ss
body is not dead; an astonishing metamorphosis is taking place. The
gross digestive apparatus dwindles away; the three pairs of legs, which
served the creature to crawl upon the ground, are exchanged for six
pairs suited to a different purpose; the skin is cast; the form is
changed; a pair of wings, painted like the morning flowers, spring out,
and presently the ugly worm that trailed its slow length through the
dust is transformed into the beautiful butterfly, basking in the bright
sunshine, the envy of the child and the admiration of the man. Is there
no appeal in this wonderful and enchanting fact to man's highest reason?
Does it contain no suggestion that man, representing the highest
pinnacle of created life upon the globe, must undergo a final
metamorphosis, as supremely more marvelous and more spiritual, as man is
greater in physical conformation, and far removed in mental construction
from the humble worm that at the call of nature straightway leaves the
ground, and soars upon the gleeful air? Is the fact not a thousand-fold
more convincing than the assurance of the poet:

"It must be so; Plato, thou reasonest well;
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this dread secret and inward horror
Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man,
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought."

"On December 26th, 1886, the strong man succumbed to rheumatism. His
death was a great shock to his numerous friends throughout the Union,
and he was mourned by a great and mighty nation. From the lowly ranks to
whom he belonged by birth, to the most exalted circles, the sympathy for
the bereaved was genuine."

JAMES G. BLAINE.

Few men are more prominently placed before the vision of a mighty nation
to-day than James G. Blaine. Born in obscurity, he possesses traits of
character which are peculiar to himself; they differ widely from that of
any statesman who ever spoke in the legislative halls at Washington.

Colleges, of themselves, make no man great. An 'educated idiot' will
never make a statesman, notwithstanding the too prevalent notion that
the possession of a diploma should entitle any one to a place in our
social aristocracy. The great, active, relentless, h