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What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason bear with me:
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar;
And I must pause till it come back to me.

4. But yesterday the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong;
Who, you all know, are honorable men.

I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I would wrong such honorable men.

5. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæsar;
I found it in his closet: 'tis his will.
Let but the commons hear this testament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,)
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,

And, dying, mention it in their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,
Unto their issue.

6 If

you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember
The first time that Cæsar put it on;
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii.

Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through —
See what a rent the envious Casca made.

Through this the well beloved Brutus stabb'd;

And as he plucked his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it!

7. This, this was the unkindest cut of all.
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquish'd him! then burst his mighty heart,
And, in his mantle, muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

(Which all the while ran blood,)— great Cæsar fell.

8. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down;
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us!
O, now you weep; and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity! these are gracious drops.
Kind souls; what, weep you when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here!
Here is himself-marred as you see by traitors.

9.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny!

They that have done this deed are honorable:
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it. They are wise and honorable,
And will, no doubt, with reason answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;
I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,
That loves my friend; and that they know full well,
That gave me public leave to speak of him.

10. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,

Action, nor utterance, nor power of speech,
To stir men's blood; I only speak right on.
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;

Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb

mouths,

And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

XCV.-SELLING OLD THINGS.

1. Sell that old table? No; I will not sell it! It is only a pine table, it is true; and it costs but eighteen shillings twenty-five years ago, but your ten-dollar bill is no temptation; and I would not swap it either, for the prettiest mahogany or cherry table that you could bring me. If it has plain turned legs, instead of a pillar in the middle, with lion's claws, and if the marble top is only varnished paper, still, I will not sell or swap it.

2. It has been to me a very profitable investment. From the day it came home it has been earning dividends and increasing its own capital. My children made a playhouse and drank tea in their toy cups under it, for which I thank the four legs; and when they were tired of it for that purpose, they turned it upside down and made a four-post bedstead with curtains, or pulled it round the carpet for a sleigh.

3. Then they climbed on it for an observatory; and I never counted the glorious romps they had round it. And also all along for twenty-five years it has paid its dividends of happiness to my family circle. These dividends could never be separated from it until its value is not told in money. It has had its quiet use, also; for nobody could tell it from a round table of agate and cornelian, with its salmon bordered green cover.

4. Nothing lasts forever. The top of the table was loosened by the hard use it got, so I took a punch, drove in the eightpenny nails below the surface, added a few screws, puttied them over, and pasted marble-paper checkers over the top. Then it was a really handsome table. It has had hard usage since, but bears it all; and the checkers want renewing, which will make it worth more yet.

5. My watch is thirty years old. It is one of those thick silver levers which some poor wits call "turnips." It has been several times suggested to me that I might exchange it for a thin modern gold watch, which wears easier in the pocket. When I do, you may set me down for a barbarian! No, the best gold and jeweled “hunter” in existence would not tempt me to swap.

6. The watch marked the time when my children were born, and the record is set down in the family bible; it has ticked on their ears when they could only speak by laughing at it and kicking up their heels. It has marked the hours when the doctor's medicines were to be given, and counted their pulses when they beat low at midnight, and when the heart ached. It has made many records that are fast sealed up, to be opened only when another time comes.

7. Twenty-seven years have passed since my wife and I went out one evening and bought a tea-kettle. The fitting of the lid was a little imperfect, so that the escape of steam shook it and caused a peculiar noise, nearly enough resembling the chirping of some insect, to suggest the name by which it has now been known in the family for a long time — our "cricket on the hearth.”

8. Like the table and the watch, the kettle has been adding dividends to its capital every day since its first purchase; and, though nothing but iron, it could not be bought for its weight in silver. It has sung so long

and regularly and cheerfully, that not only the kitchen, but the whole house would be lonely without it. It has given us its fragrant blessing morning and evening, and come to be regarded as almost a living and talking

creature.

9. It is never a good fortune that sells such old friends. out of the family, and takes in new ones that have no history and no tongue. In all changes that have so far taken place, I have kept these silver bowls unbroken, and surely no change in the future shall break them.

Century.

XCVI. TELL'S ADDRESS TO THE MOUNT

AINS.

1. Ye crags and peaks; I'm with you once again!
I hold to you the hands you first beheld,
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear
A spirit in your echoes answer me,
And bid your tenant welcome to his home
Again! O sacred forms, how proud you look!
How high you lift your heads into the sky!
How huge you are! how mighty, and how free!

2. Ye are the things that tower, that shine; whose smile
Makes glad; whose frown is terrible; whose forms,
Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear
Of awe divine. Ye guards of Liberty!
I'm with you once again! I call to you

With all my voice! I hold my hands to you,
To show they still are free! I rush to you
As though I could embrace you!

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