194 Foii7'-in-Hand in Britain. 



" Nae sad repinings at the hardness o' their lot, 

 Nae heart-burnings at what anither got ; 

 The good or ill, the licht or shade, they took as it might be, 

 Sae onward ran the burnie frae the gray rock to the sea." 



There's a moral for us ! There is always peace at the 

 end if we do our appointed work and leave the result 

 with the Unknown. Let us, then, follow Mrs. Brown- 

 ing, 



" And like a cheerful traveller, take the road, 



Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread 

 Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod 

 To meet the flints ? — At least it may be said, 

 'Because the way is short, I thank thee, God ! ' " 



And so at the sea the burnie's race was run and it 

 found peace. Immensity gives peace always. It is so 

 vain to strive in the presence of the ocean, for it tells of 

 forces irresistible. It obeys its own laws, caring for 

 nought : 



" Libel the ocean on its tawny sands, write verses 

 In its praise ; the unmoved sea erases both alike. 

 Alas for man 1 unless his fellows can behold his deeds, 

 He cares not to be great." 



Not so, O poet, when man stands on the shore and 

 thinks, for then he feels his nothingness, and the ap- 

 plause of his fellows is valued as so much noise merely, 

 except as it serves as proof that he has stirred them 

 for the right. This state lasts unless he lifts his eyes 

 to the skies above the waste, and renews his vows to 

 the Goddess of Duty. He learns, not in the depths 



