parts of one great hymn, whose interpreter was within, and, combined, would a language give more perfect to express the soul’s griefs and joys, the loveliness and magnitude of God’s labors, than that which Adam, articulate, invented. SECTION X. Thus Ariel mused, and in his walks under the silent moon, watched close, to catch the notes which rose from every point of earth; and sitting with his mother, to whom he opened his whole heart, talked of this wisdom. And thus, one quiet eve, when the star which ushers in and leads off day’s hours, then called God’s love, now changed to the queen in Paphos worshiped, was just dipping beneath the western hills, and the wind slow rising set outward to the sea, these two, the mother and the son, went forth to drink new draughts of the knowledge he had found, and kept hidden from all else save her whose soul was like unto his own. She leaned upon his shoulder as a loved support, and they passed, mingling in sweet converse, along the wooded paths to the stream which flowed noiseless, and now dark beneath the forest shades, close by the bank upon which she had rested from the chase, and with Erix recounted the endless good with which heaven had blessed the earth. “This water, so silent, yet speaks.” “In sadness,” said Zella. “For the day and for the night it has a several voice.” “And does the sorrow which comes to us, a heritage of Eden, fall also here?” “Mother, the star now hidden behind the western hills, its sister orbs, this earth, this wood, and water running, all speak to the soul according to its wisdom. Has sadness no beauty; grief no love? As darkness follows light, so joy and sorrow interchange, to make life perfect. This marvel of our God, in which strength and weakness strive to one end, were incomplete, did not thy tears, like fallen rain glittering in the sun, give brightness to the smile that hastens to drive thy tears away. In matter is to be found the sure interpreter of God’s will, and the purpose for which he made such excellence of earth and sky, with man, the chiefest excellence of all; and I watch to catch the secret which unlocks this knowledge, and will give to me, and to thee, my mother, the fullness of that glory which in the beginning was breathed into Adam, a living soul!” SECTION XI. As he spoke the wind sighed deeply along the silent stream, and the reeds there growing upon its sedgy bank gave forth sounds multitudinous, separate and commingled. “List, mother!” The symphony, at first low, scarce audible, dying, sprang to life again, and rose in notes æolic, flooding the air. “It is this, mother, this that I would win; the common language of every created thing.” We are the wind, whistling, piping, sounds melodious in the ear of night. And there was a rustling as of forest leaves; and a murmuring, as of water running; while from the reedy grass came other voices, Shrill and clear.