the present time in its various forms, its relationship to that of antiquity and—before every thing else—to the higher realm of humanity, the kingdom of God—the image of paradise, which we all, more clearly, or more darkly, bear in the depths of our souls—which it is the great business of human life to develop and establish on the earth.
And if, at the conclusion of this long journey, thou shouldst see this beautiful promised land present itself with a little more distinctness out of the mists of time, if thou shouldst feel thyself a little more courageous, a little more cheerful in thy labor for it, then, my R——, thou wilt not find this journey too long, nor repent having undertaken it.
This anticipation would seem like great pretension, but without it I should not have had the courage to undertake the journey, neither now, to have prepared this book.
I have, in its arrangement, divided it into chapters, which I have called Stations. They are intended to render a review of the contents easy, and Stations has seemed to me a good natural expression to indicate certain divisions of our traveling life. I say our, because—are we not all of us traveling through life!
Athens, October, 1860.
