Some men are daily dying; some die ere they have learned how to live; and some find their truest account in revealing the mysteries of both life and death,—even while they themselves perish in the act of revelation, as is most wonderfully done in the remarkable volume now before the reader,-as, alas! almost seems to be the case with the penman of what herein follows.

The criterion of the value of a man or woman is the kind and amount of good they do or have done. The standard whereby to judge a thinker, consists in the mental treasures which during life they heap up for the use and benefit of the age that is, and those which are to be, when the fitful fever of their own sorrowful lives shall be ended, and they have passed away to begin in stern reality their dealings with the dead. He or she who adds even one new thought to the age becomes that age's great benefactor, to whom in future times grateful men shall erect monuments and statues. Well, here follows the work of a man, for his hand penned {3} every line, and the ideas were born of his soul, not withstanding his own disclaimer, for not every one can understand the mystical Blending by means of which he claims to have reached the ultima thule of human knowledge, and most readers, while reveling in the delights whereof so rich a store is laid before them, will insist that these glories were begotten of his own soul. Be that as it may, however, here is one, who, measured by the standard of the world itself, merits a monument stronger than iron, more endurable than granite, the gratitude of every soul that sighs for immortality; for not a single new thought, but whole platoons of them, grand and magnificent, hath he here presented, a deathless legacy to the world; and bye-and-bye these thoughts of 'Cynthia,' these 'Dealings with the Dead,' will become a beacon on the highway of Thought, and be remembered to the everlasting glory of the sufferer who penned them. Rest, Paschal, rest, my brother; thou brother and lover of thy race, for, thy work is well done; thy thoughts can never die. The bad will hate, but all who love Truth, Goodness, and Beauty, will bless thee, and crown thy name with fadeless laurels.

G. D. S.


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