Hundreds of bold and daring navigators have left their bones to whiten
amid the snows and ice of the arctic regions, lured thither by the
thirst of fame or of knowledge, in the pursuit of science, and in search
of the Northwest Passage. But suppose some more fortunate adventurer
should discover there, even at the very pole itself, a veritable
'fountain of youth and beauty,' whose rejuvenating waters could restore
the elasticity of youth to the frame of age, smoothing away its
wrinkles, and imprinting the bloom of childhood upon its cheeks,
bringing back the long-lost freshness and buoyancy to the soul; would
not the navigators of those dangerous seas be multiplied in the ratio of
a million to one? Should we not all become Ponce de Leons, braving every
danger, submitting to every privation, sacrificing wealth, fame,
everything, in quest of the precious boon? What a hecatomb of mouldering
bones would bestrew those fields of ice! For though not one in ten
thousand might reach the promised goal, the hegira would still go on
till the end of time, each deluded mortal hoping that he might be that
happy, fortunate one. As the dying millionnaire would give all that he
possesses for one moment of time, so would all mankind throw every
present blessing into the scale, in the hope of drawing the prize in
that great lottery.
There is a fountain of youth and beauty open to every soul beneath the
sun: there is a rejuvenation both to soul and body, which shall not only
restore all the freshness of the bygone days, but also the joys of the
past, a thousandfold brighter and dearer, and that by a process which
will not need repeating, for that youth will be eternal.
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