laves; and ye shall not,--and
cannot!" Fight on, thou brave true heart, and falter not, through dark
fortune and through bright. The cause thou fightest for, so far as it
is true, no farther, yet precisely so far, is very sure of victory.
The falsehood alone of it will be conquered, will be abolished, as it
ought to be: but the truth of it is part of Nature's own Laws,
co-operates with the World's eternal Tendencies, and cannot be
conquered.

The _dust_ of controversy, what is it but the _falsehood_ flying off
from all manner of conflicting true forces, and making such a loud
dust-whirlwind,--that so the truths alone may remain, and embrace
brother-like in some true resulting-force! It is ever so. Savage
fighting Heptarchies: their fighting is an ascertainment, who has the
right to rule over whom; that out of such waste-bickering Saxondom a
peacefully cooeperating England may arise. Seek through this Universe;
if with other than owl's eyes, thou wilt find nothing nourished there,
nothing kept in life, but what has right to nourishment and life. The
rest, look at it with other than owl's eyes, is not living; is all
dying, all as good as dead! Justice was ordained from the foundations
of the world; and will last with the world and longer.

* * * * *

From which I infer that the inner sphere of Fact, in this present
England as elsewhere, differs infinitely from the outer sphere and
spheres of Semblance. That the Temporary, here as elsewhere, is too
apt to carry it over the Eternal. That he who dwells in the temporary
Semblances, and does not penetrate into the eternal Substance, will
_not_ answer the Sphinx-riddle of Today, or of any Day. For the
substance alone is substantial; that _is_ the law of Fact; if you
discover not that, Fact, who already knows it, will let you also know
it by and by!

What is Justice? that, on the whole, is the question of the Sphinx to
us. The law of Fact is, that Justice must and will be done. The sooner
the better; for the Time grows stringent, frightfully pressing! "What
is Justice?" ask many, to whom cruel Fact alone will be able to prove
responsive. It is like jesting Pilate asking, What is Truth? Jesting
Pilate had not the smallest chance to ascertain what was Truth. He
could not have known it, had a god shown it to him. Thick serene
opacity, thicker than amaurosis, veiled those smiling eyes of his to
Truth; the inner _retina_ of them was gone paralytic,