e beauty, the glory, of the
outer world. It is just beyond his reach; and, wearied with futile
exertions, he sinks, fainting and despairing, in his efforts to rend the
chain of penury. And there are many other bonds which hold us to areas
of life from which we have gathered all the fresh bloom and the rich
fruit. We may tread their barren soil with jewelled sandals, wrap around
us ermined robes in winter's cold, and raise our silken tents in
summer's glare, while our souls are hungering and thirsting for the
ambrosia and the nectar beyond our tethered reach. We are held fast by
honor, virtue, fidelity, pity,--ties which we dare not break if we
could. We must not even bear their golden links to their extremest
length; we must not show that they are chains which bind us; we must not
show that we are hungering and thirsting in the confines to which they
restrain us. We must seem to be feasting as from the flesh-pots of
Egypt,--fattening on the husks which we have emptied,--while our souls
are starving and fainting and dying within us. 'T is a sad music that
swells from these chords. How fortunate that our ears are not attuned to
their notes. And we are not always solitary in our bondage; nor do we
tread round the cropped circuit, held to senseless pillars. We are
chained to each other; and unhappy are they who, straining at the bond,
seek food for their hearts in opposite directions. We are chained to
each other; and light or heavy are the bonds, as Fortune shall couple
us. Now you and Frank, I know, are leashed with down; and when Mrs.
Asmodeus went to the blacksmith, the Vulcan of our days, to order my
fetters, she bespoke gossamers, to which a spider's web were cable. But
we are among the favored of Fortune's children. There are many poor
unfortunates whose daily round is but the measured clank of hateful
chains; who eat, drink, sleep, live together, in a bondage worse than
that of Chillon,--round whom the bright sun shines, the sweet flowers
bloom, the soft breezes play,--and yet who stifle in the gloom of a
domestic dungeon.

And there are others fettered as firmly,--but how differently! The
clasping links are soft, caressing arms; the tones their sounding chains
give out are cheerful voices, joyous accents, words of love, that echo
far beyond the little circle that they keep, and spread their harmony
through many hearts. That little circle is a happy home; love spun the
bonds that hold them close therein, and many ar