Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer,Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. —Edgar Poe.
golden censer swings in the Temple of Life, making holy its halls and grateful its corridors. This fountain of our well-being is Duty. There is little true pleasure in the world which does not flow, either directly or remotely, from its depths.
It shall be the object of this volume to point...
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