“I have seen the softness and beauty of the summer clouds floating feathery overhead, enjoying, as it seemed, their height and privilege of motion, whilst yet they appeared not so much the drapery of this place and hour, as forelooking to some pavilions and gardens of festivity beyond”. Might we not also gain admittance to this distant, empyrean place? Might we not forego our rusted clay and join that white plumage in which the sweet dew of divine precipitation gathers? I think we might.