eave no impress on the world
but what the next flowing tide may efface forever. Think of it, realize
it, Hansford--to be forgotten!"

"It would, indeed, be a melancholy thought," said Hansford, with a deep
sympathy for his friend--"if this were all. But when we remember that we
stand but on the threshold of existence, and have a higher, a holier
destiny to attain beyond, we need care but little for what is passing
here. I have sometimes thought, my friend, that as in manhood we
sometimes smile at the absurd frivolities which caught our childish
fancy, so when elevated to a higher sphere we would sit and wonder at
the interest which we took in the trifling pleasures, the empty honours,
and the glittering toys of this present life."

"And do you mean to say that honour and glory are nothing here?"

"Only so far as they reflect the honour and glory which are beyond."

"Pshaw, man!" cried Bacon, "you do not, you cannot think so. You ask me
the reason of this desire for fame and remembrance when we are dust. I
tell you it is an instinct implanted in us by the Almighty to impel us
to glorious deeds."

"Aye," said Hansford, quietly, "and when that desire, by our own
indulgence, becomes excessive, just as the baser appetites of the
glutton or the debauchee, it becomes corrupt and tends to our
destruction."

"You are a curious fellow, Hansford," said Bacon, laughing, "and should
have been one of old Noll's generals--for I believe you can preach as
well as you can fight, and believe me that is no slight commendation.
But you must excuse me if I cannot agree with you in all of your
sentiments. I am sorry to say that old Butler's 'pulpit drum
ecclesiastic' seldom beat me to a church parade while I was in England,
and here in Virginia they send us the worst preachers, as they send us
the worst of every thing. But a truce to the subject. Tell me are you a
believer in presentiments?"

"Surely such things are possible, but I believe them to be rare,"
replied his companion. "Future events certainly make an impression upon
the animal creation, and I know not why man should be exempt entirely
from a similar law. The migratory birds will seek a more southern clime,
even before a change of weather is indicated by the wind, and the
appearance of the albatross, or the bubbling of the porpoise, if we may
believe the sailors' account, portend a storm."

"These phenomena," suggested Bacon, "may easily be explained by some
atmospheric i