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20. Yet even these bones from insult to protect,

Some frail memorial, still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 21. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse,

The place of fame and elegy supply ;.
And many a holy text around she strews,

That teach the rustic moralist to die. 22. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,

This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,

Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 23. On some fond breast the parting soul relies,

Some pious drops the closing eye requires ;
Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries,

Even in our ashes live their wonted fires.
24. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead,

Dost in these lines their artless tale relate,
If 'chance, by lonely contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, – 25. Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,

«Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,

To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
26. “ There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech

That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,

And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
27. “ Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,

Muttering his wayward fancies, would he rove,
Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn,

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 28. “ One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill,

Along the heath, and near his favorite tree :
Another came, - nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he: 29. “ The next, with dirges due, in sad array,

Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay

Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

Che Epitaph.
30. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown;
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,

And Melancholy marked him for her own.

31. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere

Heaven did a recompense as largely send
He gave to misery (all he had) a tear,

He gained from heaven ('t was all he wished) a friend. 32. No further seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,)

The bosom of his Father and his God.



1. ARCHIME'DES was born in the year 287 before the Christian era, in the island of Sicily and city of Syracuse. Of his child. hood and early education we know absolutely nothing, and nothing of his family, save that he is stated to have been one of the poor relations of King Hiero, who came to the throne when Archime'dēs was quite a young man, and of whose royal patronage he more than repaid whatever measure he may have enjoyed. There is no more characteristic anecdote of this great philosopher than that relating to his detection of a fraud in the composition of the royal crown. Nothing, certainly, could more vividly illus'trate the ingenuity, the enthusiasm, and the complete concentration and abstraction of mind, with which he pursued whatever problem was proposed to him.

2. King Hiero, or his son Gelon, it seems, had given out a certain amount of gold to be made into a crown, and the workman to whom it had been intrusted had at last brought back a crown of corresponding weight. But a suspicion arose that it had been alloyed with silver, and Archimedes was applied to by the king, either to disprove or to verify the allegation. The great problem, of course, was to ascertain the precise bulk of the crown in its existing form ; for, gold being so much heavier than silver, it is obvious that if the weight had been in any degree made up by the substitution of silver, the bulk would be proportionately increased. Now, it happened that Archimedes went to take a bath while this problem was exercising his mind, and, on approaching the bath-tub, he found it full to the very brim. It instantly occurred to him that a quantity of water of the same bulk with his own body must be displaced before his body could be immersed.

3. Accordingly, he plunged in; and while the process of displacement was going on, and the water was running out, the idea suggested itself to him, that by putting a lump of gold of

the exact weight of the crown into a vessel full of water, and then measuring the water which was displaced by it, and by afterwards putting the crown itself into the same vessel after it had again been filled, and then measuring the water which this, too, should have displaced, the difference in their respective bulks, however minute, would be at once detected, and the fraud exposed. “As soon as he had hit upon this method of detection," we are told, “he did not wait a moment, but jumped joyfully out of the bath, and, running naked towards his own house, called out with a loud voice that he had found what he had sought. For, as he ran, he called out in Greek, · Eurēka, Eurēka.'”

4. No wonder that this veteran geom'eter, rushing through the thronged and splendid streets of Syracuse, naked as a pair of his own compasses, and making the welkin ring with his triumphant shouts, — no wonder that he should have rendered the phrase, if not the guise, in which he announced his success, familiar to all the world, and that “ Eureka, Eureka,” should thus have become the proverbial ejaculation of successful invention and discovery in all ages and in all languages, from that day to this! The solution of this problem is supposed to have led the old philo-opher not merely into this ecstatical exhibition of himself, but into that line of hydrostaticalEl investigation and experiment which afterwards secured him such lasting renown. And thus the accidents of a defective crown and an overflowing bath-tub gave occasion to some of the most remarkable demonstrations of ancient science.



A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, cries, “ Büatman, do not tarry'
And I 'll give thee a silver pound to row us o'er the ferry."
“ Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, this dark and stormy water?"
“0, I’m the chief of Ulva's isle, and this Lord Ullin's daughter
“ And fast before her father's men three days we've fied together;
For should he find us in the glen, my blood would stain the heather.
His horsemen hard behind us ride ; should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride when they have slain her lover?
Outspoke the hardy Iligbland wight, “ I'll go, my chief-I'm ready :
It is not for your silver bright, but for your winsome laily :
And, by my word, the bonny bird in danger shall not tarry :
So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry.”
By this the storm grew loud apace, the water-wraithel was shrieking,
And in the scowl of heaven each face grew dark as they were speaking.
But still as wilder blew the wind, and as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armëd men, their trampling sounded nearer.

“O, haste thee, haste !” the lady cries, “though tempests round us

gather ;
I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.”
The boat has left a stormy land, a stormy sea before her ;
When, 0, too strong for human hand, the tempest gathered o'er her.

And still they rowed amidst the roar of waters fast prevailing :
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore, his wrath was changed to wailing ;
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, his child he did discover,
One lovely arın she stretched for aid, and one was round her lover!

“ Come back ! come back!” he cried in grief, “ across this stormy water;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief, my daughter ! O, my daughter !”
'T wag vain the loud waves lashed the shore, return or aid preventing :
The waters wild went o'er his child, and he was left lamenting.


CXXIX. — THE FREE MIND. 1. I CALL that mind free, which masters the senses, which pro tects itself' against the animal appetites, which penetrates beneath the body and recognizes its own reality and greatness. I call that mind free, which escapes the bondage of matter; which, instead of stopping at the material universe and making it a prison wall, passes beyond it to its Author, and finds, in the radiant signatures which that universe everywhere bears of tho infinite Spirit, helps to its own spiritual enlargement.

2. I call that mind free, which sets no bounds to its love, which recognizes in all human beings the image of God aud tho rights of his children, which delights in virtue and sympathizes with suffering wherever they are seen, which conquers pride, anger, and sloth, and offers itself up a willing victim to the cause of mankind.

3. I call that mind free, which is not passively framed by outward circumstances, which is not swept away by the torrent of events, which is not the creature of accidental impulse, but which bends events to its own improvement, and acts from an inward spring, from immutable principles which it has deliberately espoused.

4. I call that mind free, which protects itself against the usurpations of society, which does not cower to human opinion, which feels itself accountable to a higher tribunal than man's, which respects a higher law than fashion, which reverences itself too much to be the slave or tool of the many or the few.

5. I call that mind free, which, through confidence in God and in the power of virtue, has cast off all fear but that of wrong

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doing; which no menace or peril can enthral, which is calm in the midst of tumults, and possesses itself, though all else be lost.

6. Finally, I call that mind free, which, conscious of its affinity with God, and confiding in his promises by Jesus Christ, devotes itself faithfully to the unfolding of all its powers; which transcends the bounds of time and death, which hopes to advance forever, and which finds inexhaustible power, both for action and suffering, in the prospect of immortality.



cxxx. — ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 1. KNOW BEFORE YOU SPEAK. — There is a story of Sheridan having once apparently quoted a passage from a Greek poet in the House of Commons, when in reality he only uttered a gabble resembling Greek. An honorable gentleman who spoke after him fully assented to the application of the passage to the case in question. How ineffably ridiculous must that man have

peared when Sheridan disclosed the trick! This is a dishonor i 'which every one is exposed who, in any way, however slight

negative, affects to appear knowing where he is ignorant. or PERFECTION NO TRIFLE. — A friend called on Michael An'

El who was finishing a statue ; sometime afterwards he called g ain; the sculptor was still at his work ; his friend, looking at

figure, exclaimed, “You have been idle since I saw you

“By no means," replied the sculptor ; “I have retouched last.” this pa

part, and polished that; I have softened this feature, and cht out this muscle; I have given more expression to this

nd more energy to this limb.”—“Well, well,” said his a 6 but all these are trifles.” — “It may be so," replied

o, “but recollect that trifles make perfection, and that perPation is no trife.” feco TRUE GENEROSITY. — Sir Philip Sidney, at the battle near

an, El displayed the most undaunted courage. He had two

killed under him; and, whilst mounting a third, was ied by a musket-shot out of the trenches, which broke the of his thigh. He returned about a mile and a half on ack to the camp; and, being faint with the loss of blood,

rched with thirst from the heat of the weather, he called apd Pink. It was presently brought him ; but, as he was putting

el to his mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who happened to ne vesi ed along at that instant, looked up to it with wistful

"The gallant and generous Sidney took the flagon from his

lip, and more en friend, " but a Angelo,

Zutphen, 1 displa horses killed ună wounded by , bone of his thi horseback to the and parched wit for drink. It the vessel to his be carried along eyes.

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