Give Gold, and thou art free.' But he spake not, and I slew him." "I would not have this doctrine vulgarly promulgated," said the admirable chaplain, "for its general practice might chance to do harm.
Thou, my son, the Refined, the Gentle, the Loving and Beloved, the Poet and Sage, urged by what I cannot but think a grievous error, hast appeared as Avenger.

Think what would be the world's condition, were men without any Yearning after the Ideal to attempt to reorganize Society, to redistribute Property, to avenge Wrong." "A rabble of pigmies scaling Heaven," said the noble though misguided young Prisoner.

"Prometheus was a Giant, and he fell." "Yes, indeed, my brave youth!" the benevolent Dr.Fuzwig exclaimed, clasping the Prisoner's marble and manacled hand; "and the Tragedy of To-morrow will teach the World that Homicide is not to be permitted even to the most amiable Genius, and that the lover of the Ideal and the Beautiful, as thou art, my son, must respect the Real likewise." "Look! here is supper!" cried Barnwell gayly.

"This is the Real, Doctor; let us respect it and fall to." He partook of the meal as joyously as if it had been one of his early festals; but the worthy chaplain could scarcely eat it for tears.
* This is a gross plagiarism: the above sentiment is expressed much more eloquently in the ingenious romance of Eugene Aram:--"The burning desires I have known--the resplendent visions I have nursed--the sublime aspirings that have lifted me so often from sense and clay: these tell me, that whether for good or ill, I am the thing of an immortality and the creature of a God.

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