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"Write!" she says, in a thrilling whisper; "and write quickly! for whatsoever thou shalt now inscribe is the clue to thy destiny"

I obey her mechanically, impelled not bywithin and around me I trace upon the tablet one word only; it is a name that startles me even while I myself write it down--HELIOBAS Scarcely have I written it when a thick white cloud veils the cathedral froain still

I arave melodious voice, which, from its slow andor reciting aloud I see a small room sparely furnished, and at a table covered with books andpresence He is in the full prime of life; his dark hair has no thread of silver to mar its luxuriance; his face is unwrinkled; his forehead unfurrowed by care; his eyes, deeply sunk beneath his shelving brows, are of a singularly clear and penetrating blue, with an absorbed and watchful look in theaze far out at sea His hand rests on the open pages of a , and his expression is intent and earnest--as if he were littering his own thoughts aloud, with the conviction and force of an orator who knows the truth of which he speaks: "The Universe is upheld solely by the Law of Love A overns the winds, the tides, the inco of the seasons, the birth of the flowers, the growth of forests, the outpourings of the sunlight, the silent glittering of the stars A wide illimitable Beneficence embraces all creation

A vast Eternal Pity exists for all sorrow, all sin He who first swung the planets in the air, and bade them revolve till Time shall be no more--He, the Fountain-Head of Absolute Perfection, is no deaf, blind, capricious, or re-bird is as great or as little as the death of a world's e of an innocent flower is as pitiful as the decay of a hty nation An infant's first prayer to Him is heard with as tender a patience as the united petitions of thousands of worshippers For in everything and around everything, froreat, of His own most Perfect Existence Should He hate His Creation, He must perforce hate Himself; and that Love should hate Love is an impossibility