IO 
LABOUR. 
dreary lives without a glimpse of that joy which 
awaited only the bidding of relaxation to rush 
in like a flood ; how many, endowed with 
splendid mental powers, have found their light 
of reason overclouded or wasted down into 
drivelling idiocy ; how many poor toiling wretches 
have had all their virtue and all their hope 
crushed out by this, in many cases self-imposed, 
evil. We are often told—it is one of the prac 
tices of our day to write and lecture—of men 
whose ambitious souls flx upon some great aim, 
impossible of realisation to ordinary wills— 
dazzling, glorious—the attainment of which, 
ever before their mind’s eye, becomes the one 
object of their lives ; adamantine resolve to 
succeed, the spring of all their action. We are 
told that by years of toil, toil from which 
common mortals would shrink, toil hard, un 
relaxing, despotic, they do succeed ; but it is 
seldom revealed to us, it seldom can be re 
vealed, at what heavy, heavy cost the prize has, 
in many instances, been purchased. The un 
thinking multitude, who see the outward halo 
of triumph around the heroes’ heads, clap 
hands, and shout, Well done ! well done ! The 
ambitious, toiling far down on that same ladder