifted."

Mr. Axtell drooped his arms, as if typical of the wings he had
described. Borne away by the excitement of his words, he stood straight
up against the far-away sky, with the verdure of Norway-evergreens
soothingly waving their green around him. There was a magnificence of
mien in the man, that made my spirit say--

"The Deity made that man for great deeds."

He glanced down at the grave once more, and resumed:--

"I came home that August night. The prairie of Time rolled out limitless
before my imagination. I built pyramids of fame; I laid the foundation
of Babel once more, in my heart,--for I said, 'My name shall touch the
stars,--my name! Abraham Axtell!' It is only written in earth, ground to
powder, to-day."

"An atom of earth's powder may be a star to eyes vast enough to see the
fulness that dwells therein, until to angelic vision our planet stands
out a universe of starry suns, each particle of dust luminous with
eternities of limitless space between," I said, as he, pausing, stooped,
and stirred the crisp grass, to outline his name there.

"All things are possible," he murmured, "but the rending of my mantle of
doom."

He looked from the tracing of his name to the west.

"The sun is going down once more," he said, and bowed his head, as one
does, waiting for pastoral benediction. His eyes were fixed now, as I
had seen his sister's held, but his lips poured out words.

"The moonlight sheened the earth, hot and heavy and still, that night.
My father, mother, and Lettie were in the home where you have seen
sorrow come. Up from the sea came the low, hollow boom of surge