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raise himself from the bed: "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.

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

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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.

T takes," says Thoreau, in the noblest and most useful passage I remember to have read in any modern author, 66 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 recog. nize 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 hence between parent and child intercourse 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 character, 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 wherever a person fancies himself unjustly judged, he at once and finally gives up the effort to speak truth 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, conveys the gist of long and delicate explanations; 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 sharedspeech is half discarded, like a roundabout infantile process or a ceremony of formal etiquette; and the two communicate directly by their presences, and with few looks and fewer words contrive 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,

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(PIRITUAL 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.

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

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.

Men ginerly, to all intents

Although they're apt to grumble some— Puts most theyr trust in Providence, And takes things as they come— That is, the commonality

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 friend. ship that answered, with any that had

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 different-
I'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

not I, that are the

April Fool.

-Charles Lamb.


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

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

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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 hallu. cination 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

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

-Edgar Saltus.

IT is dangerous 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

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 tranquillity, liberty, and greatness of that mind which is a spy upon itself, and a private censor upon its own manners!

It is my custom every night, so

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.

And mayby, whilse you're wundern who
You've fool-like lent your umbrell' to,
And want it-out'll pop the sun,
And you'll be glad you hain't got none!
It aggervates the farmers, too-

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 s

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

ECONDLY, I enjoin and require that no ecclesiastic, missionary, or minister of any sect whatsoever, shall ever hold or exercise any station or duty whatsoever in the said College; nor shall any such person ever be admitted for any purpose, or as a visitor, within the premises appropriated to the purposes of the said College: In making this restriction, I do not mean to cast any reflection upon any sect or person whatsoever; but as there is such a multitude of sects, and such a diversity of opinion amongst them, I desire to keep the tender minds of the orphans, who are to derive advantage from this bequest, free from the excitement which clashing doctrines and sectarian controversy are so apt to produce; my desire is, that all the instructors and teachers in the college, shall take pains to instill into the minds of the scholars, the purest principles of morality, so that, on their entrance into active life, they may, from inclination and habit, evince benevolence toward their fellow creatures, and a love of truth, sobriety and industry, adopting at the same time, such religious tenets as their matured reason may enable them to prefer. From the Will of Stephen Girard.

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RIENDS: I know how vain it is to gild a grief with words, and yet I wish to take from every grave its fear. Here in this world, where life and death are equal kings, all should be brave enough to meet with all the dead have met. The future has been filled with fear, stained and polluted by the heartless past. From the wondrous tree of life the buds and blossoms fall with ripened fruit, and in the common bed of earth, the patriarchs and babes sleep side by side. Why should we fear that which will come to all that is?

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We can not tell, we do not know, which is the greater blessing-life or death. We do not know whether the grave is the end of this life, or the door of another, or whether the night here is not somewhere else a dawn. Neither can we tell which is the more fortunate the child dying in its mother's arms, before its lips have learned to form a word, or he who journeys all the length of life's uneven road, painfully taking the last slow steps with staff and crutch. Every cradle asks us, Whence? and every coffin, Whither?" The poor barbarian, weeping above his dead, can answer these questions as intelligently as the robed priest of the most authentic creed. The tearful ignorance of the one is just as consoling as the learned and unmeaning words of the other. No man, standing where the horizon of a life has touched a grave, has any right to prophesy a future filled with pain and tears. It may be that death gives all there is of worth to life. If those we press and strain against our hearts could never die, perhaps that love would wither from the earth. Maybe this common fate treads from out the paths between our hearts the weeds of selfishness and hate, and I had rather live and love where death is king, than have eternal life where love is not. Another life is naught, unless we know and love again the ones who love us here. They who stand with aching hearts around this little grave need have no fear. The larger and the nobler faith in all that is and is to be, tells us that death, even at its worst, is only perfect

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