ppointment and consumed by fierce
ambition. He sank into his grave, says the historian, "under a
heart-crushing load of political despair."

But disappointed ambition cannot account for Daniel Webster's sadness
and woe. Strength was his for supporting the loss of a nomination. He
knew that his title, "Defender of the Constitution," was fully equal
to the title of President. He was too great a man to have his heart
broken by the loss of political honor. What was his woe? Let us
remember the young ruler who was sad and grieved after he met Christ,
and had refused to obey the heavenly vision. Let us remember the dream
that came to Pilate, and how, afterward, the great Roman was uneasy
and restless. And to Daniel Webster there came the memory of his
speech in favor of a law compelling men in the North to send fugitive
slaves back to their masters; and there also came the words of Christ,
who said: "I am come to give deliverance to the captive." And looking
forward, Webster anticipated the judgment of the generations upon the
breach between his duty and his performance. That vision of higher
things haunted him. Oft he heaved sighs of bitter regret. Daniel
Webster was saddened and deeply grieved at what he himself had done.
For the hope of the Presidency he sacrificed his convictions as to the
slave. The heavenly vision bade him deliver the captives, not send
them back into slavery. No political disappointment crushed Daniel
Webster. The consciousness of duty performed would have sustained him
under any sorrow. It was the consciousness of having sinned against
the heavenly vision that broke his heart, and brought Webster's gray
hairs down with sorrow to the grave!

Plutarch tells us that the finest culture comes from the study of men
in their best moods. But always life's best moods come through these
heavenly visions. George Eliot makes the destiny of each hero or
heroine to turn upon the use of those critical hours when some ideal
fronts the soul for acceptance or rejection. To Maggie Tulliver came a
delicious moment when her lover offered her honorable marriage, and
would have led her into a perfumed garden of perfect happiness. But
just in that hour when joy bubbled like a little spring in her heart,
there came the memory of the crippled boy, to whom years before in her
childhood she had plighted her troth. And the vision of her duty and
the thought of his disappointment led her to refuse pleasure's spiced
cup, and choo