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An Ancient Allegory of Life.

There is no chance, & no Anarchy in the Universe. The young mortal enters the Hall of the Firmament, passage thro' which is to be his life. As he enters he sees above & afar all the Gods, sitting each in his lofty sphere, & there he is alone with them alone, they pouring on him gifts & benedictions, & beckoning him up to their thrones of Immortality. But on the instant, and incessantly, between himself & them fall snowstorms of illusions. He fancies himself, orphaned & magnificent, in a vast crowd which sways this way & that, & whose movements & doings he fancies that he must follow to reach the thrones of Immortality. Surely all this moving host cannot be wrong! What is he that he should resist them! Every moment new changes - new showers of deceptions, - the mad crowd driving hither & thither, now furiously commanding this to be done, now that; - surely these loud leaders must be the wise ones, & must know the best way! What is he that he should think or act for himself! But by & by the air clears a little; and sooner or later, according as strength & vision grow in him quickly or slowly, he sees through & beyond those storm clouds - and there are still the Gods calmly sitting on their thrones above him, - they alone & face to face with him alone.