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Et se sentaie mense met 17 1 12 mes: hond dear te Kazu me neve a me II DE Being Tazze Les Zam Zara a I we Zamiror Is De Sar sat je Zarty net town and essent 1 ex ac Jean a • Now I am ied Thank God I LETE LOTE THIT Barty STOUT over mп siene i a moment or two tier met agent and set un ieat Win a ta?” sat Rawory and teng miomet ie repied, " Gut Des you Barcy' And Hardy fier et um-ieve. TeanT now dested to be turned upon is side, and said, I v I at no iet She deck: for 1 shal soon be gone." Deati wa mised randy approaching He said to the chapiam Duca have not been a great simmer anć after a short pause. Remember that I leave Lady Hamitor and my daughe Horatia as a legacy to my country.” His articulation now became difficul but he was distinctly heard to sET. 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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2K for the great prelates VIII Spendio magoid and PRECIOS SOCs of her heads, and sive Comes in hand there they stand

theater deed with fie copes and socess of bracate, charting those beautiju vesen and messes very slowly, and Wii si many grand ceremonies, so many orgats and charters that thou art STUCK WHr amazement . . .

lúer feed upon the vanities and rejoice in these pores and say that the Church of Cirst was never so flourishing, nor divine WORST st wel conducted as at present. . . . likewise that the first prelaces were mierior to these of our own times. The former, it is true, had fewer goid miss 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 obtaming 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, 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.

the fear he inspired was caused only by the singular effect of his personality upon almost every one who had intercourse with him. I had seen men worthy of high respect; I had also seen ferocious men: there was nothing in the impression Bonaparte produced upon me which could remind me of men of either type. I soon perceived, on the different occa

O my luve's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June; O my luve's like the melodie

That's sweetly played in tune.

sions when I met

him during his stay in Paris, that his

character could not be defined by the words we are accustomed to make

use of: he was neither kindly nor

As fair thou art, my bonnie lass, violent, neither

ENERAL BONAPARTE made himself as conspicuous by his character and his intellect as by his victories, and the imagination of the French began to be touched by him [1797]. His proclamations to the Cisalpine and Ligurian republics were talked of.... A tone of moderation and of dignity pervaded his style, which contrasted with the revolutionary harshness of the civil rulers of France. The warrior spoke in those days like a lawgiver, while the lawgivers expressed themselves with soldier-like violence. General Bonaparte had not executed in his army the decrees against the émigrés. It was said that he loved his wife, whose character is full of sweetness; it was asserted that he felt the beauties of Ossian; it was a pleasure to attribute to him all the generous qualities that form a noble background for extraordinary

So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt, wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare-thee weel, my only luve!

And fare-thee well, a while! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile. "A Red, Red Rose," by Robert Burns

abilities. Such at least was my own mood when I saw him for the first time in Paris. I could find no words with which to reply to him when he came to me to tell me that he had tried to visit my father at Coppet, and that he was sorry to have passed through Switzerland without seeing him. But when I had somewhat recovered from the agitation of admiration, it was followed by a feeling of very marked fear. Bonaparte then had no power; he was thought even to be more or less in danger from the vague suspiciousness of the Directory; so that

gentle nor cruel, after the fashion

of other men. Such a being, so unlike others, could neither excite nor

feel sympathy: he

was more or less than man. His bearing, his mind, his language have the marks of a foreigner's nature

an advantage the more in subjugating Frenchmen..

Far from being reassured by seeing Bonaparte often, he always intimidated me more and more. I felt vaguely that no emotional feeling could influence him. He regards a human creature as a fact or a thing, but not as an existence like his own. He feels no more hate than love. For him there is no one but himself: all other creatures are mere ciphers. The force of his will consists in the imperturbable calculations of his egotism: he is an able chess-player whose opponent is all humankind, whom he intends to checkmate. His success is due as much to the qualities he lacks as to the talents he possesses. Neither pity, nor sympathy, nor religion, nor attach

ment to any idea whatsoever would have power to turn him from his path. He has the same devotion to his own interests that a good man has to virtue: if the object were noble, his persistency would be admirable.

to much greater advantage on horseback than on foot; in all ways it is war, and war only, he is fitted for. His manner in society is constrained without being timid; it is disdainful when he is on his guard, and vulgar when he is at ease; his air of disdain suits him best, and so he is not sparing in the use of it. He took pleasure already in the part of embarrassing people by saying disagreeable things: an art which he has since made a system of, as of all other methods of subjugating men by degrading them. -Madame de Stael

When Earth's last picture is painted,

and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it-lie down for an eon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew!

Every time that I heard him talk I was struck by his superiority; it was of a kind, however, that had no relation to that of men instructed and cultivated by study, or by society, such as England and France possess examples of. But his conversation indicated that quick perception of circumstances the hunter has in pursuing his prey. Sometimes he related the political and military events of his life in a very interesting manner; he had even, in narratives that admitted gaiety, a touch of Italian imagination. Nothing however, could conquer my invincible alienation from what I perceived in him. I saw in his soul a

And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair; They shall find real saints to draw from— Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; And no one shall work for money, and and no one shall work for fame; But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star

Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are! "L'Envoi," by Rudyard Kipling


cold and cutting sword, which froze while wounding; I saw in his mind a profound irony, from which nothing fine or noble could escape, not even his own glory: for he despised the nation whose suffrages he desired; and no spark of enthusiasm mingled with his craving to astonish the human race. . . His face, thin and pale at that time, was very agreeable: since then he has gained flesh-which does not become him; for one needs to believe such a man to be tormented by his own character, at all to tolerate the sufferings this character causes others. As his stature is short, and yet his waist very long, he appeared

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HE most joyful thing I know is the peace, the silence, that one enjoys in the woods or on the tilled lands. One sees a poor, heavily laden creature with a bundle of fagots advancing from a narrow path in the fields. The manner in which this figure comes suddenly before one is a momentary reminder of the fundamental condition of human life, toil. On the tilled land around, one watches figures hoeing and digging. One sees how this or that one rises and wipes away the sweat with the back of his hand. "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." Is that merry, enlivening work? And yet it is here that I find the true humanity, the great poetry.

-Jean Francois Millet.

ND now, having seen a great military march through a friendly country, the pomps and festivities of more than one German court, the severe struggle of a hotly contested battle, and the triumph of victory, Mr. Esmond beheld another part of military duty; our troops entering the enemy's territory and putting all around them to fire and sword; burning farms, wasted fields, shrieking women, slaughtered sons and fathers, and drunken soldiery, cursing and carousing in the midst of tears, terror, and murder. Why does the stately Muse of History, that delights in describing the valor of heroes and the grandeur of conquest, leave out these scenes, so brutal, and degrading, that yet form by far the greater part of the drama of war? You gentlemen of England, who live at home at ease and compliment yourselves in the songs of triumph with which our chieftains are bepraised; you pretty maidens that come tumbling down the stairs when the fife and drum call you, and huzza for the British Grenadiersdo you take account that these items go to make up the amount of triumph you admire, and form part of the duties of the heroes you fondle?

Our chief (the Duke of Marlborough), whom England and all Europe, saving only the Frenchmen, worshiped almost, had this of the god-like in him: that he was impassible before victory, before danger, before defeat. Before the greatest obstacle or the most trivial ceremony; before a hundred thousand men drawn in battalia, or a peasant slaughtered at the door of his burning hovel; before a carouse of drunken German lords, or a monarch's court, or a cottage table where his plans were laid, of an enemy's battery, vomiting flame and death and strewing corpses round about him-he was always cold, calm, resolute, like fate. He performed a treason or a court bow, he told a falsehood as black as Styx, as easily as he paid a compliment or spoke about the weather. He took a mistress and left her, he betrayed his benefactor and supported him, or would have murdered him, with the same calmness

always and having no more remorse than Clotho when she weaves the thread, or Lachesis when she cuts it. In the hour of battle I have heard the Prince of Savoy's officers say the prince became possessed with a sort of warlike fury: his eyes lighted up; he rushed hither and thither, raging; shrieked curses and encouragement, yelling and harking his bloody war-dogs on, and himself always at the first of the hunt. Our duke was as calm at the mouth of a cannon as at the door of a drawing-room. Perhaps he could not have been the great man he was had he had a heart either for love or hatred, or pity or fear, or regret or remorse. He achieved the highest deed of daring, or deepest calculation of thought, as he performed the very meanest action of which a man is capable; told a lie or cheated a fond woman or robbed a poor beggar of a halfpenny, with a like awful serenity, and equal capacity of the highest and lowest acts of our nature. His qualities were pretty well-known in the army, where there were parties of all politics, and of plenty of shrewdness and wit; but there existed such a perfect confidence in him, as the first captain of the world, and such a faith and admiration in his prodigious genius and fortune, that the very men whom he notoriously cheated of their pay, the chiefs whom he used and injured-for he used all men, great and small, that came near him, as his instruments, alike, and took something of theirs, either some quality or some property: the blood of a soldier, it might be, or a jeweled hat or a hundred thousand crowns from the king, or a portion out of a starving sentinel's three farthings; or when he was young, a kiss from a woman, and the gold chain off her neck, taking all he could from woman or man, and having, as I said, this of the godlike in him, that he could see a hero perish or a sparrow fall with the same amount of sympathy for either. Not that he had no tears, he could always order up this reserve at the proper moment to battle; he could draw upon tears or smiles alike, and whenever need was for using this cheap coin. He would cringe to a shoeblack, and he would

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