Somewhat analogous to these, and arguing the eternity of our existence, we have such words as 'decease,' which merely imports a _withdrawal_; 'demise,' implying also a laying down, a _removal_. By the way, it is rather curious to observe the notions in the mind of mankind that have given rise to the words expressing 'death.' Thus we have the Latin word _mors_--allied, perhaps, to the Greek [Greek: moros] and [Greek: moira],[1] from [Greek: meiromai]--to _portion out_, to _assign_. Even this, however, there was a repulsion to using; and both the Greeks and Romans were wont to slip clear of the employment of their [Greek: thanatos], _mors_, etc., by such circumlocutions as _vitam suam mutare, transire e seculo_; [Greek: koimesato chalkeon hypnon]--_he slept the brazen sleep_ (Homer's Iliad, [Greek: Lamda], 241); [Greek: ton de skotos oss' ekalypsen]--_and darkness covered his eyes_ (Iliad, [Greek: Zeta], 11); or _he completeth the destiny of life_, etc. This reminds us of the French aversion to uttering their _mort_. These expressions, again, are suggestive of our 'fate,' with an application similar to the Latin _fatum_, which, indeed, is none other than 'id quod _fatum est_ a deis'--a God's word. So that in this sense we may all be considered 'fatalists,' and all things _fated_. Why not? However, in the following from _Festus_, it is the 'deil' that makes the assertion: 'FESTUS. Forced on us. LUCIFER. _All things are of necessity._ FESTUS. Then best. But the good are never fatalists. The bad Alone act by necessity, they say. LUCIFER. It matters not what men assume to be; Or good, or bad, they are but what they are.' In which we may agree that his majesty was not so very far wrong. Moreover, 'Why _should_ we mourn departed friends?'--since we know that they are but lying in the [Greek: moimeterion] (cemetery)--the _sleeping place_; or, as the vivid old Hebrew faith would have it, _the house of the living_ (Bethaim). Is not this testimony for the soul's immortality worth as much as all the rhapsody written thereon, from Plato to Addison? Some words are the very essence of poetry; redolent with all beauteous phantasies; odoriferous as flowers in spring, or discoursing an awful organ-melody, like to the re-bellowing of the hoarse-sounding sea. For instance, those two noble old Saxon words 'main' and 'deep,' that we apply to the ocean--what a music is there about them! The 'main' is the _maegen_--the strength, the _strong one_; the great 'deep' is precisely what the name imports. Our employment of 'deep' reminds of the Latin _altum_, which, properly signifying high or lofty, is, by a familiar species of metonymy, put for its opposite.