Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1854-10-04
Original Moral GtlIr.
WRITTEN FOR THE JoURSALl
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CHAPTER III.

s- CHAPTER III.
There is luxury in doing good-in confer
ing some real benefit man, and thus bless
ing the world. Who will doubt, that How
ard or Wilberforce, in their self-denying eff
forts to alleviate the sorrows, and lessen the
mseries of their fellow mortals, found flowing
into their own breasts incessant stream of
enjoyment, full and delicious, and which they
had not had dried up for a thousand lives.
The painter or sculptor may please the eye
and charm the fancy, with the brilliant produc-
tions of their genius; and thus add the
stores of intellectual enjoyment; but the plea
sure their efforts yield, either to themselves or
others, must necessarily be imperfect, and
short in duration.
1t is only those who confer some actual ben
eft on man-who rectify the evils of his ma
ture, or smooth his passage to the graye-haye
a real present as we'll as future and abiding
happiness.
So you would have thought, reader, had you
been allowed to look into the little chamber Of
P-ytheus. few evenings after his conversa-
tion with Vaiens.
a number of his prescribed sect had come
their faith, and to be instructed more fully in
its mysteries. @
The sage and saint-like old man is seated
and is leaning slightly forward-one hand
claspiag his knee, and the other half raised
There is slight tremulousness in his frame:
and in the deep, solemn tones of his voice /; 4
arising, however, not SO much from any bodi-
Is weakness, as the intensity of his emo
tions. Then his eyes are sparkling with an in
ner joyousness, while his countenance is light
ed up with a more than earthly radiance; and
his ouly loss is to find words to express the
great and glorious thoughts which fill his soul.
Around him are seated dozen or more in
dividuals-some quite youthful, and Others,
like himself, beyond their three-score and ten.
From the eyes of many the tears falling
fastly, while all are gazing upon him with that
marked stare which indicates mind at once
filed with wonder and absorbed with interest.
But, then, there is something in all their
looks--not excepting Prytheus himself
strange, and which an observer would have
failed to notice on any former occasion of the
kind. There is palor on the countenance-
an anxiety in the features, indicative of some
fresh and overwhelming sorrow. Their city
had been visited with awful calamity. The
flames had swept over it, and large districts of
it lay in chared piles and smouldering masses;
and while some present had been left without
:, shelter for themselves or families, they all
share in the despair and CONSERVATION which
had seized on all classes of her citizens.
Prytheus, rising from his seat, has taken
from sort of vault in the wall well-used
roll or parchment; and having resumed his
seat, he is reading, in clear, measured voice;
the following words:
ssTo them who by patient continuance in
well-doing, seek for glory, honor, and immor-
tali;y-eternal .ife.''
Having twice read the passage, in the same
tone of voice, he has replaced the roll in the
vault, and is seated with his pale, anxious
hearers around him, as stated.
s.Imortalityi'' said he; ssyes, and eternal
life, What glorious destiny for man! What
a sublime faiths
Here however, lie was interrupted by the
Involuntary ordinations of gratitude and
praise which burst from the hearts and lips of
those around him, and it was several minutes
him to proceed. But, at length, he continued
-expatiating full twenty minutes on the
souls Immortality, in a strain of the most i'm
passioned eloquence.
There was one, however, who all the time
had remained in silence, seated in remote
corner Of the apartment. His wild, staring
eyes were rivetted on Prytheus, and he SEEM
ed afraid to move, or even breathe. He was
an old man, frail and deerepit.
Prytheus did not fail to notice him, and the
effect Of his remarks upon him. He saw, in
his fixed stare and breathless silence, that he
was most deeply interested in what he had |
heard. Hence, turning himself partially
round in his seat, he said :
ssThe future Of the soul hath hitherto been
great mystery. The teachings Of our poets |
and philosophers have been little else than
Dreamy speculations.i Ii, at any time, they