on the grounds of his faith, to a degree that might seem superfluous, if the question had not become so utterly bemazed and bedarkened of late.  After all, it is probable that, in addressing the public at large, it is not best to express a thought in as few words as possible; there is much classic authority for diffuseness.’

RICHTER.

    Groton.—­’Ritcher says, the childish heart vies in the
    height of its surges with the manly, only is not furnished
    with lead for sounding them.

’How thoroughly am I converted to the love of Jean Paul, and wonder at the indolence or shallowness which could resist so long, and call his profuse riches want of system!  What a mistake!  System, plan, there is, but on so broad a basis that I did not at first comprehend it.  In every page I am forced to pencil.  I will make me a book, or, as he would say, bind me a bouquet from his pages, and wear it on my heart of hearts, and be ever refreshing my wearied inward sense with its exquisite fragrance.  I must have improved, to love him as I do.’

IV.

CHARACTER.—­AIMS AND IDEAS OF LIFE.

“O friend, how flat and tasteless such a life!  Impulse gives birth to impulse, deed to deed, Still toilsomely ascending step by step, Into an unknown realm of dark blue clouds.  What crowns the ascent?  Speak, or I go no further.  I need a goal, an aim.  I cannot toil, Because the steps are here in their ascent Tell me THE END, or I sit still and weep.”

  “NATURLICHE TOCHTER,”

  Translated by Margaret.

  “And so he went onward, ever onward, for twenty-seven
  years—­then, indeed, he had gone far enough.”

  GOETHE’S words concerning Schiller

* * * * *

I would say something of Margaret’s inward condition, of her aims and views in life, while in Cambridge, before closing this chapter of her story.  Her powers, whether of mind, heart, or will, have been sufficiently indicated in what has preceded.  In the sketch of her friendships and of her studies, we have seen the affluence of her intellect, and the deep tenderness of her woman’s nature.  We have seen the energy which she displayed in study and labor.

But to what aim were these powers directed?  Had she any clear view of the demands and opportunities of life, any definite plan, any high, pure purpose?  This is, after all, the test question, which detects the low-born and low-minded wearer of the robe of gold,—­

  “Touch them inwardly, they smell of copper.”

Margaret’s life had an aim, and she was, therefore, essentially a moral person, and not merely an overflowing genius, in whom “impulse gives birth to impulse, deed to deed.”  This aim was distinctly apprehended and steadily pursued by her from first to last.  It was a high, noble one, wholly religious, almost Christian.  It gave dignity to her whole career, and made it heroic.