poor little fatherless brats, let to run wild about the streets and alleys of this noisy earth; and the wicked urchins among us play pitch-and-toss or marbles, and fight; and we quiet ones sit on a doorstep and play at schools, and little 'Liza Philosophy and Tommy Goodboy will take it in turn to be "teacher," and will roar at us, and slap us, and instruct us in all they have learnt. And, if we are good and pay attention, we shall come to know as much as they do: think of that!
Come away—come away from the gutter and the tiresome game. Come away from the din. Come away to the quiet fields, over which the great sky stretches, and where, between us and the stars, there lies but silence; and there, in the stillness let us listen to the voice that is speaking within us.
Hark to it, O poor questioning children; it is the voice of God! To the mind of each of us it speaks, showing the light to our longing eyes, making all things clear to us, if we will but follow it. All through the weary days of doubt and terror, has it been whispering words of strength and comfort to our aching heart and brain, pointing out the path through the darkness to the knowledge and truth that our souls so hunger for; and, all the while, we have been straining our ears to catch the silly wisdom. of the two-legged human things that cackle round us, and have not heeded it! Let us have done with other men's teaching, other men's guidance. Let us listen to ourselves.———No, you cannot tell what you have learnt to others. That is what so many are trying to do. They would not understand you, and it would only help to swell the foolish din. The truths he has taught to us, we cannot teach to our fellow-men: none but God himself can speak their language, from no other voice but his can they be heard,
