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though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried: "Will no one bring Hardy to me? he must be killed; he is surely dead!" An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received his wound before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence; Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful and yet sublimest moment.

"Well, Hardy," said Nelson, "how goes the day with us?" "Very well," replied Hardy; "ten ships have struck, but five of the van have tacked, and show an intention to bear down upon the Victory. I have called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing.'

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with a heart almost bursting, hastened up on deck. By this time all feeling below the breast was gone; and Nelson, having made the surgeon ascertain this, said to him: "You know I am gone. I know it. I feel something rising in my breast," putting his hand on his left side, "which tells me so.” And upon Beatty's inquiring whether his pain was very great, he replied, "So great that he wished he was dead Yet," said he, in a lower voice," one would like to live a little longer too!" And after a few minutes in the same undertone, he added: "What would become of poor Lady Hamilton, if she knew my situation!" Next to his country she occupied his thoughts.

Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned; and, again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly; but fourteen or fifteen at least. "That's well," cried Nelson, "but I bargained for twenty." And then, in a stronger voice, he said: "Anchor, Hardy; anchor." Hardy, upon this, hinted that Admiral Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. "Not while I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavoring to

Many a hundred years passed over have they labored deaf and blind; Never tidings reached their sorrow, never hope their toil might find. Now at last they've heard and hear it, and the cry comes down the wind, And their feet are marching on. O ye rich men, hear and tremble, for with words the sound is rife:

"Once for you and death we labored: changed henceforward is the strife, We are men, and we shall battle for the world of men and life;

And our host is marching on."

"Is it war, then? Will ye perish as the dry wood in the fire?

Is it peace? then be ye of us, let your hope be our desire.

Come and live! for life awaketh, and the world shall never tire:

And the hope is marching on." "On we march then, we the workers, and the rumor that ye hear Is the blended sound of battle and deliv

'rance drawing near; For the hope of every creature is the banner that we bear,


"I hope," said Nelson, "that none of our ships have struck!" Hardy answered, "There was no fear of that.” Then, and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself; I am going fast: it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to me. Let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things belonging to me.' Hardy observed that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of life. "O no," he replied; "it is impossible. My back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so." Hardy then, once more, shook hands with him, and

And the world is marching on." Hark the rolling of the thunder? Lo, the sun! and lo, thereunder Riseth wrath and hope and wonder And the host comes marching on. "The March of the Workers," by William Morris


raise himself from the bed: 66 do you anchor." His previous orders for preparing to anchor had shown clearly he foresaw the necessity of this. Presently, calling Hardy back, he said to him, in alow voice; "Don't throw me overboard;" and he desired that he might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the King to order otherwise. Then reverting to private feelings: "Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton, Hardy: take care of poor Lady Hamilton. Kiss me, Hardy," said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek; and Nelson said, "Now I am satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty!" Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God bless you, Hardy," And Hardy then left him-forever. Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, "I wish I had not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone." Death was, indeed, rapidly approaching. He said to the chaplain, "Doctor, I have not been a great sinner;" and after a short pause, "" Remember that I leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter Horatia as a legacy to my country." His articulation now became difficult; but he was distinctly heard to say, "Thank God, I have done my duty!" These words he repeatedly pronounced; and they were the last words which he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four-three hours and a quarter after he had received his wound. -Robert Southey.

Je Je

People do not lack strength; they lack will.-Victor Hugo.

SOUL stood on the bank of the

River of Life, and it had to cross it. And first it found a reed, and it tried to cross with it. But the reed ran into its hand at the top in fine splinters and bent when it leaned on it. Then the soul found a staff and it tried to cross with it: and the sharp end ran into the ground, and the soul tried to draw it, but it could not; and it stood in the water by its staff.

Then it got out and found a broad

thick log, and it said, "With this I will cross." And it went down into the water. But the log was too buoyant, it floated, and almost drew the soul from its feet.

And the soul stood on the bank and cried: "Oh, River of Life! How am I to cross; I have tried all roads and they have failed me?"

And the River answered, "Cross me alone." ❤

And the soul went down into the water, and it crossed.-" The River of Life,' by Olive Schreiner.

Joy is not in things; it is in us.-Wagner.

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HEN thou seest the great prelates with splendid mitres of gold and precious stones on their heads, and silver croziers in hand; there they stand at the altar, decked with fine copes and stoles of brocade, chanting those beautiful vespers and masses, very slowly, and with so many grand ceremonies, so many organs and choristers, that thou art struck with amazement....

Men feed upon the vanities and rejoice in these pomps, and say that the Church of Christ was never so flourishing, nor divine worship so well conducted as at present. . . . likewise that the first prelates were inferior to these of our own times. The former, it is true, had fewer gold mitres and fewer chalices, for indeed what few they possessed were broken up to relieve the needs of the poor; whereas our prelates, for the sake of obtaining chalices, will rob the poor of their sole means of support. But dost thou know what I would tell thee? In the primitive church the chalices were of wood, the prelates of gold; in these days the Church hath chalices of gold and prelates of wood.-Savonarola.


Quiet minds can not be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm.

-Robert Louis Stevenson.


Consider how few things are worthy of anger, and thou wilt wonder that any fools should be wroth.-Robert Dodsley.

to be perturbed or clouded. Each knows more than can be uttered; each lives by faith, and believes by a natural compulsion; and between man and wife the language of the body is largely developed and grown strangely eloquents The thought that prompted and was conveyed in a caress would only lose to be set down in words-ay, although Shakespeare himself should be the scribe. -Robert Louis Stevenson.


T takes," says Thoreau, in the noblest and most useful passage I remember to have read in any modern author, two to speak truth-one to speak and another to hear.” He must be very little experienced, or have no great zeal for truth, who does not recognize the fact. A grain of anger or a grain of suspicion produces strange acoustical effects, and makes the ear greedy to remark offence. Hence we find those who have once quarreled carry themselves distantly, and are ever ready to break the truce. To speak truth there must be moral equality or else no respect; and

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hence between parent and child inter-OUTH has a certain melancholy
and sadness, while Age is valiantly
cheerful .
A chief lesson of youth
should be to learn to enjoy solitude-
a source of peace and happiness...
In my
years of youth I was delighted when the
doorbell rang, for I thought, now it
(the great romantic adventure) had
come. But in later years my feeling on
the same occasion had something rather
akin to terror-I thought, there it comes!

course is apt to degenerate into a verbal
fencing bout, and misapprehensions to
become ingrained. And there is another
side to this, for the parent begins with
an imperfect notion of the child's char-
acter, formed in early years or during
the equinoctial gales of youth; to this
he adheres, noting only the facts which
suit with his preconception; and wher-
ever a person fancies himself unjustly
judged, he at once and finally gives up
the effort to speak truth so With our
chosen friends, on the other hand, and
still more between lovers (for mutual
understanding is love's essence), the
truth is easily indicated by the one and
aptly comprehended by the other.
A hint taken, a look understood, con-
veys the gist of long and delicate ex-
planations; and where the life is known,
even yea and nay become luminous. In
the closest of all relations-that of a
love well-founded and equally shared-
speech is half discarded, like a round-
about infantile process or a ceremony of
formal etiquette; and the two com-
municate directly by their presences,
and with few looks and fewer words con-
trive to share their good and evil and
uphold each other's hearts in joy. For
love rests upon a physical basis; it is a
familiarity of nature's making and apart
from voluntary choice. Understanding
has in some sort outrun knowledge, for
the affection perhaps began with the
acquaintance; and as it was not made
like other relations, so it is not, like them,

Co-operation is not a sentiment-it is an economic necessity.-Charles Steinmetz.

J0 90

To write well is to think well, to feel well, and to render well; it is to possess at once intellect, soul, and taste.-Buffon.

SPIRITUAL forces when manifested

in man exhibit a sequence, a succession of steps. It follows, therefore, that when a man at, one period of his life has omitted to put forth his strength in a work which he knows to be in harmony with the divine order of things, there comes a time, sooner or later, when a void will be perceived; when the fruits of his omitted action ought to have appeared, and do not; they are the missing links in the chain of consequences. The measure of that void is the measure of his past inaction, and that man will never quite reach the same level of attainment that he might have touched, had he divinely energized his lost moments. -Friedrich Froebel.

Whoever serves his country well has no need of ancestors.-Voltaire.


N sober verity I will confess a truth to thee, reader. I love a Fool-as naturally as if I were of kith and kin to him. When a child, with childlike apprehensions, that dived not below the surface of the matter, I read those Parables-not guessing at the involved wisdom-I had more yearnings towards that simple architect, that built his house upon the sand, than I entertained for his more cautious neighbor; I grudged at the hard censure pronounced upon the quiet soul that kept his talent; and-prizing their simplicity beyond the more provident and, to my apprehension, somewhat unfeminine wariness of their competitors-I felt a kindness, that almost amounted to a tendre, for those five thoughtless virgins. I have never made an acquaintance since that lasted, or a friendship that answered, with any that had not some tincture of the absurd in their characters I venerate an honest obliquity of understanding. The more laughable blunders a man shall commit in your company, the more tests he giveth you that he will not betray or overreach you. I love the safety which a palpable hallucination warrants, the security which a word out of season ratifies. And take my word for this, reader, and say a fool told it you, if you please, that he who hath not a dram of folly in his mixture hath points of much worse matter in his composition. It is observed that "the foolisher the fowl, or fish, woodcocks, dotterels, cod's

head, etc., the finer the flesh thereof;" and what are commonly the world's received fools but such whereof the world is not worthy? And what have been some of the kindliest patterns of our species, but so many darlings of absurdity, minions of the goddess, and her white boys? Reader, if you wrest my words beyond their fair construction, it is you, and not I, that are the April Fool. -Charles Lamb.

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It hain't no use to grumble and complane;

It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice.When God sorts out the weather and sends rain,

W'y rain's my choice.

HAUER'S character was made up of that combination of seeming contradictions which is the peculiarity of all great men. He had the audacity of childhood, and the timidity of genius s He was suspicious of every one, and ineffably kindhearted. With stupidity in every form he was blunt, even to violence; yet his manner and courtesy were such as is attributed to gentlemen of the old school. If he was an egotist, he was also charitable to excess; and who shall say that charity is not the egotism of great natures? He was honesty itself, and yet thought every one wished to cheat him. To mislead a possible thief he labeled his valuables Arcana Medica, put his bank notes in dictionaries and his gold pieces in ink bottles. He slept on the ground floor, that he might escape easily in case of fire. If he heard a noise at night he snatched at a pistol, which he kept loaded at his bedside. Kant's biography is full of similar vagaries, and one has but to turn to the history of any of the thinkers whose

Men ginerly, to all intents—

Although they're apt to grumble somePuts most theyr trust in Providence, And takes things as they come

That is, the commonality

Of men that's lived as long as me Has watched the world enugh to learn They're not the boss of this concern. With some, of course, it's differentI've saw young men that knowed it all, And did n't like the way things went On this terrestchul ball;

But all the same, the rain, some way, Rained jest as hard on picnic day; Er, when they railly wanted it, It mayby would n't rain a bit! In this existunce, dry and wet

Will overtake the best of menSome little skift o' clouds 'll shet The sun off now and then.

(Concluded on next page)

names are landmarks in literature, to find that eccentricities no less striking have also been recorded of them. -Edgar Saltus.

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is for a man too sud

denly or too easily to believe himself. Wherefore let us examine, watch, observe, and inspect our own hearts, for we ourselves are our greatest flatterers. We should every night call ourselves to an account I What infirmity have I mastered today? What passion opposed? What temptation resisted? What virtue acquired? s Our vices will abate

of themselves if they be brought every day to the shrift.Oh the blessed sleep that follows such a diary!

Oh the tran-
quillity, liberty,
and greatness of
that mind which
is a spy upon it-
self, and a private
censor upon its
own manners!
It is my custom
every night, so
soon as the candle is out, to run over the
words and actions of the past day; and I
let nothing escape me, for why should
I fear the sight of my errors when I can
admonish and forgive myself? I was a
little too hot in such a dispute; my
opinion might well have been withheld,
for it gave offence and did no good. The
thing was true; but all truths are not to
be spoken at all times.

I would I had held my tongue, for there
is no contending, either with fools or
with our superiors. I have done ill, but
it shall be so no more.
If every man would but then look into

himself, it would be the better for us all. What can be more reasonable than this daily review of a life that we can not warrant for a moment? Our fate is set, and the first breath we draw is only our first motion toward our last. There is a great variety in our lives, but all tends to the same issue.

We are born to lose and to perish, to hope and to fear, to vex ourslves and others, and there is no antidote against a common calamity but virtue; for the foundation of true joy is in the conscience o


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IN every man's

life pilgrimage, however unblest, there are holy places where he is made to feel his kinship with the Divine; where the heavens bend low over his head and angels come and minister unto him so These are the places of sacrifice, the meeting-ground of mor

"Wet-Weather Talk," by James Whitcomb Riley tal and immortal,

And mayby, whilse you're wundern who
You've fool-like lent your umbrelľ to,
And want it-out'll pop the sun,
And you'll be glad you hain't got none!
It aggervates the farmers, too-
They's too much wet, er too much sun,
Er work, er waitin' round to do
Before the plowin' 's done:

And mayby, like as not, the wheat,
Jest as it's lookin' hard to beat,
Will ketch the storm—and jest about
The time the corn's a-jintin' out.
These-here cy-clones a-foolin' round-
And back'ard crops!—and wind and


And yit the corn that's wallerd down
May elbow up again!—

They hain't no sense, as I can see,
Fer mortuls, sich as us, to be
A-faultin' Natchur's wise intents,
And lockin' horns with Providence!
It hain't no use to grumble and complane;
It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice.
When God sorts out the weather and
sends rain,

W'y, rain's my choice.

the tents of trial wherein are waged the great spiritual combats of man's life. Here are the tears and agonies and the bloody sweat of Gethsemane Happy the man who, looking back, can say of himself: "Here, too, was the victory!"

-Michael Monahan. 80 80

Habit is a cable; we weave a thread of it every day, and at last we can not break it.-Horace Mann.

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The highest and most lofty trees have the most reason to dread the thunder. -Charles Rollin.

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