trangely, in some
half-score centuries; and all fluctuates chameleon-like, taking now
this hue, now that. Thus much is very plain, and does not change hue:
Landlord Edmund was seen and felt by all men to have done verily a
man's part in this life-pilgrimage of his; and benedictions, and
out-flowing love and admiration from the universal heart, were his
meed. Well-done! Well-done! cried the hearts of all men. They raised
his slain and martyred body; washed its wounds with fast-flowing
universal tears; tears of endless pity, and yet of a sacred joy and
triumph. The beautifulest kind of tears,--indeed perhaps the
beautifulest kind of thing: like a sky all flashing diamonds and
prismatic radiance; all weeping, yet shone on by the everlasting
Sun:--and _this_ is not a sky, it is a Soul and living Face! Nothing
liker the _Temple of the Highest_, bright with some real effulgence of
the Highest, is seen in this world.

Oh, if all Yankee-land follow a small good 'Schnuespel the
distinguished Novelist' with blazing torches, dinner-invitations,
universal hep-hep-hurrah, feeling that he, though small, _is_
something; how might all Angle-land once follow a hero-martyr and
great true Son of Heaven! It is the very joy of man's heart to admire,
where he can; nothing so lifts him from all his mean imprisonments,
were it but for moments, as true admiration. Thus it has been said,
'all men, especially all women, are born worshippers;' and will
worship, if it be but possible. Possible to worship a Something, even
a small one; not so possible a mere loud-blaring Nothing! What sight
is more pathetic than that of poor multitudes of persons met to gaze
at Kings' Progresses, Lord Mayors' Shows, and other gilt-gingerbread
phenomena of the worshipful sort, in these times; each so eager to
worship; each, with a dim fatal sense of disappointment, finding that
he cannot rightly here! These be thy gods, O Israel? And thou art so
_willing_ to worship,--poor Israel!

In this manner, however, did the men of the Eastern Counties take up
the slain body of their Edmund, where it lay cast forth in the village
of Hoxne; seek out the severed head, and reverently reunite the
same. They embalmed him with myrrh and sweet spices, with love, pity,
and all high and awful thoughts; consecrating him with a very
storm of melodious adoring admiration, and sun-dyed showers of
tears;--joyfully, yet with awe (as all deep joy has something of the
awful in it), commemora