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stone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little.

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competitions, factions, and debates, of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together. Addison.

13. THE EFFICACY OF PRAYER.· There are some who say, "What good to pray? God is too far above us to hear creatures so insignificant." And who has made these creatures so insignificant? Who but God has given them thought, sentiment, and the faculty of speech? And if He has been thus good towards them, was it to abandon them afterwards, and repel them far from Him? Verily, I say to you, whoever says in his heart that God despises his works, the same blasphemes God. There are others who say, "What good to pray to God? Does not God know better than we what we have need of?" Yes; God knows better than you what you have need of; and that is why He would have you ask it of Him; for God is himself your first need, and to pray to God is to begin to possess God. The father knoweth the wants of his son; must the son therefore never make a request of his father, nor thank him for his benefits? There sometimes passes over the land a wind which dries the plants, and then we see their withered stems droop towards the earth; but, moistened by the dew, they recover their freshness, and lift up their languishing heads. The world has its scorching winds which pass over the soul of man, and make it arid. Prayer is the dew which refreshes the soul. - De Lammenais.

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14. DEATII. O, death dark hour to hopeless unbelief! hour to which, in that creed of despair, no hour shall succeed! being's last hour! to whose appalling darkness even the shadows of an avenging retribution were brightness and relief — death! - what art thou to the Christian's assurance? Great hour! answer to life's prayer; great hour that shall break asunder the bond of life's mystery; hour of relcase from life's burden; hour of reunion with the loved and lost, what mighty hopes hasten to their fulfilment in thee! What longings, what aspirations, breathed in the still night, beneath the silent stars; what dread emotions of curiosity; what deep meditations of joy; what hallowed impossibilities shadowing forth realities to the soul, all verge to their consummation in thee! O, death! the Chris

tian's death! What art thou, but a gate of life, a portal of heaven, the threshold of eternity! — Dewey.

CXLIX. ADAM AND ORLANDO.

Orlando. WHY, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orl. What! wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?
Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce

A thievish living on the common road?

This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;

I rather will subject me to the malice

Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.

Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred croen,
The thrifty hire I saved under your father,

Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,

When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown;
Take that; and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you let me be your servant;
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty:
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
NorEI did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

Orl. O, good old man! how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,

When service sweat for duty, not for meed!.
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat, but for promotion;
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry:
But come thy ways, we 'll go along together;
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.

Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Mere lived I, but now live here no more.

At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;
But at fourscore, it is too late a week:
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.

SHAKSPEARS.

CL.

A SISTER PLEADS FOR A BROTHER'S LIFE.

Isabella. I AM a woful suitor to your honor, Please but your honor hear me.

Angelo. Well; what's your suit?

Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war 'twixt will and will not.

Ang. Well; the matter?

Isab. I have a brother is condemned to die :

I do beseech you, let it be his fault,"

And not my brother.

121

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it! Why, every fault 's condemned, ere it be done :

Mine were the very cipher of a function,

To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record,"
And let go by the actor.

Isab. O just, but severe law!

Must he needs die?

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.

Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
And neither Heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.
Ang. I will not do 't.

Isab. But can you, if you would?

Ang. Look! what I will not, that I cannot do.

Isab. But might you do 't, and do the world no wrong

If so your heart were touched with that remorse
As mine is to him?

Ang. He's sentenced; 't is too late.

Isab. Too late? why, no: I, that do speak a word,
May call it back again. Well, believe this:

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,141
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one-half so good a grace
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipt like him;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.
Ang. Pray you, begone.

Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel should it then be thus?

No! I would tell what 't were to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.

Isat Alas! alas!

Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;
And He that might the 'vantage best have took
Found out the remedy! How would you be,
If He, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge you, as you are? O, think on that,
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

Ang. Be you content, fair maid;

It is the law, not I, condemns your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

It should be thus with him; - he must die to-morrow.

Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him.'

He 's not prepared for death! Even for our kitchens

We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve Heaven

With less respect than we do minister

To our gross selves? Good, good, my lord, bethink you :
Who is it that hath died for this offence?

There's many have committed it.

Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept : Those many had not dared to do that evil,

If the first man that did the edict infringe

EI

Had answered for his deed: now, 't is awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceived,
And so in progress to be hatched and born),
Are now to have no successive degrees,

But, where they live, to end.

Isab. Yet show some pity!

Ang. I show it most of all when I show justice;

For then I pity those I do not know,

Which a dismissed offence would after gall;

And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong,

Lives not to act another. Be satisfied:

Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Isab. So you must be the first that gives this sentence,

And he, that suffers! O, it is excellent

To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous

To use it like a giant. Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,

EI

For every pelting, petty officer

Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder,
Merciful Heaven!

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,

Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,

Than the soft myrtle: - But man, proud man!

Drest in a little brief authority,

Most ignorant of what he 's most assured,

His glassy essence,

-like an angry ape,

Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven
As make the angels weep.

We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:
Great men may jest with saints: 't is wit in them
But, in the less, foul profanation.

That in the captain 's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me?
Isab. Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself.

Go to your bosom :

Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
That's like my brother's fault; if it confess

A natural guiltiness, such as is his,

Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue

Against my brother's life.

Ang. [Aside. She speaks, and 't is

Such sense, my sense breeds with it. [To her.] Fare you well
Isab. Gentle, my lord, turn back.

Ang. I will bethink me.

Come again to-morrow.

Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you! Good, my lord, turn back
Ang. How! bribe me?

Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.
Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,

Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor,
As fancy values them but with true prayers,
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there,
Ere sunrise; prayers from preserved souls,
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well; come to me

To-morrow.

Isab. Heaven keep your honor safe!
Ang. Amen.

SHAKSPEARE.

CLI. THE MIND ITS OWN EDUCATOR.

1. KNOWLEDGE and virtue, or, in other words, intellectual and moral improvement, are mainly the mind's own work. The ordinary processes of direct instruction are, at best, but means, facilities, and aids, - of immense importance, it is true, but which presuppose in the mind to which they are applied an active, self moving coöperation. None can carry us up the hill of learning It must be done, if done, by the strain upon our own sinews by the wrenching of our own muscles, by the indomi

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