O, help me to escape that oblivion which is more fearful than death! Who would fall with the common herd, like rain into the ocean—lost in eternity! Even as the lightning is born of conflicting vapor; is born to penetrate, change, and subdue. So, of every age, and of the breath and roar of the people, is born one to rule, and mould, and make his time. Go then, and get power. Get it by the sword; since, even in our day, blood buoys the strong swimmer onward to greatness. Get it by arts of policy; since men will be ruled, and most honor those who rule them most sternly. Get it by the pen; a voice which fills all time, reaches every ear, fashions the intellect of millions, and makes it your own. Who would not float down through endless ages upon a strain of such music, the multitudinous echo of a spirit chosen of God? The shade of Tubal rests upon my hand, and guides it.

The gentle dew falls in silence, unmarked; the print of its footsteps disappear before the growing light; yet the earth acknowledges its presence in the livelier green it puts on to make glad its children. In the narrow valley lives an honest worker; one who, with years of labor, has subdued the hardy soil. Even now, the yellow grain bends beneath the weight of its own wealth, and wakes a joy which ambition never knew. Think you that his days are unrecorded in the Book of Life? Upon his broad shoulders rests the State. Ariel’s soul is content.

Thus, early in time, to these two were given, in divided empire, the passions which now govern the sons of Adam; and have built up, giving and receiving mutual aid, all our glory.

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