All things are subdued to me by virtue of that coiled lasso I carry, and I lead them without the trouble of a cast. It is the rope that lies coiled on the deck, which moors my ship, and I have never to bend a cable. In God's hall hang cables of infinite length, and in His entries stand bars of infinite strength; but those cables were never bent, nor those bars ever poised, for all things have been subdued to the divinity from the first, and these are the seals of His power. The guilty never escape, for a steed stands ever ready saddled and bridled at God's door, and the sinner surrenders at last. _End of my Journal of 396 pages._ _Feb. 2. Tuesday._ It is easy to repeat, but hard to originate. Nature is readily made to repeat herself in a thousand forms, and in the daguerreotype her own light is amanuensis, and the picture too has more than a surface significance,—a depth equal to the prospect,—so that the microscope may be applied to the one as the spy-glass to the other. Thus we may easily multiply the forms of the outward; but to give the within outwardness, that is not easy. That an impression may be taken, perfect stillness, though but for an instant, is necessary. There is something analogous in the birth of all rhymes. Our sympathy is a gift whose value we can never know, nor when we impart it. The instant of communion is when, for the least point of time, we cease to oscillate, and coincide in rest by as fine a point as a star pierces the firmament. * * * * * The stars are the mountain peaks of celestial countries. * * * * * A child asked its father what became of the old moon, and he said it was cut up into stars. * * * * * There is always a single ear in the audience, to which we address ourselves. * * * * * How much does it concern you, the good opinion of your friend? Therein is the measure of fame. For the herd of men multiplied many times will never come up to the value of one friend. In this society there is no fame but love; for as our name may be on the lips of men, so are we in each other's hearts. There is no ambition but virtue; for why should we go round about, who may go direct? All those contingencies which the philanthropist, statesman, and housekeeper write so many books to meet are simply and quietly settled in the intercourse of friends. * * * * * For our aspirations there is no expression as yet, but if we obey steadily, by another year we shall have learned the language of last year's aspirations. * * * * *