Skip to main content

Full text of "Elbert Hubbard S Scrap Book"

See other formats


"1 > o rtn * '''' ' 



SEP 91988 /r "" 

MAI MAY 3 ig 
''1989 




CONTAINING THE INSPIRED 
AND INSPIRING SELECTIONS 
GATHERED DURING A LIFE 
TIME OF DISCRIMINATING 
READING FOR HIS OWN USE 




PRINTED AND MADE INTO A BOOK BY 

PANTAGRAPH PRESS IN BLOOMINGTON, McLEAN COUNTY 

ILLINOIS, WHERE ELBERT HUBBARD WAS BORN 



WM. H. WISE & CO. 
NEW YORK CITY 



Copyright, 1923 
By the Roycrofters ' 

Copyright, 1951 >; 
By Wm. H. Wise & Co., Jhc. 
6616 



Prlntedln 



ff FOREWORD 




Egbert Hubbard was storing up in his Scrap Book 
the fruits of other men ' s genius, he did not contemplate 
a v l ume for publication so* He was merely gathering 
spiritual provisions for his own refreshment and delec- 
tation &* * 

To glance at the pages of his Scrap Book is to realize 
how far and wide he pursued the quest, into what scented rose gardens 
of Poetry, and up what steep slopes of Thought. To Alpine Valleys of 
classical literature it led him, and through forests and swamps of contem- 
porary writing. For him it was the quest that mattered, it was the 
quest he loved s<* * 

The Reader will remember Keats' dream of " a very pleasant life." 

" I had an idea that a Man might pass a very pleasant life 
in this manner : Let him on a certain day read a certain page 
of full Poesy or distilled Prose, and let him wander with it, 
and muse upon it, and reflect from it, and dream upon it: 
until it becomes stale But when will it do so? Never 
When a man has arrived at a certain ripeness in intellect 
any one grand and spiritual passage serves him as a start- 
ing-post towards all the ' two-and-thirty Palaces.' How 
happy is such a voyage of conception, what delicious, dili- 
gent indolence! " 

Elbert Hubbard's lifelong labor has placed in all our hands the power 
to realize Keats' dream. Here in Hubbard's Scrap Book the Reader 
will find " full Poesy " and " distilled Prose," of a pleasing savor to the 
tongue and a strangely nourishing relish to the intelligence. 
Let the reader browse but a moment and to use Keats' image he 
will find the sails of his soul set for one of those high voyages of the 
spirit which give to life its most exalted meaning, and bring back as 
cargo the thrice-tried gold of ecstasy and vision. 

What inspired Elbert Hubbard should set other pulses to beating. 
What stimulated and uplifted him should furnish others with strength 
for the struggle against the eroding sameness of the workaday world. 
Such at least is the purpose to which the book is dedicated; such is the 
pious hope of Elbert Hubbard's literary executors. 

WK 13 1977 THE PUBLISHERS. 






gpSHEREisanandentlegendwrnch 
lM tells us tiat "when a man first 

achieved a most notable deed 
^ he wished to explain to his tribe 

what he had done. As soon as 
he began to speak, however, he was smitten 
with dumbness, he lacked words, and 
sat down. Then there arose according to 
the story a masterless man, one who had 
taken no part in the action of his fellow, 
who had no special virtues, but afflicted 
that is the phrase with the magic of the 
necessary words. He saw, he told, he de- 
scribed the merits of the notable deed in 
such a fashion, we are assured, that the 
words " became alive and walked up and 
down in the hearts of all his hearers." 
Thereupon, the tribe seeing that the words 
were certainly alive, and fearing lest the 
man with the words would hand down untrue 
tales about them to their children, they took 
and killed him. But later they saw that the 
magic was in the words, not in the man. 

Kipling 



ro 



ELBERT HUBBARD'S SCRAP BOOK 




PROVIDENCE AN APOLOGUE 

\ other evening I was a little late in going down to dinner, and 
I this was the reason : I noticed a number of dead bees lying on the 
I floor of the lookout where I am accustomed to work a sight that I 
| encounter every spring. The poor things had come in through the 
<^open window. When the windows were closed they found them- 
/selves prisoners. Unable to see the transparent obstacle, they had 
J hurled themselves against the glass panes on all sides, east, north, 
} south and west, until at last they fell to the floor exhausted, and 
died. But, yesterday, I noticed among the bees, a great drone, 
much stronger than the bees, who was far from being dead, who, in fact, was very much 
alive and was dashing himself against the panes with all his might, like the great beast 
that he was. "Ah ! my fine friend," said I, "it would have been an evil day for you had I 
not come to the rescue. You would have been done for, my fine fellow; before nightfall 
you would be lying dead, and on coming up-stairs, in the evening with my lamp, I would 
have found your poor little corpse among those of the other bees." Come, now, like the 
Emperor Titus I shall mark the day by a good deed : let us save the insect's life. Perhaps 
in the eyes of God a drone is as valuable as a man, and without any doubt it is more 
valuable than a prince. 

I threw open the window, and, by means of a napkin, began chasing the insect toward 
it; but the drone persisted in flying in the opposite direction. I then tried to capture it 
by throwing the napkin over it. When the drone saw that I wished to capture it, it lost 
its head completely; it bounded furiously against the glass panes, as though it would 
smash them, took a fresh start, and dashed itself again and again against the glass. 
Finally it flew the whole length of the apartment, maddened and desperate. " Ah, you 
tyrant!" it buzzed. " Despot! you would deprive me of liberty ! Cruel executioner, why 
do you not leave me alone? I am happy, and why do you persecute me?" 

After trying very hard, I brought it down and, in seizing it with the napkin, I involun- 
tarily hurt it. Oh, how it tried to avenge itself! It darted out its sting; its little nervous 
body, contracted by my fingers, strained itself with all its strength in an attempt to 
sting me. But I ignored its protestations, and, stretching my hand out the window, 
opened the napkin. For a moment the drone seemed stunned, astonished; then it calmly 
took flight out into the infinite. 

Well, you see how I saved the drone. I was its Providence. But (and here is the moral of 
my story) do we not, stupid drones that we are, conduct ourselves in the same manner 
toward the providence of God? We have our petty and absurd projects, our small and 
narrow views, our rash designs, whose accomplishment is either impossible or injurious 
to ourselves. Seeing no farther than our noses and with our eyes fixed on our immediate 
aim, we plunge ahead in our blind infatuation, like madmen. We would succeed, we 
would triumph; that is to say, we would break our heads against an invisible obstacle. 

And when God, who sees all and who wishes to save us, upsets our designs, we stupidly 
complain againstHim, we accuse His Providence. We do not comprehend that in punish- 
ing us, in overturning our plans and causing us suffering, He is doing all this to deliver 
us, to open the Infinite to us. Victor Hugo. 



PageS 



HUBBARD'S 




T is not possible to have the 
true pictures or statues of 
Cyrus, Alexander, Caesar, 
no, nor of the kings or great 
personages of much later 
years; for the originals can not last, and 
the copies can not but leese of the life 
and truth. But the images of men's wits 
and knowledges remain in books, ex- 
empted from the 
wrong of time, and 
capable of perpet- 
ual renovation *^ 
Neither are they 
fitly to be called 
images, because 



Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 
Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea: 
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate. 
For, lot my own shall come to me. 



they generate still, 
and cast their seeds 
the minds of 



Asleep, awake, by night or day, 
The friends I seek are seeking me; 
No wind can drive my bark astray, 
Nor change the tide of destiny. 



in 

others, provoking 
and causing infinite 
actions and opin- 
ions in succeeding 
ages :so that, if the 
invention of the 
ship was thought 
so noble, which car- 
rieth riches and 
commodities from 
place to place, and 
consociateth the 
mostremote 
regions in partici- 
pation of their 
fruits, how much 
more are letters to 
be magnified, 
which as ships, 
pass through the 
vast sea of time, 
and make ages so 
distant to participate of the wisdom, 
jlummations, and inventions the one of 
the other? Francis Bacon, 



/ stay my haste, I make delays: 
For what avails this eager pace? 
I stand amid the eternal ways, 
And what is mine shall know my face. 



tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains 
had washed them out. Orange, yellow 
and scarlet, all are changed to one melan- 
choly russet hue &+ The birds, too, have 
taken wing, and have left their roofless 
dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin, 
not the twitter of an eavesdropping 
swallow, not the carol of one sweet, 
familiar voice. All gone. Only the dis- 
mal cawing of a 
crow, as he sits 
and curses that the 
harvest is over; or 
the chit-chat of an 
idle squirrel, the 
noisy denizen of a 
hollow tree, the 



mendicant friar of 
a large parish, the 
absolute monarch 
of a dozen acorns. 
Longfellow. 



What matter if I stand alone? 
I wait with joy the coming years: 
My heart shall reap where it has sown, 
And garner up the fruit of tears. 

The waters know their own, and draw 
The brook that springs in yonder heights. 
So flows the good with equal law 
Unto the soul of pure delights. 

The stars come nightly to the sky, 
The tidal wave unto the sea; 
Nor time nor space, nor deep nor high, 
Can keep my own away from me. 

"Waiting," by John Burroughs 



X ^^ 

T is the Indian summer. The rising 
% sna blazes through the misty air 
like a coaflagratiom A yellowish, smoky 
liaze fills the atmosphere, and a filmy 
mist lies like a silver lining on the sky. 
Tlie wind is soft and low. It wafts to us 
tfae odor of forest leaves* tfaat fea^g 
wilted on t&e diipf>fei|* IhOTDsdies, or 
drop into the stream. Thor gorgeous 



HAT moods, 
what passions, 
what nights of des- 
pair and gathering 
storms of anger, 
what sudden cruel- 
ties and amazing 
tendernesses are 
buried and hidden 
and implied in 
every love story! 
What a waste is 
there of exquisite 
things! So each 
spring sees a mil- 
lion glorious be- 
ginnings, a sunlit 
heaven in every 
opening leaf, warm perfection in every 
stirring egg, hope and fear and beauty be- 
yond computation in every forest tree; 
and in the autumn before the snows come 
they have all gone of all that incal- 
culable abundance of life, of all that hope 
and adventure, excitement and delicious- 
ness, there is scarcely more to be found 
than a soiled twig, a dirty seed, a dead 
leaf, black mould, or a rotting feather. 

H. G. Wells. 

* . 

Speech is the index of the mind. Seneca. 



Page 9 



'**' 




HE tradition of the stage is 
a tradition of villains and 



War 

I do abhor; 

And yet how sweet 

The sound along the marching street 

Of drum or fife, and I forget 

Broken old mothers, and the whole 

Dark butchering without a soul. 

Without a soul save this bright treat 

Of heady music, sweet as hell; 

And even my peace-abiding feet 

Go marching with the marching street, 

For yonder goes the fife, 

And what care I for human Life! 

The tears fill my astonished eyes, 

And my full heart is like to break, 

And yet it is embannered lies, 

A dream those drummers make. 



heroes. Shakespeare was a 
devout believer in the exis- 
tence of the true villain the 
man whose terrible secret is that his 
fundamental moral impulses are by some 
freak of nature inverted, so that not only 
are love, pity, and honor loathsome to 
him, and the affec- 
tation of them 
which society im- 
poses on him a con- 
stant source of dis- 
gust, but cruelty, 
destruction, and 
perfidy are his 
most luxurious 
passions. This is a 
totally different 
phenomenon from 
the survivals of the 
ape and tiger in the 
normal man. The 
average normal 
man is covetous, 
lazy, selfish; but he 
is not malevolent, 
nor capable of say- 
ing to himself, 
" Evil: be thou my 
good." He only 
does wrong as a 
means to an end, 
which he always 
represents to him- 
self as a right end. 
The case is exactly 
reversed with a 
villain; and it is my 
melancholy duty to add that we some- 
times find it hard to avoid a cynical 
suspicion that the balance of social 
advantage is on the side of gifted vil- 
lainy, since we see the able villain, 
Mephistopheles-like, doing ahuge amount 
of good in order to win the power to do 
a little daring evil, out of which he is as 
likely as not to be cheated in the end; 
whilst your normal respectable man will 
countenance, connive at, and grovel his 
way through all sorts of meanness, base- 
ness, servility, and cruel indifference to 
suffering in order to enjoy a miserable 



tuppence worth of social position, piety, 
comfort, and domestic affection, of which 
he, too, is often ironically defrauded by 
Fate. George Bernard Shaw. 



WAS passing along the street when. 

a beggar, a decrepit old man, 
stopped me. C Swollen, tearful eyes, blue 
lips, bristling rags, 

unclean sores 

Oh, how horribly 
had poverty 
gnawed that un- 
happy being! 
He stretched out 
to me a red, bloat- 
ed, dirty hand. . . 
He moaned, he bel- 
lowed for help. 
I began to rum- 
mage in all my 
pockets . . Neither 
purse, nor watch, 
nor even handker- 
chief did I find . . . 
I had takennothing 
with me. 



And the beggar 
Oh, it is wickedness to clothe 
Yon hideous, grinning thing that stalks 
Hidden in music like a queen 
That in a garden of glory walks, 
Till good men love the thing they loathe; 
Art, thou hast many infamies, 
But not an infamy like this. 
O, snap the fife and still the drum, 
And show the monster as she is. 
"The Illusions of War," by Richard Le Gattienne 



still waited . . ,and 
extended his hand, 
which swayed and 
trembled feebly. 
Bewildered, con- 
fused, I shook that 
dirty, tremulous 
hand heartily .... 
" Blame me not, 
brother; I have 
nothing, brother." 
<t The beggar man fixed his swollen eyes 
upon me; his blue lips smiled and in 
his turn he pressed my cold fingers. 
" Never mind, brother/* he mumbled. 
" Thanks for this also, brother. This 
also is an alms, brother." 
I understood that I had received an alms 
from my brother. " The Beggar Man," 
by Turgenef, 

* ^ 

Drudgery is as necessary to call out the 
treasurers of the mind as harrowing aiKi 
planting those of the earth, 

Margaret Filler* 




Page 10 



O make my readers realize 
what a philosopher is, I 
can only say that / am a 
philosopher. If you ask in- 
credulously," How, then, are 
your articles so interesting?" I reply 
that there is nothing so interesting as 
philosophy, provided its materials are 
not spurious. 

For instance, take my own materials 
humanity and the fine arts. Any studious, 
timorously ambitious bookworm can 
run away from the world with a few 
shelves full of history, essays, descrip- 
tions, and criticisms, and, having pieced 
an illusory humanity and art out of the 
effects produced by his library upon 
his imagination, build some silly sys- 
tematization of his worthless ideas over 
the abyss of his own nescience. Such a 
philosopher is as dull and dry as you 
please; it is he who brings his profession 
into disrepute, especially when he talks 
much about art, and so persuades 
people to read him. Without having 
looked at more than fifty pictures in 
his life, or made up his mind on the 
smallest point about one of the fifty, he 
will audaciously take it upon himself to 
explain the development of painting from 
Zeuxis and Apelles to Raphael and 
Michelangelo $+> $* 

As to the way he will go on about music, 
of which he always has an awe-stricken 
conceit, it spoils my temper to think of 
it, especially when one remembers that 
musical composition is taught (a mon- 
strous pretension) in this country by 
people who read scores, and never by 
any chance listen to performances. 
Now, the right way to go to work 
strange as it may appear is to look at 
pictures until you have acquired the 
power of seeing them. If you look at 
several thousand good pictures every 
year, and form some sort of practical 
judgment about every one of them 
were it only that it is not worth troub- 
ling over then at the end of five years 
or so you will, if you have a wise eye, be 
able to see what is actually in a picture, 
and not what you think is in it. Similarly, 
if you listen critically to music every day 
for a number of years, you will, if ^rou 



have a wise ear, acquire the power of 
hearing music. And so on with all the 
arts .$> $+ 

When we come to humanity it is still the 
same: only by intercourse with men and 
women can we learn anything about it. 
This involves an active life, not a con- 
templative one; for, unless you do some- 
thing in the world, you can have no real 
business to transact with men; and un- 
less you love and are loved, you can have 
no intimate relations with them. And 
you must transact business, wirepull 
politics, discuss religion, give and re- 
ceive hate, love, and friendship with all 
sorts of people before you can acquire 
the sense of humanity. 
If you are to acquire the sense suffi- 
ciently to be a philosopher, you must do 
all these things unconditionally. You 
must not say that you will be a gentle- 
man and limit your intercourse to this 
class or that class; or that you will be a 
virtuous person and generalize about the 
affections from a single instance unless, 
indeed, you have the rare happiness to 
stumble at first upon an all-enlightening 
instance. You must have no convictions, 
because as Nietzsche puts it, " con- 
victions are prisons." Thus, I blush to 
add, you can not be a philosopher and a 
good man, though you may be a philoso- 
pher and a great one. 
You will say, perhaps, that if this be so, 
there should be no philosophers; and 
perhaps you are right; but though I 
make you this handsome concession, I 
do not defer to you to the extent of 
ceasing to exist. 

After all, if you insist on the hangman, 
whose pursuits are far from elevating, 
you may very well tolerate the philoso- 
pher, even if philosophy involves philan- 
dering; or, to put it another way, if, in 
spite of your hangman, you tolerate 
murder within the sphere of war, it may 
be necessary to tolerate comparatively 
venial irregularities within the sphere of 
philosophy &* 

It is the price of progress; and, after 
all, it is the philosopher, and not you, 
who will burn for it. 

^-George Bernard Shaw. 




||HE summits of the Alps. . . . 

^ A whole chain of steep cliffs 
. j ... The very heart of the 
mountains. 
Overhead a bright, mute, 
pale-green sky. A hard, cruel frost; firm, 
sparkling snow; from beneath the snow 
project grim blocks of ice-bound, wind- 
worn cliffs. 

Two huge masses, two giants rise aloft, 
one on each side of the horizon: the 
Jungfrau and the Finsteraarhorn. 
And the Jungfrau says to its neighbor: 
" What news hast thou to tell? Thou 
canst see better. What is going on 
there below? " 

Several thousand years pass by like one 
minute. And the Finsteraarhorn rumbles 
in reply: " Dense clouds veil the earth 
. . . Wait! " 

More thousands of years elapse, as it 
were one minute. 

"Well, what now?"inquires the Jungfrau. 
" Now I can see; down yonder, below, 
everything is still the same: party- 
colored, tiny. The waters gleam blue; 
the forests are black; heaps of stones 
piled up shine gray. Around them small 
beetles are still bustling, thou knowest, 
those two-legged beetles who have as yet 
been unable to defile either thou or me." 
" Men? " 
" Yes, men." 

Thousands of years pass, as it were one 
minute &*+ s*> 

" Well, and what now?" asks the Jung- 
frau *> 

"I seem to see fewer of the little beetles," 
thunders the Finsteraarhorn. " Things 
have become clearer down below; the 
waters have contracted; the forests 
have grown thinner." 
More thousands of years pass, as it were 
one minute. 

" What dost thou see? " says the Jung- 
frau $ <* 

" Things seem to have grown clearer 
round us, close at hand, replies the 
Finsteraarhorn; " well, and yonder, far 
away, in the valleys there is still a spot, 
and something is moving." 
" And now? " inquires the Jungfrau, 
after other thousands of years, which 
are as one minute* 



Page 11 



" Now it is well," replies the Finsteraar- 

horn; "it is clean everywhere, quite 

white, wherever one looks . . . 

" Everywhere is our snow, level snow and 

ice. Everything is congealed. It is well 

now, and calm." 

" Good," said the Jungfrau. "But thou 

and I have chattered enough, old fellow. 

It is time to sleep." 

"It is time!" 

The huge mountains slumber; the green, 

clear heaven slumbers over the earth 

which has grown dumb forever. "A 

Conversation, " based on the fact that 

never yet has human foot trod either the 

Jungfrau or the Finsteraarhorn, by Tur- 

genef 



said, "I see." And they said: 
J-JI " He } s crazy; crucify him." He still 
said: " I see." And they said: " He *s an 
extremist." And they tolerated him. 
And he continued to say: " I see." And 
they said: " He 's eccentric." And they 
rather liked him, but smiled at him. And 
he stubbornly said again: " I see." And 
they said: " There J s something in what 
he says." And they gave him half an ear. 
But he said as if he *d never said it before: 
" I see." And at last they were awake; 
and they gathered about him and built 
a temple in his name. And yet he only 
said: " I see." And they wanted to do 
something for him. " What can we do to 
express to you our regret?" He only 
smiled. He touched them with the ends 
of his fingers and kissed them. What 
could they do for him? " Nothing more 
than you have done," he answered. And 
what was that? they wanted to know. 
" You see," he said, " that 's reward 
enough ; you see, you see." "The Proph- 
et," by Horace TraubeL 

d^ 

<OEMBRANDT belongs to the breed 
f^a of artists which can have no pos- 
terity. His place is with the Michelange- 
los, the Shakespeares, the Beethovens. 
An artistic Prometheus, he stole the 
celestial fire, and with it put life into 
what was inert, and expressed the im- 
material and evasive sides of nature in 
his breathing forms, Emile MidieL 



Page 12 



flUBBARD'S 




TEP by step my investiga- 
tion of blindness led me into 
the industrial world. And 
what a world it is! I must 
face unflinchingly a world of 
facts a world of misery and degrada- 
tion, of blindness, crookedness, and sin, 
a world struggling against the elements, 
against the unknown, against itself. How 
reconcile this world 
of fact with the 
bright world of my 
imagining? * My 
darkness had been 
filled with the light 
of intelligence, and, 
behold, the outer 
day-lit world was 
stumbling and 
groping in social 
blindness. At first 
I was most un- 
happy; but deeper 
study restored my 
confidence $* By 
learning the suffer- 
ings and burdens 
of men, I became 
aware as never be- 
fore of the life- 
power that has sur- 
vived the forces of darkness the power 
which, though never completely victor- 
ious, is continuously conquering. The 
very fact that we are still here carrying 
on the contest against the hosts of 
annihilation proves that on the whole 
the battle has gone for humanity. The 
world's great heart has proved equal to 
the prodigious undertaking which God 
set it. Rebuffed, but always persevering- 
self-reproached, but ever regaining faith; 
undaunted, tenacious, the heart of man, 
labors towards immeasurably distant 
goals* Discouraged not by difficulties 
widKHit, or the anguish of ages witMn* 
the heart listens to a secret voice t&at 
wfxispers: "Be not dismayed; in the 
future lies the Promised Land." 

Helen Kdkr. 

Man is tlie merriest species of the crea- 
tion; aH above or below him are serious* 

Addison. 



Life! we 've been long together 
Through pleasant and through 

cloudy weather; 
*T is hard to part when friends 

are dear 
Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a 

tear; 
Then steal away, give little 

warning, 

Choose thine own time; 
Say not Good-Night but in 

some brighter clime 
Bid me Good-Morning. 

" Life," by Anna Letitia Barbmdd 



"i": HERE has arisen in society a figure 
^^ which is certainly the most mourn- 
ful, and in some respects the most awful, 
upon which the eye of the moralist can 
dwell. That unhappy being whose very 
name is a shame to speak; who coun- 
terfeits with a cold heart the transports 
of affection, and submits herself as the 
passive instrument of lust ; who is scorned 
and insulted as the 
vilest of her sex 
and doomed, for 
the most part, to 
disease and abject 
wretchedness and 
an early death, ap- 
pears in every age 
as the perpetual 
symbol of the deg- 
radation and sin- 
fulness of man j*> 
C Herself the su- 
preme type of vice, 
she is ultimately 
the most efficient 
guardian of virtue. 
<L But for her, the 
unchallenged pu- 
rity of countless 
happy homes would 
bepolluted, and not 

a few who, in the pride of their un- 
tempted chastity, think of her with 
an indignant shudder, would have known 
the agony of remorse and despair. 
On that one degraded and ignoble form 
are concentrated the passions that might 
have filled the world with shame. She 
remains, while creeds and civilizations 
rise and fall, the eternal priestess of 
humanity, blasted for the sins of the 
people. William E. H. Lecky. 



N the Twentieth Century war will 
be dead, the scaffold will be dead, 
hatred will be dead, frontier boundaries 
will be dead, dogmas will be dead; man 
will live. He will possess something 
higher than all these a great country, 
the whole earth, and a great hope, the 
whole heaven. Victor Hugo. 

If yon have knowledge, let others light 
their candles at it. Margaret Fuller. 



NEW era is dawning on the 
rf ^tslS-lj world- We are beginning to 

believe in the religion of use- 
tPv-^* a;; fulness 
^^^^lk : The men who felled the 
forests, cultivated the earth, spanned 
the rivers with bridges of steel, built the 
railways and canals, the great ships, 
invented the locomotives and engines, 
supplying the 
countless wants of 
civilization; the 
men who invented 
the telegraphs and 
cables, and freight- 
ed the electricspark 
with thought and 
love; the men who 
invented the looms 
and spindles that 
clothe the world, 
the inventors of 
printing and the 
great presses that 
fill the earth with 
poetry, fiction and 
fact, that save and 
keep all knowledge 
for the children yet 
to be; the inventors 
of all the wonderful 
machines that deftly mold from wood 
and steel the things we use; the men who 
explored the heavens and traced the 
orbits of the stars who have read the 
story of the world in mountain range 
and billowed sea; the men who have 
lengthened life and conquered pain; the 
great philosophers and naturalists who 
have filled the world with light; the great 
poets whose thoughts have charmed the 
soul, the great painters and sculptors 
who have made the canvas speak, the 
marble live; the great orators who have 
swayed the world, the composers who 
have given their souls to sound, the 
captains of industry, the producers, the 
soldiers who have battled for the right 
these are our Christs, apostles and saints. 
The books filled with the facts of Nature 
are our sacred scriptures, and the force 
that is in every atom and in eveiry star 
in everything, that lhn& and groins is 
the only possible god. R G. In^ersolL 



The golden poppy is God's gold, 
The gold that lifts, nor weighs 

us down, 
The gold that knows no miser's 

hold, 
The gold that banks not in the 

town. 
But singing, laughing, freely 

spills 

Its hoard far up the happy hills; 
Far up, far down f at every turn 
What beggar has not gold to 

burn! 

" The California Poppy," by Joaquin Miller 



Page 



{^RATORY offers the acme of human 
*w/ delight; it offers the nectar that 
Jupiter sips; it offers the draft that intox- 
icates the gods, the divine felicity of 
lifting up and swaying mankind. There 
is nothing greater on this earth. *T is the 
breath of the Eternal the kiss of the 
Immortal a* &+> 

Oratory is far above houses and lands, 
offices and emolu- 
ments, possessions 
and power. 
While it may secure 
all of these it must 
not for a moment 
be classed with 
them. These things 
offer nothing that 
is worthy of a high 
ambition. Enjoyed 
to their fullest, they 
leave you hard, 
wrinkled and miser- 
able. Get ail they 
can give and the 
hand will beempty, 
the mind hungry, 
and the soul shriv- 
eled * 
Oratory is an indi- 
vidual accomplish- 
ment, and no vicissitudes of fortune can 
wrest it from the owner. It points the 
martyr's path to the future; it guides the 
reaper's hand in the present, and it turns 
the face of ambition toward the delec- 
table hills of achievement. One great 
speech made to an intelligent audience 
in favor of the rights of man will com- 
pensate for a life of labor, will crown a 
career with glory, and give a joy that is 
born of the divinities. There is no true 
orator who is not also a hero. 

John P. Altgeld. 

*>* 

one has success until he has the 
abounding life. This is made up of 
the many-fold activity of energy , enthus- 
iasm and gladness. It is to spring to meet 
the day with a thrill at being alive. It is 
to go forth to meet the morning in an 
ecstasy of joy. It is to realize the one- 
ness of humanity m true spiritual 



Page 14 




|CJKA: Treat every one with 
friendliness injure no one. 
Natasha: How good you 
j are, grandfather! How is it 
1 that you are so good? 
Lukai I am good, you say. Nyah if it 
is true, aU right. But you see, my girl 
there must be some one to be good. We 
must have pity on mankind. Christ, 
remember, had pity for us all and so 
taught us. Have pity when there is still 
time, believe me, that is right. I was once 
for example, employed as a watchman, at 
a country place which belonged to an 
engineer, not far from the city of Tomsk, 
in Siberia. The house stood in the middle 
of the forest, an out-of-the-way location; 
and it was winter and I was all alone in 
the country house. It was beautiful there 
magnificent! And once I heard them 
scrambling up! 
Natasha: Thieves? 
Luka: Yes, They crept higher, and I 
took my rifle and went outside. I looked 
up two men, opening a window, and so 
busy that they did not see anything of 
me at all. I cried to them: Hey, there, 
get out of that ! And would you think it, 
they fell on me with a hand ax ! I warned 
them. Halt, I cried, or else I fire! Then I 
aimed first at one and then at the other. 
They fell on their knees saying, Pardon 
us! I was pretty hot on account of the 
hand ax, you remember. You devils, I 
cried, I told you to clear out and you 
did n't! And now, I said, one of you go 
into the brush and get a switch. It was 
done. And now, I commanded, one of 
you stretch out on the ground, and the 
other thrash him. And so they whipped 
each other at my command. And when 
they had each had a sound beating, they 
said to me: Grandfather, said they, for 
the sake of Christ gtve us a piece of 
bread. We have n*t a bite in our bodies. 
They, my slaughter, were the thieves 
who had falea upon me with the hand 
ax. Yes, they were a pair of spleaadid 
fellows. I said to them, If you had asked 
for bread! Then they answered: We had 
gotten past that. We had asked and 
asked, and nobody would give us any- 
thing. Endurance was worn out. Nyah 
and so they remained with me the whole 



winter. One of them, Stephen by name, 
liked to take the rifle and go into the 
woods. And the other, Jakoff, was con- 
stantly ill, always coughing. The three of 
us watched the place, and when spring 
came, they said, Farewell, grandfather, 
and went away to Russia. 
Natasha : Were they convicts, escaping? 
Luka: They were fugitives they had 
left their colony. A pair of splendid 
fellows. If I had not had pity on them 
who knows what would have happened? 
They might have killed me? Then they 
would be taken to court again put in 
prison, sent back to Siberia why all 
that? You can learn nothing good in 
prison, nor in Siberia. But a man, what 
can he not learn! Maxim Gorky. 

&& 

contrary laws stand today op- 
posed: one a law of blood and death, 
which, inventing daily new means of 
combat, obliges the nations to be ever 
prepared for battle; the other a law of 
peace, of labor, of salvation, which 
strives to deliver man from the scourges 
which assail him. One looks only for 
violent conquest; the other for the relief 
of suffering humanity. The one would 
sacrifice hundreds of thousands of lives 
to the ambition of a single individual; 
the other places a single human life above 
all victories. The law of which we are the 
instruments essays even in the midst of 
carnage to heal the wounds caused by the 
law of war. Louis Pasteur, at the open- 
ing of Pasteur Institute. 

t* . 

OO not waste your time on Social 
Questions. What is the matter with 
the poor is Poverty. What is the matter 
with the Rich is Uselessness. 

George Bernard Shaw. 

& 

Who shall put his finger on the work of 
justice and say, " It is there"? Justice is 
like the kingdom of God : it is not without 
us as a fact; it is within us as a great 
yearning. George Eliot. 



Age of Romance has not ceased; 
it never ceases; it does not, if we 
will tfofnk of it, so much as very sensibly 
decline. Carlyle. 




3 H, God, here in my dressing 
room, with the door shut, I 
am alone with Thee. 
I am glad I know the great 
= spirit that stands silently by, 
here, as in every place where a human 
heart is beating! 

Can not an actor be God's man? Can 
not I, whose business it is to play, be as 
conscientious as 
those in authority 
or peril or solemn 
function? so && 
Convention classes 
me and my fellows 
among the loose 
and thoughtless. 
So Thou art my 
secret. I triumph 
inwardly to find 
Thy presence and 
taste the mystic 
joy of Thy friend- 
ship, while the 
world suspects not. 
d Thou washest 
my heart clean as 
the Priest's. Thou 
givest me a holy 
ambition to do my 
work well, that I 
also may be a de- 
vout craftsman 
Thou teachest me 
subtle ways to resist despair, to master 
my passions, to heal unworthy weak- 
ness; the rare medicine of Thy presence 
is for me, too, as well as for the cloistered 
monk or meditating scholar. < Teach me 
to be great among the many who are con- 
tent to be called great. C^Reveal to me the 
satisfaction of virtue, the inner rewards 
of loyalty, helpfulness, and self-control. 
Let me be an unusual person because of 
that simplicity of heart and that lovable- 
ness of nature that I learn from Thee, 
d May I also touch the infinite and 
-share the divine current that thrills all 
high souls. Save me from the bogs of 
pettiness, from egotism, self-pity, envy, 
and all the corrosives that mar life. 
I do not serve in the temple; mine is no 
solemn office nor critical station; but I 
thank Thee that the river of God flows 



Dr. Frank Crane. 



Page IB 

through the streets of the city and who- 
soever will may drink. 
Make me to achieve a better success in 
my role before the ever present audience 
of the angels than I hope to have when 
I play my part upon the mimic stage. 
Ever, in all junctures, in hours of light- 
ness as in stress or trial, God of my soul, 
help me to play the man. Amen! " The 

Tr _, , . ,. Actor's Prayer,"by 

What is this mystery that men call ~ - - - 

death? 
My friend before me lies; in all save 

breath 
He seems the same as yesterday. His 

face 

So like to life, so calm, bears not a trace 
Of that great change which all of us so 

dread. 

I gaze on him and say: He is not dead, 
But sleeps; and soon he will arise and 

take 

Me by the hand. I know he will awake 
And smile on me as he did yesterday; 
And he will have some gentle word to say, 
Some kindly deed to do; for loving 

thought 
Was warp and woof of which his life 

was wrought. 

He is not dead. Such souls forever live 
In boundless measure of the love they 
give. 

" Mystery," by Jerome . BeU 



I^HATisthelaw 
y*' of nature? Is 
it to know that my 
security and that 
of my family, all 
my amusements 
and pleasures, are 
purchased at the 
expense of misery, 
deprivation, and 
suffering to thou- 
sands of human be- 
ings by the terror 
of the gallows; by 
the misfortune of 
thousands stifling 
within prisonwalls; 
by the fears in- 
spired by millions 
of soldiers and 
guardians of civili- 



zation, torn from 
their homes and besotted by discipline, 
to protect our pleasures with loaded 
revolvers against the possible interfer- 
ence of the famishing! Is it to purchase 
every fragment of bread that I put in 
my mouth and the mouths of my children 
by the numberless privations that are 
necessary to procure my abundance? Or 
is it to be certain that my piece of bread 
only belongs to me when I know that 
every one else has a share, and that no 
one starves while I eat? Leo Tolstoy. 

CONVICTION brings a silent, inde- 
VA finable beauty into faces made of 
the commonest human day; the devout 
worshiper at any shrine reflects some- 
thing pf its golden glow, even as the 
glory of a noble love shines like a sort of 
light from a woman's face. Balzac. 



Page 16 



-ffUBBA&D'S 




place to take the true 
,f i measure of a man is not in 
y* the darkest place or in the 
, amen corner, nor the corn- 
field, but by his own fireside. 
There he lays aside his mask and you 
may learn whether he is an imp or an 
angel, cur or king, hero or humbug. I 
care not what the world says of him; 
whether it crowns 
him boss or pelts 
him with bad eggs. 
I care not a copper 
what his reputa- 
tionor religion may 
be: if his babies 
dread his home- 
coming and his 
better half swal- 
lows her heart 
every time she has 
to ask him for a 
five-dollar bill, he 
is a fraud of the 
first water, even 
though he prays 

night and morning until he is black in 
tbe face and howls hallelujah until he 
shakes the eternal hills. But if his chil- 
dren rush to the front door to meet him 
and love's sunshine illuminates the face 
of his wife every time she hears his foot- 
fall, you can take it for granted that he 
is pure, for his home is a heaven and 
the humbug never gets that near the 
great white throne of God. He may be a 
rank atheist and red-flag anarchist, a 
Mormon and a mugwump; he may buy 
votes in blocks of five, and bet on the 
elections; he may deal 'em from the 
bottom of the deck and drink beer until 
he can't teH a silver dollar from a circular 
saw* acid still be an infinitely better man 
than the cowardly little humbug who is 
aH snacvify ia society but who makes 
hEHaeah^ wiao vents upon the helpless 
heads of his wife and children an ill 
nature he would inflict on his fellow 
men but dares not* I can forgive much 
in that fellow mortal who would rather 
make men swear than women weep; who 



List to that bird! His song what 

poet pens it? 
Brigand of birds, he *s stolen 

every note! 
Prince though of thieves hark! 

how the rascal spends it! 
Pours the whole forest from 
one tiny throat! 

"The Mockingbird," 

by Ednah Proctor (Clarke) Hayes 



king than fear to the face of a child. 
"A Man's Real Measure," by W. C. 
Brann. 

present position which we, the 
educated and well-to-do classes, 
occupy, is that of the Old Man of the 
Sea, riding on the poor man's back; only, 
unlike the Old Man of the Sea, we are 
very sorry for the 
poor man, very 
sorry; and we will 
do almost anything 
for the poor man's 
relief. We will not 
only supply him 
with food sufficient 
to keep him on his 
legs, but we will 
teach and instruct 
him and point out 
to him the beauties 
of the landscape; 
we will discourse 
sweet music to him 
and give him abun- 
dance of good advice. C Yes, we will do 
almost anything for the poor man, any- 
thing but get off his back. Leo Tolstoy. 

you succeed in life, you must do 
. it in spite of the efforts of others to 
pull you down. There is nothing in the 
idea that people are willing to help those 
who help themselves. People are willing 
to help a man who can't help himself, 
but as soon as a man is able to help him- 
self, and does it, they join in making his 
life as uncomfortable as possible. 

K W. Howe. 



eatt 



told you of the man who 
* always put on his spectacles when 
about to eat cherries, in order that the 
fruit might look larger and more tempt- 
ing. In like manner I always make the 
most of my enjoyments, and, though I 
do not cast my eyes away from troubles, 
I pack tibem into as small a compass as 
I can for myself, and never let them 
annoy others. Robert Southey. 

> 

Come, follow me, asd leave the worM to 
ifes bdbibiings. Dante. 



Page 17 




HE millionaire is a new kind 
of man many of them. It is 
almost as if a new sort of 
human nature had been pro- 
duced rolled up on us by 
the sheer development and fruitfulness, 
and heating up, and pouring over, and 
expansion of the earth. Great elemental 
forces silently working out the destiny 
of man have seized 
these men, touched 
their eyes with vis- 
ion. They are rich 
by revelations, by 
habits of great see- 
ing and great dar- 
ing. They are ideal- 
ists. They have 
really used their 
souls in getting 
their success, their 
mastery over mat- 
ter, and it is by 
discovering other 
men's souls, and 
picking out the men who had them, and 
gathering them around them, that the 
success has been kept. Many of them are 
rich by some mighty, silent, sudden 
service they have done to a whole planet 
at once. They have not had time to lose 
their souls. There is a sense in which 
they might be called The Innocents of 
Riches some of them. 

Gerald Stanley Lee. 



When a bit of sunshine hits ye, 

After passing of a cloud, 
When a fit of laughter gits ye 

And ye?r spine isfeelin 9 proud, 
Don't forget to up and fling it 

At a soul thafsfeelirf blue, 
For the minit that ye sling it 

It 's a boomerang to you. 

" The Boomerang," by Copt. Jack Crawford 



ClDUCATION does not mean teach- 
^4 ing people what they do not know. 
It means teaching them to behave as 
they do not behave. It is not teaching 
the youth the shapes of letters and the 
tricks of numbers, and then leaving them 
to turn their arithmetic to roguery, and 
their literature to lust. It means, on the 
contrary, training them into the perfect 
exercise and kingly 
continence of their 
bodies and souls. 
It is a painful, con- 
tinual and difficult 
work to be done by 
kindness , by 
watching, by warn- 



ing, by precept, 
and by praise, but 
above all by ex- 
ample e 

John Ruskin 



will be the 
day for every 
man when he becomes absolutely con- 
tented with the life that he is living, 
with the thoughts that he is thinking, 
with the deeds that he is doing, when 
there is not forever beating at the doors 
of his soul some great desire to do some- 
thing larger, which he knows that he 
was meant and made to do because he 
is still, in spite of all, the child of God. 
Phillips Brooks. 



N are tattooed with their special 
[beliefs like so many South Sea 
Islanders; but a real human heart with 
divine love in it beats with the same 
glow under all the patterns of all earth's 
thousand tribes. O. W. Holmes. 



a living man there is 
nothing more wonderful than a 
book! a message to us from the dead 
from human souls we never saw, who 
lived, perhaps thousands of miles away. 
And yet these, in those little sheets of 
paper, spesfc to us, arouse us, terrify TO* 
teach us, comlbrt us^ open their hearts 
to us as bro&a^.--rGharles; Ipngsley, 



when I may, I want it said of me 
by those who knew me best, that I 
always plucked a thistle and planted a 
flower where I thought a flower would 
grow. Abraham Lincoln. 



T we should do unto others as we 
would have them do unto us that 
we should respect the rights of others as 
scrupulously as we would have our rights 
respected is not a mere counsel of per- 
fectioa to individuals but it is the law 
to which we must conform social instito- 
tipns. ,;'$$<$ eatianal policy, if we would 
secure the blessings and abundance of 
Ke^ry George. 



Page 18 



-HUBB&RD*S 




OOKING more and more 
like an orchid, Yetta stood 
the real one, thebloodmount- 
ing to her cheeks, and waited 
for the storm to pass. " I 'm 
not going to talk about this strike," 
she said when she could make herself 
heard. " It 's over. I want to tell you 
about the next one and the next. I 
wish very much I could make you under- 
stand about the strikes that are 
coming. . . . 

" Perhaps there's some of you never 
thought much about strikes till now. 
Well. There 's been strikes all the time. I 
don't believe there's ever been a year 
when there was n't dozens here in New 
York. When we began, the skirt-finishers 
was out. They lost their strike. They 
went hungry just the way we did, but 
nobody helped them. And they're worse 
now than ever. There ain't no difference 
between one strike and another. Perhaps 
they are striking for more pay or recog- 
nition or closed shops. But the next 
strike '11 be just like ours. It '11 be people 
fighting so they won't be so much slaves 
like they was before. 
" The Chairman said perhaps I 'd tell 
you about my experience. There ain't 
nothing to tell except everybody has 
been awful kind to me. It's fine to have 
people so kind to me. But I'd rather if 
they 'd try to understand what this 
strike business means to all of us workers 
this strike we Ve won and the ones 
that are coining .... 
" I come out of the workhouse today, 
and they tell me a lady wants to give me 
money to study, she wants to have me go 
to college like I was a rich girL It 's very 
kind. I want to study, I ain't been to 
school none since I was fifteen. I guess I 
can't even talk English very good. I 'd 
like to go to college. And I used to see 
pictures in the papers of beautiful rich 
women, and of course it would be fine to 
have clothes like that. But being in a 
strike, seeing all the people suffer, seeing 
all the cruelty it makes things look 
different ** s* 

" The Chairman told you something out 
of the Christian Bible. Well, we Jews 
have got a story too perhaps it 's in 



your Bible about Moses and his people 
in Egypt. He 'd been brought up by a 
rich Egyptian lady a princess just 
like he was her son. But as long as he 
tried to be an Egyptian he was n't no 
good. And God spoke to him one day out 
of a bush on fire. I don't remember just 
the words of the story, but God said: 
'Moses, you 're a Jew. You ain't got no 
business with the Egyptians. Take off 
those fine clothes and go back to your 
own people and help them escape from 
bondage/ Well. Of course, I ain't like 
Moses, and God has never talked to me. 
But it seems to me sort of as if during 
this strike I 'd seen a Blazing Bush. 
Anyhow I've seen my people in bondage. 
And I don't want to go to college and be 
a lady. I guess the kind princess could n't 
understand why Moses wanted to be 
a poor Jew instead of a rich Egyptian. 
But if you can understand, if you can 
understand why I 'm going to stay with 
my own people, you '11 understand all 
I 've been trying to say $^ 
" We 're a people in bondage. There 's 
lots of people who 's kind to us. I guess 
the princess was n't the only Egyptian 
lady that was kind to the Jews. But 
kindness ain't what people want who are 
in bondage. Kindness won't never make 
us free. And God don't send any more 
prophets nowadays. We Ve got to escape 
all by ourselves. And when you read in 
the papers that there's a strike it don't 
matter whether it's street-car conductors 
or lace-makers, whether it 's Eyetalians 
or Polacks or Jews orAmericans, whether 
it's here or in Chicago it's my People 
the People in Bondage who are starting 
out for the Promised Land." 
She stopped a moment, and a strange 
look came over her face a look of com- 
munication with some distant spirit. 
When she spoke again, her words were 
unintelli^ble to most of the audience. 
Some of the Jewish vest-makers under- 
stood. And the Rev. Dunham Denning, 
who was a famous scholar, understood. 
But even those who did not were held 
spellbound by the swinging sonorous 
cadence. She stopped abruptly. 
" It 's Hebrew," she explained. " It 's 
what my father taught me when I was 



J3OOJFC 



Page 19 



a little girl. It 5 s about the Promised 
Land I can't say it in good English 

I " 

" Unless I 've forgotten my Hebrew," 
the Reverend Chairman said, stepping 
forward, " Miss Rayefsky has been 
repeating God's words to Moses, the 
Lawgiver, as recorded in the third chapter 
of Exodus. I think it 's the seventh verse: 
'And the Lord 
said, I have surely 
seen the affliction 
of my people which 
are in Egypt, and 



have heard their 
cry by reason of 
their taskmasters; 
for I know their 
sorrows; 

" 'And I am come 
down to deliver 
them out of the 
hand of the Egyp- 
tians and to bring 
them up out of that 
land unto a good 
land and a large, 
unto a land flowing 
with milk and 
honey.' " 

" Yes. That 's it," 
Yettasaid. "Well 
that 's what strikes 
mean. We 're fight- 
ing, fighting, for 
the old promises." 

"Comrade Yetta," by Albert Edwards. 



/ am part of the sea and stars 

And the winds of the South and North, 
Of mountain and moon and Mars, 

And the ages sent me forth! 



Blind Homer, the splendor of Greece, 
Sang the songs I sang ere he fell; 

She whom men called Beatrice, 
Saw me in the depths of hell. 

I was hanged at dawn for a crime 
Flesh dies, but the soul knows no 
death; 

I piped to great Shakespeare's chime 
The witches 9 song in Macbeth. 

All, all who have suffered and won, 
Who have struggled and failed and died, 

Am I, with work still undone, 
And a spear-mark in my side. 



,'. , HERE are two ways of being happy: 
"^*y We may either diminish our wants 
or augment our means either will do 
the result is the same; and it is for each 
man to decide for himself, and do that 
which happens to be the easiest. 
If you are idle or sick or poor, however 
hard it may be to diminish your wants, 
it will be harder to augment your means. 
C If you are active 
and prosperous or 
young or in good 
health, it may be 
easier for you to 
augment your 
means than to 
diminish your 
wants s* $fr 



But if you are 
wise, you will do 
both at the same 
time, young or old, 
rich or poor, sick 
or well; and if you 
are very wise you 
will do both in such 
a way as to aug- 
ment the general 
happin es s o f 
society. Franklin. 



I am part of the sea and stars 

And the winds of the South and North, 
Of mountains and moon and Mars, 

And the ages sent me forth! 

" Kinship," by Edward H. S. Terry 



O judge human 
\&J nature rightly, 
a man may some- 
times have a very 
small experience, 
provided he has a 
very large heart. Bulwer-Lytton. 



a ILL higher motives, ideals, concep- 
tions, sentiments in a man are of 
no account if they do not come forward 
to strengthen him for the better dis- 
charge of the duties which devolve upon 
him in the ordinary affairs of life. 

Henry Ward Beecher. 

HE soul is a fire that darts its rays 
through all the senses; it is in this 
fire that existence consists; all the obser- 
vations and all the efforts of philosophers 
ought to turn towards this me, the center 
and moving power of our sentiments and 
our ideas. Madame De StaeL 



H GREAT deal of the joy of life con- 
sists in doing perfectly, or at least 
to the best of one's ability, everything 
which he attempts to do. There is a 
sense of satisfaction, a pride in survey- 
ing such a work a work which is 
rounded, full, exact, complete in all its 
parts which the superficial man, who 
leaves his work in a slovenly, slipshod, 
half-finished condition, can never know. 
It is this conscientious completeness 
which turns work into art. The smallest 
thing, well done, becomes artistic. 

Wflliam Mathews. 



Page 20 



ffUBBARD'S 




are taught, many of us, 
j from our youth onwards, 
| that competition is essential 
I to the health and progress 
! of the race. Or, as Herbert 
Spencer puts it, " Society flourishes by 
the antagonism of its atoms." 
But the obvious golden truth is that 
co-operation is good and competition 
bad, and that so- 
ciety flourishes by 
the mutual aid of 
human beings. I 
say that is obvious, 
and so it is. And 
it is so well known 
that in all great 
military or com- 
mercial enterprises 
individualism has 
to be subordinated 
to collective action. 
We do not believe 
that a house divid- 
ed against itself 
shall stand; we be- 
lieve that it shall 
fall ^^ 

We know that a 
State divided by 
internal feuds and 
torn by faction 
figjiting can not hold its own against a 
united people. We know that in a cricket 
or football team, a regiment, a ship's 
crew, a school, the " antagonism of the 
atoms " would mean defeat and failure. 
We know that a society composed of 
antagonistic atoms would not be a society 
at all* and could not exist as a society. 
We know that if men are to found and 
govern cities, to build bridges and make 
K>ads, tp establish universities, to sail 
ships and sink mines* and create educa- 



There is something in the Autumn that 

is native to my blood, 
Touch of manner, hint of mood; 
And my heart is like a rhyme, 
With the yellow and the purple and the 

crimson keeping time* 



The scarlet of the maples can shake me 

like a cry 

Of bugles going by. 
And my lonely spirit thrills 
To see the frosty asters like smoke 

upon the hills. 



/"\H, if they would only let you work. 
\J Would n't It be fine just to be able 
to work? Do you know the real thing 
that puts people in -their little hospital 
cots with nervous prostration is not 
working, but trying to work and not 
being allowed to. Work never hurt any- 
body. But this thing of being in the 
middle of a letter and then rising to 
shake hands with 
a man who knew 
you when you were 
a boy, and then 
sitting down and 
trying to catch the 
thread of that let- 
ter again that 's 



what gives one 
general debility. 
SaundersNorvelL 



There is something in October sets the 

gipsy blood astir; 
We must follow her, 
When from every hill aflame. 
She calls and calls each vagabond by 

name. 

" An Autumn Song," by BUss Carman 



**ir-*CAN no more 
JLjinderstand 
that any serious 
injury can come to 
my moral nature 
from disbelief in 
Samson than from 
disbelief in Jack 
the Giant-Killer a+> 
I care as little for 
Goliath as for the 
giant Blunderbore. I am glad that chil- 
dren should amuse themselves with 
nursery stories, but it is shocking that 
they should be ordered to believe in 
them as solid facts, and then be told that 
such superstition is essential to morality. 
Sir Leslie Stephen. 



Q civilization is complete which does 
not include the dumb and defense- 
less of God's creatures within the sphere 
of charity and mercy. Queen Victoria. 



one another. Sdrely f&ese things are as 

ofotrious as tfae feet that f&ere ebtildfoe 

no Mve unless tlie bees wocfced as a 

cotaiy SBC! on the fees of m^f^l aid. 

Rdbert Blatdhford. 

* 

Your sole cosotiibtztiaa to the sum of 
thfogs is yourself, Frank Craue. 



good almost kill a man as kill a 
good book; who kills a man kills a 
reasonable creature, God's image, but 
he who destroys a good book kills reason 
itself, John Milton. 

ft^ 

Success or failure in business is caused 
more by mental attitude even than bj 
mental capacities, Walter Dill Scott. 

*?**!* 



Page 21 







For each and every joyful thing, 
For twilight swallows on the wing, 
For all that nest and all that sing, 

For fountains cool that laugh and leap, 
For rivers running to the deep, 
For happy, care-forgetting sleep, 

For stars that pierce the sombre dark. 

For morn, awaking with the lark, 

For life new-stirring 'neath the bark, 



T is undeniable that the great 
quest of humanity is happi- 
ness. But was the world 
created to be happy? How 
many are truly happy? I *ve 
studied people in all classes and condi- 
tions, and everywhere I have found, 
when you get below the surface, that it 
is mostly the insincere individual who 
says, ' ' I am 
happy." Nearly 
everybody wants 
something he 
has n't got, and as 
things are con- 
structed, what he 
wants is money 
more money than 
he has in his 
pocket + &+ 
But after all, 
money can buy 
only a few things 
Why should any 
one envy the cap- 
tains of industry? 
Their lives are 
made up of those 
vast, incessant 
worries from which 
the average indi- 
vidual is happily 

spared. Worry, worry, that is the evil of 
life ^ 

What do I consider the nearest approxi- 
mation to happiness of which the present 
human nature is capable? Why, living 
on a farm which is one's own, far from 
the hectic, artificial conditions of the 
city a farm where one gets directly 
from one's own soil what one needs to 
sustain life, with a garden in front and 
a healthy, normal family to contribute 
those small domestic joys which relieve 
a man from business strain. Edison. 

*> 

I AM not so lost in lexicography as to 
forget that words are the daughters 
of earth, and that things are the sons of 
heaven. Samuel Johnson. 

' *, 

There exists no cure for a heart wotmded 
with the sword of separation. 



HE great voice of America does not 
come from the seats of learning. It 
comes in a murmur from the hills and 
woods and farms and factories and the 
mills, rolling and gaining volume until 
it comes to us from the homes of common 
men. Do these murmurs echo in the cor- 
ridors of the universities? I have not 
heard them. The universities would make 
men forget their 
common origins, 
forget their univer- 
sal sympathies, and 
join a class and 
no class can ever 
serve America. I 
have dedicated 
every power there 
is in me to bring the 
colleges that I have 
anything to do with 
to an absolutely 
democratic regen- 
eration in spirit, 
and I shall not be 
satisfied until 



For sunshine and the blessed rain, 
For budding grove and blossomy lane f 
For the sweet silence of the plain, 

America shall know 
that the men in the 
colleges are satu- 
rated with the same 
thought, the same 
sympathy, that 

pulses through the whole great body 
politic. Woodrow Wilson. 



For bounty springing from the sod, 
For every step by beauty trod, 
For each dear gift of joy, thank God! 

" For Joy," try Florence Earle Coates 



HE man who has not anything to 
boast of but his illustrious ancestors 
is like a potato the only good belong- 
ing to him is underground. 

Sir Thomas Overbury. 



a MAN without mirth is like a wagon 
without springs, in which one is 
caused disagreeably to jolt by every 
pebble over which it runs. 

Henry Ward Beecher. 



BMERICA has furnished to the 
world the character of Washington, 
and if our American institutions had 
dope nptMng else, that alone would have 
eetltifecl them to the respect of mankind, 
^ Banid Wdbster, 



Page 22 



JfUBBARD'S 




,:.TUR world is pervaded and 
deeply moved by the power 
of ideals. There is no per- 
fect statesman, or poet, or 
ti artist, but the virtues of 
many persons in each one of these great 
pursuits become detached, and like star- 
dust, they form a new and perfect star 
in the expanse of thought. The orator 
that stands before us in our moments of 
reflection and dream is not Cicero, or 
Burke, or Webster, but always some 
nameless one with a wisdom, a language 
and a presence better than were found in 
those actual incarnations. 
Our statesman is not Alfred, nor Napo- 
leon, nor even Washington, but he is 
some yet mightier being with an infinite 
power and unknown name, his features 
not yet fully visible, as though he had 
not yet emerged from the shadows of old 
forums and the lonely columns of ruined 
states. All around our hearts stand these 
final shapes of the powerful, the perfect 
and the sublime the aggregations of 
long ages of thought and admiration. 
< Our earth is great not only because of 
what it has, but also because of what lies 
within its reach. 

The quest after ideals is the central rea- 
son of life. This pursuit abandoned, life 
need not run along any longer. The 
pitcher is broken at the fountain. The 
idealists are creating a human world 
after the pattern shown them in the 
Mount. Each art stands as a monument 
to a host of idealists who in their own 
day perhaps toiled hopelessly and amid 
the sneers of those who were only the 
children of dust* Music, now so infinite in 
extent and sweetness, is such a monu- 
ment. The first rude harps are broken 
and lost; dead the hands that smote 
them; but the art is here with no en- 
chantment lost. We do not know the 
names of those singers. Like us they 
were pilgrims. 

They had to pass into the beyond, but 
they left an art which the world loves. It 
was so of liberty, temperance, justice and 

all the higher forms of human life 

Some speak of ideals as being only girls* 
dreams. On the opposite, high ideals are 
lifelike portraits seen in advance. Only 



the greatest minds living in an age of 
tyranny could see in prophecy the^ por- 
trait of a free people. Instead of being a 
romantic dream an ideal is often a long 
mathematical calculation by an intel- 
lect as logical as that of Euclid. Idealism 
is not the ravings of a maniac, but it is the 
calm geometry of life. Ideals try our 
faith, as though to show us that nothing 
is too good to be true. In noble ideals 
there is something aggressive. They are 
not aggressive like an army with gun and 
spear, but aggressive like the sun which 
coaxes a June out of a winter. All great 
truths are persistent. Each form of right 
is a growing form. All high ideals will be 
realized. This one perceives who takes a 
long view the triumph of ideality over 
apathy, indolence and dust. There is 
nothing in history, dark as much of it is, 
to check the belief that man will at last 
be overcome by his highest ideals * 
David Swing. 

+> *> 

AM aware that many object to the 
severity of my language; but is 
there not cause for severity? I will be as 
harsh as Truth, and as uncompromising 
as Justice. On this subject I do not wish 
to think, or speak, or write, with moder- 
ation. No! No! Tell a man whose house 
is on fire to give a moderate alarm; tell 
Mm to moderately rescue his wife from 
the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother 
to gradually extricate her babe from the 
fire into which it has fallen but urge 
me not to use moderation in a cause like 
the present. I am in earnest I will not 
equivocate I will not excuse I will 
not retreat a single inch and I will be 
heard. The apathy of the people is 
enough to make every statue leap from 
its pedestal and hasten the resurrection 
of the dead. 

William Lloyd Garrison. 



E live in deeds,not years ; in thoughts, 
not breaths; 

In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. 

He most lives 

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts 
the best. Philip James Bailey. 



MAN'S Thanksgiving: God 
of commonsense, I give Thee 
thanks for the heavy blows 
of pain that drive me back 
from perilous ways into har- 
mony with the laws of my being; for 
stinging whips of hunger and cold that 
urge to bitter strivings and glorious 
achievement; for steepness and rough- 
ness of the way and 



staunch virtues 
gained by climbing 
over jagged rocks 
of hardship and 
stumbling through 
dark and pathless 
sloughs of discour- 
agement; for the 
acid blight of fail- 
ure that has burned 
out of me all 
thought of easy 
victory and tough- 
ened my sinews for 
fiercer battles and 
greater triumphs; 
for mistakes I have 
made, and the 
priceless lessons I 
have learned from 
them; for disillu- 
sion and disap- 
pointment that 
have cleared my 



Ye stars! which are the poetry of 

heaven, 
If in your bright leaves we 

would read the fate 
Of men and empires *t is to be 

forgiven 
That in our aspirations to be 

great 
Our destinies o'erleap their 

mortal state, 
And claim a kindred with you; 

for ye are 
A beauty and a mystery, and 

create 
In us such love and reverence 

from afar, 
That fortune, fame, power, life, 

have named themselves a star. 



" Stars," by Lord Byron 
vision and spurred 

my desire; for strong appetites and pas- 
sions and the power they give when 
under pressure and control; for my im- 
perfections that give me the keen delight 
of striving toward perfection. 
God of common good and human broth- 
erhood, I give Thee thanks for siren 
songs of temptation that lure and 
entangle and the understanding of other 
men they reveal; for the weaknesses and 
failings of my neighbors and the joy of 
lending a helping hand; for my o\pm 
shortcomings, sorrows and loneliness/ 
that give me a deeper sympathy for 
others; for ingratitude and misunder- 
standing and the gladness of service 
without other reward than self-expres- 
sion. Arthur W* Newcomb. 



Page 23 



1^:1 LTHOUGH imitation is one of the 
^Jl great instruments used by Provi- 
dence in bringing our nature toward its 
perfection, yet if men gave themselves 
up to imitation entirely, and each fol- 
lowed the other, and so on in an eternal 
circle, it is easy to see that there could 
never be any improvement among them. 
Men must remain as brutes do, the same 
at the end that 
they are at this 
day, and that they 
were at the begin- 
ning of the world. 
To prevent this, 
God has implanted 
in man, a sense of 
ambition, and a 
satisfaction arising 
from the contem- 
plation of his excel- 
ling his fellows in 
something deemed 
valuable among 
them. It Is this 
passion that drives 
men to all the ways 
we see in use of 
signalizing them- 
selves, and that 
tends to make 
whatever excites in 
a man the idea of 
this distinction so 
very pleasant. It 



has been so strong as to make very mis- 
erable men take comfort that they were 
supreme in misery; where we can not 
distinguish ourselves by something excel- 
lent, we take complacency in some 
singular infirmity, folly or defect. 

Edmund Burke. 
*- &+> 

first and best victory is to con- 
quer self; to be conquered by self 
is, of all things, the most shameful and 
vile. Plato. 



only way in which one human 
being can properly attempt to 
influence another Is the encouraging him 
to think for himself, instead of endeavor- 
ing to instil ready-made opinions into 
his head. Sir Leslie Stephen. 



Page 24 



flUBBARD'S 






I HAT we have a right to ex- 
pect of the American boy is 
that he shall tarn out to be a 
good American man* The 
boy can best become a good 
man by being a good boy not a goody- 
goody boy, but just a plain good boy. I 
do not mean that he must love only the 
negative virtues; I mean that he must 
love the positive 
virtues also. 
"Good/' in the 
largest sense, 
should include 
whatever is fine, 
straight forward, 
clean, brave, and 
manly. The best 
boys I know the 
best men I know 
are good at their 
studies or their 
business, fearless 
and stalwart, hated 
and feared by all 
that is wicked and 
depraved, incap- 
able of submitting 
to wrongdoing, and 
equally incapable 
of being aught but 
tender to the weak 
and helpless. Of course the effect that a 
thoroughly manly, thoroughly straight 
and upright boy can have upon the com- 
panions of his own age, and upon those 
who are younger, is incalculable. If he is 
not thoroughly manly, then they will not 
respect Mm, and his good qualities will 
count for but little; while, of course, if he 
is mean, cmel or wicked, then his 
pliysical strength and force of mind 
merely make him sc* modi the more 
objecfeioeable a member of society. He 
can not do good work if he is not strong 
and does not try with his whole heart 
and soul to count in any contest; and 
his strength wSl be a ctirse to himself and 
to every one else if he does not have a 
thorough command over himself and 
over his own evil passloos, a*Kf if he does 
not use his strength on the side of 
decency, justice and feir dealing. 
In short, in life* as in a football-game, 



the principle to follow is: Hit the line 
hard; don't foul and don't shirk, but hit 
the line hard. " The American Boy," 
by Theodore Roosevelt. 

XN the beginning, men went forth 
ea 



each day some to do battle, some 
to the chase; others, again, to dig and to 
delve in the field all that they might 
gain and live, or 
Out of the night that covers me, 
Black as the Pit from pole to pole, 
I thank whatever gods may be 
For my unconquerable souL 



In the fell clutch of circumstance 
I have not winced nor cried aloud, 
Under the bludgeonings of chance 
My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 
Looms but the Horror of the Shade, 
And yet the menace of the years 
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 
How charged with punishments the scroll, 
I am the master of my fate: 
I am the captain of my souL 

" Invictus," by W. E. Henley 



lose and die. Until 
there was found 
among them one, 
differing from the 
rest,whose pursuits 
attracted him not, 
and so he staid by 
the tents with the 
women, and traced 
strange devices 
with a burnt stick 
upon a gourd. 
This man, who took 
no joy in the ways 
of his brethren 
who cared not for 
conquest, and fret- 
ted in the field 
this designer of 
quaint patterns 
this deviser of the 
beautiful who 
perceived in Nature about him curious 
curvings, as faces are seen in the fire 
this dreamer apart, was the first artist. 
H We have thai but to wait until, with 
the mark of the gods upon him there 
come among us again the chosen who 
shall continue what has gone before. 
Satisfied that, even were he never to 
appear, the story of the beautiful is 
already complete hewn in the marbles 
of the Parthenon and broidered, with 
the birds, upon the fan of Hokusai at 
the foot of Fuji-Yama. 

J. McNeill Whistler. 



is but one virtue: to help 
human beings to free and beautiful 
life; but one sin: to do them indifferent 
or cruel hurt; the love of humanity is the 
whole of morality. This is Goodness, this 
fa Humanism, this is the Social Con- 
science. j, William Lloyd* 



Page 2S 




man has earned the right to 
intellectual ambition until 
he has learned to lay his 
course by a star which he 
I has never seen to dig by 



the divining-rod for springs which he 
may never reach. In saying this, I point 
to that which will make your study 
heroic. For I say to you in all sadness of 
conviction, that to 

God, we don't like to complain 
We know that the mine is no lark 

But there 's the pools from the rain: 
But there f s the cold and the dark. 



think great 
thoughts you must 
be heroes as well as 
idealists. Only 
when you have 
worked alone 
when you have felt 
around you a black 
gulf of solitude 
more isolating than 
that which sur- 
rounds the dying 
man, and in hope 
and hi despair have 
trusted to your own 
unshaken will 
then only will you 
have achieved* 
Thus only can you 
gain the secret iso- 
lated joy of the 
thinker, who knows 
that, long after he is dead and forgotten, 
men who never heard of him will be 
moving to the measure of his thought 
the subtile rapture of a postponed power, 
which the world knows not because it has 
no external trappings, but which to his 
prophetic vision is more real than that 
which commands an army. And if this 
joy should not be yours, still it is only 
thus that you can know that you have 
done what it lay in you to do, can say 
that you have lived, and be ready for the 
end. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

s^a* - 

aN enlightened mind is not hood* 
winked; it is not shut up in a 
gloomy prison till it thinks the walls of 
its own dungeon the limits of the uni- 
ve^se, and the reach of its ovm chain, the 
outer verged intelligence. 
Henry 



ELFISHNESS is not living as one 
wishes to live; it is asking others to 
live as one wishes to live. And unselfish- 
ness is letting other people's lives alone, 
not interfering with them. Selfishness 
always aims at creating around it an 
absolute uniformity of type. Unselfish- 
ness recognizes infinite variety of type 
as a delightful thing, accepts it, acqui- 
esces in it, enjoys 



it. Oscar Wilde. 



God, You don't know what it is 
You, in Your well-lighted sky, 

Watch the meteors whizz; 

Warm, with the sun always by. 

God, if You had but the moon 
Stuck in Your cap for a lamp, 

Even You *d tire of it soon, 
Down in the dark and the damp. 

Nothing but blackness above, 

And nothing that moves but the cars 
God, if You wish for our love, 

Fling us a handful of stars! 

"Caliban in the Coal Mines," by Loitis Untermeyer 



tree which 
moves some to 
tears of joy is in 
the eyes of others 
only a green thing 
which stands in the 
way. Some see 
Nature all ridicule 
and deformity, and 
by these I shall 
not regulate my 
proportions; and 
some scarce see 
Nature at all. But 
to the eyes of the 

man Of imagrna.- 

tion Nature is 
Imagination itself. 
As a man is, so he sees- William Blake. 



plant is an animal confined in a 
wooden case; and Nature, like 
Sycorax, holds thousands of " delicate 
Ariels " imprisoned in every oak. She is 
jealous of letting us know this; and 
among the higher and more conspicuous 
forms of plants reveals it only by such 
obscure manifestations as the shrinking 
of the Sensitive Plant, t the sudden clasp 
of the Dionea, or still more slightly, by 
the phenomena of the cydosis. Huxley. 

* 

aLL truth is safe and nothing else i% 
safe; and he who keeps back tibe: 
truth, or withholds it from men, from 
motives of expediency, is either a coward 
or a criminal^ or both. Max 



Never leave thattffl 1&momw 
can da today. Frariklin, 



Page 26 




E courteous to all, but inti- 
mate with, few; and let those 
few be well tried before you 
give them your confidence. 
True friendship is a plant of 
slow growth, and must undergo and with- 
stand the shocks of adversity before it is 
entitled to the appellation. Let your 
heart feel for the affections and dis- 
tresses of every one, and let your hand 
give in proportion to your purse; re~ 
membering always the estimation of the 
widow's mite, that it is not every one 
that asketh that deserveth charity; all 
however, are worthy of the inquiry, or 
the deserving may suffer. 
Do not conceive that fine clothes make 
fine men, any more than fine feathers 
make fine birds. A plain, genteel dress 
is more admired, obtains more credit, 
than lace and embroidery, in the eyes 
of the judicious and sensible. George 
Washington in a letter to his nephew, 
Bushrod Washington, 1783. 



fTOMMERCE is a game of skin, 



names of the Peridean Age are 
high. There is a higher one yet, that 
of Pericles. Statesman, orator, philoso- 
pher, soldier, artist, poet and lover, 
Perides was so great that, another Zeus, 
he was called the Olympian. If to him 
Egeria came, would it not, a poet some- 
where asked, be uncivil to depict her as 
less than he? It would be not only un- 
civil but untrue. 

Said Themistodes, ** You see that boy of 
mine? Though but five, he governs the 
universe. Yes, for he rules his mother, 
his mother rules me, I rule Athens and 
Athens the world." After Themistodes 
it was Perides* turn to govern and be 
ruled **> * 
His sovereign was Aspasia. 

Edgar Saltus. 



it seems as if when God 
d the world, that was poetry; 
He formed it, and that was sculpture ; He 
varied and colored it, and that was 
painting; and then, crowning aH, He 
peopled it with living beings, and that 
was the grand divine, eternal drama. 
Charlotte 



which every man can not play, 
which few men can play well. The right 
merchant is one who has the just aver- 
age of faculties we call commonsense; a 
man of strong affinity for facts, who makes 
up his decision on what he has seen. 
He is thoroughly persuaded of the truths 
of arithmetic. There is always a reason, 
in the man, for his good or bad fortune; 
and so, in making money. Men talk as if 
there were some magic about this, and 
believe in magic, in all parts of life. He 
knows that all goes on the old road, 
pound for pound, cent for cent for 
every effect a perfect cause and that 
good luck is another name for tenacity of 
purpose. Emerson. 

* t* 

O be honest, to be kind, to earn a 
little, and to spend a little less, to 
make upon the whole a family happier 
for his presence, to renounce when that 
shall be necessary and not to be embit- 
tered, to keep a few friends, but these 
without capitulation; above all, on the 
same condition, to keep friends with 
himself; here is a task for all a man has 
of fortitude and delicacy. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

*** **" 

OD is to be our father,yet we are far 
from being fathers to our own chil- 
dren. We presume to have insight into 
divine things, and yet we neglect as un- 
worthy of notice those human relations 
which are a key to the divine. 

Friedrich Froebel. 

^^ 
BAD man is wretched amidst every 

earthly advantage; a good man 
troubled on every side,yet not distressed; 
perplexed,but not in despair; persecuted, 
but not forsaken; cast down, but not 
destroyed. Plato, 

* ***** 

LOVE children. They do not prattle 

of yesterday: their interests are all 
of today and the tomorrows I love 
children. Richard Mansfield. 



God gave man an upright countenance 
to survey the heavens, and to look up- 
ward to the stars. Ovid. 



J3OCXFC 



Page 27 



HE faculty to dream was not 
y ti , %,- given to mock us. There is a 
|i - /;: reality back of it. There is a 
%, ; : divinity behind our legiti- 
. , ^ 'v mate desires. 
By the desires that have divinity in 
them, we do not refer to the things that 
we want but do not need; we do not 
refer to the desires that turn to Dead 
Sea fruit on our 



lips or to ashes 
when eaten, but to 
the legitimate de- 
sires of the soul for 
the realization of 
those ideals, the 
longing for full, 
complete self-ex- 
pression, the time 
and opportunity 
for the weaving of 
the pattern shown 
in the moment of 
our highest trans- 
figuration. 
A man will remain 
a rag-picker as long 
as he has only the 
vision of the rag- 
picker &+> 
Our mental atti- 
tude, our heart's 



Leaf after leaf drops off, flower 

after flower, 
Some in the chill, some in the 

warmer hour: 
Alive they flourish, and alive 

they fall, 
And Earth who nourished them 

receives them all 
Should we, her wiser sons, be 

less content 
To sink into her lap when life is 

spent? 



T is a curious reflection that the 
- ordinary private person who collects 
objects of a modest luxury has nothing 
about him so old as his books. If a wave 
of the rod made everything around him 
disappear that did not exist a century 
ago, he would suddenly find himself with 
one or two sticks of furniture perhaps, 
but otherwise alone with his books. Let 
the work of another 
century pass, and 
certainly nothing 
would be left but 
these little brown 
volumes so many 
caskets full of ten- 
derness and pas- 



sion, disappointed 
ambition, fruitless 
hope, self-torturing 
envy, conceit, 
aware, in. madden- 
ing, lucid moments, 
of its own folly s** 
Edmund Gosse. 



" Leaf After Leaf Drops Off," 

by Walter Savage Lander 
desire, is our per- 
petual prayer which Nature answers. She 
takes it for granted that we desire what 
we are headed toward, and she helps us 
to ^it. People little realize that their 
desires are their perpetual prayers not 
head prayers, but heart prayers and 
that they are granted. 
Most people do not half realize how 
sacred a thing a legitimate ambition is. 
What is this eternal urge within us 
which is trying to push us on and on, up 
and up? It is the urge, the push in the 
great force within us, which is perpetu- 
ally prodding us to do our best and 
refuses to accept our second best. 

Orison Swett Marden. 



Y share of the 
work of the 
world may be lim- 
ited, but the fact 
that it is work 
makes it precious. 
Darwin could work 

only half an hour at a time; yet in many 
diligent half-hours he laid anew the 
foundations of philosophy. 
Green, the historian, tells us that the 
world is moved not only by the mighty 
shoves of the heroes, but also by the 
aggregate of the tiny pushes of each 
honest worker. Helen Keller. 



HE character and qualifications of 
the leader are reflected in the men 
he selects, develops and gathers around 
him. Show me the leader and I will know 
his men. Show me the men and I will know 
their leader. Therefore, to have loyal, effi- 
cient employees be a loyal and efficient 
employer. Arthur W. Newcomb. 



v^ 1^ 

Things printed can never be stopped; * w 

they are like babies baptized, they have a Of all kinds of pride I hold national 



, 

soul from that moment, and go on for 
ever, Meredith. 



pride the most foolish; it ruined Greece; 
it ruined Judea and Rome. Herder. 



Page 28 



ffUBBARD'S 




have reached Cascade 
j Creek at last; and a beauti- 
j ful grove of pine trees, be- 
jneath whose shade a clear 
1 stream, whose waters are 
free from the nauseous taste of alkali, 
furnishes a delightful place to camp. 
Now, dismounting and seeing that your 
horse is well cared for, while the men are 
unloading the 
packmules and 
pitching the tents, 
walk up that trail 
winding up the hill- 
side, follow It for 
a little among the 
solemn pines, and 
then pass out from 
the tree shadows 
and take your 
stand upon that 
farther rock, cling- 
ing to it well mean- 
while and being 
very sure of your 
footing, for your 
head will swim and 
grow dizzy, and 
there opens before 
you one of the 

most stupendous scenes of Nature, the 
Lower Falls of the Grand Canyon of the 
Yellowstone &+ $+> 

And now where shall I begin, and how 
shall I, in any wise, describe this tre- 
mendous sight; its overpowering gran- 
deur, and at the same time, its inexpres- 
sible beauty? 

Look yonder! Those are the Lower Falls 
of the Yellowstone. They are not the 
grandest in tlte world, but there are none 
more beautiful. There is not the breadth 
aad ftasfr of Niagara, nor is there the 
enormous depth of leap of some of the 
waterfalls of Yosemite. 
But there is a majesty of its own Mod, 
and beauty, tcKX On either side are vast 
pimaades of sculptured rock. There, 
where Hie rock opens for tfae river, its 
waters are compressed from a width of 
two hundred feet, between the Upper 
and Lower Falls, to less than (me hun- 
dred feet where it takes the plunge. The 
sfaelf of rock over wMch it leaps is abs> 



With fingers weary and worn, 

With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat f in unwomanly rags, 

Plying her needle and thread, 
Stitch! stitch! stitch! 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt; 
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch 

She sang the "Song of the Shirt!" 

" Work work work 

Till the brain begins to swim! 
Work work work 

Till the eyes are heavy and dim! 
Seam, and gusset , and band, 

Band f and gusset, and seam, 
Till over the buttons I fall asleep, 

And sew them on in a dream! 

(Continued on next page) 



lutely level. The water seems to wait a 
moment on its verge, then it passes with 
a single bound, three hundred and fifty 
feet below. 

It is a sheer, unbroken, compact, shining 
mass of silver foam* But your eyes are 
all the while distracted from the fall 
itself, great and beautiful as it is, to its 
marvelous setting; to the surprising, 
overmastering can- 
yon into which the 
river leaps, and 
through which it 
flows, dwindling to 
but a foamy ribbon 
there in Its appal- 
ling depths. As you 
cling here to this 
jutting rock, the 
falls are already 
many hundred feet 
below you. The 
falls unroll their 
whiteness down 
amid the 
gloom 
These rocky sides 
are almost perpen- 
dicular; indeed, in 
many places the 

boiling springs have gouged them out so 
as to leave overhanging cliffs and tables 
at the top. Take a stone and throw it 
over; you have to wait long before you 
hear it strike. Nothing more awful have 
I ever seen than the yawning of that 
chasm; and the stillness, solemn as mid- 
night, profound as death. The water 
dashing there as in a kind of agony, 
against those rocks, you can not hear. 
<[ The mighty distance lays the finger 
of silence on its white lips. You are 
oppressed by a sense of danger. It is as 
though the vastness would soon force 
you from the rock to which you ding. 
The silence, the sheer depth, the gloom, 
burden you. It is a relief to feel the firm 
earth beneath your feet again, as you 
carefully crawl back from your perching- 



canyon 



But tMs is not aH, nor is the half yet 
told. As soon as you can stand it, go out 
on that jutting rock again and mark the 
sculpturing of God upon those vast and 



solemn walls. By dash of wind and wave, 
by forces of the frost, by file of snow- 
plunge and glacier, and the mountain- 
torrents, by the hot breath of the balmy 
Spring, those walls have been cut into 
the most various and surprising shapes. 
I have seen the " Middle Ages" castles 
along the Rhine; there those castles are 
reproduced exactly* I have seen the soar- 
ing summits of the 
great cathedral- 
spires in the coun- 
try beyond the sea; 
there they stand in 
prototype, only 
loftier and more 
sublime && s*> 
And then, of course 
and almost beyond 
all else, you are 
fascinated by the 
magnificence and 
utter opulence of 
color * Those are 
not simply gray 
and heavy depths, 
and reaches, and 
domes, and pin- 
nacles of solid rock. 
<[ The whole gorge 
flames $+ It is as 

though rainbows had fallen out of the 
sky and hung themselves there like 
glorious banners. The underlying color 
is the clearest yellow; this flushes onward 
into orange. Down at the base the deep- 
est mosses unroll their draperies of the 
most vivid green; browns, sweet and 
soft, do their blending; white rocks stand 
spectral; turrets of rock shoot up as 
crimson as though they were drenched 
with blood 4 &+> 

It is as if the most glorious sunset you 
ever saw had been caught and held upon 
that resplendent, awful gorge. 
Throughout nearly all the hours of that 
afternoon until the sunset shadows came, 
and afterwards among the moonbeams, 
I waited there, dinging to that rode, 
jutting out onto that overpowering, gor- 
geous chasm. I was appalled and fasci- 
nated, afraid and yet compelled to cling 
was ^n spoch in my JM& 

/ ^Doctdr Wayland Hoyt. 



"O Men, with sisters dear! 

O Men, with mothers and wives! 
It is not linen you 9 re wearing out, 

But human creatures* lives. 
Stitchstitch stitch 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 
Sewing at once, with a double thread, 

A shroud as well as a Shirt! 



Page 29 

|T*T is nothing to give pension and 
****> cottage to the widow who has lost 
her son; it is nothing to give food and 
medicine to the workman who has 
broken his arm, or the decrepit woman 
wasting in sickness. But it is something 
to use your time and strength to war 
with the waywardness and thoughtless- 
ness of mankind; to keep the erring 
workman in your 
service till you 
have made him an 
unerring one, and 
to direct your fel- 
low-merchant to 
the opportunity 
which his judgment 



would have lost 
John Ruskin. 



" But why do I talk of Death 
That phantom of grisly bone! 

I hardly fear his terrible shape, 
It seems so like my own 

It seems so like my own 
Because of the fasts I keep: 

O God! that bread should be so dear, 
And flesh and blood so cheap!" 
"The Song of the Shirt/' by Thomas Hood 



O long as we 
love, we serve. 
So long as we are 
loved by others I 
would almost say 
we are indispen- 
sable; and no man 
is useless while he 
has a friend, 
R. lr. Stevenson* 



HE men whom I have seen succeed 
best in life have always been cheer- 
ful and hopeful men, who went about 
their business with a smile on their faces, 
and took the changes and chances of this 
mortal life like men, facing rough and 
smooth alikelasit came. Chas. Kingsley. 

***** 

T is easy in the wocki to Eve after 
the world's opinions; it is easy in 
solitude to live after our own; but the 
Great Man is he who in the midst of the 
crowd keeps with peirfect sweetness the 
independence of solitude. Emerson. 

, ****** 

who is silent is forgotten.; he who 
abstains is taken at his word; he 
who does not advance falls back; he vybo 
stops is overwhelmed, distanced, crushed; 
he who ceases to grow greater becomes 
smaller; he who leaves off, gives up; tiie 
stationary comlitiQii is fee beginning of 
Axmel* 



Page 30 



{ OUNG men, life is before you. Two 
-^ voices are calling you one coming 
out from the swamps of selfishness and 
force, where success means death; and 
the other from the hilltops of justice and 
progress, where even failure brings 
glory. Two lights are seen in your horizon 
one the fast fading marsh light of 
power, and the other the slowly rising 
sun of human brotherhood. Two ways 
lie open for you one leading to an even 
lower and lower plain, where are heard 
the cries of despair and the curses of the 
poor, where manhood shrivels and pos- 
session rots down the possessor; and the 
other leading to the highlands of the 
morning, where are heard the glad shouts 
of humanity and where honest effort is 
rewarded with immortality* 

John P. Altgeld. 

*> 

works of taste must bear a price 
, in proportion to the skill, taste, 
time, expense and risk attending their 
invention and manufacture. 
Those things called dear are, when 
justly estimated, the cheapest: they are 
attended with much less profit to the 
Artist than those which everybody calls 
cheap ^ ^ 

Beautiful forms and compositions are 
not made by chance, nor can they ever, 
in any material, be made at small expense. 
[ A composition for cheapness and not 
excellence of workmanship is the most 
frequent and certain cause of the rapid 
decay and entire destruction of arts and 
manufacturers. Josiah Wedgwood. 

$+ > 

is an instinct with me personally 
to attack every idea which has been 
full grown for ten years, especially if it 
claims to be the foundation of all human 
society. I am prepared to back human 
society against any idea, positive or 
negative, that can be brought into the 
field against it. George Bernard 



on the sunny side of the 
street; shady folks live on the other. 
I have always preferred the sunshine 
and have tried to put other people there, 
if only for an hour or two at a tttrt^. 
Marshall P. Wilder. 



j * LOVE you for what you are, but I 
- 1 love you yet more for what you are 
going to be. 

I love you not so much for your realities 
as for your ideals. I pray for your desires 
that they may be great, rather than for 
your satisfactions, which may be so 
hazardously little. 

A satisfied flower is one whose petals are 
about to fall. The most beautiful rose 
is one hardly more than a bud wherein 
the pangs and ecstacies of desire are 
working for larger and finer growth. 
C. Not always shall you be what you are 
now .s** $^ 

You are going forward toward some- 
thing great. I am on the way with you 
and therefore I love you. 

Carl Sandburg,. 



can dissolve everything in the 
ld, even a greatfortune,intoatoms. 
And the fundamental principles which 
govern the handling of postage-stamps 
and of millions of dollars are exactly the 
same. They are the common law of 
business, and the whole practice of com- 
merce is founded on them. They are so 
simple that a fool can't learn them; so 
hard that a lazy man won't. 

Philip D. Armour. 

f > 

look fearlessly upon life; to accept 
the laws of nature, not with meek 
resignation, but as her sons, who dare to 
search and question; to have peace and 
confidence within our souls these are 
the beliefs that make for happiness. 

Maeterlinck. 



s easier 

? ing; no talent, no self-denial, no 
brains, no character are required to set 
UD in the grumbling business. 

Robert West. 



not that thy life shall come to 
t-\ an end, but rather fear that it shall 
never have a beginning. 

Cardinal Newman, 

*> * 

Be sure that ^ religion cannot be right 

that a man is the worse for having. 

William Penn. 



Page 31 







supplying the men for the 
l carnage of a battlefield, 
if women have not merely lost 
actually more blood, and 
gone through a more acute 



anguish and weariness, in the months of 
bearing and in the final agony of child- 
birth, than has been experienced by the 
men who cover it; but, in the months of 
rearing that follow, 
the women of the 
race go through a 
long, patiently en- 
dured strain which 
no knapsacked sol- 
dier on his longest 
march has ever 
more than equal- 
led; while, even in 
the matter of death, 
in all civilized so- 
cieties, the prob- 
ability that the 
average woman 
will die in child- 
birth is immeasur- 
ably greater than 
the probability 
that the average male will die in battle. 
<t There is, perhaps, no woman, whether 
she have borne children, or be merely 
potentially a child-bearer, who could look 
down upon a battlefield covered with 
slain, but the thought would rise in her, 
"So many mother's sons! So many young 
bodies brought into the world to lie 
there! So many months of weariness and 
pain while bones and muscles were 
shaped within ! So many hours of anguish 
and struggle that breath might be! So 
many baby mouths drawing life at 
women's breasts; all this, that men 
might lie with glazed eyeballs, and 
swollen faces, and fixed, blue, unclosed 
mouths, and great limbs tossed this, 
that an acre of ground might be manured 
with human flesh, that next year's 
grasses or poppies or karoo bushes may 
spring up greener and redder, where they 
have lain, or that the sand of a plain 
may have the glint of white bones!" 
And we cry, " Without an inexorable 
cause, this must not bel" No woman 



/ met her on the Umbrian Hills, 
Her hair unbound, her feet 
unshod; 

As one whom secret glory fills 
She walked alone with God. 



I met her in the city street; 

Oh, changed was her aspect 

then! 
With heavy eyes and weary feet 

She walked alone with men. 

"The Lady Poverty," by Evelyn UnderML 



who is a woman says of a human body, 
" It is nothing! " Olive Schreiner. 

*> 

I^TONSCIENTIOUSNESS has in 
V-X many outgrown that stage in which 
the sense of a compelling power is joined 
with rectitude of action. The truly honest 
man, here and there to be found, is not 
only without thought of legal, religious, 
or social compul- 
sion, when he dis- 
charges an equit- 
able claim on him; 
but he is without 
thought of self- 
compulsion. He 
does the right thing 
with a simple feel- 
ing of satisfaction 
in doing it, and is 
indeed impatient if 



anything prevents 
him from having 
the satisfaction of 
doing it. 
Herbert Spencer. 



AM homesick. C Homesick for the 

home I never have seen. 
For the land where I shall look horizon- 
tally into the eyes of my fellows. 
The land where men rise only to lift* 
<[ The land where equality leaves men 
to differ as they will. 
The land where freedom is breathed in 
the air and courses in the blood. 
Where there is nothing over a man 
between him and the sky. Where the 
obligations of love are sought for as 
prizes, 

And where they vary as the moon. 
That land is my true country. 
I am here by some sad cosmic mistake, 
And I am homesick. Ernest Crosby. 

&> d*. 
N men are rightly occupied, then 1 

1 amusement grows out of their work, 
as the color petals out of a fruitful 
flower; when they are faithfully helpful 
and compassionate, all their emotions are 
steady, deep, perpetual and vivifying 
to the soul as is the natural pulse to the 
body* John Raskin. 



Page 32 



&UBBAKD f 




|E have talked much of the 
brotherhood to come; but 
brotherhood has always been 
the fact of our life, long 
before it became a modern 
and insipid sentiment. Only we have 
been brothers in slavery and torment, 
brothers in ignorance and its perdition, 
brothers in disease and war and want, 
brothers in prosti- 
tution and hypoc- 
risy .What happens 
to one of us sooner 
or later happens to 
all; we have always 
been unescapably 
involved in a com- 
mon destiny. The 
world constantly 
tends to the level 
of the dowmnost 
man in it; and that 
downmost man is 
the world's real 
ruler, hugging it 
dose to his bosom, 
dragging it down to 
his death. You do 



Menl whose boast it is that ye 
Come of fathers brave and free, 
If there breathe on earth a slave, 
Are ye truly free and brave? 
If ye do not feel the chain 
When it works a brothefs pain, 
Are ye not base slaves indeed, 
Slaves unworthy to be freed! 



Is true Freedom but to break 
Fetters for our own dear sake, 
And, with leathern hearts, forget 
Thai we owe mankind a debt? 
No! True Freedom is to share 
All the chains our brothers wear, 
And, with heart and hand, to be 
Earnest to make others free! 



with all its fruits thereof- the fruits of 
love and liberty. George D. Herron. 

HE worst of errors is to believe that 
_ any one religion has the monopoly 
of goodness. For every man, that religion 
is good which makes him gentle, upright 
and kind. But to govern mankind is a 
difficult task. The ideal is very high and 
the earth is very- 
low. Outside the 
sterile province of 
philosophy, what 
we meet at every 
step is unreason, 
folly and passion. 
The wise men ol 
antiquity succeed- 
ed in winning to 
themselves some 
little authority 
only by impostures, 



which gave them a 
hold upon the im- 
agination, in their 
lack of physical 
force* 
Ernest Renan. 



not think so, but m . t , . ^ t - 

They are slaves who fear to speak 

For the fallen and the weak; 

They are slaves who will not choose 

Hatred, scoffing and abuse, 

Rather in silence shrink 

From the truth they needs must think: 

They are slaves who dare not be 

In the right with two or three. 

*' Freedom," by James Russell LawdL 



it is true, and it 
ought to be true. 
For if there were 
some way by which 
isome of us could 
iget free apart from 
Bothers, if there were 
some way by which 
!$ome of us could 
u^ve heaven while 

Aethers had hdl, if there were some way 
!>y which part of the world could escape 
isome form of the bligjat and peril and 
f misery of disinbserited Mx>r, then would 
j:eear world indeed be lost aiki damned; 
.but since men have never beea able to 
separate themselves from one aix>ther*s 
; woes and wrongs, since histey is 
stricken with the lesson that we can? not 
escape brotherhood of some kind, since 
the whole of Kfe is teaching ra that we 
are hourly choosing between brother- 
hood in, suffering and brotherhood m 
good, it remains for us to cijoose tiie 
of a co-operative wodcl, 



F is a truly 
sublime spec- 
tacle when in the 
stillness of the 
night, in an un- 
clouded sky, the 
stars, like the 
world's choir, rise 
and set, and as it 
were divide exis- 
tence in to two portions, the one, belong- 
ing to the earthly, is silent in the perfect 
stillness of night; whilst the other alone 
comes forth in sublimity, pomp, and 
majesty. Viewed in this light, the starry 
heavens truly exercise a moral influence 
over us; and who can readily stray into 
the paths of immorality if he has been 
accustomed to live amidst such thoughts 
and feelings, and frequently to dwell 
upon them? How are we entranced by the 
simple splendors of this wonderful drama 
of nature! WiSiehn von Humboldt. * 



Human nature craves novelty. 




| HAT, speaking in quite un- 
official language, is the net 
purport and upshot of war? 
To my own knowledge, for 
_.___ ___ example, there dwell and 
toil, in the British village of Dumdrudge, 
usually some five hundred souls. 
From these, by certain " Natural Ene- 
mies" of the French, there are success- 
fully selected, dur- 
ing the French war, 
say thirty able- 
bodied men: Dum- 
drudge, at her own 
expense, has suck- 
led and nursed 
them: she has, not 
without difficulty 
and sorrow, fed 
them up to man- 
hood, and even 
trained them to 
crafts, so that 
one can weave, 
another build, 
another hammer, 
and the weakest 
can stand under 
thirty stone avoir- 
dupoiss*Neverthe- 
less, amid much 
weeping and swear- 
ing, they are select- 
ed; all dressed in 
red, and shipped 
away, at the public 
charges, some two 
thousand miles, or 
say, only, to the 
south of Spain; and 
fed there till 
wanted. And now to that same spot, in 
the south of Spain, are thirty similar 
French artisans, from a French Dum- 
drudge, in like manner wending; till at 
length, after infinite effort, the two 
parties come into actual juxtaposition, 
and Thirty stands fronting Thirty, each 
with a gun in his hand* Straightway the 
word " Fire!" is given antfr hey blow 
the souls out of one another* and in place 
of sixty brisfeiisefiil craftsmen, the world 
has sixty (Je&cl carcasses, ^wihich it must 

, , i ~ , >, f ,"', ' ' , ' \ {J - ? ^ , < , . _ -m f , . .i_ , _ . f _ , v 



Or ever the knightly years were gone 
With the old world to the grave, 

I was a King in Babylon 
And you were a Christian Slave. 



I saw, I took, I cast you by, 
I bent and broke your pride. 

You loved me well, or I heard them lie, 
But your longing was denied. 

Surely I knew that by and by 
You cursed your gods and died. 



Page 33 

men any quarrel? Busy as the Devil is, 
not the smallest! They lived far enough 
apart; were the entirest strangers; nay, 
in so wide a Universe, there was even, 
unconsciously, by Commerce, some mu- 
tual helpfulness between them. How 
then? Simpleton! their Governors had 
fallen out; and, instead of shooting one 
another, had the cunning to make these 
poor blockheads 
shoot. Alas, so is 
it in Deutschland, 
and hitherto in all 
other lands; still as 
of old, "what dev- 
iltry soever Kings 
do, the Greeks 



And a myriad suns have set and shone 

Since then upon the grave 
Decreed by the King in Babylon 

To her that had been Ms Slave. 

The pride I trampled in now my scathe, 

For it tramples me again. 
The old resentment lasts like death, 

For you love, yet you refrain. 
I break my heart on your hard unfazth, 

And I break my heart in vain. 

Yet not for an hour do I zoish undone 
The deed beyond the grave, 

When I was a King in Babylon 
And you were a Virgin Slave. 

" Or Ever ttie Knightly Years Were Gone," 

by WMcan Ernest Henley 



must pay the 
piperr In that 
fiction of the Eng- 
lish Smollett, it is 
true, the final Ces- 
sation of War is 
perhaps prophet- 
ically shadowed 
forth; where the 
two Natural Ene- 
mies, in person, 
take each a To- 
bacco-pipe, filled 
with Brimstone; 
light the same, and 
smoke in one an- 
other's faces, till 
the weaker give m: 
but from such pre- 
dicted Peace-Era, 
what blood-filled, 
trenches* and con- 
tentious centuries, 
may still divide us! Carlyle. 



\ IGOTRY has no head and can not 
_J think, no heart and can not fed. 
When she moves it is in wrath; when she 
pauses it Is amid ruin. Her prayers are 
curses, her God is a demon, her < 



ion is death, her vengeance is eternity, 
her decalogue written in the blood of her 
/and if she stops, for a moment la 



to whet ber vultare fang foe a more sane 



Page 34 



HUBBARD'S 




g far back as we know any- 
thing about civilization, the 
cultivation of the soil has 
i; been the first and most itn- 
SS portant industry in any 
thriving State, It will always be. Herod- 
otus, the father of history, tells the story 
of the human race in the Valley of the 
Euphrates $ ^^ 

He says that with poor cultivation those 
who tilled the soil there got a yield of 
fiftyfold, with fair cultivation one hun- 
dredfold, and with good cultivation two 
hundredfold. That was the garden of the 
world in its day. Its great cities, Babylon 
and Nineveh, where are they? Piles of 
desert sand mark where they stood. In 
place of the millions that overran the 
world, there are a few wandering Arabs 
feeding half-starved sheep and goats. 
The Promised Land the Land of Ca- 
naan itself to which the Children of 
Israel were brought up from Egypt, what 
is it now? 

A land overflowing with milk and honey? 
Today it has neither milk nor honey. 
It is a barren waste of desert, peopled 
by scattered robber bands. A provision 
of Providence fertilized the soil of the 
valley of the Nile by overflowing it 
every year* From the earliest records 
that history gives, Egypt has been a land 
of remarkable crops; and today the land 
thus fertilized by overflow is yielding 
more abundantly than ever. 
It is made dear by every process of logic 
aod by the proof of historic fact that the 
wealth of a nation, the character of its 
people, the quality and permanence of its 
institutions are all dependent upon sound 
and sufficient agricultural foundation. 
<[ Not armies or navies or commerce or 
diversity of manufacture or anything 
other than the farm is the anchor which 
will hold througji the storms of time that 
sweep all else away, James J. HHL 

^ 

man advanced gradually in intd- 
lectual power, and was enabled to 
trace the moreremoteconsequences of his 
actions; as he acquired sufficient knowl- 
edge to reject baneful customs and 
superstitions; as he regarded more and 
more, not only the wdfere, but the hap- 



piness of his fellowmen; as from habit, 
following beneficial experience, his sym- 
pathies became more tender and widely 
diffused, extending to men of all races, 
and finally to the lower animals, so 
would the standard of his morality rise 
higher and higher. 

Looking to future generations, there is 
no cause to fear that the social instincts 
will grow weaker, and we may expect 
that virtuous habits will grow stronger. 
The struggle between our higher and 
lower impulses will be less severe, and 
virtue will be triumphant. 

Charles Darwin. 



E! Unseen Power that rules and con- 
\J trols the destinies of the children of 
earth: teach me the symphony of life so 
that my nature may be in tune with Thine. 
C Reveal to me the joy of being loving, 
self-sacrificing and charitable. 
Teach me to know and play life's game 
with courage, fortitude and confidence. 
< Endow me with wisdom to guard my 
tongue and temper, and learn with 
patience the art of ruling my own life for 
its highest good, with due regard for the 
privacy, rights and limitations of other 
lives > 

Help me to strive for the highest legiti- 
mate reward of merit, ambition, and 
opportunity in my activities, ever ready 
to extend a kindly helping hand to those 
who need encouragement and succor in 
the struggle. 

Enable me to give a smile instead of a 
frown, a cheerful, kindly word instead of 
harshness and bitterness. 
Make me sympathetic in sorrow, realiz- 
ing that there are hidden woes in every 
life no matter how exalted or lowly. 
<[ If in life's battle I am wounded or 
tottering, pour into my wounds the balm 
of hope, and imbue me with courage un- 
daunted to arise and continue the strife. 
[ Keep me humble in every rdation of 
life, not unduly egotistical, nor liable to 
the serious sin of sdf-depreciation. 
In success keep me rneek. 
In sorrow, may my soul be uplifted by 
the thought that if there were no shadow, 
there would be no sunshine, and that 
everything in life must have its antithesis. 



Page 35 



Grant that I may be a true, loyal friend, 
a genial companion with the broad 
honest charity born of an intimate 
knowledge of my own shortcomings. 
If I win, crown me with the laurels fitting 
to be worn by a victor, and if I fall, may 
it be with my face to the foe, fighting 
manfully, and falling, fling to the host 
behind, play up, play up, and play the 
game. " The Op- 



timist's Prayer,'* 
by William J. Rob- 
inson. 

HE bells will 
peal, long- 
haired men will 
dress in golden 
sacks to pray for 
successful slaugh- 
ter. And the old 
story will begin 
again, the awful 
customary acts. 
The editors of the 
daily Press will be- 
gin virulently to 
stir men up to 
hatred and man- 
slaughter in the 



name of patriotism, 
happy in the receipt of an increased 
income. Manufacturers, merchants, con- 
tractors for military stores, will hurry 
joyously about their business, in the 
hope of double receipts. 
All sorts of Government officials will 
buzz about, foreseeing a possibility of 
purloining something more than usual. 
The military authorities will hurry hither 
and thither, drawing double pay and 
rations, and with the expectation of 
receiving for the slaughter of other men 
various silly little ornaments which they 
so highly prize, as ribbons, crosses, orders, 
and stars. Idle ladies and gentlemen will 
make a great fuss, entering theirnames in 
advance for the Red Cross Society, and 
readytobindupthewoundsofthosewhom 
their husbands and brothers will mutilate; 
and they will imagine that in so doing they 
are performing a most Christian work $*> 
And, smothering despair within their 
souls by songs, licentiousness, and 



The crest and crowning of all good, 

Life's final star, is Brotherhood; 

For it will bring again to earth 

Her long-lost Poesy and Mirth: 

Will send new light on every face, 

A kingly power upon the race. 

And till it comes, we men are slaves, 

And travel downward to the dust of graves* 

Come, clear the way, then, clear the way: 
Blind creeds and kings have had their 

day. 

Break the dead branches from the path: 
Our hope is in the aftermath 
Our hope is in heroic men, 
Star-led to build the world again. 
To this event the ages ran: 
Make way for Brotherhood make way 

for Man! 

*' Brotherhood," by Edwin Markham 



wine, men will trail along, torn from 
peaceful labor, from their wives, 
mothers and children hundreds of 
thousands of simple-minded, good- 
natured men with murderous weap- 
ons in their-hands anywhere they may 
be driven. 

They will march, freeze, hunger, suffer 
sickness, and die from it, or finally come 
to some place where 



they will be slain 
by thousands or kill 
thousands them- 
selves with no rea- 
son;menwhomthey 
have never seen 
before, and who 
neither have done 
nor could do them 
any mischief. 
And when the 
number of sick, 
wounded and killed 
becomes so great 
that there are not 
hands enough left 
to pick them up, 
and when the air 
is so infected with 
the putrefying 
scent of the " food 
for powder" that even the authorities find 
it disagreeable, a truce will be made, the 
woundedwillbepickedupanyhow,thesick 
will be brought in and huddled together in 
heaps, the killed will be covered with 
earth and lime, and once more the crowd 
of deluded men will be led on and on till 
those who have devised the project, 
weary of it, or till those who thought 
to find it profitable receive their spoil. 
And so once more men will be made sav- 
age, fierce and brutal, and love will wane 
in the world, and the Christianizing of 
mankind, which has already begun, will 
lapse for scores and for hundreds of 
years 

And so the men who reaped profit from 
it all will assert that since there has been 
awar therenmst needs have been one, and 
that other wars must follow, and they 
win again prepare future generations for 
a continuance of slaughter, depraving 
them from their birth. Leo Tolstoy. 



Page 36 



JfUBBARD'S 




N a sinless and painless world 
the moral dement would be 
lacking; the goodness would 
have no more significance in 
our conscious life than that 



moral value or significance of a race of 
human beings ignorant of sin, and doing 
beneficent acts with no more conscious- 
or volition than the deftly con- 



ness 



^,,0^^,^^^ 

load of atmosphere which we are always 

carrying about with us. 

We are thus brought to a striking con- 

clusion, the essential soundness of which 

can not be gain- 

A silence there expectant, meaning, 
And then a voice clear-pitched and 

tense; 

A thousand hearers, forward-leaning, 
Were in the thrall of eloquence. 



said* In a happy 
world there must 
be pain and sor- 
row, and in a moral 
world the knowl- 
edge of evil is in- 
dispensable. The 
stern necessity of 
this has be en 
proved to inhere in 
the innermost con- 
stitution of the 
human soul. It is 
part and parcel of 
the universe To 
him who is dis- 
posed to cavil at 
the world which 
God has in such wise created, we may 
fairly put the question whether the pros- 
pect of escape from its ills would ever 
induce him to put off this human con- 
sciousness, and accept some form of exis- 
tence unknown and inconceivable! The 
alternative is dear: on the one hand a 
world with sin and suffering, on the other 
hand an unthinkable world in which 
conscious life does not involve contrast. 
We do not find that evil has been inter- 
polated into the universe from without; 
we find that, on the contrary, it is an 
indispensable part of the dramatic whole. 
God is the creator of evil, and from the 
eternal scheme of things diabolism is 
forever excluded, Ormuzd and Ahriman 
have had their day and perished, along 
with the doctrine of special creation and 
other fencies of the untutored mind. 
From our present standpoint we may 
fairly ask, what would have been the 
worth of that primitive innocence por- 
trayed in the myth of the Garden of 
Eden, had it ever been realized in the 
life, of men? What would have beer* the 



trived machine that picks up raw ma- 
terial at one end, and turns out some 
finished product at the other? Clearly, 
for strong and resolute men and women, 
an Eden would be at best but a fool's 
paradise. Fiske* 



He saw the graves of heroes sleeping, 
He saw men's eyes suffused and dim; 

A triumph great, a nation weeping, 
Found true expression there in him. 

Not often in a nation's story, 

Such words supreme, such manhood 
fine; 

He gave that day our grief and glory 
The dignity of things divine. 

(Concluded on next page) 



|C\O-NOTHING 

^U? days may be 
the busiest ones $+> 
They are the days 
in which we ab- 
sorb; while on the 
do-much days we 
try to make others 
absorb from us 
whatever we have 
in overplus: rib- 
bons, wisdom or 
cheese. If we often- 
er eased the strain 
on our eyes and 
minds, we should 
be enriched by im- 
pressions that in our usual attent and 
mastering attitude we refuse to heed. 
Americans ought to have a wholesome 
laziness preached to them, after three 
centuries of urging to gain and work, 
and several patriotic citizens make 
examples of themselves, for the public 
benefit, by refraining from toil. 

Charles M. Skinner. 

DVERN the lips as they were palace- 
_ i doors, the king within; tranquil and 
fair and courteous be all words which 
from that presence win. 

Sir Edwin Arnold. 



HMAN asked to define the essential 
characteristics of a gentleman 
using the term in its widest sense would 
presumably reply, " The will to put him- 
self in the place of others; the horror of 
forcing others into positions from which 
he would himself recoil; the power to do 
what seems to him to be riht, without 
considering what others may say or 
think." John Galsworthy. 



J3OOK, 



Page 37 




Brief, so brief the words were fatting 
Ere men had time to note and weigh; 

As if again the gods were calling 
From some Homeric yesterday. 



No impulse this, no actor speaking 
Of thoughts which came by happy 

chance; 
The man, the place, were God's own 

seeking; 
The words are our inheritance. 



g|pj ET me do my work each day; 
and if the darkened hours of 
despair overcome me, may 
I not forget the strength 
& that comforted me in the 
desolation of other times. May I still 
remember the bright hours that found 
me walking over the silent hills of my 
childhood, or dreaming on the margin 
of the quiet river, 
when alight glowed 
within me, and I 
promised my early 
God to have cour- 
age amid the tem- 
pests of the chang- 
ing years &+> Spare 
me from bitterness 
and from the sharp 
passions of un- 
guarded moments. 
May I not forget 
that poverty and 
riches are of the 
spirit. Though the 
world know me not, 
may my thoughts 
and actions be such 
as shall keep me 
friendly with my- 

self. Lift my eyes from the earth, and 
let me not forget the uses of the stars. 
Forbid that I should judge others, lest I 
condemn myself. Let me not follow the 
clamor of the world, but walk calmly in 
my path. Give me a few friends who will 
love me for what I am; and keep ever 
burning before my vagrant steps the 
kindly light of hope. And though age 
and infirmity overtake me, and I come 
not within sight of the castle of my 
dreams, teach me still to be thankful for 
life, and for time's olden memories that 
are good and sweet; and may the 
evening's twilight find me gentle still. 
Max Ehrmann. 



i EN will have, and must have, their 
pleasures. Social reformers and tem- 
perance agitators could not make a 
greater mistake than by following the 
example of the Puritans and tabuing all 
pleasures. They ought to distinguish 
between those that have a tendency to 
excess and vice, and those that are harm- 
less and ennobling, encouraging the 
latter in every pos- 
sible way. And first 
among those that 
should be encour- 
aged is music, be- 
cause it is always 
ennobling, and can 
be enjoyed simul- 



A pause, a hush, a wonder growing; 

A prophefs vision, understood; 
In that strange spell of his bestowing, 

They dreamed,ivith him ,of 'Brotherhood. 

" Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg," 

by Harrison D. Mason 



taneously by the 
greatest number. 
Its effect is well 
described in Mar- 
garet Fuller's pri- 
vate journal: " I 
felt raised above 
all care, all pain, 
all fear, and every 
taint of vulgarity 
was washed out of 
the world." That is 
precisely wherein 

the moral power of music lies; for vulgar- 

ity is the twin sister of vice. 

Henry T. Findc. 

> 

QfORSOOTH, brothers, fellowship is 
4*4 heaven, and the lack of fellowship is 
hell; fellowship is life and the lack of 
fellowship is death; and the deeds that 
ye do upon the earth, it is for fellowship's 
sake that ye do them. Therefore, I bid 
you not dwell in hell, but in heaven 
upon earth, which is a part of heaven 
and forsooth no foul part- 

William Morris. 



is to the mind what exer- 
else is to the body. As by the one, 
health is preserved, strengithened aadi 
invigorated: by the other, virtue (which 
is the healtji, of ,t^e piind) i^ kept alive, 

; 



me the money that has been 
spent in war, and I will clothe every 
man, woman and child in an attire of 
which kings and queens would be proud. 
I will build a schoolhouse in every valley 
over the whole earth. I wiH crown every 
hillside with a place of worstiip conse- 
crated to the gospel of peace. 

diaries Sinmer. 



Page 38 



JfUBBARD'S 




2^f O Art has become foolishly 
*j confounded with education 
1 that all should be equally 
, qualified &*> &+ 

Whereas, while polish,refine- 
ment, culture and breeding are in no way 
arguments for artistic results, it is also no 
reproach to the most finished scholar or 
greatest gentleman in the land that he 
be absolutely without eye for painting or 
ear for music that in his heart he prefer 
the popular print to the scratch of Rem- 
brandt's needle, or the songs of the hall 
to Beethoven's C minor symphony. Let 
him have but the wit to say so, and not 
feel the admission a proof of inferiority. 
(I Art happens no hovel is safe from it, 
no Prince may depend upon it, the vast- 
est intelligence can not bring it about, 
and puny efforts to make it universal end 
in quaint comedy, and coarse farce. 
This is as it should be and all attempts 
to make it otherwise are due to the elo- 
quence of the ignorant, the zeal of the 
conceited. Whistler. 



IT is idle to think that, by means of 
words, any real communication can 
ever pass from one man to another. The 
moment that we have something to say 
to each other, we are compelled to hold 
our peace: and if at such times we do not 
listen to the urgent commands of silence, 
invisible though they be, we shall have 
suffered an eternal loss that all the 
treasures of human wisdom can not 
make good; for we shall have let slip the 
opportunity of listening to another soul, 
and of giving existence, be it only for 
an instant, to our own. 
And again, I doubt whether anything in 
the world can beautify a soul more spon- 
taneously, more naturally, than the 
knowledge that somewhere in its neigh- 
borhood exists a pure and noble being 
whom it can unreservedly love, 
When the soul has veritably drawn near 
to such a being, beauty is no longer a 
lovely, lifeless thing that one exhibits to 
the stranger, for it suddenly takes unto 
itself ^ an imperious existence, and its 
activity becomes so natural as to be 
henceforth irresistible. Maeterlinck. 



J T is the prime secret of the Open 
..,X % Road that you are to pass nothing, 
reject nothing, despise nothing upon this 
earth. As you travel, many things both 
great and small will come to your atten- 
tion; you are to regard all with open eyes 
and a heart of simplicity. Believe that 
everything belongs somewhere; each 
thing has its fitting and luminous place 
within this mosaic of human life. The 
Road is not open to those who with- 
draw the skirts of intolerance or lift the 
chin of pride. Rejecting the least of 
those who are called common or unclean, 
it ^is (curiously) you yourself that you 
reject ^ 

If you despise that which is ugly you 

do not know that which is beautiful. 

David Grayson. 

*> * 

N its heart the world cares for little 
but play ; but in its life it does hardly 
anything but work, for the world has 
forgotten that the reason of its work is 
play. The natural man works that he 
may play works that he may love and 
dream, and know while he may the 
wonders and joys of the strange and 
lovely world which for a short space he is 
allowed to inhabit; the unnatural man 
plays that he may work. So unnatural 
indeed have we become that not only 
have we forgotten our dreams, but we 
have actually grown ashamed of them. 
C Proverbially there is nothing of which 
an Englishman is so much ashamed as his 
emotions. To suspect him of sentiment 
is to imply insult, to surprise him in 
tears is to commit a mortal offense. 
Laughter he still retains, but too often 
for the unworthy purpose of laughing at 
other people's emotions, and ridiculing 
beautifulthingsheno longer understands. 
England indeedis the Siberia of emotions. 
Let us all escape from Siberia. 

Richard Le Gallienne. 

> 

HE law should be loved a little be- 
cause it is felt to be just; feared a 
little because it is severe; hated a little 
because it is to a certain degree out of 
sympathy with the prevalent temper of 
the day; and respected because it is 
felt to be a necessity. Emile Fourget. 



love of dirt is among the 
<'$:tl'&^\ earliest of passions, as it is 
>||>'^qb the latest. Mud-pies gratify 

? ne . of our first a 1 ^ best 
.'^-s.^i'.j^ instincts. So long as we are 
dirty we are pure. Fondness for the 
ground comes back to a man after he 
has run the round of pleasure and busi- 
ness, eaten dirt, and sown wild-oats, 
drifted about the 
world and taken 
the wind of all its 
moods. The love of 
digging in the 
ground (or of look- 
ing on while he 
paysanother to dig) 
is as sure to come 
back to him as he 
is sure, at last, to 
goundertheground 
and stay there. To 
ownabit of ground, 
to scratch it with a 
hoe, to plant seeds, 
and watch their re- 
newal of life this 

is the commonest delight of the race, the 
most satisfactory thing a man can do. 
When Cicero writes of the pleasures of 
old age, that of agriculture is chief among 
them &** $** 

To dig in the mellow soil to dig mod- 
erately, for all pleasure should be taken 
sparingly is a great thing. One gets 
strength out of the ground as often as 
one touches it with a hoe. Antaeus was 
no doubt an agriculturist; and such a 
prize-fighter as Hercules couldn't do 
anything with him till he got him to lay 
down his spade and quit the soil. It is 
not simply potatoes and beets and corn 
and cucumbers that one raises in his 
well-hoed garden; it is the average of 
human life. There is life in the ground; 
it goes into the seeds; and it also, when 
it is stirred up, goes into the man who 
stirs it. The hot sun on his back as he 
bends to his shovel and hoe, or con- 
templatively rakes the warm and fra- 
grant loam, is better than much medi- 
cine. The buds are coming out on the 
bushes round about; the blossoms of the 



The night has a thousand eyes, 

And the day but one, 
Yet the light of the bright world 
dies 

With the dying sun. 

The mind has a thousand eyes, 
And the heart but one, 

Yet the light of a whole life dies 
When its love is done. 

Francis W, BourdiUon 



Page 39 



fruit-trees begin to show; the blood is 
running up the grape-vines in streams; 
you can smell the wild-flowers on the 
near bank; and the birds are flying and 
glancing and singing everywhere. 
To the open kitchen-door comes the busy 
housewife to shake a white something, 
and stands a moment to look, quite 
transfixed by the delightful sights and 
sounds. Hoeing in 
the garden on a 
bright, soft May 
day, when you are 
not obliged to, is 
nearly equal to the 
delight of going 
trouting z+* > 
Blessed be agricul- 
ture! if one does 
not have too much 
of it. All literature 
is fragrant with it, 
in a gentlemanly 
way. At the foot of 
the charming, 
olive-covered hills 
of Tivoli, Horace 

had a sunny farm: it was in sight of 
Hadrian's villa, who did landscape-gar- 
dening on an extensive scale, and prob- 
ably did not get half as much comfort 
from it as Horace did from his more 
simply tilled acres. We trust that Horace 
did a little hoeing and farming himself, 
and that his verse is not all fraudulent 
sentiment. In order to enjoy agriculture 
you do not want too much of it, and you 
want to be poor enougih to have a little 
inducement to work moderately yourself. 
Hoe while it is Spring and enjoy the best 
anticipations. It is not much matter if 
things do not turn out well. 

Charles Dudley Warner. 

4 > 

E have committed the Golden Rule 
to memory; let us now commit it 
to life > d 

We have preached Brotherhood for 
centuries; we now need to find a material 
basis for brotherhood. Government must 
be made the organ of Fraternity a 
working-form for comrade-love. 
Think on this work for this. 

Edwin Markhain* 



Page 40 




these days, much of the 
profit and sometimes the 
whole of success depend upon 
utilizing the odds and ends, 
the so-called "by-products." 
<[ The by-product is something apart 
from the main article manufactured, 
and yet something that has an actual 
value of its own. For instance, in the 
manufacture of gas 
there are many by- 
products; these are 
obtained from the 
coal as the latter is 
made into lighting- 
gas. And these by- 
products, including 
the coke from the 
coal, actually suf- 
fice to pay the cost 
of the gas. 
All kinds of big 
businesses have 
their by-products, 
their little odds and 
ends that pay well. 
In Mr. Armour's 
enormous meat- 

factory, for instance, there are endless 
by-products, from the pigtails which are 
dried and sold as a delicacy, to the hair 
of animals made into a powerful, valu- 
able kind of rope. 

If Mr. Armour neglected making the 
hair rope, or selling the pigtails, it would 
make a big difference in his dividends **> 
The point for the reader is this: The 
individual man does not manufacture, 
as a rule. But we are, all of us, dealers in 
time 9* 

Time is the one thing we possess. Our 
success depends upon the use of our 
tme, and its by-product, the odd 
momenta &+> 

Bach of us has a regular day's work that 
he does in a routine, nsore or less mechan- 
ical, way. He does his clerking, his 
writing, his typewriting, or whatever it 
may be, so many hours per day. And 
that ends it. 

But what about the by-product, the odd 
moments? Do you know that the men 
that have made great successes in this 
wofld are the men that have used wisdy 



And this I hate not men, nor flag nor 
race, 

But only War with its wild, grinning 
face. 

God strike it till its eyes be blind as 
night, 

And all its members tremble with 
affright! 

Oh, let it hear in its death agony 

The wail of mothers for their best- 
loved ones, 

And on its head 

Descend the venomed curses of its sons 

Who followed her, deluded, where its 
guns 

Had dyed the daisies red. 

(Concluded on next page) 



those odd moments? [ Thomas A. 
Edison, for instance, was hammering 
away at a telegraph-key when he was 
telegraph-operator on a small salary. 
He did n't neglect the by-product, the 
odd moments. He thought, and planned, 
and tried between messages. And he 
worked out, as a by-product of his 
telegraph job, all the inventions that 
have given him 
millions, and given 
to the inhabitants 
of the world thou- 
sands of millions' 
worth of dollars in 
new ideas. 
Benjamin Franklin 
in his story of his 
life shows an end- 
less number of such 
efforts along the 
lines using the odd 
moments. In a hun- 
dred different ways 
he managed to 
make the extra 
hours useful and 
productive. 
What a man does in his odd moments is 
not only apt to bring him profit; it is apt 
also to increase his mental activity * 
The mind craves a change, and it often 
does well the unusual thing, out of the 
routine * 

" Letting well enough alone" is a foolish 
motto in the life of a man who wants to 
get ahead. In the first place, nothing is 
" well enough," if you can do better s^ 
No matter how well you are doing, do 
better. There is an old Spanish proverb 
which says, " Enjoy the little you have 
while the fool is hunting for more." s 
The energetic American ought to turn 
this proverb upside down and make it 
read, " While the fool is enjoying the 
little he has, I will hunt for more." 
The way to hunt for more is to utilize 
your odd moments. 

Every minute that you save by making 
it useful, more profitable, is so much 
added to your life and its possibilities. 
Every minute lost is a neglected by- 
product once gone, you will never get 
It back. 



Think of the odd quarter of an hour in 
the morning before breakfast, the odd 
half-hour after breakfast, remember the 
chance to read, or figure, or think with 
concentration on your own career, that 
comes now and again in the day. All of 
these opportunities are the by-products 
of your daily existence. 
Use them, and you may find what many 
of the greatest con- 



cerns have found, 
that the real profit 
is in the utilization 
of the by-products. 
C Among the aim- 
less, unsuccessful 
or worthless, you 
often hear talk 
about "killing 
time." s* The man 
who is always kill- 
ing time is really 
killing his own 
chances in life; 
while the man who 



is destined to suc- 
cess is the man who 
makes time live 
by making it useful. Arthur Brisbane. 

* SO 

HAT is the good of prescribing to 
art the roads that it must follow * 
To do so is to doubt art, which develops 
normally according to the laws of Nature, 
and must be exclusively occupied in 
responding to human needs. Art has 
always shown itself faithful to Nature, 
and has marched with social progress. 
The ideal of beauty can not perish in a 
healthy society; we must then give 
liberty to art, and leave her to herself. 
Have confidence in her; she will reach 
her end, and if she strays from the way 
she will soon reach it again; society 
itself will be the guide. No single artist, 
not Shakespeare himself, can prescribe 
to art her roads and aims* Dostoevski. 

$+ $+> 

BELIEVE emphatically in religion. 

God. made religion^ and i^ian made 
theology, just as God made the country 
anct man the town. I have the largest 
sympathy for re%iqn, and the largest 
contempt I,apa qapaHe of fee a 



All these 7 hatewar and its panoply, 
The lie that hides its ghastly mockery, 
That makes its glories out of women's 

tears, 
The toil of peasants through the 

burdened years, 

The legacy of long disease that preys 
On bone and body in the after-days. 

God's curses pour, 
Until it shrivel with its votaries 
And die away in its own fiery seas, 

That nevermore 

Its dreadful call of murder may be heard; 
A thing accursed in very deed and word 

From blood-drenched shore to shore! 
"The Hymn of Hate," by Joseph Dana Miller 



Page 41 



leading theology. Do not feed children 
on a maudlin sentimentalism or dogmatic 
religion; give them Nature. Let their 
souls drink in all that is pure and sweet. 
Rear them, if possible, amid pleasant 
surroundings. If they come into the 
world with souls groping in darkness, let 
them see and feel the light. Do not terrify 
them in early life with the fear of an after- 
world. Never was a 
child made more 
noble and good by 
a fear of Hell $+ 
Let Nature teach 
them the lessons of 
good and proper 
living, combined 



with an abundance 
of well-balanced 
nourishment. 
Those children will 
grow to be the best 
men and women. 
Put the best in 
them by contact 
with the best out- 
side. They will ab- 
sorb it as a plant 



~-~^ it as a 
absorbs the sunshine and the dew. 

' Luther Burbanlt. 

** 

aBOVE the indistinguishable roar of 
the many feet I feel the presence of 
the sun, of the immense forces of the 
universe, and beyond these the sense of 
the eternal now, of the immortal. Full 
aware ^ that all has failed, yet, side by 
side with the sadness of that knowledge, 
there lives on in me an unquenchable 
belief, thought burning like the sun, that 
there is yet something to be found, some- 
thing real, something to ^ve each 
separate personality sunshine and Sow- 
ers in its own existence now. Something 
to shape this million-handed labor to an 
end and outcome* leaving accumulated 
sunshine and flowers to those who shaft 
succeed. It must be dragged forth by 
might of thought from the immense 
forces of the universe. Richard Jeffries. 



There is a chord in every heart that lias 
a sigh in it if touched aright. Giiida. 



Page 42 



HUBBAKD'S 




^X HERE is one beautiful sight 
in the East End, and only 
one, and it is the children 
fa dancing in the street when 
the organ-grinder goes his 
round. It is fascinating to watch them, 
the new-born, the next generation, 
swaying and stepping, with pretty little 
mimicries and graceful inventions all 
their own, with muscles that move 
swiftly and easily, and bodies that leap 
airily, weaving rhythms never taught in 
dancing school. 

I have talked with these children, here, 
there, and everywhere, and they struck 
me as being bright as other children, and 
in many ways even brighter. They have 
most active little imaginations. Their 
capacity for projecting themselves into 
the realm of romance and fantasy is re- 
markable, A joyous life is romping in 
their blood. They delight in music, and 
motion, and color, and very often they 
betray a startling beauty of face and 
form under their filth and rags. 
But there is a Pied Piper of London 
Town who steals them all away. They 
disappear. One never sees them again, 
or anything that suggests them. You may 
look for them in vain among the gener- 
ation of grown-ups. Here you will find 
stunted forms, ugly faces, and blunt and 
stolid minds. Grace, beauty, imagina- 
tion, all the resiliency of mind and muscle, 
are gone. Sometimes, however, you may 
see a woman, not necessarily old, but 
twisted and deformed out of all woman- 
hood, bloated and drunken, lift her 
draggled skirts and execute a few gro- 
tesque and lumbering steps upon the 
pavement. It is a hint that she was once 
one of those children who danced to the 
organ-grinder. Those grotesque and lum- 
bering steps are all that is left of the 
promise of childhood. In the befogged 
recesses of her brain has arisen a fleeting 
memory that she was once a girl. The 
crowd closes in. Little girls are dancing 
beside her, about her, with the pretty 
graces she dimly recollects, but can no 
more than parody with her body. Then 
she pants for breath, exhausted, and 
stumbles out through the circle. But the 
little girls dance on. 



The children of the Ghetto possess all the 
qualities which make for noble man- 
hood and womanhood; but the Ghetto 
itself, like an infuriated tigress turning 
on its young, turns upon and destroys all 
these qualities, blots out the light and 
laughter, and moulds those it does not 
kill into sodden and forlorn creatures, 
uncouth, degraded, and wretched below 
the beasts of the field. Jack London. 



we succeed in adjusting our 
social structure in such a way as to 
enable us to solve social questions as fast 
as they become really pressing, they 
will no longer force their way into the 
theater. Had Ibsen, for instance, had 
any reason to believe that the abuses to 
which he called attention in his prose 
plays would have been adequately at- 
tended to without his interference, he 
would no doubt have gladly left them 
alone. The same exigency drove William 
Morris in England from his tapestries, 
his epics, and his masterpieces of print- 
ing, to try and bring his fellow-citizens 
to their senses by the summary process 
of shouting at them in the streets and in 
Trafalgar Square. John Ruskin's writing 
began with Modern Painters, Carlyle 
began with literary studies of German 
culture and the like; both were driven to 
become revolutionary pamphleteers. If 
people are rotting and starving in all 
directions, and nobody else has the 
heart or brains to make a disturbance 
about it, the great writers must. 

George Bernard Shaw, 

*> 

eVERY one now believes that there 
is in a man an animating, ruling, 
characteristic essence, or spirit, which is 
himself. This spirit, dull or bright, petty 
or grand, pure or foul, looks out of the 
eyes, sounds in the voice, and appears in 
the manners of each individual. It is 
what we call personality. 

Chas. W. Eliot. 

$*> 

Sleep hath its own world, a boundary 
between the things misnamed death and 
existence. Byron. 

> 

Reason is the life of the law. Coke. 



: f , DON'T know what I would 
, ,; do if I had only "two min- 

,, ; i- utes to live," or what mes- 

^ ; ,;^ ;;, sage I should give to the 
i~- - "-"-.; world. If I really thought I 
had only that time to live, I should like 
to take time to think up a fine and noble 
message so that my last words might 
have the dignity of those we have read 
about, which prob- 
ably were n't last 
words at all. 
However, I think 
if I had the power 
to do what I wish 
to do for human- 
ity, I would give to 
every person the 
ability to put him- 
self into the place 
of every other per- 
son in the world. 
<L In this way he 
would have that 
education, that 
culture which 
comes of the high- 
est quality of im- 
agination, and that 
quality, I take it, 
has been most per- 
fectly exemplified 
in the poets and 
saviors of the race, 
in that they were 
able to feel and suffer what others were 
feeling and suffering, and when we come 
to a time when we realize just what the 
other fellow is suffering we will be moved 
by the desire to help him, and when we 
are moved by the desire to help him we 
come to a time when we see that this 
help must be administered intelligently, 
and^ ultimately we realize that it is the 
denial of equality, the denial of liberty, 
political and economic, in the world 
which is the cause of most of its suffer- 
ing. If we had a world made up of people 
possessing this quality of imagination, 
this kind of culture, we would soon do 
away with the causes of involuntary 
poverty, and to do away with involun- 
tary poverty would mean to do away 
with practically aH the crime and vice 



So he died for his faith. That is fine, 

More than most of us do. 
But, say, can you add to that line 

That he lived for it, too? 
In his death he bore witness at last 

As a martyr to the truth. 
Did his life do the same in the past, 

From the days of his youth? 
It is easy to die. Men have died 

For a wish or a whim 
From bravado or passion or pride, 

Was it harder for him? 
But to live every day to live out 

All the truth that he dreamt, 
While his friends met his conduct with 
doubt 

And the world with contempt. 
Was it thus that he plodded ahead, 

Never turning aside? 
Then we'll talk of the lije that he lived. 

Never mind how he died. 

" Life and Death," by Ernest Crosby 



Page 43 



and most of the suffering in the world. 
Brand Whitlock. 

&+> 

beseech Thee, Lord, to behold us 
V4x with favor, folk of many families 
and nations, gathered together in the 
peace of this roof; weak men and women, 
subsisting under the covert of Thy 
patience. Be patient still; suffer us yet 
awhile longer 
with our broken 
purposes of good, 
with our idle en- 
deavors against 
evil suffer us 
awhile longer to en- 
dure, and (if it 
may be) help us do 
better. Bless to us 
our extraordinary 
mercies; if the day 
come when these 
must be taken, 
have us play the 
man under afflic- 
tion. Be with our 
friends; be with 
ourselves. Go with 
each of us to rest; 
if any awake, tem- 
per to them the 
dark hours of 
watching; and 
when the day re- 
turns to us, our 

sun and comforter, call us tip with 
morning faces and with morning hearts 
eager to labor eager to be happy, if 
happiness shall be our portion and it 
the day be marked for sorrow strong 
to endure it. u An Evening Prayer," 
by Robert Louis Stevenson, 



>|CHEN I would beget content and 
\ib/ increase confidence in the power 
and wisdom and providence of Almighty 
God, I will walk the meadows by some 
gliding stream, and there contemplate 
the lilies that take no care, and those 
very many other little living creatures 
that are not only created, but fed (man 
knows not how) by the goodness of the 
God of Nature, and therefore trust in 
Him. Izaak Walton. 



Page 44 



JfUBBARD'S 






HAVE no special regard for 
Satan, but I can at least 
claim that I have no pre- 
judice against him. It may 
even be that I have been 



a little in his favor, on account of his not 
having a fair show. All religions issue 
Bibles against him, but we never hear 
his side. We have none but the evidence 
for the prosecution, 

It is portentous, and a thing of state 
That here at midnight, in our little town 
A mourning figure walks, and will not 

rest, 
Near the old court-house pacing up and 

down. 



and yet we have 
rendered the ver- 
dict. To my mind 
this is irregular. It 
is un-English, it is 
un-American. 
Of course, Satan 
has some kind of a 
case, it goes with- 
out saying. It may 
be a poor one, but 
that is nothing; 
that can be said 
about any of us. 
As soon as I can 
get at the facts I 
will undertake his 
rehabilitation my- 
self, if I can find 
an impolite pub- 
Bsher. It is a thing 
which we ought to 
do for anybody 
who is under a 
cloud $* 
We rosy not pay 
him reverence, for 
that would be in- 
discreet, but we 
can at least respect 
his talents. A per- 
son who has for untold centuries main- 
tained the imposing position of spiritual 
head of four-fifths of the human race, 
and political head of the wtoie of it, 
must be granted the possession of execu- 
tive abilities of the loftiest order. In his 
large presence the other popes and 
politicians shrink to midgets for 
the microscope. I would like to see 
him. I would rather see Mm and 
sihake him by the tail than any other 
member of the European Concert. 



so-called artistic temperament 
explains the failure of innumerable 

talented men and women who never get 

over the frontier line of accomplishment. 

Symptoms of the artistic temperament 

should be fought to the death. 

Work, work, whether you want to or not. 

I throw away a whole day's work some- 

times, but the simple effort of turning 
it out has kept 
my steam up and 
prevent ed me 
from lagging be- 
hind, You can not 
work an hour at 
anything without 
learning something. 



Or by his homestead, or in shadowed 

yards 
He lingers where his children used to 



Or through the market, on the well- 

worn stones 
He stalks until the dawn-stars burn 

away. 

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of 

ancient black, 
A famous high top-hat and plain worn 

shawl 
Make him the quaint great figure that 

men love, 
The prairie-lawyer, master of us all. 



He can not sleep upon his hillside now. 
He is among us: as in times before! 
And we who toss and lie awake for long 
Breathe deep, and start, to see him 
pass the door. 

(Concluded on next page) 



The matter of 
giving life to the 
pages of a novel 
is the result of 
industrious study 
of human beings. 
Writing is the re- 
sult of thinking 
about things to 
write about and 
studying the details 
of contempora- 
neous life, so that 
you may set them 
down, not imagina- 
tively but accu- 
rately. David 
Graham Phillips. 



|| F w e a r e 
***** tempted to 
make war upon 
another nation, we 
shall remember 
that we are seeking to destroy an element 
of our own culture, and possibly its most 
important element. As long as war is 
regarded as wicked, it will always have 
its fascination. When it is looked upon 
as vulgar, it will cease to be popular* 

Oscar Wilde. 
*>$+ 

OUcannot force the growthofhuman 
life and civilization, any more than 
yoo can force these slow-growing trees. 



aH good growth is slow growth. Gaynor. 



JBFOOJFC 



Page 45 




HAT distinguishes war is, 
not that man is slain, but 
that he is slain, spoiled, 
crushed by the cruelty, the 
injustice, the treachery, the 
murderous hand of man. 
The evil is moral evil. War is the con- 
centration of all human crimes. Here is 
its distinguishing, accursed brand. Under 
its standard gather 
violence, malignity, 
rage, fraud, per- 
fidy, rapacity and 
lust. If it only slew 
men, it would do 
little. It turns man 
into a beast of prey. 
Here is the evil of 
warthatman,made 
to be the brother, 
becomes the dead- 
ly foe of his kind; 
that man, whose 
duty it is to miti- 
gate suffering, 
makes the inflic- 
tion of his suffer- 
ing his study and 
end; that man, 
whose office it is 
to avert and heal 
the wounds which 
come fromNature's 
powers, makes re- 
searches into Na- 
ture's laws, and 
arms himself with 
her most awful 
farces, that he may 
become the de- 
stroyer of his race. 

Nor is this all. There is also found in war 
a cold-hearted indifference to human 
miseries and wrongs, perhaps more 
shocking than the bad passions it calls 
forth. To my mind, this contempt of 
human nature is singularly offensive* To 
hate expresses something like respect. 
But in war, man treats his brother as 
nothing worth; sweeps away human 
multitudes as insects; tramples 
down, as grass; mocks at -the rig&ts, 
dbes not deign a thought to their woes. 



His head is bowed. He thinks on men 

and kings. 
Yea, when the sick world cries, how 

can he sleep? 
Too many peasants fight, they know 

not why, 
Too many homesteads in black tenor weep. 

Thesins of all the war-lords burn his heart. 
He sees the dreadnoughts scouring 

every main. 
He carries on his shawl-wrapped 

shoulders now 
The bitterness, the folly and the pain. 

He can not rest until a spirit-dawn 
Shall come; the shining hope of Europe 

free; 
The league of sober folk, the Workers? 

Earth, 
Bring long peace to Corrdand, Alp and Sea. 



It breaks his heart that kings must murder 

still, 

That all his hours of travail here for men 
Seem yet in vain. And who will bring 

white peace 

That he may sleep upon his hill again? 
*' Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight/' 

by Vachel Lindsay 



HOW the universal heart of 
blesses flowers! They are wreathed 
round the cradle, the marriage-altar and 
the tomb. The Persian in the Far East 
delights in their perfume, and writes his 
love in nosegays; while the Indian child 
of the Far West claps his hands with 
glee as he gathers the abundant blossoms 
the illuminated scriptures of the 
prairies.The Cupid 
of the ancient Hin- 
doos tipped his ar- 
rows with flowers, 
and orange-flowers 
are a bridal crown 
with us, a nation 
of yesterday. 
Flowers garlanded 
the Grecian altar, 
and hung in votive 
wreath before the 
Christian shrine. 
All these are appro- 
priate uses. Flow- 
ers should deck the 
brow of the youth- 
ful bride, for they 
are in themselves 
a lovely type of 
marriage. They 
should twine round 
the tomb, for their 
perpetually renew- 
ed beauty is a sym- 
bol of the resurrec- 
tion. They should 
festoon the altar, 
for their fragrance 
and their beauty 



ascend in perpet- 
ual worship before 
the Most High. L. M. Child, 



HEN yom get into a tight place 
everything goes against you, tSl it 
seems as though you could not hold on a 
nisKcfce longer, never give up then, for 
that is just the place and time that the 
tide will torn. -Harriet Beecher Stowe* 

d > 

OESPISE not airy man, and da not 
spurn anytfiii^; for there is no roan 
that IiJan0fcMs bpur, nor is there anything 
giat has not its place* -KakK Ben Az^L 



Page 46 




?*; HE majesty of suffering labor 
is no longer dumb: it speaks 
now with a million tongues, 
and it asks the nations not 
to increase the ills which 
crush down the workers by an added 
burden of mistrust and hate, by wars 
and the expectation of wars. 
Gentlemen, you may ask how and when 
and in what form this longing for inter- 
national concord will express itself to 

some purpose I can only answer you 

by a parable which I gleaned by frag- 
ments from the legends of Merlin, the 
magician, from the Arabian Nights, and 
from a book that is still unread. 
Once upon a time there was an en- 
chanted forest. It had been stripped of 
all verdure, it was wild and forbidding. 
The trees, tossed by the bitter winter 
wind that never ceased, struck one 
another with a sound as of breaking 
swords. When at last, after a long series 
of freezing nights and sunless days that 
seemed like nights, all living things 
trembled with the first call of spring, the 
trees became afraid of the sap that began 
to move within them. And the solitary 
and bitter spirit that had its dwelling 
within the hard bark of each of them 
said very low, with a shudder that came 
up from the deepest roots: " Have a caret 
If thou art the first to risk yielding to 
the wooing of the new season, if thou art 
the first to turn thy lance-like buds into 
blossoms and leaves, their delicate 
raiment will be torn by the rough blows 
of the trees that have been slower to put 
forth leaves and flowers/' 
And the proud and melancholy spirit 
that was shut up within the great Druid- 
ical oak spoke to its tree with peculiar 
insistence: " And wilt thou, too, seek to 
join the universal love-feast, thou whose 
noble branches have been broken by the 
storm? " &+ *^ 

Thus, in the enchanted forest, mutual 
distrust drove back the sap, and pro- 
longed the death-like winter even after 
the call of spring. 

What happened at last? By what mys- 
terious influence was the grim charm 
broken? Did some tree find the courage 
to act alone, like those April poplars that 



break into a shower of verdure, and give 
from afar the signal for a renewal of all 
life? Or did a wanner and more life- 
giving beam start the sap moving in all 
the trees at once? For lo! in a single day 
the whole forest burst forth into a 
magnificent flowering of joy and peace. 
Jean Leon Jaurds. 



J"" JOIN with you most cordially in 
-. , rejoicing at the return of peace. I 
hope it will be lasting, and that man- 
kind will at length, as they call them- 
selves reasonable creatures, have reason 
enough to settle their differences with- 
out cutting throats; for, in my opinion, 
there never was a good war or a bad 
peace. What past additions to the con- 
veniences and comforts of life might 
mankind have acquired, if the money 
spent in wars had been employed in 
works of utility! What an extension of 
agriculture, even to the tops of the 
mountains; what rivers rendered navig- 
able, or joined by canals; what bridges, 
aqueducts, new roads, and other public 
works, edifices and improvements, ren- 
dering England a complete paradise, 
might not have been obtained by spend- 
ing those millions in doing good, which in 
the last war have been spent in doing 
mischief in bringing misery into thou- 
sands of families and destroying the lives 
of so many working people, who might 
have performed the useful labors. 

Franklin. 
d* &+> 

T is a glorious privilege to live, to 
know, to act, to listen, to behold, 
to love. To look up at the blue summer 
sky; to see the sun sink slowly beyond 
the line of the horizon; to watch the 
worlds come twinkling into view, first 
one by one, and the myriads that no 
man can count, and lo! the universe is 
white with them; and you and I are 
here. Marco Morrow. 



[ ELIEVEme, everymanhashis secret 
sorrows, which the world knows 
not; and oftentimes we call a man cold 
when he is only sad. Longfellow. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 47 



;; GE, that lessens the enjoy- 
| ment of life, increases our 
; desire of living. Those dan- 
^^JfJ< & ers which, in the vigor of 
^-S^sirfe,^ youth, we had learned to 
despise, assume new terrors as we grow 
old. Our caution increasing as our years 
increase, fear becomes at last the pre- 
vailing passion of the mind, and the 
small remainder of 
life is taken up in 
useless efforts to 
keep off our end, or 
provide for a con- 
tinued existence so* 
Whence, then, is 
this increased love 
of life, which grows 
upon us with our 
years? Whence 
comes it that we 
thus make greater 
efforts to preserve 
our existence at a 
period when it be- 
comes scarce worth 
the keeping? Is it 
that Nature, atten- 
tive to the preser- 
vation of mankind, 
increases our wishes to live, while she 
lessens our enjoyments; and, as she robs 
the senses of every pleasure, equips imag- 
ination in the spoil? Life would be insup- 
portable to an old man, who loaded with 
infirmities, feared death no more than 
when in the vigor of manhood: the 
numberless calamities of decaying Na- 
ture, and the consciousness of surviving 
every pleasure would at once induce him 
with his own hand to terminate the 
scene of misery: but happily the con- 
tempt of death forsakes him at a time 
when it could only be prejudicial, and 
life acquires an imaginary value in pro- 
portion as its real value is no more* 
Oliver Goldsmith. 

He who would do some great thing in 
this short life must apply himself to 
work with such a concentration of his 
forces as, to idle spectators, who live only 
to amuse themselves, looks like insanity. 

Parkman, 



if I differ from some in relig- 
i/ ious apprehensions? Am I therefore 
incompatible with human societies? I 
know not any unfit for political society 
but those who maintain principles sub- 
versive of industry, fidelity, justice and 
obedience. Five things are requisite for 
a good officer; ability, clean hands, dis- 
patch, patience and impartiality. 

William Penn. 



The streets are full of human toys, 
Wound up for threescore years; 

Their springs are hungers, hopes and 

joys, 
And jealousies and fears. 

They move their eyes, their lips, their 
hands; 

They are marvellously dressed; 
And here my body stirs or stands, 

A plaything like the rest. 

The toys are played with till they fall, 
Worn out and thrown away. 

Why were they ever made at all! 
Who sits to watch the play! 
" Playthings,*' by Robert Louis Stevenson 



O STRONG life 
is like that of 
a ship of war which 
has its own place 
in the fleet and can 
sharein its strength 
and discipline, but 
can also go forth 
alone to the soli- 
tude of the infinite 
sea. We ought to 
belong to society, 
to have our place in 
it and yet be capa- 
ble of a complete 
individual exis- 
tence outside of it. 
P. G. Hamerton. 



HAPPINESS in this world, when it 
conies, comes incidentally* Make it 
the object of pursuit, and it leads us a 
wild-goose chase, and is never attained. 
Follow some other object, and very pos- 
sibly we may find that we have caught 
happiness without dreaming of it; but 
likely enough it is gone the moment we 
say to ourselves, " Here it is! "like the 
chest of gold that treasure-seekers find. 
Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

3^ 

HOR those who seek Truth and would 
follow her; for those who recognize 
Justice and would stand for her, success 
is not the only thing. SuccessI Why, 
Falsehood has often that to give; and 
Injustice often has that to give. Must not 
Truth and Justice have something to 
give that is their own by proper rigfrt 
theirs in essence, and not by accident? 
That they have, and not here and now, 
every one who has felt their exaltation 
knows, Henry George, 



Page 48 



HUBBAKD'S 




IN we say a man or a 
! woman we know is a thor- 
ough-bred, we pay to him 
for her the greatest com- 
i pliment of which we are 
capable. There is not in the vocabulary 
of pleasant terms a stronger word. 
Visit a stock-farm, the home of high- 
grade horses or cattle, and you will see 
that the physical signs of the thorough- 
bred are fine eyes and an erect bearing. 
These are the symbols of a high, gener- 
ous spirit s+ &+> 

The keeper of the stock-farm will tell 
you that a thoroughbred never whines. 
One illustrated this to me by swinging a 
dog around by the tail. The creature 
was in pain, but no sound escaped him. 
"You see," said the keeper, "they 
never complain. It ain't in 'em. Same 
way when a stable burns. It ain't the 
best horses that scream when they're 
burnin*. It 9 s the worst." 
All this is quite as true of the human 
tbxoughbred. The visible signs of the 
invisible spirit are the eyes that are 
steady and shoulders that are straight. 
No burden except possibly the weight ot 
many years bends his shoulders, and 
his eyes meet yours in honest fashion, 
because he neither fears, nor has been 
shamed, at the bar of his own soul. 
C He never complains. He keeps his 
troubles to himself, having discovered, 
as thoroughbreds do, that to tell troubles 
is to multiply them, and to lock them in 
the breast is to diminish and finally end 
them. He never talks about what Fate 
has done to him. He knows he is master 
of his own destiny. He never bewails the 
treatment he has received from another, 
for he knows no ooe can do him lasting 
harm except himself, 



feet is, that; civaizatiaa re- 
slaves* TJie Greeks were 
quite right there. Unless? there are slaves 
to do tfae ugly, horrible, uninteresting 
work, culture and contonplatkm be- 
come almost impossible. Human slavery 
is wrong, insecure, and demoralizing. 
O0 mechanical slavery, on tie slavery 
of the machine, the future of tbe world 
depends. Oscar WUde* 



is your day and mine, the 
only day we have, the day in which 
we play our part. What our part may 
signify in the great whole we may not 
understand; but we are here to play it, 
and now is our time. This we know: it 
is a part of action, not of whining. It is a 
part of love, not cynicism. It is for us 
to express love in terms of human 
helpfulness. David Starr Jordan. 



perfect historian is he in whose 
the character and spirit of an 
age is exhibited in miniature. He relates 
no fact, he attributes no expression to 
his characterSjWhich is not authenticated 
by sufficient testimony &** By judicious 
selection, rejection and arrangement, he 
gives to truth those attractions which 
have been usurped by fiction. In his nar- 
rative a due subordination is observed: 
some transactions are prominent; others 
retire. But the scale on which he repre- 
sents them is increased or diminished 
not according to the dignity of the 
persons concerned in them, but accord- 
ing to the degree in which they elu- 
cidate the condition of society and the 
nature of man. He shows us the court, 
the camp and the senate. But he shows 
us also the nation. He considers no 
anecdote, no peculiarity of manner, no 
familiar saying, as too significant for 
his notice which is not too insigni- 
ficant to illustrate the operation of 
laws, of religion, and of education, and 
to mark the progress of the human mind. 
Men will not merely be described, but 
will be made intimately known to us. 

- Macaulay. 

$ 

ideal life is in our blood and 
never will be still. Sad will be the 
day for any man when he becomes con- 
tented with the thoughts he is think- 
ing a^d the deeds he is doing, where 
there is npt forever beating at tie doors 
of his soul some great desire to do some- 
thing larger, which he knows that he 
was meant and made to do. 

Phillips Brooks. 

&* * 

He jests at scars that never felt a wound. 

Shakespeare. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 49 




Under the wide and starry sky 
Dig the grave and let me lie; 
Glad did I live and gladly die, 
And I laid me down with a will. 



E rejoined the Colors on Fri- 
^y- On Monday we are to 
move out> Toda y being 
Sunday, is Ml dress Church 
Parade $+> 0* 
I slept badly last night, and am feeling 
uneasy and limp. 

And now we are sitting close-packed in 
church s* so 
The organ is play- 
ing a voluntary. 
C I am leaning 
back and strain- 
ing my ears for the 
sounds in the 
dim twilight of the 
building &+> &* 
Childhood's days 
rise before my eyes 
again. I am watch- 
ing a little solemn- 
faced boy sitting 
crouched in a cor- 
ner and listening 
to the divine ser- 
vice $*> The priest is standing in front of 
the altar, and is intoning the Exhorta- 
tion devoutly. The choir in the gallery is 
chanting the responses. The organ thun- 
ders out and floods through the building 
majestically. I am rapt in an ecstasy of 
sweet terror, for the Lord God is coming 
down upon us. He is standing before me 
and touching my body, so that I have to 
close my eyes in a terror of shuddering 
ecstacy. . . . 

That is long, long ago, and is aH past 
and done with, as youth itself is past and 
done with. . . . 

Strange! After all these years of doubt 
and unbelief, at this moment of lucid 
consciousness, the atmosphere of de- 
voutness, long since dead, possesses me, 
and thrills me so passionately that I can 
hardly resist it. This is the same heavy 
twilight these are the same yearning 
angel voices the same fearful sense of 
rapture &+> 

I pull myself together, and sit bolt up- 
right on the hard wooden pew. 
In the main and the side aisles below, 
and in the galleries above, nothing but 
soldiers in uniform, and all, with level 
faces, turned toward the altar, toward 



that pale man in his long, dignified black 
gown, toward that sonorous, unctuous 
mouth, from whose lips flows the name 
of God 3* > 

Look! He is now stretching forth his 
hands. We incline our heads. He Is pro- 
nouncing the Benediction over us in a 
voice that echoes from the tomb. He is 
blessing us in the name of God, the 
Merciful* He is 
blessing our rifles 
that they may not 
fail us; he is bles- 
sing the wire- 
drawn guns on 
their patent recoil- 



This be the verse you grave for me: 
Here he lies where he longed to be; 
Home is the sailor, home from sea, 
And the hunter home from the hill. 

"Requiem," by Robert Louis Stevenson 



less carriages; he 
is blessing every 
precious cartridge, 
lest a single bullet 
be wasted, lest any 
pass idly through 
the air; that each 
one may account 
for a hundred 

human beings, may shatter a hundred 
human beings simultaneously. 
Father in Heaven ! Thou art gazing down 
at us in such terrible silence. Dost Thou 
shudder at these sons of men? Thou poor 
and slight God! Thou couldst only rain 
Thy paltry pitch and sulphur on Sodom 
and Gomorrah. But we, Thy children, 
whom Thou hast created, we are going 
to exterminate them by high-pressure 
machinery, and butcher whole cities in 
factories. Here we stand, and whOe we 
stretch our hands to Thy Son in prayer, 
and cry Hosannah! we are hurling shells 
and shrapnel in the face of Thy Image, 
and shooting the Son of Man down from. 
His Cross like a target at the riSe-butts. 
C^ And now the Holy Communion is 
being celebrated. The organ is playing 
mysteriously from afar off, and the flesh 
and blood of the Redeemer is ramgifag 
with our flesh and blood. 
There He is hanging on tie Cross above 
me, and gazing down upon me. 
How pale those cheeks look? And those 
eyes are the eyes as of one dead! Who 
was this Christ Who is to aid us, and 
Whose blood we drink? What was it they 
once taught us at school? Didst Thou not 



Page 50 



HUBBARD'S 



love mankind? And didst Thou not die 
for the whole human race? Stretch out 
Thine arms toward me. There is some- 
thing I would fain ask of Thee. . . . Ah! 
they have nailed Thy arms to the Cross, 
so that Thou canst not stretch out a 
finger toward us. 

Shuddering, I fix my eyes on the corpse- 
like face and see that He died long ago, 
that He is nothing more than wood, 
nothing other than a puppet. Christ, it 
is no longer Thee to whom we pray. 
Look there! Look there! It is he. The 
new patron saint of a Christian State I 
Look there! It is he, the great Genghis 
Khan. Of him we know that he swept 
through the history of the world with fire 
and sword, and piled up pyramids ot 
skulls. Yes, that is he. Let us heap up 
mountains of human heads, and pile up 
heaps of human entrails. Great Genghis 
Khan! Thou, our patron saint! Do thou 
bless us! Pray to thy blood-drenched 
father seated above the skies of Asia, 
that he may sweep with us through the 
clouds; that he may strike down the 
accursed nation till it writhes in its blood, 
till it never can rise again. A red mist 
swims before my eyes. Of a sudden I see 
nothing but blood before me. The heav- 
ens have opened, and the red flood 
pours in through the windows. Blood 
wells up on the altar. The walls run 
blood from the ceiling to the floor, and 
God the Father steps out of the blood. 
Every scale of his skin stands erect, his 
beard and hair drip blood. A giant of 
Mood stands before me. He seats him- 
self backward on the altar, and is laugh- 
ing from thick, coarse lips there sits 
the Kr-qg of Dahomey, and he butchers 
his slaves. The black executioner raises 
his sword and whirls it above my head. 
Another moment and my head will roll 
down on the floor soother moment 
and the red jet wiE spurt firom my neck 
. . * Murderers, mordererst Hone other 
than mnnferecs! Lord God in Heaiven! 
Then 

The church door opens creaMng 
Light, air, the Hue of heaven, burst in. 
I draw a breath of relief. We have 
risen to oor feet, and at length pass out 
of the twifight into t&e open am 



My knees are still trembling under me. 
C[ We fall into line, and in our hob- 
nailed boots tramp in step down the 
street toward the barracks. When I see 
my mates marching beside me in their 
matter-of-fact and stolid way, I feel 
ashamed, and call myself a wretched 
coward. What a weak-nerved, hysterical 
breed, that can no longer look at blood 
without fainting! You neurasthenic off- 
spring of your sturdy peasant forebears, 
who shouted for joy when they went out 
to fight! 5^ s* 

I pull myself together and throw my 
head back. 

I never was a coward, and eye for eye I 
have always looked my man in the face, 
and will so do this time, too, happen 
what may. Wilhelm Lamszus. 



is essential to con- 
quest; only according to our igno- 
rance are we helpless. Thought creates 
character. Character can dominate con- 
ditions. Will creates circumstances and 
environment. Annie Besant* 

fr> $*> 

IT is assumed that labor is avail- 
able only in connection with capital ; 
that nobody labors unless somebody else, 
owning capital, somehow by the use of it, 
induces him to labor. This assumed, it 
is next considered whether it is best that 
capital shall hire laborers, and thus in- 
duce them to work by their own con- 
sent,^ or buy them and drive them to do 
it without their consent. Having pro- 
ceeded so far, it is naturally concluded 
all laborers are either hired laborers 
or what we call slaves. 
Now, there is no such relation between 
capital and labor as here assumed. . . . 
Labor is prior to and independent of 
capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor, 
could never have existed if labor had 
not first existed. Labor is the superior 
of capital, and deserves much the higher 
consideration. Abraham Lincoln. 

$*> 

To be seventy years young is sometimes 
far more cheerful and hopeful than to 
be forty years old. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



J3OO.FC 



Page 51 



w e were to single out the 

* , ; V j|f -^" i i me a who from the beginning 
of our Colonial state until 




P rese *rt time have most 
1.22 eminently contributed 
to fostering and securing religious free- 
dom, who have made this country of 
ours the haven of refuge from ecclesias- 
tical tyranny and persecution, who 
have set an example more puissant than 
army or navy^for freeing the conscience 
of men from civil interference, and have 
leavened the mass of intolerance wher- 
ever the name of America is known, I 
would mention first the Baptist, Roger 
Williams, who maintained the principle 
that the^ civil powers have no right to 
meddle in matters of conscience, and 
who founded a State with that prin- 
ciple as its keystone. I would mention 
second the Catholic, Lord Baltimore, 
the proprietor of Maryland, to whom 
belongs the credit of having established 
liberty in matters of worship which was 
second only to Rhode Island. 1 would 
name third the Quaker, William Penn, 
whose golden motto was, " We must 
yield the liberties we demand." Fourth 
on the list is Thomas Jefferson, that 
" arch-infidel," as he has been termed by 
some religious writers, who overthrew 
the established church in his own State, 
and then, with prophetic statesman- 
ship, made it impossible for any church 
to establish itself under our national 
Constitution or in any way to abridge the 
rights of conscience. Oscar S. Straus. 

4* 

I LIKE to be beholden to the great 
metropolitan English speech, the 
sea which receives tributaries from every 
region under heaven. I should as soon 
think of swimming across the Charles 
River when I wish to go to Boston, as 
of reading all my books in originals, 
when I have them rendered for me in 
my mother tongue. Emerson* 



night there was an unusual 
atmosphere in her comer. She had 
a newly tallied cap on her head and her 
little Sunday shawl over her shoulders* 
Her candle was burning ^d~tte ; Dearth, 
stones had an extfa cp&t of wiuiewasii. 



She drew me up close beside her and 
told me a story. 

" Once, a long, long time< ago, God, 
feelin' tired, went to sleep an' had a 
nice wee nap on His throne. His head 
was in His ban's an' a wee white cloud 
came down an' covered Him up. Purty 
soon He wakes up an' says He: 
" ' Where 's Michael? ' 
" ' Here I am, Father! ' said Michael. 
" ' Michael, me boy,' says God, * I want 
a chariot and a charioteer! ' 
" * Right ye are!* says he. Up comes the 
purtiest chariot in the city of Heaven an* 
the finest charioteer. 
" ' Me boy,' says God, < take a minion 
tons of th' choicest seeds of th' flowers of 
Heaven an' take a trip around th' world 
wi' them. Scatter them,' says He, 'be th* 
roadsides an' th' wild places of th' earth 
where my poor live/ 
" ' Aye,' says the charioteer, * that's jist 
like Ye, Father. It's th' purtiest job of 
m' aftber-life an' I '11 do it finely/ 
" 'It 's jist come t' Me in a dream/ says 
th' Father, ' that the rich have all the 
flowers down there and the poor have 
nown at all." 

At this point I got in some questions 
about God's language and the kind of 
flowers &+> &** 

"Well, dear," she said, "He spakes 
Irish t 9 Irish people, an* the charioteer 
was an Irishman/' 

" Maybe it was a woman I" I ventured. 
<[ " Aye, but there's no difference tip 
there/' +> * 

" Th' flowers," she said, " were prim- 
roses, buttercups, an' daisies, an* th* 
flowers that be handy t* th* poor, an* from 
that day to this there *s been flowers 
a-plenty for all of us everywhere 1" 
" My Lady of the Chimney-Comer/' by 
Alexander Irvine. 

2+> $+> 

T is well for a mart to respect his 
own vocation whatever it is, and to 
think himself bound to uphold it, and to 
claim for it the respect it deserves, 

Charles Dickens. 

^ 

T*he religions of the world are ttte ejac- 
ulations of a few imaginative men. 



Page 52 



ffUBBARD'S 




is the hour for 
many strange effects in light 
and shade enough to make 
a colorist go delirious long 
spokes of molten silver sent 
horizontally through the trees (now in 
their brightest, tenderest green), each 
leaf and branch of endless foliage a 
lit-up miracle, then lying all prone on 
the youthful-ripe, 
interminable grass, 
and giving the 
blades not only ag- 
gregate but indi- 
vidual splendor, in 
ways unknown to 
any other hour. 
<[ I have partic- 
ular spots where 
I get these effects 
in their perfection. 
One broad splash 
lies on the water, 
with many a rip- 
pling twinkle, 
offset by the 
rapidly deepen- 
ing black-green 
murky-trans- 
parent shadows 
behind, and at 
intervals all along 
the banks. These, 
with great shafts 



Preach about yesterday, Preacher! 
The time so far away: 

When the hand of Deity smote and 
slew, 

And the heathen plagued the stiff- 
necked Jew; 

Or when the Man of Sorrow came, 

And blessed the people who cursed His 
name 

Preach about yesterday, Preacher, 
Not about today! 

Preach about tomorrow, Preacher! 

Beyond this world's decay: 
Of the sheepfold Paradise we priced 
When we pinned our faith to Jesus 

Christ; 

Of those hot depths that shall receive 
The goats who would not so believe 
Preach about tomorrow, Preacher, 

Not about today! 

(Concluded on next page) 



of horizontal fire 



thrown among the trees and along the 
grass as the sun lowers, give effects 
more peculiar, more and more superb, 
unearthly, rich and dazzling. 

Walt Whitman. 

> 

F I had my life to live over again, 
I would have made a rule to read 
some poetry and listen to some music 
at least once a week; for perhaps the 
parts of my brain now atrophied would 
thus have been kept active through use. 
<[ The loss of these tastes is a loss of 
happiness, and may possibly be in- 
jurious to the intellect, and more 
probably to the moral character, by 
enfeebling the emotional part of our 
nature. Darwin. 



HAT gives Anatole France his 
lasting hold over his hearers is not 
his cleverness, but himself -the fact 
that this savant who bears the heavy 
load of three cultures, nay, who is in 
himself a whole little culture this^sage, 
to whom the whole life of the earth is but 
an ephemeral eruption on its surface, and 
who consequently regards all human 
endeavor as finally 
vain this thinker, 
who can see every- 
thing from innu- 
merable sides 
and might have 
come to the con- 
clusion that things 
being bad at 
the best, the exist- 
ing state of matters 
was probably as 
good as the un- 
tried: that this 
man should pro- 
claim hiraself a son 
of the Revolution, 
side with the work- 
ingman, acknowl- 
edge his belief in 
liberty, throw 
away his load and 
draw his sword 
this is what moves 
a popular audience, this is what plain 
people can understand and can prize. It 
has shown them that behind the author 
there dwells a man behind the great 
author a brave man. Georg Brandes. 



H 



Better late than never. Dionysius. 



OVE is the river of life in this world. 
Think not that ye know it who 
stand at the little tinkling rill, the first 
small fountain. 

Not until you have gone through the 
rocky gorges, and not lost the stream; 
not until you have gone through the 
meadow, and the stream has widened 
and deepened until fleets could ride on 
its bosom; not until beyond the meadow 
you have come to the unfathomable 
ocean, and poured your treasures into 
its depths not until then can you 
know what love is. 

Henry Ward Beecher. 



J3OCXFC 



Page S3 



IFE seems a perpetual suc- 
cession of events, to which 
man submits. We never 
know from which direction 
the sudden blow will come. 
Misery and happiness enter and make 
their exits, like unexpected guests. Their 
laws, their orbits, their principle of gravi- 
tation, are beyond man's grasp. Virtue 
conducts 




not to 
happiness; nor 
crime to retribu- 
tion ; conscience has 
one logic, fate an- 
other, andneither 
coincide. Nothing is 
foreseen. We live 
confusedly and 
from hand to 
mouth. Conscience 
is the straight line, 
life is the whirlwind 
which creates over 
man's head either 
black chaos or 
the blue sky. Fate 
does not practise 
the art of grada- 
tions Her wheel 
turns sometimes so 
fast that we can 
scarcelydistinguish 



the interval be- 
tween one revolution and another, or 
the link between yesterday and today. 

Victor Hugo. 

Greatspenders arebadlenders. Franklin 

QACH and every man ought to in- 
terest himself in public affairs. 
There is no happiness in mere dollars. 
After they are acquired, one can use 
but a very moderate amount. It is given 
a man to eat so much, to wear so much, 
and to have so much shelter, and more 
he can not use. When money has sup- 
plied these, its mission, so far as the 
individual is concerned, is fulfilled, and 
man must look still further and higher. 
It is only in wide public affairs, where 
money is a moving force toward the 
general welfare, that the possessor of it 
can possibly find pleasure, and that 



Preach about the old sins, Preacher! 

And the old virtues, too: 
You must not steal nor take man's 

life, 
You must not covet your neighbofs 

wife, 
And woman must cling at every cost 

To her one virtue, or she is lost 
Preach about the old sins, Preacher! 

Not about the new! 

Preach about the other man, Preacher! 

The man we all can see! 
The man of oaths, the man of strife, 
The man who drinks and beats his wife, 
Who helps his mates to fret and shirk 
When all they need is to keep at work 
Preach about the other man, Preacher! 

Not about me! 

?To the Preacher," 

by Charlotte Perkins Gflman 



only in constantly doing more ** The 
greatest good a man can do is to culti- 
vate himself, develop his powers, in 
order that he may be of greater service 
to humanity. Marshall Field. 

E must learn that any person who 
will not accept what he knows to be 
truth, for the very love of truth alone, 
is very definitely 
undermining his 
mental integrity. 
It will be observed 
that the mind of 
such a person 
gradually stops 
growing, for, being 
constantly 
hedged in and 
cropped here 
and there, it soon 
learns to respect 
artificial fences 
more than free- 
dom for growth. 
[ You have not 
been a very dose 
observer of such 
men if you have 
not seen them 
shrivel, become 
commonplace, 
mean, without 

influence, without friends and without 
the enthusiasm of youth and growth, 
like a tree covered with fungus, the 
foliage diseased, the life gone out of the 
heart with dry rot, and indelibly marked 
for destruction dead, but not yet 
handed over to the undertaker. 

Luther Burbank. 

JAN is incomprehensible without 
Nature, and Nature is incompre- 
hensible apart from man. For the delicate 
loveliness of the flower is as much in the 
human eye as in its own fragile petals, 
and the splendor of the heavens as much 
in the imagination that kindles at the 
touch of their glory as in the shining of 
countless worlds. 

Hamilton Wright Mabie. 

I would rather be sick than idle. Seneca. 



Page 54 




gjiiEOFLE say to me, " Well, 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch, as far as 
preaching goes, you preach; 
but how about your prac- 
tice? " 

The question is a perfectly natural one; 
it is always put to me, and it always 
shuts my mouth. " You preach," it is 
said, " but how do you live? " 
I can only reply that I do not preach, 
passionately as I desire to do so. 
I might preach through my actions, but 
my actions are bad. That which I say 
is not preaching; it is only my attempt 
to find out the meaning and the signifi- 
cance of life. 

People often say to me, " If you think 
that there is no reasonable life outside 
the teachings of Christ, and if you love a 
reasonable life, why do you not fulfil 
the Christian precepts? " I am guilty 
and blameworthy and contemptible be- 
cause I do not fulfil them: but at the 
same time I say not in justification, but 
in explanation, of my inconsistency 
" Compare my previous life with the life 
I am now living, and you will see that I 
am trying to fulfil. I have not, it is true, 
fulfilled one eighty-thousandth part, and 
I am to blame for it; but it is not be- 
cause I do not wish to fulfil all, but 
because I am unable. Teach me how to 
extricate myself from the meshes of 
temptation in which I am entangled 
help me and I will fulfil all. Condemn 
me if you choose I do that myself 
but condemn Me, and not the path 
which I am following, and which I point 
out to those who ask me where, in my 
opinion, the path is/' Leo Tolstoy. 

*> $ 

CHERE is no place where humor 
counta ibr more m a commercial 
way tfoan\ in advertising. If you can only 
land your shot under a man's funny bone 
ymi liave done the deadly work and can 
interest him in whatever you have to 
offer, The necessity of saying things 
tersdy and compactly, as the adver- 
tising writer most always say them, is a 
cardinal point in the training of the 
humorist, and for tills reason I believe 
that the writing of advertisements is one 
of the best courses of mstajctkm through 



which the man ambitious to shine as a 
professional humorist can pass. 

George Ade. 

* 

jlT|HERE have I come from, where did 

Vl ' you pick me up? " the baby asked 

its mother. 

C She answered, half-crying, half-laugh- 

ing, and clasping the baby to her breast: 

" You were hidden in my heart as its 

desire, my darling. 

" You were in the dolls of my child- 

hood's games; and when with clay I 

made the image of my god every morn- 

ing, I made and unmade you then. 

" You were enshrined with our house- 

hold deity ;in his worship I worshiped you. 

" In all my hopes and my loves, in my 

life, in the life of my mother, you have 

lived 

" In the lap of the deathless Spirit who 

rules our home you have been nursed for 

ages." Rabindranath Tagore. 



, and indeed for many years 
after, it seemed as though there was 
no end to the money needed to cany on 
and develop the business. As our suc- 
cesses began to come, I seldom put my 
head upon the pillow at night without 
speaking a few words to myself in this 
wise: 

ff Now a little success, soon you will fall 
down, soon you will be overthrown. 
Because you have got a start, you think 
you are quite a merchant; look out, or 
you will lose your head go steady/* 
These intimate conversations with my- 
self, I am sure had a great influence on 
my life. John D. Rockefeller. 

* $e 

HE old idea of romance: The cotin- 
try boy goes to the city, marries his 
employer's daughter, enslaves some hun- 
dreds of his fellow humans, gets rich, and 
leaves a public library to his home town. 
<[ The new idea of romance: To undo 
some of the mischief done by the old 
idea of romance. Seymour Deming. 



THINK the first virtue is to restrain 
the tongue; he approaches nearest 
to the gods who knows how to be silent, 
efven though he is in the right. Cato. 



^7:'4f] OVE is the only bow on life's 
-:*'$ i!;;'|'t! dark cl ud. It is the Morn- 
X'| ^:i']7 ing and the Evening Star. 

' It: silines u P n the cradle of 

LStrr>T:^I| the babe, and sheds its 
radiance upon the quiet tomb. It is the 
mother of Art, inspirer of poet, patriot 
and philosopher. It is the ah* and light of 
every heart, builder of every home, 
kindler of every fire on every hearth. It 
was the first to dream of immortality. 
It fills the world with melody, for Music 
is the voice of Love. Love is the magi- 
cian, the enchanter, that changes worth- 
less things to joy, and makes right royal 
kings and queens of common clay. It is 
the perfume of the wondrous flower the 
heart and without that sacred passion, 
that divine swoon, we are less than 
beasts; but with it, earth is heaven and 
we are gods. Robert G. Ingersoll. 

* <* 

^XHOUSANDS of channels there are 
%J/ through which the beauty of our 
soul may sail even unto our thoughts. 
Above all is there the wonderful, central 
channel of love. For is it not in love that 
are found the purest elements of beauty 
that we can offer to the soul? Some there 
are who do thus in beauty love each 
other. And to love thus means that, little 
by little, the sense of ugliness is lost; that 
one's eyes are closed to all the littlenesses 
of life, to all but the freshness and vir- 
ginity of the very humblest of souls. 
Loving thus, we can no longer have any- 
thing to conceal, for that the ever-present 
soul transforms all things into beauty. 
It is to behold evil in so far only as it 
purifies indulgence, and teaches us no 
longer to confound the sinner with the 
sin * $ 

Loving thus do we raise on high within 
ourselves all those about us who have 
attained an eminence where failure has 
become impossible: heights whence a 
paltry action has so far to fall that, 
touching earth, it is compelled to yield 
up its diamond soul. It is to transform* 
though all tmconsciciusly, the; feeblest 
intention that hovers about us "* 
inimitable movement. It is to 
aH ttet is beatttiffii In ^eaft 
soul, to thebancpetoflove. ] 



Page 5 5 



the least gesture will call forth the pres- 
ence of the soul with all its treasure. It 
means that the beauty that turns into 
love is undistinguishable from the love 
that turns into beauty. It means to be 
able no longer to tell where the ray of a 
star leaves off and the kiss of an ordinary 
thought begins. It means that each day 
will reveal to us a new beauty in that 
mysterious angel, and that we shall walk 
together in a goodness that shall ever 
become more and more living, loftier and 
loftier. Maeterlinck. 

3* *> 

/THERISH the spirit of our people and 
\A keep alive their attention. Do not 
be too severe upon their errors, but re- 
claim them by enlightening them. If 
once they become inattentive to public 
affairs, you and I, and Congress and 
Assemblies, judges and governors, shall 
all become wolves. It seems to be the 
law of our general nature, in spite of 
individual exceptions; and experience 
declares that man is the only animal 
which devours his own kind; for I can 
apply fto milder term to the governments 
of Europe, and to the general prey of the 
rich on the poor. Thomas Jefferson. 




not despise genius indeed, 
I wish I had a basketful of it instead 
of a brain, but yet, after a great deal of 
experience and observation, I have be- 
come convinced that industry is a better 
horse to ride than genius. It may never 
carry any one man as far as genius has 
carried individuals, but industry pa- 
tient, steady intelligent industry will 
carry thousands into comfort and even 
into celebrity, and this it does with 
absolute certainty; whereas genius often 
refuses to be tamed and managed, and 
often goes with wretched morals. If you 
are to wish fee either* wish for industry. 
Julian Ralph. 
* 

The more a man is educated, the more 
is it necessary, for the welfare of tiie 
State* to instruct Mm ti0w to make a 
''t&e'qf Ws talents. Education, is 
6nfc|eH3dge<i sword. It may fee 

u^saom tisages if it Is . 
handkcL Wu Ting-Fang. 



Page 56 



ffUBBARD'S 




^QUALITY is the life of con- 
versation; and he is as much 
out who assumes to him- 
self any part above another, 
as he who considers him- 
self below the rest of society. Familiarity 
in inferiors is sauciness: in superiors it 
is condescension; neither of which are 
to have being among companions, the 
very word implying that they are to 
be equal. When, therefore, we have 
extracted the company from all con- 
siderations of their equality or fortune, 
it will immediately appear that, to 
make it happy and polite, there must 
nothing be started which shall discover 
that our thoughts run upon any such 
distinctions > Hence it will arise that 
benevolence must become the rule of 
society, and he that is most obliging 
must be most diverting. 

Richard Steele. 

*> 

HE has achieved success who has 
lived well, laughed often and loved 
much; who has gained the respect of 
intelligent men and the love of little 
children; who has filled his niche and 
accomplished his task; who has left the 
world better than he found it, whether 
by an improved poppy, a perfect poem 
or a rescued soul; who has never lacked 
appreciation of earth's beauty or failed 
to express it; who has looked for the best 
in others and given the best he had; 
whose life was an inspiration; whose 
memory is a benediction. 

Mrs. A. J. Stanley. 

$+> 

T is said that in love we idolize the 
object, and, placing him apart and 
selecting him from his fellows, look on 
htm as superior in nature to all others. 
We do so; but even as we idolize the 
object of our affections, do we idolize 
ourselves: if we separate him from Ms 
fellow-mortals, so do we separate our- 
selves, and glorying in belonging to h^m 
alone feel lifted above all other sensations, 
all other joys and griefs, to one hallowed 
circle from which all but his idea is 
banished: we walk as if a mist, or some 
more potent charm, divided us from 
all but him; a sanctified victim, which 



none but the priest set apart for that 
office could touch and not pollute, en- 
shrined in a cloud of glory, made 
glorious through beauties not our own. 
Mrs. M. W. Shelley. 

> $+> 

EAUTYis an all-pervading presence. 
It unfolds to the numberless flowers 
of the Spring; it waves in the branches ot 
the trees and in the green blades of 
grass; it haunts the depths of the earth 
and the sea, and gleams out in the hues 
of the shell and the precious stone. And 
not only these minute objects, but the 
ocean, the mountains, the clouds, the 
heavens, the stars, the rising and the 
setting sun, all overflow with beauty. 
The universe is its temple; and those 
men who are alive to it can not lift their 
eyes without feeling themselves encom- 
passed with it on every side. Now, this 
beauty is so precious, the enjoyment it 
gives so refined and pure, so congenial 
without tenderest and noblest feelings, 
and so akin to worship, that it is pain- 
ful to think of the multitude of men as 
living in the midst of it, and living 
almost as blind to it as if, instead of this 
fair earth and glorious sky, they were 
tenants of a dungeon. An infinite joy is 
lost to the world by the want of culture 
of this spiritual endowment. The great- 
est truths are wronged if not linked with 
beauty, and they win their way most 
surely and deeply into the soul when 
arrayed in this their natural and fit 
attire. W. E, Charming. 



>CHAT a place to be in is an old 
\l/ library! It seems as if all the souls 
of all the writers that had bequeathed 
their labors to these Bodleians were 
reposing here as in some dormitory, or 
middle state. I do not want to handle, to 
profane the leaves, their winding-sheets. 
I could as soon dislodge a shade. I seem 
to inhale learning, walking amid their 
foliage; and the odor of their old moth- 
scented coverings is fragrant as the first 
bloom of these sciential apples which grew 
amid the happy orchard. Charles Lamb* 

> 

Doubt whom you will, but never your- 
self. Bovee. 



JSOOJPC 



Page 57 



appears to me to be too 
short to be spent in nursing 
or in registering 
We are, and must 
af be, one and all, burdened 
with faults in this world; but the time 
will come when, I trust, we shall put 
them off in putting off our corruptible 
bodies: when debasement and sin will 
fall from us and 
only the spark will 
remain, the impal- 
pable principle of 
life and thought, 
pure as when it left 
the Creator to in- 
spire the creature: 
whence it came, it 
will return, perhaps 
to pass through 
gradations of glory. 
d It is a creed in 
which I delight, to 
which I cling. It 
makes Eternity a 
rest, a mighty 
home; not a terror 
and an abyss. Be- 
sides, with this 
creed revenge 
never worries my 
heart, degradation 
never too deeply 
disgusts me, injus- 
tice never crushes 
me too low: I live 
in calm looking to 



the end. Char- 
lotte Bronte. 



it a fact, or 
lave I dreamt 
it, that by means of 

electricity the world of matter has be- 
come a great nerve, vibrating thousands 
of miles in a breathless point of time? 
Rather, the round globe is a vast head, 
a brain, instinct with intelligence : or shall 
we say it is itself a thought, and no 
longer the substance which we dreamed 
it. Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

Sentiment is the poetry of the imagina- 
tion. Lamartine. 



These I have loved: 

White plates and cups, dean-gleaming, 

Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, 

faery dust; 
Wet roofs, beneath the lamplight; the 

strong crust 

Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food; 
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of 

wood; 
And radiant raindrops couching in cool 

flowers; 
And flowers themselves, that sway 

through sunny hours, 
Dreaming of moths that drink them 

under the moon; 
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that 

soon 
Smooth away trouble; and the rough 

male kiss 

Of blankets; grainy hair; live hair; that is 
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; 

the keen 

Unpassioned beauty of a great machine; 
The benison of hot water; furs to touch; 
The good smell of old clothes; and 

others such 

The comfortable smell of friendly fingers f 
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek 

that lingers 

About dead leaves and last yeafs ferns. 
'* The Great Lover," by Rupert Brooke 



O IRST of all, we must observe that in 
\all these matters of human action 
the too little and the too much are alike 
ruinous, as we can see (to illustrate the 
spiritual by the natural) in matters of 
strength and health. Too much and too 
little exercise alike impair the strength, 
and too much meat and drink and too 
little both alike destroy the health, but 
the fitting amount 
produces and pre- 
serves them. So, 
too, the man who 
takes his fill oi 
every pleasure and 
abstains from none 
becomes a profli- 



gate; while he who 
shuns all becomes 
stolid and insus- 
ceptible. 

Aristotle. 

** 

life too 

seriously, and 
what is it worth? 
<t If the morning 
wake us to no new 
joys, if the evening 
bring us not the 
hope of new plea- 
sures, is it worth 
while to dress and 
undress? I3oes the 
sun shine on me 
today that I may 
reflect on yester- 
day? That I may 
endeavor to fore- 
see and to control 
what can neither 
be foreseen nor 



controlled the 
destiny of tomorrow? Goethe* 



the cleverest and nx>st perfect 
circurjc^tantial evidence is likely to 
be at fault after aH, and therefore ought 
to be received with great caution. Take 
the case of airy pencil sharpened by any 
woman; if you have witnesses, you will 
find she did it with a knife, but if you 
take simply the aspect of the pencil, you 
will say shedid itwith herteeth. Twain. 



Page 58 



fflfBBARD'S 




AM the printing press, born 
of the mother earth. My 
heart is of sted, my limbs 
are of iron, and my fingers 
are of brass. 
I sing the songs of the world, the ora- 
torios of history, the symphonies of all 
time a*> 

I am the voice of today, the herald of 
tomorrow, I weave into the warp of the 
past the woof of the future. I tell the 
stories of peace and war alike. I make the 
human heart beat with passion or ten- 
derness. I stir the pulse of nations, and 
make brave men do braver deeds, and 
soldiers die. 

I inspire the midnight toiler, weary at 
his loom, to lift his head again and gaze, 
with fearlessness, into the vast beyond, 
seeking the consolation of a hope eternal. 
dWhen I speak, a myriad people 
listen to my voice. The Saxon, the Latin, 
the Celt, the Hun, the Slav, the Hindu, 
all comprehend me. 

I am the tireless clarion of the news, I 
cry your joys and sorrows every hour. I 
fill the dullard's mind with thoughts 
uplifting. I am light, knowledge, power. 
I epitomize the conquests of mind over 
matter **>* 

I am the record of all things mankind 
has achieved. My offspring comes to 
you in the candle's glow, amid the dim 
lamps of poverty, the splendor of riches; 
at sunrise, at high noon and in the wan- 
ing evening. 

I am the laughter and tears of the 
world, and I shall never die until all 
things return to the immutable dust. 
<[ I am the printing-press. 

Robert H. Davis* 



OO yoctr work not just your work 
and BO more^but a little morefbrthe 
lavishing^ sake; that little more which is 
worth al the rest. And if you suffer as 
you must, and if you doubt as you mbst, 
do your worfc Put your heart into it 
and the sky wiH dear. Then out of your 
very doubt and suffering will be bom 
die supreme joy of Hie. Deaa Briggs. 



Comipted freemen are the worst of 
slaves Garrick* 



and mortal though we are, 
JLJ we are, nevertheless, not mere in- 
sulated beings, without relation to past 
or future. Neither the point of time nor 
the spot of earth in which we physically 
live bounds our rational and intellectual 
enjoyments. We live in the past by a 
knowledge of its history, and^ in the 
future by hope and anticipation. By 
ascending to an association with our 
ancestors; by contemplating their ex- 
ample, and studying their character; ^by 
partaking of their sentiments and im- 
bibing their spirit; by accompanying 
them in their toils; by sympathizing in 
their sufferings and rejoicing in their 
successes and their triumphs we mingle 
our own existence with theirs and seem 
to belong to their age. We become their 
contemporaries, live the lives which 
they Eyed, endure what they endured, 
and partake in the rewards which they 
enjoyed Daniel Webster, 

> 

O Achieve what the world calls 
success a man must attend strictly 
to business and keep a little in advance 
of the times. 

The man who reaches the top is ^the 
one who is not content with doing just 
what is required of him. He does more. 
<[ Every man should make up his mind 
that if he expects to succeed, he must 
give an honest return for the other 
man's dollar. 

Grasp an idea and work it out to a 
successful conclusion. That ? s about all 
there is in life for any of us. 

Edward H. Harriman. 

* $ 

NASMUCH as most good things 
are produced by labor, it follows 
that all such things ought to belong to 
those whose labor has produced them. 
But it has happened in all ages of the 
world that some havelabored, and others, 
without labor, have enjoyed a large pro- 
portion of the fruits. This is wrong, and 
sifaould not continue. To secure to each 
laborer the whole product of his labor 
as nearly as possible is a worthy object 
of any good government. 

Abraham Lincoln, 




as friendship is, there 
is nothing irrevocable about 
it. The bonds of friendship 
are not iron bonds, proot 
against the strongest of 
strains and the heaviest of assaults. A 
man by becoming your friend has not 
committed himself to all the demands 
which you may be pleased to make upon 
him. Foolish people like to test the bonds 
of their friendships, pulling upon them 
to see how much strain they will stand. 
When they snap, it is as if friendship 
itself had been proved unworthy. But 
the truth is that good friendships are 
fragile things and require as much care 
in handling as any other fragile and 
precious things. For friendship is an 
adventure and a romance, and in adven- 
tures it is the unexpected that happens. 
It is the zest of peril that makes the 
excitement of friendship. All that is un- 
pleasant and unfavorable is foreign to 
its atmosphere; there is no place in 
friendship for harsh criticism or fault- 
finding. We will " take less " from a 
friend than we will from one who is 
indifferent to us. Randolph S. Bourne. 

f EAR is lack of faith. Lack of faith 
j is ignorance. Fear can only be cured 

by vision. 

Give the world eyes. It will see. Give it 

ears. It will hear. Give it a right arm. It 

will act. 

Man needs time and room. Man needs 

soil, sunshine and rain. Needs a chance. 

[ Open all your doors and windows. 

Let everything pass freely in and out, 

out and in. 

Even the evil. Let it pass out and in, in 

and out. 

No man hates the truth. But most men 

are afraid of the truth. 

Make the truth easier than a lie. Make 

the truth wdcomer than its counter- 
feits *+> > 

Then men will no longer be afraid. 

Being afraid is being ignorant. Being 

ignorant is being without faith. 

. Horace TraubeL 



fee 



Page 59 



| ? | j Y son, remember you have to work. 
Whether you handle pick or wheel- 
barrow or a set of books, digging ditches 
or editing a newspaper, ringing an 
auction bell or writing funny things, 
you must work. Don't be afraid of kill- 
ing yourself by overworking on the 
sunny side of thirty. Men die sometimes, 
but it is because they quit at nine p. m. 
and don't go home until two a.m. It ? s 
the intervals that kill, my son. The work 
gives you appetite for your meals; it 
lends solidity to your slumber; it gives 
you a perfect appreciation of a holiday, 
There are young men who do not work, 
but the country is not proud of them. It 
does not even know their names; it only 
speaks of them as old So-and-So's boys. 
Nobody likes them; the great, busy 
world does n't know they are here. So 
find out what you want to be and do. 
Take off your coat and make dust in the 
world. The busier you are, the less harm 
you are apt to get into, the sweeter will 
be your sleep, the brighter your holi- 
days, and the better satisfied the whole 
world will be with you. Bob Burdette. 

* 

jtotfHAT can I do? I can talk out when 
\jj others are silent. I can say man 
when others say money. I can stay up 
when others are asleep. I can keep on 
working when others have stopped to 
play. I can give life big meanings when 
others give life little meanings. I can say 
love when others say hate. I can say 
every man when others say one man. I 
can try events by a hard test when 
others try it by an easy test. 
What can I do? I can give myself to 
life when other men refuse themselves to 
life. Horace TraubeL 
** 

rfJL^ resenttomanln>wnearheisthelevel 
of beasts withautshowinghim at the same 
time hisgreatoess.lt is likewise dangerous 
to let him see his greatness without his 
meanness. It is more dangerous yet to 
leave him ignorant of either; but 



You may be as orthodox ; 
and as wicked. rjptfw* TOWI 



ofboth^PascaL 



ib tezth> trutii beauty. Keats. 



Page 60 



HUBBARD'S 




is a life that is worth 
living now as it was worth 
living in the former days, 
and that is the honest life, 
the useful life, the unselfish 
life, cleansed by devotion to an ideal. 
There is a battle that is worth fighting 
now as it was worth fighting then, and 
that is the battle for justice and equality: 
to make our city 
and our State free 
hi fact as well as in 
name; to break the 
rings that stran- 
gle real liberty 
and to keep 
them broken; to 
cleanse, so far as 
in our power lies, 
the fountains of 
our national life 
from political, 
commercial and 
social corruption; 
to teach our sons 
and daughters, by 
precept and ex- 
ample, the honor 
of serving such a 
country as 
America that 
is work worthy 
of the finest man- 
hood and woman- 
hood. The well- 
born are those who 
are bom to do that work; the wellbred are 
those who are bred to be proud of that 
work; the well-educated are those who 
see deepest into the meaning and the 
necessity of that work. Nor shall their 
labor be for naught, nor the reward of 
their sacrifice fail them; for high in the 
firmament of human destiny are set the 
stars of faith in mankind, and unselfish 
courage and loyalty to the ideal. 

Henry Van Dyke* 



0VERY school boy and girl who has 
arrived at the age of reflection 
ought to know something about the 
history of the art of printing. 

Horace Mann. 



Behind him lay the gray Azores, 
Behind the Gates of Hercules; 
Before him not the ghost of shores; 
Before him only shoreless seas. 
The good mate said: "Now must we fray, 
For lo! the very stars are gone. 
Brave Adm'fl, speak; what shall I say?" 
"Why, say: 'Sail on! and on! ' " 

"My men grow mutinous day by day; 
My men grow ghastly wan and weak." 
The stout mate thought of home; a spray 
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. 
"What shall I say, brave AdmYl, say f 
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" 
"Why, you shall say at break of day: 
'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!' " 



Theysailedandsailed y as winds might blow, 
Until at last the blanched mate said: 
"Why, now not even God would know 
Should I and all my men fall dead. 
These very winds forget their way, 
For God from these dread seas is gone. 

(Concluded on next page) 



NTHUSIASM is the greatest asset 
in the world. It beats money and 
power and influence. Single-handed the 
enthusiast convinces and dominates 
where the wealth accumulated by a 
small army of workers would scarcely 
raise a tremor of interest. Enthusiasm 
tramples over prejudice and opposition, 
spurns inaction, storms the citadel 01 
its object, and like 
an avalanche 
overwhelms and 
engulfs all obsta- 
cles. It is nothing 
more or less than 
faith in action s^ 
Faith and initiative 
rightly combined 
remove mountain- 
ous barriers and 
achievetheunheard 
of and miraculous. 
C Set the germ of 
enthusiasmafloatin 
your plant, in your 
office, or on your 
farm ;carryitinyour 
attitude and man- 
ner; it spreads like 
contagion and in- 
fluences every fiber 
of your industry 
before you realize 
it; it means in- 



crease in produc- 
tion and decrease 
in costs ; it means joy, and pleasure, and 
satisfaction to your workers; it means 
life,real, virile; it means spontaneous bed- 
rock results the vital things that pay 
dividends. Henry Chester. 

S 

HE sole aristocracy of today is the 
aristocracy of wealth; the sole aris- 
tocracy of tomorrow will be the eternal 
divine, beneficent aristocracy of intel- 
lect and virtue at its highest, genius; 
but that, like everything that descends 
from God, will rise among the people 
and labor for the people. Mazzini. 

$* 

My son Hannibal will be a great general, 
because of all my soldiers he best knows 
how to obey. Hamilcar. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 61 




is arrogant in propor- 
tion to kk ignorance. Man's 
natural tendency is toward 
egotism. Man, in his in- 
fancy of knowledge, thinks 
that all creation was formed for him. For 
several ages he saw, in the countless 
worlds that sparkle through space like the 
bubbles of a shoreless ocean, only the petty 
candles, the house- 
hold torches, that 
Providence had 
beenpleasedtolight 
for no other pur- 
pose but to make 
the night more 
agreeable to man. 
Astronomy has cor- 
rected this delusion 
of human vanity, 
and man now reluc- 
tantly confesses 
that the stars are 
worlds, larger and 
more glorious than 
his own that the 
earth on which he 
crawls is a scarcely 
visible speck on the 
vast chart of crea- 
tion. * &+> 

But in the small as 
in the vast, God is 
equally profuse of 
life. The traveller 
looks upon the tree, 
and fancies its boughs were formed for his 
shelter in the Summer sun, or his fuel in 
the Winter frosts . But in each leaf of these 
boughs the Creator has made a world 
it swarms with innumerable races* 
Each drop of water in a moat is an orb 
more populous than a kingdom is of men* 
C Everywhere, then, in this immense 
design, science brings new life to light. 
Life is the one pervading principle, and 
even the thing that seems to die and 
putrefy but engenders new life, and 
changes to fresh forms of matter. 

Bulwer Lytton. 

*> &* 

The victory of success is half won when 
one gains the habit of work. 

Sarah A* Bolton. 



Now speak, brave Adm'fl; speak and 

say" 
He said: "Sail on! sail on! and ord" 



They sailed. They sailed* Then spake the 

mate: 

"This mad sea shows Ms teeth tonight. 
He curls his lip, he lies in wait, 
With lifted teeth, as if to bite! 
Brave Adm'fl, say but one good word: 
What shall we do when hope is gone?" 
The words leapt like a leaping sword: 
"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" 

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, 
And peered through darkness. Ah, that 

rdght 

Of all dark nights! And then a speck 
A light! A light! A light! A light! 
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled! 
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. 
He gained a world; he gave that world 
Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!" 
" Columbus,*' byjoaquin Miller 



ET the confidence of the public 
and you will have no difficulty in 
getting their patronage. Inspire your 
whole force with the right spirit of ser- 
vice; encourage every sign of the true 
spirit. So display and advertise wares 
that customers shall buy with under- 
standing. Treat them as guests when 
they come and when they go, whether or 
not they buy 5^ 
Give them all that 
can be given fairly, 
on the principle 
that to him that 
giveth shall be 
given. Remember 
always that the 



recollection of 
quality remains 
long after the 
price is forgot- 
ten *> *> Then 
your business 
will prosper by a 
natural process. 
H . Gordon 
Selfridge. 



man who 
lacks faith 
in other men loses 
his best chances 
to work and 
gradually under- 
mines his own 
power and his 

own character. We do not realize to 
what extent others judge us by our 
beliefs. But we are in fact judged in that 
way; and it is right that we should be 
judged in that way. The man who is 
cynical, whether about women or busi- 
ness or politics, is assumed to be im- 
moral in his relations to women or busi- 
ness or politics. The man who has faith 
in the integrity of others in the face of 
irresponsible accusations is assumed to 
have the confidence in other's goodness 
because he is a good man himself. 

President Hadley. 

* ** 

When you define liberty you limit it, and 
when you limit it you destroy it. 

Brand Wfalffock. 



Page 62 



ffU&BARD'S 




:;p BELIEVE in boys and girls, 
the men and women of a 

f.j great tomorrow, that what- 
i| soever the boy soweth, the 

Sy man shall reap. I believe 
in the curse of ignorance, in the efficacy 
of schools, in the dignity of teaching, and 
the joy of serving another. I believe in 
wisdom as revealed in human lives as well 
as in the pages of a printed book; in 
lessons taught not so much by precept 
as by example: in ability to work with 
the hands as well as to think with the 
head; in everything that makes life 
large and lovely. I believe in beauty 
in the schoolroom, in the home, in the 
daily life and out of doors. I believe in 
laughing, in all ideals and distant hopes 
that lure us on. I believe that every 
hour of every day we receive a just re- 
ward for all we do. I believe in the pres- 
ent and its opportunities, in the future 
and its promises, and in the divine joy of 
living. Edwin Osgood Grover. 

* S^ 

|OOK love, my friends, is your pass 
* to the greatest, the purest, and the 
most perfect pleasure that God has pre- 
pared for His creatures. It lasts when all 
other pleasures fade. It will support you 
when all other recreations are gone. It 
will last you until your death. It will 
make your hours pleasant to you as long 
as you live. Anthony Trollope. 

Nature speaks the voice of 
dissolution. The highway of history 
and of life is strewn with the wrecks that 
Time, the great despoiler, has made. We 
listen sorrowfully to the Autumn winds 
as they sigh througji dismantled for- 
ests, but we know their breath will be 
soft and vernal in the Spring, and the 
dead flowers and withered foliage will 
blossom and bloom again. And if a man 
die, shall he, too, not live again? Is 
earth the end of all, and death an eter- 
nal sleep? Not so, but beyond the grave 
in the distant Aiden, hope provides an 
Elysium of the soul where the mortal 
shall assume immortality, and life be- 
come an endless splendor. 

D. W. Voorhees. 



: | DISTINGUISHED beauty, brilliant 
4^ talents, and the heroic qualities that 
play a more or less important part in 
the affairs of life, sink into a compara- 
tively minor place among the elements 
of married happiness. Marriage brings 
every faculty and gift into play, but in 
degrees and proportions very different 
from public life or casual intercourse and 
relations. Power to soothe, to sympa- 
thize, to counsel, and to endure, are 
more important than the highest quali- 
ties of the hero or the saint. It is by these 
alone that the married life attains its full 
measure of perfection. W. E. H. Lecky. 



don't have to preach honesty to 
men with a creative purpose. Let 
a human being throw the energies of 
his soul into the making of something, 
and the instinct of workmanship will 
take care of his honesty &** The writers 
who have nothing to say are the ones 
you can buy; the others have too high a 
price. A genuine craftsman will not 
adulterate his product. The reason is n't 
because duty says he should n't, but 
because passion says he could n't. 

Walter Lippmann. 



is right and necessary that all 
men should have work to do which 
shall be worth doing, and be of itself 
pleasant to do: and which should be 
done under such conditions as would 
make it neither over-wearisome nor 
over-anxious. Turn that claim about as 
I may, think of it as long as I can, I can 
not find that it is an exorbitant claim; 
yet again I say if Society would or could 
admit it the face of the world would be 
changed; discontent and strife and dis- 
honesty would be ended. To feel that 
we were doing work useful to others 
and pleasant to ourselves, and that 
such work and its due reward could not 
fail us! What serious harm could happen 
to us then? William Morris. 



SAR away there in the sunshine are 
my highest aspirations. I may not 
reach them, but I can look up and see 
their beauty, believe in them, and try to 
foDow where they lead. L. M. Alcott. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 63 




A murdered man, ten miles away, 
Will hardly shake your peace, 

Like one red stain upon your hand; 

And a tortured child in a distant land 

Will never check one smile today, 
Or bid one fiddle cease. 



itJMOR has been defined as 
the salt of life. It is a ca- 
price of our natures, or rather 
^ at qualit y which gives to 
ideas a ludicrous or fantas- 
tic turn, the effect of it being to excite 
the^ pleasurable emotions which we 
exhibit in laughter or mirth. Its un- 
failing power to win an audience is well 
known, and it is to 
this emotion that 
the amateur's 
attention is first 
attracted. It may 
take the form of 
a play of wit, sar- 
casm, satire, 
irony or the like; 
in any case, it 
is certain to 
meet with a 
prompt response 
from the average 
audience. Comedy 
which is the term 
under which we 
class the differ- 
ent forms of hu- 
mor, is therefore 
an essential ele- 
ment in drama. 
It does not deal 
with emotions 
that are heart- 
searching nor 
terrifying incidents, but trades rather in 
eccentricities of character and quaint- 
ness of manner; consequently, its chief 
dramatic use is to relieve the tension of 
a serious action. It is in this manner that 
it was used by the Elizabethan play- 
wrights, who fully appreciated the tastes 
and weaknesses of their audience. How- 
ever, comedy is not an absolute essen- 
tial to the success of a play. Nearly all 
the best tragedies and certain of the 
most powerful dramas have not a ray of 
humor in them. The reason is not far to 
seek, for serious subjects, such as deal 
with the dignified and noble qualities of 
the human nature, admit only of a 
serious and earnest presentation. It has 
been said that tibe dkect appeal of the 
drama is to mafe the anclepee 



feel or laugh, and certainly a drama 
which does not accomplish at least one 
of these results is a failure; but to com- 
bine all these qualities in the proper 
proportions in a single play demands 
the greatest ability, and few playwrights 
can accomplish it. Humor in the hands 
of an artist has an unfailing power to 
win an audience, and it is the best 
means which the 



playwright has at 
his command for 
relieving the stress 
of a serious action, 
O. R. Lamb. 



The News 
It came along a little wire, 

Sunk in a deep sea; 
It thins in the clubs to a little smoke 
Between one joke and another joke, 
For a city inflames is less than the fire 

That comforts you and me. 

The Diplomats 
Each was honest after his way, 

Lukewarm in faith, and old; 
And blood 9 to them, was only a word, 
And the point of a phrase their only sword, 
And the cost of war, they reckoned it 

In little disks of gold. 

From " The Wine Press," by Alfred Noyes 



OCIET Y, 
as we have 
constituted it, 
will have no place 
for me, has none to 
offer; but Nature, 
whose sweet rains 
fall on unjust and 
just alike, will have 
clefts in the rocks 
where I may hide, 
and sweet valleys 
in whose silence I 
may weep undis- 
turbed. She will 
hang the night with 
stars so that I may 
walk abroad in the 
darkness without stumbling, and send 
the wind over my footprints so that 
none iray track me to my hurt; she wiH 
cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter 
herbs make me wliole. Oscar Wilde, 

** 

/"TLIMB the mountains and get their 
VA good tidings. Nature's peace will 
flow into you as sunshine flows into 
trees. The winds will blow their own 
freshness into yoo* and the storms: 
their energy, wMe cares wffl drop 
away from you life the leaves of Au- 
tumn. John Muir. 

> 

I love to be alone. I never fomA the 
that was so companionable 



Page 64 



ffUBBARD'S 




1 THANK Heaven, every 
Jf Summer's day of my life, 
3 that my lot was humbly cast 
} within the hearing of romp- 
jing brooks, and beneath the 



shadow of oaks. And from all the tramp 
and bustle of the world, into which 
fortune has led me in these latter years 
of my life, I delight to steal away for days 
and for weeks together, and bathe my 
spirit in the freedom of the old woods, 
and to grow young again, lying upon the 
brookside and counting the white clouds 
that sail along the sky, softly and tran- 
quilly, even as holy memories go stealing 
over the vault of life. I like to steep my 
soul in a sea of quiet, with nothing float- 
ing past me, as I lie moored to my 
thought, but the perfume of flowers, and 
soaring birds, and shadows of clouds. 
CL Two days ago, I was sweltering in the 
heat of the city, jostled by the thousand 
eager workers, and panting under the 
shadow of the walls. But I have stolen 
away, and for two hours of healthful 
regrowth into the darkling past, I have 
been this blessed Summer's morning lying 
upon the grassy bank of a stream that 
babbled me to sleep in boyhood. Dear, 
old stream, unchanging, unfaltering 
never growing old smiling in your silver 
rustle, and calming yourself in the broad, 
placid pools I love you, as I love a 
friend! Donald G. Mitchell. 



V* -.RUE love of country is not mere 
W blind partisanship. It is regard for 
the people of one's country and aH of 
them; it is a feeling of fellowship and 
brotherhood for all of them; it is a desire 
for the prosperity and happiness of all of 
them; it is kindly and considerate judg- 
ment toward all of them. The first duty 
of popular self-government is individual 
self-control. The essential condition of 
true progress is that it shall be based 
upon grounds of reason, and not of 
prejudice. Lincoln's noble sentiment of 
charity for all and malice toward none 
was not a specific for the Civil War, but 
is a living principle of action. 

Elihu Root. 







eACH day it becomes more and more 
apparent that all questions in this 
country must be settled at the bar of 
public opinion. If our laws regulating 
large business concerns provide for 
proper and complete publicity so that 
the labor of a concern win know what it 
is doing, so that the stockholders will 
know what is being done, and the public 
will have as much information as either 
many of our present difficulties will 
disappear. In place of publicity being an 
element of weakness to a business con- 
cern, it will be an element of strength. 
George W. Perkins. 



is first the literature of 
knowledge, and secondly the litera- 
ture of power. The function of the first 
is to teach; the function of the second 
is to move; the first is a rudder, the 
second an oar or a sail. The first speaks 
to the mere discursive understanding; 
the second speaks ultimately, it may 
happen to the higher understanding or 
reason, but always through affections of 
pleasure and sympathy. 

Thomas DeQuincey. 



O act in obedience to the hidden pre- 
cepts of Nature that is rest; and 
in this special case, since man is meant to 
be an intelligent creature, the more intel- 
ligent his acts are, the more he finds 
repose in them. When a child acts only 
in a disorderly, disconnected manner, 
his nervous force is under a great strain; 
while, on the other hand, his nervous 
energy is positively increased and multi- 
plied by intelligent actions. 

Maria Montessori, 



QE who helps a child hdps humanity 
with an immediateness which no 
other help given to human creature in 
any other stage of human life can pos- 
sibly give again. Phillips Brooks. 



who freely magnifies what hath 
been nobly done, and fears not to 
as freely what might be done 
better, gives ye the best covenant of his 
fidelity.- John Milton. 




Page 65 




DO not think that I exag- 
gerate the importance or 
the charms of pedestrian- 
ism, or our need as a people 
to cultivate the art. I think 
it would tend to soften the national man- 
ners, to teach us the meaning of leisure, to 
acquaint us with the charms of the open 
air, to strengthen and foster the tie be- 
tween the race and 
the land. No one 
else looks out upon 
the world so kindly 
and charitably as 
does the pedestrian ; 
no one gives and 
takes so much from 
thec ountry he pass- 
es through. Next to 
the laborer in the 
fields, the walker 
holds the closest re- 
lation to the soil; 
and he holds a clos- 
er and more vital 
relation to Nature 
because he is freer 
and his mind more 
at leisure. 
Man takes root at 
his feet, and at best 
he is no more than 

a potted plant in his house or carriage 
till he has established communication 
with the soil by the loving and magnetic 
touch of his soles to it. Then the tie of 
association is born; then those invisible 
fibers and rootlets through which char- 
acter comes to smack of the soil, and 
which makes a man kindred to the spot of 
earth he inhabits. <[ The roads and paths 
you have walked along in Summer and 
Winter weather, the meadows and hills 
which you have looked upon in lightness 
and gladness of heart, where fresh thought 
have come into your mind, or some noble 
prospect has opened before you, and 
especially the quiet ways, where you have 
walked in sweet converse with your friend 
pausing under the trees, drinking at the 
spring henceforth they are not the same; 
a new charm is added; those thoughts 
spring there perennial, your friend 
walks there forever. John Burroughs* 



The fountains mingle with the river, 

And the rivers with the ocean, 
The winds of heaven mix for ever 

With a sweet emotion; 
Nothing in the world is single; 

All things by a law divine 
In one another's being mingle; 

Why not I with thine? 



IMVERY time that we allow our- 
V*4 selves to be penetrated by Nature, 
our soul is opened to the most touching 
impressions. Whether Nature smiles and 
adorns herself on her most beautiful days, 
or whether she becomes pale, gray, cold 
and rainy, in Autumn and in Winter, 
there is something in her which moves not 
only the surface of the soul, but even its 
inmost depths, and 
awakens a thou- 
sand memories ^ 
which to all appear- 
ances have no con- 
nection whatever 
with the outward 
scene, but which, 
nevertheless, un- 
doubtedly hold 
communion with 
the soul of Nature 
through sympa- 
thies that may be 
entirely unknown 
to us, because her 
methods seem to be 
beyond the touch of 



our thought Mau- 
rice de Guerin. 



See the mountains kiss high heaven, 
And the waves clasp one another; 
No sister flower would be forgiven 

If it disdained its brother; 
And the sunlight clasps the earthy 

And the moonbeams kiss the sea; 
What are all these kissings worth, 

If thou kiss not me? 
" Love's Philosophy," 

by Perqj Bysske Shelley ^^ ^ *^ 

|jjY garden, with 
^*^ its silence and 

the pulses of fragrance that come and 
go on the airy undulations, affects me 
like sweet music. Care stops at the gates 
and gazes at me wistfully through the 
bars. Among my flowers and trees, 
Nature takes me into her own hands, 
and I breathe freely as the first man. 
Alexander Smith. 

LAKE is the landscape's most 
beautiful and expressive feature. It 
is earth's eye; looking into which the be- 
holder measures the depth of his own 
nature. The fhrviatile trees next the shore 
are the slender eyelashes which fringe it, 
and the wooded hills and cliffs around are 
its overhanging brows. Thoreaiu 

QO man lives without jostling and 
being jostled; in aH ways he has to 
dbow himself through the world, giving 
. receiving offense. Carfyle* 



Page 66 



ffUBBARD'S 




QP'jE follow the stream of amber 
jki and bronze brawling along 
I its bed with its frequent cas- 
cades and snow-white foam. 
Through the canyon we fly 
mountains not only each side, but 
seemingly, till we get near, right in front 
of us every road a new view flashing, 
and each flash defying description on 
the almost perpendicular sides, clinging 
pines, cedars, crimson sumach bushes, 
spruces, spots of wild grass but domi- 
nating all, those towering rocks, rocks, 
rocks, bathed in delicate van-colors, 
with the clear sky of Autumn overhead. 
New scenes, new joys, seem developed. 
Talk as you like, a typical Rocky Moun- 
tain canyon, or a limitless sea-like stretch 
of the great Kansas or Colorado plains, 
under favoring circumstances, tallies, 
perhaps expresses, certainly awakes, 
those grandest and subtlest element- 
emotions in the human soul, that all 
marble temples and sculptures from 
Phidias to Thorwaldsen all paintings, 
poems, reminiscences or even music 
probably never can. Walt Whitman. 



thy name they shall call thee, at 
the place where thou belongest they 
shall see thee, what is thine they shall give 
to thee, no man touches that which is des- 
t Jfoed for his neighbor. Rabbi Ben AzaL 



thing needed is not plans, but 
men, A well-thought-out plan with- 
out a man to execute it is a waste of 
money; and as a rule, the more compara- 
tively the details have been thought out 
by a man who is not going to execute 
them himself, the largerwill be the amount 
of money wasted. Get a man with a plan, 
and the more money he has the greater 
is tils chance of doing a larger work; but 
a ptai without a man is as bad as a man 
a plan the more he has the 
lie wastes. Arthur T. Hadley. 



HOSE wfio love Nature can never be 
duU. They may have other tempta- 
tions; but at least tliey wiH run no risk 
of being begrolect, by eautii, idfeeess or 
want of oceepatiofi, ** ta My the merry 
madness of an hour with the long peni- 



tence of after-time." The love of Nature, 
again, helps us greatly to keep ourselves 
free from those mean and petty cares 
which interfere so much with calm and 
peace of mind. It turns " every ordinary 
walk into a morning or evening sacrifice," 
and brightens life until it becomes almost 
like a fairy-tale. John Lubbock. 

fClE glad of life because it gives you the 
chance to love and to work and to 
play and to look up at the stars. 

Henry Van Dyke. 

life should appear common* 

._ ' place to any man is evidence that 
he has invested it with the coarse habit 
of his thinking. Life is beautiful to whom- 
soever will think beautiful thoughts. 
There are no common people but they 
who think commonly and without imagi- 
nation or beauty. Such are dull enough. 
Stanton Davis Kirkham. 

^ 

E is nothing holier in this life 
of ours than the first consciousness 
of love the first fluttering of its silken 
wings the first rising sound and breath 
of that wind which is so soon to sweep 
through the soul, to purify or to destroy. 

Longfellow. 



WOULD compromise war. I would 
compromise glory. I would compro- 
mise everything at that point where 
hate comes in, where misery comes in, 
where love ceases to be love, and life 
begins its descent into the valley of the 
shadow of death. But I would not com- 
promise Truth. I would not compromise 
the right. Henry Watterson. 

*>*> 

HAT then do you call your soul? 
What idea have you of it? You can 
not of yourselves, without revelation, 
admit the existence within you of any- 
thing but a power unknown to you of 
feeling and thinking. Voltaire. 

f 

The longer I live the more my mind 
dwells upon the beauty and the wonder 1 
of the world. I hardly know which feeling 
leads, wonderment or admiration. 



HOUGH not often con- 
sciously recognized, perhaps 
this is the great pleasure of 
Summer: to watch the earth, 
** -;v -tv, -4 the dead particles, resolving 
themselves into the living case of life, to 
see the seed-leaf push aside the clod and 
become by degrees the perfumed flower. 
From the tiny, mottled egg come the wings 
that by and by shall pass the immense 
sea. It is in this marvelous transformation 
of clods and cold matter into living 
things that the joy and the hope of 
Summer reside. Every blade of grass, 
each leaf, each separate floret and petal 
is an inscription speaking of hope. 
Consider trie grasses and the oaks, the 
swallows, the sweet, blue butterfly 
they^are one and all a sign and token 
showing before our eyes earth made into 
life. So that my hope becomes as broad 
as the horizon afar, reiterated by each 
leaf, sung on every bough, reflected in 
the gleam of every flower. There is so 
much for us yet to come, so much to be 
gathered and enjoyed. Not for you or 
me, now, but for our race, who will ulti- 
mately use this magical secret for their 
happiness. Earth holds secrets enough 
to give them the life of the fabled Im- 
mortals. My heart is fixed firm and 
stable in the belief that ultimately the 
sunshine and the Summer, the flowers 
and the azure sky, shall become, as it 
were, interwoven into man's existence. 
He shall take from all their beauty and 
enjoy their glory. Richard Jefferies. 

fr> 

a GREAT deal of talent is lost in 
the world for want of a little cour- 
age. Every day sends to their graves 
obscure men whom timidity prevented 
from making a first effort; who, if they 
could have been induced to "begin, 
would in all probability have gone great 
lengths in the career of fame. The fact 
is, that to do anything in the world 
worth doing, we must not stand back 
shivering and thinking of the cold and 
danger, but jump in and scramble 
through as well as we can. It will not do 
to be perpetually calculating risks and 
adjusting nice .chances; it <M very well 
before thfe Flood, wl^a a r man woxid 



Page 67 



consult his friends upon an intended 
publication for a hundred and fifty years, 
and live to see his success afterwards; 
but at present, a man waits, and doubts, 
and consults his brother, and his parti- 
cular friends, till one day he finds he is 
sixty years old and that he has lost so 
much time in consulting cousins and 
friends that he has no more time to 
follow their advice. Sydney Smith. 

fr> 

are told of the Chinese sage 
\1/ Mengtsen, that when he was a 
child, his mother's home was near a 
slaughter-house, and that she instantly 
left her home when she saw fee child 
watching with indifference the pain in- 
flicted upon animals. Her second home 
was near a graveyard, and again she 
left when she saw the boy imitating at 
his play the rites of superstition. 

DeanFarrar. 



OUR great thoughts, our great affec- 
tions, the truths of our life, never 
leave us. Surely they can not separate 
from our consciousness, shall follow it 
whithersoever that shall go, and are of 
their nature divine and immortal. 

Thackeray. 



AN" has not yet reached his best. 
He never will reach his best until 
he walks the upward way side by side 
with woman. Plato was right in Ms 
fancy that man and woman are merely 
halves of humanity, each requiring the 
qualities of the other in order to attain 
the highest character. Shakespeare under- 
stood it when he made his noblest women 
strong as men, and his best men tender 
as women. The hands and breasts that 
nursed all men to life are scorned as the 
forgetful brute proclaims his superior 
strength and plumes himself so he can 
subjugate the one who made htm what 
he is, Eugene V. Debs. 



Life is a fragment* a moment between 
two eternities, influenced by aH tfoat 
has preceded, and to influence all tfrt 
follows* The only way to illumine it is by 
extent of view. 

EQery Chamiug, 



Page 68 




NEVER-CEASING flood of 
discharged convicts pours 
back into our penitentiaries, 
( not because they have found 
life there a paradise, but 
because the thumbscrew of present want 
exercises a pressure far more potent than 
does the fear of future, but uncertain, 
punishment, however severe. Here is the 
true answer to the 
question why deter- 
rence, pushed to 
the very limits of 
human endurance, 
does not deter a+> 
We know well that 
the prison is but 
part of the great 
social question 
that, as a general 
rule, poverty is the 
parent and the 
slum the kinder- 
garten of vice. But 
we also know that, 



/ think that I shall never see 
A poem lovely as a tree. 



| THINK we may assert that in a 
***"' hundred men there are more than 
ninety who are what they are, good or 
bad, useful or pernicious to society, from 
the instruction they have received. It is 
on education that depend the great dif- 
ferences observable among them. The 
least and most imperceptible impressions 
received in our infancy have conse- 
quences of long 
duration. It is with 
these first impres- 
sions as with a 



A tree whose 



river, whose waters 

i - ., ^ M - j. * ls P Tes * . we can easily turn, 
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; ^^Q^^ canals> 

A tree that looks at God all day in PP site OUrSeS; 

And lifts her leafy arms to pray; 



A tree that may in summer wear 
A nest of robins in her hair. 

Upon whose bosom snow has lain; 
Who intimately lives with rain. 



while these prepare 
the soil, it is the 
administration of 
our criminal law 
that plants the seed 

and supplies the tropical conditions that 

bring it to the instant maturity of crime. 

Griffith J. Griffith. 



aS I grow older, I simplify both my 
science and my religion. Books mean 
less to me; prayers mean less; potions, 
pills and drugs mean less; but peace, 
friendship, love and a life of usefulness 
mean more, infinitely more. 

Silas Hubbard, M. D. 

> 

us, O give us the man who sings 
at his work! Be his occupation what 
it may, he is equal to any of those who 
follow the same pursuit in silent sullen- 
ness. He wiH do more in the same time 
he will do it better he will persevere 
longer. One is scarcely sensible to fatigue 
wiiile be marches to music. The very 
stars are said to make harmony as they 
revolve in their spheres. Carlyle, 

*> *> 

Shadow owes its birth to light. Gray. 



Poems are made by fools like me f 
But only God can make a tree. 
" Trees," by Joyce Kilmer 



to what direction 



so that from the 
insensible direction 
the stream receives 
at its source, it 
takes different di- 
rections, and at last 
arrives at places 
far different from 
each other; and 
with the same f acil- 
ity we may; I 
think, turn the 
minds of children 
we choose. Locke. 



IP^IOW much easier our work would be 
if we put forth as much effort trying 
to improve the quality of it as most of 
us do trying to find excuses for not 
properly attending to it. 

George W. Ballinger. 



is a tender thing and is easily 
molested.There is always something 
that goes amiss. Vain vexations vain 
sometimes, but always vexatious. The 
smallest and slightest impediments are 
the most piercing; and as little letters 
most tire the eyes, so do little affairs 
most disturb us. Montaigne. 

joys and sorrows of others are 
f ours as much as theirs, and in 
proper time as we feel this and learn to 
live so that the whole world shares the 
life that flows through us, do our minds 
learn the Secret of Peace. Annie Besant, 




man who, by some sud- 
den revolution of fortune, is 
lifted up all at once into a 
condition of life greatly 
above what he had formerly 
lived in, may be assured that the congrat- 
ulations of his best friends are not all of 
them perfectly sincere. An upstart, 
though of the greatest merit, is generally 
disagreeable, and a 
sentiment of envy 
commonly pre- 
vents us from 
heartily sympa- 
thizing with his 
joy. If he has any 
judgment, he is 
sensible of this, 
and, instead of ap- 
pearing to be elated 
with his good for- 
tune, he endeavors, 
as much as he can, 
to smother his joy, 
and keep down that 
elevation of mind 
with which his new 
circumstances nat- 
urally inspire him. 
He affects the same 
plainness of dress, and the same modesty 
of behavior, which became him in his 
former station. He redoubles his atten- 
tion to his old friends, and endeavors 
more than ever to be humble, assiduous 
and complaisant. And this is the be- 
havior which in his situation we most 
approve of; because we expect, it seems, 
that he should have more sympathy with 
our envy and aversion to his happiness, 
than we have with his happiness. It is 
seldom that with all this he succeeds. 
We suspect the sincerity of his humility, 
and he grows weary of this constraint. 
Adam Smith. 



Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, 

With eyes of gold and bramble-dew, 

Steel true and blade straight 

The great Artificer made my mate. 



Honor, anger, valor, fire, 
A love that life could never tire, 
Death quench, or evil stir, 
The mighty Master gave to her. 

Teacher, tender comrade, wife, 
Afellow-farer true through life, 
Heart-whole and soul-free, 
The August Father gave to me. 

44 Trusty, Dusky, Vivid, True," 

by Robert Lows Stevenson 



Page 69 



* -J ESIDES theology, music is the only 
k ^ w art capable of affording peace and 
joy of the heart like that induced by the 
study of the science of divinity. The 
proof of this is that the Devil, the 
originator of sorrowful anxieties and 
restless troubles, flees before the sound of 
music almost as much as he does before 
the Word of God, This is why the 
prophets preferred 
music before all the 
other arts, pro- 
claiming the Word 
in psalms and 
hymns &* $+> 
My heart, which is 
full to overflowing, 



has often been sol- 
aced and refreshed 
by music when sick 
and weary. 
Martin Luther. 



man who starts out with the idea 
\JF of getting rich won't succeed; you 
must have a larger ambition. There is no 
mystery in business success. If you do 
each day's task successfully, stay faith- 
fully within the natural operations ot 
commercial law, and keep your head dear, 
you will come out all right. RockefeSer, 



C I EN C E 
seems to me 
to teach in the 
highest and strong- 
est manner the 
great truth which 
is embodied in the 

Christian conception of entire surrender 
to the will of God. Sit down before the 
fact as a little child, be prepared to give 
up every preconceived notion, follow 
humbly wherever and to whatever 
abysses Nature leads, or you shall learn 
nothing. I have only begun to learn con- 
tent and peace of mind since I have 
resolved at all risks to do this. Huxley. 

***** 
ITHqUT distinction, without cal- 

culation, without procrastination, 
love. Lavish it upon the poor, where it is 
very easy; especially upon the rich, who 
often need it most; most of all upon our 
equals, where it is very difficult, and for 
whom perhaps we each do least of all. 
Henry Drummond. 

3^ 

Live and think. Samuel Lover. 

<*> *> 

Let us endeavor so to Hve that when we 
come to die even the undertaker w21 be 
sorry. Mark Twain* 



Page 70 



jfUBBARD'S 




HERE is no more valuable 
subordinate than the man 
, to whom you can give a 
^^r J piece of work and then for- 
get it, in the confident ex- 
pectation that the next time it is 
brought to your attention it will come 
in the form of a report that the thing 
has been done. When this self-reliant 
quality is joined to executive power, 
loyalty and common sense, the result is 
a man whom you can trust, 
On the other hand, there is no greater 
nuisance to a man heavily burdened 
with the direction of affairs than the 
weak-backed assistant who is contin- 
ually trying to get his chief to do his 
work for him on the feeble plea that he 
thought the chief would like to decide 
this or that himself. The man to whom 
an executive is most grateful, the man 
whom he will work hardest and value 
most, is the man who accepts responsi- 
bility willingly. Gifford Pinchot. 



the railroads of the United 
States may have mistakes to an- 
swer for, they have created the most 
effective, useful, and by far the cheapest 
system of land transportation in the 
world. This has been accomplished with 
very little legislation and against an 
immense volume of opposition and in- 
terference growing out of ignorance and 
misunderstanding. It is not an exag- 
geration to say that in the past history 
of this country the railway, next after 
the Christian religion and the public 
school, has been the largest single con- 
tributing factor to the welfare and hap- 
piness of the people, James J. Hill. 

*> +> 

music in the beauty, and 
the silent note that Cupid strikes, 
far sweeter than the sound of an in- 
strument; for there is music wherever 
there is harmony, order or proportion; 
and thus far we may tnaiptafo the 
music of the spheres, 

Sir Thomas Browne. 



Happiness grows at our own firesides, and 

is not to be picked in stranger's gardens* 

Doiiglas JerroM* 



1 I OU want a better position than you 
\& now have in business, a better and 
fuller place in life. AH right; think of 
that better place and you in it as already 
existing. Form the mental image. Keep on 
thinking of that higher position, keep 
the image constantly before you, and 
no, you will not suddenly be transport- 
ed into the higher job, but you will find 
that you are preparing yourself to occupy 
the better position in life your body, 
your energy, your understanding, your 
heart will all grow up to the job and 
when you are ready, after hard work, 
after perhaps years of preparation, you 
will get the job and the higher place in 
lite. Joseph H. Appel. 

I KNOW the beds of Eastern princes, 
and the luxurious couches of Oc- 
cidental plutocrats, but under the raf- 
ters of a farmhouse, where the mud- 
wasp's nest answers for a Rembrandt 
and the cobweb takes the place of a 
Murillo, there is a feather-bed into 
which one softly sinks until his every 
inch is soothed and fitted, and settling 
down and farther down falls into sweet 
unconsciousness, while the screech-owl 
is calling from the moonlit oak and frost 
is falling upon the asters. Stocks may 
fluctuate and panic seize the town, but 
there is one man who is in peace. 

Robert T. Morris. 

ANISH the future; live only for 
the hour and its allotted work. 
Think not of the amount to be accom- 
plished, the difficulties to be over- 
come, but set earnestly at the little 
task at your elbow, letting that be suf- 
ficient for the day; for surely our plain 
duty is " not to see what lies dimly at a 
distance, but to do what lies clearly at 
hand." Osier. 

r best way for a young man who 
is without friends or influence to 
begjn is: first, to get a position; second, 
to keep his mouth shut; third, observe; 
fourth, be faithful; fifth, make his em- 
ployer think he would be lost in a fog 
without him; sixth, be polite. 

Russell Sage, 



Page 71 



y^^HAT is music? This question 
8y occupied my mind for hours 
JJK last night before I fell asleep. 
The very existence of music 
is wonderful, I might even 
say miraculous. Its domain is between 
thought and phenomena. Like a twilight 
mediator, it hovers between spirit and 
matter, related to both, yet differing 
from each. It is spirit, but it is spirit 
subject to the measurement of time. It is 
matter, but it is matter that can dispense 
with space. Heinrich Heine. 

O renounce your individuality, to see 
\*J with another's eyes, to hear with 
another's ears, to be two and yet but 
one, to so melt and mingle that you no 
longer know you are you or another, 
to constantly absorb and constantly 
radiate, to reduce earth, sea and sky and 
all that in them is to a single being, to 
give yourself to that being so wholly 
that nothing whatever is withheld, to 
be prepared at any moment for sacrifice, 
to double your personality in bestowing 
it that is love. Gautier. 

W|ELODY has by Beethoven been 
y< freed from the influence of Fashion 
and changing Taste, and raised to an 
ever-valid, purely human type. Beetho- 
ven's music will be understood to all 
time, while that of his predecessors will, 
for the most part, only remain intelligible 
to us through the medium of reflection 
on the history of art. Richard Wagner. 

QATURE, like a loving mother, is 
ever trying to keep land and sea, 
mountain and valley, each in its place, 
to hush the angry winds and waves, 
balance the extremes of heat and cold, 
of rain and drought, that peace, harmony 
and beauty may reign supreme. 

Elizabeth Cady Stanton. 

JHY should we call ourselves men, 
unless it be to succeed in every- 
thing, everywhere? Say of nothing, 
" This is beneath me," nor fed that 
anything is beyond QUIT powers, 
is impossible to tfoe man < 



j^ F we do our best; if we do not mag- 
-&-* nify trifling troubles; if we look 
resolutely, I will not say at the bright 
side of things, but at things as they 
really are; if we avail ourselves of the 
manifold blessings which surround us, 
we can not but feel that life is indeed a 
glorious inheritance. John Lubbock. 



passions are the only orators 
that always persuade; they are, 
as it were, a natural art, the rules of 
which are infallible; and the simplest 
man with passion is more persuasive 
than the most eloquent without it, 

La Rochefoucauld. 
c de 

HLL those who love Nature she loves 
in turn, and will richly reward, 
not perhaps with the good things, as 
they are commonly called, but with the 
best things, of this world not with 
money and titles, horses and carriages, 
but with bright and happy thoughts, 
contentment and peace of mind. 

John Lubbock. 
d * 

T is indisputably evident that a 
great part of every man's life must 
be employed in collecting materials for 
the exercise of genius. Invention, strictly 
speaking, is little more than a new com- 
bination of those images which have 
been previously gathered and deposited 
in the memory: nothing can come of 
nothing: he who has laid up no materials 
can produce no combinations. The more 
extensive, therefore, your acquaintance 
is with the works of those who have 
excelled, the more extensive will be your 
powers of invention, and, what may 
appear still more like a paradox, the 
more original will be your conceptions. 
Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

*>* 

E are never better understood than 
when we speak of a " Roman 
virtue" a " Roroa outine." There is 
somewhat mdefeite, somewhat yet tm- 
firtfilled, in the ttougjit of Greece, of 
Spain, of modem Italy; but Rome, it 
itself a dear word. The pcwer 
dignity of a fixe4 purpose, is 

ufl^'fr Wters. Msrratiefr Fnler^ 



Page 72 



JfUBBARD'S 




ig^fj CONFESS I am not at all 
charmed with the ideal oi 
life held out by those who 
think that the normal state 
of human beings is that of 
struggling to get on; that the trampling, 
crushing, elbowing, and treading on each 
other's heels, which form the existing 
type of human life, are the most desirable 
lot of humankind, or anything but the 
disagreeable symptoms of one of the 
phases of industrial progress. J. S. Mill. 

*> 20 

3TttTHOUT free speech no search for 
VL/ truth is possible; without free 
speech no discovery of truth is useful; 
without free speech progress is checked 
and the nations no longer march forward 
toward the nobler life which the, future 
holds for man. Better a thousandfold 
abuse of free speech than denial of free 
speech. The abuse dies in a day, but the 
denial slays the life of the people, $nd 
entombs the hope of the race. 

Charles Bradlaugh* 



longer I live, the more deeply I 
am convinced that that which makes 
the difference between one man and 
another between the weak and the 
powerful, the great and the insignificant 
is energy, invincible determination, a 
purpose once formed and then death or 
victory. Powell Buxton. 

. 

eVERY year I live I am more con- 
vinced that the waste of life lies in 
the love we have not given, the powers 
we have not used, the selfish prudence 
that will risk nothing, and which, shirk- 
ing pain, misses happiness as well. No 
one ever yet was the poorer in the long 
run for having once in a lifetime ** let 
out afl the length of all the reins/' 

Mary Cholmondeley. 

$ 

I HAVE ever gained the most profit, 
and the most pleasure also, from lie 
books which have made me tfrfrrir the 
most; and, when the difficulties have once 
been overcome, these are the books which 
have struck the dafepest root, not only in 
my memory and understanding, but like* 
wise in my affection A. W. Hare. 



God every morning when 
you get up that you have something 
to do which must be done, whether you 
like it or not. Being forced to work, and 
forced to do your best, will breed in 
you temperance, self-control, diligence, 
strength of will, content, and a hundred 
other virtues which the idle never know. 
Charles Kingsley. 



study of art possesses this great 
and peculiar charm, that it is abso- 
lutely unconnected with the struggles 
and contests of ordinary life. By private 
interests and by political questions, men 
are deeply divided and set at variance; 
but beyond and above all such party 
strifes, they are attracted and united by 
a taste for the beautiful in art. It is a 
taste at once engrossing and unselfish, 
which may be indulged without effort 
and yet has the power of exciting the 
deepest emotions a taste able to exer- 
cise and to gratify both the nobler and 
the softer parts of our nature the 
imagination and the judgment, love ol 
emotion and power of reflection, the 
enthusiasm and the critical faculty, the 
senses and the reason. Guizot. 



is no short-cut, no patent 
tram-road, to wisdom. After all the 
centuries of invention, the soul's path 
lies through the thorny wilderness which 
must still be trodden in solitude, with 
bleeding feet, with sobs for help, as it 
was trodden by them of old time. 

George Eliot. 
$* 20 

HONOR any man who in the con- 
scious discharge of his duty dares 
to stand alone; the world, with ignorant, 
intolerant judgment, may condemn; the 
countenances of relatives maybe averted, 
and the hearts of friends grow cold; but 
the sense of duty done shall be sweeter 
than the applause of the world, the 
countenances of relatives, or the hearts 
of friends. Charles Sumner. 

& 

Abraham Lincoln was as just and 
generous to the rich and well-born as to 
the poor and humble a thing rare 
among politicians. John Hay. 



Page 73 




:;|ANY a woman committing 
herself to a course that 
disregards the edicts of so- 
_ ciety knows with her mind 
that she is doing a foolish 

thing, while with her heart she rejoices 

in her folly and lauds herself for her high 

indifference to convention. 

Then when she finds herself suspected, 

assailed or ridi- 

culed, she is 

amazed and 

deeply wounded, 

though with her 

intellect she has 

clearly understood 

the inevitableness 

of her reward &* 

This propensity 

to divorce impulse 

from good judg- 

ment, to do a rash 

thing for affection's 

sake, and then to 

writhe when the 

condemnation ^ 

comesis there any 

more truly feminine 

bit of sophistry in 

the strange roundof 

woman's reason? 



Does the road wind up-hill all the way? 

Yes, to the very end. 
Will the day's journey take the whole 
long day? 

From morn till night, my friend. 

But is therefor the night a resting-place? 
A roof for when the slow dark hours 

begin. 
May not the darkness hide it from 

my face? 
You can not miss that inn. 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? 

Those who have gone before. 
Then must I knock, or call when just 

in sight? 

They will not keep you standing at 
that door. 



The ostrich with 
her head in the 
sand is not more 
pathetic or absurd 
than a woman thus 
hoodwinking herself. 

Margaret Ashmun. 



Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? 

Of labor you shall find the sum. 
Will there be beds for me and all who 

seek? 
Yea, beds for all who come. 

" Up-Hill," by Christina G. Rossetti 



earth with its infinitude of life 
and beauty and mystery, and the 
universe in the midst of which we are 
placed, with its overwhelming immen- 
sities of suns and nebulae, of light and 
motion, are as they are, firstly, for the 
development of life culminating in man; 
secondly, as a vast schoolhouse for the 
higher education of the human race in 
preparation for the enduring spiritual 
life to which it is destined. 

Alfred Russd Wallace. 

** ** 
Wonder is involuntary praise. Ycnmg, 



/*, HE sun is just rising on the morning 
'W of another day, the first day of a 
new year. What can I wish that this 
day, this year, may bring to me? Noth- 
ing that shall make the world or others 
poorer, nothing at the expense of other 
men; but just those few things which in 
their coming do not stop with me, but 
touch me rather, as they pass and 
gather strength: 
C A few friends 
who understand 
me, and yet re- 
main my friends. 
C A work to do 
which has real value 
without which the 
world would feel 
the poorer. 
A return for such 
work small enough 
not to tax unduly 
any one who pays. 
41 A mind unafraid 
to travel, even 
though the trail be 
not blazed. 
An understanding 
heart &+> &+> 
A sight of the eter- 
nal hills and un- 
resting sea, and of 
something beauti- 
ful the hand of man 
has made. 
A sense of humor 
and the power to 
laugh. <[ A little leisure with nothing to 
do. C A few moments of quiet, silent 
meditation. The sense of the presence of 
God &+> $+> 

And the patience to wait for the coming 
of these things, with the wisdom to 
know them when they come. "A Mom- 
ing Wish," by W. R. Hunt. 



is quite as much education 
\u/ and true learning in the analysis of 
an ear of corn as in the analysis of a 
complex sentence; ability to analyze 
dover and alfalfa roots savors of quite 
as much culture as does the study of 
the Latin and Greek roots. 

O. HI Benson. 




P age 74 



Jjf$ O lead a people in revolution 
,L* -' wisely and successfully, with- 
out ambition and without 
crime, demands indeed lofty 
genius and unbending virtue* 
But to build their State amid the angry 
conflict of passion and prejudice, to 
peacefully inaugurate a complete and 
satisfactory government this is the very 
greatest service that a man can render 
to mankind. But this also is the glory of 
Washington $ s+ 

With the sure sagacity of a leader of men, 
he selected at once for the three highest 
stations the three chief Americans. 
Hamilton was the head, Jefferson was 
the heart, and John Jay the conscience 
of his administration. Washington's just 
and serene ascendency was the lambent 
flame in which these beneficent powers 
were fused; and nothing else than that 
ascendency could have ridden the whirl- 
wind and directed the storm that burst 
around him. Party spirit blazed into 
fury. John Jay was hung in effigy; Ham- 
ilton was stoned; insurrection raised its 
head in the West; Washington himself 
was denounced. But the great soul was 
undismayed. Without a beacon, without 
a chart, but with unwavering eye and 
steady hand, he guided his country safe 
through darkness and through storm. 
He held his steadfast way, like the sun 
across the firmament, giving life and 
health and strength to the new nation; 
and upon a searching survey of his 
administration, there is no great act 
which his country would annul; no word 
spoken, no line written, no deed done 
by him, which justice would reverse or 
wisdom deplore. GeorgeWilliam Curtis. 



'born an American; I lire an 
American; I shall die an American; 
and I intend to perform the duties incum- 
bent t^pon me in that character to the 
cod of my career. I mean to do this with 
absolute disregard of personal con- 
secpences. What are the personal con- 
seqpences? What is the individual man, 
with aft the good or evil tfiat may be- 
tide him, in comparison with fee good 
or evil which may befall a great country, 
and in the midst of great transactions 



which concern that country's fate? Let 
the consequences be what they will, I am 
careless. No man can suffer too much, 
and no man can fall too soon, if he suffer, 
or if he fall, in the defense of the liberties 
and constitution of his country. 

Daniel Webster. 



O man today can lay claim to a 
liberal education unless he knows 
something of the reach and sweep of 
those peaks of poesy and learning raised 
by the spirit of man in the civilizations of 
Greece and Rome. Edwin Markham* 

# *^ ^ 

ORK is the mission of mankind on 
^*^ this earth. A day is ever struggling 
forward, a day will arrive, in some ap- 
proximate degree, when he who has no 
work to do, by whatever name he may be 
called, will not find it good to show him- 
self in our quarter of the solar system 
but may go and look out elsewhere if 
there be any idle planet discoverable. 
Let all honest workers rejoice that such 
law, the first of Nature, has been re- 
cognized by them. 

George Bernard Shaw. 

***** 

sheet-anchor of the Ship of 

State is the common school. Teach, 
first and last, Americanism. Let no youth 
leave the school without being thorough- 
ly grounded in the history, the princi- 
ples, and the incalculable blessings of 
American liberty. Let the boys be the 
trained soldiers of constitutional free- 
dom, the girls the intelligent lovers of 
freemen. Chauncey M. Depew. 

^^ 

is not to be called a true lover of 

wisdom who loves it for the sake of 
gain. And it may be said that the true 
philosopher loves every part of wisdom, 
and wisdom every part of the philoso- 
pher, inasmuch as she draws all to her- 
self and allows no one of his thoughts to 
wander to other things. Dante. 



The church says the earth is flat, but 
I know that it is round, for I have seen 
the shadow on the moon, and I have 
more faith in a shadow than in the 
church. Magellan. 



Page 75 



: -" ^ : -r n ! OTHING is more essential 
& ' ^ ? than that permanent, in- 
,!; |if veterate antipathies against 
: ;> ,- ^ particiilar nations and pas- 
, "Si'lH> t;,r^ sionate attachments for 
others should be excluded, and that, in 
place of them, just and amicable feelings 
toward all should be cultivated. The 
nation which indulges toward another a 
habitual hatred or a habitual fondness 
is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to 
its animosity or to its affection, either of 
which is sufficient to lead it astray from 
its duty and its interest. Antipathy in 
one nation against another disposes each 
more readily to offer insult and injury, 
to lay hold of slight causes of um- 
brage, and to be haughty and intractable 
when accidental or trifling occasions of 
dispute occur. Hence, frequent collisions; 
obstinate, envenomed and bloody con- 
tests. Against the insidious wiles of 
foreign influence (I conjure you to be- 
lieve me, fellow citizens), the jealousy 
of a free people ought to be constantly 
awake, since history and experience 
prove that foreign influence is one of the 
most baneful foes of republican govern- 
ment. But that jealousy, to be useful, 
must be impartial. George Washington. 



THINK it rather fine, this ne- 
cessity for the tense bracing of the 
will before anything worth doing can be 
done. I rather like it myself. I feel it is 
to be the chief thing that differentiates 
me from the cat by the fire. 

Arnold Bennett. 

* 

ODERN civilization rests upon phy- 
cal science, for it is physical 
science that makes intelligence and moral 
energy stronger than brute force. The 
whole of modern thought is steeped in 
science. It has made its way into the 
works of our best poets, and even the 
mere man of letters, who affects to ignore 
and despise science, is unconsciously im- 
pregnated with hdr spirit and indebted 
for his best products to her methods. She 
is teaching the ^orld that the ultimate 
court of appeal is observation and exper- 
ience, not authority. She is creating a 
firm and Kviiig faith in the existence of 



immutable moral and physical laws, 
perfect obedience to which is the highest 
possible aim of an intelligent being. 

Hirxley. 

*> 

ONE fact stands out in bold relief in 
the history of men's attempts for 
betterment. That is that when compul- 
sion is used, only resentment is aroused, 
and the end is not gained. Only 
through moral suasion and appeal to 
men's reason can a movement succeed. 
Samuel Gompers. 

+ 0* 

have grown literally afraid to be 
\&* poor. We despise any one who elects 
to be poor in order to simplify and save 
his inner life. We have lost the power of 
even imagining what the ancient ideali- 
zation of poverty could have meant; the 
liberation from material attachments, 
the unbribed soul, the manlier indiffer- 
ence, the paying our way by what we 
are or do, and not by what we have, the 
right to fling away our life at any mo- 
ment irresponsibly the more athletic 
trim; in short, the moral fighting shape. 
It is certain that the prevalent fear of 
poverty among the educated classes is 
the worst moral disease from which our 
civilization suffers. William James. 



manner in which one single ray 
of light, one single precious hint, 
wiH clarify and energize the whole men- 
tal life of him who receives it, is amoog 
the most wonderful and heavenly of 
intellectual phenomena* 

Arnold Bennett, 



Friendship is the highest degree of per- 
fection in society. Montaigne, 

* 

Brutality to an animal is cruelty to man- 
kind it is only the difference in the 



Blessed are tfcey who have the gift of 
making friends, for it is erne of God's 
best gifts. It involves many things, but 
above aH, the power of going out of 
ooe*s self, and appreciating whatever is 
noble ami loving in another. 

Thomas Hughes, 



Page 76 



-ffUBBARD'S 



;!iJE are spinning our own fates, 
good or evil, never to be 
undone. Every smallest 
stroke of virtue or vice 
leaves its never-so-little scar. 
The drunken Rip Van Winkle, in Jeffer- 
son's play, excuses himself for every 
fresh dereliction by saying, " I won't 
Well, he may not 




count this time! " 
count it, and a 
kind Heaven may 
not count it; but 
it is being counted 
none the less. 
Down among his 
nerve-cells and fi- 
bers the molecules 
are counting it, reg- 
istering and stor- 
ing it up to be 
used against him 
when the next 
temptation comes. 
Nothing we ever do 
is, in strict scien- 
tific literalness, 
wiped out. 
Of course, this has 
its good side as 
well as its bad one. 
As we become per- 
manent drunkards 
by so many sep- 
arate drinks, so we become saints in the 
moral, and authorities and experts in the 
practical and scientific spheres, by so 
many separate acts and hours of work. 
Let no youth have any anxiety about 
the upshot of his education, whatever 
the line of it may be. If he keep faithfully 
busy each hour of the working day, he 
may safely leave the final result to itself. 
He can with perfect certainty count on 
waking up some fine morning to find 
himself one of the competent ones of his 
generation in whatever pursuit he may 
have singled out. Silently, between all 
the details of his business, the power 
of judging in all that class of matter will 
have built itself up within htm as a pos- 
session that wiH never pass away. Young 
people should know this truth in advance. 
The ignorance of it has probably engen- 
dered more discouragement and faint- 



She walks the lady of my delight 

A shepherdess of sheep. 
Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them 
white; 

She guards them from the steep. 
She feeds them on the fragrant height. 

And folds them in for sleep. 

She roams maternal hills and bright, 

Dark valleys safe and deep. 
Into that tender breast at night 

The chastest stars may peep. 
She walks the lady of my delight 

A shepherdess of sheep. 

She holds her little thoughts in sight, 
Though gay they run and leap, 

She is so circumspect and right; 
She has her soul to keep. 

She walks the lady of my delight 
A shepherdess of sheep. 

" The Shepherdess," by Alice MeyneU 



heartedness in youths embarking on 
arduous careers than all other causes 
put together. William James. 

l'*V> ! HE early sunlight filtered through 
^J the filmy draperies to where a 
wondering baby stretched his dimpled 
hands to catch the rays that lit his face 
and flesh like dawn lights up a rose. His 
startled gaze 
caught and held 
the dawn of day in 
rapturous looks 
that spoke the 
dawn of Self, for 
with the morning 
gleam out came the 
greater wonder. It 
was the mystery of 
Life *. 
Across a cradle 
where, sunk in sat- 
in pillows, lay a 
still, pale form as 
droops a rose from 
some fierce heat, 
the evening sha- 
dows fell aslant, 
and spoke of peace. 
The twilight calm 
enclosed the world 
in silence deep as 
Truth, and on the 
little face the wondering look had given 
place to one of sweet repose. It was the 
mystery of Death. 

At head and foot the tapers burned, 
a golden light that clove the night as 
Hope the encircling gloom. Across the 
cot where lay the fair, frail form, his 
hand reached out to hers and met and 
clasped in tender burning touch. Into 
the eyes of each there came the look! That 
is the light of life; that spoke of self to 
each, yet told they two were one. It was 
the mystery to which the mysteries of 
Life and Death bow down the mystery 
of Love. James Hunt Cook. 

Genius is mainly an affair of energy, and 
poetry is mainly an affair of genius; 
therefore a nation characterized by 
energy may well be eminent in poetry. 
Matthew Arnold. 



Page 77 



world-story after all is 
nothing more than the story 
f : of human sentiment. The 
"- causes that have been lost 
*'*^-*.. -*-- and won, the victories and 
defeats, the Reformation and the Re- 
naissance, all the great things that have 
been done, have been first achieved in 
the emotional life, in the human spirit. 
The immense ma- 
terial resources of 
Asia hurl them- 
selves against 
Greek sentiment 
and are shattered. 
The Roman em- 
pire, robbed of Ro- 
man spirit, falls 
apart; China, the 
unalterable, the 
anesthetic, is 
dying & Napo- 
leon's cynical re- 
mark that Heaven 
espoused the cause 
of the larger army 
was nowhere better 
disproved than 
in his own history. 
A handful of colo- 
nial farmers is 
worth a regiment 
of Hessians.To one 
man comes a su- 
preme passion the unity of Italy, it may 
be, the reality of the Fatherland, the 
liberation of Greece; and behold, it is 
an accomplished fact. 
It is impossible to exaggerate the omni- 
potence of human feeling, of human 
emotion, of human desire. 
The miller looks to his millrace; the 
engineer replenishes his coalbin; the 
sailor regards the quarter of the wind; so 
must we people who have more impor- 
tant concerns on hand look for the carry- 
ing out of them to the strength and 
purity of the feelings. As men we must 
see to it that the heart beats high; as 
educators we must see to it that the tide 
of childish feeling is at the flood; as 
sociologists we must see to it that the 
people care. As we do this, we are strong; 



When you are old and gray and full of 

sleep, 
And nodding by the fire, take down this 

book, 
And slowly read and dream of the soft 

look 
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows 

deep; 

How many loved your moments of glad 

grace, 
And loved your beauty with love false or 

true; 

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, 
And loved the sorrows of your changing 

face. 

And bending down beside the glowing 

bars 

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled 
And paced upon the mountains overhead 
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. 
" When You Are Old," by William Butler Yeats 



as we fail to do it, we are weak. Pagan 
defeat and superseding came when the 
human heart grew faint. It is the same 
world, this in which we live; the source of 
its power is still in the round tower of the 
heart. C. Hanford Henderson. 

tf the democracy of the dead all 
men at last are equal. There is 
neither rank nor 
station nor prerog- 
ative in the repub- 
lic of the grave. At 
this fatal thresh- 
old the philoso- 
pher ceases to be 
wise, and the song 
of the poet is silent. 
Dives relinquishes 
his millions and 
Lazarus his rags. 
The poor man is as 
rich as the richest, 
and the rich man 
is as poor as the 
pauper. The cred- 
itor loses his 
usury, and the deb- 
tor is acquitted of 
his obligation. 
There the proud 
man surrenders his 
dignities, the poli- 
tician his honors, 
the worldling his pleasures; the invalid 
needs no physician, and the laborer rests 
from unrequited toil. 
Here at last is Nature's final decree 
in equity. The wrongs of time are re- 
dressed. Injustice is expiated, the irony 
of Fate is refuted; the unequal distri- 
bution of wealth, honor, capacity, plea- 
sure and opportunity, which makes life 
such a cruel and inexplicable tragedy, 
ceases in the realm of death* The strong- 
est there has no supremacy, and the 
weakest needs no defence. The mightiest 
captain succumbs to that invincible 
adversary, who disarms alike the victor 
and the vanquished. John J. IngaBs, 

The world is blessed most by men W!K> 
do things, and not by those who merely 
taik about them. James Oliver. 



Page 78 



ffUBBARD'S 




HE world has become one 
city. We begin to see that 
or ^ v a sophomoric and stu- 
pendous conceit can justify 
the claims of any race of 
people to be wholly superior to any 
other. No one race can be made perfect 
without the virtues of every other, or 
without the universal fellowship of all 
the children of men. 

Darkness will cover the earth, until we 
learn the lesson of universal brother- 
hood. Away with national and racial 
prejudice! By our practice and our 
testimony, let us stand fearlessly and 
lovingly for the unity of mankind. 

Benjamin Fay Mills. 
s<* $& 

BELIEVE in the spirit of peace, 
and in sole and absolute reliance on 
truth and the application of it to the 
hearts and consciences of the people. I 
do not believe that the weapons of 
liberty ever have been, or can be, the 
weapons of despotism. I know that 
those of despotism are the sword, the 
revolver, the cannon, the bombshell; 
and therefore, the weapons to which 
tyrantscling and upon which they depend 
are not the weapons for me, as a friend of 
liberty, W. L. Garrison. 



Things to Remember 1. 
The value of time. 2. The success of 
perseverance. 3. The pleasure of working. 
4. The dignity of simplicity. 5. The 
worth of character. 6. The power of 
kindness. 7. The influence of example. 
8, Hie obligation of duty. 9. The wisdom 
of economy. 10. The virtue of patience. 
11. The improvement of talent. 12. The 
joy of originating. Marshall Field. 



HERE are two kinds of discontent m 
this world: the discontent that 
worksy and the discontent that wrings its 
hands. The first gets what it wants, and 
the second loses what it has. There's no 
cure for the first but sijecess; and there's 
no cure at all for tibe second. 

Gordon Graham. 

*> 

Life is made up of sobs, sniffles and smiles 
with sniffles predominating. O. Henry. 



/> HE toxin of fatigue has been demon- 
strated; but the poisons generated 
by evil temper and emotional excess 
over non-essentials have not yet been 
determined, although without a doubt 
they exist. Explosions of temper, emo- 
tional cyclones, and needless fear and 
panic over disease or misfortune that 
seldom materialize, are simply bad 
habits. By proper ventilation and illum- 
ination of the mind it is possible to cul- 
tivate tolerance, poise, and real courage 
without being a bromide-taker. 

Metchnikoff. 

$0 

E who proclaims the existence of 
the Infinite and none can avoid it 
accumulates in that affirmation more 
of the supernatural than is to be found 
in all the miracles of all the religions; for 
the notion of the Infinite presents that 
double character that it forces itself 
upon us and yet is incomprehensible. 
When this notion seizes upon our under- 
standing, we can but kneel. ... I see 
everywhere the inevitable expression of 
the Infinite in the world; through it, 
the supernatural is at the bottom of 
every heart. The idea of God is a form of 
the idea of the Infinite. As long as the 
mystery of the Infinite weighs on human 
thought, temples will be erected for the 
worship of the Infinite, whether God is 
called Brahma, Allah, Jehovah or Jesus; 
and on the pavement of those temples 
men will be seen kneeling, prostrated, 
annihilated in the thought of the 
Infinite. Louis Pasteur. 



HERE are three kinds of silence. 
Silence from words is good, because 
inordinate speaking tends to evil. 
Silence or rest from desires or passions is 
still better, because it prompts quick- 
ness of spirit. But the best of all is 
silence from unnecessary and wandering 
thoughts, because that is essential to 
internal recollection, and because it 
lays a foundation for a proper regula- 
tion and silence in other respects. 

Madame Guyon. 

&+ t 

Co-operation, and not Competition, is 
the life of trade. WOliam C. Fitch* 



J30OJFC 



Page 79 



numerous indeed are 
Hearts to which Christ- 
-,^ *""'"\$-t mas Brings a brief season 
^hv.-viS^ of happiness and enjoy- 
*^r^wSi ment. How many families 
whose members have been dispersed 
and scattered far and wide, in the rest- 
less struggle of life, are then reunited, 
and meet once again in that happy state 
of companionship and mutual good-will, 
which is a source of such pure and un- 
alloyed delight, and one so incompat- 
ible with the cares and sorrows of the 
world, that the religious belief of the 
most civilized nations, and the rude 
traditions of the roughest savages, alike 
number it among the first days of a 
future state of existence, provided for 
the blest and happy! How many old 
recollections, and how many dormant 
sympathies, Christmas-time awakens! 
CL We write these words now, many 
miles distant from the spot at which, 
year after year, we met on that day, a 
merry and joyous circle. Many of the 
hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have 
ceased to beat; many of the looks that 
shone so brightly then, have ceased to 
glow; the hands we grasped, have grown 
cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their 
luster in the grave; and yet the old house, 
the room, the merry voices and smiling 
faces, the jest, the laugh, the most 
minute and trivial circumstance con- 
nected with those happy meetings, 
crowd upon our mind at each recurrence 
of the season, as if the last assemblage 
had been but yesterday. Happy, happy 
Christmas, that can win us back to the 
delusions of our childish days, recall to 
the old man the pleasures of his youth, 
and transport the traveler back to his 
own fireside and quiet homel 

Charles Dickens. 



bread of bitterness is the food 
on which men grow to their fullest 
stature; the waters of bitterness are the 
debatable ford through which they reach 
the shores of wisdom; the ashes boldly 
grasped and eaten without faltering are 
tne price that njos ; te pai$ for the 
golden fruit of 'ipbfi^^^ ^ 



l % ?- HE great duty of life is not to give 
^**^ pain; and the most acute reasoner 
can not find an excuse for one who volun- 
tarily wounds the heart of a fellow- 
creature. Even for their own sakes, 
people should show kindness and regard 
for their dependents. They are often 
better served in trifles, in proportion as 
they are rather feared than loved; but 
how small is this gain compared with 
the loss sustained in all the weightier 
affairs of life! Then the faithful servant 
shows himself at once a friend, while the 
one who serves from fear shows himself 
an enemy. Frederica Bremex 
$> $** 

JF thou workest at that which is 
before thee, following right reason 
seriously, vigorously, calmly, without 
allowing anything else to distract thee, 
but keeping thy divine part sure, if thou 
shouldst be bound to give it back 
immediately; if thou holdest to this, 
expecting nothing, fearing nothing, but 
satisfied with thy present activity ac- 
cording to Nature, and with heroic truth 
in every word and sound which thou 
utterest, thou wilt live happy. And there 
is no man who is able to prevent this. 
Marcus Aurelius. 

*> 

I DO not remember that in my 
whole life I ever wilfully misrep- 
resented anything to anybody at any 
time. I have never knowingly had con- 
nection with a fraudulent scheme. I 
have tried to do good in this world, not 
harm, as my enemies would have the 
world believe. I have helped men and 
have attempted in my humble way to 
be of some service to my country. 

J. Pierpont Morgan. 

fr 

S LOWERS have an expression of 
countenance as much as men or 
aT>ima1g T Some seem to smile; some have 
a sad expression; some are pensive and 
diffident; others ag^ are plain, honest 
and upright* like tiie broadfaced sunr 
flower and the hoilyhock. 

Henry Ward Beec&er. 
" ' 



, , 
lave and, skill work 



Page 80 



ffUBBARD'S 




O one understands the nature 
of love; it is like a bird of 
heaven that sings a strange 
language. It lights down 
among us, coming from 
whence we know not, going we know 
not how or when, striking out wild notes 
of music that make even fatigued and 
heavy hearts to throb and give back a 

tone of courage 

Shall we say that the creature without 
love is like the lamp unlit? There it is 
and no one needs it. But touch it with 
flame, and it trembles and glows and 
becomes the center of the room where it 
stands. Everything that falls under its 
rays is new-gilt. So does the lover see all 
natural things quite new. 
Or take the image of the withering plant 
that is dying of drought. The sun's rays 
have parched it; the roots have searched 
and searched for moisture in a soil that 
grows every day harder and drier. The 
plant wilts and hangs its head; it is 
fainting and ready to die, when down 
comes the rain in a murmuring multi- 
tude of round scented drops, the purest 
thing alive, a distilled essence, necessary 
to life. Under that baptism the plant 
lifts itself up; it drinks and rejoices. In 
the night it renews its strength; in the 
morning the heat it has had from the 
sun, reinforced by the rain, bursts out 
into colored flowers. So I have known a 
man battered by hard life and the 
excess of his own passions: I have seen 
love come to such a man and take him up 
and cleanse him and set him on his feet; 
and from him has burst forth a flood of 
color and splendor creative work that 
now lends its fiery stimulus to thousands. 
< Another image might be of the harp 
that stands by itself in golden aloofness. 
Then comes the beautiful arms, the cur- 
ving fingers that pluck at the strings, 
and the air is filled with mdody; the 
harp begins to live, thrilling and re- 
joicing, down to its golden foot. 
Or picture the unligfcted house, empty at 
fall of night. The windows are dark; the 
door shut; the dean wind goes about and 
around it; and can not find an entrance. 
The dull heavy air is faint within; it 
longs to be reunited to the wind of the 



world outside. Then comes the woman 
with the key, and in she steps; the win- 
dows are opened, the imprisoned air 
rushes out, the wind enters; the lamps 
and the fire are lit; so that light fills 
windows and doors. The tables are set, 
there is the sound of footsteps; and more 
footsteps. The house glows and lives. 

Grace Rhys. 

ELOQUENT, just, and mighty 
Death! Whom none could advise, 
thou hast persuaded; what none hath 
dared, thou hast done; and whom all the 
world hath flattered, thou only hast cast 
out of the world and despised: thou hast 
drawn together all the far-stretched 
greatness, all the pride, cruelty and am- 
bition of man, and covered it all over 
with these two narrow words flic 
jacet ! Raleigh. 

OH, the eagerness and freshness of 
youth! How the boy enjoys his food, 
his sleep, his sports, his companions, his 
truant days! His life is an adventure, he 
is widening his outlook, he is extending 
his dominion, he is conquering his king- 
dom. How cheap are his pleasures, how 
ready his enthusiasms! In boyhood I 
have had more delight on a haymow 
with two companions and a big dog 
delight that came nearer intoxication 
than I have ever had in all the subse- 
quent holidays of my life. When youth 
goes, much goes with it. When manhood 
comes, much comeslwith it. We exchange a 
world of delightful sensations and im- 
pressions for a world of duties and 
studies and meditations. The youth 
enjoys what the man tries to understand. 
Lucky is he who can get his grapes to 
market and keep the bloom upon them, 
who can carry some of the freshness and 
eagerness and simplicity of youth into 
his later years, who can have a boy's 
heart below a man's head. 

John Burroughs. 

The lawyer who uses his knowledge to 
stir up strife among the industrious and 
impede the path of commerce, that he 
himself may thrive, is unworthy of our 
respect. W. H. Seward, 



J3OCXFC 



Page 81 




O, like a queen's her happy tread, 
And like a queen's her golden head! 
But O, at last, when all is said, 
Her woman's heart for me! 



difference between a 
stone and a com- 
mon stone is not an essential 
difference not a difference 
^,%f,^r^r55"S of substance, but of arrange- 
ment of the particles the crystalliza- 
tion. In substance, the charcoal and 
the diamond are one, but in form 
and effect, how widely they differ! 
The pearl contains 
nothing that is not 
found in the coars- 
est oyster-shell &+> 
Two men have the 
same thoughts; 
they use about the 
same words in ex- 
pressing them; yet 
with one the pro- 
duct is real litera- 
ture, with the other 
it is platitude. 
The difference is 
all in presentation; 
a finer and more 
compendious pro- 
cess has gone on in 
the one case than 
in the other. The 
elements are better 
fused and knitted 
together; they are 
in some way heightened and intensified. 
Is not here a clue to what we mean by 
style? $ *> 

Style transforms common quartz into an 
Egyptian pebble. We are apt to think of 
style as something external, that can be 
put on, something in and of itself. 
But it is not; it is in the inmost texture 
of the substance itself. 
Polish, choice words, faultless rhetoric, 
are only the accidents of style. 
Indeed, perfect workmanship is one 
thing; style, as the great writers have it, 
is quite another. It may, and often does, 
go with faulty workmanship. It is the 
choice of words in a fresh and vital way, 
so as to gjve us a vivid sense of a new 
spiritual force and personality. In the 
best work the style is fqund and hidden 
in the matter, a 

I heard ^ reader observe, after finishing 
of ^Robert Lotus SteveasonV books, 



We wandered where the river gleamed 
'Neath oaks that mused and pines that 

dreamed. 

A wild thing of the woods she seemed 9 
So proud, and pure, and free! 



"How well it is written! " I thought it a 
doubtful compliment. It should have 
been so well written that the reader 
would not have been conscious of the 
writing at all. 

If we could only get the writing, the 
craft, out of our stories and essays and 
poems, and make the reader feel he was 
face to face with the real thing! The 
complete identi- 
fication of the style 
with the thought; 
the complete ab- 
sorption of the man 
with his matter, so 
that the reader 



shall say, " How 



All heaven drew nigh to hear her sing, 
When from her lips her soul took wing; 
The oaks forgot their pondering ; 
The pines their reverie. 

And O, her happy, queenly tread, 
And O, her queenly golden head! 
But O, her heart, when all is said, 
Her woman's heart for me! 

" Song," by William Watson 



good, how real, how 
true!" that is the 
great success. Seek 
ye the kingdom of 
truth first, and all 
things shall be 
added $+ 
I think we do feel, 
with regard to some 
of Stevenson's 
books, like An In- 
land Voyage, Trav- 
els With a Donkey, 
etc., how well they 
are written M* Cer- 
tainly one would not have the literary 
skill any less, but would have one's 
attention kept from it by the richness of 
the matter. Hence I thmfr a British 
critic hits the mark when he says 
Stevenson lacks homeliness. 
Doctor Holmes wrote fine and eloquent 
poems, yet I think one does not fed that 
he is essentially a poet. His work has not 
the inevitableness of Nature; it is a 
skilful literary feat; we admire it, but 
seldom return to it* His poetry is a 
stream in an artificial diannel; his 
natural channel is his prose; here we get 
his freest and most spontaneous activity. 
CL One fatilt I find with oar younger and 
more promising school of novelists is that 
their aim is too literary; we feel they are 
striving: mainly for artistic effects. Do 
we feel this at all in Scott, Dickens, 
o* Tolstoy? Tt^ese mm aie 
a|K>!!t art, but: about He 



Page 82 



flUBBARD'S 



how to produce life. C[ In essayists like 
Pater, Wilde, Lang, the same thing 
occurs; we are constantly aware of the 
literary artist; they are not in love with 
life, reality, so much as they are with 
words, style, literary effects ** Their 
seriousness is mainly an artistic serious- 
ness. It is not so much that they have 
something to say, as that they are filled 
with a desire to say something. 
Nearly all our magazine poets seem filled 
with the same desire; what labor, what 
art and technique; but what a dearth of 
feeling and spontaneity! I read a few 
lines or stanzas and then stop. I see it is 
only deft handicraft, and that the heart 
and soul are not in it. 
One day my boy killed what an old 
hunter told him was a mock duck. It 
looked like a duck, it acted like a duck, 
but when it came upon the table it 
mocked us. 

These mock poems of the magazines 
remind me of it. 

Is it not unfair to take any book, cer- 
tainly any great piece of literature, and 
deliberately sit down to pass judgment 
upon it? Great books are not addressed 
to the critical judgment, but to the life, 
the soul. They need to slide into one's 
life earnestly, and find him with his 
guard down, his doors open, his attitude 
disinterested. The reader is to give him- 
self to them, as they give themselves to 
him; there must be self-sacrifice. 
We find the great books when we are 
young, eager, receptive. After we grow 
hard and critical we find few great books. 
A recent French critic says: " It seems 
to me, works of art are not made to be 
judged, but to be loved, to please, to 
dissipate the cares of real life. It is 
precisely by wishing to judge them that 
one loses sight of their true significance.'* 
<[ " How can a man learn to know him- 
self? " inquires Goethe. " Never by re- 
flection, only by action/* Is not this a 
half-truth? One can only learn his powers 
of action by action, and his powers of 
thought by thinking. He can only learn 
whether or not he has power to com- 
mand, to lead, to be an orator or legis- 
lator, by actual trial. Has he courage, 
self-control, self-denial, fortitude, eta? 



In life alone can he find out. Action tests 
his moral virtues, reflection his intel- 
lectual. If he would define himself to 
himself he must think. 
" We are weak in action," says Renan, 
" by our best qualities; we are strong in 
action by will and a certain one-sided- 
ness." " The moment Byron reflects," 
says Goethe, " he is a child." Byron had 
no self-knowledge. We have all known 
people who were ready and sure in 
action, who did not know themselves at 
all. Your weakness or strength as a 
person comes out in action; your weak- 
ness or strength as an intellectual force 
comesoutinreflection. John Burroughs. 
&* & 

aS long as nations meet on the fields 
of war as long as they sustain the 
relations of savages to each other as 
long as they put the laurel and the oak 
on the brows of those who kill just so 
long will citizens resort to violence, and 
the quarrels be settled by dagger and 
revolver. Robert G. Ingersoll. 
s so 

XDO not belong to the amiable group 
of " men of compromise." I am in 
the habit of giving candid and straight- 
forward expression to the convictions 
which a half-century of serious and 
laborious study has led me to form. If I 
seem to you an iconoclast, I pray you to 
remember that the victory of pure reason 
over superstition will not be achieved 
without a tremendous struggle. 

Ernst Haeckel. 

$& * 

BELIEVE me when I tell you that 
thrift of time will repay you in 
ter-life, with a usury of profit beyond 
your most sanguine dreams; and that 
waste of it will make you dwindle alike in 
intellectual and moral stature, beyond 
your darkest reckoning. 

W. E, Gladstone. 



I never work better than when I am in- 
spired by anger. When I am angry I can 
write, pray, and preach well; for then my 
whole temperament is quickened, my 
understanding sharpened, and all mun- 
dane vexations and temptations depart. 

Luther. 



J3OCXK, 



Page 83 



, HO can describe the pleasure 
and delight, the peace of 
mind and soft tranquillity, 
- felt in the balmy air and 
rl among the green hills and 
rich woods of an inland village? 
Who can tell how scenes of peace and 
quietude sink into the minds of pain- 
worn dwellers in close and noisy places, 
and carry their own freshness deep into 
their jaded hearts? 

Men who have lived in crowded, pent-up 
streets, through whole lives of toil, and 
never wished for change; men to whom 
custom has indeed been second nature, 
and who have come almost to love each 
brick and stone that formed the narrow 
boundaries of their daily walks even 
they, with the hand of death upon them, 
have been known to yearn at last for one 
short glimpse of Nature's face, and, 
carried far from the scenes of their old 
pains and pleasures, have seemed to pass 
at otice into a new state of being, and 
crawling forth from day to day to some 
green, sunny spot, have had such rnem 
ones wakened up within them by the 
mere sight of sky, and hill, and plain, 
and glistening water, that a foretaste of 
heaven itself has soothed their quick 
decline, and they have sunk into their 
tombs as peacefully as the sun, whose 
setting they watched from their lonely 
chamber window but a few hours before, 
faded from their dim and feeble sight! 
Cl The memories which peaceful country 
scenes call up are not of this world or ot 
its thoughts and hopes. Their gentle 
influence may Ijeach us to weave fresh 
garlands for the graves of those we loved, 
may purify our thoughts and bear down 
before it old enmity and hatred; but 
beneath all this there lingers in the least 
reflective mind a vague and half-formed 
consciousness of having held such feel- 
ings long before in some remote and 
distant time, which calls up solemn 
thoughts of distant times to come, and 
bends down pride and worldliness be- 
neath it. Charles Dickens* 



The happiness of a man in this life does 
not consist in the absence but in the 
mastery of his passions. 



friendships hurry to short and 
\J} poor conclusions, because we have 
made them a texture of wine and dreams, 
instead of the tough fiber of the human 
heart. The laws of friendship are great, 
austere, and eternal, of one web with the 
laws of nature and of morals. But we 
have aimed at a swift and petty benefit, 
to such a sudden sweetness. We snatch 
at the slowest fruit in the whole garden 
of God, which many summers and many 
winters must ripen. We seek our friend 
not sacredly, but with an adulterate pas- 
sion which would appropriate him to 
ourselves 0* s^ 

I do not wish to treat friendships dain- 
tily, but with roughest courage. When 
they are real, they are not glass threads 
or frost-work, but the solidest thing we 
know > > 

The end of friendship is a commerce the 
most strict and homely that can be 
joined; more strict than any of which we 
have experienced. It is for aid and com- 
fort through all the relations and pas- 
sages of life and death. It is fit for serene 
days, and graceful gifts, and country 
rambles, but also for rough roads and 
hard fare, shipwreck, poverty and perse- 
cution. It keeps company with the sallies 
of the wit and the trances of religion. We 
are to dignify to each other the daily 
needs and offices of man's life, and embel- 
lish it by courage, wisdom and unity. It 
should never fall into something usual 
and settled, but should be alert and 
inventive, and add rhyme and reason to 
what was drudgery. Emerson. 

> &+> 

***&** CAN not commend to a business 
II house any artificial plan for Tngtrmg 
men producers any scheme for driving 
them into business-building. You must 
lead them through their self-interest. It 
is this alone that will keep them keyed up 
to the full capacity of their productive- 
ness. Charles H. Steinway. 

$+>&+> 

The cynic is one who knows the price of 
everything and the value of nothing. 

Oscar WiMe. 

> 

Snobbery is the pride of those W!K> are 
not soreof theirpositioa. BertonBraley. 



Page 84 



f/UBBA&D'S 




tie telegram came, 
early one Monday morning, 
what was our first thought, 
as soon as the immediate 
numbness of sorrow passed 

and the selfish instinct began to reassert 

itself (as it always does) and whisper 

" What have / lost? What is the differ- 

ence to me?" Was it not something like 

this " Put away 

books and paper 

and pen. Stevenson 

is dead. Stevenson 

is dead, and now 

there is nobody left 

to write for." Our 

children and grand- 

children shall re- 

joice in his books; 

but we of this gene- 

ration possessed in 

the living man 

something that 

they will not know. 

So long as he lived, 

though it were far 

from Britain 

though we had 

never spoken to 

him and he, per- 

haps, had barely 

heard our names 

we always wrote 



The royal feast was done; the King 
Sought some new sport to banish care, 

And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool, 
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer" 

The jester doffed his cap and bells, 
And stood the mocking court before; 

They could not see the bitter smile 
Behind the painted grin he wore. 

He bowed his head, and bent his knee 
Upon the monarch's silken stool; 

His pleading voice arose: "Q Lord, 
Be merciful to me, a fool! 

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart 
From red with wrong to white as wool; 

The rod must heal the sin: but Lord, 
Be merciful to me, a fool! 



" *Tis not by guilt the onward sweep 

Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; 
*T is by our follies that so long 

We hold the earth from heaven away. 
our best for Steven- 



"These clumsy feet, still in the mire, 
Go crushing blossoms without end; 

(Concluded on next page) 



son, To him each 
writer amongst us 
small or more 
than small had 
been proud to have carried his best. That 
best might be poor enough. So long as it 
was not sEptshod. Stevenson could for- 
gnre. While he lived, he moved men to 
put thek utmost even into writing^ that 
<|mte certainly would never meet his eye. 
Surely another age will wonder over this 
curiosity of letters that for five years 
the needle of literary endeavor m Great 
Britain has quivered towards a little 
island in the South Pacific, as to is 
magnetic pole, 

Yet he founded no school, tiough most of 
us from time to time have poorly tried to 
copy him. He remained altogether inim- 
itable, yet never seemed conscious 



greatness. It was native in him to rejoice 
in the successes of other men at least as 
much as in his own triumphs. One almost 
felt that, so long as good books were 
written, it was no great concern to him 
whether he or others wrote them. Born 
with an artist's craving for beauty of 
expression, he achieved that beauty with 
infinite pains. Confident in romance and 
in the beneficence 
of joy, he cherished 
the flame of joyous 
romance with more 
than Vestal fervor, 
and kept it ardent 
in a body which 
Nature, unkind 
from the beginning, 
seemed to delight 
in visiting with 
more unkindness 
a " soul's dark cot- 
tage, battered and 
decayed" almost 
from birth. And his 
books leave the im- 
pression that he did 
this chiefly from a 
sense of duty: that 
belabored and kept 
the lamp alight 
chiefly because, for 
the time, other and 
stronger men did 
not *> s* 
Had there been 
another Scott, 
another Dumas 
if I may change the image to take up 
the torch of romance and run with it, I 
doubt if Stevenson would have offered 
himself. I almost think in that case he 
would have consigned with Nature and 
sat at ease, content to read of new Ivan- 
hoes and new D'Artagnans: for let it be 
said again no man had less of the 
igppble itch for merely personal success. 
Think, too, of what the struggle meant 
for him: how it drove fcim unquiet about 
the world, if somewhere he might meet 
with a climate to repair the constant 
drain tipon his feeble vitality; and how 
at last it Sung him, as by a " sudden 
freshet," ,19)011 S$moa to die " iar 



Page 85 



Argos, dear land of home/' 1 And then 
consider the brave spirit that carried 
him the last of a great race along this 
far and difficult path; for it is the man 
we must consider now, not, for the 
moment, his writings. Fielding's voyage 
to Lisbon was long and tedious enough; 
but almost the whole of Stevenson's life 
has been a voyage to Lisbon, a voyage in 
the very penumbra 
of death. Yet Stev- 
enson spoke always 
as gallantly as his 
great predecessor. 
Their "cheerful 
stoicism," which 
allies his books with 
the best British 
breeding, will keep 
them classical as 
long as our nation 
shall value breed- 
ing ^ 

It shines to our 
dim eyes now, as 
we turn over the 
familiar pages of 
Virginibus Pueris- 
que, and from page 
after page in sen- 
tences and frag- 
ments of sentences 
" It is not alto- 
gether ill with the 
invalid after all/' 
" Who would find 
heart enough to be- 
gin to live, if he 
dallied with the consideration of death?" 
..." What sorry and pitiful quibbling 
all this is!" ..." It is better to live and 
be done with it, than to die daily in the 
sick-room. By all means begin your folio; 
even if the doctor does not give you a 
year, even if he hesitates over a month, 
make one brave push and see what can 
be accomplished in a week. . . <, For 
surely, at whatever age it overtake the 
man, this is to die young/' 
I remember now (as one remembers little 
things at such times) that, when first I 
heard of his going to Samoa, there came 
into my head (Header* knows w^r) a 
trivial, almost ludicrous passage from Ms 



These hard, weU-meaning hands we 

thrust 
Among the heart-strings of a friend. 

"The in-timed truth we might have kept 
Who knows how sharp it pierced and 
stung? 

The word we had not sense to say 
Who knows how grandly it had rung! 

"Our faults no tenderness should ask, 
The chastening stripes must cleanse 
them all; 

But for our blunders oh, in shame 
Before the eyes of heaven wefatt. 

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes; 

Men crown the knave, and scourge the 

tool 
That did his uritt; but Thou, O Lord, 

Be merciful to me, a fool!' 9 

The room was hushed; in silence rose 
The King, and sought his gardens cool, 

And walked apart, and murmured low, 
"Be merciful to me, a fool!" 

" The Fool's Prayer," by Edward Rau&and SzZZ 



favorite, Sir Thomas Browne: a passage 
beginning " He was fruitlessly put in 
hope of advantage by change of Air, and 
imbibing the pure Aerial Nitre of those 
Parts; and therefore, being so far spent, 
he quickly found Sardinia in Tivoli, and 
the most healthful air of little effect, 
where Death had set her Broad Arrow/* 
A statelier sentence of the same author 
occurs to me now: 
" To live indeed, is 
to be again our- 
selves, which being 
not only a hope, 
but an evidence in 
noble believers, it 
is all one to He 
in St. Innocent's 
Churchyard, as in 
the sands of Egypt. 
Ready to be any- 
thing in the ecstasy 
of being ever, and 
as content with six 
foot as the moles of 
Adrianus." 
This one lies, we 
are told, on a 
mountain -top, 
overlooking the 
Pacific. At first it 
seemed so much 
easier to distrust a 
News Agency than 
to accept Steven- 
son's toss, " O cap- 
tain, my captain!** 
One needs not be 
an excellent writer to feel that willing 
will be thankless work, now that Steven- 
son is gone. But the papers by this time 
leave no room for dotibt. "A grave was 
dug on the summit of Mount Vaea, 
thirteen hundred feet above the sea. The 
coffin was carried up fee h31 by Sanjoaus 
with great diffictilty , a track having to be 
cut through the thick bush which covers 
the side of the h$l y from the base to the 
peak/* For the good of man, his father 
and grandfather planted the high sea- 
lights upon the Bjchcape and the Tyree 
Coast. He^ the last of their line, nursed 
another light ami tended it. Their lamps 
stiH shirte upon the BeH Rock and 



Page 86 



HUBBARD'S 



Skerryvore; and though in alien seas, 
upon a rock of exile this other light 
shall continue, unquenchable by age, 
beneficent, serene. 

" The Death of Robert Louis Steven- 
son/* by Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch. 

to* * 

SUSIC is to me an ethereal rain, an 
I ever-soft distillation, fragrant and 
liquid and wholesome to the soul, as 
dew to flowers; an incomprehensible 
delight, a joy, a voice of mystery, that 
seems to stand on the boundary between 
the sphere of the senses and the soul, and 
plead with pure, unrefined human nature 
to ascend into regions of seraphic un- 
contained life. 

O wondrous power! Art thou not the 
nearest breath of God's own beauty, 
born to us amid the infinite, whisper- 
ing gallery of His reconciliation! Type of 
all love and reconciliation, solvent of 
hard, contrary elements blender of 
soul with soul, and all with the Infinite 
Harmony. John S. Dwight. 

^ *> 

V^AUGHTER, while it lasts, slackens 
JU% and unbraces the mind, weakens the 
faculties, and causes a kind of remiss- 
ness and dissolution in all the powers of 
the soul; and thus far it may be looked 
upon as a weakness in the composition of 
human nature. But if we consider the 
frequent reliefs we receive from it, and 
how often it breaks the gloom which 
is apt to depress the mind and damp 
our spirits, with transient, unexpected 
gleams of joy, one would take care not 
to grow too wise for so great a pleasure 
of life. Addison* 

*> 4fr> 

highest compact we can make 
with our fellow is, let there be truth 
between us two ibrevermore. It is sub- 
lime to fed and say of another, I need 
never meet, or speak, or write to him; 
we need not reinforce ourselves, or send 
tokens of remembrance; I rely on him as 
on myself ; if he did not thus or thus, I 
know it was right. Emerson, 

* ^ 

There are whole worlds of fact waiting 
to be discovered by inference. 

Woodrow Wilson. 



| %OW blessings light on him that first 
* invented this same sleep: it covers 
a man all over, thoughts and all, like a 
cloak; it is meat for the hungry, drink 
for the thirsty, heat for the cold, and 
cold for the hot. It is the current coin 
that purchases all the pleasures of the 
world cheap; and it is the balance that 
sets the king and the shepherd, the fool 
and the wise man, even. There is only 
one thing, which somebody once put 
into my head, that I dislike in sleep: 
it is, that it resembles death; there is 
very little difference between a man in 
his first sleep and a man in his last sleep. 

Cervantes. 



^ determining to 
embrace or reject anything, is not 
whether it have any evil in it, but 
whether it have more of evil than of 
good. There are few things wholly evil 
or wholly good. Almost everything, espec- 
ially of government policy, is an insep- 
arable compound of the two, so that our 
best judgment of the preponderance be- 
tween them is continually demanded *^ 

A. Lincoln. 

$0 

pursue trifles is the lot of human- 
ity; and whether we bustle in a pan- 
tomime, or strut at a coronation, or shout 
at a bonfire, or harangue in a senate- 
house whatever object we follow, it 
will at last conduct us to futility and 
disappointment. The wise bustle and 
laugh as they walk in the pageant, but 
fools bustle and are important; and this 
probably is all the difference between 
them. Oliver Goldsmith. 

> &+> 

^PAINFULLY reflect that in al- 
<*"*% most every political controversy of 
the last fifty years the leisured classes, 
the educated classes, the wealthy classes, 
the titled classes, have been in the wrong. 
The common people the toilers, the 
men of uncommon sense these have 
been responsible for nearly all of the 
social reform measures which the world 
accepts today. W. E. Gladstone. 



Laws are not made for the gcxxi. 

Socrates. 



PageST 







!CAN conceive of a national 
destiny surpassing the glories 
, of the present and the past 
]'' i destiny which meets the 
2U responsibilities of today and 
measures up to the possibilities of the 
future s^ &> 

Behold a republic, resting securely upon 
the foundation stones quarried by revo- 
lutionary patriots 
from the mountain 
of eternal truth a 
republic applying 
in practice and pro- 
claiming to the 
world the self-evi- 
dent proposition 
that all men are 
created equal; that 
they are endowed 
with inalienable 
rights; that govern- 
ments are insti- 
tuted among men 
to secure these 
rights; that gov- 
ernments derive 
their just powers 
from the consent of 
the governed. 
Behold a republic 
in which civil and 
religious liberty 
stimulate all to 
earnest endeavor, 
and in which the 
law restrains every 
hand uplifted for a 
neighbor's injury 
a republic in which 

every citizen is a sovereign, but in which 
no one cares to wear a crown. 
Behold a republic standing erect, while 
empires all around are bowed beneath 
the weight of their own armaments a 
republic whose flag is loved, while other 
flags are only feared. 
Behold a republic increasing in popula- 
tion, in wealth, in strength and influence, 
solving the problems of civilization and 
hastening the coining of universal broth- 
erhood a republic which shakes thrones 
and dissolves aristocracies by its silent 
example, and gives light and protection 



to those who sit in darkness. < Behold a 
republic gradually but surdy becoming 
the supreme moral factor in the world's 
progress and the accepted arbiter of the 
world's disputes a republic whose his- 
tory, like the path of the just, is "as the 
shining light that shineth more and more 
unto the perfect day/' " The Ideal 
Republic," by William Jennings Bryan. 



I wandered lonely as a cloud 

That floats on high o 'er vales and hills. 

When all at once I saw a crowd, 

A host, of golden daffodils; 

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the stars that shine 
And twinkle in the mLky way, 
They stretched in never-ending line 
Along the margin of a bay: 
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 



will suc- 
ceedbestwhen 
you put the rest- 
less, anxious side 
of affairs out of 
mind, and allow the 
restful side to live 
in your thoughts. 
Margaret Stowe. 

is an do- 
quent man 
who can treat 
humble subjects 
with delicacy, lofty 
things impressively 
and moderate 
things temperate- 
ly. Cicero. 



For oft, when on my couch I lie 
In vacant or in pensive mood, 
They flash upon that inward eye 
Which is the bliss of solitude; 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils. 

" I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud," 

by Wfflwm Wordsworth 



The waves beside them danced; but they 

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: 

A poet could not but be gay, 

In such a jocund company: 

I gazed and gazed but little thought 

What wealth the show to me had brought: 

^^ DO not know 
**% what I may 
appear to the 
world, but to my- 
self I seem to have 
been only like a 
boy playing on the 
seashore, and di- 
verting mysdf in 
now and then find- 
ing a prettier shell, or a smoother pebble 
than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of 
truth lay all undiscovered before me. 

Newton, 

|ZI*S a writer, I have only one desire 
U. to fill you with fire, to pour into you 
the distilled essence of the sun itself. I 
want every thought^ every word, every 
act of mine to make you fed that you 
are receiving into yonr body, into your 
mmdy into your soul, the sacred spirit 
that changes day into men and men Into 
gpds. Thomas Drder. 



Page 88 



ffUBBARD J S 




Ljf OURSCORE and seven years 
ago our fathers brought 
forth on this continent a 
new nation, conceived in 
liberty and dedicated to the 
proposition that all men are created 
equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil 
war, testing whether that nation, or any 
nation so conceived and so dedicated, 
can long endure. We are met on a great 
battlefield of that war. We have come to 
dedicate a portion of that field as a final 
resting-place for those who here gave 
their lives that that nation might live. It 
is altogether fitting and proper that we 
should do this. But in a larger sense we 
can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, 
we can not hallow this ground. The brave 
men, living and dead, who struggled here 
have consecrated it far above our poor 
power to add or detract. The world will 
little note nor long remember what we 
say here, but it can never forget what 
they did here. It is for us, the living, 
rather to be dedicated here to the un- 
finished work which they who fought 
here have thus far so nobly advanced. It 
is rather for us to be here dedicated to the 
great task remaining before us, that 
from these honored dead we take in- 
creased devotion to that cause for which 
they gave the last full measure of devo- 
tion; that we here highly resolve that 
these dead shall not have died in vain; 
that this nation, under God, shall have 
a new birth of freedom, and that govern- 
ment of the people, by the people and for 
the people shall not perish from the 
earth. " Address at Gettysburg," by 
Abraham Lincoln. 

0ENTOS is its own reward: for a 
man's best qualities must neces- 
sarily benefit himself. " He who is born 
with a talent, for a talent, finds in it his 
happiest existence," says Goethe. If we 
look tip to a great man of the past, we 
do not say, " How happy he is to be 
still admired by all of us;" but "How 
happy he must have been in the direct 
enjoyment of a mind whose traces con- 
tinue to delight mankind for centuries/* 
Not fame itself is of value, but that 
wherewith it is acquired; an<i in the 



begetting of immortal children lies the 
real enjoyment. Schopenhauer. 



it 5 s near dinner-time, the fore- 
man takes out his watch when the 
jury have retired and says: " Dear me, 
gentlemen, ten minutes to five, I declare! 
I dine at five, gentlemen." " So do I," 
says everybody else except two men who 
ought to have dined at three, and seem 
more than half-disposed to stand out 
in consequence. The foreman smiles and 
puts up his watch: " Well, gentlemen, 
what do we say? Plaintiff, defendant, 
gentlemen? I rather think, so far as I 
am concerned, gentlemen I say I 
rather think but don't let that influence 
you I rather think the plaintiff's the 
man." Charles Dickens. 

> fr 

^MMORTALITY is a word that 
*JLfc Hope through all the ages has been 
whispering to Love The miracle of 
thought we can not understand. The 
mystery of life and death we can not com- 
prehend. This chaos called world has 
never been explained. The golden bridge 
of life from gloom emerges, and on 
shadow rests. Beyond this we do not 
know. Fate is speechless, destiny is dumb, 
and the secret of the future has never yet 
been told. We love; we wait; we hope. 
The more we love, the more we fear. 
Upon the tenderest heart the deepest 
shadows fall. All paths, whether filled 
with thorns or flowers, end here. Here 
success and failure are the same. The 
rag of wretchedness and the purple robe 
of power all differences and distinction 
lose in this democracy of death. Char- 
acter survives; goodness lives; love is 
immortal. Robert G. Ingersoll. 



HERE is an idea abroad among 
moral people that they should make 
their neighbors good. One person I have 
to make good: myself. But my duty to 
my neighbor is much more nearly ex- 
pressed by saying that I have to make 
him happy if I may. R. L. Stevenson. 

&*> 

Some people are so painfully good that 
they would rather be right than be 
tieasant. L. C. Ball. 



J3OOK 



Page $9 



man when he has done a 
'v^T 1 /*' 1 ^ service to another is ready 
^Y|>- **#/fjh' to set it down tohis account 
r/^ Y^ H|[: ; as a favor conferred. Another 
is not ready to do this, but 
still in his own mind he thinks of the 
man as his debtor, and he knows what 
he has done. A third in a manner does 
not even know what he has done, but he 
is like a vine which 
has produced 
grapes, and seeks 
for nothing more 
after it has once 
produced its proper 
fruit. As a horse 
when he has run, a 
dog when he has 
caught the game, a 
bee when it has 
made its honey, so 
a man when he has 
done a good act 
does not call out 
for others to come 
and see, but he 
goes on to another 
act, as a vine goes 
on to produce again 

the grapes in season. Must a man then 
be one of these, who in a manner acts 
thus without observing it? Yes. Wbat 
more dost thou want when thou hast 
done a man a service? Art thou not con- 
tent that thou hast done something com- 
fortable to thy nature, and dost thou 
seek to be paid for it, just as if the eye 
demanded a recompense for seeing, or 
the feet should demand a recompense 
for walking? Marcus Aurelius, 

> &+> 

I regard ideas only in my struggles: to 
the persons of my opponents I am indif- 
ferent, bitterly as they have attacked 
and slandered my own person. 

Ernst HaeckeL 



7 went to Europe, said my friend, 

Expecting wonders rare 
To open vistas without end, 

And lay the future bare. 

Paris, of course, would be in style; 

And Berlin, London, Rome, 
Would show me something more worth 
while 

Than anything at home. 

And then to hear them cheer a crown, 

Or praise some rusty thing 
That the dark ages handed down, 

Was was astonishing. 

" Travel," by Wittiam Griffith 



RT is not a sermon, and the artist is 
Jl not a preacher. Art accomplishes by 
indirection. The beautiful refines. The 
perfect in art suggests the perfect in 
conduct. The harmony in music teaches, 
without intention, the lesson of propor- 
tion in life. The bird in his song has no 
moral purpose, and yet the influence is 
humanizing. The beautiful in nature acts 
through apprecia- 
tion and sympathy . 
It does not brow- 
beat, neither does 
it humiliate. It is 
beautiful without 
regard to you *> 
Roses would be un- 
bearable if in their 
red and perfumed 
hearts were mot- 
toes to the effect 
that bears eat bad 
boys and that hon- 
esty is the best 
policy $> 
Art creates an at- 
mosphere in which 
the proprieties, the 
amenities, and the 
virtues unconsciously grow. The rain 
does not lecture the seed. The light does 
not make rules for the vine and flower. 
The heart is softened by the pathos of 
the perfect* Robert G. IngersoU. 



N imperfect soul seeing what is good 
Jjl and great and true, but very often 
failing in the attempt to attain it, is apt 
to be very harsh in its judgments cm the 
shortcomings of others. But a divine and 
sovereign soul a soul that has more 
nearly attained to the measure of the 
perfect man takes a calmer and gentler, 
because a larger-hearted view of those 
little weaknesses and indirectnesses 
which it can not but daily see. Farrar. 



_ 

HE equal right of all men to the use 
of land is as clear as their equal 
right to breathe the air it is a right 
proclaimed by the iact of their existence. 
For we can not suppose that some men 
a right to fee tlm 



is as strictly due "between 
neighbor nations as between neigh- 
bor citizens. A highwayman is as modi 
a robber when he plunders in a gang* as 
when single; and a nation that makes 
an unjust war is only a great gang. 



Page 90 




i ET us ask ourselves, what is 
I education? Above all things, 
. what is our ideal of a thor- 
] oughly liberal education? 
- of that education which, 
if we could begin life again, we would 
give ourselves of that education which, 
if we could mould the fates to our own 
will, we would give our children. Well, I 
know not what may be your concep- 
tion upon this matter, but I will tell 
you mine, and I hope I shall find that 
our views are not very discrepant. 
Suppose it were perfectly certain that 
the life and fortune of every one of us 
would, one day or other, depend upon 
his winning or losing a game of chess. 
Don't you think that we should all con- 
sider it to be a primary duty to learn at 
least the names and the moves of the 
pieces; to have a notion of a gambit, 
and a keen eye for all the means of 
giving and getting out of check? Do 
you not think that we should look with 
a disapprobation, even scorn, upon the 
father who allowed his son, or the state 
which allowed its members, to grow up 
without knowing a pawn from a knight? 
Yet it is a very plain and elementary 
truth, that the life, the fortune, and the 
happiness of every one of us, and, more 
or less, of those who are connected with 
us, do depend upon our knowing some- 
thing of the rules of a game infinitely 
more difficult and complicated than 
chess. It is a game which has been 
played for untold ages, every man and 
woman of us being one of the two players 
in a game of his or her own. The chess- 
board is the world, the pieces are the 
phenomena of the universe, the rules of 
the game are what we call the laws of 
Nature, The player on the other side is 
hidden from us. We know that his play 
is always fair, just, and patient. But 
also we know, to our cost, that he never 
overlooks a mistake or makes the small- 
est allowance for ignorance. To the man 
who plays well, the highest stakes are 
paid, with that sort of overflowing 
generosity with which the strong shows 
delight in strength. And one who plays 
ill is checkmated without haste, but 
without remorse* 



My metaphor will remind some of you 
of the famous picture in which Retzsch 
has depicted Satan playing at chess 
with man for his soul. Substitute for the 
mocking fiend in that picture, a calm, 
strong angel who is playing for love, as 
we say, and would rather lose than win 
and I should accept it as an image of 
human life. 

Well, what I mean by Education is 
learning the rules of this mighty game. 
In other words, education is the instruc- 
tion of the intellect in the laws of Nature, 
under which name I include not merely 
things and their forces, but men and 
their ways; and the fashioning of the 
affections and of the will into an earnest 
and loving desire to move in harmony 
with those laws ^ For me, education 
means neither more nor less than this. 
Anything which professes to call itself 
education must be tried by this standard 
and if it fails to stand the test, I will not 
call it education, whatever may be the 
force of authority, or of numbers, upon 
the other side. 

It is important to remember that, in 
strictness, there is no such thing as an 
uneducated man ^ Take an extreme 
case. Suppose that an adult man, in the 
full vigor of his faculties, could be 
suddenly placed in the world, as Adam 
is said to have been, and then left to do 
as he best might. How long would he be 
left uneducated? Not five minutes. 
Nature would begin to teach him, 
through the eye, the ear, the touch, the 
properties of objects. Pain and pleasure 
would be at his elbow telling him to do 
this and avoid that; and by slow degrees 
the man would receive an education, 
which, if narrow, would be thorough, 
real, and adequate to his circumstances 
though there would be no extras and 
very few accomplishments. 
And if to this solitary man entered a 
second Adarn, ,or, better still, an Eve, a 
new and greater world, that of social and 
moral phenomena, would be revealed. 
Joys and woes, compared with which all 
others might seem but faint shadows, 
woirtd spring from the new relations. 
Happiness and sorrow would take the 
place of the coarser monitors, pleasure 



Page 91 



and pain; but conduct would still be 
shaped by the observation of the natural 
consequences of actions; or, in other 
words, by the laws of the nature of man. 
C To every one of us the world was once 
as fresh and new as to Adam. And then, 
long before we were susceptible of any 
other mode of instruction, Nature took 
us in hand, and every minute of waking 
life brought its educational influence, 
shaping our actions into rough accor- 
dance with Nature's laws, so that we 
might not be ended untimely by too 
gross disobedience. Nor should I speak 
of this process of education as past, for 
any one, be he as old as he may. For 
every man, the world is as fresh as it 
was at the first day, and as full of untold 
novelties for him who has the eyes to see 
them. And Nature is still continuing her 
patient education of us in that great 
university, the universe of which we 
are all members Nature having no 
Test-Acts 

Those who take honors in Nature's uni- 
versity, who learn the laws which govern 
men and things and obey them, are the 
really great and successful men in this 
world. The great mass of mankind are 
the " Poll," who pick up just enough 
to get through without much discredit. 
Those who won't learn at all are plucked; 
and then you can't come up again. 
Nature's pluck means extermination. 
< Thus the question of compulsory 
education is settled so far as Nature is 
concerned. Her bill on that question was 
framed and passed long ago. But, like 
all compulsory legislation, that of Nature 
is harsh and wasteful in its operation. 
Ignorance is visited as sharply as wilful 
disobedience incapacity meets with the 
same punishment as crime. Nature's 
discipline is not even a word and a blow, 
and the blow first; but the blow without 
the word. It is left you to find out why 
your ears are boxed. 
The object of what we commonly call 
education that education in which man 
intervenes and which I shall distinguish 
as artificial education is to make good 
these defects in Nature's methods; to 
prepare the child to receive Nature's 
education, neither incapably nor igno- 



rantiy, nor with wilful disobedience; and 
to understand the preliminary symp- 
toms of her displeasure, without wait- 
ing for the box on the ear ^ In short, 
all artificial education ought to be an 
anticipation of natural education. And a 
liberal education is an artificial education 
which has not only prepared a man to 
escape the great evils of disobedience 
to natural laws, but has trained him ta 
appreciate and to seize upon the rewards, 
which Nature scatters with as free a 
hand as her penalties. 
That man, I think, has had a liberal 
education, who has been so trained in 
youth that his body is the ready ser- 
vant of his will, and does with ease and 
pleasure all the work that, as a median- 
ism, it is capable of; whose intellect is a 
clear, cold, logic engine, with all its 
parts of equal strength, and in smooth 
working order; ready, like a steam 
engine, to be turned to any kind of work, 
and spin the gossamers as well as forge 
the anchors of the mind; whose mind is 
stored with a knowledge of the great 
and fundamental truths of Nature and 
of the laws of her operations; one who, 
no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, 
but whose passions are trained to come 
to heel by a vigorous will, the servant of 
a tender conscience; who has learned 
to love all beauty, whether of Nature 
or of art, to hate all vileness, and to 
respect others as himself. 
Such an one, and no other, I conceive, 
has had a liberal education; for he is, as 
completely as a man can be, in harmony 
with Nature. He will make the best of 
her, and she of him. They will get on to- 
gether rarely; she as his ever beneficent 
mother; he as her mouthpiece, her con- 
scious self, her minister and interpreter. 

Huxley. 
* 

GHERE is but one straight road to 
success, and that is merit. The man 
who is successful is the man who is 
useful. Capacity never lacks opportun- 
ity. It can not remain undiscovered, 
because it is sought by too many anxious 
to use it* Bourke Cockran. 

*- 

Blessed are tie joymakers. N. P.WiHia, 



Page 92 



ffUBBARD'S 




boy is indeed the true 
apple-eater, and is not to be 
questioned how he came by 
the fruit with which his 
pockets are filled. It be- 
longs to him, and he may steal it if it 
can not be had in any other way. His 
own juicy flesh craves the juicy flesh of 
the apple. Sap draws sap. His fruit- 
eating has little reference to the state of 
his appetite. Whether he be full of meat 
or empty of meat he wants the apple 
just the same. Before meal or after meal 
it never comes amiss s* The farm-boy 
munches apples all day long. He has 
nests of them in the hay-mow, mellow- 
ing, to which he makes frequent visits. 
C. The apple is indeed the fruit of youth. 
As we grow old we crave apples less. It is 
an ominous sign. When you are ashamed 
to be seen eating them on the street; 
when you can carry them in your pocket 
and your hand not constantly find its 
way to them; when your neighbor has 
apples and you have none, and you make 
no nocturnal visits to his orchard; when 
your lunch-basket is without them and 
you can pass a winter's night by the fire- 
side with no thought of the fruit at your 
elbow, then be assured you are no longer 
a boy, either in heart or years. 

John Burroughs, 

> > 

0VIL is unnatural goodness the 
natural state of man. Earth has no 
hopeless islands or continents. We live 
in a redemptive world* Poverty will 
end; sin will die; love will triumph and 
hope will plant flowers on every grave. 
David Swing. 



* is in the nature of things thai 
^ , those who are incapable of happiness 
should have no idea of it. Happiness is 
not for wild animals, who can only 
oscillate between apathy and passion. 
To be happy, even to conceive happiness, 
you must be reasonable or (if Niet- 
zsche prefers the word) you must be 
tamed. You must have taken the measure 
of your powers, tasted the fruits of your 
passions and learned your place m the 
world and what things in it can really 
serve you. To be happy you must be 



wise. This happiness is sometimes found 
instinctively, and then the rudest fana- 
tic can hardly fail to see how lovely it is; 
but sometimes it comes of having learned 
something by experience (which em- 
pirical people never do) and involves 
some chastening and renunciation; but 
it is not less sweet for having this touch 
of holiness about it, and the spirit of it 
is healthy and beneficent. 

George Santayana. 



Bible has been the Magna 
Charta of the poor and of the op- 
pressed. Down to modern times, no 
state has had a constitution in which the 
interests of the people are so largely 
taken into account; in which the duties, 
so much more than the privileges, of 
rulers are insisted upon, as that drawn 
up for Israel in Deuteronomy and 
Leviticus. Nowhere is the fundamental 
truth, that the welfare of the state, in the 
long run, depends upon the righteous- 
ness of the citizen, so strongly laid 
down. The Bible is the most demo- 
cratic book in the world. Huxley. 



is a good business. It is 
Jb< clean, honorable, respectable. It is 
celebrated as a trainer of men for higher 
stations in life. It has many inspiring 
traditions and legends. It combines the 
need for knowledge of everything under 
the sun: mathematics, mechanics, lan- 
guage, spelling, grammar, color, com- 
position, salesmanship; there is indeed no 
limit to the accomplishments that are 
required of the printer. The printer is 
brought into contact with all other 
vocations and professions. No voca- 
tion or profession can really exist with- 
out the printing-press. From text-books 
to novels, from pamphlets to newspapers, 
from tickets to tax-bills, no man can 
evade the printed word. 

Henry P. Porter. 



The world is a looking-glass, and gives 
back to every man tie reflection of his 
own face. Frown at it, and it in turn will 
look sourly upon you; laugh at it and 
with it, and it is a jolly , kind companion* 
WIlKam Makepeace Thackeray, 



J3OOJFC 



Page 93 



'Y1?S4t? tT is said that the Persians, in 
' :|^V^,| their ancient constitution, 
>,y '|t ';A* t k^ public schools in which 
5 :" * ;>^l i * :^l \ virtue was taught as a liberal 
if^:";t^S?J art or science; and it is cer- 
tainly of more consequence to a man, 
that he has learned to govern his pas- 
sions in spite of temptation, to be just hi 
his dealings, to be temperate in his 
pleasures, to sup- 
port himself with 
fortitude under his 
misfortunes, to be- 
have with prudence 
in all his affairs, 
and in every cir- 
cumstance of life; 
I say, it is of much 
more real advan- 
tage to him, to be 
thus qualified, than 
to be a master of 
all the arts and 
sciences in the 
whole world beside. , Virtue itself 
alone is sufficient to make a man great, 
glorious and happy. He that is acquainted 
with Cato, as I am, can not help think- 
ing, as I do now, and will acknowledge 
he deserves the name, without being 
honored by it. Cato is a man whom 
fortune has placed in the most obscure 
part of the country. His circumstances 
are such, as only put him above neces- 
sity, without affording him many super- 
fluities; yet who is greater than Cato? I 
happened but the other day to be at a 
house in town, where, among others, 
were met men of the most note in this 
place. Cato had business with some of 
them, and knocked at the door* The 
most trifling actions of a man, in my 
opinion, as well as the smallest features 
and lineaments of the face, give a nice 
observer some notion of his mind. 
Methought he rapped in such a peculiar 
manner, as seemed of itself to express 
there was one, who deserved as well as 
desired admission. He appeared in the 
plainest country garb; his great coat was 
coarse, and looked old and threadbare; 
his linen was homespun; his beard, per- 
haps of seven lay$* growtfe; Ms 
thick and 



God with His million cores 
Went to the left or right, 

Leaving our world; and the day 
Grew night. 

Back from a sphere He came 
Over a starry lawn. 

Looked at our world; and the dark 
Grew dawn. 

"Dawn and Dark," by Norman Gale 



dress corresponding. Why was this man 
received with such concurring respect 
from every person in the room, even 
from those who had never known him 
or seen him before? It was not an 
exquisite form of person, or grandeur of 
dress, that struck us with admiration. 
<[ I believe long habits of virtue have a 
sensible effect on the countenance. There 
was something in 
the air of his face, 
that manifested the 
true greatness ot 
mind, which like- 
wise appeared in all 
he said, and in 
every part of his 
behaviour, obliging 
us to regard him 
with a sort of ven- 
eration. His aspect 
is sweetened with 
humanity and be- 
nevolence, and at 
the same time emboldened with resolu- 
tion, equally free from diffident bashful- 
ness and an unbecoming assurance. The 
consciousness of his own innate worth 
and unshaken integrity renders him calm 
and undaunted in the presence of the 
most great and powerful, and upon the 
most extraordinary occasions. His strict 
justice and known impartiality make him 
the arbitrator and decider of all differ- 
ences, that arise for many miles around 
him, without putting his neighbors to 
the charge, perplexity and uncertainty ol 
lawsuits. He always speaks the thing he 
means, which he is never afraid or 
ashamed to do, because he knows be 
always means well, and therefore is never 
obliged to blush, and feel the confusion 
of finding himself detected in the mean- 
ness of a f alsehood. He never contrives 
ill against his neighbors, and therefore is 
never seen with a lowering, suspicious 
aspect. A mixture of innocence and wis- 
dom makes him ever seriously cheerful. 
His generous hospitality to strangers, 
according to hk ability; his goodness, his 
diarity* fak courage in the cause of tlie 
of>pressecl, Ms fidelity in friendship, Ms 
humility, his honesty and sxncenty, his 
moderation, and Ms loyalty to the 



Page 94 



HUBBARD'S 



government; his piety, his temperance, 
his love to mankind, his magnanimity, 
his public-spiritedness, and, in fine, his 
consummate virtue, make him justly 
deserve to be esteemed the glory of his 
country. Franklin. 



*^HE power of a man increases steadily 
by continuance in one direction. He 
becomes acquainted with the resistances 
and with his own tools; increases his 
skill and strength and learns the favor- 
able moments and favorable accidents. 
He is his own apprentice, and more time 
gives a great addition of power, just as 
a falling body acquires momentum with 
every foot of the fall. Emerson. 

^ > 

Truth is such a precious article let us all 
economize in its use. Mark Twain. 

> 

is great, and there is no other 
greatness to make one nook of 
God's creation more fruitful, better, 
more worthy of God; to make some 
human heart a little wiser, manlier, 
happier more blessed, less accursed. 

Carlyle. 



time be of all things most precious, 
wasting time must be the greatest 
prodigality, since lost time is never found 
again; and what we call time enough 
always proves little enough. Let us then 
be up and doing, and doing to a pur- 
pose; so by diligence shall we do more 
with less perplexity. Franklin. 

*> 

23LWAYS in our dreams we hear the 
Xjl turn of the key that shall close the 
door of the last brothel; the dink of the 
last coin that pays for the body and soul 
of a woman; the falling of the last wall 
that encloses artificially the activity of 
woman and divides her from man; always 
we picture the love of the sexes as once a 
dull, slow, creeping form; then a torpid, 
earthly chrysalis; at last the full-winged 
insect, glorious in the sunshine of the 
future sts*> 

Today, as we row hard against the 
stream of life, is it only blindness in our 
eyes, which have been too long strained, 
which makes us see, far up the river 



where it fades into distance, through all 
the mists that rise from the river-banks, 
a clear, golden light? Is it only a delu- 
sion of the eyes which makes us grasp 
our oars more lightly and bend our backs 
lower; though we know well that long 
before the boat reaches those stretches, 
other hands than ours will man the oars 
and guide its helm? Is it all a dream? 

Olive Schreiner. 

d* 

*"Y * KNOW not if I deserve that a 
^A^ laurel- wreath should one day be 
laid on my coffin. Poetry, dearly as I 
have loved it, has always been to me but 
a divine plaything s* I have never at- 
tached any great value to poetical fame; 
and I trouble myself very little whether 
people praise my verses or blame them. 
But lay on my coffin a sword; for I was 
a brave soldier in the Liberation War 
of humanity. Heinrich Heine. 

> 

I never make the mistake of arguing with 
people for whose opinions I have no 
respect. Gibbon. 

> 

AWAKEN each morning with a 
\J smile brightening my face, to greet 
the day with reverence, for the oppor- 
tunities it contains; to approach my 
work with a clean mind; to hold ever 
before me, even in the doing of little 
things, the Ultimate Purpose toward 
which I am working; to meet men and 
women with laughter on my lips and love 
in my heart; to be gentle, kind and 
courteous through all the hours; to 
approach the night with weariness that 
ever wooes sleep and the joy that comes 
from work well done this is how I 
desire to waste wisely my days. 

Thomas Dreier, 



are foolish, and without excuse 
F foolish, in speaking of the superior- 
ity of one sex to the other, as if they 
could be compared in similar thingsl 
Each has what the other has not; each 
completes the other; they are in nothing 
alike; and the happiness and perfection 
of both depend on each asking and 
receiving from the other what the other 
only can give. John Ruskin. 



J3OOJK* 



Page 95 




>OT many generations ago, 
' where you now sit, encircled 
with all that exalts and em- 
bellishes civilized life, the 

Irank thistle nodded in the 

wind, and the wild fox dug his hole tin- 
scared. Here lived and loved another 
race of beings. Beneath the same sun 
that rolls over your head; the Indian 
hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing 
on the same moon that smiles for you, 
the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. 
C. Here the wigwam' blaze beamed on 
the tender and helpless, and the council- 
fire glared on the wise and daring. Now, 
they dipped their noble limbs in yon 
sedgy lakes, and now, they paddled the 
light canoe along yon rocky shores. Here 
they warred; the echoing whoop, the 
bloody grapple, the defying death-song, 
all were here; and when the tiger-strife 
was over, here curled the smoke of 
peace s^ * 

Here, too, they worshiped; and from 
many a dark bosom went up a fervent 
prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not 
written his laws for them on tables of 
stone, but he had traced them on the 
tables of their hearts. The poor child of 
Nature knew not the God of Revela- 
tion, but the God of the universe he ac- 
knowledged in everything around. 
And all this has passed away. Across the 
ocean came a pilgrim bark, bearing the 
seeds of life and death. The former were 
sown for you; the latter sprang up in the 
path of the simple native. 
Here and there, a stricken few remain; 
but how unlike their bold, untamable 
progenitors. As a race, they have withered 
from the land. Their arrows are broken, 
their springs are dried up, their cabins 
are in dust. Their council-fire has long 
since gone out on the shore, and their war 
cry is fast fading to the untrodden west. 
Slowly and sadly they climb the distant 
mountains, and read their doom in the 
setting sun. 
" The Indians," by Charles Sprague. 

* 

A more perfect race, means a more soul- 
ful race, a more soulful race arace having 
greater capacity for love. Ellen Key, 



r*T is by affliction chiefly that the 
A^ heart of man is purified, and that 
the thoughts are fixed on a better state. 
Prosperity, unalloyed and imperfect as 
it is, has power to intoxicate the imag- 
ination, to fix the mind upon the pres- 
ent scene, to produce confidence and 
elation, and to make him who enjoys 
affluence and honors forget the hand by 
which they were bestowed. It is seldom 
that we are otherwise than by affliction 
awakened to a sense of our imbecility, or 
taught to know how little all our ac- 
quisitions can conduce to safety or quiet, 
and how justly we may inscribe to the 
superintendence of a higher power those 
blessings which in the wantonness of 
success we considered as the attain- 
ments of our policy and courage. 

Samuel Johnson. 



business as now conducted par- 
Li ticularly those lines of business 
which embrace the so-called industries 
requires specialized training and tech- 
nical education, in fact so much scien- 
tific knowledge that the distinctive line 
between " business" and " profession" 
is fast disappearing. 

Any one who hopes to achieve success, 
even the average, must know more, or 
at least as much, about some one thing 
as any other one, and not only know, but 
know how to do and how to utilize his 
experience and knowledge for the benefit 
of others. 

The crying evil of the young man who 
enters the business world today is the 
lack of application, preparation, and 
thoroughness, with ambition but with- 
out the willingness to struggle to gain his 
desired end. Mental and physical strength 
comes only through the exercise and 
working of mind and body, 
There is too little idea of personal re- 
sponsibility; too much of " the world 
owes me a living," forgetting that if the 
world does owe you a living you your- 
self must be your own collector. 

Theodore N. VaiL 

&+> > 

It may make a difference to aH eternity 

whether we do right or wrong today. 

James Freeman Clarke, 



Page 96 



flUBBARD'S 




HAT Raphael is to color, 
what Mozart isinmusic,that 
Burns is in song. With his 
sweet words, " the mother 
soothes her child, the lover 
wooes his bride, the soldier wins his 
victory." J^ His biographer says his 
genius was so overmastering that the 
news of Burns' arrival at the village inn 
drew farmers from their fields and at 
midnight wakened travelers, who left 
their beds to listen, delighted, until 
the morn * ** 

One day this child of poverty and ob- 
scurity left his plow behind, and enter- 
ing the drawing-rooms of Edinburgh, 
met Scotland's most gifted scholars, her 
noblest lords and ladies. Mid these 
scholars, statesmen and philosophers, he 
blazed " like a torch amidst the tapers," 
showing himself wiser than the scholars, 
wittier than the humorist, kinglier than 
the courtliest. And yet, in the very 
prime of his mid-manhood, Burns lay 
down to die, a broken-hearted man. He 
who had sinned much suffered much, 
and being the victim of his own folly, he 
was also the victim of ingratitude and 
misfortune. Bewildered by his debts, he 
seems like an untamed eagle beating 
against bars he can not break. The last 
time he lifted his pen upon the page it 
was not to give immortal form to some 
escquisite lyric he had fashioned, but to 
beg a friend in Edinburgh for a loan of 
ten pounds to save him from the terrors 
of a debtor's prison. By contrast with 
the lot of otter worthies, Robert Barns 
seems to have been the child of good 
tMtune. In the last analysis the blame is 
with the poet himself, Not want of good 
tenne wither trat want of good 
guidance within, wrecked 1m yout&,Saw 
San! aloae, Msfeory holds no sadder 
tragedy tliat that of Burns, TS!K saog 
"the short and simple annals of the 
r/* MeweS I>wi$*fit: HSlis. 



QATU^E gives to every t* and 
season souse beauties of its own; 
and from morning to mgfafc, asfemtlse 



is, indeed, so necessary to 
all the duties as well as pleasures of 
life, that the crime of squandering it is 
equal to the folly; and he that for a short 
gratification brings weakness and dis- 
eases upon himself, and for the pleasure 
of a few years passed in the tumults of 
diversion and clamors of merriment, 
condemns the maturer and more ex- 
perienced part of his life to the chamber 
and the couch, may be justly reproached, 
not only as a spendthrift of his happiness, 
but as a robber of the public; as a wretch 
that has voluntarily disqualified him- 
self for the business of his station, and 
reftised that part which Providence 
assigns him in the general task of human 
nature. Samuel Johnson. 

*> $> 

Courage and perseverance have a magi- 
cal talisman, before which difficulties 
disappear and obstacles vanish into 
air. John Quincy Adams, 

> 

HMKRICA is God's crucible, the 
great Melting-Pot where all the 
races of Europe are melting and re- 
forming! Here you stand, good folk, 
think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, 
here you stand in your fifty groups, 
with your fifty languages and histories, 
and your fifty blood hatreds and rival- 
ries. But you won't be long like that, 
brothers, for these are the fires of God 
you *ve come to these are the fires of 
God. A fig for your feuds and vendettas! 
Germans and Frenchmen, Irishmen and 
Englishmen, Jews and Russians into 
the Crucible with you all! God is making 
the American. The real American has 
not yet arrived* He is only in the cru- 
cible, I ten your-he win be the fusion of 
aH races, the common superman. 

Israel ZangwifL 



*S good to have money and tne 



changes so gentle and easy tnfc we can 
mask {bar progress. Dickeas, 



good, too, to check up once in a while 
and make sure you haven't lost the 
things that saociey can*t buy. 

George Horace Lorimer. 

**> &+> 

He it the happiest, be he king or peasa&t* 
who feeb peace in his home. Goetlie. 




GREAT many people run 
down jealousy on the score 
that it is an artificial feel- 
ing, as well as practically 
. inconvenient. This is scarce- 
ly fair; for the feeling on which it merely 
attends, like an ill-humored courtier, is 
self artificial in exactly the same sense 
and to the same degree. I suppose what 
is meant by that 
objection is that 
jealousy has not 
always been a char- 
acter of man; 
formed no part of 
that very modest 
kit of sentiments 
with which he is 
supposed to have 
begun the world; 
but waited to make 
its appearance in 
better days and 
among richer 
natures. And this 
is equally true of 
love, and friend- 
ship, and love of 
country, and de- 
light in what they 
call the beauties of 
nature, and most 
other things worth 
having. Love, in 
particular, will not 
endure any histor- 
ical scrutiny: to all who have fallen 
across it, it is one of the most incontest- 
able facts in the world; but if you begin 
to ask what it was in other periods and 
countries, in Greece for instance, the 
strangest doubts begin to spring up, and 
everything seems so vague and changing 
that a dream is logical in comparison. 
Jealousy, at any rate, is one of the con- 
sequences of love; you may like it or not, 
at pleasure; but there it is. 

Robert Louis Stevenson 

Tne law of worthy Hfe k fundamentally 
the law of strife* It is only tlffleagji labor 
and painful effort, by, grim energy and 
resolute eom^e, tlat iw" $we *>a to 
better ' 



If I should die tonight 
And you should come to my cold corpse 

and say, 
Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless 

clay 

If I should die tonight, 
And you should come in deepest griej 

and woe 
And say: " Here 's that ten dollars that 

lower 

I might arise in my large white cravat 
And say, " What 's that? " 

If I should die tonight 
And you should come to my cold corpse 

and kneel, 
Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, 

I say, if I should die tonight 
And you should come to me, and there 

and then 
Just even hint at paying me that ten, 

I might arise the while, 

But I *d drop dead again. 

" If I Should Die To-Night," by Sen King 



Page 97 



N China letters are respected not 
merely to a degree but in a sense 
which must seem, I think, to you un- 
intelligible and overstrained. But there is 
a reason for it. Our poets and literary 
men have taught their successors, for long 
generations, to look for good not in 
wealth, not in power, not in miscellaneous 
activity, but in a trained, a choice, an 
exquisite apprecia- 
tion of the most 
simple and univer- 
sal relations of life. 
To feel, and in 
order to feel to 
express, or at least 
to understand the 
expression of all 
that is lovely in 
Nature, all that is 
poignant and sen- 
sitive in man, is to 
us in itself a suffi- 
cient end. A rose 
in a moonlit gar- 
den, the shadow of 
trees on the turf, 
almond bloom, 
scent of pine, the 
wine-cup and the 
guitar, these and 
the pathos of Hfe 
and death, the long 
embrace, the hand 
stretched out in 
vain, the moment 
that glides for ever away, with its freight 
of music and light, into the shadow and 
hush of the haunted past, all that we 
have, all that eludes us, a bird on fee 
wing, a perfume escaped on the gale 
to all these things we are trained to 
respond, and the response is what we 
caH iterature. G. Lowes Dickinson. 

* 

Reason elevates our thoughts as h*gh 
as the stars, and leads us through the 
vast space of ti mighty fabric; yet it 
comes for stoart of t$*e real extent of our 
corporeal beinfc Saimiel Johnson. 
' ' ' , ' **>**> 
The mm who trusts men will make 
fewer mistakes than he who distrusts 



Page 98 



ffU&BARD'S 




i|HERE are two sorts of 
: ; people in the world, who, 
I ! with equal degrees of health 
and wealth, and the other 
comforts of life, become, the 
one happy, and the other miserable. This 
arises very much from the different views 
in which they consider things, persons 
and events; and the effect of those differ- 
ent views upon their own minds. 
In whatever situation men can be placed 
they may find conveniences and incon- 
veniences; in whatever company they 
may find persons and conversation more 
or less pleasing; at whatever table they 
may meet with meats and drinks of 
better and worse taste, dishes better and 
worse dressed; in whatever climate they 
will find good and bad weather; under 
whatever government, they may find 
good and bad laws, and good and bad 
administration of those laws; in what- 
ever poem or work of genius they may 
see faults and beauties; in almost every 
face and every person they may dis- 
cover fine features and defects, good and 
bad qualities. 

Under these circumstances the two sorts 
of people above mentioned fix their at- 
tention; those who are disposed to be 
happy* on the convenience of things, the 
pleasant parts of conversations, the wdl- 
dressed dishes, the goodness of the wines, 
the fine weather, etc., and enjoy all with 
cheerfulness. Those who are to be un- 
happy think and speak only of the con- 
traries. Hence they are continually dis- 
contented themselves, and by their 
remarks, sour the pleasure of society, 
offend personally many people, and 
make themselves everywhere disagree- 
able. If this turn of mind was founded in 
nature, such unhappy persons would be 
the more to be pitied. But as tjbe dis- 
position to criticise, and to be disgusted, 
is perhaps taken tip ooginaHy by imita- 
tion> and is unawares grown into a habit, 
idiicii, tfoougti at present sta>o& m&j 
nevertheless be cured, when those who 
have it are convinced of its bad effects 

on their felicity. If these people wiH 

not change this bad habit, and con- 
descend to be pleased with what is 
pleasing, without & citing themselves 



and others about the contraries, it is 
good for others to avoid an acquaintance 
with them; which is always disagreeable, 
and sometimes very inconvenient, espec- 
ially when one finds one's self entangled 
in their quarrels. Franklin. 

$+> 

ZNEED not tell you what it is to be 
knocking about in an open boat. 
I remember nights and days of calm when 
we pulled, we pulled, and the boat 
seemed to stand still, as if bewitched 
within the circle of the sea horizon. I 
remember the heat, the deluge of rain- 
squalls that kept us bailing for dear life 
(but filled our water-cask), and I remem- 
ber sixteen hours on end with a mouth 
dry as a cinder and a steering-oar over 
the stern to keep my first command head 
on to a breaking sea. I did not know 
how good a man I was tiH then. I remem- 
ber the drawn faces, the dejected figures 
of my two men, and I remember my 
youth and the feeling that will never 
come back any more the feeling that 
I could last for ever, outlast the sea, 
the earth, and all men; the deceitful 
feeling that lures us on to joys, to perils, 
to love, to vain effort to death; the 
triumphant conviction of strength, the 
heat of life in the handful of dust, the 
glow in the heart that with every year 
grows dim, grows cold, grows small, and 
expires and expires, too soon before 
life itself. Joseph Conrad, 



be strong and true; to be generous 
in praise and appreciation of others; 
to impute worthy motives even to ene- 
mies; to give without expectation 01 
return; to practise humility, tolerance 
and self-restraint ; to make the best use of 
time and opportunity; to keep the mind 
pore and the judgment charitable; to 
extend intelligent sympathy to those in 
distress; to cultivate quietness and non- 
resistance; to seek truth and righteous- 
ness; to work, love, pray and serve 
daily, to aspire greatly, labor cheerfully, 
and take God at His word this is to 
travel heasraiwani Grenville Kleiser. 

** > 

Manners, the final and perfect flower 
of noble disracfcer. Wiffiam Water. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 99 



EN I find to be a sort of 
, r , , beings very badly constmct- 
L .J f ed, as they are generally 
^, ; : more easily provoked than 
..:.'. -,r,,, reconciled, more disposed to 
do mischief to each other than to make 
reparation, much more easily deceived 
than undeceived, and having more pride 
and even pleasure in killing than in be- 
getting one another; for without a blush 
they assemble in great armies at noon- 
day to destroy, and when they have 
killed as many as they can, they exag- 
gerate the number to augment the 
fancied glory. 

In what light we are viewed by superior 
beings may be gathered from a piece of 
late West India news. A young angel 
of distinction being sent down to this 
world on some business, for the first time, 
had an old courier-spirit assigned him as 
a guide. They arrived over the seas of 
Martinico, in the middle of the long 
day of obstinate fight between the fleets 
of Rodney and De Grasse. When, through 
the clouds of smoke, he saw the fire of the 
guns, the decks covered with mangled 
limbs, and bodies dead or dying; the 
ships sinking, burning, or blown into the 
air; and the quantity of pain, misery, 
and destruction, the crews yet alive 
were thus with so much eagerness deal- 
ing round to one another, he turned 
angrily to his guide, and said: " You 
blundering blockhead, you are ignorant 
of your business; you undertook to con- 
duct me to the earth, and you have 
brought me into hell!" "No, Sir," says 
the guide, " I have made no mistake; 
this is really the earth, and these are 
men. Devils never treat one another in 
this cruel manner; they have more sense, 
and more of what men (vainly) call 
humanity ' Franklin. 

&+> 

No man is the absolute lord of his life. 
Owen Meredith* 
&> ** 

T is now sixteen or seventeen years 
since I saw the Queen of France, 
then the Dauphiness, at Versailles; and 
surely never lighted on this orb, which 
she hardly seemed to touch, a more de- 
lightful vision, I saw her just above the 



horizon, decorating and cheering the 
elevated sphere she just began to move 
in; glittering like the morning star, full 
of life and splendor, and joy. Oh! what 
a revolution! and what a heart must I 
have to contemplate without emotion 
that elevation and that fall! Little did I 
dream when she added titles of venera- 
tion to those of enthusiastic, distant, 
respectful love, that she should ever be 
obliged to carry the sharp antidote 
against disgrace concealed in that bosom; 
little did I dream that I should have lived 
to see such disasters fallen upon her in a 
nation of gallant men, in a nation of 
men of honor and of cavaliers *^ I 
thought ten thousand swords must have 
leaped from their scabbards to avenge 
even a look that threatened her with 
insult. But the age of Chivalry is gone. 
That of sophisters, economists, and cal- 
culators has succeeded, and the glory of 
Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, 
never more, shall we behold that generous 
loyalty to rank and sex, that proud sub- 
mission, that dignified obedience, that 
subordination of the heart, which kept 
alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of 
an exalted freedom* The unbought grace 
of life, the cheap defence of nations, the 
nurse of manly sentiments and heroic 
enterprise is gone! It is gone, that sen- 
sibility of principle, that chastity of 
honor, which felt a stain like a wound, 
which inspired courage whilst it mitiga- 
ted ferocity, which ennobled whatever 
it touched, and under which vice itself 
lost half its evil, by losing all its gross- 
ness, Edmund Burke. 



E make daily great improvements 
in natural, there is one I wish to see 
in moral philosophy; the discovery of a 
plan, that would induce and oblige na- 
tions to settle their disputes without 
first cutting one another's throats 
When wiH human reason be sufficiently 
improved to see the advantage of this? 
When will men be convinced, that even 
successful wars become misfortunes, wba 
unjustly commenced them, and wfao tri- 
umphed blindly in their success, not 
seeing aH its consequences* 



Page 100 




presence that thus 
;*; rose strangely beside the 
waters, is expressive of what 
in the ways of a thousand 
years men had come to de- 
sire. Hers is the head upon which " all 
the ends of the world are come,** and 
the eyelids are a little weary. It is a 
beauty wrought out from within upon 
the fiesh, the de- 



posit, little cell by 
cell, of strange 
thouights and fan- 
tastic reveries and 
exquisite passions. 
Set it for a moment 
beside one of those 
white Greek god- 
desses or beautiful 
women of antiq- 
uity, and how 
would they be 
troubled by this 
beauty, into which 
the soul with all 
its maladies has 
passed! All the 
thoughts and ex- 
perience of the 
world have etched 
and moulded there, 
in that which they 
have of power to 



Over the shoulders and slopes of 

the dune 
I saw the white daisies go down to 

the sea, 
A host in the sunshine, an army in 

June, 
The people God sends us to set 

our heart free. 

The bobolinks rallied them up 

from the dell, 
The orioles whistled them out of 

the wood; 
And all of their saying was, "Earth, 

it is well! " 
And all of their dancing was, " Life, 

thou art good!" 

" Daisies/* by Bliss Carman 



refine and make expressive the outward 
iorm, the animalism of Greece, the lust of 
Rome, the reverie of the middle age with 
it$ spiritual ambition and imaginative 
foves, the return of the Pagan worid, the 
sins of the Borgias. She is older than the 
rodcs among which die site; like the 
vampire, die has been dead many times, 
and learned the secrets of the grave; and 
has been a diver in deep seas, and keeps 
their feUes day about her ; and trafficked 
foe stetne mbs with Eastern merchants; 
and, as Leda* was the mother of Helen 
of Tfco^r, and, as Saint Ame, the moilier 
of Mary; and aH this has been to Iier but 
a tte sat&Kl of !y*es and flutes, and Bros 
oely m tiie delkaey with whidi it has 
moulded the changing 



Ask apiJffeciatiQm ^ da "SfeeFs lloeal-isa 
f* I** Scxx*iia^ f % Walte Iteter, 



love has this advantage 
in it, that it leaves the possessor 
of it nothing farther to desire. There is 
one object (at least) hi which the soul 
finds absolute content, for which it seeks 
to live, or dares to die. The heart has, as 
it were, filled up the moulds of the im- 
agination. The truth of passion keeps 
pace with and outvies the extravagance 
of mere language. 
There are no words 
so fine, no flat- 
tery so soft, that 
there is not a senti- 
ment beyond them, 
that it is impossible 
to e:xpress, at the 
bottom of the 
heart where true 
love is. What idle 
sounds the com- 
mon phrases, ador- 
able creature, an- 
gel, divinity, are! 
What a proud re- 
flection it is to 
have a feeling 
answering to all 
these, rooted in the 
breast, unalterable 
unutterable , 
to which all other 
feelings are light 
and vain! Perfect love reposes on the 
object of its choice, like the halcyon on 
the wave; and the air of heaven is 
around it- William Hazlitt, 

*> 

I LAY very little stress either upon 
asking or giving advice. Generally 
speaking, they who ask advice know 
what they wish to do, an<3 remain firm 
to their intentions. A man may allow 
himself to be enlightened on various 
points, even upon matters of expediency 
and doty; but, aftei aH, he must deter- 
Bme Ms course of action for himself. 
Wilhdm von Humboldt. 

5^-fi^ 

Bed is a bundle of paradoxes; we go to it 
withreiiH^ffliK^,3^et we quit itwithregret; 
we make tip our minds every night to 
leave it early, fotifc we make np our bodies 
fo i^ep it 



J3OOJPC 



Page 101 



'V>^~?.,j /UT the iniquity of oblivion 
ViW ^;^| - blindly scattered! her poppy, 

" ^ '"' 1 an( ^ < * ea k ^^ t ^ le memor y 

l ^'^w; of men ^t* 10 ^ distinction 
*^^S^iilt* to merit of perpetuity. Who 
can but pity the founder of the pyramids? 
Herostratus lives that burnt the temple 
of Diana, he is almost lost that built it; 
Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's 
horse, confounded 
that of himself. In 
vain we compute 
our felicities by the 
advantages of our 
good names, since 
bad have equal du- 
rations; and Ther- 
sites is like to live 
as long as Agamem- 
non &+> Who knows 
whether the best of 
men be known, or 
whether there be 
not more remark- 
able persons for- 
got, than any that 
stand remembered 
in the known ac- 
count of Time? 
<[ Oblivion is not 
to be hired; the 
greater part must 
be content to be as 
though they had not been; to be found 
in the register of God, not in the record 
of man. . . . The number of the dead 
long exceedeth all that shall live. The 
night of time far surpasseth the day, and 
who knows when was the Equinox? 
Every hour adds unto that current 
arithmetic, which scarce stands one 
moment. And since death must be the 
Lucina of life, and even Pagans could 
doubt whether thus to live were to die; 
since our longest sun sets at right descen- 
sions, and makes but winter arches, and 
therefore it can not be long before we lie 
down in darkness and have our light in 
ashes; since the brother of Death daily 
haunts us with dying Mementoes, and 
Time that gqows old itself bids us hope 
no long cLuration, otT^t^i'i*>7*ly is SL 



Sun set and evening star, 

And one clear call for me! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar 

When I put out to sea. 



But such a tide as moving seems asleep , 

Too full for sound and foam, 
When that which drew from out the 
boundless deep 

Turns again home. 



Time, and oblivion shares with memory 
a great part even of our living beings; 
we slightly remember our felicities, and 
the smartest strokes of affliction leave 
but short smart upon us. 
In vain do individuals hope for immor- 
tality, or any patent from oblivion, in 
preservations below the Moon. . . , But 
man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes 
and pompous in 
the grave, solemn- 
izing nativities and 
deaths with equal 
lustre, nor omitting 
ceremonies of 
bravery in the in- 
famy of his nature. 



Sir Thomas 
Browne, 



Twttight and evening bell, 

And after that the dark! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell 

When I embark. 

For tho* from out our bourne of Time 
and place 

The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have crost the bar. 

" Crossing the Bar/* by Alfred Lord Tennyson 



I folly of exjaectaiioa. \ 
Darkness and light divide the course of 



it appears 
to me that al- 
most any Man 
may, like the spi- 
der, spin from his 
own inwards his 
own airy Citadel 
the points of leaves 
and twigs on which 
the spider begins 
her work are few, 
and she fills the 
air with a beautiful 
circuiting. Man should be content with 
as few points to tip with the fine Web 
of his Soul, and weave a tapestry 
empyrean full of symbols for his spirit- 
ual eye, of softness for Ms spiritual touch, 
of space for his wandering, of distinct- 
ness for his luxury. ... I was led into 
these thoughts, my dear Reynolds* by 
the beauty of the morning operating on 
a sense of Idleness, I have not read any 
Books the Morning said I was right 
I had no Idea bat of the Mbrniog, aad 
tie Thrush said I was right* 

Jolux Keats. 
* ** 

What we caa do for another is the test of 
powers;; wiiafc we can suffer for is tiie 
test of love. Ksiiop Westcott. 

A pktoe is a poem without words* 



Page 102 



flUBBARD'S 




E that hath wife and chil- 
dren hath given hostages to 
fortune; for they are im- 
pediments to great enter- 
prises, either of virtue or 
mischief. Certainly the best works, and 
of greatest merit for the public, have 
proceeded from the unmarried or child- 
less men, which both in affection and 
means have married and endowed the 
public. Yet it were great reason that 
those that have children should have 
greatest care of future times, unto 
which they know they must transmit 
their dearest pledges. Unmarried men 
are best friends, best masters, best ser- 
vants; but not always best subjects; for 
they are light to run away and almost 
all fugitives are of that condition. A 
single life doth well with churchmen, for 
charity will hardly water the ground 
where it must first fill a pool. It is in- 
different for judges and magistrates; 
for if they be facile and corrupt, you 
shall have a servant five times worse 
than a wife. For soldiers, I find generals 
commonly, in their hortatives, put men 
in mind of their wives and their children, 
and I thiii k the despising of marriage 
amongst the Turks niaketh the vulgar 
soldier more base. Certainly, wife and 
chUdrenare a kind of discipline of human- 
ity; and single men, though they be 
many times more charitable, because 
their means are less exhaust, yet, on the 
other side, they are more cruel and hard- 
hearted (good to make severe inquisi- 
tors), because their tenderness is not so 
oft called upon. Wives are young men's 
mistresses; companions for middle age, 
and old men's nurses; so that a man 
may have a quarrel to marry when he 
will ** # 

Bat yet he was reputed one of the 
wise men that made answer to the 
question when a man should marry: 
** A yoking man, not yet; an elder tn*^, 
not at alL** Ftanos Bacon. 

Success Bes Bot in achieving wfcafc 
you ami at, btit in aimfng at wiiat you 
ought to adbieve, aed pressing for- 
ward, sere of acirieiraiienfc iaere^ or if 
" ^ hereafter. $L F. Bortou. 



,i iv% IBERIUS, maintaining an honor- 
'W' able and just cause, and possessed 
of eloquence sufficient to have made a 
less creditable action appear plausible, 
was no safe or easy antagonist, when, 
with the people crowding around the 
hustings, he took his place and spoke in 
behalf of the poor. " The savage beasts," 
said he, " in Italy, have their particular 
dens, they have their places of repose 
and refuge; but the men who bear arms, 
and expose their lives for the safety of 
their country, enjoy in the meantime 
nothing in it but the air and light; and, 
having no houses or settlements of their 
own, are constrained to wander from 
place to place with their wives and chil- 
dren." He told them that the command- 
ers were guilty of a ridiculous error, when, 
at the head of their armies, they ex- 
horted the common soldiers to fight for 
their sepulchers and altars; when not any 
amongst so many Romans is possessed 
of either altar or monument, neither 
have they any houses of their own, or 
hearths of their ancestors to defend. 
They fought indeed and were slain, but 
it was to maintain the luxury and the 
wealth of other men. They were styled 
the masters of the world, but had not 
one foot of ground they could call their 
own. Plutarch. 

*> 

aLL real and wholesome enjoyments 
possible to man have been just as 
possible to him since first he was made of 
the earth as they are now; and they are 
possible to him chiefly in peace. To 
watch the corn grow, and the blossoms 
set; to draw hard breath over plow- 
share or spade; to read, to think, to love, 
to hope, to pray these are the things 
that make men happy . . ,. Now and then 
a wearied king, or a tormented slave, 
found out where the true kingdoms of 
the world were, and possessed himself, 
in a fiirrow or two of garden ground, 
of a truly infinite dominion. 

JohnRuskin. 
* 

Great mmds have purposes, others have 
wishes. Little minds are tamed and sub- 
dued by misfortune; but great minds 
rise above them Washington Irving. 



; ct "M t^] KNOW not whether others 
. ^ vx share in my feelings on this 
J.,,.$%'Vj point; but I have often 
'<>*/!$ ^ j thought that if I were com- 
j: .r/^^l^j pelled to forego England, 
and to live in China, and among Chinese 
manners and modes of life and scenery, 
I should go mad. The causes of my horror 
lie deep; and some of them must be com- 
mon to others a+ 
Southern Asia, in 
general, is the seat 
of awful images and 
associations. As the 
cradle of the hu- 
man race, it would 
alone have a dim 
and reverential 
feeling connected 
with it. But there 
are other reasons. 
No man can pre- 
tend that the wild, 
barbarous and ca- 
pricious super- 
stitions of Africa, 
or of savage tribes 
elsewhere, affect him in the way that he 
is affected by the ancient, monumental, 
cruel and elaborate religions of Indostan, 
etc. The mere antiquity of Asiatic things, 
of their institutions, histories, modes of 
faith, etc., is so impressive, that to me 
the vast age of the race and name over- 
powers the sense of youth in the individ- 
ual * A young Chinese seems to me an 
antediluvian man renewed. EvenEnglish- 
men, though not bred in any knowledge 
of such institutions, can not but shudder 
at the mystic sublimity of castes that 
have flowed apart, and refused to mix, 
through such immemorial tracts of time; 
nor can any man fail to be awed by the 
names of tie Ganges or the Euphrates. 
It contributes much to these feelings, 
that Southern Asia is, and has been for 
thousands of years, the part of the earth 
most swarming with human life: the 
great officina gentium* Man is a weed in 
those regions. The vast empires also, into 
which the enormous population of Asia 
has always been cast, give a further 
sublimity to the feelings associated with 
all Oriental names or images. la China, 



Do you fear the force of the wind. 

The slash of the rain? 

Go face them and fight them, 

Be savage again. 

Go hungry and cold like the wolj, 

Go wade like the crane; 
The palms of your hands will 

thicken 

The skin of your cheek will tan, 
You 9 ll grow ragged and weary and 
swarthy, 

But you 'II walk like a man! 

"Do You Fear the Wind?" by Hamlin Garland 



Page 103 



over and above what it has in common 
with the rest of Southern Asia, I am 
terrified by the modes of life, by the 
manners, and the barrier of utter abhor- 
rence and want of sympathy placed be- 
tween us by feelings deeper than I can 
analy2e. I could sooner live with lunatics 
or brute animals. All this, and much 
more than I can say, or have time to say, 
the reader must 
enter into before he 
can comprehend 
the unimaginable 
horror which these 
dreams of Oriental 
imagery and myth- 
ological tortures 
impressed uponme. 
Under the connect- 
ing feeling of trop- 
ical heat and ver- 
tical sunlights, I 
brought together 
all creatures, birds, 
beasts, reptiles, all 
trees and plants, 
usages and appear- 
ances, that are found in all tropical 
regions, and assembled them together in 
China or Indostan. From kindred feel- 
ings, I soon brought Egypt and all her 
gods under the same law. I was stared at, 
hooted at, grinned at, chattered at, by 
monkeys, by parroquets, by cockatoos. 
I ran into pagodas; and was fixed, for 
centuries, at the summit or in secret 
rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest; 
I was worshiped; I was sacrificed I fled 
from the wrath of Brama through all the 
forests of Asia; Vishnu hated me; Seeva 
laid wait for rne. I came suddenly upon 
Isis and Osiris: I had done a deed, they 
said, which the ibis and the crocodile 
trembled at. I was buried, for a thousand 
years, in stone coffins, with mummies 
and sphinxes, in narrow chambers at the 
heart of eternal pyramids. I was Mssed, 
with cancerous kisses, by crocodiles; and 
laid, confounded with all unutterable 
slimy tilings, amongst reeds and Nilotic 
mod > 

I tinis give the reader some slight 
afestractioe of my Oriental dreams* wbidi 
always filled me with such amazement 



Page 104 



at the monstrous scenery, that horror 
seemed absorbed, for a while, in sheer 
astonishment. Sooner or later came a 
reflux of feeling that swallowed up the 
astonishment, and left me, not so much 
in terror, as in hatred and abomination 
of what I saw. Over every form, and 
threat, and punishment, and dim, sight- 
less incarceration, brooded a sense of 
eternity and infinity that drove me into 
an oppression as of madness. Into these 
dreams only it was, with one or two 
slight exceptions, that any circumstances 
of physical horror entered. All before 
had been moral and spiritual terrors. But 
here the main agents were ugly birds, or 
snakes, or crocodiles; especially the last. 
The cursed crocodile became to me the 
object of more horror than almost all the 
rest. I was compelled to live with him; 
and (as was always the case almost in my 
dreams) for centuries. I escaped some- 
times, and found myself in Chinese 
houses, with cane tables, etc. All the feet 
of the tables, sofas, etc., soon became 
instinct with life: the abominable head 
of the crocodile, and his leering eyes, 
looked out at me, multiplied into a thou- 
sand repetitions; and I stood loathing 
and fascinated. And so often did this 
hideous reptile haunt my dreams, that 
many times the very same dream was 
broken up in the very same way: I heard 
gentle voices speaking to me (I hear 
everything when I am sleeping); and 
Instantly I awoke: it was broad noon; 
and my children were standing, hand in 
hand, at my bedside; come to show me 
their colored shoes, or new frocks, or to 
let me see them dressed fee going out. I 
protest that so awful was the transitkai 
from the crocodile, and the other unut- 
terable monsters and abortions of iny 
<}reaiBs* to tlie sight of innocent human 
natures and of infancy, that, in tibe 
OTgiKy and sudden revulsion of rrmd I 
wept; mid comM not fsrbear it, as I 
fcissed their fecesw * Opimn Breams, 1 * 
by Thomas de Qumcey. 
*+>&+> 

The tallest and the smallest among us 
are so alike diminutive and pitifully 
base, It is a meanness to ^Ignffafa the 

^ -, , i 1 



ERE is my creed. I believe in one 
God, the creator of the universe. 
That he governs it by his Providence. 
That he ought to be worshiped. That 
the most acceptable service we render to 
him is doing good to his other children. 
That the soul of man is immortal, and 
will be treated with justice in another 
life respecting its conduct in this. These 
I take to be the fundamental points in 
all sound religion. 

As to Jesus of Nazareth, I think his 
system of morals and his religion as he 
left them to us, the best the world ever 
saw or is like to see; but I apprehend it 
has received various corrupting changes, 
and I have some doubts as to his divin- 
ity; though it is a question I do not 
dogmatize upon, having never studied 
it, and think it needless to busy myself 
with it now, when I expect soon an 
opportunity of knowing the truth with 
less trouble. I see no harm, however, in 
its being believed, if that belief has the 
good consequence, as probably it has, 
of making his doctrines more respected 
and more observed; especially as I do 
not perceive, that the Supreme takes it 
amiss, by distinguishing the unbeliev- 
ers in his government of the world with 
any peculiar marks of his displeasure. 
C I shall only add, respecting myself, 
that, having experienced the goodness of 
that Being in conducting me prosper- 
ously through a long life, I have no 
doubt of its continuance in the next, 
though without the smallest conceit of 
meriting such goodness. Franklin. 

&+> 

So to conduct one's life as to realize one- 
self this seems to me the highest at- 
tainment possible to a human being. It 
is tibe task of one and all of us, but most 
of us "bungle it. Ibsen. 

A* 

|C\EBT, grinding debt, whose iron face 
\J the widow, the orphan > and the sons 
of genius fear and hate; debt, which con- 
sumes so much time, which so cripples 
and disheartens a great spirit with cares 
that seem so base, is a preceptor whose 
lessons cam not be ibregone, and is needed 
most by those who suffer from it 



J3OOJFC 



Page 105 




POOR Relation is one of 
the most irrelevant things 
in nature a piece of imper- 
^ tinent correspondency, an 
odious approximation, a 
haunting conscience, a preposterous 
shadow, lengthening in the noon-tide of 
our prosperity, an unwelcome remem- 
brancer, a perpetually recurring morti- 
fication, a drain 
on your purse, a 
more intolerable 
dun upon your 
pride, a draw- 
back upon success, 
a rebuke to your 
rising, a stain in 
your blood, a 
blot on your 'scut 
cheon a rent in 
your garment, a 
death's head at 
your banquet, 
Agothocle's pot, 
a Mordecai in your 
gate, a Lazarus at 
your door, a lion 
in your path, a 
frog in your cham- 
ber, a fly in your ointment, a mote 
in your eye, a triumph to your enemy, 
an apology to your friends, the one 
thing not needful, the hail in harvest, 
the ounce of sour in a pound of sweet. 
<t He is known by his knock. Your 
heart telleth you, " That is Mr. ." A 
rap, between familiarity and respect; 
that demands, and at the same time 
seems to despair of, entertainment. He 
entereth smiling and embarrassed. He 
holdeth out his hand to you to shake, 
and draweth it back again. He cas- 
ually looketh in about dinner-time 
when the table is full. He offereth to go 
away, seeing you have company, but 
is induced to stay. He filleth a chair, 
and your visitor's two children are ac- 
commodated at a side-table. He never 
cometh upon open days, when yotsr wiie 
says, with some complacency, " My 
dear, perhaps Mr, will drop in 10- 
day/* He remeffibereth birtibdays aad 
professed he isi fortunate to laJave 
bled upon oee* ? He 



The violet is much too shy, 

The rose too little so; 
I think I 'II ask the buttercup 

If I may be her beau. 

When winds go by, I 'II nod to her 

And she will nod to me, 
And I will kiss her on the cheek 

As gently as may be. 

And when the mower cuts us down, 

Together we will pass, 
I smiling at the buttercup, 

She smiling at the grass. 

A Song the Grass Sings," 

fy* Charles G. Blanden 



fish, the turbot being small, yet suf- 
fereth himself to be importuned into a 
slice against his first resolution. He 
sticketh by the port, yet will be pre- 
vailed upon to empty the remaining 
glass of claret, if a stranger press it upon 
him. He is a puzzle to the servants, who 
are fearful of being too obsequious, or 
not civil enough, to him. The guests 
think " they have 
seen him before.'* 
Every one specu- 
lateth upon his con- 
dition; and the 
most part take him 
to b e a tide- 
waiter. He calleth 
you by your Chris- 
tian name, to im- 
ply that his other 
is the same with 
your own. He is 
too familiar by 
half, yet you wish 
he had less diffi- 
dence. With half 
the familiarity, he 
might pass for 3 
casual dependant; 

with more boldness, he would be in no 
danger of being taken for what he is. He 
is too humble for a friend; yet taketh on 
him more state than befits a client. He 
is a worse guest than a country tenant, 
inasmuch as he bringeth up no rent 
yet 't is odds, from his garb and de- 
meanor, that your guests take him for 
one. He is asked to make one at the 
whist-table; refuseth on the score of 
poverty, and resents being left out. 
When the company break up, he psrof- 
fereth to go for a coach and lets the 
servant go. He recollects yottr grand- 
father ; and wiB thrust in seme mean and 
quite unimportant anecdote of the 
family as " be is West in seeing it now.** 
He reviveth post situations, to institute 
what lie calefib f&rorable comparisons. 
With a reSectiBg sort of congratulation, 
he will inquire tfae price of your feniture; 
aaad insists ysm with a special com- 
iBdAHkm of your window-curtains *> 
He kof opinion tfaat tbe mn is ttsemeEe 
dtegiak sliape* bot after aB, there was 



Page 106 



something more comfortable about the 
old tea-kettle; which you must remember. 
He dare say you must find a great con- 
venience in having a carriage of your 
own, and appealeth to your lady if it 
is not so. Inquireth if you have had your 
arms done in vellum yet; and did not 
know, till lately, that such-and-such had 
been the crest of the family. His mem- 
ory is unseasonable; his compliments 
perverse; his talk a trouble; his stay per- 
tinacious; and when he goeth away, you 
dismiss his chair into a corner, as pre- 
cipitately as possible, and feel fairly rid 
of two nuisances. 

There is a worse evil under the sun, and 
that is a female Poor Relation. You 
may do something with the other; you 
may pass him off tolerably well; but 
your indigent she-relation is hopeless. 
" He is an old humorist," you may say, 
" and affects to go threadbare. His cir- 
cumstances are better than folks would 
take them to be. You are fond of having 
a Character at your table, and truly he 
is one." But in the indications of female 
poverty there can be no disguise. No 
woman dresses below herself from mere 
caprice ** * 
The truth must out without shuffling. 

** &ie is plainly related to the L s; or 

what does she at their house?" She 
is, in all probability, your wife's cousin. 
Nine times out of ten, at least, this is the 
case. Her garb is something between a 
gentlewoman and a beggar, yet the 
former evidently predominates. She is 
most provokingly humble, and ostenta- 
tiously sensible to her inferiority. He 
may require to be repressed some- 
times, attquando sufflaminadus erat, 
but there is no raising her. You send 
her soup at dinner, and she begs to be 

bdpedr-affeer the gentlemen. Mr. 

requests the honor of taking wine with 
her; sfee hesitates between Port and 
Maderia > and chooses the former 



because lie does. She calls the servant 
Sir? and insists on not troubling him to 
lioki bear plate* The housekeeper pa- 
tronizes foot* The <Mkiren*s governess 
takes opof* Ijar to correct her, when stie 
has mistaken tfoft piano fbr harpischord. 
Charles Lamb. 



poet is chiefly distinguished 
^W# from other men by a greater prompt- 
ness to think and feel without immediate 
external excitement, and a greater power 
in expressing such thoughts and feelings 
as are produced in him in that manner. 
<[ But these passions and thoughts and 
feelings are the general passions and 
thoughts and feelings of men. And with 
what are they connected? Undoubtedly 
with our moral sentiments and animal 
sensations, and with the causes which 
excite these; with the operations of the 
elements, and the appearances of the 
visible universe; with storm and sun- 
shine, with the revolutions of the seasons, 
with cold and heat, with loss of friends 
and kindred, with injuries and resent- 
ments, gratitude and hope, with fear 
and sorrow. These, and the like, are the 
sensations and objects which the Poet 
describes, as they are the sensations of 
other men and the objects which in- 
terest them. William Wordsworth. 

9+ 3^ 

SEND you herewith a bill for ten 
louis d'ors. I do not pretend to give 
such a sum; I only lend it to you. When 
you shall return to your country with a 
good character, you can not fail of 
getting into some business, that will in 
time enable you to pay all your debts. In 
that case, when you meet with another 
honest man in similar distress, you must 
pay me by lending this sum to him; en- 
joining him to discharge the debt by a 
like operation, when he shall be able, and 
shall meet with suchanotheropportunity. 
I hope it may thus go through many 
hands, before it meets with a knave that 
wiH stop its progress. This is a trick of 
mine for doing a deal of good with a 
little money. I am not rich enough to 
afford much in good works, and so am 
obliged to be cunning and make the 
roost of a little. Franklin* 



is the only worship. Love 
is the ooiy priest. Ignorance is the 
only slavery. Happiness is the only 
good. Ttte time to be happy is now. 
The place to be happy is here. Hie 
way to be happy is to mate other 
people happy. R. G. IngersolL 



J3OOJFC 



Page 107 



1 : > / :N the early days of the anti- 
:/ /. y slavery agitation, a meeting 
: ,>1 , was called at Faneuil Hall, 
&; ,,!in Boston, which a good- 
-t I :..* r ^ natured mob of soldiers was 
hired to suppress. They took possession 
of the floor and danced breakdowns and 
shouted choruses and refused to hear any 
of the orators upon the platform. The 
most eloquent 



pleaded with them 
in vain. They were 
urged by the mem- 
ories of the Cradle 
of Liberty, for the 
honor of Massa- 
chusetts, for their 
own honor as Bos- 
ton boys, to respect 
liberty of speech. 
C But they still 
laughed and sang 
and danced, and 
were proof against 
every appeal. 
At last a man sud- 
denly arose from 
among themselves, 
and began to speak. 
Struck by his tone 
and quaint appear- 
, and with the 



/ must go down to the seas again, to the 

lonely sea and the sky, 
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to 

steer her by; 
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song 

and the white sail's shaking, 
And a gray mist on the sea's face and a 

gray dawn breaking. 



honor of Massachusetts, nor because you 
are Boston boys, but because you are 
men, and because honorable and gener- 
ous men always love fair play." &+> The 
mob was conquered. Free speech and 
fair play were secured. Public opinion 
can do what it has a mind to do in this 
country. If it be debased and demoral- 
ized, it is the most odious of tyrants. It 
is Nero and Calig- 
ula multiplied by 
millions. Can there 
then be a more 
stringent public 
duty for every man 
and the greater 
the intelligence the 



ance, 

thought that he 
might be one of 
themselves, the 
mob became sud- 
denly stffl. " Well, 
fellow-citizens," he 
said, " I would n't be quiet if I did n't 
want to/' The words were greeted with 
a roar of delight from the mob, which 
supposed it had found its champion, and 
the applause was unceasing for five min- 
utes, during which the strange orator 
tranquilly awaited his chance to con- 
tinue. The wish to hear more hushed the 
tumult, and when the hall was still he 
resumed: "No, I certainly wouldn't 
stop if I had n't a mind to; but then, if 
I were you, I would have a mind to! " 
C The oddity of the remark and the 
earnestness of the tone, held the crowd 
silent, and the speaker continued: " Not 
because this is Fanem! HaE, nor for the 



I must go down to the seas again, for the 

call of the running tide 
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not 

be denied; 
And all I ask is a windy day with the white 

clouds flying, 
And the flung spray and the blown spume, 

and the sea-gulls crying, 

I must go down to the seas again, to the 

vagrant gypsy life, 
To the gull's way and the whale's way 

where the wind's like a whetted knife, 
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a 

laughing fettow-rover, 
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when 

the long trick's over. 

" Sea-Fever," by John Masefield, 



greater the duty 
than to take care, 
by all the influence 
he can command, 
that the country, 
the majority, pub- 
lic opinion, shaH 
have a mind to do 
only what is just 
and pure, and 
humane? George 
William Curtis. 



is all very 
fine to talk 
about tramps and 
morality. Six hours 
of police surveil- 
lance (such as I 
have had), or one 
brutal rejection 
from an inn door, change your views upon 
the subject like a course of lectures. As 
long as you keep in the upper regions, 
with all the world bowing to you as you 
go,social arrangements have a very hand- 
some air; but once get under the wheels, 
and you wish Society were at the devil. 
I will give most respectable men a fort- 
night of such a life, and then I will offer 
them two pence for what remains of their 
morality. Robert Louis Stevenson, 

*> *^ 

When a firm, decisive spirit is recognized 
it is curious to see how the space dears 
around a man and leaves him room and 
freedom. Jehu Fbster. 



Page 108 



ffUBBARD y S 




IKE all highly developed 
literatures, the Bible con- 
tains a great deal of sensa- 
tional fiction, imagined with 
intense vividness, appealing 
to the most susceptible passions, and 
narrated with a force which the ordinary 
man is quite unable to resist. Perhaps 
only an expert can thoroughly appreciate 
the power with which a story well told, 
or an assertion well made, takes pos- 
session of a mind not specially trained 
to criticize it. Try to imagine all that 
is roost powerful in English literature 
bound into one volume, and offered to 
a comparatively barbarous race as an 
instrument of civilization invested with 
supernatural authority! Indeed, let us 
leave what we call barbarous races 
out of the question, and suppose it of- 
fered to the English nation on the same 
assumptions as to its nature and au- 
thority which the children in our popu- 
lar schools are led to make today con- 
cerning the Bible under the School 
Board compromise! $+> How much re- 
sistance would there be to the illusion 
created by the art of our great story- 
tellers? Who would dare to affirm that 
the men and women created by Chaucer, 
Shakespeare, Bunyan, Fielding, Gold- 
smith, Scott and Dickens had never 
existed? Who could resist the force of 
conviction carried by the tremendous 
assertive power of Cobbett, the gorgeous 
special-pleading of Ruskin, or the cogen- 
cy of Sir Thomas More, or even Mat- 
tbcw Arnold? Above all, who could stand 
up against the inspiration and moral 
grandeur of our prophets and poets, 
from L^ngland to Blake and Sfeeley? 
Tlie power of Scriptee has not waned 
witii tiie ages. Why not teach children 
the realities of inspiration and revela- 
tion as tliey work daily through scribes 
and lawgivers? It would, at all events, 
make better journalists and parish oorm- 
dSoTS of tfoem George Bernard Shaw. 

*> 

The man wba foolishly does me wrong, I 
wiH return to him the protection of my 
most tmgradging k>ve; and the more 
evil cx>mes from him^ tte mosre gCKKi shaH 
go from me* BndfTha. * '' " 



|^K HERE is only one wish realizable on 
the earth ;only one thing that can be 
perfectly attained: Death. And from a 
variety of circumstances we have no one 
to tell us whether it be worth attaining. 
C A strange picture we make on our 
way to our chimeras, ceaselessly march- 
ing, grudging ourselves the time for rest; 
indefatigable, adventurous pioneers. It 
is true that we shall never reach the goal; 
it is even more than probable that there 
is no such place; and if we lived for cen- 
turies, and were endowed with the powers 
of a god, we should find ourselves not 
much nearer what we wanted at the end. 
O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied 
feet, travelling ye know not whither! 
Soon, soon, it seems to you, you must 
come forth on some conspicuous hill- 
top, and but a little way further, against 
the setting sun, descry the spires of El 
Dorado. Little do ye know your own 
blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a 
better thing than to arrive, and the 
true success is to labor. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

> 

HAT is the best solitude that comes 
closest in the human form your 
friend, your other self, who leaves you 
alone, yet cheers you: who peoples your 
house or your field and wood with tender 
remembrances : who stands between your 
yearning heart and the great outward 
void that you try in vain to warm and fill ; 
who in his own person and spirit clothes 
for you, and endows with tangible form, 
all attractions and subtle relations and 
meanings that draw you to the woods 
and fields. What the brooks and the 
trees and the birds said so faintly and 
vaguely, be speaks with warmth and 
directness. Indeed, your friend comple- 
ments and completes your solitude and 
yoct eaqperieece its charm without deso- 
lation. Jblm Burroughs* 
#*. 

BAD we lived, I should have a tale to 
teH of the hardihood, the endurance 
aad tibe courage of my companions wnich 
isoold liaro stirred the hearts of every 
Englishman, Tliese rough noises ami our 
dead bodies niest teH tbe story, 

Captain Robert P* Seofek 



Page 109 




who would have 
acquitted me, I would like 
to ta ^ w ftk y u about this 
thing which has happened, 
before I go to the place at 
which I must die. Stay then awhile, for 
we may as well talk with one another 
while there is time. You are my friends, 
and I should like to show you the mean- 
ing of this event 
which has happen- 
ed to me O my 
judges for so I 
may truly call you, 
I should like to tell 
you of a wonderful 
circumstance: 
Hitherto the famil- 
iar oracle within me 
has constantly 
been in the habit 
of opposing me, 
even in trifles, if I 
was going to make 

a slip or err in any matter; and now, as 
you see, there has come upon me the last 
and worst evil. But the oracle made no 
sign of opposition, either as I was leaving 
my house and going out in the morning, 
or while I was speaking, at anything 
which I was going to say; and yet I have 
often been stopped in the middle of a 
speech; but now in nothing that I either 
said or did touching this matter has the 
oracle opposed me. What do I take to 
be the explanation of this 1 1 will tell you* 
I regard this as a great proof that what 
has happened to me is a good; and that 
those who think that death is an evil are 
in error. For the customary sign would 
surely have opposed me had I been going 
to evil and not to good. 
Let us reflect in another way, and we 
shall see that there is no great reason to 
hope that death is a good. For one of 
two things either death is a state of 
nothingness; or, as men say, there is a 
change and ??rig^ation of the socil from 
this world to another. 
Now if you suppose that there is BO co&- 
sciousniessi but a deep lifae the sleep of 
him who is undisturbed even |>y the 
sight of dreatm, Asfeh will foe an un- 
speakable gatau;3%r*if,i| 



I strove with none; for none was 

worth my strife. 
Nature I loved and, next to Nature, 

Art! 
I warmed both hands before the 

fires of life; 
It sinks, and I am ready to depart. 

"I Strove With None," by Walter Savage Landor 



select the night in which his sleep was 
undisturbed even by dreams, and were 
to compare this with the other days and 
nights of his life; and then were to tell 
us how many days and nights he had 
passed in the course of his life better and 
more pleasantly than this one, I think 
this man I will not say a private man, 
but even the great king will not find 
many such days or 
nights, when com- 
pared with others. 
Now if death is like 
this I say that to 
die is gain; for 
eternity is then 
only a single night. 
<[ But if death is 
the journey to 
another place 
and there, as men 
say, all the dead 
are what good 
can be greater than 

this? If, indeed, when the pilgrim arrives 
in the world below, he is delivered from 
the professors of justice in this world, 
and finds the true judges who are said 
to give judgment there Minos, and 
Rhadamanthus, and -5Lacus, and Trip- 
tolemus, and other sons of God who were 
righteous in their own life that pilgrim- 
age will be worth making. 
Above all, I shall then be able to con- 
tinue my search into true and false 
knowledge, as in this world, so also in 
that. And I shall find out who is wise, 
and who pretends to be wise and is not. 
What would not a man give to be able 
to examine the leader of the Trojan 
expedition; or Odysseus^ or Sisyphus, or 
numberless others men and women, 
too! What infinite delight would there be 
in conversing with them and asking 
questions! in another world they do 
not put a man to death for asking ques- 
tions; assuredly not- For besides being 
happier in tliat TS?cc!d than in this, they 
will be immortal, if what is said be tnie. 
Wherefore^ be of good cheer about death, 
and kpow of a certainty that no evi can 
happen to a good man, either in this life 
or after death. He and his are not 
neglected by the gods, nor has rny own 



Page 110 



ffUBBARD'S 



approaching end happened by mere 
chance. But I see clearly that to die and 
be released was better for me; and there- 
fore the oracle gave no sign. 
For which reason, also, I am not angry 
with my condemners or with my accu- 
sers. They have done me no harm, al- 
though they did not mean to do me any 
good; and for this I may gently blame 



4 



them. Still I have 
a favor to ask of 
them > When my 
sons grow up, I 
would ask you, my 
friends, to punish 
them. And I would 
have you trouble 
them, as I have 
troubled you, if 
they seem to care 
about riches or 
anything more. 
than about virtue. 
<[ Or if they pre- 
tend to be some- 
thing when they 
are really nothing, 
then reprove them, 
as I have reproved 
you, for not caring about that for which 
they ought to care, and thinking that 
they are really something when they are 
really nothing. And if you do this, I and 
my sons will have received justice at your 
hands * 

The hour of my departure has arrived, 
and we go our ways I to die, and you to 
live. Which is better, God only knows. 
From Socrates* Talk to His Friends 
before Drinking the Hemlock. 

WooM ye learn the road to Laugbter- 
town, 

O ye who have lost the way? 

Wootd ye have young heart though your 
hair be gray? 

Go learn from a little child each day. 

Go serve $m wants and play his play, 

And catch the lit of his laughter gay, 

AIM! follow Ms dancing feet as tbey stray ; 

For be knows the road to Laughter- 
town, 

O ye W!H> tisw lost tfae wayl 

Katherine D. make. 



A little work, a little play 
To keep us going and so, good- 
day! 

A little warmth, a little light 
Of love's bestowing and so, good- 
night I 

A little fun, to match the sorrow 
Of each day's growing and so, 

good morrow! 

A little trust that when we die 
We reap our sowing! And 
good-bye! 

** A Little Work," by George du Maurier 



SO 



ISSIPATIONS, vices, a 

certain class of philosophers 
have asserted to be a natural 
^J 4 p * preparative for entering on 
-;*,/.x ^ . active life; a kind of mud 
bath, in which the youth is, as it were, 
necessitated to steep, and, we suppose, 
cleanse himself, before the real toga of 
Manhood can be laid on him. We shall 
not dispute much 
with this class of 
philosophers; we 
hope they are mis- 
taken; for Sin and 
Remorse so easily 
beset us at all 
stages of life, and 
are always such in- 
different company, 
that it seems hard 
we should, at any 
stage, be forced 
and fated not only 
to meet but to 
yield to them, and 
even serve for a 
term hi their lep- 
rous armada. We 
hope it is not so. 
Clear we are, at all events, it can not be 
the training one receives in this Devil's 
service, but only our determining to 
desert from it, that fits us for true manly 
Action. We become men, not after we 
have been dissipated, and disappointed 
in the chase of false pleasure; but after 
we have ascertained, in any way, what 
impassable barriers hem us in through 
this life; how mad it is to hope for con- 
tentment to our infinite soul from the 
gifts of this extremely finite world; that 
a man must be sufficient for himself; and 
that for suffering and enduring there is no 
remedy but striving and doing. Manhood 
begins wfien we have in any way made 
truce with Necessity; begins even when 
we have surrendered to Necessity, as the 
most part only do; but begins joyfully 
and hopefully only when we have recon- 
ciled ourselves to Necessity; and thus, in 
realty, triumplied over it, and felt that 
in Necessity we are free. Burns. 

> $ 

God is the I of the Infinite, Hugo, 



Page 111 




REASON, murder, rape, and 
burning a dwelling house, 
were all the crimes that were 
liable to be punished with 
death by our good old com- 
mon law. And such was the tenderness, 
such the reluctance to shed blood, that 
if recompense could possibly be made, 
life was not to be touched. Treason being 
against the King, 
the remission of the 
crime was in the 
crown. In case of 
murder itself, if 
compensation 
could be made, the 
next of kin might 
discharge the pros- 
ecution, which if 
once discharged, 
could not be re- 
vived. If a ravisher 
could make the in- 
jured woman satis- 
faction, the law had 
no power over him; 
she might marry 
the man under the 
gallows, if she 
pleased, and take him from the jaws of 
death to the lips of matrimony. But so 
fatally are we deviated from the benig- 
nity of our ancient laws, that there is 
now under sentence of death an un- 
fortunate clergyman, who made satis- 
faction for the injury he attempted: the 
satisfaction was accepted, and yet the 
acceptance of the satisfaction and the 
prosecution bear the same date. 
The Mosaic law ordained that for a sheep 
or an ox, four and five fold should be 
restored; and for robbing a house, 
double; that is one fold for reparation, 
the rest for example; and the forfeiture 
was greater, as the property was more 
exposed. If the thief came by night, it 
was lawful to kill him; but if he came by 
day, he was only to make restitution and 
if he had nothing he was to be sold for 
his theft. This is all that God required in 
felonies, nor can I find in history any 
sample of such laws as ours, except a 
code that was framed at Athens by 
Draco. He made every offense capital. 



To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; 
To forgive wrongs darker then death or 

night; 
To defy Power, which seems 

omnipotent; 
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope 

creates 

From its own wreck the thing it contem- 
plates; 
Neither to change, nor falter, nor 

repent; 

This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be 
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and 

free; 
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and 

Victory. 

From " Prometheus Unbound," 

by Percy Bysshe Shelley 



progress of them. 



upon this modern way of reasoning 
" That petty crimes deserved death, and 
he knew nothing worse for the greatest." 
His laws, it is said, were written, Etot 
with ink, but with blood; but they were 
of short duration, being all repealed by 
Solon, except one, for murder ....... 

<[ An attempt was made some years ago 
to repeal some of the most absurd and 
cruel of our capi- 
tal laws. The bill 
passed this house, 
but was rejected 
by the Lords for 
this reason: "It 
was an innovation, 
they said, and sub- 
versive of law/* 
The very reverse 
is truth 9+* These 
hanging laws are 
themselves in- 
novations. No less 
than three and 
thirty of them pass- 
ed the last reign. 
I believe I my- 
self was the first 
person to check the 
When the great 

Alfred came to the throne, he found the 
kingdom overrun with robbers; but the 
silly expedient of hanging never came into 
his head; he instituted a police, which 
was, to make every township answer- 
able for the felonies committed in it. 
Thus property became the guardian of 
property, and all robbery was so effec- 
tually stopped that in a very short time 
a ttnan might travel through the king- 
dom unarmed, with his purse in his 
hand. . . . 

Even in crimes which are seldom or 
never pardoned, death is no prevention. 
Housebreakers, forgers and coiners are 
sure to be hanged; yet housebreaking, 
forgery and coining are the very crimes 
which are oftenest committed. Strange 
it is that in the case of blood, of which 
we ought to be most tender, we should 
still go on, against reason and against 
experience to make unavailing slaughter 
of our fellow-creatures. A recent event 
has proved that polky will do what 



Page 112 



ffUBBARD'S 



blood can not do I mean the late regu- 
lation of the coinage. Thirty years to- 
gether men were continually hanged for 
coining; still it went on: but on the new 
regulation of the gold coin it ceased .... 
<t There lies at this moment in Newgate, 
under sentence to be burnt alive, a girl 
just turned fourteen; at her master's 
bidding, she hid some whitewashed 
farthings behind her stays, on which the 
jury has found her guilty, as an accom- 
plice with her master in the treason. The 
master was hanged last Wednesday; and 
the faggots all lay ready no reprieve 
came till just as the cart was setting out, 
and the girl would have been burnt alive 
on the same day, had it not been for the 
humane but casual interference of Lord 
Weymouth. Sir, are we taught to execrate 
the incendiary fires of Smithfield, and 
we are lighting them now to burn a poor 
harmless child for hiding a whitewashed 
farthing! And yet this barbarous sen- 
tence, which ought to make men shudder 
at the thought of shedding blood for 
such trivial causes, is brought as a 
reason for more hanging and burning. 
From Speech of Sir William Meredith 
in the House of Commons, May 13, 1777. 

> * 

Y man is said to have his pecu- 
, liar ambition. Whether it be true or 
not, I can say, for one, that I have no 
other so great as that of being truly 
esteemed of my fellow-men, by rendering 
myself worthy of their esteem. How far 
I shall succeed in gratifying this ambi- 
tion is yet to be developed. I am young 
and unknown to many of you* I was 
born, and have ever remained, ia the 
most humble walks of life* I have no 
wealthy or popular relations or friends 
to recommend me. IkCy case is thrown 
sively upon the independent voters 



of the country; and* if elected, they 
liave conferred a favor upon me for which 

oe wfop^Htytti'lti^y tit M^y labors "fco 



if the good people in tfceir 
wisdom shall see ft to keep me m the 
background, I have been too familiar 
with disappcantmettts to be very much 
chagrined. Lmcoln, to the People of 
March 9, 1832. 



fV^;^:;^v;?lT is customary to say that 
\H -/.'$$' f$<\ age should be considered, 
W<^:~*W 4 <{ because it conies last s*> It 
jf^^'^f seems just as much to the 
^,;^:l:ij point, that youth comes first, 
And the scale fairly kicks the beam, ii 
you go on to add that age, in a majority 
of cases, never comes at all. Disease and 
accidents make short work of even the 
most prosperous persons. To be suddenly 
snuffed out in the middle of ambitious 
schemes is tragical enough at the best; 
but when a man has been grudging him- 
self his own life in the meanwhile, and 
saving up everything for the festival that 
was never to be, it becomes that hysteri- 
cally moving sort of tragedy which lies 
on the confines of farce. . To husband 
a favorite claret until the batch turns 
sour is not at all an artful stroke of policy ; 
and how much more with a whole cellar 
a whole bodily existence! People may 
lay down their lives with cheerfulness 
in the sure expectation of a blessed mor- 
tality; but that is a different affair from 
giving up youth with all its admirable 
pleasures, in the hope of a better quality 
of gruel in a more than problematic, nay, 
more than improbable old age. We should 
not compliment a hungry man, who 
should refuse a whole dinner and reserve 
all his appetite for the dessert, before he 
knew whether there was to be 'any dessert 
or not. If there be such a thing as impru- 
dence in the world, we surely haveithere. 
We sail in leaky bottoms and on great 
and perilous waters; and to take a cue 
irom the dolorous old naval ballad, we 
have heard the mermaids singing, and 
know that we shall never see dry land any 
more. Old and young, we are all on our 
last cruise. If there is a fill of tobacco 
fmr>ong the crew, for God's sake pass it 
ioond, ami let us htave a pipe before we 
go! Robert Louis Stevenson* 



VERSITY is a medicine wfcidi 
people are rather fond of recom- 

as a 



for their ueighbofs. Like other medicines, 
ife eoly agrees with certain constitutions, 
Tfctte are nerves which it braces, and 
nerves wfaid* it tifcteiy shatters. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 113 



- ELIUS LAMIA, born in 

; *$ i Italy of illustrious parents, 

n g had not yet discarded the 

Jt toga prcetexta when he set 

1 :r; *^,; ; : ife out for the schools of Athens 

to study philosophy $+* Subsequently he 

took up his residence at Rome, and in his 

house on the Esquiline, amid a circle of 

youthful wastrels, abandoned himself to 

licentious courses. 

But being accused 

of engaging in crim- 
inal relations with 

Lepida, the wife of 

Sulpicius Quirinus, 

a man of consular 

rank, and being 

found guilty, he 

was exiled by Tiber- 
ius Caesar. At that 

time he was just 

enter in g his 

twenty -fourth 

year &+ $& 

During the eighteen 

years that his exile 

lasted he traversed 

Syria, Palestine, 

Cappadocia, and 

Armenia, and 

prolonged visits 

to Antioch, Csesa- 

rea, and Jerusalem. 

When, after the 
death of Tiberius, 

Caius was raised to the purple, Lamia ob- 
tained permission to return to Rome. He 
even regained a portion of his possessions. 
Adversity had taught him wisdom. . . . 
With a mixture of surprise and vexation 
he recognized that age was stealing upon 
him $^ In his sixty-second year, being 
afflicted with an illness which proved in no 
slight degree troublesome, he decided to 
have recourse to the waters of Baise. The 
coast at that point, once frequented by 
the halcyon, was at this date the resort 
of the wealthy Roman,greedy of pleasure. 
For a week Lamia lived alone, without a 
friend in the brilliant crowd. Then one 
day, after dinner, an inclination to which 
he yielded -urged him to ascend the in- 
clines which, covered with vines that 
resembled bacchantes, looked out upon. 



It is not raining rain for me, 

It } s raining daffodils; 
In every dimpled drop I see 

Wild flowers on the hills. 

The clouds of gray engulf the day 
And overwhelm the town; 

It is not raining rain to me, 
It *s raining roses down. 

It is not raining rain to me, 
But fields of clover bloom, 

Where any buccaneering bee 
Can find a bed and room. 

A health unto the happy, 

A fig for him who frets! 
It is not raining rain to me, 

It 's raining violets. 

" April Rain," by Robert Loveman 



the waves, dHaving reached the summit 
he seated himself by the side of a path 
beneath a terebinth, and let his glances 
wander over the lovely landscape. . . . 
<L Lamia drew from a fold of his toga 
a scroll containing the Treatise upon 
Nature, extending himself upon the 
ground, and began to read. But the 
warning cries of a slave necessitated his 
rising to allow of 
the passage of a 
litter which was 
being carried along 
the narrow path- 
way through the 
vineyards. The lit- 
ter being uncur- 
tained, permit- 
ted Lamia to see 
stretched upon the 
cushions as it was 
borne nearer to him 
the figure of an 
elderly man of im- 
mense bulk, who, 
supporting his head 
on his hand, gazed 
out with a gloomy 
and disdainful ex- 
pression. His nose, 
which was aquiline, 
and his chin, which 
was prominent, 
seemed desirous of 
meeting across his 

lips, and his jaws were powerful. <[ From 
the first moment Lamia was convinced 
that the face was familiar to him. He 
hesitated a moment before the name came 
to him.Then suddenly hastening towards 
the litter with a display of surprise and 
delight 

"Pontius Pilate! " he cried. "The gods 
be praised who have permitted me to see 
you once again! " 

The old man gave a signal to the slaves 
to stop, aM cast a keen glance tipon the 
stranger who had addressed him. 
" Pontius, my dear host," resumed tfee 
latter, "have twenty years so far 
whitened my hair and hollowed nsy 
cheeks that you BO longer recognize your 
Jpenct JSlitis Lamia? ** 
At tfc!& name Pontius Klafce dismounted 



Page 114 



HUBBAKD'S 



from the litter as actively as the weight 
of his years and the heaviness of his gait 
permitted him, and embraced JElius 
Lamia again and again. 
u Gods! what a treat it is to me to see you 
once morel But, alas, you call up memo- 
ries of those long-vanished days when I 
was Procurator of Judaea, in the prov- 
ince of Syria. Why, it must be thirty 
years ago that I first met you. It was at 
Caesarea, whither you came to drag out 
your weary term of exile. I was fortunate 
enough to alleviate it a little, and out of 
friendship, Lamia, you followed me to 
that depressing place Jerusalem, where 
the Jews filled me with bitterness and 
disgust. You remained for more than ten 
years my guest and my companion, and 
in converse about Rome and things 
Roman we both of us managed to find 
consolation you for your misfortunes, 
and I for my burdens of State." 
Lamia embraced him afresh. . . . 
** You were preparing to suppress a 
Samaritan rising when I set out for Cap- 
padocia, where I hoped to draw some 
profit from the breeding of horses md 
mules* I have not seen you since then. 
How did that expedition succeed? Pray 
tell me. Everything interests me that 
concerns you hi any way." 
Pontius Pilate sadly shook his head, 
<| " My natural disposition,*' he said, 
** as well as a sense of duty, impelled me 
to MS. my public responsibilities, not 
merely with diligence, but even with 
ante ** But I was pursued by unre- 
lenting hatred. Intrigues and calumnies 
cut short my career in its prime, and the 
fruit it should have looked to bear has 
withered away. You ask me about the 
Samaritan insorrectkm. Let us sit down 
on this MHock. I shall be able to give 
you an answer in few words. These oc- 
currences are as vividly presented to me 
as if tibey had happened yssteda^, 
" A man of the people, of persriasive 
speed* there are many sfudi to be met 
withmSyria induct the Samaritam to 
gather together in arms <m Mount 
Germm (whick ia that country k looked 
upon as a holy place) under tt*e promise 
that he would disclose to their sight the 



sacred vessels which in the ancient days 
of Evander and our father -SSneas, had 
been hidden away by an eponymos 
hero, or rather a tribal deity, named 
Moses. Upon this assurance the Samari- 
tans rose in rebellion; but having been 
warned in time to forestall them, I 
dispatched detachments of infantry to 
occupy the mountain, and stationed 
cavalry to keep the approaches to it 
under observation so &* 
" These measures of prudence were ur- 
gent. The rebels were already laying 
siege to the town of Tyrathaba, situated 
at the foot of Mount Gerizim. I easily 
dispersed them, and stifled the as yet 
scarcely organized revolt. Then, in order 
to give a forcible example with as few 
victims as possible, I handed over to 
execution the leaders of the rebellion. 
But you are aware, Lamia, in what 
strait dependence I was kept by the pro- 
consul Vitdlius, who governed Syria not 
in, but against the interests of Rome, and 
looked upon the provinces of the empire 
as territories which could be farmed out 
to tetrarchs. The head men among the 
Samaritans, in their resentment against 
me, came and fell at his feet lamenting. 
To listen to them nothing had been 
further from their thoughts than to dis- 
obey Caesar. It was I who had provoked 
the rising, and it was purely in order to 
withstand my violence that they had 
gathered together around Tyrathaba $+> 
Vitellms listened to their complaints, and 
handing over the affairs of Judaea to his 
friend Marcdlus, commanded me to go 
and justify my proceedings before the 
Emperor himself. With a heart over- 
flowing with grief and resentment I took 
sMp. Just as I approached the shores of 
Italy, Tiberius, worn out with age and 
tibe cares of empire, died suddenly on the 
self -same Cape Misenttm, whose peak we 
see from this very spot magnified in the 
wastes, of evening. I demanded justice of 
Cains* Ms successor, whose perception 
was naturally aoite, and who was ac- 
quainted witk %rian affairs. But marvel 
with me, Lamia, at the soaliciocisDess of 
fortune, resolved on my discomfiture. 
Cains H*en had in IMS suite A Rome the 
Jfesr Agr^jpa* his companion, 



J3OCXPC 



Page US 



his childhood, whom he cherished as his 
own eyes. Now Agrippa favored Vitel- 
lius, inasmuch as Vitellius was the enemy 
of Antipas, whom Agrippa pursued with 
his hatred, The Emperor adopted the 
prejudices of his beloved Asiatic, and 
refused even to listen to me.". . . . 
" Pontius/* replied Lamia, " I am per- 
suaded that you acted towards the 
Samaritans according to the rectitude of 
your character, and solely in the interests 
of Rome. But were you not perchance on 
that occasion a trifle too much influenced 
by that impetuous courage which has 
always swayed you? You will remember 
that in Judaea it often happened that I 
who, younger than you, should naturally 
have been more impetuous than you, 
was obliged to urge you to clemency and 
suavity." * s*> 

"Suavity towards the Jews!" cried 
Pontius Pilate * " Although you have 
lived amongst them, it seems clear that 
you ill understand those enemies of the 
human race. Haughty and at the same 
time base, combining an invincible ob- 
stinacy with a despicably mean spirit, 
they weary alike your love and your 
hatred. My character, Lamia, was formed 
upon the maxims of the divine Augustus. 
When I was appointed Procurator of 
Judaea, the world was already pertetrated 
with the majestic ideal of the pax 
romana. No longer, as in the days of our 
internecine strife, were we witnesses to 
the sack of a province for the aggrandise- 
ment of a proconsul. I knew where my 
duty lay. I was careful that my actions 
should be governed by prudenceandmod- 
eration. The gods are my witnesses that 
I was resolved upon mildness, and upon 
mildness only. . . . Before the immortal 
gods I swear that never once during my 
term of office did I flout justice and the 
laws.But I am grownold. My enemies and 
detractors aredead. I shall dieunavenged. 
Who will not retrieve my character?" 
C[ He moaned and lapsed into silence. 
Lamia replied; 

** That man is prudent who neither hopes 
nor fears anything from the uncertain 
events of the future. Does it scatter in 
the least what estimate men may form 
of us hereafter? We ourselves are, after 



all, our own witnesses and our own judges. 
You must rely, Pontius Pilate, on the tes- 
timony you yourself bear to your own 
rectitude. Be content with your personal 
respect and that of your friends/ 7 . ... 
<[ " We '11 say no more at present/* said 
Pontius. ..." I must hasten on. Adieu! 
But nowthat I haverediscovered a friend, 
I should wish to take advantage of my 
good fortune. Do me the favor, ^Elius 
Lamia, to give me your company at sup- 
per at my house tomorrow. My house 
stands on the seashore, at the extreme end 
of the town in the direction of Misenum. 
You will easily recognize it by the porch, 
which bears a painting representing 
Orpheus surrounded by tigers and lions, 
whom he is charming with the strains 
from his lyre. 

** Till tomorrow, Lamia," he repeated, 
as he climbed once more into his litter. 
" Tomorrow we will talk about Judaea.** 

<[ The following day at the supper hour 
Lamia presented himself at the bouse of 
Pontius Pilate. Two couches were in 
readiness for occupants. ... As they pro- 
ceeded with their repast, Pontius and 
Lamia interchanged inquiries with one 
another about their ailments, the symp- 
toms of which they described at con- 
siderable length, mutually emuloias of 
communicating the various remedies 
which had been recommended to them. . . 
After a time they turned to the subject 
of the great engineering feats that had 
been accomplished in the country, the 
prodigious bridge constructed by Caius 
between PuteoH and Baiae, sad the 
canals which Augustus excavated to 
convey the waters of the ocean to Lake 
Avernus and the Lucrine lake, 
" I also," said Pontius, with a sigfc, " I 
also wished to set afoot puMic works of 
great utility. When, for my sins, I was 
appointed Governor of Judsea, I con- 
ceived the idea of furnishing Jerusalem 
with an abundant supply of pure water 
by means of an aqueduct. . . . But far 
from viewing with satisfaction the con- 
struction of feat conduit, which was in- 
tended to carry to their town upon itm 
massive arches not cmly water but health, 
the inhabitants of Jerusalem gave vest 



Page 116 



HUBBARD'S 



to lamentable outcries They gathered 
tumultuously together exclaiming against 
the sacrilege and impiousness, and hurl- 
ing themselves upon the workmen, 
scattered the very foundation stones. 
Can you picture to yourself, Lamia, a 
filthier set of barbarians? Nevertheless, 
Vitellius decided in their favor, and I 
received orders to put a stop to the 
work." <"It is 
a knotty point," 
said Lamia, " how 
far one is justified 
in devising things 
for the common- 
weal against the 
will of the popu- 
lace/' *> 
Pontius Pilate con- 
tinued as though 
he had not heard 
this interruption. . 
<["! was appointed 
by Rome not for 
the destruction, 
but for the up- 
holding of their 
customs, and over 
them I had the 
power of the rod 
and the axe *^ At 
the outset of my term of office I en- 
deavored to persuade them to hear 
reason. I attempted to snatch their 
miserable victims from death, But this 
show of mildness only irritated them the 
more; they demanded their prey, fight- 
ing around me like a horde of vultures 
with wing and beak. Their priests re- 
ported to Caesar that I was violating their 
law, and their appeals, supported by 
Vitellius, drew down upon me a severe 
reprimand. How many times did I long, 
as the Greeks used to say, to dispatch 
accusers and accused in one convoy to 
the crows!" . . . . 
Lamia exerted himself to lead the coa- 



Into the woods My Master went, 

Clean forspent, forspent. 

Into the woods my Master came, 

Forspent with love and shame. 

But the olives they were not blind to Him; 

The tittle gray leaves were kind to Him; 

The thorn-tree had a mind to Him 

When into the woods He came. 

Out of the woods my Master went, 

And He was well content. 

Out of the woods my Master came, 

Content with death and shame. 

When Death and Shame would woo Him 

last, 

From under the trees they drew Him last: 
*Twas on a tree they slew Him last 
When out of the woods He came. 
" A Ballad of Trees and the Master," 

by Sidney Larder 



" Pontius, " he said* " it is not difficult lor 
me to tHMlerstandbothyoTirlofig-standin^ 
resentment and your sinister forebod- 
ings. Truly, what you have experienced 



salem as an interested onlooker, and 
mingled freely with the people, and I 
succeeded in detecting certain obscure 
virtues in these rude folk which were 
altogether hidden from you. I have met 
Jews who were all mildness, whose sim- 
ple manners and faithfulness of heart re- 
called to me what our poets have related 
concerning the Spartan lawgiver. And 
you yourself, Pon- 
tius, have seen 
perish beneath the 
cudgels of your le- 
gionaries simple- 
minded men who 
have died for a 
cause they believed 
to be just without 
revealing their 
names. Such men 
do not deserve our 
contempt &** I am 
saying this because 
it is desirable in 
all things to pre- 
serve moderation 
and an even mind, 
* But I own that 
I never experienced 
any lively sympa- 
thy for the Jews. 
s+> The Jewess, on the contrary, I found 
extremely pleasing. I was young, then, 
and the Syrian women stirred all my 
senses to response. Their ruddy lips, 
their liquid eyes that shone in the shade, 
their sleepy gaze pierced me to the very 
marrow. Painted and started, smelling 
the nard and myrrh, steeped in odors, 
their physical attractions are both rare 
and ddightfuL" 

Pontius listened impatiently to these 
praises s^ 

** I was not the land of man to fall into 
the snares of the Jewish women," he 
said, ** and since you have opened the 
subject yourself, Lamia, I was never able 
to approve of your laxity. If I did not 
express with sufficient emphasis former- 
ly how culpable I held you for having in- 
trigued at Rome with the wife of a mgn 



to tfretr advantage. Sat I iwed m Jera- 



then eadctring heavy penance fat your 
misdoing Marriage from tie patrician 



JSOCXFC 



Page 117 



point of view is a sacred tie; it is one of 
the institutions which are the support 
of Rome. As to foreign women and slaves 
such relations as one may enter into with 
them would be of little account were it 
not that they habituate the body to a 
humiliating effeminacy. Let me tell you 
that you have been too liberal in your 
offerings to the Venus of the Market- 
place; and what, above all, I blame in 
you is that you have not married in 
compliance with the law and given 
children to the Republic, as every good 
citizen is bound to do." 
But the man who had suffered exile 
under Tiberius was no longer listening 
to the venerable magistrate &+> Having 
tossed off his cup of Falernian, he was 
smiling at some image visible to his 
eye alone & $> 

After a moment's silence he resumed in 
a very deep voice, which rose in pitch 
by little and little: 

"With what languorous grace they dance, 
those Syrian women! I knew a Jewess at 
Jerusalem who used to dance in a poky 
little room, on a threadbare carpet, by 
the light of one smoky little lamp, 
waving her arms as she clanged her 
cymbals. Her loins arched, her head 
thrown back, and, as it were dragged 
down by the weight of her heavy red hair, 
her eyes swimming with voluptuousness, 
eager, languishing, compliant, she would 
have made Cleopatra herself grow pale 
with envy. I was in love with her barbaric 
dances, her voice a little raucous and 
yet so sweet her atmosphere of in- 
cense, the semi-somnolescent state in 
which she seemed to live. I followed her 
everywhere. I mixed with the vile rabble 
of soldiers, conjurers and extortioners 
with which she was surrounded. One 
day, however, she disappeared, and I 
saw her no more. Long did I seek her in 
disreputable alleys and taverns. It was 
more difficult to learn to do without her 
than to lose the taste for Greek wine. 
Some months after I lost sight of her, I 
learned by chance that she had attached 
herself to a small company of men and 
women who were followers of a young 
Galilean thaumaturgist. His name was 
Jesus; he came from Nazareth^ and he 



was crucified for some crime, I don't 
quite know what. Pontius, do you re- 
member anything about the man? " 
Pontius Pilate contracted his brows, and 
his hand rose to his forehead in the 
attitude of one who probes the deeps 
of memory. Then after a silence of some 
seconds: 

" Jesus?" he murmured, "Jesus of 
Nazareth? I can not call him to mind/* 
" The Procurator of Judea" (abbrevi- 
ated), by Anatole France. 

*> 

C3fOR money enters in two different 
characters into the scheme of life. A 
certain amount, varying with the number 
and empire of our desires, is a true 
necessity for each one of us in the pres- 
ent order of society; but beyond that 
amount, money is a commodity to be 
bought or not to be bought, a luxury in 
which we may either indulge or stint 
ourselves, like any other. And there are 
many luxuries that we may legiti- 
mately prefer to it, such as a grateful 
conscience, a country life, or the woman of 
our inclination. Trite, flat, and obvious as 
this conclusion may appear, we have only 
to look round us in society to see how 
scantily it has been recognized; and 
perhaps even ourselves, after a little 
reflection, may decide to spend a trifle 
less for money, and indulge ourselves a 
trifle more in the article of freedom. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



IT strikes me dumb to look over the 
long series of faces, such as any full 
Church, Courthouse, London-Tavern 
Meeting, or miscellany of men wiE show 
them. Some score or two of years ago, 
all these were little red-colored infants; 
each of them capable of being kneaded, 
baked into any social form you chose: 
yet see now how they are fixed and 
hardened into artisans, artists, clergy, 
gentry, learned sergeants, unlearned 
dandies, and can and shall now be nothing 
else henceforth. Carfyle. 

*> 

Music was a thing of the soul a rose- 
lipped shell that murmured of the eter- 
nal sea a strange bird singing the songs 
of soother shore. J. C. Holland. 



Page 118 



JfUBBARD'S 




E are spirits *^ That bcxiies 
should be lent us, while they 
can afford us pleasure, assist 
us in acquiring knowledge, 
or in doing good to our 
fellow creatures, is a kind and benevo- 
lent act of God. When they become un- 
fit for these purposes, and afford us pain 
instead of pleasure, instead of an aid be- 
come an incumbrance, and answer none 
of the intentions for which they were 
given, it is equally kind and benevolent, 
that a way is provided by which we may 
get rid of them *+> Death is that way. 
Our friend and we were invited abroad 
on a party of pleasure, which is to last 
forever. His chair was ready first and he 
has gone before us. We could not all 
conveniently start together; and why 
should you and I be grieved at this, 
since we are soon to follow, and know 
where to find "him. Franklin. 

*> 

T begins now to be everywhere 
surmised that the real Force, which 
in this world all things must obey, is 
Insight, Spiritual Vision and Deter- 
mination. The Thought is parent of the 
Deed, nay, is living soul of it, and last 
and continual, as well as first mover of it; 
is the foundation and beginning and 
essence, therefore, of man's whole exis- 
tence here below. In this sense, it has 
been said, the Word of man (the uttered 
Thought of man) is still amagic formula, 
whereby he rules the world. Do not the 
winds and waters, and all tumultuous 
powers, inanimate and animate, obey 
Mm? A poor, quite mechanical Magi- 
tiaaa speaks; and fire-winged ships cross 
Hie Ocean at his bidding. Or mark, above 
al, that " raging of the nations,** wfoolly 
in contention, desperation and dark 
chaotic fury; bow the meek voice of a 
Heteew Martyr and Redeemer stiHs it 
ioto otder, and a savage Earth becomes 
kind and beautiful, and the habitation 
of horrid eradty a temple of peace. Tlie 
tn^Sovereignof the world, who moulds 
the world like soft wax, according to his 
pleasure, is he who lovingly sees into 
&e W3*^ tiie ^ms^ed T&infeF/* 
whom in these days we name Poet. 
The true Sovereign is the Wise Slam* 



|1V1 BOVE all, it is ever to be kept in 
!L4 mind, that not by material, but by 
moral power, are men and their actions 
governed. How noiseless is thought! No 
rolling of drums, no tramp of squadrons 
or immeasurable tumult of baggage- 
wagons, attends its movements: in what 
obscure and sequestered places may the 
head be meditating, which is one day to 
be crowned with more than imperial 
authority; for Kings and Emperors will 
be among its ministering servants; it 
will rule not over, but in, all heads, and 
with these its solitary combinations of 
ideas, as with magic formulas, bend the 
world to its will! The time may come 
when Napoleon himself may be better 
known for his laws than for his battles; 
and the victory of Waterloo prove less 
momentous than the opening of the 
first Mechanics' Institute. Carlyle. 

*> 

XN the mind of him who is pure and 
good will be found neither corrup- 
tion nor defilement nor any malignant 
taint. Unlike the actor who leaves the 
stage before his part is played, the life 
of such a man is complete whenever 
death may come. He is neither cowardly 
nor presuming; not enslaved to life nor 
indifferent to its duties; and in him is 
found nothing worthy of condemnation 
nor that which putteth to shame. 
Test by a trial how excellent is the life 
of the good man the man who re- 
joices at the portion given him in the 
universal lot and abides therein content; 
just in all his ways and kindly minded 
toward all men. 

This is moral perfection: to live each 
day as though it were the last; to be 
tranquil, sincere, yet not indifferent 
to ooe's iaie. Marcus Aureluis. 



THINK that to have known one 
ood* old man one man, wno, 
through tfarf* chances and mischances 
of a long ife, has carried Ms heart in 
bis hand, like a palm-branch, waving 
all discards into peace lielps oar feith 
in God, in ourselves, and in each other 
more than many sermons. G.W.Cnrtis* 

***> 
Life is but a thought. Coleridge, 



JSOOJFC 



Page 119 



^ r "~~ "V, E is no madman, but the 

v best bundle of nerves I ever 

; || P saw; cut, bruised and bat- 

^4 ^ w tered, and chained beside, 

he showed himself to be a 

man of courage and fortitude. He is a 

fanatic, of course, beyond all reason, 

but he thinks himself a Christian, and 

believes honestly he is called of God 

to free the negroes. 

They say when one 

son was dead by his 

side, he held his 

rifle in one hand, 

and felt the pulse 

of another who was 

dying, all the time 

cautioning his men 

to be cool and sell 

their lives dearly. 

C " While I was 

talking with him," 

continued Gover- 
Wise, " some 



you must follow. I will meet you across 
Death's border, and I tell you, Gover- 
nor Wise, prepare for eternity. You admit 
you are a slave-holder. You have arespon- 
sibility weightier than mine *+> Prepare 
to meet your God!' " Governor Henry 
A. Wise's Interview with John Brown. 



Search thy own 



/ who am dead a thousand years, 
And wrote this sweet archaic song, 

Send you my words for messengers 
The way I shall not pass along. 

I care not if you bridge the seas, 
Or ride secure the cruel sky, 

Or build consummate palaces 
Of metal or of masonry* 



But you have wine and music still, 
And statues and a bright-eyed love, 

And foolish thoughts of good and z7Z, 
And prayers to them that sit above? 



nor 

one called out that 
he was a robber 
and a murderer **> 
Brown replied, 

* You slave-holders 
are the robbers.* 
H " I said to him, 

* Captain Brown, 
your hair is matted 
with blood and 
you are speaking 
hard words. Per- 
haps you forget I 
am a slave-holder; 
you had better be 
thinking on eter- 
nity. Your wounds 
may be fatal, and 

if they are not, you will have to stand 
trial for treason, conspiracy and murder, 
and how can you hope to escape, when 
you admit your guilt? * 
" The old man leaned on his elbow, and 
beneath the bandages on his broken 
face I saw the blue eyes flash and he 
answered me: * Governor Wise, you call 
me old, but after aH I have oiiy ten or 
fifteen years, at most, the start of you 
in that journey to eteniit^ of which yop 
speak. I wffl kafve this w*>44 fosfc tmfc 



How shall we conquer? Like a wind 
That falls at eve our fancies blow, 

And old Mceonides the blind 
Said it three thousand years ago. 

friend, unseen, unborn, unknown, 
Student of our sweet English tongue, 

Read out my words at night, alone: 
I was a poet, I was young. 

Since I can never see your face, 
And never shake you by the hand, 

1 send my soul through time and space 

To greet you. You mil understand. 
" To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence," 

by James Ehoy Flecker 



heart; what paineth 
thee in others in 
thyself may be* 
J. G. Whittier. 

^^ *+ *+> 

I HAVE,mayit 
**** please the 
Court, a few words 
to say. 

In the first place 
I deny everything, 
but what I have 
all along admitted; 
of a design on my 
part to free the 
slaves. I intended 
certainly to have 
made a clean thing 
of the matter, as I 
did last winter 
when I went to 
Missouri and there 
took slaves with- 
out the snapping 
of a gun on either 
side, moving them 
through the coun- 
try, and finally 
leaving them in 
Canada. I designed 
to have done the 



on a larger scale. 

That was aH I in- 
tended. I never did intend murder, or 
treason, or the destruction of property, 
or to excite or incite slaves to rebdBcm, 
or to make insurrection. 
I have another objection, and that is that 
it is unjust that I should suffer such, a 
penalty. Had I interfered in the manner 
in which I adinit, and which I admit has 
been iairfer proved lor I admire tiw 
truthfulness and candor of the greater 
portion of fee -witnesses who have tcstir 
fied in this case had I so interfered in 



Page 120 



ffUBBARD'S 



behalf of the rich, the powerful, the in- 
telligent, the so-called great, or in behalf 
of any of their friends, either father, 
mother, brother, sister, wife or children, 
or any of that class, and suffered and 
sacrificed what I have in this interfer- 
ence, it would have been all right. Every 
man of this Court would have deemed it 
an act worthy of reward rather than 
punishment **> * 

This Court acknowledges, too, as I sup- 
pose, the validity of the law of God. I see 
a book kissed, which I suppose to be the 
Bible, or at least the New Testament, 
which teaches me that all things whatso- 
ever I would that men should do to me, 
I should do even so to them. It teaches 
me further to remember them that are in 
bonds as bound with them, I endeavored 
to act up to that instruction. I say I am 
yet too young to understand that God 
is any respecter of persons, 
I believe that to have interfered as I 
have done, as I have always freely ad- 
mitted I have done, in behalf of his des- 
pised poor, I did no wrong, but right. 
Now if it is deemed necessary that I 
should forfeit my life for the furtherance 
of the ends of justice, and mingle my 
blood further with the blood of my child- 
dren and with the blood of millions in 
this slave country whose rights are dis- 
regarded by wicked, cruel and unjust 
enactments, I say let it be done. 
Let me say erne word further. I feel 
entirely satisfied with the treatment I 
have received on my trial. Considering 
all the circumstances, it has been more 
generous than I expected. But I fed no 
consciousness of guilt, I have stated from 
tibe first wliat was my intention r and what 
was not. 1 never had any design against 
tfae liberty of any person, nor any dis- 
position to commit treason or incite 
slaves to rebel or make any general in- 
surrection **. 

I never encouraged any t*t?*n to do so, 
bat always discouraged any idea of that 
kind & $* 

Let me sa^y, also* m regard to tiie state- 
meets made t>y some oftiiem ttiat I tove 
induced titem to jom me. But the con- 
trary is true. I do BOt say tim to injure 
them, bat as regretting tfaefar weakness. 



Not one but joined me of his own accord, 
and the greater part at their own ex- 
pense. A number of them I never saw, 
and never had a word of conversation 
with till the day they came to me, and 
that was for the purpose I have stated. 
Now, I have done. John Brown's Ad- 
dress to the Court. 

SO 

'"TTF you accept art, it must be part of 
^1L your daily lives, and the daily life 
of every man. It will be with us wherever 
we go, in the ancient city full of tradi- 
tions of past time, in the newly cleared 
farm in America or the colonies, where 
no man has dwelt for tradition to gather 
around him; in the quiet country-side, as 
in the busy town, no place shall be with- 
out it. You will have it with you in your 
sorrow as in your joy, in your work-a-day 
as in your leisure. It shall be no respec- 
ter of persons, but be shared by gentle 
and simple, learned and unlearned, and 
be as a language that all can understand. 
It will not hinder any work that is neces- 
sary to the life of man at the best, but 
it wiH destroy all degrading toil, all ener- 
vating luxury, all foppish frivolity. It 
will be the deadly foe of ignorance, 
dishonesty and tyranny, and will foster 
good-will, fair dealing and confidence 
between man and man, It will teach you 
to respect the highest intellect with a 
manly reverence but not to despise any 
man who does not pretend to be what 
he is not. William Morris. 

fr- 

CHE scholar only knows how dear 
these silent yet eloquent companions 
of pure thoughts and innocent hours 
become in the season of adversity. When 
all that is worldly turns to dross around 
us, these only retain their steady value. 
When friends grow cold, and the con- 
verse of intimates languishes into vapid 
civility and commonplace these only con- 
tinue tiie unaltered countenance of hap- 
pfer days, and c&eer m with that true 
friendship whkk never deceived hope 
nor deserted sorrow* 

Washington Irving, 

****** 

Divinity consists in use and practise, 
not in speculation. Lother, 



Page 121 



; v . t . ;T seems to me that the 
f " "1, truest way to understand 
, x *,' , ,. j [the art of} conversation, is 
^ . ^ j j to know the faults and errors 
LEi^lI J^ to which it is subject and 
from thence each man to form maxims 
to himself whereby it may be regulated, 
because it requires few talents to which 
most men are not born, or at best may 
acquire, without 
any great genius or 
study. For nature 
hath left every 
man a capacity of 
being agreeable, 
though not of 
shining in com- 
pany; and there 
are a hundred men 
sufficiently 
qualified for both, 
who, by a very 
few faults, that 
they might cor- 
rect in half an hour, 
are not so much as 
tolerable &+> * 
For instance: noth- 
ing is more gener- 
ally exploded than the folly of talking too 
much, yet I rarely remember to have 
seen five people together, when some one 
among them has not been predominant 
in that kind, to the great constraint and 
disgust of all the rest. But among such 
as deal in multitudes of words, none are 
comparable to the sober, deliberate 
talker, who proceeds with much thought 
and caution, makes his preface, branches 
out into several digressions, finds a hint 
that puts him in mind of another story, 
which he promises to tell you when this 
is done; comes back regularly to his 
subject, can not readily call to mind 
some person's name, holding his head, 
complains of his memory; the whole 
company all this while in suspense; at 
length says, it is no matter, and so goes 
on. And, to crown the business, it per- 
haps proves at last a story the company 
has heard fifty times before; or, at best, 
some insipid adventure of the relator* 
< Another general fault in conversation 
is that of those who affect to talk of 



Come, I will make the continent 

indissoluble, 
I will make the most splendid race the 

sun ever shone upon, 
I will make divine magnetic lands, 
With the love of comrades, 
With the life-long love of comrades. 



themselves; some, without any cere- 
mony will run over the history of their 
lives; will relate the annals of their dis- 
eases, with the several symptoms and 
circumstances of them; will enumerate 
the hardships and injustice they have 
suffered in court, in parliament, in love, 
or in law. Others are more dexterous, and 
with great art will be on the watch to 
hook in their own 
praise; they will 
call a witness to 
remember they al- 
ways foretold what 
would happen in 
such a case, but 
none would be- 



/ will plant companionship thick as trees 
along all the rivers of America, and 
along the shores of the great lakes, and 
all over the prairies, 

I will make inseparable cities with their 
arms about each othefs necks, 
By the love of comrades, 

By the manly love of comrades. 
** For You O Democracy," by Walt Whitman 



lieve them; they 
advised such a man 
from the begin- 
ning and told him 
the consequences, 
just as they hap- 
pened; but he 
would have his own 
way. Others make 
a vanity of telling 
their faults, they 
are the strangest 
they can not dis- 
it is a folly; they 



men in the world; 
semble; they own 

have lost abundance of advantages 
by it; but if you would give them the 
world; they can not help it; there is 
something in their nature that abhors 
insincerity and constraint; with many 
other insufferable topics of the same 
altitude *- ^ 

Of such mighty importance every man is 
to himself, and ready to t^inTr lie is so to 
others; without once making this easy 
and obvious reflection, that his affairs 
can have no more weight with other 
men, than theirs have with him; and how 
little that is, he is sensible enough. 
When a company has roet, I often have 
observed two persons discover, by some 
accident, tiiat they were bred together at 
the same school or university; after 
which the rest are condemned to silence, 
and to listen while these two are re- 
freshing each other's memory, witfe 
the arch tricks mod passages of them- 
selves and their comrades. 



Page 122 



There are some faults in conversation, 
which none are so subject to as men of 
wit, nor even so much as when they are 
with each other. If they have opened 
their mouths, without endeavoring to say 
a witty thing, they think it is so many 
words lost; it is a torment to the hearers, 
as much as to themselves, to see them 
upon the rack for invention, and in per- 
petual constraint, with so little success. 
They must do something extraordinary, 
in order to acquit themselves, and an- 
swer their character, else the standers- 
by may be disappointed, and be apt to 
think them only like the rest of mortals. 
I have known two men of wit, indus- 
triously brought together, in order to 
entertain the company, when they have 
made a very ridiculous figure, and pro- 
vided all the mirth at their own expense. 
I know a man of wit, who is never 
easy but when he can be allowed to dic- 
tate and preside: he never expects to be 
informed or entertained, but to dis- 
play his own talents. His business is to 
be good company, and not good con- 
versation; and therefore he chooses to 
frequent those who are content to listen 
and profess themselves his admirers. 
<[ Raillery is the finest part of conversa- 
tion; but as it is our usual custom, to 
counterfeit and adulterate whatever is 
too dear to us, so we have done with this, 
and turned it all into what is ga*eraMy 
called repartee, a? being smart; just as 
when an expensive fashion comes up, 
those who are not able to reach it, con- 
tent themselves with some paltry imita- 
tiocL It now passes for raillery to nm a 
iwm down in discourse, to put *>ym out 
of countenance, and make him ridicu- 
lous; gofTwHmes to expose the defects of 
Ms person or tmderstmcling; on aS wfaidi 
occasions he is obliged not to be angry, 
to moid the imputation of not being 
afele to take a jest. It is admirable to 
observe one who is {lextexous in this art, 
ffegjfufe ottfc a weak adversary, getting 
Hie laugh on fm side, and then carrying 
affi before Mm. Ife French, fix wijoe* 
we tartar tfe <wor4 tad a quite <fi- 
ferent idea of the thing, and so had we 
m tie poSte g0f Mtofitflias. XMDoy 
was to say andMUNlpttitt *t first ap- 



peared a reproach or reflection, but by 
some turn of wit, unexpected and sur- 
prising, ended always in a compliment, 
and to the advantage of the person it 
was addressed to. And surely one of the 
best rules in conversation is, never to 
say a thing which any of the company 
can reasonably wish we had left unsaid; 
nor can there anything be well more 
contrary for the ends to which people 
meet together, than to part unsatisfied 
with each other or themselves. 
There are some men excellent at telling 
a story, and provided with a plentiful 
stock of them, which they can draw 
upon occasion in all companies; and 
considering how long conversation runs 
now among us, it is not altogether a con- 
temptible talent; however, it is subject 
to two tin avoidable defects, frequent 
repetition, and being soon exhausted; 
so that, whoever values this gift in him- 
self, has need of a good memory, and 
ou^ht frequently to shift his company, 
that he may not discover the weakness 
of his fund; for those who are thus endued 
have seldom any other revenue, but 
live upon the main stock. 
Great speakers in public areseldom agree- 
able in private conversation, whether 
their faculty be natural, or acquired by 
practice, and often venturing. Natural 
elocution, although it may seem a para- 
dox, usually springs from a barrenness 
of invention, and of words ; by which men 
who have only one stock of notions upon 
every subject, and one set of phases to 
express them in, they swim in the super- 
fices, and offer themselves on every oc- 
casion; therefore, men of much learning, 
and who know the compass of a language, 
are generally the worst talkers of a sudden 
m&a much practice has inured and em- 
boldened them; because they are con- 
isnBded with plenty of matter, variety 
of Botsoos, ami of words, which they can 
aot neadiry dioose, but are perplexed 
mA entangled by too great a choice; 
which is no disadvantage in private con- 
versation; wliere, on the other side, the 
talent of harigoing is of aH others, 
the most insupportable. 
^ Thus we see iiow human natore is 
most debased^ by tiie ab*ise of t&at 



J3OOJFC 



Page 123 



faculty which is held the great distinction 
between men and brutes; and how little 
advantage we make of that, which 
might be the greatest, the most lasting, 
and the most innocent, as well as useful, 
pleasure of life. Jonathan Swift. 

S* * 

It suffices not that beauty should keep 
solitary festival in life; it has to become 
a festival of every day. Maeterlinck. 



those difficult cases occur, 
they are difficult, chiefly because, 
while we have them under consideration, 
all the reasons pro and con are not pres- 
ent to the mind at the same time; but 
sometimes one set present themselves, 
and at other times another, the first be- 
ing out of sight. Hence the various pur- 
poses or inclinations that alternately 
prevail, and the uncertainty that per- 
plexes us ^ s^ 

To get over this, my way is, to divide 
half a sheet of paper by a line into two 
columns; writing over the one pro and 
the other con; then during three or four 
days* consideration, I put down under 
the different heads short hints of the 
different motives, that at different times 
occur to me, for or against the measure. 
When I have thus got them all together 
in one view, I endeavor to estimate 
their respective weights; and, where I 
find two (one on each side) that seem 
equal, I strike them both out. If I find 
a reason pro equal to some two reasons 
con, I strike out the three. If I judge 
some two reasons con, equal to some 
three reasons pro, I strike out the five; 
and thus proceeding I find at length 
where the balance lies; and if, after a 
day or two of further consideration, 
nothing new that is of importance occurs 
on either side, I come to a determination 
accordingly & And, though the weight 
of reasons can not be taken with the pre- 
cision of algebraic quantities, yet, when 
each is thus considered separately and 
comparatively, and the whole lies before 
me, I think I can judge better, and am 
less liable to make a rash step; and in 
fact I have found great value firom this 
kind of equation, in what may be called 
moral or prudential algebra. Franklku 



: y OU may believe me, when I assure 
^^ you in the most solemn manner 
that, so far from 'seeking this employ- 
ment, I have used every effort in my 
power to avoid it, not only from my 
unwillingness to part with you and the 
family, but from a consciousness of its 
being a trust too great for my capacity; 
and I should enjoy more real happiness 
in one month with you at home than I 
have the most distant prospect of find- 
ing abroad, if my stay were to be seven 
times seven years. But as it has been 
kind of destiny that has thrown me upon 
this service, I shall hope that my under- 
taking it is designed to answer some 
good purpose ..... 

I shall rely confidently on that Provi- 
dence which has heretofore preserved and 
been bountiful to me, not doubting but 
that I shall return safe to you in the 
fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or 
danger of the campaign; my unhappi- 
ness will flow from the uneasiness I 
know you will feel from being left alone. 
I therefore beg that you will summon 
your whole fortitude, and pass your 
time as agreeably as possible. Nothing 
will give me so much sincere satis- 
faction as to hear this, and to hear it 
from your own pen. George Washing- 
ton, Letter to His Wife, 1775. 



a GREAT factory with the'maefcinery 
all working and revolving with ab- 
solute and rhythmic regularity and with 
the men all driven by one impulse ami 
moving in unison as though a constitu- 
ent part of the mighty machine, is one 
of the most inspiring examples of di- 
rected force that the world shows* I have 
rarely seen the face of a mechanic in the 
act of creation which was not fine, never 
one which was not earnest and impres- 
sive. Thomas Nelson Page. 



is no moment like tfaeprea- 
. The mtm wtx> win not exe- 
cute his resolutions when they are fresh 
tipoe him can have no hope from them 
afterwards: they will be dissipated, lost, 
aact perish in Hie fenny and sctmy of 
the wodd, or srak in tfee slough of ia- 
doience, Maria Edgeworth. 



Page 124 



ffUBBARD'S 




feeble words seem here! 

How can I hope to utter 
|^ what your hearts are full of? 

I fear to disturb the har- 
mcny which his life breathes 
round this home. One and another of 
you, his neighbors, say, " I have known 
him five years/* " I have known him 
ten years." s+> It seems to me as if 
we had none of us 
known him. How 
our admiring, lov- 
ing wonder has 
grown, day by day, 
as he has unfolded 
trait after trait of 
earnest, brave, 
tender, Chris- 
tian life I We see 
him walking with 
radiant, serene 
face to the scaf- 
fold, and think, 
what an iron heart, 
what devoted 
faith! We take up 
his letters, begin- 
ning, " My dear 



wife and children, 
every one/' see 
him stoop on the way to the scaffold and 
kiss that negro child and this iron 
heart seems all tenderness. Marvelous 
old man! We hardly said it when the 
loved forms of his sons, in the bloom of 
young devotion, encirde him, and we 
remember he is not alone, only the ma- 
festie center of a group. Your ndgjibor 
farmer went, surrounded by his house- 
hold, to tell the slaves there will still be 
hearts and right arms ready and nerved 
Jfor the service. From this roof four, from 
a neighboring roof two, to make up that 
score of heroes. How resolutely each 
loofed into the face of Virginia, how 
loyaly each stood at his forlorn post, 
laeetmg; death cheerfully, till that master 
TOiee said, " It Is enough" And these 
weeping cbldree. aikt widow see so lifted 
^p aocl consecrated by long, gjpgje- 
iieartsd de^otkm to Msgreatpurpose that 
we dare, evea at this saofBeat, to remind 
tliem Iteow Messed tibesr are m the priv- 
ilege of thinking that in the last throbs 



Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you 

bore are brittle, 
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old 

and founded strong. 
I think rather , call to thought, if now 

you grieve a little, 

The days when we had rest, O soul, 
for they were long. 



Men loved unkindness then, but lightless 

in the quarry 
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, 

I did not mourn; 
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and 

I was never sorry: 

Then it was well with me, in days 
ere I was born. 



(Concluded on next page) 



of these brave young hearts, which lie 
buried on the banks of the Shenandoah, 
thoughts of them mingled with love to 
God and hope for the slave. 
He has abolished slavery in Virginia. 
You may say this is too much. Our 
neighbors are the last men we know. The 
hours that pass us are the ones that we 
appreciate least. Men walked Bos- 
ton streets when 
night fell on Bun- 
ker's Hill, and 
pitied Warren, say- 
ing, "Foolish man! 
Threw away his 
life! Why didn't 
he measure his 
means better?" 
Now we see him 
standing colossal 
on that blood- 
stained sod, and 
severing that day 
the tie which 
bound Boston to 
Great Britain. 
That night George 
III ceased to rule in 
New England. His- 
tory will date Vir- 
ginia Emancipation from Harper's Ferry. 
True, the slave is still there. So, when the 
tempest uproots a pine on your hills, it 
looks green for months a year or two. 
Still it is timber, not a tree. John Brown 
has loosened the roots of the slavery 
system; it only breathes it does not 
live hereafter. "The Burial of John 
Brown," by Wendell Phillips. 



house-builder at work in cities 
or anywhere, 
"Hie preparatory jointing, squaring, saw- 

ing,, mortising, 
The hoist-up of beams, the push of them 

in their places, laying them regular. 
Setting the studs by their tenons in the 
mortises, according as they were pre- 
pared, 

The blows of the mallets and hammers 
Paeans and praises to him! 

Walt Whitman. 



Tod^y is yesterday's ptipIL FranMm. 



HE functions of the poetical 
faculty are twofold; by one 
it creates new materials of 
: knowledge, and power, and 
* i^T";", pleasure; by the other it 
engenders in the mind a desire to repro- 
duce and arrange them according to a 
certain rhythm and order which may be 
called the beautiful and good. The culti- 
vation of poetry is 
never more to be 
desired than at pe- 
riods when, froman 
excess of the sel- 
fish and calcula- 
ting principle, 
the accumulation 
of the materials of 
external life exceed 
the quantity of the 
power of assimilat- 
ing them to the 
internal laws of 
human nature. The 
body has then be- 
come too unwieldy 
for that which ani- 
mates it. 

Poetry is indeed 
something divine. 
It is at once the center and circum- 
ference of knowledge; it is that which 
comprehends all science, and that to 
which all science must be referred. It 
is at the same time the root and blossom 
of all other systems of thought; it is 
that from which all spring, and that 
which adorns all; and that which, if 
blighted, denies the fruit and the seed, 
and withholds from the barren world the 
nourishment and the succession of the 
scions of the tree of life. It is the perfect 
and consummate surface and bloom of 
all things; it is as the odor and the color 
of the rose to the texture of the elements 
which compose it, as the form and splen- 
dor of unfaded beauty to the secrets of 
anatomy and curruption $^ What were 
virtue, love, patriotism, friendship 
what were the scenery of this beautiful 
universe which we inhabit what were 
oar consolations on this side of the 
grave and what were our aspirations 
beyond it, if poetry did not ascend to 



Now, and I muse for why and never 

find the reason, 
I pace the earth, and drink the air, 

and feel the sun. 
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for 

a season: 

Let us endure an hour and see injustice 
done. 

Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from 

the prime foundation; 
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, 

and all are vain; 
Honor and scorn and hate and fear and 

indignation 

Oh, why did I awake? when shall I 
sleep again? 

" Be Still, My Soul," by A. E. Houseman 



Page 125 



bring light and fire from those eternal 
regions where the owl-winged faculty of 
calculation dare not ever soar? 
Poetry is not like reasoning, a power to 
be exerted according to the determina- 
tion of the will. A man can not say it: 
" I will compose poetry." The greatest 
poet even can not say it; for the mind in 
creation is as a fading coal, which some 
invisible influence, 
like an inconstant 
wind, awakens to 
transitory, bright- 
ness; this power 
arises from within, 
like the color of a 
fiower which fades 
and changes as it 
is developed, and 
the conscious por- 
tions of our natures 
are unprophetic 
either of its 
approach or its de- 
parture &+> Could 
this influence be 
durable in its orig- 
inal purity and 
force, it is impos- 
sible to predict the 
greatness of the results; but when com- 
position begins, inspiration is already on 
the decline, and the most glorious poetry 
that has ever been communicated to the 
world is probably a feeble shadow of the 
original conception of the poet. 
Poetry is the record of the best and hap- 
piest moments of the happiest and best 
minds. We are aware of evanescent 
visitations of thought and feeling some- 
times associated with place or person, 
sometimes regarding our own mind 
alone, and always arising unforeseen and 
departing unbidden, btit elevating and 
delightful beyoini all expression: so that 
even in the desire and the regret they 
leave, there can not but be pleasure, 
participating as it does in the nature of 
its object. It is as it were the intexpeoe- 
tratkn of a divmer nature througih our 
own; but its footsteps are Eke those of a 
wmd over the sea wMch the earning cato 
erases, and whose traces remain only, 
as on the wrinkled sand which paves ft. 



Page 126 



ffl/BBA&D'S 



These and corresponding conditions of 
being are experienced principally by 
those of the most delicate sensibility 
and the most enlarged imagination; 
and the state of mind produced by them 
is at war with every base desire. The 
enthusiasm of virtue, love, patriotism, 
and friendship is essentially linked with 
such emotions; and while they last, self 
appears as what it is, an atom to a uni- 
verse. Poets are not only subject to these 
experiences as spirits of the most refined 
organization, but they can color all that 
they combine with the evanescent hues 
of this ethereal world; a word, a trait in 
the representation of a scene or a pas- 
sion, will touch the enchanted chord, and 
reanimate* in those who have ever ex- 
perienced these emotions, the sleeping, 
the cold, the buried image of the past. 
Poetry thus makes immortal all that is 
best and most beautiful in the world; 
it arrests the vanishing apparitions 
which haunt the interlunations of life, 
and veiling them or in language or in 
form, sends them forth among mankind, 
bearing sweet news of kindred joy to 
those with whom their sisters abide 
abide, because there is no portal of ex- 
pression from the caverns of the spirit 
which they inhabit into the universe of 
things. Poetry redeems from decay the 
visitations of the divinity in man. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley 

fr> 

Patience is bitter, but its fruit sweet. 

Rousseau. 

J^4> 

Every man is a volume, if 37011 know 
bow to read him Charming. 

^ ^ 

Wit consists in knowing the resemblance 
of things which, differ, and the difference 
of things which are alike. 

Madame Be StaeL 

&+>+> 

Ovr lAofe social life is in esseace bet a 
ator ^triviEg for tbe victory of 
? TOT fotce* Joim Galsworthy. 



infkience 



( | ). ANY lovable people miss each other 
; in the world, or meet under some 
unfavorable star. There is the nice and 
critical moment of declaration to be got 
over. From timidity or lack of oppor- 
tunity a good half of possible love cases 
never get so far, and at least another 
quarter do there cease and determine. 
A very adroit person, to be sure, man- 
ages to prepare the way and out with his 
declaration in the nick of time. And then 
there is a fine, solid sort of man, who 
goes on from snub to snub; and if he has 
to declare forty times will continue im- 
perturbablydeclaringamidtheastonished 
consideration of men and angels, until 
he has a favorable answer I daresay, 
if one were a woman, one would like to 
marry a man who was capable of doing 
this, but not quite one who had done so. 
It is just a little bit abject, and some- 
how just a little bit gross; and marriages 
in which one of the parties has been thus 
battered into consent scarcely form 
agreeable subjects for meditation. Love 
should run out to meet love with open 
arms. Indeed, the ideal story is that ot 
two people who go into love step for 
step, with a fluttered consciousness, like 
a pair of children venturing together in a 
dark room. From the first moment when 
they see each other, with a pang of 
curiosity, through stage after stage of 
growing pleasure and embarrassment, 
they can read the expression of their 
own trouble in each other's eyes. There 
is here no declaration properly so called; 
the feeling is so plainly shared, that as 
soon as the man knows what is in his 
own heart, he is sure of what is in the 
woman's. Robert Louis Stevenson. 



QYERY man, however obscure, how- 
ever far removed from the general 
recognition, is one of a group of men im- 
pressible for good, and impressible for 
evH, and it is in the nature of things that 
he caa not really improve himself with- 
out in some degree improving other 
men, Charles Dickees. 



m $*$ ,*QMI|*JQ /rtip i^ce if HeU^peEC Be BO* prodigal of ymiropiiTOQSp lest by 
_ *,-* _.- * * siiaoag thmi w^h cAers ymt be left 



Page 127 



,, , fi ; .HERE is something ex- 
,,/ _ -- tremely fascinating in quick* 
l^ ; ^ | ness; and most men are 
1 '*%&*.$&?' Desirous of appearing quick, 
* * t' The great rule for becoming 

so is, by not attempting to appear quicker 
than you really are; by resolving to 
understand yourself and others, and to 
know what you mean, and what they 
mean, before you 
speak or answer. 
{[Every man 
must submit to be 
slow before he is 
quick; and insig- 
nificant before he 
is important. The 
too early struggle 
against the pain 
of obscurity cor- 
rupts no small 
share of under- 
standings * Well 
and happily has 
that man con- 
ducted his under- 
standing who has 
learned to derive 

from the exercise of it regular occupa- 
tion and rational delight; who, after 
having overcome the first pain of ap- 
plication, and acquired a habit of look- 
ing inwardly upon his own mind, per- 
ceives that every day is multiplying the 
relations confirming the accuracy, and 
augmenting the number of his ideas; 
who feels that he is rising in the scale of 
intellectual beings, gathering new strength 
with every new difficulty which he 
subdues, and enjoying today as his 
pleasure that which yesterday he labored 
at as his toil. 

There are many consolations in the 
mind of such a man which no common 
life can ever afford, and many enjoy- 
ments which it has not to give! It is 
not the mere cry of moralists, and the 
flourish of rhetoricians; but it is noUe 
to seek truth, and it is beautiful to 
find it. It is tie ancient feeling of the 
human heart that knowledge is better 
than riches ; and it is deeply and sacredly 
tme! * 
To mark the course of human passions 



as they have flowed on m the ages that 
are past; to see why nations have risen, 
and why they have fallen; to speak of 
heat, and light, and winds; to know 
what man has discovered in the heavens 
above, and in the earth beneath; to hear 
the chemist unfold the marvelous prop- 
erties that the Creator has locked up 
in a speck of earth; to be told that there 
are worlds so dis- 
tant from our sun 
that the quickness 
of light traveling 
from the world's 
creation has never 
yet reached us; to 
wander in the 
creations of 
poetry, and grow 
warm again, witb 
that eloquence 
which swayed the 
democracies of 
the old world; 
to go up with 
great reasoners 
to the First Cause 
of all, and to per- 

ceive in the midst of all this dissolution 
and decay, and cruel separation, that 
there is one thing unchangeable, in- 
destructible, and everlasting; it is 
worth while in the days of our youth to 
strive hard for this great discipline; to 
pass sleepless nights for it, to give tip to 
it laborious days; to spurn for it present 
pleasures; to endure for it afflicting 
poverty; to wade fee it through darkness, 
and sorrow, and contempt, as the great 
spirits of the world have done in aH ages 
and all times. Sidney Smith. 



Who drives the horses of the sun 
Shall lord it but a day; 
Better the lowly deed were done, 
And kept the humble way. 

The rust will find the sword of fame, 
The dust will hide the crown; 
Ay, none shall nail so high his name 
Time will not tear it down. 

The happiest heart that ever beat 

Was in some quiet breast 

That found the common daylight sweet, 

And left to Heaven the rest. 

" The Happiest Heart," by John Vance Cheney 



Y is pleasurable mental and pfays- 
ical competitive exercise where the 
issues involved are trivial and tran^ 
sient. It is a fit preparation for more 
important tasks* nd it is the law of 
life that you caifer do those important 
tasks -writ at which you have played in 
childhood Stanley HalL 

'" < ?**** 

The worst sorrows in fife are not la Us 
tosses arKi misfortunes, but its fears. 

C. Benson, 



Page 128 



ffUBBARD'S 




IR The bearer of this, who 
is going to America, presses 
me to give him a letter of re- 
commendation, though I 
know nothing of him, not 
even his name. This may seem extraordi- 
nary, but I assure you it is not uncommon 
here. Sometimes, indeed, one unknown 
person brings another equally unknown, 
to recommend him; and sometimes they 
recommend one another! * As to this 
gentleman, I must refer you to himself 
for his character and merits, with which 
he is certainly better acquainted than I 
can possibly be. I recommend him, how- 
ever, to those civilities which every 
stranger, of whom one knows no harm, 
has a right to; and I request you will do 
him all the favor that, on further ac- 
quaintance, you shall find him to deserve. 
I have the honor to be, etc. Paris, April 
2, 1777. Franklin. 

> 

When the state is most corrupt, then 
laws are most multiplied. Tacitus, 

* 

a HUSBANDMAN who had a quar- 
relsome family, after having tried 
in vain to reconcile them by words, 
thought he might more readily pre- 
vail by an example. So he called his sons 
and bade them lay a bundle of sticks, 
before him. Then having tied them up 
into a fagot, he told the lads, one after 
another, to take it up and break it. 
They all tried, but tried in vain. Then, 
untying the fagot, he gave them the 
sticks to break one by one. This they 
did with the greatest ease. Then said the 
father: " Thus, nry sons, as long as you 
remain united, you are a match for afl 
your enemies; but differ and separate, 
and yoa are undone/* ^ 



The nation that has the schools has the 
future, Bismarck. 



HElf man has come to the Ttim- 
stiles of Nigfrt, all the creeds in 
the world seem to fnm wonderfully 
alike and colorless. Rudyard Kipling^ 

* 

love comes tmseen; we only see it go\ 
-Austin Ddbsoa. 



4?f<HOEVER examines, with due cir- 
ij|/ cumspection, into the Annual Rec- 
ords of Time, will find it remarked, 
that war is the child of pride, and pride 
the daughter of riches the former of 
which assertions may be soon granted, 
but one can not so easily subscribe to the 
latter; for pride is nearly related to 
beggary and want, either by father or 
mother, and sometimes by both: and to 
speak naturally, it very seldom happens 
among men to fall out when all have 
enough: invasions usually travelling 
from north to south, that is to say, from 
poverty to plenty. The most ancient 
and natural grounds of quarrels, are 
lust and avarice; which, though we may 
allow to be brethren, or collateral 
branches of pride, are certainly the 
issues of want. Jonathan Swift. 

* > 

*T is the mind that makes the bcdy rich. 

Shakespeare. 



none of Shelley's poems 
is more purely and typically Shel- 
leian than " The Cloud/* and it is inter- 
esting to note how essentially it springs 
from the faculty of make-believe. The 
same thing is conspicuous, though less 
purely conspicuous, throughout his sing- 
ing; it is the child's faculty of make- 
believe raised to the " nth " power. 
He is still at play, save only that his 
play is such as manhood stops to watch, 
and his playthings are those which the 
gods give their children. The universe 
is the box of toys. He dabbles his fingers 
in the day-fall. He is gold-dusty with 
tumbling amidst the stars. He makes 
bright mischief with the moon ^ The 
meteors nuzzle their noses in his hand. 
He teases into growling the kennelled 
thunder, and laughs at the shaking of 
its fiery chain. He dances in and out of 
fee gates of heaven; its floor is littered 
with Ms broken fancies. He runs wild 
over the fields of ether. He chases the 
ixffing world. He gets between the feet 
of the horses of the sun. He stands in the 
lap of patient Nature, and twines her 
loosened tresses after a hundred wilful 
feshioi3s to see bow she wiH look nicest 
in Iris sof^~PVands Tfaoncif>son 



J3OOJFC 



Page 129 



: ry,-. :EN differ from each other in 
^ i ,|; ..*; quality rather than in quan- 
|; * '$.' ,,,$i- tity of life. It Is true, some 
;'%Jt ; V^ are grated more years than 
^Z^.iy others; but after all that is 
not so important. One would rather live 
a year than vegetate for a century, 
though I grant you it would be better 
to live for a hundred years than for one 
if we could be sure 
we were living all 
the time and not 
simply staying 
above the ground. 
Yet everyone inter- 
prets life in terms 
of its quality rather 
than its quantity. 
Looking back over 
the past one often 
finds a day or a 
week standing out 
longer in memory 
thanyearsthat pre- 
ceded and followed 
it s* It was longer 
in significance, one 
lived more, and so 
the day had deeper 
meaning for the 
spirit than years 
of mere routine existence. We have lived, 
not so many days and years, but so much 
work and love and struggle and joy and 
heart-ache. Life is always measured in 
terms of its quality by the standards of 
the soul 

There is, morever, one most encouraging 
and consoling law in human develop- 
ment: we grow, not in an arithmetical, 
but in a geometrical ratio, the incre- 
ment of new life being multiplied into 
the old and not simply added to it. A 
new thought achieved is not added to the 
sum of one's past thinking, but multi- 
plied into it, becoming a new point of 
view, from which one sees in changing 
perspective all other facts and ideas. 
One step up in the mountain widens the 
horizon in all directions* . . . 
It is the increment of new life multiplied 
into the old that so largely determines 
the whole product of life, as far as it is 
COT own control * We can oo 



The Body 

of 

Benjamin Franklin, Printer 
(Like the cove? of an old book, 

Its contents torn out, 
And stripped of its lettering and gilding ,) 

Lies here food for worms. 

Yet the work itself shall not be lost, 

For it will (as he believes) appear once 

more 
In a new 

And more beautiful Edition 
Corrected and Amended 

BV 

The Author 

" Franklin's self-written epitaph" 



longer change yesterday: it arches over 
us as fate, but we can influence decided- 
ly the factor of today's life which is mul- 
tiplied into the whole achievement of 
the past ^ * 

That is why the margin of time we have 
to spend as we please is so sacred; and 
the briefer the margin, the more pre- 
cious it becomes. If you have ten hours 
a day to spend as 
you please, you 
may perhaps ".af- 
ford to waste an 
hour of it per- 
haps; but if you 
have only half an 
hour each day at 
your own free dis- 
posal that half- 
hour becomes a 
sacred opportun- 
ity of life, the 
chance to change 
the quality of 
your existence, 
to multiply the 
capital on which 
you are doing busi- 
ness in the voca- 
tion of living. . . . 
<L No, the river of 

time sweeps on with regular, remorse- 
less current. There are hours when we 
would give all we possess if we could but 
check the flow of its waters, there are 
other hours when we long to speed them 
more rapidly; but desire and effort alike 
are futile. Whether we work or sleep, 
are earnest or idle, rejoice or moan in 
agony, the river of time flows on with 
the same resistless flood; and it is only 
while the water of the river of time 
flows over the mill-wheel of today's life 
that we can utilize it. Once it is past, it 
fe in the great, imreturning sea of eter- 
nity. Other opportunities win come, 
other waters wiH flow; but that which 
has dipped by unnsed is tost utterly 
and will return not again. 

Edward Howard Griggs. 

> 

I do*fc tfamk much of a y^an who is not 
Wiser today than he was yesterday. 



Page 130 




TjAPOLEON is the world's 
greatest example of the Will- 
to-Power, perhaps without 
H] an equal in his individual 
mastery over conditions and 
over men $* $* 

It has been said of him that ** he leaped 
the Mediterranean; he dashed across 
the desert; threw himself against the 
gate of the Orient, 
and its hinges, 
rusted by five hun- 
dred years of dis- 
use, were shattered. 
He smote slothful 
Europe, and its 
medieval systems 
crumbled to dust. 
He infused armies, 
lawyers, artists, 
builders, with the 
electric force of the 
revolution, and, at 
his command, 
codes were formu- 
lated, arches and 
bridges were built, 
roads were made 
and canals were 
dug. The ruler of 
Italy at twenty- 
sir, the despot of Egypt at twenty-eight, 
the dictator of France at thirty, the 
master of Europe at thirty-two,*' and 
for twenty years thereafter the central 
figure and the most dramatic of the 
world's history. 

His disp^hes fure filled with the words: 
Success, Riches^ Glory, Fame these 
were the talismanic words of Napoleon, 
and yet there is in aE tihe tragic story of 
man BO sadder failure. Even in the days 
o his power, he was called " The Great 
Unloved." Tfcfeougji master of the world, 
save only ooe little island lying off in the 
fog of Uie North Atlantic "that wart 
ca Hie aose of Europe," as he persSstei 
ia calling England though master of 



lam tired of planning and toiling 

In the crowded hives of men; 
Heart-weary of building and spoiling, 

And spoiling and building again. 
And I long for the dear old river, 

Where I dreamed my youth away; 
For a dreamer lives forever. 

And a totter dies in a day. 

I am sick of the showy seeming, 

Of a life that is half a lie; 
Of the faces lined with scheming 

In the throng that hurries by, 
From the sleepless thought endeavor 

I would go where the children play; 
For a dreamer lives forever. 

And a toller dies in a day. 

(Concluded on next page) 



ygfc of him hm friend amid 
^;** Ifepoleoia* grand, gloomy 
aad pecafiar* sits n|>oa his throiae a 



with his own success, he attempts to 
stride the world like a Colossus. And in 
an evil hour, more by his own failure, 
than through the strength of his foes, he 
falters and fails, as power always does 
and always will, for it is certain, sooner or 
later, to encounter a greater power or 
perish through internal dissension and 
corruption. <^ Now turn for a moment 
to the Man of Gali- 
lee. What is the 
heart of his philoso- 
phy " so simple," 
as Canon Farrar 
used to say, " that 
a little child can 
understand it so 
profound that all 
the wisdom of the 
world can not 
exhaust it?"**. 
Jesus taught that 
all men are chil- 
dren of one Heav- 
enly Father, and 
that, therefore, the 
natural condition 
of men is one of 
mutual helpfulness 
and of universal 
friendship. He con- 
ceived of the race as one human family. 
He refused to recognize the gulf the 
leaders of his people had fixed between 
Jew and Gentile or between the right- 
eous and the wicked. That man is great, 
according to the Nazarene's gospel, who 
has the strength to serve and the patience 
to suffer one who conquers not the 
world but his own selfish heart and lives 
to bless his fellows. 

Jesus was the incarnation of the spirit 
that allays strife, changes animosity to 
fridHisiiip his was the spirit that helps 
awi heals. Jesus was the Prince of 
Peace as between mait and ^m, nation 
aaad eatiQa, *ace and race. Jesus was the 
Prince of Compassion. He saw the multi- 
tude poor and distressed and said, with 
infinite tenderness, ** I have compassion 
on the sarititiide.'* Jeses was the Prince 
of Forgiveness and taught the dead- 



ilie Prioce of Low md* fcecawxtf 



Page 131 



this, as a great Frenchman has said, the 
" arch-seducer of souls." His royal proc- 
lamation was, " Come unto me and I 
will give you rest." His last benediction 
was, " Peace I leave with you, my peace 
I give unto you." 

Napoleon, on the other hand, was the 
Prince of War, the incarnation of its 
spirit, an exemplar of its cruelty he was 
the Prince of Des- 
tructive Energy, 
of devastating 
force. His empire 
was builded upon 
the sorrows of his 
fellowmen and 
cemented by their 
blood and tears s* 
He was the Prince 
of Hate and sowed 
the seeds of last- 
ing hate and bitter- 
ness. And lastly, 
he was the Prince 
of Unrelieved Des- 
pair, " The Great 
Unloved," there- 
fore most miser- 
a b 1 e. W i 1 1 i a m 
Day Simonds. 



OEAR Friends: I am going to do that 
which the dead oft promised he 
would do for me. 

Hie loved and loving brother, husband, 
father, friend, died where manhood's 
morning almost touches noon, and while 
the shadows still were falling toward the 
west $+> $ 

He had not passed on life's highway the 
stone that marks the highest point; 
but being weary for a moment, he lay 
down by the wayside, and using his 
burden for a pillow, fell into that dream- 
less sleep that kisses down his eyelids 
stUL While yet in love with life and rap- 
tured with the world r he passed to silence 
and pathetic dust. 

Yet, after all, it may be best, Just hi the 
happiest, sunniest hour of aH the voy- 
age, while eager winds are kissing every 
sail, to dash against the unseen rock, 
and m an instant bear the fallows roar 
above a enfce$ diip. Fbr 



midsea or 'mong the breakers of the 
farther shore, a wreck at last must mark 
the end of each and all. And every life, 
no matter if its every hour is rich with 
love and every moment jeweled with a 
joy, will, at its close, become a tragedy 
as sad and deep and dark as can be woven 
of the warp and woof of mystery and 
death, 1 This brave and tender man in 
every storm of life 



7 can feel no pride, but pity 

For the burdens the rich endure; 
There is nothing sweet in the city, 

But the patient lives of the poor. 
O, the little hands too skilful. 

And the child mind choked with weeds f climbed the heights 
The daughter's heart grown wilful, 

And the father's heart that bleeds. 



was oak and rock; 
but in the sun- 
shine he was vine 
and flower. He was 
the friend of all 
heroic souls. He 



No, no, from the streefs rude bustle, 

From trophies of mart and stage, 
I would fly to the wood's low rustle 

And the meadow's kindly page. 
Let me dream as of old by the river. 

And be loved for the dream alway; 
For a dreamer lives forever f 

And a toiler dies in a day. 

" The Dreamer," by John Boyle O'ReSly 



and left all super- 
stitions far below, 
while on his fore- 
head fell the golden 
dawning of the 
grander day. 
He loved the beau- 
tiful, and was 
with color, form, 
and music touched 
to tears. He sided 
with the weak, the 
poor, and wronged, 
and lovingly gave 

alms. With loyal heart and with the 
purest hands he faithfully discharged 
all public trusts. 

He was a worshiper of liberty, a friend 
of the oppressed. A thousand times I 
have heard him quote these words : ** For 
Justice all place a temple, and all season, 
summer." He believed that happiness is 
the only good, reason the only torch, 
justice the only worship, humanity the 
only religion, and love the only priest. 
He added to the sum of human jay* 
and were every one to whom he did some 
loving service to bring a blossom to his 
grave, he would sleep tonight beneath a 
wilderness of flowers* 
Life is a narrow vale between the cold 
aad barren peaks of two eternities. 
We strive in vain to look beyond the 
heights* We cry aloud, and the oa% 
answer is the echo of oar wailing cry. 
IfrOTi ;thie voiceless Bps of the raorepftf - 
ing dead there comes BO word; but in 



Page 132 



HUBBARD'S 



the night of death hope sees a star and 
listening love can hear the rustle oi a 
wing ^ *> 

He who sleeps here, when dying, mis- 
taking the approach of death for the 
return of health, whispered with his 
latest breath, " I am better now." Let 
us believe, in spite of doubts and dog- 
mas, of fears and tears, that these dear 
words are true of all the countless dead. 
C The record of a generous life runs like 
a vine around the memory of our dead, 
and every sweet, unselfish act is now a 
perfumed flower. 

And now, to you, who have been chosen, 
from among the many men he loved, to 
do the last sad office for the dead, we 
give his sacred dust. 
Speech can not contain our love. There 
was, there is, no gentler, stronger, man- 
lier man & 3^ 

Robert G. Ingersoll. (Tribute to His 
Brother, Ebon C. Ingersoll.) 

> ,S* 

The greater the obstacle the more glory 
in overcoming it. Moliere. 

+ $+> 

HEN I left camp that morning I 
had not expected so soon the result 
that was then taking place, and conse- 
quently was in rough garb. I was with- 
out a sword as I usually was when on 
horseback on the field and wore a 
soldier's blouse for a coat, with the 
shoulder-straps of my rank to indicate 
to the army who I was. When I went into 
the house I found General Lee. We greet- 
ed each other, and after shaking hands, 
took our seats. I had my staff with me, a 
good portion of whom were in the room 
during the whole of the interview. .... 
General Lee was dressed in a full uniform, 
which was entirely new, and was wearing 
a sword of considerable value very 
likely the sword which had been pre- 
sented by tibe State of Virginia; at aB 
events, it was an entirely different sword 
ffom tiie one "which would ordinarily be 
"Worn ia tibe field. In my rough traveling 
smt-^tfie unabrm of a private, wife the 
straps of a lieutenart-genera! I must 
have contrasted wary strangely with a 
niaa so faaacSsofBel dressed, six feet 

was 



not a matter that I thought of until 
afterward. We soon fell into a con- 
versation about old army times. He re- 
marked that he remembered me verv 
well in the old army; and I told him that 
as a matter of course I remembered him 
perfectly; but from the difference be- 
tween our ranks and years (there being 
about sixteen years* difference between 
our ages), I had thought it very likely 
that I had not attracted his attention 
sufficiently to be remembered by him 
after such a long interval. Our conver- 
sation grew so pleasant that I almost 
forgot the object of our meeting. 
After the conversation had run on in this 
way for some time, General Lee called 
my attention to the object of our meet- 
ing, and said that he had asked for this 
interview for the purpose of getting from 
me the terms I proposed to give his army. 
I said that I merely meant that his army 
should lay down their arms, not to take 
them up again during the war unless duly 
and properly exchanged. He said that he 
had so understood my letter. Then we 
gradually fell off into conversation about 
matters foreign to the subject which had 
brought us together. This continued for 
some time, when General Lee again in- 
terrupted the course of the conversation 
by suggesting that the terms I proposed 
to give his army ought to be written out. 
I called to General Parker, secretary on 
my staff, for writing materials, and com- 
menced writing out the terms ..... 
When I put my pen to the paper I did 
not know the first word that I should 
make use of in writing the terms. I only 
knew what was in my mind, and I 
wished to express it clearly, so that there 
could be no mistaking it. As I wrote on, 
the thought occurred to me that the 
officers had their own private horses and 
effects, which, were important to them, 
but of no value to us; also that it would 
be an unnecessary humiliation to call 
upon them to deliver their side-arms. 
<t No conversation not one word 
passed between General Lee and my- 
self eMier about private property, side- 
arms or kindred subjects. When he read 
over thai: part of the terms about side- 
arms, horses^ and private property 



of the officers, he remarked, with some 
feeling, I thought, that this would have 
a happy effect upon his army .... The 
much-talked-of surrendering of Lee's 
sword and my handing it back this and 
much more that has been said about it 
is the purest romance. The word sword 
or side-arms was not mentioned by 
either of us until I wrote it in the terms, 
There was no premeditation, and it did 
not occur to me until the moment I 
wrote it down. If I had happened to 
omit it, and General Lee had called my 
attention to it, I should have put it in the 
terms, precisely as I acceded to the pro- 
vision about the soldiers retaining their 
horses. . . . Lee and I separated as cor- 
dially as we had met, he returning to his 
own line; and all went into bivouac for 
the night at Appomattox. 
General U. S. Grant. (Meeting with 
General Robert K Lee at Appomattox.) 

* 

When I don't know whether to fight or 
not, I always fight. Nelson. 

* 

I HE cost of a thing," says Thoreau, 
"' is the amount of what I will call 
life which is required to be exchanged for 
it, immediately or in the long run." I 
have been accustomed to put it to my- 
self, perhaps more clearly, that the price 
we have to pay for money is paid in 
liberty. Between these two ways of it, 
at least, the reader will probably not 
fail to find a third definition of his own, 
and it follows, on one or other, that a 
man may pay too dearly for his livelihood 
by giving in Thoreau's terms, his whole 
life for it, or, in mine, bartering for it the 
whole of his available liberty, and be- 
coming a slave till death. There are two 
questions to be considered the quality 
of what we buy, and the price we have 
to pay for it. Do you want a thousand a 
year, a two thousand a year or a ten 
thousand a year, livelihood? and can you 
afford the one you want? It is a matter of 
taste; it is not in the least degree a 
question of duty, though commonly sup- 
posed so. But there is no authority for 
that view anywhere. It is nowhere in the 
Bible. It is true that we might do a vast 
auaotint of good if we were weaMby, tet 



Page 133 



it is also highly improbable; not many 
do; and the art of growing rich is not 
only quite distinct from that of doing 
good, but the practice of the one does 
not at all train a man for practising the 
other. " Money might be of great ser- 
vice to me," writes Thoreau, " but the 
difficulty now is that I do not improve 
my opportunities, and therefore I am 
not prepared to have my opportunities 
increased." It is a mere illusion that, 
above a certain income, the personal 
desires will be satisfied and leave a 
wider margin for the generous impulse. 
It is as difficult to be generous, or any- 
thing else, except perhaps a member of 
Parliament, on thirty thousand as on 
two thousand a year. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

$+ 

I owe all my success in life to having 
been always a quarter of an hour be- 
forehand. Lord Nelson. 

> 

OEAR MADAM: I have been shown 
in the files of the War Department 
a statement of the Adjutant-General of 
Massachusetts that you are the mother 
of five sons who have died gloriously on 
the field of battle, I feel how weak and 
fruitless must be any words of mine 
which should attempt to beguile you 
from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. 
But I can not refrain from tendering to 
you the consolation that may be found in. 
the thanks of the Republic they died to 
save. I pray that our heavenly Father 
may assuage theanguish of your bereave- 
ment, and leave you only the cherished 
memory of the loved and lost, and the 
solemn pride that must be yours to have 
laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar 
of freedom. Abraham Lincoln. (Letter 
to Mrs* Bixby. Wadistogton, November 
21, 1864.) 

$ 

MUCK means tibe hardships and 
privatkms which you have not 
hesitated to eodore; the kmg nigbts you 
devoted 10 work. Luck means the 
eBfe you faas?e never failed to 
>; tfee teams you have Be^er failed 
to catciLr Max CXIWL 



Page 134 



fftfBBA&D'S 




JEVER, perhaps, did any man 
suffer death with more jus- 
tice, or deserve it less. The 
first step he took, after his 
capture* was to write a letter 
to General Washington, conceived in 
terms of dignity without insolence, and 
apology without meanness. The scope 
of it, was to vindicate himself from the 
imputation of hav- 
ing assumed a mean 
character for 
treacherous or in- 
terested purposes; 
asserting that he 
had been involun- 
tarily an impostor; 
that contrary to his 
intention which 
was to meet a per- 
son for intelligence 
on neutral ground, 
he had been be- 
trayed within our 
posts, and forced 
into the vile con- 
dition of an enemy 
in disguise; solicit- 
ing orily that, to 
whatever rigor pol- 
icy might devote 
him, a decency of 

treatment might be observed, due to a 
person, who, though unfortunate, had 
been guilty of nothing dishonorable. His 
request was granted in its full extent; 
for, in the whole progress of the affair, 
he was treated with the roost scrupulous 
delicacy. When brought before the Board 
of Officers, he met with every mark of 
indulgence, and was required to answer 
no interrogatory which could even em- 
barrass his feelingss. Oa his part, while be 
carefully concealed everything that might 
involve others, he franMy confessed all 
the facts relating to himself; and, upon 
fak omfe^km, without the trouble of 
examining a witness, the board made 
their ipoft* The members of it were not 
more impressed with the candor and 
firmness, mixed with becoming sensi- 
bility, which lie displayed, than he was 
penetrated with their liberality and 
politeness. He acknowledged the gener- 



O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip 

is done, 
The ship has weathered every rack, the 

prize we sought is won. 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the 

people all exulting, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the 

vessel grim and daring; 
But O heart! heart! heart! 

O the bleeding drops of red. 
Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear 

the bells; 
Rise up for you the flag i$ flung for 

you the bugle trUts, 
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths 

for you the shores a-crowding, 

(Concluded on next page) 



osity of the behavior toward him in 
every respect, but particularly in this, in 
the strongest terms of manly gratitude, 
In a conversation with a gentleman who 
visited him after his trial, he said be 
flattered himself he had never been illib- 
eral; but if there were any remains of 
prejudice in his mind, his present exper- 
ience must obliterate them. f( In one of 
the visits I made to 
him, (and I saw 
him several times 
during his confine- 
ment,) he begged 
me to be the bearer 
of a request to the 
general, for permis- 
sion to send an 
open letter to Sir 
Henry Clinton. " I 
foresee my fate," 
said he, "and 
though I pretend 
not to play the 
hero, or to be in- 
different about life, 
yet I am reconciled 
to whatever may 
happen, conscious 
that misfortune, 
not guilt, has 
brought it upon 

me. There is only one thing that disturbs 
my tranquillity. Sir Henry Clinton has 
been too good to me; he has been lavish 
of bis kindness, I am bound to him by 
too many obligations, and love him too 
well, to bear the thought that he should 
reproach himself, or that others should 
reproach him, on the supposition of my 
having conceived myself obliged, by his 
instructions, to run tbe risk I did. I 
would not, for the world, leave a sting 
in his mind that should embitter his 
fetee days.** He coold scarce finish the 
sentence, bursting into tears in spite of 
his efforts to suppress them; and with 
difficulty collected hfm$e]f enough after- 
ward to add; * I wish to be permitted to 
assure him, I did not act under this 
impression, but submitted to a necessity 
imposed upon me, as coiitraiy- to my 
own inclination as to his carders,** His 
request was readily complied with; and 



Page 13 S 



he wrote the letter, annexed, with which 
I dare say you will be as much pleased as 
I am, both for the diction and sentiment. 
<[ When his sentence was announced to 
him, he remarked, that since it was his 
lot to die, there was still a choice in the 
mode, which would make a material dif- 
ference in his feelings; and he would be 
happy, if possible, to be indulged with a 
professional death. 
He made a second 
application, by let- 
ter, in concise but 
persuasive terms. 
It was thought this 
indulgence, being 
incompatible with 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are 

pale and still, 
My father does not feel my arm, he has 

no pulse nor will, 
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its 

voyage closed and done, 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in 

with object won; 
Exult O shores, and ring O beUsf 

But I with mournful tread, 
Walk the deck my Captain lies, 

Fallen cold and dead. 
"O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Wldbnm 



For you they call, the swaying mass, 

their eager faces turning; 
Here Captain! dear father! 

This arm beneath your head! 

It is some dream that on the deck 

You 've fallen cold and dead. 



the customs of war, 
could not be grant- 
ed; and it was 
therefore deter- 
mined, in both 
cases, to evade an 
answer, to spare 
him the sensations 
which a certain 
knowledge of the 
intended mode 
would inflict. 
In going to the 
place of execution, 
he bowed famil- 
iarly, as he went along, to all those with 
whom he had been acquainted in his 
confinement ^ A smile of complacency 
expressed the serene fortitude of his 
mind. Arrived at the fatal spot, he asked, 
with some emotion, " Must I then die 
in this manner?" He was told it had 
been unavoidable. " I am reconciled to 
my fate," said he, "but not to the 
mode." Soon, however, recollecting him- 
self, he added: " It will be but a momen- 
tary pang;" and, springing upon the cart, 
performed the last ofices to himself, 
with a composure that excited the 
admiration and melted the hearts of the 
beholders $+ Upon being told the final 
moment was at hand, and asked if 
he had anything to say, he answered, 
" Notihmg, but to recpiest yn wit 
witness to the wodoX that: I dkt Ifae a 
brave man." Among the extraordinary 
circumstances that attended him, in the 



midst of his enemies, he died universally 
esteemed and universally regretted* 
I am aware that a man of real merit is 
never seen in so favorable a light as 
through the medium of adversity: the 
clouds that surround him are shades that 
set off his good qualities. Misfortune 
cuts down the little vanities that, in 
prosperous times, serve as so many spots 
in his virtues; and 
gives a tone of 
humility that 
makes his worth 
more amiable. His 
spectators, who en- 
joy a happier lot, 
are less prone to 
detract from It, 
through envy, and 
are more disposed, 
by compassion, to 
give him the credit 
he deserves, and 
perhaps even to 
magnify It. 
I speak not of 
Andre's conduct in 
t-hig affair as a phi- 
losopher, but as a 
man of the world. 
The authorized 
TTnftYtyYig and iprac~ 

tices of war are the satires of human 
nature. They countenance almost every 
species of seduction as well as violence; 
and the general who can make most 
traitors in the army of his adversary, is 
frequently most applauded. On this scale 
we acquit Andr; while we could not but 
condemn fatm t if we were to examine Ills 
conduct by the sober rales of philosophy 
and moral rectitude, Alexander Ham- 
ilton. (The Fate of Aadr&). 

** **> 

the joy of Hfe Is in little things 
tafeen on the run. Let us ran if we 
irast even tiie sands do fiat but let 
its keep OOT hearts young and cor eyes 
open thfe notting worth our while s&ai 
escape us. And everything Is worth its 
while if we only grasp It and its signifi- 
cance, Victor Cherbuliez, 



Equality 



no war. Solon, 



rage 136 




is indeed a strange gift, 
and its privileges are most 



it: k ^^ S^ted to that 
our gratitude, our admira- 
tion and our delight should prevent us 
from reflecting on our own nothingness, 
or from thinking it will ever be recalled, 
Our first and strongest impressions are 
borrowed from the mighty scene that is 
opened to us, and we unconsciously 
transfer its durability, as well as its 
splendor, to ourselves. So newly found 
we can not think of parting with it yet, 
or at least put off that consideration 
sine die* Like a rustic at a fair, we are 
full of amazement and rapture, and have 
no thought of going home, or that it will 
soon be night. We know our existence 
only by ourselves, and confound our 
knowledge with the objects of it. We 
and nature are therefore one. Otherwise 
the illusion, the " feast of reason and the 
flow of soul," to which we are invited, 
is a mockery and a cruel insult. We do 
not go from a play till the last act is 
ended, and the lights are about to be 
extinguished. But the fairy face of nature 
still shines on: shall we be called away 
before the curtain falls, or ere we have 
scarce had a glimpse of what is going on? 
Like children, our step-mother nature 
holds us up to see the raree-show of the 
universe, and then, as if we were a 
burden to her to support, let us fall 
down again. Yet what brave sublunary 
things does not this pageant present, 
like a ball or fete of the universe! 
To see the golden sun, the azure sky, 
the outstretched ocean; to walk upon 
the green earth, and to be lord of a thou- 
sand creatures; to look down yawning 
precipices or over <Hghrnt ^inny vales; 
to see the world spread out under erne's 
feet as a map; to bring the stars near; to 
view the smallest insects thtoogji a 
mkioscope; to read history and consider 
the revoltrtioos of emsplre and the soo 
cessions of generatioias; to hear of the 
gbry of Tyre, of Sidon, of Babylon, ami 
of Susa, and to say all these were before 
me and are now nothing; to say I exist 
in such a point of time, and in such a 
point of space; to be a spectator and a 



part of its ever-moving scene; to witness 
the change of season, of spring and 
autumn, of winter and summer; to feel 
hot and cold, pleasure and pain, beauty 
and deformity, right and wrong; to be 
sensible to the accidents of nature; to 
consider the mighty world of eye and ear; 
to listen to the stock-dove's notes amid 
the forest deep; to journey over moor 
and mountain; to hear tie midnight 
sainted choir; to visit lighted halls, or 
the cathedral's gloom, or sit in crowded 
theaters and see life itself mocked; to 
study the works of art, and refine the 
sense of beauty to'agony ; to worship fame 
and to dream of immortality; to look 
upon the Vatican and to read Shake- 
speare; to gather up the wisdom of the 
ancients and to pry into the future; to 
listen to the trump of war, the shout of 
victory; to question history as to the 
movements of the human heart; to seek 
for truth ; to plead the cause of humanity ; 
tooverlook the world as if time and nature 
poured their treasures at our feet to 
be and to do all this, and then in a mo- 
ment to be nothing to have it aH 
snatched from us by a juggler's trick, or 
a phantasmagoria! There is something 
in this transition from all to nothing that 
shocks us and damps the enthusiasm of 
youthnewfiushedwithhope and pleasure, 
and we cast the comfortless thought as 
far from us as we can .... The world 
is a witch that puts us off with false 
shows and appearances. 

William Hazlitt. 

. 

eVERY young man should have this 
sentiment planted and nourished in 
him, that he is to regard himself as one 
of Nature's failures, but as also a proof 
of her great and wonderful intention; 
she succeeded iH, he must say to him- 
sdf, but I will honor her intention by 
serving towards her better future success, 
Schopenhauer* 

J* 

Oar hope for eternal life in the hereafter 
does not spring from a longing for a 
spiritual existence, but grows out of our 
k>ve ffor life upon this earth, which we 
have tried and found good. 

Robert J. Shores. 



Page 137 




"i AKE not anxious thought as 
'-' to the results of your work 
* nor of our work. If you are 
doing all that you can, the 
aj results, immediate or even- 
tual, are not your affair at all. Such seed 
of truth as we plant can but grow. If we 
do not see the fruits here, we know 
nevertheless that here or somewhere 
they do spring up. 

It would be great if we could succeed 
now; it will be greater if we patiently 
wait for success, even though we never 
see it ourselves. For it will come. Do not 
be fretted by abuse.Those who abuse you 
do not know what they are doing. We 
also were at one time deluded and cruel, 
therefore forgive. 

Do not be worried by bigotry. We can 
not help it, we are not responsible for it 
we are responsible to ourselves and for 
ourselves and for no one else. Do not be 
angry at opposition either; no one can 
really oppose the order of Nature or the 
decrees of God, which are one and the 
same. Our plans may be upset there 
are greater plans than ours. 
They may not be completed in the time 
we would wish, but our works and the 
work of those who follow us, they will be 
carried out* 

Do not grieve over your own troubles: 
you would not have them if you did not 
need them. Do not grieve over the 
troubles of *' others*/* there are no 
others $*> &* 

Therefore let us keep God in our hearts 
and quiet in our minds, for though 
in the flesh we may never stand upon our 
edifice, we are building that which shall 
never be pulled down. Bolton Hall. 

Don't part with your illusions. When 
they are gone you may still exist, but 
you have ceased to live. Mark Twain. 

LITTLE while ago, I stood by the 
.grave of the old Napoleon a 
magnificent tomb of gilt and gold, fit 
almost for a dead deity and gazed upon 
the sarcophagus of rare and nameless 
marble, where rest at last the ashes of 
that restless man. I leaned over the bal- 
ustrade and thought about the career of 



the greatest soldier of the modern world. 
C I saw him walking upon the banks of 
the Seine, contemplating suicide. I saw 
him at Toulon I saw him putting down 
the mob in the streets of Paris I saw 
him at the head of the army of Italy I 
saw him crossing the bridge of Lodi with 
the tricolor in his hand I saw him in 
Egypt in the shadows of the pyramids 
I saw him conquer the Alps and mingle 
the eagles of France with the eagles of 
the crags. I saw him at Marengo at 
Ulm and Austerlitz. I saw him in Russia, 
where the infantry of the snow and the 
cavalry of the wild blast scattered his 
legions like winter's withered leaves. 
I saw him at Leipsic in defeat and dis- 
aster driven by a million bayonets back 
upon Paris clutched like a wild beast 
banished to Elba. I saw him escape and 
retake an empire by the force of his 
genius. I saw him upon the frightful 
field of Waterloo, where Chance and 
Fate combined to wreck the fortunes of 
their former king. And I saw him at St. 
Helena, with his hands crossed behind 
him, gazing out upon the sad and solemn 
sea <&* - 

I thought of the orphans and widows he 
had made of the tears that had been 
shed for his glory, and of the only woman 
who ever loved him, pushed from his 
heart by the cold hand of ambition. 
And I said I would rather have been a 
French peasant and worn wooden shoes. 
I would rather have lived in a hut with 
a vine growing over the door, and the 
grapes growing purple in the kisses of the 
autumn sun. I would rather have been 
that poor peasant with my loving wife 
by my side, knitting as the day died out 
of the sky with my children upon my 
knees and their arms about me I would 
rather have been that man and gone 
down to the toegudess silence of the 
dreamless dust, than to have been that 
imperial impersonation of force and mur- 
der, known as * ( Napoleon the Great.** 
Robert G, IngersolL 



No man is worth his salt who is not 
ready at aH times to risk his "body, to 
risk his weH4>eiog y to risk Ms life* ia a 
great cause. Theodore Roosevelt* 



Page 138 




pretty fable by which the 
Duchess of Orleans illus- 
trates the character of her 
son, the regent, might, 
with little change, be applied 
to Byron. All the fairies, save one, had 
been bidden to his cradle. All the gossips 
had been profuse of their gifts. One had 
bestowed nobility, another genius, a 
third beauty. The 
malignant elf who 
had been uninvited 
came last, and, un- 
able to reverse 
what her sisters 
had done for their 
favorite, had mixed 
up a curse with 
every blessing. 
He was sprung of a 
house, ancient in- 
deed and noble, but 
degraded and im- 
poverished by a 
series of crimes 
and follies, which 
had attained a 
scandalous public- 
ity. The kinsman 
whom he succeeded 
had died poor, and, 
but for merciful 
judges, would have 
died upon the gal- 
lows * The young 
peer had great in- 
tellectual powers; 
yet there was an 
unsound part in his 



My new-cut ashlar takes the light 
Where crimson-blank the vnndows flare. 
By my own work before the nighty 
Great Overseer f I make my prayer. 

If there be good in that I wrought, 
Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine 
Where I have failed to meet Thy Thought 
I know,through Thee, the blame was mine. 

The depth and dream of my desire, 
The bitter paths wherein I stray 
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire, 
Thou Knowest Who hast made the Clay. 

Who, lest all thought of Eden fade, 
Bring *$t Eden to the craftsman's brain 
Godlike to muse o *er his own trade, 
And manlike stand with God againl 

One stone the more swings into place 
In that dread Temple of Thy worth. 
It is enough that, through Thy Grace, 
I saw naught common on Thy Earth. 



Take not that vision from my ken 
Oh whatsoe 'er may spoil or speed. 
Help me to need no aid from men 
That I may help such men as need! 

** A Dedication," 6^ J&id&ard Kipimff 
mind. He had nat- 
urally a generous and tender heart; but 
Ms temper was irritable and wayward. 
He had a head which statuaries loved to 
copy, and a foot the deformity of wiskh 
tlie beggars in the street mimicfced* 
Bisfefegaisiied at once by the strength 
and by the weakness of his intellect, 
affeefckmafee yet perverse, a poor lord, 
and a handsome cripple, he required, if 
ever man recpired* tbe firmest and the 
most judicious tadinin& But, capridotisly 
as nature had dealt with him, the relative 
to whom Hie ofike of forming his 
cfearaefee 



cious still. She passed from paroxysms of 
rage to paroxysms of fondness. At one 
time she stifled him with her caresses, at 
another time she insulted his deformity. 
<[ He came into the world, and the world 
treated him as his mother treated 
him sometimes with kindness, some- 
times with severity, never with justice. 
It indulged him without discrimination, 
and punished him 
without discrimi- 
nation* He was 
truly a spoilt child; 
not merely the 
spoilt child of his 
parents, but the 
spoilt child of na- 
ture, the spoilt 
child of fortune, 
the spoilt child of 
fame, the spoilt 
child of society. His 
first poems were 
received with a 
contempt which 
feeble as they were, 
they did not abso- 
lutely deserve. The 
poem which he 
published on his 
return from his 
travels was, on the 
other hand, extoll- 
ed far above its 
merits. At twenty- 
four he found him- 
self on the highest 
pinnacle of literary 
fame, with Scott, 
Wordsworth, 

Southey, and a crowd of other distin- 
guished writers, beneath his feet. There 
is scarcely an instance in history of so 
sodden a rise to so dizzy an eminence. 
<[ Everything that could stimulate, and 
everything that could gratify the strong- 
est propensities of our nature the 
gaze of a hundred drawing-rooms, the 
aoiamatioas of the whole nation, tibe 
applaose of applauded men, the love of 
the lovefest womenr aH this worfd, and 
the glory of it, were at ooce offered to a 
young man, to wtiom nature bad given 
violent passions, and whom education 



Page 139 



had never taught to control them. He 
lived as many men live who have no 
similar excuses to plead for his faults* 
But his countrymen and his country- 
women would love him and admire him. 
They were resolved to see in his excesses 
only the flash and outbreak of the same 
fiery mind which glowed in his poetry. 
He attacked religion; yet in religious 
circles his name 
was mentioned with 
fondness, and in 
many religious 
publications his 
works were cen- 
sured with singular 
tenderness. He 
lampooned the 
Prince Regent; yet 
he could not alien- 
ate the Tories. 
Everything, it 
seems, was to be 
forgiven to youth, 
rank and genius $> 
Then came the re- 
action. Society, ca- 
pricious in its in- 
dignation as it had 
been capricious in 
its fondness, flew 
into a rage with its 
froward and petted 
darling. He had 
been worshiped 
with an irrational 
idolatry $+> He was 
persecuted with an 
irrational fury. 
Much has been 
written about those 
unhappy domestic occurrences, which 
decided the fate of his life. Yet nothing 
ever was positively known to the public 
but this that he quarreled witib his 
lady, and that she refused to live with 
him. There have been hints in abundance 
and shrugs and shakings of the head, 
and " Well, well, we know," and We 
could if we would," and " If we list to 
speak," and " There be that might an 
they list.** But we are not aware tiiat 
there is before the world, substantiated 
by credible, or ev^n by tangible evidence, 



Tiger, tiger, burning bright 
In the forests of the night, 
What immortal hand or eye 
Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 

In what distant deeps or skies 
Burnt the fires of thine eyes? 
On what wings dare he aspire? 
What the hand dare seize the fire? 

And what shoulder > and what art, 
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 
And when thy heart began to beat, 
What dread hand? and what dread feet? 

What the hammer? what the chain? 
In what furnace was thy brain? 
What the anvil? what dread grasp 
Dare its deadly tenors clasp? 

When the stars threw down their spears, 
And watered heaven vnth their tears. 
Did he smile his work to see? 
Did he who made the lamb make thee? 

Tiger, tiger, burning bright 
In the forests of the night 9 
What immortal hand or eye 
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 

" The Tiger," by TPB&zm make 



a single fact indicating that Lord Byron 
was more to blame than any other man 
who is on bad terms with his wife. The 
professional men whom Lady Byron con- 
sulted were undoubtedly of the opinion 
that she ought not to live with her hus- 
band. But it is to be remembered that 
they formed that opinion without hear- 
ing both sides. We do not say, we do not 
mean to insinuate, 
that Lady Byron 
was in any respect 
to blame. We think 
that those who con- 
demn her on the 
evidence which is 
now before the 
public are as rash 
as those who con- 
demn her husband. 
<[ We will not pro- 
nounce any judg- 
ment; we can not, 
even in our own 
minds, form any 
judgment on a 
transaction which 
is so imperfectly 
known to us ^ It 
would have been 
well if, at the time 
of the separation, 
aH those who knew 
as little about the 
matter then as we 
know about it now, 
had shown that for- 
bearance, which, 
under such circum- 
stances, is but com- 
mon justice. 
We know IK> spectacle so ridiculous as 
the British public in one of its periodical 
lifts of morality. In general, elopements, 
divorces, and family qiiarrels pass with 
little notice. We read the scandal, talk 
about it for a d^y, and forget it. But 
once in six or seven years, our virtue 
becomes o*itra@eaiis We can not suffer 
the laws of religion and decency to be 
violated. We must mafcc a stand against 
vice. We mwst teach libertines Utat &e 
English people appreciate the impor- 
tance of domestic tics* Accordingly^ sornc 



Page 140 



HUBBARD'S 



unfortunate man, in no respect more 
depraved than hundreds whose offenses 
have been treated with lenity, is singled 
out as an expiatory sacrifice. If he has 
children, they are to be taken from him. 
If he has a profession, he is to be driven 
from it. He is cut by the higher orders, 
and hissed by the lower. He is, in truth, 
a sort of whipping-boy, by whose vicar- 
ious agonies all the 
other transgressors 
of the same class 
are, it is supposed, 
sufficiently c h a s - 
tised * We reflect 
very complacently 
on our own sever- 
ity, and compare 
with great pride 
the high standard 
of morals estab- 
lished in England, 
with the Parisian 
laxity. At length 
our anger is sati- 
ated. Our victim 
is ruined and heart- 
broken. And our 
virtue goes quietly 

to sleep for seven years more. <[ It is 
dear that those vices which destroy 
domestic happiness ought to be as much 
as possible repressed. It is equally clear 
that they can not be repressed by penal 
legislation ^^ It is therefore right and 
desirable that public opinion should be 
directed against them* But it should be 
directed against them uniformly, stead- 
ily, and temperately, not by sudden fits 
and starts. There should be one weight 
and one measure. Declamation is always 
an objectionable mode of punishment. 
It is the resource of judges too indolent 
and hasty to investigate facts, and to 
discriminate nicely between shades of 
guilt. It is an irrational practice, even 
wiben adopted by military tribunals. 
Wfoea adopted by the tribunal of public 
opinion, it is infinitely more irrational. 
It is good that a certain portion of dis- 
grace should constantly attend on cer- 
tain bad actions. Bat it is not good that 
the offenders merely have to stand the 
risks of a lottey of wfinriy that niBety- 



So, we 'II go no more a-roving 

So late into the night, 
Though the heart be still as loving 

And the moon be still as bright. 

For the sword outwears its sheath. 
And the soul wears out the breast, 

And the heart must pause to breathe, 
And love itself have rest. 

Though the night was made for loving 
And the day returns too soon, 

Yet we y ll go no more a-roving 
By the light of the moon. 

**We11 Go No More A-Roving," by Lord Byron 



nine out of every hundred should escape; 
and that the hundredth, perhaps the 
most innocent of the hundred, should 
pay for all. ... 

We can not even now retrace those 
events without feeling something of what 
was felt by the nation when it was first 
known that the grave had closed over so 
much sorrow and so much glory some- 
thing of what was 
felt by those who 
saw the hearse, with 
its long train of 
coaches turn slowly 
northward, leaving 
behind it that ceme- 
tery ,whichhadbeen 
consecrated by the 
dust of so many 
great poets, but of 
which the doors 
were closed against 
all that remained 
of Byron. We well 
remember that, on 
that day, rigid mor- 
alists could not re- 
frain from weeping 
for one so young, so 
illustrious, so unhappy, gifted with such 
rare gifts and tried by such strong temp- 
tations. It is unnecessary to make any re- 
flections.The history carries its moral with 
it. Our agehas indeed beenfruitful of warn- 
ings to the eminent and of consolation 
to the obscure ** Two men have died 
within our recollection, who at a time of 
life at which few people have completed 
their education, had raised themselves, 
each in his own department, to the 
height of glory. One of them died at the 
height of glory. One of them (Napoleon) 
died at Longwood, the other (Byron) at 
Missolonghi. Lord Macaulay. 

d* 

If those who are the enemies of inno- 
cent amusements had the direction of 
the world, tiiey would take away the 
spring, and youth; the former from the 
year, the latter from human life. 

Balzac. 



To believe with certainty we must begia 
by doubting, Stanislaus, 



Page 141 



< y ;^v,.ly* " F Turner's correspondence 
$.* '$./ very little is in existence, 
t^ ; x , ^ and little can have been 
,>:%; .;/ i worth preserving. He could 
^.,^1^ s^v-tf write a simple note, especially 
to an intimate friend; and though his 
spelling was always uncertain, he some- 
times, by happy accident, could get 
through a few sentences without a blun- 
der &+> Like most 
uneducated men, 
he disliked letter 
writing, and he car- 
ried this dislike to 
a degree involving 
positive discour- 
tesy to others. 
He received a good 
many dinner invi- 
tations and though 
not what was 
called a diner-out, 
was on the other 
hand frequently 
disposed to profit 
by that rule of 
society which al- 
lows a bachelor to 
receive hospitality 
without returning 
it; so that although 



nobody could be 
sure he would ac- 
cept an invitation, 
nobody, on the 

other hand, could be certain that he 
would invariably prefer his bachelor's 
fireside &** s+- 

His dislike to the trouble of letter writing 
made him treat invitations in a very 
peculiar manner, and in a manner which 
only very kind and indulgent friends 
would have put up with. Sometimes he 
answered them, but he did n't by any 
means consider it an obligation to do so; 
and he would go to dine, and determine at 
the last minute not to go, just as we go 
to the theater, without writing anything 
to the provider of the entertainment. 
Whenever he went beyond a simple note 
his letters were ill-spelled and tmgram- 
matical ** 

The reader may find it a relief to see 
a specimen of Turner's prose a ph3o- 



Hark you such sound as quivers? Kings 

will hear, 
As kings have heard, and tremble on 

their thrones; 
The old will feel the weight of mossy 

stones; 
The young alone will laugh and scoff 

at fear. 

It is the tread of armies marching near, 
From scarlet lands to lands forever 

pale; 

It is a bugle dying down the gate; 
Is the sudden gushing of a tear. 
And it is hands that grope at ghostly 

doors; 
And romp of spirit-children on the 

pave; 

It is the tender sighing of the brave 
Who fell, ah! long ago, in futile wars; 
It is such sound as death; and, after all, 
*Tis but the forest letting dead leaves 
foil. 

" November," by MoMLon Leonard Fisher 



sophical piece about morality and art. Let 
him study it as long as he thinks it worth 
his attention and he will find it utterly 
impossible to understand one single sen- 
tence in the paragraph: " They wrong 
virtue, enduring difficulties or worth in 
the bare imitation of nature, all the force 
received in some brain; but where these 
demands arise above mediocrity it as- 
suredly would not 
be a little sacrifice 
to those who per- 
ceive the value of 
the success to 
foster it by terms 
as cordial that can 
not look so easy 
away as those spo- 
ken of convey 
doubts to the ac- 
cepting individual. 
If as the line that 
unites the above to 
grace, and those 
forces forming a 
new style, not that 
soul can guess as 
ethics. Teach them 
both, but many 
serve as the body 
and soul, and but 
presume more as 
the beacon head- 
land which would 
be a warning to the 

danger of mannerism and disgustful." 
C This criticism of Turner as a writer 
may here come to an end. Enough has 
been said to prove the truth of the asser- 
tion made at the beginning of this biog- 
raphy, to the effect that he did not 
know the English language. His unsuc- 
cessful attempt to learn Latin with 
Mr. Trimmer is a prod that he did not 
know Latin. His outrageous spelling of 
French names is equally good evidence 
that he never mastered French, and there 
is not a trace of proof that he ever knew 
any other tongue. The plain troth is, 
that foe never possessed any language 
whatever. Hundreds of foreigners can 
write better English than he could* There 
are English letters on my table from 
Dutchmen at Amsterdam, at th& Hague, 



Page 142 



ffUBBA&D'S 



at Leyden, which are far superior in 
grammar, spelling and construction to 
anything that Turner could compose 
after living in London for fifty years, 
with access to the best society in Eng- 
land 

Is there any use, it may be asked, in 
dwelling upon these weak points of a 
great genius. Would it not be at once more 
agreeable and more becoming to veil 
them gently in forgetfulness? Perhaps it 
might, but assuredly the agreeable acid 
the becoming are not the only purposes 
of this biography. When we study the 
life of a man who is famous for what he 
has done, it is good for us to have no 
illusions about the range of his powers, 
and the degree of his cultivation. The 
quotations which have been made will 
quite certainly prevent any reader from 
forming in his own mind the image of an 
ideal Turner and worshiping it. Beyond 
this benefit, which is not to be despised, 
we have the other advantage of noting 
how completely, in Turner, the man was 
sacrificed to the artist, as gardeners 
sacrifice certain fruit trees to their fruit. 
The pruning was not done intentionally 
in his case ** One dominant faculty 
absorbed all the sap of his intelligence, 
and left him as inferior to the mass of 
educated men in common things as he 
was superior to them in the perception 
of natural beauty. It may be a con- 
solation to mediocrities, to reflect that if 
they can not paint, they would infinitely 
outshine Turner at a grammar school 
examination; but without desiring to 
soothe the jealousies of artists who 
spd! better than they paint, we may 
assuredly affirm that it remains, and must 
ever remain, QT> open question, whether 
when you compare Turner with what 
we call an educated gentleman, the sum 
of superiorities will net be on the side of 
ibe gentleman. 

T&e case of Tomer is just one of those 
cases vbkh conform to the preju&e 
against artists, as craftsmen who have 
developed a special sfctH at the cost of 
more necessary knowledge and accom- 
plishments. It throws, too, a very strong 
li&Iii upon the question whether artis- 
tic genius is a special faculty, or an 



exceptionally high condition of all the 
faculties, I think that the case of Turner 
proves artistic genius to be a special 
faculty only. If all his mental powers had 
been of a high order he would have 
written his native language easily and 
correctly as a matter of course, and even 
composed good poetry, since he had 
feeling and imagination. On the other 
hand, his career proves conclusively that 
literary talent and the sort of education 
which fosters it, are now, as so many be- 
lieve, absolutely essential to the at- 
tainment of distinction and success in 
Hfe. The lesson which such men leave to 
us, when we understand both their excel- 
lence and their deficiency, is not to 
humiliate ourselves, not to lose our self- 
respect in their presence, and on the 
other hand not to attach too much im- 
portance to our own superiorities over 
them, since they have done so easily 
without our accomplishments &+> It is 
probable that every reader of these 
pages is greatly superior to Turner in 
what is held to be an education of the 
general order. At the same time, it is 
impossible to forget that this unpolished 
and illiterate being had the rarest gifts of 
nature of a special kind, all of which 
is clear proof that the knowledge of 
language is not necessary to the exer^ 
cise of high faculties. Philip G. Hamer- 
ton. (Life of J. M. W. Turner.) 

*> 

War does not of choice destroy bad men, 
but good ever. Sophocles* 

2+ &+> 

There is only one way to get ready for 
immortality, and that is to love this life 
and live it as bravely and faithfully, 
and cheerfully as we can. 

Henry van Dyke. 
* 

The darkest hour in any man's life is 
when fee sits down to plan how to get 
money without earning iL 

Horace Greefcy. 



A handful of pine-seed will cover twam- 
tains with the green majesty of forest. 
I too wiH set my face to the wind and 
throw my handful of seed on high, 
Fiona Madeod, 



Page 143 



, EAR SIR: I have read your 
y v manuscript with some at> 
# ^ tention. By the argument it 
''**, : . / -contains against a particu- 
ii*..^ir-r% ,J.-. lar Providence, though you 
allow a general Providence, you strike at 
the foundations of all religion. For, with- 
out the belief of a Providence that takes 
cognizance of, guards, and guides, and 
may favor partic- 
ular persons, there 
is no motive to 
worship a Deity, to 
fear his displeasure 
or to pray for his 
protection. I will 
not enter into any 
discussion of your 
principles, though 
you seem to desire 
it At present I 
shall only give you 
my opinion that, 
though your rea- 
sons are subtile, 
and may prevail 
with some readers, 
you will not suc- 
ceed so as to change 
the general senti- 
ments of mankind 
on that subject, 
and the conse- 
quence of printing this piece will be, a 
great deal of odium drawn upon your- 
self, mischief to you, and no benefit to 
others. He that spits against the wind 
spits in his own face. 
But were you to suceed, do you imagine 
any good would be done by it? You your- 
self may find it easy to live a virtuous 
life, without the assistance afforded by 
religion; you having a dear perception of 
the advantages of virtue, and the dis- 
advantage of vice, and possessing a 
strength of resolution sufficient to enable 
you to resist common temptations. But 
thfttk how great a portion of mankind 
consists of weak and ignorant men and 
women, and of inexperienced, inconsid- 
erate youth of both sexes, I0fx> itave 
need of the motives of reiigsoii to restrain 
them from vice, to stippoirt ffefr virtue, 
and retain them in the practice of it tit 



When I consider Life and its few years 
A wisp of fog betwxt us and the sun; 
A call to battle, and the battle done 
Ere the last echo dies within our ears; 
A rose choked in the grass; an hour of 

fears; 
The gusts that fast a darkening shore do 

beat; 
The burst of music down an unlistening 

street 

I wonder at the idleness of tears. 
Ye old, old dead, and ye of yesternight, 
Chieftains, and bards, and keepers of the 

sheep, 

By every cup of sorrow that you had. 
Loose me from tears, and make me see 

aright 
How each hath back what once he stayed 

to weep; 

Homer his sight, David his little lad! 
by Uzette Wood&arth Reese 



it becomes habitual, which is the great 
point for its security. And perhaps you 
are indebted to her originally, that is, 
to your religious education, for the habits 
of virtue upon which you now justly 
value yourself. You might easily display 
your excellent talents of reasoning upon 
a less hazardous subject, and thereby 
obtain a rank with our most distin- 
guished authors ** 
For among us it is 
not necessary, as 
among the Hotten- 
tots, that a youth, 
to be raised into 
the company of 
men, should prove 
his manhood by 
beating his mother. 
d I would advise 
you, therefore, not 
to attempt un- 
chaining the tiger, 
but to burn this 
piece before k is 
seen by any other 
person; whereby 
you will save your- 
self a great deal of 
mortification by 
the enemies it may 
raise against you, 
and perhaps a good 

deal of regret and repentance. If men are 
so wicked with religion, what would they 
be if without it* I intend this letter 
itself as a proof of my friendship, and 
therefore add no professions to it; btrt 
subscribe simply yours, B. Franklin. 
Alleged letter to Tbomas Paine. 



man wiH ever be a big executive 
JLJI who feels that he must, either openly 
or under cover, follow up every order be 
gives and see that it is done nor wH 
he ever develop a capable assistant, 

: John Lee Mahsn, 

** > 

Behavior is tbe theory of manners 
practically appEed, Mme. Nedcer, 

4* 

Whatever strengthens and purifies tfae 
affections, enlarges the imagination, aabct 
adds spirit to sense, is useful Shelley. 



Page 144 



-fJUBBARD'S 




are few things of 
common occurrence 
shaking hands; and 
do not recollect that 
has been speculated 
upon the subject. I confess, when I con- 
sider to what unimportant and futile 
concerns the attention of writers and 
readers has been directed, I am sur- 
prised that no one has been found to 
handle so important a matter as this, 
and attempt to give the public a rational 
view of the doctrine and discipline of 
shaking hands. 

I have been unable to find in the ancient 
writers any distinct mention of shaking 
hands. They followed the heartier prac- 
tice of hugging or embracing, which has 
not wholly disappeared among grown 
persons in Europe, and children in our 
own country, and has unquestionably 
the advantage on the score of cordiality. 
When the ancients trusted the business 
of salutation to the hands alone, they 
joined but did not shake them; and al- 
though I find frequently such phrases as 
fungere dextras hospitio, I do not re- 
collect to have met with that of agitare 
dextras. I am inclined to think that the 
practice grew up in the ages of chivalry, 
when the cumbrous iron mail, in which 
the knights were cased, prevented their 
embracing; and when, with fingers clothed 
in steel, the simple touch or joining of 
the hands would have been but cold wel- 
come; so that a prolonged junction was 
a natural resort, to express cordiality; 
and as it would have been awkward to 
keep the hands unemployed in tfr$ posi- 
tion, a gentle agitation or shaking might 
have been naturally introduced. How 
long the practice may have remained in 
this incipient stage it is impossible, in the 
silence of history, to say; nor is there 
anything in the chronicles, in Philip de 
Cocaines or the Byzantine historians, 
wtiidi enables us to trace the progress of 
the art into the forms in which it now 
exists among us, Edward Everett. 

*> 

There are two worlds; the world that we 
can measure with line and rule, and the 
world thai we feei witi oor hearts and 



f ft HEN Turner became an Acade- 
A/ niician, he took his old father away 
from his business of barber, and gave 
him a home in his own house. It is said 
that he was kind and respectful to the 
old man, invariably; which we may 
easily believe, though there have been 
stories to the contrary, originating in the 
simple habits of both father and son. 
It seemed to both of them perfectly 
natural that the elder man, having now 
so much time oahis hands, should occupy 
himself in little tasks which would save 
a shilling here and there; but that the 
painter readily consented to this, was it 
not the most delicate conduct possible 
under the circumstances? Old William 
Turner had been industrious and eco- 
nomical all his life, and like all old men 
who have been accustomed to work for 
a living, he felt the need of useful 
occupation $ $* 

It is said that he acted as porter at his 
son's gallery, would stretch canvases for 
him, and do other little things, in all of 
which there is certainly no real humilia- 
tion, but simply the gratification of an 
old man's wish to be useful. The relation 
between father and son is indeed quite 
the prettiest part of the life-story we 
have to tell. The artist was never 'hin- 
dered by his father, but aided by him in 
all possible ways with tender parental 
care and sagacious foresight. The son, 
on his part, was dutiful and filial to the 
last, taking the old man to his home and 
drawing closer the bonds of affection as 
the social distance between them be- 
came wider. Thus it is precisely when the 
painter wins the fall honors of the 
Academy, honors which got the recog- 
nized and envied position in London 
society, that he takes his father home. 
A meaner nature would have tried to 
keep the old man, at a safe distance. 
Philip G. Hamerton. (Life of J. M. W. 
Turner). 

*> * 

Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can 
testify; but nine times out of ten the 
best thfng that can happen to a young 
man is to be tossed overboard and com- 
pelled to sink or swim fee himself, 

James A.GarfiekL 



J3OOJFC 



Page 145 



, now the whole effort of 

,^,; our country is bent toward 
$,** ; Hjtr ; securing an adequate food- 
,,, supply &+> If our dietitians 

, ;^?<: .: 14 could only learn the truth, 
how easy it would be to get a supply of 
this kind! We eat brands when we ought 
to be eating bran. Our wheat has all its 
vitality taken out of it to make white 
flour. We care more for the dairy cow 
than we do for the American citizen 
She gets the real cream of wheat and we 
get what she is supposed to have the 
husks $*> 

Simple, wholesome wheat-bread and 
porridge, an abundance of fruits in sea- 
son, succulent vegetables, particularly 
the potato, spinach and asparagus, with 
a generous supply of pure, fresh, clean, 
tuberculin-tested milk, will give the 
citizen a diet wholesome, nutritious and 
full of vitamins. To this may be added a 
moderate supply of good meat and eggs. 
C In so far as food is concerned, the 
common idea that beer, whisky and 
wine have food value is largely an illu- 
sion. It is true that a moderate amount of 
alcohol is burned in the tissues of the 
body, furnishing heat and energy. The 
effort of the body to get rid of the in- 
gested poison, however, takes out all of 
this heat and energy, so that little or 
none of it is available for the other 
business of life. 

Let me prescribe the diet of the country: 
I do not care who makes its laws. 

Dr. Harvey W. Wiley. 

* 

Originality is simply a pair of fresh eyes, 
T. W. Higginson. 
* d* 

e BERNARD SHAW w21 never bea 
character universally loved. I think 
if Bernard Shaw felt himself universally 
loved he would be the most chagrined 
individual that Nature has ever pro- 
duced* George Bernard Shaw loves noth- 
ing so much as being hated, if the 
hatred is sincere; he loves nothing so 
much as being criticised^ if the criticism 
is honest; he loves nothing so mucfa as 
being intellectuaJly knocked down, if 
the individual that attempts it has the 
capacity to achieve the effort. George 



Bernard Shaw is a fighter through and 
through, an intellectual warrior, a i^m 
who I might say is pre-eminently one of 
us; he belongs to this age. 
Every one of his intellectual efforts is but 
a reflection and reproduction of the in- 
tellectualism of this present age. Shaw is 
made by the age, is part of the age, is the 
articulation of the age, and is pre-emi- 
nently so because he articulates no one 
phase of it: he reflects no one facet 
of the universal crystal; he exhibits no 
one characteristic that marks the pecu- 
liarities of our time; but in a sort of cos- 
mopolitan universalism Bernard Shaw 
seems to reflect the refined potentialities 
of the age in which we live, 

Dr. Henry Frank. 

#* 

Manhood, not scholarship, is the first 
aim of education. 

Ernest Thompson Seton. 



leader for the time being, who- 
ever he may be, is but an instru- 
ment, to be used until broken and then to 
be cast aside; and if he is worth his salt 
he will care no more when he is broken 
than a soldier cares when he is sent where 
his life is forfeit in order that the victory 
may be won. In the long fight for right- 
eousness the watchword for all of us, is 
spend and be spent. It is a little matter 
whether any one man fails or succeeds; 
but the cause shall not fail, for it 2s the 
cause of mankind. We, here in America, 
hold in our hands the hope of the world, 
the fate of the coming years; and shame 
and disgrace will be ours if in our eyes the 
light of high resolve is dimmed, if we 
trail in the dust the golden hopes of men. 
If on this new cootiiient we jnerdy build 
another country of great but unjustly 
divided material prosperity, ^e shall 
have done nothing; and we shall do as 
little if we merely set tie greed of envy 
against the gfeed of arrogance, and there- 
by destey the mateial well-being of al 
of m Theodore Kooseveit. 



tfae beasts two things ifaeir 
of evil to come, and their 



ignorance of what is said about them. 



Page 146 




m 



$ HERE was Lamb himself, 
" the most delightful, the most 
> provoking, the most witty 
and sensible of men. He 
always made the best pun, 
and the best remark in the course of the 
evening s* $* 

His serious conversation, like his serious 
writing, is his best. No one ever stam- 
mered out such fine, 

If the red slayer think he slays, 

Or if the slain think he is slain, 

They know not well the subtle ways 

I keep, and pass, and turn again. 



piquant, deep, elo- 
quent things in a 
half a dozen half- 
sentences as he 
does His jests 
scald like tears; 
and he probes a 
question with a 
play upon words. 
What a keen, 
laughing, hare- 
brained vein of 
home-felt truth! 
What choice ven- 
om! How often 
did we cut into the 
haunch of letters, 
while we discuss- 
ed the haunch of 
mutton on the 
table! How we 

skimmed the cream of criticism! How we 
got into the heart of controversy! How 
we picked out the marrow of authors! 
" And, in our flowing cups, many a good 
name and true was freshly remembered." 
H Recollect (most sage and critical 
reader) that in all this I was but a guest! 
C Need I go over the names? They were 
but the old everlasting set Milton and 
Shakespeare, Pope and Dryden, Steele 
and Addison, Swift and Gay, Fielding, 
Snaollett, Sterne, Richardson, Hogarth's 
prints, Claude's landscapes, the Cartoons 
at Hampton Court, and all those things 
that, having once been, must ever be, 
The Scotch Novels had not then been 
heard of : so we said nothing about them. 
In general, we were hard upon the 
modems. The author of the Rambler 
was ooly tolerated in Boswell's Life 
of him; and it was as much as any ooe 
cpuM do tx> edge m a word for Jiwms. 
41 Lrnnb cosoM not bear ff fflas. This 



Far or forgot to me is near; 

Shadow and sunlight are the same; 
The vanished gods to me appear; 

And one to me are shame and fame. 

They reckon ill who leave me out; 

When me they fly, I am the wings; 
I am the doubter and the doubt, 

And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. 



was a fault $*> I remember the greatest 
triumph I ever had was in persuading 
him, after some years* difficulty, that 
Fielding was better than Smollett* 
On one occasion, he was for making out 
a list of persons famous in history that 
one would wish to see again at the 
head of which were Pontius Pilate, Sir 
Thomas Browne, and Dr. Faustus but 
we blackballed 
most of his list! 
<L But with what a 
gusto would he de- 
scribe his favorite 
authors, Donne, or 
Sir Philip Sidney, 
and find their most 



crabbed passages 
delicious! He tried 
them on his palate 
as epicures taste 
olives, and his 
observations had 
a smack in them, 
like a roughness, 
on the tongue. 
With what dis- 
crimination he 



The strong gods pine for my abode. 
And pine in vain the sacred Seven; 

But thou, meek lover of the good! _^ v ^ 

Find me, and turn thy back on heaven, hinted a defect in 
" Brahma," 6|f Ralph Waldo Emerson what he admired 

most as in say- 
ing that the display of the sumptuous 
banquet in Paradise Regained was not 
in true keeping, as the simplest fare 
was all that was necessary to tempt the 
extremity of hunger and stating that 
Adam and Eve in Paradise Lost were too 
much like married people. 

" Charles Lamb," by W. Haditt. 



truth is, progress and reaction 

arebutwordstomystifythemillions. 
They mean nothing, they are nothing, 
they are phases and not facts. In the 
structure, the decay, and the develop- 
ment of the various families of man, the 
vicissitudes of history find their main 
solution: all is race. Disraeli. 

We most not blame God for the fly, 
for man made hi. He is the resur- 
rection, the reincarnation of our own 
dkt and carelessness. 

Woods Huteitmson, M D* 



Page 141 



HE supreme consolation 
which I find is in the view 
that life is a grand tragedy. 
,ii ^ There are islands of joy, 
,/. V'rJ '.".'^ havens of pure bliss; there 
is the laughter of children, the effulgence 
of love in young, hyacinthian days, and 
there is the steady glow of love in after 
years. I take account of all this; yet I say 
that around this 
glow and bright- 
ness, enveloping it, 
tragedy is always 
present or immi- 
nent if no other 
tragedy, then the 
tragedy of death, 
which all must face. 
But the tragic view 
is not a funereal, 
gloomy and melan- 
choly view. The ef- 
fect of a great 
tragedy is elevat- 



Break, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! 
And I would that my tongue could utter 

The thoughts that arise in me. 



O, well for the fisherman's boy, 
That he shouts with his sister at play! 

O, well for the senior lad. 
That he sings in his boat on the bay! 



relief the grandeur to which he has 
aspired, the greatness at which he aimed. 
<t Transfer the idea of tragedy from the 
stage to life itself. There are high powers 
at work, a great and noble strain is trying 
to express itself in things and in men ; but 
conditions are not fit or adequate, and 
the greatness is constantly breaking 
down, the nobility failing, not because 
it ought to fail, but 
because conditions 
are insufficient, 
because the finite 
can not embody 
the infinite a* Yet 
the failures only 
serve to set off the 



ing, not depressing. 
After witnessing a 
tragedy on the 
stage, when the 
curtain is rung 
down on the fifth 
act, the spectator 
finds himself in an uplifted mood, despite 
all the strain that has been put upon his 
feelings. He is not prostrated to the 
ground, he is uplifted. Great music rolls 
through his soul. He seems to float as in 
some high ether, and far beneath him lie 
the gulfs of pity and of terror through 
which he has passed a*- The effect of 
tragedy the tragedy on the stage, which 
is a mirror of life is blended of defeat and 
victory. Both enter in. Ruin there is, but 
a glory shines above the ruin. The effect 
of tragedy on the stage is produced by 
great qualities in the hero, which we 
admire, but which are prevented from 
successful manifestation by some flaw 
in his nature. Or the hero strives after 
some high ideal, carries in his breast 
some noble purpose. The fault is not in 
him, but in his surroundings. The time is 
not ripe for him, the people witti whom he 
must deal are below his standard; and he 
fails, but in failing he sets forth in high 



And the stately ships go on, 
To their haven under the Mil; 

But Ofor the touch of a vanished hand, 
And the sound of a voice that is still! 



Break, break, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come back to me. 
" Break, Break, Break,"Z>y Alfred, Lord Tennyson 



infiniteness in the 
tendency &+ $+> 
Work helps; sym- 
pathy helps; in all 
the ordinary cir- 
cumstances of life, 
not to be sorry for 
one's self but to be 
sorry for others is 
the best help. But 
the thought that 
life is a grand tra- 
gedy, that over the 
ruins a glory shines, 
is to me the supreme help. Felix Adler. 



HIS London City, with all its houses, 
palaces, steam-engines, cathedrals, 
and huge immeasurable traffic and tu- 
mult, what is it but a Thought, but 
millions of Thoughts made into One 
a huge immeasurable Spirit of a Thought, 
embodied in brick, in iron, smoke, dust, 
Palaces, Parliaments, Hackney Coaches, 
Katherine Docks, and the rest of it! 
Not a brick was made bat some irtarn had 
to think of the making of that brick. 

Carlyle. 
**> *+> 

The consciousness of being loved softens 
the keenest pang, even at tie moment of 
parting; yea, even the eternal farewell is 
robbed of half its bitterness when uttered 
in accents tliat breathe love to the last 
sigh, Addisoo. 



God gives all things to industry 



Page 148 



ffUBBARD'S 




r|iffi day is done. Soft dark- 
Iness fills all space ^ The 
fc turmoil has ceased. The 
clatter of hoofs and the 
^ whir of motors have died 
away. One late straggler shuffles past. 
All is quiet. The shadows hide from the 
white-faced moon. 

I am tired of the toil of the day weary 
of this fretful little earth, so full of things. 
My feet are hot with tramping the stolid 
street. My throat is choked with the dust 
of trivial traffic. The things of my labor 
have become irksome to me mere 
toys that I have played with all day. I 
will lay them aside. What matter if I can 
not find them again? Valedico, peevish 
little earth, I am going out into the 
Universe to stroll on the Milky Way and 
bathe in the Ocean of Night. 
O, great, good, beautiful Night, you are 
so calm, so pure. I gaze through the 
ripples of the night-wind, down into your 
dark depths where the stars lie strewn 
about &+ Are they the jewel-offerings 
some ill-fated lover cast in ruthless de- 
spair upon your bosom? Or are they the 
pebbles that sparkle hi your depths? I 
wander down the Milky Way. I gather 
the Pleiades and make a necklace for my 
Love. I string them on a golden strand 
from, the tresses of Andromeda. What 
matter if the sea-nymphs do rage? Per- 
seus is near and he has slain the Draco. 
I scatter the star-gems before my feet 
on the path. Wait! Triumphant Orion is 
passing and his gaudy girdle flashes a 
challenge at mad Taurus. 
Here are some of the flowers of Noko- 
mis. I wiH gather a few and weave them 
into the necklace. What is that I hear? 
Why it * s the chimes of Saint Frauds 
sfe-aiag the twelfth bom. Have I been 
dreaming? I can retire, now, and rest <m 
toy pillow. Ah, there are the things, too 
tlie toys, PeAaps I shall play with them 
again tomorrow.-- Ungb Rdbert Otr, 
*< 

dbild, bom sto a 
* spoiled daring oi 



natore, playmate erf" her elemental daiigfb- 
ters; * perd-Iike spirit, beantiM and 
swift," laired amidst tie burning fast- 
nesses of his own fervid mind; bold foot 



along the verges of precipitous dream, 
light leaper from crag to crag of inac- 
cessible fancies; towering Genius, whose 
soul, roselike aladderbetweenheaven and 
earth with the angels of song ascending 
and descending it he is shrunken into 
the little vessel of death, and sealed with 
the unshatterable seal of doom, and cast 
down deep below the rolling tides of Time. 
Mighty meat for little guests, when the 
heart of Shelley was laid in the cemetery 
of Caius Cestius! Beauty, music, sweet- 
ness, tears, the mouth of the worm has 
fed of them all. Into that sacred bridal- 
gloom of death where he holds his nup- 
tials with eternity let not our rash 
speculations follow him; let us hope, 
rather, that as, amidst material nature, 
where our dull eyes see only ruin, the 
finer art of science has discovered life in 
putridity and vigor in decay, seeing 
dissolution even and disintegration, 
which in the mouth of man symbolize dis- 
order, to be in the works of God unde- 
viating order, and the manner of our 
corruption to be no less wonderful than 
the manner of our health so amidst the 
supernatural universe some tender un- 
dreamed surprise of life in doom awaited 
that wild nature, which, worn by war- 
fare with itself, its Maker, and all the 
world, now 

Sleeps, and never palates more the dug, 
The be^ar*s nurse and Caesar's* 
" The Death of Shelley," by Francis 
Thompson $* * 

1 is related by a peasant that he had 
persuaded himself that beyond his 
i there were no others, and when he 
happened to lose a cow and was com- 
pelled to go in search of hex, he was 
astonished at the great number of fields 
beyoikl his own few acres. This must also 
be the case of many theorists win) have 
persuaded tfaenpselves that beyond this 
field cc little globe of earth there Be IK> 
other worlds simply because lie has 
not seen t&em, Spinoza. 

Let tlie farmer ferevennore be honored 
in Ms callng; isr tfeey wbo labor in the 
earth are the diosen people of GocL 




Page 149 




, NE raw morning in Spring 
it will be eighty years the 
nineteenth day of this month 
Hancock and Adams, the 
Moses and Aaron of that 
Great Deliverance, were both at Lex- 
ington; they also had " obstructed an 
officer " with brave words. British sol- 
diers, a thousand strong, came to seize 
them and carry them over sea for trial, 
and so nip the bud of Freedom auspi- 
ciously opening in that early Spring, lite 
town militia came together before day- 
light, " for training." A great, tall man, 
with a large head and a high, wide brow, 
their captain one who had " seen 
service" marshaled them into line, 
numbering but seventy, and bade " every 
man load his piece with powder and 
ball. I will order the first man shot that 
runs away," said he, when some fal- 
tered. " Don't fire unless fired upon, but 
if they want to have a war, let it begin 
here/' M $+> 

Gentlemen, you know what followed; 
those farmers and mechanics " fired the 
shot heard around the world." A little 
monument covers the bones of such as 
before had pledged their fortune and 
their sacred honor to the Freedom ot 
America, and that day gave it also 
their lives. I was born in that little town, 
and bred up amid the memories of that 
day. When a boy I read the first monu- 
mental line I ever saw " Sacred to 
Liberty and the Rights of Mankind." 
Since then I have studied the memorial 
marbles of Greece and Rome, in many 
an ancient town; nay, on Egyptian obe- 
lisks have read what was written before 
the Eternal roused up Moses to lead 
Israel out of Egypt; but no chiseled 
stone has ever stirred me to such emo- 
tions as those rustic names of men wiio 
fell " In the Sacred Cause of God and 
their Country/' Theodore Parker. 

** 

It is no time to swap horses when you 
are crossing the stream. 

Abraham Lincoln* 

> 

It is conceivable that religion may be 
witiboot being; fetrftep- 



v HE Venice that you see in the sim- 
^w* light of a summer's day the Venice 
that bewilders with her glory when you 
land at her Watergate; that delights with 
her color when you idle along the Riva; 
that intoxicates with her music as you lie 
in your gondola adrift on the bosom of 
some breathless lagoon the Venice of 
mold-stained palace, quaint cafe and 
arching bridge; of fragrant incense, cool, 
dim-lighted church, and noiseless priest; 
of strong men and graceful women 
the Venice of light and life, of sea and 
sky, and melody no pen can tell this 
story. The pencil and palette must lend 
their touch when one would picture the 
wide sweep of her piazzas, the abandon 
of her gardens, the charm of her canal 
and street life, the happy indolence of 
her people, the faded sumptuousness of 
her homes. 

If I have given to Venice a prominent 
place among the cities of the earth, it is 
because in this selfish, materialistic, 
money-getting age it is a joy to live, if 
only for a day, where a song is more 
prized than a soldo; where the poorest 
pauper laughingly shares his scanty 
crust; where to be kind to a child is a 
habit, to be neglectful of old age a shame; 
a city the relics of whose past are tSae 
lessons of our future; whose every can- 
vas, stone, and bronze bear witness to a 
grandeur, luxury, a taste that took a 
thousand years of energy to perfect, and 
wiU take a thousand years of neglect to 
destroy *> $+ 

To every one of my art-loving country- 
men this city should be a Mecca; to 
know her tlKH/oughly is to know aH ttsc 
beauty and romance of five centuries. 
F. Hopkinsoa Smith. 

*+>+> 

Flower in the crannied wall, 
I pluck you out of tfae crannies* 
Iholdyoahej^footandall, in my hand, 
Little fiewer font if I could \mdexstand 
What fon ape* toot and a!!, and aH in all, 
I should know what God and man is. 



rTo believe HI immortality is one 
bat it is first needful to bdieve in life. 
, v* if * * ,: ^ Robert Louis Stevenson* 



Page ISO 



HUBBAKD'S 



Y Dear Sammy I hope 
, >; -& that you retain the impres- 
vi, jVj J sions of your education, nor 
^\k^ have forgot that the vows of 
-',-.-., Ood gje U pon you. You 
know that the first fruits are Heaven's 
by an unalienable right, and that, as 
your parents devoted you to the service 
of the altar, so you yourself made it your 
choice when your 
father was offered 
another way of life 
for you. But have 
you duly consid- 
ered what such .* 
a choice and such a 
dedication im- 
ports? Consider 
well what separa- 
tion from the 
world, what purity, 
what devotion, 
what exemplary 
virtue, are required 
hi those who are 
to guide others to 
glory ! I say exemp- 
lary; for low, com- 
mon degrees of 
piety are not suffi- 
cient for those of 
the sacred func- 
tion. You must not 
thfnk to live lite 
the rest of the 
world; your light 
must so shine before men that they may 
see your good works* and thereby be 
led to glorify your Father which is in 
Heaven. For my part, I can not see with 
what face clergymen can reprove sinners, 
or exhsort men to lead a good life, when 
they themselves indulge their own cor- 
rupt indinations, and by their practice 
contradict their doctrine. If the Holy 
Jesus be indeed their Master, and they 
are reaiy His ambassadors, surely it 
becomes tliem to live like His disciples; 
askl if they do not, what a sad account 
tibey give of their stewardship. 
I would advise you, as much as possible 
in your present circumstances, to throw 
your business Into a certain method, by 
which means you wit learn to improve 



There by the window in the old house 
Perched on the bluff, overlooking miles 

of valley. 
My days of labor closed, sitting out life's 

decline, 

Day by day I look in my memory, 
As one who gazes in an enchantress* 

crystal globe, 

And I saw the figures of the past, 
As if in a pageant glassed by a shining 

dream, 
Move through the incredible sphere of 

time. 
And I saw a man arise from the soil like a 

fabled giant 
And throw himself over a deathless 

destiny, 
Master of great armies, head of the 

republic, 

(Concluded on next page) 



every precious moment, and find an un- 
speakable facility in the performance of 
your respective duties. Begin and end 
the day with Him who is the Alpha and 
Omega, and if you really experience what 
it is to love God, you will redeem all the 
time you can for His more immediate 
service. I will tell you what rule I used to 
observe when I was in my father's house, 
and had as little, if 
not less liberty 
than you have now. 
I used to allow my- 
self as much time 
for recreation as I 
spent in private de- 
votion; not that 
I always spent so 
much, but I gave 
myself leave to go 
so far but no far- 
ther. So in aH 
things else, ap- 
point so much time 
for sleep, eating, 
company, etc., but 
above all things, 
my dear Sammy, I 
command you, I 
beg, I beseech you, 
to be very strict in 
observing the 
Lord's Day. In all 
things endeavor to 
act on principle, 
and do not live like 
the rest of mankind, who pass through 
the world like straws upon a river, which 
are carried which way the stream or 
wind drives them. Often put this ques- 
tion to yourself: Why do I do this or 
that? Why do I pray, read, study, or use 
devotion, etc.? By which means you 
wifl come to such a steadiness and on- 
sistency in your words and actions as 
becomes a reasonably creature and a 
good Christian. 

Your affectionate mother, 

Sus. Wesley. 

(Letter to Her Eldest Son, dated Ep- 
worth, October, 1709.) 



Seif-raofideiice is the first requisite to 
great undertakings. Samsuel Johnson. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 151 



HE Battle of Waterloo is an 
enigma as obscure for those 
who gained it as for him who 
lost it. To Napoleon it is a 
; 'j ***' r -"*- "^ panic; Blucher sees nothing 
in it but fire; Wellington does not under- 
stand it at all. Look at the reports: the 
bulletins are confused; the commentaries 
are entangled; the latter stammer, the 
former stutter. 
Jomini divides the 
battle of Water- 
loo into four mo- 
ments: Muffling 
cuts it into three 
acts; Charras,altho 
we do not entirely 
agree with him in 
all his apprecia- 
tions, has alone 
caught with his 
haughty eye the 
characteristic 
lineaments of this 
catastrophe of hu- 
man genius con- 
tending with divine 
chance. All the 
other historians 
suffer from a cer- 
tain bedazzlement 
in which they 
grope about. It was 
a flashing day, in 
truth the over- 
throw of the mili- 
tary monarchy which, to the great stupor 
of the kings, has dragged down all king- 
doms, the downfall of strength and the 
rout of war. 

In this event, which bears the stamp of 
superhuman necessity, men play but a 
small part; but if we take Waterloo from 
Wellington and Blucher, does that de- 
prive England and Germany of any- 
thing? No. Neither illustrious Engjand 
nor august Germany is in question in the 
problem of Waterloo, for, thank heaven! 
nations are great without the mournful 
achievements of the sword. Neither 
Germany, nor England, nor France is 
held in a scabbard; at this day when 
Waterloo is only a dash of sabers, Ger- 
many has Goethe above Bfac&er, and 



Bringing together into 

recreative song 
The epic hopes of a people: 
At the some time Vulcan of sovereign fires, 
Where imperishable shields and swords 

were beaten out 
Prom spirits tempered in heaven. 
Look in the crystal! See how he hastens on 
To the place where his path comes up to 

the path 

Of a child of Plutarch and Shakespeare. 
O Lincoln, actor indeed, playing well your 

Part, 
And Booth, who strode in a mimic play 

within the play, 
Often and often I saw you, 
As the cawing crows winged their way to 

the wood 

Over my house-top at solemn sunsets, 
There by my window, 
Alone. 

" William H. Hemdon," by Edgar Lee Masters 



England Byron above Wellington. A 
mighty dawn of ideas is peculiar to our 
age; and in this dawn England and Ger- 
many have their own magnificent flash. 
They ^ are majestic because they think; 
the high level they bring to civilization 
is intrinsic to them; it comes from them- 
selves, and not from an accident. Any 
aggrandizement the nineteenth century 
may have can not 
a dithyramb of boast of Waterloo 
as its fountainhead 
for only barbarous 
nations grow sud- 
denly after a vic- 
tory it is the tran- 
sient vanity of tor- 
rents swollen by a 
storm. Civilized 
nations, especially 
at the present day, 
are not elevated or 
debased by the 
good or evil for- 
tune of a captain, 
and their specific 
weight in the hu- 
man family results 
from something 
more than a battle. 
Their honor, dig- 
nity, enlighten- 
ment, and genius 
are not numbers 
which those gam- 
blers, heroes, and 
conquerors can stake in the lottery of 
battles. Very often a battle lost is prog- 
ress gained, and less of glory, more of 
liberty. The drummer is silent and reason 
speaks; it is the game of who loses wins. 
Let us, then, speak of Waterloo coldly 
from both sides, and render to chance tiie 
things that belong to chance, and to God 
what is God's. What is Waterloo a 
victory? No; a qjiine in the lottery, won 
by Europe, and paid by France; it was 
hardly worth while erecting a Bon for it. 
^ Waterloo, % the way, is the strangest 
encounter recorded in tiistory ; Napoleon 
and Wellington are not enemies, but 
contraries* Hever dM God, who deEgJiis 
in anstitiieses, produce a more striking 
contrast or a more extraordinary con- 



Page 152 



frontation. On one side precision, fore- 
sight, geometry, prudence, a retreat 
assured, reserves prepared, an obstinate 
coolness,an imperturbable method, strat- 
egy profiting by the ground, tactics 
balancing battalions, carnage measured 
by a plumb-line, war regulated, watch in 
hand, nothing left voluntarily to accident, 
old classic courage and absolute correct- 
ness. On the other side we have intuition, 
divination, military strangeness, super- 
human instinct, a flashing glance; some- 
thing that gazes like the eagle and strikes 
like lightning, all the mysteries of a pro- 
found mind, association with destiny; 
the river, the plain, the forest, and the 
hill summoned, and, to some extent, 
compelled to obey, the despot going so 
far as even to tyrannize over the battle- 
field ; faith in a star, blended with strateg- 
ic science, heightening, but troubling it. 
Wellington was the Bareme of war, 
Napoleon was its Michelangelo, and this 
true genius was conquered by calcula- 
tion. On both sides somebody was ex- 
pected; and it was the exact calculator 
who succeeded. Napoleon waited for 
Grouchy, who did not come; Wellington 
waited for Blucher, and he came. 
Wellington is the classical war taking its 
revenge; Bonaparte, in his dawn, had 
met it in Italy, and superbly defeated it 
the old owl fled before the young 
vulture. The old tactics had been not 
only overthrown, but scandalized. Who 
was this Corsican of six-and-twenty 
years of age? What meant this splendid 
ignoramus, who, having everything 
againsthim,iK>thing for him, without pro- 
visions, ammunition, guns, shoes, almost 
without an army, with a handful of men 
agaiast masses, dashed at affied Europe, 
and absurdly gamed impossible victories? 
Who was this new comet of war who 
possessed the efecctey of a planet? The 
academic military school excosoniiim- 
cated him, while bolting, and hence arose 
an implacable imieor of tlieoldCaesarisin 
against the new, of the old saber a$saiBst 
the ffofthfniE sword, ^v| of the chess- 
board against genius. Qa June 18th, 
1815, this rancor @ot fee best; and 
beneath Lodi, MoetefoeHo, Moofceiiotte, 



Waterloo. It was a triumph of mediocrity, 
sweet to majorities, and destiny con- 
sented to this irony. In his decline, 
Napoleon found a young Suvarov before 
him in fact, it is only necessary to 
blanch Wellington's hair in order to have 
a Suvarov. Waterloo is a battle of the 
first class, gained by a captain of the 
second * so 

What must be admired in the battle of 
Waterloo isEngland, the English firmness, 
the English resolution, the English blood, 
and what England had really superb 
in it, is (without offense) herself; it is 
not her captain, but her army. Well- 
ington, strangely ungrateful, declares in 
his dispatch to Lord Bathurst that his 
army, the one which fought on June 18th, 
1815, was a " detestable army/' What 
does the gloomy pile of bones buried in 
the trenches of Waterloo think of this? 
England has been too modest to herself 
in her treatment of Wellington, for 
making him so great is making herself 
small. Wellington is merely a hero, like 
any other man. The Scotch Grays, the 
Life Guards, Maitland and Mitchell's 
regiments, Pack and Kempt's infantry, 
Ponsonby and Somerset's cavalry, the 
Highlanders playing the bagpipes under 
the shower of canister. Ryiand's battal- 
ions, the fresh recruits who could hardly 
manage a musket, and yet held their 
ground against the old bands of Essling 
and Rivoli all this is grand. Welling- 
ton was tenacious; that was his merit, 
and we do not deny it to him, but the 
lowest of his privates and his troopers 
was quite as solid as he, and the iron 
soldier is as good as the iron duke. For 
our part, all our glorification is offered to 
the English soldier; the English army, 
the English nation; and if there must be 
a trophy, it is to England that this trophy 
is owing. The Waterloo column woiald be 
more just, if, instead of the figure of a 
laan, it raised to the clouds the statue of 
a people. 

BottliisgEeat Eagjand wffl beimtated by 
what we are writing here; for she still 
has feudal Shisioas, after her 1688 and 
tibe Freud* 1789. This people believes in 
mlieritaoce and Merarchy, and wfc2e 
no other excels it m power and glory, 



it esteems itself as a nation and not as a 
people. As a people, it readily subordi- 
nates itself, and takes a lord as its head; 
the workman lets himself be despised; 
the soldier puts up with flogging. It will 
be remembered that, at the battle of 
Inkerman, a sergeant who, as it appears, 
saved the British army, could not be 
mentioned by Lord Raglan, because the 
military hierarchy does not allow any 
hero below the rank of officer to be men- 
tioned in dispatches. What we admire 
before all, in an encounter like Water- 
loo, is the prodigious skill of chance. The 
night raid, the wall of Hougomont, the 
hollow of Chain, Grouchy deaf to the 
cannon, Napoleon's guide deceiving him, 
Bulow's guide enlightening him all 
this cataclysm is marvelously managed. 
C Altogether, we will assert, there is 
more of a massacre than of a battle in 
Waterloo. Waterloo, of all pitched bat- 
tles, is the one which had the small- 
est front for such a number of combat- 
ants. Napoleon's three-quarters of a 
league. Wellington's half a league, and 
seventy-two thousand combatants on 
either side. From this density came the 
carnage. The following calculation has 
been made and proportion established: 
loss of men, at Austerlitz, French, four- 
teen per cent; Russian, thirty per cent; 
Austrian, forty-four per cent. At Wa- 
gram, French, thirteen per cent; Aus- 
trian, fourteen per cent. At Moscow, 
French, thirty-seven per cent; Russian, 
forty- four per cent. At Bautzen, French, 
thirteen per cent; Russian and Prus- 
sian, fourteen per cent. At Waterloo, 
French, fifty-six per cent; Allies, thirty- 
one per cent total for Waterloo, forty- 
one per cent, or out of one hundred and 
forty-four thousand fighting men, sixty 
thousand killed. 

The field of Waterloo has at the present 
day that calmness which belongs to the 
earth, and resembles aH plains; but at 
night, a sort of visionary mist rises from 
it, and if any traveler walk about it, and 
listen and dream, like Virgil on the 
inonrnful plain of PtiKppi, the jhafltt- 
cination of the catastrophe seizes upon 
htm... The frlgfatfel Jrae 18th lives agalfl^ 
the felse mOTpmea^^hafe leveled, tie 



Page 153 



wondrous lion is dissipated, the battle- 
field resumes its reality, lines of infantry 
undulate on the plain; furious galloping 
crosses the horizon; the startled dreamer 
sees the flash of sabers, the sparkle of 
bayonets, the red light of shells, the 
monstrous collision of thunderbolts; he 
hears, like a death groan from the tomb, 
the vague clamor of the phantom battle. 
These shadows are grenadiers; these 
flashes are cuirassiers; this skeleton is 
Napoleon; this skeleton is Wellington; 
all this is non-existent, and yet still com- 
bats, and the ravines are stained purple, 
and the trees rustle, and there is fury 
even in the clouds and in the darkness, 
while all the stern heights, Mont St. 
Jean, Hougomont, Frischemont, Pape- 
lotte, and Plancenoit, seem confusedly 
crowned by hosts of specters extermi- 
nating one another. Victor Hugo. 



Rembrandt at the head of 
the moderns, and far above them aH. 
Correggio alone approaches him at 
certain moments. Rembrandt did not 
seek after plastic beauty like the Italians, 
but he discovered souls, he understood 
them and transfigured them in his mar- 
velous light. Titian's or rather, the 
Duke of Genoa's mistress is more 
beautiful than Rembrandt's SasHa, but 
how infinitely I prefer the latter! As a 
colorist, I place Rembrandt above Titian, 
above Veronese, above every one! Rem- 
brandt never lets our attention wander, 
as the others sometimes do. He com- 
mands it, concentrates it; we can not 
escape him. We feel that Rembrandt was 
full of kindliness. He loved the poor, he 
painted them as they were, in all their 
wretchedness* There is something pene- 
trating, kindly, acute, sensual, in Jiis 
own radiantly living face, which wins the 
spectator's heart as be gazes. 

Meissomer. 



God be thanked for books, They are the 
voices of tbe distant and the (lead, and 
make BS bears of the spiritual life of past 
ages. William E. Channing. 

** 9+ 

Art is more godlike than science. Science 
; art creates. Joim Opie, 



Page 154 



&UBBAR&S 




| HEN in my journeys among 
the Indian tribes of Canada, 
I left European dwellings, 
and found myself, for the 
first time, alone in the midst 
of an ocean of forests, having, so to 
speak, all nature prostrate at my feet, 
a strange change took place within me, 
I followed no road; I went from tree to 
tree, now to the 
right, now to the 
left, saying to my- 
self, "Here there 
are no more roads 
to follow, no more 
towns, no more s* 
narrow houses, no 
more presidents, 
republics, or kings 
above all, 
no more laws, and 
no more men.** 
Men! Yes, some 
good savages, who 
cared nothing for 
me, nor I for them; 
who, like me, wan- 
dered freely wher- 
ever their fancy led 
them, eating when 
they felt inclined, 
sleeping when and where they pleased. 
And, in order to see if I were really 
established in my original rights, I gave 
myself up to a thousand acts of eccen- 
tricity, which enraged the tall Dutchman 
who was my guide, and who, in his heart, 
thought I was mad, 

Escaped from the tyrannous yoke of 
society, I understood then the charms of 
that independence of nature which far 
surpasses all the pleasures of which 
civilized man can form any idea. I under- 
stood why not one savage has become a 
European, and why many Europeans 
have become savages; why the sublime 
Discourse on the Inequality of Rank is 
so little understood i>y the most part of 
our philosophers. It is incredible bow 
gtn^Tj and diminished the y*ffitv*m and 
their most boasted iBstitutiQfjs appeared 
in my eyes; it seemed to me as if I saw 
the kingdoms of tfee earth through an 
inverted spy-glass, oc rather that, being 



A fire-mist and a planet, 

A crystal and a cell, 
A jellyfish and a saurian, 

And caves where the cave-men dwell; 
Then a sense of law and beauty, 

And a face turned from the clod, 
Some call it Evolution, 

And others call it God. 



myself grown and elevated, I looked 
down on the rest of my degenerate race 
with the eye of a giant. 
You who wish to write about men, go 
into the deserts, become for a moment 
the child of nature, and then and then 
only take up the pen. 
Among the innumerable enjoyments of 
this journey one especially made a vivid 
impression on my 
mind 



A haze on the far horizon, 

The infinite, tender sky, 
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields, 

And the wild geese sailing high, 
And all over upland and lowland 

The charm of the goldenrod, 
Some of us cell it Autumn, 

And others call it God. 

(Concluded on next page) 



I was going then 
to see the famous 
cataract of Niag- 
ara, and I had 
taken my way 
through the Indian 
tribes who inhabit 
the deserts to the 
west of the Ameri- 
can plantations. 
My guides were 
the sun, a pocket- 
compass, and the 
Dutchman of 
whom I have spok- 
en: the latter 
understood per- 
fectly five dialects 
of the Huron lan- 
guage. Our train 

consisted of two horses, which we let 
loose in the forests at night, after fasten- 
ing a bell to their necks. I was at first a 
little afraid of losing them, but my guide 
reassured me by pointing out that, by a 
wonderful instinct, these good animals 
never wandered out of sight of our fire. 
[ One evening, when, as we calculated 
that we were only about eight or nine 
leagues from the cataract, we were pre- 
paring to dismount before sunset, in 
order to build our hut and light our 
watch-fire after the Indian fashion, we 
perceived in the wood the fires of some 
savages who were encamped a little 
lower down on the shores of the same 
stream as we were. We went to them. 
The Dutchman having by my orders 
asked their permission for -us to pass tie 
nigjst with "diem, which was granted 
immediately, we set to work with our 
hosts* After having cut down some 
brandies, planted soine states, torn off 



Page 1SS 



Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, 

When the moon is new and thin, 
Into our hearts high yearnings 

Come welling and surging in, 
Come from the mystic ocean, 

Whose rim no foot has trod, 
Some of us call it Longing, 

And others call it God. 



some bark to cover our palace, and per- 
formed some other public offices, each of 
us attended to his own affairs. I brought 
my saddle, which served me well for a 
pillow all through my travels; the guide 
rubbed down the horses; and as to his 
night accomodation, since he was not 
so particular as I am, he generally made 
use of the dry trunk of a tree. Work 
being done, we 
seated ourselves in 
a circle, with our 
legs crossed like 
tailors, around the 
immense fire, to 
roast our heads of 
maize, and to pre- 
pare supper. I had 
still a flask of 
brandy, which 
served to enliven 
our savages not a 
little. They found 
out that they had 
some bear hams, 
and we began a 
royal feast. 
The family con* 
sisted of two wo- 
men, with infants 
at their breasts, 

and three warriors; two of them might 
be from forty to forty-five years of age, 
although they appeare4 much older, and 
the third was a young man. 
The conversation soon became general; 
that is to say, on my side it consisted of 
broken words and many gestures an 
expressive language, which these nations 
understand remarkably well, and that I 
had learned among them. The young 
man alone preserved an obstinate silence; 
he kept his eyes constantly fixed on me* 
In spite of the black, red and blue stripes, 
cut ears, and the pearl hanging from his 
nose, with which he was disfigured, it 
was easy to see the nobility and sensi- 
bility which animated his countenance. 
How well I knew he was inclined not to 
love me! It seemed to me as if he were 
reading in his heart the history of all the 
wrongs which Europeans have inflicted 
on his native country. Tlie two children, 
quite naked, were asleep at our feet 



before the fire; the women took them 
quietly into their arms and put them to 
bed among the skins, with a mother's 
tenderness so delightful to witness in 
these so-called savages: the conversation 
died away by degrees, and each fell 
asleep in the place where he was. 
I alone could not close my eyes, hearing 
on all sides the deep breathing of my 
hosts. I raised my 
head, and, support- 
ing myself on my 
elbow, watched by 
the red light of the 
expiring fire the 
Indians stretched 



A picket frozen on duty 

A mother starved for her brood 
Socrates drinking the hemlock, 

And Jesus on the rood; 
And millions who, humble and nameless, 

The straight, hard pathway plod, 
Some call it Consecration, 

And others call it God. 

" Each In His Own Tongue," 

by William Herbert Cwnrvth 



around me and 
plunged in sleep. 
I confess that I 
could hardly re- 
frain from tears. 
Brave youth, how 
your peaceful sleep 
affects me! You, 
who seemed so sen- 
sible of the woes of 
your native land, 
you were too great, 
too high-minded to 
mistrust the for- 
eigner! Europeans, 

what a lesson for you! These same 
savages whom we have pursued with 
fire and sword, to whom our avarice 
would not leave a spadeful of earth to 
cover their corpses in all this world, 
formerly their vast patrimony these 
same savages receiving their enemy into 
their hospitable hut, sharfng with him 
their miserable meal, and, their couch 
undisturbed by remorse, sleeping dose 
to him the calm sleep of the innocent. 
These virtues are as much above the 
virtues of conventional life as the soul 
of the rnfrn in his natural state is above 
that of the man in society. 

Chateaubriand. 
* **> 

The bed had become a place of luxury to 
me! I would not exchange it for all tfee 
thrones in the world. Napoleon L 



less people speak of their greatness 
tfae more we *** of it. Bacon- 



Page 156 



ffU&BARD'S 




* ;<HE greatest prerogative that 
man has, is his freedom to 
'* work. Few words have such 
! individual, and yet such 
diverse, meanings to differ- 
ent people as the word " work," and no 
form of action has more diversity in its 
conception, because of differing view- 
points, than work. 

A little child when asked his idea of work 
said, "Anything I have to do is work, and 
anything I want to do is play" which 
answer showed that the child recognized 
his relation to that form of activity 
known as work; also it demonstrated 
that work had been presented to his 
mind as drudgery. 

Drudgery is work which we make diffi- 
cult; which is done because we must do 
it, and which we regard with aversion; it 
is the hard, sordid form of work, seem- 
ingly without hope and apart from any 
of the joy of accomplishment. 
Work should be a joy; it should be the 
motive of our lives; and it would be 
if we regarded it in the light of its being 
a labor of love; but we have come to 
think of what we call labor with almost 
a sense of pain. Most of us resolve our 
work into labor and, while it results in 
accomplishment, it becomes unpleasant 
and strenuous in the method of its 
execution s*-*^ 

The secret of the true love of work is 
the hope of success in that work; not 
for the money reward, for the time 
spent, or for the skill exercised, but for 
the successful result in the acccnnplish- 
ment of the work itself. 

Sidney A. Weitmer. 

* 

Every man's life is a feiry-tale written 
bjr Gkxl's finders. 

Haas Christian Andersen* 



, read Ganger m Paris, and 
pa^es of 1m Mile, de Maupin still 
stick in my meraorj; like Moore, I 
cook! boast that "the stream Ts&icti 
poured from Hie side of the deified 
One and made a red girdk ramkt tfae 
world, never bathed me in its Hood.** 
I, too, loved gold and inaitde and poiple 
and bands of nude youths f*Ki 



swaying on horses without bridle or 
saddle against a background of deep 
blue as on the frieze of the Parthenon. 
But afterwards I learned something of 
what the theory of evolution implies; 
realized that all great men are moments 
in the life of mankind, and that the 
lesson of every great life in the past must 
be learned before we can hope to push 
further into the Unknown than our pre- 
decessors. Gradually I came to under- 
stand that Jerusalem and not Athens is 
the sacred city and that one has to love 
Jesus and his gospel of love and pity or 
one will never come to full stature. Born 
rebels even have to realize that Love is 
the Way, the Truth and the Life; no one 
cometh to wisdom but by Love. The 
more I studied Jesus the greater he 
became to me till little by little he 
changed my whole outlook on life. I have 
been convinced now for years that the 
modern world in turning its back on 
Jesus and ignoring his teaching has gone 
helplessly astray. 

There is new hope for us in the legend of 
Jesus and in his stupendous success; 
hope and perhaps even some foundation 
for faith. That a man should live in an 
obscure corner of Judea nineteen cen- 
turies ago, speak an insignificant dia- 
lect, and yet by dint of wisdom and good- 
ness and in spite of having suffered a 
shameful death, reign as God for these 
two thousand years and be adored by 
hundreds of millions of the conquering 
races, goes far to prove that goodness 
and wisdom are fed by some hidden 
source and are certain therefore to in- 
crease among men. 

We, too, can believe as Jesus believed, 
that goodness perpetuates itself, in- 
creasing from age to age, while the evil 
is diTnrrifaforrtg, dying, and is only relative 
so to speak, or growth arrested. And our 
high task is to help this shaping spirit 
to sdf-fesiizatkm and fulfilment in OEIT 
own sonisv knowing all the while that 
roses of life grow best about the Cross, 
Frank Harris. 
*>* 

AH titiUi is am adbkwement. If you 
would hasm truth at its feS value, go 
ft. llaeger. 



Page 157 



S the plow is the typical in- 
strument of industry, so the 
fetter is the typical instru- 
^aaent of the restraint or 
subjection necessary in a 
nation either literally, for its evildoers, 
or figuratively, in accepted laws, for its 
wise and good men. You have to choose 
between this figurative and literal use; 
for depend upon it, the more laws you 
accept, the fewer penalties you will have 
to endure, and the fewer punishments to 
enforce. For wise laws and just restraints 
are to a noble nation not chains, but 
chain mail strength and defense, though 
something also of an encumbrance. And 
this necessity of restraint, remember, is 
just as honorable to man as the neces- 
sity of labor. You hear every day greater 
numbers of foolish people speaking about 
liberty, as if it were such an honorable 
thing: so far from being that, it is, on the 
whole, and in the broadest sense, dis- 
honorable, and an attribute of the lower 
creatures. No human being, however 
great or powerful, was ever so free as a 
fish. There is always something that he 
must or must not do; while the fish may 
do whatever he likes. All the kingdoms of 
the world put together are not half so 
large as the sea, and all the railroads and 
wheels that ever were, or will be invented 
are not so easy as fins. You will find, on 
fairly thinking of it, that it is his re- 
straint which is honorable to man, not 
his liberty; and, what is more, it is re- 
straint which is honorable even, in the 
lower animals. A butterfly is much more 
free than a bee; but you honor the bee 
more, just because it is subject to cer- 
tain laws which fit it for orderly function 
in bee society. And throughout tlie 
world, of the two abstract things, 
liberty and restraint, restraint is always 
the more honorable. It is true, indeed, 
that in these and all other matters you 
never can reason finally from the ab- 
straction, for both liberty and restraint 
are good when they are nobly chosen, 
and both sre bad when they are badly 
chosen; bet of the two^ I repeat, it is 
restraint which characterizes the higher 
creature and betters the lower 



angel to the labor of the insect from 
the poising of the planets to the gravita- 
tion of a grain of dust the power and 
glory of all creatures, and all matter, con- 
sist in their obedience, not in their free- 
dom. The sun has no liberty a dead 
leaf has much. The dust of which you 
are formed has no liberty. Its liberty will 
come with its corruption. And, there- 
fore I say that as the first power of a 
nation consists in knowing how to guide 
a plow, its second power consists in 
knowing how to wear the fetter. 

John Ruskin. 

$* 5* 

KISSES, groans, catcalls, drumming 
with the feet, loud conversation and 
imitations of animals went on through- 
out (the maiden speech of Benjamin 
Disraeli in the House of Coimnons). 
.... But. ... it does not follow that the 
maiden speech of the member for Maid- 
stone was a failure. It was indeed in one 
sense a very hopeful business inasmuch as 
the reports prove he was quite capable of 
holding his own amidst extraordinary 
interruptions * ** 

Mr. Disraeli wound up in these words, 
" Now, Mr. Speaker, we see the philo- 
sophical prejudices of Man. (Laughter 
and cheers.) I respect cheers, even when 
they come from the mouth of a political 
opponent. (Renewed laughter.) I think, 
sir, (Hear! Hear! and repeated cries of 
Question!) I am not at all surprised, sir, 
at the reception I have met with, (con- 
tinued laughter). I have begun several 
things many times (laughter, and I 
have always succeeded at last. (Question) 
Ay, sir, and though I sit down now, tite 
time will come wfien you wil hear me.** 

Disraeli, 



Beauty does iiot Be in the foee. It Iks 
in the harmony between nr^yn and Ms 
industry* Beauty is expression. When I 
paint a soother I try to render ber 
beaatiM by tiie asere look she gives her 
child. Jean Francois Millet. 



fEfoeir ^ofag beeee, even as 

3 

t is 



Page 158 



ENERAL BONAPARTE 
f $ ;? made himself as conspicuous 

'$- by his character and his 
% ^ ^\ intellect as by his victories, 
; : an( ^ ^6 imagination of the 
French began to be touched by him 
[1797]. His proclamations to the Cisal- 
pine and Ligurian republics were talked 
of. ... A tone of moderation and of dig- 
nity pervaded his 
style, which con- 
trasted with the 
revolutionary 
harshness of the 
civil rulers of 
France. The war- 
rior spoke in those 
days like a law- 
giver, while the 
lawgivers expressed 
themselves with 
soldier-like vio- 
lence. General 
Bonaparte had not 
executed in his 
army the decrees 
against the 
Emigres. It was said 
that he loved his 
wife, whose charac- 
ter is full of sweet- 
ness ;it was asserted 
that he felt the 
beauties of Ossian; 
it was a pleasure to 
attribute to him all 
the generous qual- 
ities that form a 
noble background 
for extraordinary 

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 Switzer- 
land without seeing him. But wfaen I had 
somewhat recovered from the agitation 
of admiration, it was followed by a feel- 
ing of very marked fear, Bonaparte tiiea 
had no power; he was thought even to 
be more or less in danger from the vague 
sospicioesness of the Directory; so that 



O my luve' s like a red, red rose, 
Thafs newly sprung in June; 

my hive's like the melodie 

Thafs sweetly played in tune. 

As fair thou art, my bonnie lass, 

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

Till (f the seas gang dry. 

Till of the seas gang dry, my dear, 
And the rocks melt, w the sun; 

1 zvill 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 



the fear he inspired was caused only by 
the singular effect of his personality 
upon almost every one who had inter- 
course 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- 
sions when I met 
him during his stay 
in Paris, that his 
character could not 
be defined by the 
words we are ac- 
customed to make 
use of: he was 
neither kindly nor 
violent, neither 
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 advantagethe 
more in subjugat- 
ing Frenchmen . . . 
Q Far from being 
reassured by seeing 
Bonaparte often, 
he always intimi- 
dated 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 mote hate than love. For him there 
is no ooe 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 
wiiose opponent is all humankind, whom 
he intends to checkmate. His success is 
due as much to the qualities he lacks as 
to the talents lie possesses. Neither pity, 
nor sympathy, nor religion, nor attach- 



Page 159 



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



structed and culti- 
vated by study, or 
by society, such as 
Engl and and 
France possess ex- 
amples of. But his 
conversation indi- 
cated that quick 
perception of cir- 
cumstances the 
hunter has in pur- 
suing his prey. 
Sometimes he re- 
lated the political 
and military events 
of his life in a very 
interesting man- 
ner; he had even, 
in narratives that 
admitted gaiety, a 
touch of Italian im- 
agination. Nothing 
however, could 
conquer my invin- 
cible alienation 
from what I per- 
ceived in him. I 



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 9 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! 



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 embar- 
rassing people by 
saying disagreeable 
things : an art 
which he has since 
made a system of, 
as of all other 
methods of subju- 
gating men by de- 



saw in his soul a 
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 
flesb 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 k>i*g, he appeared 



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 comefs 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 Rudy card Kipling 



grading them. 

Madame deStael 

., ^^ 
TTIFE would be 
^^ a perpetual 
flea hunt if a man 
were obliged to run 
down all the in- 
nuendoes, inveraci- 
ties, insinuations 
and misrepresenta- 
tions which are ut- 
tered against him. 
Henry Ward 
Beecher. 



inost joy- 
ful 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 nar- 
row 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 shaft 
thott eat bread." Is that merry, enliven- 
ing work? And yet it is here that I find 
the true hmnanity, the great poetry* 

Jean Francois MUet* 



Page 160 



JfU&BARD'S 




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 describ- 
ing 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 Grenadiers 
do 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 Marlborou^i), 
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 
caboose of drunken German lords, or a 
monarch's court, or a cottage table where 
his plans were laid, of an enemy's 
feattery; TOmforng ffaroe and death and 
strewing corpses round about Htm lie 
was always cold, a*$m r resolute, likie fafe. 
He performed a treason or a court bow, 
be told a falsehood as black as Styx, as 
easily as be paid a compliment or spoke 
about tie weatiber. He took a mistress 
and left her, lie betrayed Ms beodEactor 
and sopfXJTted 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 encourage- 
ment, 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 high- 
est 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 con- 
fidence 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 some- 
thing of theirs, either some quality or 
some property: the blood of a soldier, it 
migjit 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, taVTTtg all he could from woman or 
man, and having, as I said, this of the 
godlike in him, that he could see a hero 
pcrisb or a sparrow fall with the same 
amount of sympathy for either* 
Not ttiat fee had no tears, he could always 
order up this reserve at tbe proper 
mosneat to battle; he could draw upon 
tears or smiles Mike, and whenever need 
was for using this cheap coin. He wocM 
cringe to a shoeblack, and he would 



JSOOJFC 



Page 161 



flatter a minister or a monarch; be 
haughty, be humble, threaten, repent, 
weep, grasp your hand, or stab you 
whenever he saw occasion but yet 
those of the army who knew him best 
and had suffered most from him, admired 
him most of all; and as he rode along the 
lines to battle, or galloped up in the nick 
of time to a battalion reeling from the 
enemy's charge or shot, the fainting men 
and officers got new courage as they saw 
the splendid calm of his face, and felt 
that his will made them irresistible. 
After the great victory of Blenheim, the 
enthusiasm of the army for the duke, 
even of his bitterest personal enemies 
in it, amounted to a sort of rage: nay, 
the very officers who cursed him in their 
hearts were among the most frantic to 
cheer him. Who could refuse his meed of 
admiration to such a victory and such a 
victor? Not he who writes: a man may 
profess to be ever so much a philosopher, 
but he who fought on that day must feel 
a thrill of pride as he recalls it. 

William M. Thackeray. 

> fr> 

Soft is the music that would charm 
forever. William Wordsworth. 

*> 

HERE is, finally, a philosophic piety 
\*J which has the universe for its object. 
This feeling, common to ancient and 
modem Stoics, has an obvious justifica- 
tion in man's dependence upon the 
natural world and in its service to many 
sides of the mind. Such justification of 
cosmic piety is rather obscured tfran sup- 
ported by the euphemisms and ambigui- 
ties in which these philosophers usually 
indulge in their attempt to preserve the 
customary religious unction ^ For the 
more they personify the universe and 
give it the name of God the more they 
turn it into a devil. The universe, so far 
as we can observe it, is a wonderful and 
immense engine; its extent, its order, its 
beauty, its cruelty 9 makes it alike impres- 
sive. If we dramatize its life and con- 
ceive its spirit, we are filled with wonder, 
terror, and amusement, so magnificent is 
that spirit, so prolific, inexorable, gram- 
matical, and dull. Like all animals and 
plants, the cosmos? i^s it$ oro* 



doing things, not wholly rational nor 
ideally best, but patient, fatal, and fruit- 
ful. Great is this organism of mud and 
fire, terrible this vast, painful, glorious 
experiment. Why should we not look on 
the universe with piety? Is it not our 
substance? Are we made of other day? 
All our possibilities lie from eternity 
hidden in its bosom. It is the dispenser of 
all our joys. We may address it without 
superstitious terrors; it is not wicked. It 
follows its own habits abstractedly; it 
can be trusted to be true to its word. 
Society is not impossible between it and 
us, and since it is the source of all our 
energies, the home of all our happiness, 
shall we not cling to it and praise it, 
seeing that it vegetates so grandly and 
so sadly, and that it is not for us to 
blame it for what, doubtless, it never 
knew that it did? George Santayana. 

*> $+ 

Industry, economy, honesty and kind- 
ness form a quartette of virtues that will 
never be improved upon. James Oliver. 



main thing about a book is not 
in what it says, but in what it asks 
and suggests. The interrogation-point is 
the accusing finger of orthodoxy, which 
would rather be denounced than ques- 
tioned. Horace TraubeL, 

$*** 

|f| Y philosophy makes life the system 
M4 of feelings and desires 



and leaves knowledge merely the post o 
observer. This system of feelings is a 
fact in our minds about which. there can 
be no dispute, a fact of which we have 
intuitive knowledge, a knowledge not 
inferred by arguments, nor generated by 
reasonings which can be received or 
neglected as we choose. Only seen f ace- 
to-feee knowledge has reality. It alooe 
can get life in motion, since it springs 
from life. Fkhte. 



CHE sobiime and the ridiajloTO are 
often so aeady related that it is 
difficult to class them separately. One 
step above the sublime Tn^fe^ the 
ridiculous, au*t oee step above the ridicu- 
lous T^lres the sublime flgatf> T 



Page 162 




had been part of Nelson's 
prayer, that the British fleet 
might be distinguished by 
_ humanity in the victory 
which he expected. Setting 
an example himself, he twice gave orders 
to cease firing on the Redoubtable, sup* 
posing that she had 
struck, because her 
guns were silent; 
for, as she carried 
no flag there was no 
means of instant- 
ly ascertaining the 
fact B+- From this 
ship, which he had 
thus twice spared, 
he received his 
death. A ball fired 
from her mizzen- 
top, which, in the 

then situation of 

the two vessels, 

was not more than 

fifteen yards from 

that part of the 

deck where he was 

standing,struckthe 

epaulet on his left 

shoulder, about a 

quarter after one, 

just in the heat of 

action. He fell upon 

his face, on the 

spot which was 

covered with his 

poor secretary's 

blood. Hardy, who 

was a few steps 

xfom FTTTTir turnmf 

round, saw three 

men raising 



up **> " They have 



! Yes," be 



done for me at last, 

Hardy/'saMhe/'I 

ix>pe not," cried Harfy. 

replied; ** my backbone is 

Yet even now, not for a moment losing 

Iiis presence of mand,lie observed^ they 

were carrying him down tiie ladder, that 

tbe tiler ropes, wliich had been sfoot 

away , were not yet replaced, and ordered 



What is this, the sound and rumor? 

What is this that all men hear, 
Like the wind in hollow valleys when 

the storm is drawing near, 
Like the rolling on of the ocean in the 
eventide of fear? 
'T is the people marching on. 
Whither go they, and whence come they? 
What are these of whom ye tell? 
In what country are they dwelling 'twixt 

the gates of heaven and hell? 
Are they mine or thine for money? Will 
they serve a master well? 

Still the rumor *s 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. 

Forth they come from grief and torment; 

on they wend towards health and 

mirth, 
All the wide world is their dwelling, 

every corner of the earth. 
Buy them, sell them for thy service! 

Try the bargain what 'tis worth, 
For the days are marching on. 
These are they who build thy houses, 

weave thy raiment, win thy wheat, 
Smooth the rugged, fill the barren, turn 

the bitter into sweet, 
An for thee tM$ day and ever. What 

reward for them is meet 

TiU the host comes marching on? 

(CoodiM**d on. next page) 



then, that he might not be seen by tie 



crew, he took out his handkerchief, and 
covered his face and his stars. Had he 
but concealed these badges of honor 
from the enemy, England perhaps would 
not have had cause to receive with sor- 
row the news of the battle of Trafalgar. 
The cockpit was crowded with wounded 
and dying men ; over 
whose bodies he 
was with some diffi- 
culty conveyed, 
and laid upon a 
pallet in the mid- 
shipmen's berth $ 
< It was soon per- 
ceived, upon exam- 
ination, that the 
wound was mortal. 
This, however, was 
concealed from all 
except Captain 
Hardy, the chap- 
lain, and the medi- 
cal attendants. He 
himself being cer- 
tain, from the sen- 
sation in his back, 
and the gush of 
blood he felt mo- 
mentarily within 
his breast, that no 
human care could 
avail him, insisted 
that the surgeon 
should leave him, 
and attend to 
those to whom he 
might be useful; 
"for," said he,"you 
can do nothing for 
me." All that could 
be done was to fan 
him with paper,and 
frequently to give 
him lemonade to 
alleviate his intense thirst.He was in great 
pain, and expressed much anxiety for the 
event of the action, which now began to 
declare itself. As often as a ship struck, 
the crew of the Victory hurrahed; and at 
every hurrah a visible expression of joy 
gleamed in the eyes and marked thecotm- 
tenanceof the dying hero. But he became 
impatient to see Hardy ;andas that officer 



Page 163 



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 sup- 
press the feelings 
of that most pain- 
ful and yet sub- 
limest moment. 
C" 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." 
C[" I hope," said 
Nelson, "that none 
of our ships have 
struck!" Hardy 
answered, " There 
was no fear of 
that." Then, and 
not till then, Nel- 
son spoke of him- 
self; " I am going 
fast: it will be all 
over with me soon. Comenearer tome. 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 pros- 
pect of life. " O BO," he replied; " it is 
impossible. My back is shot through. 
Beatty wiH teH you so." Hardy tben> 
once more, shook hands with fey and 



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, 

And the world is marching on/* 
Hark the rolling of the thunder? 
Lo, the sun! and Io 9 thereunder 
Riseth wrath and hope and wonder 
And the host comes marching on. 

**The March, of the Workers," by WHKam Moms 



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 tool " And 
after a few minutes 
in the same under- 
tone, he added: 
" What would be- 
come of poor Lady 
Hamilton, if she 
knew my situa- 
tion! " Next to his 
country she occu- 
pied his thoughts. 
tl Captain Hardy, 
some fifty minutes 
after he had left 
the cockpit, return- 
ed; and, again tak- 
ing the hand of tis 
dying friend and 
commander, con- 
gratulated 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; tefe fourteen or fifteen at least. 
" That's wen," cried Nelson, " but I 
bargained fee twenty." And then, in a 
stronger voice, lie said: ** Anchor, Hardy; 
anchor." Hartty, upon this, hinted that 
Admiral Colingwood woidd take upon 
himself the direction of affairs. " Hot 
wfcle I Eve, Hardy," said Use djpiog 
ineffectually endeavoring to 



Page 164 



ffUBBARD'S 



raise himself from the bed: " do you 
anchor.* 3 His previous orders for pre- 
paring to anchor had shown clearly he 
foresaw the necessity of this. Presently, 
calling Hardy back, he said to him, in 
alowvoice^'Don'tthrowmeoverboard;" 
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 arjticulation 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 lie had received his wound. 

Robert Scrathey. 
* * 

People do not lack strength; they lack 
wSL Victor Hugo. 

*>* 

SOUL stood on fee bank of the 
River of Life, and it had to cross it. 
And first it ibcind a reed, and it tried 
to cross with it. But tie reed ran iofo its 
band at tiie top ta foe ap&oters and best 
wfeea it leaned on it. Hiai tiie son! found 
a staff aod it tried to cross with it: and 
the sharp end, ran into ttie ground, and 
the soul tried to draw it, bet it could not; 
and it stood in tiie water by its tal 
CThen 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 i How am I to 
cross; I have tried all roads and they 
have failed me? " 

And the River answered, " Cross me 
alone. 3 * &*> > 

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

&CN- ^ 

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

* SO 

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 beauti- 
ful 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 thatthe Churchof 
Christ was never so flourishing, nor 
divine worship so well conducted as at 
present .... likewise that the first prel- 
ates 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 ob- 
taining 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 oi 
wood, the prelates of gold; in these days 
the Church hath chalices of gold and 
prelates of wood. Savonarola- 

*> 

Qmet mrais can not be perplexed or 
frighteaosed, but go on in fortune or mis- 
fortune at their own private pace, like a 
dock daring a thimderstoniL 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



Consider how few things are worthy f 
angsr, and feon wit wosideir tfcafc nar 
fools sfaoaM be wroth. Ifcdbert Bdde^ 



vv -.? ^r-]T takes," says Thoreau, in 
;,v ! the noblest and most useful 
V: ><> I passage I remember to have 
'. v* %$?'& v;i read in any modern author, 
,**^^S*JK& " 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 inter- 
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 ^ 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 m^Tor^g 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 
Hfce<AerfetoicMis^so it is not, like them, 



Page 165 



to be perturbed or clouded. Each knows 
more than can be uttered; each lives by 
faith, and believes by a natural com- 
pulsion; and between man and wife the 
language of the body is largely developed 
and grown strangely eloquent s- The 
thought that prompted and was con- 
veyed in a caress would only lose to be 
set down in words ay, although Shake- 
speare himself should be the scribe, 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

Sfr 

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

* 

OUTH has a certain melancholy 
5Sr 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! 
Schopenhauer. 



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



forces when manifested 
in man exhibit a sequence, a succes- 
sion of steps. It follows, therefore, that 
when a man atone period of his life has 
omitted to put forth his strength ia a 
work which he knows to be in harmony 
with the divine ordjer 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 ap- 
peared, and do not; they are the missing 
Hub* in the chain of consequences. The 
measure of that void is the measure of his 
past inaction, and that man. wiH never 
quite reach the same level of attainment 
that he might hare tmiehed, had he 
divinely energized his lost moments. 

Friedrkh FiocbeL 



serves his country wet has 



Page 166 



ALBERT ffUBBARD'S 



N sober verity I will con- 
fess 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 sim- 
ple architect, that 
built his house up- 
on the sand, than 
I entertained for 
his more cautious 
neighbor ; I grudged 
at the hard cen- 
sure pronounced 
upon the quiet soul 
that kepthis talent; 
and prizing their 
simplicity beyond 
the more provident 
and, to my ap- 
prehension, some- 
what unfemtnine 
wariness of their 
competitors I 
felt a kindness, 
that almost 
amounted to a ten- 
dre, for those five 



It hain't no use to grumble and complane; 

It 'sjest as cheap and easy to rejoice. 

When God sorts out the weather and sends 

rain, 

Wy rain 's my choice. 



head, etc., the finer the flesh there- 
of;" 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, min- 
ions 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. 



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 
Of men thafs lived as long as me 
Has watched the world enugh to learn 
They're not the boss of this concern. 



With some, of course, ifs 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 may by would n't rain a bit! 

thoughtless vir- 



In this existence, dry and wet 
Witt overtake the best of men 

Some little skift <>* clouds 'II shet 
The sun off now and then. 

(Condnded on next page) 



gins. I have never 
made an acquain- 
tance since that 
lasted, or a friend- 
ship that answered, 
with any that had 
not some tincture of the absurd in their 
characters s*> I venerate an honest obli- 
quity of understanding. The more laugh- 
able blunders a tnan shall commit in your 
company, the more tests he giveth you 
that he will not betray or overreach you. 
I love tibe safety which a palpable hallu- 
cination warrants, the security wiikli a 
word oat of season ratifies- And take my 
word for this, reader, and say a fool told 
it you, if yon please, that he who hath not 
a dram of folly in his mixture hath points 
of much worse matter in his cocoposi- 
tion. It is observed that "the foolistierttie 
fowl, or flab, woodcocks, dotterels, cod's 



/^,'CHOPEN- 
i*>> HAUER'S 
character was made 
up of that com- 
bination of seem- 
ing contradictions 
which is the pecu- 
liarity of all great 
men. He had the 
audacity of child- 
hood, and the tim- 
idity of genius **> 
He was suspicious 
of every one, and 
ineffably kind- 
hearted. With stu- 
pidity in every 
form he was blunt, 
even to violence; 
yet his manner 
and courtesy were 
such as is attri- 
buted to gentle- 
men 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 foil of similar va- 
garies, and one has bat to turn to tiie 
history of any of the thinkers whose 



Page 167 



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

Edgar Saltus. 



^ T is dangerous for a man too sud- 
* J , denly or too easily to believe him- 
self. Wherefore let us examine, watch, 
observe, and inspect our own hearts, for 
we ourselves are 
our greatest flat- 
terers. We should 
every night call 
ourselves to an ac- 
count &+> s** 
What infirmity 
have I mastered 
today? What pas- 
sion opposed? What 
temptation re- 
sisted? What virtue 
acquired? s*. 
Our vices will abate 
of themselves if 
they be brought 
every day to the 
shrift.Oh the bless- 
ed sleep that fol- 
lows such a diary! 
COh 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 tny 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 Etot 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 ifl, but 
it shall be so no more. 
If every man woidd 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, 
And mayby, whilse you're wundern who 



You've fool-like lent your umbrell' to, 
And want it oufllpop the sun, 
And you'll be glad you hain't got none! 
It aggervates the farmers, too 

Theifs too much wet, er too much sun, 
Er work, er waitin' round to do 
Before the plowin* 9 s done: 
And mayby, like as not, the wheat, 
Jest as ifs lookin 9 hard to beat, 
Will ketch the storm and jest about 
The time the corn's a-jintin* out. 
These-here cy-clone$ a~joolirt round 
And backward crops! and wind and 

rain! 

And yit the corn thafs wdllerd down 
May elbow up again! 

They hain't no sense, as I can see f 
Per mortals, sich as us, to be 
A-faultin" Natchufs wise intents, 
And lockin* horns with Providence! 
It hain't no use to grumble and complane; 

Ifs jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. 
When God sorts out the weather and 

sends rain, 

W'y, rain's my choice. 
" Wet-Weather Talk," by James WMtcomb Meg 



to vex ourslves 
and others, and 
there is no anti- 
dote against a com- 
mon calamity but 
virtue; for the 
foundation of true 
joy is in the con- 
science * 

Seneca. 

M 

IN every man's 
life pilgrim- 
age, however un- 
blest, 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 These 
are the places of 
sacrifice, the meet- 
ing-ground of mor- 
tal and immortal, 



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

Monahan. 



Habit is a caMb; we weave a thread of it 
every day, and at last we can BOt break 
it. Horace 



The highest and most lofty trees have 

the most reason to dread the thunder. 

Charles 



Page 168 



ffUBBARD'S 




, I enjoin and re- 
: quire that no ecclesias- 
; tfc, missionary, or minister 

^'^a^^v- 1 f an y sec * 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 appropri- 
ated 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 excite- 
ment which clashing doctrines and 
sectarian controversy are so apt to pro- 
duce; my desire is, that all the instruc- 
tors and teachers in the college, shall 
take pains to instil into the minds of the 
scholars, the purest principles of mor- 
ality, 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. 

HubbartFs Note:~tb& heirs tried to break this 
w31 with Daniel Webster's assistance. Their con- 
tention was f banded largely upon thfo paragraph. 
Nevertheless the wiH prevailed before the Su- 
preme Court of the United States. 



Go not abroad; retire into thyself, for 
trath dwells in the inner man. 

Saint Augustine. 



the wide world roll away, 
Leaving blade teror, 
Limitless night, 

Nor God, nor mm? nor place to stand 
Wduld be to me esseptM, 
If them and thy wtiite anm were fliere 
And the fall to doom a long way. 

Stephen Crane. 
** 

You believe that easily wlikli you feope 
fe earnestly. Terence. 



;jf 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? 

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 some- 
where 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 un- 
even 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 proph- 
esy 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, 
ami I bad rather live and love where 
death is king, than have eternal Kfe 
whsere love Is not. Another life is naught, 
unless we kaow and love again tie ernes 
who love us here. 

Tliey who stand with aching hearts 
aiorad t&is BtQe grave need have no 
fear. Tlie larger and f&e nobler faitfe in 
al tiiat is and is to be, teHs us tbfll: 
even at fe worst* is 



J30CXFC 



Page 169 



rest. We know that through the common 
wants of life the needs and duties of 
each hour their griefs will lessen day 
by day, until at last this grave will be to 
them a place of rest and peace almost 
of joy. There is for them this consola- 
tion. The dead do not suffer. And if they 
live again, their lives will surely be as 
good as ours. We have no fear. We are all 
children of the same 
mother, and the same 
fate awaits us all. 
We, too, have our re- 
ligion, and it is this: 
Help for the living 
Hope for the dead. 
Robert G. Ingersoll. 



T is a mistake to 

suppose that in 
planting colonies in the 
New World the nations 
of Europe were moved 
mainly by a philan- 
thropic impulse to ex- 
tend the area of liberty and civilization. 
Colonies were planted for the purpose of 
raising up customers for home trade. It 
was a matter of business and specula- 
tion, carried on by joint stock com- 
panies for the benefit of corporations. 
4 While our Revolution was in progress 
Adam Smith, when discussing and con- 
demning the colonial system, declared 
that " England had founded an empire 
in the New World for the sole purpose of 
raising customers for her trade." 
When the colonies had increased in 
numbers and wealth, the purpose of the 
mother country was disclosed in the 
legislation and regulations by which the 
colonies were governed. 
Whatever did not enhance the trade and 
commerce of England was deemed unfit 
to be a part of the colonial policy. 
Worse even than its effects on the in- 
dustry of the colonies was the influence 
of this policy on political and commer- 
cial morality. The innumerable arbitrary 
laws enacted to enforce it created a 
thousand new ciimes-Transactions which 
the colonists tioegjit necessary to the 
welfare, and in. DO way rapogaagt. to tie 
sense of cxxl e% 



Out of the dusk a shadow, 

Then a spark; 
Out of the cloud a silence, 

Then, a lark; 
Out of the heart a rapture, 

Then, a pain, 
Out of the dead, cold ashes, 

Life again. 

"Evolution," by John Banister Tabb 



under heavy penalties. C They became a 
nation of law-breakers. Nine-tenths of 
the colonial merchants were smugglers. 
Nearly half of the signers of the Declara- 
tion of Independence were bred to com- 
merce, to the command of ships and to 
contraband trade. John Hancock was the 
prince of contraband traders; and with 
John Adams as his counsel, was on 
trial before the ad- 
miralty court in Bos- 
ton, at the exact hour 
of the shedding of the 
first blood at Lexing- 
ton, to answer for a 
$500,000 penalty al- 
leged to have been in- 
curred as a smuggler. 
<[ Half the tonnage of 
the world was engaged 
in smuggling or piracy. 
The war of indepen- 
dence was a war against 
commercial despotism; 
against an industrial 
policy which oppressed and tortured the 
industry of our fathers, and would have 
reduced them to perpetual vassalage for 
the gain of England. James A, GarfidcL 

BE who every morning plans the 
transactions of the day, and follows 
out that plan, carries a thread that will 
guide him through the labyrinth of the 
most busy life. The orderly arrangement 
of his time is like a ray of light which 
darts itself through all his ocoipatfoos. 
But where no plan is laid, where tiie 
disposal of time is surrendered merely 
to the chance of incidents, aH things lie 
huddled together in ooe cfaaos, wfeiek 
admits of neither distribcrtkm nor re- 
view. Hugo. 

Amid my Bst of blessings infinite, 
Stands ffi**^ the foremost, 
" That my heart has bled/* 

* Edward Ycong. 

It is not he that enters upoe any career, 
or starts in any race, but be that nms 
well and p<s*sevenngly that gainst the 
plaudits of others, or the approval of his 
own conscience, Alexander CampbelL 



Page 170 




HE life of a people is a tis- 
sue of crimes, miseries, and 
follies. That is no less true 
of Penguinia than of other 
* nations s* 
Gratian, the sage, toured Penguinia in 
the time of the last of the Draconide 
dynasty. Travelling one day through a 
lovely valley where cow bells tinkled in 
the pure air, he sat down on a bench at 
the foot of an oak tree, near a thatched 
cottage. On the doorstep a woman was 
suckling an infant; a youngster was 
playing with a big dog; a blind old man, 
seated in the sun, was drinking in the 
light of day through half-opened lips. 
C[ The master of the house, a robust 
young man, offered Gratian bread and 
milk and, the Marsouin philosopher 
after partaking, of this repast, exclaimed, 
" Kindly inhabitants of a gentle land, 
I thank you. Everything here breathes 
joy, concord and peace/' 
Even as he spoke, however, a shepherd 
passed, playing a martial air upon his 
bagpipes &* 

" What is that lively tune? " demanded 
Gratian > so- 

" That 5 s our war hymn against the 
Marsouins," replied the peasant." Every- 
body here sings it. Little children know 
it before they can talk. We are all good 
Penguin patriots/' 
" You don't like the Marsouins? " 
" We hate them." 

** For what reason do you hate them? " 
" How can you ask? They are our 
neighbors, are n't they? " 
" Undoubtedly/' 

" Weil, that *s the reason the Penguins 
hate the Maxserans/* 
"Is that a reason?" 
u Certainly. Who says ' neighbors * says 
* enemies * ** Loci at the field wMch 
touches mine. It belongs to the mom I 
hate most in the m>ri<i Alter frwrc my 
worst enemies are tibe people of the 
village on the other slope of the valley 
at the foot of that birch wood. In this 
narrow valley, closed in on aH sides, 
there is only that village and my village. 
Of course they are enemies. Every tfanp 
our chaps meet theirs, tfoey exchange 
insults and blows. And you don't see why 



the Penguins should be the enemies of 
the Marsouins! Don't you know what 
patriotism means? For me there are only 
two possible battlecries: * Long live the 
Penguins! Death to the Marsouins! * " 
Anatole France. 

6 

^ HIS Mahomet, son of Abdallah, 
"W was a sublime charlatan. He says 
in his tenth chapter, " Who but God can 
have composed the Koran? Do you think 
Mahomet has forged this book? Well, 
try and write one chapter resembling it, 
and call to your aid whomsoever you 
please." In the seventeenth chapter, he 
exclaims, " Praise be to him who in a 
single night transported his servant 
from the sacred temple of Mecca to that 
of Jerusalem!" 

This was a fine journey, "but nothing 
compared to the one he took that same 
night jrom planet to planet. He pretended 
that it was five hundred years' journey 
from one to the other, and that he had 
cleft the moon in twain. His disciples who, 
after his death, collected in a solemn 
manner the verses of his Koran, sup- 
pressed this celestial journey, for they 
dreaded raillery and rationalization. 
After all, they had more delicacy than 
was needed. They might have trusted 
to the commentators, who would have 
found no difficulty in explaining the 
itinerary s* Mahomet* s friends should 
have known by experience that the 
marvelous is the reason of the multi- 
tude. The wise contradict in a silence, 
which the multitude prevents their 
breaking. But while the itinerary of the 
planets was suppressed, a few words were 
retained about the adventure of the 
moon; one can not forever be on one's 
guard $+ 

The Koran is a rhapsody, without 
connection, without order, and withocrt 
art, It is a poem or a sort of rhymed 
piose, consisting of about three thousand 
verses **> No poem ever advanced the 
fortunes of its author so much as the 
Koran $ 

He lias the humility to confess that fee 
himself^ not enter Paradise because of 
his owa merits, but purely by die wH 
of God, Through this same pure Divine 



Page 171 



wiH, he orders that a fifth part of the 
spoil shall always be reserved for the 
Prophet do 

It is not true that he excludes women 
from Paradise. It is hardly likely that 
so able a man should have chosen to em- 
broil himself with that half of the human 
race by which the other half is led * 
Abulfeda relates that an old woman one 
day importuned him 
to tell her what she 
must do to get into 
Paradise. " My good 
lady/ 5 said he, " Para- 
dise is not for old 
women." The good 
woman began to weep; 
but the Prophet con- 
soled her by saying, 
** There will be no old 
women, because they 
will become young 
again." This consolat- 
ory doctrine is confirm- 
ed in the fifty-fourth 
chapter of the Koran. 
He forbade wine, be- 
cause some of his fol- 
lowers once went intox- 
icated to prayers. He 
allowed a plurality of 
wives, conforming in 
this point to the immemorial usage of the 
Orientals &+> In short, his civil laws 
are good; his doctrine is admirable for 
all it has in common with ours, but his 
means are shocking charlatanry and 
murder &+, 

He is excused by some on the first of 
these charges, because, say they, the 
Arabs had a hundred and twenty-four 
thousand prophets before him, and there 
could be no great harm in the appear- 
ance of one more. Men, it is added, re- 
quire to be deceived. But how are we to 
justify a man who says, " Either be- 
lieve that I have conversed with the 
Angel Gabriel, or pay me tribute? ** 
How superior is Confucius the first of 
mortals who did not daim to have been 
favored with divine revelations! He em- 
ploys neither falsehood nor the sword, 
but only reason. As viceroy of a great 
province he causes the laws to be ob~ 



April, April, 

Laugh thy girlish laughter; 
Then, the moment after, 
Weep thy girlish tears! 
April, that mine ears 
Like a lover greetest, 
If I tell thee, sweetest, 
All my hopes and fears, 
April, April, 

Laugh thy golden laughter, 
But, the moment after, 
Weep thy golden tears! 

"Song," by William Watson 



served and morality to flourish. Later, 
disgraced and poor, he teaches them *^ 
He practices them, alike in greatness and 
in humility. He renders virtue ami- 
able, and has for his disciples the most 
ancient and wisest people upon the 
earth & B+- 

Mahomet is admired for having raised 
himself from being a camel driver, to be a 
pontiff, a legislator, and 
a monarch, for having 
subdued Arabia, which 
had never before been 
subjugated; for having 
given the first shock 
to the Roman Empire 
in the East, and to that 
of the Persians &* But 
/ admire him still more 
for having kept peace 
in his house amongst 
his wives. 

He changed the face of 
part of Europe, one 
half of Asia, and nearly 
all of Africa. Nor was 
his religion unlikely at 
one time, to subju- 
gate the whole earth, 
<t On how trivial a 
circumstance will revo- 
lutions sometimes 
depend! A blow from a stone, a little 
harder than that which he received in 
his first battle, might have changed 
the destinies of the world. Voltaire. 

A > 

He who loveth a book mil never want a 
faithful friend, a wholesome counsellor, 
a cheerful companion, or an effectual 
comforter. Isaac Barrow. 

> 

VERY man will have his own cri- 
terion in forming his judgment of 
others. I depend very much on the effect 
of affliction, I consider how a man comes 
out of the furnace; gold will lie for a 
month in the femace without losing a 
grain* Richard CeciL 

A^ 

If wrmHes must be written upon our 

brows, let them not be written upon the 

hearts Tlie spirit should not grow old. 

James A. Garfidd. 



Page 172 




Vjy^HERE is nothing to make 
*-^ ; j one indignant in the mere 
* Y'j fact that life is hard, that 
men should toil and suffer 
pain. The planetary condi- 
tions once for all are such, and we can 
stand it. But that so many men, by mere 
accidents of birth and opportunity, 
should have a life of nothing else but 
toil and pain and hardness and inferiority 
imposed upon them, should have no 
vacation, while others natively no more 
deserving never get any taste of this 
campaigning life at all this is capable 
of arousing indignation in reflective 
minds. It may end by seeming shameful 
to all of us that some of us have nothing 
but campaigning, and others nothing but 
unmanly ease. 

If now and this is my idea there were, 
instead of military conscription, a con- 
scription of the whole youthful popu- 
lation to form for a certain number of 
years a part of the army enlisted against 
Nature, the injustice would tend to be 
evened out, and numerous other goods 
to the commonwealth would follow. 
The military ideals of hardihood and 
discipline would be wrought into the 
growing fiber of the people; no one 
would remain blind, as the luxurious 
classes now are blind, to man's real re- 
lations to the globe he lives on, and to 
the permanently sour and hard founda- 
tions of his higher life. To coal and iron 
mines, to freight trains, to fishing fleets 
in December, to dish-washing, dothes- 
wasfaing, and window-washing, to road- 
bfiJIdrng and tunnel-making, to foundries 
and stoke-holes, ansd to the frames of 
skyscrapers* woold cor gilded youths be 
drafted off* according to their choice 
to get the cfaBfttsJTOCSS knocked out of 
tfcem, and to come back Into society 
wifcti healthier sympathies JPKJ soberer 
ideas **> They would have paid their 
bloc<i-tax, done tbcir own part in the im- 



they should tread tl*e earth Jaaorepfoticllsr, 
the women would value them more high- 
ly , tiiesr wocM be better fathers and 
teachers of the following generation. 
Ct Such a conscription, with the state of 
pubHc opinkm that would have required 



it, and the many moral fruits it would 
bear, would preserve in the midst of a 
pacific civilization the manly virtues 
which the military party is so afraid oi 
seeing disappear in peace. We should get 
toughness without callousness, authority 
with as little criminal cruelty as possible, 
and painful work done cheerily because 
the duty is temporary, and threatens 
not as now, to degrade the whole re- 
mainder of one's life. William James. 



KORD, let me never tag a moral to a 
tale, nor tell a story without a 
meaning. Make me respect my material 
so much that I dare not slight my work. 
<[ Help me to deal very honestly with 
words and with people, for they are both 
alive. Show me that as in a river, so in a 
writing, clearness is the best quality, and 
a little that is pure is worth more than 
much that is mixed. 

Teach me to see the local color without 
being blind to the inner light. 
Give me an ideal that will stand the 
strain of weaving into human stuff on the 
loom of the real. 

Keep me from caring more for books 
than for folks, for art than for life, 
Steady me to do the full stint of work as 
well as I can; and when that is done, 
stop me; pay what wages Thou wilt, and 
help me to say, from a quiet heart, a 
grateftil Amen. Henry van Dyke. 



new church will be founded on 
moral science. Poets, artists, musi- 
cians, philosophers, will be its prophet- 
teachers. The noblest literature of the 
world will be its Bible love and labor 
its holy sacraments and instead of wor- 
shiping one savior, we will gladly build 
an altar in the heart for every one who 
has suffered for humanity, Emerson. 



You can not believe in honor until you 
feave achieved it. Better keep yourself 
dean aiad bright; you are the window 
through wtikli you must see the wodd. 
George Bernard Shaw. 

& s 

Men, even when alone, lighten their 
labor by song, however rede it ma^r be. 




xw?\ THOUGHT all the time of 
; my mother and grandmother 
deprived of the help of my 
youtil anci strong arm. It 
gave me a pang to think of 
them left weak and failing at home, when 
I might have been the staff of their old 
age; but their hearts were too full of 
motherly love for them to allow me to 
give up my profession for their sakes. 
And then youth has not all the sensitive- 
ness of riper years, and a demon within 
seemed to push me towards Paris &+ I 
was ambitious to see and learn all that a 
painter ought to know. My Cherbourg 
masters had not spoilt me in this re- 
spect during my apprenticeship. Paris 
seemed to me the center of knowledge, 
and a museum of all great works. 
I started with my heart very full, and 
all that I saw on the road and in Paris 
itself made me still sadder. The wide 
straight roads, the long lines of trees, 
the flat plains, the rich grass-pastures 
filled with cattle, seemed to me more like 
stage decorations than actual nature. 
And then Paris black, muddy, smoky 
Paris made the most painful and dis- 
couraging impression upon me. 
It was on a snowy Saturday evening in 
January that I arrived there. The light 
of the street lamps was almost extin- 
guished by the fog. The immense crowd 
of horses and carriages crossing and 
pushing each other, the narrow streets, 
the air and smell of Paris seemed to choke 
my head and heart, and almost stiffed 
me. I was seized with an uncontrollable 
fit of sobbing. I tried to get the better of 
my feelings, but they were too strong 
for me, and I could only stop my tears 
by bathing my face with water at a 
fountain in the street. 
The sensation of freshness revived my 
courage, I stopped before a print-seller's 
window and looked at his pictures, while 
I munched my last Gruchy apple. The 
plates which I saw did not please me: 
there were groups of half-naked grisettes, 
women bathing and dressing, such as 
Deveria and Manrin then drear, and, m, 
my eyes, seemed only fit for ccdffiners* 
and perfumer's 



* 
Paris appeared to me dismal and insipid 



Page 173 



I went to an hotel garni, where I spent 
my first night in one continual night- 
mare. I saw again my native village, 
and our house, looking very sad and 
lonely. I saw my grandmother, mother 
and sister, sitting there spinning, weep- 
ing, and thinking of me, and praying 
that I might escape from the perdition 
of Paris. Then the old demon appeared 
again, and showed me a vision of magnl- 
ficent pictures so beautiful and daz- 
zling that they seemed to glow with 
heavenly splendor, and finally melt away 
in a celestial cloud. 

But my awakening was more earthly. 
My room was a dark and suffocating 
hole. I got up and rushed out into the 
air. The light had come back and with 
it my calmness and force of will. 

Millet's First Visit to Paris, 

*** ^ 

LIFE without love in it is like a 
2JL heap of ashes upon a deserted hearth 
with the fire dead, the laughter stilled, 
and the light extinguished. It is like a 
winter landscape with the sun hidden, 
the flowers frozen, and the wind whisper- 
ing through the withered leaves *+> God 
knows we need all the unselfish love that 
can come to us. For love is seldom unself- 
ish. There is usually the motive and the, 
price. Do you remember William Morris, 
and how his life was lived, his fortune 
spent, his hands busied in the service of 
others? He was the father of the settle- 
ment movement, of co-operative homes 
for working people, and of the arts and 
crafts revival, in our day. He was a 
" soldier of the common good." After be 
was gone his life began to grow m radi- 
ance and power, like a beacon set H*gfo 
upon a dangerous shore. In the twilight 
of his days he wrote what I Eke to think 
was Ms creed: and mine: " I *m going 
your way , so let us go hand in hand. You 
help me and 1 1 bdp you. We shaH not 
be here very long, for soon death, the 
kind old mirse, wffl come back and rock 
us all to sleep. Let us belp one aaooifcer 
while we issy/'-^FraBk P. Tebbetts* 

> 

The men who try to do something and fail 
are fefeSfe^y better tiiaa those wfaotiyte 
do nothing and succeed. Lloyd Joaoes. 



Page 174 



{ 




CJRING the first days after 
my arrival in Paris my 
fixed idea was to find out the 
gallery of Old Masters 9+ I 
started early one morning 
with this intention, but as I did not dare 
ask my way, for fear of being laughed at, 
I wandered at 

Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans 
Upon his hoe and gazes upon the ground, 
The emptiness of ages in his face, 
And on his back the burden of the world. 
Whomadehimdead to rapture and despair, 
Athingthatgrievesnotandthatneverhopes, 
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? 
Wholoosenedandletdownthis brutal jaw? 
Whose was the hand that slanted back 

this brow? 

Whose breath blew out the light within 
this brain? 



random through 
the streets, hop- 
ing, I suppose, that 
the Musee would 
come to meet me! 
I lost myself sev- 
eral daysrunningiin 
thisfruitless search. 
During my wander- 
ings one day I came 
across Notre Dame 
for the first tiine. 
It seemed to me 
less fine than the 
Cathedral of Cou- 
tances. I thought 
that the Luxem- 
bourg was a fine 
palace, but too 
regularly beautiful 
the work, as it 
were, of a coquet- 
tish and mediocre 
builder 
At length, I hardly 
know how, I found 
myself on the Pont 
Neuf , where a mag- 
nificent pile, which 
from the descrip- 
tions which had 
been given me, 
supposed must be 
the Louvre. With- 



delay I turned 
my steps there and dimbed the great 
staircase with a beating heart and the 
hurried steps of a man who f eels that the 
one great wish of his life is about to be 
fulfilled *-^ 

Hy faof>es were not disappointed. I 
seemed to fed myself in a world of 
firienclsv in the midst of my own kinsfolk. 
My dresum iwere at length realized. For 
the next ntootli ^ CM Hastes were my 
ooly o<xi^>0tKW in tfas daytime. I de- 



Is this the thing the Lord Godmadeandgave 
To have domnion over sea and land; 
To trace the stars and search the heavens 

for power; 

To feel the passion of Eternity? 
Is this the dream He dreamed who 

shaped the suns 
And marked their ways upon the ancient 

deep? 

Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf 
Thereis no shape more terrible than this 
More tongued with censure of the world's 

bUnd greed 
More filled with signs and portents for 

the soul 
More fraught with menace to the universe. 

What gulfs between him and the seraphim 
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to Mm 
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades? 

(Concluded on next page) 



voured them all: I studied them, ana- 
lyzed them, and came back to them con- 
tinually. The Primitives attracted me by 
their admirable expression of sweet- 
ness, holiness, and fervor The great 
Italians fascinated me by their mastery 
and charm of composition. There were 
moments when the 
arrows of St. Sebas- 
tian seemed to 
pierce me, as I 
looked at the mar- 
tyr of Mantegna. 
<L The masters of 
that age have an 
incomparable 
power. They make 
you feel in turn the 
joys and the pains 
which thrill their 
souls. But when I 
saw that draw- 
ing of Michel- 
angelo's represent- 
ing a man in a 
swoon, I felt that 
was a different 
thing. The expres- 
sion of the relaxed 
muscles, the planes 
and the modeling 
of that form ex- 
hausted by physi- 
cal suffering gave 
me a whole series 
of impressions. 
I felt as if tor- 
mented by the same 
pains. I had com- 
passion upon Hjrri. I 
suffered in his body 
with his limbs **> I 
saw that the man 

who had done ffct$ was able, in a single 
figure, to represent all the good and evil 
of humanity, It was Michelangelo! That 
explains all. I had already seen some bad 
engravings of his work at Cherbourg; 
"but here I touched the heart and heard 
the voice of him who has haunted me 
with such power during my whole life. 
Millet's First Visit to the Louvre. 

. 
Adversity has no friends. Tacitus. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 175 



ILLET at that time wore a 
*:V' ! curious garb. A brown over- 
^ coat, in color like a stone 

: :' wall, a thick beard and long 

::,,, ,,, : locks, covered with a wool- 
en cape like that of a coachman, gave 
him a singular appearance &+- The first 
time that I saw him 
he reminded me of 
the painters of the 
Middle Ages. His 
reception was cor- 
dial, but almost si- 
lent s* He took me 
for a philosopher, a 
philanthropist, 
or a politician 
none of whom he 
cared much to see. 
But I talked of art 
to him, and seeing 
his Daphnis and 
Chloe hanging on 
the wall, I told him 
what I thought of 
it *>* 

He looked hard at 
me, but still with a 
kind of shyness, 
and only said a few 
words in a reply. 
L Then I caught 
sight of a sketch of 
a sower. 

" That would be a 
fine thing," I re- 
marked, " if you 
had had a country 
model." *> s+> 
" Then do you not 
belong to Paris?" 
he asked. 

"Yes," I replied, 
" but I was brought up in the country." 
[ "Ah! that is a different story," he said 
in his Norman patois; " we must have a 
little talk." 

Troyon left us alone, and Millet, look- 
ing at me some moments in silence, 
said: " You will not care for my pictures/* 
" You are wrong there," I repHed warm- 
ly; " it is because I like than that I have 
come to see you." 
From that moment Millet conversed 



freely with me, and his remarks on art 
were as manly as they were generous and 
large-hearted $ s* 

" Every subject is good," he said. " All 
we have to do is to render it with force 
and clearness. In art we should have one 
leading thought, and see that we express 
it in eloquent lan- 

Whatthelong reaches of 'the peaks of 'song, 

The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose? 

Through this dread shape the suffering 
ages look; 

Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop; 

Through this dread shape humanity 
betrayed, 

Plundered, profaned and disinherited, 

Cries protest to the Judges of the World, 

A protest that is also propheqf. 



O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, 
Is this the handiwork you give to God, 
This monstrous thing distorted and soul- 
quenched? 

How vrillyou everstraightenup thisshape; 
Touch it again with immortality; 
Give back the upward looking and the light; 
Rebuild in it the music and the dream; 
Make right the immemorial infamies, 
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes? 

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, 
How will the future reckon with this Man? 
How answer his brute questionint hat hour 
When whirlitnnds of rebellion shake the 

world? 
How will it be with kingdoms and with 

kings 
With those who shaped him to the thing 

he is 

When this dumb Terror shdl reply to God, 
After the silence of the centuries? 
" The Man With the Hoe," by Edwin Markham 



guage, also that we 
keep it alive in 
ourselves, and im- 
part it to others 
as clearly as we 
stamp a medal * 
Art is not a plea- 
sure-trip; it is a 
battle, a mill that 
grinds &+> I am no 
philosopher. I do 
not pretend to do 
away with pain, or 
to find a formula 
which will make 
me a Stoic, and 
indifferent to 
evil. Suffering is, 
perhaps, the one 
thing that gives 
an artist power to 
express himself 
clearly." 

He spoke in this 
manner for some 
time and then 
stopped, as if 
afraid of his own 
words s*> But we 
parted, feeling that 
we understood 
each other, and 
had laid the foun- 



dations of a lasting 
friendship." ''Millet Meets His Future 
Biographer." Alfred Sensier. 
* 

CAPITAL is condensed labor. It is 
nothing until labor takes bold of it. 
The living laborer sets free the condensed 
labor and makes it assume some form of 
utility or beauty. Capital and labor are 
one, and they will draw nearer to each 
other as the world advances in 
ami goodness. David Swing. 



Page 176 



flUBBA&D'S 




OSEPHINE was dead. The 
l! of the Emperor, her 

^ hero, her Cid, had bewil- 
dered and unnerved her &+> 

^Frightened at the din of 
war that shook the whole realm, she 
had lived in terror at Malmaison. The 
allied kings paid her every attention, 
and in showing the King of Prussia over 
her lovely grounds when she was ill, 
broken out with an eruption, she had, 
it is said, brought on a fatal relapse. 
Murmuring the words " Elba " " Bona- 
parte" she died, while her hero was 
yet in exile. 

It is a revelation of his true character 
that before setting out on his last cam- 
paign he should claim one day out of the 
few fate gave him, and devote it to 
memories, to regrets, to recollections 
of the frail, but tender-hearted woman 
who had warmed to him when all the 
world was growing cold. He went to 
Malmaison, almost alone, and, with 
Hortense, walked over the grounds, 
seeing the old familiar places, and think- 
ing of the " old familiar faces/* * He 
lingered in the garden he himself had 
made, and in which he used to love to 
work when he was First Consul, sur- 
rounded by trees and Sowers, and in- 
haling the breath of nature. He used to 
say that he could work better there than 
anywhere else. He wandered through the 
park, looking out on the trees he had 
planted in those brilliant days long ago. 
Every spot had its silent reminder ot 
glories that were gone, of Mends he 
would see BO more. 

He asked to be told everythmg about 
Josephine liesr last days, her sickness, 
her dying boors; 00 details were too triv- 
ial to escape him. And as they told Hie 
story he would break in with exclama- 
tions of interest, of fondness, of sorrow, 
On this visit to the chateau he wanted 
to see everything that could remind 
hym of her, and of their old life together 
the deatb-ehamber at the last. Here 
he would have no companion **> " My 
daughter, let me gp in here alone!" 
and he put Hortense back, entered, 
and dosed the door. He remained a kmg 



while, and when he came out his eyes 
showed that he had been weeping. 

Thomas E. Watson. 



exist under three forms 
sufficiently distinguishable. 1. With- 
out government, as among our Indians. 
2. Under governments wherein the will 
of every one has a just influence, as is 
the case in England in a slight degree, 
and in our states, in a great one. 3. Under 
governments of force: as is the case in 
all other monarchies and in most of the 
other republics. To have an idea of the 
curse of existence under these last, they 
must be seen. It is a government of 
wolves over sheep. It is a problem, not 
clear in my mind, that the first condition 
is not the best. But I believe it to be 
inconsistent with any great degree of 
population. The second state has a great 
deal of good in it. The mass of mankind 
under that enjoys a precious degree of 
liberty and happiness. It has its evils 
too: the principal of which is the turbu- 
lence to which it is subject. But weigh 
this against the oppressions of monarchy, 
and it becomes nothing. I prefer dan- 
gerous liberty rather than quiet servi- 
tude. Even this evil is productive of 
good s** It prevents the degeneracy of 
government, and nourishes a general 
attention to the public affairs. I hold 
it that a little rebellion now and then is a 
good thing, and as necessary in the polit- 
ical world as storms in the physical. Un- 
successful rebellions indeed generally 
establish the encroachments on the rigjits 
of the people which have produced them. 
An observation of this truth should 
render honest republican governors so 
mtld in ffo^r punishment of rebellions, 
as not to discourage them too much. It 
is a medicine necessary for the sound 
health of government. 
% . * ' *. Thoxnas Jefferson* 

* **> 

Economizing for the purpose of being 
indepeiKient is one of the soundest 
jyx1*cfltx>ns of manly character. 

Samuel Smites* 

*^*^ 

The true work of art is but a sliaefow of 
the divine perfection. Michelangelo. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 177 



% ENERAL: I have placed 
you at the head of the Army 
;t > of the Potomac. Of course, 
&> I have done this upon what 
*-"'''- appear to me to be suffi- 
cient reasons, and yet I think it best 
for you to know that there are some 
things in regard to which I am not 
quite satisfied with you. I believe you 
to be a brave and skilful soldier, which 
of course I like. I also believe you do not 
mix politics with your profession, in 
which you are right. You have confidence 
in yourself, which is a valuable if not an 
indispensable quality. You are ambitious, 
which, within reasonable bounds, does 
good rather than harm; but I think that 
during General Bumside's command of 
the army you have taken counsel of your 
ambition and thwarted him as much as 
you could, in which you did a great 
wrong to the country and to a most 
meritorious and honorable brother 
officer &&> 

I have heard, in such a way as to be- 
lieve it, of your recently saying that 
both the army and the government 
needed a dictator. 

Of course it was not for this, but in spite 
of it, that I have given you the command. 
Only those generals who gain successes 
can set up dictators. 
What I now ask of you is military suc- 
oess, and I will risk the dictatorship * 
C The government will support you to 
the utmost of its ability, which is neither 
more nor less than it has done and will 
do for all commariders. 
I much fear that the spirit which you 
have aided to infuse into the army, of 
criticizing their commander and with- 
holding confidence from him, will now 
turn upon you. I shall assist you as far as 
I can to put it down. 
Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were 
alive again, could get any good out of 
an army while such a spirit prevails in it ; 
and now beware of rashness. 
Beware of rashness, but with energy and 
sleepless vigilance go forward and give 
us victories* Yours very truly, Abraham 
Lincoln. (Letter to Genera! J. Hooker, 
January 26, 1863.) 



SERVED with General Washing- 
A. ton in the Legislature of Virginia, 
before the Revolution, and, during it, 
with Doctor Franklin in Congress a^- I 
never heard either of them speak ten 
minutes at a time, nor to any but the 
main point, which was to decide the 
question * &+> 

They laid their shoulders to the great 
points, knowing that the little ones 
would follow of themselves. If the pres- 
ent Congress errs in too much talking, 
how can it be otherwise, in a body to 
which the people send one hundred and 
fifty lawyers, whose trade it is to ques- 
tion everything, yield nothing, and tglfe- 
by the hour? s+ That one hundred and 
fifty lawyers should do business together 
ought not to be expected. 

Thomas Jefferson. 

***** 
your minds so filled witli 

Truth and Love that sin, disease, 
and death can not enter them. It is plain 
that nothing can be added to the mind 
already full. There is no door through 
which evil can enter, and no space for 
evil to fill in a mind filled with goodness. 
Good thoughts are an impervious armor; 
clad therewith you are completely shield- 
ed from the attacks of error of every sort. 
fl And not only yourselves are safe, but 
all whom your thoughts rest upon are 
thereby benefited. 

The self-seeking pride of the evil thinker 
injures him when he would harm others. 
Goodness involuntarily resists evil. The 
evil thinker is the proud talker and doer. 
The right thinker abides under the sha- 
dow of the Almighty. His thoughts can 
only reflect peace, good will towards 
men, health, and holiness. 

Mary Baker Eddy. 

**+* ***** 

||MILDREN are much nearer the 

\Ainner troth of things tfm we are, 
for when their instincts are not per- 
verted by the SE^perfine wisdom of their 
elders, they give themselves up to a 
full, vigorous activity s+> Theirs is Ac 
kingdom of heavexu Friedridi FiodbeL 

**> $*> 

It is tie cause, and not the deafly tiiafc 
makes tiie martyr- Napoleon. 



Page 178 




I THINK I knew General 
I VV^ashington intimately and 
I thoroughly : and were I called 
on to delineate his character, 
it should be in terms like 
these: His mind was great and powerful 
without being of the very first order; his 
penetration strong, though not so acute 
as that of a Newton, Bacon or Locke; 
and, as far as he 
saw, no judgment 
was ever sounder. 
It was slow hi ope- 
ration, being little 
aided by imagina- 
tion or invention, 
but sure in conclu- 
sion Hence the 
common remark ot 
his officers, of the 
advantage he de- 
rived from coun- 
cils of war, where, 
hearing all sugges- 
tions, he selected 
whatever was best; 
and certainly, no 
general planned 
his battles more 
judiciously <&*> 
But if deranged 
during the course 
of the action, if any member of his plan 
was dislocated by sudden circumstances, 
he was slow in a readjustment. The 
consequence was that he often failed in 
the field, and rarely against an enemy in 
station, as at Boston and York. He was 
iacapableof fear, meetmgpersocoal danger 
with the calmest unconcern. 
Perhaps the strongest feature in his 
diameter was prodeace, never acting 
clrcufBstance* every con- 
m* was maturely weigjied; re- 
itfie saw a doiibt, Imt* when 
qece <^eqijed, scrag ttoocigShi with his 

-BQs 
;mosfc pure* K jusfeke tne 



Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. 
Because your lover threw wild hands 

toward the sky 

And the affrighted steed ran on alone, 
Do not weep. 
War is kind. 

Hoarse j booming drums of the regiment, 
Little souls who thirst for fight, 
These men were born to drill and die. 
The unexplained glory flies above them. 
Great is the battle-god, and his kingdom 
Afield where a thousand corpses lie. 



Mother, whose heart hung humble as a 

button 

On the bright, splendid shroud of your son, 
Do not weep. 
War is kind. 

" If War Be Kind," by Stephen Crane 



moist jriffexifale I iiave e^er kaown^ no 
*5^ of interest or consanguinity* of 



_^ojf hatred, being al>fe to Was 
Ms decision He wi% indeed, in every 
sense of the words, a wise^ a good and a 
great man * His temper was naturally 



irritable and high-toned; but reflection 
and resolution had obtained a firm and 
habitual ascendency over it If ever, 
however, it broke its bonds, he was most 
tremendous in his wrath. In his expenses 
he was honorable, but exact; liberal in 
contribution to whatever promised util- 
ity; but frowning and unyielding on all 
visionary projects, and all the unworthy 
calls on his charity. 
His heart was not 
warm in its affec- 
tions; but he ex- 
actly calculated 
every man's value, 
and gave him a 
solid esteem pro- 
portioned to it 8+ 
His person, you 
know, was fine; his 
stature exactly 
what one would 
wish; his deport- 
ment easy, erect 
and noble; the best 
horseman of his 
age, and the most 
graceful figure that 
could be seen on 
horseback * Al- 
though in the circle 
of his friends, 
where he might be unreserved with 
safety, he took a free share in conversa- 
tion, his colloquial talents were not above 
mediocrity, possessing neither copious- 
ness of ideas nor fluency of words. In 
public, when called on for a sudden 
opinion, he was unready, short and 
embarrassed z+> Yet he wrote readily, 
rather diffusely, in an easy and correct 
style. This he had acquired by conver- 
sation with the world, for his education 
was merely reading, writing and common 
arithmetic, to which he added surveying 
at a later day. His time was employed m 
actiem chiefly, reading little, and ttet 
01%- in agriculture and English history. 
His ODrrespoikieiice became necessarily 
extensive* and, with journalizing bis 
agnpefairal proceedings, occupied most 
erf Wb feisty Jhours witiiin dorars. 
On the whole, ijs cbai?ater was^ m its 
mass, perfect; in ncrtjhiag bad, 



J3OCXFC 



Page 179 



points indifferent; and it may truly be 
said that never did Nature and fortune 
combine more perfectly to make a man 
great, and to place him in the same con- 
stellation with whatever worthies have 
merited from man an everlasting remem- 
brance. For his was the singular destiny 
and merit of leading the armies of his 
country successfully through an arduous 
war, for the estab- 
lishment of its inde- 
pendence; of con- 
ducting its councils 
through the birth 
of a Government 
new in its forms 
and principles, un- 
til it had settled 
down into a quiet 
and orderly train; 
and of scrupulously 
obeying the laws 
through the whole 
of his career, 
civil and military, 
of which the his- 
tory of the world 
furnishes no other 
example. . . . 
He has often de- 
clared to me that 
he considered our 
new constitution as an experiment on 
the practicability of republican govern- 
ment, and with what dose of liberty 
man could be trusted for his own good; 
that he was determined the experiment 
should have a fair trial, and would lose 
the last drop of his blood in support of 
it. I do believe that General Washington 
had a firm confidence in the durability 
of our Government. I felt on his death, 
with my countrymen, that, " Verily a 
very great man hath fallen this day in 
Israel/* Thomas Jefferson, 

* & 

The only hope of preserving what is best 
lies in the practice of an immense charity, 
a wide tolerance, a sincere respect for 
opinions that are not ours. 

G. Hamertpn. 



There is no tongue to speak his eulogy; 
Too brightly burned his splendor for our 

eyes; 

Far easier to condemn his injurers, 
Than for the tongue to reach his smallest 

worth. 

He to the realms ofsinfulness came down, 
To teach mankind; ascending then to God, 
Heaven unbarred to him her lofty gates, 
To whom his country hers refused to ope. 
Ungrateful land! to its own injury, 
Nurse of his fate! Well, too, does this 

instruct 

That greatest ills fall to the perfectesL 
And, midst a thousand proofs, let this 

suffice 

That, as his exile had no parallel, 
So never was there man more great than 

he. 

" On Dante," by Michelangelo 



Books are tie 



Curtis. 



erf 



-E believe the government of the 
- United States to be at this moment 
the best in the world; but then the 
Americans are the best people; and we 
have a theory that the government of 
every State is always excepting during 
the periods of actual change that 
which is best adapted to the circum- 
stances and wants of its inhabitants. 

But they who 
argue in favor of a 
republic, in lieu of 
a mixed monarchy, 
for Great Britain, 
are, we suspect, ig- 
norant of the genius 
of their country- 
men &+* Democracy 
forms no element in 
the materials of 
English character. 
An Englishman is, 
from his mother's 
womb, an aristo- 
crat. Whatever 
rank or birth,what- 
ever fortune, trade, 
or profession may 
be his fate, he is, 
or wishes or hopes 
to be, an aristo- 
crat. The insatiable 

love of caste that in England, as in 
Hindustan, devours all hearts, is con- 
fined to no walks of society, but per- 
vade* every degree, from the highest to 
the lowest. Of what conceivable use, 
then, would it be to strike down the 
lofty patricians that have descended to 
us from the days of the Normans and 
Plantagenets, if we of the middle dass 
who are more enslaved than any other 
to this passion are prepared to lift up, 
from amongst ourselves* an aristocracy 
of mere wealth oot less anstere, Bot 
less selfish only les mtte t$w that we 
had deposed. No! whatever changes m 
the coefse of tfroe education may ami 
wiH effiect, ^& do not believe t&afc 
England, at this moment, contains even 
tfae genus of gerafae reimblkanisia *> 
W%$o pot, Hid^ a<irocae tfoe adoption 
0$ d^Bpd^tic instkutkMis lac smeli .a 
people. But the examples held forth to 



Page 180 



ffUBBARD'S 



us by the Americans, of strict economy, 
of peaceful non-interference, of universal 
education, and of other public improve- 
ments, may, and, indeed, must be 
emulated by the Government of this 
country, if the people are to be allowed 
even the chance of surviving a competi- 
tion with that republican community. 
Richard Cobden. 

* 

Freedom is the one purport, ^wisely 
aimed at, or unwisely, of alt man's 
struggles, toilings and sufferings, in this 
earth. Carlyle. 

5*. * 

to the position that " the people 
always mean well," that they 
always mean to say and do what they 
believe to be right and just it may be 
popular, but it can not be true. The 
word people applies to all the individual 
inhabitants of a country. . . . That por- 
tion of them who individually mean well 
never was, nor until the millennium will 
be, considerable. Pure democracy, like 
pure rum, easily produces intoxication 
and with it a thousand pranks and fool- 
eries **> * 

I do not expect mankind will, before the 
millennium, be what they ought to be; 
and therefore, in my opinion, every 
political theory which does not regard 
them as being what they are y will prove 
abortive &+> *> 

Yet I wish to see all unjust and unneces- 
sary discriminations everywhere abol- 
ished, and that the time may come when 
all our inhabitants of every color and 
discrimination shall be free and equal 
partakers of our political liberties. 

John Jay. 

*> 

it never be forgotten that it is 
not by means of war that states are 
rendered fit for the enjoyment of consti- 
tutional freedom; on the contrary, whilst 
tentH" and bloodshed reign in the land, 
Involving men's minds in the extremities 
of liopea and fears, there can be BO proo 
ess of jdbetigixt^ no education going on, 
by wbieik aioijc can a people be prepared 
for tfae eoioyiEient of rational liberty. 




COUNT, I have made 
J*! several designs in accordance 
" ( | with the ideas which you 
' ; suggested, andif I believe my 
- ) flatterers, I have satisfied 
them all. Yet I have not satisfied my own 
judgment, since I fear that I shall not 
have pleased yours. I send the designs 
and beg that you will make a selection, 
if you think any of them worthy of 
acceptance $9* 

Our Lord the Pope has done me 
great honor by throwing a considerable 
burden on my shoulders that of attend- 
ing to the building of St. Peter's. I hope 
I shall not sink under it; the more so as 
the model which I have made is approved 
by His Holiness, and praised by many 
intelligent persons. But I soar in thought 
to higher spheres I should like to dis- 
cover the beautiful forms of ancient 
edifices, and know not whether my flight 
may not be the flight of Icarus. I gather 
much light from Vetruvius, but not as 
much as I require. 

With regard to " Galatea," I should con- 
sider myself a great master if it realized 
one half of the many things of which you 
write; but I gather from your words the 
love you bear me, and I should tell you 
that to paint a beauty one should see 
many, the sole condition being that you 
should be with rne to make choice of the 
best. Good judgment being as scarce as 
handsome women, I make use of a cer- 
tain idea which comes to my mind. But 
whether this, in itself, has any excellence 
of art, I know not; I shall do what I can 
to attain it. Letter from Raphael to 
Count Castiglione. 

know that a statement proved to 
be good must be correct *> New 
thoughts are constantly obtaining the 
floor. These two theories that aH is 
matter, or that aH is Mind will dispute 
tibe ground, until one is acknowledged to 
be the victor. Discussing his campaign, 
General Grant said: ** I propose to figfrt 
it out on this line, if it takes all summer.** 
Science says: AH is Mind and Mind's 
idea. You must figfct it out on this line* 
Matter can afford you no aid* 

Mary B&fcer Ed%. 



J3OOJC 



Page ttl 




; HESE are the times that try 
,' men's souls. The summer 
soldier and the sunshine 
patriot will, in this crisis, 
shrink from the service of 

his country; but he that stands it now, 

deserves the love and thanks of man and 

woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily 

conquered; yet we have this consolation 

with us, that the 

harder the conflict, 

the more glorious 

the triumph. What 

we may obtain too 

cheap, we esteem 

too lightly: 't is 

dearness only that 

gives everything 

its value. 

Heaven knows how 

to put a proper 

price upon its 

goods s+> s* 

It would be strange 

indeed if so celestial 



Where weary folk toft, black with 
smoke, 

And hear but whistles scream, 
I went, allfreshfrom dawn and dew, 

To carry them a dream. 



I HARDLY know whether you would 
" like my writing to you; yet I feel 
strongly disposed so far to presume on 
the old relation which existed between us 
as to express my earnest hope that you 
will not attach too much importance to 
your disappointment, whatever it may 
have been, at the recent examination. I 
believe that I attach quite as much value 
as is reasonable to 
university distinc- 
tions; but it would 
be a grievous evil 
if the good of a 
man's reading for 
three years were all 
to depend on the 



I went to bitter lanes and dark, 
Who once had known the sky, 

To carry them a dream and found 
They had more dreams than I. 

"The Dream-Bearer,** by Mary Carolyn Dames 
an article as free- 
dom should not be highly rated. Britain, 
with an army to enforce her tyranny, 
has declared that she has a right (not 
only to tax) but " to bind us in all cases 
whatsoever," and if being bound in that 
manner, is not slavery, then is there not 
such a tiling as slavery upon earth. Even 
the expression is impious, for so unlimited 

a power can belong only to God. 
****** 

I have as little superstition in me as 
any man living, but my secret opinion 
has ever been, and still is, that God 
Almighty will not give up a people to 
military destruction,or leave them unsup- 
portedly to perish, who have so earn- 
estly and so repeatedly sought to avoid 
the calamities of war, by every decent 
method which wisdom could invent. 
< Neither have I so much of the infidel 
in me, as to suppose that He has re- 
linquished the government of the world, 
and ven us up to the care of devils* 
Thomas Paine (From The Crisis) 

Men and nations can only be reformed 
in their youth; they become incorrigible 
as they grow old. Rousseau* 



result of a single 
examination, af- 
fected as that re- 
sult must ever in 
some degree be by 
causes independent 
of a man's intel- 
lectual excellence, 
I amsayingnothing 

but what you know quite well already; 
still a momentary feeling of disappoint- 
ment may tempt a man to do himself 
great injustice, and to think that his 
efforts have been attended by no pro- 
portionate fruit. I can only say, for one, 
that as far as the real honor of Rugby is 
concerned,it is the eFort,a hundred times 
more than the issue of the effort, that is m 
my judgment a credit to the school: 
inasmuch as it shows that the men who 
go from here to the University do their 
duty there; and that is the real point 
which alone to my mind reflects honor 
either on individuals or on societies; 
and if such a fruit is in any way traceable 
to the influence of Rugby, then I am 
proud and thankful to have had such 
a man as my pupil. Thomas Arnold. 
(Letter to a Student.) 

*> 

Do not keep the alabaster boxes of your 
love and tenderness sealed up until yoor 
friends are dead. Fill their lives with 
sweetness. Speak approving, cheering 



words while their ears rar*i hear H"fc**irt 

while their hearts can be thrilled 

-Henry Ward Beecher* 



Page 182 



ffUBBA&D'S 



"i *T is well to bear in mind 
I /: -\ '- . \ that whatever other sins the 
j >-'****'{ South may be called to 
"7 r* U X/> ; bear, when it comes to busi- 
f^X^ 1 *^! ness, pure and simple, it is 
in the South that the Negro is given a 

man's chance in the commercial world, 
****** 

Our greatest danger is that in the great 
leap from slavery to freedom we may 
overlook the fact that the masses of us 
are to live by the productions of our 
hands, and fail to keep in mind that we 
shall prosper in proportion as we learn 
to dignify and glorify common labor 
and put brains and skill into the common 
occupations of life; shall prosper in 
proportion as we learn to draw tie line 
between the superficial and the sub- 
stantial, the ornamental gewgaws of life 
and the useful. No race can prosper till 
it learns that there is as much dignity 
in tilling a field as in writing a poem. It 
is at the bottom of life we must begin, 

and not at the top. 

****** 

In all things that are purely social we 
can be as separate as the fingers, yet 
one as the hand in all things essential to 
mutual i 



There is no defence or security for any 
of us except in the highest intelligence 
and developments of aH J* If anywhere 
there are efforts tending to curtail the 
fullest growth of the Negro, let these 
efforts be turned into stimulating, en- 
couraging, and making Hirn the most 

useful and intelligent citizen. 
****** 

Nearly sixteen millions of hands wiH 
aid you in pulling the load tipward, or 
thiey will pull against you the load down- 
ward. We shall constitute one-third and 
Hioce of the ignorance and crime of the 
Sontli* or one-third its intefiigeoce and 
progress; we shall contribute one-third 
ifae business and industrial pros- 
or we shall prove a 
of death, stagnating, 
rc .ffeaarfRrig every eHbrt to 
ad vance the body politic, 

' , ,',:, *;,,/*, ,* * ; * * 

The wisest among my race understand 




that the agitation of questions of social 
equality is the extremest folly, and that 
progress in the enjoyment of all the 
privileges that will come to us must be 
the result of severe and constant strug- 
gle rather than of artificial forcing. No 
race that has anything to contribute to 
the markets of the world is long in any 
degree ostracized. 

Booker T. Washington. 

** &0 

^ p our course of life be pure, and 
, i,^ our actions good and right, there 
is no need for a reward in another world 
even though in this one everything to 
which the mere worldling attaches a 
value should be wanting. It indicates a 
trivial knowledge of the true nature, 
and a trivial respect for the true worth 
and dignity of man, if the stimulus of a 
reward in another world must be held out 
in order to rouse him to action worthy of 
his nature and high calling. 
The feeling, the consciousness of 
having lived and worked in unswerving 
faithfulness to his true nature and dig- 
nity ought, without the need or demand 
of any other external satisfaction, to be 
at all times his highest reward &+> We 
weaken and degrade the human nature 
we should strengthen and raise, when we 
dangle before it a bait to good action, 
even though this bait be hung out from 
another world ^^ In using an external 
stimulus, however seemingly spiritual, 
to call forth a better life, we leave un- 
developed that active and independent 
inward force which is implanted within 
every man for the manifestation of ideal 
humanity. Friedrich FroebeL 



KARMONY is produced by its Prin- 
ciple, is controlled by it and abides 
with it. Divine Principle is the Life of 
man. Maa's happiness is not, therefore, 
at the disposal of physical sense. Truth 
is not contaminated by error. Harmony 
in fr*3m is ggj. beautifti! as in musk^ and 
discord is mmatoral, unreal. 

Mary Baker Eddy. 
& 

Tfae ladder of life is fhl of splinters, but 
ti^ey alw^s prick thefbarctest 
sliding dowM, ^RHam I*. 



Page 183 



* '-- ;- , ^MERSON'S was an Asiatic 
> r v , * c mind, drawing its sustenance 
,4X>^ j'/j partly from the hard soil of 
d 'V "''*;* our New England, partly, 
^e>r/^5^A** too, from the adr that has 
known Himalaya and the Ganges. So 
impressed with this character of his 
mind was Mr. Burlingame, as I saw him, 
after his return from his mission, that he 
said to me, in a 
freshet of hyper- 
bole, which was the 
overflow of a chan- 
nel with a thread 
of truth running in 
it, "There are 
twenty thousand 
Ralph Waldo Em- 
ersons in China." 
<t What could we 
do with this unex- 
pected, unprovided 
for, unclassified, 
half -unwelcome 
newcomer, who had 
been for a while 
potted, as it were, 
in our Unitarian 
cold green-house, 
but had taken to 
growing so fast that 
he was lifting oft 
its glass roof and 
letting in the hail- 
storms? Here was a 
protest that out- 
flanked the extreme 
left of liberalism, 
yet so calm and 
serene that its 
radicalism had the 
accents of the gos- 
pel of peace. Here 
was an iconoclast 
without a hammer, 
who took down our 

idols from their pedestals so tenderly tibat 
it seemed like an act of worship. 
Tl&e scribes and pharisees made light of 
his oracular sayings. The lawyers could 
not find the witnesses to subpoena and 
the documents to refer to when his case 
came before them, and turned him over 
to their wives and daughters ^ The 



Tears, idle tears, I know not what they 

mean, 
Tears from the depth of some divine 

despair 

Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 
In looJdng on the happy autumn fields, 
And thinking of the days that are no more. 



ministers denounced his heresies, and 
handled his writings as if they were 
packages of dynamite, and the grand- 
mothers were as much afraid of his new 
teachings as old Mrs. Piozzi was of 
geology. We had had revolutionary ora- 
tors, reformers, martyrs; it was but a 
few years since Abner Kneeland had 
been sent to jail for expressing an opinion 
about the great 
First Cause; but 
we iiad had nothing! 
like this man, with 
his seraphic voice 
and countenance, 
his choice vocabu- 
lary, his refined ut- 



Fresh as the first beam glittering on a 

sail, 
That brings our friends up from the under- 

world, 

Sad as the last which reddens over one 
That sinks with all we love below the 

verge; 
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. 

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer 

dawns 

The earliest pipe of hdf-awaken'd birds 
To dying ears f when unto dying eyes 
The casement slowly grows a glimmering 

square; 
So sad, so strange, the days that are no 

more. 

Dear as remembered kisses after death, 
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy 

feign'd 

On lips that are for others: deep as love, 
Deep as first love, and urild with aU regret; 
Oh, death in lifef the days that are no 
more. 

" Tears, Idle Tears," by Mfred Tetmgsan 



terance, his gentle 
courage, which, 
with a different 
manner, might 
have been called 
audacity, his tem- 
perate statement of 
opinions which 
threatened to shake 
the existing order 
of thought like an 
earthquake**- $+> 
His peculiarities of 
style and of think- 
ing became fertile 
parents of manner- 
isms, "which, "were 
fair game for ridi- 
cule as they ap- 
peared in hfc frg- 
tators, Foroeewbo 
talks like Einersoti 
or like Cariyle soon 

finds fotrrffiptf urtr- 

romkted by aciowd 
of walking phono- 
graphs, Tflrfao me- 
chanically repro- 
duce his mental 
and vocal accents. Emerson was before 
loog tefofog in tfae midst of a babbling 
Simonetta of echoes, and not unnaturally 
was BOW smt then himself a mark for 
the small-shot of criticism. He had soon 
reaelied tluH: fcel^it in the " oofel 
stoo^tee** of tfoou^it wfiei 
the fowler's eye might mark Hs distant 



Page 184 



to do him wrong.'* . . . < I have 
known something of Emerson as a talker, 
not nearly so much as many others who 
can speak and write of him. It is unsafe 
to tell how a great thinker talks, for 
perhaps, like a city dealer with a village 
customer, he has not shown his best 
goods to the innocent reporter of his 
sayings. However that may be in this 
case, let me con- 
trast in a single 
glance the momen- 
tary effect in con- 
versation of the 
two neighbors, 
Hawthorne and 
Emerson. Speech 
seemed like a kind 
of travail to Haw- 
thorne. One must 
harpoon him like a 
cetacean with ques- 
tions to make him 
talk at all *+> Then 
the words came 
from him at last, 
with bashful mani- 
festations, like 
those of a young girl, almost words that 
gasped themselves forth, seeming to 
leave a great deal more behind them 
than they told, and died out discon- 
tented with themselves, like the mono- 
logue of thunder in the sky, which always 
goes off mumbling and grumbling as if 
it had not said half it wanted to, and 
ought to say. . . , 

To sum up briefly what would,~~as it 
seems to me, be the text to be unfolded 
in his biography, he was a man of excel- 
lent common sense, with a genius so un- 
common that he seemed like an exotic 
transplanted from some angelic nursery, 
His character was so blameless, so beauti- 
ful, that it was rather a standard to 
judge others by than to find a place fee 
on tlie scale of comparison. Looking at 
!i wife tfae prof cxmdest sense of its rnfi- 
nifce sigpfficance, he was yet a cheerful 
optOTistk almost too hopeiul, peeping into 
ewrjr cmifc to see if it did not hold ababe 
wife tfae &alD ** a new Messiah about it. 
He amdied tiie tceasare-beflise of Iter- 
i^siBffiaoire^l^cBLlarged 



What delightful hosts are they 

Life and Love! 
Lingeringly I turn away, 

This late hour, yet glad enough 
They have not withheld from me 

Their high hospitality. 
So, with face lit with delight 

And all gratitude, I stay 

Yet to press their hands and say, 
" Thanks. So fine a time! Good 
night." 

"A Parting Guest," by James Whltcomb RHey 



the boundaries of thought for the few 
that followed him, and the many who 
never knew, and do not know today, 
what hand it was which took down their 
prison walls. He was a preacher who 
taught that the religion of humanity in- 
cluded both those of Palestine, nor those 
alone, and taught it with such consecrated 
lips that the narrowest bigot was asham- 
ed to pray for hl-m 
as from a footstool 
nearertothethrone. 
"Hitch your wagon 
to a star :" this was 
his version of the 
divinelesson taught 
by that holy George 



Herbert whose 
words he loved. 
Give him whatever 
place belongs to 
him in the liter- 
ature of ottr lan- 
guage, of the world, 
but remember this: 
the end and aim of 
his being was to 
make truth lovely 

and manhood valorous, and to bring 
our daily life nearer and nearer to the 
eternal, immortal, invisible. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 







HEN I was born, New York con- 
tained 27,000 inhabitants. The upper 
limits of the city were at Chambers 
Street. Not a single free school, either by 
day or night, existed. General Washing- 
tern had just entered upon his first term 
as President of the United States, the 
whole annual expenditures of which did 
not exceed $2,500,000, being about sixty 
cents per head of the population. Not 
a single steam engine had yet been built 
or erected on the American continent; 
and the people were dad in homespun 
and were characterized by the simple 
virtues and habits which are usually 
associated with that primitive garb. 
[ I need not tell you what the country 
now is, and what the habits and the 
garments of its people now are, or that 
the expenditure, per capita, of the gen- 
era! govermoeat has increased fifteen- 



J3OOJFC 



Page 185 



fold. But I have witnessed and taken a 
deep interest in every step of the mar- 
velous development and progress which 
have characterized this century beyond 
all the centuries which have gone before. 
C Measured by the achievements of the 
years I have seen, I am one of the oldest 
men who have ever lived; but I do not 
feel old, and I propose to give you the 
recipe by which I 
have preserved my 
youth. I have al- 
ways given a friend- 
ly welcome to new 
ideas, and I have 
endeavored not to 
feel too old to learn, 
and thus, though I 
stand here with the 
snows of so many 
winters upon my 
head, my faith in 
human nature, my 
belief in the prog- 
ress of man to a 
better social con- 
dition, and espe- 
cially my trust in 
the ability of men to establish and main- 
tain self-government, are as fresh and as 
young as when I began to travel the path 
of life > 

While I have always recognized that the 
object of business is to make money in an 
honorable manner, I have endeavored to 
remember that the object of life is to do 
good. Hence I have been ready to engage 
in all new enterprises, and, without in- 
curring debt, to risk in their promotion 
the means which I had acquired, provided 
they seemed to me calculated to advance 
the general good. 

This will account for my early attempt to 
perfect the steam engine, for my at- 
tempt to construct the first American 
locomotive, for my connection with the 
telegraph in a course of efforts to unite 
our country with the European world, 
and for my recent efforts to solve the 
problem of economical steam navigation 
on the canals It happens to but few 
men to change the current of human 
progress, as it did to Watt, to Pultxm, to 
Stephenson, and to Morse; but ooosfc mea 



Out of me unworthy and unknown 
The vibrations of deathless music: 
"With malice toward none, with chairty 

for all." 
Out of me the forgiveness of millions 

towards millions, 

And the beneficent face of a nation 
Shining with justice and truth. 
I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath 

these weeds, 

Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln, 
Wedded to him, not through union, 
But through separation. 
Bloom for ever, O Republic, 
From the dust of my bosom I 

" Anne Rutledge," by Edgar Lee Masters 



may be ready to welcome laborers to a 
new field of usefulness, and to clear the 
road for their progress. 
This I have tried to do, as well in the per- 
fecting and execution of their ideas as in 
making such provision as my means have 
permitted for the proper education of the 
young mechanics and citizens of my 
native city, in order to fit them for the 
reception of new 
ideas, social, me- 
chanical and scien- 
tific hoping thus 
to economize and 
expand the intel- 
lectual as well as 
the physical forces, 



andprovide a larger 
fund for distribu- 
tion among the va- 
rious classes which 
necessarily make 
up the total of 
society $* *> 
If our lives shall 
be such that we 
shall receive the 
glad welcome of 

" Well done, good and faithful servant/* 
we shall then know that we have not lived 
in vain. Peter Cooper (From an Ad- 
dress, 1874.) 

> * 

less there is said of physical 
structure and laws, and the more 
there is thought and said about moral 
and spiritual law, the higher the standard 
of mortals will be, and the farther they 
will be removed fixnn imbecility of mind 
and body. 

We should master fear, instead of culti- 
vating it. It was the ignorance of our fore- 
fathers, in the departments of knowledge 
broadcast in the earth, which made them 
more hardy than our trained physiol- 
ogists, more honest than our sleek poli- 
ticians. Mary Baker Eddy. 

^ 

There 's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
Rough-hew them bow we will. 

Shakespeare. 



cads tyranny begins* 



Page 186 



Samuel Johnson Meets His Future Biographer 




. THOMAS DAVIES the 
I actor, who then kept a book- 
** r seller's shop in Russell street, 
Covent Garden, told me 
that Johnson was very much 
his friend, and came frequently to his 
house, where he more than once invited 
me to meet him; but by some unlucky 
accident or other he was prevented from 
coming to us. 

Mr. Thomas Davies was a man of good 
understanding and talents, with the 
ad vantage of a liberal education. Though 
somewhat pompous, he was an enter- 
taining ostnpanion; and his literary per- 
formances have no inconsiderable share 
of merit. He was a friendly and very 
hospitable maru Both he and his wife 
(who has been celebrated for her beauty), 
though upon the stage for many years, 
maintained a uniform decency of char- 
acter; and Johnson esteemed them, and 
lived in as easy an intimacy with them as 
with any family which he used to visit. 
Mr. Davies recollected several of John- 
son's remarkable sayings, and was one of 
the best of the many imitators of his 
voice and manner, while relating them. 
He increased my impatience more and 
more to see the extraordinary man whose 
works I highly valued, and whose con- 
versation was reported to be so pecul- 
iarly excdlent. 

At last, on Monday the 16th of May, 
when I was sitting in Mr. Davies* back 
parlor, after having drunk tea with him 
and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly 
came in the shop; and Mr, Davies having 
perceived htm through the glass door in 
the room in which we were sitting* ad- 
vaacing toward us* he announced his 
awful approach to me somewhat in the 
eraser of an, actar in tlie part ofHoraticv 
"wfaeii te addresses Harriet on tiie ap- 
pearance of his fathers ghost " Look* 
TB&* lord, it comes,/* I found thai: I had o, 
perfect idea q Johnson's figure: from the 
portrait o .Mm painted by Sir Joslma 
Reynolds soon after he had published his 



Dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in 

which 



hiseasEy 

was the Srst picture his friend did for 



him, which Sir Joshua very kindly pre- 
sented to me, and from which, an en- 
graving has been made for this work. Mr. 
Davies mentioned my name, and re- 
spectfully introduced me to him. I was 
much agitated, and recollecting his prej- 
udice against the Scotch, of which I had 
heard much, I said to Davies, " Don't 
tell where I came from," *' From Scot- 
land," cried Davies, roguishly s+> " Mr. 
Johnson," (said I) " I do indeed come 
from Scotland, but I can not help it." I 
am willing to flatter myself that I meant 
this as light pleasantry to soothe and 
conciliate him, and not as an humiliating 
abasement at the expense of my country. 
But however that might be, this speech 
was somewhat unlucky; for with that 
quickness of wit for which he was so 
remarkable, he seized the expression, 
" come from Scotland," which I used 
in the sense of being of that country: and 
as if I had said that I had come away 
from it, or left it, retorted, " That, sir, I 
find, is what a very great many of your 
countrymen can not help." This stroke 
stunned me a good deal ; and when he had 
sat down, I felt myself not a little embar- 
rassed, and apprehensive of what might 
come next. He then addressed himself to 
Davies: " What do you think of Gar- 
rick? He has refused me an order for the 
play of Miss Williams, because he knows 
the house will be full, and that an order 
would be worth three shillings." Eager to 
take any opening to get into conversation 
with him, I ventured to say, " Oh, sir, 
I can not fhtnV Mr. Garrick would 
grudge such a trifle to you." 
" Sir," (said he, with a stern look) " I 
have known David Garrick longer than 
you have done; and I know no right you 
have to talk to me on the subject," Per- 
haps I deserved thfct check; for it was 
rather presumptuous in me, an entire 
stranger, to ezpress any doubt of the 
ji^tice of his animadversion upon his 
old acquaintance and pupil. I now felt 
layseif much mortified, and began to 
think that tfee hope which I had long 
indulged of obtaining his acquaintance 
was blasted. And in truth, had not my 



Page 1ST 



ardor been uncommonly strong, and my 
resolution uncommonly persevering, so 
rough a reception might have deterred 
me forever from making any further 
attempts . . . . C[ I was highly pleased 
with the extraordinary vigor of his con- 
versation, and regretted that I was 
drawn away from it by an engagement 
at another place. I had for a part of the 
evening been left alone with him, and 
had ventured to make an observation 
now and then, which he received very 
civilly; so that I was satisfied that though 
there was a roughness in his manner, 
there was no ill-nature in his disposition, 
Davies followed me to the door, and 
when I complained to him a little of the 
hard blows which the great man had 
given me, he kindly took upon him to 
console me by saying, " Don't be uneasy. 
I can see he likes you very well." 
A few days afterward I called on Davies, 
and asked him if he thought I might take 
the liberty of waiting on Mr, Johnson at 
his chambers in the, Temple. He said I 
certainly might, and that Mr. Johnson 
would take it as a i^omplirnent. So on 
Tuesday the 24th of May, after having 
been enlivened by the witty sallies of 
Messieurs Thornton, Wilkes, Churchill, 
and Lloyd, with whom I had passed the 
morning, I boldly repaired to Johnson, 
His chambers were on the first floor of 
No. 1, Inner Temple Lane, and I entered 
them with an impression given me by the 
Rev. Dr. Blair, of Edinburgh, who had 
been introduced to him not long before, 
and described his having " found the 
giant in his den;" an expression which, 
when I came to be pretty well acquainted 
with Johnson, I repeated to him, and he 
was diverted at this picturesque account 
of himself. 

He received me very courteously; but 
it must be confessed that his apartment 
and furniture and morning dress were 
sufficiently uncouth. His brown suit c 
clothes looked very rusty; he had on a 
little shriveled tmpowdered wig, which 
was too smaB for his head; his shirt-fleck 
and the knees of his foreeefoes were loose; 
his black worsted stockings 21 3rawn n|>; 
and be had a pair of mfonckiedl sbpes by 
way of sippets, BW: a$ these 



particularities were forgotterithe moment 
that he began to talk. Some gentlemen, 
whom I do not recollect, were sitting 
with him; and when they went away, 
I also rose; but he said to me, ** Nay, 
don't go." " Sir," (said I), " I am afraid 
that I intrude upon you. It is benevolent 
to allow me to sit and hear you." He 
seemed pleased with this compliment, 
which I sincerely paid him, and answered, . 
" Sir, I am obliged to any man who visits 
me." James BoswelL 

&*> 

/ V <RUTH! Where is truth but in the 
\*X soul itself? Facts, objects, are but 
phantoms, matter-woven ghosts of tibis 
earthly night, at which the soul, sleeping 
here in the mire and day of matter, 
shudders and names its own vague 
tremors, sense and perception $* Yet, 
even as our nightly dreams stir in us the 
suspicion of mysterious and immaterial 
presences, unfettered by the bonds of 
time and space, so do these waking 
dreams which we call sight and sound. 
They are divine messengers, whom Zeus, 
pitying his children, even when he pent 
them in this prison-house of flesh, ap- 
pointed to arouse in them dim recollec- 
tions of that real world of souls whence 
they came. Awakened once to them; see- 
ing,through the veil of sense and fact, the 
spiritual truth of which they are but the 
accidental garment, concealing the very 
thing which they made palpable, the 
philosopher may neglect the fact foe the 
doctrine, the shell for the kernel, the 
body for the soul, of which it is but the 
symbol and the vehicle. Hypatia. 

$+ 

|QjfNGLAND and America aretxumd 
UA up together in peaceful fetters by 
the strongest of aH ttie ligatoes that 
can bind two nations to each otfeer, 
namely, cotrsBercial interests; and which, 
every succeeding year, renders moFe 
impossible, if the tem naay be tssecf, 
a ruptoe between the two Governments* 
-Richard Cofoden. 

> 

If you wisii to 8$xpear agreeaWe m 30- 
* you must consent to be fmifffiife 
tfefogft which you know already* 



188 




my dearest Cousin, Sim- 
one di Battesta di Carlo in 
Urbino $ s* 

Dearest, in place of a father 
I have received one of yours ; 
nost dear to me because it assures me 
chat you are not angry; which indeed 
would be wrong considering how tire- 
some it is to write when one has nothing 
of consequence to 
say. But now, being 
of consequence, I 
reply to tell you as 
much as I am able 
to communicate &+> 
And first, in refer- 
ence to taking a 
wife I reply that I 
am quite content 
in respect of her 
whom you first 
wished to give me, 
and I thank God 
constantly that I 
tookneitherhernor 
another, and in this 
I was wiser than 
you who wished me 
to take her. I am 
sure that you too 
are aware that I 
would not have the 
position I now hold, since I find myself 
at this moment in possession of things 
in Rome worth three thousand ducats of 
gold, and receipts of fifty scudi of gold, 
because His Holiness Has given me a 
salary of three hundred gold ducats for 
attending to the building of St* Peter's 
which [the salary] I shall never fail to 
enjoy so long as my life lasts; and I am 
certain of getting others, and am also 
paid for what I do to whatever amount 
I please, and I have begun to paint 
another room for His Holiness which 
wit amount to one thousand two hun- 
dred ducats of gold, 

So that, dearest Cousin, I do honor to 
you w& aH relatives and to my country. 
Yet, ibr all that, I hold you dear in the 
center of m& heart, and when I hear your 
naaaae, I led as if I heard that of a fether; 
and do not comia$& of me because I do 
not write, became I have to com- 



Eternol spirit of the chainless mind! 
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art: 
For there thy habitation is the heart 
The heart which love of thee alone can 

bind: 

And when thy sons to fetters are con- 
signed 
To fetters, and the damp vaulfs dayless 

gloom 

Their country conquers with their martyr- 
dom, 
And Freedom's fame finds wings on every 

wind. 

Chftlon! thy prison is a holy place, 
And thy sad floor an altar for *t was trod, 
Until his very steps have left a trace 
Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, 
By Bonnivard May none those marks 

efface! 
For they appeal from tyranny to God. 

** Sonnet on Chillon," "by Lord Byron 



plain of you that you sit pen in hand all 
day and let six months go by between one 
letter and the other. Still with all that, 
you will not make me angry with you, as 
you do wrongly with me. 
I have come fairly out in the matter of a 
wife, but, to return to that, I answer, 
that you may know, that Cardinal Bi- 
bieni wants me to have one of his rela- 
tives, and with the 
assent of you and 
the cousin priest I 
promisedtodowhat 
his reverend lord- 
ship wanted, and I 
can not break my 
word. We are now 
more than ever on 
the point of settling 
and presently I 
shall advise you of 
everything s^Have 
patience, as the 
matter is in such a 
good way, and then 
should it not come 
off, I will do as you 
maywish,andknow 
that if Francesco 
Buffo has offers for 
me, I have some 
of my own also, 
and I can find a handsome wife of ex- 
cellent repute in Rome as I have heard. 
She and her relatives are ready to give 
me three thousand gold scudi as a dowry, 
and I live in a house at Rome, and one 
hundred ducats are worth more here than 
two hundred there (Lfrbino?); of this be 
assured * $+ 

As to my stay in Rome, I can not live 
anywhere else for any time if only be- 
cause of the building of St. Peter's, as I 
am in the Palace of Bramante; but what 
place in the world is more worthy tfca 
Rome, what enterprise more worthy than 
St. Peter's, which is the first temple of the 
world and the largest building that has 
ever been seen, the cost of which win 
exceed a minion in gold? And know that 
the Pope has ordered the expenditure on 
buikfmg of sixty thousand ducats a year, 
and he never gives a thought to any- 
thing else * He has given me a com- 



J3OOJFC 



Page 189 



panion, a most learned old friar of more 
than eighty years of age The Pope 
sees that he can not live long; he has 
resolved to give him to me as a com- 
panion, for he is a man of high reputa- 
tion, and of the greatest requirements, 
in order that I may learn from him, and 
if he has any secret in architecture that I 
may become perfect in that art $* His 



name is Fra Gio- 
condo; and the 
Pope sends for him 
every day and chats 
a little with us 
about the building. 
C I beg you will 
be good enough to 
go to the Duke and 
Duchess and tell 
them this, as I 
know they will be 
pleased to hearthat 
one of their ser- 
vants does them 
honor, and recom- 
mend me to them 



: .. +, * SEEM to know Cellini first 
* of all as a man possessed by 

intense, absorbing egotism; 
ij ' . ' v > violent, arrogant, self-asser- 
k, * , tive, passionate; conscious 
of great gifts for art, physical courage, 
and personal address. ... To be self- 
reliant in all circumstances; to scheme 
and to strike, if need be, in support of his 



as I continually 
stand recommend- 
ed to you. Salute all 
friends and rela- 
tives formeandpar- 
ticularly Ridolfo, 
who has so much 

love for me. The first of July, 1514, Your 
Raffael, painter in Rome. 



The world is too much with us; late and 

soon, 
Getting and spending, we lay waste our 

powers: 

Little we see in Nature that is ours; 
We have given our hearts away, a sordid 

boon! 

This sea that bares her bosom to the moon, 
The winds that will be howling at all hours, 
And are up-gathered now like sleeping 

flowers; 
For this, for even/thing, we are out of 

tune; 
It moves us not. Great God! I 'd rather 

be 

A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; 
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 
Have glimpses that would make me less 

forlorn; 

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; 
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed 

horn. 



opinion or his right 
to take the law 
into his own hands 
for the redress of 
injury or insult! 
this appeared to 
him the simple 
duty of an honor- 
able man. 
But he had noth- 
ing of the philos- 
opher's calm, the 
diplomatist's pru- 
dence, the general's 
strategy, or the 
courtier's self-re- 
straint. On the con- 
trary, he pos- 
sessed the tempera- 
ment of a born 
artist, blent in al- 
most equal pro- 
portions with that 



Hubbard's Note: Raphael's love for Cardinal 
Bibieni's niece ended in tragedy. The wedding 
was postponed at the request of the Pope, and 
she died before it occurred. Raphael's death fol- 
lowed soon after, at the age of 37, and his body 
was placed beside hers in the Pantheon. 
4* $+> 

He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer 
The worst that man can breathe, and 

make his wrongs 

His outside, to wear them like his rai- 
, ment, carelessly, 
And ne 'er prefer his injuries to his 

heart, 
To bring it into danger. Shakespeare. 

4 3^ 

Make yourself an honest man, and then 
you may be sure that there is one rascal 
less in the world. Carlyle* 



William Wordsworth 

of a born bravo * 
C Throughout the whole of his tumul- 
tuous career these two strains contended 
in his nature for mastery. Upon the verge 
of fifty-six, when a man's blood has 
generally cooled, we find that he was 
released from prison on bail, and bound 
over to keep the peace for a year with 
some enemy whose life was probably in 
danger; and when I come to speak of his 
homicides, it will be obvious that he 
enjoyed killing live men quite as much as 
casting bronze statues. . . . 
Sensitive, impulsive, rash of speech, 
hasty in action, with the artist's sus- 
ceptibility and the bravo's heat of blood, 
he injured no one more than himself by 
his eccentricities of temper. Yet there is 
no trace m any of his writings that he 
ever laid his mjsadveotoes to their prop- 
er cause * He cooais&eatly poses as an 
injured man, whom nastevofcnt scoun- 



Page 190 



ffUBBARD'S 



drels conspired to persecute. Nor does lie 
do this with any bad faith. His belief 
in himself remained as firm as adamant, 
and he candidly conceived that he was 
under the special providence of a mer- 
ciful and loving God who appreciated 

his high and virtuous qualities. 
****** 

.... He tells us how Pope Paul III was 
willing to pardon him for an outrageous 
murder committed in thestreetsof Rome. 
One of the Pope's gentlemen submitted 
that this was showing unseasonable 
clemency. " You do not understand the 
matter as well as I do," replied His 
Holiness. " I must inform you that men 
like Benvenuto, unique in their pro- 
fession, are not bound by the laws/* 
That sentence precisely paints Cellini's 
own conception of himself. . . . 

John Addington Symonds. 

$0 *> 

T was in Rome that I had to do Lord 
Byron's statue. When my noblesitter 
amved at my studio, he took his place 
before me and immediately put on a 
strange air, entirely different from his 
natural physiognomy. 
" My lord," said I," have the goodness to 
sit still, and may I beg you not to assume 
such an expression of misery.'* 
" That," replied Byron, " is the expres- 
sion which characterizes my counte- 
nance." **> s** 

" Really," said I; and then, without 
troubling myself about this affectation, 
I worked on according to my own ideas* 
When the bust was finished, every one 
thooglit it strikingly like Lord Byron, 
bat the noble poet was by no means 
satisfied with it. 

Tbat face is not mine," said he; " I 

look fnndi more unhappy th^n that." 

For he was dieterrained to look unhappy. 

Thorwaldsen. 

** 

He drew a circle that shut me out 
Heretic, rebel, a thing to feet. 
But love and I had the wit to win: 
We drew a circle that took h in. 

Edwin Markham* 



A thought is an idea in transit. 



1 ULL of anxieties and apprehending 
,., daily that we should hear dis- 
tressing news from Boston, I walked with 
Mr. Samuel Adams in the State House 
yard [Philadelphia], for a little exercise 
and fresh air, before the hour of [the 
Continental] Congress, and there rep- 
resented to him the various dangers 
that surrounded us. 

He agreed to them all, but said, " What 
shall we do? " I answered him I was de- 
termined to take a step which should 
compel all the members of Congress to 
declare themselves for or against some- 
thing. I am determined this morning to 
make a direct motion that Congress 
should adopt [as its own] the army before 
Boston, and appoint Colonel Washington 
commander of it. 

Mr. Adams seemed to think very ser- 
iously of it, but said nothing. 
Accordingly, when Congress had as- 
sembled, I rose in my place .... Mr. 
Washington, who happened to sit near 
the door, as soon as he heard me allude 
to him, from his usual modesty, darted 
into the library-room. 
Mr. Hancock heard me with visible 
pleasure, but when I came to describe 
Washington for the commander, I never 
remarked a more sudden and striking 
change of countenance. Mortification and 
resentment were expressed as forcibly 
as his face could exhibit them. 
Mr. Samuel Adams seconded the motion, 
and that did not soften the president's 
[Hancock's] physiognomy at all. 

*> &+> John Adams. 
Tr* T is but a little time a few days 
L^ longer in this prison-house of our deg- 
radation, and each thing shall return to 
its own fountain; the blood-drop to the 
abysmal heart, and the water to the river, 
and the river to the shining sea; and the 
dewdrop which fell from heaven shall rise 
to heaven again, shaking off the dust 
grams which weighed it down, thawed 
from the earth frost which chained it 
here to herb and sward, upward and up- 
wardever through stars and suns, tfaraugji 
gods, and through the parents of the gods 
purer and purer through successive lives, 
ratH it eaters The Nothing, whidi is the 
AH, and finds its borne at last. Hypafeu 



Page 191 



*Uv i;??-;T my first ball at Tortonia's, 
|,' - ^^ not knowing any lady, I 
f^-^?*" was standing about, looking 
?M; ,7 $ '" at everybody, but not danc- 
j^ggr^* ing. All at once some one 
tapped me on the shoulder, and said, 
" You also are admiring the beautiful 
Englishwoman 
there? " What was 
my surprise, when 
on turning around, 
I found myself face 
to face with Chev- 
alier Thorwaldsen, 
who was standing 
by the door and 
intently observing 
the beautiful crea- 
ture. He had hardly 
asked the question 
when some one 
spoke loudly just 
behind me. 
" Where is she 
then? Where is the 
little Englishwo- 
man? My wife has 
sent me to look at 
her, per Bacco! " 
<[ The speaker was 
a slight little 
Frenchman, with 
stiff upstanding 
gray hair, and the 
Legion of Honor 
at his button-hole. 
I immediately rec- 
ognized Horace 
Vernet **> &** 
He and Thorwald- 
sen began a serious 
and learned con- 
versation about the 
beauty, and what 

especially delighted me was to see the 
admiration of these two old artists for 
the young girl; they were never tired of 
looking at her, while she went on dancing 
with the most delicious unconsciousness. 
Thorwaldsen and Vernet had tfoemsel ves 
introduced to the parents of the young 
English ladyi and took no further trotifole 
about me* so that I had no diamce of 
speaking to them again ^^ But, some 



Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, 
I can not ease the burden of your fears, 
Or make quick-coming death a little thing, 
Or bring again the pleasure of past years, 
Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears. 
Or hope again for aught that I can say, 
The idle singer of an empty day. 

But, rather when aweary of your mirth, 
From full hearts still unsatisfied ye sigh, 
And, feeling kindly unto all the earth, 
Grudge every minute as it passes by, 
Made the more mindful that the sweet 

days die 

Remember me a little then I pray, 
The idle singer of an empty day. 



The heavy trouble, the bewildering care 
That weighs us down who live and earn 

our bread 

These idle verses have no power to bear: 
So let me sing of names remembered, 
Because they living not, can ne'er be dead, 
Or long time take their memory quite away 
From us poor singers of an empty day. 

Dreamer of dreams, born outofmydue time, 
Why should I strive to set the crooked 

straight? 

Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme 
Beats with light wing against the ivory gate. 
Telling a tale not too importunate 
To those who in the sleepy region stay, 
Lulled by the singer of an empty day. 

" The Idle Singer," by WJUiam Morris 



days later, I was invited to the house of 
English friends from Venice, who wished, 
they said, to introduce me to some par- 
ticular friends of theirs. I was delighted 
to discover that their friends were 
Thorwaldsen and Vernet. . - . d In my 
capacity as a pianist I have enjoyed a 
special pleasure 
here. You know 
how Thorwaldsen 
loves music. He has 
a very good instru- 
ment in his studio, 
and I go to him 
sometimes in the 
mornings and play 
to him while he 
works. When I see 
the old artist han- 
dling his brown 
clay, giving the last 
touches, with his 
firm and delicate 
hand, to a drapery 
or a limb, when I 
see him creating 
those imperishable 
works which will 



win the admiration 
of posterity, I fed 
happy in that I can 
give him pleasure. 
Mendelssohn. 

|KHlSlittie globe 
\iaJ which is but a 
mere speck, travels 
through space with 
its fellows, lost in 
Immensity- Man, a 
creature about five 
feet tall, is certain- 
ly a tiny thing, as 



compared with the 
universe. Yet one of these imperceptible 
beings declares to his fcieighbors; "Heark- 
en mto me. Tiie God of all these worlds 
speaks With my voice. There are nine 
billioosof ti&weeants Hponearth,btitoiily 
my asshole is precious in God's sight. A& 
the otters are eternally damned by Him. 
ris blessed.?* Voltaire. 



"i& the path of 



Page 192 




, v : , Y DEAREST BETSY, yes- 
1 terday I received Letters 

from some of our Friends at 
_^ the Camp informing me of 

the Engagement [Bunker 
Hill] between American troops and the 
Rebel Army in Charlestown. I can not 
but be greatly rejoyced at the tryed 
Valor of your Countrymen, who, by all 
Accounts behaved with an intrepidity 
becoming those who fought for their 
Liberties against the mercenary Soldiers 
of a Tyrant. 

It is painful to me to reflect on the terror 
I must suppose you were under on hear- 
ing the Noise of War so near. Favor me, 
my dear, with an Account of your Ap- 
prehensions at that time, under your 
own hand. ..... 

Mr. Pitts and Dr. Church inform me 
that my dear Son has at length escaped 
from the Prison at Boston .... Remem- 
ber me to my dear Hannah and sister 
Polly and to all Friends. 
Let me know where good old Swory is, 
Gage [the British General] has made me 
respectable by naming me first among 
those who are to receive no favor [of 
pardon] from him. I thoroughly des- 
pise him and his [amnesty] Proclam- 
ation .... The Clock is now striking 

twelve. I therefore wish you a good 
Night. Yours most affectionately, 

S. Adams. 
(Letter to his Wife, June 28th, 1775) 

QE [Patrick Henry] rose to reply with 
apparent embarrassment and some 
awkwardness, and began a faltering exor- 
dium. The people hung their heads at the 
unpromising commencement, and the 
clergy were observed to exchange 
sly looks with each other, while his 
feiher sank back in his chair in evident 
confusion 

A! this was of stiort duration, however. 
As he pfoceeded and wanned up to his 
subject, a wondrous change came over 
him. His attitude became erect and lofty, 
his ace lighted up with genius, and bis 
eyes seemed to flash fire, bis gestures be* 
came graceful and impressive, his voice 
atid his emphasis peculiarly charming. 
~ appeals to the passions were ovsr- 



powering. In the language of those who 
heard him, " he made the blood to run 
cold, and their hair to rise on end." In a 
word, to the astonishment of all, he sud- 
denly burst upon them as an orator ot 
the highest order. The surprise of the 
people was only equaled by their delight, 
and so overcome was his father that 
tears flowed profusely down his cheeks. 
<[ He contended that .... in the case 
now before them .... [the parsons] 
deserved to be punished with signal 
severity &+> 

" We have heard a great deal about the 
benevolence and holy zeal of our rev- 
erend clergy, but how is this mani- 
fested? Do they manifest their zeal in the 
cause of religion and humanity by prac- 
tising the mild and benevolent precepts 
of the Gospel of Jesus? Do they feed the 
hungry and clothe the naked? Oh, no, 
gentlemen! Instead of feeding the hungry 
and clothing the naked, these rapacious 
harpies would, were their powers equal 
to their will, snatch from the hearth cf 
their honest parishioner his last hoe-cake, 
from the widow and her orphan chil- 
dren their last milch cow! the last bed, 
nay, the last blanket from the lying-in 
woman! " *+ $&> 

These words, uttered with all the power 
of the orator, aroused in the audience an 
intense feeling against the clergy, which 
became so apparent as to cause the 
reverend gentlemen to leave their seats 
on the bench, and to quit the court- 
house in dismay. William Wirt Henry, 
(Life, Correspondence, and Speeches oj 
Patrick Henry.) 

" The Parsons' Cause'* (1763) Patrick 
Henry's First Important Case. 

H SOPHISTICAL rhetorician (is 
Gladstone) inebriated with the exu- 
berance of his own verbosity, and gifted 
with an^egotistkal imagination that can 
at all times command an interminable 
and inconsistent series of arguments to 
malign an opponent and to glorify him- 
self. Disraeli. 

** 

The tree of liberty must be refreshed 
from time to time with the blood of pa- 
triots au4 tyrants*~TtiQttias Jefferson. 



J3OOJFC 



Page 193 



; . ; , ',, HEN Zarathustra arrived at 
#J-.- , ; ""-^ v the nearest town which ad- 
j|'',_ 4 , -^ Joineth the forest, he found 
;' < v>> , many people assembled in 
^""kOWriil-sL 'the market-place; for it had 
been announced that a rope-dancer would 
give a performance s* And Zarathustra 
spake thus unto the people: 
I teach you the Superman. Man is some- 
thing that is to be surpassed. What have 
ye done to surpass man? 
All beings hitherto have created some- 
thing beyond themselves: and ye want to 
be the ebb of that great tide, and would 
rather go back to the beast than surpass 
man? $* &+ 

What is the ape to man? A laughing- 
stock, a thing of shame s* And just the 
same shall man be to the Superman: a 
laughing-stock, a thing of shame. 
Ye have made your way from the worm 
to man, and much within you is still 
worm. Once were ye apes, and even yet 
man is more of an ape than any of the 
apes 5i> &+> 

Even the wisest among you is only a dis- 
harmony and hybrid of plant and phan- 
tom. But do I bid you become phantoms 
or plants? 

Lo, I teach you the Superman! 
The Superman is the meaning of the 
earth. Let your will say: The Superman 
shall be the meaning of the earth! 

****** 

But ye, also, my brethren, tell me: What 
doth your body say about your soul? Is 
your soul not poverty and pollution and 
wretched self-complacency? 
Verily, a polluted stream is man. One 
must be a sea, to receive a polluted 
stream without becoming impure. 
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that 
sea; in him can your great contempt be 
submerged > $& 

What is the greatest thing ye can expe- 
rience? It is the hour of great contempt. 
The hour in which even your happiness 
becometh loathsome unto you, and so 
also your reason and virtue. 
The hour when ye say: " What good is 
my happiness! It is poverty and pollu- 
tion and wretched self-complacency. 
But my happiness should justify exist- 
ence itself 1" 



The hour when ye say: " What good is 
my reason! Doth it long for knowledge 
as the lion for his food? &+ It is poverty 
and pollution and wretched self-compla- 
cency 1" > 

The hour when ye say: " What good is 
my virtue! As yet it hath not made me 
passionate. How weary I am of my good 
and my bad! It is all poverty and pollu- 
tion and [wretched self-cornplacencyl" 
CThe hour when ye say: " What good is 
my justice! I do not see that I am fer- 
vor and fuel. The just, however, are fer- 
vor and fuel! " 

The hour when we say: " What good is 
my pity! Is not pity the cross on which he 
is nailed who loveth man? But rny pity 
is not a crucifixion." 
Have ye ever spoken thus? Have ye ever 
cried thus? Ah! would that I had heard 
you crying thus! 

It is not your sin it is your self-satis- 
faction that crieth unto heaven; your 
very sparingness in sin crieth unto 
heaven! &+> * 

Where is the lightning to lick you with 
its tongue? Where is the frenzy with 
which ye should be inoculated? 
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that 
lightning, he is that frenzy! 
When Zarathustra had thus spoken, one 
of the people called out: " We have 
heard enough of the rope-dancer; it is 
time now for us to see him! " And all the 
people laughed at Zarathustra. But the 
rope-dancer, who thought the words 
applied to him, began his performance. 
Friedrich Nietzsche. 

> > 

XVIEW a return to the domination 
of Britain with horror, and would 
risk all for independence; but that point 
ceded, I would give them advantageous 
commercial terms. The destruction of 
Old England would hurt me; I wish it 
well, it afforded my ancestors an asylum 
from persecution. John Jay, 



The damps of autumnsink into the leaves 
and prepare them for the necessity of 
their fall; and thus insensibly are we, as 
years close around us, detached from our 
tenacity of life by the gentle pressure of 
recorded sorrowr^W, S. Lanclor, 



Page 194 



ffUBBARD'S 




In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 

A stately pleasure-dome decree: 
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 
Through caverns measureless to man 
Down to a sunless sea. 



J HIS century, which some 
have called an age of iron, 
? has been also an age of 
ideas, an era of seeking and 
finding the like of which was 
never known before. It is an epoch the 
grandeur of which dwarfs all others that 
can be named since 
the beginning of the 
historic period, if 
not since. Man first 
became distinctive- 
ly human. In their 
mental habits, in 
their methods of 
inquiry, and in the 
data at their com- 
mand, " the men of 
the present day 
whohave fully kept 
pace with the sci- 
entific movement 
are separated from 
the men whose ed- 
ucation ended in 
1830, by an im- 
measurably wider 
gulf than has ever 
before divided one 
progressive gener- 
ation of men from 
their predeces- 
sors," 

The intellectual de- 
velopment of the 

hrrymft-n race frflS 

been suddenly, al- 
most abruptly, 
raised to a higher 
plane than that up- 
on which it had 
proceeded from the 
days of the primi- 
tive troglodyte to 
the days of our 
gi^at-graedfetfeers. It is characteristic of 
this higher plane of development ttet the 
progress which until lately "was so slow 
must henceforth be rapid. Men's minds 
are becoming more flexible, the resistance 
to innovaticm is weakening, and otir in- 
tellectual demands are miiltiplyiBg while 
the means of satisfying tibem are in- 
creasing, Vast as are tfae aefeieveineots 



we have just passed in review, the gaps 
hi our knowledge are immense, and every 
problem that is solved but opens a dozen 
new problems that await solution. 
Under such circumstances there is no 
likelihood that the last word will soon 
be said on any subject. In the eyes of the 
twenty-first cen- 
tury the science of 
the nineteenth will 
doubtless seem 
very fragmentary 
and crude. But the 
men of that day, 

So twice five miles of fertile ground ' " " 

With walls and towers were girdled round: 
And there were gardens bright with 

sinuous rills, 

Where blossomed many an incense- 
bearing tree; 

And here were forests ancient as the hills, 
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. 
But O! that deep romantic chasm which 

slanted 
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn 

cover! 

A savage place! as holy and enchanted 
As e'er beneath a waning moon was 

haunted 

By woman wailing for her demon-lover! 
And from this chasm, with ceaseless 

turmoil seething, 
As if this Earth in fast thick pants were 

breathing, 

A rrdghty fountain momently was forced, 
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding 

kail, 
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's 

flail: 
And *mid these dancing rocks at once and 

ever 
It flung up momently the sacred river. 

(CoDcfaded on next page) 



and of all future 
time, will no doubt 
point back to the 
age just passing 
away as the open- 
ing of a new dis- 
pensation, the 
dawning of an era 
in which the in- 
tellectual develop- 
ment of mankind 
was raised to a 
higher plane than 
that upon which it 
had hitherto pro- 
ceeded J^ 
As an inevitable re- 
sult of the throng- 
ing discoveries just 
enumerated, we 
find ourselves in 
the midst of a 
mighty revolution 
in human thought. 
Time-honored 
creeds are losing 
their hold upon 
men; ancient sym- 
bols are shorn of 
their value; every- 
thing is called 



~-^ is called in 

questk>ii.The controversies of the day are 
not lite those of former times. It is no 
longer ... a straggle between abstruse 
dogmas of rival churches. Religion itself 
is called upon to show why it should any 
longer claim our allegiance. 
Tliere are those who deny the existence 
of God * There are those who would 
explain away the human soul as a mere 



group of fleeting phenomena attendant 
upon the collocation of sundry particles 
of matter. And there are many others 
who, without committing themselves to 
these ^positions of the atheist and the 
materialist, have nevertheless come to 
regard religion as practically ruled out 
fromhuman affairs. 
C No religious 
creed that man has 
ever devised can be 
made to harmonize 
in all its features 
withmodernknowl- 
edges** All such 
creeds were con- 
structed with ref- 
erence to theories 
of the universe 
which are now 
utterly and hope- 
lessly discreditedso* 
t[ How, then, it is 
asked, amid the 
general wreck of 
old beliefs, can we 
hope that the relig- 
ious attitude in 
which from time 
immemorial we 
have been wont to 
contemplate the 
universe can any 
longer be main- 
tained? Is not the 
belief in God per- 
haps a dream of the 
childhood of our 
race, like the belief 
in elves and bo- 
garts which once 
was no less univer- 
sal? and is not 
modern science fast 
destroying the one 
as it has already destroyed the other? 
C^Such are the questions which we 
daily hear asked, sometimes with flip- 
pant eagerness, but oftener with anxious 

dread If we find in that idea, as 

conceived by untaught thinkers in the 
twilight of antiquity, an element that 
survives the 



Five miles meandering with a mazy 

motion 
Through wood and dale the sacred river 

ran, 
Then reached the caverns measureless to 

man, 

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: 
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 
Ancestral voices prophesying war! 



The shadow of the dome of pleasure 
Floated midway on the waves; 
Where was heard the mingled measure 
From the fountain and the caves. 
It was a miracle of rare device, 
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! 

A damsel with a dulcimer 

In a vision once I saw: 

It was an Abyssinian maid, 

And on her dulcimer she played, 

Singing of Mount Abora, 

Could I revive within me 

Her symphony and song, 

To such a deep delight *t would win me 
That with music loud and long, 
I would build that dome in air, 
That sunny dome! those caves of ice! 
And all who heard should see them there, 
And all should cry, Beware! Beware! 
His flashing eyes, his floating hair I 
Weave a circle round him thrice, 
And close your eyes with holy dread, 
For he on honey-dew hath fed, 
And drunk the milk of Paradise. 

" Kubla Khan/* by Samuel Tm/lor Coleridge 



Page 195 



have the strongest possible reason for 
believing that the idea is permanent and 
answers to an Eternal Reality, It was to 
be expected that conceptions of Deity 
handed down from primitive men should 
undergo serious modification. If it can 
be shown that the essential element in 
these conceptions 
must survive the 
enormous additions 
to our knowledge 
which have distin- 
guished the present 
age above all others 
since man became 
man, then we may 
believe that it will 
endure so long as 
man endures; for 
it is not likely that 



it can ever be call- 
ed upon to pass a 
severer ordeal. 

John Fiske. 

I am not a good 
orator in my own 
cause. John Knox, 

QOTHING is 
true forever^ 
A man and a fact 
will become equally 
decrepit and will 
tumble in the same 
ditch, for truth is 
as mortal as rn^n, 
and both are out- 
lived by the tor- 
toise and the crow. 
C To say that two 
is company and 
three is a crowd 



is to make a very 
temporary state- 

ment. After a short time satiety or use 
and wont has cr&pt sunderingly between 
the two, and, if they are any company at 
aH^ they are bad company, who pray 
discreetly but passionately for tie crowd 
that is censored Tbty the proverb. 

James Steptiens, 



Page 196 



ifUBBAKD'S 




having applied my 
mind with more than ordi- 
nary attention to my studies, 
it is my usual custom to re- 
lax and unbend it in the con- 
versation of such as are rather easy than 
shining companions. This I find partic- 
ularly necessary for me before I retire to 
rest, in order to draw my slumbers up- 
on me by degrees and fall asleep insen- 
sibly. This is the particular use I make 
of a set of heavy honest men with whom 
I have passed many hours with much 
indolence though not with great plea- 
sure Their conversation is a kind of 
preparative for sleep; it takes the mind 
from its abstractions, leads It into the 
familiar traces of thought, and lulls it 
into that state of tranquillity which is the 
condition of a thinking man when he is 
but half-awake. ....... 

I must own it makes me very melancholy 
in company when I hear a young man be- 
gin a story, and have often observed that 
one of a quarter of an hour long, in a man 
of five-and-twenty , gathers circumstances 
every time he tells it, until it grows into 
a long Canterbury tale of two hours by 
the time he is three score. 
The only way of avoiding such a trifling 
and frivolous old age is to lay up in our 
way to it such stores of knowledge and 
observation as may make us useful and 
agreeable in our declining years. The 
mind of man in a long life will become a 
magazine of wisdom or folly, and will 
consequently discharge itself in some- 
thing impertinent or improving $+ For 
which reason, as there is nothing more 
ridiculous than an old trifling story- 
teller, so there is nothing more venerable 
than one who has turned his experience 
to the entertainment and advantage of 
mankind $+>$+> 

In short, we who are in the last stage of 
life, and are apt to indulge ourselves in 
talk, ought to consider if what wespeak be 
worth being heard, and endeavor to make 
our discourse like that of Nestor, which 
Homer compares to"theflbwingof honey 
for its sweetness/* Sir I&chard Steele. 

> 

Point thy tongue on the anvil of truth. 

Pindar. 



y^ HAT a man in his sixties should be 
V^ able to write a series of works so ro- 
bust, so fresh, so real, as those which De- 
foe, at that age, gave to the world is cer- 
tainly a fact unequaled in the history of 
our literature. Among those works are 
Robinson Crusoe, the immortal; Colonel 
Jack, equally immortal; Moll Flanders; 
Roxana; and the Journal of the Plague 
Year &* &+> 

Here are five works, every one of which 
is enough by itself to make the reputation 
of an author; five works, one of which is 
read by every boy of all those who speak 
our English tongue, while the rest, for 
the student of literature, are as immortal 
as Robinson Crusoe himself *> It is as if 
the writer laughed at time, or as if he 
would crowd into the last ten years of 
his life he died at seventy all the 
work which most men are contented to 
spread over their whole working time; or 
as if he would prove that even in old age 
he could recover the spring and flower 
of youth, could feel again the force of 
love, and be moved once more with the 
ambitions, the passions, the heats, the 
agitations in a word, with all the emo- 
tion of youth. 

Old age, for the most part, regards not 
the things of youth; it is the saddest 
thing to see theold man turning unmoved 
from the things which mean so much, so 
very much, to his grandsons. There is a 
senile callousness which is lamentable 
to witness; there is a sorrowful loosening 
of the hold with which the world has 
hitherto gripped the soul. With Defoe 
there is nothing of all this, absolutely 
nothing; he writes, save for his balanced 
style, as a young man of five-and- 
twenty. Walter Besant. 

> * 

EMAGOGUES and agitators are 
very unpleasant, and leagues and 
registers may be very unpleasant, but 
tfeey are incidents to a free and constitu- 
tional country, and you must put up 
with these inconveniences or do with- 
out many important advantages. 

Disraeli 



Forty Is the old age of youth; fifty is the 
youth of old age. Victor Hugo. 



Page 197 




is more unjust 
than to cast especial blame 
for resistance to science up- 
the Roman Church. The 
Protestant Church, though 
rarely able to be so severe, has been more 
blameworthy. The persecution of Galileo 
and his compeers by the older church was 
mainly at the beginning of the seven- 
teenth century; the persecution of 
Robertson Smith, and Winchell, and 
Woodrow, and Toy, and the young 
professors at Beyrout, by various Prot- 
estant authorities, was near the end of 
the nineteenth century. Those earlier 
persecutions by Catholicism were strictly 
in accordance with principles held at 
that time by all religionists, Catholic and 
Protestant, throughout the world; these 
later persecutions by Protestants were 
in defiance of principles which all Prot- 
estants today hold or pretend to hold, 
and none make louder claim to hold 
them than the very sects which per- 
secuted these eminent Christian men of 
our day, whose crime was that they were 
intelligent enough to accept the science 
of their time, and honest enough to 
acknowledge it. 

Most unjustly, then, would Protestant- 
ism taunt Catholicism for excluding 
knowledge of astronomical truths from 
European Catholic universities in the 
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, 
while real knowledge of geological and 
biological and anthropological truth is 
denied or pitifully diluted in so many 
American Protestant colleges and univer- 
sities in the nineteenth century. 
Nor has Protestantism the right to point 
with scorn to the Catholic Index and 
to lay stress on the fact that nearly 
every really important book in the last 
three centuries has been forbidden by it, 
so long as young men in so many Ameri- 
can Protestant universities and colleges 
are nursed with " ecclesiastical pap " 
rather than with real thought, and 
directed to the works of " solemnly con- 
stituted impostors," or to sundry " ap- 
proved courses of reading," while they 
are studiously kept aloof from such 
leaders in modern thought as Darwin, 
Spencer, Huxley, Draper and Lecfey * * 



As to the older errors, the whole civilized 
world was at fault. Protestant as well as 
Catholic. It was not the fault of religion; 
it was the fault of that shortsighted 
linking of theological dogmas to scrip- 
tural texts which, in utter defiance of the 
words and works of the Blessed Founder 
of Christianity, narrow-minded, loud- 
voiced men are ever prone to substitute 
for religion. Justly it is said by one of the 
most eminent among contemporary An- 
glican divines that " it is because they 
have mistaken the dawn for a confla- 
gration that theologians have so often 
been foes of light/ 7 Andrew D. White. 

&+> * 

VyEARNED men in all ages have had 
AA their judgments free, and most com- 
monly disagreeing from the common 
judgment of the world; such also have 
they published both with pen and 
tongue; notwithstanding, they them- 
selves have lived in the common society 
with others, and have borne patiently 
with errors and imperfections which 
they could not amend. Plato, the phi- 
losopher, wrote his book on the com- 
monwealth, in which he condemned 
many things that then were maintained 
in the world, and required many things 
to have been reformed; and yet, not- 
withstanding, he lived under such pol- 
icies as then were universally received, 
without further troubling of any state. 
Even so, madam, am I content to do, 
in uprightness of heart, and with a 
testimony of a good conscience. 
John Knox to Mary, Queen of Scots. 



it shall be said in any country 
in the world, " My poor are happy; 
neither ignorance nor distress is to be 
found among them; my jails are empty 
of prisoners, my streets of beggars; the 
aged are not in want, the taxes are not 
oppressive; the rational world is my 
friend, because I am a friend of its 
happiness" when these things can be 
said, then may that country boast of its 
constitution and its government. 

Thomas Paine. 

^ 

Ignorance is tlie night of the mind^ But a 
i^tt without moon or star* Confocte. 



Page 198 



I i~ > < * , ,; :r; j T is only a poor sort of hap- 
? t f f| ; v , ; , ] piness that could ever come 
j/^ii^t'H^ by caring very much about 
\Yi^^ff^\ our own narrow pleasures. 
fc^;ll:;;J We can only have the high- 
est happiness, such as goes along with 
being a great man, by having wide 
thoughts, and much feeling for the rest 
of the world as well as ourselves; and this 
sort of happiness often 
brings so much pain with 
it, that we can only tell 
it from pain by its being 
what we would choose 
before everything else, 
because our souls see it 
is good &+> There are so 
many things wrong and 
difficult in the world that 
no man can be great he 
can hardly keep himself 
from wickedness un- 
less he gives up thinking 
much about his pleasure 
or his rewards, and gets 
strength to endure what 
is hard and painful. My 
father had the greatness 
that belongs to integrity; 
he chose poverty and ob- 
scurity rather than false- 
hood. And there was Fra 
Grkolamo (Savonarola); 
he had the greatness which belongs to a 
life spent in struggling against powerful 
wrong, and in trying to raise men to the 
highest deeds they are capable of. And 
so, my Lillo, if you mean to act nobly and 
seek to know the best things God has 
put within reach of men, you must learn 
to fix your mind on that end, and not on 
wfiat will happen to you because of it. 
<|. And remember, if you were to choose 
something lower, and make it the rule 
of your life to seek your own pleasure 
s^L escape from what is disagreeable, 
calamity might come just the same; and 
it would be calamity felling on a base 
mind, which is the one form of sorrow 
that has no balm in it, and that may well 
make a man say * It would have been 
better for me if I had never been bom/ 
I wHI tell jw$ ffOTOtfoingfr I4Ik>/* 



Time, you old gipsy man, 
Will you not stay, 
Put up your caravan 
Just for one day? 

ATI things 1 9 ll give you 
Will you be my guest, 
Bells for your jennet 
Of silver the best, 
Goldsmiths shall beat you 
A great golden ring, 
Peacocks shall bow to you, 
Little boys sing, 
Oh, and sweet girls will 
Festoon you with May* 
Time, you old gipsy, 
Why hasten away? 

(Concluded on next page) 



taken Lillo's cheeks between her hands, 
and his young eyes were meeting hers, 
C " There was a man to whom I was 
very near, so that I could see a great 
deal of his life, who made almost every 
one fond of him, for he was young, and 
clever, and beautiful, and his manners to 
all were gentle and kind. I believe, when 
I first knew him, he never thought of 
anything cruel or base. 
But because he tried to 
slip away from every- 
thing that was unpleas- 
ant, and caredfor nothing 
else as much as his own 
safety, he came at last 
to commit some of the 
basest deeds such as 
make men infamous. He 
denied his father, and 
left him to misery; he 
betrayed every 1 trust that 
was reposed in him, that 
he migjit keep himself 
safe and get rich and 
prosperous. Yet calamity 
overtook him." 
Again Romola paused. 
Her voice was unsteady, 
and Lillo was looking 
at her with awed wonder. 
<[ " Another time, my 
Lillo I will tell you 
another time." From the Epilogue to 
Romola by George Eliot* 



Books are the true levelers. They give to 
all who faithfully use them the society, the 
spiritual presence, of the best and great- 
est of our race. W. E. Charming. 



Romola paused for a moment. She had 



Some people have a perfect genius for 

doing nothing, and doing it assiduously. 

Thomas C. Haliburton. 

$> 

CHE delusive Mea that men merely 
toil and work for the sake of pre- 
serving their bodies, and procuring for 
themselves bread, houses, and clothes, is 
degrading and not to be encouraged * 
The true orient of man's activity and 
creativeness Iks in his unceasing impulse 
to embody outside himself the divine and 
spiritual dement within htm.- FroebeL 



Page 199 



after four months of 
i anxious toil, through the 
whole of a scorching Phila- 
delphia summer, after earn- 
* est but sometimes bitter dis- 
cussion, in which more than once the 
meeting had seemed on the point of 
breaking up, a colossal work had at last 
been accomplished, the results of which 
were powerfully to af- 
fect the whole future 
career of the human race. 
[ In spite of the high- 
wrought intensity of feel- 
ing which had been now 
and then displayed, grave 
decorum had ruled the 
proceedings; and now, 
though few were really 
satisfied, the approach 
to acquiescent unanimi- 
ity was very remarkable. 
When all was over, it is 
said that many of the 
members seemed awe- 
struck. Washington sat 
with head bowed in 
solemn meditation. The 
scene was ended by a 
characteristic bit of 
homely pleasantry from 
Franklin s+ &+ 
Thirty-three years ago, 
in the days of George II, before the first 
mutterings of the Revolution had been 
heard, and when the French dominion in 
America was still untouched, before the 
banishment of the Acadians or the rout 
of Braddock, while Washington was still 
surveying lands in the wilderness, while 
Madison was playing in the nursery and 
Hamilton was not yet born, Franklin 
had endeavored to bring together the 
thirteen colonies in a federal union. Of 
the famous Albany plan of 1754, the first 
complete outline of a federal constitution 
for Arperica that ever was made, he was 
the principal if not the sole author & 
When he signed his name to the Declara- 
tion of Independence in this very; room, 
his years had rounded the fuH period of 
threescore and ten. Eleven ye&ns noore 
had passed, and fae ha$ beem spaced f$ 
see the nobte^pa of 



Last week in Babylon, 

Last night in Rome, 

Morning, and in the crush 

Under Paul's dome; 

Under Paul's dial 

You tighten your rein 

Only a moment, 

And off once again; 

Off to some city 

Now blind in the womb, 

Off to another 

Ere that *s in the tomb. 



There was still, no doubt, a chance of 
failure, but hope now reigned in the old 
man's breast. On the back of the Presi- 
dent's quaint black armchair there was 
emblazoned a half-sun, brilliant with its 
gilded rays. As the meeting was about to 
break up and Washington arose, Franklin 
pointed to the chair, and made it the 
text for prophecy &+> " As I have been 
sitting here all these 
weeks/' said he, " I have 
often wondered whether 
yonder sun is rising or 
setting. But now I know 
that it is a rising sun! " 
John Fiske. 



Time, you old gipsy man, 
Will you not stay, 
Put up your caravan 
Just for one day? 

" Time, You Old Gipsy Man," 
by Ralph Hodgson 



AN is a land-animal. 
A land-animal can 
not live without land. 
All that man, produces 
comes from the land; 
all productive labor, in 
the final analysis, con- 
sists in working up land, 
or materials drawn from 
land, into such forms as 
fit them for the satis- 
faction of human wants 
and desires, Man's very 
body is drawn from the 
land &* Children of the 
soil, we come from the 
land, and to the land we must return. 
Take away from man all that belongs to 
the land, and what have you but a dis- 
embodied spirit? Therefore, he who holds 
the land on which and from which 
another man must live is that man's 
master; and the man is his slave. The 
man who holds the land on which I 
must live, can command me to life or 
to death just as absolutely as though I 
were his chattel. 

Talk about abolishing slavexyf We have 
not abolished slavery; we have only 
abolished one rade form of it chattel 
slayecy. ?!Fhere is a deeper and more in- 
sijdipltiS fomv a more cursed form yet 
before us to abqlish, in this industrial 
slavery that makes a man a virtual 
triple fsmtittg Mm and 



-Henry 



Page 200 




to which the great 
a sacred books of the world 
1 conform, and our own most 



conceptions, beliefs 
and aspirations of our race from its 
childhood through the great turning- 
points in its history. Herein lies the 
truth of all bibles, and especially of our 
own. Of vast value they indeed often are 
as a record of historical outward fact; 
recent researches in the East are con- 
stantly increasing this value; but it is 
not for this that we prize them most: 
they are eminently precious, not as a rec- 
ord of outward fact, but as a mirror of 
the evolving heart, soul and mind of man. 
They are true because they have been 
developed in accordance with the laws 
governing the evolution of truth in 
human history, and because in poem, 
chronicle, code, legend, myth, apologue 
or parable they reflect this development 
of what is best in the onward march of 
humanity. To say that they are not true 
is as if one should say that a flower or a 
tree or a planet is not true; to scoff at 
them is to scoff at the law of the universe. 
In welding together into noble form, 
whether in the book of Genesis, or in the 
Psalms, or in the book of Job, or else- 
where, the great conceptions of men 
acting under earlier inspiration, whether 
in Egypt, or Chaldea, or India, or Per- 
sia, the compilers of our sacred books 
have given to humanity a possession 
ever becoming more and more precious; 
and modern science, in substituting a 
new heaven and a new earth for the old 
the reign of law for the reign of ca- 
price, and the idea of evolution for that 
of creation has added and is steadily 
adding a new revelation divinely in- 
spired **> * 

In the light of these two evolutions, 
thai one of the visible universe, the 
other of a sacred creation-legend: 
science and theology, if the master 
minds in both are wise, may at last be 
reconciled. Andrew D. White. 

> 

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, 
I contradict myself; (I am large* I con- 
tain multitudes). Walt Whitman* 



T # "T is Criticism, as Arnold points out, 
^ % that creates the intellectual at- 
mosphere of the age. It is Criticism . . . 
that makes the mind a fine instrurnent . . 
d It is Criticism, again, that, by con- 
centration, makes culture possible It 
takes the cumbersome mass of creative 
work, and distils it into a finer essence. . . 
<[ The thread that is to guide us across 
the wearisome labyrinth is in the hands 
of Criticism. Nay more, where there is no 
record, and history is either lost or was 
never written, Criticism can re-create the 
past for us from the very smallest frag- 
ment of language or art, just as surely 
as the man of science can from some tiny 
bone, or the mere impress of a foot upon 
a rock, re-create for us the winged dragon 
or the Titan lizard that once made the 
earth shake beneath its tread, can call 
Behemoth out of his cave, and make 
Leviathan swim once more across the 
startled sea. Prehistoric history belongs 
to the philological and archaeological 
critic &+ It is to him that the origins of 
things are revealed. 

The self-conscious deposits of an age are 
nearly always misleading ... It is Criti- 
cism that makes us cosmopolitan . . . 
It is only by the cultivation of the habit 
of intellectual criticism that we shall be 
able to rise superior to race prejudices . . . 
Criticism will annihilate race prejudices, 
by insisting upon the unity of the human 
mind in the variety of its forms . . . 
It is Criticism that, recognizing no 
position as final, and refusing to bind 
itself by the shallow shibboleths of any 
sect or school, creates that serene philo- 
sophic temper which loves truth for its 
own sake, and loves it not the less because 
it knows it to be unattainable. 

Oscar Wilde. 

> 

The stomach is a slave that must accept 

everything that is given to it, but which 

avenges wrongs as slyly as does the slave. 

Emile Souvestre. 

& 

Man is so essentially, so necessarily, a 
moral being that, when he denies the 
existence of all morality , that very denial 
already becomes the foundation of a 
new morality. Maeterlinck. 



J3OO.PC 



Page 201 



; HE changes which break up 
, ; at short intervals the pros- 
u ? } perity of men are adver- 
^ v/ tisements of a nature whose 
fj fc law is growth. Evermore it is 
the order of nature to grow, and every 
soul is by this intrinsic necessity quit- 
ting its whole system of things, its 
friends, and home, and laws, and faith, 
as the shell-fish 
crawls out of its 
beautiful but stony 
case, because it no 
longer admits of its 
growth, and slowly 
forms a new house. 
C[ In proportion to 
the vigor of the 
individual these 
revolutions are fre- 
quent, until in 
some happier mind 
they are incessant, 
and all worldly re- 
lations hang very 
loosely about him, 
becoming as it were 
a transparent 
fluid membrane 
through which the 
form is always seen 
and not as in most 
men an indurated 
heterogeneous 
fabricofmanydates 
and of no settled 
character, in which 
the man is impris- 
oned. Then there 
can be enlargement 
and the man of to- 
day scarcely recog- 
nizes the man of 

yesterday. And such should be the out- 
ward biography of man in time, a putting 
off of dead circumstances day by day, as 
he renews his raiment day by day. But 
to us, in our lapsed state, resting not 
advancing, resisting not co-operating 
with the divine expansion, this growth 
comes by shocks. 

We can not part with our friends. We 
can not let our angels go. We do not see 
that they only go out that archangels 



I went to the dances at Chandlerville, 
And played snap-out at Winchester. 
One time we changed partners, 
Driving home in the moonlight of middle 

June, 

And then I found Davis. 
We were married and lived together for 

seventy years, 
Enjoying, working, raising the twelve 

children, 

Eight of whom we lost 
Ere I reached the age of sixty. 
I spun, I wove, I kept the house, I nursed 

the sick, 

I made the garden, and for holiday 
Rambled over the fields where sang the 

larks, 
And by Spoon River gathering many a 

shell, 

And many a flower and medicinal weed 
Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to 

the green valleys. 

At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all, 
And passed to a sweet repose. 
What is this I hear of sorrow and 

weariness, 

Anger, discontent and drooping hopes? 
Degenerate sons and daughters, 
Life is too strong for you 
It takes life to love Life. 

" Lucinda Matlock," by Edgar Lee Masters 



may come in * We are idolaters of the 
old. We do not believe in the riches of 
the soul, in its proper eternity and omni- 
presence. We do not believe there is any 
force in today to rival or re-create that 
beautiful yesterday $ We linger in the 
ruins of the old tent, where once we had 
bread and shelter and organs, nor believe 
that the spirit can feed, cover, and 
nerve us again. We 
can not again find 
aught so dear, so 
sweet, so graceful. 
But we sit and weep 
in vain.The voiceof 
the Almighty saith, 
" Up and onward 
for evermore 1" 
We can not stay 
amid the ruins. 
Neither will we rely 
on the new; and so 
we walk ever with 
reverted eyes, like 
those monsters 
who look back- 
wards > $* 
And yet the com- 
pensations of ca- 
lamity are made 
apparent to the 
understanding also 
after long intervals 
of time. A fever, a 
mutilation, a cruel 
disappointment, a 
loss of wealth, the 
loss of friends, 
seems at the mo- 
ment unpaid loss, 
and unpayable s* 
But the sure years 
reveal the deep 
remedial force that underlies all facts. 
The death of a dear friend, wife, brother, 
lover, which seemed nothing but priva- 
tion, somewhat later assumes the aspect 
of a guide or genius; for it commonly 
operates revolutions in our way of life, 
terminates an epoch of infancy car of 
youth which was waiting to be closed, 
breaks up a wonted occupation, or a 
household, or style of living, and aDows 
t^ formation of new ones more friendly 



Page 202 



ffUBBARD*S 



to the growth of character. It permits or 
constrains the formation of new ac- 
quaintances, and the reception of new 
influences that prove of the first impor- 
tance to the next years; and the man or 
woman who would have remained a sunny 
garden flower, with no room for its roots 
and too much sunshine for its head, 
by the falling of walls and the neglect ot 
its gardener, is made the banyan of the 
forest, yielding shade and fruit to wide 
neighborhoods of men. Emerson. 



FIND letters from God dropped in 

the street, and every one is signed by 

God's name, 
And I leave them where they are, for I 

know that wheresoe'er I go, 
Others will punctually come for ever and 

ever. 

Walt Whitman. 

$0 30 

idea of having navies for the 
protection of commerce is delusive. 
It is putting the means of destruction for 
the means of protection Commerce 
needs no other protection than the recip- 
rocal interest which every nation feels 
in supporting it it is common stock it 
exists by a balance of advantages to 
all; and the only interruption it, meets 
is from the present uncivilized state of 
governments, and which it is its common 
interest to reform. . . , 
There can be no such thing as a nation 
flourishing alone in commerce; she can 
only participate; and the destruction of 
it in any part must necessarily affect all. 
When, therefore, governments are at 
war, the attack is made upon the com- 
mon stock of commerce, and the con- 
sequence is the same as if each had 
attacked his own. 

Tlxe prosperity of any cx>mmercial nation 
is regulated by the prosperity of the 
rest. If they are poor, she can not be 
rich; and her condition, be it *witst it 
may, is an index of tfce heigjit of tfe 
commercial tide in other nations. 

Thomas Paine. 



4 politician thinks of the next election; a 
statesman, of the next generation. 
James Freeman 



<I7 7-rITH respect to what arc 
4&- ; > "-*; called denominations of re- 
|f ""^''"*W ligion, if every one is left 
^'"''rf J;> f^' judge of his own religion, 
l^j;^.f^l?t^-J there is no such thing as a 
religion that is wrong; but if they are to 
judge of each other's religion, there is no 
such thing as a religion that is right; and 
therefore, all the world is right, or all 
the world is wrong. 

But with respect to religion itself, with- 
out regard to names, and as directing 
itself from the universal family of man- 
kind to the divine object of all adoration, 
it is man bringing to his Maker the 
fruits of his heart; and though these 
fruits may differ from each other like the 
fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of 

every one is accepted. 

****** 

If we suppose a large family of children 
who on any particular day, or particular 
occasion, make it a custom to present to 
their parents some token of their affec- 
tion and gratitude, each of them would 
make a different offering, and most prob- 
ably in a different manner. 
Some would pay their congratulations 
in themes of verse and prose, by some 
little devices, as their genius dictated, of 
according to what they thought would 
please; and, perhaps, the least of all, 
not able to do any one of those things, 
would ramble into the garden, or the 
field, and gather what it thought the 
prettiest flower it could find, though, 
perhaps, it might be but a simple weed. 
The parents would be more gratified 
by such a variety than if the whole of 
them had acted on a concerted plan, 
and each had made exactly the same 
offering $o &o 

This would have the cold appearance of 
contrivance, or the harsh one of control. 
<[ But of all unwelcome things, nothing 
would nacre afflict the parents than to 
know feat the whole of them had after- 
wards got together by the ears, boys 
and girls, fighting, reviling and abusing 
each other about which was the best or 
the worst present. Thomas Paine. 



$030 

No man but a blockhead ever wrote 
except for money. Samuel Johnson. 



Page 203 



" NLY in broken gleams and 
partial light has the sun of 
Liberty yet beamed among 
men, yet all progress hath 
she called forth. 

Liberty came to a race crouching under 
Egyptian whips, and led them forth from 
the House of Bondage &+> She hardened 
them in the desert and made of them a 
race of conquerors. 
C, The free spirit 
of the Mosaic law 
took their thinkers 
up to heights where 
they beheld the 
unity of God, and 
inspired their poets 
with strains that 
yet phrase the high- 
est exaltations of 
thought. 

Liberty dawned on 
thePhoenician coast 
and ships passed 
the Pillars of 
Hercules to plow 
the unknown sea^ 
She broke in par- 
tial light on Greece, 
and marble grew 
to shapes of ideal 
beauty, words be- 
came the instru- 
ments of subtlest thought, and against 
the scanty militia of all free cities the 
countless hosts of the Great King broke 
like surges against a rock. She cast her 
beams on the four-acre farms of Italian 
husbandmen, and born of her strength 
a power came forth that conquered the 
world! She glinted from shields of Ger- 
man warriors, and Augustus wept his 
legions. Out of the night that followed 
her eclipse, her slanting rays fell again on 
free cities, and a lost learning revived, 
modern civilization began, a new world 
was unveiled; and as Liberty grew so 
grew art, wealth, power, knowledge and 
refinement a^ * 

In the history of every nation we may 
read the same truth. It was the strength 
born of Magna Charta that won Crecy 
and Agincourt. It was the revival of Lib- 
erty from tihe despotism of tife 



Bright Star! would I were steadfast as 

thou art 

Not in lone splendor hung aloft the night, 
And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, 
The moving waters at their priest-like task 
Of pure ablution round earth's human 

shores, 

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask 
Of snow upon the mountains and the 

moors 

No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, 
Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening 

breast, 

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, 
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, 

Still, still to hear her tender-taken 

breath, 
And so live ever or else swoon to 

death. 

" Last Sonnet," by John Keats 



that glorified the Elizabethan age. It was 
the spirit that brought a crowned tyrant 
to the block that planted here the seed 
of a mighty tree. It was the energy of 
ancient freedom that, the moment it had 
gained unity, made Spain the mightiest 
power of the world, only to fall to the 
lowest depths of weakness when tyranny 
succeeded liberty. <L See, in France, all 
intellectual vigor 
dying under the 
tyranny of the 
seventeenth cen- 
tury to revive in 
splendor as Liberty 
awoke in the eight- 
eenth, and on the 
enfranchisement 
of the French peas- 
ants in the great 
revolution, basing 
the wonderful 
strength that has 
in our time laughed 
at disaster. 
What Liberty 
shall do for the 
nation that fully 
accepts and loyally 
cherishes her, the 
wondrous inven- 
tions, which are the 
marked features of 

this century, give us but a hint . . . . . 
Ci, A hundred years have passed since 
the fast friend of American liberty the 
great Earl Chathamr-rose to make his 
last appeal for the preservation, on the 
basis of justice, of that English-speaking 
empire, in which he saw the grandest 
possibility of the future. Is it too soon 
to hope that the future may hold the 
realization of his vision in a nobler form 
than even he imagined, and that it may 
be the mission of this Republic to unite 
all the nations of English speech, whether 
they grow beneath tibe Northern Star or 
Southern Cross, in a league which by 
insuring justice, promoting peace, and 
liberating commerce, will be the lore- 
runner of a world-wide federation tiiat 
wiH make war the possibility of a past 
age, and turn to works of useMness tfae 

_ l^l-'l _L 'L J _!*'_.._'*._ J*_ !_.*'' '_*_ 



Page 204 



tion, < Is this the dream of 

dreamers? One brought to the world the 
message that it might be reality. But 
they crucified him between two thieves, 
d Not till it accepts that message can 
the world have peace. Look over the 
history of the past. What is it but a 
record of the woes inflicted by man on 
man, of wrong producing wrong, and 
crime fresh crime? It must be so till 
justice is acknowledged and liberty is 
law * * 

Who is Liberty that we should doubt 
her; that we should set bounds to her, 
and say, " Thus far shalt thou come and 
no farther! " Is she not peace? is she 
not prosperity? is she not progress? nay, 
is she not the goal towards which all 
progress strives? 

Not here; but yet she cometh! Saints 
have seen her in their visions; seers have 
seen her in their trance. To heroes has 
she spoken, and their hearts were strong; 
to martyrs, and the flames were cool! 
<[ She is not here, but yet she cometh. 
Lo! her feet are on the mountains the 
call of her clarions ring on every breeze; 
the banners of her dawning fret the sky I 
Who will hear her as she calleth; who 
will bid her come and welcome? Who will 
turn to her? who will speak for her? who 
will stand for her while she yet hath 
need? Henry George. 



F a friend of mine. . . gave a feast, 
and did not invite me to it, I should 
not mind a bit. . . . Buf if . . . a friend 
of mine had a sorrow and refused to 
alow me to share it, I should feel it most 
bitterly. If he shut the doors of the house 
of mourning against me, I would move 
back again and again and beg to be 
admitted, so that I might share in what I 
was entitled to share. If he thought me 
unworthy, unfit to weep with him, I 
slx>uld feel it as the most poignant 
humiliation, as the most terrible mode 
for which disgrace could be inflicted on 
me. . . he who can look on the loveliness 
of the world and share its sorrow, and 
realize something of the wonder of both, 
is in immediate contact with divine 
things, and has got as near to God's 
secret as any one can get* Oscar Wilde. 



I* T has been thought a considerable 
advance towards establishing the 
principles of freedom to say, that govern- 
ment is a compact between those who 
govern and those who are governed: but 
this can not be true, because it is put- 
ting the effect before the cause; for as 
man must have existed before govern- 
ments existed, there necessarily was a 
time when governments did not exist, 
and consequently there could originally 
exist no governors to form such a com- 
pact with. 

The fact therefore must be that the 
individuals themselves, each in his own 
personal and sovereign right, entered 
into a compact with each other to pro- 
duce a government: and this is the only 
mode in which governments have a right 
to arise, and the only principle on which 
they have a right to exist. 

Thomas Paine. 

* 

Time to me is so precious that with great 
difficulty can I steal one hour in eight 
days, either to satisfy myself or to 
gratify my friends. John Knox. 



CHEY that love beyond the world 
can not be separated by it. 
Death can not kill what never dies. 
<t Nor can spirits ever be divided, that 
love and live in the same divine prin- 
ciple, the root and record, of their friend- 
ship > SO 

Death is but crossing the world, as 
friends do the seas; they live in one 
another still. . . . 

This is the comfort of friends, that 
though they may be said to die, yet 
their friendship and society are, in the 
best sense, ever present because im- 
mortal. William Penn. 

&* * 

Man can not degrade woman without 
himself falling into degradation; he 
can not elevate her without at the same 
time elevating himself. 

Alexander Walker. 



However dull a woman may be, she will 
understand all there is in love; however 
intelligent a man may be, he will never 
know but half of it Madame Fee. 



Page 205 



Nature is always right, 
is an assertion, artistically, 
as untrue, as it is one whose 
truth is universally taken 
for granted. Nature is very 

rarely right, to such an extent even, that 

it might almost be said that Nature is 

usually wrong: that is to say, the condi- 
tion of things that 

shall bring about 

the perfection of 

harmony worthy a 

picture is rare, and 

not common at all. 

CJgThis would 

seem, to even the 

most intelligent, 

a doctrine almost 

blasphemous. 

So incorporated 

with our education 

has the supposed 

aphorism become, 

that its belief is 

held to be part of 

our moral being, 

and the words 

themselves have, in 

our ear, the ring 

of religion. 

Still, seldom does 

Nature succeed in 



working man and the cultured one, the 
wise man and the one of pleasure, cease 
to understand, as they have ceased to 
see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung 
in tune, sings her exquisite song to the 
artist alone, her son and her master 
her son in that he loves her, her master 
in that he knows her. 

To him her secrets 

In the dark womb where I began 

My mother's life made me a man. 

Through all the months of human birth 

Her beauty fed my common earth, 

I can not see, nor breathe, nor stir, 

But through the death of some of her* 



are unfolded, to 
him her lessons 
have become grad- 
ually clear. 



Down in the darkness of the grave, 
She can not see the life she gave. 
For all her love, she can not tell 
Whether I use it ill or well, 
Nor knock at dusty doors to find 
Her beauty dusty in the mind. 

If the grave's gates could be undone, 
She would not know her little son, 
I am so grown. If we should meet, 
She would pass by me in the street, 
Unless my soul's face let her see 
My sense of what she did for me. 



producing a pic- 
ture s* $* 

* * * * 

How little this is 
understood, and 
how dutifully the 
casual in Nature 
is accepted as sub- 
lime, may be gath- 
ered from the 
unlimited admira- 
tion daily produced 
by a very foolish 

sunset. ******<[ And when 
the evening mist clothes the riverside 
with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor 
buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, 
and the tall chimneys become campanili, 
and the warehouses are palaces in the 
night, and the whole city hangs in the 
heavens, and fairy-land is before us 
then the wayfarer hastens home; 



What have I done to keep in mind 
My debt to her and womankind? 
What woman 9 s happier life repays 
Her for those months of wretched days? 
For all my mouthless body leeched 
Ere Birfh's releasing hell was reached? 



What have I done, or tried, or said 
In thanks to that dear woman, dead? 
Men triumph over woman still, 
Men trample woman's rights at will, 
And man's lust roves the world untamed* 
O grave, keep shut lest I be shamed. 
" C. L. M.," by John Masefield. 



Through his brain, 
as through the last 
alembic, is distilled 
the refined essence 
of that thought 
which began with 
the Gods, and 
which they left him 
to cany out. 
Set apart by them 
to complete their 
works, he produces 
that wondrous 
thing called the 
masterpiece, which 
surpasses in perfec- 
tion all that they 
have contrived in 
what is called Na- 
ture; and the Gods 
stand by and mar- 
vel, and perceive 
how far away 
more beautiful Is 
the Venus of Melos 
than was their own 
Eve. Whistler. 



s a 

sort of fever 
in the mind, which 

ever leaves us weaker than it found us. . . 
<[ It, more than any thing, deprives tis 
of the use of our judgment; for it raises 
a dust very hard to see through ...... 

41 It may not unfitly be termed the mob 
of the man, that commits a riot upon 
his reason. William Penn. 

* - 

Adrian is an animal that writes. Homer. 



Page 206 




. E is fallen! We may now 
. pause before that splendid 
prodigy, which towered 
among us like some ancient 
ruin, whose frown terrified 
the glance its magnificence attracted *> 
C Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat 
upon the throne, a sceptered hermit, 
wrapped in the solitude of his own 
originality <&*> $ 

A mind, bold, independent, and decisive 
a will, despotic in its dictates an 
energy that distanced expedition, and a 
conscience pliable to every touch of 
interest, marked the outline of this 
extraordinary character the most ex- 
traordinary, perhaps, that, in the annals 
of this world, ever rose, or reigned, or 
fell *< 

Flung into life, in the midst of a revo- 
lution that quickened every energy of a 
people who acknowledged no superior, 
he commenced his course, a stranger by 
birth, and a scholar by charity! 
With no friend but his sword, and no 
fortune but his talents, he rushed into the 
lists where rank, and wealth, and genius 
had arrayed themselves, and competition 
fled from him as from the glance of des- 
tiny. He knew no motive but interest 
he acknowledged no criterion but suc- 
cess he worshiped no God but am- 
bition, and with an Eastern devotion he 
knelt at the shrine of his idolatry. Sub- 
sidiary to this, there was no opinion that 
he did not promulgate: in the hope of a 
dynasty, he upheld the crescent; for the 
sake of a divorce, he bowed before the 
Cross: the orphan of St. Louis, he became 
the adopted child of the Republic; and 
with a paricidal ingratitude, on the ruins 
both of the throne and the tribune, he 
reared the throne of despotism. 
A professed Catholic, Be imprisoned the 
pope;a pretended patriot, he impoverish- 
ed the cmmtry ; and in the name of Bm- 
tas* he grasped without remorse, and wore 
wMiont shame, the diademof the Caesars ! 
<[ Tlnoogli ti^ pantomi^^ 
fortune played the down to his caprkes* 
At his toudb, crowns cnnnbled, beggars 
reigned, systems vanished, the wildest 
theories took the color of his whim, and 
all that was venerable, and ail that was 



novel, changed places with the rapidity of 
a drama. Even apparent defeat assumed 
the appearance of victory his flight 
from Egypt confirmed his destiny 
ruin itself only elevated him. to empire. 
C But if this fortune was great, his 
genius was transcendent; decision flashed 
upon his counsels; and it was the same to 
decide and to perform. To inferior in- 
tellects, his combinations appeared per- 
fectly impossible, his plans perfectly im- 
practicable; but, in his hands, simplicity 
marked their development, and success 
vindicated their adoption. 
His person partook the character of his 
mind if the one never yielded in the 
cabinet, the other never bent in the field. 
C Nature had no obstacles that he did 
not surmount space no opposition that 
he did not spurn; and whether amid 
Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or polar 
snows, he seemed proof against peril, and 
empowered with ubiquity! The whole 
continent of Europe trembled at be- 
holding the audacity of his designs, and 
the miracle of their execution. Skepti- 
cism bowed to the prodigies of his per- 
formance; romance assumed the air of 
history; nor was there aught too incred- 
ible for belief, or too fanciful for expec- 
tation, when the world saw a subaltern 
of Corsica waving his imperial flag over 
her most ancient capitals. All the visions 
of antiquity became common places in 
his contemplation; kings were his people 
nations were his outposts; and he dis- 
posed of courts, and crowns, and camps, 
and churches, and cabinets, as if they 
were the titular dignitaries of the chess- 
board! *>** 

Amid all these changes he stood im- 
mutable as adamant. It mattered little 
whether in the field or the drawing-room 
with the mob or the levee wearing the 
jacobin bonnet or the iron crown 
banishing a Braganza, or espousing a 
Hapsburg dictating peace on a raft to 
the Czar of Russia, or contemplating 
defeat at the gallows of Leipsic he was 
stffi lite same military despot! 
Cradled in the camp, he was to the last 
hour the darling of the army; and 
whether in the camp or the cabinet* he 
never forsook a friend or forgot a favor,* 



Page 207 



Of all his soldiers, not one abandoned 
him, till affection was useless; and their 
first stipulation was for the safety of their 
favorite s* so* 

They knew well, if he was lavish of them, 
he was prodigal of himself; and that if he 
exposed them to peril, he repaid them 
with plunder. For 
the soldier, he sub- 
sidized every peo- 
ple; to the people 
he made even pride 
pay tribute The 
victorious veteran 
glittered with his 
gains; and the capi- 
tal, gorgeous with 
the spoils of art, 
became the minia- 
ture metropolis of 
the universe. In this 
wonderful combi- 
nation, his affecta- 
tion of literature 
must not be omit- 
ted s^ The jailer of 
the Press, he affect- 
ed the patronage 
of letters the pro- 
scriber of books, he 
encouraged philos- 
ophy the perse- 
cutor of authors, 
and the murderer 
of printers, he yet 
pretended to the 
protection of learn- 
ing! the assassin 
of Palm, the silen- 
cer of De Stael, and 
the denouncer of 
Kotzebue, he was 
the friend of David, 
the benefactor of 
De Lille, and sent 

his academic prize to the philosopher of 
England -^ $+ 

Suck a medley of contradictions, and at 
the same time such an individual con- 
sistency, were never united in the same 
character, A Royalist a Republican and 
an Emperor a Mohammed^-ra Csttho- 
kc and a Patron^ f, the 
Subaltern and a 



/ write. He sits beside my chair, 

And scribbles, too, in hushed delight, 

He dips his pen, in charmed air: 
What is it he pretends to write? 

He toils and toils; the paper gives 
No clue to aught he thinks. What then? 

His little heart is glad; he lives 
The poems that he can not pen. 

Strange fancies throng that baby brain? 

What grave, sweet looks! What earnest 

eyes! 
He stops reflects and now again 

His unrecording pen he plies. 

It seems a satire on myself, 

These dreamy nothings scrawied in cdr, 
This thought, this work! Oh, tricksy elf, 

Wouldst drive the father to despair? 

Despair! Ah, no; the heart, the mind 
Presist^n hoping schemes and strives 

That there may linger with our kind 
Some memory of our little lives. 

Beneath his rock in the early world 
Smiling the naked hunter lay, 

And sketched on horn the spear he hurled 
The urus which he made his prey. 

Like him I strive in hope my rhymes 
May keep my name a little while 

O child, who knows how many times 
We two have made the angels smile! 

" A New Poet,*' by William Canton 



and a Tyrant a Christian and an Infidel 
he was, through all his vicissitudes, the 
same stern, impatient, inflexible original 
the same mysterious, incomprehensible 
self the man without a model, and with- 
out a shadow. 

His fall, like his life, baffled all specula- 
tion. In short, his 
whole history was 
like a dream to the 
world, and no man 
can tell how or why 
he was awakened 
from the reverie. 
< Such is a faint 
and feeble picture 
of Napoleon Bona- 
parte, the first (and 
it is to be hoped 
the last) emperor 
of the French. 
That he has done 
much evil there is 
little doubt; that 
he has been the 
origin of much good 
there is just as 
little. Through his 
means, intentional 
or not, Spain, Por- 
tugal, and France 
have arisen to the 
blessings of a free 
constitution; super- 
stition has found 
her grave in the 
ruins of the In- 
quisition and tiie 
feudal system, with 
its whole train of 
tyrannic satellites, 
has fled forever $*> 
Kings may learn 
from him that their 
safest study, as 

well as their noblest, is the interest of the 
people; the people are taught by him that 
there is no despotism, so stupendous 
against which they have not a resource; 
and to those who would rise "upon the 
rums of both, he is a living lesson, that if 
c^n raise them from, the lowest 
it can also prostrate them from 
" ^ * 



Page 208 



ffUBBARD'S 




|AM inclined to believe that 
| the intention of the Sacred 
Scriptures is to give to man- 
jkind the information neces- 
isary for their salvation. 
But I do not hold it necessary to believe 
that the same God who has endowed us 
with senses, with speech, with intellect, 
intended that we should neglect the use 
of these, and seek by other means for 
knowledge which these are sufficient to 
procure for us; especially in a science like 
astronomy, of which so little notice is 
taken by the Scriptures that none of the 
planets, except the sun and moon and 
once or twice only Venus, by the name 
of Lucifer, are so much as named at all. 
<[ This therefore being granted, me- 
thinks that in the discussion of natural 
problems we ought not to begin at the 
authority of texts of Scriptures, but at 
sensible experiments and necessary dem- 
onstrations. Galileo, 

^^ 
REVER one goes one immedi- 

comes upon this incorrigible 
mob of humanity. It exists everywhere in 
legions; crowding and soiling everything, 
like flies in summer. Hence the number- 
less bad books, those rank weeds of 
literature which extract nourishment 
from the corn, and choke it. They mo- 
nopolize the time, money and attention 
which really belongs to good books and 
their noble aims; they are written merely 
with a view to making money or pro- 
curing places. They are not only useless, 
but they do positive harm. Nine-tenths 
of the whole of our present literature 
aims solely at taking a few shillings out 
of the public's pocket, and to accomplish 
tins, author, publisher and reviewer have 
joined forces. Schopenhauer. 

*** 

HAVE often tried to picture to 
myself what famine is, but the 
human mind is not capable of drawing 
any form, any scene, that will realize the 
horrors of starvation/The men who made 
the Com Laws are totally ignorant of 
what it means. The agricultural laborers 
know something of it in some counties, 
and there are some hand-loom weavers 
in Lancashire who know what it is. I saw 



the other night, late at night, a light in 2 
cottage-window, and heard the loom 
busily at work, the shuttle flying rapidly. 
It ought to have a cheerful sound, but 
it is at work near midnight, when there is 
care upon the brow of the workman 
lest he should not be able to secure that 
which will maintain his wife and children 
then there is a foretaste of what is 
meant by the word " famine," Oh, if 
these men who made the Corn Laws, if 
these men who step in between the Crea- 
tor and His creatures, could for only 
one short twelvemonth I would inflict 
upon them no harder punishment for 
their guilt if they for one single twelve- 
month might sit at the loom and throw 
the shuttle! I will not ask that they 
should have the rest of the evils; I will 
not ask that they shall be torn by the 
harrowing feelings which must exist 
when a beloved wife and helpless children 
are suffering the horrors which these 
Corn Laws have inflicted upon millions. 

John Bright. 

* &** 

know the mighty works of God; 
o comprehend His wisdom and 
majesty and power; to appreciate, in 
degree, the wonderful working of His 
laws, surely all this must be a pleasing 
and acceptable mode of worship to the 
Most High, to whom ignorance can not 
be more grateful than knowledge. 

Copernicus. 

** * 

^TT-P ^ e wisl1 to ^ e just judges of all 
^K things, let us first persuade ourselves 
of this : that there is not one of us without 
fault; no man is found who can acquit 
himself; and he who calls himself inno- 
cent does so with reference to a witness, 
and not to his conscience. Seneca. 



SN a man of genius is in full 
swing, never contradict him, set 
him straight or try to reason with him. 
Give him a free field. A listener is sure 
to get a greater quantity of good, no 
matter how mixed, than if the man is 
thwarted $+> Let Pegasus bolt he will 
bring you up in a place you know nothing 
about f Linnaeus. 



HERB are two great forces 
-$*';?/ ?v which seem sheer inspiration 
vi -K! v ;Li- and nothing else I mean 
% r : rt> ^ , Shakespeare and Burns. 
^;ril^;i , This is not the place or the 
time to speak of the miracle called Shake- 
speare, but one must say a word of the 
miracle called 



Burns &* &+* 
Try and recon- 
struct Burns as he 
was a peasant 
born in a cottage 
that no sanitary in- 
spector in these 
days would tolerate 
for a moment; 
struggling with 
desperate effort 
against pauperism, 
almost in vain; 
snatching at scraps 
of learning in the in- 
tervals of toil, as it 
were,withhisteeth; 
a heavy, silent lad 
proud of his plow. 
C All of a sudden, 
without preface or 
warning, he breaks 
out into exquisite 
song like a night- 
ingale from the 
brushwood, and 
continues singing 
as sweetly, in night- 
ingale pauses, till 
he dies. The night- 
ingale singslbecause 
he can not help it; 
he can only sing 
exquisitely, be- 
cause he knows no 
other $+> So it was 



We are not sure of sorrow. 
And Joy was never sure; 
Today will die tomorrow; 

Time stoops to no marts lure; 
And love, grown faint and fretful, 
With lips but half regretful 
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful 
Weeps that no loves endure. 

From too much love of living f 
From hope and fear set free, 

We thank with brief thanksgiving 
Whatever gods may be, 

That no life lives forever; 

That dead men rise up never; 

That even the weariest river 
Winds somewhere safe to sea. 

Here, where the world is quiet, 

Here, where all trouble seems 
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot 

In doubtful dreams of dreams; 
I watch the green field growing 
For reaping folk and sowing, 
For harvest-time and mowing, 
A sleepy world of streams. 



/ am tired of tears and laughter, 
And men that laugh and weep 
Of what may come hereafter 
For men that sow to reap; 
I am weary of days and hours, 
Blown buds of barren flowers, 
Desires and dreams and powers 
And everything but sleep. 



Page 209 

mere selfish tenderness for his own family 
for he loved all mankind, except the cruel 
and base nay, we may go further and 
say that he placed all creation, especially 
the suffering and depressed part of it, 
under his protection. The oppressor in 
every shape, even in the comparatively 
innocent embodi- 
ment of the factor 
and the sportsman, 
he regarded with 
direct and personal 
hostility But, 
aboveall, hesaw the 
charm of the home. 
He recognized it 
as the basis of all 
society. He honored 
it in its humblest 
form, for he knew, 
as few know, how 
sincerely the fami- 
ly in the cottage is 
welded by mutual 
love and esteem. 
<[ His verses, then, 
go straight to the 
heart of every 
home, they appeal 
to every father and 
mother; but that is 
only the beginning, 
perhapsthefounda- 
tion, of nis sympa- 
thy. There is some- 
thing for every- 
body in Burns. 
He has aheart even 



for vermin; he has 
pity even for the 



with Burns. What 
is this but inspiration? One can no more 
measure or reason about it than measure 
or reason about Niagara; and remember, 
the poetry is only a fragment of Burns. 
Amazing as it may seem,;allcontemporary 
testimony is unanimous that the man was 
far more wonderful titan his w>rks *> 
If his talents were umvetsal, his sympa- 
thy was not less so. His tenderness was no 



The Garden of Prosperine," 

by A. C. S&mburse 



kind. And bis uni- 
versality makes his 
poems a treasure- 
house in which aH 
may find what they want, Bvery way- 
farer in the journey of life may pluck 
strength and courage fromltashe pauses. 
The sore, the weary, the wounded mil 
all find something to heal and soothe. For 
this great master is the traversal Samar- 
itan. Where the priest and the Lervifce 
in vain 



will still afford resource* 



Page 210 



His was a soul bathed in crystal * He 
hurried to avow everything. There was 
no reticence in him. The only obscure 
passage in his life is the love-passage with 
Highland Mary, and as to that he was 
silent not from shame, but because it was 
a sealed and sacred episode $+> " What a 
flattering idea," he once wrote, " is a 
world to come. There shall I with speech- 
less agony or rapture recognize my lost, 
my ever dear Mary, whose bosom was 
fraught with truth, honor, constancy and 
love." But he had, as the French say, 
the defects of his qualities. His imagina- 
tion was a supreme and celestial gift, but 
his imagination often led him wrong and 
never more than with woman. The chiv- 
alry ^ that made Don Quixote see the 
heroic in all the common events of life 
made Burns (as his brother tells us) see a 
goddess in every girl he approached; 
hence many love affairs, and some guilty 
ones, but even these must be judged 
with reference to time and circumstances. 
This much is certain: had he been devoid 
of genius they would not have attracted 
attention. It is Burn's pedestal that af- 
fords a target. And why, one may ask, 
is not the same treatment measured out 

to Burns as to others? 

Mankind is helped in its progress almost 
as much by the study of imperfection 
as by the contemplation of perfection. 
Had we nothing before us in our futile 
and halting lives but saints and the ideal, 
we might well fail altogether. We grope 
blindly along the catacombs of the world, 
we climb the dark ladder of life, we feel 
our way to futurity, but we can scarcely 
see an inch around or before us ** We 
stumble and falter and fall, our hands and 
knees are bruised and sore, and we look 
up for light and guidance* Could we see 
nothing but distant, unapproachable im- 
peccability we might well sink prostrate 
in the hopelessness of emulation, and the 
weariness of despair. Is it not then, when 
all seems blank and lightless, *when 
strength and courage flag, and when per- 
fection seems remote as a star, is it not 
then that imperfection helps us? When we 
see that the greatest and choicest images 
of God have had their weaknesses like 
ours, their temptations, their tour of 



darkness, their bloody sweat, are we not 
encouraged by their lapses and catas- 
trophes to find energy for one more effort, 
one more struggle? Where they failed, 
we feel it a less dishonor to fail; their 
errors and sorrows make, as it were, an 
easier ascent from infinite imperfection 
to infinite perfection. 
Man, after all, is not ripened by virtue 
alone. Were it so, this world were a para- 
dise of angels. No. Like the growth of the 
earth, he is the fruit of all seasons, the 
accident of a thousand accidents, a living 
mystery moving through the seen to the 
unseen; he is sown in dishonor; he is 
matured under all the varieties of heat 
and cold, hi mists and wrath, in snow and 
vapors, in the melancholy of autumn, in 
the torpor of winter as well as in the rap- 
ture and fragrance of summer, or the 
bamly affluence of spring, its breath, 
its sunshine; at the end he is reaped, the 
product not of one climate but of all, not 
of good alone but of sorrow, perhaps 
mellowed and ripened, perhaps stricken 
and withered and sour. How, then, shall 
we judge any one? How, at any rate, shall 
we judge a giant, great in gifts and great 
in temptation; great in strength, and 
great in weakness? Let us glory in his 
strength and be comforted in his weak- 
ness; and when we thank heaven for the 
inestimable gift of Burns, we do not need 
to remember wherein he was imperfect; 
we can not bring ourselves to regret that 
he was made of the same day as our- 
selves. Rosebery. 



HE country life is to be preferred, for 
there we see the works of God; but 
in cities, little else but the works of men; 
and the one makes a better subject for 
our contemplation than the other. 
C The country is both the philosopher's 
garden and library, in which he reads and 
contemplates the power, wisdom, and 
goodness of God. William Perm. 

* 

I congratulate poor young men upon 
being born to that ancient and honor- 
able degree which renders it necessary 
that they should devote themselves to 
hard work. Andrew Carnegie* 



Page 211 



you come into any 
fresh company, observe their 
humours ^ Suit your own 
carriage thereto, by which 
insinuation you will make 
their converse more free and open. Let 
your discours be more in querys and 
doubtings than peremptory assertions 
or disputings, it being the designe of 
travelers to learne, not to teach. Besides, 
it will persuade your acquaintance that 
you have the greater esteem of them, and 
soe make them more ready to communi- 
cate what they know to you; whereas 
nothing sooner occasions disrespect and 
quarrels than peremptorinesse. You will 
find little or no advantage in seeming 
wiser, or much more ignorant than your 
company. Seldom discommend anything 
though never so bad, or doe it but 
moderately, lest you bee unexpectedly 
forced to an unhansom retraction. It is 
safer to commend any thing more than is 
due, than to discommend a thing soe 
much as it deserves; for commendations 
meet not soe often with oppositions, or, 
at least, are not usually soe ill resented 
by men that think otherwise, as discom- 
mendations; and you will insinuate into 
men's favour by nothing sooner than 
seeming to approve and commend what 
they like^ but beware of doing it by a 
comparison &+. s* 
Sir Isaac Newton to one of his pupils. 

* 

are made for co-operation, like 
feet, like hands, like eyelids, like the 
rows of the upper and lower teeth. To 
act against one another then is contrary 
to Nature, and it is acting against one 
another to be vexed and turn away. 

Marcus Aurelius. 

$0* 

QONE have fought better, and none 
have been more fortunate, than 
Charles Darwin. He found a great truth 
trodden underfoot, reviled by bigots, and 
rediculed by all the world; he lived long 
enough to see it, chiefly by his own efforts 
1 irrefragably established in science, in- 
separably incorporated into the com- 
mon l thoughts of men^Wh&t shall a map 
desire more than this? * 

Thomas Huxley. 



man who makes it the habit of 
his life to go to bed at nine o'clock, 
usually gets rich and is always reliable. 
Of course, going to bed does not make 
him rich I merely mean that such a 
man will in all probability be up early 
in the morning and do a big day's work, 
so his weary bones put him to bed early. 
Rogues do their work at night. Honest 
men work by day. It 's all a matter of 
habit, and good habits in America make 
any man rich. Wealth is largely a result 
of habit. John Jacob Astor. 

+> > 

FEEL most deeply that this whole 
question of Creation is too pro- 

found for human intellect. A dog might 

as well speculate on the mind of Newton! 

Let each man hope and believe what he 

can. Charles Darwin. 

* 

E thank Thee for this place in which 
\t/ we dwell; for the love that unites 
us; for the peace accorded us this day; 
for the hope with which we expect the 
morrow; for the health, the work, the 
food, and the bright skies that make our 
lives delightful; for our friends in all 
parts of the earth, and our friendly 
helpers in this foreign isle &+ Give us 
courage and gaiety and the quiet mind. 
Spare to us our friends, soften to us? our 
enemies. Bless us, if it may be, in aH 
our innocent endeavors. If it may not, 
give us the strength to encounter that 
which is to come, that we be brave in 
peril, constant in tribulation, temperate 
in wrath, and in all changes of fortune, 
and down to the gates of death, loyal 
and loving one to another. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

$+ 

N the name of the Past and of the 
Future, the servants of Humanity 
both its philosophical and its prac- 
tical servants come forward to claim as 
their due the general direction of the 
world. Their object is to constitute at 
length a real Providence in all depart- 
ments moral; intellectual and 
rial. Aug&stfc Comte. 



debt due from present to 
foture generations* George Peabody. 



Page 212 



ffUBBARD'S 




Y LORD: I have been in- 
formed by the proprietor 
of the World that two papers 
in which my Dictionary is 
- _ recommended to the public, 

were written by your Lordship. To be so 

distinguished is an honor, which, being 

very little accus- 

I know not whether Laws be right, 
Or whether Laws be wrong; 

All that we know who lie in gaol 
Is that the wall is strong; 

And that each day is like a year, 
A year whose days are long. 



tomed to favors 
from the great, I 
know not well how 
to receive, or in 
what terms to ac- 
knowledge &+ > 
When, upon some 
slight encourage- 
ment, I first visited 
your Lordship, I 
was overpowered, 
like the rest of 
mankind, by the 
enchantment of 
your address, and 
could not forbear to 
wish that I might 
boast myself le 
vcdnqueur du vain~ 
queur de la terre 
that I might ob- 
tain that regard 
for which I saw 
the world contend- 
ing; but I found 
my attendance so 
little encouraged, 
that neither pride 
nor modesty would 
suffer me to con- 
tinue it *+> When I 
once addressed 
your Lordship in 
public, I had ex- 
hatisted all tie art 



at last to the verge of publication, with- 
out one act of assistance, one word of 
encouragement, or one smile of favor a*> 
Such treatment I did not expect, for I 
never had a patron before. 
The shepherd in Virgil grew at last ac- 
quainted with Love, and found him a 
native of the rocks. 



Is not a patron, my 
lord, one who looks 
with unconcern on 
man struggling 



But this I know, that every Law 
That men have made for Man, 

Since first Man took his brother's life, 
And the sad world began? 

But straws the wheat and saves the chaff 
With a most evil fan. 

This too I know and wise it were 
If each could know the same 

That every prison that men build 
Is built with bricks of shame, 

And bound with bars lest Christ sfiould see 
How men their brothers maim. 

With bars they blur the gracious moon, 

And blind the goodly sun: 
And they do well to hide their Hell, 

For in it things are done 
That Son of God nor Son of Man 

Ever should look upon! 

The vilest deeds like poison words 

Bloom well in prison-air: 
It is only what is good in Man 

That wastes and withers there: 
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate, 

And the Warder is Despair. 

(Conchided on next page) 



retired and tmcoortly scholar can pos- 
sess, I bad doee all that I eoold; and no 
man is well pleased to iiave Ms a! neg- 
lected* be it ever so little* 
Sevea years, my lord, have now passed 
sfeie I waited in yotEr outward iooms or 
was repulsed from your door; during 
which time I have been pushing on my 
work througjh diSroalties of which it is 
useless to coaoplain, and have brought & 



for life in the water 
and when he has 
reached ground, en- 
cumbers him with 
help? The notice 
which you have 
been pleased to 
take of my labors, 
had it been early 
had been kind: 
but it has been de- 
layed till I am in- 
different, and can 
not enjoy it; till I 
am solitary, and 
can not impart it; 
till I am known, 
and do not want 
it. I hope it is no 
very cynical as- 
perity not to con- 
fess obligations 
where no benefit 
has been received, 
or to be unwilling 
that the public 
should consider me 
as owing that to a 
patron which Prov- 
idence has en- 
abled me to do 
for myself . 

- my work thus far 

with so little obligation to any favorer 
of learning, I shall not be disappointed 
though I should conclude it, if less be 
possible, with less; for I have been long 
wakened from that dream of hope in 
which I once boasted myself with so 
much exultation, my lord, 
Your Lordship's most humble, 
obedient senrant, Sam. Johnson. 



Having carried on 



Page 213 



, R. ROGERS was compli- 

i- ; ,, </ mentedonhis energy, his fore- 
^ ',"*, , ,0 sightedness andcompliment- 
, - ; ^;, ed in various ways, and 
^~. vr-r--^ ! he has deserved those com- 
pliments, although I say it myself; and I 
enjoy them all. There is one side of Mr. 
Rogers that hasnot 



I would take this 



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 
term, that marvel- 
ous girl, that won- 
dertul Southern 
girl, that girl who 
was stone deaf, 
blind, and dumb 
from scarlet-fever 
when she was a 
baby eighteen 
months old; and 



For they starve the little frightened child 
Till it weeps both night and day: 

And they scourge the weak, and flog thefool y 
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 

Is afoul 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 WUde 



who now is as well 

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 

lejkte a helping haad, idaEy out of that 

generous heart of his* Yep jp^fcft hearof 



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. 

opportunity to tell 
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 com- 
pany of Charles Lr. 
Webster, of which 
I was financial 
agent, failed, it left 
me heavily in debt. 
If you will remem- 
ber what commerce 
was at that time 
you will recall that 
you could not sell 
anything, andcould 
not buy anything, 
and I was on my 
back; my books 
were not worth 
anything at all, 
and I could not 
give away my copy- 
rights. Mr. Rogers 
had long enough 
vision ahead to say, 
" Your books have 
supported you be- 
fore, and after the 
panic is over they 
wiH 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 lour years and persecute the 
nations thereof with lectures, promising 
that' at the end of four years I would p^f 
dollar for dollar. That arrangement was 
ioaiet| otherwise I would BOW beBf^g 
out-of-doors under an umbrella, and a 



Page 214 



borrowed one at that. C. 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.) 

Sfr- 

EN a man's deeds are discovered 
after death, his angels, who are in- 
quisitors, 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 
mart writes his life in his physique, and 
thus the angels discover his autobi- 
ography in his structure. 

Swedenborg. 

> 

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. 

*^ *> 

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 approba- 
tion 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 des- 
tined never to receive. Were I but capa- 



ble of interpreting to the world one- 
half 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 any- 
thing that I can write, unprompted and 
unassisted by her all but unrivaled 
wisdom. John Stuart Mill. (Dedication 
to " On Liberty/ 5 ) 

pjjAPPINESS itself is sufficient ex- 
JL-J cuse. 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 intui- 
tion and be guided by it. The answer to 
the last appeal of what is right lies 
within a man's own breast. Trust thy- 
self. Aristotle. 

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 bul- 
wark 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 past 
never! 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 




knowledge is of most 
wortn? The uniform reply 
is: Science. This is the ver- 
dict on aH 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 con- 
duct, the indispensable key is science. 
Alike for the most perfect production 
and present enjoyment of art in all its 
forms, the needful preparation is still 
science. And for purposes of discipline 
intellectual, moral, religious the most 
efficient is. once more science, 

Herbert Spencer. 

4^ 

He is not only idle who does nothing, but 
he is idle who might be better employed. 

Socrates. 

^^ 
C |NE comfort is that great men taken 

Vx up in any way are profitable com- 
pany. We can not look, however imper- 
fectly, upon a great man without gaining 
something by it. He is the living fountain 
of life, which it is pleasant to be near, On 
any terms whatsoever you will not grudge 
to wander in his neighborhood for a 
while. Carlyle, 

* 

Simplicity is an exact medium between 
too little and too much. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

*w*r ***** 

fflHEN 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, raxing his binning 
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. 



Page 215 



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 undis- 
guised 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. 

I am quite certain that there is nothing 
which draws so good, or at least so 
large a congregation as a fight in the 
pulpit. Bolton Hall. 

' horse was very lame, and my head 
did ache exceedingly. Now what oc- 
curred I here avow is truth let each 
man account for it as he will. Suddenly I 
thought, " Can not God heal man or 
beast as He will?" Immediately my weari- 
ness and headache passed; and my horse 
was no longer lame. 

John Wesley's Journal. 

There is but one God is it Allah or 
Jehovah? The palm-tree is sometimes 
called a date-tree, but there is only one 
tree. Disraeli. 

are intelligent beings; and intelli- 
gentbeings cannot havebeenformed 
by a blind brute, insensible being. There 
is certainly some difference, between a 
clod and the ideas of Newton. Newton's 
intelligence came from some greater 
Intelligence, Voltaire. 



Looking around on the noisy inanity of 
the world, words with little meaning, 
actions with little worth, one loves to 
reflect on the great Empire of Silence, 
higher than all stars; deeper than tfie 
Kingdom of Death! It alone is great; aS 
efee is small. Carlyle. 



Page 216 



ffU&BA&D'S 



i- ;>^>^FY DEAR SPENCER: Your 
. ^<|>%''i 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 * 
It can hardly be 
doubted that the 
proposal will be 
bitterly opposed, 
possibly (as hap- 
pened in Mill's 
case with less pro- 
vocation) with the 
raking up of past 
histories, about 
which the opinion 
even of those who 
have least the de- 
sire or the right to 
be Pharisaical is 
strongly divided, 
and which had bet- 
ter be forgotten ** 
<L With respect to 
putting pressure on 
the Dean of West- 
minster, I have to 
consider that he 
has some confi- 
dence in me, and 
before asking htm 
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 BOt say I do. However moeh 
I may lament the cJixamstance, West- 
minster Abbey is a Christian Church 
ftr>4 not a Pantheon, and the Dean tfaere^ 
of is officially a Christian priest, and we 
ask him to bestow exceptional Christian 
hoioors by this burial m the Abbey ** 
George Eliot k^nowapot <rfy as a great 
writer, but as a person whose life and 
opinion* were in notorious 



Oh, may I join the choir invisible 

Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence; live 

In pulses stirred to generosity, 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 

For miserable aims that end urith self, 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night 

like stars, 
And with their mild persistence urge man's 

search 
To vaster issues. 

So to live is heaven: 

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

controls 
With growing sway the growing life of 

man. 

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

agonized, 

With wideningretrospect that bred despair, 
Rebellious flesh that would not be sub- 
dued, 

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

Its discords, quenched by meeting har- 
monies, 

(Concluded on next page) 



to Christian practice in regard to mar- 
riage, 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 em- 
phatically refuse 
to do? You tell me 
that Mrs. Cross 
wished for the fu- 
neral in the Abbey. 
While I desire to 
entertain the great- 
est respect for her 
wishes, I am very 
sorry to hear it. 
I do not under- 
stand the feeling 
which could create 
such an unusual de- 
sire on any personal 
grounds save those 
of affection, and 
the natural yearn- 
ing to be near, 
even in death, those 
whom we have 
loved. And on pub- 
lic grounds the 
wish is still less 
intelligible to me. 
One can not eat 
one's cakeandhave 
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. 

Thus, however I look at the proposal, it 
seems to me to be a profound mistake, 
mid 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. HJHuxley. 
(Letter to Herbert Speacer.) 



Page 217 



U ~- ;? -EONARDO painted souls 
^ ; ; whereof the features and 

:i ; ; ; i| ; the limbs are but an index. 
^gf-" l ^%k;;' ! The charm of Michelan- 
^&^te&& gelo'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 dis- 
imprisoned from 
the perfumed chal- 
ices of flowers, hou- 
ris of an erotic para- 
dise, elemental spir- 
its of nature want- 
oning in Eden in 
her prime. To ac- 
cuse the painter of 
conscious immoral- 
ity, or of what is 
stigmatized as sen- 
suality, would be 
as ridiculous as to 
class his seraphic 
beings among the 
products of the 
Christian imagina- 
tion. They belong 
to the generation 
of the fauns; like 
fauns, they com- 
bine a certain sav- 
age wildness a dith- 
yrambic ecstasy 
of inspiration, a de- 
light in rapid move- 
ments as they revel 
amid clouds or flow- 
ers, with the perma- 
nent and all-pervading sweetness of the 
master's style. <[ When infantine or 
childlike, these celestial sylphs are scarce- 
ly to be distinguished for any noble qual- 
ity of beauty from Murttlo's cherubs, and 
are far less divine than the choir of chil- 
dren who attend the Madonna in Titian's 
"Assumption/* But in their boyhood and 
their prime of youth they acquire a full- 
ness of sensuous vitality and a radiance 
that are peculiar tp Coireggip > ,* $ 
As a consequence pf tfee p^e<ISe<$foi]fc f$ 
sensuous and voluptuous forms, Correg- 



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 

world, 

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 
Tohigherreverencemoremixedunthlove 
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 

glorious 

For us who strive to follow. May 7 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," 

by George Eliot 



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 listen- 
ing to sweetest ftuteplaying, and trans- 
lating phrase after phrase as they passed 
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. Augus- 
tine of the mighty 
brow, or the in- 
spired eyes of St. 
John took form be- 
neath his pencil 
But the light airs 
returned^ and rose, 
andlilyfacesbloom- 
ed again for him 
among the clouds. 
It is not therefore 
in dignity or sub- 
limity that Correg- 
gio excels, but in 
artless grace and 
melodious tender- 
ness. 

* * * * 

Now the mood 
which Correggio 
stimulates is one 
of natural and 
thoughtless plea- 
sure. To fed 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 becatise imcoascious of sin, 
immoral because incapable of any ser- 
ious purpose, is the quality which pre- 
vajb in all that he has painted. 
lit fo&ws from this analysis tihafc be 
^OTeggiosity of Correggio, that whicfo 
sharply distingiiMied him ftoim al ptr 
was tlie faculty of pamtiiig 



Page 218 



ALBERT 



a purely voluptuous dream of beautiful 
beings in perpetual movement, beneath 
the laughter of morning light, in a world 
of never-failing April hues. 
When he attempts to depart from the 
fairyland of which he was the Pros- 
pero, and to match himself with the 
master of sublime thought or earnest 
passion, he proves his weakness. But 
within his own magic circle he reigns 
supreme, no other artist having blended 
the witcheries of coloring, chiaroscuro and 
faunlike loveliness of form into a har- 
mony so perfect in its sensuous charm. 
<[ Bewitched by the strains of the siren 
we pardon affectations of expression, 
emptiness of meaning, feebleness of 
composition, exaggerated and melo- 
dramatic attitudes In that which is 
truly his own the delineation of a 
transient moment in the life of sensuous 
beauty, the painting of a smile on Na- 
ture's face, when light and color tremble 
in harmony with the movement of joyous 
living creatures none can approach 
Correggio. John Addington Symonds. 

S** > 

QRIESTS look backward, not for- 
ward * They think that there were 
once men better and wiser than those who 
now live, therefore priests distrust the 
living and insistthat we shall be governed 
by the dead. I believe this is an error, 
and hence I set myself against the Church 
and insist that men shall have the right 
to work out their lives in their own way, 
always allowing to others the right to 
work outtheir lives in their own way, too. 

Garibaldi. 

S+> 

Every war is a national calamity whether 
victorious or not* Gen* Von. Moltke. 

+ 

GITIAN by a few strokes of tibe 
brush knew how to make the gen- 
eral image and character of whatever 
object he attempted. His great care was 
to preserve tie masses of Bgfct and of 
shade, and to give by opposition the 
idea of that solidity which is inseparable 
from natural objects. He was the great- 
est of the Venetians and deserves to rank 
with Raphael and Michelangelo. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds* 



^ HE eyes and the mouth are the 
supremely significant features of 
the human face. In Rembrandt's por- 
traits the eye is the center wherein life, 
in its infinity of aspect, is most mani- 
fest. Not only was his fidelity absolute, 
but there is a certain mysterious lim- 
pidity of gaze that reveals the soul ot 
the sitter s^ A " Rembrandt " does not 
give up its beauties to the casual ob- 
server it takes time to know it, but 
once known, it is yours forever. 

Emile Michel. 

*> 

The Vice of our Theology is seen in the 
claim that the Bible is a Closed Book 
and that the Age of Inspiration is Past. 

Emerson. 



OME have narrowed their minds, 
and so fettered them with the chains 
of antiquity that not only do they re- 
fuse to speak save as the ancients spake, 
but they refuse to think save as the 
ancients thought. God speaks to us, too, 
and the best thoughts are those now 
being vouchsafed to us. We will excel 
the ancients! Savonarola. 

2+> 

The record of a generous life runs like a 
vine around the memory of our dead, 
and every sweet, unselfish act is now a 
perfumed flower. Robert G. Ingersoll. 

5** d 

IT is a happy and striking way oi 
expressing a thought. 
It is not often, though it be lively and 
mantling, that it carries a great body 
with it. 

Wit, therefore, is fitter for diversion than 
business, being more grateful to fancy 
than judgment. 

Less judgment than wit, is more sail 
than ballast. 

Yet it must be confessed that wit gives 
an edge to sense, and recommends it 
extremely s*> ** 

Where judgment has wit to express it, 
there is the best orator. 

William Penn. 



You can never have a greater or a less 
dominion than that over yourself. 

Leonardo da Vinci. 



Page 219 



'~* 



and Brother: It 
was the will of the Great 
. | - | v Spirit that we should meet 
H ';., VJ together this day. He orders 
* - -^^ all things and has given us a 
fine day for our council. He has taken 
His garment from before the sun and 
caused it to shine with brightness upon 
us. Our eyes are opened that we see 
clearly; our ears are unstopped that we 
have been able to hear distinctly the 
words you have spoken. For all these 
favors we thank the Great Spirit, and 
Him only. 

Brother, this council fire was kindled by 
you. It was at your request that we came 
together at this time. We have listened 
with -attention to what you have said. 
You requested us to speak our minds 
freely. This gives us great joy; for we 
now consider that we stand upright be- 
fore you and can speak what we think. 
All have heard your voice and all speak 
to you now as one man. Our minds are 
agreed s* & 

Brother, you say you want an answer to 
your talk before you leave this place. It 
is right you should have one, as you are a 
great distance from home and we do not 
wish to detain you. But first we will look 
back a little and tell you what our 
fathers have told us and what we have 
heard from the white people. 
Brother, listen to what we say .There was 
a time when our forefathers owned this 
great island. Their seats extended from 
the rising to the setting sun. The Great 
Spirit had made it for the use of Indians. 
He had created the buffalo, the deer, and 
other animals for food. He had made the 
bear and the beaver. Their skins served 
us for clothing. He had scattered them 
over the country and taught us how to 
take them. He had caused the earth to 
produce corn for bread. All this He had 
done for His red children because He 
loved them. If we had some disputes 
about our hunting-ground they were 
generally settled without the shedding 
of much blood. 

But an evil day came upon us &* Your 
forefathers crossed the great water and 
landed on this island. Their numbers 
were small. They found friends and not 



enemies. They told us they had fled from 
their own country for fear of wicked men 
and had come here to enjoy their religion. 
They asked for a small seat &+> We took 
pity on them, granted their request, and 
they sat down among us. We gave them 
corn and meat; they gave us poison in 
return s*> &+> 

The white people, brother, had now found 
our country. Tidings were carried back 
and more came among us. Yet we did 
not fear them &+> We took them to be 
friends. They called us brothers. We 
believed them and gave them a larger 
seat. At length their numbers had greatly 
increased. They wanted more land; they 
wanted our country *> Our eyes were 
opened and our minds became uneasy. 
Wars took place, Indians were hired to 
fight against Indians, and many of our 
people were destroyed.They also brought 
strong liquor among us. It was strong 
and powerful, and has slain thousands. 
<t Brother, our seats were once large and 
yours were small. You have now be- 
come a great people, and we have scarcely 
a place left to spread our blankets. You 
have got our country, but are not yet 
satisfied; you want to force your relig- 
ion upon us. 

Brother, continue to listen. You say that 
you are sent to instruct us how to wor- 
ship the Great Spirit agreeably to His 
mind; and, if we do not take hold of the 
religion which you white people teach, 
we shall be unhappy hereafter. You say 
that you are right and we are lost. How 
do we know this to be true? We under- 
stand that your religion is written in a 
Book. If it was intended for us, as well 
as you, why has not the Great Spirit 
given to us, and not only to us, but why 
did He not give to our forefathers the 
knowledge of that Book, with the means 
of understanding it rightly? $* We only 
know what you tell us about it. How 
shall we know when to bdieve, being so 
often deceived by the white people? 
C Brother, you say there is but one way 
to worship and serve the Great Spirit. If 
there is but one religion, why do you 
white people differ so much about it? 
Why not aH agreed, as you can aQ read 
the Book? 



Page 220 



ffUBBAKD'S 



Brother, we do not understand these 
things. We are told that your religion 
was given to your forefathers and has 
been handed down from father to son. 
We also have a religion which was given 
our forefathers and 
has been handed 
down to us, their 
children. We wor- 
ship in our way* 
It teaches us to be 
thankful for all the 
favors we receive, 
to love each other, 
and to be united* 
We never quarrel 
about religion. 
Brother, the Great 
Spirit has made us 
all, but He has 
made a great differ- 
ence between His 
white and His red 
children. He has 
given us different 
complexions and 
different customs. 
C To you He has 
given the arts. To 
these He has not 
opened our eyes s*> 
We know these 
things to be true. 
Since He has made 
so great a difference 
between us in other 
things, why may we 
not conclude that 
He has given us a 
different religion 
according to our 
understanding? 
C Tiie Great %rit 
does rigjht ** He 
knows what is best 
for His children; we 
are satisfied. ^Bro- 
ther, we do not wish to destroy your re- 
ligion or take it from you. We oely want 
to enjoy our own. 

Brother, you say you have not come to 
get our lands or our mooey, but to en- 
Mghten our mMs*IwffiBowtell you that 
I have been at your meetings and saw 



They made the chamber sweet with 

flowers and leaves, 
And the bed sweet with flowers on which 

Hay; 
While my soul, love-bound, loitered on 

its way. 

I did not hear the birds about the eaves, 
Nor hear the reapers talk among the 

sheaves: 

Only my soul kept watch from day to day, 
My thirsty soul kept watch for one away: 
Perhaps he loves, I thought, remembers, 

grieves. 
At length there came the step upon the 

stair, 

Upon the lock the old familiar hand: 
Then first my spirit seemed to scent the air 
Of Paradise; then first the tardy sand 
Of time ran golden; and I felt my hair 
Put on a glory, and my soul expand. 

THE FIRST DAY 

I wish I could remember the first day, 
First hour, first moment of your meeting 

me, 

If bright or dim the season, it might be 
Summer or Winter for aught I can say; 
So unrecorded did it slip away, 
So blind was I to see and to foresee, 
So dutt to mark the budding of my tree 
Thatwouldnot blossomyet for many aMay. 
If only I could recollect it, such 
A day of days! I let it come and go 
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow; 
It seemed to mean so little, meant so 

much; 

If only now I could recall that touch, 
First touch of hand in hand Did one but 

know! 

(Concluded on next page) 



you collect money from the meeting. I 
can not tell what this money was in- 
tended for, but suppose that it was for 
your minister; and, if we should conform 
to your way of thinking, perhaps you 
may want some 
from us. 

Brother, we are 
told that you have 
been preaching to 
the white people in 
this place These 
people are our 
neighbors. We are 
acquainted with 
them. We will wait 
a little while and 



see what effect your 
preaching has upon 
them. If we find it 
does them good, 
makes them hon- 
est, and less dis- 
posed to cheat In- 
dians, we will con- 
sider again of what 
you have said. 
Brother you have 
now heard our an- 
swer to your talk, 
and this is all we 
have to say at pres- 
ent. As we are go- 
ing to part, we 
will come and take 
you by the hand, 
and hope the Great 
Spirit will protect 
you on your jour- 
ney and return you 
safe to your friends. 
Red Jacket. 
(-Reply to a Mis- 
sionary who had 
spoken about his 
Mission among the 
Seneca Indians.) 



Public Health is the foundation 
upon which rests the happiness of 
the people and the welfare of the nation. 
The care of the Public Health is the 
first cbity of tie statesman. 

DisradL 



Page 221 



reveal new ones 
The at present un- 
utterable things we 
may find some- 
where uttered. 
These same ques- 
tions that disturb 
and puzzle and con- 
found us have in 
their turn occurred 
to all the wise men; 
not one has been 
omitted; and each 
has answered them 
according to his 
ability, by his word 
and his life. More- 
over, with wisdom 
we shall learn lib- 
erality .The solitary 
hired man on a 
farm in the out- 
skirts of Concord, 
who has had his 
secondbirthandpe- 
culiar religious ex- 
perience, and is 
drivenas hebelieves 
into silent gravity 
and exclusiveness 
by his faith may 
think it is not true ; 
but Zoroaster, 
thousands of years 
ago, .traveled the 
same road and had 
the same expe- 
rience; but he, be- 
ing wise, knew it 
to be universal, 



OW many a man has dated a 
new era in his life from the 
reading of a book. The book 
exists for us perchance which 
will explain our miracles and 



and treated his 
neighbors accord- 
ingly, and is even said to have invented, 
and established worship among men. 
Let him humbly commune with Zo- 
roaster then, and through the liberal- 
izing influence of all the worthies, with 



REMEMBER 

Remember me when I am gone away. 

Gone far into the silent land! 

When you can no more hold me by the 

hand, 

Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. 
Remember me when no more, day by day, 
You tell me of our future that you planned: 
Only remember me; you understand 
It will be late to counsel then or pray. 
Yet if you should forget me for a while 
And afterwards remember, do not grieve; 
For if the darkness and corruption leave 
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, 
Better by far you should forget and smile 
Thanthatyoushouldrememberand besad. 

REST 

O earth, lie heavily upon her eyes; 

Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, 

Earthy 
Lie close around her; leave no room for 

mirth 
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of 

sighs. 

She hath no questions, she hath no replies. 
Hushed in and curtained with a blessed 

dearth 

Of all that irked her from the hour of birth; 
With stillness that is almost Paradise. 
Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth 

her, 

Silence more musical than any song; 
Even her very heart has ceased to stir; 
Until the morning of Eternity 
Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be; 
And when she wakes she will not think it 

long. 
" Sonnets," by Christina Georgina Rossetti 



Jesus Christ btm^el^ and 
cfarasfa go by Hie board/* 



tefc 



our 



We boast that we belong to the nine- 
teenth century and are making the most 
rapid strides of any nation. But consider 
how little this village does for its own 
culture, I do not wish to flatter my towns- 
men, nor to be 
flattered by them, 
for that will not 
advance either of 
us. We need to be 
provoked goaded 
like oxen, as we are, 
into a trot We 
have a compara- 
tively decent sys- 
tem of common 
schools, schools for 
infants only; but 
excepting the half- 
starved Lyceum 
in the winter, and 
latterly the puny 
beginning of a li- 
brary suggested by 
the state, no school 
for ourselves a* 
We spend more on 
almost any arti- 
cle of bodily ali- 
ment or ailment 
than on our mental 
aliment. It is time 
that we had tm- 
common schools, 
that we did not 
leave off our educa- 
tion when we be- 
gin to be men and 
women. It is time 
that villages were 
universities, and 
their elder inhabi- 
tants the fellows 
of universities, with 
leisure if they are 
indeed so well ofi 
to pursue liberal 

studies the rest of their lives. ShaH the 
world be confined to ooe Paris or caie 
Oxford forever? Can not students be 
boarded here and get a liberal education 
under the skies of Concord? Can we not 
hire some Abelard to lecture , to ? 
Alas! what w&& foddeeag tfae caitib ami 



Page 222 



ffUBBARD'S 



tending the store, we are kept from 
school too long, and our education is 
sadly neglected s* In this country, the 
village should in some respects take the 
place of the nobleman of Europe * It 
should be the patron of fine arts. It is 
rich enough. It wants only the mag- 
nanimity and refinement. It can spend 
money enough on such things as farmers 
and traders value, but it is thought 
Utopian to propose spending money for 
things which more intelligent men know 
to be of far more worth. 

Henry David Thoreau. 

*> S4^ 

Ideals are like stars; you will not suc- 
ceed in touching them with your hands, 
but like the seafaring man on the desert 
of waters, you choose them as your 
guides, and, following them, you reach 
your destiny. Carl Schurz. 

* 5*. 

Freedom is alone the unoriginated birth- 
right of man; it belongs to him by force 
of his humanity, and is in dependence on 
the will and creation of every other, in so 
far as this consists with every other per- 
son's freedom. Kant. 

C > 

any pilgrim monk come from dis- 
, tant parts, if with wish as a guest to 
dwell in the monastery, and will be con- 
tent with the customs which he finds in 
the place, and do not perchance by his 
lavishness disturb the monastery, but 
is simply content with what he finds: 
he shall be received, for as long a time as 
he desires. If, indeed, he find fault with 
anything, or expose it, reasonably, and 
with the humility of charity, the Abbot 
shall discuss it prudently, lest perchance 
God had sent for this very thing. But* if 
he have been found gossipy and contuma- 
cious in the time of his sojourn as guest, 
not only ought he not to be joined to the 
body of the monastery, but also it shall 
be said to htm, honestly, that he must 
depart* If he does not go, let two stout 
monks, in the name of God, explain the 
matter to him. St. Benedict* 

3+ 

Solitude is as needful to the imagination 

as society is wholesome for the character. 

James Russell LowdL 



to Vaucluse, I well know the 
3- -* beauties of that charming valley, 
and ten years* residence is proof of my 
affection for the place, I have shown my 
love of it by the house which I built 
there. There I began my article "Africa," 
there I wrote the greater part of my 
epistles in prose and verse. At Vaucluse 
I conceived the first idea of giving an 
epitome of the Lives of Illustrious Men, 
and there I wrote my treatise on a Soli- 
tary Life, as well as that on religious 
retirement so It was there, also, that I 
sought to moderate my passion for 
Laura, which, alas, solitude only cher- 
ished. And so this lonely valley will be 
forever sacred to my recollections. 

Petrarch. 
<* $&> 

No man is in true health who can not 
stand in the free air of heaven, with his 
feet on God's free turf, and thank his 
Creator for the simple luxury of physi- 
cal existence. T. W. Higginson. 

> * 

I love tae man that can smile in trouble, 
that can gather strength from distress, 
and grow brave by reflection. 'T is the 
business of little minds to shrink, but 
he whose heart is firm, and whose con- 
science approves his conduct, will pursue 
his principles unto death. 

Thomas Paine. 



is a progressive 

philosophy, and does not expect to 
state final conditions to men whose 
minds are finite. Life is an tmfoldment, 
and the further we travel the more truth 
we can comprehend. To understand the 
things that are at our door is the best 
preparation for understanding those 
that He beyond. Hypatia. 

+> $** 

There is one right which man is generally 
thought to possess, which I am confident 
heneither does nor can possess the right 
to subsistence when his labor will not 
fairly purchase it. Thomas R. Malthus. 

! 

I do not value fortune. The love df labor 
is my sheet-anchor. I work that I may 
forget, and forgetting, I am happy. 

Stephen Girard. 



Page 223 




enjoyment of my life 
I has been greatly promoted 
undoubted love and 
i untiring kindness of all with 
i whom I have ever lived, 
and of a numerous association of dis- 
ciples, from whom I have continually 
received the most pleasant attentions, 
in many cases amounting to a devotion 
to which I was 
in no way entitled; 
and I have quite 
often warned them 
against the injur- 
ious influence of 
names upon the 
independence of 
mind and of free 
thought on all sub- 
jects s+> 
I have had much 
difficulty in con- 
vincing many that 
the authority given 
to names has been 
through all past 
ages most injurious 
to the human race, 
and that at this 
day their weakness 
of intellect was 

destructive of mental power and inde- 
pendence. That truth required no name 
for its support; it substantially supported 
itself * But that falsehood and error 
always required the authority of names 
to maintain them in society, and to give 
them ready currency with those who 
never reflected or thought for themselves. 
d Had it not been for the baneful in- 
fluence of the authority given to names, 
this false, ignorant, unjust, extravagant, 
cruel and misery-producing system, of 
individual interest opposed to indi- 
vidual interest, and of national interests 
opposed to national interests, could not 
have been thus long maintained through 
the centuries that have passed The 
universe the incalculable, superiority 
of the true, enlightened, just, economical, 
merciful, and happiness-producing sys- 
tem, of union between individuals, na- 
tions, and tribes, over the earth, would 
have been long since discovered and 



Come, let me take thee to my breast, 
And pledge we ne'er shall sunder; 

And I shall spurn, as vilest dust, 
The world's wealth and grandeur. 

And do I hear my Jeannie own 
That equal transports move her? 

I ask for dearest life, alone, 
That I may live to love her. 



practised, and the Millennial state of 
man upon the earth would have been 
now in full vigor and established for 
ever * * 

What divisions, hatreds, miseries, and 
dreadful physical and mental sufferings 
have been produced by the names of 
Confucius, Brahma, Juggernaut, Moses, 
Jesus, Mohammed, Perm, Joe Smith, 
Mother Lee, etc.! 
If any of these could 
have imagined that 
their names should 
cause the disunion, 
hatred and suffer- 
ing which poor de- 
luded followers and 
disciples have expe- 
rienced, how these 
good or well-inten- 
tioned persons 
wouldhave lament- 
ed that they had 
ever lived to im- 



And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, 
I swear I 'm thine for ever: 

And on thy lips I seal my vow, 
And break it shall I never. 

" To Jeannie," by Robert Burns 



Thus in my arms, wi' cf thy charms, 

I clasp my countless treasure; 
I 'II seek nae mair o' heaven to share 
Than sic a momenfs pleasure. 

plant such dead- 
ly hatred between 
man and man, and 
to cause so much 
error and false feel- 
ing between those 
whose happiness 

can arise only from universal union of 
mind and co-operation in practise, neither 
of which can any of the religions of the 
earth, as now taught and practised, ever 
produce. Robert Owen. 

lOEMBRANDT'S domestic troubles 
J3 served only to heighten and deepen 
his art and perhaps his best canvases 
were painted under stress of circum- 
stances and in sadness of heart. His life 
is another proof, if needed, that the 
greatest truths and beauties are to be 
seen only through tears Too bad for 
the man! But the world the same un- 
grateful, selfish world that has always 
lighted its torch at the funeral pyres 
of genius is the gainer. 

John C. Van Dyke, 



To love and win, ^ the best thing; to 
love and lose the niext best. 

William Makepeace Thackeray. 



Page 224 



ffUBB&RD'S 



v^IME was when slaves were 
exported like cattle from the 
British Coast and exposed 




These men and women 
who were thus sold were supposed to be 
guilty of witchcraft, debt, blasphemy or 
theft. Or else they were prisoners taken 
in war they had forfeited their right 
to freedom, and we sold them. We said 
they were incapable of self-government 
and so must be looked after. Later we 
quit selling British slaves, but began to 
buy and trade in African humanity &* 
We silenced conscience by saying, "It 's 
all right they are incapable of self- 
government." We were once as obscure, 
as debased, as ignorant, as barbaric, as 
the African is now. I trust that the time 
will come when we are willing to give to 
Africa the opportunity, the hope, the 
right to attain to the same blessings 
that we ourselves enjoy. William Pitt. 



HE highest study of aH is that which 
teachesustodevelopthoseprinciples 
of purity and perfect virtue which Heaven 
bestowed upon us at our birth, in order 
that we may acquire the power of in- 
fluencing for good those amongst whom 
we are placed, by our precepts and ex- 
ample; a study without an end for 
our labors cease only when we have be- 
come perfect an unattainable goal, but 
one that we must not the less set before 
us from the very first. It is true that we 
shall not be able to reach it, but in our 
struggle toward it we shall strengthen 
oar characters and give stability to our 
ideas, so that, whilst ever advancing 
calmly in the same direction, we shall be 
rendered enable of applying the facul- 
ties with which we have been gifted to the 
best possible account. 





A great city, whose Image dwefe oe fee 
memory of man, is the type of soi great 
idea ** Rome represents concpest; faith 
hovers over Jerusalem; and Athens em- 
bodies tlie preeminent quality of the 
antique world-art. Disraeli 

+> * 

Silence is a tnjefnead wtio^everfoetrays. 



>"! %HAT makes a man noble? Not sacri- 
* 1 ^ fice, for the most extreme sensualist 
is capable of sacrifice. Not the following 
of a passion, for some passions are shame- 
ful. Not the serving of others without 
any self-seeking, for perhaps it is just 
the self-seeking of the noblest which 
brings forth the greatest results. No; but 
something in passion which is special 
though not conscious; a discernment 
which is rare and singular and akin to 
frenzy; a sense of heat in things which 
for others are cold; a perception of values 
for which no estimate has been estab- 
lished; a sacrificing on altars which are 
dedicated to an unknown God; a courage 
that claims no homage; a self-sufficiency 
which is super-abundant and unites men 
and things. Nietzsche. 



V^ACROIX told Gustaye Dor6 one 
day, early in his life in Paris, that 
he should illustrate a new edition of his 
works in four volumes, and he sent them 
to him. In a week Lacroix said to Dore, 
who had called, " Well, have you begun 
to read my story? " &+> " Oh! I mastered 
that in no time; the blocks are all ready;" 
and while Lacroix looked on stupefied, 
the boy dived into his pockets and 
piled many of them on the table, saying, 
" The others are in a basket at the door; 
there are three hundred in all! " 

Blanche Roosevelt. 

* +> 

When thee builds a prison, thee had 
better build with the thought ever in 
thy mind that thee and thy children 
may occupy the cells. Elizabeth Fry. 
(Report on Paris Prisons. Addressed to 
the King of France.) 

> 

A man can know nothing of mankind 
without knowing something of himself. 
Self-knowledge is the property of that 
man whose passions have their full play, 
felt who ponders over their results. 

Disraeli. 

* 

Love of truth will bless the lover all his 
days; yet when he brings her home, his 
felr-faced bride, she comes empty- 
handed to his dbor, herself her only 
dower. Tfoeocfore Parker, 



J5TOOK 



Page 225 



r iJ f * %^J: j> "ELIX Mendelssohn was not 
; ;0 '':;. h^,:,; a bit" sentimental," though 
: ^l-r.fi,; he k aci so much sentiment, 
jr : r| rf r> t>; Nobody enjoyed fun more 
>;Cv, : r^;:;::^, than he, and his company 
was the most joyous that could be. 
One evening in hot summer we stayed in 
the wood above our house later than 
usual. We had been building a house of 
fir branches in Susan's garden up in the 
wood. We made a fire, a little way off it, 
in a thicket among the trees, Mendels- 
sohn helping with the utmost zeal, 
dragging up more and more wood: we 
tired ourselves with our merry work; 
we sat down round our fire, the smoke 
went off, the ashes were glowing, it 
began to get dark, but we did not like to 
leave our bonfire. 

" If we had some music! " Mendels- 
sohn said, "Could any one get something 
to play on? " $ Then my brother re- 
collected that we were near the gar- 
dener's cottage, and that the gardener 
had a fiddle. Off rushed our boys to get 
the fiddle. When it came it was the 
wretchedest thing in the world, and it 
had only one string. 

Mendelssohn took the instrument in 
his hands and fell into fits of laughter 
over it when he heard the sounds it made. 
His laughter was very catching, he put 
us all into peals of merriment. But he, 
somehow, afterwards brought beautiful 
music out of the poor old fiddle, and we 
sat listening to one strain after another 
till the darkness sent us home. 

Reminiscences of Alice Taylor. 

$+> $+> 

The wise man must remember that while 
he is a descendant of the past, he is a 
parent of the future; and that his 
thoughts are as children born to him, 
which he may not carelessly let die. 
Herbert Spencer. 

> 

A man is a great thing upon the eartli 
and through eternity; but every jot of 
the greatness of ian is unl bided out of 
woman. Walt Whitman. , ^ 

, ,' ,.^W.V -;v^5ib^:J 

The Courage we^4sire and piize is 
not the 

^T * ^jtM^. 



> HO I am truly sensible of the high 
honor done me in this appointment, 
yet I feel great distress from a conscious- 
ness that my abilities and military expe- 
rience may not be equal to the extensive 
and important trust. However, as the 
Congress desire it, I will enter upon the 
momentous duty, and exert every power 
I possess in their service and for the sup- 
port of the glorious cause * I beg they 
will accept my most cordial thfr-nks for 
this distinguished testimony of their 
approbation *+> * 

But lest some unlucky event should hap- 
pen unfavorable to my reputation, I 
beg it may be remembered by every 
gentleman in the room that I this day 
declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do 
not think myself equal to the command 
I am honored with. 

As to pay, sir, I beg leave to assure the 
Congress that as no pecuniary considera- 
tion could have tempted me to accept 
this arduous employment at the expense 
of my domestic ease and happiness, I 
do not wish to make any profit from it. 
I will keep an exact account of my ex- 
penses. Those, I doubt not, they win dis- 
charge, and that is all I desire* 
George Washington. On His Appoint- 
ment as Commander-in-Chiet 

* 

Next to knowing when to seize an op- 
portunity, the most important thing in 
life is to know when to forego an ad- 
vantage. Disraeli. 

> * 

Given a government with a big surplus 
and a big majority and a weak opposi- 
tion, and you would debafneh a committee 
of archangels. Sir John A MacdonakL 

**> 

Necessity reforms the poor, and satiety 
reforms the ricfa,-^ 



Science, when sb^Jias accomplished aH 
her triumphs ^ fcr Mer, wffl stffi have 
tp go back, wh^Bt tile , t%oe cranes, to 
assist in, bQ9$jhc f ^ a BW creed 
which 




It Akott. 



Page 226 



ffUBBARD'S 




is to me what his 
boat is to the seaman, what 
pi jhis horse is to the Arab : nay, 
___ i more, it has been till now 
my eye, my speech, my life. 
Its strings have vibrated under my pas- 
sions, and its yielding keys have obeyed 
my every caprice *+> Perhaps the secret 
tie which holds me so closely to it is a 
delusion; but I hold the piano very 
high ** ^ 

In my view it takes the first place in the 
hierarchy of instruments; it is the often- 

est used and the widest spread In 

the circumference of its seven octaves 
it embraces the whole circumference of 
an orchestra; and a man's ten fingers are 
enough to render the harmonies which in 
an orchestra are only brought out by the 
combination of hundreds of musicians. . . 
<[ We can give broken chords like the 
harp, long sustained notes like the wind, 
staccati and a thousand passages which 
before it seemed only possible to pro- 
duce on this or that instrument .... The 
piano has on the one side the capacity of 
assimilation; the capacity of taking into 
itself the life of all instruments; on the 
other it has its own life, its own growth* 
its individual development s*. It is a mi- 
crocosm ** **> 

My highest ambition is to leave to 
piano-players after me some useful 
instructions, the footprints of attained 
advance, in fact, a work which may some 
day provide a worthy witness of the 
labor and study of my youth. 
I remember the greedy dog in La Fon- 
taine, which let the juicy bone fall from 
its mouth in order to grasp a shadow. 
Let me gnaw in peace at my bone. The 
hour wiH come, perhaps all too soon, in 
which I shall lose myself and hunt after 
a monstrous intangible shadow. 

Franz Liszt. 



Tfee art of conversation is to be prompt 
without being stubborn, to refute with- 
out argument, and to clothe great mat* 
ters in a motley garb. Disraeli. 

* *^ 

Anybody can cut prices, bat it takes 
brains to make a better article. 

Philip D. Armour* 



first performance of the 
'"'''$ *",~f "**v Messiah took place in the 
?g - vk ,kt * Neale's Music Hall in Dub- 
lin, on 18th April, 1742, at 
ti^S^^ midday, and, apropos of the 
absurdities of fashion, it may be noted 
that the announcements contained the 
following request: " Ladies who honor 
this performance with their presence will 
be pleased to come without hoops, as it 
will greatly increase the charity by mak- 
ing room for more company.** 
The work was gloriously successful, and 
over 400 were obtained the first day 
for the Dublin charities. Handel seems 
always to have had a special feeling with 
regard to this masterpiece of his as if 
it were too sacred to be merely used for 
making money, like his other works. . . . 
In this connection a fine saying of his 
may be repeated. Lord Kinnoul had com- 
plimented him on the noble " enter- 
tainment" which by the Messiah he 
had lately given the town. 
" My lord," said Handel, " I should be 
sorry if I only entertained them / 
wish to make them better" 
And when some one questioned him on 
his feelings when composing the Hal- 
lelujah Chorus, he replied in his peculiar 
English, " I did think I did see all heaven 
before me, and the great God Himself." 
(I What a fine saying that was of poor 
old George III, in describing the Pastoral 
Symphony in this oratorio ** I could 
see the stars shining through it! " 
The now constant custom of the au- 
dience to rise and remain standing during 
the performance of this chorus, is said to 
have originated in the following manner: 
On the first production of the work in 
London, the audience were exceedingly 
struck amd affected by the music in 
general; and when that chorus struck up, 
" For the Lord God Omnipotent" in the 
" Hallelujah," they were so transported 
that they all together, with the king 
(who happened to be present), started 
up and remained standing until the 
chorus ended. This anecdote I had from 
Lord KmnoiiL Dr. James Beattie. 

** 

It is much easier to be critical than to be 
correct. Benjamin Disraeli. 



J3OCXFG 



Page 223 




HE Parnell I knew and I 
may claim to have known 
him more intimately than 
anyone else on earth, both 
in public and private life 
was incapable of motiveless bnisqueries. 
That Parnell could crush utterly and 
without remorse I know; that he could 
deal harshly, even brutally, with anyone 
or anything that stood against him in the 
path he meant to tread, I admit, but 
that he would ever go out of his way to 
say a grossly rude thing or make an un- 
provoked attack, whether upon the per- 
sonal appearance, morals, or character 
of another man, I absolutely deny. Par- 
nell was ruthless in all his dealings with 
those who thwarted his will, but he 
was never petty. 

Parnell had. a most beautiful and har- 
monious voice when speaking in public. 
Very clear it was, even in moments ot 
passion against his own and his coun- 
try's foes passion modulated and sup- 
pressed until I have seen, from the 
Ladies' Gallery, his hand clenched until 
the " Orders of the Day " which he 
held were crushed into pulp, and only 
that prevented his nails piercing his 
hand. Often I have taken the " Orders " 
out of his pocket, twisted into shreds a 
fate that also overtook the slips of notes 
and the occasional quotations he had 
got me to look out for him. 
Sometimes when he was going to speak 
I could not leave my aunt long enough 
to be sure of getting to the Ladies* 
Gallery in time to hear him; or we might 
think it inexpedient that I should be 
seen to arrive so soon after him at the 
House. On these occasions, when I was 
able, I would arrive perhaps in the mid- 
dle of his speech and look down upon 
him, saying in my heart, "Ihavecome!" 
and invariably I would see the answering 
signal the lift of the head and lingering 
touch of the white rose in his coat, which 
told me, " I know, my Queen/* 
This telepathy of the soul, intuition, or 
what you will, was so strong between us 
that, whatever the business before the 
House, whether Parnell was speaking 
or not, in spite of the absolute Impossi- 
bility of distinguishing any face or form 



behind the grille of the Ladies 5 Gallery, 
Parnell was aware of my presence, even 
though often he did not expect me, as 
soon as I came in, and answered my 
wordless message by the signal that I 
knew. Katherine O'Shea (Mrs. Charles 
Stewart Parnell). 

d 

Rome endured as long as there were 
Romans. America will endure as long as 
we remain American in spirit and in 
thought. David Starr Jordan. 

* 

If we had paid no more attention to otir 

plants than we have to our children, we 

would now be living in a jungle of weeds. 

Luther Burbank. 

+ 

The secret of happiness is not in doing 
what one likes, but in liking what one 
has to do. James M. Barrie, 

&+ 

We no longer depend for Salvation upon 
either a man or a book. Men help us; 
books help us; but back of all stands our 
divine reason. Charles W. Eliot. 

> 

You may depend upon it that there are 
as good hearts to serve men in palaces as 
in cottages. Robert Owen. 



It is only those who do not know how to 

work that do not love it. To those who 

do, it is better than play. it is religion. 

J. H. Patterson. 

*> > 

Affection can withstand very severe 
storms of vigor, but not a long polar 
frost of indifference. Sir_ Walter Scott. 

$* $+ 7 

Illusion and wisdom combined are the 
charm of life and art. Joseph Jcmbert. 



When one begins to turn in bed it is time 
to turn out. Wellington. 

*> * 

Let us be thankful for the fools. But for 

them the rest of us could not succeed. 

Mark Twain. 



Certain thoughts are prayers. There are 
moments when, whatever be the at- 
titude of the body, the soul is on its 
knees. Victor Hugo* 



Page 228 



ffUBBARD'S 



~ ! N my house you have met 
v .. , General Bonaparte. Well 
, > he it is who would supply a 
VjJ?/ father's place to the orphans 
^hit f of Alexander de Beau- 
harnais, and a husband's to his widow. I 
admire the General's courage, the ex- 
tent of his information, for on all subjects 
he talks equally well, and the quickness 



of his judgment, 
which enables him 
toseizethethoughts 
of others almost 
before they are ex- 
pressed; but, I con- 
fess it, I shrink 
from the despot- 
ism he seems de- 
sirous of exercising 
over all who ap- 
proach him * His 
searching glance 
has something 
singular and in- 
explicable, which 
imposes evenon our 
Directors; judge 
if it may not in- 
timidate a woman. 
Eve n wh a t 
ought to please me 
the force of a 
passion, described 



Afoot and light-hearted I take to the 

open road, 

Healthy, free, the world before me, 
The long brown path before me leading 

wherever I choose. 

Henceforth I ask not good fortune, I 
myself am good-fortune; 

Henceforth I whimper no more, post- 
pone no more, need nothing, 

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, 
querulous criticisms, 

Strong and content I travel the open road 



in " the still, small voice,** and in a 
voice from the burning bush. The soul 
of man is audible, not visible. A sound 
alone betrays the flowing of the eternal 
fountain, invisible to man! Longfellow. 

<* 

what I have to offer 
you is fatigue, danger, struggle 
and death; the chill of the cold night in 
the free air, and 
heat under the 
burning sun; no 
lodgings, no mu- 
nitions, no provis- 
ions, but forced 
marches, danger- 
ous watchposts 
and the continual 
struggle with the 
bayonet against 
"batteries those 
who love freedom 
and their country 



with an energy that 

leaves not a doubt 

of his sincerity, is precisely the cause 

which arrests the consent I am often on 

the point of pronouncing. 

Letters of Josephine* 



****** may follow me. 

All seems beautiful to me. 
I can repeat over to men and women, 

You have done such good to me I 

would do the same to you, 
I win recruit for myself and you as I go. 
I mil scatter myself among men and 

women as I go, 
I will toss a new gladness and roughness 

among them. 

" The Open Road," by Walt Whitman 



better live your best and act your 
best and think your best today; for today 
is the sure preparation for tomorrow and 
aH the other tomorrows that follow. 

Harriet Martmeao* 



BOW wonderful is tfae human voice! 
It is indeed the organ of tiie soolt 
The intellect of man sits enthroned 
visibly upon his forehead and in his 
eye; od the heart ol" man is written 
upon his countenance. But the soul 
reveals itself in the voice only, as God 
revealed himself to tfee f^^Aset of 



Garibaldi to his 
Roman soldiers. 

S* SO 

HE, chief dif- 
ference be- 
tween a wise man 
and an ignorant 
one is, not that the 
first is acquainted 
with regions invisi- 
ble to the second, 
away from common sight and interest, 
but that he understands the common 
things which the second only sees. 

Starr King. 

We exaggerate misfortune and happiness 
alike. We are never either so wretched 
or so happy as we say we are. Balzac. 

That silence is one of the great arts of 
conversation is allowed by Cicero him- 
self, who says there is not only an art, 
but an eloquence in it. Hannah More. 

Whether you be man or woman you 
will never do anything in this world 
witihpixt courage* It is the greatest 
cpafity of the mind next to honor* 
James L. Alien. 



INDEXES 



INDEX OF SUBJECTS 



Achievement, Ibsen, 104. 

Adversity: Uses of, Stowe, 45; and prosperity, 

Johnson,, 95; McCarthy, 112; Tacitits, 174; 

Byron, 191. 

Advertising and humor, Ade y 54. 
Advice, Von Humboldt, 100. 
Affection, Scott, 227. 
Affliction, Cecil, 171. 
Age, old: Fear of, Goldsmith, 47; and youth, Holmes, 

50; Yeats, 77. 
Agriculture, Edison, 21; Importance of, IKS, 34; 

Warner, 39; Jefferson, 148. 
Ambition: Purfoj, 23; Intellectual, Holmes, 25; 

Harden, 27; Attainment of, Appel, 70; Lincoln, 

112. 

America, the melting-pot, Zangwitt, 96. 
Americanism, Gordon, 227. 
Amusement: Balzac, 140; and work, Ruslcin, 31. 
Ancestry: Voltaire, 165; Pride of, Overbury, 21. 
Ancients, The, Savonarola, 218. 
Andre, The fate of, Hamilton, 134. 
Anger: Dangers of, Metchnikojf, 78; Work and, 

Iw&er, 82; Do<k%, 164; Perm, 205. 
Animals, Cruelty to, Victoria, 20. 
Aphorisms, Disraeli, 225. 
Apples, Burroughs, 92. 
April, JFatam, 171. 
Argument, Gibbon, 94. 

Aristocracy, Today and tomorrow, Mazzini, 60. 
Art: Ingersott, 89; Michelangelo, 176; Ruskin, 30; 
and education, Whistler, 38; and life, Morris, 

120; and nature, Dostoievski, 41; and science, 

0pi0, 153; Charm of, Gfotso*. 72; Work and, 

Mathews, 19. 

Artistic temperament, The, Phillips, 44. 
Artist, The first, Whistler, 24. 
Aspiration, Alcott, 62. 
Autumn, Carman, 20; Landor, 193. 

Baltimore, Lord, Straus, 51. 
Beautiful, The, Grayson, 38. 
Beauty: Balzac, 15; an all-pervading presence, 

Channing, 56; and truth, Keats, 59; Maeterlinck, 

123. 

Beethoven, Music of, Wagner, 71. 
Behavior, Necker, 143. 
Belief: Terence, 168; Disraeli, 215. 
Bibieni, Cardinal, Letter to niece of, Raphael, 188. 
JBible, The: -4&#Z, 227; Gladden, 227; and democracy, 

H^Zey, 92. 
Bigotry, O'Connett, 33. 
Birth of a child, ra^ore, 54. 
Bixby, Mrs., Letter to, Lincoln, 133. 
Brahma, Emerson, 146. 
Bravery, Shakespeare, 189. 
Bribery, Garrick, 58. 
Britain, Great, Jay, 193. 
Brotherhood of man: Herron, 32; Marleham? 35, 39; 

Gkor^, 17; Ten^, 19; 4^4, 30; Jf#k, 78; 

Robinson, S4. 
Brown, John: JFiaa, 119; His address to the court, 

120; Burial of, PMUps, 124. 
Books, Bacon, 8; Gosse, 27; Burroughs* 81; Chinning, 

153, 198; TrMel* 101; J3omw>, 171; tfur&a, 179; 



TJweau, 221; ^fcotf, 225; 3fi&m, 228; Power of, 
Kingsley, 17; Suppression of, Milton, 20; Love 
of, Trollope, 62; Stimulation of, Hare, 72; and 
adversity, Irving, 120. 

Boy, The American, Roosevelt, 24. 

Bunker Hill, ^OTTW, 192. 

Burns, Robert: ff#Zw, 96; Rosebery, 209. 

Business: Common law of, Armour, SO; Success in, 
Selfridge, 61. 

By-products, Brisbane, 40. 

Byron, Lord: Macaulay, 138; Thorwaldsen, 190. 

Capital, and labor: Newcomb, 27; Lincoln, 50; 

Swing, 175. 

Carelessness, Noyes, 63. 
Carpenter, The, Whit-nan, 124. 
Castiglione, Count, Letter to, Raphael, 180. 
Cato, Appreciation of, Franklin, 93. 
Cellini, Benvenuto, Symonds, 189. 
Character: Confucius, 224; Firmness of, F<w&r, 107; 

Beauty of, Thoreau, 225. 
Charitableness, Farrar, 89. 
Charity, Hamerton* 179. 
Cheerfulness: Carfc/k, 68; Kingsley, 29; Fifcfer, 30; 

and goodness, J?aZ, 88. 
Child, The, Ta^ore, 54. 
Children: JVoete/, 26, 177; Broo&, 64; Surbank, 227; 

Farrar, 67; Monte&ori, 64; Love of, 

26; of the Ghetto, lonAm, 42. 
Chillon, Pyron, 188. 
Chivalry, The age of, Bwrfce, 99. 
Choir Invisible, The, George .EZw^ 217. 
Christmas, Dickens, 79. 
Church: Roman and Protestant compared, 

197; The new, Emerson, 172; The, Garibaldi, 218. 
Circumstantial evidence, Jyfari Twain, 57. 
Civilization and slavery, Wilde, 48. 
College, The, and democracy, 21. 
Columbus, Joaqmn Miller, 60. 
Comfort, Peace and, Morris, 70. 
Commercialism, Garfield, 169; Fame, 202. 
Company, Great men as, Carlyle, 215. 
Competition, Armour, 227. 
Compromise, Wattersortj 66. 
Conduct: Newton, 211; The reward of good, Froebd, 

182. 

Confidence, Cawttr, 97; Lack of, JB0te, 56. 
Consistency, Gilman, 52. 

Contentment: BrooJb, 17; .fooir, 101; R&y, 17- 
Conversation: JBcwee, 56; DisraeK? ^14; EquaEty and, 

Sleele, 56; Relaxation andv jS^fe, 19& 
Co-deration, Awv&v*, 211; Slatc&ford, 20; 

78; Hm-OTi, 32; Stewmetz, 165. 
Corn laws, The, BH0&, 20a 
Corre^io, Symcma&, 17. 
Corruption, Political, Macdonall, 225. 
Country: Life in, Pam* 210; Dickens, 83; 

222. 
Courage: CarLyle* 225; ^(flen, 228; and perseveraace, 

Adamt, 96; Need of, ST 
Courtesy, Washington, 26. 



(>ee(fa, Kipling, 128. 

Crime, If eredftf, 111; and pover^, 



Criticism, Haeckd, 89; Wilde, 200; Disraeli, 226. 
Cruelty, Lamartine, 75. 
Cynic, The, Wilde, 83. 

Daisies, Carman, 100. 

Dante, Michelangelo, 179. 

Darwin, Charles, EuxLey, 211. 

Death: Bell, 15; Lincoln, 17; Stevenson, 49; Raleigh, 

80; Fenn^on, 101; Scott, 108; Sfe0ens07i,108; 

and life, Crosby, 43; The mystery of, Coo&, 76; 

Democracy of, Ingatts, 77; jBTintf, 97; a friend, 

Franklin, 118. 

Debt, a teacher, Emerson, 104. 
Dedication, A, Kipling, 138. 
Defoe, Daniel, Besant, 196. 
Demagogues and Agitators, Disraeli, 196. 
Democracy: Whitman, 121; Jay, 180; and England, 

Co&Zen, 179. 

Destiny, Burroughs, 8; Socrates, 109 ; Shakespeare, 185. 
Dirt, The love of, FFarner, 39. 
Discipline: /Si. Benedict, 222; PZato, 23. 
Discontent, Varities of, Graham, 78. 
Discretion, Franklin, 225. 
Divinity, Luther, 120. 
Dore, Gustave, Roosevelt, 224. 
Doubt, Stanislaus, 140. 
Drama, The, Cushman, 26. 
Dreamer, The, O'Reilly, 131. 
Dreams, Davies, 181. 
Duty: Beecher, 19; OsZer, 70; Stevenson, 88; M#e* 157 

Education: WhitLock, 43; loc&e, 68; Bismarck, 128; 

Peabody, 211; Cooper, 214; Meaning of, fltwKn, 

17; Benson, 73; and democracy, FFifcton, 21; 

Dangers of, TFu Ting-Fang, 55; A liberal, Zfas- 

% 90; First aim of, Seton, 145. 
Egotism and ignorance, Bulwer-Lytton, 61. 
Electricity, Wonders of, Hawthorne* 57. 
Eloquence, Cicero, 87. 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, HoZwww, 183. 
Endeavor, Fiona Madeod, 142. 
Energy, Buxton, 72. 
England and America, Cobden, 187. 
Enjoyment, Limits of, Webster, 58, 
Enlightenment, Longfellow, 25. 
Enthusiasm, Chester, 60. 
Envy: Smitt, 69; Fo&nre, 145. 
Evil Benefits of, Fiske, 36. 
Evolution: Tabb, 169; of intellect, Darwin, 34; Soul, 

Emerson, 201. 
Examinations, Arnold, 181. 
Executive, Qualifications of, JfoKn, 143, 
Experience, Shakespeare, 48. 
Extravagance, FnmJ&n, 53. 

Faces, Carafe 117. 

Fact and inference, Wfoon, 86. 

Failure, Disraeli, 157. 

Fair play, Owrfw, 107. 

Faith: and practice, Tolstoy, 54; Lack of, Ha&ey, 61. 

Fate: J<msj, 76; Crane, 168; Mastery of, ffenky, 24. 

Fault-finding, West* SO. 

Fear: Newman, SO; IngerxM, 168; Conquest of, 

Sen&zf, 24; and ignorance, 2Vow&& 58. 
Fellowship, ifoma, 37. 
Fidelity, U titan, 64. 
Flowers: /rrwus, 51; Beec&er, 7; Carman, 100; 

Blanden, 105; Zo*eman, US; Temt^jon, 149; and 

trees, SHM&, 65; Blessing of, 
Hy, Hie, ffufcfcwwow, 14& 



Folly and wisdom, Goldsmith, 86. 

Food, Wiley, 145. 

Foolishness: Lamb, 166; Ifarfc Twain, 227. 

France, Anatole, Characterization of, Brandes, 52. 

France, The Queen of, Burke, 99. 

Franklin, Benjamin: Epitaph of, 129; FisJce, 199; 
and Washington, Jefferson, 177. 

Freedom: "an, 222; Lowell, 32; Dangers of, Gar- 
rick, 58; Guardians of, Depew, 74; of speech, 
Bradlaugh, 72; of thought, Straus, 51; Principles 
of, Pazne, 204; Religious, Straus, 51; Carlyle, 180. 

Free-Thought, Owen, 223. 

Friendship: Gorky, 14; Montaigne, 75; Burroughs, 
108; Washington, 26; Emerson, 83; Stevenson, 29; 
Perils of, Bourne, 59; a gift, Hughes, 75. 



Gardens, Smi^, 65. 

Genius: Schopenhauer, 88; and industry, Ralph, 55; 

Exercise of, Reynolds, 71; Men of, Linnaeus, 208. 
Gentlemen, Characteristics of a, Galsworthy, 36. 
George Eliot, Huxley, 216. 
Gettysburg, Address at, Lincoln, 88. 
Ghetto, Children of the, London, 42. 
Gifts, Paine, 202. 
Girard, Stephen, Will of, 168. 
Gladstone, Disraeli, 192. 
God and His attributes, Carruth, 154; Letters from, 

Whitman, 202. 

Golden Rule, The, MarJcham, 39. 
Good and evil: Lincoln, 86; Swing, 92. 
Goodness, Power of, CwrZis, 118. 
Government: Paine, 204; The American, Cobden, 

179, The best, Paine, 197. 
Gratitude: Coates, 21; Newcornb, 23. 
Greatness: Irving, 102; Bacon, 155; The mark of, 

CarfyZe, 94. 
Grief, Hitopadesa, 21. 

Habit: James, 76; J&fann, 167; ^stor, 211; Sweden- 
lorg, 214. 

Handel, George Frederick, Beattie, 226. 

Handshaking, Everett, 144. 

Happiness: Southey, 16; Maeterlinck, SO; Edison, 21; 
.Fwfce, 36; Jerrold, 70; Aurelius, 79; Santayana, 
92; Franklin, 98; RusJdn, 102; Ingersott, 106; 
Cheney, 127; Aristotle, 214; an incident, .Hau?- 
&onwj, 47; Trie attainment of, Franklin, 19; and 
passion, Tennyson, 83; and pleasure, EZio*, 198; 
JBarrie, 227; aZzac, 228. 

Hardship, Garttaldi, 228. 

Harmony, j&%, 182. 

Hate, Jfi/Zer, 41. 

Health: Disraeli, 220; Higginson, 222; and happi- 
ness, Johnson, 96. 

Heart, The human, Owitfa, 41. 

Herndon, Wm. H., Masters, 150. 

Henry, Patrick, Henry, 192. 

Hesitation, Lincoln, 149. 

Historian, The perfect, MacauLay, 48. 

History, Disraeli, 146. 

Homesickness, Crosby, SI. 

Honesty: Lippmann, 62; Carlyle, 189; of thought, 



Honor, , . 

Hooker, General J., Letter to, Lmcoln, 177. 

Humanity: Oorfcy, 14; Oeor^e, 17; The war of, 
#ewn?, 04; FranUin, 99; Comte, 211; Intellectual 
development of, Fwjfce, 194; and literature, 
Schopenhauer, 208; Love of, i%d, 24; War and, 



Humility, Newton, 87. 

Humor: Addison, 12; Beecher, 21; Forms of. Lamb, 

63; and advertising, Ade, 54. 
Hypocrisy, Savonarola, 164. 

Idealism: Lee, 17; Lincoln, 17; Beecher, 19; Holmes, 

25; Marden, 27; Sandburg, SO; Thackeray, 67; 

Dreier, 94; Power of, Swing, 22. 
Ideals: Grover, 62; Schurz, 222; Chinese, Dickinson, 

97; and life, Fan Xtyfce, 172. 
Ideas: Old, SAau?, 30; and cities, Disraeli, 224. 
Idleness: Haliburton, 198; Httlard, 214; Socrates, 

215; Benefits of, Skinner, 36; and sickness, 

Seneca, 53. 
Ignorance: Confitciits, 197, 227; and wisdom, .Kwwj, 

228. 

Illusions, Mark Twain, 137. 
Immortality: Voorhees, 62; Ingersott, 88; Socrates, 

109; Fan Dy&J, 142; Stevenson, 149. 
Inconsistency, Whitman, 200. 
Independence: Emerson, 29; Sumner, 72; Plutarch, 

102. 

Indians, The, Sprague, 95. 
Indifference: Noyes, 63; Farrar, 67. 
Industrialism, Keller, 12. 

Industry: Po^, 123; Whitman, 124; Franklin, 147. 
Infinite, The, Ht#o, 110; The thought of the, 

Postewr, 78. 
Influence, Stephen, 23. 

Ingersoll, Ebon C., Tribute to, Ingersoll, 131. 
Innocence: Seneca, 208. 
Inspiration: Bennett, 75; Dreier, 87. 
Intelligence, Voltaire, 215. 
Introspection: Whittier, 119; Smi&, 127. 

Jealousy: Stevenson, 97; National, Washington, 75. 

Jefferson, Thomas, Straits, 51. 

Jesus: Franklin, 104; Greatness of, Harris, 156. 

Johnson, Samuel, Boswell, 186. 

Josephine, Empress, Death of, TPo&on, 176. 

Joy: a boomerang, Crawford, 17; Coates, 21; Willis, 

91; JFa^ner, 164; and work, Briggs, 58; Art and, 

Mathews, 19. 

Judea, The Procurator of, France, 113. 
Jury, The, Dickens, 88. 
Justice: <?eor00 #Zrf, 14; Tolstoy, 16; and truth, 

George, 47; Dickens, 88; Franklin, 89; 
, 126. 



Kinship, ferry, 19. 

Knowledge: Fitter, 12; Smitfi, 127; and wisdom, 

Ouida, 79; and ignorance, Besant, 50. 
Kubla Khan, Coleridge, 195. 

Labor: and capital, Newcomb, 27; Foolishness of, 
Skinner, 36; Voice of, Jaures, 46; and capital, 
Lincoln, 50; Attitude of government toward, 
Lincoln, 58; necessary to success, Roosevelt, 97; 
MaUhus, 222; Dignity of, Jf #H 159; and song, 
Quintilian, 172; and happiness, Girard, 223. 

La Gioconda, Pater, 100. 

Lake, The, Thoreau, 65. 

Lamb, Charles, JBWitt, 146. 

Land: Man and the, George, 89, 199. 

Laughter: Addison, 86; IMaJb, 110. 

Law: and tyranny, Pitt, 185; Spiritual, EoWy, 185; 
Pasteur, 14; Fourget, 88; and reason, Cofce, 42. 

Laws, Socrates, 86; Tacitu*, 128. 

Lawyers, Seward, 80. 

Leadership, Newcomb, 27. 



Lee, Bobert ., at Appomatox, (xranf, 1$. 

L* Envoi, Kipling, 159. 

Letters of recommendation. Franklin, 128. 

Lexington, Battle of, Parker, 149. 

Liberty: Whithck, 61; Jefferson, 192; fltwKn, 157; 
<?eor00, 203; Pift, 224; and despotism, Garrison, 
78; Political and economic, Whitiock, 43. 

Library, In an old, Lamb, 56. 

Life: Barbauld, 12; #ai%, 22; Ehrmann, 37; Jfarfc 
rtmn, 69; Henry, 78; Eypatia, 190; Chateau*- 
briand, 215; Martineau, 228; Keat's dream erf a 
pleasant, 5; The abounding, Whiting, 13; Pur- 
pose of, Swing, 22; End of, Landor, 27; Purpose 
of, AUgeld, 30; and death, Crosby, 43; Growth of, 
Gaynor, 44; Joy of, Morrow, 46; A strong, 
Hamerton, 47; Love of, Goldsmith, 47; The ideal, 
Brooks, 48; a succession of events, #wo, 53; 
Joys of, Goe^e, 57; Mistakes of, Bronte, 57; The 
consecrated, Fan .Dyfo, 60; Joy of, Fan. Dyfo, 66; 
Beauty of, Kirkham, 66; Influences of, Channing, 
67; Significance of, Subbard, 68; Trials of, 
Montaigne, 68; and thought, Zowsr, 69; an 
inheritance, Lubbock, 71; The waste of, Cholmon- 
deley, 72; Ideals of, Jfttf, 72; Purpose of, JFoZ- 
Zoce, 73; Journey of, Rossetti, 73; The mystery of, 
Coo&, 76; The duty of, .Bnwwr, 79; The conse- 
crated, Dreier, 87; a looking-glass, Thackeray 
82; The consecrated, Kleiser, 08; Joys of, ^rf, 
101; Preparation for, Jtontt, 110; Victory of, 
5AeKey, 111; a thought, Coleridge, 118; Sacred- 
ness of, Gr%*, 129; Joy of, Cherbuliez, 135; 
Privileges of, floz/itf, 136; Eternal, orr, 136; 
A Tragedy, ^o'kr, 147; River of, Schreiner, 1^4; 
Spiritual forces of, Froebel, 165; of the spirit, 
Garfield, 171; Ladder of, Brownett, 182; and 
Love, fl#ey, 184; Object of. Cooper, 184; and 
sorrow, Landor, 193; a play, Jonason, 195; and 
love, Masters, 201; A generous, Ingersoll, 218; 
Country, Beecher, 225. 

light: and shadow, Gay, 68; and darkness, Gta^ 93. 

Lincoln, Abraham: at Gettysburg, Mason, #T; 
Lindsay, 45; Hay, 72; Whitman, 134. 

Literature, Functions of, 2)e Quincey, 64; Burroughs, 
81. 

Louvre, First visit to the, If flte, 174. 

Love: BourdHlon, 89; Landor, 109; Stevenson, 126; 
Dobson, 128; .tfyron, 140; Addison, 147; JSara*, 
158; Markham, 190; Fe*, 204; Bowman, 223; 
Stories of, TFefo, 8; Divine, Holmes, 17; &wuf- 
fotfy, SO; Henley, S3; Language of, Maeterlinck, 
38; a river, Beecher, 52; Qualities of, Ingersoll, 
55; and beauty, Maeterlinck, 55; Beauty of, 
Shelley, 56; of material things, Brooke, 57; of 
country, Jfcxrf, 64; Philosophy of, Sfo2ey,4; 
Held of, DrummonoV 69; Consciousness of, Zon^- 
/e#0io, 66; Qualities of, Gavtier, 71; The mystery 
of, Coofc, 76; and skiH, Bwafein, 79; The nature of, 
#%*, 80; .S^, 95; Perfect, HozKtt, 100; The test 
of, FFwfco^ 101; in return for evil, Buddka, 108; 
of life, Beecher, 181; and life, TebbetU. 173; and 
death, Perm, 204. 

Luck, Jf oo: 



Mahomet, VoUavre, im 

Man: Twgenef, II; JTKer, 12; Add-on, 12; 

14; OtnoV 26; Fo^tomv 191; War and, #w0o, 12; 

The measure of a, Brann, 16; Brotherhood of, 
, 24; A good, JP/oto, 26; 



to, Jeferson, 55; Greatness of, 



Ignorance of, Bulwer-Lytton, 61; Confidence in, 
Hadley, 61; and woman compared, Debs, 67; 
The power of, Emerson, 94; The good, Curtis, 
118; a book, Charming, 126; Influence of, 
Dickens, 126; Worth of, Roosevelt, 137; Life of, 
Andersen, 156; Kinship of, with the Divine, 
Monahan, 167; with the hoe, The, Markham, 174; 
a writing animal, Homer, 5505; and woman, 



Night, The: BourdiUon, 39; Orr, 148. 
Nobility, Nietzsche, 224. 
Novelty, PZm#, 32. 
November, Fiafor, 141. 



Mankind: Duty to, Ruskin, 29; The cause of, 

Roosevelt, 145. 
Manliness, Roosevelt, 24. 
Manners and character, Winter, 98. 
Marlborough, The Duke of, Thackeray, 160. 
Marriage: iec% 62; Bacon, 102. 
Martyr, The, Napoleon, 177. 
Mary, Queen of Scots, Letter to, Knox, 197. 
Matter and mind, Eddy, 180. 
Mediocrity, Thackeray, 104. 
Men: The need of, Hadley, 66; who do things, 

Oliver, 77; Kinds of, FranUin, 98. 
Mendelssohn, Felix, royfor, 225. 
Millet, Francois, Sensier, 175. 
Millionaire, The, Lee, 17. 
Mind: The, BoitrdiUon, 39; Shakespeare, 128; Free- 

dom of, Longfellow, 25; Divine, &fcfy, 177. 
Minds, Great, Irving, 102. 
Mining, Coal, Untermeyer* 25. 
Mirth, jfcc&er, 21. 
Misery, Unferme&er, 25. 
Mockingbird, The, #oyes, 16. 
Moderation: Garrison, 22; Aristotle, 57. 
Modesty, Washington, 225. 
Mona Lisa, The, Pater, 100. 
Money: Lorimer, 96; Stevenson, 133; Greeley, 142; 

Johnson, 202; Washington, 225; Uses of, FieW, 

53; fifetwwcm, 117; Lending, Jraw&in, 106; The 

acquisition of, Rothschild, 214. 
Morality: JE&rf, 126; MaeterUnck, 200; and religion, 



Morning, A wish. Hunt, 73. 

Morris, William, Tebbetts, 173. 

Motherhood, Jfef a*sfc&, 205. 

Mountains, M uir, 63. 

Music: Browne, 70; Dwight, 86; SoUand, 117; 

Wadsworth, 151; Moral power of, JPiiwiv 37; 

Uses of, Darwin, 52; Solace of, Luther, 69; 

Domain of, Heine* TL 
Mystery, J 



Napoleon, Phtttips, 206; and Jesus compared, 
Stmonds, 180; Grave ^Ingersott, 137; Character 
of, Ife tod 158; Manners of, Jo*ep&m,22a 

Nature: IngersoU, 13; #wz%, 5; ITo^, 28; Law of, 
Tolstoy* 15; The Law of, Emerson, 201; Human, 
ftdve^LgMon, 19; Imagination and, .BfoJb, 25; 
The drama of, For* Humbotit, 32; and art, 
DoaiowtM, 41; and Art* If Jfewrffeiv 205; The God 
of, JFo&m, 43; Beauties of, WMimtm, 52, 66; 
Beauties of, Dickens* 96; and mankind, MaUe* 
53; and society, JFtlde, 63; Joys o& IftfeWZ, 64; 
Precepts of, Montessari, 64; Soul of, DeGuerin, 
65; Love of, L&odfe, 66; Motherhood of, 
Stonton, 71; Charms of, Chateaubriand, 15% 
Army of, James, 1T2. 

Necessity, J3 1 iw7i*, 110. 

Negro, The, Washington. 1S. 

Ne&on, Horti0: Sauthey* 

Neo-pktonisa, Bypatia, 

Mew Year, The, Htw^ 78. 
hr 



Obedience, Hamilcar, 60. 

Obstacles, Moliere, 132. 

Officer, Qualifications of a good, Penn, 47. 

Open road: The, Whitman, 228; Secret of the, 

Grayson, 38. 
Opinions, Bierce, 126. 
Opium Dreams, Zte Quincey, 103. 
Opportunity, Disraeli, 225. 
Oratory: Kipling, 6; AUgeld, 13; Stttt'n^, 22; Cicero, 

87; jS>n*r, 195. 
Originality, Higginson, 145. 
Orthodoxy, JFfi5%, 59. 



Paine, Thomas, Letter to, Franklin, 143. 

Painting, Cuskman, 26. 

Parenthood, Froebd, 26. 

Paris, First visit to, 3f iHrf, 173. 

ParneU, Charles Stewart, O'Shea, 226. 

Patience, Rousseau, 126. 

Patriotism: fiocrf, 64; JFeS^ter, 74. 

Patronage, Johnson, 212. 

Peace: Secret of, Besant, 68; Goethe, 96; of mind, 

Stevenson, 164. 

Pedestrianism, Burroughs, 65. 
Penguinia, France, 170. 
Perm, William, Straus, 51. 
Perfection, Moral, Aurelius, 118. 
Pericles, Appreciation of, Saltus, 26. 
Personality, E&tf, 42. 
Philosophy: S/MTZO, 10; Moral, FranUin, 99; Fichte, 

161. 

Piano, The, wz, 226. 
Pictures, Horace, 101. 
Hants, Hua%, 25. 
Plato, tfnaa;, 197. 
Play: Stevenson, 47; #o#, 127; and work, Le Gal- 

lienne, 38. 

Pleasure: Southey, 16; FincAr, 37. 
Poetry: Greek and Roman, Markham, 74; Heine, 94; 

Shettey, 125; Cush-man, 26; Uses of, Darwin, 52; 

and energy, Arnold, 76; Canton, 207. 
Politicians and statesmen compared, Clarice, 5202. 
Pontius Pilate, France, 113. 
Poppy, The California, Joaguin Miller, 13. 
Poverty: Turgenef, 9; S&our, 14; fiood, 29; Ftscfor, 

81; Carfietd, 144; Causes of, WhiOock, 43; and 

crime, Griffith, 68; Fear of, James, 75; and 

morality, Stevenson, 107; and riches, Tacitus, 225. 
Prayer: Harden, 27; Evening, Stevenson, 43; The 

actors, Crone, 15; The optimist's, Robinson, 35; 

S&swawon, 2H; The fool's, Sifl, 85. 
Preacher, The, Oilman, 52, 
Preaching and practice, Tolstoy, 54. 
Present, The^ Relation of, to past and future, 

Webster, 58. 

Pride: National, Herder, 27; Ben ^Lzai, 45. 
Printing: Meredith, 27; The business of, Porter, 92; 

The art of , M arm, 60. 
Printing press, The, Dams, 58. 
Prisons,^, 224. 
Procrastination, Frank&n, 25. 
Piogress: ^imw^ 29; in life, Caries, 65; Cooper, 184; 

Savonarola, 218. 
Prophet, Hie, Traulel, 11. 
Proserpine, In the garden o& Swinburne* %Q^ >. 



Prosperity and adversity, Johnson, 98. 
Prostitution, Lecky, 12. 
Providence: Hugo, 7; Wesley > 215. 
Publicity, Place of, Perfdns, 64. 
Punishment: Griffith, 68; Meredith, IIL 

Railroads, American, Hill, 70. 

Rain, Loveman, 113. 

Reading, and exercise, Addison, 37. 

Reading Gaol, The Ballad of, Wilde, 213. 

Reason: Johnson, 97; Franklin, 123; and the law, 
Coke, 42; versus force, Gompers, 75. 

Red Jacket, Speech of, 219. 

Reform, Social, Gladstone, 86. 

Relations, Poor, Lamb, 105. 

Relaxation, Steele, 196. 

Religion: Balzac, 15; Penn, 30; Emerson, 51; Frank- 
lin, 104; JfiK, 149; Copernicus, 208; &>, 227; 
of usefulness, Ing er soil, 13; and goodness, jfonan, 
32; and theology, Burbank, 41; Differences in, 
Penn, 47; Denominations of, Paine, 202. 

Rembrandt: Meissonier, 153; Michel, 218; Fan 
Jty&e, 223; Place of, IficfoZ, 11. 

Remembrance, Twelve things worthy of, Field, 78. 

Renunciation, Dante, 16. 

Republic, The Ideal, J^an, 87. 

Resignation: Stevenson, 49; Sco#, 108. 

Resolution: Edgeworth, 123; Nelson, 133. 

Responsibility, Pinchot, 70. 

Right and wrong, Clarke, 95. 

Rogers, H. H., 3f ar& Twain, 213. 

Romance: Age of, Carlyle, 14; Ideas of, Deming, 54. 

Rome, Supremacy of, Fuller, 71. 

Romola, Eliot, 198, 

Rutledge, Anne, Masters, 185. 

Satan, The case of, Mark Twain, 44. 

Schools and the nation, Bismarck, 128. 

Schopenhauer, Baltus, 166. 

Science: Spencer, 215; Morley, 225; Teachings of, 

Huxley, 69; Modern, Huxley, 75. 
Scripture: The power of, Sfawc, 108; Authority of, 

GoftZeo, 208. 

Sculpture, Cushman, 26. 

Sea, The: Conrad, 98; Masefield, 107; Tenny$on,I4ff. 
Self-confidence, Johnson, 150. 
Self control: Arnold, 36; Seneca, 167; Da Fi'nci, 218; 

Maclaren, 226. 
Self-interest, Steinway, 83. 
Selfishness, JFz'Zck, 25; .ZVoye*, 63. 
Self-knowledge, Disraeli, 224. 
Self-mastery, Meredith, 99. 
Self-restraint, Coto, 54. 
Self-sacrifice, Ruskin, 29. 
Sentiment: Jka GaUienne, 38; and the imagination 

Lamartine, 57; The story of human, Henderson, 

77. 

Separation, Hitopadesa, 21. 
Service: Crane, 20; Stevenson, 29; Traubel, 59; 

Morgan, 79; Owen, 227; Rewards of, Aureliits, 89. 
Sex superiority, Ruslcm, 94. 
Shadow and light, Gay, 68. 
Shaw, G. Bernard, .Frank, 145. 
Shelley, Percy Bysshe: Poetry of, Thompson, 128; 

The death of, Thompson, 148. 
Shepherdess, The, MeyneU, 76. 
Shirt, Song of the, Hood, 29. 
Silence: Carlyle, 215; Confucius, 24; Afore, 227; 

varities of, Guyon, 78. 
Simplicity, Reynolds* i 



Sin, Fwfo, S6. 

Sincerity, Garrison, 22, 

Singer, The Idle, 3f orm, 191. 

Singing, Carlyle, 68* 

Slander: Haeckd, 89; Beecher, 159. 

Slavery: Industrial, Edwards, 18; and civilization, 

JFiZa>, 48; Agricultural, &r^, 199. 
Sleep: Bjrron, 42; Cervantes, 86; Co&m, 100; JVapo- 

kon, 155; Wellington, 227, 
Snobbery, Braley, 83. 
Society, Lavater, 187; Human, Sftato, SO; and nature, 

Wilde, 63; Organization of, Jefferson, 176. 
Solitude: Thoreau, 63; fFm*fcwx?r&, 87; Zoirc^ 222; 

Independence of, Emerson, 29. 
Sonnets, Rossetti, 221. 
Sorrow, Universality of, Longfellow, 46; and fear, 

Benson, 127. 
Soul, The: Houseman, 124; compared with &e, 

Z>e Steet, 19; Existence of, VoUaire, 66. 
Speech, Kipling, 6; and the mind, Seneca, 8; Words 

and things, Johnson, 21; The English, Emerson, 

51. 

Spencer, Herbert, Letter to, Hvsdey, 216. 
Spirit, Life of the, Ehrmann, 37. 
Stage, Traditions of the, Shaw, 9. 
Stars, The: J%/ron, 23; Untermeyer, 25; F0n Fam- 

boldt, 32; ITeafc, 203; Man and the, Ovid, 26. 
Stevenson, Robert Louis, Death of, Quitter-Conch, 

84. 

Stoicism, Santayana, 161. 
Stomach, The, Souvester, 200. 
Strife, Hotf, 215; Family, Msep, 128. 
Strike, The, Edwards, 18. 
Style, literary, Burroughs, 81. 
Success: flbwe, 16; Brisbane, 40; Mirabeau, 71; 

FaiJ, 95; Horton, 102; Schopenhauer, 136; Cainp- 

fce#, 169; Whiting, 13; StanZey, 56; J?tc2d, 78; 

and mental attitude, Sco#, 20; Cheerfulness and, 

Kingsley, 29; and caution, Rockefeller, 54; Es- 
sentials of, Harriman, 58; and work, Bolfon, 61; 

Business, Self ridge, 61; Secret of, Rockefeller, 69; 

Perils of, STTH&, 69; Conditions of, So^, 70; 

and anxiety, Stowe, 87; and merit, Cockran, 91; 

in life, Nelson, 133; and failure, Jones, 173; and 

failure, Thackeray, 223. 
Sublime, The, and the ridiculous, Paine, 161. 
Suffering, Young, 169. 
Summer: Indian, Longfellow, 8; The pleasures of , 

Jejferies, 67. 
Sundown, JPKfcnon, 52. 
Superstition: Stephen, 20; Darwin, M; Farrar, 67; 

Paine, 181. 

Sympathy: Oaioa, 41; JFtfcfe, 204. 
System, St^o, 169. 

Tardiness, Dion&sitts, SSL 

Task, A, Stevenson, 26. 

Tears: #*, 143; TOWQWW, 185. 

Thanksgiving, A man's, Newcomb* 28. 

Theater, Hie, and social questions, Skate, 42, 

Theology: Emerson, 218; and religion, Bvrbank, 41. 

Thrift: ol time, Gladstone, 82; igm&, 176. 

t: Stephen, 5^; Cor^v 147; Pythagoras, 190; 
, 227; Power oC, Carafe 118; Befigkm 
4. 
ed, Tlie, Patterson, 48. 

Mendelssohn^ 191. 
"Kger, Ite, -Kdfcc, 
lime: ftfT5tt^n; 

198j UM of Britbime, 40; Wrecks of Foorlbe^ 0$ 




Thrift of, Gladstone, 82; Waste of, Franklin, 04; 

Knox, 204. 

Titian, Reynold*, 218. 

Today: Duties of, Jordan, 48; Franklin, 124. 
Tolstoy, Religion of, 54. 
Travel GriffiUt, 89. 

Trees: Kilmer, 6*8; Lanier, 116; RoUin, 167. 
Trial, Uses of, Stowe, 45. 
Trouble, Paine, 222. 
Truth: JfuZfer, 25; Emerson, 86; Jfarjfc fioain, 94; 

Munger, 156; Stevenson, 165; S*. Augustine, 168; 

Hypatia, 187; Stephens, 195; Pindar, 196; 0#n, 

223; and justice, George, 47; Love of, Burbank, 53; 

Evolution of, JFfctte, 200; Love of, Par&er, 224. 
Turner, J. M. W., Hamertcm, 141, 144. 
Tyranny, Patn$, 181. 

Union and strength, Msop, 128. 
Universe, Forces of the, Jeff cries, 41. 
Unselfishness, FFiWe, 25. 
Useful, The, SAeZZey, 143. 

Venice, Smith, 149. 

Virtue: Triumph of, Darwin, 34; Oliver, 161. 
Vivisection: Victoria, 20; Lamartine, 75. 
Vocation, Respect of, Dickens, 51. 
Voice, The human, LongfeUow, 228. 

Walking, Joys of, Burroughs, 65. 

War, JETw^o, 12; Pasteur, 14; SZCT/*, 128; SoZon, 135; 
Sophocles, 142; Crane, 178; Fon Jfo&foj, 218; 
Elusions of, Le Gallienne, 9; Women and, 
Schreiner, 31; Foolishness of, Carlyle, S3; Logic 
of, Tolstoy, 35; Waste of, Sumner, 37; Hatred of, 
Jfi&r, 41; Vulgarity of, Wilde, 44; Evils of, 
Channing, 45; Waste of, Franklin, 46; Causes of, 
Ingersott, 82; and Progress, Cobden, 180. 

Washington, George, The character of, Webster, 21; 
Greatness of, Curtis, 74; Character of, Jefferson, 
178; ,4<f<z77W, 190; PwJb, 199. 

Waterloo, Battle of, Hugo, 151. 

Wealth: Stew, 14; Lee, 17; Lorimer m 96. 



Wesley, Samuel, Letter of mother to, 150. 

Will, The: Bennett, 75; and Strength, Hugo, 164. 

Williams, Roger, Straus, 51. 

Wind, The, Garland, 103. 

Wisdom: Lincoln, 129; Spencer, 225; Path of, Mwrf, 
72; Dante, 74; and folly, Goldsmith* 68; and 
ignorance, Zin^, 228. 

Wit: Penn, 218; e Stael, 126. 

Woman, Tribute to, Stevenson, 69; Self-deception of, 
Ashmun, 73; The heart of, JFo&on, 81; Uplift of, 
Sckreiner, 94; Relation of man to, Walker, 204; 
Tribute to, Mill, 214. 

Women and War, Schreiner, 31. 

Wonder, Young, 73. 

Work: M?ra!#, 20; Hood, 28; Ehrmann, 37; Phillips, 
44; Ballinger, 68; Z)u Maurier, 110; Carnegie, 210; 
Drudgery of, F/kr, 9; The world's, JTeZZer, 27; 
and amusement, RusJdn, 31; and play, ie <?oZ- 
&n, 38; and joy, Briggs, 58; Necessity of, 
Burdette, 59; and success, Bolton, 61; Joyful, 
Morris, 62; Joys of, Kingsley, 72; the mission of 
mankind, jSAaw, 74; Creative, Po^e, 123; Love 
of, WeUmer, 156; Energy and, 47. 

Workmanship, Good, Ruskin, 30. 

Workers, March of the, Morris, 163. 

World, The beauty and wonder of, Burroughs, 66; 
Wadsworth, 189. 

Worlds, Two, Hunt, 144. 

Worlds, Other, Spinoza, 148. 

Worry: Edison, 21; #o#, 137. 

Writing, The art of, Buffon, 165. 

Yellowstone, Grand Canyon of the lower falls of the, 

Eoyt, 28. 
Youth: Burroughs, 80, 92; Conrad, 98; and age, 

Eolines, 50; and age, Schopenhauer, 165; and age, 

Hugo, 196; and old age, Stevenson, 112; and 

reform, Rousseau, 181. 

Zarathustra, Nietzsche, 193. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



Adams, Jolin 190 

Adams, John Quincy 96 

Adams, Samuel 192 

Addison 12, 37, 86, 147 

Ade, George 54 

Adler, Felix 147 

JEsop 128 

Alcott, L. M 62, 225 

Allen, James L 228 

Altgeld, John P 13, SO 

Amiel 29 

Andersen, Hans Christian 156 

Appel, Joseph H 70 

Aristotle 57, 214 

Armour, Philip D SO, 226 

Arnold, Sir Edwin 36 

Arnold, Matthew 76 

Arnold, Thomas 181 

Ashmun, Margaret 73 

Astor, John Jacob 211 

Aurelius, Marcus 79, 89, 118, 211 

Azai, Rabbi Ben 45, 66 

Bacon, Francis 8, 102, 155 

Bailey, Philip James 22 

Ball, L. C .88 

Ballinger, Geo. W 68 

Balzac 15, 140, 228 

Barbauld, Anna Letitia 12 

Barrie, James M 226, 227 

Barrow 171 

Beecher, Henry Ward 19, 21, 52, 79, 159, 181 

Bell, Jerome B 15 

Bennett, Arnold 75 

Benson, A. C 127 

Benson, 0. H 73 

Besant, Annie 50, 68 

Besant, Walter 196 

Bierce, Ambrose 126 

Bismarck 128 

Blake, Catherine D 110 

Blake, William 25, 139 

Blanden, Charles G 105 

Blatchford, Robert 20 

Bolton, Sarah A 61 

Boswell, James 186 

Bourdillon, Francis W 39 

Bourne, Randolph S 59 

Bovee 56 

Bradlaugh, Charles 72 

Braley, Berton 83 

Brandes, Georg 52 

Brann, W. C 16 

Bremer, Frederica 79 

Briggs, Dean 58 

Bright, John *208 

Brisbane, Arthur 40 

Bronte; Charlotte 57 

Brooke, Rupert 57 

Brooki, Philips 17, 48, 64 

Brown, John 119 

Browne, Sir Thomas ... .70, 101 

Brownell, Wm, L 182 

Bryan, William Jennings .. 87 

Buddha .* 108 

Buffon - - 165 

Burbaok, Luther. ... .41, 5$ M7 



Burdette, Bob 59 

Burke, Edmund . 25, 99 

Burns, Robert 110, 158, 222 

Burroughs, John 8, 65, 66, 80, 81, 82, 92, 108 

Buxton, Powell 72 

Byron, Lord 23, 42, 140, 188 

Campbell, Alexander . 169 

Canton, William 207 

Carlyle, 14, S3, 65, 68, 94, 117, 118, 147, 180, 215, 
225 

Carman, Bliss .20, 100 

Carnegie, Andrew 210 

Carruth, William Herbert 154 

Cato 54 

Cavour 97 

Cecil, Richard 171 

Cervantes 86 

Channing, William EUery.,45, 56, 67, 126, 153, 198 

Chateaubriand 154, 215 

Cheney, John Vance 127 

Cherbuliez, Victor 135 

Chester, Henry 60 

Child, L. M "....!.. 45 

Cholmondeley, Mary 72 

Cicero 87 

Clarke, James Freeman 95, 202 

Clay, Henry .191 

Coates, Florence Earle 1 

Cobden, Richard. 179, 180, 187 

Cockran, Bourke 91 

Coke . .....43, 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 118, 194 

Colton 100 

Comte, Aguste 211 

Confucius 197, 224 

Conrad, Joseph 98 

Cook, James Hunt 76 

Cooper, Peter >. ,..184, 214 

Copernicus 208 

Crane, Frank 15, 20 

Crane, Stephen 168, 178 

Crawford, Capt. Jack 17 

Crosby, Ernest 31, 43 

Curtis, George William 74, 107, 118, 179 

Cushman, Charlotte .6 

Dante ...16, 74 

Darwin, Charles. 34, 52, 211 

Davies, Mary Carolyn .181 

Da Vinci, Leonardo 18 

Davis, RobtH 58 

Debs, Eugene V 67 

Deming, Seymour . , . . . 54 

Depew, Chauncey M 74 

De Quincey, Thomas 64, 10S 

Dickens, Charles 51, 79, 83, 88, 96, 186,148 

Dickinson, G. Lowes .97 

Dionysius . 52 

Disraeli, Benjamin, 146, 157, 192, 196, 214, 15, 
220, 224, fc5, 5226, 227 

Dobson, Austin. . .128 

Dodsky, Robert Wk 

Dostoevski....... .^,.41 

Dreier, Thomas .87, 94 

Drummond, Henry , . ...... ,6 

Dwight, JohnS ......8 



Eddy, Mary Baker ....... ... . .177, 180, 182, 185 

Edgewortb. Maria .......................... 123 

Edison ..................................... 21 

Edwards, Albert ............................. 18 

Ehrmann, Max .............................. 37 

Eliot, Chas. W ..................... 42, 126, 227 

Eliot, George .................... 14, 72, 198, 216 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 26, 29, 51, 83, 86, 94, 104, 

146, 172, 201, 218 
Everett, Edward ........................... 144 

Farrar, Dean ............................ 67, 89 

Fee, Madame .............................. 204 

Fichte ..................................... 161 

Field, Marshall ........................... 53, 78 

Finck, Henry T .............................. 37 

Fischer, Jacob ............................... 31 

Fisher, Mahlon Leonard ..................... 141 

Fiske, John. . ....................... 36, 194, 199 

Fitch, William C ............................. 78 

Flecker, James Elroy ........................ 119 

Foster, John ......................... . ..... 107 

Fourget, Emile .............................. 38 

France, Anatole ........................ 113, 170 

Frank, Dr. Henry .......................... 145 

Franklin, Benjamin, 19, 25, 46, 53, 89, 93, 94, 98, 

99, 104, 106, 118, 123, 124, 128, 129, 143, 147 

Froebel, Friedrich ....... . . .26, 165, 177, 182, 198 

Fry, Elizabeth ............................. 224 

Fuller, Margaret .......................... 9, 71 

Fuller, Thomas .............................. 12 

Gale, Norman ............................... 93 

Galileo .................................... 208 

Gal-worthy, John ....................... 36, 126 

Garfield, James A ................. 144, 169, 171 

Garibaldi ............................. 218, 228 

Garland, Hamlin ........................... 103 

Garrick .................................... 58 

Garrison, William Lloyd .................. 22, 78 

Gautier ....... . ........ . ................... 71 

Gay ..... . ................................. 68 

Gaynor, William J ........................... 44 

George, Henry ................ 17, 47, 89, 199, 203 

Gibbon ..................................... 94 

Gilman, Charlotte Perkins .................... 52 

Girard, Stephen ............... . ....... 168, 222 

Gladstone, W. E. . . .............. . ....... 82, 86 

Goethe ... .............................. 57, 96 

Goldsmith, Oliver ........................ 47, 86 

Gompers, Samuel ............................ 75 

Gerky, Maxim ..... . ........................ 14 

Gosse, Edmund ............................. 27 

Graham, Gordon ........... . ................ 78 

Grant, General U. Sw ....................... 132 

Grayson, David. ..... ....................... 38 



Gnnit&, ( 

n^ 

tlggi Mwardl Howard 

Oiove^ r&iiria Oagoo 

Guerm, Maurice D 



89 

129 

62 



Guyon, Madame. ......... .......... ........ 78 

HadBey, Aethm T.., ................ _..! t& 

Haeckel, Ernst ....... . .............. ....8S, 8 

Hak, Edward W ......... . ........ ......... 288 

Hall, Bolton.. ...... .............. .,..137* 215 

Hall, Stanley .. ........ .. ....... ..... .....127 

viii 



Hamerton, Phillip G 47, 141, 144, 179 

Hamilcar 60 

Hamilton, Alexander 134 

Hare, A. W 72 

Harriman, Edward H 58 

Harris, Frank 156 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel 47, 57 

Hay, John 72 

Hayes, Ednah Proctor (Clarke) 16 

Hazlitt, William 100, 136, 146 

Heine, Heinrich 71, 94 

Henderson, C. Hanford 77 

Henley, William Ernest 24, 33 

Henry* Patrick 192 

Herder 27 

Herron, George D 32 

Higginson, T. W 145, 222 

Hill, James J 34, 70 

Billiard 214 

Hillis, Newell Dwight 96 

Hitopadesa 21 

Hodgson, Ralph 198 

Holland, J. C 117 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell 17, 25, 50, 183 

Homer 205 

Hood, Thomas 28 

Horace 101 

Horton, R. F 102 

Houseman, A. E 124 

Howe, E. W 16 

Hoyt 28 

Hubbard, Dr. Silas 68 

Hughes, Thomas 75 

Hugo, Victor, 7, 12, 53, 110, 151, 164, 169, 197, 227 

Hunt, Leigh 144 

Hunt, W. R 73 

Hutchinson, Dr. Woods 146 

Huxley, Thomas H., 25, 69, 75, 90, 92, 211, 216 
Hypatia... 187, 190, 222 

Ibsen 104 

Ingalls, John J 77 

Ingersoll, Robert G., 13, 55, 82, 88, 89, 106, 131, 
137, 168, 218 

Irvine, Alexander 51 

Irving, Washington 102, 120 

James, William 75, 76, 172 

Jaures, Jean Leon 46 

Jay, John 180, 193 

Je&eries, Richard 41, 67 

Jefferson, Thomas 55, 148, 176, 177, 178, 192 

Jerrold, Douglas 70 

Johnson, Ben 195 

Johnson, Samuel 21, 95, 96, 97, 150, 202, 212 

Jones, Lloyd. 187 

Jordan, David Starr 48, 27 

Josephine. 228 

Joubert 226 

Kant 214, 232 

Keats, John. ... 59, 101, 203 

Keller, Helen 12, 27 

Key, Men 95 

Kilmer, Joyce. .... 68 

King, Ben...,. 97 

King, T. Starr 228 

Eingsley, Charles 17, 29, ^ 

K^lmg, Rudyard. 6, 128, 138, ]jjr 

Kkfcman, Stantoa Davis. $& 



Eleiser, Glenville 93 

Knox, John .'.*** .\\i95,' 197," 204 

Lamartine 57, 75 

I* 1 *** $*** .".V.5i'l65, 166 

Lamb, 0. R , 63 

Lamszus, Wilhelm ! 49 

Landor, Walter Savage 27, 109, 193 

Larder, Sidney 116 

La Rochefoucauld 71 

Lecky, William, E. H *. . ..... .12, 62 

Lee, Gerald Stanley 17 

Le Galiienne, Richard .9^ 38 

Lincoln, Abraham, 17, 50, 58, 86, 88, 112, 129,133, 
149, 177 

Lindsay, Vachel 44 

Linneaus 208 

Lippmann, Walter 62 

Liszt 26 

Lloyd, J. William *. " . " 24 

Locke 68 

London, Jack 42 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth,. , . 8, 25^ 46, 66, 228 

Lorimer, George Horace 96 

Loveman, Robert !*.!'. 113 

Lover, Samuel 69 

Lowell, James Russell 32, 222 

Lubbock, John . . 66, 71 

Luther, Martin 69, 82/120 

Lytton, Bulwer 19> 61 

McCarthy, Justin t .112 

Mabie, Hamilton Wright ...!.. .53 

Macaulay .'..,".!! AB, is8 

MacDonald, Sir John 225 

Macleod, Fiona 142 

Maeterlinck 30, 38, 55, 123^ 200 

Magellan , 74 

Mahin, John Lee i43 

Malthus ' . ] 222 

Mann, Horace 60, 167 

Mansfield, Richard 26 

Marden, Orison Swett 27 

Markham, Edwin 35, 39, 74, 175, 190 

Martineau, Harriet 228 

Masefield, John 107, 205 

Mason, Harrison D 36 

Masters, Edgar Lee 150, 185, 201 

Mathews, William .- 19 

Manner du George 110 

Mazzini 60 

Meissonier 153 

Mendelssohn, Felix . . , 191 

Meredith, George. .27 

Meredith, Owen 99 

Meredith, Sir William Ill 

Metchnikoff 78 

Meynell, Alice 76 

Michelangelo 176, 179 * 

Michel, Emile 11, 18 

Mill, J, Stewart.. .....72, 149, 196, 214 

Miller, Joaquin ...1% 60,220 

Miller, Joseph Dana .40 

Millet 157, 159, 173, 174 

Mills, Beni. Fay.., ...... A.7S 

Milton, John 20, 64, 228 

Mirabeau .,..., ;,......-.. fl 

Mitchel, Donald G.. , . ,M 

Moliere. . . . . . 13$ 



Montaigne ................. . , ......... _ $8, 75 

Montessori, Maria ....................... . , B ,54 

More, Hannah .................. [.../..[.. [gfcS 

Morgan, J. Pierpont ................... ] ..... 79 

Morley, John .................... . ...... * *25 

Morris, Eobert T ............... !!.!!!!!!!!! .70 

Morris, William ---- . ____ 37, 62, 120, 162, 'l91, 228 

Morrow, Marco ................ . ............ 46 

Muir, John ..... . ........ , ...... " $3 

Mtiller, May ........................... .' . . . jfc5 

Munger. ........ ,......,.. ...... ..."!!.".' 1 ."." ifid 

Napoleon ............................. 155, 177 

Necker, M ........................ . ..... ... 143 

Nelson, Lord ........................ ...... .135 

Newcombe, Arthur W .................... 23, 27 

Newman, Cardinal .......................... SO 

Newton, Sir Isaac ................ ..... .87, 211 

Nietzsche, Friedrich ............... .... 193, 224 

Norvel, Saunders ............................ go 

Noyes, Alfred ...................... ...... ...OS 

O'Connell, Daniel ............................ S3 

O. Henry ................................... 73 

Oliver, James .................. . ....... 77, 161 

Opie, John .............................. m .153 

O*Heilly, John Boyle ............ 130 

O'EeU, Max ........................ \\ / .133 

Orr, Hugh Robert .......................... 148 

O'Shea, Katherine ......... ...... ....... ... ,227 

Osier .............................. !.....!. .70 

Ouida ---- . . ...... .... .............. 4 . . .41, 79 

Overbury, Sir Thomas .............. . ......... 21 

Ovid ................................. \\ ____ 26 

Owen, Robert. . . ...................... 223, 227 

Page, Thomas Nelson ........ . .............. 123 

Paine, Thomas ...... 161, 181, 197, 202, 204, 222 

Parker, Theodore .............. . ....... 149, 224 

Parkman .................................. ,47 

Pascal ...................... . ...... . ........ 59 

Pasteur, Louis .......................... 14, 78 

Pater, Walter ............................ . .100 

Patterson, Ada ..... . ................. . ...... 48 

Patterson, John H ....................... . . .227 

Peabody, George ......................... . .211 

Penn, William .......... 30, 47, 204, 205, 210, 218 

Perkins, Geo. W ____ . ........................ 64 

Petrarch ......... . ..... . .................. 22 

Phillips, Charles .................. . . * ____ ", ~ ',206 

Phillips, David Graham .................. 44, 226 

Phillips, Wendell ................... ....... 124 

Pinchot, Gifford ................. . ........... 70 

Pitt, William. . . .................... 185* 224 

Plato .............. . .............. ......23, m 

Pliny ..................... .................. Sfc 

Plutarch ............... . ....... . ..... . ..... 10 

Porter, H enry P. .......... . ................ , 92 

....... ............ ........ ...ISO 



r. A. T. .................. ...84 

QuhitiKan ____ ...... ..... .. ................ 172 



h, Julian. . ., .......... . ..... .. ____ .....85 




It^sse, lizette Woodbrorth 
Benan, Ernst. . 



Rhys, Grace 80 

RHey, James WHtcomb 166, 184 

Robinson, Wm. J 34 

Rockefeller, John D 54, 69 

Rollin 167 

Roosevelt, Blanche 224 

Roosevelt, Theodore 24, 97, 137, 145 

Root, Elihu 64 

Rosebery, Lord 209 

Rossetti, Christina G 73, 220, 221 

Rothschild . 214 

Rousseau 126, 181 

Ruskin, John 17, 29, 79, 94, 102, 157 

Sage, Russell 70 

Saint Augustine 168 

Saint Benedict 222 

Saltus, Edgar 26^ 165 

Sandburg. so 

Santayana, George 92, 161 

Savonarola 164, 218 

Schopenhauer 88, 136, 165, 208 

Schreiner, Olive 31, 94, 164 

Schurz, Carl 222 

Scott, Capt. Robert F 108 

Scott, Sir Walter 227 

Scott, Walter Dill 20 

Selfridge, H. Gordon .61 

Seneca 8, 53, 167, 208 

Sensier, Alfred 175 

Seton, Ernest Thompson 145 

Seward, W. H 80 

Shakespeare, William 48, 128, 157, 185, 189 

Shaw, George Bernard, 9, 10, 14, 30, 42, 74, 108, 172 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe 65, 111, 125, 143 

Shelley, Mrs. M. W. 56 

Shores, Robert J. 136 

Sill, Edward Rowland 84 

Simonds, Wm. Day ISO 

Skinner, Charles M 36 

Smiles, Samuel ]l76 

Smith, Adam 69 

Smith, Alexander !!!!!! !es 

Smith, F. Hopkinson 149 

Smith, Sydney 67* 127 

Socrates 86, 109, 215 

Solon.. is 

Sophocles 142 

Southey, Robert 16^ 162, 215 

Soravestre, Emile 200 

Spencer, Herbert 31, 2is, 225 

Spinoza 14g 

Sprague, Charles. !".!".!".! .95 

Slad, De Madame. 19, 126, 158 

Stanislaus 140 

Stanley, Mrs. A. J !!!!".!!! .56 

Stanton, Elizabeth Cady 71 

Steek, Sir Richard ."."se,*^ 

Steanmete ^165 

Stemway, Charles H " " " " . _g$ 

Stephens, James 1 . ] ! !i05 

Stephen, Sir LesBe. 20, 23 

Stevenson, Robert Louis, 6, 29, 43, 47, 4^ 6, 88 
97,107,108,112,1 17,126,133,149,164,165,211 

Stowe, Harriet Beeeher. 45 

Stove, Margaret gf 

Straus, Oscar S ..." "'si 

Srnnner, Charles "/. ",37* *72 

Swedenborg , 214 

Swift, Jonathan, , ,ii,* "i2S, 1# 226 



Swinburne, A. C 209 

Swing, David 22, 92, 175 

Symonds, John 189, 217 

Tabb, John Banister 169 

Tabbetts, Frank P 173 

Tacitus 128, 174, 225 

Tagore, Rabindranath 54 

Taylor, Alice 225 

Tennyson, Alfred Lord 83, 101, 147, 149, 183 

Terence 168 

Terry, Edward H. S 19 

Thackeray, William Makepeace, 67, 92, 104,160 
223, 226 

Thompson, Francis 128, 148 

Thoreau 63, 65, 189, 221 

Thorwaldsen 190 

Ting-Fang, Wu 55 

Tolstoy 15, 16, 35, 54 

Traubel, Horace 11, 59, 161 

Trollope, Anthony 62 

Turgenef 9, H 

Twain, Mark 44, 57, 69, 94, 137, 214, 227 

Untermeyer, Louis 25 

Vail, Theodore N 95 

Van Dyke, Henry 60, 66, 142, 172, 223 

Victoria, Queen 20 

Vinci da, Leonardo 218 

Voltaire 66, 145, 165, 171, 191, 215 

Von Humboldt, Wilhelm 32, 100 

Voorhees, D. W 62 

Wagner, Richard 71, 164 

Walker 204 

Wallace, Alfred Russell ! ! . ! ! .73 

Walton, Izaak ,43 

Warner, Chas. Dudley 39 

Washington, Booker T is2 

Washington, George 26, 75, 123, 225 

Watson, Thomas E 176 

Watson, William .81,171 

Watterson, Henry 66 

Webster, Daniel 21, 58, 74 

WeDs,H. G ..".. 8 

Weltmer, Sidney A 156 

JVesley, John 59/215 

Wesley, Susana 150 

West, Robert 30 

Westcott. Bishop * * " . ioi 

Whistler, James McNeill 24, 38, 205 

White, Andrew 197, fcOO 

Whiting, Lillian 13 

Whitlock, Brand .43, 61 

Whitman, Walt., 52, 66, 121, 124, 134, 200, 202, 
225,228 

Whittier, John Greenleaf 119 

Wilde, Oscar, 25, 44, 48, 63, 82, 200, 204! 212 

Wilder, Mashafl P. so 

Wiley, Dr. Harvey W. * i45 

W2Iis,N.P. !!.!.!. 91 

Wilson, Woodrow t * 21, 86 

Winter, William * 98 

"Wise, Governor Henry. ,il9 

Wordsworth, William 87, 106, 161*, 189 

Yeats, Wffliam Butler 77 

*"" 



Zangwffl, Israel.. 



.96 



INDEX OF POETRY 



Bailey, Phillip James 

We Live in Deeds, etc 22 

Barbauld, Anna Letitia 

Life X2 

Bell, Jerome B. 

Mystery 15 

Blake, Katherine D. 

Would Ye Learn the Road to LaugKterbown 110 
Blake, William 

Tke Tiger 139 

Blanden, Charles G. 

A Song the Grass Sings 105 

Bourdillon, Francis W. 

The Night has a Thousand Eyes 39 

Brooke, Rupert 

The Great Lover 57 

Burns., Robert 

A Bed, Ited Rose 158 

To Jeannie !..'.!!! 223 

Burroughs, John 

Waiting 8 

Byron, Lord 

Stars 23 

So, We *11 Go No More A-Roving ! . ! ! . i40 

Sonnet on Chillon 188 

Canton, Wuliam 

A New Poet 207 

Carman, Bliss 

An Autumn Song 20 

Daisies [ m [ 100 

Carruih, William Herbert 

Each in His Own Tongue 154, 155 

Cheney, John Vance 

The Happiest Heart 127 

Coates, Florence Earle 

For Joy 21 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 

Kubla Khan 194 

Crane, Stephen 

If War Be Kind 178 

Crawford, Capt. Jack 

The Boomerang. 17 

Crosby, Ernest 

Homesick 31 

Life and Death 43 

Dames, Mary Carolyn 

The Dream-Bearer 181 

Du Maurier, George 

A Little Work 110 

Eliot, George 

Oh, May I Join the Choir Invisible 216, 217 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo 

Brahma 146 

Fischer v Jacob 

The Lady Poverty 31 

Fisher, Mafdon Leonard 

November .141 

Flecker, James Elroy 

To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence 119 

Franklin* Benjamin 

Epitaph , 129 

Gale, Norman 

Dawn and Dark. . 93 



Garland, HamUit 

Do You Pear the Wind 103 

Oilman, Charlotte Perkins 

To the Preacher 52,53 

Griffith, Wulia 

Travel go, 

Hayes, Ednah Proctor (Clarke) 

The Mockingbird 16 

Henley, William Ernest 

Invictus 24 

Or Ever the Knightly Years Were Gone. .."..S3 
Hodgson, Ralph 

Time, You Old Gypsy Man 198 

Hood, Thomas 

The Song of the Shirt 28, 29 

Houseman, A* E. 

Be Still, My Soul 124, 125 

Keats, John 

Last Sonnet ,, 203 

Kilmer, Joyce 

Trees 68 

King, Ben 

If I Should Die Tonight , . , . . 97 

Kipling, Rudyari 

A^ Dedication 1 33 

L* Envoi 159 

Landor, Walter Savage 

Leaf After Leaf Drops Off 27 

I Strove with None \ . 109 

Lanier, Sidney 

A Ballad of Trees and the Master 116 

Le GaUienne, Richard 

The Illusions of War 9 

Lindsay, Vachel 

Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight. . . .44, 45 
Loveman, Robert 

April Rain 113 

Lowed, James Russell 

Preedom ..._ 32 

MarKkam, Edwin 

Brotherhood 35 

The Man with the Hoe f 175 

Masefield, John 

Sea-fever , 107 

C.L.M 205 

Mason, Harrison D. 

Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg ... .36, 37 

Masters, Edgar Lee 

William H. Herndon . 150, 151 

Anne Rutledge 185 

Luanda Matlocfc % . 201 

Meynett, Alice 

The Shepherdess. .76 

Michelangelo 

On Dante... 179 

Miller, Joaquin 

The Calif omia Poppy 13 

Columbus .60, 61 

Miller, Joseph Dana 

The Hymn of Hate 40, 41 

Morri*, William 

The March of the Workers 162 

The Idk Singer !! 



Noyes, Alfred 

The Wine Press 63 



O'Reilly, John Boyk 
The Dreamer 



.130 



Reese, Lissette Woodwortk 

Tears 143 

Riley, James Whitcomb 

Wet-Weather Talk 166 

A Parting Guest 184 

Rossetti, Christina (?. 

Up-Hill 73 

Meeting the First Day 220 

Remember Rest 21 

Shettey, Percy Bysshe 

Love's Philosophy 65 

Prom " Prometheus Unbound" .111 

SHI, Edward Rowland 

The Fool's Prayer 84, 85 

Stevenson, Robert Louis 

Playthings 47 

Requiem 49 

Trusty, Dusky, Vivid, True 69 

Swinburne* A. C. 

The Garden of Proserpine 209 



Tdbb, John Banister 

Evolution 169 

Tennyson, Lord Alfred 

Crossing the Bar 101 

" Break, Break, Break" 147 

Flower in the Crannied Wall 149 

Tears, Idle Tears 183 

Terry, Edward H. S. 

Kinship 19 

Untermeyer, Louis 

Caliban in the Coal Mines 25 



Watson, William 

Song 0, Like a Queen's Her Happy Tread 81 
Song April 171 

Whitman, Walt 

For You Democracy 121 

The House-builder at Work, in Cities or 

Anywhere 124 

Captain! My Captain! 134 

The Open Road 228 

Wilde, Oscar 

The Ballad of Reading Gaol 212, 213 

Wordsworth, William 

1 Wandered Lonely as a Cloud 87 

The World is loo Much with Us 189 

Yeats, William Butler 

When You are Old 77 



adi 



118049