My Library

stabbed at the listener and he fell, but did not seem to die, for a grisly phantom ever hovered over him, but from pity forbore to strike. “The scene changed. It appeared to be a rural village—the date, in fiery figures on the corner of the field, was 1852. It was a barber’s shop, and a light, happy-hearted youth was therein pursuing his avocation, and earning bread and health. This youth was apparently gifted to look beyond the veil, and into the dim regions of the dead; and it seemed that this was known, for presently people flocked about him, and the scene closed. “Again the magic picture presented this man as in public life; cliques made use of him, flattered his vanity, and he was led into errors of conduct and judgment, but none so great as manifested by others around him; but, on the instant that this man discovered his error, and announced it, ten thousand daggers were levelled at his heart, ten thousand tongues defamed him—and for what? Because he had been true to his knowledge, his conscience and his God. He fell beneath the strokes of those who had sworn themselves his friends and the friends of all mankind. See him now with his heart bowed down. “It shifts; and lo! the man appears again. Consumed by the fires of hatred, envy, ingratitude and venom of his former friends, he