of the storm through infinite space, and their footsteps are not heard, but where the sunlight strikes the firm surface of the planets, where the stormwind smites the wall of the mountain cliff, there is the one seen and the other heard.  Thus is the glory of God made visible, and may be seen, where in the soul of man it meets its likeness changeless and firm-standing.  Thus, then, stands Man;—­a mountain on the boundary between two worlds;—­its foot in one, its summit far-rising into the other.  From this summit the manifold landscape of life is visible, the way of the Past and Perishable, which we have left behind us; and, as we evermore ascend, bright glimpses of the daybreak of Eternity beyond us!”

Flemming would fain have interrupted this discourse at times, to answer and inquire, but the Professor went on, warming and glowing more andmore.  At length, there was a short pause, and Flemming said;

“All these indefinite longings,—­these yearnings after an unknown somewhat, I have felt and still feel within me; but not yet their fulfilment.”

“That is because you have not faith;” answered the Professor.  “The Present is an age of doubt and disbelief, and darkness; out of which shall arise a clear and bright Hereafter.  In the second part of Goethe’s Faust, there is a grand and striking scene, where in the classical Walpurgis Night, on the Pharsalian Plains, the mocking Mephistopheles sits down between the solemn antique Sphinxes, and boldly questions them, and reads their riddles.  The red light of innumerable watch-fires glares all round about, and shines upon the terrible face of the arch-scoffer; while on either side, severe, majestic, solemnly serene, we behold the gigantic forms of the children of Chimera, half buried in the earth, their mild eyes gazing fixedly, as if they heard through the midnight, the swift-rushing wings of the Stymphalides, striving to outstrip the speed of Alcides’ arrows!  Angry griffins are near them; and not far are Sirens, singing their wondrous songs from the rocking branches of the willow trees!  Even thus does a scoffing and unbelieving Present sit down, between an unknown Future and a too believing Past, and question and challenge the gigantic forms of faith, half buried in the sands of Time, and gazing forward steadfastly into the night, whilst sounds of anger and voices of delight alternate vex and soothe the ear of man!—­But the time will come, when the soul of man shall return again childlike and trustful to its faith in God; and look God in the face and die; for it is an old saying, full of deep, mysterious meaning, that he must die, who hath looked upon a God.  And this is the fate of the soul, that it should die continually.  No sooner here on earth does it awake to its peculiar being, than it struggles to behold and comprehend the Spirit of Life.  In the first dim twilight of its existence, it beholds this spirit, is pervaded by its energies,—­is quick and creative likethe