THE BOY-HUNTER. 37 
murder on our red right hands, and fly from our darkened 
brows,—-that the archangel of our birth has been dethroned, 
and that shining Presence, once upturned over them in 
blessings, as a God, become terrible in wrath!. Yet are we 
monarchs still, and yearn towards our ancient subjects, though 
it be in empty mockery of state. In our domesticated crea- 
tures we call them around us once again to feed from our 
hands, though they be rather as the captives of our will, the 
slaves of our necessities, than as loyal subjects in the bonds 
of love. 
What wonder that the man seeks savage compensation for 
the loss of empire? What wonder if, in the shadow where 
he walketh now, those mighty memories turn his heart to gall, 
when he looketh out upon his subjects, shining sleek, in beauty 
and in strength, amidst their sun-lit plains; and they regard 
not his voice, lifted up as of old, to call them to his feet ? 
Is it strange that, in the bitterness of quickened wrath, 
his fierce pride turn upon them, glorying in the strife of 
will with will, and strength with strength, to overtake them 
in their vaulting freedom, and grimly laugh amidst their 
slaughter ? 
Yet are they co-mates and sharers of the sun with us, and 
dark, unnatural passions cannot always shut them out from 
the full circle of our sympathies. Childhood has yet a birth- 
. « right of innocent illusion; and while its ethereal haze lingereth 
over all things in enchantment, we may at least believe and 
love! 
We become curst and harsh with dwelling forever amidst 
false hopes and care-weighed aspirations, and therefore is it 
sad, indeed, when we outgrow that charming Faith of innocence, 
since by it do we hold eternal youth. In its deathless happi- 
ness it takes us forth into this marvellous outer world to grow 
strong again in wondering, to freshen on the loveliness, and 
grow mirthful with its gay and careless lives. Here are beings 
infinitely numerous, who breathe and move by the same laws 
