REV. GEO. B. PRATT. 81 
with the clouds, to navigate space above us, to girdle the 
world in forty minutes—nay, to reach the stars. Theballoon- 
ists are working at the problem. They die by scores, in 
what we perhaps justly call extremely foolish attempts. 
But I remember that Franklin was called the greatest of 
cranks and esteemed a madman when he first experimented 
with the kite-string and electricity. The conditions of 
aérial navigation are no more complex than those of all 
traveling. Wings are the fondest desire of our hearts. 
This has been so ever since a certain author wrote, “Oh! 
that I had the wings of a Dove.” Will the Dove ever find 
an electric bird of man’s invention flying by its side? 
Angels have always been pictured with wings. Birds are 
angels in disguise. If I could believe in the transmigration 
of souls, I should say, “put me into the body and seal upon 
me the wings of a Wood Thrush, which has a song equal to 
its wings, that I may have music by the way.” 
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