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The old Man forth with set himself to gather said the mixed King." We shall see,” replied the stones into the basket; a task in which his the Man; "for the time is at hand." wife assisted him. They next carried the Bas- The fair Lily fell upon the old Man's neck, ket to an elevated point on the bank; and here and kissed him cordially. "Holy Sage!" the man threw its whole lading, not without cried she, "a thousand times I thank thee; contradiction from the fair one and his wife, for I hear that fateful word the third time.” who would gladly have retained some part of She had scarcely spoken, when she clasped it, down into the River. Like gleaming twink- the old Man still faster; for the ground began ling stars the stones floated down with the to move beneath them; the Youth and the waves; and you could not say whether they old Woman also held by one another; the lost themselves in the distance, or sank to the Lights alone did not regard it.

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You could feel plainly that the whole Temple Gentlemen," said he with the Lamp, in a was in motion; as a ship that softly glides respectful tone to the Lights, "I will now show away from the harbour, when her anchors are you the way, and open you the passage; but lifted; the depths of the Earth seemed to open you will do us an essential service, if you for the Building as it went along. It struck please to unbolt the door, by which the Sanc-on nothing; no rock came in its way. tuary must be entered at present, and which none but you can unfasten."

For a few instants, a small rain seemed to drizzle from the opening of the dome; the old Man held the fair Lily fast, and said to her: "We are now beneath the River: we shall soon be at the mark." Ere long they thought the Temple made a halt; but they were in an error; it was mounting upwards.

The Lights made a stately bow of assent, and kept their place. The old Man of the Lamp went foremost into the rock, which opened at his presence; the Youth followed him, as if mechanically; silent and uncertain, Lily kept at some distance from him; the old Woman And now a strange uproar rose, above their would not be left, and stretched out her hand heads. Planks and beams in disordered comthat the Light of her husband's Lamp might bination now came pressing and crashing still fall upon it. The rear was closed by the in, at the opening of the dome. Lily and the two Will-o'-wisps, who bent the peaks of their Woman started to a side; the Man with the flames towards one another, and appeared to Lamp laid hold of the Youth, and kept standbe engaged in conversation. ing still. The little cottage of the Ferryman, for it was this which the Temple in ascending had severed from the ground and carried up with it, sank gradually down, and covered the old Man and the Youth.

They had not gone far till the procession halted in front of a large brazen door, the leaves of which were bolted with a golden lock. The Man now called upon the Lights to advance; who required small entreaty, and with their pointed flames soon ate both bar

and lock.

The women screamed aloud, and the Temple shook, like a ship running unexpectedly aground. In sorrowful perplexity, the FrinThe brass gave a loud clang, as the doors cess and her old attendant wandered round the sprang suddenly asunder; and the stately cottage in the dawn; the door was bolted, and figures of the Kings appeared within the Sanc- to their knocking, no one answered. They tuary, illuminated by the entering Lights. All knocked more loudly, and were not a little bowed before these dread sovereigns, especially struck, when at length the wood began to ring. the Flames made a profusion of the daintiest By virtue of the Lamp locked up in it, the hut had been converted from the inside to the

reverences.

After a pause, the gold King asked: "Whence outside into solid silver. Ere long too its come ye?"- "From the world," said the old form changed; for the noble metal shook aside Man.--" Whither go ye?" said the silver King. the accidental shapes of planks, posts, and "Into the world," replied the Man." What beams, and stretched itself out into a noble would ye with us?" cried the brazen King.-case of beaten ornamented workmanship. Thus Accompany you," replied the Man. a fair little temple stood erected in the middle of the large one; or if you will, an Altar worthy of the Temple.*

The composite King was about to speak, when the gold one addressed the Lights, who had got too near him: "Take yourselves away By a stair which ascended from within, the from me, my metal was not made for you." noble Youth now mounted aloft, lighted by the Thereupon they turned to the silver King, and old man with the Lamp; and, as it seemed, clasped themselves about him; and his robe supported by another, who advanced in a glittered beautifully in their yellow brightness. white short robe, with a silver rudder in his "You are welcome," said he, "but I cannot hand; and was soon recognised as the Ferryfeed you; satisfy yourselves elsewhere, and man, the former possessor of the cottage. bring me your light." They removed; and The fair Lily mounted the outer steps, which gliding past the brazen King who did not seem led from the floor of the Temple to the Altar; to notice them, they fixed on the compounded but she was still obliged to keep herself apart King. "Who will govern the world?" cried from her Lover. The old Woman, whose he with a broken voice." He who stands up- hand in the absence of the Lamp had grown on his feet," replied the old Man.-"I am he,'

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to decease; and old ENDEAVOUR, grasping at her basket," shall "come against" the inanimate remains, and "only a bright ring of luminous jewels" shall be left there! Mark well, however, what next becomes of it.-D. T.

* Good! The old Church, shaken down "in disordered combination," is admitted, in this way, into the new perennial Temple of the Future; and, clarified into enduring silver, by the Lamp, becomes an Altar worthy to stand there. The Ferryman too is not forgotten.-D. T.

still smaller, cried: "Am I then to be unhappy after all? Among so many miracles, can there be nothing done to save my hand?" Her husband pointed to the open door, and said to her: "See, the day is breaking; haste, bathe thyself in the River."-" What an advice!" cried she; "it will make me all black; it will make me vanish altogether; for my debt is not yet paid." "Go," said the man," and do as I advise thee: all debts are now paid."

The old Woman hastened away; and at that moment appeared the rising sun, upon the rim of the dome. The old Man stept between the Virgin and the Youth, and cried with a loud voice: "There are three which have rule on Earth; Wisdom, Appearance, and Strength." At the first word, the gold King rose, at the second the silver one; and at the third the brass king slowly rose, while the mixed King on a sudden very awkwardly plumped down.*

Whoever noticed him could scarcely keep from laughing, solemn as the moment was; for he was not sitting, he was not lying, he was not leaning, but shapelessly sunk together.f

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The Lights, who till now had been employed upon him, drew to a side; they appeared, although pale in the morning radiance, yet once more well-fed, and in good burning condition; with their peaked tongues, they had dexterously licked out the gold veins of the colossal figure to its very heart. The irregular vacuities which this occasioned had continued empty for a time, and the figure had maintained its standing posture. But when at last the very tenderest filaments were eaten out, the image crashed suddenly together; and that, alas, in the very parts which continue unaltered when one sits down; whereas the limbs, which should have bent, sprawled themselves out unbowed and stiff. Whoever could not laugh was obliged to turn away his eyes; this miserable shape and no-shape was offensive to behold.

During this progress, the old Man had carefully observed the Prince. After girding on the sword, his breast swelled, his arms waved, and his feet trod firmer; when he took the sceptre in his hand, his strength appeared to soften, and by an unspeakable charm to become still more subduing; but as the oaken garland came to deck his hair, his features kindled, his eyes gleamed with inexpressible spirit, and the first word of his mouth was "Lily !”

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'Dearest Lily!" cried he, hastening up the silver stairs to her, for she had viewed his progress from the pinnacle of the altar: "Dearest Lily! what more precious can a man, equipt with all, desire for himself than innocence and the still affection which thy bosom brings me? O my friend?" continued he, turning to the old Man, and looking at the three statues; glorious and secure is the kingdom of our fathers; but thou hast forgotten the fourth power, which rules the world, earlier, more universally, more certainly-the power of Love." With these words, he fell upon the lovely maiden's neck; she had cast away her veil, and her cheeks were tinged with the fairest, most imperishable red.

Here the old Man said with a smile: "Love dees not rule; but it trains,* and that is more." Amid this solemnity, this happiness and rapture, no one had observed that it was now broad day; and all at once, on looking through the open portal, a crowd of altogether unexpected objects met the eye. A large space surrounded with pillars formed the fore-court, at the end of which was seen a broad and stately Bridge stretching with many arches across the River. It was furnished, on both sides, with commodious and magnificent colonnades for foot-travellers, many thousands of whom were already there, busily passing this way or that. The broad pavement in the centre was thronged with herds and mules, with horsemen and carriages, flowing like two streams, on their several sides, and neither The Man with the Lamp now led the hand- interrupting the other. All admired the splensome Youth, who still kept gazing vacantly dour and convenience of the structure; and the before him, down from the altar, and straight new King and his Spouse were delighted with to the brazen King. At the feet of this mighty the motion and activity of this great people, as Potentate, lay a sword in a brazen sheath. The they were already happy in their own mutual young man girt it around him. "The sword on the left, the right free!" cried the brazen voice. They next proceeded to the silver King; he bent his sceptre to the youth; the latter seized it with his left hand, and the King in a pleasing voice said: "Feed the sheep On turning to the golden King, he stooped with gestures of paternal blessing, and pressing his oaken garland on the young man's head, said: "Understand what is highest!"

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"Remember the Snake in honour," said the man with the Lamp; "thou owest her thy life, thy people owe her the Bridge, by which these neighbouring banks are now animated and combined into one land. Those swimming and shining jewels, the remains of her sacrificed body, are the piers of this royal bridge; upon these she has built and will maintain herself."+

The party were about to ask some explana* Dost thou note this, O Reader; and look back with tion of this strange mystery, when there entered new clearness on former things? A gold King, a silver, and a brazen King: WISDOM, dignified APPEARANCE, four lovely maidens at the portal of the TemSTRENGTH; these three harmoniously united bear rule: ple. By the Harp, the Parasol, and the folding disharmoniously cobbled together in sham-union (as in the foolish composite King of our foolish "Transition- Stool, it was not difficult to recognise the

era,") they, once the Gold (or wisdom) is all out of them, very awkwardly plump down.-D. T.

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+As, for example, does not Charles X. (one of the poor fractional composite Realities emblemed herein) rest, even now, "shapelessly enough sunk together, at Holyrood, in the city of Edinburgh ?-D. T.

March-of-intellect Lights were well capable of such a thing.-D. T.

*It fashions (bildet,) or educates.-O. Y.

Honour to her indeed! The Mechanical Philosophy, though dead, has not died and lived in vain; but her works are there: "upon these she" (THOUGHT, newborn, in glorified shape) "has built herself and will maintain herself;" and the Natural and Supernatural shall henceforth, thereby, be one.-D. T.

waiting-maids of Lily; but the fourth, more He was walking straight to the door of the beautiful than any of the rest, was an unknown | Temple, when all at once in the middle of the fair one, and in sisterly sportfulness she hast-court, he halted, and was fixed to the ground. ened with them through the Temple, and He stood there like a strong colossal statue, of mounted the steps of the Altar.* reddish glittering stone, and his shadow point ed out the hours,* which were marked in a circle on the floor around him, not in numbers, but in noble and expressive emblems.

"Wilt thou have better trust in me another time, good wife!" said the man with the Lamp to the fair one: “Well for thee, and every living thing that bathes this morning in the River!"

The renewed and beautified old Woman, of whose former shape no trace remained, embraced with young eager arms the man with the Lamp, who kindly received her caresses. "If I am too old for thee," said he, smiling, "thou mayest choose another husband to-day; from this hour no marriage is of force, which is not contracted anew."

Much delighted was the King to see the monster's shadow turned to some useful purpose; much astonished was the Queen; who, on mounting from within the Altar, decked in royal pomp with her virgins, first noticed the huge figure, which almost closed the prospect from the Temple to the Bridge.

Meanwhile the people had crowded after the Giant, as he ceased to move; they were walking round him, wondering at his metamorphosis. From him they turned to the Temple, which they now first appeared to notice,† and

"Dost thou not know, then," answered she, “that thou too art grown younger ?"-" It de"It lights me if to thy young eyes I seem a hand-pressed towards the door. some youth: I take thy hand anew, and am well content to live with thee another thousand years."+

The Queen welcomed her new friend, and went down with her into the interior of the altar, while the King stood between his two men, looking towards the bridge, and attentively contemplating the busy tumult of the people.

But his satisfaction did not last; for ere long he saw an object which excited his displeasure. The great Giant, who appeared not yet to have awoke completely from his morning sleep, came stumbling along the Bridge, producing great confusion all around him. As usual, he had risen stupified with sleep, and had meant to bathe in the well-known bay of the River; instead of which he found firm land, and plunged upon the broad pavement of the Bridge. Yet although he reeled into the midst of men and cattle in the clumsiest way, his presence, wondered at by all, was felt by none; but as the sunshine came into his eyes, and he raised his hands to rub them, the shadows of his monstrous fists moved to and fro behind him with such force and awkwardness, that men and beasts were heaped together in great masses, were hurt by such rude contact, and in danger of being pitched into the River.+ The King, as he saw this mischief, grasped with an involuntary movement at his sword; but he bethought himself, and looked calmly at his sceptre, then at the Lamp and the Rudder of his attendants. "I guess thy thoughts," said the man with the Lamp; "but we and our gifts are powerless against this powerless monster. Be calm! He is doing hurt for the last time, and happily his shadow is not turned to us." Meanwhile the Giant was approaching nearer; in astonishment at what he saw with open eyes, he had dropt his hands; he was now doing no injury, and came staring and agape into the fore-court.

* Mark what comes of bathing in the TIME-River, at the entrance of a New Era !-D. T.

And so REASON and ENDEAVOUR being once more married, and in the honey-moon, need we wish them joy ?-D. T.

Thou rememberest the Catholic Relief Bill; witnessest the Irish Education Bill? Hast heard, five hundred times, that the "Church" was "in Danger," and now at length believest it ?-D. T.-Is D. T. of the Fourth Estate, and Popish-Infidel, then ?-0, Y.

At this instant the Hawk with the mirror soared aloft above the dome; caught the light of the sun, and reflected it upon the group, which was standing on the altar. The King, the Queen, and their attendants, in the dusky concave of the Temple, seemed illuminated by a heavenly splendour, and the people fell upon their faces. When the crowd had recovered and risen, the King with his followers had descended into the Altar, to proceed by secret passages into his palace; and the multitude dispersed about the Temple to content their curiosity. The three Kings that were standing erect they viewed with astonishment and reverence; but the more eager were they to discover what mass it could be that was hid behind the hangings, in the fourth niche; for by some hand or another, charitable decency had spread over the resting-place of the Fallen King a gorgeous curtain, which no eye can penetrate, and no hand may dare to draw aside.

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The people would have found no end to their gazing and their admiration, and the crowding multitude would have even suffocated one another in the Temple, had not their attention been again attracted to the open space.

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Unexpectedly some gold-pieces, as if falling from the air, came tinkling down upon the marble flags; the nearest passers-by rushed thither to pick them up; the wonder was repeated several times, now here, now there. It is easy to conceive that the shower proceeded from our two retiring Flames, who wished to have a little sport here once more, and were thus gaily spending, ere they went away, the gold which they had licked from the members of the sunken King. The people still ran eagerly about, pressing and pulling one another, even when the gold had ceased to fall. At length they gradually dispersed, and went their way; and to the present hour the Bridge is swarming with travellers, and the Temple is the most frequented on the whole Earth.

* Bravo!-D. T.

Now first; when the beast of a SUPERSTITION-Giant has got his quietus. Right!—D. T.

It is the Temple of the whole civilized earth. Finally, may I take leave to consider this Mährchen as the deepest Poem of its sort in existence; as the only true Prophecy emitted for who knows how many centuries ? -D. T.-Certainly: England is a free country.-O. I.

DIDEROT.

[FOREIGN QUARTERLY REVIEW, 1833.]

THE Acts of the Christian Apostles, on which, as we may say, the world has now for eighteen centuries had its foundation, are written in so small a compass, that they can be read in one little hour. The Acts of the French Philosophes, the importance of which is already fast exhausting itself, lie recorded in whole acres of typography, and would furnish reading for a lifetime. Nor is the stock, as we see, yet anywise complete, or within computable distance of completion. Here are Four quite new Octavos, recording the labours, voyages, victories, amours, and indigestions of the Apostle Denis: it is but a year or two since a new contribution on Voltaire came before us; since Jean Jacques had a new Life written for him; and then of those Feuilles de Grimm, what incalculable masses may yet lie dormant in the Petersburgh Library, waiting only to be awakened and let slip!-Reading for a lifetime? Thomas Parr might begin reading in long-clothes, and stop in his last hundred and fiftieth year without having ended. And then, as to when the process of addition will cease, and the Acts and Epistles of the Parisian Church of Antichrist will have completed themselves; except in so far as the quantity of paper written on, or even manufactured, in those days being finite and not infinite, the business one day or other must cease, and the Antichristian Canon close for the last time,we yet know nothing.

Meanwhile, let us nowise be understood as lamenting this stupendous copiousness, but rather as viewing it historically with patience, and indeed with satisfaction. Memoirs, so long as they are true, how stupid soever, can hardly be accumulated in excess. The stupider they are, let them simply be the sooner cast into the oven; if true, they will always instruct more or less, were it only in the way of confirmation and repetition; and, what is of vast moment, they do not mis-instruct. Day after day looking at the high destinies which yet await Literature, which Literature will ere long address herself with more decisiveness than ever to fulfil, it grows clearer to us that the proper task of Literature lies in the domain of BELIEF; within which "Poetic Fiction," as it is charitably named, will have to take a quite new figure, if allowed a settlement there. Whereby were it not reasonable to prophesy that this exceeding great multitude of Novel-writers, and such like, must (in a new generation) gradually do one of two things either retire into nurseries, and work for children, minors, and semi-fatuous persons

*1. Mémoires, Correspondance, et Ouvrages inédits de Diderot; publiés d'après les manuscrits confiés, en mourante, par l'auteur à.Grimm. 4 tom. 8vo. Paris, 1831.

2. Euvres de Denis Diderot; procédées de Mémoires historiques et philosophiques sur sa Vie et ses Ouvrages,

par J. A. Naigeon. 22 tom. 8vo. Paris, 1821.

of both sexes; or else, what were far better, sweep their Novel-fabric into the dust-cart, and betake them with such faculty as they have to understand and record what is true,of which, surely, there is, and will for ever be, a whole Infinitude unknown to us, of infinite importance to us! Poetry, it will more and more come to be understood, is nothing but higher Knowledge; and the only genuine Romance (for grown persons) Reality. The Thinker is the Poet, the Seer: let him who sees write down according to his gift of sight;" if deep and with inspired vision, then creatively, poetically; if common, and with only uninspired, every-day vision, let him at least be faithful in this and write Memoirs.

On us still so near at hand, that Eighteenth century in Paris presenting itself nowise as portion of the magic web of Universal History, but only as the confused and ravelled mass of threads and thrums, ycleped Memoirs, in process of being woven into such,--imposes a rather complex relation. Of which, however, as of all such, the leading rules may be happily comprised in this very plain one, prescribed by Nature herself: to search in them, so far as they seem worthy, for whatsoever can help us forward on our own path, were it in the shape of intellectual instruction, of moral edification, nay of mere solacement and amusement. The Bourbons, indeed, took a shorter method, (the like of which has been often recommended elsewhere;) they shut up and hid the graves of the Philosophes, hoping that their lives and writings might likewise thereby go out of sight, and out of mind; and thus the whole business would be, so to speak, suppressed. Foolish Bourbons! These things were not done in a corner, but on high places, before the anxious eyes of all mankind: hidden they can in nowise be: to conquer them, to resist them, our first indispensable preliminary is to see and comprehend them. To us, indeed, as their immediate successors, the right comprehension of them is of prime necessity; for, sent of God or of the Devil, they have plainly enough gone before us, and left us such and such a world: it is on ground of their tillage, with the stubble of their harvest standing on it, that we now have to plough. Before all things then, let us understand what ground it is; what manner of men and husbandmen these were. For which reason, be all authentic Philosophe-Memoirs welcome, each in its kind! For which reason, let us now, without the smallest reluctance, penetrate into this wondrous Gospel according to Denis Diderot, and expatiate there to see whether it will yield us aught.

ant moments is the end. Now this epoch of In any phenomenon, one of the most importthe Eighteenth or Philosophe-century was pro

As to this Diderot, had we once got so far that we could, in the faintest degree, personate him; take upon ourselves his character and his environment of circumstances, and act his Life over again in that small Private-Theatre of ours, (under our own Hat,) with moderate Illusiveness and histrionic effect,-that were what, in conformity with common speech, we should name understanding him, and could be abundantly content with.

perly the End; the End of a Social System | reaches downwards and upwards, unsurveywhich for above a thousand years had been able, fading into the regions of Immensity and building itself together, and, after that, had of Eternity. Life everywhere, as woven on begun, for some centuries, (as human things that stupendous ever-marvellous "Loom of all do,) to moulder down. The mouldering Time," may be said to fashion itself of a woof down of a Social System is no cheerful busi- of light indeed, yet on a warp of mystic darkness either to form part of, or to look at: how-ness: only he that created it can understand it. ever, at length, in the course of it, there comes a time when the mouldering changes into a rushing; active hands drive in their wedges, set to their crowbars; there is a comfortable appearance of work going on. Instead of here and there a stone falling out, here and there a handful of dust, whole masses tumble down, whole clouds and whirlwinds of dust: torches too are applied, and the rotten easily takes fire: so what with flame-whirlwind, what with dust-whirlwind, and the crush of falling towers, the concern grows eminently interesting; and our assiduous craftsmen can encourage one another with Vivats, and cries of Speed the work. Add to this, that of all labourers, no one can see such rapid extensive fruit of his labour as the Destroyer can and'does: it will not seem unreasonable that measuring from effect to cause, he should esteem his labour as the best and greatest: and a Voltaire, for example, be by his guild-brethren and apprentices confidently accounted "not only the greatest man of this age, but of all past ages, and perhaps the greatest that Nature could produce." Worthy old Nature! She goes on producing whatsoever is needful in each season of her course; and produces, with perfect composure, that Encyclopedist opinion, that she can produce no more.

In his manner of appearance before the world, Diderot has been, perhaps to an extreme degree, unfortunate. His literary productions were invariably dashed off in hottest haste, and left generally, (on the waste of Accident,) with an ostrich-like indifference. He had to live, in France, in the sour days of a Journal des Trevoux; of a suspicious, decaying Sorbonne. He was too poor to set foreign presses, at Kehl, or elsewhere, in motion; too headlong and quick of temper to seek help from those that could: thus must he, if his pen was not to lie idle, write much of which there was no publishing. His Papers accordingly are found flying about, like Sybil's leaves, in all corners of the world: for many years no tolerable collection of his Writings was attempted; to this day there is none that in any sense can be called perfect. Two spurious, surreptitious Such a torch-and-crowbar period of quick Amsterdam Editions," or rather formless, blunrushing down and conflagration, was this of dering Agglomerations," were all that the the Siècle de Louis Quinze; when the Social world saw during his life. Diderot did not System having all fallen to rottenness, rain- hear of these for several years, and then only, holes, and noisome decay, the shivering na- it is said, "with peals of laughter," and no tives resolved to cheer their dull abode by the other practical step whatever. Of the four questionable step of setting it on fire. Ques- that have since been printed, (or reprinted, for tionable we call their Manner of procedure; Naigeon's of 1798, is the great original,) no the thing itself, as all men may now see, was one so much as pretends either to be complete inevitable; one way or other, whether by or selected on any system. Brière's, the latest, prior burning or milder methods, the old of which alone we have much personal knowhouse must needs be new-built. We behold ledge, is a well-printed book, perhaps better the business of pulling down, or at least of as-worth buying than any of the others; yet sorting the rubbish, still go resolutely on, all without arrangement, without coherence, purover Europe: here and there some traces of port; often lamentably in need of commentary: new foundation, of new building up, may now on the whole, in reference to the wants and also, to the eye of Hope, disclose themselves. specialities of this time, as good as unedited. To get acquainted with Denis Diderot and Brière seems, indeed, to have hired some his life were to see the significant epitome of person, or thing, to play the part of Editor; or all this, as it works on the thinking and acting rather more things than one, for they sign soul of a man, fashions for him a singular themselves Editors in the plural number; and element of existence, gives himself therein a from time to time, throughout the work, some peculiar hue and figure. Unhappily, after all asterisk attracts us to the bottom of the leaf, that has been written, the matter still is not and to some printed matter subscribed luminous to us strangers, much in that foreign "EDITS." but unhappily the journey is for economy, and method of working and living, most part in vain; in the course of a volume remains obscure; much in the man himself, or two, we learn two well that nothing is to be and his inward nature and structure. But, gained there; that the Note, whatever it proindeed, it is several years since the present fessedly treat of, will, in strict logical speech, Reviewer gave up the idea of what could be mean only as much as to say: "Reader! thou called understanding any Man whatever, even perceivest that we Editors, to the number of himself. Every Man, within that inconsider- at least two, are alive, and if we had any in able figure of his. contains a whole spirit- formation would impart it to thee.-Enres.” kingdom and Reflex of the ALL; and though | For the rest, these " EDITS." are polite people; to the eye but some six standard feet in size, and with this uncertainty (as to their being

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