a monk’s cowl;—­a monarch still in soul.  Such things are not new in the history of the world.  Ever and anon they sweep over the earth, and blow themselves out soon, and then there is quiet for a season, and the atmosphere of Truth seems more serene.  Why would you preach to the wind?  Why reason with thunder-showers?  Better sit quiet, and see them pass over like a pageant, cloudy, superb, and vast.”

The Professor smiled self-complacently, but said not a word.  Flemming continued;

“I will add no more than this;—­there are many speculations in Literature, Philosophy, and Religion, which, though pleasant to walk in, and lying under the shadow of great names, yet lead to no important result.  They resemble rather those roads in the western forests of my native land, which, though broad and pleasant at first, and lying beneath the shadow of great branches, finally dwindle to a squirrel track, and run up a tree!”

The Professor hardly knew whether he should laugh or be offended at this sally; and, laying his hand upon Flemming’s arm, he said seriously;

“Believe me, my young friend, the time will come, when you will think more wisely on these things.  And with you, I trust, that time will soon come; since it moves more speedily with some than with others.  For what is Time?  The shadow on the dial,—­the striking of the clock,—­the running of the sand,—­day and night,—­summerand winter,—­months, years, centuries!  These are but arbitrary and outward signs,—­the measure of Time, not Time itself!  Time is the Life of the Soul.  If not this, then tell me what it is?”

The high and animated tone of voice in which the Professor uttered these words aroused the Baron from his sleep; and, not distinctly comprehending what was said, but thinking the Professor asked what time it was, he innocently exclaimed;

“I should think it must be near midnight!”

This somewhat disconcerted the Professor, who took his leave soon afterward.  When he was gone the Baron said;

“Excuse me for treating your guest so cavalierly.  His transcendentalism annoyed me not a little; and I took refuge in sleep.  One would think, to judge by the language of this sect, that they alone saw any beauty in Nature; and, when I hear one of them discourse, I am instantly reminded of Goethe’s Baccalaureus, when he exclaims; `The world was not before I created it; Ibrought the sun up out of the sea; with me began the changeful course of the moon; the day decked itself on my account; the earth grew green and blossomed to meet me; at my nod in that first night, the pomp of all the stars developed itself; who but I set you free from all the bonds of Philisterlike, contracting thoughts?  I, however, emancipated as my mind assures me I am, gladly pursue my inward light, advance boldly in a transport peculiarly my own, the bright before me, and the dark behind!’—­Do you not see a resemblance?  O, they might be modest enough to confess, that one straggling ray of light may, by some accident, reach the blind eyes of even us poor, benighted heathens?”