d consoled
him in poverty and ill-health, when he was suffering from injustice and
forsaken by all, had made death a gain and blessing to him.

Eight o'clock.--All I have just written has pained me! Till now I have
looked into life for instruction how to live. Is it then true that
human maxims are not always sufficient? that beyond goodness, prudence,
moderation, humility, self-sacrifice itself, there is one great truth,
which alone can face great misfortunes? and that, if man has need of
virtues for others, he has need of religion for himself?

When, in youth, we drink our wine with a merry heart, as the Scripture
expresses it, we think we are sufficient for ourselves; strong, happy,
and beloved, we believe, like Ajax, we shall be able to escape every
storm in spite of the gods. But later in life, when the back is
bowed, when happiness proves a fading flower, and the affections grow
chill-then, in fear of the void and the darkness, we stretch out our
arms, like the child overtaken by night, and we call for help to Him who
is everywhere.

I was asking this morning why this growing confusion alike for society
and for the individual? In vain does human reason from hour to hour
light some new torch on the roadside: the night continues to grow ever
darker! Is it not because we are content to withdraw farther and farther
from God, the Sun of spirits?

But what do these hermit's reveries signify to the world? The inward
turmoils of most men are stifled by the outward ones; life does not give
them time to question themselves. Have they time to know what they are,
and what they should be, whose whole thoughts are in the next lease or
the last price of stock? Heaven is very high, and wise men look only at
the earth.

But I--poor savage amid all this civilization, who seek neither power
nor riches, and who have found in my own thoughts the home and shelter
of my spirit--I can go back with impunity to these recollections of my
childhood; and, if this our great city no longer honors the name of
God with a festival, I will strive still to keep the feast to Him in my
heart.

CHAPTER VII. THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH OF FAME

Sunday, July 1st

Yesterday the month dedicated to Juno (Junius, June) by the Romans
ended. To-day we enter on July.

In ancient Rome this latter month was called Quintiles (the fifth),
because the year, which was then divided into only ten parts, began in
March. When Numa Pompilius divided