Yet he would probably never be able to frame a guess that
such objects could be used for the communication of intellectual
ideas. What would he suppose them to be?
The thought expanded before me. What if we ourselves, in this world
of ours, which seems to us so complete, may really be creatures
lacking some further sense, which would make all our difficulties
plain? We knock up against all sorts of unintelligible and
inexplicable things, injustice, disease, pain, evil, of which we
cannot divine the meaning or the use. Yet they are undoubtedly
there! Perhaps it is only that we cannot discern the simplicity and
the completeness of the heavenly house of which they are the
furniture. Fanciful, of course; but I am inclined to think not
wholly fanciful.
May 10, 1891.
The question is this: Is there a kind of peace, of tranquillity,
attainable in this world, which is proof against all calamities,
sufferings, sorrows, losses, doubts? Is it attainable for one like
myself, who is sensitive, apprehensive, highly strung, at once
confident and timid, alive to impressions, liable to swift changes
of mood? Or is it a mere matter of mental, moral, and physical
health, depending on some balance of qualities, which may or may
not belong to a man, a balance which hundreds cannot attain to?
By this peace, I do not mean a chilly indifference, or a stoical
fortitude.
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