490 THE MOUNTAIN. 



tiquity and the "past," have robbed, and dispossessed us of 

 aboriginal and filial consort with the fountains of influx from 

 the equally divine present. This wretched tribute is ex- 

 torted at the fearful cost of the total integrity of man, and 

 the emasculation of the profoundest attributes of his being. 

 Why pay the word by an unqualified surrender of its own 

 life ? Why capitulate on the fatal condition of the annihi- 

 lation of the spirit ? The book or word is only a bridge 

 over a yawning gulf of the past ; a floating raft of logs it 

 may have been, or a rainbow-arch sublimely spanning the 

 heavens, but still a bridge. Shall we dwell perpetually on 

 the bridge ? The word is a ladder ; when the height is 

 achieved, shall we stay to glorify the ladder alone ? The 

 word is a scaffold. When the spiritual edifice is constructed 

 in symmetrical proportions, shall the scaffold, once essential, 

 now useless, stand a persistent deformity ? The word is a 

 fountain of inspiration. If the waters have shrunken away, 

 of what value is the fountain ? 



But the total record or word of the world, it may be 

 affirmed, is the greatest fact of the world's history. As an 

 exponent of the world it stands, then, a tropical mountain, 

 stretching through all depths and heights, all times and 

 spaces, revealing the spiritual growths of the ages, the 

 Andes of the soul. At its base, warm, genial, intense, a 

 world of light and life, exhaustless in its fullness, illimit- 

 able in its profusion, stunning and bewildering in its 

 excessive brilliancy, blooms a sempiternal youth. Here 

 sport and babble the babes of the senses ; here glow with 

 warmth and ardor the first fiery thoughts of the chil- 

 dren of the sun. Higher upon the mountain is the belt of 

 umbrageous (deciduous) woods, with foliage waving in the 

 winds of temperate climes, and whose cool, sequestered 

 shades invite to contemplation and dreams. Here, in " aca- 

 demic groves," have wandered the men of thought and re- 

 flection, the philosophers of the intellect, the seekers of 

 truth, and talked to unborn millions. Still higher, the 

 solemn evergreen forest stands, cold and dark ; and here the 



