—Epilogue　to　Beaumont　and　Fletcher’s　Honest　Man’s　Fortune。

I　read　the　other　day　some　verses　written　by　an　eminent　painter　which　were　original　and　not　conventional。　The　soul　always　hears　an　admonition　in　such　lines；　let　the　subject　be　what　it　may。　The　sentiment　they　instill　is　of　more　value　than　any　thought　they　may　contain。　To　believe　your　own　thought；　to　believe　that　what　is　true　for　you　in　your　private　heart　is　true　for　all　men—that　is　genius。　Speak　your　latent　conviction；　and　it　shall　be　the　universal　sense；　for　the　inmost　in　due　time　bees　the　outmost；　and　our　first　thought　is　rendered　back　to　us　by　the　trumpets　of　the　Last　Judgment。　Familiar　as　the　voice　of　the　mind　is　to　each；　the　highest　merit　we　ascribe　to　Moses；　Plato；　and　Milton　is　that　they　set　at　naught　books　and　traditions　and　spoke　not　what　men；　but　what　they　thought。　A　man　should　learn　to　detect　and　watch　that　gleam　of　light　which　flashes　across　his　mind　from　within　more　than　the　luster　of　the　firmament　of　bards　and　sages。　Yet　he　dismisses　without　notice　his　thought；　because　it　is　his。　In　every　work　of　genius　we　recognize　our　rejected　thoughts；　they　e　back　to　us　with　a　certain　alienated　majesty。　Great　works　of　art　have　no　more　affecting　lesson　for　us　than　this。　They　teach　us　to　abide　by　our　spontaneous　impression　with　good…humored　inflexibility　then　most　when　the　whole　cry　of　voices　is　on　the　other　side。　Else；　tomorrow　a　stranger　will　say　with　masterly　good　sense　precisely　what　we　have　thought　and　fel