CHAP. xix. MOSSES BY MOONLIGHT. 321 



I ignorant that all my toil is vanity, in one sense, and 

 perhaps in every sense. I am indifferent nearly to 

 everything. Hope of any real happiness in this world 

 is out of the question." 



" I have been poring every spare minute over dried 

 mosses. I have been so engaged during the last 

 month. Not long since, I had the eager curiosity to 

 walk out one night, when I picked up a very nice moss 

 by the light of the moon ! You may ask, how could I 

 do that ? Thanks be praised, I've got my eyesight, my 

 feelings, and I can- grape* too. It was a very frosty 

 night, and hailstones lay thick upon the bog ; but I 

 knew the exact spot where the mosses grew. I had 

 taken a look at them some six weeks before, and found 

 them in prime condition. The world was asleep. 

 Mosses, not Moses. I often consult Moses' writings. 

 How fine that is about the scapegoat sent into the wil- 

 derness, with the cord about his horns, bearing a burden 

 that he did not feel. Splendid Bible that ! 



" If any friend asks you about your brother Eobert, 

 you may say that he inherits the blessing of Jacob's 

 son. If they inquire which son, you may say the one 

 who was likened to an ass ' stooping down between two 

 burdens' with this difference, that instead of two, 

 your brother has a score or two of burdens. He knows 

 by sad experience that 'rest is good.' But he is at 

 times so wearied and sore that he cannot find rest. 

 And further, the person who said that ' the harder the 

 * Grape Search with the hands in the dark. 



