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it. He is supposed to be a moon which has one side dark and the other bright. But the other side, though you don't see it, is not dark; it is bright, and its rays penetrate, and others do see it who are not God.

I would take this opportunity to tell

R. ROGERS was compli-
mented on his energy,his fore-
sightedness and compliment-
ed in various ways, and
he has deserved those com-
pliments, although I say it myself; and I
enjoy them all. There is one side of Mr.
Rogers that has not
been mentioned.
If you will leave
that to me I will
touch upon that.
There was a note
in an editorial in
one of the Nor-
folk papers this
morning that
touched upon that
very thing, that
hidden side of Mr.
Rogers, where it
spoke of Helen Kel-
ler and her affec-
tion for Mr. Rogers
to whom she dedi-
cated her life book.
And she has a right
to feel that way,
because, without
the public know-
ing anything about
it, he rescued, if
I may use that

For they starve the little frightened child
Till it weeps both night and day:
And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool,
And gibe the old and gray,
And some grow mad, and all grow bad,
And none a word may say.

Each narrow cell in which we dwell

term, that marvelous girl, that wonderful Southern girl, that girl who was stone deaf, blind, and dumb from scarlet-fever when she was baby eighteen months old; and who now is as well


Is a foul and dark latrine,
And the fetid breath of living Death
Chokes up each grated screen.
And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
In Humanity's machine.

The brackish water that we drink

Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed, and cries to Time.


And every human heart that breaks,
In prison-cell or yard,

Is as that broken box that gave
Its treasure to the Lord,
And filled the unclean leper's house

With the scent of costliest nard.

Ah! happy they whose hearts can break
And peace of pardon win:

How else may man make straight his plan
And cleanse his soul from Sin?

How else but through a broken heart
May Lord Christ enter in?

"The Ballad of Reading Gaol," by Oscar Wilde

and thoroughly educated as any woman on this planet at twenty-nine years of age. She is the most marvelous person of her sex that has existed on this earth since Joan of Arc.

That is not all Mr. Rogers has done; but you never see that side of his chraacter, because it is never protruding; but he lends a helping hand daily out of that generous heart of his. You never hear of

something that I have never been allowed to tell by Mr. Rogers, either by my mouth or in print, and if I don't look at him I can tell it now.

In 1893, when the publishing company of Charles L. Webster, of which I was financial agent, failed, it left me heavily in debt. If will remem

you ber what commerce was at that time you will recall that you could not sell anything, and could not buy anything, and I was on my back; my books were not worth anything at all, and I could not give away my copyrights. Mr. Rogers had long enough vision ahead to say, "Your books have supported you before, and after the panic is over they will support you again," and that

was a correct proposition. He saved my copyrights, and saved me from financial ruin. He it was who arranged with my creditors to allow me to roam the face of the earth for four years and persecute the nations thereof with lectures, promising that at the end of four years I would pay dollar for dollar. That arrangement was made; otherwise I would now be living out-of-doors under an umbrella, and a


borrowed one at that. You see his mustache and his head trying to get white (he is always trying to look like me-I don't blame him for that). These are only emblematic of his character, and that is all. I say, without exception, hair and all, he is the whitest man I have ever known.-Mark Twain. (From speech delivered at banquet to H. H. Rogers.)

THEN a man's deeds are discovered

after death, his angels, who are inquisitors, look into his face, and extend their examination over his whole body, beginning with the fingers of each hand. I was surprised at this, and the reason was thus explained to me:

Every volition and thought of man is inscribed on his brain; for volition and thought have their beginnings in the brain, thence they are conveyed to the bodily members, wherein they terminate. Whatever, therefore, is in the mind is in the brain, and from the brain in the body according to the order of its parts. So a man writes his life in his physique, and thus the angels discover his autobiography in his structure.



T takes a great deal of boldness mixed with a vast deal of caution, to acquire a great fortune; but then it takes ten times as much wit to keep it after you have got it as it took to make it.

-Mayer A. Rothschild.

O the beloved and deplored memory of her who was the inspirer, and in part the author, of all that is best in my writings-the friend and wife whose exalted sense of truth and right was my strongest incitement, and whose approbation was my chief reward-I dedicate this volume. Like all that I have written for many years, it belongs as much to her as to me; but the work as it stands has had, in a very insufficient degree, the inestimable advantage of her revision; some of the most important portions having been reserved for a more careful examination, which they are now destined never to receive. Were I but capa

ble of interpreting to the world onehalf the great thoughts and noble feelings which are buried in her grave, I should be the medium of a greater benefit to it, than is ever likely to arise from anything that I can write, unprompted and unassisted by her all but unrivaled wisdom.-John Stuart Mill. (Dedication to "On Liberty.")

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APPINESS itself is sufficient excuse. Beautiful things are right and true; so beautiful actions are those pleasing to the gods. Wise men have an inward sense of what is beautiful, and the highest wisdom is to trust this intuition and be guided by it. The answer to the last appeal of what is right lies within a man's own breast. Trust thyself.-Aristotle.

HE canons of scientific evidence

justify us neither in accepting nor rejecting the ideas upon which morality and religion repose. Both parties to the dispute beat the air; they worry their own shadow; for they pass from Nature into the domain of speculation, where their dogmatic grips find nothing to lay hold upon. The shadows which they hew to pieces grow together in a moment like the heroes in Valhalla, to rejoice again in bloodless battles Metaphysics can no longer claim to be the cornerstone of religion and morality. But if she can not be the Atlas that bears the moral world she can furnish a magic defense. Around the ideas of religion she throws her bulwark of invisibility; and the sword of the skeptic and the battering-ram of the materialist fall harmless on vacuity.

-Immanuel Kant.

Let our schools teach the nobility of labor and the beauty of human service, but the superstitions of ages pastnever!-Peter Cooper.

The ruin of most men dates from some idle moment.-George S. Hillard.

A great thing is a great book; but a greater thing than all is the talk of a great man.-Disraeli.

HAT knowledge is of most worth? The uniform reply is: Science. This is the verdict on all counts For direct self-preservation, or the maintenance of life and health, the all-important knowledge is science. For that indirect self-preservation which we call gaining a livelihood, the knowledge of greatest value is-science. For the discharge of parental functions, the proper guidance is to be found only in science. For the interpretation of national life, past and present, without which the citizen can not rightly regulate his conduct, the indispensable key is science. Alike for the most perfect production and present enjoyment of art in all its forms, the needful preparation is stillscience. And for purposes of disciplineintellectual, moral, religious-the most efficient is. once more science.

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WHEN I meet a laborer on the edge

of a field, I stop and look at the man born amid the grain where he will be reaped, and turning up with his plow the ground of his tomb, mixing his burning sweat with the icy rain of Autumn. The furrow he has just turned is a monument that will outlive him. I have seen the pyramids of Egypt, and the forgotten furrows of our heather: both alike bear witness to the work of man and the shortness of his days.-Chateaubriand.

HE last moments which Nelson passed at Merton were employed in praying over his little daughter as she lay sleeping. A portrait of Lady Hamilton hung in his cabin; and no Catholic ever beheld the picture of his patron saint with more devout reverence. The undisguised and romantic passion with which he regarded it amounted almost to superstition; and when the portrait was now taken down, in clearing for action, he desired the man who removed it to "take care of his guardian angel." In this manner he frequently spoke of it, as if he believed there was a virtue in the image. He wore a miniature of her also next to his heart.-Robert Southey.

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Y DEAR SPENCER: Your telegram which reached me on Friday evening caused me great perplexity, inasmuch as I had just been talking to Morley, and agreeing with him that the proposal for a funeral in Westminster Abbey had a very questionable look to us, who desired nothing so much as that peace and honor should attend George Eliot to her grave e J

It can hardly be doubted that the proposal will be bitterly opposed, possibly (as happened in Mill's case with less provocation) with the raking up of past histories, about which the opinion even of those who have least the desire or the right to be pharisaical is strongly divided, and which had better be forgotten s

to Christian practice in regard to marriage, and Christian theory in regard to dogma. How am I to tell the Dean that I think he ought to read over the body of a person who did not repent of what the Church considers mortal sin, a service not one solitary proposition of which she would have accepted for truth while she was alive? How am I to urge him to do that which, if I were in his place, I should most emphatically refuse to do? You tell me that Mrs. Cross wished for the fu

Oh, may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
Inminds made better by their presence; live
In pulses stirred to generosity,

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
For miserable aims that end with self,

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night neral in the Abbey.

like stars,

And with their mild persistence urge man's


To vaster issues.

So to live is heaven:

To make undying music in the world,
Breathing as beauteous order, that


While I desire to entertain the greatest respect for her wishes, I am very sorry to hear it. I do not understand the feeling which could create

With growing sway the growing life of such an unusual de


So we inherit that sweet purity.
For which
For which we struggled, failed and

With widening retrospect that bred despair,
Rebellious flesh that would not be sub-

A vicious parent shaming still its child-
Poor anxious penitence-is quick dis-


sire on any personal grounds save those of affection, and the natural yearning to be near, even in death, those whom we have loved. And on public grounds the wish is still less intelligible to me. One can not eat one's cake and have it too. Those who elect to be free in thought and deed must not hanker after the rewards, if they are to be so called, which the world offers to those who put up with its fetters.

Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies,

(Concluded on next page)

With respect to putting pressure on the Dean of Westminster, I have to consider that he has some confidence in me, and before asking him to do something for which he is pretty sure to be violently assailed, I have to ask myself whether I really think it a right thing for a man in his position to do. Now I can not say I do. However much I may lament the circumstance, Westminster Abbey is a Christian Church and not a Pantheon, and the Dean thereof is officially a Christian priest, and we ask him to bestow exceptional Christian honors by this burial in the Abbey George Eliot is known not only as a great writer, but as a person whose life and opinions were in notorious antagonism

Thus, however I look at the proposal, it seems to me to be a profound mistake, and I can have nothing to do with it. I shall be deeply grieved if this resolution is ascribed to any other motives than those which I have set forth at greater length than I intended.

Ever yours very faithfully, T. H.Huxley. (Letter to Herbert Spencer.)

'gio had no power of imagining grandly or severely.... He could not, as it were, sustain a grave and solemn strain of music. He was forced by his temperament to overlay the melody with roulades. Gazing at his frescos, the thought came to me that Correggio was like a man listening to sweetest fluteplaying, and translating phrase after phrase as they passed

Die in the large and charitable air;
And all our rarer, better, truer self,
That sobbed religiously in yearning song,
That watched to ease the burthen of the


Laboriously tracing what must be,

And what may yet be better—saw within
A worthier image for the sanctuary,
And shaped it forth before the multitude
Divinely human, raising worship so

EONARDO painted souls whereof the features and the limbs are but an index. The charm of Michelangelo's ideal is like a flower upon a tree of rugged strength. Raphael aims at the loveliness which can not be disjoined from goodness. But Correggio is contented with bodies "delicate and desirable." His angels are genii disimprisoned from the perfumed chalices of flowers, houris of an erotic paradise, elemental spirits of nature wantoning in Eden in her prime. To accuse the painter of conscious immorality, or of what is stigmatized as sensuality, would be as ridiculous as to class his seraphic beings among the products of the Christian imagination. They belong to the generation of the fauns; like fauns, they combine a certain savage wildness a dithyrambic ecstasy of inspiration, a delight in rapid movements as they revel amid clouds or flow

ers, with the perma


higherreverence more mixed withlove-
That better self shall live till human Time
Shall fold its eyelids and the human sky
Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb
Unread forever.

This is life to come,
Which martyred men have made more

For us who strive to follow. May I reach
That purest heaven; be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony;
Enkindle generous ardor; feed pure love;
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty-
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused,
And in diffusion even more intense.
So shall I join the choir invisible
Whose music is the gladness of the world.
"Oh, May I Join the Choir Invisible,"

nent and all-pervading sweetness of the master's style. When infantine or childlike, these celestial sylphs are scarcely to be distinguished for any noble quality of beauty from Murillo's cherubs, and are far less divine than the choir of children who attend the Madonna in Titian's "Assumption." But in their boyhood and their prime of youth they acquire a fullness of sensuous vitality and a radiance that are peculiar to Correggio..

As a consequence of the predilection for sensuous and voluptuous forms, Correg

by George Eliot

through his fancy into laughing faces, breezy tresses, and rolling mists. Sometimes a grand

er cadence reached his ear; and then St. Peter with the keys, or St. Augustine of the mighty

brow, or the inspired eyes of St. John took form beBut the light airs neath his pencil s☛ returned, and rose, andlily facesbloomed again for him among the clouds. It is not therefore

in dignity or sublimity that Correggio excels, but in artless grace and melodious tenderness.

Now the mood which Correggio stimulates is one of natural and thoughtless plea

sure. To feel his influence, and at the same moment to be the subject of strong passion, or fierce lust, or heroic resolve, or profound contemplation, or pensive melancholy, is impossible. Wantonness, innocent because unconscious of sin, immoral because incapable of any serious purpose, is the quality which prevails in all that he has painted.

It follows from this analysis that the Correggiosity of Correggio, that which sharply distinguished him from all previous artists, was the faculty of painting

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