“You seem to take it for granted,” interrupted Flemming, “that, in our reveries, the soul really goes out of the body into distant places, instead of summoning up their semblance within itself by the power of memory and imagination!”

“Something I must take for granted,” replied the Professor.  “We will not discuss that point now.  I speak not without forethought.  Just observe what a glorious thing human life is, when seen in this light; and how glorious man’s destiny.  I am; thou art; he is! seems but a school-boy’s conjugation.  But therein lies a great mystery.  These words are significant of much.  We behold all round about us one vast union, in which no man can labor for himself without laboring at the same time for all others; a glimpse of truth, which by the universal harmony of things becomes an inward benediction, and lifts the soul mightily upward.  Still more so, when a man regards himself as a necessary member of this union.  The feeling of our dignity and our power grows strong, when we say to ourselves; My being is not objectless and in vain; I am a necessary link in the great chain, which, from the full development of consciousness in the first man, reaches forward into eternity.  All the great, and wise, and good among mankind, all the benefactors of the human race, whose names I read in the world’s history, and the still greater number of those, whose good deeds have outlived their names,—­all those have labored for me.  I have entered into their harvest.  I walk the green earth, which they inhabited.  I tread in their footsteps, from which blessings grow.  I can undertake the sublime task, which they once undertook, the task of making our common brotherhood wiser and happier.  I can build forward, where they were forced to leave off; and bring nearer to perfection the great edifice which they left uncompleted.  And at length I, too, must leave it, and go hence.  O, this is the sublimest thought of all!  I can never finish the noble task; therefore, so sure as this task is my destiny, I can never cease to work, and consequently never cease to be.  What men call death cannot break off this task, which is never-ending; consequently no periodis set to my being, and I am eternal.  I lift my head boldly to the threatening mountain peaks, and to the roaring cataract, and to the storm-clouds swimming in the fire-sea overhead and say; I am eternal, and defy your power!  Break, break over me! and thou Earth, and thou Heaven, mingle in the wild tumult! and ye Elements foam and rage, and destroy this atom of dust,—­this body, which I call mine!  My will alone, with its fixed purpose, shall hover brave and triumphant over the ruins of the universe; for I have comprehended my destiny; and it is more durable than ye!  It is eternal; and I, who recognise it, I likewise am eternal!  Tell me, my friend, have you no faith in this?”

“I have;” answered Flemming, and there was another pause.  He then said;