undusted--that we may read the records of the past.

Experience builds citadels upon these heights. Flowing parallel to
history is the great, turbid stream of politics. Its crimson billows
cast wrecks upon the strand, and the moaning waves strangely blend the
tones of grand martial music with the discords of despair and
disappointment, for it is a treacherous tide. Along its winding shores
war builds her forts, and there are fields of carnage and blood, and
dark fortresses of envy, from which fly the poisoned shafts of malice,
falsehood and revenge, and there are many graves in which lie ambition,
glory and renown, with all their brilliant dreams. Opposite to this
from the rock of knowledge gush the sweet fountains of poetry and
music, singing on their way through fair, secluded dells, where there
are moss-covered rocks, clinging vines, fragrant flowers and ferns and
singing birds. In their shining waves of light are mirrored the azure
sky, golden sunshine and fleecy clouds, while youth, beauty, laughter
and joy stray along the verdant shores, keeping time to the music of
the merry spray and weaving garlands to crown their radiant brows.

Not far from the rock of true knowledge flows a deep stream, calm,
clear and beautiful. Majestically it sweeps through stately forests,
extended plains and lofty mountains; and the fair cities of honesty,
temperance and truth are built upon its shores. This wonderful stream
is fed by the ever-living fountains of honor, morality, justice, mercy
and divine love. The music of its waves sends forth hymns of true
patriotism, love of country and of home; and the sweet songs of faith
and immortality float upward like strong, white wings, bearing the soul
away on pure melody above this world of longing and of hope, until it
rises to meet the world of glory and fulfillment. Upon these shores
faith, hope, charity and security have reared their white temples,