It Is, In Truth, The

Eternity.—thy Name Or Glad, Or Fearful, We Pronounce, As Thoughts Wandering In Darkness Shape Thee. Thou Strange Being, Which Art And Must Be, Yet Which Contradict'st All Sense, All Reasoning,—thou, Who Never Wast Less Than Thyself, And Who Still Art Thyself Entire, Though The Deep Draught Which Time Has Taken Equals Thy Present Store—no Line Can Reach To Thy Unfathomed Depths. The Reasoning Sage Who Can Dissect A Sunbeam, Count The Stars, And Measure Distant Worlds, Is Here A Child, And, Humbled, Drops His Calculating Pen.

The Best Way For Women To Acquire Knowledge Is From Conversation With A Father, A Brother, Or A Friend, In The Way Of Family Intercourse And Easy Conversation, And By Such A Course Of Reading As They May Recommend.

When One By One Our Ties Are Torn, And Friend From Friend Is Snatched Forlorn; When Man Is Left Alone To Mourn, Oh! Then How Sweet It Is To Die!

It Is, In Truth, The Most Absurd Of All Suppositions, That A Human Being Can Be Educated, Or Even Nourished And Brought Up, Without Imbibing Numberless Prejudices From Every Thing Which Passes Around Him.

So Fades A Summer Cloud Away; So Sinks The Gale When Storms Are O'er; So Gently Shuts The Eye Of Day; So Dies A Wave Along The Shore.