A.C.[1]
“But where the stirring crowd, the voice of strife,
The glow of action, and the thrill of life?”
It may not perhaps be altogether useless to ask, How many of our countrymen have reflected seriously upon their condition and their prospects? How many have cast a thought beyond the events of yesterday or the business of to-day? We fear, not many. We are too content to move in the same mechanical circle of samenesses to-day as yesterday, to square our ideas with those of other men, to believe and to speak according to dictates; that we should entertain the remotest idea of comparing our Past with our Present, so as to arrive at a probable conception of the Future. Our life-time passes with the dreamy knowledge that we are, and but little beyond that. But What may we be? What ought we to be? Are questions which are never engendered in our minds. For any one original thought on the subject which may exist, we may be dwelling in Fairyland.
