Night's Deepest Gloom Is But A Calm;

Sympathizing And Selfish People Are Alike, Both Given To Tears.

We Really Cannot See What Equanimity There Is In Jerking A Lacerated Carp Out Of The Water By The Jaws, Merely Because It Has No The Power Of Making A Noise; For We Presume That The Most Philosophic Of Anglers Would Hardly Delight In Catching A Shrieking Fish.

Tears And Sorrows And Losses Are A Part Of What Must Be Experienced In This Present State Of Life: Some For Our Manifest Good, And Ail, Therefore, It Is Trusted, For Our Good Concealed;--for Our Final And Greatest Good.

It Flows Through Old Hushed Egypt And Its Sands, Like Some Grave Mighty Thought Threading A Dream, And Times And Things, As In That Vision, Seem Keeping Along It Their Eternal Stands.

Anglers Boast Of The Innocence Of Their Pastime; Yet It Puts Fellow-creatures To The Torture. They Pique Themselves On Their Meditative Faculties; And Yet Their Only Excuse Is A Want Of Thought.