mortal body, and thence to the immortal; this belief is a relic of heathenism; we have no beliefs that are not. Personality is not man, therefore the body mortal is but a belief of man, and not the reality of him. Life, Truth, and harmony are the reality of being, and man is the idea of these; hence the body mortal is but belief and error, discord and death. Shakespeare's description of age presents a picture of mortal man; our bodies are not the repositories of us, else all would go down to dust. I is Spirit and not matter, and Spirit never for a moment entered or animated matter. If happiness is personal sense, joy is a trembler and builds on sand; or if materiality is man the very worms do rob us.
To understand Intelligence nor Life are in the body, is to conquer age and hold being forever fresh and immortal. The error of growing old is seen in the history of an English lady, as narrated in the London Lancet.
In early life she was disappointed in love, became insane, in which she lost the calculation of time, and lived only in the hour that parted the lovers, never afterward recognizing the lapse of years, and speaking only from that sad hour. The effect of this was, she literally grew no older, and when seen by some of our American travellers at seventy-four years of age, presented the entire appearance of youth, not a wrinkle or gray hair marred the picture, but youth sat gently on cheek and brow. Before being informed of her history the visitors were asked to judge of her age, and each placed her under twenty. This instance of preserved youth suggests a point in science not to be overlooked, and which a Franklin might have built upon, or a New-
