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HUBBAWJ'S
SCHAP BOOK
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CONTAINING THE INSPIRED

l-l AND INSPIRING SELECTIONS
GATHERED DURING A LIFE
TIME OF DISCRIMINATING
READING FOR HIS OWN USE
.

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PRINTED AND MADE INTO A BOOK BY THE

i%i AMERICAN BOOK-STRATFORD PRESS
'}!•'
tr-iriy. AT THEIR SHOPS IN NEW YORK CITY

If;.,
I WM. H. WISE & CO.
I NEW YORK CITY

/h -•, "•
II
I.'I

Coi^ght, 1923
By The Rqycrofters
The publishers are wholeheartedly cooperating in
Ae effort to conserve vital materials and manpower
^ mmufactwring this book in full conformity with
War Produc^n Board Ruling L-245, curiailing the
use of mpw by hook pubUshers, and all oAer United
States^ Gwemment fegidationsi
^ fccOT atxompUshed without abbreviating
me book in any way. It is absolutely complete and
unabridged. Not a word, not a paragraph, not a
comma has been omitied.
PRINTED IN U. 8. A.
FOREWORD
HEN Elbert Hubbard was storing up in his Scrap Book
the fruits of other men's genius, he did not contemplate
a volume for publication 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 5^
The Reader will remember Keats' dream of " a very pleasant life."
" I had an idea that a Man might pass a v«y 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 arriy^ at a certain ripeness in intellect
)if 11
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 othets 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.
THE PUBLISHERS.

HEREisanancientlegendwhich
tells us-that when a man first
achieved a most notable deed
he wi^ed to e:q>lain to his tribe
what he had done. As soon as
het^gan to speak, however, he wassmitten
^th dumbness, he lacked words, and
sat (^wn. Then there arose—according to
the story—a masterless man, one who had
no part in the action of his fellow,
who had no specif virtues, but afflicted—
tl^t is the phfase-T-witih the magic of the
necesssoy wprds. He saw, he told, he de-
the m^ts of the notable deed in
81^ a fa^iph, We are assured, that the
words ** became alive and walked up and
do^ m the hecrts of all his hearers."
^^euppn, l^e tribe seeing that the words
were ci^ainly alive, ^d fearing lest the
manwith l^e wor(^ would hand down untrue
about themto their chUdren, they took
and' l^ii^ him.Sut later th^ saw that the
m^c was in the words, not in the man.
—Kipling
I.
1.
ELBERT HUBBARD'S SCRAP BOOK
PROVIDENCE—AN APOLOGUE
IHE other evening I was a little late in going down to dinner, and
this was the reason: I noticed a number of dead bees lying on the
floor of the lookout where I am accustomed to w6rk--a sight that I
encounter every spring. The poor things had comein through the
open window. When the windows were closed they found them
selves prisoners. Unable to see thetransparent obstacle, theyhad
hurled themselves against the glasspanes on all sides,east, north,
south and west, untU at last they fell to the floor exhausted, and
died. But, yesterday, I noticed among the bees, a great drone,
much stronger thanthebees, who was far from being dead, who, infart, was very much
alive'and was dashing himsdfagainst the panes with allhismight, like the greatbea^
thathewas. "Ah! my fine fiiend," said I, "it would have been anevil day for you Ml
not come to the rescue. You would havebeen done for, myfine fellow; before mghtt^
you would belying dead, and on coming up-stairs, inthe evening with my lamp, I wo^d
have found yourpoor littlecorpse among those oftheother bees." Come, now, like the
Emperor Titus I shall markthe dayby a good deed: let ussave theinsert'slife. 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 insert tow^
it; but the drone persisted in flying in theopposite direction. I then tried to capwe^t
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 mm
smash them, took a fresh start, and dashed itself again and again agamst glass.
Fmally it flew the whole length ofthe apartment, maddened anddesperate. Ah, you
tyrant!" it buzzed. " Despot1you would deprive me ofliberty! Cruel ex^tioner, why
do you not leave me alone? I amhappy, and why do you persecute me?
After trying very hard, I brought it down and, inseizing it with thenapkin, I involttn-
tarilyhurt it. Oh, how it triedto avenge itself! It darted outits stmg; itslittlenenrous
body, contrarted by my fingers, strained itself with all its strength m an attempt to
sting me. But I ignored its protestations, and, stretching my hand out toe ^doW,
opened the napkin. For a moment the drone seemed stimned, astonished; thenit calmly
took flight out into the infinite.
Well, you see how I saved thedrone. I was itsPtovidence. But(and^here isthemoral of
my story)do we not, stupid drones that we are, conduct ourselves m the same mann^
toward the providence ofGod? We have ourpettyand absurd projerts, our sm^l rad
narrow views,.our rash designs, whose accomplishment iseither impossible or mjunous
to ourselves. Seeing nofarther thanournoses andwith oureyes fixed onpurimmediate
nim^ we plunge ahead in our blind infatuation, like madmen. We would succeed, We
would triumph; that is to say, we would break ourheads against an invisible obstacle.
And when God, who seesall and who wishes to save us, upsets our designs, we stupidly
complain againstHim, we accuse His Providence.We donotcomprehend that inpupish^
ing us, in overturning ourplans andcausing ussuffering. Heisdoing all thisto ddiver
us, to open the Infinite to us.—Victor Hugo*
 mmBRSr HUBBARD^S ^CJ^sAJP JBOOJfC Page 9

is possible to have the tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains HE tradition of the stage is tuppence worth of social position, piety,
a tradition of villains and comfort, and domestic affection, of which
t|ue: j^ctores or statues of had washed them out. Orange, yellow
heroes. Shakespeare was a he, too, is often ironically defrauded by
^Sius* Alexander, Caesar, and scarlet, all are changed to one melan
Fate.—George Bernard Shaw.
no, nor of the kings or great choly russet hue The birds, too, have devout believer in the exis
pei^^ of much later taken wing, and have left their roofless tence of the true villain—the.
3i^«us;ior^ oi^ihals can not last, and whose terrible secret is that his
iKe 5an not but leese of the life
dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin,
not the twitter of an eavesdropping
man
fundamental moral impulses are by some I WAS passing along the street when
freak of nature inverted, so that not only a beggar, a decrepit old man,
and 'trtitJuJBut the images of men's wits
swallow, not the carol of one sweet, stopped me. C Swollen, tearful eyes, blue
remain in books, ex- familiar voice. All gone. Only the dis are love, pity, and honor loathsome to
him, and the affec- lips, bristling rags,
eoxpi^^ _lr^ ^e mal cawing of a unclean sores
tation of them War
w^^^ f^e; and Serene, I fold my hands and wait, crow, as he sits
which society im I do abhor; Oh, ho-^ horribly
rapaMe of ip^p^- Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea: and curses that the
poses on him a con And yet how sweet had poverty
l^p^jion ^ I rave no more 'gainst time orfate. harvest is over; or
The sound along the marching street gnawed that un
stant source of dis
Neither ^e they For, lot my own shall come to me, the chit-chat of an
Of drum or fife, and I forget happy being!
to ibe^ G^ed idle squirrel, the
gust, but cruelty,
destruction, and Broken old mothers, and the whole He stretched out
imM^s!, Ibe^cause t stay my haste, / make delays: noisy denizen of a to me a red, bloat
perfidy are his Dark butchering without d soul.
thieyr gc^fate s^, For what avails this eager pace? hollow tree, the
most luxurious ed, dirty hand...
and><^|| ^eir I stand amid the eternal ways, mendicant friar of Without a soul—save this bright treat He moaned, he bel
in' '^e minds, of passions. This is a
Arid what is mine shall know my face. a large parish, the totally different \ Of heady music, sweet as hell; lowed for help.
othere; ip^vo^g absolute monarch phenomenon from And even my peace-abiding feet I began to rum
^4'cau^l^ci^te Asleep, awake, by night or day. of a dozen acoms. the survivals of the Go marching with the marching street. mage in all my
ai^g^ agi^i opmr The friends I seek are seeking me; —^Longfellow. ape and tiger in the For yonder goes the fife. pockets . . Neither
ions fOGteec^g Nq t^m<f can drive my bark astray, normal man. The And what care I for human Life! piirse, nor watch,
ag0:^y&t, M Nor change the tide of destiny. AT moods, average normal The tears fill my astonished eyes. nor even handker
liif the what passions, man is covetous, And my full heart is like to break. chief d^ I find...
^p mm lipLoug^t What matter if I stand alone? what nights of des lazy, selfish; but he And yet it is embannered lies, I had takennothing
sonoble,wM(^ car- I waitwith joy the coming years: pair and gathering is not malevolent, A dream those drummers make. with me.
fieth riches and My heart shall reap where it has sown. storms of anger, nor capable of say- And the beggar
romm^ines ^m Andgarner'up the fruit of tears. what sudden cruel ing to himself, Oh, it is wickedness to clothe still waited . . .and
place to place,, wd ties and amazing " Evil: be thou my Yon hideous, grinning thing that stalks extended his hand,
consociateth the The waters knowtheif own, and draw tendernesses are good." He only Hidden in music like a queen which swayed and
m g 8 t r e m o t e "^e brook thatsprings in yonder heights. buried and hidden does wrong as a That in a garden of glory walks. trembled feebly.
r^oi^ in iparti^r Soflows the good with equal law and implied in means to an end, Till good men love the thing they loathe;
p a«tion o 11h e if Bewildered,con
Unto the soul ofpure delights. every love story I which he always Art, thou hast many infamies. fused, I shook that
how mtich What a waste is represents to him But not an infamy like this. dirty, tremulous
more are letters, to TAe siflw come nightly to the sky. there of exquisite O, snap the fife and still the drum,
self as a right end. hand heartily ....
be m^gnrfied, The tidal wave unto the sea; things f So each The case is exactly And show the monster as she is. " Blame me not,
w^i'chi ii;S! s hips, Nor time nor space, nor deep nor high, spring sees a mil reversed with a "The Illusions of War," by Richard Le Gtdlienne brother;I have
pass ithrpu^i .^e Can keep my own away from me. lion glorious be villain; and it is my nothing, brother."
vast seai of tiine, " Waiting," hy John Burroughs ginnings, a simlit melancholy duty to add that we some C. The beggar man fixed his swollen eyes
and' make so heaven in every upon me; his blue lips smiled—^and in
times find it hard to avoid a cynical
^t^t itQ partiapate of the wisdom, opening leaf, warm perfection in every suspicion that the balance of social his turn he pressed my cold fingers.
iUunuMtipi^^ todi myetitions the one of stirrinjg egg, hope and fear and beauty be " Never mind, brother," he mumbled.
the ofchCTP^Era^
advantage is on the side of gifted vil
yond computation in every forest tree; lainy, since we see the able villain, " Thanks for this also, brother.—^This
and in the autunm before the snows come Mephistopheles-like,doingahugeamount also is an alms, brother."
f ' P is ^QdianisiuQ^OT. The mitig tibey have all gone—Of all that incal of good in order to win the^wer to do I understood that I had received an alms
through! the nusty idr culable abundance of life, ofall that hope a little daring evil, out of which he is as from my brother.—" The Beggar Man,"
a^nfl^ationi Ayellowish, smoky and adventure, excitement and delicious- likely as not to be cheated in the end; by Turgenef.
®l8 t^ie ati^sphj^e, atid a filmy ness, there is scwcely more to be foimd whilst your normal respectable man will
51^ a sUiveip lining on ^e sky.
Tiiewnd' is- softiWdlow. It wafts to Us
than a soiled twig, a dirty seed, a dead. countenance, connive at, and grovel his Drudgery is as necessary to call out the
leaf, black mould, or a rotting feather. way through all sorts of meanness, base treasurers of the mind as harrowing and
t|^e odor of fofc^ Teav^, ^at h^^ng —H. G. Wells.
^ted^ on i^e ^pping ibran^lM, or ness, servility, and cruel indifference to planting those of the earth.
£•>
drop into streanii 'fihelx gorgeous suffering in order to enjoy a miserable —^Margaret Fuller.
Speech is the index ofthe mind.—Seneca.
 f^eJO
^ii^/jgyake my riders realize
wbat a pi^osopher is, I
(jnly that I am a
pM^^her. If you ask in-
<i|r^Mjiusl3r,"iiow, then,are
TO, mtei^ing?" I reply
that isi npfl^t^ so interesting as
fp^^phy^ its materials are
^^dlspuli^
^Fof inst^ce; tgke my own materials—
i*bu|§ini^|udii^ arts,^y studious,
ambitious bpol^orm can
awaj^ fipm the world wth a few
,of| l^piy, essays, descrip-
and' ^ticis)^, and, having pieced
in iU^iyhumaiu^ ^d art out of the
P^uo^' by his library upon
bis noagixiAtipn, bi^d wme ^y sys-
tematizatipn of his< ideas over
'^e-abj^i of]^| 6^1 ^ch g*
phyds(^h^ is as d^I and as you
l^^tse; ^ ishe w^ brs^ liis p^
into disr^tite, esi^dally ^heh he taUte
mu^i about art. rad so persuadies
prapie to ^d 1^1, ^l^put having
4boke4' %% than' pictures in
his Ufe, or made up %i8 naind on the
'^int abp^f one of the fifty, he
W31i audadCn^y t^e it upon hin^lf to
and ApeUra to Rap^el and
Mi^elemg^ ^ ^
Astoi^e way he wiU'igOM^ about music,
of w^^' he ^ways an> awe-^stiick^
^Geit, it ^Us my teinpa to. l^ink of
^P«^y wbm one retne^ersthat
KmufflcldUcodippsition is tau^it (a mon;^
strous pfete^ii^i) in' ^is countiy by^
people who req^ ^re8> andi never by
any chance listen to .peifpimances.
Now, ^e right way to .gpi to, wprk^
ftrai^e a& it nmy ap^^^is to,look at
pictures until' ypu< 'have acqiuiredi tl^e
ppww of seeing t^em If ypu' look at
several' 'QK>usand' igp^i pietwi^^ eveiy
year, and formi some soft of pra^^'
judginent about every one" of
jwwe it dply that it is wp^« t|®ubr
Uhg pver^-H^en at the'^d of five ye»^'
or ^ yww^i if^u i^ve a wise eye;,ibe
able to see vi^t is actually in' a picti^et!
tod'notwhat ypu thi^ isin it. Sioc^li^ly,.
if youli^ra^^tic^ly itomi^c
for a nuoa^ pf ye^„ you will, if youi
hubbard's
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 leam anything about it.
This involves an active life, not a con
templative one; for, unless you do some-
t^g in the world, you can have no real
business to transact with men; and im-
less you love and are loved, you can have
no intimate relations with them. And
you must transact business, wirepuU
politics, ^scuss 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
edl these things unconditionally. You
must not say that you will be a gentie-
man and limit your intercourse to this
dass or that class; or that you will be a
virtuous person and generalize about the
affections from a sin^e instance—^unless,
indeed, you have the rare happiness to
stumble at first upon an all-eiUightening
instance. You must have no convictions,
bi^use as Nietzsche puts it, con
victions are prisons." Thus, I blush to
a4d> you can not be a philosopher ^d a
gciod inan, though you may be a philoso
pher and a great one.
You will say, perhaps, that if this be so,
there shoiild be no philosophers; and
pCThaps you are right; but though I
in^e you this handsome concession, I
do tiot defer to you to the extent of
ce^ii^ to exist.
After all, if you insist on the hangman,
Whp^ pursuits are far from elevating,
ypu in^y very well tolerate the philoso
pher, ev^ if philosophyinvolve philan-
d^gf or, to put it another way, if, in
^ite of your hangman, you tolerate
^^der wthin the sphere of war, it may
;t^ neici^ary to tolerate comparatively
i^egularities mthin the sphere of
pt^pspphy ^ ^
It is the price of progress; and, after
it is itiie philosopher, and not you,
bum for it.
—George Bernard Shaw.
^CIZsAl> -BOOJfC
HE summits of the Alps. ...
A whole chain of steep cliffs
.. . 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
Jimgfrau and the Finsteraarhom.
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 Finsteraarhom 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
beeties 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 ««•
" Well, and what now?" asks the Jxmg-
frau
"I seem to see fewer of the little beetles,"
thimders the Finsteraarhom. " 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 9^
" Things seem to have grown clearer
round us, close at hand," replies the
Finsteraarhom; " 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
hom; " 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 diunb forever.—"A
Conversation," based on the fact that
never yet has hiunan foot trod either the
Jimg£rau or the Finsteraarhom, by Tur-
genef ^
|E said, "I see." And they said:
' 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 stubbomly said again: " I see." And
they said: " There's something in what
he says." And they gave him half an ear.
But he said as if he *dnever 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.
<|^EMBRANDT belongs to„tije breed
of artists whi€h"^fiHiave no^s-
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 tiie im
material and evasive sides of nature in
his breathing forms.—-Emile Michel.
 ^mtMERSr HUBBAKD^S Page IS

TEP by step my investiga- HERE has arisen in society a figure INEW era is dawning on the O^TORY offers the acme ofhuman
tidn of blindness led me into which is certainly the most mourn world. We are beginning to delict; it offers the nectar that
l&e ihdustri^ world. And ful, and in some respects the most awful, :believe in the religion of use Jupiter sips; it offers the draft that intox
Ayt^t a world it isl I must upon which the eye of the moralist can fulness icates the gods, the divine fdidty of
fa((^ unflinchingly a world of The men who felled the lifting up and swaying mankind. There
dwell. That unhappy being whose very
world of misery and^ degrada- name is a shame to speak; who coun forests, cultivated the earth, spanned is nothing greater on this earth. 'T is the
1pi|^ of bliadnc^, crookedness, and sin, terfeits with a cold heart the transports the rivers with bridges of steel, built the breath of the Eternal—^the kiss of the
^)_Wprld S^tfii^iiag against the elements, of afiTection, and submits herself as the railways and canals, the great ships, Immortal
unto gainst itself. How invented the locomotives and engines, Oratory is far above houses and lands,
passive instrument oflust; who is scorned
l^lP^^eitlus'world and insulted as the
supplying the offices and emolu-
countless wants of The golden poppy is God's gold. ments, possessions
the Life! we've been long together vilest of her sex
and power.
ferafe' world of my and doomed, for civilization; the
Through pleasant and through men who invented The gold that lifts, nor weighs While it may secure
the most part, to
the telegraphs and us down, an of these it must
had bc^ cloudy weather; disease and abject
cables, and freight not for a moment
/^^'"^thi'the light *T is hard to part when friends
wretchedness and The gold that knows no misefs be classed with
an early death, ap ed the electricspark
i^e out^ pears in every age wil^ thought and hold. them. These things
are dear— offer nothing that
world was as the perpetual love; the men who The gold that banks not in the
s^tuimbling aIl^d
Perhaps *t wUl cost a sigh, a symbol of the deg invented the looms is worthy of a hig^
and spindles that town. ambition. Enjoyed
igr^p^ in soici^ tear; radation and sin-
to their fullest,tib^
blin^i^; ^ [first fulness of man ^ clothe the world, But singing, laughing, freely
Then steal away, give little the inventors of leave you hard,
i w a s mo s\t un- d Herself the su spills wrinkl^andmiser-
ibut d^per warning. preme t3T>e of vice, printing and the
great presses that Its hoard far up the happy hills; able. Get all th^
Itiidy tes^piFed My Choose thine own time; she is ultimately
fill the earth with can give and the
' opnfidrace a:^: ^y the most efficient Far up, far down, at every turn—
Say not Good-Night—hut in guardian of virtue. poetry, fiction and hand will beempty,
suffer
fact, that save and What beggar has not gold to the .mind hungry,
a4d: b^dens some brighter clime C. But for her, the
of men; I became unchallenged pu- keep all knowledge bum! rad the soul shriv-
Bid me Good-Moming. for the children yet ^ed 6^ 9^
aware $s: iiever be- rity of countless " The California Poppy," by Joaquin Miller
/ lore of the life- " Life," by Anna Letitia Barbaxdd happyhomeswould to be; the inventors Oratory is an indi
! ^wcsr that has sur- bepolluted,and not of all the wonderfiil vidual accompli^-
t^e forcraipf darkness^the power a few who, in the pride of their un- machines that deftly mold from wood ment, and no vicissitudes of fortune can
and steel the things we use; the men who wrest it from the owner. It points the
V ^Qu^ never completdy victor- tempted chastity, think of her with
explored the heavens and traced the martyr's path to the future; it guides the
io^, is cpn^uously conquering. The an indignant shudder, would have known reaper's hand in the present, and it turns
I we are still here carrying the agony of remorse and despair. orbits of the stars—who have read the
ori , ithe contest against the hosts of On that one degraded and ignoble form story' of Ae world in mountain range the face of ambition toward the delec
and billowed sea; the men who have table hills of achievement. One great
: an^il^tipn pfov^ that on the whole are concentrated the passions that might
lengthened life and conquered pain; the speech made to w intelligent audience
'^e batt^^ has^ for humanity. The have filled the world with shame. She
great philosophers and naturalists who in favor of the rights of man will com
;^rld*8 i^eat ih^|^ has proved equal to remains, while creeds and civilizations
have filled the world with light; the great pensate for a life of labor, will crown a
i|he^ which God rise and fall, the eternal priestess of
;, iMt it. IRebi^ed', but # perisevering; humanity, blasted for the sins of the poets whose thoughts have charmed the career with glory, ^d give a joy that is
soul, the great painters and sculptors bom of the divinities. There is no true
^fcre^oa^^i, bu^^^ cvctregaining faith; people.—^William E. H. Lecky. orator who is not also a hero.
tenatious, tiie heart of man who have made the canvas speak, the
y| '%borSi tpw^dsi imoaeasurably dist^t
IIq^s;, IDi^^ ^t by diffi^ties
XNbethe Twentieth Centu^ war will
dead, the scaffold will be dead,
marble live; the great orators who have
swayed the world, the composers who
—JohnP. Altgeld.

,' ;;^ra0ut^^p of ages within, hatred will be dead, frontier boundaries have given tiieir souls to sound, the ^I^O one has success until he has the
heart listens it0i a: secrtt voice that will be dead, dogmas will be dead; man captains of industry, the producers, the iMr abounding life. This is made up of
^ dismayed; in the will live. He will possess something soldierswho have battled for the ri^t— the many-fold activity of energy, enthus
;; 1|ct the sE^pnused* iLand.** hi^er than all these—a great country, these are oiir Christs, apostles and saints. iasm and gladness. It is to spring to meet
V" "" " ^Melen^ KcTIct. the whole earth, and a great hope, the The books filled with the facts of Nature the day with a thrill at beL^ alive. It is
whole heaven.—^Victor Hugo. are our sacred scriptures, and the force to go forth to meet' the morning in an
1 , Mcm isjthe mei^fst sp^j^; pf l^e cr^- that is in every atom and in every star— ecstasy of joy. It is to realise the one
ntioti; above or i^loW aire 8erioujB> If you have knowledge, let others light in everything that lives and grows—is ness of humanity in true spirituid
>;;• r—Addi^v their eimdles at it.—^Margaret Fuller. the only possible god.—R. Q. Ingersoll. sympathy.—^Lillian Whiting.
.f';.i'- •f'' ' ''
 W&BEiW HUBBARD^S -iSCJRAjP JBQOK, Page IS

TTreat eveiyone with ^ter. One of them, Stephen by name, H, God, here in my dressing through the streets of the city and who
no one. liked to take the rifle and go into the room, with the door shut, I soever will may drink.
^itfa^/uz.'^How good you woods. And the other, JakofF, was con am alone with Thee. Make me to achieve a better success in
are, grandfather! How is it stantly ill, always cou^ing. Thethreeof I am glad I know the great my role before the ever present audience
_ t^t you so good? us watched the place, and when spring spirit that stands silently by, of the angds than I hope to have when
you say. Nyah-^ it came, they said, Farewell, grandfather, here, as in every place where a himian I play my part upon ^e mimic stage.
is ^iue, But you see, my girl— and went away—^to Russia. heart is beatingi Fver, in ^ junctures, in hours of light
^yilftlPust'blsp^ to be good. We Natasha:—^Werethey convicts, escaping? Can not an actor be God's man? Can nessas in stress or tri^, God of my soul,
floyst pify on mankind. Christ, Luka:—They were fugitives—^they had not I, whose business it is to play, be as help me to play the man. Amen!—" The
Jted' for us all and so left their colony. A pair of splendid conscientious as Actoi^s Prayerj'Tay
,pi^* wh^ there is still fellows. If I had not had pity on them— those in authority What is this mystery that men call Dr. Frank Crane.
#a^i^^2iie,^ t^ isri^t, I was once who knows what would have happened? or peril or solemn death?
employ^ at ^ey might have killed me? Then they fimction? My friend before me lies; in all save iHATisthelaw
Convention classes breath of nature? Is
8 (gtece which belonged to an would be taken to court again—^put in
^gn^, n^ from the cityofTomsk, prison, sent back to Siberia—^why all me and my fellows He seems the same as yesterday. His it to know that my
^ in the middle among the loose face security and that
that? You can learn nothing good in
of ^ out-of-the-way location; and thoughtless. So like to life, so calm, bears not a trace of my family, all
prison, nor in Siberia. But a man, what
§nd it n^ter and I was alone in can he not leam!—^Maadm Gorliy. So Thou art my Of that great change which all of us so my amusements
secret. I triumph dread, and pleasures, are
—_ _ heard them >=^3^0 contrary laws stand today op- inwardly to find I gaze on him and say: He is not dead. purchased at the
^i^blmjg i^l: > posed: one a lawof bloodand dealii, Thy presence and But sleeps; and soon he will arise and expense of misery,
taste the mystic take deprivation, and
jyia^Aar^^ie^? which, inventing daily new means of joy of Thy friend Me by the hand. I know he wVl awake suffering to. thou
trept higher, and I combat, obliges the nations to be ever ship, while the And smile on me as he did yesterday; sands of human be
took my rifle and wrat outside. I looked prepared for battle; the other a law of world suspects not. And he will have some gentle word to say. ings—^by the terror
qpwning a win^w,, and so peace, of labor, of salvation, which ^ Thou washest Some kindly deed to do; for loving of the gallows; by
busy ^at they <Kdi ngt ^ anything of strives to deliver man from the scourges my- heart dean as thought tiie misfortune of
me at alli I criedi to them: H^, l^ere, which assail him. One looks only for the Priest's. Thou Was warp and woof of which his life
get o^t of tl^l \rould you ♦hiinlg it, thousands stifling
violent conquest; the other for the relief givest me a holy was wrought. within prisonwalls;
M ax11 warned Of suffering humanity. The one would ambition to do my He is not dead. Such soulsforever live by the fears in
Hdt, I or dse I fire! Then I sacrifice hundreds of thousands of lives work well, that I in boundless measure of the love they spired by millions
fit (me iwd ^en at the other, to the ambition of a single in^vidual; also may be a de give. of soldiers and
fdii <m &eif Ipera jM3Hng, Pardon the dtiier plac^ a single human life above vout craftsman " Mystery," by Jerome B. Bett guardians of civili
I Pfet^ hot^^n gccxnmt of tiie all victories. The law ofwhich we ^e the Thou teachest me zation, torn from
ypu' remet^^ You devils, I instruments essays even in the midst of subtle ways to resist despair, to master their homes and besotted by discipline,
I toldi you' to but and you carnage to heal the woimds caused by the my passions, to heal imworthy weak to protect our pleasures with loaded
pd'n^tl ^d n^, I swdi one of you go law of war.—Louis Pasteur, at the open ness; the rare medicine of Thy presence revolvers against the possible interfer
mto the bii^ ^d g^ Aswitch. It was ing of Pastetu* Institute. is for me, too, as well as for the cloistered ence of the famishmg! Is it to purchase
done, now;, | conunanded, one of «•» «•» monk or meditating scholar. C Teach me every fragment of bread that I put in
sj^u sSljet^KiOu^ oUi ithe>ground^ and the <|^0 not waste your time on Social to be great among the many who are con mymouth and the mouths of my children
bt&er tiiradi h^; ^d m ithey whij^sed Questions. What is the matter with tent to becalled ^eat. <[Reveal to methe by the numberless privations that are
Oth^ at my ^xmrad: And' when the poor is Poverty. What is the matter satisfaction of virtue, the inner rewards necessary to procure my abundance? Or
th^ ha^ iwdi a wwd ^l^g, th^ with the Rich is Uselessness. of loyalty, helpfulness, and self-control. is it to be certain that my piece of bread
j^d ^ me: Gi^dfa^ra, smd they, fbr —George Bernard Shaw. Let me be an imusual person because of only belongs to me when I know that
pe^i^ of ij^ye a piece of that simplicity ofheart and tha^lovable- every one else has a share, and that no
b^d. We have n't aibite in ourbodies. Who shall put his finger on the work of ness of nature that I leam from Thee. one starves while I eat?—Leo Tolstoy.
T^l W£^en upon me were thet&eSieves juidce and say, " It is there"? Justice is It May I also touch the infinite and
who_had ^thi hind lll^el^e kingdom ofGod: it is not without share the divine current that thrills all /^ONVICTION brings a silent, inde-
a pa& of ^Itodid us ais d fact; it is witiiin us as a great high souls. Save me from the bogs of Va finable beauty into faces made of
f ?IL*^ ^ ,th^ ans^^itd':
If 3^'itod aakeil y^anuiig.—George Bliot. pettiness, from egotism, self-pity, envy, the commonest hiunan day; the devout
^ ipfMdl iVe he^ and ^ the corrosives that mar life. worshiper at any shrine reflects some
gotten p^ th^. We iwdi s^ed' find Age of Romance has not ceased; I do not serve in the temple; mine is no thing of its golden glow, even as the
and TObody wp^i {^ve, usi top it never ceases; it doM not, if we solemn ofiice nor critical station; but I ^ory of a noble love shines like a sort of
nung. Endurwce w^>womi^ut. Nyah^ tl^ t^ink of it, so much as very sennb^ thank Thee that the river of God flows light from a woman's face.—^Balzac.
me^ w d«iiliise.^''^Carlyie.
 mirBBKT «UBBARD*S Page 17

to take the trae
measure of a man is not in
the d^keat place or in the
amra comer, nor the com-
'field, but by his own fireside.
Thwe he lays, laside his mask and you
liiiiy^ilain whether he is an imp or an
W or Mng, hero or humbug. I
cafe not what the world says of 1^: unlike the Old Man of the Sea, we are
it crowns
Mil b^ or pdts List to that bird! His song -what
ipm wi^ bad eggs.
poet pens it?
| :guFe irot a copper
wliSt £# repiita- Brigand Of birds, he's stolen
ttaoindrf^gipn may
%e: S his babi^ every note!
dread' his home- Prince though of thieves—hark!
^ominig and his
belief half swai- how the rascal spends it!
Igiw S; h e r heart
Pours the whole forest from
time site has
to jask- hvoAi for a one tiny throat!
fi^:^Oll^v bffl, he
" The Mockingbird,"
«3 a #Bud of the
lifst water, even by Ednah Proctor (Clarke} Hayes
it^OUghi he prays
m^it and morning until he is black m
th^ fa^ and howls halldujah until he
Bete the eternal hills. But if his chil-
dr^i ru^ to the front door to meet him
and love's sunshine illuininates the fiace
of hiii wife evety time she hears his foot-
you c^ take it for grated that he
Is^pure,, fot his home is a heaven—^and
ihe h^bug never gets that near the
if^t White throne of God. He may be a
at^st md red-flag raarchist, a
atonm>n and a mugwum he may buy
Ml bl^^ of five, and bet on the
dections;, he i»ay d^ *em from the
bottom of iie deck and drink beer untU
he c^'t dollarirom a circular
saw andiMi be an infinitdy better man
tie"^w^^y little humbug who is
^1 suasHt^ ii s^ie^ but who makes
a helii,, who vents upon the helpless
hra^ Wf his Swfe and children an ill
hatii^ "he would inflict on his fellow
m^ but ^e« flpt. I ^ forgive much
ini that i^OW moiJtal who wOuld rather
make'mM swear mm wom^ wwp; who
Would ra^ have the hate of the whole
world of his wife; who
wbidd to the eyes of a
king than fear to the face of a diild.—
"A Man's Real Measure," by W. C.
Brann.
IHE 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,
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 k^p him on his
legs, but we will
tea<^ and instruct
him and point out
to him the beauties
of the landscape;
we will discourse
sweet music to him
and give him abim-
dance of good advice. Yes, we will do
almost anything for the poor man, any
thing but get off his back.—^Leo Tolstoy.
F 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, wd does it, they join in making his
life as uncomfortable as possible.
—E. W. Howe.
HAVE 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 them into as small a compass as
I can for myself, and never let them
annoy others.—^Robert Southey.
Come, follow me,' and leave the world to
its babblings.—Dante.
HE millionaire is a new-kind eDUCATION does not mean teach
of man—many of them. It is ing people what thqr do not know.
almost as if a new sort of It means teaching them to bdiave as
human nature had been pro they do not behave. It is not teaching
duced—rolled up on us by the youth the shapes of letters and the
evelopment and fruitfulness, tricks of numbers, and then leaving them
and heating up, and pouring over, and to turn their aritlmietic to roguery, and
expansion of the earth. Great elemental their literature to lust. It means, on the
ailentlv Working
forces silently working out the destmjr' contrary, training them into the pofect
exercise and kin^y
of rr»flT> have seized
i-hiMw jnen, touch^ When a bit of sunshine hits ye. continence of their
bodies and souls.
their eyes with vis
After passing of a cloud. It is a painful, con
ion. They are rich tinual and difficult
by revelations, by When a Jit of laughter gits ye work to be done by
habits of great see
ing and great dar And y^r spine is feelin* proud. kindness, by
watching, by wam-
ing. They are ideal Don't forget to up and fling it ing, by precept,
ists. They have
At a soul thafs feelin* blue. and by praise, but
really used their above all—^by ex
souls in getting
For the minit that ye sling it ample
their success, their —^John Ruskin
mastery over inat- It's a boomerang to you,
ter, and it is by
"The Boomerang," by Cc^L Jack Crauford AD will be t^e
discovering other
men's souls, and j day for every
man .when he becomes absolutely con
picking out the men who had them, ^d tented with the life that he is living,
gathering them around them, that the with the thoughts that he is thinking,
success has been k^t. Many ofthem^ with the deeds that he is doing, when
rich by some mighty, silent, sudden there is not forever beating at the doors
service they have done to a whole plMet of his soul some great desire to do some
at once. They havenot had time to lose
thing larger, which he knows that he
their souls. There is a sense m which was meant and made to do because he
they might be called The Innocents of
Riches—some of them. is still, in spite of all, the child of God.
—Phillips Brooks.
—Gerald Stanley Lee.
^lE when I may, I want it said of me
<EN are tattooed with their special by those who knew me best, that I
^beliefs like so many South ^ Iways plucked a thistle and planted a
iSanders; but a real human he^ with flower where I thought a flower would
divine love in it beats with s^e grow.—^Abraham Lincoln.
glow under all thepattern ofall earth s
thousand tribes.—O. W. Holmes.
^HAT we should do imto others as we
_ would have them do unto us—^that
/OfXCEPT a living man there is we should respect the rights of othei^ as
nothing more wonderful than a scrupulously as we would have our rights
TOokl a message to us firom the dead respk^ed—is not a mere coimsel of per
from human souls we never saw, who fection to individuals—^but it is the law
lived, perhaps thousands of miles away. to which we must conform social institu
And yet these, in those little sheets of tions and national policy, if we would
paper, speak to us, arouse us, temiy us, secure the blessings and abundance of
teach us, comfort us, open their he^s peace.—^Henry George.
to U3 as brothers.—Charles Kingsley.
 ^CJR3AJR jbogjc Page 19
mBBBRSr~fnfBBARD*S
^KING more and more your Bible—about Moses and his people a little girl. It's about the Promised ^F^HEREaretwo wajra ofbeing happy:
fui- orchid, Yetta stood in Egypt. He *d been brought up by a Land—I can't say it in good English— ^9^ We may either diminish our wants
t^ere^one,thebloodmount- rich Egyptian lady—a princess—just I " or augment our means—either will do—
ingto her (^edcs,andwaited like he was her son. But as long as he " Unless I've forgotten my Hebrew," the result is the same; and it is for each
ipr the storm to pass. I'm tried to be an Egjrptian he was n't no the Reverend Chairman said, stepping man to dedde for himsdf, and do that
to' talk about tl^ strike," good. And God spoke to him one day out forward, " Miss Rayefsky has been which happens to be the easiest.
s^ j^d whf^ could make hers^ of a bush on fire. I don't remember just repeating God's words to Moses, the If you are idle or sick or poor, however
" It *s over. I want to tdl you the words of the story, but God said: Lawgiver, as recorded in the third diapter hard it may be to diminish your wants,
abc^ the iiert otie—and the next. I ^Moses, you 're a Jew. You ain't got no of Exodus. I think it's the seventh verse: it will be harder to augment your means.
business with the Egyptians. Take off *And the Lord C If you are active
said, I have surely and prosperous or
ibout the strikes that are those fine dothes and go back to jrour I am part of the sea and stars young or in good
, , ,
own people and help them escape from seen the affliction And the mnds of the South and North,
of my people whidi health, it may be
" Per^ps th^'s some of 3rou never bondage.' Well. Of course, I ain't like Of mountain and moon and Mars, easier for you to
madtk about strikes till now. Moses, and God has never talked to me. are in E^rpt, and And the ages sent me fortht
have heard their augment your
There 's been strikes all the time. I But it seems to me sort of as if—during
cry by reason of means than to
l^eve ever been a year this strike—^I'd seen a Blazing Bttsh. Blind Homer, the splendor of Greece, diminish your
^Bhen was n't dozeira here in New Anyhow I've seen my people in l^ndage. their taskmasters; Sang the songs I sang ere he fell;
for I know their wants
t&e skirt-fini^ers And I don't want to go to college and be She whom men called Beatrice,
But if you are
'j i^ey lo^ their strike. They alady. I guess the land princess could n't sorrows; Saw me in the depths of hell,
wise, you will do
: [Went h^ ju^ the ^y we did, but understand why Moses wanted to be " *And I am come both at the same
Iifiobb^ h^j^'!&em. Andth^'re worse a xxx)r Jew instead of a ridi JEgyptian. down to deliver
I was hanged at dawn for a crime—
Flesh dies, hut the soul knows no time, yoimg or old,
:; TO iain*t no difference But if you can understand, if you can them out of the.
death; rich or poor, sick
>Mw^ one $l^e and another. Perhaps understand why I'm going to stay with hand of the Egyp
I piped to great Shakespeare^s chime or weU; and if jrou
, striki^ foiF iitore pay or recog- my own people, you '11 understand all tians and to bring
The witches* song in Macbeth, are very wise you
/^ do^ shops. But the n ^ I've been trying to say thgm up out ofthat
will do both in such
st^ke #be justl&eoura. It 'ttbepeople " We 're a people in bondage. There *s land unto a good All, all who have suffered and won. a way as to aug
( fighting w they w6rit*t be so much ^ves lots of people who's kind to us. I guess land and a large, Who have struggled andfailed and died.
; waa be£o^. ment the general
the princess was n't the only Egyptian unto a land flowing Am I, with work still undone. happiness of
/ i f Tli^ C^irmm said p&haps I'd t^ lady that was kind to the Jews. But with milk and And a spear-mark in my side, sodety.—Franklin.
, , you ibM *hy experirace. There aiii't kindness ain't what people want who are honey.'"
ni^in| to t^' esc^t everybody has in bondage. Kindness won't never make " Yes. That's it," I am part of the sea and stars
<•»

!0 judge human
, ib^ awlWi^d to*^e._Xt*s fine to have us free. And God don't send any more Yetta said. " WeU And the winds of the South and North, nature right)^,
!f peqp^ ^ to me. But I'd rather if prophets nowadays. We've got to escape that's what strikes Of mountains and moon and Mars, a man may some
)y to imdieiiatand what this all by oursdves. And when you read in mean. We 'refight- And the ages sent me forth! times have a very
mea^ edl of us workers the papers that there's a strike—it don't iiTg, fitting, for " Kinship," by Edward H. S. Terry small experience,
stri|% we've won rad the ones matter whether it's street-car conductors . the old promises." provided he has a
) .... or lace-makers, whether it's Eyetalians very large heart.^—^Bulwer-Lytton.
" 'I : out erf wori^ou^ today, or Bolacks or Jews orAmericans, whether "Comrade Yetta," by Albert Edwards.
ii: (iifaf# teU' me a ladywants to give me-
;r 81^ '
it's here or in Chicago—it's my People—
the People m Bondage who are starting QLL higher motives, ideals, concep HGREAT
tions, sentiments in a man are of
deal of the joy of life con
sists in doing perfectly, or at least
^^ i w^ a rich ^i. It's vezy out for the Promised Land."
j| Wirat tO) ^dy. I ain't been to She stopped a moment, and a strange no account if they do not come forward to the best of one's ability, everything
; fi^ieen. I guess I look came over her face—a look of com- to strengthen him for the better dis- which he attempts to do. There is a
if-p jey^ E^tUsh ve]ty gp^^ I *d mimicatibn with some distant spirit. diarge of the duties which devolve upon sense of satisfaction, a pride in survey
:;; :{ i b i d 1 ui^ to see When 4xe spoke again, her words were Mm in the ordinary affairs of life. ing such a work—a work which is
pict^ra^in^^^ oi beini^dM ridi unintdligible to most of the audience, —Henry Ward Beecher. rounded, full, exact, complete in all
i-j; ^mii^viand it wwM'toe tp ^me of the Jewish vest-makers under parts—^which the superfidal man, who
that. i|te bei^ in a stood. And ^e Rev. Dunham Denning, , soul is a fire that darts its ra^ leaves his work in a slovenly, dii>du>d,
^ pw su^j^,,seeiot^ who was a famous s^olar,. understood. throutfii all the senses; it is in this half-finished condition, can never know.
# mak(») tMp look But even tho^ who did not were hdd fire that existence consists; all the obser
•i|'^iV.,.,|V.. ^^p^tiouiid by the swinging sonorous vations and all the efforts of philosophers It is this consdentious completeness
Ivii^^;;"/.i^e ,Ghaura^itold yousomething out ^deiice. i^e stopped abruptly. ous^t to turn towardsthis me,the centw which turns work into art. The smallest
B^e.-:Wdl;. we "Jews' " ft ^Si liebrew/' ^e explained. " It's moving power of our s^timents and thing, well done, becomes artistic.
ii sto^ »toa^^-ipwhaps it ^s in what my father tau^t me when I was oar ideas.—Madame De Stad. —William Mathews.

."."•'jv!'' '
 'ALBERT fIUBBARD*S Page 21

are taught, many of us, [, if they would only let you work. T is undeniable that the great HE great voice of America does not
Ifrom our youth onwards, Would n't it be fine just to be able quest of humanity is happi come from the ^ts of learning. It
Itibat competition is essential to work? Do you know the real thing ness. But was the world comes in a murmur finom the hills and
to the health and progress that puts people in their little hospital created to be happy? How woods and farms and factories and the
lof the race. Or, as Herbert cots with nervous prostration is not many are truly happy? I've mills, rolling and gaining volume until
puts it, " Society flourishes by working, but trying to work and not studied people in all classes and condi-^ it comes to us from the homes of common
atoms." being allowed to. Work never hurt any tions, and everywhere I have found, men. Do these murmurs echo in the cor
#e obvious golden truth is that body. But this thing of being in the when you get below the surface, that it ridors of the universities? I have not
op^f^mtion is good and competition middle of a letter and then rising to is mostly the insincere individual who heard them. The imiversities would maVe
and that so- shake hands with say s , * * I a m men forget their
ci^ iouii^es by There is something in the Autumn that a man who knew happy." Nearly For each and every Joyful ihiim. common origins,
iiie Mtu^ ^ of is native to my blood. you when you were everybody jvants For twilight swallows on the vnng. forget their univer-
hun^ beings. I Touch of manner, hint of mood; a boy, and then something he For all that nest and ail that sing,— ^ sympathies, and
s^/ t^t isobvious, And my heart is like a rhyme. sitting down and has n't got, and as join a class—and
trying to catch the things are con Forfountains cool that laugh and leap, no class can ever
w it is. And With the yellow and the purple and the
it il! so wdl kno^ crimson keeping time. thread of that let structed, what he For rivers running to the deep. serve America. I
Mt in all great ter again—^that's wants is money— For happy, care-forgetting sleep,— have dedicated
^iliteu^ or com- The scarlet of the maples can shake me what gives one more money th^ every power there
^terimses like a cry general debility. he has in his For stars that pierce the sombre dark. is in me to bring the
l^^iiaiism has Of bugles going by. SaundersNorvell. pocket ^ ^ For morn, awaking with the lark. colleges that I have
^^^sobord^ And my lonely spirit thrills But after all, For life new-stirring *neath the bark,— anjrthing to dowith
coUe^^e action. To see the frosty asters like smoke •^CAN no more money can buy to an absolutely
We not b<^ve upon the hSls. inderstand only a few things For sunshine and the blessed rain. democratic regen
t a hpiDsedlivid- that any serious Why should any For budding grove and blossomy lane. eration in spirit,
ed against itself one envy the cap
For the sweet silence of the plain,— and I shall not be
There is something in October sets the injury can come to tains of industry?
Btazid; we be- gipsy blood astir; my moral nature satisfied until
Their lives are America shall know
ttot it shall We mustfollow her. from disbelief in made up of those For bounty springing from the sod.
When from every hiU aflame, Samson than from that the men in the
vast, incessant For every step by beauty trod,— colleges are satu
We know that a She calls and catts each vagabond by disbelief in Jack worries from which For each dear gift of joy, thank Godf
SMte divided by ratedwith the same
name. the Giant-Killer the average indi " For Joy," by Florence Earle Coates
Mtenpal feuds and thought, the same
'* An Autumn Song,'* by Bliss Cannon I care as little for vidual is happily
torn by faction Gtoliath as for the
spared. Wo^, worry, that is the evil of 1 ' through
pulses u t. the sympathy,
whole fpreat that
body
fi^t^ can not hold its own against a giant Blunderbore. I am ^ad that chil politic.—^Woodrow Wilson.
i^ted jpeople. We kiu>wthat in a cridket life ^
dren should amuse themselves with
or f^baU team, a regiment, a ship's nursery stories, but it is shocking that What do I consider the nearest approxi
a sdl^l. the " antagonism of the mation to happiness of which the present man who has not anything to
they ^ould be ordered to bdieve in human nature is capable? Why, living
*' wp^d lE^an defeat and failure. them as solid facts, and then be told that boast of but his illustrious ancestors
We know itihat a sodety Gomix>sed of such superstition is essential to morality. on a farm which is one's own, far from is like a potato—^the only good belong
the'hectic, artificial conditions of the ing to him is underground.
antggpoistic atcwwould not be a society —Sir Lieslie Stephen. city—a farm where one gets directly
at aU; and ipi^d not exist as a society. «•» ^ir Thomas Overbury.
We &ipiw I^Bit if men me to found and Icivilization is complete which does from one's own soil what one needs to
to and make
sustain life, with a garden in front and
to t^bUsh universities, to sail
not include the dumb and defense
a healthy, normal family to contribute a man without mirthis likea wagon
less of God's^creatures within the sphere
those small domestic joys which relieve
Q without springs, in which one is
8||i^ and' c&l^ and create educa of charity and merqy^.—Queen Victoria. caused disagreeably to jolt by every
tional systeios,and policiesand rdligions, a from business strain.—^Edison. pebble over which it runs.
xj^t tdg^er and not against [S good almost kin a man as kill a AM not so lost in lexicography as to —Henry Ward Beecher.
Surd|f these things are as good book; who kills a man kills a
ob^ouB as ^he feet that there could be reasonable creature, God's image, but forget tihat words are the daughters
Dearth, and that things are the sons of QT MERICA has furnished to the
hive lii^ess ^e bc^ worked as a he who destroys a good book kills reason world the characterof Washington,
andi m the lin^' of mutual aid. itsdf.—^John Milton. heaven.—Samuel Johnson.
Mid if our American institutions had
Blatchford. done nothing else, that alone would have
Success or failure in business is caused There exists no ciire for a heart woimded
with the sword of separation. entitled them to the respect of mankind.
sote d^ilM to the sum of more by mental attitude even than by
—Hitopadesa.
Iis Greme. mental capacities.—Walter Dill Scott. —Daniel Webster.

*3SLBBKr HUBBARD^S
PR nvorld is pervaded and
<ieeply moved by the power
of ideals. There is no i)er-
fect statesman, or poet, or
ard^, but the virtues of
mray pawns in eaich one of these great
and like star-
fbi'm a new and perfect star
M ^ i^panse of thou^t. The orator
that is^andi before us in our moments of
!3^i§Ctipn ^d is not Cicero, or
of WebistiBr, but alwajrs some
Ofne with a wisdom, a language
a jtfesence bretter were found in
actu^ incarnations.
is not Alfred, nor Nap<>
nm Washington, but he is
yrt xfd^tier bdng with an ihjfinite
;^w# and unlmo^ name, his fixtures
n^ yet f^y visible, ^ thou^ he had
fo^^lS icmd^&e l^dy columns ofruined
stat^ around' our hearts stand these
of the powerful, the perfect
'wd' (&e sublimfe^ aggregations of
^ ^ou^t and admiration.
® earth isii^i^t not only becauseof
oniofr 1 ^ 12..^
J300K, Page 2S
^ MAN'S Thanksgiving: God fLTHOUGH imitation is one of the
the greatest minds living in an age of ofcommonsense, I giveThee great instruments used by Provi
tyranny could see in prophecy the por thanks for the heavy blows dence in bringing our nature toward its
trait of a free people. Instead of being a of pain that drive me back perfection, yet if men gave themselves
romantic dream an ideal is often a loiig fi:x>m perilous wajrs into har up to imitation entirely, and each fol
mathematical calculation by an intd- mony with the laws of my being; for lowed the other, and so on in an eternal
lect as logical as that of Euclid. Idealism stinging whips of himger and cold that circle, it is easy to see that there could
is not the ravings ofa maniac, but it is the urge to bitter striving and glorious never be any improvement among them.
cahn geometry of life. Ideals try our achievement; for steepness and rough Men must remain as brutes do, tire gnm**
faith, as thou^ to show us that nothing ness of the way and at the end that
is too good to be true. In noble ideals staunch virtues
Ye stars! which are the poetry of they are at this
there is something aggressive. They are gained by climbing day, and that they,
not aggressive like an armj^with gun and over jagged rocks heaven. were at the begin
spear, but aggressive like the sun which of hardship and If in your bright leaves we ning of the world.
coaxes a Jime out of a winter. All great stumbling through would read the fate To prevent this,
truths are persistent. Each form of right dark and pathless Of men and empires—*t is to he God has implanted
is a growing form. All high ideals will be sloughs of discour in man, a sense of
realized. This one jperceives who takes a agement; for the forgiven
ambition, and a
long view—^the triumph of ideality over acid bli^t of fail That in our aspirations to he satisfaction arising
apathy, indolence and dust. There is ure that has burned great frx>m the contem
nothing in history, dark as much of it is, out of me all Our destinies o'erleap their plation of his excel
to che^ the belief that man will at last thought of easy mortal state. ling his fellows in
be overcome by his highest ideals victory and tough something deemed
ened my sinews for And claim a kindred with you;
—^David Swing.
for ye are valuable among
fiercer battles and them. It is f-his
greater triumphs; A beauty and a mystery, and
passion that drives
AM aware that many object to the for mistakes I have create men to all the ways
.severity of my language; but is made, and the In us such love and reverence
there not cause for severity? I will be as priceless lessons I we see in use of

it^ feai^.
fluwt after ideals is the central rea-
8oni of liffc TWs piirsuit abandoned, life
nee4 ^ong ^y longe^. The
pltditt is broken at the fountain. The
idealists are creat^g a ^"Tinftn world
after the pattern ^own in the
Mount. Eac^ aft stands ^ a mpniunent
^ S host of idealists who in thdr own
uAy; l^ha|K %)pe|lessly and amid
^e sneersj of Ihp^ who were only the
ofdust,i^usif, now w infinite in
^eiit ^d weeta^, is rach a monu-
??ent. The first rude h^ps are broken
and lost; deadl ^e hands that smote
^em; :^t art is here wth no en-
ch^^ent lost. We db not know Ae
names of .^ose suiKers. ILike us they
were pilgdms;
fo pass into the heymd, but
theylat.an aft wW^-^e w^fld teves. It
tempwan«, jU^ce and
the hig^w ofhuo^ fiite. ....
ofidi^^ asibt^g only ^1^*'
:0n t&e opposite, hi|^ id^iB are
hftliM porbaits seen' advanl^^ Only
harsh as Truth, and as uncompromising
as Justice. On tiiis subject I do not wish
to think, or speak, or write, with moder
ation. Nol Nol Tell a man whose house
is on fire to give a moderate alarm; tell
him to moderately rescue his ^fe from
the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother
to gradually extricate her babe £rom 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 sin^e 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 fedings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs.
He most lives
Who thinks most, leels the noblest, acts
the best.—^P^ip James Bailey.
have learned from from afar. signalizing them
selves, and that
them; for disillu Thatfortune, fame, power, life, tends to make
sion and disap have named themselves a star, whatever excites in
pointment that a noan the idea of
" Stars," by Lord Byron
have cleared my this distinction so
vision and spiured , .
my desire; for strong appetites and pas has been sostrong asvefy pleasant. It
to make verymis
sions and the power they give when erable men take comfort that they were
under pressure and control; for my im supreme in misery; where we can not
perfections that give me the keen delight distinguish ourselves bysomething excels
of striving toward perfection. lent, we take complacency in some
smgular mfirmity, folly or defect.
God of conunon good and human broth
erhood, I give Thee thanks for siren —Edmund Burke.
songs of temptation that lure and (HE first and best victory'is to con-
entangle and the understanding of other
men they reveal; for the weaknesses and 5^^thmgs,
IS, of^ 5?^^' the most
conquered by and
shameful sdf
failings of my neighbors and the joy of vile.—Plato.
lending a helping hand; for my own
shortcomings, sorrows and loneliness, .ip; only way in which one human
that give me a deeper sympathy for bemg can properly attempt to
others: for ingratitude and misunder influence another is the encouraging him
standing and the gladness of service to think for himself, instead of endeavor-
without other reward than self-expres ii^ to instil ready-made opinions into
sion.—Arthur W. Newcomb. his head.—Sir LeslieStephen.
 '^LBBPSr frUBBjiRD*S Page 25

HAT wis have a ri^t to ex the principle to follow is: Hit the line O man has earned the right to ^^ELFISHNESS is not living as one
pect of the American boy is hard; don't foul and don't shirk, but hit &? ; ^ intellectual ambition until wishes to live; it is asking others to
that he shall turn out to be a the line hard.—** The American Boy," he has learned to lay his live as one wishes to live. And unsdfish-
good American man. The by Theodore Roosevelt. course by a star which he ness is letting other people's lives alone,
boy can best become a good has never seen—^to dig by not interfering with them. Selfishness
mm being a good- boy—not a goody- XN the beginning, men went forth the divining-rod for springs whidi
may never reach. In saying this, I point
he always aims at creating around it an
absolute uniformity of type. Unselfi^-
^^y bby, but just a plain good boy. I each day—some to do battle, some
do M me^ that he must love only the to the chase; others, again, to dig and to to that which will make your study ness recognizes infinite variety of type
s^tive virtues; I mean that he must delve in the field—all that they might heroic. For I say to you in all sadness of as a deli^tful thii%, accepts it, acqui
love the positive conviction, that to esces in it, enjoys
gain and live, or
t h i n k great God, we don*t like to complain— it.—Oscar Wilde.
virtues also. Out of the night that covers me, lose and die. Until
thoughts you must We know that the mine is no lark—
in the Black as the Pitfrom pole to pole, there was found
largest sense, / thank whatever gods may he among them one, be heroes as well as But—there *s the pools from the rain:
idealists. Only HE tree which
s'h^ld' include But—there *s the cold and the dark.
For my unconquerable soul. difiTering from the when you have moves some to
is fine, rest,whose pursuits tears of joy is in
worked alone— God, You don*t know what it is—
stfaight forward, In thefeU clutch of circumstance attracted him not, when you have felt the eyes of others
4lag» brave, and and so he staid by You, in Your well-lighted sky. only a green thing
I have not winced nor cried aloud. around you a black Watch the meteors whizz;
l^e best Under the bludgeonings of chance the tents with the which stands in the
I feibw-^the My head is bloody, but unbowed. gulf of solitude Warm, with the sun always by.
women, and traced more isolating than way. Some sjee
ib^ rnra I knbw-— strange devices that which sur Nature all ridicule
are j^pd at their with a burnt stick rounds the dying God, if You had but the moon
studies ior their Beyond this place of wrath and tears Stuck in Your cap for a lamp. and deformity, and
Looms but the Horror of the Shade, upon a gourd. xnan, and in hope by these I shall
busine^, if^^less This man, who took and in despair have Even You *d tire of it soon,
And yet the menace of the years Down in the dark and the damp, ' not regulate my
Finds, and shaUfind, me unafraid. no joy in the ways trusted to your own
ai^d fear^ by all of his brethren— unshaken will— proportions; and
^lat is imcked and who cared not for then only will you Nothing but blackness above. some scarce see
depraved, incap- It matters not how strait the gate. conquest, and fret have achieved. And nothing that moves but the cars— Nature at all. But
ablie of subimttmg Howcharged withpunishments the scroll, ted in the field— Thus only can you God, if You unshfor our love. to the eyes of the
to ^^ngdioing, and lam the master of myfate: this designer of gain the secret iso Fling us a handful of stars! man of imagina-
egu^ly inci^pable I am the captain of my soul. quaint pattems- lated joy of the "Caliban intheCoal Mines," byLouis Untermeyer tion Nature is
of bei^ aught but " Invictus," by W, E. Henley liiis deviser of the thinker,who knows Imagination itself.
t^^ to the weak beautiful — who that, long after he is dead and forgotten, As a man is, so he sees.—William Blake.
#i4 'helpl^. Of course the effect that a perceived in Nature about him curious men who never heard of him will be
^ofouj^y manly, thoroughly straight curvings, as faces are seen in the fire— moving to the measure of his thou^t— |HE plant is an animal confined in a
upri^t boy can have upon the com- this dreamer apart, was the first artist. the subtile rapture of a postponed power, wooden case; and Nature, like
l^iphs of Ms own age, and upon those C We have then but to wait—until, with which the world knows not because it has Sycorax, holds thousands of " delicate
Who are yot^er, is incalculable. If he is the mark of the gods upon him—there no external trappings, but which to his Ariels " imprisoned in everyoak. She is
thoroi^i^y inanly, then th^ will not come among us again the chosen—^who prophetic vision is more real than that jealous of letting us know this; and
f^pect him, and his good qualities will shall continue what has gone before. which commands an army. And if this among the higher and more conspicuous
raunt foir but littte; while, of course, if he Satisfied that, even were he never to
joy should not be yours,—still it is only forms of plants reveals it only by such
is cruel or Wicked, then his appear, the story of the beautiful is obscure manifestations as the shrinking
physical length and force of mind already complete—hewn in the marbles thus that you can know that you have
done what it lay in you to do,—can say of the Sensitive Plant, the sudden dasp
io^ly Bu^e him so much the more of the Parthenon—and broidered, with of the Dionea, or still more slightly, by
^je^io^bife a member of society. He the birds, upon tiie fan of Hokusai—^at that you have lived,and be ready for the the phenomena ofthe cyclosis.—Huxley.
c^i not do gpckl work if he is not stnmg the foot of Fuji-Yama. end.-^liver Wendell Holmes.
^d not try with his whole heart —J. McNeUl Whistler. ^ ILL truth is safe and nothing else is
Ipd' ^uii to cptmt in any contest; and 6^ «•»
/Cf N enlightened mind is not hood- safe; and he who keeps back the
^ i80^g1^ will be a curseto himselfand [HERE is but one virtue: to help iiJl winked; it is not shut up in a truth, or withholds it from men, from
to ev^ one elte if he does not ^ve a human beings to free and beautift^ ^oomy prison till it thinks the walls of motives of expediency, is either a coward
^orp^ command over himself aiid life; but one sin: to do them indifferent its own dungeon the limits of the uni or a criminal, or both.—^Max Muller.
py# his onmievil pMons, and if he does or crud hurt; the love of humanity is the verse, and the reach of its own chain the
not use Ms (m the side of . whole of morality. This is Goodness, this Neverleavethat till tomorrow whichyou
outer verge of intelligence.
dfecen^^ jii^ce #id' fair d^ing. is Humanism, this is the Social Con
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. can do today.—^Franklin.
In shi^, in Ufe, as in a football-game, science.—^J. William Lloyd.
 mLBBRSr miBBARD'S
E courteous to all, but inti-
xnete with few; and let those
f(^ be w^ tried before you
l^e them your o^dence.
^ H^e friendship is a plant of
^Qwjslowt^ an must undergo andwith-
* -
to the appellaticm. Let jrour
f(^ fer the affections and dis-
of e^ery one, and let your hand
®ye in j^po^on to your purse; re-
the estimation of the
w^^iD(w*s nute, that it is not every one
fct that deserveth charity; all
^WfVer, wb^y of the inquiry, or
deseiinn^ may suffer.
n^ OQii^ve that fine dothes make
^e m^, any tapre than fine feathers
Ipftke fine bir^.^^ plain, genteel dress
ad®irt^ obtains more credit,
la^ ^d embroidery, in the ^es
ju^^tis cmd sensible.—George
Wa^apqn in a letter to his nephew,
1783.
Hifi of^e Peridean Age are
n a higher one sret, that
W Statesinan, orator, philoso-
^idi», Qjiist, poet and lover,
r^esi^ so gi^t tiiat, another Zeus,
he was the Olympian. If to him
<^e, TOuld it not, a poet some-
aaki^ uncivil to d^ict her as
: Ike? It w^d be not only un-
' but • divine thii^, ai>d yet we neglect as un
Ttonist^ies," Youseethat boyof
: birt fiye^ he governs the
! Yffl; for he rules his nu]rt:her,
F^es me, I rulte Athens and
Atto^ Alter themistodes
It ^?ffais (^ridica'' tuami to govern and be
,01./fa
Aspasia.
"MBdjgar Sdtu&
Mttfts as if wh^ God con-
: Jifeat was ippetiy;
i radfct wiiffl^ptu^ He
ii^, Imd that waa
: Iw4' ^eaii" G^wmi]^ ^ Kfe
•1^ it with lilHi^ beings, and that
;•iwas ^e I divi^ ettim^ ^anuu
/^OMMERCE is a game of skill,
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 conmionsense; a
manofstrong affinity for facts, who makes
up his decision on what he has seen.
He is thoroug^y persuaded of the truths
of arithmetic. There is always a reason,
in the man, for his good or bad fortune;
and so, in n:iaking mon^. Men talk as if
there were some magic about this, and
bdieve in .magic, in all parts of life. He
knows that ^ 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 tenadty of
purpose.—Emerson.
/TKO be honest, to be kind, to earn a
little, and to spend a little less, to
make upon tiie 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
witliout capitulation; above all, on ^e
antne condition, to ke^ friends with
himself; here is a task for all a man has
of fortitude and delicacy.
—^Robert Louis Stevenson.
«•»
eOD is to be our father,yet we are far
from being fathers to our own ^il-
dren. We prestune to have insight into
worthy of notice those human relations
v^di are a key to the divine.
-Friedrich Froebd.
«•>
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.—^Rato.
XLOVEchildren.They do not prattle
of yesterdc^: their interests are all
of today and the tomorrows—^I love
diildren.—Richard Mansfield.
God gave man an upright countenance
to suivey the heavens, and to look up-
mai to the stars.—Oyid.
Page 37
HE faculty to dream was not XT is a curious reflection that the
given to mock us. There is a ordinary private person who collects
reality back of it. There is a objects of a modest luxury has nothing
divinity behind our legiti about him so old as his books. If a wave
mate desires. of the rod made everything around him
By the desires that have divinity in disappear that did not exist a century
them, we do not refer to the things that ago, he would suddenly find himsdf with
we want but do not need; we do not one or two sticks of furniture perhaps,
refer to the desires that turn to Dead but otherwise alone with his books. Let
Sea fhiit on our theworkof another
lips or to ashes century pass, and
when eaten, but to Leaf after leaf drops off, flower certainly nothing
the legitimate de after flower, would be left but
sires of the)soul for these little brown
the realization of Some in the chUl, some in the volumes—so many
those ideals, the warmer hour: caskets full of ten
longing for full, derness and pas
complete self-ex Alive they flourish, and alive sion, disappoint^
pression, the time
they fall. ambition, fruitless
and opportunity hope, sdf-torturing
for the weaving of And Earth who nourished them envy, conceit,
the pattern shown aware, in madden
jn the moment of receives them all. ing, luddmoments,
our hi^est trans^
Should we, her wiser sons, be of its own folly
figuration. —Edmund Gosse
A man will remain less content
a rag-picker as long WJY share ofthe
as he has only the To sink into her lap when life is
work of the
vision of the rag spent? world may be lim
picker ^ ited, but the fact
Our mental atti " Leaf After Leaf Drops Ofif,"
that it is work
tude, our heart's by Walter Savage Landor
desire, is our per-
makes it predous.
Darwin could work
petual prayer whiA Nature answers. She only half an hour at a time; yet in manv
takes it for grated that we des^e what diligent half-hours he laid anew the
we are headed toward, and she hdps us foundations of philosophy.
to it. People little realize that their Green, the historian, tells us that the
desires are their perpetual prayers—not world is moved not only by the miAty
head prayers, but heart prayers—and shoves of the heroes^ but also by the
that they are granted. aggregate of the tiny pushes of each
honest worker.—^Helen Keller.
Most people do not half realize how
sacred a thing a legitimate ambition is.
What is this eternal urge within us Ji^HE character and qualifications of
which is tryingto pushus on and on, up the leader are reflected in the men
and up? It is the urge, the push in the he sdects, develops and gathers aroitod
great force within us, which is perpetu him. Showme the leader and I willknow
ally prodding us to do our best and
refases to accept our secondbest.
his men. Showmethemenandl willknow
theirleader. Therefore, to haveloyal, effi^
—Orison Swett Marden. dent employees—be a loyidand effid^t
employer.—^Arthur W. Newcomb.
Things printed can never be stopped; «•»
they are likebabiesbaptized,they have a Of all kinds of pride I hold natioxial
soul from that moment, and go on for pride the most foolish; it ruined Greece;
ever.—^Meredith. it ruined Judea and Rome.'—HeM^.
 P(^e28 'BLBERS' HUBBARD *S Page 29

have reached Cascade lutely level. The water seems to wait a solemn walls. By dash of wi|id and wave, "^W^T is nothing to give pension and
Creek at last; and a beauti moment on its verge, then it passes with by forces of the firost, by file of snow- cottage to the widow who has lost
ful gprove of pine trees, be a single bound, three hundred and fifty plunge and ^ader, and the mountain- her son; it is nothing to give food and
neath whose shad^ a dear feet bdow. torrents, by the hot breath of the balmy medicine to the workman who has
stream, whose waters are It is a sheer, unbroken, compact, shining Spring, those walls have been cut' into broken his arm, or the decrepit woman
tiie nauseous taste of alkali, mass of silver foam. But your eyes are the most various and surprising shapes. wasting in sickness. But it is something'
form^ies a ddightfiil place to camp. ail the while distracted from the fall I have seen the " Middle Ages" castles to use your time and strength to war
Now, dismoimting and seeing that yow itself, great and beautiful as it is, to its along the Rhine; there those castles are with the waywiurdness and thoughtless
is wellcared for, while &e men are marvdous setting; to the surprising, repr^uced exactly. I have seenthe soar ness of mankind to keep the erring
unloading the overmastering can- ing summits of the workman in your
piackmules and yon into which the great cathedral- service till you
pltd^g the tents, With fingers weary and worn. spires in the coim- "O Men, unth sisters dear! have made him an
With eyelids heavy and red, river leaps, and
up that trail through which it try b^ond the sea; O Men, with mothers and wives! unerring one, and
i^dingup tiiehill-
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags. there they stand in It is not linen you *re wearing out. to direct your fd-
Plying her needle and thread,-— flows, dwindling to
follow it for but a foamy ribbon
prototype, only But human creatures^ lives. low-merchant to
:m ii^e among the Stitch! stitch! stitch! loftier and more Stitch—stitch—stitch the opportunity
In poverty, hunger, and dirt; there in its appal
j^emn pines, and sublime In poverty, hunger, and dirt,— which his judgment
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch ling depths. As you Sewing at once, with a double thread,
thfn pass out from cling here to this And then, of course would have lost
^e tree shadows She sang the "Song of the Shirt!" and almost beyond A shroud as well as a Shirt! —John Ruskin.
jutting rock, the
and take your all else, you are
" Work—work—work falls are already fascinated by the " But why do I talk of Death-
si^d upon thflf many hundred feet O long as we
fa^ier rq^ ding Till the brain begins to swim! magnificence and That phantom of grisly bone! love, we serve.
Work—work—work below you. The utter opulence of I hardly fear his terrible shape.
le to it w^ mean Till the eyes are heavy and dim! falls unroll their color 9^ Those are It seems so like my own—
So long as we are
while and being whiteness down loved by others I
Seam, and gusset, and band,— not simply gray It seems so like my own would almost say
Ye|y ^e of your amid the canyon Because of the fasts I keep:
#dl^g, for your Band, arid gusset, and seam,— and heavy depths, we are indispen-
TUl over the buttons I fall asleep. gloom 8^ and readies, imd O God! that breadshould be so dear. Mble; and no
swim and
grow dkay, and And sew them on in a dream! These rocky sides domes, and pin- Andflesh and blood so cheap!" is useless while he
are almost perpen nades of solidrock. "The Song of the Shirt," by Thomas Hood has a friend.
#(ere opens before (ContinBed on next page) dicular; indeed, in The whole gorge —^R. L. Stevenson.
^u one of the many places the
stupendous scenes of Nature, the flames It is as
boiling springs have goug^ them out so though rainbows had fallen out of the |HE men whom I have seen succeed
^^werFallsof the Grand Canyonof as to leave overhanging cliffs and tabl^
¥^ow^one a*. ^ sky themselves there like b^t in lifehave always been cheer-
at the top^ Take a stone and throw it jdorious banners. The underljring color f^ and hopeful men, who went about
-^dnow where ahaU I begiii, and how over; you have to wait long before you Kthe clearest yellow; thisflushes onward their busmess with a smile on their faces
shaU^ I, m aay wise, describe this tre- hear it strike. Nothing more awful have and took the changes and chancesof this
into orange. Down at the base the deep
^ si^t; its overpowering gran-
sm at the same tinte, its inezpres-
I ever seen than the yawning of that est mosses unroll their draperies of the mortal life like men, fadng rough and
i^le ibrauty:?
chasm; and the stillness, solemn as mid most vivid green; browns, sweet and smooth alikeasit came.—Chas. Kingsley.
night, profound as death. The water
flre the Lower Falls deling there as in a kind of agony, soft do theirblending; white rocks stand
of ^eY^o^tone. They are not the against those rocks, you can not hear.
spectral; turrets of rock shoot up as ^ ^ is easy in the world to live after
^an^ f wrld, butthere are none CTimson as though they were drenched the world's opinions; it is easy in
The mighty distance lays the finger TOlitude to live after our own; but the
is not the breadth of silence on its white lips. You^ are ^th blood
It is as if the most ^onous sunset you Great Man is he who in the midst of the
3^ ?J^ara, nor is there the
the oppressed by'a sense of danger. It is as crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the
though the vastness would soon force eversaw had been caught and held upon
that resplendent, awful gorge. independence of solitude.—Emerson.
you from the rock to which you cling. Thiou^out nearly all the hours of that
^ ? to^esty of its own kind, The silence, the sheer depth, the gloom,
burden ;you. It is axelief to feel the firm afternoon until the simset shadows came,
•r=sf ^ ^
who is silent is forgotten; he who
^ eitherrock.
of ^ptiired side are vast
There, and afterwards among the moonbeams, •abstams is taken at his word; he
earth beneath your feet again, as you
the rock opens for the river, its carefully crawl back from your perching- I waited there, clinging to that rock, who does not advance falls back; he who
W impressed from a width of place jutting out into that overpowering, gor stops isoverwhelmed, distanced, crushed;
^ hundr^ feet, between the Upp^^ But this is -not all, nor is the half yet geous chasm. I was appalled and fasci he who ceases to grow greater becomes
to 1^ than one hiS- told. As soon as you can stand it, go out nated, afraid and yet compelled to cling smaller; he who leaves oflF, gives up; the
^ The on that jutting rock again and mark the there. It was an epoch in my life. stationary condition is the beginnuig of
of roGk over whidi it leapsis abso sculpturing of God upon those vast and —Doctor Wayland Hoyt the end.—^Amiel.
 'jSI^BBRa' HUBBAKD^S
men, life is before you. Two
'3^^ are calling you—one coming
Ifc^ sw^ps of selfishness and
succ^ means death; and
^Kitsk the hilltops of justice and
where even failure brings
lights are seen in your horizon
ithe fast fading mai^ li^t of
the other the dowly rising
sbn OT hiifrinti brotholuxxL Two ways
ilfiopra ^u---one leadings to an even
l&d lower plain^ whdre are heard
ipf de^w and the curses of the
whi^^ manhood dsrivdls and pos-
l^tsidpwn the possessor; and tibe
o^er ?li^ding to tiie highlands of the
of huM^^ where honest efifort is
^^th iixuportalily.
—Jolm P. Altgdd.
- a«»
works of ts^e must bear a price
propoxliio^ to the skill, taste,
and tiiic attmdixig their
mvirat^m' and mani^actiue
>nibse ithihgl d^^ cur^ w^en
juB^y iest^aat^ the chi^p^: tliQr are
att^od^ mudi 1^ profit to the
"^ose which everybody
chiaip ii» ^
foiM and ccnnpositions are
not ^ dian(^,*nor can th^ ev^,
in>^yn|ate^,i^Mde jatsn^e^>ense.
Ci A Qpn^podtiqn Gheapiit^ and not
of v^lpnan^^ is the most
and cert^ cause of i^e rapid
dec^ and mtiFe deBtructioh of arts and
Wedgwood.
W^T »< w ixi8tin<^ with me personidly
to atta^ ev«^ idi^ wliili^has bc^
tor tc^ yearo, especially if it
t&e nf all humsn
Ipcie^. I ^ ^ baclk hurnan
s a^inst ,#iy positive ctt
that c^ ^ bfou^t into the
aeaaast it.r—ipiacuTd Shaw.
on tfce suimy «!^ of tlie
stre^; diady fotits live m the of^^er.
have i^wa^' 4prefeif^> the< 8ixEu|l^
dialy <£(tf ain ho# <# at a <tiine^
^MarahaU P, Vmdrn.
XLOVB you for what you are, but I
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
worl^g for larger and finer growth.
€L Not always shall you be what you are
now
You are going forward toward some
thing great. I am on the way with you
and-therefore I love you.
—Carl Sandburg.
£•»
you can dissolve everything in the
'world,evenagreatfortune,intoatoms.
And the fimdamental principles which
govern the hcuodling of postage-stamps
and of millions of dollars are exactly the
same. Th^ 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 tiiem; so
hard that a lazy man won't.
—Philip D. Armour.
^<0 lookfearlessly upon life; to accept
\»/ the laws of nature, not with meek
resignation, but as her sons, who dare to
seax^ and question; to have peace and
confidence within our souls—^these are
the bdiefs that make for happiness.
—Maeterlinck.
^""^OTHING is easier than fault-find-.
#--iing; no talent, no self-denial, no
brains, no character are r^uired to set
up in the grumbling business.
—^Robert West.
«•» 9 ^
not that thy life shall come to
)an end, but rather fear that it shall
never have a beginning.
—Cardinal Newman.
Be sure that religion cannot be right
l^t a man is the worse for having.
WUliam Penn.
Page 32
N supplying the men for the who is a woman says of a hum&n body,
carnage of a battlefield, "It is nothing!"—Olive Schreiner.
women have not merely lost
actually more blood, and ONSCIENTIOUSNESS has in
gone through a more acute many outgrown that stage in v^ch
anguish and weariness, in the months of le sense of a compelling power is joined
bearing and in the finkl agony of child with rectitude ofaction. Ttie truly honest
birth, than has been experienced by the man, here and there to be found, is not
men who cover it; but, in the mon^ of only without thought of legrf, religious,
rearing that follow, or social compul
the women of the
I met her on the Umbrian Hills, sion, when he dis>
race go through a charges an equit
long, patiently en- Her hair unbound, her feet able claim on him;
dui^ strain which unshod; but he is without
no knapsacked sol
As one whom secret glory fills thought of self-
dier on his longest compulsion. He
march has ever She walked—alone with God. d<^ the rightthing
more than equal ^th a sih^le feel
led; while, even in
I met her in the city street; ing of satisfaction
the matter ofdeath, m doing it, and is
in all civilized so
cieties, the prob
Oh, changed was her aspect mdeed impatient if
ability that the
then! JpytWng
him fromprevents
having
average woman With heavy eyes and weary f^et tte satisfaction of
will die in child She walked alone—with men, doing it.
birth is immeasur —Herbert Spencer.
ably greater than "The Lady Poverty," by BveSyn UnderhiO
the probability
that ^e average male will die in battle. ^ ^ homesick. C Homesick ftw the
C There is, perhaps, no woman, whether home I never have seen
she have borne children, or be merely F« theland where I shaU look horiaon-
potentially a child-bearer, who could look tally mto the eyes of my fellows
down upon a battlefield covered with The land where men rise onlv* fn i;a.
slain, but the thought would rise in her,
The land where equality leavM
to differ as they will.
"So many mother's sons! So many young
bodies brought into the world to lie
The land where freedom is breathed
there I So many months of weariness and
the air and courses in the blood
Where there is nothing over* o
pain while bones and muscles were between him and the shy. Wh^"Jt!**
shaped within! So many hours of anguish
obligations of love are sought
and struggle that breath might be! So prizes, ®"
many baby mouths drawing life at And where they vary as the moon
women's breasts;—^all this, that men
That land is my true country
might lie with glazed eyeballs, and I am here by some sad cosmic
swollen faces, and fixed, blue, imdos^
mouths, and great limbs tossed—^this,
And I am hom^ct—Ernest oSSby!
that an acre of ground might be manured
HEN men ^rightly
with human flesh, that next year's amusement grows outoccupied
of tfieir their
grasses or poppies or karoo bushes may as the color petals out of a
^ring up greenerand redder,whereth^ flower; when they are faithfuUy hS^
have lain, or that the sand of a plain and^mpassionate,aUtheir emotioMml
may have the glint of white honest" steady, d^p, perpetual and vi^^
And we cry, " Without an inexorable to the soul as is the natural pulse^h?«!®
cause, this must not be!" No woman body.—John Ruskin. the
Page 32 ^I,BERar aUBBARD^S PageSS

iB have talked much of the with all its fruits thereof—^the fruits of T, speaking in quite un men any quarrel? Buqy as the Devil Is,
brotherhood to come; but love and liberty.—George D. Henon. official language, is the net not the smallest! Tbey lived for enough
brotherhood has always been «•»
purport and up^iot of war? apart; were the entirest strangers; nay,
the fact of our life, long /HE worst of errors is to b^eve that To my own knowledge, for in so wide , a Universe, there was even,
before it became a modem any one religion has the monopoly . - Jex^ple, there dwell and unconsdoudy, by Commerce, some mu
maipid sentiment. Only we have ot goodness. For every man, that reli&on toil, in the British villageof IDumdrudge, tual helpfulness between them. How
been brothers in slavery and tormrat» is good which tnnlrfw him gentle, upright usually some five hundred souls. then? Simpleton! their Governors had
and kind. But to govern mankind is a From these, by certain " Natural Ene fallen out; and, instead of shooting one
brothers in ignorance and its perdition, mies" of the French, there are success
inothers in disease and war and want, difficult task. The ideal is very high and another, had the cunning to make tiiese
the earth is very fully selected, dur poor blockheads
brothers in prosti- ing the French war,
low. Outside the Or ever the knightly years were gone shoot.—Alas, so is
teticm and hyppc- Men! whose boost it is that ye say thirty able-
ste^e province of it in Deutsdiland,
z^.What happens Come offathers brave and free. bodied men: Dum-
With the old world to the grave,
to one of us sooner If there breathe on earth a slave. philosophy, what I was a King in Babylon . and hitherto in all
drudge, at her own other lands; still as
or later happens to Are ye truly free and brave? we meet at every
expense, has suck-
And you were a Christian Slave.
we have always step is unrea^n, of old, " what dev
Jf ye do not feel the chain led and nursed
be^ unescapably When it works a brother's pain. folly and passion. I saw, I took, I cast you by, iltry soever Kings
The wise men ot them: she has, not / bent and broke your pride. do, the Greeks
involved in a com Are ye not base slaves indeed. without difficulty
mon destiny. The Slaves unworthy to befreedI antiquity succeed You loved me well, or I heard them lie. must pay the
ed in winning to and sorrow, fed But your longing was denied. piper!"—^In that
^rld constantly them up to man
tenxls to the levd
themselves some Surely I knew that by and by ^ fiction of the Eng
Is true Freedom but to break little authority hood, and even You cursed your gods and died.
^ ^e downxnost lish Smollett, it is
Fetters for our own dear sake. oidyby impostures, trained them to
true, the final Ces
a ^ init; and that And, with leathern hearts, forget crafts, so that And a myriad suns have set and shone
dowiraaost man is which gave them a sation of War is
That we owe mankind a debt? hold upon the im one can weave, Since then upon the grave
the world's real perhaps prophet
Not True Freedom is to share agination, in their another build, Decreed by the King in Babylon
xiiler, hugipng it AU the. chains our brothers wear. another hammer, ically shadowed
lack of physical To her that had been his Slave. forth; where the
close to his bosom, And, with heart and hand, to he and the weakest
diraggl^ it down to force. _ two Natural Ene
Earnest to make others freet —Ernest Renan. can stand under The pride I trampled in now my scathe.
his deadi. You do thirty stone avoir- For it tramples me again. mies, in person,
n^ think so, but The old resentment lasts like death. take each a To
it is true, and it They are slaves who fear to speak is a truly dupoisfi^Neverthe-
bacco-pipe, filled
For the faUen and the weak; i sublime spec less, amid much For you love, yet you refrain.
oui^t to be true. weeping and swear I break my heart on your hard unfaith, with Brimstone;
Foj if there were
They are slaves who will not choose tre when in the li^t the same, and
Hatred, scoffing and abuse. stillness of the ing, they are select And I Break my heart in vain.
sofiuwayby whidb. ed; all dressed in smoke in one an
some of us could
Rather in silence shrink ni^t, in an un Yet not for an hour do I wish undone other's faces, till
From the truth they needs must think: clouded sky, the red, and shipped
g^ free ^art from They are slaves who dare not be away, at the public The deed beyond the grave. the weaker give in:
qith^if^ere were stars, like the When I was a King in Babylon but from such pre
In the. right with two or three. world's choir, nse charges, some two
some way by which
" Freedom," by James Ruasett Lowell thousand miles, or And you were a Virgin Slave. dicted Peace-Era,
spmie of us could and set, end as it what blood-filled,
were divide exis say, only, to the " Or Ever the Knightly Years Were Gme."
have h^ven while south of Spain; and by Wmiarn Emest Henley trenches, and con
iiad hdl, if there were some way tence in to two portions,—-the one, fed there till tentious centuries,
iby part of Ihe world could escape ing to the earthly, is silent m the perfect wanted. And now to that same spot, in may still divide usl—Carlyle.
STOTO f>rm of the bli^t and peril and stmness of ni^t; whilst the other alone the south of Spain, are thirty similar si*
mis^ of didnhmted labor, then would comes forth in sublimity, pomp, and French ^isans, from a French Dum- GOTRY has no head and can not
cm vl^ld indeed be lost and damned; majesty. Viewed in this li^t, the starry drudge, in like manner wending; till at no heart and can not feel.
Mt since m^ have never been able to heavens truly exercise a moral mnuence leng^, after infinite effort, the two !en she moves it is in wrath; when she
sfp^ate themsdves from one anothier's over us; and who can readily stray into parties come into actual juxtaposition, pauses it is amid ruin. Her prayers are
w^ and WFdnga^ snnce history is fairly the paths of immorality if he hM been and Thirty stands fronting Thirty, each curses, her God is a demon, her commun
stxii^^ ^th the lesson that we can not accustomed to live amidst such thoughts with a gun in his hand. Straightway the ion is death, her vengeance is eternity,
escape brpthcarhdod of some kind, since and feelings, and frequently to dwell word ** Fire!" is given and they blow her decalogue written in the blood ofher
t^ wholie of life is teadui« us that we upon them? Howare weentranced by the the souls out of one another, and in place victims, and if she stops for a moment in
houfly diodsing between brother- simple splendors ofthis wonderful ^ama of sixty brisk useful craftsmen, the world her infernal flight it is upon a kindred rodk
in and brotherhood in of nature!—Wilhelm von Humboldt. has sixty dead carcasses, which it must to whet her v^ture fang for a more san
,gbbd; it remmm for us to choose the bury, and anew shed tears for. Had these guinary desolation.—^Daniel O'Ccmndl.
ibibth^^b^ of a co-operative ^rld. Himian nature craves novelty.—^Pliny.
 pageM ^ej«a4j» JSOOK. Page 35
'mMMKT HUBBARD^S
£ar back as we know any piness of his fdlowmen; as from habit, Grant that 1 may be a true, loyal friend, wine, men will trail along, torn from
thing about civilization, the following beneficial escperience, his sym a genial companion with the broad peaceful labor, from their wives,
cultivation of the soil has pathies became more tender, and widdy honest charity bom of an intimate mothers and children—hundreds of
ibeen the first and most im- diffused, extending to men of all races, knowledge of my own shortcomings. thousands of simple-minded, good-
If I win, crown me with the laurels fitting natured men with murderous weap
industry in any and finally to the lower animals, so
It wiU ialwasrs be. Herod- would the standard of his morality rise to be worn by a victor, and if I fall, may ons in their-hands—anywhere they may
@1^ of history,tdls the stoiy it be witii my face to the foe, fighting be driven. /
higher and higher.
^ .^ r^ in the Valley of the Lroking to future generations, there is manfully, and falling, fling to the host They will march, freeze, hunger, suffix
Eiipitoatees'^ behind,—play up, play up, and play the sickness, and die from it, or finally come
no cause to fear that the social instincts to some placewhere
^ sgsre' tilBt mth poor cultivation those will grow weaker, and we may expect game.—" The Op-
timist's Prayer,' The crest and crowning of all good. they will be dain
there got a srield of that virtuous habits will grow stronger. by ^ousandsorkill
&ir cultivation one hun- The strug^e between our higher and by William J. Rob Life'sfinal star, is Brotherhood;
For it will bring again to earth thousands them-
;^i^lid^ and>^m good cultivation two lower impulses will be less severe, and inson.
sdves with no tea-
tFhat Was the garden of the virtue will be triumphant. so Her long-lost Poesy and Mirth:
Will send new light on every face, son;menwhomthey
, its great cities, Babylon —Charles Darwin. HE bells will
have never seen
1^1 I^ev^, where are they? Piles oi £•» «•» peal, long A kingly power upon the race.
before, and who
des^ iuind iiiark where th^ stood. In
jPlaM of i^e itijllions th&t overran the
OHI Unsten Power that rules and con haired men will
dress in golden
And till it comes, we men are slaves,
And travel downward to the dust ofgraves. ndther have done
trols the destinies of the children of nor could do them
;itwi^ ^efe are a few wandering Arabs jearth: teach me the symphony of life so sacks to pray for
feeding h^rstan^ ^eep and goats. that mynaturemaybe in tune withThine. successful slaugh Come,clear the way, then, clear the way: any mischief.
Blind creeds and kings have had their And when the
: Pieman L^d of Ca- C Reveal to me ^e joy of being loving, ter. And the old
number of sick,
(naan wh^^ Children of s^-sacrificing and charitable. story will begin day.
wounded and killed
Teadi me to know and play life's game again, the awful Break the dead branches from the path:
Our hope is in the aftermath— becomes so great
iait mw^ with courage, fortitude and confidence. customary acts.
that l^ere are not
<1 Endow me with wisdom to guard my The editors of the Our hope is in heroic men.
Star-led to build the world again. hands enough left
it ^ nothier n^ honey, tongue and temper, and learn ^tji daily Press will be
to pick them up,
ii is a baxm w^ de^, peopled patience the art of ruling my own life for gin virulentiy to To this event the ages ran:
and when the air
..w^ttere4' robl^ bwds: A proviaon its highest good, with due regard for the stir men up to Make way for Brotherhood—make way is so infected with
fiK^aized the sofl of the ^vacy, ri^ts and limitations of other hatred and man for Man!
" Brotherhood," by EdwinMarkham the putrefying
y^fy of ^e INUe overflowing it Uves 9^ slaughter in the
scent of the " food
lev^ ye^., #fpm the ^liiest records Hdp me to strive for the highest legiti nameofpatriotism,
mate reward of merit, ambition, and happy in the receipt of an increased for powder" that even the authoritiesfind
of rftmiffkn^^^ ai^ todaythe land income. Manufacturers, merch^ts, con it disagreeable, a truce will be made, the
oppoctunily in my activities, ever ready woundedwUlbepickedupanyhow.thedck
l^tQ^ed ovei^bw is yidding to extend a kindly helping hand to those tactors for military store®, will huipr be brought in and huddled together in
who need encoiu-agement and succor in joyously about their business, in the
ever.
;;Itis m^e di^ by everyprocess of logic struggle. hope of double receipts. heaps, ^e killed will be covered with
All sorts of Government offidms will earth and lime, and once more the crowd
Enable me to give a smile instead of a of dduded men will be led on and on till
.;W^^ ,of a nati^ duo'acter of its frown, a cheerful, kindly word instead of buzz about, foreseeing a possibility of
purloining something more than usi^. those who have devised the project,
harshness and bitterness. weary of it, or till those who thought
wtitut^^alei Make me sympathetic in sorrow, realiz- The military authorities will hurry hither
^antdiV'OT agiife^tur^ foundation. and thither, drawing double pay and to find it profitable receive their spoil.
ixig that there are hidden woes in every And so once more men will be made sav
^ N^ ias^ c» ddtiamerce or life no matter how exalted or lowly. rations, and with the expectation of
•.^yerm^r 6f nianufactiiy anythix^ receiving for the slaughter of other men age, fierce and brutal, and love will wane
(0[ If in life's battie I am wounded or in the world, and the Christianizing of
*ie is tie an<^or ^ch tottering, pour into my wounds the balm various sillylittie ornaments which they mankUid, wUch has already begun, will
; hold thiou^' ifie' al^tiis of time of hope, and imbue me with courage un so hi^y prize, asribbons, crosses, orde^, lapse for scores and for hundreds ot
daunted to arise and continue the strife. and stars. Idle ladies and gentiemen will
make a great fiiss, entering their namesin years
I•' '• ^ (f|[ Keep me humble in every relation of And so the men who reaped profit from
' '^vai|D^ ^aduaUy in ihtd- life, not *mduly egotistical, nor liable to advance for the Red Cross Sodety, and
lectu^i ®<3^, vi^ eiiabl^ to readytobind up thewoundsofAosewhom it all will assert that since there has beeii
seiious sin of self-depreciation,
theirhusbands and brothers will mutilate; a war theremust needs have been one, and
sucde^ keep me meek.
andthey will imagine that in so doing they that other wars must follow, and they
guffl^ient Impw^ In mrtawt may my soul be uplifted by will again prepare future generaticms fm
;/'.y'''edgie'tb''' >rej^ 'ibanef^* icustoi^, and' the th&iig^t that if there were no shadow, are performing a most Christian work so
And, smothering despair withm tiieir a continuance of daui^ter, depraving
<^re irad th<m would be no simdiine, and that tliein from their birth.—Leo Tolstoy.
but 'i^e'Mj^ souls by songs, licentiousness, and
 36 mi,BBRT HVBBARD^S Page 37

N a sM^essand painless world moral value or significance of a race of T me do my work each day; »»|»|EN will have, tod must have, their
the moral dement would be himian beings ignorant of sin, and doing Iand if the darkened hours of |A| pleasures. Social reformers and tem
lacking; the goodness would beneficent acts with no more conscious despair overcome me, may perance agitators could not make a
have no more significance in ness or volition than the deftly con I not forget the strength greater mistake than by following the
bur conscious life than that trived machine that picks up raw ma [that comforted me in the example of the Puritans and tabuing all
load of atmosphere which we are always terial at one end, and turns out some desolation of other times. May I still pleasures. They ought to distinguish
graying about with us. finished product at the other? Clearly, remember the bright hours that foimd between those that have a tendency to
We are thus brou^t to a striking con for strong and resolute men and women, me walking over the silent hills of my excess and vice, and those that are harm
clusion, t^e essential soundness of which an Eden would be at best but a fool's childhood, or dreaming on the margin less tod ennobling, encouraging the
xiot be gain paradise.—^Fiske» of the quiet river, latter in every pos-
said. In a happy A silence there expectant, meaning. when a light glowed sible way. And first
wwld there must
Brief, so brief—the words were falling among those that
And then a voice clear-pitched and O-NOTHING within me, and I Ere men had time to note and weigh;
be pain and sor- promised my early should be encour
tense; days may be As if again the gods were calling
itiw,' and in a moral A thousand hearers, forward-leaning. the busiest ones God to have cour aged is music, be
From some Homeric yesterday. cause it is alwasrs
world the knowl Were in the thrall of eloquence. They are the days age amid the tem
edge of evil is in- in which we ab pests of the chang ennobling, and can
di^ensable. The No impulse this, no actor speaking be enjoy^ simul
He saw the graves of heroes sleeping. sorb; while on the ing years Spare Of thoughts which came by happy
stei^ necessity of He saw men's eyes suffused and dim; do-much days we me fit)m bitterness chance;
taneously by the
this has been A triumph great, a nation weeping. try to make others and from the sharp greatest number.
plwed to inhere in
The man, the place, were God's own Its effect is wdl
Found true expression there in him. absorb from us passions of un seeking;
i^e innermost con- whatever we have guarded moments. The words are our inheritance.
described in Mar
stiliition of the Not often in a nation's story. in overplus: rib May I not forget garet Fuller's pri
ihuxlw soul. It is Such words supreme, such manhood bons, wisdom or that poverty and vate journal: I
p^ and parcel of
AP([use, a hush, a wonder growing; fdt raised above
fine; cheese. If we often- /riches are of the Aprophets vision, understood;
#ie universe To He gave that day our grief and glory er eased the. strain spirit. Though the all care, all pain,
him who is dis
In that strange spell of his bestowing. all fear, and every
The dignity of things divine, on our eyes and world know me not, Theydreamed,with him,ofBrotherhood.
posed to cavil at (Condttded onnext page) minds, we should may my thoughts taint of vulgarity
&e World which '• Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg," was washed out of
be enriched by im and actions be such by Harrison D. Mason
God h^ in sudi wise created, we may pressions that in our usual attent and as shall keep me
the world." That is
fairly put the question whether the pros precisely wherein
mastering attitude we refuse to heed. friendly with my-
pect of escape from its ills would ever Americans ought to have a wholesome sdf. Lift my eyes from the earth, and the moral power of music lies; for vulgar
mditce him to put off this human con- laziness preadbied to them, after three let me not forget the uses of the stars. ity is the twin sister of vice.
sq^pu^ess, tod ac^^t some form of exis- —^Henry T. Finck.
centuries of tuning to gain and work, Forbid that I should judge others, lest I
t<m^ tKoknown and inconceivable! T^e and several patriotic citizens make condemn mjrself. Let me not follow the
ia dear: on the one hand a ^camples of themselves, for the public clamor of the world, but walk calmly in
<£;|^RS00TH, brothers, fellowship is
worldwil^ sin a&d suffering,on the other heaven, and the lack of fellowship is
benefit, by refraining from toil. ^ my path. Give me a few friends who will hell; fellowship is life and the lack of
hftsd em< imthixikable world in whidi —Charles M. Skinner. love me for what I am; and keep ever
cpnsdpus life docs not involve contrast. burning before my vagrant steps the fellow^ip is death; and the deeds that
We do find that evil has been inter- OVERN the lips as they were palace- ye do upon the earth, it is for fellowship's
kindly light of hope. And though age sake that ye do them. Therefore, I bid
FKjla^d! mto'the universe from without; doors, the king within; tranquil and and infirmity overtake me, and I come you not dwell in hell, but in heaven—
tl^t, cm the contrary, it is an fair and courteous be all words which not within sight of the castle of my upon earth, which is a part of heavcaa
Qi^i tt&'e CTeiator of evil, from the
from that presence win. dreams, teach me still to be thankful for and forsooth no foul part.
—Sir Edwin Arnold. life, and for time's olden memories that
eteri^ G^eme of things diabolism is are good and sweet; and may the
—^William Morris.
lofev^ ealduded. Oimuzd atiH Ahriman MAN asked to define the essential evening's twilight find me gentle still. me the money that has been
perished, along characteristics of a gentleman- —^Max Ehrmann. spent in war, and I will dothe every
! special creation and using the term in its widest sense—^would mto, woman and child in an attire of
ftoci^ of the untutored mind, presumably reply, " The will to put him
fipom our pre^t standpoint we may self in the place of others; the horror of -f^EADING is to the mind what exer- whi(^ kings tod queens would be proud.
ffi^iy ,ai^, wJ^t wotdd have been the J^£^e is to the body. As by the on^ I will build a schoolhouse in every valley
forcing others into positions from which over the whole earth. I will crown ev«y
wpp^' of that primitive innocence por- he would himself recoil; the power to do health is preserved, strengthened, tod
invigorated: by the other, virtue (which hillside with a place of worship conse
1^3^' in #e of the Garden ot what seems to him to be ri^t, without crated to the gospel of peace.
hild> it ever be^ reaUzed in the considering what others may say or is the health of the mind) is k^t alive,
life of li^? W^t would have 'been the think."—^John Galswortliy. cherished tod confirmed.—Addison. —Charles Sumner.
 Page $9
BqgeM *BLBBRSr HUBBAKD*S
HE love of dirt is among the fruit-trees begin to show; the blood is
O'Alt has become foolishly XT is the prime secret of the Open earliest of passions, as it is running up the grape-vines in streams;
ponfbunded with education Road that you are to pass nothing, Wi the latest. Mud-pies gratify you can smell the wild-flowers on the
that all should be equally reject nothing, despise nothing upon this near bank; and the birds are flying and
one of our first and best
qualified earth. As you travel, many things both dancing and singing eversrwhere.
instincts. So long as we are
Whe^, wMepolish,refine- g^^t and small will come to your atten dirty we are pure. Fondness for the To the open kitchen-door comes the busy
-j— - ' —- —— (3 areinnoway
w • AAw •• tion; you are to regard all with open eyes ground comes back to a man after he housewife to shake a white something,
for artistic results, it is also no and a heart of simplicity. Believe that has run the round of pleasure and busi and stands a moment to look, quite
feproa^ 'to most fini^ed scholar or eversrthing belongs somewhere; each ness, eaten dirt, and sown wild-oats, transfixed by the ddi^tful si^ts and
gmtieman in the land that he tlung has its fitting and luminous place drifted about the sounds. Hoeing in
^ Without ^e for painting or within this mosaic of human life. The world and t^ra the garden on a
inuaic^^ in his heart he prefer Road is not open to those who with the wind of all its The night has a thousand eyes, brii^t, soft May
. ^ P^iilair print to draw the skirts of intolerance or lift the moods. The love of And the day but one. day, when you are
iiei^e,, or the songs of the hall. chin of pride. Rejecting the least of digging in the not obliged to, is
|Q G minor i^mphony. Let who are called conmion or unclean, grotmd (or of look
Yet the light of the bright world nearly equal to the
4»ve but the wit to say so, and not it is (curiously) you yourself that you ing on while he dies delight of going
a^Di^on a proofof inferiority. reject ^ pays anotherto dig) trouting a*
^^^happen8~iw hovdi is safe from it, If you despise that which is ugly you With the dying sun. Blessed be agricul
is as sure to come
^ dependupon it, the vast- do not know that which is beautiful. back to him as he ture!—if one does
can not bring it about, —^David Grajrson. is sure, at last, to The mind has a thousand eyes. not have too mudi
PSpy to make it universal end go underthegroxmd And the heart but one, of it. All literature
^ fu^t ooi^y, and coarse farce.
JS a^titshioiild' be-^^^iEind all attempts
XN its heart the world cares for little and stay there. To Yet the light of a whole life dies
is fragrant with it,
in a gentlemanly
but play; but in its life it does hardly ownabit of groimd,
inate otteiwise are due to do- anything but work, for the world has When its love is done, way. At the foot of
to scratch it with a
of the: igncnantf the zeal of the forgotten that the reason of its work is— the charming,
hoe, to plant seeds, —Francis W. Bowrditton olive-covered Mils
play. The natural man works that he and watch their re
may play—^works that he may love and newal of life—^this of Tivoli, ^race
dream, and Imow while he may the is the commonest delight of the race, the a sunny farm: it was in sight of
^ thixA t^t, by means of wonders and joys of the strange and most satisfactory thing a man can do. Hadrian's villa, who did landscape-gar-
any real oommimication can • lovely world which for a short space he is dening on an extensive scale, and prob
paM ftom OTe man to another. The Vhien Cicero writes of the pleasures of
allowe^ to inhabit; the unnatural man old age, that of agriculture is chiefamong ably did not get half as much comfort
n^^^t i^t we have wmething to say plays 'that he may work. So unnatural them 69' «•» from it as Horace did from his more
to \We are compelled tp hold indeed have we become that not only simply tilledacres. Wetrust that Horace
^UF.p^ce: and if at such tim^ we do not have we forgotten our dreams, but we
To dig in the mdlow soil—^to dig mod did a little hoeing and farming himadf,
^e ui^ent commands of silence, have actually grown ashamed of them.
erately, for all pleasure should be taken and that his verse is not all fraudulent
m^T>|e ^ugh th^ b^ we shall have C Proverbially there is nothing of which
sparin^y—is a great thing. One gets affentiment. In order to eiyoy ^culture
Wered: ^_ .^ei^ loss that all the an Englishn:ian is so mudbi ashamed as his strength out-of the grourid as often as you do not want too mudi of it, and yoa
^toyasuTMj of humeoai wisdom not pnotic^. To suspect him of sentiment one touches it with a hoe. Anteeus was want to be poor enough to have a little
|o^; fer We shaU have let slip the is to imply insult, to surprise hind in no doubt an agriculturist; and such a inducement to work moderatdy yoursdf.
®Wo®timity of listening to another soul, tears is to commit a mortal offense. prize-fighter as Hercules could n't do Hoe while it is Spring and enjoy the bert
of givmg eidsfea^ be it only for Lau^ter he still retains, but too often anjrthing with him till he got him to lay anticipations. It is not mudi matter if
^ mstj^t, to for the unworthy purpose of laughing at down his spade and quit the soil. It is things do not turn out wdl.
flgafe, ij^ubt whe&er luiything in other people's emotions, and ridiculing not simply potatoes and beets and com —Charles Dudley Warner.
^ti^egusly, naturdly,
spon-
the
beautifultilingshenolongerunderstands. and cucumbers that one raises in his
England inde^is the Siberia ofemotions. well-hoed garden; it is the average of |B have committed the Golden Riie
™me^e win^h^ in its neifSh- Let us all escape from Siberia. human life. There is life in the ground; to memory; let us now pommit it
DWhppa a pure and xioble beinff —^Ridbiard Gallieime. it goes into the seeds; and it also, when to life
It ^ unreserve^y Ibve. it is stirred up, goes into the man who We have preached Brotherhood for
w^Qthe s^i has y^tably di«wn near HE law should be loved a little be- stirs it. The hot sun on his back as he centuries; we now need to find a materi^
to such, a ^b^, ^uty is no longer a cause it is felt to be just; feared a bends to his shovel and hoe, or con basis for brotherhood. Government
^e e^ibitd t# little because it is severe; hated a little templatively rakes the warm and fra be made the organ of FratemiQr-^
f foT' it 'suddetily takes upto' because it is to a certain degree out of grant loam, is better than much medi worl^g-form for comrade^love.
sympathy with the prevalent temper of Think on this-rwork for this.
^
arovitgr b^a^mra evince,asand to its the day; and respected because it is
cine. The buds are coming out on the
—Edwin Markham.
henccfbrth iitesisfeibie^yB^;^^^ bu^es roimd about; the blossoms of the
fdt to be a necessity.—Emile Fourget.
B^e40 ^LBERSr HUBBARD^S Page 41
N these dasrs, much of the those odd moments? €[ Thomas A. Think of the odd quarter of an hour in leading theology. Do not feed children
profit and sometimes the Edison, for instance,, was hammering the morning before breakfast, the odd on a maudlin sentimentalism or dogmatic
wholeofsuccessdependupon away at a telegraph-key when he was half-hour after breakfast, remember the religion; give them Nature. Let their
Utilizing the odds and ends, telegraph-operator on a small salary. chance to read, or figure, or think with souls drink in all that is pure and sweet.
the so-called ''by-products." He did n't neglect the by-product, the concentration on your own career, that Rear them, if possible, amid pleasant
<5! The by-prc^uct is something apdrt odd moments. He thought, and planned, comes now and again in the day. All ot surroundings. If they come into the
fi^zn the main article manufactured, and tried between messages. And he these opportunities are the by-products world with souls groping in darkness, let
and yet something that has an actual worked out, as a by-product of his of your daily existence. them see and feel the light. Do not teirity
^ue of its own. For instan(%, in the telegraph job, all the inventions that Use them, and you may find what many them in early life with the fear ofan after-
m^ufacture of gas have given him of the greatest con world. Never was^a
are many by- And this I hate—not men, nor flag nor millions, and given cerns have found, All these I hate—war and its panoply. child made more
|ni^ucts; these are race. to the inhabitants that the real profit The lie that hides its ghastly mockery. noble and good by
obt^ed from the But orily War with its wild, grinning of the world thou is in the utilization That makes its glories out of women's a fear of Hell
as the latter is face, sands of millions' of the by-products. Let Nature teac^
made into lighting- tears.
God strike it till its eyes be blind as worth of dollars in Among the aim The toil of peasants through the them the lessons of
1^. And these by- night. new ideas. less, unsuccessful good and proper
pi^uds, including burdened years.
And all its members tremble with Benjamin Franklin or worthless, you living, combined
the coke from the The legacy of long disease thai preys
offright! in his story of his often hear talk
On bone and body in the after-days.
with w abimdance
actually suf Oh, let it hear in its death agony life shows an end about "killing God's curses pour.
of well-balanced
fice to p^ the cost The wail of mothers for their best- less number of such time." The man nourishment.
Until it shrivel with its votaries
of the gas. loved ones. efforts along the who is always kill Those children will
Idn^ of big And die away in its own fiery seas,
And on its head lines using the odd ing time is really grow to be the best
That nevermore
busmesses have Descend the venomed curses of its sons moments. In a hun killing his own men and women,
Its dreadful call of murder may be heard;
by-products, Whofollowed her, deluded, where its dred different ways chances in life; l^t the best in
^eirlittie odds and A thing accursed in very deed and word
guns he managed to while the man who
From blood-drenched shore to shore!
them by contact
rad^ that pay well. Had dyed the daisies red, make the extra is destined to suc with the best out
In' ]M&. Armour's (Condtuled on next page) hours useful and cess is the man who " The Hymn of Hate," by Joseph Dana MiUer side. They will ab
fnormous meat- productive. makes time live sorb it as a plant
f&aory, for instance, there are endless What a man does in his odd moments is by making it useful.—^Arthur Brisbane. absorbs the sunshine and the dew. •
by-products, from the pigtails which are not only apt to bring him profit; it is apt —^Luther Burbank.
cl^ed and sold as a delicapy, to the hair also to increase his .mental activity HAT is the good of prescribing to
of animals made into a powerful, valu The mind craves a change, and it often art the roads that it must follow P| BOVE the indistinguishable roar of
able J^d of rope. does well the unusual thing, out of the To do so is to doubt art, which develops
If Armour neglected making the the many feet I fed the presence of
routine normally according to the laws of Nature, the Sim, of the immense forces of the
h^ r^^. Or selling the pigtails, it would " Letting well enough alone" is a foolish and must be exclusively occupied in' universe, and beyond these the sense of
o^e jpt difference in his dividends «•» motto in the life of a man who wants to responding to human needs. Art has the eternal now, of the immortal. Full
JIPb§ pp^t ifer the reader is this: The get ahead. In the first place, nothing is always shown itself faithful to Nature, aware that all has failed, yet, side by
man does not manufacture, " well enough," if you can do better and has marched with social progress. side with the sadness of that knowledge,
H a rule,^t we are, all of us, dealers in No matter how well you are doing, do The ideal of beauty can not perish in a there lives on in me an unquenchable
better. There is an old Spanish proverb healthy society; we must then give belief, thought burning like the sun, that
Tuto is ^e (Me thing we possess. Our which says, " Enjoy the little you have liberty to art, and leave her to herself. t^ere is yet something to be found, some
dep^ds Upon the use of our while the fool is himting for more." «•» Have confidence in her; she will reach thing real, something to give each
aiid its l^-product, the odd The energetic American ought to turn her end, and if she strays from the way separate personality sunshine and flow
roi3m<mt £•> this proverb upside down and make it she will soon reach it again; society
lat^ of ^ has aregular day's work that read, " While the fool is enjojring the ers in its own existence now. Something
itself will be the guide. No single artist, to shape this million-handed labor to an
he dit^iin a iputiiie, more or less-mechan- little he has, I will hunt for more." not Shakespeare himself, can pr^cribe
m, He do« his clerking, his The way to hunt for more is to utilize end and outcome, leaving accumulated
to art her roads and aims.—Dostoievski. sunshine and flowers to those who shall
wxiti^i. his type^ting, or whatever it ^ your odd moments. succeed. It must be dragged forth by
S^y ibe, so nwny hours per day. And Every minute that you save by making BELIEVE emphatically in religion. might of thought from the immense
e^ds it. it useful, more profitable, is so much God made religion, and man made
what a]^ut the by-product, the odd forces of the xmiverse.—^Richard Jefiries.
added to your life and its possibilities. theology, just as God made the country
n^oin^ts?' Do ^u loiow tibat the'men Every minute lost is a neglected by and man the town. I have the largest
have miade gr^t Successes in tiis product—once gone, you will never get 83rmpathy for religion, and the larg^t There is a chord in every he^ that has
5^1d' are ^e men that have used wisely it back. contempt I am capable of for a mis a sigh in it if touched aright.—Ouida.
 *mmBRSr in/BBARD*S
HERB is one beautiful sifi^t
in the East End, and only
one, and it is ^e children
dancing in the street when
the organ-grinder goes his
rpimil Xt is foscinating to watc^ them,
i|e; $^-bom, the next generation,
^rayu^ and stepping, with pretty little
ra^Smes and graceful inventions all
ollm, mth muscles that move
swi^y wd easily, and bodies that leap
aMy* 'v^ying rhythms never taus^t in
I iave tedk^: with tiiese diildren, here,
®^^d ev^tywh^e, and th^ struck
l^jisit^g bri^t asother children, and
m n^y wiays eyen brighter. They have
a<^ve litde ima^nations. Their
rapaci^^ for prbjectwg themsdves into
^ of ipmance and fantasy is re-
$ii?^ble^ A joyous life is romping in
blooS ddi^t in music, and
and cplipr, and very often they
b^^y a starring .beauty of face and
foi^ kndf^ their filth cmd rags.
thwe is a Pied Pq)er of London
iro^ who steds them all away. They
d^ppear. (^e ni^er Sees them again,
OT ^y^^g them^You may
Iwk for l^em in vain among the gener-
of gi^vm-ups. Here you will find
stolid imndsi Grace, beauty, imagina-
are Soteetimes^ howler, you nu^
see woixuua, not necess^y old, but
tvriltid' i^d of ail woman-
hoo4^ blj^ed imd' drunken, lift her
dfas^^i ddrte and execute a feW
tesque and lun^^ st^ upon the
payenueiltift is a ttt t^t ibe was once
rae of c^#en who dsmced to the
or^an-^g^defii^dsei^ot^ue andlum-
beHrig, steps^^ t^t is left of tlie.
of c^d&sod. In the befogg^
'recedesof her 'bram'hasansen a dieting
flo^xnpiy #at^^e was once a gibl. The
Lit^ gufte ^e
her, alteut her,, ^tfe the pret^
^^c^ r^Ub^^ b^t uo
nu)ro than pe^y mtih t>^y. Thra
she ,pants for w^th, ei^auSt^, ^d
stufi^lira cm^ But the
iittie^g^i^danc^
^OOjFC Page 43
The children ofthe Ghetto possess all the DON'T know what I would
and most of the suffering in the world.
qualities which make for noble man do if I had only "two min —Brand Whitlock.
hood and womanhood; but the Ghetto
utes to live," or what mes «•»
itself, like an infuriated tigress turning sage I should give to the
on its young, turns upon and destroys all beseech Thee, Lord, to behold us
these qualities, blots out the light and
world. If I really thought I viywith favor, folk of many fa^ies
had only that time to live, I should like and nations, gathered together in the
lau^ter, and moulds those it does not to take time to think up a fine and noble peace of this roof; weak men and women,
kill into sodden and forlorn creatures, message so that my last words might subsisting under the covert of Thy
uncouth, degraded, and wretched below
have Ae dignity of those we have read patience. Be patient still; suffer us yet
the beasts of the field.—^Jack Liondon. about, which prob
^ «•»
awhile longer —
ably were n't last with our broken
^HEN we succeed in adjusting our words at all. So he died for his faith. That is fine,
social structure in such a way as to purposes of good,
However, I think More than most of us do. with our idle en
enable us to solve soci^ questions as fast if I had the power But, say, can you add to that line deavors against
as they become, really pressing, they to do what I wish That he lived for it, too? evil — suffer us
will no longer force their way into the to do for human In his death he bore untness at last awhile longer to en
theater. Had Ibsen, for instance, had ity, I would give to As a martyr to the truth. dure, and (if it
any reason to believe that the abuses to Did his life do the same in the past.
every person the may be) help us do
which he called attention in his prose ability to put him From the days of his youth?
better. Bless to us
plays would have been adequately at self into the place It is easy to die. Men have died oui extraordinary
tended to without his interference, he
of every other per For a wish or a whim— mercies; if the day
would no doubt have gladly left them son in the world. From bravado or passion or pride. come when these
alone. The same exigency drove William Was it harder for him? must be taken*
Morris in En^and from his tapestries, C In this way he
would have that But to live—every day to live out have us play the
his epics; and his masterpieces of print education, that All the truth that he dreamt. man under afflic
ing, to tiy and bring his fellow-citizens culture which While his friends met his conduct with tion. Be with our
to their senses by the summary process comes of the high doubt friends; be with
of shouting at them in the streets and in est quality of im And the world with contempt. ourselves. Go with
Trafalgar Square. John Ruskin's writing agination, and that Was it thus that he plodded ahead. each of us to rest;
began with Modern Painters, Carlyle quality, I take it, Never turning aside? if any awake, tem
began with literary studies of German Then we'll talk of the li)e that he lived* per to them the
has been most per
culture and the like; both were driven to Never mind how he died,
fectly exemplified dark hours of
become revolutionary pamphleteers. If in the poets and ** Life and Death," by Ernest Crosby watching; and
people are rotting and starving in all saviors of the race, when the day re
directions, and nobody else has the in that they were turns to us, our
heart or brains to make a disturbance able to feel and suffer what others were sun and comforter, call us up with
about it, the great writers must. feeling and suffering, and when we come morning faces and with morning hearts
—George Bernard Shaw. to a time when we realize just what the —eager to labor—eager to be happy, if
other fellow is suffering we will be moved happiness shall be our portion—^and it
tRY one now believes that there
by the desire to help him, and when we the day be marked for sorrow—strong
is in a man an animating, niling, are moved by the desire to help him we to endure it.—" An Evening Prayer,"
diaracteristic essence, or spirit, which is come to a time when we see that this by Robert Louis Stevenson.
himself. This spirit, dull or bri^t, petty help must be administered intelligently,
or grand, pure or foul, looks out of the and ultimately we realize that it is the frtKEN I would beget content and
ores, sounds in the voice, and appears in denial of equality, the denial of liberty, increase confidence in the power
the manners of each individusd. It is political and economic, in the world and wisdomand providence of Almighty
what we call personality. which is tiie cause of most of its suffer God, t will walk the meadows by some
-Chas. W. Eliot. ing. If we had a world made up of people gliding stream, and there contemplate
possessing this quality of imagination, the lilies that take no care, and ^ose
Sle^ hath its own world, a boundary this kind of culture, we would soon do very many other little living creatures
iMitween the things misnamed death and
away with the causes of involuntary that are not only created, but fed (man
eristence.-—B3rron.
poverty, and to do away with involim- knows not how) by the goodness of the
tary poverty would mean to do away God of Nature, and therefore trust in
Reason is the life of the law.—Coke.
with practically all the crime and vice llim.—Izaak Walton.
 Wage44 '^LBBRT flUBBARD^S Page 4S

HAVE no special regard for -»HE so-called artistic temperament HAT distinguishes war is, BOW the imiversal heart of man
Satan, but I can at least explains the failure of innumerable not that man is slain, but blesses flowers! They are wreathed
daim that I have no pre talented men and women who never get that he is slain, spoiled, round the cradle, the marriage-altar and
judice against him. It may over the frontier line of accomplishment. crushed by the cruelty, the the tomb. The Persian in the Far East
even be that I have been Symptoms of the artistic temperament injustice, the treachery, the delights in their perfume, and writes his
^favor, on accountof his not should be fought to the death. murderous hand of man. love in nosegays; while liie Indian child
a fair show. All rdigions issue Work, work, whether you want to or not. The evil is moral evil. War is the con of the Far West daps his hands with
_ against him, but we never hear I throw away a whole day's work some centration of all human crimes. Here is glee as he gathers the abundant blossoms
5^v^de. We have none but the evidence times, but the simple effort of turning its distinguishing, accursed brand. Under —^the illuminated scriptoes of the
it out has kept its standard gather prairies.The Cupid
^41 yet we have It is portentous, and a thing of state my steam up and violence, malignity, His head is bowed. He thinks on men of the andent I£n-
f^dered the ver- prevented me rage, fraud, per and kings. doos tipped his ar
That here, at midnight, in our little town rows with flowers,
To my mind A mourning figure walks, and will not from lagging be fidy, rapacity and Yea, when the sick world cries, how
is irregular. It hind. You can not lust. If it only slew can he sleep? and orange-flowers
rest.
is un-Eogl^, it is Near the old court-house pacing up and work an hour at men, it would do Too many peasants fight, they know are a bridal crown
anything without little. It turns man not why. with us, a nation
down.
W cpur^, Satan leamingsomething. into a beast ofprey. Toomany homesteads in black terror weep. of yesterday.
xu|s #ine kind of a €[ The matter of Here is the evil of Flowers garlanded
Or by his homestead, or in shadowed the Gredan altar,
ca^, it goes with yards giving life to the warthat man, made Thesins of all the war-lords bum his heart.
out ^ying. It may pages of a novel to be the brother, He sees the dreadnoughts scouring and hung in votive
He lingers where his children used to
be a poor one, but is the result of becomes the dead every main. wreath before the
%^at is nothing; ploy* Christian shrine.
Or through the market, on the well- industrious study ly foe of his kind; He carries on his shawl-wrapped
ithat cw be said of human beings. that man, whose shoulders now AUthese are appro
worn stones
ateiut any of us. Writing is the re duty it is to miti The bitterness, the folly and the pain. priate uses. Flow
He stalks until the daum-stars burn
^ n as I can sult of thinking gate suffering, ers should deck the
away,
m at the facts I about things to makes the inflic He can not rest until a spirit-dawn brow of the youth
undertake his A bronzed, lank man! His suit of write about and tion of his suffer Shall come; the shining hope of Europe ful bride, for they
fj^abilitation my- studying the details ing his study and free; are in tiiemselves
ancient black, a lovely t3T>e of
sdf, if I can find A famous high top-hat and plain worn of contempora end; that man, The league of sober folk, the Worker^
^ impolite pub- shawl neous life, so that whose office it is Earth, marriage. They
li^^. It is a thing Make him the quaint great figure that you may set them to avert and heal Bring long peace to Cornland, Alpand Sea. should twine round
w^^ we ought to men love, down, not imagina the wounds which the tomb, for their
4p for anybody The prairie-laujyer, master of us all. tively but accu come fromNature's It breaks his heart that kings must murder perpetually renew
who is under a rately. — David powers, makes re still. ed beauty is a sjnn-
cl^d ^ Graham Phillips. searches into Na That all his hours of travail here for men bol of the resxuxec-
He can not sleep upon his hillside now. tion. They should
We ffl^y iiot pay He is among us:—as in times before! ture's laws, and Seem yet in vain. And who unll bring
'him! revi^^ce, for w e a r e arms himself with white peace festoon the altar,
And we who toss and lie awake for long for their fragrance
fet would be in Breathe deep, and start, to see him tempted to her most awful That he may sleep upon his hill again?
discreet, but we pass the door. make war upon forces, that he may " Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight," and their beauty
qto at least respect (Concluded on next page) another nation, we become the de by Vachel Lindsay ascend in perpet
his talents: A per- shall remember stroyer of his race. ual wor^ip before
soip' wliuj h^, for untold centuries main that we are seeking to destroy an element Nor is this all. There is also found m war the Most High.—^L. M. Child.
tained the imposing position of spiritual of our own culture, and possibly its most a cold-hearted indifference to human
h^d of fouTrfifths of the human race, important element. As long as war is miseries and wrongs, perhaps more HEN you get into a tight place and
^d political he&d of the whole of it, regarded as wicked, it will always have shocking than the bad passions it calls everj^ing goes against you, till it
i^ust ^ granted' the possession of execu its fascination. When it is looked upon forth. To my mind, this contempt of seems as though you could not hold on a
tive abilities of tiie loftirat order. In his as vulgar, it will cease to be popular. human nature is singularly offensive. To minute longer, never give up then, for
presence the o^er popes and —Oscar Wilde. hate expresses something like respect. that is just the place and time that the
politicians shrink to midgets for But in war, man treats his brother as tide will turn.—^Harriet Beecher Stowe.
nucrpscppe. I would- like to see lUcannot force the growthofhiunan nothing worth; sweeps away himian
ikdm. I' wotjld rather see him and life and civilization, any more than multitudes as insects; tramples them ESPISE not any man, and do not
sh^e ^hi^i by ^e tail than any other you can force these slow-growing trees. down as grass; mocks at the rights, and spurn anjrthing; for there is no man
Inemb^ of the iliiurppean Concert. Thatisthe economyofAlmi^tyGod, that does not deign a thought to their woes. that hasnothis hour, nor is there anything
—Mark Twain. all good growth is slow growth.—Gaynor. —William Ellery Channing. that has not its place.—^Rabbi Ben Azai.
#^#L# *mSBRT fWBBAIU>*S
majesfy ofsuffering labor
is no Icmger dumb: it speaks
now with a million tongues,
land it asks the nations not
_ to increase the ills which
dp^- the workers by an added
b^i^ of mistirust and hate, by wars
apd^p6ct£ition of wars.
you may ask how and when
in w^t form this longing for inter-
nal^iial' concord will express itself to
puipose.... I cano^y answer you
% a iMu^ll^le Which I leaned by frag
ments ij^m the legends of Merlin, the
mae#^, £bm the Arabian Nights, and
^m a b^k that is still unread.
upon a time there was an en-
dginted' forest. It had been stripped of
1^1 ve^ur^ it Was ^d and forbidding.
ti^i tci^' by the bitter winter
•Wted t^t never ce£^ed, struck one
fiiipth!^ jxnth a sound as of breakmg
^i^en at la^, after a long series
^ freezing n^ts abd sunless days that
see&i^' like nights, all living things
troo^lc^^^ firet call of spring, the
ip tmve wit^ them. And the solitary
ij^d ibitttf ^irit that had its dwdling
within hard bark of eadh of them
ve^ low, wit^ a shudder that came
up from #e deeped ix>ots: Have a care(
H thw ^ the fim to risk jddding to
tfee i^ing of the new sea^, if thou art
the to turn thy lance-like buds into
:blpssbt|^ an^ lea^* theif ddicate
x#Q^t will be torn by the roug^ blows
^ tf^ it^t have bera slower to put
forth leaves^ a^ flowers*"
^d the pr^di ,aiid CKlantholy spirit
;^t was|h^ upm thegxeat Dniid-
M' osk t^ke to its tree mth peculiar
t^n^ence: " Md wStthou, too, s^ to
jo^ ^e ^v^^ Ipve^feast, t^u whose
itoble branches ihave beto biroken by the
storm? " a t f '
^us, ia ^ ^di^ted fdi^, mutu^
distrust droY^ back- Mpj anidt pro^
longed' l^e d^uMihi'iyce wint# evi^ ^er
caili Of ipm^.
^V^ ha^p^id'^ last? ^ v^at mys-
iiatous was ^e grim chann
brpke^? Bidi sonw tree Bnd ^ cpura^
to act^^one; Ute;^ose poplardth^
break into a ^ower of verdiu-e, and give
from afar the signal for a renewal of all
life? Or did a warmer and more life-
giving beam start the sap moving in all
the trees at once? For loJ in a single day
the. whole forest burst forth into a
magnificent flowering of joy and peace.
—^Jean Leon Jaurte.
JOIN with you most cordially in
I 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 TOn-
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 t^e
mountains; what rivers rendered Mvig-
able, or joined by canals; what bridg^,
aqueducts, new roads, arid other public
works, educes and improvements, ren
dering England a complete paradise,
mi^t not have been obtained by spend
ing those millions in doing good, which in
the last war have been spent in doing
mischief-r-in bringing misery into thou
sands of families and destrosring the lives
of so many working people, who might
have performed the usefiil labors.
—^Franldin.
XT is a glorious privilege to live, to'
know, to act, to listen, to behold,
to love. To look up at the blue sunmier
sky; to see the sun sink slowly beyond
the line of the hori2on; to watch the
worlds come twinlding into view, first
one by one, and the mjrriads that no
man can coimt, and lo! the universe is
white with them; and you and I are
here.—^Marco Morrow.
BLIEVBme,everymanha8hi88ecret
sorrows, which the world knows
riot; and oftentimes we call a man cold
he is only 8ad.~Lcmgfellow.
Page 47
,GE, that lessens the enjoy ^HAT if I differ from some in rdig-
ment of life, increases our ious apprdbensions? Am I therefore
desire of living. Those dan incompatible with human societies? I
gers which, in the vigor of know not any unfit for political society
youth, we had learned to but those who maintain principles sub
despise, assimie new terrors as we grow versive of industry, fiddity, justice and
old. Oiir caution increasing as our years obedience. Five things are requisite for
increase, fear becomes at last the pre a good officer; ability, dean hands, dis
vailing passion of the mind, and the patch, patience and impartiality.
small remainder of —WOli^ Penn.
life is taken up in
useless efforts to The streets are full of human toys. STRONG Ufo
keep off our end, or Wound up for threescore yeafs; is like that ot
provide for a con Their springs are hungers, hopes,and a ship of war whidi
tinued existence »•» joys. has its own place
Whence, then, is And jealousies and fears. in the fleet and can
this increased love sharein its strength
of life, which grows They move their eyes, their lips, their and disdpline, but
upon us with our hands; can also go forth
years? Whence ' They are rnarvellously dressed; alone to the soli
comes it that we And here my body stirs or stands, tude of the infinite
thus make greater A plaything like the rest. sea. We ought to
efforts to preserve belong to society,
our existence at a The toys are played with till theyfaU, to haveour place in
period when it be it and yet be capa
Worn out and thrown away.
comes scarce worth Why were they ever made at aU! ble of a complete
the keeping? Is it individual exis
Wio sits to watch the playt
that Nature, atten ** Playthings,'* by RobertLouisStevenson tence outside of it.
tive to the preser —^P. G. Hamerton.
vation of mankind,
increases our wishes to live, while she Happiness in this world, when it
lessens our enjoyments; and, as she robs comes, comes inddentally. Make it
the senses of every pleasure, equips imag the object of pursuit, and it leads us a
ination in the spoil? Life would be insup wild-goose chase, and is never attained.
portable to an old man, who loaded with Follow some other object, and very pos
infirmities, feared death no more than sibly we may find t^t we have cau^^t
happiness without dreaming of it; but
when in the vigor of manhood: the
numberless calamities of deca3dng Na likdy enough it is gone the moment we
ture, and the consciousness of surviving
every pleasure would at once induce him
say to oursdves, " Here it isl"Uke the
chest of gold that treasure-sedcers find.
with his own hand to terminate the —^Nathaniel I&wthome.
scene of misery: but happily the con
tempt of death forsakes him at a time HOR those who seek Truth and would
when it could only be prejudicial, and follow her; for those who recognize
life acquires an imaginary value in pro Justice and would stand for her, success
portion as its real value is no more. is not the only thing. Success I Why,
—Oliver Goldsmith. '"Falsehood has often &at to give; and
Injustice often has that to give. Must not
He who would do some great thing in Tmth and Justice have something to
this short life must apply himself to give that is^eir own by proper rig^t—
work with such a concentration of his ^eirs in essence, and not by acddent?
forces as, to idle spectators, who live only That they have, and not here and now,
to amuse themselves, looks like insanity. every one who has fdt their exaltation
—^Parkman. knows.—^Henry George.
me 48 ALBERT HUBBAKD'S
we say a man or a
we know is a thor-
)U^-bred, we pay to him
her the greatest com-
liment of which we are
is not in the vocabulary
of pleasant terms a stronger word.
tite a stock-farm, the home of high-
grade horses or ca^e,'and you vH31 see
l^t the physical signs of the thorou^-
toed are &e eyes and an erect bearing.'
These are the symbols of a hi^, gener-
(^ spint
The keeper of the stock-farm will tell
that a thoroughbred never whines.
Ow illustrated this to me by swinging a
(log ^und by the tail. The creature
in pain, but no sound escaped him.
" You see," said the keeper, " they
nevw complain. It ain't in 'em. Same
way when a stable, bums. It ain't the
horses that scream when they 're
bmim'. It *8 the worst."
AH this is quite as true of the human
The visible signs of the
in^sible ^irit are the ^es that are
8|rady-and shoulders that are strai^t.
No burdra except possibly the we^t ot
n^y years bends his Moulders, and
his ^es meet yours in honest fashion,
ly^use he neither fears, nor has been
lE&amed, at the bar of his own soul.
4(He never complains. He keeps his
i^^les to himsdf, having discovered,
is thOToiii^breds do, that to tell troubles
is to multiply th^, and to lock them in
l^e bre^t is to diminish and finally end
He never tal^ about what Fate
t e done to him. He knows he is master
ofihis own d^tmy. ^e never bewails the
#!^tment liu has received from another,
f# he ktows no one can do him lasting
himself.—^Ada Patterson.
fact ia, that civilization re-
„;^^uir^ slaves. The Greeks were
^te ii^t th^e. Unless tliere are slaves
do ^ ugly, horrible, uninteresting
culture and contemplation be-
lalin^ impdsisible. Huinan ^veiy
u wrm^ iiitsecufe, and dec^aUztng.
^ mechairi^ ^ve^, on the davery
^ madiine, the future of the world
•DAY is your day and mine, the
>nly 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 cgniicism. It is for us
to express love in terms of human
helpfiilness.—^David Starr Jordan.
perfect historian is he in whose
%jyork the character and spirit of an
age is exhibited in miniature. He relates
no fact, he attributes no expression to
hischaracters,which is not authrati^ted
by sufficient testimiony By judicious
selection, rejection and arrangemen^ he
gives to truth tiiose attraction^ which
have beenusurped by fiction. In his nar
rative a due subordination is observe^:
some transactions are prominent; otliers
retire. But the scale on which he^
sents them is increased or dimimsh^
not according to the dignity o*
persons concerned in them, but accord
ing to the degree in whi<^ they elu-
ci^te the condition of society and the
nature of man. He shows us the <»urt,
the camp and the senate. But he shows
us also the nation. He considers no
anecdote, no peculiarity of inanner, no
familiar sajring, as too signific^t for
his notice wUch is not too insigni
ficant to illustrate the operation <«
laws, of religion, and of education, aim
to mark the progress of the huinan mmd.
Men will not merely be described, but
will be made intimately known to us.
—^Macaulay.
ideal life is in our blood and
\^ever will be still. Sad will be the
day for any man when he becomes con
tented with the thou^ts he is think
ing and the deeds he is doing,—^where
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.
—Phillips Brooks.
«•»
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
—Shakespeare.
Page 49
B rejoined the Colors on Fri that pale man in his long, dignified black
day. On Monday we are to gown, toward that sonorous, unctuouis
move out. Today, being mouth, from whose lips flows the name
Sunday, is full dress Church of God
Parade Look! He is now stretching forth his
I dept badly last night, and am feeling hands. We incline our heads. He is pro-
imeasy and limp. noimdng the Benediction over us in a
And now we are sitting close-packed in voice that echoes from the tomb. He is
chiu'ch blessing us in the name of God, the
Tlie organ is play Merciful. He is
ing a volunta^. blessing our rifles
I am leaning Under the wide and starry sky that they may not'
back and strain Dig the grave and let me lie; fail us; he is bles
ing my ears for the sing the wire
sounds in the
Glad did I live and gladly die. drawn guns on
And I laid me down with a witt, their patent Tecoil-
dim twilight of the
less carriages; he
building \
Childhood's days This be the verse you gravefor me: is blessing every
rise before my eyes precious cartridge,
again. I am watch Here he lies where he longed to be; lest a sini^e bullet
ing a littie solemn- Home is the sailor, home from sea, be wasted, lest any
faced boy sitting pass idly throu^
And the hunter home from the hill. the
crouched in a cor that eadi
" Requiem," byRobert Louis Stevenson one may account
ner and listening
to the divine ser for a hundred
vice The priest is standing in front of human beings, may shatter a hundred
the altar, and is intoning the E^orta- human beings simultaneously.
tion devoutly. The dioir in the gallery is Father in Heaven! Thou art gogrngdown
chanting the responses. The organ thim- at us in such terrible silence. Dost Thou
Judder at these sons of men? Thou poor
ders out and floods through the building
majestically. I am rapt in an ecstasy of and slig^t^God! Thou couldst only rain
Thy paltry pitch and sulphur on Sodom
sweet terror, for the Lord God is coming
and Gomorrah. But we, Thy children,
down upon us. He is standing before me
and touching my body, so that I have to whom Thou hast created, we are going
dose my eyes in a terror of shuddering to exterminate them by hi^-pressure
machinery, and butcher whole cities in
ecstacy. . . .
That is long, long ago, and is all past factories. Here we stand, and while we
and done with, as youth itself is past and stretch our hands to Thy Son in prayer,
done with.... and cry Hosannah! we are hurling shdls
Strange! After all these years of doubt and shrapnel in the face of Thy Image,
and xmbelief, at this moment of lucid and shooting the Son of Man down from
His Cross like a target at the rifle-butts.
consciousness, the atmosphere of de-
voutness, long since dead, possesses me, €[ And now the Holy Communion is
and thrills me so passionately that I can being celebrated. The organ is playing
mysteriously from afar off, and the flesh
hardly resist it. This is the same heavy
twilight—^these are the same yeamihg and blood of the Redeemer is mingling
angel voices—^the same fearful sense of with our flesh and blood.
There He is hanging .on the Cross above
rapture— 6^
me, and gazing down upon me.
I pull myself together, and sit bolt up-
ri^t on the hard wooden pew. How pale those cheel^ look! And those
In the main and the side aisles below, eyes are the eyes as of one dead! Who
and in the galleries above, nothing but was this Christ-Who is to aid us, and
soldiers in uniform, and all, with level Whose blood we drink? What was it they
once taught us at school? Did^ Thou not
faces, turned toward the altar, toward
 CBIMBKr HUBBARD^S
Astd didst Thou not die
whole human race? Stretch out
jai^ toward me. There is some-
t would foin ask of Thee.... Ahl
arms to the Cross,
# i&at: Thou canst not stretdb out a
us.
_ „ I & my esres on the corpse-
see that He died long ago,
#at k nothing more than wo^
;dian a puppet. Christ, k
is np; Iqfetger Thee to v^m. we pray.
iMk tiberel Iiobk therel It is he. The
liWjpsW saint of a Christian Statel
look th^ is he, the great Genghis
Khan, him we faiow ^ t he swept
aMj s«ra^« fflxd piled up pyramids ot
iBcins, that is he. Let us heap up
mouatii^ of heads, and pile up
|yb^ of hum^ entrails. Great Gen^iis
saint! Do l^u
bl^ to l^y blood-drenched
iyte Miffited idiiove the skies of Asia,
ttujit ixuay aw^ with us through the
cUi^diB; ^ t he lictay strike down the
aocUn^ natim tiU it writhes ^
1^' it never cik tm again. A red mist
sniliBbe£^ m^ eyes. Of a suddeb I see
Imt bic^ before me. The heav-
^ Myt opened, and the. red flood
m thibueih the windows. i31ood
!wi^ up^ On tlte fdtar. llie walls run
blo^ the floor, and—
Oddi ^e stqps Out of the blood.
; 'EVi^ s^ite q{ ^ skin stands erect, his
^' ^ and' hw dniP blood. A giant of
:I blo^i s^ds lo^Ote mev He seats him-
;^ba^wa^> on ^tar, and islau|^-
; ^ £r^ th^. coarse Up^rr^ere sits
of Bah^q^, and he butdiers
(cx^tioner raises
it dbove my head.
Another mom^^ and my hi^d will
,1 on ^e moment . capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor,
;' ^4^ apmit from myn^k
1Miud^rm^muMier
i ^rd in Heaven!
dbiur^ c^iens erfa^^
au„ of heicnm boi# in^
a ibfeath ol tfcif. We have
^ our andi at lien^s^ ,pa^ out
My knees are still trembling under me.
We fall into line, and in our hob
nailed boots tramp in step down the
street toward the barracks. When I see
mates marching beside me in their
matter-of-fact and stolid way, I feel
adiamed, and call myself a wretched
coward. What a weak-nerved, hsrsterical
breed, that can no longer look at blood
without fainting I You neurasthenic off
spring of your sturdy peasant forebears,
who shouted for joy when they went out
to fight! «•»
I pTjJl 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 thii^ time, too, happen
what may.—Wilhelm Lamszus.
'NOWUSDGE is essential to con
quest; only according to our igno
rance are we helpless. Thought creates
character. Character dominate con
ditions. Win creates circumstances and
environment.— Annie Besant.
«•»
XTableis only
assumed that labor is avail
in connection with capital;
that nobody labors unless somebody else,
owningcapital, somehow by the use of it,
induces him to labor. This assumed, it
is next considered whether it is best that
c£q;>ital shall hire laborers, and thus in
duce them to work by Aeir 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
ciapital and labor as here assumed. . . .
Labor is prior to and independent of
could never have existed if labor had
not first existed. Labor is the sup^or
of capita, 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.
|F we were to sin^e out the
men who from the beginning
of our Colonial state until
the present time have most
— eminently contributed
to fostering and securing religious free
dom, who have made this coimtry of
ours the haven of refag^ 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 tiie pMciple
that the civil powers have no right to
meddle in matters of conscience, and
who founded a State with that pite-
ciple as its keystone. I would moition
second the Catholic, Lord Baltimore,
the proprietor of Maryland, to wlwiri
belongs the credit of having established
liberty in matters of worship which was
second only to Rhode Island. I would
name third the Quaker, William Penn,
whose golden motto was, " We must
yield the liberties we demand." Foira
on the list is Thomas Jefferson, ^t
" arch-infidd," ashe has been term^ by
some religious writers, who oveiwew
the established church in his own State,
and then, with prophetic statesman
ship, made it impossible for any church
to establish itsdf under our Mtionrf
Constitution or in any wayto abridgethe
rights of consdence.—Oscar S. Straus.
like to be beholden to the great
metropolitan En^ish speech, the
sea which receives tributaries from every
region under heaven. I shoidd as soon
thinic of swimming across the Charles
River when I wish to go to Boston, as
of reading all my books in ongmals,
when I have them rendered for me m
my mother tongue.—^Emerson.
FKHAT 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 and the hearth
stones had an extra coat of whitewash.
Page $1
She drew me up <^ose beside her and
told me a story.
" Once, a long, long time agp, God,
fedin* tired, went to deep an' had a
nice wee nap on His throne. His head
was in His han*s an' a wee white doud
came down an* covered Him up. Purty
soon He wakes up an' says He:
" * Where's Michad? '
' Here I am, Fatherl' said 1/Qdiad.
" * Michad, me boy,' says Godi * I want
a chariot and a charioteer!'
" * Right ye are! *says he.Up com^ the
purtiest chariot in the dty of Heaven an'
the finest charioteer.
" ' Me boy,' ss^ God, * take a million
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* afther-life an' I '11 do it findy.'
** '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 G^'s language and the kind of
flowers. «•> 9^
"Well, dear," she said, "He spakes
Irish t' Irish people, an' the diarioteer
was an Irishman."
" Maybe it was a woman!"I ventured.
" Aye, but there's no difference up
there."
" Th' flowers," die said, " were prim
roses, buttercups, an' daisies, an' th'
flowers thatbe handy t* th* poor, an' from
that day to this there's been flowers
a-plenty for all of us everywhere!"—
" My Lady of the Chimney-Comer," by
Alexander Irvine.
«•»
IT is wdl for a man to respect his
own vocation whatever it is, and to
think himsdf bound to uphold it, and to
daim for it the respect it deserves.
—Charles Didcens.
«•>
The rdi^ons of the world are the ejac
ulations of a few imaginative men.
—Bmerson.
 A l b e r t hubbard^s Page S3
UNDOWN is tiie hour for ;HAT gives Anatole France his flFE seems a perpetual suc- only in constantly doing more The
many strange effects in light lasting hold overliis hearers is not greatest good a man can do is to culti
and shade—enough to make
jcession of events,, to which
his cleverness, but himself—^the fact man submits. We never vate himself, develop his powers, in
a colorist go delirious—^long that this savant who bears the heavy order that he may be of greater service
know from which direction
spokes of molten silver sent load of three cultures, nay, who is in the sudden blow will come. to humanity.—^Marshall Fidd.
l^pizontally through the trees (now in himself a whole little culture—this sage,
bri^test, tenderest green), each to whom the whole life of the earth is but
Misery and happiness enter and make
their exits, like unexpected ^ests. Their must leam that any person who
Ipf and branch of endless foliage a an ephemeral eruption on its surface, and laws, their orbits, their principle of gravi ^ will not accept what he knows to be
mirade, then lying all prone on who consequently regards all human tation, are beyond man's grasp. Virtue truth, for the very love of truth alone,
the ycruthful-ripe. endeavor as finally is very definitdy
conducts not to
mfntninable grass, Preach about yesterday»Preacher! vain—^this thinker, undermining his
happiness; nor Preach about the old sins. Preacher!
and giving the The time so far away: who can see every
crime to retribu mental integrity.
bladi^ not only ag- thing from innu- And the old virtues, too: It will be observ^
When the hand of Deity smote and tion;consdencehas
ifreg!^ but in£- slew. merable sides
one logic, fate an
You must not steal nor take man's that the mind of
vidliai q^lendor, in And the heathen plagued the stiff' and might have such a person
ui^own to necked Jew; come to the con
other, andneither
coindde. Nothingis
You%ust not covet your neighbor*s gradually stops
^y other hour. Or when the Man of Sorrow came, clusion that things
foreseen. We live growing, for, being
Il l tove partic- And blessed the people who cursed His being bad at And woman must cling at every cost constantly
confusedly and To her one virtue, or she is lost—
iiiy flp^ where niame— the best, the exist
from hand to hedged in and
f #e8e ^ects Preach about yesterday. Preacher, ing state ofmatters Preach about the old sins. Preacher! cropped here
mouth. Conscience Not about the new!
in pededioQ. Not about today! was probably as and there, it soon
good as the un is the straight line,
%iEmd splash life is the whirlwind leams to respect
Uira qia the water, Preach'about tomorrow. Preacher! tried: that this Preach about the other man, Preacher! artificial fences
TTifln should pro which creates over
many a rip- Beyond this world's decay: man's head either
The man we all can see! more than free
pHn^g twinkle, Of the sheepfold Paradise we priced claim himself a son
black chaos or The manof oaths, the man ofstrife. dom for growth.
offset by the When we pinned our faith to Jesus of the Revolution, The man who drinks and beats his wife. €[ You have not
rigidly deepen- the blue sky. Fate
Christ; side with the work-
does not practise
Who helps his mates tofret andshirk been a very do%
^g black-greeii Of those hot depths that shall receive ingman, acknowl When all they need is to keep at workr- observer of such
the art of grada
mUfky-trans- The goats who would not so believe— edge his belief in tions Her wheel
Preach about the other man, Preacher! men if you have
parent shadows Preach about tomorrow. Preacher, liberty, throw Not about me! not seen them
turns sometimes so
behind, and at Not about today! away his load and fast that we can
"To the Preacher," shrivel, become
int^ds fdl along (Concluded on next page) draw his sword— scarcelydistinguish hy Charlotte Perkins GUman commonplace,
me banto. These, this is what mov^ mean, without
the interval be
frut diafts of horizontal fire a popular audience, this is what plam tween one revolution and another, pr influence, without friends and without
emmfi the tr^ and along the people can understand and can pn^re. It ,the link between yesterday and today. the enthusiasm of youth and growth,
graBS! the sun Ibwers, give ejects has shown them that behind the author —^Victor Hugo. like a tree covered with fungus, the
mbre jpecujto, metre and more superb, there dwells a man—^behind liie great foliage diseased, the life gone out of the
linearly, ri^ rad dflggling-
-

—Walt Whitman.
X iiI ipj^d
Mil ®y to live over again,
^ve made a rule to read
s^e ipiQei^ rad listen to some music
at least «iee a week; for perhaps the
p^^ of my brain now atrophied would
^jugihave bem k^^ active throu^ use.
of tibese tastes is a loss of
'^^mei^, and inay po^ibly be in-
to the intdlect, and more
p^ably to the mwal diaracter, by
enleebling^ the part of our
EMtw late thlA never.-^Dionysius.
author a brave man.—Georg Brandes.
OVE is the river of life in this world.
Thmk not that ye know it who
stand at the little tinlding riU, the first
small fountain.
Not tmtil you have gone throu^ the
rocky gorges, and not lost the stream;
not until you have gone throu^ the
meadow, and the stream has widened
and deepened tmtil 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.
Greatspendersarebadlenders.—^Franklin
6^
ACH 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 fuller and higher.
It is only in wide public affairs, where
money is a moving force toward the
seneral welfare, that the possessor of it
can possibly find pleasure, and that / Iwouldratherbesickthanidle.—Seneca.
heart with dry rot, and indelibly marked
for destruction—dead, but not yet
handed over to the undertaker.
—^Luther Burbank.
|AN 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,
 'OSLBBKT aVBBARD*S
TOPLB 8^ to me, " Wdl,
Lyeff mkolaevitdi, as far as
preadung goes, you preadi;
but how about your prac«
tice?"
is a perfectly natural one;
^ is ^W£Q^ put to me, and it always
^ixts my iiu>uth. "You preach," it is
sai^ bpt how do you live? "
f ^y reply that I do not preach,
jiaMo^tlly aa I desire to do so.
I< 0i^t p^db throi^ my actions, but
are bad. That which I say
fs^t ipireadu^ it is only my attempt
to find the nm^tiing and ^e signifi-
pftxn^s^ to me, " If you think
^t is no reasonable life outside
w C h r i s t , and if you love a
f^i®p#le life, why do you not fulfil
, (^ufisd^ in^pcepts? ** I guilty
ind^ rad contemptible b^
^use I mt fulfil thdbi: but at the
^c^lanatjo^ of my inccmsistency—~
ndw Uining, and 3rou will see that I
^ijtigfing td ftilfil. I have not^t is true^
OTe dl^ty-thousandth part, and
I 5to' blame fbr it; but it is not be-
gaui^ I do not wish to fulfil aU, but
p^use 1 ^ i^ble. Teadi me how to
M^<^e mys^ firom the meshes of
i tenqptaLtioii in wliidi I entanided—•
•lidp me^^ I ftiim an. Condemn
^ do iJiat myself—
i^t '/cbm©^: aM not the path
, and wMdi I ^int
/ out who a& me where, in my
1opmitm, the patii is/'-^w Tolstoy.
^ pleiiEe where humor
,more a try boy goes to the city, marries his
^;^ in If you can^ only
;/ ' s h o t undi^ ai|Q£m%. funny bone
i(7?^U t^e deadly work and can
(ijV^tttfest h^i ,in whatci^ yon have to
; o^ ^ecfssi^ 0 say^
i lu)
;: "^tcf must s^walsra; ^y th^, is a
in the %dning 6f ^e
I t o r ittus re^sc^ I b^eve
/' i'lithjEit ithe,iiradtiiid'' ciiCiaHwinfiieAtmp^
which the man ambitious to shine as a
professional humorist can pass.
—George Ade.
HERE have I come from, where did
vlx you pick me up? " the baby asked
its mother.
C She answered, half-crsring, 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 day I
made the image of my god every morn
ing, r made and unmade you then.
'* You were enshrined with our house
hold deity;in hisworship I worshiped you.
'* In all my hopes and my loves, in my
life, in the life of my mo^er, you have
lived «•»
•* In the lap of the deathless Spirit who
rules our home you have been nursed for
ages."—^Rabindranath Tagore.
j^<HEN, and indeed for many years
%=✓ after, it seemed as though there was
no end to the money needed to carry on
and develop the business. As our suc
cesses began to come, I seldom put my
head upon the pUlow at night without
speaking a few words to myself in this
wise:
" Now a little success, soon you will fall
down, soon you will be overthro^.
Because you ^ve got a start, you think
you are quite a merchant; look out, or
jrou will lose your head—go steady."
These intimate conversations with my-
sdf, I am sure had a great influence on
my life.—John D. Rockefeller.
y^HE old idea of romance: The coun-
employer's daughter, enslaves some hun
dreds of his fellow humans, gets rich, and
leaves a public library to his home town.
H The new idea of romance: To undo
some of the mischief done by the old
id^ of romance.—-Seymour Demuig.
ady^-
X THINK the first virtueistorestrain
the tongue; he approaches nearest
is .one to tlie gods who knows how to be silent,
eyi^ thout(h he is in the rig^t.—Cato.
OVE is the only bow on life's
dark cloud. It is the Morn
ing and the Evening Star.
It shines upon the cradle of
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 air and light of
every heart, builder of every home,
kin(Uer 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 royrf
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.
J^HOUSANDs'tf^annels there are
through which the beauty of our
soul may sail even imto our thoughts.
Above all is there the wonderful, central
channel of love. For is it not in love that
are foxmd 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 senseof ugliness islost; 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.
If 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 transfomif
though edl imconsciously, the feeblest
intention that hovers about us into
illimitable movement. It is to summon
^1 that is beautiful in earth, heaven or
soul, to the banquetoflove. It means that
Page 5S
the least gesture will call fiorth the pres
ence of the soul with all its treasure. It
means that the beauty that turns into
love is undisting^shable 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 ^all walk
together in a goodness that shall ever
become more and more living, loftier and
loftier.—^Maeterlinck.
'/f^HERISHthespirit ofour people and
V_x keep alive their attention. Do not
be too severe upon their errors, but re
claim them by enlightening ^em. 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
dedares that man is the only animal
which devours his own kind; for I can
apply no milder term to the governments
of Europe, and to the gener^ prey of the
rich on the poor.—^Thomas JefFerson.
XDO 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 indust^ 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 for either, wish for industry.
—^Julian Rcdph.
The more a man is educated, the more
is it necessary, for the welfiu-e of ^e
State, to instruct him how to make a
proper use of his talents. Education is
like a double-edged sword. It may be
turned to dangerous usages if it is not
properly handled.—^Wu Ting-Fang.
 *miMERSr HUBBARD *S
!U!AI#ITY is the life of con-
v^rsation; aiid he is as much
out who assumes to him-
sdf any part aboive another,
, as he'who considers him-
l^ow the rest of society. Familiarity
^eiicns is saiidness: in superiors it
W' condescension; neither of which are
haye^ beiiig among companions, the
word implying that they are to
equal. When, therefore, we have
the company from all con-
^d^tipns of their equality or fortime,
it immediately appear that, to
it happy and polite, there must'
nothmg be started wiUch shall discover
t^t our thoughts run upon any such
4lstini^ons Heiice it will arise that
'l^^l^lOTce, must become the rule of
soieiety, Md he that is most obliging
must be most diveqting.
—-Richard Steele.
hcu achieved success who has
.t-J Uved well, laughed often and loved
'Pudi; who has gained the reject of
i5t^|igent mcoi^ and the love of little
i^droi; who has filled his niche and
accomplish^ his task; who has left the
world ^tter than he found it, whether
W I® Improved poppy, a perfect poem
ot a r^ui^ soul; who has never lacked
application of ea^'s beauty or failed
|p e^^ it; whohas looked for the best
Ml Qtherai ^d given the best he had;
whose life w^' an inspiration; whose
naanoory w a brae<^ction.
Mrs. A. J. Stanley.
XT ^4' that in love we idolize the
Md/placiiag hid® apart and
him '^m his fdlows, look on
hto supenof in nature to sdl others.
Wie do as we idolize the
Ppject of otw iffec^t-ions, db we idolize
q^^vm; if ^afate him from his
fdldWrr^il!Ms^ 80 do we separate our-
an^l j^loiyiijg in belonging to him
^ otibec jdys> and g^ieilEt, to one hallowed
cir^e frpia^ whii^! eJl but his idea is
we wdk as if a mist, or some
!®OTe potent ^ai^v divided us from
'but him;, ai sanctified victim, which
Page 57
none but the priest set apart for that
office could touch and not pollute, en
IFE appears to me to be too H'IRST ofall, we must observe that in
short to be spent in nursing all these matters of human action
shrined in a cloud of glory, made animosity or in registering the too little and the too much are alike
glorious through beauties not oiir own. wrongs. We are, and must ruinous, as we can see (to illustrate the
—Mrs. M. W. Shelley. be, one and all, burdened spiritual by the natural) in matters of
with faults in this world; but the time strength and health. Too milch and too.
^EAUTYis an all-pervading presence. will come when, I trust, we shall put little exercise alike impair the strength,
It imfolds to the numberless flowers them off in putting oflF our corruptible and too much meat and drink and too
orthe Spring; it waves in the branches ot bodies: when debasement and sin will little both alike destroy the health, but
the trees and in the green blades of fall from us and the fitting amount
grass; it haunts the depths of the earth only the spark will produces and pre
and tlie sea, and gleams out in the hues These I have loved: serves them. So,
remain, the impal
of the shell and the precious stone. And pable principle of White plates and cups, clean-gleaming. too, the man'who
not only these minute objects, but the Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, takes his fill ot
life and thought,
ocean, the moimtains, the clouds, the pure as when it left faery Just; every pleasure and
heavens, the stars, the rising and the the Creator to in
Wet roofs, beneath the lamplight; the abstains from none
setting sun, all overflow with beauty. spire the creature: strong crust becomes a profli
T^e universe is its temple; and those whence it came, it
Offriendly bread; and many-tastingfood; gate; while he who
men who are alive to it can not lift their Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of shuns all becomes
will return, perhaps
eyes without feeling themselves encom wood; stolid and insus
to pass through
passed with it on every side. Now, this gradations ofglory. And radiant raindrops couching in cool ceptible.
beauty is so precious, the enjoyment it flowers; —^Aristotle.
C It is a creed in And flowers themselves, that sway
gives so refined and pure, so congenial which I delight, to
without tenderest and noblest fedlinp, which I cling. It
through sunny hours. ^^AKE life too
and so akin to worship, that it is pain Dreaming of moths that drink them seriously, and
makes Eternity a
ful to think of the midtitude of men as rest, a mighty
under the moon; what is it worth?
living in the midst of it, and living home; not a terror
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that If the morning
almost as blind to it as if, instead of this and an abyss. Be
soon
wake us to no new
fair earth and glorious sky, they were Smooth away trouble; and the rough joys, if the evening
sides, with this
tenants of a dungeon. An infinite joy is creed revenge
male kiss
bring us not the
lost to the world by the want of culture Of blankets; grainy hair; live hair; that is hope of new plea
never worries my
of this spiritual endowment. The great Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; sures, is it worth
heart, degradation the keen
est truths are wronged if not linked with never too deeply while to dress and
beauty, and they win their way most Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
disgusts me, injus The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
undress? Does the
surely and deeply into the soul when tice never crushes sun shine on me
arrayed in this their natural and fit The good smell of old clothes; and today that I may
me too low: I live others such—
attire.—"W. E. Channing. in calm looking to reflect on yester
The comfortable smell offriendly fingers, day? That I may
the end.—Char Haifs fragrance, and the musty reek
HAT a place to be in is an old
library! It seems as if all the souls
lotte Bronte. that lingers
About dead leaves and last yeafs ferns,
endeavor to fore
see and to control
of all the writers that had bequeathed 'S it a fact, or what can neither
their labors to these Bodleians were " The Great Lover," bff Rupert Brooke
have I dreamt be foreseen nor
reposing here as in some dormitory, or it, that by means of controlled—^the
middle state. I do not want to handle, to electricity the world of matter has be destiny of tomorrow?—Goethe.
profane the leaves, their winding-sheets. come a great nerve, vibrating thousands
I could as soon dislodge a shade. I seem of miles in a breathless point of time? eVEN the cleverest and most perfect
to inhale learning, walking amid their Rather, the round globe is a vast head, circumstantial evidence is likely to
foliage; and the odor of their old moth- a brain, instinct with intelligence: or shall be at fault after all, and therefore ought
scented coverings is fragrant as the first we say it is itself a thought, and no to be received with great caution. Take
blopm ofthese sciential appleswhich g^rew longer the substance which we dreamed the case of Miy pencil sharpened by any
amidthe happyorchard.—Charles Lamb. if.—^Nathaniel Hawthorne. woman; if you have witnesses, you will
find she did it with a knife, but if you
Doubt whom you will, but never your Sentiment is the poetry of the imagina take simply the aspect of the pencil, you
self.—Bovee. tion.—^Lamartine. will say she did itwith her teeth.—^Twain.
 $9g4S8 '^LBBRar HUBBARD^S
AM the printing press, bom
of the mother earth. My
heart is of steel, my limbs
are of iron, and my fingers
are of brass.
I'j^ig the songs of the world, the ora-
of tustory, the symphonic of all
^ ' ' knowledge of its history, and in the
1 am the voice of today, the herald of
ipl^itbw. I weave into tiie warp of the
past tbe woof of the future. I tell the
'^pn^ ofpeaceand war alike.I makethe
• ; ^ I
tounm he^ beat with passion or ten-
i stir the pulse of nations, and
j^^e tave men do braver deeds, and
foldi^^die.
I jrapire ^e ^dnight toiler, w^ary at
Mp to lift his head again and gaze,
) feaflle^ess, into the vast beyond.
I spe^, a myriad people
'l|strar;toiniy The S^on, tJie Latin,
;• ^ the Htm, the Slav, the Hindu,
Gompr^end m&
I the tirele^ d^On of the news. 1
dy ybt# jays and sorrows every hour. I
J the dullard's mind wilii thoughts
jUpHj^g; I am lij^t, Itnowledge, power.
I' ^ifonu2% the oonqueste of mind over
; m^
; I era tiie record of all things mankind
^; hM' ^(^ieved. My ofi&pring comes to
,^ ;y«^ m' the c^dle-s glow, amid the dim
^ l|m^ of^vet^ the spliendor of riches;
, / at su^K, at higll noon and in the wan-
/ Mg werii^;
, l the liaughter and tears of the
>; [iwbild,] Md I #41 never die imtil all
^U ^ to the imnmtable dust.
1 gm pHnting-pfess.
• ;/ "-^RbbeffH. Davis.
y*^ W(»lc^6t just jrour work
^ ^d no j^efbut a
;; 1/ l^v^ing's si^; ^t little mprie wWchi is
i^e f^t^ ^nd if youi suffer as
;(t.i r and ifyoit d6ubt as yw nmst,
do work, f^t your hea^ into it
i :, '^d the sl^ wUl Thra piit of jrour
doul^ sulferi^ will be born
IJJv V^ s^^e joy ^ iife.^^-^ean Briggs.
'freem^' 'We the wotst of
'• • „ ,• •.'•.i':; ^aves^^^arriok.
wsmwr' •
^^tJMAN and mortal though we are,
•^^we are, nevertheless, not mere in
sulate beings, without relation to past
or future. Neither the point of time nor
the spot of earth in which we phjrsically
live bounds our rational and intellectu^
enjoyments. We live in the past by a
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 aiccompanying
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 lived, endure what $hey endured,
and part^e in the rewards which they
enjoyed.—Daniel Webster.
at
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.
€1 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.
£•» s«>
XNASMUCH 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 have labored, and others,
witliout labor, have enjoyed a large pro
portion of the fruits. This is wrong, and
^ould not continue. To secure to each
iatx>rer the whole product of his labor
as nearly as possible is a worthy object
of any good government.
—^Abraham Lincoln.
INE as friendship is, there
is nothing irrevocable about
it. The bonds of friendship
are not iron bonds, prqoi
against the strongest of
strains and the heaviest of assaults. A
man by becoming your friend has not
committed himself to all the demand
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 xmworthy. 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 imfavorable is foreign to
its atmosphere; there is no place in
friendship for harsh criticism or fault
finding. We will " take less " from a
fnend than we will from one who is
indifferent to us.—^Randolph S. Bourne.
EAR is lack of faith. Lack of faith
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.
41 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 tru^ welcomer than its counter
feits
Then men will no longer be afraid.
Being afraid is being ignorant. Being
ignorant is being without faith.
—Horace Traubel.
St
You may be as orthodox as the Devil,
and as wicked.—John Wesley.
J300IC Page S9
Y son, remember 3rou have to work.
, WhetJier you handle pick or whed-
barrow or a set of books, digging ditches
or editing a newspai>er, ringing an
auction bdl or writing fimny
you must work. Don't be afraid of kill
ing yourself by overworking on the
simny side of thirty. Men die sometimes,
but it is because they quit at nine p. m.
and don't go home xmtil two a. m. It's
the intervals that kill, my son. The work
gives you appetite jfbr 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 bojrs.
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 coafand make dust in the
world. The busier you are, the less harm
you are apt to get into, the sweeter will
^ your sleep, the brighter your holi
days, and the better satisfied the whole
world will be with you.—Bob Burdette.
HAT can I do? I can talk out when
vJL/ others are silent. I can say man
when others say monqr. 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.
V^at can I do? I can give myself to
life when other men refuse themselves to
life.—^Horace Traubel.
XT isofdangerousconsequencetorep
at
resent to man how near he is the level
ofbeastswithoutshowinghimat the same
timehisgreatness.It islikewisedangerous
to let him see his greatness without his
meaimess. It is more dangerous yet to
leave him ignorant of either; but very
beneficial that heshouldbe mad^sensible
of both.—Pascal.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty.—^Keats.
 Page 61
"ISLBBRT HUBBARD^S
IAN is arrogant in propor ET the confidence of the public
HERE is a life that is worth ^^NTHUSIASM is the greatest asset tion to his ignorance. Man's and you will have no difficulty in
living now as it was worth in the world. It beats money and natural tendency is toward getting their patronage. Inspire your
living in* the former days, power and influence. Single-handed the egotism. Man, in his in- whole force with the right spirit of ser
and that is the honest life, enthusiast convinces and dominates fancy of knowledge, thinks vice; encourage every sign of the true
l^e useful life, the unselfish where the wealth accumulated by a that all creation was formed for him. For spirit. So display and advertise wares
deansed by devotion to an ideal, small army of workers would scarcely several ages he saw, in the countless that customers shall buy with imder-
^ere is a battle that is worth fighting raise a tremor of interest. Enthusiasm worlds that sparkle through space like the standing. Treat them as guests when
n^ as it was worth fighting then, and tramples over prejudice and opposition, bubblesofa shoreless ocean,only the petty they come and when they go, whether or
^ t is the battle forjusticeand equality: spurns inaction, storms the citadel ot can<lles, the house- not they buy
to xnake our dty its object, and like hold torches, that Give them all that
^d our State free an avalanche Providence had
Now speak, brave AdmYl; speak and can be given fairly,
Behind him lay the gray Azores, say—"
m fact as well as in Behind the Gates of Hercules; overwhelms and beenpleasedtolight on the principle
He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" that to him that
neume; to break the Before him not the ghost of shores; engulfs all obsta for no other pur
that stran Before him only shoreless seas. cles. It is nothing pose but to make giveth shall be
gle real liberty They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the given. Remember
The good mate said: "Now must we pray. more or less than the night more
mate:
and to keep For lo! the very stars are gone. faith in action agreeable to man. always that the
broken; to
"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight. recollection of
Brave AdmYl, speak; what shall I say?" Faith and initiative Astronomy has cor
He curls his lip, he lies in wait. quality remains
i^teanse, so far ias "Why, say: *Sail on! and on! *" rightly combined rected this delusion
in pur power lies, With lifted teeth, as if to bite! long after the
remove moimtain- of human vanity, Brave Adm'fl, say but one good word:
^e fountains of "My men grow mutinous day hy day; ous barriers and and man now reluc- price is forgot
01U ^tional life achievetheunheard What shall we do when hope is gone?" ten ^ Then
My men grow ghastly wan and weak.'* tantly confesses
from political, The words leapt like a leaping sword: your business
The stout mate thought of home; a spray of and miraculous. that l^e stars are "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
cpsamercial and Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek, Set the germ ot worlds, larger and will prosper by a
sociieJ corruption; "What shall I say, brave AdmYl, say. enthusiasmafloatin more ^orious than Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck.
natural process.
to teach our sons If we sight naught hut seas at dawn?" your plant, in your his own—^that the —^H . Gordon
^d dau^ters, by office, or on your earth on which he
And peered through darkness. Ah, that Sdfridge.
"Why, you shall say at break of day: night
precept and ex 'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!*" farm ;carryitinyour crawls is a scarcely
ample, the honor attitude and mm- visible speck on the
Of all dark nights! And then a speck— HE man who
of servmg such a A light! A light! A light! A light! _ lacks faith
Theysailedandsailed,as winds might blow. ner; it spreads like vast chart of crea
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
c o u n t r y as contagion and in tion. in other men loses
Until at last the blanched mate said: It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
America — that "Why, now not even God would know fluences eve;y fiber But in the small as his best chances
He gained a world; he gave that world to work and
is work worthy Should I and all my men fall dead. of your indus^ in the vast, God is Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"
of t^e finest man These very winds forget their way, before you realize equally profuse of gradually under
" Columbus," by Joaqtdn Mttler mines his own
hood; £md woman- For God from these dread seas is gone. it; it means in life. The traveller
^od. iThe well- (Concluded on next page) crease in produc looks upon the tree, power and his
ibpmi ^e those who tion and decrease and fandes its boughs were formed for his own character. We do not realize to
ire bPm tP do that work;the wellbred are in costs; it means joy, and pleasure, and shelter in the Summer sun, or his fuel in what extent others judge us by our
those who are bred to proud of that satisfaction to your workers; it means the Winter frosts. But in each leafofthese beliefs. But we are in fact judged in that
work; the weH^ucated are those who life,real, virile; it means spontaneous bed boughs the Creator has made a world way; and it is right that we should be
see dbepest mto the 'meaning and the rock results—^the vital things that pay —it swarms with innumerable races. judged in that way. The man who is
nece^it^ of that work. Nor shall their dividends^.—Henry Chester. Each drop of water in a moat is an orb c^ical, whether about women or busi
ll^r for ^ught, nor the reward of more populous than a kingdom is of men. ness or politics, is assumed to be im
their sacrifice fail them; for high in the J®KHE sole aristocracy of today is the C Everywhere, then, in this immense moral in his relations to women or busi
finnament of hum^ destiny are set the aristocracy of wedth; the sole aris design, science brings new4ife to light. ness or politics. The man who has faith
stara of fpth in mankind, and unselfish tocracy of tomorrow will be the eternal Life is the one pervading principle, and in the integrity of others in the face of
cptarftge md lipyaltiy to the ideal. divine, beneficent aristocracy of intel even the thing that seems to die and irresponsible accurations is assumed to
—Henry Dyke. lect and virtue—at its highest, genius; putrefy but engenders new life, and have the confidence in other's goodness
but that, like everjrthing that descends changes to fresh forms of matter. because he is a good man himsdf.
from God, will rise among the people —^Bulwer Lytton. —^President Hadl^.
eVi;RV school boy and girl who has and labor for the people.—^Mazzini.
l^ved at the i^e of reflection The victory of success is half won ^en When 3roudefine liberty you limit it, and
P^^t to know TOmet^ing about the My son Hannibal will be a great general, one gains the habit of work. when you limit it 3rou destroy it.
of the art of printing. because of all my soldiers he best knows —Sarah A. Bolton. —^Brand Whitlock.
—^Horace Maim. how to obey.—^Hamilcar.
 'ALBERT miBBARD^S
BBLIEVB in boys and girls,
tile men and women of a
gfe»t tomorrow, that what
soever the boy soweth, the
man shall reap. I believe
xaJte curse of ignorance, in the efficacy
of slihbols, in the dignityof teaching,and
^ ofserving another. I believe in
wi^m ^ revealed in human lives as well
Ig m ij^e pages of a printed book; in
llessons taii^t not .so much by prec^t
ca by ex^ple: in ability to work with
as wdl as to think with the
he^; in eyesythmg that makes life
la^e and lovdy. I bdieve in beauly
m f&e Mioolropm, in the home, in the
4laly life and out of doors. 1 bdieve in
liati^hic^, in ^ ideals and distant hopes
lu^ us on. I bdieve tliat every
hgitf 6f every day we receive a just re-
fdl we do. I bdieve in the pres-
(mt its ^portunities, in the future
^d ite^^mises, and in the divine joy of
Grover.
JRTOK lov^ my friends, is your pass
fo tiie greatest, the purest, and the
jpeifi^^ pleasure ti^t God h^ pre-
p^^ for Hb creatures. It lasts when all
^er plein:^ fade. It will support you
ail> oth^ recreations are gone. It
w^ ISirt ;pu until your deatibt. It will
m^e y^uf pleasant to you as long
iuiyQii Uv&^^ troUope.
a M? Natu^ tlie voice of
di^ittt^^ Ihe highwiQr of history
a^ ofHe » s^wn wit^ tiie wrecks that
g^t despoiler, has made. We
soiTo^^^ to ^ Autumn winds
throu^ dismantled for-
iestej il^ me i|^w ^eir br^^ wiU be
soft j^' vernal ^e Spring", and t3ae
4»d' flowm and' !^the^ foliage will
an^ And if a n:^
diet he^, top,; ri|c^ live again? ts
eai^ end' of aU'^i i^d d^^ an et^-
pl4 Not but beyond tiie grave
in the duit§nt h^iiie provides an
Ely^^ of soul' wh^e l^e moitll
itt' aasuiTO imiM and life be*
cbmfe m end^^
W, VboibecBi
ll^STINGUISHED beauty, brilliant
^-' talents, andtheheroic 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 tiian 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.
[OU don't have to preach honesty to
men with a creative purpose. Let
a numan being throw the energies of
his soul into the mc^ng of something,
and the instinct of workmanship will
take care of his honesty The writers
who have nothing to say are the ones
3rou 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.
XT is right and necessary that all
men should have work to do which
sliall 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. l\im that claim about as
I m^, think of it as long as I. can, I can
not find that it is an exorbitant claim;
yet again I say if Society woidd or could
admit it the face of the world would be
dianged; discontent and strife and dis
honesty would be ended. To feel that
w:e were doing work useful to others
and pleasant to ourselves, and that
such work and its due reward.could not
£bU us! What seiious harm could happen
to us then?—William Morris.
"C^AR away there in the sunshine are
my high^t aspirations. I may not
readi ^em, but I can look up and see
their beauty, believe in them, and try to
foUow where th^r lead.—h. M. Alcott.
Page 63
UMOR has been defined as fed or lau^, and certainly a drama
the salt of life. It is a ca which does not accomplish at least one
price ofour natures, or rather of these results is a failure; but to com
that quality which gives to bine all the^ qualities in the proper
ideas a ludicrous or fantas proportions in a sin^e play demands
tic turn, the effect of it being to excite the greatest ability, and few playwrights
the pleasurable emotions which we can accomplish it. Humor in the hands
exUbit in laughter or mirth. Its un of an artist has an unfailing power to
failing power to win an audience is well win an audience, and it is the best
known, and it is to means which the
this emotion that
the amateur's
A murdered man, ten mUes away, playwright has at
his command for
Will hardly shake your peace.
attention is first relieving the stress
Like one red stain upon your hand;
attracted. It may of a serious action.
And a tortured chUd in a distant land
t^e the form of Will never check one smUe today,
—O. R. Lamb.-
a play of wit, sar- Or bid one fiddle cease.
casm, satire,
irony or the like; OCIETY,
in any case, it
The News
as we have
It came along a little wire. constituted it,
is c e r t a i n to
meet with a
Sunk in a deep sea; will have no place
It thins in the clubs to a little smoke
prompt response for me, has none to
from the average Between one joke and another joke. offer; but Nature,
audience. Comedy For a city inflames is less than the fire whose sweet rains
which is the term That comforts you and me. fall on unjust and
under which we just alike, will have
The Diplomats
class the differ defts in the rocks
ent forms of hu Each was honest <tfter his way. where I may hide,
mor, is therefore Lukewarm in faith, and old; and sweet valleys
an essential ele And blood, to them, was ordy a word. in whose silence I
And thepointofaphrase theironly sword. may weep undis
ment in drama.
And the cost of war, they reckoned it
It does not deal turbed. She will
In little disks of gold.
with emotions, hang the ni^t with
that are heart- From ** The VWne Press," by Alfred Noyes stars so that I may
searching nor walk abroad in the
terrifying incidents, but trades rather m darkness without stumbling, and send
eccentricities of character and quaint- the wind over my footprints so that
none may track me to my hurt; she will
ness of manner; consequently, its chief
dramatic use is to relieve the tension of cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter
a serious action. It is in this manner that herbs make me whole.—Oscar Wilde.
it was used' by the Elizabethan play St
wrights, who fWly appreciated the tastes
LIMB Ae mountains and get their
and weaknesses of their audience. How 'II good tidings. Nature's peace wiU
ever, comedy is not an absolute essen
now into you as sunshine flows into
tial to the success of a play. Nearly all
trees. The winds will blow their own
the best tragedies and certain of the freshness into you, and the storms
most powerful dramas have not a ray of
their energy, while cares will drop
himior in them. The reason is not far to away from you like the leaves of Au
sedc, for serious subjects, such m deal
tumn.—^John Muir.
with the dignified and noble qualities of
the human nature, admit only of a
serious and earnest presentation. It has I love to be alone. I never found the
been said that the direct appeal of the companion that was so companionable
drama is to make the aucHence think, as solitude.—^Thoreau.
 ^BLBBKT HUBBARD^S
THANK Heaven, every
Summer's day of my life,
that my lot was humbly cast
within the hearing of romp
ing brooks, and beneath the
^ipw ofoaks. And from all the tramp
rad bustle of the world, into which
fi^itune has led me in thiese latter years
ofmy life, I ddUght to stesd away for days
irad for weeks together, and bathe my
,^int in the freedom of the old woods.
to grow young again, lying upon the
b^^de and counting ^e white douds
|h|t s^ along the sky, softly and tran
quilly, even as holy memories go stealing
over the vault of life. I like to steep my
in a sea of quiet, with nothing float
ing past me, as I lie moored to my
l&ii^t, but the periimie of flowers, and
soaroMt tnucds, and diadows of clwds.^
^ daysago,1 wasswdtering in the
.ofthe dQr, jostled by the thousand
^er workers, and panting imder the
diiidow of the walls. But I have stolen
away, and for two hours of healthful
into the darkling past, I have
'bem this blessedSummer's morning lying
uf^ii the grassy bank of a stream that
ibi^bled me to deep in boyhood. Dear,
dd stream, unchanging, unfaltering—
pever growingold-—smiling in your silver
fuit^e, andcdmingyouf^ in the broad,
ifladd pools^I love you, as I love a
l^dl-^'Donald G. Mitchdl.
^ is first the literature oi
l^wledge, and secondly the litera
ture of power. The function of the first
i»=^ t^^; the function of the second
is^to m^e; the first is a rudder, the
Kop^i em or a sail. The first speaks
to, the mere discursive understanding;
se^di spe^ ultimately, it may
to the high^ understanding or
feilpni ibut always l^ou^ affections of
pli^i^e ^d' ^^pathy.
—•'thomas De Quincey.
w£io hd^ a diiid helps humanity
swth an in^ediatehess which no^
l^lp given to human creature in
c|ny otii^ st^e of huixi^ life can pos-
dbly (give a^im.-^F^t^p8 Brooks. ' fidelity.—^John Milton.
love of country is not more
blind partisanship. It is regard for
the people of one's coimtry and all 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 oi
them; it is kindly and considerate judg
ment toward all of them. The first duty
of popular sdf-govemment is individuiil
sdf-control. The essential condition of
true progress is that it shall be based
upcm grounds of reason, and not of
prejudice. Lincoln's noble sentiment ot
charity for all and malice toward none
was not a specific for the Civil War, but
is a living prindple of action. ,
—^Elwu Root.
eACH day it becomes more and znore
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 publidty—so that
the labor of a concern will know what it
is doing, so that the stockholders wM
know what is bdng done, and the public
will have as much information as eithw
—^many of our present difficultiM will
disappear. In place of publidty being an
element of wealmess to a business con
cern, it will be an element of strength.
—George W. Perkins.
£•»
I^O act inobedience to thehidden pre-
cepts of Nature—that is rest; and
in this spedal case, since man is me^t to
be an intelligent creature, tbe more intd-
ligent his acts are, the more he finds
repose in them. V^en a child acts only
in a disorderly, disconnected manner,
his nervous force is imder a great strain;
while, on the other hand, his nervous
energy is positively increased and multi
plied by intelligent actions.
—^Maria Montessori.
who freely magnifies what hath
been nobly done, and fears not to
declare as freely what mig^t be done
better, gives ye the best covenant of his
SCRAJR j b o g i c Page 6S
DO not think that I exag eVERY time that we allow our-
gerate the importance or sdves to be penetrated by Nature^
tJie charms of pedestrian- our soul is opened to the most touching
ism, or our need as a people impresdons. Whether Nature smiles and
. to cultivate the art. I think adorns herself on her most beautifid days,
It would tend to soften the national man or whether she becomes pale, gray, cold
ners, to teach us the meaning of leisure, to and rainy, in Autumn and in Winter,
acquaint us with the charms of the open there is something in her which moves not
to strengthen and foster the tie be only the surface of the soul, but even its
tween the race and inmost depths, and
the land. -No one awakens a thou
else looks out upon The fountains mingle with the river. sand memories
the world sokindly And the rivers with the ocean. which to all appear
^d charitably as The winds of heaven mixforever ances have no con
doesthepedestrian; With a sweet emotion; nection whatever
no one gives and Nothing in the world is single; with the outward
takes so much from All things by a law divine scene, but whidi,
thecountryhepass- In one anothefs being mingle;— nevertheless, un
2 through. Next to
«e laborer in the
Why not / with thine? doubtedly hold
communion with
fidds, the walker See the mountains fdss high heaven. the soul of Nature
holds the dosest re And the waves clasp one another;
through sympa
lation to the soil; No sisterflower would beforgiven thies that may be
®'id he holds a dos- If it disdained its brother;
entirdy unknown
and more vital Arvd the sunlight clasps the earth. to us, because her
rdation to Nature
And the moonbeams kiss the sea; methods seem to be
because he is freer What are all these hissings worth. beyond the touchof
^'id his mind more If thou kiss not me? our thought—Mau
at leisure. rice de GuerinL
** Love's Philosophy,"
an takes root at by Percy Bysshe SkeHey
jwfeet, and at best Y garden, with
he IS no more than . , its silence and
®Pitted plant in his house or carri^e the pulses of fragrance that come and
go on the airy undulations, affects me
• u the soil established
^th by the lovingcommunication
and magnetic like sweet music. Care stops at the gates,
touch of his soles to it. Then the tie of and gazes at me wistfully through the
a^ciation is bom; then those invisible bars. Among my flowers and trees.
fibers and rootlets through which char Nature takes me into her own hands,
acter comes to smack of the soil, and and I breathe fredy as the first man
which makes a man kindred to the spot ot —^Alexander Smith.
®arth he inhabits. The roads and paths
you have walked along in Summer and LAKE is the landscape's most
Winter weather, the meadows and hills beautiful and expressive feature. It
which you have lookedupon in lightness is earth's eye; looking into which the be
andgladness ofheart,wherefreshfought holder measures the depth of his own
have comeinto your mind, or somenoble nature. The fluviatile trees next the shore
prospect has opened before you, and are the slendereyelashes which fringe it,
espedally the quiet ways, where you have and the wooded hills and diffs aroxmd are
walked in sweet converse with your friend its overhanging brows.—^Thoreau.
—pausing under the trees, drinking at the £•>
spring—thenceforththey arenot thesame; O man lives without jostling and
a new charm is added; those thoughts being jostled; in all ways he has to
spring there perennial, your friend dbow. himself through ^e world, giving
walks there forever,—^John Burroughs. and recdving offense.—Carlyle.
Fiage 66 *^LBBHSr «UBBARD*S
IB follow the stream of amber
and brosize^ brawling along
its bed with its frequent cas>
cades and snow-white foam.
Through the canyon we fly
/^j^mountains not only each side, but
seeinin^y, till we get near, right in front
of us^-every road a new view flashing,
md each flash defying descriptidn^—on
l^e almost perpendicular sides, clinging
pines, cedars, crimson siunach bushe^
spruces, ^)ots of wild grass—but domi
nating aU, those towering rocks, rocks,
ibcks, bathed in delicate vari-colors,
i^th the dear sky of Autumn overhead.
New ^enes, new joys, seem devdoped.
as you like, a typical Ro<^ Moun
t s cmyon, or a limitless sea-like str^ch
of the great Kansas or Colorado plains,
under favoring circumstances, tallies,
ij^haps egresses, certainly awakes,
ip»ndest and sub^est element-
oinotiom in the human soul, that all
m^ble temples and sculptures from
i^dias to Thorwaldsen—all paintings,
poems, redoiniscences or even music—
probably never can.—Walt Whitm^
thy name they shall call thee, at
the place where thou belongest th^
see thee,what is thine they sh^ give
to<1&ee, no man touches that which is des-
for his nei^bor.—^Rabbi Ben AzaL
thing needed is not plans, but
A well-thought-out plan with
out a man to execute it is a waste of
tciqa^i^d as a rule, the more compara-
tivdy tl^ deti^ ^ve been thought out
ti®r a mfiBi who is not going to execute
of mcxpLf^ wasted. Get a man witii a pl^,
jin4! n^e ttto&ey he has the greater
isi l^s chi^ce of doing a larger work; li^ut
a plwi\n^dut a m^ is as bad as a man
mtltout a pliGiiit~i^ more he has the
more he wii^i^^^AFthur T. Hadley.
who love NiSitt^ nieVei? be
Aei'd^, They may have other tempta
tion;, ibut at le^ ^4^ ^1 nm no ri^
of bi^^ bejguil^, Iby ennui, idleness or
kW«^ of Qc^patipn^, ** tp bt^ tte merry
mdn^ of m hem Mth t^ 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 imtil it becomes almost
like a fairy-tale.—^John Lubbock.
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.
^HAT 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 mia&-
Dation or beauty. Such are dull enough*
—Stanton Davis Kirkham.
;^HERE is nothing holier in this life
of ours than the first consciousness
of love—^the first fluttering of its silken
wings—the first rising soimd and breath
of that wind which is so soon to sweep
through the soul, to purify or to d^troy.
—Longfellow.
X WOULD compromise w^. Iwould
compromise gflory. I would compro
mise everything at that point where
hate comes in, where misery comes m,
where love ceases to be love, and life
begins its descent into the valley of the
diadow of death. But I would not com
promise Truth. I would not compromise
the right.—Henry Watterson.
SHAT then do you call your soul?
_ ^V^at idea have you of it? You can
not of yourselves, without revelation,
admit the existence within you of any-
thihg but 9 i^wer unknown to you of
feding and thinking.—^Voltaire.
The longer I live the more my mind
dwells upon the beauty and the wonder
of the world. I hardly know which feeling
leads, wonderment or admiration.
- John Burroughs.
HOUGH not often con
sciously recognized, perhaps
this is the great pleasure of
Summer: to watch the eartli,
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 the 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
sim^ine and the Summer, the flowere
and the azure sky, shall become, as it
were, interwoven into man's existence.
He shall take from all their beauty rad
enjoy their glory.—^Richard Jefferies.
GREAT deal of talent is lost in
the world for want of a little coiu--
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
throu^' as well as we can. It will not do
to be perpetually calculating risks and
adjusting nice chances; it did very well
before the Flood, when a man would
JBOOJK, Page 67
consult his friends upon an intended
publication for a himdred and fifty years,
and live to see his success afterwards;
but at present, a man waits, and doubts,
and consults his brotner, and his parti
cular friends, till one day he finds he is
sixty ye&rs 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.
E are told of the Chinese sage
Mengtsen, that when he was a
child, his moAer's home was near a
slaughter-house, and that she in^antly
left her home when she saw the 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.
—^Dean Farrar.
UR 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
thisir nature divine and immortal.
—^Thackeray.
«•» «•»
AN has not yet reached his best.
He never will reach his bert imtil
he walks the upward way side hy side
with woman. Plato was right in his
fancy that man and woman are merdy
halves of humanity, each requiring the
qualities of the other in order to attain
the hi^est character. Shakespeareunder
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 him what
he is.—^Eugene V. Debs.
Life is a fragment, a moment between
two eternities, influenced by all that
has preceded, and to influence all that
follows. The only way to illumine it is by
extent of view.
—Williain Ellery Chaining.
 ISJLBBRSr mJBBARD^S Page 69

NEVER-CEASING flood of THINK we may assert that in a HE man who, by some sud (C^ESIDES theology, music is the only
discharged convicts pours hundred men there are more than den revolution of fortune, is art capable of affording peace and
bade into our penitentiaries, ninety who are what they are, good or lifted up all at once into a joy of the heart like that induced by the
not because they have found bad, useful or pernicious to society, from condition of life greatly study of the sdence of divinity. The
life there a paradise, but the instruction they have received. It is above what he had formerly proof of this is that the Devil, the
^^Qse liiethumbscrew ofpresent want on education that depend the great dif lived in, may be assured that the congrat originator of sorrowful anxieties and
ocerdses a pressure far more potent than ferences observable among them. The ulations of his best friends are not all of restless troubles, flees before the sound of
Ldpes the femr of future, but uncertain, least and most imp^ceptible impressions them perfectly sincere. An upstart, music almost as much as he does before
though of the greatest merit, is generally the Word of God. This is why the
punishment, however severe. H^ere is the received in our infancy have conse disagreeable, and a
answer to the quences of long prophets preferred
sentiment of envy music before all the
^lesticmwhydeter- duration. It is with
commonly pre
foice, pu^ed to / think that I shall never see
these first impr^- other arts, pro-
vents us from Trusty, dusky, vivid, true.
the very Umits of A poem lovely as a tree, sions as with a daiming the Word
heartily sympa With eyes of gold and bramble-dew. in psalms and
human endurance, river, whose waters Steel true and blade straight
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest thizing with his hymns
j^bes not deter we can easily turn,, The great Artificer made my mate.
We know wdl that Against the eartVs sweet flowing breast; by different canals, joy. If he has any My heart, which is
t^e prison is but judgment, he is full to overflowing,
A tree that looks at God all day in opposite courses; sensible of this, Honor, anger, valor, fire,
1^ of the great has often been sol
so that from the A love that life could never tire.
social question— And lifts her lec^y arms to pray; insensible direction and, instead of ap aced and refreshed
pearing to be elated Death quench, or evil stir. by music when sick
tibat, ia a general the stream receives The mighty Master gave to her.
poverty is the A tree that may in summer wear with his good for and weary.
at its source, it
parent and the A nest of robins in her hair. takes different di tune, he endeavors, —^Martin Luther.
as much as he can, Teacher, tender comrade, wife,
ilum the kinder rections, and at last A fellow-farer true through life.
garten of vice. 3ut Upon whose bosom snow has lain; arrives at places to smother his joy, ® C I E N C E
Who intimately lives with rain. and keep down that Heart-whole and soul-free.
#e also knoT)^ that, far different from The August Father gave to me.
seems to me
w^e these prepare elevation of mind to teach in the
each other; and
soil, it is the Poems are made by fods like me. with the same fadl- with which his new " Trusty, Dusky, Vivid, True," highest and strong
But only God can make a tree, circumstances nat by Robert Louis Stevenson est manner the
administration- of ity we may; I great truth which
our criminal law " Trees," by Joyce Kilmer think, turn the urally inspire him.
thatplants the seed He affects the same • is embodied in the
minds of children Christian conception of entire surrender
and supplies the tropical conditions that to wliflit direction we choose.—^Locke. plainness of dress, and the same modesty
of behavior, which became him in his to the will of God. Sit down before the
Mii it to the instant maturity of crime. fact as a little child, be prepared to give
—^hiffith J. Griffith. OW much easier our work would be former station. He redoubles his atten
«•> m if we put forth as much effort trying tion to his old friends, and endeavors up every preconceived notion, follow
humbly wherever and to whatever
|ilTS I grow older, I simplify both my to improve the quality of it as most of more than ever to be humble, assiduous
abysses Nature leads, or you shall leam
l-I. ^ence and myreli^on. Books mean us do trying to find excuses^for not and complaisant. And this is the be
havior which in his situation we most nothing. I have only begun to leam con
to me; prayers mean less; potions, properly attending to it.
approve of; because we expect, it seems, tent and peace of mind since I have
P^ and dm^ mean less; but peace, —George W. Ballinger. resolved at all risks to do this.—^Huxley.
love and a life of usefulness that he should have more sympathy with
mean mi^, infinitely more. IFE is a tender thing and is easily our envy and aversion to his happiness,
Aan we have with his happiness. It is ITHOUT distinction, without cal
•HSilas Hubbard, M. D. molested.There is always somethii^ culation, without procrastination,
that goes amiss. Vain vexations—^vain^ seldom that with all this he success.
I\l^ US, d ^ve us the man who sings sometimes, but always vexatious. The We suspect the sincerity of his humility, love. Lavish it upon the poor, where it is
at WorkIBe his occupation what smallest and slightest impediments are and he grows weary of this constraint. very easy; especially upon the rich, who
it rally, he is equal to any of those who the most piercing; and as little letters —^Adam Smith. often ne^ it most; most of all upon our
foUow lije same pursuit in silent suUen- most tire the eyes, so do little affairs equals, where it is very difficult, and for
n^. Hfe mil do DQore in the same time— most disturb us.—^Montaigne. HE man who starts out with the idea whom perhaps we each do least of all.
il^e wiU db it better-^e will persevere of getting rich won't succeed; you —^Henry Dnunmond.
l^^ejr. Ofieis siiSBrceiy s^ible to fatigue HE joys and sorrows of others are must have a larger ambition. There is no
^^e he marches to music. The very ours as much as theirs, and in mystery in business success. If you do Live and think.—Samuel Lover.
stare s^d tb mate harmony as th^ proper time as we fed this and leam to each day's task successfully, stay faith
ifevolve in l^eir spheres.^—Carlyle. live so that the whole world shares the fully within the natural operations ot Let us endeavor so to live that when we
life that flows through iis, do our minds commerciallaw,andkeepyourhead clear, come to die even the undertaker w^ 1^
S^dii^ gW^ its Mrt^ to lif^t.—Gray. leam the Secret ofPeace.—^Aimie Besant. you will come out dl right.—^Rockefeller. sorry.—Mark Twain.

70 ALBERT HUBBARD*3
DRE is no more valuable
subordinate than the man
to whom you can give a
piece of work and then for
get it, in the confident ex
pectation that the next time it is
Imu^t to your attention it will come
m l^e form of a report that the thing
been done. When this self-reliant
gtialiiy is joined to executive power,
loyalty and common sense, the ^ult is
ai inan whom you can trust.
ithe other hand, there is no greater
nuisance to a man heavily burdened
l&e direction of affairs than the
we^-backed assistant who is contin-
u^y tiyihg to get his chief to do his
work for him on the feeble plea that he
the chief would like to decide
or that hin^lf. The man to whom
m esc^tive is most grateful, the man
will work h^est and value
xicu^ is tlie man Who accepts responsi-
biU^ willin^y.—Gifford Pinchot.
IhILE the railroads of the United
States may Jiave mistakes to an
swer for, they have created the most
^(^ve, useful, and by far the cheapest
tS^tem of land transportation in t^e
worlds This has been accomplished with
little legidatipn and against an
license vblume Of opposition and in-
t^erence growing out of ignorance and
misunderstanding. It ^ not an exag-
|emidon to say ttot in the past history
pf tlm country the railway, n^ after
the Chiistian rdigion and the public
sd^i; has been the largest sin^e con
tributing factor to the welfare and hap-
pineis of the people.-^James J. Hfll.
is music in the beauty, and
the silrat note t£^t Cupid strikes,
far swetter than the wund of an in-
3txum^t; for there is mu»c wherever
^CTe i^ harm^y, order Or proportion;
ai^ llius far we may xxmintain the
mu^c of tihe spheres;.
r-^ir Thon^ Browne.
Happiness grp^^our own fire^des, and
is not tbi pick^' ixii slxa^er's gardens,
jerrold.
[OU want a better position than you
now have in business, a better and
fuller place in life. All right; think ot
that better place and you in it as already
existing. Form the mental image. Keepori
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 imderstanding, 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.
XKNOW the beds ofEastern 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 fsdls into sweet
unconsciousness, while the screech-owl
is calling fcom the moonlit oak and firost
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 si^-
ficient for the day; for surely our plain
duly is " not to see what lies dimly at a
distwce, but to do what lies clearly at
hand."---Osler.
beist way for a young man who
\b^ is without friends or ir^uence to
begin is: first, to get a position; second,
to keep his mouth shut; third, observe;
fourth, be faithful; fifth, make his em
ployer think he woidd be lost in a fog
wifliout him; sixth, be polite.
—^Russell Sage.
HAT is music? This question
occupied my mind for hours
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.
IO renounce your individuality, to see
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
tiiat nothing whatever is withheld, to
be prepared at any moment for sacrifice,
to double your personality in bestowing
it—that is love.—Gautier
lELODY has by Beethoven b^
- freed from the influence of Fashion
and changing Taste, and raised to an
ever-valid, purely human type. Beetho
ven's music will be imderstood to ^
time, while that of his predecessors will,
for the most part, only remain intelligible
to us throu^ the medium of reflection
on the history of art.—^Richard Wagner.
QATURE, like a loving mother, is
ever tr^g 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 ev^-
thing, everywhere? Say of nothing,
" This is beneath me," nor feel that
anything is beyond our powers. Nothing
is impossible to the man who can will.
—^Mirabeau.
jBOOIC Page 71
XF we do our best; if we do not mag
nify trifling troubles; if we look
resolutely, I will not say at the bri^t
side of things, but at things as they
really are; if we avail ourselves of the
manifold blessings which sum)xmd us,
we can not but feel that life is indeed a
^orious inheritance.—^John Lubbock.
HE passions ^e the only orators
_ ' that always persuade; they are,
as it were, a natural art, the rules of
which are infallible; and the simplest
rnnn with passion is more persuasive
than tiie most doquent without it.
—^La Rochefoucauld.
LL 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
b^ things, of Ais world—^not with
money and titles, horses and carriages,
but with bright and happy thou^ts,
contentment and peace of mind.
—^John Lubbock.
XT 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 littie 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 pi^uce no combinations. The more
extensive, tiierefore, 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 " Roihaa
virtue"—a " Roman outline." There is
somewhat indefhiite, somewhat yet un
fulfilled, in the* thought of Greece, of
Spain, of modem Italy; but Rome, it
stands by itself a clear word. The power
of Will, Ae dignity of a fixed pur^se, is
what it utters.—^Margaret Fuller.
PogeTZ *BLBBKr HUBBlARD^S
IdONFESS I am not at all
Idianned with the ideal oi
hdd out by those who
Ithink that the normal state
himian beings is that ot
struggling to get on; that the trampling,
crushing, dbowing, and treadingon ea(^
other's heels, which form the existing
^rpe ofhumanlife,are the most desirable
lot of humankind, or anytiiing but the
dijfflgreeable ^rmptoms of one of the
ph3a^ of industrialprogress.—^J. S. Mill.
^ £•» 6^
fTOTHOUT free speech no search for
^^tnith is possible; without free
no discoveiy of truth is useful;
without free speech progress is checked
and the nations no longer march forward
toward the nobler life which the„foture
holds for man. Better a thouswdfold
abuse of free speech than denial of free
The abuse dies in a day, but the
idenial slays the life of the people, and
eiitdmbs ^e hopeof the race.
-Charles Bradlau^
longOT I live, the more deeply I
am convinced thatthat which tnalfpg
the difference betweoi one man and
pother—between the weak and the
powerful, the great and the insignificant
energy, invincible determination, a
ptuipose once formed and then death or
^ctory.—Powell Buxton.
/ERY year I live I am more con
vinced that the waste of life lies in
the love we have-not given, the powers
wfi have not used, the selfish prudence
^lat risk nothing, and which, shirk-
^ misses happiness as well. No
Me ever yet was the poorer in the long
tim fpt having once in a lifetime " let
irot all the length of all the reins."
—^Mary Cholmondeley.
jFmAVE evCT g^ed the most profit,
andt|iemost ples^ure also, from the
ifepoks which have made me ^e
most; and, when the difficulties have once
b ^ overcome, these are the books which
struck the deeped root, not only in
memory and understanding, but like
wise in my affections.—A. W. Hare.
JBOOJK, Page 73
p4lANK God every morning when ^ANY- a woman committing J^=iHE sun isjustrising onthemorning
you get up that you have something herself to a course that ^ss/of another day, the first day of a
to do which must be done, whether you disregards the edicts of so new year. What can I wish that this
like it or not. Being forced to work, and ciety knows with her mind day, this year, may bring to me? Noth
forced to do your best, will breed in that she is doing a foolish ing that shall make the world or others
you temperance, self-control, diligence, thing, while with her heart she rejoices poorer, nothing at the expense of other
strength of will, content, and a himdred in her folly and lauds herselffor her high men; but just those few thii^ which in
other virtues wUch the idle never know. indifference to convention. their coming do not stop with me, but
—Charles Kingsley. Then when she finds herself suspected. touch me rather, as they pass and
assailed or ridi
gather strength:
study of art possesses this great Does the road wind up-hill all the way? A few friends
culed , she is
^SB^and peculiar charm, that it is abso Yes, to the very end. who understand
amazed and
lutely unconnected with the struggles Will the day's journey take the whole me, and yet re
deeply wounded, main my fnends.
and contests of ordinary life. By private though with her long day?
interests and by political questions, men
intellect she has
From morn till night, my friend. A work to do
are deeply divided and set at variance; which has realvalue
clearly understood without which the
but beyond and above all such party
the inevitableness
But is therefor the night a resting-place?
strifes, they are attracted and united by A roof for when the- slow dark hours world would feel
of her reward so» the poorer.
a taste for the beautiful in- art. It is a begin. .
taste at once engrossing and unselfish, This propensity May not the darkness hide it from A return for such
which may be indulged without effort to divorce impulse my face? work small enou^
and yet has the power of exciting the from good judg You can not miss that irm, not to tax unduly
deepest emotions—a taste able to exer ment, to do a rash O
any one who pays.
cise and to gratify both the nobler and thing for affection's Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? A mind un^raid
the softer parts of our nature—^the sake, and then to Those who have gone before. to travel, even
imagination and the judgment, love ot writhe when the Then must I knock, or call when Just thou^ the trail be
emotion and power of reflection, the condemnation in sight? not blazed.
enthusiasm and the critical faculty, the comes—is there any They will not keep you standing at An understanding
senses and the reason.—Guizot. more trulyfeminine that door. heart
bit of sophistry in A si^t of the eter
DRE is no short-cut, no patent thestrangeroundof Shall Ifind comfort,travel-sore and weak? nal hills and un
'tram-road, to wisdom. After all the woman's reason? Of labor you shallfind the sum. resting sea, and of
centuries of invention, the soul's path The ostrich with Will there be beds for me and all who something beauti
lies through the thorny wilderness which her head in the seek? ful the hand of man
must still be trodden in solitude, wit^ sand is not more Yea, beds for all'who come. has made.
bleeding feet, with sobs for help, as it pathetic or absurd " Up-HiU," by Christina G. Rossetti A sense of himior
was trodden by them of old time. than a woman thus and the power to
( —George Eliot. hoodwinking herself. laugh. €L A little leisure with nothing to
—^Margaret Ashmun. do. C A few moments of quiet, silent
'HONOR any man who in the con- meditation. The sense of the presence of
kscious discharge of his duty dares _IIS earth with its infinitude of life God
to stand alone; the world, with ignorant, —•^and beauty and mystery, and the And the patience to wait for the coming
intolerant judgment, may condemn; the universe in the midst of which we are of these things, with the wisdom to
countenances of relatives maybe averted, placed, with its overwhelming^ immen know them when they come.—^**A Morn
and the hearts of friends grow cold; but sities of suns and nebulae, of light and ing Wish," by W. R. Hunt.
the sense of duty done shall be sweeter motion, are as they are, firstly, for the
than the applause of the world, the development of life culminating in man; ._JRE is quite as mudi education
countenances of relatives, or the hearts secondly, as a vast schoolhouse for the and true learning in the analysis of
of friends.—Charles Stunner. hi^er education of the human race in an ear of com as in the analysis of a
preparation for the enduring spiritual complex sentence; ability to analyze
Abraham Lincoln was as just and life to wWch it is destined. clover and alfalfa roots savors of quite
generous to the rich and well-torn aa to —^Alfred Russel Wallace. as much cidtxire as does the study of
Sie poor and humble—a thing rare the Latin and Greek ro6ts.
among politicians.—^John Hay. Wonder is involuntary praise.—^Yoimg. O. H. Benson.
Payc 74 'BLBJSfiT HUBBARD^S
O lead a people in revolution
'wisdy andsuccessfully, with
out ambition and without
crime, demands indeed lofty
genius and unbending virtue.
But to build their State amid the angry
o^ffict of passion and prejudice, to
peacefully inaugurate a complete and
sa^factory government—^this is the very
S^test service that a man can render
to mankind. But this sdso is the glory of
Washington
the sure sagacity of a leader of men,
hej^gcted at once for the three highest
l^tiW the three chief Americans.
Hao^toii was the head, Jefferson was
i^e and John Jay Ae conscience
# hip administration. Washington's just
|§d' serrae ascendency was the lambent
flame in whidi these beneficent powers
fused; and ndthing else than that
a^n^n)^ could have ridden the whirl-
«^d> and directed the storm l^at burst
#<iuttd him. Party spirit blazed into
ifu^. John Jay was htmg in ^gy; Ham
pton was ston^; insurrection raised its
h(^' in the West; Washington himself
Was denounce. But the great soul was
wdism^ed. Without a b^con, without
a di^, but with unwavering eye and
s^dy hand, he guided his country safe
thro^^ darkness and through storm.
^ l^d his steadfast way, UIk the sun
1|ie firmament, giving life and
h^l^ and strength to & new nation;
upcm a se^i^ing survey of his
adqoinu^atiG^ there is no great act
whi^ country would anniil; no word
no l^e mritten, no deed done
^ ^im, wlu# justice would reverse or
liam Curtis.
nW^ bom an American; I live an
i^o^can; I shali die an American;
wd I intend to p^ofm t^e duties incum
bent upon me in that character to the
end pf iny I me^ to do this wilJi
abwlute disregard of personal con-
sequ^ces^ Wh4t are t&e personcd con-
's^u^^f What is ^e in^vidual man,
^th ithe good' or evil*that may be-
ddie hi^i, in comparison with the good
or evil which may befaU a grejit country,
in the Inidrt 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.
,0 man today can lay claim to a
liberal education imless 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-
sdf in our quarter of the solar sjrstem
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 tJie 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
fireemen.—Chauncey M. Depew.
iB 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 diurch 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
churdi.—^Magellan.
OTHING is more essential
than that permanent, in
veterate antipathies against
particular nations and pas
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 dispos^ 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 oneof 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 Sie fire.
—^Arnold Bennett.
IflODERN civilization rests upon phy-
sical science, for it is physical
science that makes intelligence and moral
energy stronger than brute force. The
whole of modem 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 her spirit and indebted
for his best products to her methods. She
is teaching the world that the ultimate
court of appeal is observation and exper
ience, not authority. She is CTeating a
firm and living faith in the existence of
Page 7S
immutable moral and phjrsical laws,
perfect obedience to which is the hi^est
possible aim of an intelligent being.
—^Huxley.
INK fact stands out in bold rdief 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.
have grown literally afraid to be
poor. We despise any one who dects
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
ri^t to fiing away our life at any mo
ment irresponsibly—^the more athletic
trim; in short, the moral fighting diape.
It is certain that the prevalent fear of
poverty among the educated dasses is
the worst mor^ disease from which our
dvilization suffers.—^William Jcunes.
[he manner in which one single ray
of light, one single predous hint,
will clarify and energize the whole men
tal life of him who receives it, is among
the most wonderful and heavenly of
intellectual phenomena.
—Arnold Bennett..
Friendship is the highest degree of per
fection in sodety.—^Montaigne.
«•»
Brutality to an animal is cruelty to man
kind—it is only the difference in the
victim.—^Lamartine.
£•>
Blessed are they who have the gift of
making friends, for it is one of G^'s
best gifts. It involves many things, but
above all, the power of going out of
one's sdf, and appreciating whatever is
noble and loving in another.
—^Thomas Hughes.
 'ALBERT ffUBBARD'S JSOO/C Page 77

£ are spinning our own fates, heartedness in youths embarking on HE world-story after all is as we fail to do it, we are weak. Pagan
good or evil, never to be arduous careers than all other causes
nothing more than the story defeat and superseding came when the
of human sentiment. The human heart grew faint. It is the same
undone. Every smallest put together.—^William James. world, this in which we live; the source of
causes that have been lost
stroke of virtue or vice £e»
its power is still in the roimd tower of the
leaves its never-so-little scar. ^HE early sunlight filtered through and won, the victories and
heart.—C. Hanford Henderson.
drunken Rip Van Winkle, in Jefifer- the filmy draperies to where a defeats, the Reformation and the Re
s play, excuses himself for every wondering baby stretched his dimpled naissance, all the great things that have
dereliction by saying, " I won't hands to catch the rays that lit his face been done, have been first achieved in the democracy of the dead all
"***•
count time! " Well, he may not and fiesh like dawn lights up a rose. His the emotional life, in the hiunan spirit. men at last are equal. There is
•^Unt it, and a startled gaze The immense ma neither rank nor
?^d Heaven may She walks—the lady of my delight— caught and held terial resources of When you are old and gray and full of station nor prerog
punt it; but the dawn of day in Asia hurl them- sleep. ative in the repub
A shepherdess of sheep. lic of the grave. At
ft IS being counted Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps therji rapturous looks selves against And nodding by the fire, take down this
^one the less. white; that spoke the Greek sentiment book. this fatal thresh
^^wn among his She guards them from the steep. dawn of Self,, for and are shattered. And slowly read and dream of the soft old the philoso
J®rve-ceUs and fi- She feeds them on the fragrant height. The Roman em look pher ceases to be
with the morning
the molecules gleam out came the pire, robbed of Ro Your eyes had once, and of their shadows wise, and the song
And folds them in for sleep. of the poet is silent.
are counting it, reg- greater wonder. It man spirit, falls deep;
f^ering and stor was the mystery of apart; China, the Dives relinquishes
She roams maternal hills and bright,
es it up to be Dark vcUleys safe and deep. Life
unalterable, the How many loved your moments of glad his millions and
against him Into that terider breast at night Across a cradle anesthetic, is grace. Lazarus his rags.
w^-eu the next dying Napo And loved your beauty with lovefalse or The poor man is as
The chastest stars may peep. where sunk in sat
temptation comes. in pillows, lay a leon's cynical re true; rich as the richest,
She walks—the lady of my delight— ^d the rich man
^othing weever do A shepherdess of sheep. still, pale form as mark that Heaven But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you.
^ in strict scien espoused the cause And loved the sorrows of your changing is as poor as the
droops a rose from
tific literalness, She holds her little thoughts in sight. some fierce heat, of the larger army face. pauper. The cred-
^ped out. was nowhere better itor loses his
Though gay they run and leap. the evening sha
pf course, this has She is so circumspect and right; dows fell aslant,
disproved than And bending down beside the glowing usury, and the deb
its good side as in his own history. bars , ^ , tor is acquitted of
She has her soul to keep. and spoke of peace.
wdl as its bad one. She walks—the lady of my delight— The twilight calm A handful of colo Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled his obligation.
As we become per- A shepherdess of sh^ep. enclosed the world nial farmers is And paced upon the mountains overhead There the proud
Ipanent drunkards " The Shepherdess," by Mice Meynell in silence deep as worth a regiment And hid hisface amid a crowd of stars. man surrenders his
fey so many sep Truth, and on the of Hessians.To one " When You Are Old," by Wmiam Butter Yeats (Katies, the poli
tate drinks, so we become saints in the man comes a su tician his honors,
little face the wondering look had given the worldling his pleasures; the invalid
5^^, rad authorities andexperts in the place to one of sweet repose. It was the preme passion—^the unity of Italy, it may
practical and scientific spheres, by so mystery of Death. be, the reality of the Fatherland, the needs no ph3^iciah, and the laborer rests
liberation of Greece; and behold, it is from imrequited toil.
®a^y separate acts and hours of work. At head and foot the tapers burned,
iLet no youth have any anxiety about an accomplished fact. Here at last is Nature's final decree
a golden light that clove the night as in equity. The wrongs of time are re
#e upshot of his education, whatever Hope the encircling gloom. Across the It is impossible to exaggerate the omni
^e line ofit may be. Ifhe keep faithfully potence of himian feeling, of human dressed. Injustice is expiated, the irony
cot where lay the fair, frail form, his
'Pii^ ^ch hour of the.working day, he hand reached out to hers and met and emotion, of human desire. of Fate is refuted; the unequal distri
^^^y ^ely leave thefinal result to itself. clasped in tender burning touch. Into The miller looks to his millrace; the bution of wealth, honor, capacity, plea
He can vnth i)erfect certainty coxmt on engineer replenishes his coalbin; the sure and opportunity, which makes life
the eyes of each there camethe lookl That such a crud and inexplicable tragedy,
wailing up some toe morning to find is the light of life; that spoke of self to sailor regards the quarter of the wind; so
Wmself one of the competent ones of his each, yet told they two were one. It was must we people who have more impor ceases in the realm of deatli. The strong-
ge^a^on in whatever pursuit he may the mystery to which the mysteries of tant concerns on hand look for the carry cat there has no supremacy, and the
i^ire singed put. Silently, between ^ Life and Death bow down—^the mystery ing out of them to the strength and
weakest needs no defence. The mightiest
#ie die^s of his business, the power captain succumbs to that invincible
of Love.—^James Himt Cook. purity of the feelings. As men we must
^ijud^ng in alll^t dass of matter will d«» £•»
adversary, who disarms alike the victor
see to it that the heart beats high; as and the vanquished.—^John J. Ingalls.
have built itself up within him as a pos- Genius is mainly an affair of energy, and educators we must see to it that the tide
ses^on that will never pass away. Young I)oetry is mainly an affair of genius; of childish feeling is at the flood; as
f^iple should know tiiis trutii in advance. therefore a nation characterized by The world is blessed most by men who
^6 ^norance ofit has probably engen- sociologists we must see to it that the do things, and not by those who merely
energy may well be eminent in poetry.
more discouragexnent and faint- —^Matthew Arnold. people care. As we do this, we are strong; talk about them.—James Oliver.
 Pi^efS '^LBBKT ffUBBARD'S
HE world has become one
dty. We begin to see that
only a sophomoric and stu
pendous conceit can justify
the claims of any race oi
pe^le to be wholly superior to any
^er. No one race can be made perfect
williout the virtues of every other, or
^mthbut the universal fellowship of all
tfee (^dren of men.
iParlcness will cover the earth, until we
telEini the le^n of universal brother-
hppd. Away with national and racial
^jUdice! By our practice and our
ii^thirany, let us stand fearlessly and
lovin^y for the unity of mankind.
—Benjamin Fay Mills.
^'T*' BELIEVE in the spirit of peace,
in sole and absolute reliance on
truth and the application of it to the
hea^ and con^ences of the people. I
not bdieve that the weapons of
liberty ever have been, or era be, the
we£^>oj:u' of despotism. I .know that
ttu^ of despotism are the sword, the
lerolver, the d^on, t^e bomb^^;
therefore, the. weapons to which
^ptwtsding and upon which thqr depend
^ not the weapons for me, as a friend of
Uberty.—W. L. Garrison. <
. Thmgs to Remember—1.
value of time. 2. Hie success of
pctse^^ 3. The pleasure of worldng.
4. The di|mty of simplicity. 5. The
WGr& ^ ctoacter. 6. The power of .
^dni^. f. The ixifluence of Sample.
8. The pbligal^ of duty: 9. The wisdom
<of ecop^y. lOlTlie virtue of patience,
liv ^e ^^v^ent of talent. 12. The
Fidd.
woi^d': the discontent that
and^e dise^ that wrings its
h^ds^ f^e first g^ Wbat it wants, and
#e 8!eiqmd 1(3^ wi^^ it has. There's no
fpr the^fo^ but success; and th^e's
up cure at all fpr seccmd.
^•^^^Qo^ddn Graham,
a* fli»
lUfe is ^de up of solbsj/dti^es and si^es
sr^es j^eipmii^ti^ Hetuy.
'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 misfortime 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 coinage
without being a bromide-taker.
—^Metchnikoff.
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.
\^en this notion seizes upon our under- ,
standing, we can but kneel. • • •,! see
everywhere the inevitable expression of
the Infinite in the world; ^ough 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 wei^s 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 thouf^ht of the
Infinite.—Louis Pasteur.
«•>
IHERE 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
thous^ts, because that is essential to
internal recollection, and because it
lays a. foundation for a proper regula
tion and silence in other respects.
—Madame Gujrcm.
St
Co-operation, and not Competition, is
the life of trade.—^William C. Fitch.
IND numerous indeed are
the hearts to which Christ
mas brings a brief season
of happiness and enjoy
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 im-
£dloyed 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!
C We write these words now, mray
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 brightiy 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 -tribal circumstance con
nected with those happy meetings,
crowd upon our mind at eadh 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 diildish days, recall to
the old man the pleasures of his youth,
and transport the traveler back to his
own fireside and quiet home!
—Charles Dickens.
I bread of bitterness is tiie ibod
on which men grow to their fullest
stature; the waters of bitterness are the
debatable ford through which they reach
the ^ores of Wisdom; the ashes boldly
grasped and eaten without faltering are
^e 'price that must be paid for the
golden fruit of knowledge.—Ouida.
JBOOiC Page 79
^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 wei^tier
affairs of life! Then the faithful servant
shows himself at once a friend,, while the
one who serves from fear shows himsdf
an enemy.—^Frederica Bremer.
St ^
'F thou workest at that which is
»before thee, following right reason
seriously, vigorously, calmly, without
allowing any^ing else to distract thee,
but keeping thy ivine part sure, if thou
shouldst be boimd to give it back
immediately; if thou boldest 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 happyl And there
is no man who is able to prevent this.'
—^Marcus Aurelius.
St
XDO not remejoiber 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 goodJn 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. Herijont Morgan.
Bt ot 'a.
-OWERS have an expression of
countenance as much as men or
animals. Some seem to smile; some have
a sad expression; some are pensive and
diffident; others again are plain, honest
and upright, like the broadfaced sun
flower and t^e hollyhock.
—^Henry Ward Beechcr*
St St
When love arid skill work tpgetha-
expect a masterpiece.—^John Ruskin.
PagisSO
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
ndirace we know not, going we know
not how or when, strildng out wild notes
x& mudc that znake even fatigued and
heavy hearts to throb and give back a
^e of courage
SiisSi we say that the creature without
IdVe is like the lamp unlit? There it is
and no one needs it. But touch it with
flame, and it trembles and ^ows and
tH^mes the center of the room where it
s$i3nds. Eversrthix]^ that falls under its
tays is new-^t. So does the lover see all
^tural thinp quite new.
(|r take the image of the witheripg plant
th^ is dying of drou^t. The sun's rays
have paired it; the roots have searched
aM seardied for moisture in a soil that
^ws 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-
ttide of round scented drops, the purest
thing alive, a distilled essence, necessary
to life. Under that baptism the plant
lilts itsdf up; it drinks and rejoices. In
ni^t it renews its strengA; in the
nloming the heat it has had from the
sui^ reinforced by the rain, bursts out
into colored flowers. So I have known a
iim battered by hard life and the
excess of his own passions: I have seen
love come to such a man and take him up
fdeanse him and set him on his feet;
iid ftom hini has burst forth a flood of
color and splendor—creative work that
An^er image mig|it be of the harp
l^t stands by itsdf in golden aloofness,
^mes l^e beautify arms, the cur-
fingers i3aat pluck at the strings,
and the air is filled with melody; the
li^gins to live, tlu^Uing and re-
j[i^#ng, do^ to its golden foot.
0r pietwe the ui^i^ted house, empty at
fall ofni^t. The windows ^e dark; the
dip^ ^ut; the dean wind gpes about and
#i&und it; and can not find an entrance,
dull heavy air is faint within; it
to be reuziited to the wind of the
HUBBARD^S
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 |iouse ^ows and lives.
—Orace Rhys.
O ELOQUENT,- just, and mighty
Death1 Whom none could advise,
thou hast persuaded; what none hath
dared, thou hast done; and whom all the
world hath flattered, tiiou 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 ovct
with these two narrow words—Hie
facet /—^Raleigh.
j^^H, the eagerness and freshness of
youth! Howthe boy eiyoys'l^ food,
his sleep, his sports, his companions, his
truant days! His life is an adventure, he
is widening his outlook, he is extenc^g
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 ^d im
pressions for a world of duties and
studies and meditations. The youth
enjoys what the man tries to understand.
Lucl^r 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 Biutou^s.
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.—V/. H. Seward.
jBOOK. Page 81
HE difference between a "How wdl it is written!" I thought it a
precious stone and a com doubtful compliment. It should have
mon stone is not an essential been so wdl written that the reader
difference—^not a difference would not have been consdous of the'
of substance, but of arrange writing at all.
ment of the particles—^the crystalliza If we could only get the writing, the
tion. In substance, the charcoal and craft, out of our stories and essays and
the diamond are one, but in form poems, and make the reader fed he was
and effect, how widdy tiiey differ! face to face with the real thii^! The
The pearl contains complete identi
nothing that is not O, like a queen's her happy tread. fication of the style
foimd in the coars And like a queen's her golden head! with the thou^t;
est oyster-sheU But O, at last, when all is said. the complete ab-
Two men have the Her woman's heart for me! so^tion ofthe man
same thoughts; witi his matter, so
they use about the We wandered where the river gleamed that the reader
same words in ex 'Neath oaks that mused and pines that shall say, " How
pressing them; yet dreamed, good, how real, how
with one the pro A wild thing of the woods she seemed. true!"—^that is the
duct is real litera So proud, and pure, and free! great success. Seek
ture,with the other ye the kingdom of'
it is platitude. AU heaven drew.nigh to hear her sing. truth first, and
The difference is When from her lipi her soul took wing; things shall be
all in presentation; The oaks forgot their pondering. added a^
a finer and more The pines their reverie. I think we do fed,
compendious pro with regard tosome
cess has gone on in And O, her happy, queenly tread. of Stevenson's
the one case than And O, her queenly golden head! books, like An In-
in the other. The But O, her heart, when all is said. land Voyage, Trav
dements are better Her woman's heart for me! els With a Dorikey,
fused and knitted " Song," hy WWiam Watson etc., how well they
togetJier; they are are written a^ Cer
in some way heightened and intensified. tainly one would not have the literary
Is not here a due to what we mean by skill any less, but would have one's
style? «•» attention kept from it by the richness of
Style transforms common quartz into an the matter. Hence I think a British
Egyptian pebble. We are apt to think of critic hits the mark when he says
style as something external, that can be Stevenson lacks homdiness.
put on, something in and of itself. Doctor Holmes wrote fine and eloquent
But it is not; it is in the mmost texture poems, yet I think one does not fed that
of the substance itsdf. he is essentially a poet. His work has not
Polish, choice words, faultless rhetoric, the inevitableness of Nature; it is a
are only the accidents of style. skilful literary feat; we admire it, but
Indeed, perfect workman^p is one seldom return to it. His poetry is a
thing; style, as the great writers have it, stream in an artifidal channd; his
is quite another. It may, and often does, natural channel is his prose; herewe get
go with faulty workmanship. It is the hisfreest and mostspontaneous activity.
choice of words in a fresh and vital way, One fault I find with our younger and
so as to give us a vivid sense of a new more promising school of novdists is that
spiritual force and personality. In the their aim is too literary; we feel they are
best work the style is foimd and hidden striving mainly for artistic effects. Do
in the matter. we feel this at all in Scott, Dickens,
I heard a reader observe, after finishing Hawthorne or Tolstoy? These men are
one of Robert Louis Stevenson's books, not thinking about art, but about life—

^LBBRiT HUBBARD^S
to produce life. C In essayists like
Wilde, Lang, the same thing
QpGurs; we are constantly aware of the
litsiiBry artist; they are^not in love with
reality, so much as they are with
wc^d^ style, literary effects Their
^ousne^ is mainly an artistic serious-
n^. It is not so much that they have
sc^melMig to say, as that they are iilled
a d^e to say something.
N^ly ail our magazine ix)ets seem iilled
wth the s^e desire; what labor, what
^d technique; but what a dearth ot
falling and ^ntaneityt I read a few
IMes or stanzas and then stop. I see it is
ply deft handicraft, and fliat the heart
soul are not in it.
One day my boy killed what an old
huBt^ told him was a mock duck. It
lc»]^; Hke a duck, it acted like a dud^
Mt wh^ it came upon the table—it
us.
Th^ mock poems of the magazines
renui^ me of it.
is it not imfaSr to take any book, cer-
taiMy any gr^t piece of literature, and
^elil^ately sit down to pass judgment
upon it? Great books are not'addressed
to the critical judgment, but to the life,
the souT. Th^ need to slide into one's
life earne^y, and find him with his
down, lus doors open, his attitude
d^mterested. The reader is to give him-
I# to th^, as they give themselves to
h^; there must be self-sacrifice.
We fed the great books when we are
youx^, eaga, receptive. After we grow
^4 and critical we find few great broks.
A f^reixch* critic says: " It seems
to mev "wroflb of art ore not made to be
j^dged^ W t0 be loved, to please, to
(^Mpate ^e of real life. It is
precisdy ^y wising to judge them that
si^t of their true significance.''
C " How ^ 4< isaa learn to knowhim-
" ix^uire} iGo<^e. " Never by re-
^Mon, oMy by a^on." Is not this a
hj^jiti^th? One can only learn hispowers
of action by acti^,, tod Ws powere of
t^ug^t by thinking. Me can <^y learn
wheti^ felf n^ he has ^wer to com-
mimd, to 1^4 to be an orator or legis
lator, by actu^ tri^. Has he courage,
^^•CCTtrol,, 'sdf^dgni^', Ibi^tud^, etc.?
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,"
sajrs Goethe, " he is a child." Byron had
no self-knowledge. We have aU kno^
people who were ready and siu-e 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
comesoutin reflection.—^JohnBurrou^s.
• «•»
gS long as nations meet on the fields
of war—^as long as they sustain the
irelations 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.
DO not belong to the amiable group
^ - of " men of compromise." I am in
the habit of giving candid and strai^t-
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.
llELIEVE me when I tell you that
thrift of time will repay you in
after-life, witi 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 mim-
dtoe vexations and temptations depart.
—^Luther.
HO can describe the pleasure
and delight, the peace of
mind and soft tranquillity,
felt in the balmy air and
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-
wom 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 natiu-e,
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
painsand pleasures, halve seemed to pass
at once into a new state of being, and
crawling forth from day to day to some
green, sunny spot, have had such mem->
ories 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 qmck
decline, and they have sunk into ttetf
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 sightl
C The memorieswhich peacefulTOuntry
scenes call up are not of this worid or ot
its thoughts and hopes. Their g^tle
influence may teach us to weave fre^
garlands for the graves ofthose we loved,,
may purify our thoughts and bear down
before it old enmity and hatred; but
beneath all this there lingere in Aele^
reflective mind a vague and half-formed
consciousness ofhaving held such fee^
ings long before in some remote and
distant time, which calls up solemn
thou^ts of distant times to come, tod
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
m^tery of his passions.—^Tennywn.
J300JFC Page 83
^UR friendships hiu-ry to short and
poor conclusions, because we have
made them a texture of wine and dreams,
instead of the tough fiber of the himian
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
I do not wish to treat friendships dain
tily, but with roughest courage. When
they are real, they are not ^ass 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 tod
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, tod embd-
lish it .by courage, wisdom and unity. It
shoidd never £^1 into something usual
and settled, but should be alert tod
inventive, and add rhyme and reason to
what was drudgery.—^Emerson.
»•» ^
CAN not commend to a business
house any artificial plto for making
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 tod the value of nothing.
—Oscar WUde.
Snobbery is the pride of those who are
not sureoftheirposition.—-BertonBraley.
Piigfi84 'BLBBRT HUBBAMi^S Page 8S

HEN the td^ram came, greatness. It was native in him to rejoice Argos, dear land of home." C And then favorite. Sir Thomas Browne: a passage
early one Monday morning, in the successes of other men at least as consider the brave spirit that carried beginning " He was fruitlessly put in
what was our first thought, much as in his own triumphs. One almost him—^the last of a great race—along this hope of advantage by change of Air, and
as soon as the immediate felt that, so long as good books were far and difiScult path; for it is tfie man imbibing the pure Aerial Nitre of those-
numbness of sorrow passed written, it was no great concern to him we must consider now, not, for the Parts; and therefore, l^jng so far spent,
and tiie selfish instinct began to reassert whether he or others wrote them. Bom moment, his writings. Fielding's voyage he quickly foimd Sardinia in Tivoli, and
itself (as it always does) and whisper with an artist's craving for beauty of to Lisbon was long and tedious enough; the most healthful air of little effect,
" What have / lost? What is the differ expression, he achieved that beauty with but almost the whole of Stevenson's life where Death had set her Broad Arrow."
ence to meV* Was it not something like ini^te pains. Confident in romance and has been a voyage to Lisbon, a voyage in A statelier sentence of the same author
this—Put away in the beneficence the very penumbra occurs to me now:
books and paper The royal feast was done; the King of joy, he cherished of death. Yet Stev- These hard, well-meaning hands we " To live indeed, is
a^ pen. Stevenson Sought some new sport to banish care. the flame of joyous enson spoke always thrust to be again our-
is dead. Stevenson And to his jester cried: " Sir Foot, romance with more as gallantly as his Among theheart'strings ofafriend. selves, which ^ing
isi dead, and now Kneel now, and make for us a prayer." than Vestal fervor, great predecessor. not only a hope.
tiiere is nobody left and kept it ardent Their "cheerful "The ill-timed truth we might have kept— but an evidence m
fc write for." Our The jester doffed his cap and bells. in a body which stoicism," which Who knows how sharp it pierced and noble bdievers, it
childrenand grand- And stood the mocking court before; Nature, unkind allieshisbookswith stung?
^dren shall re They could not see the bitter smile from the beginning, the best British The word we had not sense to say— in St. Innocent's
joice in his books; Behind the painted grin he wore. seemed to delight breeding, will keep Who knows how grandly it had rung! Churchyard, as in
biit weofthis gene in visiting with them classical as the sands of Egypt,
ration possessed in He bowed tas head, and bent his knee more unkindness— long as our nation "Our faults no tenderness should ask. Ready to be any-
the living man Upon the monarch's silken stool; a " soul's dark cot shall value breed- The chastening stripes must cleanse thing in the ecsta^
something that His pleading voice arose: **0 Lord, tage, battered and ing 5^ them all; of being ever, and
will not know. Be merciful to me, a fool! decayed" almost It shines to our But for our blunders—oh, in shame as content wiA six
& long as he lived, from birth. And his dim eyes now, as Before the eyes of heaven wefall. foot as the moZes of
^ugh it were far "No pity. Lord, could change the heart books leave the im we turn over the . Adrianus."
from Britain — From red with unong to white as wool; pression that he did familiar pages of "Earth bears no balsam for rmstakes; This one lies, we
though we had The rod must heal the sin: but Lord, Virginibus Pueris- Men crown the knave, and scourge the are told, on a
this chiefly from a
never spoken to Be merciful to me, a fool! sense of duty: that and from page tool . ^ , mountain-top,
turn and he, per- " *T is not by guilt the onward sweep belabored and kept after page—in sen- Thatdid his will; but Thou, O Lord, overlooking the
had bardy Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; the lamp alight tences and frag- Be merciful to me, a fool!" Pacific. At first it
lu^trd our names— *Tis by our follies that so long chiefly because, for ments of sentences seemed so much
we always wrote the time, other and ** It is not alto- The room was hushed; tn silence rose easier to distrust a
We hold the earth from heaven away.
our best for Steven stronger men did gether ill with the TheKing, and sought hisgardens cool. News Agency than
son. To him each "These clumsy feet, still in the mire. not invalid after all." And walked apart, and murmured low, to accept Steven-
^ter amongst us Go crushing blossoms without end; Had there been " Who would find "Be merciful to me, a fool!" son's loss. " O cap-
-^^«mall or more (Condnded on next page) another Scott, heart enough to be- " The Fool's Prayer," Edward Rowland Sm tain, my captain!"
than small—had. another Dumas— gin to live, if he One needs not be
bem proud to have carried his best. That if I may change the image—^to take up dallied with the consideration of death?" an excellent writer to feel that writing
mig^t be poor enou^. So^ong as it the tor^ of romance and nm with it, I ..." What sorry and pitiful quibbling will be thankless work,now that Steven-
was not slipshod. Stevenson could for doubt if Stevenson would have offered all this isl"..." It is better to live and son is gone. But the papers by this time
gave. While he lived, he moved men to himself. I almost think in that case he be done with it, than to die daily in the leave no room for doubt. "A grave was
sick-room. By all meansbeginyour folio; dug on the summit of Mount Vaea,
;^t their utmost even into writings that would have consigned with Nature and
iiidte certainly would never meet his eye. sat at ease, content to read of new Ivan- even if the doctor does not give you a thirteen hundred feet above the sea. The
Siu^y another age willwonder over tiiis hoes and new D'Artagnans: for—^let it be year, even if he hesitates over a month, coffin was carried up the hill by Samoans
curioMty of l^ers—that for five years said again—^no man had less of the make one brave push and see what can with great difficulty, a track having to be
1|iie nee^e of literary endeavor in Great ignoble itch for merely personal success. be accomplished in a week. . . / For cut through the Aick bush whichcovers
Bntaizi has quivered towards a little Think, too, of what the struggle meant surely, at whatever age it overtake the the side of the hill, from the base to the
inland m the South Pacific, a^ to its for him: how it drove him unquiet about man, this is to die young." , peak." For the good of man, his father
nif^et^ pole. the world, if somewhere he might meet I remember now (as one rememberslittle and grandfather planted the high sea-
Yht he foundedno school,though inost of with a climate to repair the constant things at such times) that, when first I lights upon the Inchcape and the Tyree
w lrpm time to time have poorly tried to drain upon his feeble vitality; and how heaitl of his going to Samoa, there came Coast. He, the last of their line, nursed
qc^ihixh. He remained altogether inim- at last it flung him, as by a " sudden into my head (Heaven knows why) a another light and tended it. Their lamps
i^bl^i y«t never se^^ conscious of his freshet," upon Samoa—^to die " far from trivial, almost ludicrous passagje from his still shine upon the Bell Rock and the

Bage 86 'BLBBRSr HUBBARD*S
Skerryvore; and—^though in alien seas,
igjpn a rock of exile—^this other light
dbiaU continue, unquenchable by age,
serene.
'* The Death of Robert Louis Steven
son," by Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch.
flJUSIC is to me an ethereal rain, an
ever-soft distillation, fragrant and
liquid ^d wholesome to the soul, as
blessings li{^t on him that first
invented this same sleep: it covers
a man all over, thoughts and all, like a
doak; it is meat for the himgry, 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 ^e balance that
sets the king and Ae shepherd, the fool
and the wise man, even. There is only
CAN conceive of a national
destiny surpassing the glories
ofthe present and the past—
a destiny which meets the
responsibilities of today and
measures up to the possibilities of the
future so
Behold a-republic, resting securely upon
the foundation stones quarried by revo Republic," by William Jennings Bryra.
lutionary patriots
BOOK, Page tS7
to those who sit m darkness. C Behold a
republic gradually but surely becoming
the supreme moral factor in the world's
progress and the accepted arbiter of the
world's disputes—a republic whose his-
to^, like the path of the just, is "as the
shining light that shineth more and more
unto the perfect day."—" The Ideal
£•>

from the mountain I wandered lonely as a cloud will suc-

dew to flowers; an incomprehensible
delict, a joy, a voice of mystery, that
srams to stand on the boundary between
t£e sphere of the senses and the soul, and
plead with pure, unrefined human nature
tp ascend into regions of seraphic un-
ocmtained life.
0 wondrous powert Art thou not thtf
nearest breatii of God's own beauty,
bom to us amid the infinite, whisper-
liS: gallery of His reconciliation! Type of
ajl' iQve and reconciliation, solvent of
haid, coiitrary elements—^blender of
8^ with soul, and all with the Infinite
Ifeffmony.—^John S. Dwight.
HAUGHTER, while it lasts, dackens
^d unbraces the mind, weakens the
faculties^ and causes a kind of remiss-
ne^ and disrolution in all the powers of
tJw ^ul; and thus far it may be looked
«l>on as a weakness in the composition of
nature. But if we consider the
fr^Uent rdiefs we receive from it, and
1^# often it breaks the ^oom which
M apt to duress the mind and damp
^ apints, with transient, unexpected
#eaim of j^, one would take care not
to gr^pw too wise for so great a pleasure
df life.-^Addi80n.
high^ compact we can make
fdlow is, let there be truth
#i tWo forevermore. It is sub-
Ume to f(^i ^d say of another, I need
timer m^, pr ap^, or write to him;
we i^ot reiiifpi^e ourselves, or send
itokeiut ofremembrance; I rely on himas
mj^f; if he did nci thus or thus, I
iknpw it was fig^t.-~^£mer8bn%
There ^e whole wcwlds of fact waitixig
to be disobve^ed by inference.
—Woodirow Wilson.
one thing, which somebody once put
into my head, that I dislike in sleep: of eternal truth—a That floats on high o *er vales and hills, ceed best when
it is, that it resembles death; there is republic applying When all at once I saw a crowd, you put the rest
less, anxious side
very little difference between a man in in practice and pro- A host, of golden daffodils;
claiming to the Beside the lake, beneath the trees. of affairs out of
his first sleep and a man in his last sleep.
world the self-evi Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. mind, and allowthe
—Cervantes.
restfiil side to live
dent proposition
that all men are Continuous as the stars that shine in your thoughts.
PjHE true rule, in determining to created equal; that And twinkle in the milky way. —Margaret Stowe.
embrace or reject anything, is not
whether it have any evil in it, but they are endowed They stretched in never-ending line
with inalienable Along the margin of a bay: is an do-
whether it have more of evil than of
go6d. There are few things wholly evil ri^ts; that govern Ten thousand saw I at a glance. & quent man
ments are insti Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. who can treat
or whollygood.Almost everything, spec humble subjects
ially of government policy, is ,an insep tuted among men
to secure these The waves beside them danced; but they with delica<y, lofty
arable compoimd of ^e two, so that our rights; that gov things impressively
best judgment of the preponderance be Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
tween them is continually demanded
—^A. Lincoln.
ernments derive
their just powers
A poet could not but be gay.
In such a jocund company:
and moderate
things temperate
from the consent of I gazed—and gazed—but little thought ly.—Cicero.
/Tto pursue trifles is the lot of human- the governed. What wealth the show to me had brought:
Behold a republic DO not know
ity; and whether we bustle in a pan what I may
in which civil and For oft, when on my couch I lie
tomime, or strut at a coronation, or shout religious liberty In vacant or in pensive mood, appear to the
at Q, bonfire, or harangue in a senate- stimulate all to They flash upon that inward eye world, but to my
house—^whatever object we follow, it earnest endeavor, Which is the bliss of solitude; self I seem to have
will at last conduct us to futility and and in which the And then my heart vnth pleasure fills. been only like a
disappointment. The wise bustle and law restrains every And dances with the daffodils. boy playing on the
lau^ as they walk in the pageant, but hand uplifted for a " I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud," seashore, and di
fools bustle and are important; and this neighbor's injury— William Wordswo^h verting myself in
probably is all the difference between a republic in which . wu now and then find
them.—Oliver Goldsmith. every citizen is a sovereign, but m which ing a prettier shell, or a smoother pebble
than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of
X PAINFULLY reflect that in al no one cares to wear a crown.
Behold a republic standing erect, while truth lay all imdiscovered before me.
most every political controversy of empires all around are bowed beneath —^Newton.
the last fifty years the leisured classes, the weight of their own armaments—a
the educated classes, the wealthy classes, republic whose flag is loved, while other frfs a writer, I have only one desire—
the titled classes, have been in the wrong. flags are only feared. aJ. to fill you with fire, to pour into you
The* common people—^the toilers, the Behold a republic increasing in popula the distilled essence of the sun itself. I
men of uncommon sense—^these have tion, in wealth, in strength and influence, want every thought, every word, every
been responsible for nearly all of the solving the problems of civilization and act of mine to make you feel that you
TOcial reform measures which the world hastening.the coming of universal broth are receiving into your body, into your
acc^ts today.—W. E. Gladstone. erhood—a republic which shakes thrones mind, into your soul, the sacred spirit
and dissolves aristocracies by its silent that changes clay into men and men into
Laws are not made for the good. example, and gives light and protection gods.—^Thomas Dreier.
—Socrates.
 Page 88 'BLBBRT HUBBARD'S
)URSCOR£ and seven years
ago our fathers brought
forth on this continent a
new nation, conceived in
liboty 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 defeated,
can long endure. We are met on a great
battlefidd 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
^uld 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
Httle note nor long remember what we
say he?e, but it can never forget what
th^ did here. It is for us, the living;
rather to be dedicated here to the un
finished work which Aey who fought
here have thus far so nobly advanced. It
23rather for us to be here dedicated to the
g^reat task remaining before us, that
£n>m these honored dead we talfp 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 she^ not peri^ from the
earth.—Address at Gettysburg," by
Abraham I/inc61n.
|:ENIUS is its own reward: for a
man's best qualities must neces
sarily boiefit himself. " He who is bom
with a talent,.for a talent, finds in it his
happiest existence," says Gk>ethe. If we
l^k up to a great man of the past, we
db not say, " How happy he is to be
^ admired by all of us;" but "How
Mppy he must have been in the direct
enjoyment of a mind whose traces con
tinue to delight mankind for centuries."
Ni^ fame itself is of value, but that
wherewith it is acquired; and in the
begetting of immortal children lies the
real enjojrment.—Schopenhauer.
XF it'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 plaintiffs the
man."—Charles Dickens.
"MMORTALITY is a word that
» Hope through all the ages has been
whispering to Love 6^ The miracle of
thou^t 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 futxire 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
pleasant.—It. C. Ball.
Page 89
|]NE man when he has done a [RT is not a sermon, and the artist is
service to another is ready not a preacher. Art accomplishes by
to set it down to his account indirection. The beautiful refines. The
as a favor conferred. Another perfect in art suggests the perfect in
is not ready to do this, but conduct. The harmony in music teaches,
still in his own mind he thinks of the without intention, the lesson of propor
man as his debtor, and he toows what tion in life. The bird in his song has no
he has done. A third in a manner does moral purpose, and yet the influence is
not even know what he has done, but he humanizing. The beautiful in nature acts
is like a vine which through apprecia
has produced tion and sjrmpathy.
grapes, and seeks I went to Europe, said my friend, It does not brow
for nothing more Expecting wonders rare beat, neither does
To open vistas without end. it humiliate. It is
after it has once
produced its proper And lay the future bare. beautiful without
fruit. As a horse regard to you
Paris, of course, would he in style; Roses would be un
when he has run, a
And Berlin, London, Rome, bearable if in their
dog when he has
caught the game, a Would show me something more worth red and perfumed
while hearts were mot
bee when it has
made its honey, so Than anything at home. toes to the effect
that bears eat bad
a man when he has
done a good act And then to hear them cheer a crown. boys and that hon
does not call out Or praise some rusty thing esty is the best
for others to come That the dark ages handed down. policy ^
and see, but he Was—was astonishing. Art creates an at
goes on to another " Travel," by William Griffith mosphere in which
act, as a vine goes the proprieties, the
on to produce again amenities, and the
the grapes in season. Must a man then virtues unconsciously grow. The rain
be one of these, who in a manner acts does not lecture the seed. The light does
thus without observing it? Yes. What not make rules for the vine and flower.
more dost thou want when thou hast The heart is softened by the pathos of
done a man a service? Art thou not con the perfect.—^Robert G. Ingersoll.
tent that thou hast done something com
fortable to thy nature, and dost thou N imperfect soul seeing what is good
seek to be paid for it, just as if the eye and great and true, but very often
demanded a recompense for seeing, or failing in the attempt to attain it, is apt
the feet should demand a recompense to be very harsh in its judgments on the
shortcomings of others. But a divine and
for walking?—^Marcus Aurelius. sovereign soul—a soul that has more
I regard ideas only in my struggles: to • nearly attained to the measure of the
the persons of my opponents I am indif perfect man—^takesa calmer and gentler,
ferent, bitterly as they have attacked because a larger-hearted view of those
and slandered my own person. little weaknesses and indirectnesses
—^Emst Haeckel. which it can not but daily see.—^Farrar.
(HE equal right of all men to the use ^p^USTICE is as strictly due between
of land is as clear as their equal neighbor nations as between neigh
right to breathe the air—^it is a right bor citizens. A highwayman is as mudb
proclaimed by the fact of their existence. a robber when he plunders in a gang, as
For we can not suppose that some men wKen single; and a nation that nu^es
have a right to be in this world, and an unjust war is only a great gang.
others no right.—^Henry George. —^Franklin.
 ALBERT fIUBBARD*S
|ET us ask ourselves, what is
education? Above all things,
what is our ideal of a thor-
ou^y liberal education?
—of that education which,
^ we could begin life again, we would
l^yeoursdives—of that education which,
if we could mould the fates to our own
wiUi we would giveour children. W^, I
l^pw not what may be your concep
tion upon this matter, but I will tdl
jrou mine, and I hope I shall find that
o^ ^ews are not very discrepant.
^Pl^se it were perfectly certain tjiat
life and .fortune of every one of us
cme day or other, depend upon
^ winning or losing a game of chess,
wcm't 3rou think that we should all con-
si^w it to be a primary duty to learn at
1^^ the names and the moves of the
to have a notion of a gambit,
^d' a 'keen* eye for all thg mftnTig of
and getting out of check? Do
think that we ^ould look with
a (^sapprobation, even scorn, upon the
sailer who allowed his son, or the state
wMdx ^owed its members, to grow up
mt^ut knowing a pawn firom a knight? "
*8 a very plain and elementary
tihat the life, the fortune, and the
haziness ofevery one ofus, and, more
or 1^, of those who are coimected with
do depend upon our knowing some-
of Ae rules of a g^e infinitdy
mOTe difficult and complicated than
It is a game whidi has been
p®3wd for untold ages, every man and
woman of us being one of the two players
^ a gapM of his or her own. The chess-
^ard is ttie world, the pieces are the
of the universe, the rules of
tee what we Ccdl the laws of
?> player on the other side is
hiddto fioni us. We know that his play
jwst, and patient. But
aisp we feow, to our cost, that he never
ov^l^ks a it^stake or makes the small-
Mt ^^toce for ignorance. To the man
- hi^est stakes are
sort of overflowing
wi^ which the strong shows
'^l^t m «sfen^. And one who plays
m 18 €5ieGkmflteflii-i.ii)i^^;|iout haste, but
'^tbpfut 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 ratiher 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.
Anjrthing 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
fiill vigor of his faculties, could be
suddenly placed in ^e 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 Adam, or, better still, an Eve, a
new and greater world, that pf social and
moral phenomena, would be revealed.
Joys and woes, compared with which all
others might seentl but faint shadows,
would spring from the new relations.
Hap>piness and sorrow would take the
place of the coa^8er monitors, pleasure
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.
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 t<»k
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
mi^t 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 «o» ^
Those who take honors in Nature's imi-
versity, who leam 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 enou^
to get through without much discredit.
Those who won't leam 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 peets with the
same punishment as crime. Nature s
discipline is not even a word and a blow,
and the blow first; but the blowwithout
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 nian
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 Natme's
education, neither incapably nor igno-
Page 91
rantly, nor with wilful disobedience; and
to understand the prdiminary symp
toms of her displeasure, without wait
ing for the box ori 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 to
appreciate and to seize upon the rewards,
wUch Nature scatters with as firee 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 mechan
ism, it is capable of; whose intellect is a
clear, cold, logic engine, with all its
. parts of equal streng^, 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 flmdamental 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 aU beauty, whether of Nature
or of art, to hate all vileness^ and to
respect others as himself.
Su^ 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.
«•»
J^^HERE is but one strai^t road to
^a/^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 the joymakers.—N, P.Willis,
 Page 92 ^BLBBRSr WUBBARD^S
HE 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-
Irags to him, and he may steal it if it
can not be had in any other way. His
own juiqy flesh craves the juipy 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
^t the same. Before meal or aftermj^'
it never comes amiss The farm-boy
munches apples all day long. He has
nestsof them in the ha^-mow, mellow
ing, to which he makes frequent visits.
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; .
whra you can carry them in your pocket
^d your hand not constantly find its
way to them; when your neighbor tigs
apples and you have none, and you make
no noctum^ visits to his orchard; when
your lunch-basket is without them and
you can pass a winter's night by the fire-
nde with no thought of the fruit at your
dbow, then be assuredyou are no longer
a boy, either in heart or years.
—^John Burroughs.
VIL is unnatural—goodness the
natural state of m£(n. Earth has no
^opdess i^ands or continents. We live
in a redemptive world. Poverty will
tod; sin will die; love will triimiph smd
hope will plant flowers on every grave.
—^David Swing.'
XT am'
IS m the nature of things that
those who are incapable of happiness
should have no idea of it. Happiness is
not for wild animals, who can only
^c^ate between apa^y and passion.
To behappy,evento conceive happiness,
3^ must be reasonable or (if Niet-
s^^e prefers the word) you must be
twined.You musthavetaken the measure
of jrour powers, tasted the fruits of your
passiions and learned your place in the
world and what things in it can really
wave you. To be happy you must be
wise. This happiness is sometimes foimd
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
^me 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.
^<HE' Bible has been the Magna
Charta of the poor and of the op
pressed. Down to modem times, no
state has had a constitution in which the
interests of the people are so largely
taken into accoimt; in which the duties,
so much more than the privileges, of
rulers are insisted upon,' as that drawn
up for Israel in Deuteronomy and
Liviticus. 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.
^^RINTING is a good business. It is
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 imder
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 the 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.
—William Makepeace Thackeray.
SCRsAJP
T is said that tne Persians, in
their ancient constitution,
had public schools in which
virtue was taught as a liberal
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 in
his dealings, to be temperate in his
pleasures, to sup
port himself with God with His million cares
fortitude under his
misfortunes, to be Went to the left or right.
have with prudence
Leaving our world; and the day
in all his aifairs,
and in every cir- Grew night.
ciunstance of life;
Back from a sphere He came
I say, it is of much
more real advan Over a starry lawn.
tage to him, to be
thus qualified, than Looked at our, world; and the dark
to be a master of
Grew dawn,
all the arts and
" Dawn and Dark," by Norman Gale
sciences in the
whole world beside. C Virtue itself
alone is sufficient to make a man ^eat,
gloriousand happy. He that isacquainted
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 look^ old and threadbare;
his linen was homespim; his beard, per
haps of seven days' growth; his sho^
thick and heavy; and every part of his
jaOGJK, Page 93
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 of
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 witii
humanity and be
nevolence, and at
the same time emboldened witii resolu
tion, equally free from dififident 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 powerfril, 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 of
lawsuits. He always speaks the thing he
means, which he is never afraid or
ashamed to do, because he knows he
>always means well, and therefore is never
obliged to blush, and feel the confusion
of finding himself detected in the mean
ness of a falsehood. 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 cheerfrd.
His generous hospitality to strangers,
according to his ability; his goodness, his
charity, his courage in the cause of the
oppressed, his fidelity in friendship, his
humility, his honesty and sincerity, his
moderation, and his loyalty to the
 Page 94 'JBI^BERSr "HUBBARD^S
government; his piety, his temperance,
liis love to mankind, his magnanimity,
bis public-spirite<teess, and, in fine, his
c^samioate virtue, make him justly
deserve to be esteemed the gjory of his
cbuhtry.—^Franklin.
•
1power of a man increases steadily
by continuance in one direction. He
acquainted with the resistances
with his own tools; increases his
^1 and strength and learns the favor-
mon^ts and favorable accidents,
life is his own apprentice, and more time
a great addition of power, just as
t faUing body acquires momentum with
ev^ foot of the fall.—^Emerson.
Truth is irach a precious article let us all
e^omize in its use.—^Mark Twain.
SC
XTgreatness—to
is great, andmake
thereoneid nonookotherof
Gbd*s creation more fruitful, better,
.more worthy of God; to make some
human heart a little wiser, manlier,
ba^er^—more blessed, less accursed.
—Carlyle.
'F be of all things most precious,
wasting time must be the greatest
'too^alily, since lost time is neverfound
aaaiti; and what we call time enou^
proves Uttieenough. Let us then
^ ^ and doi^, and dohig to a pur-
so by diligence shall we do more
-Franklin.
^ feS" AYS in our dreams we hear the
O tiirn of the key that shall dose the
of the liwt brothel; the clink of the-
^ cointhat pays for the body and soul
&e fallixig of the last wall
tl^t encdo^ artificiaUy the activity ot
and dividesto from man; always
^ oicturfe the love ofthe gexes as once a
slcrt?, cr^iiWS form; then a torpid,
at last the fuU-wmged
S^oia sunshine of the
tow hard agmnst the,
Wpa^» ^ life, is it oxily blindness in our
have tieen ^ long
where it fades mto distance, throu^ 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.
" KNOW not if I deserve that 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 I have never at
tached any great value to ix)etical 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 Wm
of himianity.—^Heinrich Heine.
I never make the mistake of arguing with
people for whose opinions 1 have no
respect.—Gibbon.
O AWAKEN each morning with a
_ smile bri^tening my face, to greet
the day with reverence, for the oppor-
timities it contains; to approach my
work with a clean mind; to hold wer
before me, even in the doing of littie
things, the Ultimate Puri>ose toward
which 1 am working; to meet men and
women with laughter on my lips md love
in my heart; to be gentie, kind and
, courteous throu^ all the hours; to
approach the night with weariness that
ever wooes sleep and the joy that comes
from wbrk well done—this is how I
desire to waste wisely my days.
—Thomas Dreier.
are foolish, and without excuse
vi/ foolish, in speaking of the superior
ity of one sex to the other, as if they
could be compared in similar things I
Eadi 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.
OT many generations ago,'
where you now sit, encircled
with all that exalts and em
'4 bellishes civilized life, the
rank thistle nodded in the
wind, and the wild fox dug his hole un-
sc^ed. 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.
<1. Here the wigwam blaze beamed on
the tender and helpless, and the coundl-
iire glared on the wise and daring. Now,
they dipped their noble limbs in yon
sedgy l^es, and now, they paddled the
light canoe along yonrocky ^ores. Here
they warred; the echoing whoop, iJie
bloody grapple, the defying death-song,
all were here; and when the tiger-strife
was over, here curled the smoke of
peace ««•
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 Revda-
tion, but the Gpd of the universe he ac
knowledged in everything aroimd.
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 imlike their bold, untamable
progenitors.Asa race,they have withered
from the land. Their arrows are broken,
tieir springs are dried up, their cabins
are in dust. Their oouncil-fire has long
since gone out on the shore, and their war
cry is fast fading to the untrodden west.
Slowly and sadly they dimb the distant
mountains, and read their doom in the
setting sun.
—" The Indians," by Charles Sprague.
A more perfect racQ means a more soul
ful race, a more soulful race a race having
greater capadty for love.—^Ellen Key.
Page 95
'T is by affliction chi^y that the
heart of man is purified, and that
the thoughts are fixed on a better state.
Prosperity, unalloyed and impoiect 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 sddom
that we are otherwise than by affliction
awakened to a sense of our imbecility, or
tau^t to know how littie* all our ac
quisitions can conduce to safety or quiet,
and how justiy 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.
—Samud Johnson.
business as now conducted—par
ticularly those lines of business
which embrace the so-called industries—
r^uires spedalized training and tecfa-
mcal education, in fact so much sden-
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 laiow, but
know how to do—and how to utilize his
experience and ^owledge 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 wi^gness to struggleto gain his
desired end.Mental and physical strength
comes only through the exerdse and
working of mind and body.
There is too littie 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 all eternity
whether we do right or wrong today.
—^James Freeman Clarlre.
Page 96 *BLBBRSr HUBBAKD^S
HAT Raphael is to color,
what Mozart isinmnsic,that
Bums is in song. With his
sweet words, " the mother
soothes her child, the lover
wooes his bride, the soldier wins his
victoiy." Kb biographer says his
genius was so overmastering that the
news of Bums* arrival at the village inn
drew farmers from their fidds and at
midnight wakened travders, who left
their beds to listen, delighted, imtil
the mom
One day this diild of poverty and ob
scurity left his plow b^ind, and enter
ing tte drawing-rooms of Edinburgh,
met Scotland's most ^fted sdiolars, her
noblest lords and ladies. Mid ^ese
sdiolars, statesmen and philosophers, he
blazed." like a torchamidst tiie tapers," ^
^Mnng himsdf wiser than tiie st^olare,
mttier than the humorist, kinkier than
the courtliest. And yet, in the very
prime of his mid-manhood. Bums lay
down to die, a broken-hearted man. He
who had sinned much suffered tnnrh,
and being the victim of his own folly, he
wiM also the victim of ingratitude and
xdisfortune. Bewildered by his debts, he
seems like an unfntnfi^^ ea^e beating
^gainst bars he can not break. The last
he lifted his pen upon the page it
w^ TOt to give immortal form to some
e^uisite .lyric he had fadiicmed, but to
beg a friend in Edinburgh for a loan of
ten pounds to save him from the tenors
of a debtor's prison. By contrast with
tile lot of other worthies, Robert Bums
seems to have been the child of good
fortune. In the last analysis the blame is
wth the p^ himsdf. Not want of good
fortune without, but wan£ of good
guidance within, wrecked his youth. Save
Saul alone, history holds no sadder
tragedy that that, of Bums, who sang
the short and simple annals of the
poor."—Newdl Dwight Hillis.
^""^TURE gives to every time and
!=Ǥ season some beauties of its own;
md from morning to ni^t, as from the
cradle to the grave, is but Asuccession of
changes so gentle and easy t±iat we can
^arcdy mark their progress.-—Dickens.
^OOJfC Page 97
I^EALTH is, indeed, so necessary to GREAT many people run r!T China letters are respected not
all the duties as well as pleasures of down jealousy on the score merdy to a degree but in a sense
life, that the crime of squandering it is that it is an artificial fed- which must seem, I think, to you un-
equal to the folly; and he that for a short ing, as well as practically intdligible and overstrained. But there is
gratification brings weakness and dis Dwminje inconvenient. This is scarce a reason for it. Our poets and literary
eases upon himself, and for the pleasure ly fair; for the feding on which it merdy menhave taught their successors,forloi^
of a few years passed in the tumults of attends, like an ill-humored courtier, is generations, to look for good not in
diversion and clamors of merriment, sdf artifidal in exactly the same sense wealth, not in power, not in miscdlaneoiu
condemns the maturer and more ex and to the same degree. I suppose what activity, but in a trained, a choice, an
perienced part of his life to the chamber is meant by that exquisite appreda-
and the couch, may be justly reproached, objection is that If I should die tonight tion of the most
not only as a spendthrift of Us happiness, jealousy has not And you should come to my cold corpse simple and univer
but as a robber of tlie public; as a wretch always been a char- and say. sal rdations of life.
that has voluntary disqu^ified him acter of man; Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless To fed, and in
self for the business of his station, and formed no part of clay— order to fed to
refused that part which Providence that very modest If I should die tonight. express, or at least
assigns him in the general task of human kit of sentiments And you should come in deepest griej' to understand the
nature.—Samuel Johnson. with which he is and woe— expression of ^
supposed to have And say: ** Here *s that ten dollars that that is lovely in
Courage and perseverance have a ma^- begim the world; I owe" Nature, all that is
cal talisman, before which difficulties but waited to make I might arise in my large white cravat poignant and sen
disappear and obstades vanish into its appearance in And say, "What *s that? " sitive in man, is to
air.—^John Quincy Adams. better days and us in itsdf a suffi-
among richer If I should die tonight dent end. A rose
MERICA is God's crudble, the natures. And this And you should come to my cold corpse in a moonlit gar
IJI great Mdting-Pot where all the is equally true of and kneel, den, the shadow of
races of Europe are melting and re love, and friend Clasping my bier to show the griefyoufeel, trees on the turf,
forming! Here you stand, good folk, ship, and love of I say, if I should die tonight almond bloom,
tiiink I, when I see them at Ellis Island,' country, and de scent of pine, the
And you should come to me, and there
here you stand in your fifty groups, light in what they wine-cup and the
and then
with your fifty languages and histories, cdl the beauties of guitar, these and
nature, and most Just even hint at paying me that ten, ^e pathos of life
and your fifty bloc^ hatreds and rival
other ^ings worth I might arise the while. and death, the long
ries. But you won't be long like that, But I *d drop dead again.
brothers, for these are the fires of God having. Love, in embrace, the hand
particular, will not " If I Should Die To-Night," by Ben King stretched out in
you've come to—these are the fires of
God. A fig for your feuds and vendettas I endure any histor vain, the moment
Germans and Frenchmen, Iri^men and ical scmtiny: to all who have fallen that glides for ever away, withIts freight
En^ishmen, Jews and Russi^s—into across it, it is one of the most incontest of music and light, into the shadow and
the Cmdble with you alll God is making able facts in the world; but if you begin hush of the haunted past, all that we
the American. The real American has to ask what it was in other periods and have, all th'at eludes us, a bird on the
not yet arrived. He is only in the cru countries, in Greece for instance, the wing, a perfiune escaped on the gale—
dble, I tell you—^he will be the fusion of strangest doubts begin to spring up, and to all these things we are trained to
all races, the common superman. everything seems so vague and changing respond, and the response is what we
—^Israel Zangwill. that a dream is logical in comparison. call literature.—G. Lowes Dickinson.
Jealousy, at any rate, is one of the con
XT *S good to have money and the sequences of love; you may like it or not,
at pleasure; but there it is.
Reason elevates our thoughts as high
as the stars, 'and leads us through f£e
things that money can buy, but it *s
good, too, to check up once in a while —Robert Louis Stevenson vast space of this mighty fabric; yet it
and make sure you have n't lost the £•» comes far short of the red extoit of our
things that money can't buy. The law of worthy life is fundamentally corporeal being.—Samuel Johnson.
—George Horace Lorimer. the law of strife. It is only through labor
and painful effort, by grim energy and The man who trusts men will make
He is the happiest, be he king or peasant, resolute courage, that we move on to fewer mistakes than he who distmsts
who finds peace in his home.—Goethe. better things.—Theodore Roosevelt. them.—Cavour.
 Page 98 *1SLBBRT iIUBBARD*S
£R£ are two sorts of
people in the world, who,
with equal degrees of health
and wealth, and the other
comforts of life, become, the
cmehappy, and the other miserable. This
arises vary much from the different views
iii' which th^ consider things, persons
and events; and fJie effect of those differ
ent views upon their own minds.
Ira whatever situation men can be placed
may find conveniences and incon-
vi^ences; in whatever company they
find persons and conversation more
pt le^ pleasing; at whatever table they
meet with meats and drinks of
i^tt^'and worse taste, dishes better and
WQ^ dressed; in whatever climate they
wi^ find good and bad weather; under
whatever government, they may find
!|oci4; and bad laws, and good and bad
adxamistration of tlxose laws; in what-
poem or work of genius they may
^ faults and beauties; in almost every
face and eveiy person thqr may dis-
opver fine features and defects, good and
bad qualities.
Under these circumstances the two sorts
of l^ple above mentioned ,fix their at-
tetitipn; those who are disix>sed to be
on the convenience of things, the
pleasant parts of conversations, the well-
dishes, the goodness of tibie wines,
^e fiiie weather, etc., and enjoy all with
weerfulness. Those who are to be un-
l^Rpy and speak only of the con-
Hence th^ are continually dis-
ppnt^ti^ Hiemselves, and by Aeir
spur the pleasure of society,
offend pteinroi^y many .people, and
5^e thaiM^ves everywhere disagree
able. If this turn of mind was founded in
mature, suc^, unhappy persons would be
®oofe to be pitiM. But as the dis-
PQsitiodii to criticise, and to be dis^sted,
^;^ka^ up originally by imita-
and is unawares grown into a habit,
whi^, at pre^nt ^ong, may
be cured, when those who
'wve it are eonvinced of its bad efferts
l^ew fdicity. ... If th^ people will
not cha^e this bad ^bit, and con-
td be plea^ wii^ what is
without fretting Hiefl^lves
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.
XNEED 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 stem to keep my first command head
on to a breaking sea. I did not know
how good a man I was till then. I remem
ber t£e 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, ^d
expires—and expires, too soon—before
life itself.—^Joseph Conrad.
be strongand true; to be genius
in praise and appreciation of others;
to impute worthy motives even to ene
mies; to give without e:^ectation ot
return; to practise humility, tolerance
and self-restraint; to make the best use oi
time and opportunity; to keep the mind
pure and the judgment charitable; to
extend intelligent sympathy to those in
distress; to cultivate quietness ^d non-
resistance; to seek truth and righteous
ness; to work, love, pray and serve
daily, to aspire greatly, labor cheerfolly,
and take God at His word—this is to
travel heavenward.—Grenville Kleiser.
Manners,—the final and perfect flower
of noble character.—^William Winter. .
EN I find to be a sort of
beings very badly construct
ed, as they are generally
more easily provoked than
reconciled, more disposed to
do mischief to each otJier 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
<Jay 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 dsring; the
ships sinking, burning, or blown intothe
air; and the quantity of pain, misery,
and destruction, the crews yet alive-
were thus with so much eagerness deal
ing roimd 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.
XTsince
is now sixteen or seventeen years
I saw the. Queen of France,
then the Dauphiness, at Versailles; imd
surely never lighted on this orb, which
rfie hardly seemed to touch, a more de
lightful vision. I saw her just above the
SOOjFC Page 99
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^at 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 1
thought ten thousand swords must have
leap^ from their scabbards to avenge
even a look that threatened her wi&
insult. But the age of Chivalry is gone.
That of sophisters, economists, and cal
culators hM succe^ed, and the gflory of
Europe is extinguished for ever. Never,
never more, shall we behold that generous
loyalty to rank wd sex, that proud sub
mission, that dignified obedience, that
subbrdination of the heart, whi(^ kept
alive, even in servitude itsdf, the spirit of
an e^ted freedom. Theunlwugjit grace
of life, the cheap defence of nations, t^e
nurse of manly sentiments and heroic
enterprise is gone! It is gone, that sen
sibility of principle, that chastity of
honor, which fdt a stain like a wound,
which inspired coiirage 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.
make daily great improvements
in natural, there is one 1 wiA to see
in tnortd philosophy; the discovery of a
plan, that would induce and oblige na-
^tions to settle their disputes iidUiout
first cutting one another's liiroats
When will human reason be sufficiently
improved to see the advantage of this?
When will men be convinced, that even
successful wars become misfortunes, who
unjustly commenced them, and who tri
umphed blindly in their siiccess, not
seeing all its consequences.—^Franklin.
Page 100 *BLBBRT HUBBARD^S ^OOjFC Page 101

presence that thus I^RF^CT love has this advantage ^UT the iniquity of oblivion Time, and oblivion shares with memory
rose strangdy beside the it, that it leaves the possessor blindly scattereth her poppy, a great part even of our living beings;
waters, is expressive of what of it nothing farther to desire. There is and deals with the memory we" slightly remember our felicities, and
in the wa3rs of a thousand one object (at least) in which the soul of men without distinction the smartest strokes of affliction leave
^ years men had come to de- finds absolute content, for which it seeks to merit of perpetuity. Who but short smart upon us.
si^^ Hers is the head upon which " all to live, or dares to die. The heart has, as can but pity the foimder of the pyramids? In vain do individuals hope for immor
^e ends of the world are come," and it were, filled up the moulds of the im Herostratus lives that burnt Ae temple tality, or any patent from oblivion, in
tile eyelids are a little weary. It is a agination. The truth of passion keeps of Diana, he is almost lost that built it; preservations below the Moon. . . . ]3ut
brauty wrou^t out from within upon pace with and outvies the extravagance Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes
the flesh, the de of mere language. horse, confounded and pompous in
posit, little cell by There are no words that of himself. In Sun set and evening star. the grave, solemn
cell, of strange Over the shoulders and slopes of so fine, no flat vain we compute And one clear call for me! izing nativities and
thoi^ts and fan the dune tery so soft, that our felicities by the And may there be no moaning of the bar deaths with equal
tastic reveries and there is not a senti advantages of our When I put out to sea. lustre, nor omitting
I saw the white daisies go down to ceremonies of
exquisite passions. ment beyond them, good names, since
Set it for a moment the sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep. bravery in Ae in
that it is impossible bad have equal du
beside one of those A host in the sunshine, an army in to express, at the rations; and Ther- Toofull for sound and foam, famy of his ^ture.
^*^te Gredc god June, When that which drew from out the — Sir Thomas
bottom of the sites is like to live
. boundless deep Browne.
dess^ or beautiful The people God sends us to set heart where t^e as long as Agamem
women of antiq our heart free. love is. What idle non Who knows Turns again home.
uity, and how soimds the com whether the best of OW it appears
would they be mon phrases, ador men be known, or Twilight and evening bell, to me that al-
trouhled by this The bobolinks rallied them up able creature, an whether there be And after that the dark! most any Man
bteuty, into whidi from the dell. gel, divinity, are! not more remark And may there be no sadness offarewell may, like the spi
the soul with all The orioles whistled them out of What a proud re^ able persons for When I embark. der, spin from his
its maladies has own inwards his
the wood; flection it is to got, than any that
passed! All the have a feeling stand remembered For tho'from out our bourne of Time own airy Citadel—
thous^ts and ex And all of their saying was, "Earth, answering to all in the known ac and place the points of leaves
perience of the it is well! " these, rooted in the count of Time? ... Theflood may bear mefar, and twigs on which
^rld have etched And all of their dancing was, " Life, breast, unalterable Oblivion is not I hope to see my Pilotface toface the spider begins
?nd moulded there, When I have crost the bar. her work are few,
thou art good!" unutterable, to be hired; the
and she fills the
in that which they to which all other greater part must " Crossing tlie Bar," by Alfred Lord Tertnyson
"Daisies," by Bliss Carman air with a beautiful
have of power to feeling^ are light be content to be as
r^e and make e^ressive the outward and vain! Perfect love reposes on. the though they had not been; to be foimd circuiting. Man should be content with
ferm, the animalismof Greece,the lust of object of its choice, like the halcyon on in the register of God, not in the record as few points to tip with the fine Web
^tonae, Ae reverieof the mid(Ue age with the wave; and the air of heaven is of man. . . . The number of the dead of his Soul, and weave a tapestry
its spiritual ambition and imaginative around it.—^William Hazlitt - long exceedeth all that shall live. The empyrean—fiill of sjrmbols for his spirit
Ipvra, the return of the Pagan world, the night of time far surpasseththe day, and ual eye, of softness for his spiritual touch,
sins of the Borgias. She is older than the LAY very little stre^ either upon who knows when was the Equinox? of space for his wandering, of distinct
among whidi she sits; like the asking or giving advice. Generally Every hour adds unto that current ness for his luxury. . . . I was led into
v^^^ diehas been dead many times, speaking, they who ask advice know arithmetic, which scarce stands one these thoughts, my dear Reynolds, by
^d' le^ed ^e secrets ofthegrave; and what they wish to do, and remain firm moment. And since death must be the the beauty of the morning operating on
a diver in deep seas, and keeps to their intentions. A man may allow Lucina of life, and even Pagans could a sense of Idleness. I have not read any
fallenday about her; and trafficked doubt whether thus to live were to die; Books—^the Morning said I was right—
himself to be enlightened on v^ous I had no idea but of the Mioming, and
points, even upon matters of expediency since our longest sim se^sat right descen-
as Le^ wiM the mother of Helen and duty; but, after all, he must deter sions, and m^es but winter arches, and the Thrush said I was right.
of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother mine his course of action for himself. therefore it can not be long before we lie —^John Keats.
OT Mary; and all this has been to her but —^Wilhelm von Humboldt. down in darkness and have our light in
^ sound of lyres and flutes, and lives ashes; since the brother of Death daily What we can do for another is the test of
^y in the delicacy with whidi it has Bed is a bimdle of para'doxes; we go to it haimts us with dying Mementoes, and powers; what we can suffer for is the
^Qi^died the dian^ng lineaments, and with reluctance,yet we quit itwithregret; Time that grows old itself bids us hope test of love.—^Bishop Westcott.
tinged the eydids and the hands, we make up our minds every night to no long duration, diutumity is a dream
^-appreciationofda Vinci's Mona Lisa leave it early, but we make up our bodies and folly of expectation. A picture is a poem without words.
C 14 ^ooonda'Oi by WalterPater. every morning to keep it late.—Colton. Darkness and lig^t divide the course of —Horace.
^oge 102 "BLBBRT ffUBBARD*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
nusdiief. Certainly the best works, and
Pf fitr^test merit for the public, have
proceeded from the unmarried or rhild-
1^ men, whidi both in affection and
have married and endow^ the
^blic. Yet it were great reason that
tiiat have chilcfren should have
g^test care of fiittu-e times, imto
thqr know they must transmit
dear^ pledges. Unmarried men
^ best masters, best ser-
Jj^ts; but not alwajrs best subjects; for
^^are light to run away—and almost
are of that condition. A
hfc doth wdl with churchmen, for
^nty win hardly water the ground
It must first fill a pool. It is in-
^*^5. 1 judges and magistrates;
shdf corrupt, you
a^servant five times worse
soldiers, I fi^d generals
^mmonlv in 1 ..1^. ® ,
^^g8t the Turks maketh the vulgar
Certainly, wife and
^ diaapline of human-
men, though th^ be
4^/ more charitable, because
are less exhaust, yet, on the
th^ are more cruel and hard-
\Sood to make severe inquisi-
their tenderness is not so
middle age,
^ nui^; so that a man
^ ^warrd to marry when he
^ one of
answer to the
A vniin^ ® ®an should marry:
apt at
aim V ^ achieving what
QUdit ® aiming at what you
i a(^we, and pressing for-
hetS^ ^ achievement here, or if
^ her^er.-R. F. Hortoi.
|IB£RIUS, maintaining an honw-
able and just cause, and possessed
of eloquence sufficient to have made a
less creditable action appear plausible,
was no safe or easy antagcxiist, when,
with the people crowding aroimd the
hustings, he took his place and spoke in
bdialf of the poor. "The savage beasts,"
said he, " in Italy, have their particular
dens, liiey have their places of repose
and refuge; but the men who bear arms,
and expose their lives for the safety of
their coimtjy, 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 conmiand-
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 monimient, 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.
LL real and wholesome enjo:ipient8
possible to man have been just as
possible to him since first lie was made of
the earth as they are now; and they are
possible to him chiefly in peace. To
watch the com grow, and the blossoms
set; to draw hard breath over plow
share or spade; to read, to thmk, 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 poss^ed hinriself,
in a furrow or two of garden ground,
of a truly infinite dominion.
—^John Ruskin.
Great minds have purposes, others have
wishes. Little minds are, tamed and sub
dued by misfortune; but great minds
rise above them—^Washington Irving.
JBOOJC Page 103
KNOW not whether others over and above what it has in oomnu>n
share in my feelings on this with the rest of Southern Asia, I am
point; but I have often terrified by the modes of life, by the
thought lhat if I were com manners, and the barrier of utter abhor
pelled to forego England, rence and want of sympathy placed be
and to live in China, and among Chinese tween us by feeling deeper than I can
manners and modes of life and scenery, analyze. I could sooner live with lunatics
I should go mad. The causes of my horror or brute animals. All this, and much
lie deep; and some of them must be com more than I can say, or have time to sAy,
the reader must
mon to others so
Southern Asia, in Do you fear the force of the wind, enter into before he
general, is the seat can comprehend
The slash of the rain? the unimaginable
of awful images and
Go face them and fight them.
associations. As the horror these
cradle of the hu Be savage again. dreams of Oriental
man race, it would Go hungry and cold like the wolf. imagery and myth
^one have a dim ological tortures
Go wade like the crane:
and reverential impressed upon me.
feeling connected
The palms of your hands will Under the connect
thicken
with it. But there ing feding of trop-
are other reasons. The skin of your cheek will tan. idd heat and ver
No man can pre You 'II grow ragged and weary and tical sunlights, I
tend that the wild, swarthy. brought together
all creatures, birds,
barbarous and ca
pricious super
But you *11 walk like a man! beasts, rept^es, all
trees and plants,
stitions of Africa, "Do You Fear the Wind?" by Hamlin Garland
or of savage tribes usages and appear
ances, that are found in all trc^ical
elsewhere, affect him in the way that he
is affected by the ancient, monimiental, regions, and assembled them together in
cruel and elaborate religions of Indostan, China or Indostan. From kincb^ fed-
etc. The mere antiquity of Asiatic things, ingSi I soon brought Egypt and all her
g(^sunder the same law. I was staredat,
of their institutions, histories, modes of
faith, etc., is so impressive, that to me hooted at, grinned at, chattered at, by
monkeys, by parroquets, by cockatoos.
the vast age of the race and name over
powers the senseof youth in the individ I ran into pagodas; and was fixed, for
centuries, at the simunit or in secret
ual ^ A young Chinese seems to me an
antediluvian man renewed.EvenEnglish- rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest;
I was worshiped; was sacrificed. I fled
men, though not bred in any knowledge
of such institutions, can not but shudder from the wrath of Brama through all the
forests of Asia; Vishnu hated me; Seeva
at the mystic sublimity of castes that
have flowed apart, and refused to mix, laid wait for me. I came suddenly upon
through such immemorial tracts of time; Isis and Osiris: I had done a deed, they
said, which the ibis and the crocodile
nor can any man fail to be awed by the
names of tiie Ganges or the Euphrates. trembled at. I was buried, for a thousand
It contributes much to these feelings, years, in stone coffins, with mummies
that Southern Asia is, and has been for and sphinxes, in narrow chambers at the
thousands of years, the part of the earth heart of eternal pyramids. I was kissed,
with cancerous kisses, by crocodiles; and
most swarming with human life: the
great officina gentium, Man is a weed in laid, confoimded with all unutterable
^ose regions. The vast empires also, into slimy things, amongst reeds and Nilotic
which the enormous population of Asia mud ao
has always been cast, give a further I thus give the reader some slight
sublimity to the feelings associated with abstraction of my Oriental dreams, which
always filled me with such amazement
all Oriented names or images. In China,
page 104 *BI,BERSr •flUBBAR.D'S
at the monstrous scenery, that horror
seemed absOTbed, for a while, in sheer
8sli>tnshnieut. Sooner or later rjinrn* 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-
^carceration, brooded a sense of
eternity and infinity that drove me into
^ oppression as of»madness. Into these
^eams only it was, with one or two
^^t ^ceptions, that any circxmistances
of ph3^ical horror entered. All before
^d been moral and spiritual terrors. But
herethe main agents wereugly birds, or
a^es, or crocodiles; especially the last,
^e cursed crocodile became to me the
object of more horror than almost all the
rert. I was comp^ed to live with him;
^d (as was always thecase almost inmy
for centuries. I escaped some-
pmes, and found myself in Chinese
with cane tables, etc. All the feet
of aie tables, sofas, etc., soon became
mstoct with life: the abominable head
of the crocodile, and his lee^g eyes,
loo^ out at me, multiplied into a thou
sand repetitions; and I stood loathing
fascinated. And so often did this
mdeous reptile haunt my dreams, that
m^y timra the very same dream was
^ran up inthe verysame way; I heard
gmtle voices speaking to me (I hear
when I am slewing); and
^®^tly I awoke: it was broad noon;
g^jny diildren were standing, hand in
^^d» at my bedside; come to show me
colwed ^loes, or new froclu, or to
g^l^^that so awful was the transition
crocodile, and the other unut-
drearhQ abortions of my
na^^' iimocent human
that, in the
sudden revulsion of mind I
gy-. not forbear it, as I
^lest and the smallest among us
~ike diminutive and pitifully
^ a meanness to calculate the
aifference.---Thackeray.
1^ ERE is my creed. I believe in one
& God, the creator of the vmiverse.
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 sotmd 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'nd 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 imbeliev-
ers in his government of the world with
any peculiar xriarks of his displeasure.
^ I shall only add, respecting myself,
t^t, having experienced the goodne^ 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 high^t at-
taiimient possible to a human being. It
is the task of one and all of us, but most
of us bimgle it.—Ibsen.
EBT, grinding debt, whose iron face
the widow, the orphan, and ^e sons
of genius ^ear and hate; debt, which con-
simies so much time, which so cripples
and disheartens a great spirit with cares
that seem so base, is a preceptor whose
lessons can not be foregone, and is needed
most by those who suffer from it most.
—^Emerson.
L
Page 105
POOR Relation is one of fish, the turbot being small,—yet suf-
the most irrelevant things fereth himself to be importuned into a
in nature—a piece of imper slice against his first resolution. He
tinent correspondency,—^an sticketh by the port,—^yet will be pre
odious approximation,— a vailed upon to empty the remaining
haunting conscience,—a preposterous glass of claret, if a stranger press it upon
shadow, lengthening in the noon-tide of him. He is a pu?zle to the servants, who
our prosperity,—an unwelcome remem are fearful of being too obsequious, or
brancer,—a perpetually recurring morti not civil enou^, to him. The guests
fication,—^a drain think " they have
on your purse, a seen him before."
more intolerable
The violet is much too shy. Every one specu-
dun upon your The rose too little so; lateth upon his con-
pride,—a draw I think I *11 ask the buttercup dition; and the
back upon success, If I may he her beau. most part take him
—a rebuke to your to be—a t i d e -
rising,—a stain in When winds go by, I *11 nod to her waiter. He calleth
your blood,—^a And she will nod to me, you by your Chris
blot on your 'scut And I will kiss her on the cheek tian name, to im
cheon—a rent in As gently as may be. ply that his other
your garment,—a is the same with
death's head at And when the mower cuts us down.
your own. He is
your banquet,— too familiar by
Together we will pass, half, yet you wi^
Agothocle's pot,— I smiling at the buttercup.
a Mordecai in yotu* he had less diffi
She smiling at the grass. dence. With half
gate, a Lazarus at
your door,—a lion " A Song the Grass Sings," _ „ . the familiarity, he
by Charles G, Blanden
in your path,—a might pass for a
frog in your cham casual dependant;
ber,—a fly in your ointment,—a mote with more boldness, he would be in no
in your eye,—a triimiph to your enemy, danger of being taken for what he is. He
an apology to your friends,—^the one is too humble for a friend; yet taketh on
thing not needful,—the hail in harvest,— him more state than befits a client. He
the ounce of sour in a pound of sweet. is a worse guest than a country tenant,
He is known by his knock. Your inasmuch as he bringeth up no rent—
heart telleth you, " That is Mr.—." A yet 't is odds, from his garb and de
rap, between familiarity and respect; meanor, that your guests take him for
that demands, and at the same time one. He is asked to make one at the
seems to despair of, entertainment. He whist-table; refuseth on the score of
entereth smiling and—embarrassed. He poverty, and—^resents being left out.
holdeth out his hand to you to shake, When the company break up, he prof-
and—draweth it back again. He cas fereth to go for a coach—^and lets the
ually looketh in about dinner-time— servant go. He •recollects your grand
when the table is full. He offereth to go father; and will thrust in some mean and
away, seeing you have company,—but quite imimportant anecdote—of the
is induced to stay. He filleth a chair, family as " he is blest in seeing it now."
and your visitor's two children are ac He reviveth past situations, to institute
commodated at a side-table. He never what he calleth—^favorable comparisons.
Cometh upOn open days, when your wife With a reflecting sort of congratulation,
says, with some complacency, " My he will inquire the price of your furniture;
dear, perhaps Mr. will drop in to and insults you with a special com
day." He remembereth birthdays—and mendation of your window-curtains
professeth he is fortunate to have stum He is of opinion that the um is the more
bled upon one. He declareth against elegant shape, but after all, there was
Pi^e 106 'BLBBPSr ffUBBARD*S •>SCRiA^ JBOOJK, Page 107

something more comfortable about the
old tea-kettle;which you must remember.
He dare say 3^u must fihd 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
aims done in vellum yet; and did not
know, till lately, that suc^-and-such had
been the crest of the family. His mem
ory is unseasonable; his compliments
f^rverse; his talk a trouble; his stay per-
tinadous; and when he ^>eth away, you
™atois8 his chair into a comer, as pre-
cipitatdy as possible, anil feel fairly rid
^two nuisances.
is a worse evil tmder the sun, and
that is—a female Poor Relation. You
do something with the other; you
''Wy pass him off tolerably wdl; but
indigent ^e-relaticm is hopeless,
it and^affects
oWtohumorist," you may
go threadbare. His say,
cir-
fWtances are better than folks would
ta^them tx> be. You are fond ofhaving
a Character at your table, and truly he
ts one." But in the indications of feoMle
poverty there can be no disguise. No
won^ dresses bdow ha^f from mere
Wncea»»
troth must out without shuffling.
P'fiinly rdated to the L s; or
5«at does she at • their house?" She
^ m ^ probability, your wife's cousin,
^aes out often, at least, this isthe
Her garb is something between a
^mewon^ and a beggar, yet the
^^^er evidently predominates. She is
25?, Provokingly humble, and ostenta-
sensible to her inferiority. He
r^uire to be repressed some-
-^ii* there is no raising
suffiaminadus erat,
her. You send
ft dinner, and she begs to be
the gentiemen. Mr.—-
the honor of taking wine with
^saitates betwe^ Port and
^bds^ the former—
^^use he does. She calls the servant
iiiftili *"®®t3 cm not troubling him to
her plate. The housekeeper pa-
her. The children's governess
to correct her, when she
mistaken the piano for harpischord.
'—Charles Lamb.
HE poet is chiefly distinguished
from other men by a greater prompt
ness to think and feel without immediate
external excitement, and a greater power
in expressing such Noughts and feelings
as are produced in him in that manner.
But these passions and thoughts and
feelings are the general passions and
thou^ts 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.
XSEND you herewith abill for ten
louis d'ors. I do not pretend to give
such a sum; I only lend it to you. When
you ghqil 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 yow 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
will stop its progress. This is a trick of
mine for doing a deal of good with a
little money. I am not nch enough to
afford much in good works, and so am
obliged to be cunning ^and make the
most of a little.—Franklin.
USTICE is the only worship'. Love
is the only priest. Ignorance is the
only slavery. Happiness is the only
go(^. The time to be happy is now.
The place to be happy is here. The
way to be happy is to make other
people happy.—^R. G. Ingersoll.
N the early days of the anti- honor of Massachusetts, nor because you
slavery agitation, a meeting are Boston boys, but because you are
was called at Faneuil Hall, men, and because honorable and gener
in Boston, which a good- ous men always love fair play." ^ The
natiired mob of soldiers was mob was conquered. Free speech and
hired to suppress. They took possession fair play were secured. Public opinion
of the floor and danced breakdowns and can do what it has a mind to do in this
shouted choruses and refused to hear any country. If it be debased and demoral
of the orators upon the platform. The ized, it is the most odious of tyrants. It
most eloquent is Nero and C^ig-
pleaded with them I must go down to the seas again, to the ula multiplied by
in vain. They were lonely sea and the sky. millions. Can there
urged by the mem And all I ask is a tall sfdp and a star to then be a more
ories of the Cradle steer her by; stringent public
of Liberty, for the And the wheel's kick and the wind's song duty for every man
honor of Massa and the white sail's shaking. —and the greater
chusetts, for their And a gray mist on the set^s face and a the intelligence the
own honor as Bos gray dawn breaking. greater the duty—
ton boys, to respect than to take care,
liberty of speech. I must go down to the seas again, for the by all the influence
C But they still can of the running tide he can command,
laughed and sang Is a wild call and a clear call that may not that the coimtry,
and danced, and be denied; the majority,,pu^
were proof against And alll ask is a windy day with the white lie opinion, shall
every appeal. clouds flying, have a mind to do
At last a man sud And theflung spray and the blown spume,
and the sea-gulls crying.
only what is jusi
and pure, and
denly arose from
among themselves, humane?—George
and began to speak. I must go down to the seas again, to the William Curtis.
Struck by his tone vagrant gypsy life.
and quaint appear To the gull's way and the whale's way XT is all very
ance, and with the where the wind's like a whetted knife. fine to talk
thought that he And all I ask is a merry yarn from a about tramps and
might be one of laughing fellow-rover,. ^ morality. Six hours
themselves, the And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when of police surveil
mob became sud the long trick's over. lance (such as I
denly stm. " Well, " Sea-Fever," bjf John Masefidd, have had), or one
fellow-citizens," he brutal rejection
said, " I would n't be quiet if I did n't from an inn door, change your views upon
want to." The words were greeted with the subject like a course of lectures. As
a roar of delight from the mob, which long as you keep in the upper regions,
supposed it had found its champion, and with all the world bowing to you as you
the applause was unceasing for five min go, social arrangements have a very hand
utes, during which the strange, orator some air; but once get under the wheels,
tranquilly awaited his chance to con and you wish Society were at the devil.
tinue. The wish to hear, more hushed the I will give most respectable men a fort
tumult, and when the hall was still he night of such a life, and then I will offer
resumed: " No, I certainly would n't them two pence for what remains of their
stop if I had n't a mind to; but then, if morality.—^Robert Louis Stevenson.
I were you, I would have a mind to!"
C The oddity of the remark and the When a firm, decisive spirit is recognized
earnestness of the tone, held the crowd it is curious to see how the space dears
silent, and the speaker continued: " Not around a man and leaves him room and
because this is Faneuil Hall, nor for the freedom.—^John Foster.
Pttge 108 ALBERT flUBBARJi^S
IKE an 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 most powerful in Engl^ Uterature
bound into one volume, and offered to
a comparativdy 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 diildren in our popu
lar schools are led to make today con
cerning the Bible imder the School
Board compromise! ^ How much re
sistance would there be to the illusion
created by the art of our great story-
tdlers? \/^^o would dare to affirm that
the men and women created by Chaucer,
Sh^espeare, Bunyan, Fielding, Gold-
snuth, 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-
^ of Sir Thomas More, or even Mat
thew Arnold? Above all, who could stand
up against the inspiration and moral
g^deur of our fx-ophets and poets,
from Langland to Blake and Shelley?
The power of Scripture hcs not waned
with the ages. Why not teach children
the realities of inspiration and revela
tion as they work daily throu^ scribes
^d lawgivers? It woidd, at all events,
xns&e better journalists and parish coun
cillors of them—George Bernard Shaw.
The man who foolishly does me wrong, I
wiU return to him the protection of my
most ungrudging love; and the more
evil comes from him, the more good ^all
go from me.—^Buddha.
IHERE is only one wish r^izable 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.
^ 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 ^e 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;thatyoutry in vain to wann 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, he speaks with warmth and
directness. Indeed, your friend comple
ments, and completes your ^litude and
you experience its charm without deso
lation.—John Burroughs.
AD we lived, I should have a tale to
LI tell of the hardihood, the endurance
and the courage of my companions which
would have stirred the hearts of every
Englishman. These rough notes and our
dead bodies must tell th • story.
—Captain :.Cobert F. Scott.
Pagem
RIENDS, who would have select the night in which his sleep
acquitted me, I would like undisturbed even by dreams, and w^
to talk with you about this to compare this with the other days and
thing which has happened, nights of his life; and then were to tdil
before I go to the place at us how many days and nights he had
which I must die. Stay then awhile, for passed in the course of his life better and
we may as well talk with one another more pleasantly than this one, I think
while there is time. You are my friends, this man—I will not say a private man,
^d I should like to showyou the mean but even the great king—^will not find
ing of this event many such days or
which has happen nights, when com
ed to me O my I strove with none; for none was pared with others.
judges—for so I Now if death is like
worth my strife.
may truly call you, this I say that to
I should like to tell Nature I loved and, next to Nature, die is gain; for
you of a wonderful eternity is then
Art! only a single night.
circumstance:
Hitherto the famil I warmed both hands before the But if death is
iar oracle within me the journey to
has constantly fires of life; another place—
been in the habit
It sinks, and I am ready to depart. and there, as men
of opposing me, say, all the dead
even in trifles, if I " I strove With None," hy Wtdter Savage Landor are—^what good
was going to make can be greater than
a slip or err in any matter; and now, as this? If, indeed, when the pilgrim arrives
you see, there has come upon me the last in the world below, he is delivered from
and worst evil. But the oracle made no thfe professors of justice in this world,
sign of opposition, either as I was leaving and finds the true judges who are said
my house and going out in the morning, to give judgment there—^Minos, and
or while I was speaking, at anything Rhadamanthus, and ^^cus, and Trip-
which I was going to say; and yet I have tolemus, and other sons of God who were
often been stopped in the middle of a righteous in their own life—^that pilgrim
speech; but now in nothing that I either age will be worth making.
said or did touching this matter has the Above all, I shall then be able to con
oracle opposed me. What do I take to tinue my search into true and false
be the explanation of this! I will tell you. knowledge, as in this world, so also in
I regard this as a great proof that what that. And I shall find out who is wise,
has happened to me is a good; and that and who pretends to be wise and is not.
those who think that death is an evil are What would not a man give to be able
in error. For the customary sign would to examine the leader of the Trojan
surely have opposed me had I been going expedition; or Odysseus, or Sisyphus, or
to evil and not to good. numberless others—men and women,
Let us reflect in another way, and we tool What infinite delight would there be
shall see that there is no great reason to in conversing with them and asking
hope that death is a good. For one of questions!—in another world they do
two things—either death is a state of not put a man to death for asking ques
nothingness; or, as men say, there is a tions; assuredly not. For besides being
change and migration of the soul from happier in that world than in this, tihey
this world to another. will be immortal, if what is said be true.
Now if you suppose that there is no con Wherefore, be of good cheer about death,
sciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of and know of a certainty that no evil can
him who is imdisturbed even by the happen to a good man, either in this life
sight of dreams, death will be an un or 'after death. He and his are not
speakable gain. For if a person were to neglected by the gods, nor has my own
fage 110 ^LBBKT HUBBARD^S Page 111

^jproaching end happened by mere ISSIPATIONS, vicesv a REASON, murder, rape, and upon this modem way of reasoning—
cdiance. But I see clearly that to die and certain class of philosophers burning a dwelling house, " That petty crimes deserved death, and
be rdea^ed was better for me; and there have asserted to be a natural were all the crimes that were he knew nothing worse for the greatest."
fore the oracle gave no sign. preparative for entering on liable to be punished with His laws, it is said, were written, not
For which reason, also, I am not anpy active life; a kind of mud death by our good old com with ink, but with blood; but they were
with my condemners or with my accu bath, in which the youth is, as it were, mon law. And such was the tenderness, of short duration, being all repealed by
necessitated to steep, and, we suppose, such the reluctance to shed blood, that Solon, except one, for murder
se. They have done me no harm, al
though they did not mean to do me any cleanse himself, before the real toga of if recompense could possibly be made, An attempt was made some years ago
Manhood can be laid on him. We shall life was not to be touched. Treason being to repeal some of the most absurd and
good; and for this I may gently blame
not dispute much against the King, cruel of our capi-
&em. Still I have
with this class of the remission of the To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; tal laws. The bill
a, favor to ask of A little work, a little play philosophers; we crime was in the To forgive wrongs darker than death or passed this house,
them When my
scms grow up, 1
To keep us going—and so, good- hope they are mis crown. In case of night; but was rejected
dag! taken; for Sin and murder itself, if To defy Power, which seems by the Lords for
yrould you, my
Remorse so easily compensation omnipotent; this reason: "It
frieads, to punish A little warmth, a little light could be made, the To love, and bear; to hope till Hope ' was an innovation,
them. And I would beset us at all
have you trouble Of love's bestowing—and so, good stages of life, and next of kin might creates they said, and sub
are always such in discharge the pros From its own wreck the thing it contem versive of law."
them, as I have night ! different company, ecution, which if plates; The very reverse
troubled you, if
they seem to care A little fun, to match the sorrow that it seems hard once discharged, Neither to change, nor falter, nor is truth These
could not be re repent; hanging laws are
about riches or Of each day's growing—and so, we should, at any
vived. If a ravisher This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be themselve.s in
anything more. stage, be forced
good morrow! and fated not only could make the in Good, great and joyous, beautiful and novations. No less
e^bout virtue. jured woman satis free; than three and
<1^ Or if they pre- A little trust that when we die , to meet but to
faction, the law had This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and thirtyof them pass
tead to be some- We reap our sowing! And so— yield to them, and
even serve for a no power over him; Victory. ed the last reign.
^iing when they
are really nothing,
good-bye! term in their lep she might marry From " Prometheus Unbound," I believe I my
rous armada. We the man imder the by Perqi Bysshe Shettey self was the fii^
then reprove them. •' A Little Work," by George du Maurier gallows, if she person to check tiie
Us I have reproved hope it is not so.
pleased, and take him from the jaws of progress of them. C Wheri the great
^u, for not caring about that for which Clear we are, at all events, it cm not be death to the lips of matrimony. But so Alfred came to the throne, he found the
th^ ought to care, and thinking that the training one receives in this Devil's fatally are we deviated from ^e benig kingdom overrun with robbers; but the
are really something when they are service^ but only our determming to sillyexpedientof hanging never came into
desert from it, that fits us for true manly nity of our ancient laws, that there is
r^y nothing. And if you do this, I and now imder sentence of death an un- his head; he instituted a police, which
^sbns will havereceived justice at your Action. We become men, not aftex we fortimate clergyman, who made satis was, to make evep^ township answer-
l^ds have been dissipated, and disappointed faction for the injury he attempted: the able for the felonies committed in it.
The hour of my departure has arrived, in the chase of false pleasure; but after satisfaction was accepted, and yet the Thus property became the guardian of
and we,t^ our ways—to die, and you to we have ascertained, in any way, what acceptance of the satisfaction and the property, and all robbery was so effec
live. W&ch is better, Grod only knows. impassable barriers hem us in through prosecution bear the same date. tually stopped that in a very short time
^Fcpm Socrates* T^k to His Friends thin life; how mad it is to hope for con
tentment to our infinite soul from the The Mo^ic law ordained that for a sheep a man mi^t travel throu^ the king
befi^ the HeiMock. or an ox, four and five fold should be dom unarmed, with his purse in his
gifts of this extremely finite world; that restored; and for robbing a house, hand. . . .
Wcn^d ye the road to Laughter- a fwqti must be sufficient for himself; and double; that is one fold for reparation, Even in crimes which are seldom or
that for sufferingand enduring there is no the rest for example; and the forfeiture never pardoned, death is no prevention.
O ye wlto have lost the way? remedy but strivingand doing. Manhood was greater, as the property was more Housebreakers, forgers and coiners are
Would ye have yoiu^sheart thou^ your begins when we have in any way made exposed. If the thief came by night, it sure to be hanged; yet housebreaking,
hii& be truce with Necessity; begins even when was lawful^to kill him; but if he came by forgery and coining are the very crimes
Go ie^ra a tittle duld each day. we have surrendered to Necessity, as the day, he was only to make restitution and which are oftenest committed. Strange
@0 serve ^ wants and play his play, most part only do; but begins joyfully if he had nothing he was to be sold for it is that in the case of blood, of which
cgtdi ^ lUt of his linig^ter gay, and hopefully only when we have recon his theft. This is dl that God required in we ought to be most toider, we should
Afid fd%w hii dancing feet ^ ^ey stray; ciled oiirselves to Necessity.; and thus, in
reali^, triumphed over it, and felt that felonies, nor can I find in histoiy any still go on, against reason and against
For he knom the road to Lau^ter- sample of such laws as ours, except a experience to make unavailing slaughter
town, in I^ecessity we are free.—^Bums. code that was framed at Athens by of our fellow-creatiires., A recent event
0 ye who have lost ^e wayl Draco. He made every ofTense capital, has proved that policy will do wtet
—Katherine D. Blake. God is the I of the Infinite.—^Hugo.
 Page 112 '^LBBRSr HUBBARD^S
blood can not do—mean the late regur
lation of the coinage. Thirty years to
gether men were continually hanged for
coining; still it went on: but on the new
r^ulation of the gold coin it ceased ....
C There lies at this moment in Newgate,
under sentence to be burnt alive, a girl
just turned fourteen; at her master's
bidding, ^e hid some whitewashed
farthings behind her stajrs, on which the
has foimd her guilty, as an accom
plice with her master in the treason. The
master was hanged last Wednesday; and
the fiaggots 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
Wejrmouth. Sir, are we taught to execrate
the incendiary fires of Smithfidd, and
we are lighting them now to bum a poor
harmless child for hiding a whitewashed
farthing! And yet this barbarous sen
tence, whichou^t to make men shudder
at tlw thou^t of shedding blood for
such trivial causes, is brought as a
reason for more hflnging and burning.
—From Speech of Sir William Meredith
in the House of Commons, May 13,1777.
5RY man is said to have his pecu
liar ambition. Whether it be true or
not, I can say, for one, that I have no
dther so great as that of being truly
esteemed of my fellow-men, by rendering
mysdf worthy of their esteem. How fi^
I sh^ succe^ in gratifying this ambi
tion is yet to be develop^* I an* young
and m^nown to many of you. I was
'bom, and have ever remained, in the
most humble walks of life. I have no
wealthy or popular relations or friends
to recommend me. My case is thrown
exclusivdyvupon the independent voters
of the countiy; and, if elected, they will
have conferred a favor upon me for which
I diall be unremitting in my labors to
compensate £•»
But, if the good people in their
vnsdom shall see fit to keep me in the
background, I have been too familiar
vdth disai^intments to be very much
dbagrined.—^Lincoln, to the People of
.Sangamon, Mardi 9,1832.
J300/C Page 113
T is customary to say that ELIUS LAMIA, bom in the waves. <|[Having reach^ the summit
age should be considered, Italy of illustrious parents, he seated himself by the side of a path
because it comes last «•» It had not yet discarded the beneath a terebinth, and let his glances
seems just as much to the toga proetexta when he set wander over the lovely landscape. . . .
point, that youth comes first. out for the schools of Athens C Lamia drew from a fold of his toga
And the scale fairly kicks the beam, ii to study philosophy Subsequently he a scroll containing the Treatise upon
you go on to add that age, in a majority took up his residence at Rome, and in his Nature^ extending himself upon the
of cases, never comes at all. Disease and house on the Esquiline, amid a circle of groimd, and began to read. But the
youthful wastrels, abandoned himself to
accidents make short work of even the warning criiss of a slave necessitated his
mo^ prosperous persons. To be suddenly licentious courses. rising to allow of
But being accused the passage of a
snuffed out in the middle of ambitious
schemes is tragical enough at the b^t; of engaging in crim It is not raining rain for me. litter which was
, but when a man has been grudging him inal relations with It's raining dqffodHs; being carried along
Lepida, the wife of the narrow path
self his own life in the meanwhile, and In every dimpled drop I see
Sulpicius Quirinus, way throu^ the
savmg up everything for the festival that WUd flowers on the hills.
was never to be, it becomes that hysteri a man of consular vineyards, ^e lit
rank, and being The clouds of gray engulf the day ter being imcur-
cally moving sort of tragedy which lies found guilty, he tained, permit
on the confines of farce. . . To husband And overwhelm the town;
a favorite claret until the batch turns wasexiled byTiber ted Lamia to see
ius Ceesar. At that It is not raining rain to me. stretched upon the
sour is not at all an artful stroke of policy; It's raining roses down.
time he was just cushions as it was
and how much more with a whole cellar—
entering his bome nearer to htm
a whole bodily existence! People may twenty-fourth It is not raining rain to me. the figure of an
lay down their lives with cheerfulness year But fields of clover bloom. elderly man of im-
in the sure expectation of a bless^ mor Duringtheeighteen mense bulk, who;
tality; but that is a different affair from Where any buccaneering bee
years that his exile Can find a bed and room. supporting his head
giving up youth with all its admirable lasted he traversed on his hand, gazed
pleasures, in the hope of a better quality Syria, Palestine, A health unto the happy, out with a ^oomy
of gruelin a morethan problematic, nay, Cappadocia, and and disdainful ex
morethan improbableold age.Weshould A fig for him who frets!
Armenia, and
It is not raining rain to me. pression. His nose,
not compliment a hungry man, who prolonged visits which was aquiline,
should refuse a whole dinner and reserve to Antioch, Csesa- It *s raining violets. and his chin, which
all his appetite for the dessert, beforehe rea, and Jemsalem. was prominent,
knew whether there was to bejany dessert "April Rain," by Robert Loveman
When, after the seemed desirous of
or not. If there be such a thing as impm- death of Tiberius, meeting across his
dence in the world, we surely have it here. Caius was raised to the purple. Lamia ob lips, and his jaws were i^werful. €[ From
We sail in leaky bottoms and on great tained permission to return to Rome. He tiie first moment Lamia was convinced
and perilous waters; and to t^e a cue even regained a portion of his possessions. that the face was familiar to him. He
from the dolorous old naval^ bmlad, we Adversity had taught him wisdom. . . . hesitated a moment before the name came
have heard the mermaids singing, and With a mixture of surprise and vexation to him.Then suddenly hastening towards
know that we shall never see dry land any he recognized that age was stealing upon the litter with a display of surprise and
more. Old and young, we are all on our him ^ In his sixty-second year, being delight—
last cmise. If there is a fill of tobacco afflicted with an illness which proved in no "Pontius Pilate!" he cried. "The gods
among the crew, for God's sake pass it slight degree troublesome, he decided to be praised who have permitted me to see
round, and let us have a pipe before we have recourse to the waters of Baise. The you once again!"
goI—Robert Louis Stevenson. coast at that point, once frequented by The old man gave a signal to the slaves
the halcyon, was at this date the resort to stop, and cast a keen glance upon the
jOTDVERSITY is a medicine which of the wealthy Roman, greedy of pleasure. stranger who had addressed him.
iZ . people are rather fond of recom For a week Lamia lived alone, without a " Pontius, my dear host," resimied the
mending indiscriminately as a p^acea friend in the brilliant crowd. Then one latter, " have twenty years so far
for their neighbors. Like other medicines, day, after dinner, an inclination to which whitened my hair and hollowed my
it only agrees-with certain constitutions. he yielded urged him to ascend the in cheeks that you no longer recognize your
There are nerves which it braces, and
clines which, covered with vines that friend ^lius Lamia? "
nerves which it utterly shatters.
—Justin McCarthy. resembled bacchantes, looked out upon At this name Pontius Pilate dismounted
Page 114 ^LBBRSr HUBBAR.D*S
from the litter as actively as the weight
of his years and the heaviness of his gait
permitted him, and embraced ^lius
LflTnia again and again.
" Godsl what a treat it is to me to see you
<^ice more! But, alas, you call up memo
ries of those long-vanished da3r8 when I
was Procurator of Judsea, in the prov
ince of Syria. Why, it must be Airty
years ago that I first met you. It was at
Csesarea, whither you came to drag out
^ur weary term of exile. I was fortunate
^wugh to alleviate it a little, and out of
midship. Lamia, you followed me to
l^t d^ressing place Jerusalem, where
Jews filled me with, bitterness and
disgust. You remained for more than ten
years my guest and my companion, and
^ converse about Rome and tUngs
Roman we both of us mfltinged to find
CQ^lation~you for your misfortunes,
I for my burdens of State."
Lamia embraced him afresh.. • •
^ You_ were preparing to suppress a
»amantau rising when I set out for Cap-
garo^ where I hoped to draw some
profit mm the breeding of horses and
roules. I have not seen you since then,
did that expedition supceed? Pray
me. Everything interests me that
wacenis you in any way."
^^tius Pilate sadly shook his head.
" My natural disposition," he said,
as a sense of duty, impelled me
my public responsibilities, not
^ diligence, but even with
But I was pursued by unre-
hatred. Intrigues and calumnies
SL" m its prime, andthe
have looked to bear has
®y®y- You ask me about the
insurrection. Let us sit down
Mlod,. 1 shall be able to give
(SirtriS ™ words. These OC'
as vividly presented
w they had happened yesterday.to me
Pee<SShl.^-?*®P^'
mi*u
orpersuaslve
tsxany such to be met
®y^7-indUced theSamaritans to
together in arms on Mount
(^lich in' that wuntiy islooked
? ^iy place) under the promise
Would di^0{^ to thdr sight the
sacred vessels which in the ancient days
of Evander and our father ^neas, 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 infant^ to
occupy the moimtain, and stationed
cavalry to keep the approaches to it
under observation
" These measures of prudence were ur
gent. The rebels were already laying
siege to the town of Tsrrathaba, 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 Vitellius, 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 Csesar. It was I who had provoked
the rising, and it was purely in order to
withstand my violence that they had
gathered together around TyraAaba
Vitellius listened to their complaints, and
handing over the affairs of Judaea to his
friend Marcellus, comm^ded me to go
and justify my proceedings before the
Emperor himself. With a heart over
flowing with grief and resentment I took
diip. Just as I approached the shores of
Italy, Tiberius, worn out with age and
the cares of empire, died suddenly on the
self-same Cape Misenum, whose peak we
see from this very spot magnified in the
mists of evening. I demanded justice of
Caius, his successor, whose perception
was naturally acute, and who was ac
quainted with Syrian affairs. But marvel
with me, Lamia, at the maliciousness of
fortime, resolved on my discomfiture.
Caius then had in his suite at Rome the
Jew Agrippa, his companion, the friend of
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 ^1 remember
that in Judaea it often happened that I
who, yoimger than you, should naturally
have been more impetuous than you,
was obliged to urge you to clemency and
suavity." ...
" Suavity towards the Jews! cned
Pontius Pilate " Although you have
lived amongst them, it seems clear that
you ill imderstand 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. Mycharacter, Lamia, was formed
upon the maxims ofthe divine Augustus.
When I was appointed Procurator of
Judsea, theworid was already penetrated
with the majestic ideal of the
romana. No longer, as in the days of our
internecine strife, were we witness^ 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 pnidenceandmod-
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.ButI am grownold.Myenemies and
detractors are dead. I shalldieunavenged.
Who will not retrieve my character?"
^ He moaned and lapsed into silence.
Lamia replied: . .
" That man is prudent who neither hopra
nor fears any&ing from the uncertain
events of the future. Does it matter m
the least what estimate men
of us hereafter? We ourselves are, after
Page 115
all,ourown 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.". ....
" 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, iElius
Lamia, to give me your company at sup
per at my house tomorrow. My house
stands on the 8eashore,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
^m hisIjO'e.
. ^ " Till tomorrow, Lamia,^' he repeated,
as he dimbed once more into his litter.
" Tomorrow we will talk about Judsea."
C The following day at the supper hour
Lamia presented himself at the house of
Pontius Pilate. Two couches were in
readiness for occupants.... As they pro
ceeded with their repast, Pontius and
Lamia interchanged inquiries with one
wo^er about their ailo^ts, tiie qntnp-
toms of which th^r described at con
siderable length, mutually emulous of
communicating the various remedies
which had been recommended to them...
After a time they turned to the subject
of the great engine^ing feats that had
been acioomplished in the country, the
prodigious Mdge constructed by Caius
between PuteoU and Baise, and the
canfiOs which Augustus excavated to
convey the waters of the ocean to Lake
Avemus and the Lucrine lake.
" I also," said Pontius, with a sigh, ** I
also wi^ed to set afoot public works of
great utility. When, for sins, I was
appointed Governor of Judsea, I con
ceived tiie idea of fumis^g Jerusalem
witii an abundant supply of pure water
by means cf an aqu^uct. . . . l^t far
from viewing with satisfaction the con
struction of that conduit, which was in
tended to carry to ^eir town upon its
form massive arches not only water but health,
the inhabitants of Jerusalem gave vent
Page 116 'JBJLBBRT ilUBBARD'S Page 117

to lamentable outcries They gathered salem as an interested onlooker, and point of view is a sacred tie; it is one of was crucified for some crime, I don't
tumultuouslytogetherexclaiming against mingled freely with the people, and I the institutions which are the support quite know what. Pontius, do you re
Ae sacrilege and impiousness, and hurl succeeded in detecting certain obscure of Rome. As to foreign women and slaves member anything about the man? "
ing themselves upon the workmen, virtues in these rude folk which were such relations as one may enter into with Pontius Pilate contracted his brows, and
scattered the very foundation stones. altogether hidden from you. I have met them would be of little account were it his hand rose to his forehead in the
Can you picture to yourself, Lamia, a Jews who were all mildness, whose sim not that they habituate the body to a attitude of one who probes the deeps
mthier set of barbarians? Nevertheless, ple manners and faithfulness of heart re humiliating effeminacy. Let me tell you of memory. Then after a silence of some
ViteUius decided in their favor, and I called to me what our poets have related that you have been too liberal in your seconds:
received orders to put a stop to the concerning the Spartan lawgiver. And offerings to the Venus of the Market "Jesus?" he murmured, "Jesus—of
work." ^ « It is you yourself, Pon- place; and what, above all, I blsme in Nazareth? I can not call him to mind."
a knotty point," Inio the woods My Master went, tius, have seen you is that -you have not married in —" The Procurator of Judea" (abbrevi
said Lamia, " how Clean forspent, forspent. perish beneath the compliance with the law and given ated), by Anatole France.
far one is justified Into the woods my Master came, cudgels of your le children to the Republic, as every good
in devisii^ thmgs -Forspent with love and shame. gionaries simple- citizen is bound to do." fOR money enters in two different
for the common But the man who had suffered e:^e characters into the scheme of life. A
But the olives they were not blind to Him; minded men who certain amoimt, varying with the number
weal against the The little gray leaves were kind to Him; have died for a imder Tiberius was no longer listening
will of the popu The thorn-tree had a mind to Him cause they believed to the venerable magistrate «o» Having and empire of our desires, is a true
lace." to be just without tossed off his cup of Falemian, he was necessity for eadi one of us in the pres
When into the woods He came.
Pontius Pilate con revealing their smiling at some image visible to his ent order of society; but bejrond that
tinued as though Out of the woods my Master went. names. Such men eye alone amoimt, money is a commodity to,be
he^ had not heard And He was well content. do not deserve our Aiter a moment's silence he resumed in bou^t or not to be bou^t, a luxury in
this interruption. . Out of the woods my Master came. contempt I am a very deep voice, which rose in pitch which we may either indulge or stint
was appointed saying this because by little and little;, oursdves, like any other. And there are
Content with death and shame.
by Rome not for it is desirable in "With what languorous grace they dance, many luxuries that we may legiti
When Death and Shame would woo Him
the destruction, all things to pre those Syrian women! I knew a Jewess at mately prefer to it, such as a grateful
last. conscience, a county life,or the womanof
but for the up From under the trees they drew Him last: serve moderation Jerusalem who used to dance in a poky
holding of their and an even mind. Kttle room, on a threadbare carpet, by our inclination. Trite, flat, and obvious as
*Twas on a tree they slew Him—last this conclusion may appear, we have only
customs, and over But I own that the light of one smoky little lamp,
them I had the
When out of the woods He came. to look round us in society to see how
" A Ballad of Trees and the Master," I never experienced waving her arms as she clanged her
power of the rod by Sidney Lanier any lively sympa cymbals. Her loins arched, her head scantily it has been recognized; and
and the axe At thy for the Jews. thrown back, and, as it were dragg^ perhaps even ourselves, after a little
tiie outset of my term of office I en The Jewess, on the contrary, I found down by the weight of her heavy red hair,, reflection, may decide to spend a trifle
deavored to persuade them to hear extremely pleasing. I was young, then, her eyes swimming with voluptuousness, less for money, and indulge ourselves a
reason. I attempted to snatch their and the Syrian women stirred all my eager, languishing, compliant, she would trifle more in the article of freedom.
^serable victims from death. But this senses to response. Their ruddy lips, have made Cleopatra herself grow pale —^Robert Louis Stevenson.
show of mildness only irritated them the their liquid eyes that shone in the shade, with envy. I was in love with her barbaric
more; they demand^ tlieir prey, fight- their sleepy gaze pierced me to the very dances, her voice—s. little raucous and XTlong
strikes me dumb to look over the
series of faces, such as any full
mg arowd me like a horde of vultures marrow. Painted and stained, smelling yet so sweet—^her atmosphere of in
with wing and beak. Their priests re the nard and myrrh, steeped in odors, cense, the semi-somnolescent state in Church, Courthouse, London-Tavern
ported to Caesar that I wasviolatingtheir their physical attractions are both rare which she seemed to live. I followed her Meeting, or miscellany of men will show
appesds, supported by and delightful." everywhere. I mixed with the vile rabble them. Some score or two of years ago,
Vitwiius, drew down upon me a severe Pontius listened impatiently to these of soldiers, conjurers and extortioners all^ these were little red-color^ infants;
reprimand. How many times did I long, praises ^ with which she was surrounded. One ea^ of them capable of being kneaded,
as rae Greeks used to say, to dispatch " I was not the kind of man to fall into day, however, she disappeared, and 1 baked into any social form you chose:
accusers ^d accused in one convoy to the snares of the Jewish women," he saw her no more. Long did I seek her in yet see now how they are fixed and
tiie crows!".... said, " and since you have opened the disreputable alleys and taverns. It was hardened—^into artisans, artists, clergy^
Lamia^ exerted himself to lead the con- subject yourself. Lamia, I was never able more difficult to leam to do without her gentry, learned sergeants, unearned
VCTTOtion back to a less acrimonious note. to approve of your laxity. If I did not than to lose Ae taste for Greek wine. dandies, and can and shall now be|nothing
Pontius, he said," it is not difficult for express with sufficient emphasis former Some months after I lost sight of her, I else henceforth.—Carlyle.
metounderstandbothyourlong-standing ly how culpable I held you for having in learned by chance that she had attached «•»

rewn^ent and your sinister forebod- trigued at Rome with the wife of a man herself to a small company of men and. Music was a thing of the soul—^a rose-
what you have experienced of consular rank, it was because you were women who were followers of a young lipped shell that murmured of the eter
<Sf the character of the Jews is nothing then enduring heavy penance for your Gedilean thaumaturgist. His name was nal sea—a strange bird singing the songs
to their advantage. But I lived in Jeru- misdoings. Marriage from the patrician Jesus; he came f^m Nazareth, and he of another shore.—^J. C. HoUand.
 Page IIS ISLBBRiT HUBBARD*S
E are ^irits «•> That bodies
should be lent us, while they
can afford us pleasure, assist
us in acquiring knowledge,
in doing good to our
lieUow creatures, is a kind aiid benevo
lent act of God. When thqr become un
fit for these piirposes, 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
^en, it is equally kind an<l benevolent,
t^t a way is provided by which we may
rid of them ,«» Death is that way.
friend and we were invited abroad
oh a party of pleasure, which is to last
forever. ICs ch^ was ready first and he
has gone before us. We could not all
QMvenienlly start together; and why
^uld you and I be grieved at this,
spce we are soon to follow, and know
whCTe to find him,—^Franklin..
jf'T be^s now to be eversrwhere
surmised that the real Force, which
m this world all things must obey, is
ft^ight. Spiritual Vision and Deter-
^^tion. The Thought is parent ofthe
nay, is living soul of it, and last
fnd continual, as wellas first mover of it;
IS the foundation and beginning and
^®®nce, therefore, of man's whole exis-
^5^ bere below. In this sense, it has
1^ said, the Word ofman (the uttered
J^u^t ofman) isstill a magic formula,
^tteby he rules the world. Do not the
'^ds and watm, and all tumultuous
Ppwjrs, ixutnimate and animate, obor
A poor, quite mechanical Magi-
fh fire-winged ships cross
at his bidding. Of mark, above
that " raging of the nations," wholly
desperation and d^k
^|y; how the meek voice of a
Martyr and Redeemer stills it
iriS ®savage |Earth becomes
^utifid, and the habitation
. ^^rnd cruelty a temple of peace. The
«^f the world, who moulds
® according to his
lovingly sees into
"i^ired . Thinker,"
^®^»n thiese days we name Poet,
^tte Spvereigii is the Wise Man,
SCRsA^ S O O I ^ Page 119
BOVE all, it is ever to be kept in iE is no madman, but the you must follow. I will me^ you across
mind, that not by material, but by best bimdle of nerves I ever Death's border, and I tell you. Gover
moral power, are men and their actions saw; cut, bruised and bat nor Wisci prepare for eternity. You admit
governed. How noiseless is thought! No tered, and chained beside, you are a slave-holder. You have arespon-
rollmg of drums, no tramp of squadrons he showed himself to be a sibility weightier than mine a-- Prepare
or immeasurable tumult of baggage- man of courage and fortitude. He is a to meet your God!'"—Governor Henry
wagons, attends its movements: in what fanatic, of course, beyond all reason, A. Wise's Interview with John Brown.
obsciu-e and sequestered places may the but he thinks himself a Christian, and
head be meditating, whi(^ is one day to believes honestly he is called of God Search thy own heart; what paineth
to free the negroes. thee in others in
be crowned with more than imperial thyself may be.—
authority; for Kings and Emperors will They say when one I who am dead a thousand years,
son was dead by his And wrote this sweet archaic soi^.
J. G. Whittier.
be among its ministering servants; it
will rule not over, but in, all heads, and side, he held his Send you my words for messengers
rifle in one hand, The way I shall not pass along. II HAVE, may it
wth these its solitary combinations of '^please the
ideas, as with magic formulas, bend the and felt the pulse
Court, a few words
world to its will! The time may come of another who was I care not if you bridge the seas.
dying, all the time to say.
when Napoleon himself may be better Or ride secure the cruel sky.
In the first place;
known for his laws than for his battles; cautioning his men Or build consummate palaces
I deny everything,
and the victory of Waterloo prove less to be cool and sell Of metal or of masonry.
their lives dearly. but what I have
momentous than the opening of the aU along admitted :
first Mechanics' Institute.—Carlyle. C. " While I was But you have wineand musicstill, of a design on my
talking with him," And statues and a bright-eyed love.
continued Gover Andfoolish thoughts of good and ill, part to free the
N the mind of him who is pure and slaves. I intended
good will be found neither corrup nor Wise, " some Andprayers to them that sit above? certainly to have
tion nor defilement nor any malignant one called out that
he was a robber How shall we conquer? Like a wind made a dean thing
taint. Unlike the actor who leaves the of the matter, as I
stage before his part is played, the life and a murderer Thatfalls at eve ourfancies blow.
did last winter
of such a man is complete whenever Brown replied, And old MoBorddes the blind
when I went to
death may come. He is neither cowardly * You slave-holders Said it three thousand years ago.
Missouri and there
nor presuming; not enslaved to life nor are the robbers.*
" I said to him, 0 friend, unseen, unborn, unknown. took slaves with
indifferent to its duties; and in him is out the snapping
found nothing worthy of condemnation • Captain Brown, Student of our sweet English tongue.
your hair is matted Read out my words at night, alone: of a gun on either
nor that which putteth to shame. side, moving them
Test by a trial how excellent is the life with blood and I was a poet, I was young.
througih the coun
of the good man—^the man who re you are speaking
Since I can never see your face, try, and finally
joices at the portion given him in the hard words. Per
leaving them in
universal lot and abides therein content; haps you forget I And never shake you by the hand,
Canada. I designed
just in all his ways and kindly minded am a slave-holder; 1 send my soul through time and space
to have done the
toward all men. you had better be To greet you. You mil understand.
thinking on eter " To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence,"
same thing again
This is moral perfection: to live each by James Elroy Flecker on a larger s^e.
day as though it were the last; to be nity. Your wounds
That was all I in
tranquil, sincere," yet not indifferent may be fatal, and
if they are not, you will have to stand tended. I never did intend murder, or
to one's fate.—^Marcus Aurelius. treason; or the destruction of propaty,
trial for treason, conspiracy and murder,
X THINK that to have known one and how can you hope to escape, when
you admit your guilt? '
or to excite or incite slaves to rebdlion,
or to make insurrection.
good, old man—one man, who,
through the chances and ^schances " The old man leaned on his elbow, and I have another objection, and that is that
of a long life, has carried his heart in beneath the bandages on his broken it is unjust that I should suffer sudb a
face I saw the blue eyes flash and he penalty. Had I interfered in the manner
his hand, like a palm-branch, waving in which I admit, and which I admit has
^ discords into peace—whelps our faith answered me: ' Governor Wise, you call
me old, but after all I have only ten or bwn fairly proved—^for I admire the
in God, in oiu-selves, and in each other truthf^ess and candor of the greater
more than many sermons.—G.W.Curtis. fifteen years, at most, the start of you
in that journey to eternity, of which you portion of the witnesses who have testi
speak. I will leave this world first, but fied in this case—^had I so interfered in
Life is but a thou^t.—Coleridge.
Page 120 IBI^BERSr -HUBBARD^S
behalf of the rich, the powerful, the in-
tdligent, the so-called great, or in bdiali
of any of their friends, either father,
mother, brother, sister, wife or children,
or any of that dass, and suffered and
sacrificed what 1 have in this interfer
ence, it would have been all ri^t. Every
man of this Court would have deemed it
an act worthy of reward rather than
punishment
This Court acknowledges, too, as 1 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,
whidti teaches me that all things whatso
ever I would that men should do to me,
I ^ould 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 fredy ad-
nutted 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
bloodfurther with the bloodof my child-
dren and with the blood of millions in
this slave country whose rights are dis-
regaM^ by wicked, cruel and ux^just
enactments, I say let it be done.
Liet me say one word further. I feel
^tirdy satisfied with the treatment I
Mve received on my trial. Considering
all the circumstances, it has been more
generous than I expected. But I fed no
^Q^ousness of guilt.1 have stated from
the firstv^t was myintention,and what
design against
tne UDerty of any person, nor any dis
position to commit treason or incite
slaves to rebd or make any general in
surrection
I never encour^ed any man to do so,
but^always discouraged any ideaof that
land
Let me say, also, in regard to the state-
m^ts ^de by some ofthem that I have
inauc^ them to join me. But the con-
teaty is true. I do not say this to injure
them, but as regretting ^eir 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 Comt.
F you accept art, it must be part of
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 bu^ 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 imderstand.
It will not hinder any work that is neces^
sary to the life of man at the best, but
it \^1 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.
scholar only knows how dear
thesesilent 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 the unaltered countenance of hap
pier day^, and cheer us with that true
friendship which never deceived hope
nor deserted sorrow.
—^Washington Irving.
Divinity consists in use and practise,
not in speculation.—^Luther.
Page 122
T seems to me that the themselves; some, without any cere
truest way to understand mony will run over the history of th^
[the art of] conversation) is lives; will relate the annals of their dis
to know the faults and errors eases, with the several symptoms and
to which it is subject and circumstances of them; win •enumerate
from thence each man to form maxims the hardships and injustice they have
to himself whereby it may be regulated, suffered in court, in parliament, in love,
because it requires few talents to which or in law. Others are more dexterous, and
most men are not bom, or at best may with great art will be on the wat<^ to
acquire, without hook in their own
any great genius or Come, I trill make the continent praise; they will
study. For nature call a witness to
indissoluble, remember they al
hath left every I will make the most splendid race the
man a capacity of ways foretold what
sun ever shone upon, would happen in
being agreeable, I will make divine magnetic lands.
though not of such a case, but
With the love of comrades. none would be
shining in com With the life-longlove of comrades.
pany; and there lieve them; th^r,
are a hundred men advised such a man
sufficiently I will plant companionship thick as trees from the begin
qualified for both, along all the rivers of America, and ning and told him
who, by a very along the shores of the great lakes, ami the consequences,
few faults, that • all over the prairies, just as they hap
they might cor I will make inseparable cities with their pened; but he
rect in half an hour, mms about each other's necks, would have his own
are not so much as I By the love of comrades. way. Others make
tolerable By the manly loveof comrades. a vanity of telling
For instance: noth " For You O Democracy," by Wdt Whitman their faults, they
ing is more gener are the strangest
ally exploded than the folly of talking too men in the world; they can not dis
much, yet I rarely remember to have semble; they own it is a folly; th^
seen five peopletogether, whensomeone have lost abundance of advantages
among them has not been predominant by it; but if you would give them tiie
in that kind, to the great constraint and world; they can not help it; there is
, disgust of all the rest. But among such something in their nature that abhors
as deal in multitudes of words, none are insincerity and constraint; with many
comparable to the sober, deliberate other insufferable topics of the same
talker, who proceeds with much thought altitude
and caution, makes his preface, branches Of such mighty importance every man is
out into several digressions, finds a hint to himself, and ready to think he is so to
that puts him in mind of another story, others; without once making this easy
which he promises to tell you when this and obvious reflection, that his affairs
is done; comes back re^arly to his can have no more weight with other
subject, can not readily call to miiid men, than theirs have with him; and how
some person's name,- holding his head, . little that is, he is sensible enough.
complains of his memory; the whole When a company has met, I often have
company all this while in suspense; at observed two persons discover, by some
leng^ sajrs, it is no matter, and so goes accident, that they were bred together at
on. And, to crown the business, it per the same school or imiversity; after
haps proves at last a story the company which the rest are condemned to silence,
has heard jl|fty times before; or, at best, and to listen while these two are re
some insipid adventure of the relator. freshing each other's memory, with
C Another general fault in conversation the ar^ tricks and passages of them
is that of ^ose who affect to talk of selves and their comrades.
Page 122 *lBLBBRSr HUBBARD^S
There are some faults in conversation,
whidi 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 endeavorii^ to say
a witty thing, they think it is so many
words lost; it is a torment to the hearers,
as mudi as to themselves, to see them
upon the rack for invention, and in per
petual constraint, with so little success,
^ey must do something extraordinary,
in order to acquit them^ves, and an
swer their diaracter, else the standers-
by may be disappointed, and be apt to • a story, and provided with a plentiful
think ^em only like the rest of mortals.
I ^have known two men of wit, indus-
trioudy brought together, in order to
enitertain the company, when they have
roade a very ridiculous figure, and pro
dded all the mirth at l^eir own expense,
ft I know a man of wit, who is never
easy but when he can be allowed to dic-
tete and preside: he never expects to be
inform^ or entertained, but to dis
play his own talents. His business is to
be go^ company, and not good con-
ywation; and therefore he looses to
frequent those who are content to listen
profess themselves his admirers.
^ Raillery isthe finest part ofconversa
tion; but as it is our usual custom, to
counterfeit and adulterate whatever is
top dear to us, so we have done with this,
a®d ti^ed it all into what is generally
^ed'repartee, or being smart; just as
an e:q>ensive fa^ion comes up,
piose who are not able to reach it, con-
^emsdves with some paltry imita-
It now passes for raillery to run a
down in discourse, to put him out
^ countenance, and malrft him ridicu-
sometimes to expose the defects of
- pwaon or understanding; on all which
CHEcasioiw he is obliged not to be angry,
the imputation of not being
aole to take a jest. It is admirable to
Qps^e (toe who isdexterous in this art,
m&mgjrnt a weak adversary, getting
then carrying
an TOfore him. The French, from whom
we boraow the word, had a quite dif-
fertot idea of the thing, and so had we
m ^e poHter age of our fathers. Railtery
was to say something that at 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 anjrthing 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
stock of them, which they c^ draw
upon occasion in all companies; and
considering how long conversation nms
now among us, it is not altogether a con
temptible tsdent; however, it is subject
to two imavoidable defects, frequent
repetition, and being soon exhausted;
so that, whoever values this gift in him
self, has need of a good memory, and
ou^t frequently to shift his company,
that he may not discover the westoiess
ofhis fund; for those who are thus endued
have seldom any other revenue, but
live upon the main stock.
Great speakers in publicareseldom agree
able in private conversation, whether
theu: faculty be natural, or acquired by
practice, and often venturing. Natural
elocution, although it may seem a para
dox, usually springs from a bairenness
of invention, and of words; by which men
who have only one stock of notions upon
every subject, and one Mt of phases to
express them in, they swim in tiie super-
fices, and offer themselves on every oc
casion; therefore, men of much learning,
and who know the compass ofa language,
are generallytheworst talkers of a sudden
^mtil much practice has inured and em
boldened them; because they are con-
foimded with plenty of matter, variety
of notions, and of words, which they can
not readily dioose, but are perplexed
and entangled by too great a choice;
which is no disadvantage in private con
versation; where, on the other side, the
talent of haranguing is of all others,
the most insupportable.
CThus we see how human nature is
most debased, by the abuse of that
'^SCJRsAjy JBOOIC,
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.
It suffices not that beauty should keep
solitary festival in life; it has to become
a festival of eveiy day.—^Maeterlinck.
|HEN those difficult cases occur,
they are difficult, chiefly because,
while we have them imder consideration,
all the reasons pro and con are not pres
ent to the mind at the same time; but
sometimes one set present themselves,
^d at other times another, the first be
ing out of sight. Hence the various pur
poses or inclinations Uiat alternately
prevail, and the uncertainty that per
plexes us
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 from this
kind of equation, in what may l^e called
moral or prudential algebra.—^Franklin.
Page 123
[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 3rou 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 satisr
faction as to hear this, and to hear it
from your own pen.—George Washing
ton, Letter to His Wife, 1775.
GREAT factory with the machinery
all working and revolving with ab
solute and rhythmic regularity and with
the men all ^ven by one impulse and
moving in imison as though a constitu
ent part of the mighty machine, is one
of tiie most inspiring examples pf di
rected force that the world shows, t have
rarely seen the face of a mechanic in the
act of creation which was not fine, never
one which was not earnest and i]aipres<^
sive.—^Thomas Nelson Page.
j^'HERE is no moment like the pres-
ent. The man who will not exe
cute his resolutions when they are fre^
upon him can have no hope from them
afterwards: they will be dissipated, lost,
and perish in ^e hurry and scurry of
the world, or sunk in tiie slough of in
dolence.—^Maria Edgeworth.
Page 124 'BLBBRT HUBBARD^S JBTOO/sC Page 12S

>W feeble words seem herel of these brave young hearts, which lie HE functions of the poetical bring light and fire from those eternal
How can I hope to utter buried on the banks of the Shenandoah, faculty are twofold; by one regions where the owl-winged faculty of
what your hearts are full of? thoughts of them mingled with love to it creates new materials of calculation dare not ever soar?
I fear to disturb the har God and hope for the slave. knowledge, and power, and Poetry is not like reasoning, a power to
mony which his life breathes He has abolished slavery in Virginia. pleasure; by the other it be exerted according to the determina
round this home. One and another of You may say this is too much. Our engenders in the mind a desire to repro tion of the will. A man can not say it:
3TOU, his nei^bors, say, " I have known neighbors are the last men we know. The duce and arrange them according to a " I will compose poetpr." The greatest
him five years," " I ^ve known him hours that pass us are the ones that we certain rhythm and order which may be poet even can not say it; for the mind in
ten years." It seems to me as if appreciate least. Men walked Bos called the beautiful and good. The culti creation is as a fading coal, which some
we had none of us ton streets when vation of poetry is invisible influence.
known him. How night fell on Bun- never more to be Now, and I muse for why and never like an inconstant
Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you desired than at pe wind, awakens to
our admiring, lov bore are brittle. ker's Hill, and find the reason,
ing wonder has pitied Warren, say riods when, from^an I pace the earth, and drink the air, transitory, bright
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old ness; this power
grown, day by day, ing, "Foolish man! excess of the sel and feel the sun.
and founded strong, arises from within,
as he has unfold^ Threw away his fish and calcula Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for
I think rather,—call to thought, if now ting principle, like the color of a
trait after trait of you grieve a little. life! Why didn't a season:

earnest, brave, the accumulation Let us endure an hour and see injustice flower which fades
The days when we had rest, O soul, he measure his
tender, Chris means better?" of the materials of done. and changes as it
for they were long. external life exceed is developed, and
tian life! We see Now we see him
him walking with standing colossal the quantity of the the conscious por
radiant, serene on that blood power of assimilat Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from tions of our natures
Men loved unJdndness then, but lightless the prime foundation; are unprophetic
fece to the scaf in the quarry stained sod, and ing them to the
fold, and think, severing that day internal laws of All thoughts to rive the heart are here, either of its
J slept arid saw not; tears fell down, and all are vain;
what an iron heart, the tie which human nature. The approach or its de
I did not mourn; Horror and scorn and hate and fear and
what devoted Sweat ran and blood sprang out and bound Boston to body has then be parture Could
fiEdth! We tnlrff up come too unwieldy indignation— this influence be
I was never sorry: Great Britain. Oh, why did I awake? when shall I
his letters, begin Then it was well with me, in days That night George for that which ani durable in its orig
mates it. sleep again? inal^ purity and
ning, "My dear ere I was born, III ceased to rule in
wife and (±uldren, New England. His Poetry is indeed " Be Still, My Soul," by A. E, Houseman force, it is impos
(Concluded on next page)
every one,"--see tory will date Vir something divine. sible to predict the
Wm Stoop on the wayto the scaffold and It is at once the center and circum greatness of the results; but when com
ginia Emancipation from Harper's Ferry. position begins, inspiration is already on
»iss that negro child—and this iron True, the slave is still there. So, when the ference of knowledge; it is that which
n^rt seems all tenderness. Marvelous comprehends all science, and that to the decline, and the most glorious poetry
tempest uproots a pine on your hills, it that has ever been communicated to the
old man! We hardly said it when the looks green for months—a year or two. whi(^ all science must be referred. It
loved forms of his sons, in the bloom of is at the same time the root and blossom world is probably a feeble shadow of the
Still it is timber, not a tree. John Brown original conception of the poet.
young devotion, encircle him, and we has loosened the roots of the slavery of all other systems of thought; it is
rem^ber he is not alone, only the ma- system; it only breathes—it dc^ not that from which all spring, and that Poetry is the record of the best and hap
iestic center of a group. Your neighbor live—hereafter.—"The Bunal of John which adorns all; and that which, if piest moinents of the happiest and best
falser went, surroimded by his house- blighted, denies the fruit and the seed, minds. We are aware of evanescent
Brown," by Wendell Phillips. visitations of thought and feeling some
hcttd, to tdl the slaves there will still be and withholds from the barren world the
hearte and right arms ready and nerved :HE house-builder at work in cities nourishment and the succession of the times associated with place or person,
for the settee. Prom this roof four, from or anywhere. scions of the tree of life. It is the perfect sometimes regarding our own mind
a netghboring roof two, to make up that and consummate surface and bloom of alone, and always arising unforeseen and
The preparatory jointing* squanng, saw departing unbidden, but elevating and
score of heroes. How resolutely each ing, mortising, ^ , all things; it is as the odor and the color
of the rose to the texture of the elements delightful beyond all expression: so that
1loyally
« each stood
face The hoist-up of heaias, the push of them
at of
hisVirginia, how
forlorn post, in their places, laying them regular. which compose it, as the form and splen even in the desire and the regret they
®®®ting deathcheer^y, till tJiat master Setting the studs by their tenons in the dor of unfaded beauty to the secrets of leave, there can not but be pleasure,
voice said, " It is enough." And these anatomy and curruption What were participating as it does in the nature of
mortises, according as they were pre its object. It is as it were the interpene-
weepmg diildren and widow see so lifted pared, virtue, love, patriotism, friendship—
JJP and consecrated by long, single- The blows of the mallets and hammers— what were the scenery of this beautiful tration of a diviner nature through our
hearteddevotion to hisgreatpurpose that Peeans and praises to him! universe which we inhabit—^what were own; but its footsteps are like those of a
vre dare, evenat this moment, to remind —^Walt Whitman. our consolations on this side of the wind over the sea which the coming calm
^em how blessed they are in ttie priv grave—and what were our aspirations erases, and whose traces remain only,
ilege of thinking Uiat in the last throbs Today is yesterday's pupil.—^Franklin. beyond it, if poetry did not ascend to as on the wrinkled sand which paves it.
Page 126 '^LBERSr iiUBBARD*S
These and corresponding conditions of
being are esEperienced principally by
those of the most delicate sensibility
and the most enlarged imagination;
md the state of mind produced by them
is at war with every base desire. The
enthusiasm of. virtue, love, patriotism,
and iriend^p is essentially linked with
such emotions; and while th^ last, self
aiq>ears as what it is, an atom to a uni
verse. Poets are not only subject to these
experienc<» as spirits of the most refined
oi^anization, but they can color all that
they combine with the evanescent hues
of this ethereal world; a word, a trait in
the rejtfesentation of a scene or a pas-
aon, will touch the enchanted chord, and
f®®^»iinate, iii those who have ever ex
perienced the^ emotions, the sleeping,
me. cold, the buriied image of the past.
Poetry thus tnqVeg immortal all that is
and most beautiful in the world;
*t- ^arrests the vanishing apparitions
^'Wch ^unt ^e interlimations of life,
®nd veilmg them or in language or in
«wm, sends them forth among mankind,
®|®®ring sweet news of kindred joy to
th^ ^th whom their sisters abide—
because there is no portal of ex-
I^^on from the caverns of the spirit
wmch thqr inhabit into the universe of
Poetry redeems from decay the
^^tations of the divinity in man.
—^Perqy Bysshe Shelley
Patience is bitter, but its fruit sweet.
—^Rousseau.
fcZ?? ® volume, if you know
«PW to read hitih—Channing.
in knowing the resemblance
^ings iRrtuch differ, and the difference
Of things whidi are alike.
-^Madame De Stael.
social life is in essence but a
iiSS' over striving
justice for the
force.—John victory of
Galsworthy.
would be no perceptible influence
of race if Hell were
<li£en(^ed axul Reavten buiiied.
—Churlw W. filiot.
ANY lovable people miss each other
in the world, or meet imder 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-
perturbablydecl&ringamid'theastonished
conskleration of men and angels, imtil
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 scartely 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, throu^ st^e 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 ^ar^, that ^
soon as the man- knows what is in his
own heart, he is sure of what is in the
woman's.-^Robert Louis Stevenson.
g^VERY man, however obscure, how-
ever fEu* removed from the general
recognition, is one of a group of men im
pressible for good, and imi^essible for
evil, and it-is in the nature of things that
he can not really imjprove himself with
out in some degree improving other
m(Bn.—Charles Dickens.
Be not prodigal of your opinions, lest by
sharing them with Others you be left
withou^^Ambrode Bitirce. .
Page 127
HERE is something ex as they have flowed on in the ages that
tremely fascinating in quick are past; to see why nations have risen,
ness; and most men are and why they have fallen; to speak of
desirous of appearing quick. heat, and light, and winds; to know
The great rule for becoming what man has discovered in the heavens
so is, by not attempting to appear quicker above, and in the earth beneath; to hear
than you really are; by resolving to the chemist unfold the marvdous prop
understand yourself and others, and to erties that tJ^e Creator has locked up
know what you mean, and what they in a speck of earth; to be told that there
mean, before you are worlds so dis-
speak or answer. tant from our sun
CEvery man Who drives the horses of the sun that the quickness
must submit to be Shall lord it hut a day; of light traveling
slow before he is Better the lowly deed were done. from the world's
quick; and insig And kept the humble way. creation has never
nificant before he yet reached us; to
is important. The The rust willfind the sword of fame. wander in the
too early struggle The dust will hide the crown; c r e a t i o n s of
against the pain Ay, none shall nail so high Jus name poetry, and grow
of obscurity cor Time will not tear it down. warm again, with
rupts no small that eloquence
share of under whidi swiQred the
The happiest heart that ever beat democracies of
standings Well Was in some quiet breast
and happily has the old world;
Thatfound the common daylight sweet. to
that man con go up with
And left to Heaven the rest.
ducted his under great reasoners
standing who has " The Happiest Heart," hy John Vance Cheney to the First Cause
learned to derive of all, and to per
from the exercise of it regular occupa ceive in the midst of all tl:^ dissolution
tion and rational delight; who, after and decay, and crud separation, that
having overcome the first pain of ap there is one thing unchangeable, in
plication, and acquired a habit of look destructible, and everlasting;—it is
worth while in the days of our youth to
ing inwardly upon his own mind, per
ceives that every day is multiplying the strive hard for this great discipline; to
relations confirming the accuracy, and pass sleepless ni^ts for it, to give up to
augmenting the number of his ideas; it laborious days; to spurn for it present
who feds that he is rising in the scale of pleasures; to endure for it a^cting
intellectualbeings,gatheringnewstrength poverty; to wade for it through darkness,
with every new difficulty which he and sorrow, and contempt, as tlie great
spirits of the world have done in all ages
subdues, and enjoying today as his
pleasure that whidiyesterday helabored and all times.—Sidney Smith*
at as his toil.
There are many consolations m the |LAY ispleasurable mental andphys
ical competitive exercise where the
mind of such a man which no common
life can ever afford, and many enjoy lues involved are trivial and tran
sient. It is a fit preparation for more
ments which it has not to give! It is
not the mere cry of moralists, and the important tasks. And it is the law of
flourish of rhetoridans; but it is noble life that you only do those important
to seek truth, and it is beautiful to tasks well at which you have played in
childhood.—Stanley Hall.
find it. It is the andent feeling of the
human heart—^that knowledge is better
than riches; and it is deeply and sacredly The worst sorrows in life are not in its
true! losses and misfortunes, but its fears.
To mark the course of human passions —A. C. Benson.
Page 128 ^LBBRT IfUBBARD'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 eztraordi-
nary,but I assure you it is not imcommon
here. Sometimes, indeed, one unknown
person brings another equally unknown,
to recommend him; and sometimes they
recommend one another! Aa to
gentleman, I must refer you to himself
for his character and merits, with whidi
he is certainly better acquainted than I
can posably be. I recommend him, how
ever, to those civilities which every
stranger, of whom one knows no harm,
hp a rifiht 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.
H HUSBANDMAN who had aquar-
rdsome family, after having tried
in vain to reconcile them by words,
thou^t he mi^t 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
amther, to take it up and break it.
Thqr all tried, but tri^ in vain. Then,
unt^^ng the fc^ot, he gave them the
sticks to break one by one. This they
did wth the greatest ease. Then said the
fethcr: " l^us, my sons, as long as you
remain united,^ you are a match for all
jrow enemies; but differ and separate,
and you are undone."—^iEsop.
The nati^ that has the has
future.—Bismarck.
|?I€HEN man has come to the Tum-
M/stiles of Night, all the creeds in
the world seem to him wonderfully
alike and colorless.—^Rudyard Kipling.
Itove comes unseen; we only see it go.
—Austin Dobscm.
JMHOEVER examines, with due cir-
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
begsaiy and want, either by father or
mother, and sometimes by both: and to
speak naturally, it very seldom happens
ffmnng myir^ to fqll out when all havc
enou^: invasions usually traveling
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, thou^ we may
allow to be brethren, or ^Uatei^
branches of pMride, are certainly the
issues of want.—Jonathan Swift.
*T is mind ♦•hat- makes the body ridi.
—Shakespeare.
PERHAPS none of SheUey's po^
is more purely and typically Shel-
leian than " The Cloud," and it is inter
esting to note how essentially it spring
from the faculty of make-believe. The
same thing is conspicuous, thou^ less
purely conspicuous, throu^out his sing
ing; it is the child's faculty of make-
b^eve raised to the " nt^ ix)wct.
He is still at play, save only that lus
play is such as maiihood stops to watch,
and his playthings are those which the
gods give tib^&iUdren. The universe
is the box of toys. He dabbles his fingere
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 han^
He teases into growling the keimelled
thunder, and laughs at the sha^g of
its fiery chain. He dances in and out of
fhft gates of heaven; its floor is littered
with his broken fancies. He runs wHd
over fields of ether. He chases the
rolling world. He gets between the fwt
of the horses of the sim. He stands in the -
lap of patient Nature, and twines her
loosened tresses after a hundred wlful
fashions, to see how she will look nicest
in his song.—^Francis Thompson.
Page 129
EN differ from each other in longer diange jresterday: it ardies over
quality rather than in qxian- us as fate, but we can influence decided
tity of life. It is true, some ly the factor of today's life is mul
are granted more years than tiplied into the whole achievement of
others; but after all that is the past
not so important. One would rather live That is why the mar^ of time we have
a year than vegetate for a century, to spend as we please is so sacred; asid
though I grant you it would be better the briefer the margin, the more pre-
to live to a hundred years than for one, aous it beoofloes* If have ten hours
if we could be sure a day to spend as
we were living all you please, you
the time and not The Body may perhaps af
simply staying of ford to waste an
above the ground. Benjamin Franklin, Printer hour of it—^per
Yet everyone inter {Like the cover of an old book. haps; but if yoa
prets life in terms have only hnlf an
Its contents torn out.
of its quality rather hour eadh day at
than its quantity. And stripped of its lettering and gilding^ your own free dis
Looking badk over Lies here food for worms. posal that half-
the past one often Yet the work itself shall not be lost. hour becomes a
finds a day or a For it ipill (as he believes) appear once sacred opportun
week standing out
more
ity of life, tiie
longer in memory chance to change
thanyearsthat pre In a new the quality of
ceded and followed And more beautiful Edition your existence,
it It was longer Corrected and Amende to multiply the
in significance, one
lived more, and so
By capital on which
3^u are doing bum-
The Author ness in the voca-
the day had deeper
meaning for the " Franklin's sdf-written epitaph*' tion of living.
No, the river of
spirit than years
of mere routine existence. We have lived, time sweeps on with regular, remorse
not so many days and years, but so mudi less current. There are hours when we
work and love and strug^e and joy and would give all we possess if we could but
heart-ache. Life is always measured in check the flow of its waters, there are
terms of its quality by the standcuxls of other hours when we long to speed them
the soul 9^
There is, morever, one most encouraging
more rapidly; but desire and effort alike
are futile. Wh^er we work or sleep,
and consoling law in human develop are earnest or idle, rejoice or moan in
ment: we grow, not in an arithmetical, agony, the river of time flows on with
but in a geometrical ratio, the incre- the same resistless flood; and it is only
mmt of new life being multiplied into while the water of the river of time
the old and not simply added to it. A flows over the n^-whed of today's life
new thought achieved is not added to the that we can utilize it. Once it is past, it
sum of one's past thinking, but multi is in the great, unretuming sea of eter
plied into it, becoming a new point of nity. Other opportunities will come,'
view, from which one sees in chflnging other waters will flow; but that which
perspective ^1 other facts and ideas. has slipped by unused is lost utterly
One ste^ up in the mountain widens the and will return not again.
horizon in all directions. . . . —Edw^ Howard Griggs.
It is the increment of new life multiplied
into the old that so largely determines I don't think much of a man who is not
the whole product of life, as far as it is wiser today than he was yesterday.
within oiu* own control «•» We can no —Abraham Lincoln.
Page 130 ^BLBBRSr HUBBARD^S -^SCJRsAJR S Q O K . rage 131

)LEON is the world's with his own success, he attempts to this, as a great Frenchman has said, the midsea or 'mong the breakers of the
greatest example of the VHll- stride the world like a Colossus. And in " arch-seducer of souls." His royal proc farther shore, a wreck at last must mark
to-Power, i}erhaps without an evil hour, more by his own failure, lamation was, " Come unto me and I the end of each and all. And every life,
an equal in his individual than through the strength of his foes, he will give you rest." His last benediction no matter if its every hour is rich with
mastery over conditions and falters and fails, as power always does was, "• Peace I leave with you, my peace love and every moment jewded with a
over men and always will, for it is certain, sooner or I give unto you." joy, will, at its close, become a tragedy
It has bera said of him that " he leaped later, to encounter a greater power or Napoleon, on the other hand, was the as sad and deep and dark as can be woven
the Mediterranean; he dashed across perish throufi^ internal dissension and Prince of War, the incarnation of its of the warp and woof of mystery and
the desert; threw himsdf against the oomiptkm. Q Now turn for a moment spirit, an exemplar of its cruelty—^he was death. C This brave and tender man in
gate of the Orient, to the Man of Gali the F^ce of Des- every storm of life
and its hinges. lee. What is the tructive Energy, was oak and rock;
rusted by five hun I am tired of planning and toUing heart of his philoso of devastating I can feel no pride, but pity but in the sim-
dred years of dia- In the crowded hives of men; phy—" so simple," force. His empire For the burdens the rich endure; shine he was vine
we,were shattered. Heart-weary of building and sailing. as Canon Farrar was builded upon There is nothing sweet in the city, and flower. He was
He smote dothfiil And spoiling and building again. used to say, " that the sorrows of his But the patient lives of the poor, the friend of all
Europe, and its And I long fof the dear old river. a little diild can fellowmen and O, thelittle hands too skilful. ^ h^ic souls. Hb
noedieval 83r8tems Where I dreamed my youth away; understand it—so cemented by their And the child mind choked with weeds, climbedthe heists
crumbled to diist. For a dreamer livesforever. profound that all blood and tears The daughtefs heart grown wUful, and left all sujier-
I& infused armies, And a toiler dies in a day, the wisdom of the He was the Prince And thefather*s heart that bleeds. stitions far below,
lawyers, artists, world can not of Hate and sowed while on his fbre-
builderB, with the I am sick of the showy seeming. exhaust it?"«^ the seeds of last- No, no,from the streefs rude bustle, head fdl the ^golden
electric force of the Of a Ufe that is half a lie; Jesus taught that ing hate and bitter- From trophies of mart and stage, dawning of the
jwlution, and, at Of the faces lined with scheming all men are chil ness. And lastly, I wouldfly to the wood's low rustle grander day.
nis command, dren of one Heav he was the Prince And the meadow's kindly page. He loved the beau-
®ode8 were formu* In the throng that hurries by, .
From the sleepless thought endeavor. enly Father, and of Unrelieved Des- Let me dream as of old by the river. tiful, and was
la^, aridies and that, therefore, the pair, " The Great And be loved for the dream alway; with color, form,
"ridges were built, I would go where the children play;
For a dreamer livesforever. natural condition Unloyed," there- For a dreamer livesforever, and music touted
***®d8 were made of men is one of fore most miser- And a toiler dies in a day. to tears. He sided
and canals were And a toiler dies in a day,
(Condudcd oa next p«se)
mutual hdpfulness a b1e.—i 11 ia m The Dreamer," by John Boyle O'ReHJy ^th the weak, the
dug. The ruler of and of universal DaySimonds. poor, and wronged,
Italy at twenty- friendship. He con and lovinf^y gave
^ deqx>t ofEgypt at twenty-eight, ceived of the race as one human family. EAR Friends: I am going to do that alms. With loyal heart and with the
^e dictator of France at thirty, the He refused to recognise the gulf the which the dead oft promised he purest hands he faithfully discharged
"jasto of Europe at thir^-two," and leaders of his people had fixed between would do for me. all public trusts.^
^ twenty years thereafter the central Jew and Gentile or between the right Tlie loved and loving brother, husband, He was a worshiper of liberty, a friend
and the most dramatic of the eous and the wicked. That man is great, father, friend, died where manhood's of the'Oppressed. A thousand times I
gold's histoiy. according to tte Nasarene's gospel, who morning almost touches noon, and while have heard him quote these words: " For
gjs dispatdiM are filled with the words: hnathe strength to serve and the patience the shadows still were falling toward the Justice all place a temple, and all season,
lUdbes, Qlory, Fame—these to suffer—one who conquers not the west £•> summer." He believed that happiness is
she talismanic words of Napoleon, world but his own selfish heart and lives He had not passed on life's highway the the only good, reason the only torch,
yet there is in all the tragic story of to bless his fellows. stone that marks the highest point; justice the only worship, humai^ty the
W no sadder f^ure. Even in the days Jesus was the incarnation of uie spirit but being weary for a momrat, he lay only religion, and love the only priest,
^ was called " The. Great that allays strife, change^ animosity to down by the wayside, and using his He added to the sum of htunan joy;
^Though master of the world, friendship—his was the spirit that hdps burden for a pillow, fell into that dream- and were every one to whom he did some
^^ of
rS*?? and Jesus was the Prince of less sleep that kisses down his eydids loving service to bring a blossom to his
the^North Atlantic—"
wland lyingthat
oflf inthe
wart Peace as between man and man, nation still. While yet in love with life and rap- grave, he would sleep tonight beneath a
^ calling Enj^Lond—though
Europe," as hemaster
persisted and nation, race and race. Jesus was the tured with the world, he passed to silence wilderness of flowers.
of Prince of Compassion. He saw the multi and pathetic dust. Life is a narrow vale between the cold
yet of him his friend could tude poor and distressed and said, with Yet, after all, it may be best, just in the and barren pe£^ of two eterhities.
^ affirm: " Napoleon, grand, gloomy infinite tenderness, " I have compassimi happiest, sunniest hour of all the voy- We strive in vain to look beyond the
™ 'Peculiar, uts upon his throne a on the multitude." Jesus was the Prince age, while eager winds are Idling every heights. We cry aloud, and the only
^!f««ed hermit, wrap^ in the solitude of Forgiveness and taught the dead- sail, to dash against tiie unseeii rock, answer is the c^o of our wailing cry.
9* hi^. ^ ainbltion." liness of hate to the one who hates. Jesus and in an instant hear the billows ro^ From th^ voiceless lips of the unreply-
1^ own power, drunken was the Prince of Love and, because of above d sunken ship. For whether in ing dead there comes no word; but in

Page 132 'BLBBKr ffUBBARD*S
the ni^t of death hope sees a star and
listening love can hear the rustle ot a
wiz^
He who sleeps here, when djring, mis
taking the approach of death for the
return of h^th, whispered with his
latest breath, " I. am b^er now." Let
us bdieve> in spite of doubts and dog-
nias, of fears and tears, that these dear
words are true of all the countless dead.
€[ The recordof a generouslife runs like
a vine around the memory of our dead,
and every sweet, imselfish 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
&ve his sacred dust.
Speech can not contain our love. There
was, there is, no g^tler, stronger, man-
uer man ^
^Robert G. Ingersoll. (Tribute to His
Brother, Ebon C. Ingersoll.)
TU greater the obstacle
The ^ ^ the more ^ory
m overcoming it.—Molifere.
£N I left camp that morning I
had not expected so scion the result
that was then taking place, and conse-^
(juently was in rough garb. I was with-
wt a sword—as I usually was when on
ho^^back on the field—and wore a
soldier's blouse for a coat, with the
SQoulder-straps of my rank to indicate
to the army who I was. When I went into
^ house I found General Lee. We greet-
^each other, and after shaking hands,
wok our TOats. I had my staff with me, a
8Q0d portion of whom were in the room
aunng the whole of the interview
Oe^al L^ was dressed inafull uniform,
Wftich ^ entirdy new, and was wearing
considerable value—veiy
uKdy the sword which had been pre-
sttited by the State of Vu-ginia; at aU
ej^ts, it was anentirely different sword
*rom tte one which would ordinarily be
W<^ m the field. In my roug^ travding
8^-—the uniform ofa private, with the
^*^P8 of a lieutenant-general—^I must
t^ve contrasted very strangdy with a
so handsomdy dressed, six feet
and of faultless form. But this was
not a matter that I thou^t of until
afterward. C We soon fell into a con
versation about old army times. He re
marked that he remembered me very
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 tie 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 imderstood 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 su^esting 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 tiie 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; ^so that it would
be an imnecessary humiliation to call
upon them to deliver their side-arms.
C No conversation—^not one word—
passed between General Lee and my
self either about private property, side-
arms or kindred subjects. When he read
over that 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 imtil I wrote it in the temw.
There was no premeditation, and it did
not occur to me imtil 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 E. Lee at Appomattox.)
When I don't know whether to fight or
not, I always fight.—Nelson.
HE cost of a thing," says Thoreau,
" is the amoimt of what I will call
life which is required to be exchanged for
it, immediately or in the long nm." 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 authori^ for
that view anywhere. It is nowhere in the
Bible. It is true that we might do a vast
amount of good if we were wealthy, but
JSOOJC Page 133
it is also hi^y improbable; not many
do; and the art of growing rich is not
only quite distinct from that of doing
l^ood, 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 ^ve my opportunities
increas^." 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: Ihave been shown
in the files of the War Department
a statement of the Adjutant-General of
Massadiusetts that you are the mother
of five sons who have died ^oriously 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 foimd in
the thanks of tlje Republic they died to
save. I pray that our heavenly Father
may assuage the anguish of yoiu*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. Washington, November
21, 1864.)
Muck means the hardships and
privations which you have not
hesitated to endure; the long ni^ts you
have devoted to work. Luck means the
appointments you have never failed to
keep; the trains you have never foiled
to catdi.—^Max O'Rell.
 ^CJRsAJR -SOOJfC Page 135
Page 134 ffUBBARD^S
EVER, perhaps, did any man osity of the behavior toward him in he wrote the letter, annexed, with which midst of his enemies, he died universally
sufTer death with more jus every respect, but particularly in this, in I dare say you will be as much pleased as esteemed and universally regretted. ^
the strongest terms of manly gratitude. I am, both for the diction and sentiment. I aware that a man of real merit is
tice, or deserve it less. The never seen in so favorable a li^t as
first step he took, after his In a conversation with a gentieman who €[ When his sentence was announced to
visited him after his trial, he said he him, he remarked, that since it was his through the medium of adversity: the
capture, was to write a lettCT douds that surround him are shades that
to General Washington, conceived in flattered himself he had never been illib lot to die, there was still a choice in the
eral; but if there were ^y remains of mode, which would make a material dif set off his good qualities. Misfortune
terms of dignity without insolence, and ference in his feelings; and he would be cuts down &e littie v^ties that, in
apology without meanness. The scope prejudice in his mind, his present exper
ience must obliterate them. C In one of happy, if possible, to be indulged with a prosperous times, serve as so many spots
of it, was to vindicate himself from the in his virtues; and
the visits I made to professional death.
imputation of hav gives a tone of
He made a second
ingassumed amean O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip him, (and I saw application, by let
For you they call, the swaying mass, humility that
character for is done, him several times their eagerfaces turning; makes his worth
during his confine ter, in concise but Here Captain! dear father!
treacherous or in The ship has weathered every rack, the persuasive terms. more amiable. His
terested purposes; prize we sought is won. ment,) he begged This arm beneath your head! spectators, who en
It was thought this It is some dream that on the deck
asserting that he The port is near, the hells I hear, the me to be the bearer indulgence, being joy a happier lot,
had been involun- people all exulting, of a request to the You 've fallen cold and dead. ace less prone to
incompatible with
tarily an impostor; While follow eyes the steady keel, the general, for permis the customs of war, detract from it,
tiiat contrary to his vessel grim and daring; sion to send an
could not be grant
My Captain does notanswer, his lips are through envy, and
intention which But O heart! heart! heart! open letter to Sir pale and still. are more disposed,
was to meet a per Henry Clinton. " I ed; and it was Myfather does notfeel my arm, he has
O the bleeding drops of red. therefore deter by compassion, to
son for intdligence Where on the deck my Captain lies. foresee my fate," no pulse nor will, . give him the cr^t
said he, *'and mined, in both The ship is anchored strfe and sound, its
neutral ground, Fatten cold and det^. he deserves, and
he had hem be though I pretend cases, to evade an voyageclosed and done,
answer, to spare perhaps even to
trayed witiun our not to play the Fromfec^ul trip the victor ship comes in magnify it.
posts, and forced O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear hero, or to be in him the sensations with object won; I speak not of
the bells; different about life, which a certain
into the vile con Exult O shores, and ring O bells! Andre's conduct in
ation of an enemy Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for yet I am^econciled knowledge of the But I unth mournful tread.
intended mode this affair as a
in <U8guise: solicit you the bugle trills. to whatiever may Walk the deck my Captain lies, losopher, but as a
ing only that, to For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths happen, conscious would inflict. Ftdlen cold and dead,
In going to the man of the world.
whatever rigor pol . —for you the shores ,a-crowding, that misfortune, "O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Whitman The authorized
icy might devote (Concluded on next page) not guilt, has place of execution.
mnTima and prac
him, a decency of brought it upon he bowed famil
iarly, as he went along, to all those with tices of war are the satires of human
treatmrat mi^t be observed, due to a me. There is only one thing that disturbs nature. They countenance almost every
person, who, though unfortimate, had my tranquillity. Sir Henry Clinton has whom he had been acquainted in his
beenguiltyof nnfhing dishonorable. His been too good to me; he has been lavish confinement A smile of complacency species of s(^uction as well as violence;
of his kindness. I am bound to him by expre^ed the serene fortitude of his and the' general who can make most
r^uest was granted in its full extent; traitors in the army of his adversary, is
for, in the whole progress of the affair, too many obligations, and love him too mind. Arrived at the fatal spot, he asked,
weU, to bear the thought that he should with some emotion, " Must I then die ii^uentiy most applauded. On this scale
he was treated wit£ the most scrupulous .we acquit Andr6; while we could not but
delicacy, broufi^tbeforethe Board reproach himself, or that others should in this manner?" He was told it had
been unavoidable. " I am reconciled to condemn him, if we were to examine his
pf O^cers^ he met with every mark of rqproadi him, on the supposition of my
my fate," said he, " but not to the conduct by the sober rules of philosophy
ihdu^ence, artf^ lyqa required to answer having conceived mjrself obliged, by his
mode." Soon, however, recollecting him and moral rectitude.—^Alexander Ham
interro^tory whi<di could even em instructions, to run the risk I did. I ilton. (The Fate of Andr6)«
barrass hisfeelings. Onhispart, while he would not, for the world, leave a sting self, he added: " It will be but a momen-
carefonyccmce^^everythingthat mi^t in his mind that should embitter his tary'pang;" and, springing upon the cart,
perform^ the last offices to himself, IALF the joy of life is in little things
ravolve others, he fracJdy ronfessed all future days." He could scarce finish the taken on the run. Let us run if we
tte facts rating to himself; and, upon sentence, bursting into tears in spite of with a composure that excited the
his, confession, without the trouble of admiration and melted the hearts of the must—even the sands do that—but let
his efforts to suppress them; and with us keep our hearts young and our eyes
CTarhining a witness, the board made difficulty collected himself enough after beholders 6^ Upon being told the finrf
tiieir report. The members of it were not ward to add: " I wish to be permitted to moment was at hand, and asked if open that nothing worth our while shall
fHore impressed with the candor and he had anything to aay, he answered, escape us. And everything is worth its
assure him, I did not act under this whUe if we only grasp it and its signifi
fe^ess, mixed wiA a becoming sensi- impression, but submitted to a necessity " Nothing, but to request you will
witness to the world, that I die like a cance.—^Victor Cherbuliez.
bflily, which he displayed, than he was impo^ upon me, as contrary to my
Pef^ated witii their liberality and own inclination as to his orders." His brave man." Among the extraordinary BO,

pputen^. He admowtedged the gener- request was readily complied with; and circumstances that attended him, in the Equality causes no war.—Solon.
Page 136 *BLBBRSr HUBBARD^S
18 indeed a strange gift,
its privileges are most
mysterious. No wonder when
it is first granted to us that
lour ^atitude, our admira
tion and our ddi^t shoilld prevent us
£nom reflecting on our own nothingness,
OT from thinking it will ever be recalled.
O^first and strongest impressions are
horrowed from the mighty scene that is
opened to us, and we unconsciously
transfer its durability, as well as its
^lendor, to oursdves. So newly found
we can not think of parting with it yet,
or at least put off that consideration
we rfie. Like a rustic at a fair, we are
rollof amazement and rapture, and have
no thought of going home, or Aat it will
SOOT be night. We know our existence
wuy by ourselves, and confound our
knowlet^e with the objects of it. We
®^^ture are t±ierefore one. Otherwise
me illmion, the " feast of reason and the
ttow of soul," to whidi we are invited,
®«^eiy and a cruel insult. We do
not go from a play till the last act is
mded, and the li^ts are about to be
®rong|^ed. But the fairy face ofnature
s^ shines on: shall we be called away
Before the curto falls, or ere we have
Md a glimpse qf what is goingon?
Vite children, our step-mother nature
TOids us up to see the raree-show of the
universe, and then, as if we were a
Durden to her- to support, let us fall
again. Yet what brave sublunary
J^gs does not this pageant present,
™ a baU or/efe of the universe!
see the golden sun, the azure sky,
tne outstretched ocean; to walk upon
^ green earth, and tobe lord ofa thou-
features; to look down yawning
or over distant sunny vales;
world spread out under one's
map; to bring the stars near; to
smallest insects through a
_ CToscope; to readhistory and consider
revolufaons of empire and the suc-
2^on8 of generations; to hear of the
mm ofTyre, ofSidon, ofBabylon, and
^susa, and to say all these were before
2^ and are now nothing; to say I exist
point of time, and in such a
Pomt 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 the midnight
sainted choir; to visit lighted halls, or
the cathedral's ^oom, or sit in crowded
theaters and see life itself modced; to
study the works of art, and refine the
sense of beauty to'agony; to worahip 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;
tooverlookthe world asif 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 all
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
youthnew'fiushedwithhopeandpleasure,
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.
^^VERY young man should have this
sentiment planted and nourished in
1^, 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 ill, he must say to him
self, but I will honor her intention by
serving towards her better future success.
—Schopenhauer.
Our hope for eternal life in the hereafter
does not spring from a longing for a
spiritual existence, but grows out of our
love for life upon this earth, which we
have tried and foimd good.
—^Robert J. Shores.
not anxious thought as
to the results of your work
nor of our work. If you are
doing all that you can, the
_ _ results, immediate or even
tual, are not your ^air at all. Suchseed
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 sppng 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 crud,
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.
^Ip.ITTLE whUe ago, I stood by the
xJigrave of the old Napoleon—b.
magnificent tomb of gilt and gold, fit
almost for a dead deity—^and gazed upon
the sarcophagus of rare and namdess
marble, where rest at last the ashes of
that recess man. I leaned over the bal
ustrade and thought about the career of
Pagem
the greatest soldierof the modem world.
I saw him walking upon the banks of
the Seine, contemplating suidde. I saw
him at Toulon—^I saw him putting down
the mob in the streets of Paris—saw
him at the head of the Brtay of Itdy-^I
sawhi"! crossing the bridgeof Lodiwi^
the tricolor in Ws hand—^I saw him in
Egypt in the shadowsof the pyramids—
I saw him conquer the Alps and min^e
the eagles of France with the ea^es 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 leavw.
I saw him at Leipsic in defeat and dis
aster—driven by a million bayonets back
upon Paris—clutdied like a ^d beast—
banished to Elba. I saw him escape and
ret^e an empire by the force of his
genius. I saw him upon the {rightful
fidd 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 bdiind
him, gazing out upon the sad and solemn
sea ^
I thou^t 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 dioes.
I would ratJier 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 Ae sky—^with my children upon my
knees 9nd thdr arms about me—I would
rather have been that man and gone
down to the tongueless silence of the
dreamless dust, than to have been that
imperial impersonation of force and mur
der, known as " Napoleon the Great."
—^Robert G. IngersoU.
No man is worth his salt who is not
ready at all times to risk his body, to
risk his well-being, to risk his life, in a
great cause.—^Th^ore Roosevdt.
Page 138 "IBLBBKr IfUBBARD^S Page 139
jgrooic
' HE pretty fable by which the cious still. She passed from paroxysms of a single fact indicating that Lord Byron
Duchess of Orleans illus rage to paroxysms of fondness. At oxie
had never taught to control them. He
lived as many men live who have no was more to blame than any other man
trates the diaracter of her time she stifled him with her caresses, at who is on bad terms with his wife. The
son, the regent, might, similar excuses to plead for his faults.
another time she insulted his deformity. professional men whomLady Byron con
But his countrymen and his country
^th little change,)^ applied C He came into the world, and the world women would love him and admire him. sulted were undoubtedly of the opinion
to Byron. All the fairies, save one, had treated him as his mother treated that she ought not to live with her hus
been biddento.his cradle. All the gossips him—sometimes with kindness, some
They were resolved to see in his excesses
only the flash and outbreak of the same band. But it is to be remembered that
had been profuse of their ^fts. One had times with severity, never with justice. they formed that opinion without hear
bMtowed nobility, another genius, a fiery mind which glowed in his poetry.
It indulged, him wifJiout discrimination, He attacked religion; yet in religious ingboth sides. Wedo not say, we do not
tiurd beauty. This and pimi^ed him mean to insinuate,
circles his name
®Ml^tnant ^ who My new-cut ashlar takes the light without discrimi that Lady Byron
had been uninvited Where crimson-blank the windows flare. wasmentionedwith Tiger, tiger, burning bright
nation. He was
fondness, and in /n the forests of the night, was in any resp^
.came lasti and; un By my own work h^ore the night. truly a spoilt child; to blame. We think
able to reverse many religious What immortal hand or eye
Great Overseer, / make my prayer. not merely the that diose who con
what her sisters spoilt child of his
publications his Could frame thy fearful symmetry? demn her on the
had done for their If there he good in that I wrought. works were cen
parents, but the evidoice which is
fevorite, l^d mixed Thy Hand compiled it, Miaster, Thine- spoUt ciiild of na sured with singular In what distant deeps or skies
tenderness. He Burnt the fires of thine eyes? now before the
up a curse with Where I havefailed to meet Thy Thought ture, the spoilt public are as rash
every blessing. I know,through Thee,the blame was mine. child of fortune,
lampooned the On what wings dare he aspire?
Prince Regent; yet What the hand dare seize thefire? as those who con
He. wassprungof a the spoilt diild of demn her husband.
house, ancient in The depth and dream of my desire. fame, the spoilt,
he could not alien
We will not pro
deedand noble,but The bitter paths wherein I stray— child ofsociety. His
ate the Tories. And what shoulder, and what m.
Everything, it Could twist the sinewss>f thy Moru nounce any judg
degraded and im- Tfu>u knowest Who hast made the Fire, first poems were
seems, was to be And when thy heart began to beat, _ ment; we can not,
poverished by a Thou Knowest Who hast made the Clay' received with a
forgiven to youth, Whatdread hand? and whatdread feetr even in our own
series of crimes contempt which minds, form ax^
follies, which Who, lest all thought of Eden fade. rank and genius ^ ^ ^
feeble as they were, judgment on a
had attained a Bring *st Eden to the craftsman's brain—
th^ did not abso
Then came the re- What the hammer? what the chain?
Godlike to muse o *er his own trade. action. Society, ca- In what furnace was thy brmnf transaction whidi
scandalous public- lutely deserve. The is so imperfectly
^%e kifinmqn And manlike stand with God again!
poem which he pridous m its in- What the anvil? what dread grasp known to us It
whomhe succeeded published on his
dignation as it had Dareits deadly terrors clasp?
One stone the more swings into place been capricious in would have been
W died poor,and, In that dread Temple of Tt^ worth. return from his
iU fondness; flew When the stars threw d^n iharspears,
but for merciful travds was, on the
5?<i«es. would have
It is enough that, through Thy Grace,
other hand, extoll
into a rage with its Jlnd watefd heaven with their tears, of ^ section,
di^ upon the gal I saw naught common on Thy Earth. ftoward and petted Did he smSe his work tQ see? allttMe^^knw
lows ^ liie young fake not that visionfrom my ken—
ed far above
merits. At twenty-
its
darling. He had Did he who made the lamb make thee? as ^
had great in- Oh whatsoe *er may spoil or speed. four he foimd him Tiger, per. burpi^brigM .
t^ectufd powers; Help me to need no aid from men self on the highest
idolatry He was In theforests ofthemght, had shown thrt for-
yet there was an That I may help such men as need! pinnacle of literary
^"isoundpartinhis fame, with Scott, persecuted with an What immortal hand or eye bearance, which,
He had nat-
" A Dedicaticm," by Rudyard Kipiatg
Wordsworth, irrational fury. Dareframe thy fearful symmetry? under such orcum-
a generous and tender heart; but Southey, and a crowd of other distin-
Much has been " The Tiget," hy Wmiam Blake stancra^but com-
^ te^p^ irritable and wa3nvard. gui^ed writers, beneath his feet. There writtenaboutthose , monju^ce.
vJJJwd a h^(j statuaries loved to is scarcely an instance in history of so
unhappy domestic occurrences, which We know no ^e<^cle so ndiculoiw as
deformity of which sudden a rise to so dizzy an eminence*
decided the fate of his life. Yet nothing the Bntish public mone ofits penodi^
in the street mimicked. €[ Everything that could stimulate, and
ever was positively loiown to the public lifts of morality. In general, elopemente,
^ at once by the strength everj^ing that could gratify the strong but this-that he quarreled with his divorces, aiid f^^y q^els wA
and
est propensities of our nature—^the
lady, and that she ref^ to live with littie notice. We read the scandrf, ^
- weakness of his intellect, him. There have been hints in abundance about it for a day, and forget it. But
yet perverse, a poor lord, gaze of a hundred drawing-rooms, the and shrugs and shakmgs of the head, once in six or seven years, our virtue
a handsome cripple, he required, if acclamations of the whole nation, the
required, the firmest and the applause of applauded men, the love of
and " Well, well, we know," and " We becomes outrageous. We can not su^
judi^ua training. But, capriciously the loveliest women—^all this world, and
could if we would," and " If we list to the laws of religion and decency to ^
^ nat^ haddealt ^th him, therelative the ^ory of it, were at once offered to a
speak," and " There be that might an violated. We must make a stand
whom the office of fomaing his young man, to whom nature had given
they list." But we are not aware that vice. We must teach libertines tmt the
WM entrusted was more capri-
there is before the world, substantiated English people appreciate the mipor-
violent passions, and whom education by credible, or even by tangible evidence, tance ofdomestic ties. AccordmgJy, some
Page 140 fBLJBBRT HUBBARD^S Page 141

unfoxtunate man, in no respect more nine out of every hundred should escape; Turner's correspondence sophical piece about morality and art. L«t
d^raved than hundreds whose offenses and that the himdredth, perhaps the very little is in existence, him study it as long as he thinks it worth
have been treated with lenity, is singled most innocent of the hundred, should and little can have been his attention and he will find it utterly
out as an expiatory sacrifice. If he has pay for all. . . . worth preserving. He could impossible to understand one single sen
children, they are to be taken from him. We can not even now retrace those writea simple note, especially tence in the paragraph: " They wrong
If he has a profession, he is to be driven events without feeling something of what to an intimate friend; and though his virtue, enduring difficulties or worth in
from it. He is cut by the higher orders, was felt by the nation when it was first spelling was always imcertain, he some the bare imitation of nature, all the force
and hissed by the lower. He is, in truth, known that the grave had closed over so times, by happy accident, could get received in some brain; but where these
a sort of whipping-boy, by whose vicar much sorrow and so much glory—some- through a few sentences without a blun demands arise above mediocrity it m-
ious agonies all the • thing of what was der Like most suredly would not
other transgressors „ felt by those who uneducated men, be a little sacrifice
of the class a-roving
Hark you such sound as quivers? Kings to those who per
saw the hearse,with he disliked letter will hear.
are, it is supposed, So late into the night. its long train of writing, and he car ceive £he value of
As kings have heard, and tremhle on the success to
sufficiently chas Though the heart he still as loving coaches turn slowly ried this dislike to their thrones;
tised ^ We reflect And the moon he still as bright. northward, leaving a degree involving foster it by terms
The old will feel the weight of mossy as cordial that can
complacently behind it that ceme positive discour stones;
on our own sever For the sword outwears its sheath. tery.whichhadbeen tesy to others. not look so easy
ity, and compare
The young alone will laugh and scoff away as those spo-
And the soul wears out the hreast, consecrated by the He received a good at fear.
with great pride dust of so many many dinner invi ken of convey
And the heart must pause to breathe, It is the tread of armies marching near.
the hi^ standard great poets, but of tations and though From scarlet lands to lands forever
doubts to the ac
of morals e^b- And love itself have rest. which the doors not what was cepting individiial.
pale; If as the line that
lished in England, were closed against called a diner-out,
with the Parisian
Though the night was made for loving
was on the other
It is a bugle dying down the gale; imites the above to
all that remained Is the sudden gushing of a tear.
laxity. At length And the day returns too soon. hand frequently grace, and those
of Byron. We well And it is hands that grope at ghostly
our az^er is sati Yet we *11 go no more a-roving remember that, on disposed to profit forces forming a
doors; new style, not that
ated. Our victim By the light of the moon. that day, rigid mor by that rule of And romp of spirit-cMldren on the
is ruined and heart alists could not re society which al soul can guess as
"We'll Go No More A-Roving," by Lord Byron pave; ethics. Teach them
broken. And our frain from weeping lows a bachelor to
virtue goes quietly It is the tender sighing of the brave both, but many
for one so yoimg, so receive hospitality Who fell, ahl long ago, in futile wars;
to sleep for seven years more. It is illustrious, so imhappy, gifted with such without returning serve as the body
dear that those vices which destroy It is such sound as death; and, after all, and soul, and but
rare gifts and tried by such strong temp it; so that although *Tis but the forest letting dead leaves
domestic happitiess ought to be as much tations. It is unnecessary to make any re- nobody could be presmne more as
as possible reprised. It is equally clear fall. the beacon head
fiections.The history carries its moral with sure he would ac
that they can not be repressed by penal it. Ouragehas indeed beenfruitful ofwarn cept an invitation, " November," by MaMon Leonard Fisher land which would
leg^ation It is therefore right and ings to the eminent and of consolation nobody, on the be a warning to the
d^irable that public opinion should be to the obscure Two men have died other hand, could be certain that he danger of mannerism and disgustful."
directed against them. But it should be within our recollection, who at a time of would invariably prefer his bachelor's ^ This criticism of Turner as a writer
^ected against them uniformly, stead life at which few people have completed fireside may here come to an end. Enough has
ily, and temperately, not by sudden fits their education, had raised themselves, His dislike to the trouble of letter writing been said to prove the truth of the asser
and starts. There should be one weight each in his own department, to the made him treat invitations in a very tion made at the beginning of this biog
and one me^ure. Declamation is always height of glory. One of them died at the peculiar manner, and in a manner which raphy, to the effect that he did not
an objectionable mode of punishment. height of glory. One of them (Napoleon) only very kind and indulgent friends know the English language. His imsuc-
It is the r^urce of judges too indolent died at Longwood, the other (Byron) at wo^d have put up with. Sometimes he cessful attempt to leam Latin with
and ha^ to investigate facts,- and to Missolonghi.—Lord Macaulay. answered them, but he did n't by any Mr. Trimmer is a proof that he did not
discriminate nicely between shades of means consider it an obligation to do so; know Latin. His outrageous spelling of
gmlt. It is an irrational practice, even If those who are the enemies of inno and he would go to dine, and determine at French names is equally good evidence
when adopted by military tribunals. cent amusements had the direction of the last minute not to go, just as we go that he never mastered French, and there
Wheaa adopted by ^e tribunal ofpublic the world, they would take away the to the theater, without writing anything is not a trace of proof that he ever knew
opmion, it is infinitely more irrational. spring, and youth; the former from the to the provider of the entertainment. any other tongue. The plain truth is,
It is good that a certain portion of dis- year, the latter from human life. Whenever he went beyond a simple note that he never possessed any language
l^ace should constantly attend on cer —^Balzac. his letters were ill-spelled and ungram- whatever. Him^eds of foreigners can
tain bad actions. But it is not good that matical write better En^ish than he could. There
t^e offenders merely have to stand the To believe with certainty we must begin The reader may find it a relief to see are En^sh letters on my table fr^m
risks of a lottery of infamy that ninety- by doubting.—Stanislaus. a specimen of Turner's prose—a philo- Dutchmen at Amsterdam, at the Hague,
 Fage 142 *^LBBRar Ifi/BBARD'S
at L^rden, which are far superior in
grammar, spdling and construction to
anything that Turner could compose
aftier living in London for fifty years,
with access to the best society in Eng
land
Is there any use, it may be asked, in
dwdling upon these weak points of a
great genius.Would it not be at once more
agreeable and more becoming to veil
th^ gratly in forgetfiilness? Perhaps it
mi^t, but assuredly the agreeable and
the Incoming are not the only purposes
erf this biography. When we study tibe
life of a man who is famous for what he
has done, it is good for us to have no
illusions about Ae range of his powers,
and the degree of his cultivation. Hie
quotations which have been made wM
qpite certainly prevent any reader from
fiwtning in his own mind the imageof an
idi^ Turner and Worshiping it. Beyond
this benefit, which is not to be despised,
W have the other advantage of noting
how conroletdy, in Tuiner, the man was
sacitfced to the artist, as gardeners
^rtain fhiit trees to their fruit.
The.pruning was not done intentionally
whia case One dominant faculty
ab^bed ^ the sap of his intelligence,
• bim as inferior to the mass of
^ucated men in common things as he
superior to them in the perception
pf natural beauty. It may be a con-
^lation to mediocrities, to reflect that if
not paint, th^ would infinitely
P^tshfee Tu^ef at a grammar school
^^^a^ioation; but without desiring to
qSu ^ttCT
t jealousies
them thqr of artists
paint, who
we may
^iredly aiffi^thatit remains,and must
renaajui, an opea question, whether
^ai^ you compare Turner with what
^ft**^
supei?ionti« gentleman,
hot be on Aethe sum
side of
gentleman.
^^^case ef Tiu:n«r is just one of those
which c^prin to the prejudice
artiats, as craftsmen who. have
looped a spe^ ^ at the co^ of
neceiteaiy knowt<^e and acooia-
It thrp^^ tooj a v^ strong
^^t the quratifln whiter artis-
- B^us » a speciiil lacidly* 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
life. The lesson which sudi men leave to
us, when we imderstand both their excel
lence and their deficiency, is not to
himiiliate 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 accompli^ments 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
impc^ble 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 goodever.—^phodes.
There is only one way to get ready for
immortality, and that is to love this life
and live it as bravely and £aithfiilly,
^d cheerfully as we can.
—^Henry van Dyke.
The darkest hour in any man's life is
when he sits down to plan how to get
money without earning it.
—^Horace Greeley.
«•»
A handful of pine-seed will cover moun
tains with the green majesty of forest.
I too will set my face to the wind and
throw my handful of seed on high.
—Fiona Madeod.
Page 143
:SIR:—I have read your it becomes habitual, which is the gi:eat
manuscript with some at point for its security. And perhaps 3rou
tention. "By the argument it are indebted to her ori^nally, that is,
contains against a particu to your rdigious education, for the habits
lar Providence, though you of virtue upon whidi jrou now justly
allow a general Providence, you sbike at value yoursdf. You mig^ht easfly di^day
the foundations of all rdigion. For, with your excellent talents of reasoning upon
out the bdief of a Providence that takes a less hazardous subject, and thereby
cognisance of, guards, and guides, and, obtain a rank witii our most distm-
may lavw partic guished authcns
ular persons, there For among us it is
Wh»n I consider lije and its few years— not necessaiy, as
is no motive to
A wisp of fag betwixt us and the sun; among the Hotten
worship a Deity, to
A caa to battle, and the battle done tots, that a youth,
fear his displeasure Ere the last echo dies within our ears;
or to pray for his to be raised into
protection. I will
A rose choked in the grass; an hour of the company of
not enter into any f^ors* . ^ ; men, ^ould prove
discussion of your
Thegusts that past a darkening shore do his manhood
beat;
principles, thou|^ beating his mother.
you seem to desire
The burst of music down an unltstemng €11 w^d advke
street—
it 09- At present I you, therefore, not
I wonder at the idleness of tears.
shall only give 3rou to attempt un
Ye old, old dead, and ye of yesternight. chaining the tiger,
my opinion that,
Chieftains, and bards, and keepers of the but to bum this
though your rea sheep. piece before it is
sons are subtile,
By every cup of sorrow that you had. seen by any other
and may prevail Loose me from tears, and make me see person; whereby
with some readers, aright
you will not suc you will save srour-
ceed so as to change
How each hath back what once he stayed sdf a 0i^t d^ of
to weeP;
the general senti
Bomerhis tigM, DmU hisUttte lad!
mortincation by
ments of mankind the enemies it may
on that subject, HTwn," byLisstteWooduforth Suss raise against you.
and the conse and perhaps a good
quence of printing this piece will be, a deal of regret and repentance. If men are
great deal of odium drawn upon your- so wicked with rdigion, what would they
sdf, mischief to you, and no ben^t to be if without it. I intend this letter
others. He that, spits against the wind itsdf as a proof of my frienddiip, and
spits in his own face. therefore add no professions to it; but
But were you to suceed, do you imas^e subscribe simply yours,
any good would be done by it? You your B. Franldin.
self may find it easy to live a virtuous
life, without the assistance afforded by man will ever be a big executive
religion; you having a dear perception of . who fed^ that he must, either opcaoly
the advantages of virtue, and the dis- or under cover, follow up every order he
. advantage of vice, and possessing a gives and see that it is done—nor will
strength of resolution suffident to enable he ever develop a capable assistant.
you to resist oomxnon temptations. But —^John Lee Mahin.
think how great a portion of mankind
consists of weak and ignorant men and Behavior is the theory of manners
women, and of inexperienced, inconsid practically applied.—Mme. Necker.
erate youth of both sexes, who have
need of the motives of rdipon to restrain Whatever strengthens and purifies the
them from vice, to support their virtue, affections, enlarges the imagination, and
and retain them in the practice of it till adds spirit to sense, is us«^.«—SSidlcy.
Page 144 *lBLBBRar HUBBARD^S
HERE are few things of
more common occurrence
than shaking hands; and
yet I do not recollect that
much has been speculated
upon the subject. I confess, when I con-
^ler to what unimportant and futile
ocmoems 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,
a^ attempt to ^ve the public a rational
"wew of the doctrine and discipline of
|jinlrfrt|r hnnHiy
I have been unabie to find in llie ancient
Wxlters any distinct mention of shaking
hands. They followed the heartier prac-
of hug^uig or embracing, whidi has
not wholly disappeared ntwYng grown
pciaons in Europe, and diildren in our
country, and h^ unquestionably
«e advantage on the score of cordialify.
When the ancients trusted the business
suutation to tiie lianHff alone, th^
jomed but did not shake them; and al-
Qwugpi I^d frequently such phrases as
dextras hospitio, I do not re-
cwtert to have met with that of a^tare
I am inclined to think that, the
p^ctice grew up in the ages of chivalry,
cumbrous iron mail, in whi^
^ faults were cased, prevented their
®®«^^g;andwhen,with fingersclothed
^ 8t«l, the simple touch or joining of
hands would have been but cold wel-
wme; so that a prolonged junction was
a ^tur^ resort, to express cordiality;
as It would have been awkward to
the hands unemployed in this posi-
a g^tle agitation or shaking might
been naturally introduced. How
the practice may have remained in
^Wpient stage it isimpossible, inthe
sis? ofmhistory, to sayVTor is there
the duronides, in Philip de
whieh ^ Byzantine historians,
to trace the progress of
forms in which it now
tama among us.-~Edward Everett.
^ereare two worlds; the world that we
^ o*"" h^earts and
w«»natMm.--.Leigh Hunt.
HEN Turner became an Acade
mician, 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, thou^ there have been
stories to the contrary, originating in the
simple habits of both father and son.
It seemed to botii of them perfectiy
natural that the elder man, having now
so much time on his hands, dioiild occupy
htmarff in littie tasks which would save
a shilling here and there; but that tlw
painter readily consented to this, was it
not the most ddicate conduct possible
undCT 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 littie things, in aU of
which there is certainly no real humilia
tion, but simply the gratification of an
old inan's wish to be useful. The rdation
between father and son is indeed quite
the i>rettiest part of the life-stoiy 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, tfllring the old mfl" 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 full 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.
—PhilipG. Hamerton. ^ife of J. M. W.
Turner).
«•»
Poverty is imcomfortable, as I can
testify; but nine times out of ten the
best thing that can happen to a young
man is to be tossed overboard and com-
pdled to skik or swim for himself.
—^James A. Garfield.
!UST now the whole effort of
our coimtry is bent toward
securing an adequate food-
supply If our dietitians
could only leam the truth,
how ea?y it would be to get a supply of
this kind! We eat brands when we oug^t
to be eating bran. Our wheat has all its
vitality taken out of it to make white
flour. We care more for the dai^ 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 se»
Simple, wholesome wheat-bread and
porridge, an abimdance of fruits in sea
son, succulent vegetables, particularly
the potato, spinach and asparagus, witii
a generous supply of pure, fresh, dean,
tuberculin-test^' milk, will give the
citizen a diet wholesome, nutritious and
fidl of vitamins. To tliis may be added a
moderate supply of good meat and ^gs*
In so far as food is concerned, the
common idea that beer, whisly 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 oi
this heat and energy, so that littie or
none of it is available for the other
business of life.
Let me prescribe the diet of the coimtiy:
I do not care who makes its laws.
—Dr. Harvey W. Wfley.
Originality is simply a pair of fresh eyes.
—^T. W. Hi^pnscm.
e BERNARD SHAW will 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. Qeorge Bernard Shaw loves noth
ing so much as being hated, if the
hatred is sincere;, he loves nothing^ so
much as being criticized, if the criticism
is honest; he loves notfc^g so much ^
being intellectually knocked down, if
the individual that attempts it has the
capadty to achieve the effort. George
Page I4S
Bernard Shaw is a fighter through and
through, an intdlectual warrior, a man
who I might say is pre-eminentiy one of
us; he bdongs to this age.
Every one of his intellectual efforts is but
a reflection and reproduction of the in-
tdlectualism 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
nentiy so because he articulates no one
of it: he reflects no one facet
of the universal crystal; he edubitsno
one characteristic that marks the pecu
liarities of our time; but in a sort of cos
mopolitan universalism Bernard Shaw
to reflect the refii^ potentialities
of the age in which we live.
—Dr. Hairy Frank.
Manhood, not scholarship, is the first
flitn of education.
—Ernest Thompson Sebon.
[HE 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 hi§ salt
he will care no more when he is broken
a soldier cares when he is sent where
his life is forfeit in order that the victory
may be won. In the long fi^t for right
eousness the watchword for all of us, is
spend and be spent. It is a littie matter
whetho- any one man fails or succeeds;
but the cause shall not fail, for it is the
cause of mankind. We, here in America,
hold in our hands the hope of the world,
the fate of coming years; and shame
and disgrace will be ours if in our eyes the
li^t of resolve is dimmed, if we
trail in the dust the golden hopes of men.
If on this new continent we merdy build
another coimtiy of great but unjustiy
divided materi^ prosperity, we diall
hf^ve done nothing; and we shall do as
littie if we merdy set the greed of envy
against the greedof arrogance, and there
by destroy the material well-being of all
of us.—^Theodore Roosevdt.
I envy the beasts two things"—their
ignorance of evil to come, and their
ignorance of what is said about them.
•—Voltaire.
Page 146 '^LBJBRSr ifUBJBARD*S Page 147

H£R£ was Lamb himself) was a fault I remember the greatest HE supreme 'consolation «•» relief the grandeur to which he has
the most delightful, the most triumph I ever had was in persuading which I find is in the view aspired, the greatness at which he aimed.
provoking, the most witty him, after some years' difficulty, that that life is a grand trag^y. Transfer the idea of tragedy from the
and sensible of men. He Fielding was better than Smollett. There are islands of joy, stage to life itself. There are high powers
always made the best pun, On one occasion, he was for making out havens of pure bliss; there at work, a great and noble strain is trying
and the best remark in the course of the a list of persons famous in history that IS the lau^ter of children, the effulgence to express itself in things and in men; but
evening one would wish to see again—at the of love in young, hyacinthian days, and conditions are not fit or adequate, and
ICs serious <»nversation, like his serious head of which were Pontius Rlate, Sir there is the steady glow of love in after the greatness is constantly^ breaking
writing, is his best. No one ever stam- Thomas Browne, and Dr. Faustus—^but years. I take accoimt of all this; yet I say down, the nobility failing, not because
meredontsudi fine. that around this it oi^t to fail, but
we blackballed
piquant, deep, do- If the red slayer think he slays. most of his list! glow and bright- Break, break, break. because conditions
quent things in a Or if the slain think he is slain. '^css, enveloping it, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! are insufficient,
C But with what a because the finite
half a dozen half- They know not well the subtle.ways gusto would he de ^agedy is always And I would that my tongue could utter
sentences as he / keep, and pass, and turn again. present or immi The thoughts that arise in me. can not embody
scribe his favorite the infinite, Yet
does His jests authors, Donne, or nent—if no other
scald like tears; Far or forgot to me is near; tragedy, then the O, wellfor the fisherman's boy. the failur^ only
Sir Philip Sidney, serve tx> set off the
and he probes a Shadow and sunlight are the same; and find their most tragedy of death, That he shouts unth his sister at play!.
O, well for the sailor lad. infiniteness in the
question with a The vanished gods to me appear; crabbed passage which all must face.
play upcm words. And one to me are shame and fame. But the tragic view That he sings in his boat on the bay! tendenor
deliciousi He tried Work helps; sym
What a keen, them on his palate is not a f^ereal,
laughing, hare They reckon iU who leave me out; gloomy and melan And the stately ships go on. pathy helps; in all
as epicures taste the ordinary cir
brained vein of When me they fly, I am the wings; olives, and his choly view. The ef To their haven under the hill;
home-felt truth I I am the doubter and the doubt. observations had fect of a great But Ofor the touchof a vanished hand, cumstance of life,
What dioice ven And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. ^agedy is elevat And the sound of a voice that is still! not to be rarry fin-
a smack in them,
om 1 How often like a roughness, ing, not depressing. one's sdf but to be
did we cut into the The strong gods pine for my abode. After witnessing a Break, break, break, sorry for others is
on the tongue. Atthefootof thy crags, O Sea! the best help. But
haundi of letters, Andpine in vain the sacred Seven; With what dis tragedy on the
wiule we discuss But thou, meek lover of the goodi criniiM«
crimination he stage, when the But the tender grace of a day that ts dead the thou^t that
ed the haunch of Find me, and turn thy back on heaven, hinted a defect in curtain is rung Will never come back to me. life is a grand tra
mutton on the down on the fifth " Break, Break, Break,"6y Alfred, Lord Tennyson gedy, that over the
**'BsBaamai**lfyR<dphWtMoEmersoTt what he admired ruins a gloryshines,
table! How we most—as in say act, the spectator
skimmed the cream of criticism! How we ing that the display of the sumptuous finds himself in an uplifted mood, despite is to me the supreme hdp.—Felix Adler.
got into the heart of controversy! How banquet in Paradise Regained was not all the strain that has been put upon his
we pidced out the marrow of authors! in true keeping, as the simplest fare feelings. He is not prostrated to the HIS London City, with all its houses,
" And, m our flowing cups, many a good was all that was necessary to tempt the ground, he is uplifted. Great music rolls palaces, steam-engines, cathedrals,
name and Isue was freshly remembered.*' extremity of hunger—and stating that through his soul. He seems to float as m and huge immeasurable traffic and tu
Rewllect (most sage and critical Adam and Eve in Paradise Lost were too some hi^ ether, and far beneath him lie mult, what is it but a Thought, but
reada) that in all this I was but a guestl much like married people. the gulfs of pity and of terror throu^ millions of Thoughts made into One—
ft Need i go over the names? They were —" Charles Lamb," by W. Hazlitt. which he has passed The effect <« a huge immeasurable Spirit ofa Thouf^t,
but the old everlasting set—^Milton and tragedy—the tragedy on the stage,which emb^ed in brick, in iron, smioke, dust,
?hakeBp«^i Pope and Dryden, Stede |rTs HE truth is, progress and r^^on is a mirroroflife—isblendedof defeatand Palaces, Parliaments, Hackney Coadxes,
tod Addison, Swift and Qay, Fieldmg, arebutwordstomystifythemillions. victory. Both enter in. Ruin there is, but Katherine Docks, and the rest of it!
SmoUett, Sterne, Richardson, Hogarth's They mean nothing, they are nothing, a gloiy shines above the ruin. The eff(^ Not a brick was made but some man had
joints, Claude's landscapes, the Cartoons they are phases and not facts. In the of tragedy on the stage is produced by to think pf the making of that bri<^.
at Hampt^ Court, and all those thinga structure, the decay, and the develop great qu^ities in the hero, which we —Cariyle.
^t, having once been, must ever be. ment of (he various families of man, the admire, but which are prevented
The Scotch Novels had not then been vicissitudes of history find their main successful manifestation by some flaw The consciousness of being loved softois
h^rd of; so we scud nothing about solution—all is race.—^Disraeli. in his nature. Or the hero strives after the keenest pang, even at the moment ot
In general, we were hard upon the some high ideal, carries in his breast parting; yea, even the eternal farewell is
inpdems. The author of the Rambler We must not blame God for the fly, some noble purpose. The fault is not in robbed of half its bitterness when utter^
wto only tolerated in Boswdl's l^e for man made him. He is the resur him, but in his surroundings. The time is in accents ^hat breathe love to the last
of ihim'i and it was as mudbi as any one rection,' the reincarnation of our own not ripe for him, the people with whom he si^.—^Addison.
.rould do t^ edge in a word for Junius, dirt and carelessness. must deal are below his standard; and he r
dnild not b ^ GU Bias, This —^Woods Hutchinscm, M. D. fiEiils, but in failing he sets forth in hif^h Qodgivesall thingstoandustry—Pranklln
 148
'JBZBBRa- IfUBBARD^S
HE day is done. Soft dark
ness ^s all space The
n turmoil has ceased. The
clatter of hoofs and the
r<z ~ ^te straggler
of motors -have past.
died
aw^. Cfee shuffles
^18 quiet. The shadows hide from the
White-faced moon.
ifT- of the day—weary
Mtl^ fretful little earth, so full ofthings.
Me hot with tramping the stolid
throat is choked with the dust
Of tnvi^ traffic. The things of my labor
^ve become irksorrie to me—mere
^ that I have played with all day. I
m th^ aside. What matter ifI can
hrae earth, I again?
i-^i Valedico, peevish
am going out into the
unweree to strollon the MiU^ Way and
bathe m the Ocean of Ni^t.
»gr^t, good, beautiful Night, you are
through the
oftte mght-wind down intoyour
^ depths wh^ the stars lie sti^
^Sfnrf«;55^i jewel-offerings
ill-fate4 lover cast in ruthless de-
bosom? Or are they the
sparkle in your depths? I
w^er down the Milky Way. I gather
the Plmded ^d make anecklace for my
the Jesses of Andrbmeda. What
® golden strand
roatter if the sea-nsrmphs do rage? Per
seus is near and he has slain the Draco.
1 setter Ae star-gems before my feet
^ the path. Wait! Triumphant Orion is
p^mg and his gaudy girdle flashes a
wUenge at mad Taurus.
are some of the flowers of Noko-
0^ I will ga^er a few and weave them
^ the necWace. What is that I hear?
fnkmz the^twelfith
So f Saint
hour. Have Francis
I been
the top. Perhaps I shall play with them
,agam tomorrow.—Hugh Robert Orr.
QNCH^TED chad, bom into a
world un^ildlike;spoiled darling ot
future, playmateof her elemental dau^-
tta^ " p^d-like spirit, beautiful and
SWOT, laired amidst the burning fast-
tie^ 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,roselikealadderbetweenheaven and
earth with the angels of song ascending
and descending it—^he is shrunken into
the little vessel of d^ath, and sealed with
the unshatterable seal of doom, and cast
down deep belowthe rolling tides of Time.
Mighty meat for little guests, when the
heart of Shelley was laid in the cemetery
of Caius CestiusI Beauty, music, sweet
ness, tears, the mouth of the worm has
fed of them all. Into that sacred bridal-
g^oom 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 wonderM 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 b^gar's nurse and Ceesar's.
—" The Death of Shelley," by Francis
Thompson
IT is related by apeasant that he had
persuaded himself that beyond his
fields there were no others, and when he
happened to lose a cow and was com
pelled to go in search of her, he was
astonished at the great number of fields
beyond his own few acres. This must also
be the case of many theorists who have
persuaded themselves that beyond^ this
field or little globe of earth there lie no
other worlds—simply because he has
not seen them.—Spinoza.
s«»
Let the farmer forevermore be honored
in his calling; for they who labor in the
earth are the chosen people of God.
—^Tl^mas Jefferson.
SCRAl> J3QOK,
S 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. The
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." co-
Gentlemen, you know what followed;
those farmers and mechanics " fired the
shot heard aroimd 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 bom 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
Israd out of Egjrpt; but no chiseled
stone has ever stirred me to such emo
tions as those rustic names of men who
fell " In the Sacred Cause of God and
their Coimtry."—^Theodore Parker.
It is no time to swap horses when you
are crossing the stream.
—Abraham Lincoln.
at^
It is conceivable that religion may be
morally useful without being intellec
tually sustainable.—^J. S. Mill.
Pagel^
>®KHE Venice that you see in the sun-
light of a summer's day—^theVenice
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 Ke
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-lijited church, and noiseless priest;
of strong men and graceful women—
the Venice of light and life, of sea end
sl^, and melody—no pen can tell this
atory. The pencU 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-gettingUge it is a joy to live, if
only for a day, where a song is more
prized than a soldo; where the poorest
pauper lau^iingly shares his scanty
cmst; where to be kind to a child is a
habit, to be neglectful ofold age a shame;
a city the relics of whose past are the
lessons of our fiitiu-e; 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
will take a thousand years of neglect to
destroy
To every one of my art-loving coimtry-
men this city should be a Mecca; to
know her tihoroughly is to know all the
btouty and romance of five centuries.
—^F. Hopkineon Smith.
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand.
Little flower—^but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
—^Tennyson.
To believe in immortality is one thing,
but it is first needful to believe in life.
—^Robert Louis Stevenscm.
 P^e ISi
Page ISO *BLBBPT HUBBARB'S
[HE Battle of Waterloo is an England Blyron above Wdlhigtm. A
y Dear Sammy—hope every precious moment, and find an im-
enigma as obscure for those mighty dawn of ideas is peculiar to our
that you retain the impres speakable facility in the performance of age; and in this dawn England and Ger
who gained it as for him who
sions of your education, nor your respective duties. Begin and end many have their own magnificent flash.
. lost it. To Napoleon it is a
have forgot that the vows of the day with Him who is the Alpha and They are majestic because they think;
J panic; Blucher sees nothing
God are upon you. You Omega, and if you really experience what in it but fire; Wellington does not under the hig^ levd they bring to dvilization
know that the first fruits are Heaven's it is to love God, you \i^l redeem all the stand it at all. Look at the reports: the is intrinsic to them; it comes finom them-
by an unalienable right, and that, as time you can for His more immediate
bulletins are confused; the commentaries sdves, and not from an acddent. Any
your parents devoted you to the service service. I will tell you what rule I used to aggrandizement the nineteenth century
are entan^ed; the latter stammer, the
of the altar, so you yourself made it your observe when I was in my father's house, former stutter. \ me^ have can not
dioice whra your and had as little, if Jomini divides the Bringing together into a dithyramb of boast of Waterloo
father was offeried There by the window in the old house not less' liberty battle of Water as its foimtainhead
another way of life Perched on the bluff, overlooking miles than you havenow. recreative song
loo into four m o for only barbarous
for you. But have I used to allow my The epic hopes of a people: nations grow sud
you duly consid of valley. ments: Muffling/
self as much time cuts it into three At the some time Vulcan ofsovereignfires. denly after a vic
ered what such ^ My days of labor closed, sitting out life's for recreation as I acts; Charras, altho Where imperishable shields and swords tory^—it is the tran
a choice and such a decline, spent in private de were beaten out sient vanity of tor
we do not entirely
dedication im votion; not that rents swollen by a
ports? Consider
Day by day I look in my.memory. agree with him in From spirits tempered in heaven.
I ^ways spent so all his apprecia storm. Civilized
well what separa As one who gazes in an enchantress* much, but I gave Lookin the crystal! See how he hastens on nations, especially
tions, has alone
tion from the crystal globe. myself leave to go cau^t with his To the place where his path comes up to at the present day,
world, what purity, so far but no far the path are not devated or
ix^at devotion. And I saw the figures of the past. hauighty eye the
As if in a pageant glassed by a shining
ther. So in all characteristic Of a child of Plutarch and Shakespeare. debased by the
What exesdplary things else, ap O Lincoln, actor indeed, playing wellyour good or evil for
lineaments of tJiis
virtue, are required dream. point so much time tune of a captain,
in those are
catastrophe of hu part.
Move through the incredible sphere of for sleep, eating, man genius con and their specific
to guide others to comp&ny, etc., but And Booth, who strode in a mimic play
tending with divine wei^t in the hu
G^iy! I say exemp' time.
above all thii^s, within the play.
diance. All the man family results
lory; for low, com- And I saw a man arisefrom the soil like a my dear Sammy, I Often and often I saw you. from something
mon degrees of other historians
fabled giant command you, I
suffer from a cer
As the cawing crows winged their way to more than a battle,
piety are not suffi beg, I beseech you, the wood llieir. honor, dig
cient for those of And throw himself over a deathless tain bedazzlement
to be very strict in in which they Over my house-top at solemn sunsets, nity, enlighten
the saa-^ fimc- destiny. observing the ment, and genius
tion. You must not grope about. It was There by my window.
Master of great armies, head of the Lord's Day. In all a flashing day, in Alone. are not numbers
think to live lilfe republic, things endeavor to which those gam
the rest of the truth the over " William H. Hemdon," by Edgar Lee Masters
(Cooduded oa next page) act on principle. throw of the mili blers, heroes, and
world; your li^t and do not live like conquerors can stake in the lottery of
must so shine before men that they may tary monarchy which, to the great stupor
the rest of mankind, who pass through of the kings, has dragged down all king baizes. Very often a battle lost is prog
see your good works, and thereby be the world like straws upon a river, which ress gained, and less of glory, more of
led to e^Oniy your Father whidi is in doms, the downfall of strength and the
are carried whic^ way the stream or rout of war. liberty. The drummer is silent and reason
HeaVea. Fot niq^ part, I can not see with wind drives them. Often put this ques speaks; it is the game of who loses wins.
In this event, which bears the stamp of
what faced^gymen can reprovesinners, tion to yourself: Why do I do this or superhuman necessity, men play but a Let us, Aen, speak of Waterloo coldly
of e3du>rt men to lead a ga>d life, when that? Why do I pray, read, study, or use from both sid^, and render to diance the
they the^o^yes indulge their own cor- small part; but if we take Waterloo from
devotion, etc.? By which means you Wdlington and Blucher, does that de tilings that bdong to chance, and to God
nipt mdihaitions^ and by their practice will come to such a steadiness and con what is God's. What is Waterloo—a
#nt^^ct thdr doctrine. If the Holy prive England and Germany of any
sistency in your words, and actions as thing? No. Neither illustrious England victory? No; a quine in the lotteiy, won
Jesus be indeed their Master, and they becomes a reasonable creature and a by Europe, and paid by France; it was
^ really His ambassadors, siu«ly it good Christian.
nor august Germany is in question in the
problem of Waterloo, for, thank heaveni hardly worth whue erecting a lion for it.
becomes them to live like Hiis disciples; Your affectionate mother, Waterloo, by the way, is the strangest
{^d if do not, what a sad account Sus. Wesley. nations are great without the mournful
adiievements of the sword. Neith^ encounter recorded in hikoiy; Napoleon
th^ ^ve' of their stewardship. (Letter to Her Eldest Son, dated Ep- and Wdlington are not enemi^, but
I woi^d advise you, as mudi as possible worth, October, 1709.) Germany, nor England, nor France is
hdd in a scabbard; at this d^ when contraries. Never did God, who ddights
in your present circumstances^ to throw «•»
in antitheses, produce a more strildhg
yi^ business into a certain method, by Waterloo is only a dash of sabers, Ger
Sdf-confidence is the first requisite to contrast or a more extraordinary con-
means you will leain to improve great undertakings.-^Samud Johnson. many has Goetlie above Bludier, and

Page 152 *BLBBRSr HUBBARD^S
frontation. On one side precision, fore
sight, geometxy, prudence, a retreat
assured, reserves prepared, an obstinate
coolne8s,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 volimtarily to accidept,
old classic courage and absolute correct
ness. On the other side we have intuition,
divination, military strangeness, super-
hiuxian instinct, a flashing glance; some
thing that gazeslike t^e ea^e and strikes
like lightning, all the mysteries of a pro
found mind, association with destiny;
Ae 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
tnie 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
wait^ for Blucher, and he came.
Wellington is the dassicaLwar taking-its
revenge; Bonaparte, in his dawn, had
met it in Italy, and superbly defeated it
^the old owl fled before the yoimg
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,nothing forhim,without pro-
viwons, ammunition, guns, shoes, almost
Without an army, with a handful of men
against masses, dashed at allied Europe,
aM absurdly gained impossible victories?
Who was this new comet of war who
possessed the effrontery of a planet? The
acacunuc military school excommuni
catedhim, while bolting, and hence arose
an implacable rancor of the old Csesarism
gainst the new, ofthe old saber against
flashing sword, and of the chess-
TOard against genius. On June 18th,
1815, this rancor got the best; and
beneath Lodi, Montebello, Montenotte,
Mantua, Marengo,and Arcola, it wrote—
7(1? I
Waterloo. It was a triumph of mediocrity,
sweet to m^orities, and destiny con
sented to this irony. In his decline,
Napoleon found a yoimg 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 ^ ^ mentioned by Lo^d Raglan, because the
What must bfe admired in the battle of
WaterlooisEngland,theEnglishfirmness,
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. W^-
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?
En^and has been too modest to herself
in her treatment of^Wellington, for
malriTig 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
Hi^anders playing the bagpipes imder
the shower of canister. Ryland'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 otir glorification is offered to
the English soldier; the En^ish army,
the En^ish nation; and if there must be
a trophy, it is to En^and that this trophy
is owmg. The Waterloocolumnwouldbe
more just, if, instead of the figure of a
man, it raised to the clouds the statue of
a people.
Butthisgreat England willbeirritated by
what we are writing here; for she still
has feudal illusions, after her 1688 and
the French 1789. This people believes in
inheritance and hierarchy, and while
no other excels it in power and gjory,
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
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
ni^t raid, the wall of Hougomont, the
hollow of Ohain, Grouchy deaf to Ae
cannon, Napoleon's guide' deceiving him,
Bulow's guide enlightening him—all
this cataclysm is marveloudy 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 calcvdation 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 fitting men, sixty
thousand killed.
Tlie field of Waterloo has at the present
day that calmness which belongs to the
eaxlli, and resembles all plains; but at
ni^t, a sort of visionary mist rises from
it, and if any traveler walk alxjut it, and
listen and dream, like Virgil on the
mournful plain of Philippi, the hallu
cination of the catastrophe seizes upon
him. The fri^tfiil June 18A lives again,
the false monumental hill is leveled, the
Fage ISS
wondrous lion is dissipated, the battle-
fidd resumes itsreali^, lines of infanfxy
undulate on the plain; furious galloping
crosses the horizon; the startled dreamer
sees the flash of sabers, the sparkle of
bayonets, the red li^t of didls, the
monstrous coUisitxn of thunderbolts; he
hears, like a death groan £romthe tomb,
the vague damor of the phantom battle.
These shadows are greMdiers; the^
flashes are cuirassiers; this skdeton is
Napoleon; this skdeton is Wellmgton;
all this is non-existent, and yet still com
bats, and the ravinesare stained puiple,
and the trees rustle, and th^ is fury
even in the douds and in the darkness,
while all the stem hd^ts, Mont St
Jean, Hougomont, Frisdiemont, Pape-
lotte, and Plancenoit, seem confusedly
crowned by hosts of ^)ecters extermi
nating one another.—-Victor Hugo.
3-'PLACE Rembrandt at the head of
the modems, and far above them all.
n'eg&o alone approaches him at
moments. Rembrandt did not
sei afterplastic beautylikethe Italians,
but he discovered souls, he und^tood
them and transfigured them in his mar-
vdous light. Titian's—or rather, the
Duke of Genoa's—^mistress is more
beautiful than Rembrandt's Saskia, but
how infinitely I prefer the latto^I As a
colorist, I placeRembrandt aboveTitian,
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. Wefeel that Rembrandt was
full of kindliness. He loved the poor, he
painted them as they were, in all their
wretdiedness. There is something pene^
trating, kindly, acute, sensual, in his
own radiantly living face, which wins the
spectator's heart as he gazes.
—^MeUsonier.
God be thanked for books. They are the
voices of ^e distant and the dead, and
make usiheirs of the spiritual life of pajst
ages.—William E. Channing.
Art is more godlike than sdence. Sdence
discovers; art creates.—^John Opie.
 Page 1S4 ^BLBBRSr -HUBBARD^S Piage ISS
^CJRAI^ JSOO/C
N in my journeys among myself grown and elevated, I looked
the Indian tribes of Canada, down on the rest of my degenerate race some bark to cover our palace, and per before the fire; the women took them
I left European dwellings, with the eye of a giant. formed some other public offices, eadi of quietly intotheir arms andput them to
and found myself, for the You who wish to write about men, go us attended to his own affairs. I brou^t bed among the skins, with a motha^a
first time, alone in the midst into the deserts, become for a moment my saddle, which served me well for a tenderness so delightful to witness iu
of an ocean of forests, having, so to the child of nature, and then—and then pillow all throu^ my travels; the guide these so-called savages: theconversatyn
speak, all nature prostrate at my feet, only—^take up the p>en. rubbed down the horses; and as to his died away by degrees, and each feJl
a strange change took place within me, Ai^ng the innumerable enjojonents of night accomodation, since he was not adeep in the place where he was.
I followed no road; I went from tree to this journey one especidly made a vivid so particular as I am, he generally made I alone could not dose my eyes, hearmg
tree, now to the impression on my use of the dry tnmk of a tree. Work on all sides the deep breathing of my
hosts. I raised my
right, now to the mind being done, we
left, saying to my- Afire-mist and a planet,— seated ourselves in Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, head, and, support
A crystal and a cell,— I was going then ing mys^ on my
sdf, "Here there to see the fkmous a circle, with our When the moon is new and thin, dbow, watdied by
are no more roads AJettj^sh and a saurian, legs crossed like Into our hearts high yearnings
And caves where the cave-men dwell; cataract of Niag the red lig^t of the
to follow, no more tailors, around the Come wellingar^ surging in,—
Then a sense of law and beauty. ara, and I had expiring fire the
towns, no more taken my way immense fire, to Come from the mysHc ocean. Iftiriiflnfl stretched
narrow houses, no And a face turnedfrom the clod,— roast our heads of Whose rim no foot has trod,—
Some call it Evolution, through the Indian around me and
™ore presidents, tribes who inhabit maize, and to pre Some of us call it Longing, plunged in ^eep.'
republics, or kings And others call it God. pare supper. I had And others call it God,
the deserts to the I confess that 1
— above all, west of the Ameri still a flask of
could hardly re-
no more laws, and can plantations. brandy, which
no more men.** A haze on the far horizon, served to enliven Apicket frozen on duty— fr^
Theinfinite, tender s^. My guides were—
Men! Yes, some the sun, a pocket- our savages not a A mother starvedfor her brood— Brave youA, how
good savages, who The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields. little. They foimd Socrates drinking the hemlock, your peaceful geep
And the wild geese sailing high,— compass, and the AndJesus on the rood; , affects me! You,
cared nothing for Dutchman of out that they had
nie, Tuxc I for them; And all over upland and lowland some bear hams, And millions who, humble andnameless, who se^ed sosen-
The charm of the goldenrod,— whom I have spok- The straight, hardpathway plod,— sible ofthe woes of
^o, likeme, wan en: the latter and we b<egan a
dered freely wher- Some of us call it Autumn, royal feast. Some caU it Consecration, your native
understood per
wer their fancy led And others call it God,
fectly five dialedts The family con And others^ callit
_
God.
„
you^
too high-nunded to
taem, eating when (Cottdaded on next page)
of the Huron lan sisted of two wo "^'^^"^'^Zl^&mBerbertCanuth mistrust the for-
fdt inclined, / guage. Our train men, with infants dgnerl Europeans,
ffleqnng when and where they pleased. consisted of two horses, which we let at their breasts,
to see if I were really loose in the forests at night, after fasten and ^ee warriors; two of them might what a w^
wabl^ed in myoriginal rights, I gave ing a bell to their necks. I was at first a be from forty to forty-five years of ag^ to whonf our avarice
up to a" thousand acts of eccen- little afraid of losing them, but my guide although they appeared much older, and ^ spadeful of earth to
^«ty, which enraged the tallDutdWoi reassured me by pointing out that, by a ttie third was a young mm. lewap ^ ^
Who was myguide, and who, in hisheart, wonderful instinct, these good animals The conversation soon became general; cover ttecor^ oatrimony—these
gwught I was mad. never wandered out of sight of our fire. that is to say, on my side it consisted of formerly y. . into
from the tyrannous yoke of One evening, when, as we calculated broken wordJ and many gestures-an f ^ SS
I understood then the chsotns of that we were only about eight or nine expressive language, which these nations their hc^it^Je ,
^dependence of nature which far leagues fr^om the cataract, we were pre understand r^tobly well, and that X th^
s^asdto all the pleasures of whidi had learned among Oiem. The young undistur^ by
man can form any idea. I under-
paring to dismount before simset, in
order to build our hut^ and li^t oiu* man alone preserved anobstinatesilence; ^ ff^re abcwe the
WMipa why not one savagehas become a watch-fire after the Indian fashion, we he kept his eyes constantly fixed on me. Tliese s^
why maiiy Europeans perceived in the wood the fires of some In spite ofthe black, red and blue stripes, vwtues of above
^ve become savages; why the sublime savages who were encamped a little cut Ws, and the p^arl hanging from his of the man m^s xw^rtate is above
on the Inequality of Rank is lower down on the shores of the same nose, with whidi he was disfigured, it that of the man f^hAteaubriand.
^ understood by the most part of stream as we were. We went to them. was easy to see the nobUity and sensi- -Chateaubriand.
our ^philosophers. It is incredible how The Dutchman having by my orders bility which animated his countenance. t, j«. j inmrv to
and diminished the nations and asked their permission for us to pass the How well I knew he was inclined not to TheW had ® ®
ntort boasted institutions appeared ni^t with them, which was granted love mel It seemed to me as ifbe were bmI I «^d not ach^ it to an tne
^ it seemed to me as if I saw immediately, we set to work with our reading in his heart the history of all the thrones in the world.—Napdeoa I.
W kingdoms of the earth through an hosts. After having cut <lown some wrongs which Europeans have inflicted ^ ^
niv^ed spy-giass, or rather that, being branches, planted some stakes, torn off on his native country. The two chUdren, Tfe less people spe^of
quite naked, were asleep at our feet the more we thmk of it.—Bacon.
 Page 1S6 *1BLBERT HUBBARD^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 the word " work," and no
form of action has more diversity in its
oonc^tion, because of differing view
points, than work.
A little child when asked his idea of work
SMd, "Anjrthing I have to do is work, and
^3rthing I want to do is play"—^which
Mswer showed that the child recognized
^ rdation to that form of activity
Imown as work; also it demonstrated
tiwt work had been presented to his
Mmdas drudgery.
Dmdgery is work which we make diffi-
J^t; which is done because we must do
It, ^d which we regard with aversion; it
tee l^d, sordid form of work, seem-
hope and apart from any
OT the joy of accomplishment.
Work should be a joy; it should be the
native of our lives; and it would be
Ifwe regarded it in the light of its being
iajx>r of love; but we have come to
«mk of what we call labor with almost
of pain. Most of us resolve our
work mto labor and, while it results in
becomes xmpleasant
rtrenuous in the method of its
^ecution ^
The sedret of the true love of work is
of success in that work; not
o« money reward, for the time
fS? exercised, but for
result in the accompliah-
®aent of the work itself.
. —Sidney A. Weltmer.
—Hans Christian Andersen.
ZEI Gautier in Paris, and
afiVir MVLe, de Maupin still
Srf ^ memory; like Moore, I
stream which
fjpom the side of the Crucified
made a red girdle roimd the
»ever bathed me in its flood."
loved gold and marbleand purple
bands of nude youths and maidens
swajring 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 theoiy 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,
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
modem world in tuming 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 believ^,
that goodness perpetuates itsdf, in
creasing from age to age, while the evil
is diminishing, dying, and is only relative
so to speak, or grow^ arrested. And our
high task is to help this shaping spirit
to self-realization and fulfilment in our
own souls, knowing all the while that
roses of life grow b^t about the Cross.
—^Frank Harris.
All tmth is an achievement. If you
would have truth at its fiill vcAiie, ^
win it.—^Munger.
the plow is the typical in
strument of industry, so the
fetter is the typical instru
ment 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'figiu-ative 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 himian 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 fxmction
in bee society. And throu^out ^the
world, of the two abstract things,
liberty and restraint, restraint is always
the more honorable. It is trae, 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 are bad when they are badly
chosen; but of the two, I repeat, it is
restraint which characterizes the higher
creature and betters the lower creatures
and, from tee ministering of the arch-
Page ISt
angel to tee labor of tee insect—^&om
tee 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 teeir obedience, not in teeir 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, teere-
fore I say that as tee 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.
Hisses, groans, catcalls, drumming
with the feet, loud conversation and
ations of animals went on throu^-
out (the maiden speech of Benjamin
Disra^ in tee House of Commons).
. . . . But.... it does not follow teat the
maiden speech of tee member for Jylaid-
stone was a failure. It was indeed in one
sense a very hopeful business inasmuch as
tee reports prove he was quite capable of
holding his own amidst extraordinary
interruptions ^
Mr. Disraeli wound up in teese words,
" Now, Mr. Speaker, we see tee philo-
sopMc^ prejudices of Man. (Lai^ter
and cheers.) I respect cheers, even whra
teey come from the mouth of a political
opponent. (Renewed laughter.) I think,
sir, (Hear! Hear! and repeated cries of
Question I) I am not at all surprised, sir,
at the reception I have met with, (con
tinued lau^ter). I have begun several
teings many times (laughter, and I
havealways succeeded at last, ((^estion)
Ay, sir, and teough I sit down now, the
time will come when you will hear me."
—^Disradi.
Beauty does not lie in tee face. It lies
in the harmony between man and his
industry. Beauty is expression. When I
paint a moteer I try to render her
beautiful by the mere look she gives her
child.—^Jean Francois Millet.
Must endure
Their going hence, even as teeir comSjig
hiteer:
Ripeness is all.—Shake^)eare.
Page JS8 '^LBBRSr ffUBBARD^S PagelS9

ENERAL BONAPARTE the fear he inspired was caused only by ment to any idea whatsoever would have to much greater advantage on horseba^
ma^ himself as conspicuous the singular effect of his personality power to turn him from his path. He th^ on foot; in all ways it is war, and
by his character and his upon almost every one who had inter has the same devotion to his own inter war only, he is fitted for. His manner in
intellect as by his victories, course with him. I had seen men worthy ests that a good man has to virtue: if society is constrained without being
and the imagination of the of high respect; I had also seen ferocious the object were noble, his persistency timid; it is disdainful iniien he is on his
French began to be touched by him men: there was nothing in the impression would be admirable. guard, and vulgar when he is at ease;
[1797]. His proclamations to the Cisal Bonaparte produced upon me which Every time that I heard him talk I was his air of suits him best, and so
pine and Ligurian republics were talked could remind me of men of either t3Te. struck by his superiority; it was of a he is not sparing in the use of it. He took
of.... A tone of moderation and of dig I soon perceived, on the different occa kind, however, that had no relation to pleasure already in the part of embar
nity pervaded his sions when I met that of men >in rassing pec^le by
^le, which con him during his stay structed and culti When Earth's last picture is painted, sajring di8agreeidi>le
trasted with the O my luve's like a red, red rose, in Paris, that his vated by study, or and the tubes are twisted and drted. things: an art
revolutionary Thafs newly sprung in June; character could not by society, su^ as When the oldest colors have faded, and wfaich he hau craoe
harshness of the be defined by the England and the youngest critic has died. made a system of,
civil rulers of 0 my luve*s like the melodie as of all other
words we are ac France possess ex We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need
France. The war Thafs sweetly played in tune. customed to make amples of. But his it—'lie down for an eon or two, methods of subju
rior spoke in those use of: he was conversation indi Till the Master of All Good Workmen gating men by de
dajrs like a law neither kindly nor cated that quick shall set us to work anew! grading them.
giver, while the As fair thou art, my bonnie lass. violent, neither perception of cir Stael
lawgiversexpressed So deep in luve am I; gentle nor cruel, And those that were good shall be happy:
themselves with after the fashion
And I will luve thee still, my dear. of other men. Such
cumstances the
hunter has in pur they shall sit in a goldenchair; MIFE would be
soldierlike vio suing his prey. They shall splash at a ten-league canvas a perpetual
lence. General Till cf* the seas gang dry. a being, so imlike Sometimes he re ' with brushes of comefs hair; flea hunt if a man
Bonaparte had not others, could were obliged to nm
lated the political They shallfindrealsaints todrawfrom—
executed in his neither excite nor and military events Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; down all the in
army the decrees Till a* the seas gang dry, my dear, feel S3rmpathy: he of his life in a very They shall work for an age at a sittmg nuendoes, inveraci
against the was more or less and never be tired at all! ties, insinuations
And the rocks melt, ivi* the sun; interesting man
and misrepresenta
6migr6s. Itwas said than man. His ner; he had even,
that he loved his 1 mil luve thee still, my dear, bearing, his mind, in narratives that And only the Master shatt praise us, and tions vdiic^ are ut
wife, whose charac- While the sands o* life shall run. his language have admitted gaiety, a oiily the Master shall blame; tered against him.
t^ is full of sweet- —^Henry Ward
the marks of a touch of Italian im And no one shall work for money, and Beecher.
n^;it wasasserted foreigner's nature agination. Nothing and no one shall workfor fame;
l^t he felt the And fare-thee weel, my only luve! —an advantage the however, could But each for the joyof the working, and
^uties of Ossian; more in subjugat conquer my invin each, in his separate stm HE most joy
And fare-thee well, a while! ful thing I
it was a pleasure to ing Frenchmen. . . cible alienation Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for
attribute to him ' And I will come again, my luve, ^ Far from being from what I per the God of Things as They Are! know is the peace,
the generous qual Though it were ten thousand mile, reassured by seeing ceived in him. I " L'Envoi," by Rudyard K^Ung the silence, that
ities that form a Bonaparte often, saw in his soul a
one enjoys in the
noble background " A Red, Red Rose," btf Robert Bums he always intimi cold and cutting sword, wWch froze woods or on the t^ed lands. One sees a
lor extraordinary dated me more and while woiuiding; I_ saw in his mind a poor/ heavily ladra creature with a
abiliti^. ^ Such at least was my own more. I felt vaguely that no emotional profound irony, from which nothing fine bundle of fagots advancing from a nar
' mood when I saw him for the first time feeling could influence him. He r^ards a or noble could escape, not even his own row path in the fidds. The manner in
in Paris. I could find no words with human creature as a fact or a thing, but ^ory: for he despised the nation whose which this figure comes suddenly before
whidii to rieply to him when he came to not as an existence like his own. He feels suffrages he desired; and no spm of one is a momentary reminder of the
me to tell me that he had tried to visit no more hate than love. For him there enthusiasm mingled with his craving to fimd^ental condition of human life,
my father at Coppet, and that he was is no one but himself: all other creatur^ astonish theiiiunan race.... toil. On the tilled land around, one
Sony to have passed throu^ Switzer are mere ciphers. The force of his will His face, thin and pale at that time, wm watches fig\u«8 hoeing and digging. One
land without seeing him. But when I had consists in the Imperturbable calculations very agreeable: since then he hasgaii^ sees how tliis or that one rises and wipes
tooaewhat recovered from the agitation of his egotism : he is an able chess-player flesh—which does not become hun; for away the sweat with the bade of his
of admiration, it was followed by a fed- whose opponent is all humankind, whom one ne^ to bdieve such a man to hand. " In the sweat of thy face shalt
is^ of very marked fear. Bonaparte then he intends to checkmate. His success is tormented by his own character, at all thou eat bread." Is that meny, enliven
held TO power; he was thoui^t even to due as mudi to the qualities he lacks as to tolerate the sufferings this character ing work? And yet it is here that I find
or less in dsAger from the vague to the talents he possesses. Neither pity, caxises others. As his stature is short, the true humanity, the great poetry.
flfOBpiaotiMess of liie Directory; so that nor sympathy, nor religion, nor attach- and 3ret his waist verylong, he appeared —^Jean Francois Millet.
Page 160 ALBERT ffl/BBARD*S
IND now, having seen a great
militaxy march through a
firiendly country, the pomiM
and festivities of more than
one German court,the severe
struf^e of a hotly contested battle, and
the triumph of victory, Mr. Esmond
bdidd another part of military duty;
our troops entering the enem3r*8 territory
and putting all around them to fire and
8wc^; burning farms, wast^ fidds,
ahriddng women, slau^tered sons and
fiithers, and drunken soldiery, cursing
^d carousix^ in the midst of tears,
terror, and murder. Why does the statdy
Muse of History, that delicts in describ
ing the valor of heroes and the grandeur
conquest, leave out these scenes, so
and degrading, that yet form by
for the greater part of the drama of war?
You gentlemen of En^and, who live at
^me at ease and complimentyoursdves
in the scn^ of triumph with whic^ our
®®>j®ftains are bepredsed; you pretty
xnaMens that come tumbling down the
stairs when the fife uTiri dnmi cflll you,
and huzza for the British Grenadiers-
do you take account that these items go
to n^e up the amount of triumph you
and form part of the duties of
^ heroes you fondle?
Cw diief (the Duke of Marlboroi^),
wiwm England and all Europe, saving
Mty the Frenchmen, worshiped almost,
had of the god>like in him; that he
was impassible before victory, before
dwer, before defirat.Before the greatest
™tacle or the most trivial ceremony;
pefore a hundred thousand men drawn
m battalia, ot a peasant daug^tered at
the door of his burning hovd; before a
carouse of drunken German lords, or a
^nardi's court, ora cottage tablewhere
his plans were laid, of an enemjr^s
Dattery, vomiting fiame gnd death and
corpses round about him—^he
cold, calm, resolute, like fate,
tte p^formed a treason or a court bow,
told a falsdiood as black as Styx, as
c^y'as he paid a compliment or spoke
about the weather. He took a mistress
®id left her, he betrayed his benefactor
and supported him, or wo\ild have
'owiered him, witib 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 rudied hither and thither,
ragmg; ^lieked curses and encourage
ment, yelling and harking his bloody
war-dogs on, and himsdf always at the
first of the himt. Our duke was as calzn
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 remoi^. He
addeved the highest deed of daring, or
deepest calculation of thou^t, as he
performed the very meanest acticm of
whidi a man is capable; told a lie or
cheated a fond woman or robb^ a p<yf
beggar of a halipenny, with a like awM
serenity, and equal capacity of the mol
est and lowest acts of our nature.
His qualities were pretty wdl-known m
the army, wherethere were parties of afl
politics, and of plenty of shrewdness and
wit; but there existed such a perfect am-
fidence in him, as the first captam of pe
world, and such a faith and admiration
in his prodigious genius and fortune,
that the very men whom he notonoudy
cheatedof 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 qu^ty ot
some property: the blood of a soldiCT, it
might be, or a jewded hat or a hundred
thousand crowns from the king, ot a
portion out of a starving sentind's three
farthings; or when he was young, a Mss
from a woman, and the gold chain off h»
neck, tflVing all he could from woman ot
man, and having, as I said, this of the
godlike in him, that he could see a hero
perish or a sparrow fall with the same
amount of ssrmpathy for either.
Not that he had no tears, he could always
order up this reserve at the proper
moment to battle; he could draw upon
tears or smUes alike, and whenever need
was for using this cheap coin. He would
cringe to a du^black, and he would
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 battidion reding 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 fdt
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 hitn in their
hearts were among the most frantic to
dieer 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 fed
a thrin of pride as he recalls it.
—William M. Thackeray.
Soft is the music that would diarm
forever.—William Wordsworth.
^^^KHERE is, finally, aphilosophic piety
which has the universe for its object.
This feeling, common to andient 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 than sup
ported by Ae 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 uniyerse and
give it the name of God the more they
turn it into a devil. The imiverse, so far
as we can observe it, is a wonderful and
immense engine; its extdit, its order, its
beauty, its cruelty, makes it alike impres
sive. If we Hrqmnrize its life and con-
cdve its spirit, we are filled with wcMider,
terror, and amusement, so magnificent is
that spirit, so prolific, inexorable, gram-
maticalf and dull. Like all animals and
plants, the cosmos has its own way of
Page 161
doing things, not wholly rational nor
ideally best, but patient, &tal, and fruit
ful. Great is this organism of mud and
fire, terrible this vast, painful, i^orious
esperiment. Why should we not look on
the universe with piety? Is it not our
substance? Are we made of other d^?
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.
Sodety is not impossible between it and
us, and since it is the source of all our
energies, the home of all our happmess,
diall we not ding 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 bd improved upon.-~"James Ohver.
^^KhE main thing about a book is not
V^in what it sajrs, but in what it asto
and suggests. The interrogation-point is
the accusing finger of orthodoxy, whidi
would rather be denounced thfui ques
tioned.—^Horace Traubd.
|¥|Y phik)sophy makes life—the system •
of fedings and desires—supreme;
and leaves knowledge merely the port ot
observer. This system of fedings is a
fact in our minds about which there can
be no dispute, a fact of ^ch we have
intuitive knowledge, a knowledge not
inferred by argj^ents, norgenerated by
reasonings which can be recdved or
ne^ected as we choose. Only such face-
to-face knowledge has reality. It alone
can get Ufe in motion, since it springs
from life.—^Fidite.
sublime and the ridiculous are
often so nearly related that it is
difficult to dass them separatdy.
step above the sublime makes the
ridiculous, and one step abovethe ridicu-
k>U8 the sublime again.
—^Thomas Paine.
Page H2 y Page 163
ffUBBARD'S
T had been part of Nelson's crew, he took out his handkerchief, and though often sent for, couldnot leavethe with a heart almost bursting; hastened
prayer, that the British fleet covered his face and his stars. Had he deck. Nelson feared that some fatal up on deck. By this time all feding
might be distinguished by but concealed these badges of honor cause prevented him, and repeatedly below the breast was gone; and Nelscm,
humanity in the victory from the enemy, England perhaps would cried: " Will no onebring Hardyto me? having made the surgeon ascertain this,
which he ecpected. Setting not have had cause to receive with sor he must be killed; he is surely dead!" said to him: " You know I am g^e. I
an example himsdf, he twice gave orders row the news of the battle of Trafalgar. €L An hour and ten minutes elapsed know it. I feel somethmg nsmg m my
to cease firing on the Redoubtable, sup The cockpit was crowded with wounded from the time when Nelson received breast," putting his
posing that ^e had anddyingmen; over his wound before
struck, because her whose bodies he Hardy could come . - upon
What is this, the sound and rumor? to him. Theyshook Many a hundred years passed over have Beattjr's mquin^
guns were silent; was with some diffi-
for, as she carri^ What is this that all men hear, hands m sUence; they labored de<tf and blind; whether his p^
Z4ke the wind in hottow vaXleys when culty conveyed,
no flag there was no' and laid upon a Hardy in vain Never tidings reached their sorrow, never was very ^t, he
means of instant
the storm is drawing near, struggling to sup- hope their toil mightfind, rq)lied, & if^t
pallet in the mid
ly ascertaining the like the rotting on of the ocean in the
eventide offear? shipmen's berth press the feelings Now at last they've heard hear it, that he wish^ he
fact From this C It was soon per of that most pain- <^nd the cry comes down the. mnd, w^ dead Yet,
ship, whidi he had *T is the people marching on. fill and yet sub- And their feet are m^ctung on, said he, m a loww
ceived, upon exam
t^us twice spared, Whither go they, and whence come they?
What are these of whom ye tell? ination, that the limest moment. Oye rich men, hear and tremble,for with jrace,
he received his wound was mortal. C" Well. Hardv " words the sound ts nfe: ' like to live a hWe
death. A ball fired In wfiat country are they dweUing 'twixt
This, however, was said Nelson, " how "Once for you and death we labored: l(^er And
from her mizzen- the gates of heaven and hell?
Are they mine or thine for money? Will concealed from all g^ the day w^ changed henceforward is the strife, afew mmutes
tc^, which, in the except Captain us? " " Very well " We are men, and we shall battle for the inthe s^e
then situation of they serve a master weU? replied Hardv* world of men andlife; tone, he added:
Hardy, the chap
the two vessels, Still the rumor's marching on. lain, and the medi "ten shiS have And our host is marching on,"
was not more than, Hark the rotting of the thunder?
^een yards firom Lo, the sun! and lo, thereunder
cal attendants. He
t^'^van'' ®have "U it war, then? Willyeperish as thedry pSltoSTtf
that part of the
deck where he was
Riseth wrath and hope and wonder.
And the host comes marching on.
himself being cer
tain, from the sen
sation in his back,
Isit^e'^ertp'Af^.letyourhope
standingjstruckthe
^ulet on his left Forth they come from grief and torment;
^d the gush of
blood he fdt mo
Come%ZmeTM life awaketh, and the Pjed
Moulder, about a
quarter after one,
on they wend towards health and
mirth,
mentarily within
his breast, that no
"'''lAThtiXm^cUng^.-
just in the heat of AU the wide world is their dwelling, human care could round, and have "On we march then, we the workers, after fj®
action.He fdl upon every comer of the earth. avail him, insisted
•his face, on the Buy them, sell them for thy service! that the sturgeon
spot which was Try the bargain what *tis worth. should leave him,
covered wi^ his For the days are marching on. and attend to
P«or secretary's These are they who build thy houses, tiiose to whom he of ^ sh^ have banner that we bear,
blood. Hardy, who weave thy raiment, win thy wheat. might be usefrd; struckl" Hardy And the world is mmching oru gw^ajcd ^
a few steps Smooth the rugged, fill the barren, turn "for," said he,"you answered, " There Hark the rotting of the thunder?
from him, turning the bitter into sweet, can do nothing for was no fear of Lo, the sun! and lo, thereunder Sfe
rwmd, saw three AU for thee this day—arul ever. What me." All that could that." Then, and Riseth wrath and hope and wonder
men raising him reward for them is meet be done was to fan not till then. Nel- And the host comes marching on, ^emy ^
up ** They have Till the host conies marcfung on? himwith paper,and son spoke of him- «The March of the Workers," by William Manis impossible
doneformeat last. (Conduded on next page) fr^uently to give ^ soing ^ perceive them
Hardy,"said he. "I him lemonade to
hope no^" cried Hardy. " Yes," he alleviate his intense thirst. Hewas in great overwithmesoon.Comenearertome.Let di^rtly;
relied; my backbone isshot throu^." pain, and expressed much anxiety for the my dear Lady HamUton have my hair, " a
Tet even now, not for a moment losing event of the action, which now began to and all other things belonging to me." bargamed for ^"^enly. ^^^d a
hispresent ofmind,he ob8erved,a8 tiiey declare itself. As often as a ship struck, Hardy observed that he hoped Mr. stronger voice, he sad. Mct^H^
wwe cwrj^ing him ^wn the ladder, that the crew of the Victory hurrahed: and at Beatty could yet hold out some pro^
the tiller ropes, which had b^ diot every hurrah a visible expression of joy pect of life. " O no." he replied; « it S8
were not yet replaced, and ordered gleamed in the eyes and marked thecoun- inqx)asible. My back is shot throu^^ hui^f lie
Mtnewon^shouldbezoveimmediately: tenance of tiie dsring hero. But he became Beatty will tell you so." Hardy then, while I live. Hardy,
wtcai*i that he mi|^t not be seen by the impatient to seeHs^yiandasthatofficer oncc more, shook hands with hun. and Nelson, m^ectudly endeavoring to
Page 164 ^LBBRSr flUBBARD^S
raise himself from the bed:," do you
andior." His previous orders for pre
paring to anchor had shown clearly he
firaaw the necessity of this. Presently,
calling Hardy back, he said to him, in
alowvoice;"Don'tthrowmeoverboard;"
tod he desired that he might be buried
by his parents, unless it should please the
King to orderotherwise. Then reverting
to private feelings: " Take care of my
dearLadyHamilton, Hardy: take care of
p<»r Lady Hamilton. "Kiss me. Hardy,"
s^d he. Hardy knelt down and kiss^
his dieek; and Nelson said, ** Now I am
^tisfied. Thank God, I have done my
dutyI" 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
rcpUed, " God bless you. Hardy," And
Hardy Aen left him—^forever. Nelson
now desired to be turned upon his right
side, and said, " I wish I had not left
the deck; I shall soon be gone."
Death was, indeed, rapidlyapproaching.
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 mydaughter
Horatia^ as a legacy to my country.**
His articulation now became diffic^t;
but he was distinctly heard to say,
" Thank God, I have done my dutyf"
These words he repeatedly pronounced;
and they were the last words which he
"^ered. He expired at thirty minutes
after four—^three hours and a quarter
after he had received his wound.
—^Robert &uthey.
do not lack strength; they lack
will.—Victor Hugo.
a^UL stood on the bank of the
^ver ofLife, and it had to cross it.
And first it found a reed, and it tried
to CTOss with it. But the re^ ran into its
hand at the top in fine splinters and bent
when it leaned on it. Then the soul found
a staff and it tried to cross with it: and
the sharp end ran into the groimd, and
t^e soultried to draw it, but it couldnot;
tod it stood in the water by its staff.
Then it got out tod found ,a broad
thick log, tod it said, With this I will
cross.'* And it went down into the water.
But the log was too buoytot, it floated,
tod almost drew the soul from its feet.
C And the soul stood on the btok tod
cried: " Oh, River of Life! How am I to
cross; I have tried all roads tod they
have failed me? "
And the River toswered, " Cross me
alone." ^ of suspicion produces strtoge acoustical
And the soid went down into the water,
tod it crossed.—" The River of Life,**
by Olive Schreiner.
Joy is not in things; it is in us.—^Wagner.
|p<HEN thou seest the great prelates
\3J with splendid mitres of gold tod
precious stones on their heads, tod
silver croziers in htod; there they sttod
at the altar, decked with fine copes tod
stoles of brocade, chtoting those beauti
ful vespers tod masses, very slowly, tod
with so many grtod ceremonies, so mtoy
orgtos and choristers, that thou art
struck with amazement . . . .
Men feed upon the vtoities tod rejoice
in these pomps, tod saythatthe 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 tod 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 metos of support. But dost thou
know what I would tell thee? In the
primitive church the chalices were ot
wood, the prelates of gold; in these days
the Church hath chalices of gold tod
prelates of wood.—Savonarola.
Quiet minds cto not be perplexed or
frightened, but go on in fortune or mis
fortune at their own private pace, like a
clock during a thunderstorm.
—^Robert Louis Stevenson.
Consider how few things are worthy of
anger, tod thou wilt wonder that toy
fools should be wroth.—^Robert Dodsley.
jT takes,** says Thoreau, in
the noblest tod most useful
passage I remember to have
read in toy modem author,
" two to speak truth—one
to speak tod toother 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 toger or a grain
effects, tod makes the ear greedy to
remark offence. Hence we find those who
have once quarreled carry themselves
disttotly, tod are ever ready to break the
truce. To speak truth there must be
moral equality or else no respect; tod
hence between parent tod child inter
course is apt to degenerate into a verbal
fencing bout, tod misapprehensions to
become ingrained. And there is toother
side to this, for the parent begins with
to imperfect notion of the child's ch^-
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; tod wher
ever a person ftocies himself unjustly
judged, he at once tod finally giv^es up
the effort to speak truth so With oi^
chosen friends, on the other hand, tod
still more between lovers (for mutual
imdersttoding is love's essence), the
truth is easily indicated by the one tod
aptly compr^ended by the other.
A hint taken, a look imderstcwd, con
veys tihe gist of long tod delicate ex-
pltoations; tod where the life is kno^,
even yea tod nay become liiminous. In
the closest of all relations—that of a
love well-foimded tod equally shared-—
speech is half discarded, like a round
about infantile process or a ceremony of
formal etiquette; tod the two com-
mimicate directly by their presences,
tod withfew looks tod fewer words coi^
trive to share their good and evil tod
uphold each other's hearts in joy. For
love rests uix>n a phjrsical basis; it is a
familiarity of nature's making tod apart
from voluntary choice. Understtoding
has in some sort outrun knowledge, for
the affection perhaps begto with the
acquainttoce; tod as it was not made
like other relations, so it is not, like them.
Page 165
to be perturbed or douded. Each knows
more thto cto be uttered; each lives by
faith, tod believes by a natural com
pulsion; tod between mto tod wfe the
Itoguage of the body is largely developed
tod grown strtogely doquent a»>The
thought that prompted tod was con
veyed in a caress would only lose to be
set down in words—^ay, althoui^ Shake
speare himsdf should be the scribe.
—^Robert Louis Stevenson.
so so
Co-operation is not a sentiment—it is to
economic necessity.—Charles Steinmetz.
£•» So
jf^fOUTH has a certain mdtocholy
tod sadness, while Age is valitotly
cheerful . . . . A chief lesson of youth
should be to learn to enjoy solitude—
a sourceof peace tod happiness... In my
years of youth I was delighted when the -
doorbell rtog, for I thought, now it
(the great romtotic adventure) had
come. But in later years my feding on
the same occasion had something rather
akin to terror—^I thought, there it comes!
—Schopenhauer.
so so
To write well is to think well, to feel
wdl, tod to render well; it is to possess at
once intellect, soul, tod taste.—^Buffon.
so so
|[PIRITUAL forces when manifested
in man exhibit a sequence, a succes
sion of steps. It follows, therefore, that
when a mto at one period of his liife has
omitted to put forth his strength in a
work which he knows to be in harmony
with ^e divine order of things, there
comes a time, sooner or later, when a
void will be perceived; when the fruits
of his omitted action ought to have ap
peared, tod do not; they are the missing
litilfiB in the chain of consequences. The
measure of that void is the measure of his
past inaction, tod that mto will never
quite readi tiie same levd of attainment
that he mi^t have touched, had he
divindy energized his lost moments.
—^Priedridi Froebd.
so s o
Whoever serves his country wdl has
no ne^ of tocestors.—^Voltaire.
 Page 167
Page 166 'BLBBRT flUBBARD'S
N sober verity I will con names are landmarks in literature, to himself, it would be the better for us all.
head, etc.,—the finer the flesh there find that eccentricities no less striking What can be more reasonable than this
fess a truth to thee, reader. of;'* and what are commonly the world's
I love a Fool—as naturally have also been recorded of them. daily review of a life that we can not
received fools but such whereof the world warrant for a moment? Our fate is set,
as if I were of kith and kin —Edgar Saltus.
is not worthy? And what have been some and the first breath we draw is only our
to him. When a child, with of the kindliest patterns of our> species,
(Mdlike apprehensions, that dived not _ 18 dangerous for a man too sud first motion toward our last. There is a
but so many darlings of absurdity, min denly or too easily to believe him great variety in our lives, but all tends
bdow the surface of the matter, I read ions of the goddess, and her white boys? to the same issue.
those Parables—not guessing at the self. Wherefore let us examine, watch,
Reader, if you wrest my words beyond observe, and inspect our own hearts, for We are bom to lose and to peri^, to
involvedwisdom—had more yearnings their fair construction, it is you, and hope and to fedr,
we ourselves are
towards that sim not I, that are the to vex ourslves
ple architect, that It hain t no use togrumble and complane; our greatest flat And mayby, whSlse ym^re wundem who and others, and
April Fool, terers. We should You've fool-like lent yourumbrelV to,
'built his hou^ up> It *sjest as cheapand easy to rejoice.— —Charles Lamb. every night call there is no anti
on the sand, than When Godsorts out the weather and ser^s And want it—ouftt pop the sun. dote against a com
I entertain^ for rain, /f^CHOPEN-
ourselves to an ac- And you'tt beglad you hain'tgot none! mon ^amity but
count ^
his more cautious Wy rain *s my choice. O HAUER'S It aggervates the farmers, too— virtue; for the
neighbor;lgrudged What infirmity They's too much wet, er too much sun, foimdation of true
Men ginerly, to dtt intents— diaracterwas made have I mastered
at the haird cen- up of that com Er work, er waitin' round to do joy is in the con
sure pronounced Although they're apt to grumble some— bination today? What pas Before the plowin''s done: science
upon tile quiet soul Puts most theyr trust in Providence, of seem sionopposed?Vhiat And mayby, likeas not,the wheat. —Seneca.
ing contradictions temptation re
thatkeptl^talent; takes things as they come— which is the pecu Jest as ifs lookin* hard to beat.
£ud—prizing their That is, the common^ity liarity of all great
sisted? What virtue Will ketch the storm—andjest about U every man's
amplicity b^^d Of men that's lived as long as me men. He had the acquired? ac> The time the corn's a-jinttn out, life pilgrim
1^.moreprovident Has watchedthe world enughtolearn audacity Our vices will abate
These-here cy-clones a-fool^' age, however un-
and, to my ap- They're not the boss of this concern. hood, andof child
the tim
of themselves if
And back'ard crops!—and wind and blest, there are
^^dbiisnsiaa, some they be brought rain!— „ . .
With some, of course, ifs different— idity of genius every day to the holy places where
what tmfenumne
I saw young men that knowedit all, He was suspicious shrift.Oh the bless
And yit thecom thafs waUerd down he is made to
urariness of thdr
like the way things went of every one, and ed sleep that fol May elbow up agtdn! feel his kinship
competitors — I ' On this terrestchul ball;— ineffably kind- lows such a diaryl
They hain't no sense, as I can see,
Fermortuls,sichasus,tobe
with the Divine;
felt a kindness, where the heavens-
t h a t almost
Butall the same,the rain,some way. hearted. With stu
C Oh the tran A-faultin' Natchufs unsemtents, bend low over his
amounted to a teti'
Rainedjest as hard onpicnic day; pidity in every quillity, liberty, And lockin' horns with Providence! head and ax^els
dre, for those five
Er, when they raUly wanted it. form he was blunt, and greatness of
It mayby wotdd n't rain a bit! even to violence; that mind which It hain't nousetogrumble andcomplme; come and minister
thoughtless vir yet his manner It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. unto him These
gins. I have never In tJiis existunce, dry and wet is a spy upon it-
and courtesy were sdf, and a private When God sorts out the weather and are the places of
itu<ie an acquain Witt overtake the best of men— such as is attri sends rain, , . sacrifice, the meet
tance since that Some little shift o* clouds 'II shet censor upon its ing-ground of mor
buted to gentie- own manners I W'y, rain's my choice.
lasted, or a friend- The sun off now and then,— men of the old " Wet-Weather Talk,"*6y Janes Whttconih IHley tal and immortal,
ship that answered. It is my custom the tents of trial
(Cencluded oa nert page) school. If he was every night, so
wi|b any that had an egotist, he was wherein are waged the great spiritual
not some tincture of the absurd in their soon as the candle is out, to nm over we
also charitable to excess; and who shall words and actions of the past day; ^d I combats of man's life. Here are the tears
charters I venerate an honest obli say that charity is not the egotism of and agonies and the bloody sweat 6f
quityofimderstanding. The more laud let nothing escape me, for why should Grkhsemane Happy the man who,
great natures? He was honesty itself, I fear the si^t of my errors when I can
able blundeiB a man shall gnmtnit inyour and yet thought every one wished to looking ba<^, can say of himsdf:" Here,
o^npray, tiie more tests he g^veth you admonish and forgive myself? I was a
cheat him. To mislead a possible thief little too hot in such a dispute; ^ too. was the victory!"
Mt he^ mt betray oroverreach you. he labeled his valuables Arcana Medica, —^Michad Monahan.
I low the safety which a palpable haUu- opinion might well have^ been witimeW,
put his bank notes in dictionaries and for it gave offence and did no good. The
ci^^on waitants, thfe security which a his gold pieces in ink bottles. He slept Habit is a cable; we weave a thread of it
wcJrd outofse^n ratifies. And takemy thing was true; but all truths are not to
on the ground floor, that he might be spoken at all times. every day, and at last we can not break
word for this,reader, and say a fool told escape easily in case of fire. If he heard it.—^Horace Mann.
it jreu,if you please, that he whohath not I would I had held my tongue, for there
a noise at night he snatched at a pistol, is no contending, either with fools or
a dr^'of folly inhismixture hatihi points which he kept loaded at his bedside .... The highest and most lofty trees have
0^ mu^ worse matter in his composi Kant's biography is full of similar va
with our superiors. I have done ill, but
it shall be so no more. the most reason to dread the thunder.
tion. It is observed that **thefoolisher garies, and one has but to turn to the —Charles Rollin.
fowl^ or fish, woodcock, dotterels, cod's history of any of the thinkers whose
If every tnfln would but then look into
 Page 168 ALBERT HUBBARD^S
ECONDLY, I ciyoin and re
quire that no ecclesias
tic, missionary, or ndmster
of anysect whatsoever,shall
ever hold or exercise any
station or duty whatsoever in the said
CoUege; 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 mnlring 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
cnphans, who are to derive advantage
from thte 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 instill into the minds of the
scholars, the purest principles of mor-
aUty, 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 arid industry, adopting at
the same time, such religious tenets as
their matured reason may enable them
to prefer.—^From the Will of Stephen
Girard.
Hubbard's Note:—^The heirs tried to break this
will with Daniel Webster's assistance. Their con-
tmtion was founded largely upon this paragraph.
Nevertheless the will prevailed before the Su
preme Court of the United States.
Go not abroad; retire into thyself, for
truth dwells in the ixiner man.
—Saint Augustine.
fHOULD the wide world roll away,
_ ' Leaving black terror,
Lrimitless night.
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential.
If thou and thy white arms were there
And the fall to doom a long way.
—St^hen Crane.
You believe that easily which you hope
for earnestly.—^Terence.
HRffiNDS; I know how vain it is to
©Id 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 ofthis life, or the door ofanother,
or whether the night here is not some
where else a dawn. Neither can we tell
which is the more fortunate—^the child
d3ring in its mother's arms, before its
lips have learned to form a word, or he
who joumejrs alt 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 coflBn, " Whither? " The poor
barbarian, weeping above his dead, can
answerthese questions as intelligenliy as
the robed priest of the most authentic
creed. The tearful ignorance of the One
is just as consoling as the learned ^i^d .
immeaning words of the other. No nttui,
standing where the horizon of a life^has
touched a grave, has any right to px;oph-
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,
and I had rather live and love where
death is king, than have eternal life
where love is not. Another life is naught,
imless we know and love again the ones
who love us here.
They who stand with aching hearts
around this little grave need have no
fear. The larger and the nobler faith in
aU that is and is to be, tells us that
deatJi, even at its worst, is only perfect
rest. We know that throu^ 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.
Out of the dusk a shadow,
We, too, have oiw re Then a spark;
ligion, and it is this:
Help for the living— Out of the cloud a silence.
Hope for the dead.
Then, a lark;
—^Robert G. IngersoU.
Out of the heart a rapture.
T is a mistake to
Then, a pain,
suppose that m
planting colonies in the Out of the dead, cold ashes.
New World the nations
of Europe were moved Life again.
mainly by a philan "Evolution," by John BanisterTabb
thropic impulse to ex
tend the area of liberty and civilization.
Colonies were planted for the pxirpose 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.
€[ While our Revolution was in progress
Adam Smith, when discussing and con
demning the colonial s3rstem, declar^
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 coimtry 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-
dustiy of the colonies was the influence
of this policy on political and commer
cial morality. The innumerable arbitiary
laws enacted to enforce it created^ a
thousand new crimes.Transactions whidi
the colonists thought necessary to the
welfare, and in no way repugnant to the
' moral sense of good men, were forbidden
Page 169
under heavy penalties. 4[ Hiey became a
nation of law-breakers. Nine-tentte of
the colonial men^ants were smu^ers.
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 Hanco^ wasthe
prince of contraband traders; and with
John Adams as his counsel, was on
trial before the ad
miralty coxui: in Bos
ton, at the exact hour
of ^e shedding of the
first bloOd at Lexing
ton, to answer for a
^00,000 penalty al
leged to have been in*
ciured as a smu^er.
C 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 whidi oppressed and tortured the
industry of our fathers, and would have
r^uced them to perpetual vassalage for
the gain of England.—James A. Garfield.
E who every morning plans the
transactions of the day, and follows
out that plan, carries a thread that will
^ide him through the labyrinth of the
most busy life. The orderly arrangement
of his time is like a ray of light whidi
darts itsdf through his occupations.
But where no plan is laid, where the
disposal of time is surrendered merely
to the chance of incidents, all things lie
huddled together in one chaos, which
admits of neither distribution nor re-
- view.—^Hugo.
Amid my list of blessings infinite,
Stands t^is iJie foremost,
•" That my heart has bled."
—^Edward Young.
It is not he that enters upon tmy career,
or starts in any race, but he that runs
well and perseverin^y that gains the
plaudits of others, or the approval of.his
own conscience.—Alexander Campb^.
 Page 170 ^LBBRar HUBBARD'S
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
Oratian, the sage, toured Penguinia in
the time of the last of the Draconide
(fynasty. Travelling one day through a
lovdy valley where cow bells tinld^ 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
sueUing an infant; a youngster was
playing with a big dog; a blind old man,
seated in the sun, was drinking in the
l^t of day through half-opened lips.
C The master of die 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."
Bven as he ^ke, however, a shepherd
passed, playing a martial air upon his
baginpes
" What is that lively tune? " demanded
Gratian
" That *s our war hymn against the
Marsouins," repliedthe peasant." Every
body here sings it. Little children Imow
it before they can talk. We are all good
Penguin patriots."
" You don't like the Marsouins? " • itinerary
" We hate Aem."
" For what reason do you hate them ? "
" How can you ask? They are our
neigihbors, are n't they? "
" Undoubtedly."
" Well, that *8 the reason the Penguins
hate the Marsouins."
" Is that a reason? "
" Certainly. T^o says ' nei^bors ' says.
enemies' ^ Look at the field which
toudies mme. It belongs to the man I
hate most in the world. After him my
worst enemies are the people of the
village on the othier slope of the valley
at the foot of that birch wood. In this
narrow valley, closed in on all sides,
^ere is only that village and my village.
^ course ^ey are enemies. Every time
our c^ps meet theirs, they exchange
' ic^tSuand blows. And you don't seewhy
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.
(HIS Mahomet, son of Abdallah,
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 ni^t 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 from planet to planet. He pretended
that it was five htmdred 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
press^ this celestial journey, for they
di^ded raillery and ration^ization.
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
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
brealdng. 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 9^ 9^
The Koran is a rhapsody, without
connection, without order, and without
art.... It is a poem or a sort of rhjrmed
prose, consisting of about three thousand
verses No poem ever advanced the
fortunes of its author so much as the
Koran
He has the hiunility to confess that he
himself will not enter Paradise because of
his own merits, but purely by the wUl
of God. Throu^ this same pure Divine
Page 171
-^aJRsAI* J3001C
will, he orders that a fifth part of the served and morality to flourish. Lat^,
spoil shall always be reserved for the disgraced and poor, he teaches them
Prophet He practices them, alike in greatness and
It is not true that he excludes women in hmnility. He renders virtue ami
from Paradise. It is hardly likely that able, and has for his disciples the most
so able a man should have ^osen to em ancient and wisest people upon the
broil himself with that half of the human earth • • j
race by which the other half is led Mahomet is admired for having raised
Abulf^a relates that an old woman one himself from being a camel driver, to be a
day importuned him pontiff, a legislator, apd
to tell her what she a monardi, for hav^
must do 'to get into AprU, AprU, subdued Arabia, whidi
Paradise. " My good Laugh thy girlish laughter; had never before been
subjiigated; for having
lady," said he, " Para
dise is not for old Then, the moment after. given the first shock
women." The good to the Roman Empire
Weep thy girlish tears! in the East, and to that
woman began to weep;
AprU, that mine ears of the Persians But
but the Prophet con
/ admire him still more
soled her by sajring,
" There will be no old
Like a lover greetest, foir having kept peace
in his house amongst,
women, because they If I tell thee, sweetest.
his wives.
will become young
again." This consolat All my hopes and fears, He changed the face of
part of Europe, one
ory doctrine is confirm April, April,
ed in the fifty-fourth half of Asia, and nearly
diapter of the Koran. Laugh thy golden laughter. all of Africa. N^or vm
He forbade wine, be rdigion unlikdy at
cause some of his fol But, the moment after. one time, to subju
gate the whole earth.
lowers once went intox Weep thy golden tears! a On how trivial a
icated to prayers. He
•* Song," hy Wmiam Watson circumstance will revo-
allowed a plurality of
lutions sometimes
wives, conforming in
this point to the immemorial usage of the depend! A blow from a stone< a little
harder than that which he received in
^nentals In short, his dvil laws
are gocxl; his doctrine is admirable for his first battle, might have changed
the destinies of the world.*—Voltaire.
all it has in common with ours, but his
means are shockihg—-charlatanry and
murder ^ He who loveth a book wiH never want a
He is excused by some on the first of faith)^ friend, a wholesome counsellor,
these charges, because, say they, the a cheerful companion, or an effectual
comforter.—Isaac Barrow^
Arabs had a himdred and twenty-four
thousand prophets before him, and there
could be no great harm in the appear /^VERY man will have his own cri-
ance of one more. Men, it is added, re terion in forming his judgment of
others. I depend veiy much on the effect"
quire to be deceived. But how are we to
justify a man who says, " Either be of affliction. I consider how a man comes
lieve that I have conversed with the out of the furnace; gold will lie for a
month in the fun^ace without losing a
Angel Gabriel, or pay me tribute? "
How superior is Confucius—^the first of grain.—Ri^ard Cecil.
mortals who did not claim to have been
favored with divine revelations! He em If wrinkles must be written upon our
brows, let them not be written upon the
ploys neither falsehood nor the sword,
but only reason. As viceroy of a great heart. The spirit should not grow old.
province he causes the laws to be ob- —James A. Garfield,
Pi^e 172 'BLBBRT HUBBARD*S
HERS is nothing to make
one indignant in the mere
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 indigpiation in reflective
minds. It may end by seeming shameful
to all ofiis that some of us have nothing
but campaigning, and others nothing but
unmanly
If now—and this is my idea—^there were,
instead of military conscription, a con
scription of the whole youthfid jwpu-
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 nimierous 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 Itunuious
dasses now are blind, to man's re^ 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 frei^t trains, to fishing fleets
in December, to dish-washing, clothes-
washing, and window-washing, to road-
building and timnd-making, to foundries
and stoke-holes, and to l^e frames of
sl^crapers, wo^d our gilded youtb^ be
drafted off, according to their choice
to get the diildishness loiocked out of
them, and to come back into society
with healthief sympathies and soberer
ideas «•» They would have paid their
blood-tax, done their own part in the im-^
memorial human warfare against nature,
they should tread the earth more proudly,
the women would value them miorehigh
ly, they would be better fathers and
teachers of the following generation.
Such a conscription, wi^ ^e state of
public opinion 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 of
seeing disappear in peace. We should get
toug^ess 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.
MORD, let me never tag amoral to a
tale, nor tell a story without a
meaning.'Make me respect my material
so much that I dare not slight my work.
C Help me to deal very honestly with
words and with people, for they are Iwth
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 niore 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
grateful Amen.—^Henry van Dyke.
jl^HE 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
have achieved it. Better keep yourself
clean and bright; you are the window
through which you must see the world.
—George Bernard Shaw.
Men, even when alone, lighten their
labor by song, however rude it may be.
—Quintilian.
all the time of
my mother and grandmother
deprived of the help of my
youth and strong arm. It
^^^B^^jgave me a pang to think of
tnem 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 so- I
was ambitious to see and leam 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-pastiires
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 stifled
me. I was seized wiA 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
foimtain 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 mimched my last Gruchy apple. The
plates which I saw did not please me:
thCTe were groups of half-naked grisettes,
women bathing and dressing, such as
Devdria and Maurin then drew, and, in
my eyes, seemed only fit for milliners'
and perfumer's advertisements.
Paris appeared to me dismal and insipid.
^OOIC, Page 173
I went to an hotel garni, where I spent
my first night in one continual nifi^t-
mare. I saw again my native village,
and our house, looking very sad and
lonely. I saw my grandmother, mother
and sister, sittmg there spirming, weep
ing, and thinking of me, and prajring
that I might escape from the perdition
of Paris. Then the old demon appeared
again, and showed me a vision of magni
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.
HLIFE without love in it is like a
heap ofashes upon a deserted hearth
->-with ^e 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 throu^ the withered leaves 6^ 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 fortime
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 he
was gone—^his life began to grow in radi
ance and power, like a beacon set high
upon a dangerous shore. In the twili^t
of his days he wrote what I like to think
was his creed—and mine: " I'm going
your way, so let us go hand in hand. You
help me and I '11 hdp you. We shall not
be here very long, for soon death, the
kind old nurse, will come back and rock
us all to sleep. Let us help one another
while we may."—^Frank P. Tebbetts.
The men who try to do something and fail
are infinitely better than those who try to
do nothing and succeed.—^Lloyd Jcmes.
Page 174 ALBERT HUBBARD^S Page 175

URING the first dasrs after voured them all: I studied them, ana- ILLET at that time wore a freely with me, and his remarks cm art
my arrival in Paris my lyzed them, and came back to them con curious garb. A brown over were as manly as th^ were generous and
fixed idea was to find out the tinually. The Primitives attracted me by coat, in color like a stone large-hearted
gallery of Old Masters I their admirable expression of sweet wall, a thick beard and long " Every subject is good," he said. " AH
started early one morning ness, holiness, and fervor The gr^t locks, covered with a wool we have to do is to render it with force
with this intention, but as I did not dare Italians fascinated me by their mastery en cape like that of a coachman, gave and deamess. In art we shoidd have cme
ask my way, for fear of being lauded at, and charm of composition. There were lum a singular appearance The first leaduig thouf^t, and see that we express
I wandered at moments when the timethat I saw him it in eloquent lan
random through Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans arrows of St. Sebas- he reminded me of What the long reaches ofthe peaks ofsong. guage, also that.we
the streets, hop Upon his hoe and gazes upon the ground. tian seemed to the painters of the The rift of dawn, the reddenbtg of the rose? keep it alive in
ing, I suppose, that The emptiness of ages in his face. pierce me, as I Middle Ages. His Through this dread shape the suffering our^ves, and im
the Mus^ would And on his back the burden of the world, looked at the mar reception was cor ages look; part it to otiiers
coxae to meet met Whomadehimdead torapture and despair, tyr of Mantegna. dial, but almost si Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop; as dearly as we
I lost n^sdf sev A thing thatgrievesnotandthatneverhopes, ^ The masters of lent 6^ He took me Through this dread shape humanity stamp a medal
eral daysrunningin Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? that age have an for a philosopher, a betrayed, , , Art is not a plea
thisfruitlesssearch. Wholoosenedarui let down this brutaljaw? incomparable philanthropist, Plundered, profaned and disinherited. sure-trip; it is a
During mywander Whose was the hand that slanted back ix)wer. They make or a politician— Criesprotest to the Judges of the World, battle, a mill that
ings one day I came this brow? you feel in turn the none of whom he A protest that is also prophecy, grinds I am no
across Notre Dame Whose breath blew out the light within jo3rs and the pains cared much to see. philosopher. I do
for the first time. this brain? which thrill their But I talked of art O masters, lords and rulers in all lands.
not pretend to do
It seemed to me souls. But when I to him, and seeing Is this the handiwork you give to God, away with pain, or
1^ fine than the Is this the thing theLord Godmadeandgave saw that draw his Daphnis and This monstrous thing distorted and soul' to Itod a formula
Cathedral of Cou- To have dominion over sea and land; ing of Michel Chloe hanging on quenched? ^ which will make
tances. I thought To trace the stars and search the heavens angelo's represent the wall, I told him Howmilyoueverstraightenup thisshape; me a Stoic, and
that the Luxem for power; ing a man in a what I thought of Touch it again with immortality; indifferent to
bourg was a fine To feel the passion of Eternity? swoon, I fdt that it Give backtheupwardlookingand thebght; evil. Suffering is,
palace, but too Is this the dream He dreamed who was a' different He looked hard atRebuild in it the music and the^ dream; perhaps, the one
regularly beautiful shaped the suns thing. The expres Make right the immemorid ntfamies. thing that gives
DM, but still with a
•—the wcn-k, as it And marked their ways upon the ancient sion of the rdaxed kind of shyness, Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes? an artist power to
were, of a coquet- deep? muscles, the planes and only said a few express himself
ti^ and mediocre Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf and the modeling words in a reply. O masters, lords and rulers in <dl l^'t dearly."
builder Thereis noshape more terrible than this— of that form ex ^ Then I caught How willtheFuture reckon with tms Manse He ^ke In this
At loigth, I hardly More tongued with censure of the world's hausted by physi sight of a sketch of Howanswerhisbrutequestioninthathour manner for some
kiK>w how, I found blind greed— • cal suffering gave a sower. When whirlwinds of rebettion shake the time and then
mysdf on the Pont More fiUed with signs and portents for me a whole series " That would be a world? . . ... stopped, as if
Nettf, TK^ere a mag the soul— of impressions. fine thing," I re How will it be with kingdoms and with afraid of his own
nificent pile, which Morefraught with menace to the universe. I felt as if tor marked, " if you kings—
words 61^ But we
£rota the descrip mentedbythesame had had a coimtry With those who shaped htm to the thmg parted, feding that
tions Whidi had What gulfs between him and the seraphim pains. I had com model.*'
we understood
been g^ven me, I Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him passion upon him. I " Then do you not When thisdumb Terrorshallreplyto God, each other, and
opposed must be Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades? suffered in his body bdong to Paris?" After thesilence ofthecenturies? had laid the foun
l&e liouvre. With- (Condaded on next p«ge)
with his limbs I he asked. " The M"" With the Hoe," Bdunn MarhJuan
ottt delay I turned saw that the man " Yes," I replied, dations of a lasting
iny st^ Ihere and climbed' the great who had done this was able, in a sin^e " but I was brought up in the coimtry." friendship."—"Millet Meets His Future
staircase with a beating heart and the figure, to represent all the good and evil "AhI that is a different story," he said Biographer."—AlfredSensier.
burned steps of a man who feels that the of himianity. It was Michelangelo 1That in his Norman patois; " we must have a
^e ^eat wi^ of his life is about to be explains all. I had already seen some bad little talk." I^APITAL is condensed labor. It xs
(fiilfilled engravings of his work at Cherbourg; Troyon left us alone, and Millet,^ look nothing untU labor takes hold of it.
My hop^ were not disappointed. I but here I touched the heart and heard ing at me some moments in^ silence, Theli'^g laborer setsfr^ thecondensed
seemed to find myself in a world of the voice of him who has haimted me said:" You will not care for my pictures." labor and makes it assume some form of
frieads, in the midst of my own kinsfolk. with such power during my whole life. " You are wrong there," I replied warm utility or beauty. Capital and labor are
My dreams were at leng& realized. For —MiUet's First Visit to the Louvre. ly; " it is because I lUce them that I have one, and they will draw nearer to each
ti&e nea% incmth the Old Masters were my come to see you." other as the world advances in intdlect
i^y oecupation ^ tixe daytime. I de- Adversity has no friends.—^Tacitus. From that moment Millet conversed .and goodnesst-^David Swing.
Page 176 ALBERT HUBBARD^S
was dead. The
fall of the Emperor, her
hero, her Cid, ^d bewil
dered and unnerved her
Frightened at the din of
war that ^ook the whole realm, she
had lived in terror at Malmaison. The
aUied kings paid her every attention,
and in showing the King of Prussia over
her loydy grounds when ^e was ill,
broken out with an eruption, ^e had,
it is said, brou^t on a fat^ relapse.
Murmuring tiie words " Elba "—" Bona
parte"—she died, while her hero was
yet in exile.
It is a revdation of his true character
that before setting out on his last cam
paign he ^ould dcum one day out of the
few fate gave him, and devote it to
memories, to r^rets, to recollections
of fbe 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, wsdked over ^e grounds,
sedng the old familiar places, and think
ing of the " old familiar faces." ^ He
Ulcered in the garden he himsdf had
made, and in which he used to love to
work when he was First Consul, sur
rounded by trees and flowers, and in
haling the breath of nature. He used to
say that he could work better there than
anywhere dse. He wandered through the
park, looking out on the trees he had
planted in those brilliant days long ago.
Ev^y spot had its silent reminder ot
Ivories that were gone, of friends he
would see no more.
He a^ed to be told everything about
Josepl^e—her last days, her sickness,
her dying hours; no details were too triv
ial to escape him. And as they told the
story he would break in with ezdama-
tions of int^est, of fondness, of sorrow.
On this visit to the chateau he wanted
to see everything that could remind
him of her, and of their old life together
-Hthe death-chamber at the last. Here
he would have no companion ** My
daughter, let me go in here ^onel"
and he put Ifortense back, entered,
and dosed the door. He remained a long
while, and when he came out his eyes
showed that he had been weeping.
—^Thomas E. Watson.
(f^OCIETIES exist under three forms
suffic^tly distinguishable. 1. With
out government, as among our Indians.
2. Under governments wherein the wiM
of every one has a just influence, as is
the case in England in a sli^t degree,
and in our states, in a great one. 3. Und«
governments of force: as is the case in
all other monardiies 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
dear in my mind, that the first condition
is not the best. But I bdieve it to be
inconsistent with any great degree of
population. The second state has a great
of good in it. The massof mankind
under that enjoys a precious degree of
liberty and happiness. It has its evils
too: the principrf of which is the turbu
lence to which it is subject. But wei^
thinagainstthe oppressions of monarchy,
and it becomes nothing. I prefer dan
gerous liberty rather than quiet servi
tude. Even this evil is productive of
good It prevents the degeneracy of
government, and nourishes ^a general
attention to the public affairs. I hold
it that a little rebdlion now and then is a
good thing, and asnecessary in ^e ix)lit-
ical world as storms in the phjrsical. Un
successful rebellions indeed generally
establish the encroachments on the ri^ts
ofthe people which have produced them.
An observation of this truth ^ould
render honest republican governors so
mild in their pimishment of rebellions,
as not to discourage them too much. It
is a medicine necessary for the sound
health of government.
—^Thomas Jefferson.
Economising for the purpose of being
independent is one of the soundest
indications of manly diaracter.
—Samuel Smiles.
The true work of art is but a diadow of
the divine perfection.—Michelangelo.
h
g^^^^NERAL.—I have placed
you at the head of the Army
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 Imow that there are some
th^s in regard to which I am not
quite satisfied with you. I bdieve you
to be a brave and sinful soldier, which
of course I like. I also bdieve you do not
mix politics with your profession, in
which you are right. You have confidence
in yoursdf, whi^ is a valuable if not an
indispensable quality. You are ambitious,
which, within reasonable bounds, does
good rather than harm;'but I that
during General Bummde's command of
tiie army you have taken counsd of 3rour
ambiticm and thwarted him as mu(^ as
Srou could, in which you did a great
wro^ to the countiy and to a most
meritorious and honorable brother
officer 9^
I have heard, in such a wjqt 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 geneckls who gain successes
can set up dictators.
What I now ask of you is military suc
cess, and I will risk the dictatorship
The government will support you to
the utmost of its ability, which is neither
more xior less than it has done and will
do for all commanders.
I much fear that the spirit whidi 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.
Ndther 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
deepless vigilance go forward and give
us victories. Yours very truly, Abraham
Lincoln.—(Letter to General J. £boker,
January 26, 1863.)
Page 177
SERVED, with General Welling
ton in the Legislature of Virginia,
before the Revolution, and, during i1^
with Doctor Franklin in"" Omgress I
never heard dther of them speak ten
minutes at a time, nor to any but the
main point, whidi was to diedde flie
question
They laid their dioulders to the great
points, knowing that the litUe ones
would follow of themsdves. If the pres
ent Coi^Eress errs in too much talking,
how can it be otherwise, in a body to
which the peqple send one hundred and
lawyers, whose trade it is to ques
tion everything, 3ndd nothing, and talk
by the hour? That one hundred and
fifty lawjrers should dobusiness together
ou^t not to be espected.
—Thomas Jefferson.
«•»
*^^EEP your minds so filled with
Jh^Truth and Love that sin, dises^
and death can not enter them. It is plain
tliat notliing can be added to the ndod
already fiiU. There is no door through
^Kdiich evil can enttf, and no space for
evil to fill in a mind filled with goodness.
Good thoughts are an inq;>ervious armor;
dad therewith you are completdy shidd-
ed from the attacks of error of every sort.
^ And not only yoursdves are safe, but
all whom your thoughts rest iqxm are
thereby benefited.
The sdf-seeking pride of the evil thinkear
ii^jures 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 dia-
dow of the Almighty. His thoughts can
only reflect peace, good will towards
men, health, and holiness.
—^Mary Baker Eddy.
DREN are much nearer the
.inner truth of things than we are,
for when their instincts are not per
verted by the superfine wisdom of their
dders, they give themsdves up to a
full, vigorous activity Theirs is the
kingdom of heaven.—^Priedridi Froebd.
It is the cause, and not the death, that
makes the martyr.—^Napoleon.
Pagem Page 179
ALBERT HUBBARD^S
THINK 1 knew General irritable and high-toned; but reflection points indifferent; and it may truly be bdieve the government of the
Washington intimatdy and said that never did Nature and fortune United States to be at this moment
and resolution had'obtahied a firm and
thoroui^y: and were I called habitual ascendency over it If ever, combine more perfectiy to make a man the best in the world; but then the
on to ddineate his character, howev^, it broke its bonds, he was most great, and to place him in the same con- . Americans are the best people; and we
it should be in terms like tremendous in his wrath. In his expenses stellation with whatever worthies have have a theory that the government of
tiiese: His mind was great and powerful he was honorable, but exact; liberal in merited from man an everlasting remem eveiy State is always—excepting during
without being of the very first order; his brance. For his was the sin^ar destiny the periods of actual change—that
contribution to whatever promised util- which is best adapted to the circum
penetration strong, thmtgti not so acute i^; but frowning and unyidding on all and merit of leading the armies of his
as that of a Newtra, Bacon or Locke; visionary projects, and all the imworthy coxmtry successfully through an arduous stances and wants of its inhabitants.
and, as as he war, for the estab- But they who
calls on his diarity. aigue in favor of a
smr, no judgment lishmentof its inde
Do not we^, maiden, for war is kind. His heart was not There is no tongue to speak his eulogy; republic, in lieu of
was ever sounder. pendence; of con
Because your lover -threw wild hands warm in its affec
ducting its coundls
Too brightly burned his splendor for our a mixed monardiy,
It was slow in ope- toward the shy tions; but he ex eyes;
^on, be^ little And the affrighted steed ran on alone, through the birth for Great Britain,
actly calculated Far easier to condemn his injurers. are, we suspect, ig-
aided imas^a- of a Government
Do not weep. eveiy man's value,
new in its forms
Thanfor the tongue to reach his smallest norantofthegenivs
tion or invention, War is hind. and gave him a worth.
but sure in condu- and prindples, im- of their country
solid esteem pro
til it had settied
He to the realms of sinfulness came down. men Democracy
sion Hence ^e Hoarse, booming,drums of the regiment. portioned to it To teach mankind; ascending then to God,
down into a quiet forms no element in
cranmon remark of Little soii/tf tpho thirstfor fight. His person, you Heaven unbarred to Urn her lofty gates,
his officers, of the and orderly train; the materials of
These men taere bom to drill and die. know, was fine; his
and ofscrupulously
To whom his country hers refused to ope. English character.
{^vantage he de The unexplained glory flies above them. stature exactly Ungrateful land! to its owninjury. An Englishman is,
rived from coun what one would obeying the laws Nurse of his fate! Well, too, does thts
Great is the batHe-god, and his kingdom— through the whole from his mother's
cils of war, where, Afield where a thousand corpses lie. wish; his deport instruct
hisaring all sugges of his career, womb, an aristo
ment easy, erect That greatest ills fall to the perfectest. crat. Whatever
tions, he sdected and noble; ^e best civil and military, And, midst a thousand proofs, let this
whatever was best; Mother, whose heart hung humble as a of which the his rank or birth,what-
horseman of his suffice— ever fortune, trade,
and certainly, no button
age, and the most tory of the world That, as his exile had no parallel,
general planned On the bright, splendid shroud of your son. furnishes no other or profession may
graceful figure that So never was there man more great than be his fate, he is,
hii battles more Do not weep. oould be seen on example.... he.
judiciously «•» War is kind. He has often de- or wishes or hcq)e8
horseback Al ** On Dante," by Michelangelo
But if deranged dared to me that to be, an aristo
" If War Be Kind," by Stephen Crane thoughin the cirde crat. The insatiable
during the course of his friends, he considered our
^ the action, if any member of his plan new constitution as an experiment on love of caste that in En^and, as in
where he migh^ be unresOTed with Hindustan, devours all hearts, is con
was dislocated by sudden circumstances, safety, he took a free share in conversa the practicability of republican govern^
he was dow in a readjustment. The ment, and with what dorc of liberty fined to no walks of sodety, but per
tion, his colloquial talents were not above vades eyery degree, from the highest to
oncMquence was tiiat he often fedled in mediocrity, possessing ndther copious map could be trusted, for his own good;
tte fidd, and rardy against an enemy in ness of ideas nor fluency of words. In that he was determined the experiment the lowest. Of wl^t conceivable use,
station, as at Bostra and York. He was should have a fair trial, and would lose then, would it be to strike down the
public, when called on for a sudden lo^ patricians that have descended to
Iz^pableoffear,meetingpersonaldanger opinion, he was xmready, short and the last drop of his blood in supi^rt of
with the calm^ unconcern. embarrassed Yet he wrote readily, it. I do believe that General Washin^on us from the da^ of the Normans and
letups the strcmgest feature in his had a firm confidence in the durability Plantagenets, if we of the middle dass—
rather difiusely, in an easy and correct who are more endaved than any other
cha^cter was prudence, never acting style. This he had acquired by conver of our Government. I fdt on his death,
to this passion—are prepared to lift up,
^sideration,
®verywas
cfa'cumstance, eveiy con sation with the world, for his education with my countrymen, that, " Verily a
maturely weired; re- very great man hath fallen this day in from amongst oiu^ves, an aristocracy
was merely reading, writing and common
Iraini^ he saw a doubt, but, when arithmetic, to which he added surveying Israd.*'—^Thomas Jefferson. of mere Wealth—not less austere, not
once deddied, going throi^lh with his less selfish—only less noble than that .we
at a later day. His time was employed in had deposed. No! whatever changes in
purpo^, whether ol^tades opposed. His action diiefly, reading little, and that The only hope of preserving what is best
uitq^ty w^ mo^ pure, his justice the lies in the practice of an immense charity, the course of time education may and
only in agriculture and English histoiy. will effect,- we do not bdieve that
mdsjt inflexible I have evw known, no His correspondence became necessarily a wide tolerance, a sincere respect for
n^tivra of interest or "i^flflnpiiTiity, of »tensive, and, with journalizing hh opinions that are not ours. En^and, at this moment, contains even
l^^d^p or l^tred, bdn^ able to bias agricultural proceedi^, occupied most —^P. G. Hamerton. the germs of genuine republicani^
^s decision. He was, indeed, in every of his Idsure hours within doors.
We do not, then, advocate the adoption
s«^ Of the wcn^, a wise, a good and a On the ^ole, his character was, in its Books are the ever-burning lamps of of ddnocratic institutions for sudi a
Cl^t man' His temper was nafursAy mass, perfect; in nothing bad, in few accumulated wisdom.—G. W. Curtis. people. But the examples hdd forth to
Page 180 'BLBBRSr WUBBARD^S
US by file Americans, of strict economy,
of peaceftil non-interference, of universal
education, and of other public improve
ments, m^, and, indeed, must be
emulated by the Government of this
country, if the people are to be flowed
even the chance of surviving a competi
tion with that republican commimity.
—^Richard Cobden.
Freedom is the one purport^ wisely
aimed at, or xmwisely, of ^ man's
strug^es, toilings and sufferings, in this
earth.—Carlyle.
'S to the position that " the people
alwajrs 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 millaTmintn will
be, ocmsiderable. Pure democracy, like
pure rum, easily produces intoxication
and with it a thousand pranks and fool
eries
I do not espect mankind will, before the'
millennium, be what they ought to be;
and therefore, in my opinion, every
political t&eoiy which does not regard
them as being what they are, will prove
abortive «•> 9^
Yet I wi^ to see all unjust and unneces
sary discriminations everjrwhere abol-
i^ed, and that the time may come when
aU our inhabitants of every color and
discrimination shall be free and equal
partakers of our political liberties.
—^John Jay.
ET it never be forgotten that it is
not b^i;,means of war that states are
rendered fit for tlie eiyojrment of consti
tutional freedom; on the contrary, whilst
terror and bloodied reign in the land,
involving men's minds in the extremities
of hopesand fears, there can be no proc
ess of thou^t, no education going on,
^y which alone can a people be prepared
^ the enjoyment of rational liberty.
—^Richard Cobden.
COUNT, I have made
several designs in accordance
with the ideas which you
suggested, andif Ibelieve my
flatterers, I have satisfied
them all. Yet I have not satisfied my own
judgment, since I fear that I shall not
have pleased yoxu^. I send the designs
and beg that you will make a selection,
if you think any of them worthy of
acceptance ^ £•»
Our Lord the Pope has done me
great honor by throwing a considerable
burden on my shoiilders—^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 hi^er spheres—should like to dis
cover Ae 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
shoidd be with me 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.-r-Letter from Raphael to
Count Castiglione.
iE know that a statement proved to
_ be good must be correct New
thou^ts are constantly obtaining the
floor. These two theories—^that all is
matter, or that all is Mind—^will dispute
the ground, imtil one is acknowledge to
be the victor. Discussing his campaign,
General Grant said: " I propose to fi^it
it out on this line, if it takes all smnmer."
Science says: All is Mind and Mind's
idea. You must fi^t it out on this line.
Matter can afford you no aid.
—^Mary Baker Eddy.
Page 181
are the times that try •HARDLY know whethw you would
men's souls. The siunmer ^^_^like my writing to you; yet I fed
soldier and the sunshine strongly disjxjsed so far to presume on
patriot will, in this crisis, the old rdation which existed between us
shrink from the service of as to express my earnest hope that jrou
will not attach too much importwce to
his country; but he that stands it now, your disappointment, whatever it may
deserves the love and thanks of man and
woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily have been, at the recent examination. I
conquered; yet we have this consolation believe that I attach quite as much value
as is reasonable to
with us, that the university distinc
harder the conflict. weary folk toUy black with tions; but it would
the more glorious be a grievous evil
the triumph. What . smoke,
if t^e good of a
we may obtain too And hear but whistles scream, man's reading for
dieap, we esteem
I went, allfreshfromdawn anddew. three years were all
too lightly: 't is to depend on the
deamess only that To carry them a dream. result of a single
gives everything examination, af
its value. I went to bitter lanes and dark. fected as that re
Heaven knows how
to put a proper
Who once had known the sky. sult must ever in
some degree be by
price upon its To carry them a dream—andfound causes independent
goods
It would be strange
They had more dreams than I, of a man's intd-
lectual excellence,
indeed if so celestial "The Dream-Bearer," by Mary Carolyn Davies
I amsayingnothing
an article as free- , « -i. •
dom should not be highly rated. Bntam, but what you know quite w^ already;
still a momentary feding of disaj^int-
with an army to enforce her tyra^y,
^nn declared that she has a right (not ment may tempt a man to do himself
great injustice, and to think that his
only to tax) but " to bind us inall c^es efforts have been. attended by no pro
whatsoever," and if being bound in that portionate fruit. I can only say, for one,
marmer, is not slavery, then is there not that as far as the real honor of Rugby is
such a thing asslavery upon earth. Ey^ concerned,it is the effort,a hundred times
the expression isimpious, for sounlimited more than the issueof the effort, that is hi
a power can belongonly to God.
my judgment a credit to the school:
inasmuch as it shows that the men who
I have as little superstition, in me as go from here to the University do their
any man living, but my secret opimon duty there; and that is the real point
hnQ ever been, and still is, that God
Almighty will not give up a people to which alone to my mind reflects honor
militarydestruction,orleave them unsup- either on individuals or on sodeties;
portedly to perish, who have so ear^ and if such a fruit is in any way traceable
estly and so repeatedly sought to avoid to the influence of Rugby, then I am
the calamities of war, by every decent proud and thanld^ to have had such
method which wisdom could mvrat. a man as my pupil.—^Thomas Arnold.
(Letter to a Student.)
C. Neither have I so much of the infidel
in me, as to suppose that He has r^
linqui^ed the government of the world, Do not keep the alabaster boxes of your
and given us up to the care of devils. love and tenderness sealed up until srour
friends are dead. Fill theh- lives wth
—^Thomas Paine (From The Crisis)
sweetness. Speak approving, dieering
Men and nations can only be reformed words while their ears can hear them and
in their youth; they become incorrigible while liieir hearts can be thrilled by
as they grow old.—^Rousseau. them.—^Henry Ward Beecher.

Page 182 *Bl,BBRSr «UBBARD*S
It is well to bear in mind
that whatever other sins the
South may be called to
bear, when it comes to busi
ness, pure and simple, it is
in t|ie South t^t the Negro is given a
man's diance in the commercial world.
Our greatest danger is that in the great
leap from slavery to freedom we may
overlook tlie fact that the masses of us
^ to live by ^e productions of our
hands, and fail to keep in nnitid that we
shall prosper in proportion as we leam
to dignify and i^orify common labor
^d put brains and skillinto the common
occupatioos of life; shall prosper in
proportion as we leam to draw flie line
between the superficial and the sub*
stahtial, the ornamental gewgaws of life
^nd the useful. No race can prosper till
It l^anis that there is as much dignity
^ tilling a fidd as in writing a poem. It
IS at the bottom of life we must lM«in,
and not at the top.
* «
In ail things tibat are purdy social wc
can be as separate as the fingers, yet
one as the hand in all things essential to
mutual progress.'
"^ere is no defence or security for any
of u$ exc^t in the highest intelligence
and developments of all If anywhere
^efe are efforts tending to curtail the
powth of the Negro, let these
cfifcrts be turned into stimulating, en
couraging, and making him the most
useful wd intdUigent citizen.
l*fcfirly Mrteen milHons of hgnrfp vvill
||d 3^ in pulling the load upward, or
down-
wa^. We shall constitute one-third atid
more_ of the ignorcmce and crime of the
Squ^^ or one-third its intdligence and
ipf^^r^ss; we shall' contribute one-third
to me business aind industrial pros-
1^^ of the South, or we diall prove a
yi^^ble body of death, stagnating,
depressing, retarding every* 'effort to
Qdvande the tx^yjmlitic.
fhe wisest among my race understand
Page 183
nMERSON'S was an Asiatic ministers denounced his heresies, and
that ^e agitation of questions of social ^dled his writings as if they were
mind, drawing its sustenance
equality is the extremest folly, and that partly from the hard soil of packages of dynamite, and the grand
progress in the enjojrment of all the mothers were as much afraid of his new
our New En^and, partly,
privileges that will come to us must be
too, from the air that has teachings as old Mrs. Piozzi was of
the result of severe and constant strug geology. We had had revolutionary ora
gle rather than of artificial forcing. No known Himalaya and the Ganges. ^ tors, reformers, martyrs; it was but a
race that has anything to contribute to
impressed with this character of his few years since Abner Knedand had
the markets of the world is long in any mind was Mr. Burlingame, as I saw him, been sent to jail for expressing an opinion
after his return from his mission, that he about the great
degree ostracized.
—^Booker T. Washington.
said to me, in a Firs^ Cause; but
freshet of hyper-, Tear&, idle tears, I know not what they wehad had nothing
«•»
P our course of life be pure, and
bole, which was the like this man, with
our actions good and right, there
overflow of a chan
nel with a thread
Tear77wm the depth of some divine hfs seraphic voice
is no need for a reward in ano^er world and countenance,
evra though in this one everything to
of truth nmning in
it, ''There are
RisfSithe heart, and gather to his choice vocabu
which the mere worldling attaches a In looking on the happy autumn fields. lary, his refined ut
twenty thousand And thinking of thedays thatare nomore. terance, his gentle
v^ue should be wanting. It indicates a Ralph Waldo Em-
trivial knowledge of the true nature, courage, which,
ersons in China."
and a trivial respect for the true worth What could we
Fresh as the first beam gUttering on a with a different
and dignity of man, if the stimulus of a soil manner, might
reward in another world must be held out
do with this unex
That Mm ourfriends upfrom the under- have been called
pected, unprovided audacity, his tem
in order to rouse him to action worthy of
his nature and high calling.
for, unclassified,
half-unwelcome
Sad ""the last aUch reddens perate statement of
opinions which
The feeling, the consciousness of newcomer,who had
That sinks with all we love below the
having lived and worked in imswerving veraej th^tened to diake
been for a while
fmthfulness to his true nature and dig Sosad,sofresh, thedaysthat are nomore. the existing order
nity ought, without the need or demand
potted, as it were, of thought like an
of any other external satisfaction, to be
in our Unitarian
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer earthquake ^
cold green-house, His peculiarities of
at all times his highest reward We
' weaken and degrade the human nature
but had taken to
growing so fast that
The earliest pipe of haif-awakeri'd birds style and of think
we should strengthen and raise, when we he was lifting ofi
To dying ears, when unto d^ng eyes ing became fertile
dangle before it a bait to go<^ action, The casement slowly grows a glimmering parents of manner
its glass roof and isms, which were
even though this bait be himg out from
another world «•» In using an external
letting in the hail So s^, so strange, the days that are no fair game for ridi
stimulus, however seemingly spiritual,
storms? Here was a more. cule as they ap
protest that out peared in his imi
to call forth a better life, we leave* un flanked the extreme
developed that active and independent Dear as remembefd tators. For one who
left of liberalism, And sweet as those by hopeless fanq/ talks like Emerson
inward force which is implanted within yet so calm and
every man for the manifestation of ideal or like Carlyle soon
humanity.—-Friedrich Froebel.
serene that its Oril^stMt are for others: finds himself sur-
radicalism had the Deep asfirst love, and wild vnthM regret. roimded byacrowd
Harmony is produced by its Prin-
accents of the goS'
pel of peace. Here
Oh, death in life! the days that are no of walking phono
ciple, is controlled by it and abides more. graphs, who me
was an' iconoclast chanically repro
with it. Divine Principle is the Life of without a hammer, " Tears, Idle Tears," by Alfred Tennyson
man. Man's happiness is not, therefore, duce his mental
who took down our
at the disposal of physical sense. Truth idolsfrom their pedestalssotenderlythat and vocal accents. Emerson was before
is not contaminated by error. Harmony it seemed like an act of worship. long talking in the midst of a babbling
in man is as beautifid as in music, and The scribes and pharisees made li^t of Simonetta of edioes, and not unnaturally
discord is unnatural, unreal. his oracular sayings. The lawyers could was now and then himself a mark for
—^Mary Baker Eddy. not find the witnesses to subpoena and the small-rfiot of criticism. He had soon
lie documents to refer to when his case reached that height in the " cold thin
The ladder of life is full of splinters, but came before them, and turned him over atmosphere " of thought where " Vainjy
they always prick the hardest when we 're to their wives and dau^ters The the fowler's eye migh% mark his distant
sliding down.—^William L. Brownell.
 Page 184 ^LBBKT ffUBBARD^S SCjRsAJP JBOOIC P^elSS
fli^t to do him wrong." . . . C I haw the boundaries of thought for the few
known something ofEmerson asa talker, fold. But I have witnessed and taken a may be ready to wdcbme laborers to a
that followed him, and the many who deep interest in every step of the mar new fidd of usefulness, and to dear the
not nearly so much as many others who never knew, and do not know today,
can speak and write of him. It is imsafe velous development and progress which rpad for their progress.
what hand it was which took down their have characterized this century beyond l^is I have tried to do, aswdlinthepier-
prison walls. He was a preacher who fecting and execution of their ideas as in
I«^P8, like ® thinker
a citydealer withtalks, for
a village taught that the religion of humanity in
all the centuries which have gone before.
making such provision as my means have
customer, he has not shown his best €L Measured by the achievements of the
cluded both those of Palestine, nor those years I have seen, I am one of the oldest permitted for the proper education of the
^ innocent reporter of his alone, and tau^t it with such consecrated men who have ever lived; but I do not young medianics and dtizens of my
9&yta&. However that may be in this lips that the narrowest bigot was asham feel old, and I propose to give you the native dty, in order to fit them for the
case, let me con
ed to pray for him recipe by which I reception of new
trast in a sin^e
glance the momen What delightful hosts are they— as from a footstool have preserved my Out of me unworthy and unknown
ideas, social, me
chanical and sden-
nearertothethrone. youth. I have al The vibrations of deathless mudc:
tary effect in con Life and Love! "Hitch your wagon ways given a friend tific—hoping thus
versation of the "With malice toward none, with chairty
two neighbors, Lingeringly I turn away. to a star this was ly welcome to new for all."
to economize and
his version of the ideas, and I have expand the int^-
Hawthorne and This late hour, yet glad enough divinelesson taught endeavored not to
Out of me the forgiveness of miUions lectual as well as
Emerson. Speech They have not withheld from me bythat holy George feel too old to leam,
towards millionSf
the physical forces,
seemed like a kind Herbert whose and thusi though I
Andthe beneficentface of a nation andprovidealarger
of travail to Haw Their high hospitality. Shining with justice and truth. fimd for distribu
words he loved. stand here with the
thorne. One must So, withface lit with delight I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath tion among the va
Give him whatever snows of so many these weeds.
barpoon him like a
cetacean withques- And all gratitude, I stay place belongs to winters upon my Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln,
rious dasses which
him in the liter hrad, my faith in necessarily make
tidns to make him Yet to press their hands and say, ature of our lan human nature, my
Wedded to him, not through union. up the total of
talk at all l!lien " Thanks,—So fine a time! Good guage, ofthe world, But through separation. sodety
belief in the prog Bloom forever, O Republic,
the words came but remember this: If our lives shall
night." ress of man to a
from him at last, the end and aim of better social con
From the dust of my bosom! be such that we
with bashful mani " A Parting Gueat," by James Wfdtcomb RUey his being was to dition, and espe- " Anne Rutledge," by Edgar Lee Masters shall receive the
festations, like make truth lovely dally my trust in glad wdcome of
those of a young girl, almost—wordsthat and manhood valorous, and to bring the ability of men to establish and main " Well done, good and faithful servant,'*
gasped themselves forth, seeming to our daily life nearer and nearer to the tain self-government, are as fresh and as weshall then imow thatwe have not liv^
l^ve a great deal more behind them eternal, immortal, invisible. yoimg as when I began to travel the path in vain.—^Peter Coop^ (From an Ad
oiM th^ told, and died out discon —Oliver Wendell Holmes. of life dress, 1874.)
tented with themselves, like the mono While I have alwasrs recognized that the
logue ofthunder inthesky, which always HEN I was bom, New York con object of business is to make money in an HE less there is- said of physical
gOM off mumbling and g^rumbling as if tained 27,000 inhabitants. The upper honorable manner, I have endeavored to C/ structiu-e and laws, and the more
it had not said half it wanted to, and limits of the city were at Chambers remember that the object of life is to do there is thought and said about moral
ought to say. . . . Street. Not a single frw school, either by good. Hence I have been ready to engage and spiritual law, the higher the standard
To sum .up briefly what would, as it day or night, existed. Generrf Washing in all new enterprises, and, without in of mortals will be, and the farther they
seCTM to me, be the text to be imfolded ton had just entered upon bis first term curring debt, to risk in their promotion will be removed from imbecility of mind
m his biography, he was a man of excd- as President of the United States, the the means which I had acquired, provided and body.
common sense, with a genius so un whole nnmiql expenditures of which did they seemed to me calculated to advance We should master fear, instead of culti
common that he seemed like an exotic not exceed $2,500,000, being about sixty the general good. vating it. It was the ignorance ofour fore
gansplanted from some angelic nursery. cents per head of the population. Not This will account for my early attempt to fathers, in the departments of Imowledge
^ ctoracter was so blameless, sobeauti- a single steam engine had yet been built perfect the steam engine, for my at broadcast in the earth, which made them
that It was rather a standard to or erected on the American continent; tempt to construct the first American more hardy than our trained physiol
judge oth^ bythan to find a place for and the people were clad in homespun locomotive, for my connection with the ogists, more honest than our sleek poli-
on the acde of comparison. Looking at and were characterized by the simple telegraph in a course of efforts to unite tidans.—^Mary Baker Eddy.
llfiB with the profoundest sense of its infi virtues and habits which are usu^ly our coimtry with the European world,
nite significance, he was yet a cheerful associated with that primitive garb. and for my recent efforts to solve the There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
'^>timist, almost toohopefiil,i}eeping into I need not tell you what the country problem of economical steam navigation Rough-hew them how we wUl.
every cradle to see ifitdid not holdababe now is, and what the habits and the on the canals It happens to but few —Shakespeare.
wi^ the halo of a new Messiah about it. garments of its people now are, or that men to change the current of human
'Hfe enriched the treasure-house of liter the expenditure, per capita, of the gen progress, as it did to Watt, to Fulton, to Where law ends tyranny begins.
ature,but,what wasfar more,he enlarged eral government has increased fifteen- Stephenson, and to Morse; but most men —^William Pitt.
 Page 186 "^LBBRSr ffUBBARD'S
Samuel Johnson Meets His Future Biographer
THOMAS DAVIES the
actor, who then kept a book
seller's shop in Russell street,
Covent Garden, told me
that Johnson was very much
lis £riend, 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
iinderstanding and talents, with the
advantage of a liberal education. Though
somewhat pompous, he was an enter
taining companion; and his literary per
formances have no inconsiderable share
of merit. He was a friendly and very
hospitable man. Both he and his wife
(who has been celebrated for her beauty),
thou^ upon the stage for many years,
maintain^ a uniform decency of char
acter; and Johnson esteemed them, and
Hved in as easy an intimacy widi them as
mth 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 rdating them.
He increased my impatience more and
more to see the extracnxlinaiy man whose
works I hi^y valued, and whose con
versation was reported to be so pecul
iarly exc^ent.
At last, on Mcmday the 16th of May^
when I was sitting in Mr. Davies' back
parlor, after having drunk tea with him
and Mrs. Davies, Johmon unexpectedly
came m the dxop; and Mr. Davies having
l^ceived him through the ^ass door in
the i^m in which We were sitting, ad
vancing toward us, he announc^ his
awM approadi to me somewhat in the
maikn^ of an actor in the part ofHoratio,
when he addresses Hamlet on the ap-
pemaxkce of his father's g^ost—" Look,
my lord, it comes." I found that I had a
p^ect idea of Johnson's figure from the
i^Ftx'ait of him painted by Sir Joshua
Remolds soon after he had published his
Mcfionttry, in the attitude of sitting in
^ ^a^ chair inde^ meditation; which
was the first picture his friend did for
him, which Sir Joshiia 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 " 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 ^d
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 wl^ch he was so
remarkable, he seized the expression,
" come from Scotland," which I used
in the sense of being of that coimtry: 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 gooddeal; and whenhe had
satdown, I felt myselfnot alittle emb^-
rassed, and apprehensive of what might
come next. He then addressed himself to
Davi^: " What do you think of Gar-
rick? He has refused me an order for the
play of MissWilliams, because he knows
the will be full, and that an order
would be worth three shillings." £ager to
. takeanyopening to getintoconvention
with him, I ventured to say, Oh, sir,
I can not think Mr. Gayrick would
grudge such a trifle to you." ,.
" Sir," (said he, with a stem look)
have known David Gamck longer than
you have done; and I know no right you
have to talk to me on the subject." Per
haps I deserved this check; for it was
rather presumptuous in me, an entire
stranger, to express any doubt of the
justice of his animadversion upon his
old acquaintance and pupil. I now felt
myself much mortified, and began to
think that the hope which I had long
indulged of obtaining his acquaintance
was blamed. And in truth, had not my
ardor been uncommonly strong, and my
resolution imcommonly persevering, so '
rough a reception might have deterred
me forever from making any further
attempts ....€[ I was highly pleased
with the extraordinary vigor of his con
versation, and regretted that I was
drawn aw&y 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 thou^
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 vmeasy.
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 compliment. 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
I 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 imcouth. His brown suit of
clothes looked very rusty; he had on a
little shriveled \mpowdered wig, which
was too small for his head; his s^rt-neck
and the knees of his breedies were Ipose;
his black worsted stocldhgs ill drawn up;
and he had a pair of unbuckled ^oes by
way of slippers. But all these slov^y
Page 187
particularities wereforgotten'the 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
t^t I intrudeuponyou.It is benevolent
to ^ow me to sit and hear you." He
seemed pleased with this compliment,
whidh I sincerdy paid him,and answered,
" Sir,I am oblig^ to any manwho visils
me."—James BosweU.
[RUTH! Where is truth but in the
soul itself? Facts, objects, are but
phantoms, matter-woven ^osts of this
earthly night, at which the soul, sleeping
here in the mire and day of matter,
shudders and names its own vc^e
tremors, sense and perception «•» Yet,
even as our ni^tly dreams stir in us the
suspidon of mysterious and immaterial
presences, unfettered by the bonds of
time and space, so do these waking
dreams whi^ we call sight and sound.
They are divine messengers, whom Zeus,
pitying his children, even when he pent
them in tibis 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 ofsense and fact, the
spiritual trutih of which they are but the
acddentsd garment, concealing the very
thing which they made palpable, the
philosopher may neglect the fact for the
doctrine, the shdl for the kemd, the
body for the soul, of whi^ it is but the
symbol and the vehide.-—Hypatia.
'NGLAND and America are bound
iip together in peaceful fettess by
the strongest of all the ligatures that
can bind two nations to each oth^,
namdy, commerdal interests; and whidi,
every succeeding ye^, renders more
impossible, if the teiin may be U5(^»
a rupture between the two Governments.
—Richard Cobden.
£•»
If you wish to appear agreeable in 0-
dety, you must consent to be taught
many things which you know already.
—^Lavatet.
Page 188 JSOQiC Page 189
miBBARD^S
panion, a most learned old friar of more SEEM to know Cellini first
my dearest Cousin, Sim- plain of you that you sit pen in hand all
than eighty years of age The Pope of all as a man possessed by
one di Battesta di Carlo in day and let six months go by between one
sees that he can not live long; he has intense, absorbing es^xtian;
Urbino ^ letter and the other. Still with all that,
Dearest, in place of a father resolved to give him to me as a com violent, arrogant, self-asser
you. will not make me angry with you, as
I have received one of yours; you do wrongly with me. panion, for he is a man of high reputa tive, • passionate; conscious
most dear to me because it assures me I have come fairly out in the matter of a tion, and of the greatest requirpnents, of great gifts for art, physical courage,
that you are not angry; which indeed wife, but, to return to that, I answer, in order that I may leam from him, and ftnri personal address. . . . To be self-
would be wrong considering how tire that you may know, that Cardinal Bi- if he has any secret in architecture that I reliant in circumstances; to scheme
some it is to write when one has nothing bieni wants me to have one of his rela may become perfect in that art His and to strike, if need be, in support of his
opinion or his rig^t
of consequence to tives, and with the name is Fra Gio-
The world is too much with xis; late arui to take the law
say. But now, being Eternal spirit of the chaiiHess mindl assent of you and condo; and the
into his own hands
of consequence, I Brightest in dungeons. Liberty! thou art: the cousin priest I Pope sends for him soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our for the redress of
reply to tell you as For there thy habitation is the heart— promisedtodowhat everyday and chats
injury or insultl
mu(^ as I am able The heart which love of thee alone can his reverend lord a little with us powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours; this appeared to
to commimicate bind: ship wanted, and I about the building.
We havegiven our hearts away, a sordid him the simple
And first, in refer Arui when thy sons to fetters are con can not break my €L I beg you will
be good enough to boon! . duty of an honor
ence to taking a signed— word. We are now able man.
wife I r^ly that I To fetters, and the damp uauWs dayless more than ever on go to the Duke and This sea that bares her bosom to the moon.
But he had noth
am quite content gloom the point ofsettling Duchess and tell Thewinds that wilhbe howling at allhours, ing of the philos-
in respect of her Their country conquers with their martyr- and presently I them this, as I And are up-gathered now like sleeping
whom you first dom. shall advise you of know they will be flowers; . . .opher's calm, the
wished to -give me, And Freedom'sfame finds wings on every everything fi^Have pleased to hearthat For this, for everything, we are out of diplomatist's pru
dence, the genet's
and I tha^ God wind, patience, as the one of their ser
constantly that I CMllon! thy prison is a holy place. matter is in such a vants does them It mTves'us not—Great Godl I'drather strategy, or the
courtier's self-re
tookneitherhernor And thy sadfloor an altar—for *t was trod. good way, and then honor, and recom be
straint. On the con
another, and in this Until his very steps have left a trace should it not come mend me to them A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; trary, he pos
I was wiser than Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod. off, I will do as you as I continually So might J, standing on thispleasant lea. sessed the tempera-
you who wished me By Bonnivard—May none those marks maywish,andknow stand recommend Have glimpses that would make me less ment of a born
to take her. I am efface! that if Francesco ed to you. Salute all fOTlOTltf ^
Have sight of Proteus nsingfrom the sea; artist, blent in al
sure that you too For they appeal from tyranny to God, Buffo has offers for friends and rela-
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed most equal pro
are aware that I " Sonnet on Chillon," hy Lord Byron me, I have some tivesformeandpar-
also. horn.
—William Wordsiporth portions with that
would not have the of my o^ ticularly Ridolfo, of a bom bravo
position I now hold, since I find myself and I can find a handsome wife of ex who has so much
.at this moment in possession of things Throughout the ^ole of his tumul
cellent repute in Rome as I have heard. love for me. The first of July, 1514, Your tuous career these two strains contended
in Rome worth three thousand ducats of She and her relatives are ready to give Raffad, painter in Rome.
gold, and receipts of fifty scudi of gold, in his nature for mastery. Upon the verge
me three thousand gold scudi as a dowry, of fifly-six, when a man's blood has
because His Holiness has given me a and I live in a house at Rome, and one Hubbard's JVote:—Raphael's love for CanM
salary of tiiree hundred gold ducats for Bibieni's niece ended in tragedy. The wedding generally cooled, we find that he was
hundred ducats are worth more here than
att^ding to the building of St. Peter's two himdred there (Urbino?); of this be
was postponed at the request of the Pope, and releas^ from prison on bail, and bound
she died before it occurred. Raphael s dMth fol over to keep the peace for a year with
which [the salary] I shall never fail to assured ^ lowed soon after, at the age of 37, and his body
enjoy so long as my life lasts; and I am As to my stay in Rome, ! can not live was placed beside bers in the Pantheon. some enemy whose life was probab^ in
certain of getting others, and am also anywhere else for any time if only be danger; and when I come to speak of his
paid for what I do to whatever amount He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer homiddes, it will be obvious that he
cause of the building of St. Peter's, as I enjoyed kUling live menquite as mu<^ as
I please, and I have begun to paint am in the Palace of Bramante; but what The worst that man can breathe, and
another room for His Holiness which make his wrongs casting bro^e statues.....
place in the world is more worthy than Sensitive, impulsive, rash of speech,
will amoimt to one thousand two hun Rome, what enterprise more worthy than His outside, to wear them like his rai
dred ducats of gold. St. Peter's, which is the first temple ofthe ment, carelessly, hasty in action, willi the artist's su^
So that, dearest Cousin, I do honor to world and the largest building that has And ne 'er prefer his iiyuries to his ceptibility and the bravo's heat of bloo^
you and all relatives and to my coimtry. ever been seen, the cost of which will heart. he injured no one more than himself by
Yet, for all that, I hold you dear in the exceed a million in gold? And know that To bring it into danger.—Shakespeare. his eccentricities of temper. Yet there is
center of my heart, and when I hear your the Pope has ordered the expenditure on no trace in any of his writings that
name, I feel as if I heard that of a father; building of sixty thousand ducats a year, Make jrourself an honest man, and then ever laidhismisadventures to fiieir prop-'
and do not complain of me because I do and he never gives a thought to any you may be sure that there is one rascal er cause He consistently poses as an
Hot write, -because I have to com- thing else «•» He has given me a com- less in Uie world.—Carlyle. injured man, whom m^evolent scoun-
Tage 190 'BLBERSr HUBBARD*S
drels conspired to persecute. Nor does he
do this with any bad faith. His belief
in himsdf remained as firm as adamant,
and he candidly conceived that he was
imd^ the special providence of a mer
ciful and loving God who appreciated
his hi^ and virtuous qualities.
. . . . He tdls us hdw Pope Paul III was
willing to pardon him for an outrageous
murder committed in thestreetsof l^me.
One of the Pope's gentlemen submitted
that this was showing unseasonable
demency. " You do not understand the
matter as well as I do," replied His
Holiness. " I must inform you that men
Hke Benvenuto, unique in their pro-
fesfflon, are not bound by tibe laws."
Tliat sentence precisely paints Cellini's
own conc^tion of himself. ...
—John Addington Symonds.
was in Rome that I had to do Lord
Byron's statue.When mynoblesitter
arrived 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-
sicm whidi characterizes my counte
nance."
" Really," said I; and then, without
l^ubli^ mjrself about this affectation,
i worked on according to my own ideas.
Wh«i the bust was finished, every one
t^raus^t it strikin^y like Lord Byron,
but the fioble poet was by no means
^tiafied with it.
" That face is not mine," said he; I its own foimtain; the blood^op to the
Idbfc much more unhappy than that."
For he was determined to look unhappy.
—^Thorwaldsen.
^ direw a drde that shut me out—
H^etic, reb^, a thing to flout.
^ t love and 1 had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took in.
—Edwin Markham.
A taught is w idea fai transit.
Pythaiorati.
Page 192
'ULL of anxieties and apprehending days later, I was invited to the houseof
T my first ball at Tortonia's,
daily that we should hear dis Engli^ friends firom Venice, who wished,
not knowing any lady, I
tressing news from Boston, I walked with
was standing about, looldng they said, to introduce me to some par
Mr. Samuel Adams in the State House
ticular friends of theirs. I was ddighted
yard Philadelphia], for a little exercise at everybody, but not danc
ing. All at once some one to discover that their friends were
and fresh air, before the hour of [the Thorwaldsen and Vemet. . . . €L In my
Continental] Congress, and there rep tapped me on the shoulder, and said,
" You also are admiring the beautiful capacity as a pianist I have ei^oyed a
resented to him the various dangers special pleasure
Englishwoman
that surrounded us. here. You know
,He agreed to tihiem all, but said,." What theJe?" What was OfHeavenor J havenopowertosing, how Thorwaldsen
my surprise, when I can not ease the burden of your ferns.
shall we do? " I answered him I was de loves munc. He has
termined to take a step which should on turning around, Or makequick-coming death a little thing. a verygp(^ instra-
I found mysdf face Or brir^ again the pleasure of past years. ment in his studio,
compel all the members of Congress to
declare themselves for or against some
to face with Chev Norfor my wordsshtUlyeforgetyour tears. and I gp to him
alier Thorwaldsen, Or hope again for aught that I can say,
thing. I am determined this morning to sometimes in the
. make a direct motion that Congress
who was standing The idle singer of an empty day.
by the door and mornings and play
should adopt [as its own] the army before to him while he
Boston, and appomtColonel Wa^ington intently observing But, rather when aweary of your mirth,
commander of it. '
the beautiful crea- From full hearts still unsatisfied ye stgh. works. When I see
Mr. Adams seemed to think very ser
ture.He had hardly And, feOutg kindly unto tdl the earm. the old artist han
iously of it, but said nothing.
asked the question Grudge every minute as it passes by. dling his brown
when ^ some one Made the more mindful that the sweet day, giving the last
Accordingly, when Congress had as spoke loudly just days die- touches; with his
sembled, I rose in my place . . . . Mr. t^ind me. Remember me a little then I Pray, firm and ddicate
Washington, who happened to sit near " Where is she The idle singer of an empty day. hand, to a drapery
the door, as soon as he heard me allude then? Where is the or a limb, when I
to him, from his usual modesty, darted little Englishwo The heavy trouble, the bewildering care see him creating
into the library-room. man? My wife has That we^hs us down who live and earn those imperi^ble
Mr. Hancock heard me with visible sent me to look at our bread works viiidi will
pleasure, but when I came to describe her, per Bacco! ** These idle verses have no power to bear: win the admiration
Washin^on for the commander, I never The speaker was So let me sing of names rememb^id. of posterity, I fed
remarked a more sudden and striking a slight little Becausethey living not,canne^er bedead. happy in t^t I can
chsmgeofcoimtenance. Mortification and Frenchman, with Orlong timetaketheirmemoryquiteaway give him pleasure.
resratment were expressed as forcibly stiff upstanding From uspoorsingers ofan empty day. —Menddssohn.
as his face could exhibit them.
Mr. Samuel Adams seconded the motion,
gray hair, and the Dreamerofdrearns,borneutofmyduetirne. iHISlittleglobe
Legion of Honor
and that did not soften the president's at his button-hole.
Why should I strive to set the crooked whidi is but a
piancock's] phjrsiognomy at edl. I immediately rec
straights , . mere speck, travds
—^John Adams. Letit sujfice methatmymurmuring rhyme througji spacewith
XT is but' a little time—a few days ognized Horace
Vemet
Beatswithlight wingagainstthe ivorygate. its fdlows, lost in
Telling a tale not too importunate
longer in this prison-houseofourdeg He and Thorwald immensity. Mah, a
radation, and each thing shall return to sen began a serious To those who in the sleepy region stay. creature about five
and learned con
Lulled by the singer of an empty day, feet tall, is certain
abysmal heart, and the water to the river, versation about the " The Idle Singer," by WiUianMorris ly a tiny thing, as
and the river to the shining sea; and the beauty, and what compart with the
dewdrop which fell from heaven shall rise especiedly delighted me was to see the universe. Yet one of these imperceptible
to heaven again, shaking off the dust a^iration of these two old artists for beings dedares to his neighbors; "Heark
grains which weighed it down, thawed the young girl; they were never tired of en unto me. The God of all these worlds
from the earth frost which coined it lool^g at her, whileshe went on dancing speaks with my voice. There are nine
here to herb and sward, upward and up> with the most delicious unconsciousness. billionsofusweeants uponeart^,butonly
wardeverthrough starsand sun8,throu^ Thorwaldsen and Vemet had themsdves myant-hole is predousinOod'Ss^t. AU
gods, and through the p^ents of the gods introduced to the parents of the>yo\mg the others are eternally danmed by Him.
purer and purerthrou^ successive livM, Engli^ lady, and took no further trouble Mine alone is blessed."—^Voltaire.
until it enters The Nothing, which is the ateut me, so that I had no chance of
All, and finds its home at last.—^Hjrpatia. speaking to them again «•> But, some Adversity is the path of truth.—9yn>n*
 Page 192 "^LBBRSr ffUBBARD'S
jDEAREST BETSY, yes-
'C'day I received L^ers
from some of our Friends at
jthe Camp informing me of
lOK^^^f^tlie Engagement [Bunker
SSLi A •A'nerican troops and the
m Chso-lestown. I can not
5SJ* rqpyced at the tryed
your Countiymen, who, all
bdiaved with an intrepidity
who fou^t for their
^^^^^^Samst the mercenaiy Soldiere
^ ™ «oi» of War so near. Favor me,
wittj an Account of your Ap-
at that timi^ under your
Jfc. Pitte and Dr: Church inform me
to Son has at length escaped
S^J*«P"eon atBoston.... Rem^
Hannah and sister
•^oHy and to all Friends.
Swoiy is.
General! has made me
2^«^le by naming nus first among
^^who are to receive no favor [of
^cml ftom W I thorou^y dis-
SSn and^his [amnesty] Ptodam-
* *»* Clock
I therefore wiqhis you
now striking
a good
•Wight. Yours most afifectionatdy,
fw S. Adams.
(Letter to his Wife, June 28th, 1775)
- -Jenry] rose to reply with
embarrassment and some
and began a faltering exor-
pecq>le hung their heads at the
m^nomising commencement, and the
exchange
other, vdule &
m his chair in evident
^^deration, however.
proceeded and warmed up to his
over
hiBBjHis attiti^e became erect and k>fty,
^fece hinted up with genius, and his
^ gestures
^ceftil ax^ unpressive^ be-
his voice
^d his emphasis peculiarly charming,
w appeals to the pasakms were over
powering. In the langu^e of those who
heard him, " he made the blood to run
cold, and llieir 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
peoplewas only equaled by ^eir ddight,
and so overcome was his father tfiat
tears flowed profusely down his cheeks.
C He contended that . . . . in the case
now before them . . . . [the parsons]
deserved to be punished with signul
severity
** We ^ve heard a great deal about the
benevolence and holy zeal of our rev
erend clergy, but how is this mani
fested? Do th^ manifest their zeal in the
cause of rdigion and humanity by prac
tising the ix^d and benevolent precepts
of the Gospel of Jesus? Do th^ feed the
hungiy and clothe the naked? Oh, no,
gentlemeni Instead of feeding the hungry
and dothii^ tJie naked, these rapacious
harpies would, were their powers equal
to ^eir will, snatdi £nom the hearth of
their honest parishioner his last hoe-cake,
from the widow and her orphan chil
dren their last milch cowl the last bed,
nay, the last blanket from 1±ie lying-in
womani" £•»
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 genliemen to leave their seats
on the b^ch, and to quit the court
house in dismay.—William Wirt Henxy,
(L^e, Correspondence, and Speeches oj
Patrick Henry.)
" ITie Parsons' Cause " (1763) Patrick
Henry's First Important Case.
OPHISTICAL rhetorician (is
a iOladstone) inebriated with the exu
berance of his own verbosity, and gifted
with an egotistical imagination that can
at all times command an interminable
and inconsistent series of ai^^uments to
malign an opponent and to ^orify him-
sdf.—^Disraeli.
The tree of liberty must be refreshed
firom time to time with the blood of pa
triots and tyrants.—^Thomas Jefferson.
HEN Zarathustra arrived at
the nearest town which ad-
joineth the forest, he found
many people assembled in
the market-place; for it had
been annoimced that a rope-dancer would
give a performance «•» And Zarathustra
spake ^us 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 ^ 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
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 great^t thing ye can expe
rience? It is the hour of great contempt.
The hour in which even your happiness
becometh loathsome imto 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-complacen^.
But my happiness should justify exist
ence itself!"
Paige 193
The hour when ye say: " What good is
my reason! Doth it long for k^wledge
as the lion for his food? It is ^ver^
and pollution and wretched self-complfr'
cency!
The hour when ye s^yt " What good is
my virtue! As yet it hath uot made me
passionate. How weary I of my good
and my bad! It is all ix>vttty and pollu
tion and wretthed self-complacenq^I'*
^The hoiu- when ye say;" Whatgood is
my justice! I do not see that I am fv-
vor and fiid. The just, however, are fer
vor and fuel!"
The hour when we say: " What is
my pity! Is not pity thecroOTonwhich he
is n^^ who lov^ man? But my pi^
is not a crudfixion."
Have ye ev^ spoken thus? Have ye ever
cried thus? Ah! would that I had heard
you crying thus!
It is not your sin—^it is your sdf-satis-
faction that crieth unto hwen; your
very sparingness in sin crieth unto'
heaven!
Where is the li^tning to lick you with
its tongue? Where is the fremy
which ye should be inoculated?
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is thsi-
lightning, he is that firenay!—
Whea Zarathustra had thus spoken, one
of the people called out: ** We have
heard enoug^h of the rope-dancer; it is
timi» now for us to see him!" And all the
people lauded at Zarathustra. But the
lOpeAlancer, who thought the wort^
applied to him, began his perfoitnance.
*—Friedridi Nietrache.
<•» «•»
XVIBW areturn to the domination
of Britain with horror, and would
risk ail for ind^endence; but that pomt
(%ded, I would give them advantages
commerdal terms. Hie destruction of
Old iSngland would hurt me; I wi^ it
well, it afforded my ancestors an asylum
from p«^ecutipn.-^John Jay.
and pi^are thiein for the necessity <4
their f^ ; and thus ihsensibly an w^, ea
y&BoeB do80 around Us, detached from ottf
tenadty of lifeby l^e gentle pressiue ^
recorded sorrow.^W. S. Lahdor.
Page 194 'BLBBRSr flUBBARD^S J300JC Page 29S

century, which some we have just passed in review, the gaps g^up of fleeting phenomena attendant have the strongest possible reason for
have called an age of iron, in our knowledge are immense, and every upon the collocation of sundry particles believing that the idea is permanent and
^ been also an age of problem that is solved but opens a dozen ot matter. And there are many others answers to an Eternal Reality. It wa^ to
ideas, an era of seeking and new problems that await solution. who, without committing themselves to be expected that conceptions of Deity
finding the like of which was Under such circumstances there is no these petitions of the atheist and the handed down from primitive men should
nevCT^'^iown before. It is an epoch the likelihood that the last word will soon materialist, have neverthdess come to undergo serious modification. If it can
grandeur of which dwarfs all others that be said on'any subject. In the eyes of the regard religion as practically ruled out be shown that the essential dement in
can be named since twenty-first cen fromhuman a£fairs. these concqptions
the beginningofthe In Xanadu did Kuhta Khan tury the science of No religious must survive the
historic period, if Five miles meandering with a masy
A stately pleasure-dome decree: the nineteenth will creed that man has motion enormousadditions
not since. Man first Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
became distinctive
doubtless seem ever devised can be Through wood and dale the sacred river to our knowledge
Through caverns measureless to man very fragmentary made to harmonize ran.
whidi have distin-
ly human. In their Down to a sunless sea. and crude. But the in all its features gui^ed the present
mental habits, in Then reached the caverns measureless to
men of that day, withmodemknowl- man.
ageabove all others
their methods of So twice five mUes offertile ground and of all future edge 9^ All such since man became
inquiry, and in the And sank in tumult to a Ufeless ocean:
With walls and towers were girdled round:. time, will no doubt creeds were con And *mid this tumult Kubla heardfromfar man, then we m^
data at their com And there were gardens bright with • i>oint back to the structed with ref believe that it wm
mand, " the men of Ancestral voices prophesying war!
sinuous rills. age just passing erence to theories endure so long as
the present day Where blossomed many an incense- away as the open of the universe The shadow of the dome of pleasure man endures; fbr
who have fully kept bearing tree; ing of a new dis- which are now Floated midway on the waves; it is not likdy that
pace with the sci Arid here wereforests ancient as the hills. pensation, the utterly and hope Where was heard the mingled measure it can ever be call
entific movement Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. dawning of an era lessly discreditedso* From the fountain and the^ caves. ed upon to pass a
are separated from But 0/ that deep romantic chasm which severer orded.
the men whose ed«
in which the in C How, then, it, is It was a miracle of rare device,
slanted tellectual develop asked, amid the Asunnypleasure-dome with cavesof ice! — John Fi^.
ucation ended in Down the green hill athwart a cedarn ment of mankind general wreck of £C>
1830, by an im cover! was raised to a old beliefis, can we A damsel with a dulcimer I am not a good
measurably wider A savage place! as holy and enchanted higjher plane than hope that the relig In a vision once I saw: orator in my own
gulf than has ever As e'er beneath a waning moon was that upon> which it ious attitude in It was an Abyssinian maid. cause.—John Knox <
before divided one had hitherto pro
progressive gener
ation of men from
haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless
ceeded
As an inevitable re
which from time
immemorial we
have been wont to
And on her dulcimer she played.
Singing of Mount Abora,
Could I revive within me
0>ThTnG is
trae foreverM>
their pre.deces- turmoil seething. sult of the throng-- contemplate the Her symphony and song, A man and a fact
sors." As if this Earth in fast thick pants were ing discoveries just universe can any To such a deep delight *twould win me will become equally
The intdUectual de breathing, enumerated, we longer be main- That with music loud and lonjSf, decrepit and will
velopment of the A mighty fountain momently was forced. find ourselves in tamed? Is not the I would build that dome in air. tumble in the same
human race hfls Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst the midst of a belief in God per That sunny dome! those caves of ice! ditch, for truth is
been suddenly, al- Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding mighty revolution haps a dream ofthe And all who heard should see them there. aa mortal as man,
mpst abruptly, hail. in human thought. childhood of our And all should cry. Beware! Bewme! and both are out
raised to a higher Or chc^y grain beneath the threshefs Time-honored race, like the belief His flashing eyes, his floating hair! lived by the tor
plane than that up flail: creeds are losing in elves and bo- Weave a circle round him thrice. toise and the crow.
on whidh it had Ai%d *mid these dancing rocks at once and their hold upon And close your eyes with holy dread.
garts which once €[ To say that two
proceeded from the ever men; ancient sjrm- was no less xmiver- For he on honey-dew hath fed. is company and
days of the primi It flung up momently the sacred river. bols are shorn of sal? and is not And drunk the milk of Paradise. three is a crowd
tive troglod;^e to (Concluded on next page) their value; every modem science fast ** Kubla Khan," by Samuel Taylor Coleridge is to make a very
the days of our thing is called in destrosring the one temporary state
©r^t-grandfathers. It is characteristic of quest^on.The controversies of the day are as it has already destroyed the other? ment. After a short time satiety or use
thishigher plane ofdevelopment that the not like those of former times. It is no C Such are the questions which we and wont has crept sunderingly between
pr^^ wluch unta lately was so slqw longer . . . a struggle between abstruse d^y hear asked, sometimes with flip the two, and, if th^r are any company at
mu^ henceforth be rapid. Men's minds dogmas of rival churches. Religion itself pant eagerness, but oftener with anxious all, they are bad company, who pray
are becoming moreflexible, the resistance is called upon to show why it should any dread If we find in that idea, as discreetly but passionatdy for the crowd
to innovation is weakening, and our in- longer claim our allegiance. conceived by imtaught thinkers in the that is censured by the proverb.
t^ectual demands are multiplying while There are those who deny the existence twilight of antiquity, an element that —James StepheiM.
taie means of satisfying them are in of God ^ There are those who would still survives the widest and deepest
creasing. Vast as are the achievements explain away the human soul as a mere generalizations of modem times, we Our wholelifs is like aplay.—Ben Jo&son.

Page 196 *BLBBRT nUBBARD^S
FTER having applied my
mind with more than ordi
naryattention 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 bomfjanions. Hiis I find partic-
ulariy neoessaxy for me before I retire to
rest, in order to draw my slumbers' up
on me by degrees and fail asleep insen
sibly. is the particular use I make
of a set of heavy honest men with whom
I have passed many hours with mudi
indolence thou|^ 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^t stateoftra^uillitywhich isthe
condition of a tiiinking man when he is
but half-awake.
I must own it nudcesme veiy melandioly
in company when I hear a young man be>
©n a story, and have often observed that
one of a quarter of an hour long, in a man
offive-and-twenfy, gatherscircumstances
every time he tdls it, until it grows into
a long Cant^bury trfe of two hours by
the time he is three score.
Ihe oidy way of avoiding such a trifling
and frivolous old age is to lay up in our
way to it such stores of knowledge and
obseryation as may make us useftil and
agreeable in our declining years. The
of man in a long life will become a
m^azine of wisdom or folly, and will
Qc^iseqpentiy^ discharge itself in some-
thi^ impertinent or improving 6^ For
reason, as' there is notii^g more
Mdicuioud than an old ^fling story
teller,,^ th^ is nothing more venerable
one •w^o has tum^ his experience
to ithe enteitainment and advantage of
maciJ^d »•»
to ^ort, we who are in the last stage of
Me,, and are' apt to indulge ourselves in
t^k,otig|^tto insiderifwhatwespeak be
worth being h^d, and endeavor to make
our discourse like that of Nestor, which
Homer(^mpaores to " theflowingof honey
for its sweetae^/'^^ir Richard Steele.
^ Mr
P^int thy tongue 6n the anvil of truth.
Pindar.
[HAT a man in his sixties should be
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 itselfto 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 immort^
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 ^e 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 theoldman 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 balance
style, as a yoimg man of five-and-
twenty.—^Walter Besant.
OEMAGMDGU^^d agitators are
very unpleasant, and leagues and
registers may be very unpleasant, but
they 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.
;)OTHING is more iu\just
than to cast especial blame
for resistance to science up
on the Roman Church. The
Protestant Church, though
rarely able to be so severe, has been nwjre
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 yoimg
professors at Beyrout, by various Prot
estant authorities, was near the end of
the nineteenth century. Those e^lier
persecutions by Catholicism were strictiy
in accordance with principles held at
that time by all religionists, Catholicand
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 imjustiy, then, would Protestant
ism taunt Catholicism for excluding
knowledge of astronomical tilths from
European Catholic imiversities in tiie
seventeenth and eighteenth c^turie^
while real knowledge of gwlogical and
biological and anthropological truth is
denied or pitifully diluted in so n^y
American Protestant colleges and univer
sities in the nineteenth century.
Nor has Protestantism the right to pomt
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 yoimg men in so many Ameri
can Protestant universities and college
are nursed with " ecclesiastical pap **
rather than with real thought, and
directed to the works of " solemnly con
stituted impostors," or to sundiy ' ap
proved courses of reading," while they
are studiously kept aloof from such
leaders in modem thought as Darwm,
Spencer, Huxley, Draper and Lecky . ..
Page 197
As to the older errors, the whole civilized
world was at fault. Ftotestant as wdl 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 lig^t."—Andrew D. White.
HEARNED men in all ages have had
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 whidh
they could not amend. Plato, the phi
losopher, wrote his book on the com
monwealth, in which he condenmed
many things that then wde maintained
in the world, and required many things
to have been reformed; ^d 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 upri^tness of heart, and with a
testimony of a good conscience.
—^John Knox to Mary, Queen of Scots.
;HEN it shall be said in any coimtry
^ 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 Peihe.
AN
Ignorance is the night of the mind, but a
ni^t without moon or star.—Confucius.
 Page 198 ^LBBJRT WUBBARD^S Pagem

T is only a poor sort of hap taken Lillo's cheeks between her hands, ^HUS after four months of There was still, no doubt, a ch^ce. of
piness that could ever come and his young eyes were meeting hers. anxious toil, through the failure, but hope now rdgned ip^the old
by caring veiy much about €[ " There was a man to whom I was whole of a scorching Phila man's breast. On the back of tKe Presi
our own narrow pleasures. very near, so that I could see a great delphia simmier, after earn dent's quaint black armchair there was
We can only have the high deal of his life, who made almost every est but sometimes bitter dis- emblazoned -a half-sun, brilliant vwlii its
est happiness, such as goes along with one fond of him, for he was yoimg, and cussion, in which more than once the gUded rays. As the meeting was about to
being a great man, by having wide clever, and beautiful, and his manners to meeting had seemed on the point of breakup and Washington arose,Frankto
thoughts, and much feeling for ^e rest all were gentle and l^d. I believe, when breaking up, a colossal work had at 1^ pointed to the chair, and made it the
of the world as well as ourselves; and this I first knew him, he never thought of been accomplished, the results of which text for prophecy ^ ^
sitting here all these
sort of happiness often an3rthing cruel or base. were powerfully to af
brings so much pain with But because he tried to fect the whole future
weeks," said he, ** I have
Time, you old gipsy man, Last week in Babylon, often wondered whether
it, that we can only tell slip away from every career of the human race. Last night in Rome,
it from pain by its being Will you not stay. thing that was unpleas- In spite of the high-
yonder sun is rising or
what we would choose Put up your caravan ant,andcaredfornothing wrought intensity of feel Morning, and in the crush setting. But ncfw I know
before everything else, Just for one day? else as much as his own ing which had been now Under PauVs dome; that it is a rising sunl"
—^John Fi^e.
because our soids see it safety, he came at last and then displayed, grave Under PauVs dial
is good There are so to commit some of the decorum had rul^ the You tighten your rein—
ix^y things wrong and All things I 'II give you
basest deeds—such as proceedings; and now,
JWaN isa land-axumaL
difficult in the world that Will you be my guest. make men infamous. He
Only a moment. A land-animal can
though few were really
no man can be great—he Bells for your jennet denied his father, and satisfied, the approadi And off once again; not live without land.
can hardly keep himfKJf Of silver the best. left him to misery; he to acquiescent unanimi- Off to some city All that man produces
from wickedness—un betrayedevery trust that comes from the land;
Goldsmiths shall beat you ity was very remarkable. Now blind in the womb. all productive labor, in
less he gives up thinlfiyig was reposed in him, that V)^eh all was over, it is Off to another
much about his pleasure A great golden ring. the final andysis, con
he might keqp hhnself said that many of the Ere that's in the tomb,
or his rewards, and gets Peacocks shall bow to you. safe and get rich and sists in working up land,
members seemed awe
strength to endure what Little boys sing, prosperous.Yet calamity
0
or materials drawn from
struck. Washington sat
is hard and painful. My Oh, and sweet girls will overtook him." with head bowed in Time, you old gipsy man. land, into such fbrins as
father had the greatness Again Romola paused. solemn meditation. The Will you not stay. fit them for the satis
Festoon you with May. faction of human wants
that bdongs to integrity; Her voice was imsteady, scene was ended by a Put up your caravan
httdbiose poverty and ob Time, you old gipsy. and desires. Man's very
and Lillo was looking characteristic bit of Just for one day?
scurity rather than false Why hasten away? at her with awed wonder.
body is drawn from the
homely pleasantry from " Time, YouOldGipsy Man," land Children of the
hood. And there was Fra (Concluded on next page) C " Another time, my Franklin by Ralph Hodgson
OlralaxiM (Savonarola); Lillo—I will tell you—
soil, we come from the
Thirty-three years ago,
he had the greatness which belongs to a another time."—^IFrom the Epilogue to in the days of George II, before the first land, and to the land we must return.
life spent in struggling against powerful Romola by George Eliot. mutterings of the Revolution had been Take wifay from man all that belox^ to
wrong, and in trying to raise men to the ])ieard, and when the French dominionin the land, and what have you but a
highest deeds th^ are capable of. And Books are the true levelers. They give to America Was still untouched, before the embodied spirit?Therefore, he whoholds
so, my Lillo, if you mean to act nobly and all whofaithfullyuse themthesociety, the banishment of the Acadians or the rout the land on which and from whic^
seek to Imow the best things God has spiritual presence, of the best ^d great of Braddock, while Washington was st^ another man must live is that mans
put within reach of men, you must leam est of our race.—V/. E. Channing. surveying lands in the wilderness, while master; and the man is his dave. The
tQfix your mind on that end, and not on Madison was playing in the nursery and piftti who holds the land on which I
w^t will happen to you b^use of it. Some people have a perfect genius for Hamilton was not yet bom. Franklin must live, can command me to life Or
doing nothing, and doing it assiduously. had endeavored to bring together to death just as absolutely as though I
• And remember,
something if you
lower, and wereittothe
make choose
rule were his chattel. . .
—^Thomas C. Haliburton. thirteen colonies in a federal union. Of
of your life to seek your own pleasure the famous Albany plan of 1754, the f^t Talk about abolishmg slavery! We have
and ^cape from what is disagreeable, PK HE delusive idea that men merely complete outline of a federal constitution not abolished slavery; we have only
calamity might come just the same; and toil and work for the sake of pre for America that ever was made, he was
abolished one rade form of it—chattd
would be calamity falling on a base serving their bodies, and procuring for the principal if not the sole author slavery. There is a deeper and more in
mind, which is the one form of sorrow themselves bread, houses, and clothes, is VWien he signedhis name to the Declara sidious form, a more cursed fortn y^t
that has no balmin it, and that may well degrading and not to be encouraged tion of Independence in this very before us to abolish, in this industrial
^ke a man say—* It would have been The true origin of man's activity and his years had rounded the full period of slavery that makes a man a virtual
^€itter for me if I had never been bom.* creativeness lies in his imceasing impulse threescore and ten. Eleven years more slave, while taunting him and mockmg
I VBill tell you something, Lillo." to embody outside himself the divine and h&d passed, and he had been spared to him in the name of freedom.
^xnbla paused for a moment. She had spiritual element within him.—^Froebel. —Henry George.
see the noble aim of his life accomplished.
 Page 200 <BLBBRar -HUBBARD^S
iT to which the great
sacred books of the world
conform, and our own most
of all, is the evolution of the
_ highest conceptions, beliefs
and aspiratipns of our race from its
childhood throi^h 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.
Th^ are true bemuse they have been
devdoi^ ia accordance with the laws
governing the evolution of truth in
hiiitinn 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
hum^ity. 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 weld^ together into noble form,
wheth^ in tie book of Genesis, or in the
Psalms, or in the book of Job, or else-
wh^. Hie great conceptions of men
acting under earlier inspiration, whether
in Egorpt, or Chaldea, or India, oir Per
sia, the compilers of our sacred books
have given to humanity a possession
ever becoming more and more precious;
^d mod^ science, in substituting a
hew heaven and a new earth for the old
reign of law for the reign of ca-
pr^, and the idea of evolution for that
added and is steadily
ad^g a new revelation divinely in
spired
the Ug^t of these two evolutions,
one of the* visible universe, the
pt^ of a sacred creation-legiend—
'^ence^ and theology, if the master
n^d3 in both are wise, may at last be
recondledi-^Andrew D. White.
^ I contradict myself? Very weU, then,
I ^ibnlxadict m3rself; (I am large. I con-
t ^ multitudes).—Walt Whitman.
SOOJFC Page 201
XT is Criticism, as Arnold points out, HE changes which break up may come in We are idolato^ of tite
that creates the intellectual at at short intervals the pros old. We do not bdieve in tiie ridies ot
mosphere of the age. It is Criticism . . . perity of men are adver the soul,in its proper eternity rad oinni-
that makes the mind a fine instrument.. tisements of a nature whose presence. Wedo not bdievethere is any
C It is Criticism, again, that, by con law is growth. Evermore it is force in today to rival or re-create that
centration, makes culture possible It the order of nature to grow, and ev^ beautiful yesterday We linger in the
takes the cumbersome mass of creative soul is by this intrinsic necessity quit ruins of the old tent, where once we had
work, and distils it into a finer essence... ting its whole system of things, its bread and shdter and organs, nor bdieve
The thread that is to guide us across friends, and home, and laws, and faith, that the spirit can feed, cover, and
the wearisome labyrinth is in the hands as the shell-fish
t nerve us €«aia. We
of Criticism. Nay more, where there is no can not again find
crawls out of its
record, and history is either lost or was I went to the dances at ChandlervUle, aught so d(^, so
beautiful but stony Andplayed snap-out at Winchester,
never written. Criticism can re-create the case, because it no
sweet, so graceful.
past for us from the very smallest frag
One time we changed partners. Butwe mtandweep
longer admits of its Driving home in the moonlight of middle
ment of language or art, just as surely growth, and slowly in vain.The vpi^df
June, the Almi^tyMth,
as the man of science can from some tiny forms a new house.
bone, or the mere impress of a foot upon And then I found Davis. "Up and ohwM
C In proportion to We were married and lived together for for evermore1"
a rock, re-create for us the winged dragon the vigor of the seventy years, . ^ #
or the Titan lizard that once made the individual these
We can not stay
earth shake beneath' its tread, can call
Enjoying, working, raising the twelve amid' the ruins.
revolutions are fre children,
Behemoth out of his cave, and make Neither willwe rdy
quent, until in Eight of whom we lost
Leviathan swim once more across the on the new; and'^
some happier mind Ere I reached the age of sixty.
startled sea. Prehistoric histoiy belongs we walk ever wilii
they are incessant, I spun, I wove, I kept the house, I nursed reverted .eyes, 1^
to the philological and archseological and all worldly re
critic It is to him that the origins of
the sick, ^ ^ those monsters
lations hang very I made the garden, andfor holiday who look back
things are revealed. loosely about him,
The self-conscious deposits of an age ^e Rambled over the fields where sang the wards
becoming as it were larks. And yet the com
nearly always misleading ... It is Criti a transparent
cism that makes us cosmopolitan . . . fluid membrane
And by Spoon River gathermg many a pensations of ca-
It is only by the cultivation of the habit through which the And shell, .
many aflower and medmnalweea iamity are made
apparent to the
of intellectual criticism that we shall be form is always seen
able to rise superior to race prejudices ... and not as in most
Shouting to the wooded hills, string to im^grgtanding
understanding ^iso
Criticism will annihilate race prejudices,
the green valleys. after long inteivals
men an indurated
by insisting upon the imity of the hirnian heterogeneous
At ninety-six I had lived enough, thatisau. of time. A fever, a
mind in the variety of its forms ...
Andpassed to a sweet repose. mutilation, a cniel
fabricofmanydates What is this I hear of sorrow and disappointment, a
It is Criticism that, recognizing no and of no settled weariness, ^
loss of wealth, the
position as final, and refusing to bind character, in which Anger, discontent anddrooping hopesf loss of friends,,
itself by Ae shallow shibboleths of emy the man is impris
sect or school, creates that serene philo
Degenerate sonsanddaughters. seen^ at the m^
oned. Then' there Life is too strong for you ment unpaid loss,
sophic temper which loves truth for its caii be enlargement
own sake, and loves itnot the less because and the man of to
It takes life to love Life. and unpayable
" Luanda Matlock," byEdgar LeeMasters But the sure years
it laiows it to be imattainable. day scarcely recog-
—Oscar Wilde. nizes the man of
reveal the deep
yesterday. And such should be the out- remedial force that underlies all fiacts.
The stomach is a slave that must accept Wardbiography of man in time, a putting The death of a d^ friend, wife, brother,
everything that is given to it, but which off of dead circumstances day by day, as lover, which seemed nothing but priva^
avenges wrongs as slyly as does the slave. he rene\ira his raiment day by d^. But tion, somewhat later assumes the aspect
—^Emile Souvestre. to us, in our lapsed state, resting not of a guide or genius; for it commpi^y
advancing, resisting not co-operating operates revolutions in our way of life,
Man is so essentially, so necess^ly, a with the divine expansion, this growth terminates an epoch of infimcy or of
moral being that, when he denies the comes by shocks. youth which was waiting to be dt^ed,
existence of all morality, that very denial We can not part with our friends. We breaks up a wonted occupation, or a
already becomes the foimdation of a can not let our angels go. We do not see housdiold, or style of living^ allows
new morality.—^Maeterlinck. that they only go out tiiat ardiangds the formation of new ones more friendly
 Page 202 ALBERT flUBBAKD^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 mu<^ sunshine for its head,
the falling of walls and the ne^ect 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 everyone is signed by
God's name.
And I leave them where they are, for I
know that wheresoe'er I go.
Others wiUpunctually come for ever and
ever.
—Walt Whitman.
^ «•» ^
iHE 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 tJie recip
rocal interest which every nation feels
in supporting it—it is common stock—^it
exists by a balance of advantages to
and the only interruption it meets
is from the present unci^ized 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.
The prosperityof any commercial nation
is regulated by the prosperity of the
r^. If ^ey are poor, she can not be
rich; her condition, be it what it
may, is an index of the height of the
commercial tide in other nations.
—Tliomas Paine.
A politician thinks of the next election; a
statesman, of the next generation.
—James Fryman Clarke.
ITH respect to what are
called denominations of re
ligion, if every one is left
judge of his own religion,
there is no such ^ing as a
religion that is wrong; but if they are to
judge of eadi 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 ^e earth, the grateful tribute of
every one is accepted.
4c * * <tc *
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, or
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
This would have the cold appearance of
contrivance, or the harsh one of control.
But of all imwelcome things, nothing
would more afflict the parents than to
Imow that the vt^ole 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.
No man but a blockhead ever wrote
except for money.—Samuel Johnson.
Page 2S$
NLY in broken gleams and that glorified the Elizabethan age. It was
partial light has the sun of the spirit that brought a crowned tyrant
Liberty yet beamed among, to the block that planted here the se^
men, yet all progress hath of a mighty tree. It was the energy of
she called forth. ancient freedom that, the moment it had
Liberty came to a race crouching under gained unity, made Spain the mightiest
Egyptian whips, and led them forth from power of the world, only to fall to the
the House of Bondage She hardened lowest depths of weakness When tyranny
them in the desert and made of them a succeeded liberty. C. See, in France, all
race of conquerors. intdlectual vigor
The free spirit dying under the
Bright Star! would I were steadfast as tyranny of the,
of the Mosaic law thou art—
took their thinkers seventeenth cen
Not in lone splendor hung aloft the night, tury to revive in
up to heights where And watching, with eternal lids apart. splendor as Liberty
they beheld the Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, awoke in the eight
unity of God, and The moving waters at theirpriest-liketask eenth, and on the
inspired their poets Ofpure ablution round earth's human enfranchisement
wi^ strains that shores.
yetphrasethe high of the French peas
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen ^osk
est exaltations of ants in the great
thought.
Of snow upon 'the mountains ai\d the revolution, basing
moors— , .,
Liberty dawned on the wonderful
No-^yet stillsteadfast, stillunchangeable, strength that has
thePhoeniciancoast Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening
and ships passed in our time lauded
breast, at disaster.
the Pillars of
Hercules to plow To feel for ever its soft fall and swell. What Liberty
the unknown sea^
Awakefor ever in a sweet unrest. shall do for the
Still, still to hear her tender-taken nation that fiilly
She broke in par
tial light on Greece, breath, accepts and loyally
And so live ever—or else swoon to dierishes her, the
and marble grew
death. wondrous inven
to shapes of ideal
" Last Sonnet," hy John Keats, tions, which are the
beauty, words be-
marked features of
came the instru
ments of subtlest thought, and against this century, give us but a hint
the scanty militia of all free cities the C[ A himdred years have passed since
countless hosts of the Great King broke the fast friend of American liberty—the
like surges against a rock. She cast her great Earl Chatham^rose to make his
beams on the four-acre farms of Italian last appeal for the preservation, on the
husbandmen, and bom of her strength basis of justice, of that English-speaking
a power came forth liiat conquered the empire, in .which he saw the grandest
world! She glinted from shields of Ger possibility of the future. Is it too soon
man warriors, and Augustus wept his to hope that the future may hold the
legions. CXit of the night that followed realization of his vision in a nobler form
her eclipse, her slanting rays fell again on than even he imagined, and that it may
free cities, and a lost learning revived, be the mission of this Republic to unite
modem civilization began, a new world all the nations of English speech, whether
was imveiled; and as Libeity grew so they grow beneath the Northern Star or
grew art, wealth, power, knowledge and Southern Cross, in a league which by
insiiring justice, promoting peace, and
refinement
liberating commerce, will be the fore
In the history of every nation we may
read the same truth. It was the strength runner of a world-wide federation that
will make war the possibility of a pa^t
bom of Magna Charta that won Cr^
and Agincourt. It was the revival of Lib age, and turn to works of usefulness the
enormousforcesnowdedicatedtodestruc-
erty from the despotism of the Tudors
 Page 204
^LBBRSr fiUBBARD*S
tion, ^ Is this the dream of
dreamers? One brought to the world the
message ^t it might be reality. But
they crucified him between two thieves.
Not till it accepts that message can
t^ world have peace. Look over the
history of the past. What is it but a
record of the woes inflicted by mnn on
mw, of wrong producing wrong, and
CTime 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 boimds 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
die ^x>ken, and their hearts were strong;
to martyrs, and the flames were cool!
CL She is not here, but yet she cometh.
Lo! her feet are on the mountains—^the
call of her clarions ring on every breeze;
&e banners of her dawning fret the sky!
^?^o 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.
IP afriend of mine. . . gave afeast,
and did not inwte me to it, I should
not E^d a bit. . . . Buf if. . . a friend
of i^e had a sorrow and refused to
to share it, I should feel it most
bitteEly. If he shut tihe doors of the house
of ^ummg against me, I would move
- again and beg to be
a^^tted, so that I might share in what I
wte entitle to share. If he thought me
imwo^y, u^ to weep with him, I
l^uld fedi it ias liie most poignant
huxniliation,^ ^ the most terrible mode
for which disgrace could be inflicted on
me... he who c^ look on the loveliness
of t3ie world ^d share its sorrow, and
r^ize wmetl^ of the wonder of both,
is ^in imxnedlflite intact with divixie
l^ngs; and has got as near to G^'s
8^^ ag ^y>one can get.-^^^^scar Wilde.
jbook Page iOS
r t has been thought aconsiderable s> ..r
HAT Nature is always right,
an assertion, artistically,
working man and the cultured oriCj the
wise man and the one of pleasure,
advance towards establishing the
principles of freedom to say, that govern as untrue, as it is one whose to understand, as they have <»asea to
ment is a compact between those who truth is universally taken STO, and Nature, who, for once, has su^
govern and those who are governed: but for granted. Nature is very in tune, sings her exquisite song to toC
this can not be true, because it is put rardy ri^t, to such an extent even, that artist slcNDe, hjer son and her xnasto^
ting the effect before tlje cause; for as it might almost be said that Nature is her ^ in that he loves her, her master
man must have existed before govern usually wrong: that is to say, the condi in that he knows her.
ments existed, there necessarily was a tion of tilings that
To her secrets
time when governments did not exist, are unfolded, to
shall bring about In the dark womb where I began him her lessons
and consequently there could originally the perfection of My mothefs life made me a man.
exist no governors to form such a com have become grad-
[I harmony worthy a Through all the months of human btrth uallyd^^ ♦
pact with. picture is rare, and
The fact therefore must be that the
Her beautyfed my common earth,
I not common at all. I can not see, nor breathe, nor stir. Xhrdug^ his braim,
individuals themselves, each in his own
personal and sovereign right, entered
This would But through the death of someof her, as through the lart
seem, to even the alembic, is distills
into a compact with each other to pro most intelligent, Down in the darkness of the grave.
duce a government: and this is the only the refined essence
a doctrine almost Shecannotsee thelife shega^. of that thought
mode in which governments have a right blasphemous. For all her love, she can not teU
to arise, and the only principle on which Whether I use it ill or well. whidi began ^th
So incorporated the Gods, aiad
they have a right to exist. with our education Nor knock at dusty doors to find
which they left him
—^Thomas Paine. has the supposed Her beauty dusty in the mind. to carry out.
aphorism become, Set apart by the^
Time to me is so precious that with great If the graves gates could be undone.
that its belief is to complete their
difficulty can I steal one hour in eight held to be part of She would not know her litUeson,
days, either to satisfy myself or to I amsogrown. If we should m^t. worksj he produces
our moral being, that wondrous
gratify my friends.—^John Knox. and the words She would pass by me in the street.
Unless my soul'sfacel^fker see thing called the
themselves have, in masterpiece, which
^EEY that love beyond the world our ear, the ring My sense of whatshe didfor me.
surpasses in perfec
can not be separated by it. of religion.
What have I done to keep tion all that they
Death can not kill what never dies. Still, seldom does
Mydebt to her and womanmndf have contriv€Ki in
Nor can spirits ever be divided, that Nature succeed in what is called Na^
love and live in the same divine prin producing a pic What woman's happierlife repm
ciple, the root and record, of their friend Herfor those months of wretched days? ture; and the Go#
ship
ture 6^ ^
« « * * For all my mouthless body stand by and m^-^
vel, and perceive
Death is but crossing the world, as How little this is EreBirth's releasing hell was reached?
how far away
friends do the seas; Siey live in one understood, and
another still. . . . how dutifully the
What have I done, or tried, or more beautiful is
This is the comfort of friends, that casual in Nature
In thanks to that dear woman, dead? the Venus of Melos
though they may be said to die, yet is accepted as sub
Men triumph over wommsttll, than was their own
their friendship and society are, in tlie lime, may be gath
Men trample worhan'snghis at will. Eve.—Whistler.
best sense, ever present because im And man's lust roves the world untamed.
mortal.—^William Penn.
ered from the
unlimited admira
O grave, keep shut lest I be shamea. O ASSIGN is a
tion daily produced " C. L. M.," by John MasefieM. sort of fever
Man can not degrade woman without by a very foolish
in the mind, which
himself falling into degradation; he sunset. ♦ » » » * ♦ C And when ever leaves us weaker than it found us...
can not elevate her without at the same the evening mist clothes the riverside ^ It, more than any thing, deprives us
time elevating himself. with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor of the use of our judgment; for it raises
—Alexander Walker. buildingslose themselves in the dim sty, a dust very hard to see through
and the tall chimneys become campanili, It may not unfitlybe termed the nM>b
However dull a woman may be, she will and the warehouses are palaces in the of the man, that commits a riot upon
understand all there is in love; however night, and the whole city hangs in the his^ reason.—William Penn.
intelligent a man may be, he will never heavens, and fairy-land is before us^
know but half of it.—Madame F€e. llien i^e wayfarer hastens home; the A man is an animal that writes.—Homier.
 Page 206 <BLBBRT IIUBBARD*S
is fallen! 9^ We may now
pause before that splendid
prodigy, which towered
among us like some ancient
- ,^ruin, whose frown terrified
Ae ^ance its magnificence attracted
Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat
upon the throne, a sceptered hermit,
wrapped in the solitude of his own
originality s—
A min^ bold, independent, and decisive
—a will, de^x>tic in its dictates—an
energy that distanced expedition, and a
conscience pliable to every touch of
interest,^ marked the outline of this
eztraordinaiy character—^the most «s-
traofdinary, perhaps, that, in the flnnnla
of this world, ever rose^ or reigned, or
fell «•»
Flimg 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 istranger by
bjrth, 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
h^ arrayed themselves, and competition
fled from him as from the glanre of des-
^y. He knew no motive but interest—
he acknowledged no criterion but suc-
cew—he worshiped no Gk>d but am
bition, and with an Eastern devotion he
kndt at the shrine of his idolatry. Sub-
«dia^ to this, there was noopinion 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 orphanof St. Louis,he became
the adopt^^ child of the Republic; and
jwth a pancidal ingratitude, onthe ruins
Doth of the throne and .the tribime, he
reared the throne of despotism.
A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the
po^;a pretended patriot, he impoverish-
M the country; .and in the name of Bru-
tiu,he graspedwithout remorse,and wore
wtjoutsh^, the diademoftheCosars!
this pantomime ofhispolicy,
AP^®^y®d theclown to his caprices.
At his touch, crowns crumbled, be^ars
rngnra, sjrstems vanished, the wildest
theories took the color of his whim, and
all that was venerable, and all that was
novel, changed places with the rapidity of Of all his soldiers, not one abandoned and a _
a drama. Even apparent defeat assumed him, till affection was usdess; and their —he was, throu^ all his yicuisitudi^^^e
the appearance of victory—^his flight first stipulation was for the safety oftheir same stem, impatient, inflexiMe
from Egypt confirmed his destiny— favorite «•» —the same mysterious, incoinpr^^spile
ruin itself only elevated him to empire. They knew well, if he was lavish of them, sdf—^the tnunwithouta model, aiidwith
C But if this fortime was great, his he was prodigal of himiself; and that if he out a shadow.
genius was transcendent; decision flashed exposed them to peril, he repaid them His fall, like his life, baffled all specula
upon his counsels; and it was the same to with plunder. For tion. In shbxt, 'his
decide and to perform. To inferior in- the soldier, he sub whole history was
/ wriie. He sits beside my chair. like a dreieim to the
tdlects, his combinations appeared per sidized every peo And scribbles, too, in hushed delight.
fectly impossible, his plans i>erfectly im ple; to the iseople He dips his pen, in charmed air: world, and no mem
practicable; but, in his hands, simplicity he made even pride What is it he pretends to write? can tdl how or why
marked their development, and success pay tribute »» The he was awakra^
vindicated their adoption. from the reverie.
victorious veterian He toils and toils; the paper gives ^ ^ch is a f^t
His person partook the character of his glittered with his No clue to aught he thinks. What them
mind—if the one never yielded in the gains; and the capi pnH f^ble .picture
His little heart is glad; he lives
cabinet, the other nc^erbrat in the field. tal, gorgeous with The poems that he can not pen.
€[ Nature had no ODstades that he did the spoils of art,
it is to be
not surmoimt—space no opposition that became the minia Strange fancies throng that baby brain,
he did not spurn; and whether amid ture metropolis of Whatgrave, sweet looks! What earnest the last) emp^
Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or polar eyes! of the Frendi. .
theuniverse. In this
snows, he seemed proof against peril, and wonderful combi- He stops—reflects—and now agam That he has d^e
empowered with ubiquity! The whole xmtion, his affecta His unrecording pen he plies. mudi evil ^ere is<
continent of Euirope trembled at be tion of literature little doubt; that
holding the audacity of his designs, and must not be omit It seems a satire on myself,— he has b ^ the
the miracle of their execution. Skepti ted ^ The jailer of These dreamy nothings scrawled m air. originoftnucligp6d
cism bowed to the prodigies of his per the Press, he affect This thought, this work! Oh, tricksy elf, there is just as
formance; romance assumed the air of ed the patronage Wouldst drive the father to despair? little. Thrbi^ ^
history; nor was there aught too incred of letters—^the pro- means, inten^on^
ible for belief, or too fanciful for expec scriber of books, he Despair! Ah, no; the heart, the mind ^ or not, Spaing
tation, when the world saw a subaltern encouraged philos Presistsffn hoping—schemes and strives tugal, and Fraiice
of Corsica waving his imperial flag over ophy—^the perse That there may linger with our kind have arisen to sthe
her most ancient capitals. All the visions cutor of authors, Some memory of our little lives. blessings of a free
constitution;8Uper.
of antiquity became common places in and Ae murderer
his contemplation; kings were his people of printers, hfe yet Beneath his rock in the early world stition l^s fo^d
—^nations were his outposts; and he dis pretended to the Smiling the naked hunter lay. hw grave in
posed of courts, and crowns, and camps, protection of learn And sketched on horn the spear he hurled ruins of the
and churches, and cabinets, as if they ing!—^the assassin The urus which he made his prey. quisitidn and
were the titular dignitaries of the chess of Palm, the silen- feudial' system^
board! cer[of De Stael, and Like him I strive in hope my rhyrnes its whole tri^ of
Amid all these dianges he stood im the denoimcer of May keep my name a little wMe— tyrafuuc satdlH^i
mutable as adamant. It mattered little Kotzebue, he was O child, who knows how many times has fl^ forever ^
whether in the field or the drawing-room the friend of David, We two have made the angels smile! Kings may leami
—^with the moborthelevee—^wearing the the benefactor of " A New Poet," by Wittiem Canton from him that thei'
jacobin boimet or the iron crown— De Lille, and sent safest study,, as
banishing a Braganza, or espousing a his academic prize to the philosopher of wdl as their noblest,is the interdit: oT#e
Hapsburg—dictating peace on a raft to England people; the people are taught by him^t
the Czar of Russia, or contemplating Su<^ a medley of contradictions, and at there is no despotism^ so stupOTaoyt
defeat at the gallows of Leipsic—he was the same time such an individual con against which they have not a resour^;
still the same military despot! sistency, were never united in the same and to those who would rise uptm the
Cradled in the camp, he was to the last character. A Royalist—^a Republican and ruins of both, he is a living leswn. that if
hour the darling of the army; ,and an Emperor—a Mohammedan—a Catho ambition can raise th^ from the lowest
whether in the camp or the cabinet, he lic and a Patron of the Synagogue—a station, it can also prostrate thm from
never forsook a friend or forgot a fawxr. Subaltern and a Sovereign—a Traitor the highest.--<^harlM Phillii».
Page 208
AM indined to believe that
the intention of the Sacred
Scriptures is to give to man
kind the information neces-
scuy for their salvation.
But I do not hold it necessary to bdieve
that the same God who has endowed us
with senses, witii speech, with intellect,
intended that we s^uld neglect the xise
of thes^ and seek by other means for
knowledge which these are sufficient to
procure for us; especially in a sciente like
astrcmomy, of which so little notice is
taken by the Scriptures that none of the
planets, taxept the sun and moon and
<mce or twice only Venus, by the name
of Lucifer, are so much as named at all.
niis therefore being granted, me-
l^hinks that in the discussion of natural
problems we ou^t not to begin at the
autlwrity of texts of Scriptures, but at
sensible experiments and necessary dem
onstrations.—Galileo.
#|jH£R£V1SR one goes one immedi-
atdy comes upon this incorrigible
moDof humanity. It esdsts everywhere in
legions; crowding and soiling ev'erjrthing,
like flies in summer. Hence the number-
1^ bad books, those rank weeds of
literature which extract nourishment
from the com, and choke it. They mo-
no^lize the time, money and attention
which really belongs to good books and
their nobleaims; they are written merely
with a view to making money or pro
curing places. Thqr are not only usdess,
but they do positive harm. Nine-tenths
of the whole of our present literature
amis soldy at taking a few nhitlitiga out
of the public'spodcet,and to accomplish
th^ author, publisher and reviewer have
jomed forces.—Schopenhauer.
I have often tried to picture to
^ mysdf what famine is, but the
human mind is not capable of drawing
ray form, auy scene, that will realize the
horrors of starvation.^e men who made
^ Com Laws are totally ignorant of
iK^t It means. The ^cultural laborers
know something of it in some counties,
rad there ^e soKine hand'loom weavers
in Lancashire who know what it is. I saw
flUBBARD'S
the other night, late at night, a light in a HERE are two great forces mere selfish tenderness for his ovm fap^y
cottage-window, and heard the loom which seem sheer inspiration
busily at work, the shuttle fl3ring rapidly. and nothing else—I mean and base—^nay, we may go furthCT and
It ought to have a cheerful soimd, but Shakespeare and Burns. say that he placed all creation, espeddly
it is at work near midnight, when there is This is not the place or the the suffering and depressed part of i^
care upon the brow of the workman— time to speak of the miracle called Shake under his protection. The oppresspr in
lest he should not be able to seciu-e that speare, but one must say a word of the every shape, even in the comparativdy
which will maintain his wife and children miracle called innocent embodi-
—then there is a foretaste of w^t is Bums ^ We are not sure of sorrow,
ment of the factOT
meant by the word " famine.*' Oh, if Try and recon and the ^rtsmra,
And joy was never sure; he regarded with
these men who made the Com Laws, if struct Bums as he Today will die tomorrow;
these men who step in between the Crea was—-a peasant direct aaid person^
Time stoops to no man*s lure; hostility But,
tor" and His creatures, could for only bom in a cottage And love, grown faint andfretful.
one short twelvemonth—^I would inflict that no sanitary in- aboveaU.hesawtJie
upon them no harder punishment for
With lips but half regretful charm of the hdme.
spector in these Sighs, and with eyesforgetful
their guilt—^if they for one single twdve- days would tolerate Weeps that no loves endure. He reco©:p^ it
month might sit at the loom and throw for a moment; as the basis of ^
the shuttlel I will not ask that they struggling with From too much love of living. sodety.Hehonor^
should have the rest of the evils; I will desperate effort From hope and fear set free. it in its humbl^
not ask that they shall be tom by the against pauperism, We thank with brief thanksgtvfng form, for he knew,
harrowing feelings which must exist almost in vain; Whatever gods may be, as few know, how
when a beloved wife and helpless children snatching at scraps That no life lives forever; sincerdy the fi^ir
are suffering the horrors which' these ofleamingin thein- That dead men rise up never; ly in the cottage is
Com Laws have inflicted upon millions. tervals of toil, as it That even the weariest river wdded by mutud
—John Bright. were,withhisteeth; Winds somewhere safe to sea. love and ^^m^
a heavy, silent lad His verses, th^
proud of his plow. Here, where the worldis quiet, go straight to the
)[0 know the mighty wor^ of God; Here, where all trouble seenw heart of every
^ to comprehend His wisdom and C All of a sudden, Dead unnds* and spent waves^ not
without preface or home, they appfe^
m^esty and power; to appreciate, in In doubtful dreams of dreams; to every father and
degree, the wonderAil worl^g of His waming, he breaks
out into exquisite I watch the green field growing mother; but that is
laws, surely all this must be a pleasing For reapingfolk and sowing only the begiraing,
and acceptable mode of worship to the TOng like a night
ingale from the For harvest-time and mowing, perhapsthefounda>
Mc^t High, to whom ignorance can not A sleepy world of streams, tion, of his sympa
be more grateful than knowledge. brushwood, and
continues singing I am tired of tears and laughter. thy. There is sdine-
Copemicus. thMg for ev^-
assweetly, in nigrht- And men that laugh and weep
ingale pauses, till Of what may comehereafter body in Burnit.
F we wish to be just judges of all he dies. The night- For men that sow to reap: He has ahe^ even
things, let us flrst persuade oursdves ingalesingabecaiise / am weary of days and hours. for v^min; he has
of this: tlwt there is not one of us without he can not help it; Blown buds of barren flowers, pity ev^ for the
fault; no man is foimd who can acquit he can only sing ardi^eneinyofnianr
Desires and dreams and powers
himsdf; and he who calls himself inno exquisitely, be And everything but sleep, kind. And his urii-
cent does so with reference to a witness, cause he knows no versdity mak^ his
and not to his consdence.—Seneca.
" The Garden of Proaperine," poems a treSsiu*-
other So it was ^ A. C. Swrnbume
with Bums. What hbuse in: which ^
IHEN a man of genius is in full is this but inspiration? One can no more may find what they want. Every Wajr-
swing, never contradict him, set measure or reason about it than meastire farer in the jouriiey of life may pmcK
him strai^t or try to reason with him. or reason about Niagara; and remember,
Give him a free field. A listener is sure the poetry is only a fragment of Bums. The sore, the weary, the wound^
to get a greater quantity of good, no Amazingasit mayseem, all contemporary allfind something toheal ^ soothe. For
matter how mixed, than if the man is testimony is unanimous that the man was this great master is the universd S^tnM-
thwarted Let Pegasus bolt—^he will far more wonderful than his -i^rks «•» itan^ Whefe the prirat ^d the Levite
bring you up in a place you know nothing If his talents were universal, his sympa may have passed by in vfim this eternal
about I—^Linnceus. thy was not less so. His tendemess was no heart will still afford resource
 Page 210 ALBERT ffUBBARD*S
His was a soul bathed in crystal ^ He
hurried to avow everything. There was
no reticence in him. The only obscure
pass^e 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
frai^ht with truth, honor, constanQr and
love." But he had, as the French say,
the defects of his qualities. His imag^ina-
twn was a supreme and celestial gift, but
his imagination often led him wrong and
never more than with woman. Hie chiv
alry tlwt made Don Quixote see the
heroic in all the common events of life
®®ade Bums (as, his brother-t^s us) see a
goddess in every girl he approached;
hence manyloveafifaira, and some guilty
ones, but even these must be judged
reference to time and circimistances.
This mudi is certain: had he been devoid
of genius they would not have attracted
attention. It is Bum's pedestal that af
fords a target. And why, one may ask,
IS not the same treatment measured out
to Buito as to otheis?
Mankind is helped in its progress almost
as much by the study of imperfection
g by the contemplation of parfection.
Had we nothing before us in our futile
andhalting lives but ssdnts andthe ideal,
we TOght well fail altogether. We grope
•' blindly along the catacombs ofthe world,
we dimb the dark ladder of life, we feel
our way to futurity, but we can scarcely
see an indh around or before us We
stumble^andfalter and fall,our
knees are bruised and sore, and we look
up for light and guidance. Could we see
nothing but distant,unapproachable im-
pecrat^ity we mig^t w^ sink prostrate
m the hopelessness of emulation, and the
weannessof despair.Is it not then, when
serais blank and listless, when
sfrength and courage flag, and when per
fection seems remote as a star, is it not
^en that imperfection helps us?Whenwe
that tilegreats andchoicest images
of God have had their weaknesses lilre
ours, their temptations, their hour 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, iii 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? I^t us glory in his
strength and be comforted in his weak
ness; and when we thank heaven for the
inestimablegift of Bums, we do not need
to remember wherein he was imperfect;
we can not bring ourselves to regret that
he was made of the same clay as our
selves.—Rosebery.
'He coimtry life isto bepreferr^,for
there ^ve see the works of God; but
m cities, littie else but the works of men;
and the one makes a better subject for
our contemplation than the other
The country is both the philosopher's
gardenand library, in whidi he reads and
contemplates tibe power, wisdom, and
goodness of God.—^William Perm.
I congratulate poor young men upon
being bom to that ancient and honor
able degree which renders it necessary
that they should devote themselves to
hard work.—^Andrew Carnegie.
-^SCRiAl^ JBOOJPC
ilHEN you come into any
fresh company, observe their
hmnours ^ 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 leame, not to teach. Besides,
it will persuade your acquaintance that
you have titie 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 anytiiing
though never so bad, or doe it but
moderately, lest you bee imexpectedly
forced to an unhansdm retraction. It is
safer to commend any thing more than is
due, than to discommend a thing soe
mu^ 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 ^ • enemies. Bless us, if it may be, in all
—Sir Isaac Newton to one of his pupils.
are made for co-operation, like
^ClU' feet, like hands, likeeyelids, likethe
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 Aurdius.
/rf'^ONE have fought better, and none
]L_6 have been more fortunate, than
Charles Darwin. He found a great truth
trodden underfoot, reviled by bigots, and
retailed by all the world; he lived long
enough to see it, chieflyby his ownefforts
irrefragably established in sdence, in
separably incorporated into the com
mon thoughts of men. What shall a man
desire more than this?
—Thomas Huxley.
Page iU
man who makes it the habit of
_ his life to go to bed at nine 6'dock,
usually gets rich and is always rdiable.
Of course, going to .bed does not make
him rich—^I merdy mean that su<A a
man will in all probability be up early
in the morning and do a big dash's work,
so his wearybones put him to 1^"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 largdy a result
of habit.—^John Jacob Astor.
V—^ FEEL most de^ly that this whole
question of Creation is too
found for human intellect. A dog mi^t
as wdl speculate on the mind of Newton!
Let each man hope and bdieve what he
can.—Charles Darwin.
thank Thee for this place in whidi
we dwdl; 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 tilie bright skies that make our
lives ddi^tful; for our friends in all
parts of the earth, and our friendly
hdpers in this foreign isle Give us
courage and gaiety and the quiet mind.
Spare to us our friends, soften to iis our
our irmocent 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.
the name of the Past and of the
Future, the servants of Humanity.
—both its philosophical and its prac
tical servants—come forward to dnrm as
their due the gperal direction of the
world. Their object is to constitute at
length a real Providence in all depart
ments—moral, intellectual and mate
rial.—^Auguste Comte.
Education—^A debt due from present to
future graerations.—George Peabody.
Page 212 ALBERT ilUBBARD'S
|R. ROGERS was compli- it. He is supposed to be a
lY LORD: I have been in at last to the verge of publication, with mentedonhi8energy,hisfore- has one side dark and the o^^ iteight.
formed by the proprietor out one act of assistance, one word of sightedness andcompliment- But the other side, though you ife't ife
ofthe World that two papers encouragement, or one smile of favor ««» ed in various ways, and it, is not dark; it is brightj ^d itsi ri^
in which my Dictionary is Such treatment I did not expect, for I he has deserved those com penetrate, and others do s^-it
recommended to the public, never had a patron before. pliments, edthough I say it myself; and 1 not God. „
were written by your Lordship. To be so The shepherd in Virgil grew at last ac enjoy them all.. There is one side of Mr. I would take this opportumfy to
distinguished is an honor, which, being quainted with Love, and foimd him a something' tl^t
Rogers that has not
very little accus- native of the rocks. have nevOT bc^
tomed to favors Is not a patron, my
been mentioned. For they starve the little frightened child allowed to; teB by
I know not whether Laws he right. If you will leave Till it weeps bothnight and day:
from the great, I
Or whether Laws be wrong;
lord, one who looks that to me I will Andtheyscourgetheweak,andflogthefool, Mr. Rcfg^, eith^
know not well how with unconcern on by or
All that we know who lie in gaol touch upon that. And gibe the old and gray. printjjand if I dcmft
to receive, or in a man struggling
what terms to ac
Is that the wall is strong;
for life in the water
There was a note And somegrow mad, and all grow baa, look at him 1 can
And that each day is like a year, in an editorial in And none a word may say. tdl it now.
knowledge «•» and when he has
W^en, upon some A year whose days are long. reached ground,en
one of the Nor
In 1893j when< ^
folk papers this Each narrow cell in which we dwell
slight encourage But this I know, that every Law cumbers him with Is a foul and dark latrine, publisihing
morning that pany pf Ch^lj^
ment, I first visited That men have made for Man, help? The notice touched upon that And thefetid breath ofItmng Death Wel^cTt pf
your Lordship, I Sincefirst Man took his brothefs life. which you have very thing, that Chokes up each grated screen.
was overpowered, And the sad world began. been pleased to And all, but Lust, is turned to dust I was. financial'
hidden side of Mr. agents it 1^^
like the rest of But straws the wheat and saves the chaff take of my labors, In Humanity's mdchine.
Rogers, where it mehi^i^y is debt.
manl^d, by the With a most evil fan. had it been early spoke of Helen Kel
enchantment of had been kind:
ler and her affec
The brackish water that we drink If you
your address, and This too I know—and wise it were but it has been de
tion for Mr. Rogers
Creeps with a loathsome slme, ber wW cpmni^f^
couldnot forbearto If each could know the same^— layed till I am in And the bitter bread they weigh inscales was at t&at
wish that I might That every prison that men build different, and can
to whom she dedi Is full of chalk imd lime, yOli th^
cated her life book.
boast myself le Is built unth bricks of sharne. not enjoy it; till I And she has a right
And sleep toUl not lie down, but walks you i^l^d'
vainqueur du vatn- And bound with bars lest Christ should see am solitary, and Wild-eyed, and cries to Time. anyt^g»an4<^^d>
How men their brothers maim. to feel that way, not buy ^yti|i|ig„
queur de la terre— can not imp^ it; ******
because, without and I w^ pni my
that I might ob till I ain known,
tain that regard
With bars they blur the gracious moon.
and do not want
the public know And every human heart that breaks. back; my bopka
And blind the goodly sun: ing anything about In prison-cell or yora. were not worth
for which I saw And they do well to hide their Hell, it. I hope it is no
the world contend very cynical as
it, he rescued, if Is as that broken box that gave anydsi^i at
For in it things are done I may .use t^at Its treasure to the Lord, and i ^v^d ^ t
ing; but I found That Son of God nor Son of Man perity not to con Andfitted the unclean
attendance so fess obligations
term, that marvel ^vMwayiny cc^r
little encouraged, Ever should look upon!
where no benefit
ous girl, tibat won- With the scent of costliest nard. rights; Mr.
dertul Southern
that neither pride
nor modesty would
4c * * « * «
has been received, girl, that girl who AM happy they whose hearts can break had long raoiiih,
visionahe^'tos^
The vilest deeds like poison words or to be unwilling
suffer me to con was stone deaf, " Yoior books hanni
Bloom well in prison-air: that the public blind, and dumb
tinue it 9^ TVhen I It is only what is good in Man should consider me suppioated you be^
from scarlet-fever fore,
once addressed That wastes arid withers there: as owing that to a when she was a p^c is over
your Lordrfiip in Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate. patron which Prov-
baby eighteen MayLord Christ enterin?
pubUc, I had ex And the Warder is Despair. idence has en
months old; and .• The Ballad of R^dtog Oad." Iw Oua WOde wil support
hausted all the art (Concluded on next page) abled me to do agam, and mat
of pleas^ which a who. now is as well
for mjrself. and thoroughly educated as any woman was a correct proposition. He sav^' my
retir^ and uncourtly scholar can pos Having ^carried on jny work thus far on this planet at twenty-nine years of copsrri^ts, and saved mefrom finaiinnl
sess. I had done sOll that I could; and no with so little obligation to any favorer ruin. He it was who arranged with my
IS well pleased to have his all neg age. She is Uie njost marvdous per^« creditors to allow me to roam^ the face of
of learning, I shall not be disappointed of her sex that has existed on this eartn
lected, TO It ever so little. though I should conclude it, if less be atnce Joan of i^c. but nations thereof with lectures, promsing
^en yeap, my lord, have now passed
Since I wmtedin your outward rooms, or
possible, with less; for I have been long That IS not all Rog^ that atthe end offour years I would pay
was ri^ul^ from your door; during
wakened from that dream of hope in
which I once boasted myself with so
3^ nev^ see that Sr for dollar, that awangement was
whiw time I have been pushing on my much exultation, my lord.
work through, difficulties of which it is
unless to complain, and have brought it
Your Lordship's most 'humble, most
obedient servant, Sam. Johnwn.
generous heart ofhia. You never hear of out-ofHtoors unda umbrdl^ and a
 Page 214 ^ItBBRSr flUJ3BARD*S
borrowed one at that. You see his
mustache and his head trying to get
white (he is always trying to look like
me—I don't blame him for that). These
are only emblematic of his character,
and that is all. I say, without exception,
hair and all, he is the whitest man I
have ever known.—Mark Twain. (From
speech delivered at banquet to H. H.
Refers.)
HEN 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
thou^t have their beginnings in the
brain, thence they are conveyed to the
bodily members, wherein they terminate.
Whatever, tiierefore, is in the mind is in
the brain, and from ^e brain inthe body
according to the order of its parts. So a
man 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 ^t it as it took to make it.
—^Mayer A. Rothschild.
jjO the bdoved and d^lored memory
of her \i^o 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
sfxongest incitement,and whose approba-
tion was my diief reward—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 vefy insufficient degree, the
inestimable advantage of her revision;
some of the most important portions
having bra reserved for a more careful
examination, whidi th^ are now des
tined never to receive. Were I but capa
ble of interpretmg to the world one-
half the great thou^ts and noble feelings
which are buried in her grave, I shoyld
be the medium of a greater benefit to it,
th^ is ever likely to arise from any
thing that I can write, imprompted and
unassisted by her all but unrivaled
wisdom.--John Stuart Mill. (Dedication
to " On Liberty.**)
I^APPINESS itself is sufficient ex-
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.
sHE 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 fiimish a magic defense. Around
the ideas of religion she throws her bul
wark of invisibUity; and the sword of
the skeptic and the battering-ram of the
cP
matericdist faU harmless on vacuity.
—^Immanud Kant.
«•»
Let our schools teach the nobility of
labor and the beauty of human service,
but the sui^erstitions of ages past—
never!—^Peter Cooper.
«•»
The ruin of most men dates from some
idle moment.—Geoi^e S. Hillwd.
A great thing is a great book; but a
greater thing than all is the talk of a grea(
man.—Diaraeli.
HAT knowledge is of m6st
worth? The uniform reply
is: Science. This is the ver
dict on all counts For
direct self-preservation, or
the maintenance of life and health, the
all-important knowledge is—science. For
that indirect self-preservation which we
call gaining a livdihood, 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 ofnational
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 needfiil preparation is still—
science. And for purposes of discipline—
intellectual, moral, religious—^the most
efficient is, once more science.
—Herbert Spencer.
He is not only idle who does nothing, but
he is idle who might be better employed.
—Socrates.
|NE comfort is that great men taken
up in any way are profitable com
pany. We can not look, however imi^-
fectly, upon a great man without gaining
spmetliing by it. He is the living fountain
of life, wUdi it is pleasant to be near. On
anyterms whatsoever you willnot grudge
to wander in his neighborhood for a
while.—Carlyle.
Simplicity js an exact medium between
too little and too much.
—Sir Joshua Reynolds.
rt^HEN I meet a laborer on the edge
of a field, I stop and look at the man
bom amid the grain where he will be
reaped, and turning up with his plow me
groimd of his tomb, mixing his bur^g
sweat with the icy rain of Autumn. Tne
furrow he has just turned is a monumcrat
that will outlive him. I have seen tte
pyramids of Egypt, and the forgotten
ftirrows of our he«^er: both alike bw
^tness to ^e work of man and tM
fllioilaiess of lito days.—Chateaubrwad.
P<HE last moments which
^^passed at Mertoh were
praying over his little daught^ is ^
laysleeping. AportraitofLady
hiing in his cabin; and no Catholic evM
beheld the picture of his patron s^t
with more devout reverence. The un^^
guised and romantic passion with wlu^
he regarded it amounted, alni^ to
superstition; and when the portrmt uros
now taken down, in clearing for ac^oft,
he desired the man who removed it to
" take care of his guardian angd." In
this manner hefrequently spoke ofit,^
if he believed there was a virtue in the
image. He wore a miniature of her also
next to his heart.—Robert Sotith^.
I am quite certain that there is npth^
which draws so good, or a t g
large a congregation as a fight m taxe
pulpit.—^Bolton Hall.
1Y horse was very lame, mid my t^d
did ache excee<Hngly. Nowwhat oc-
cuired I here avow fe ^
man account forit as he will. Suddenly I
thought, " Can not God heal m^ pr
beast asHe will? " Immediatelymyweari
ness and headache passed; and myhorw
was no longer lame. . - _ ,
—John Wesley's Jbufnal.
There is but one God-^s it Allrfi or
tehovah? The palm-tree is sometime
Jailed a date-tree, but there is only one
tree.—Disraeli.
)B are inteUigent beings; and mtdUj.
^ gentbeingscannothaVebeenfermM
by a blind brute, insensible being. There
S8 certainly some difference, betwe^ a
dod and the ideas of Newton. Newton*^
intdligence came from some greater
Intdligence.—Voltaire.
I^lpng around on the noisy inanity of
the world,—words with little meazung*
actions wth little worth»-^^e loves to
reflect on the great Empire -of Silent,
than all stars; dbq^ tb^
Kingdtoi ofDttthi It itee isgr^t; ^
dae 188tnan.-~-Gfiilyle.
Page 216 ^LBBRSr ffUBBARD^S J3001C
DEAR SPENCER: Your to Christian practice in regard to mar EONARDO painted souls •gio had no power of imagining or
telegram which reached me riage, and Christian theory in regard to whereof the features and severely .... He could not,, as it iV^are,
on Fridayevening caused me dogma. How am I to tell the Dean that the limbs are but an index. sustain a grave and solemn sU'^iinv Sf
great perplexity, inasmuch. I think he ought to read over the body of The charm of Michelan music.He was forced by his temp(Bram»t
— as I had just been tnl1fir>g to a person who did not repent of what the gelo's ideal is like a flower to overlay the melody with roulSdMi
MorlQT, and agreeing with him that the Church considers mortal sin, a service upon a tree of rugged strength. Raphael Gazing at hisfrescos, thethouj^t c#^ ^
proposal for a funeral in Westminster not one solitary proposition of which aims at the loveliness which can not be me that Correggio was lilresimtoihstdii-
Abb^r had a very questionable look to she would have accepted for truth while disjoined from goodness. But Correggio ing to sweetest fluteplajringi ^d' traiu?^
us, who desired nothing so much as she was alive? How am 1 to urge him to is contented with bodies " delicate and lating phraseafter phrase as they pasged
peace and honor do that which, if I throu^ his
desirable." His
should attend Oh, may I join the choir invisible were in his place, I angels are genii dis- into laughing faces^
George Eliot to her Die in the large and charitable air; bree^ tres^, ^d
grave ^
Of those immortal dead who live again should most em imprisoned from And all our rarer, better, truer self.
Inmindsmade betterbytheirpresence;live phatically refuse the perfumed chal ro^g mists.
It can hardly be That sobbed religiously in yearning song.
In pidses stirred to generosity. to do? You tell me ices of flowers, hou- That watched to ease the burthen of the er cad^ce r^di^'
doubted that the In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn that Mrs. Cross risofan erotic para
proposal will be world. 1^ e^: imd thm
For miserable aims that end unth self. wished for the fu dise, elementalspir Laboriously tracing what must be.
bitterly opposed, In thoughtssublime that pierce the night neral in the Abbey. its of nature want St. Peter wil^ tie
possibly (as hap And what may yet be better—saw wttmn k^, or St. Aug^^
like stars, While I desire to oning in Eden in
A worthier image for the sanctuary.
pened in MiU's tine of the
case with less pro
Andwiththeir mUdpersistence urge man's entertain the great her prime. To ac And shaped it forth before the mulUtude brOw, or the m-
search est respect for her cuse the painter of
vocation) with the Divinely human, raising worship so ^i^ eyes of
raWng up of past To vaster issues. wishes, I am very conscious inunoral- Tohi^erreverencemoremixedwithlov^ John took foim
So to live is heaven: sorry to hear it. ity, or of what is
histories, about To make undying music in the world. I do not imder- stigmatized as sen
That betterselfshalllive tillhuman Tiim neath ^ p^cil ^
^K^ch the opinion Breathing as beauteous order, that stand the feeling suality, would be
Shall fold its eyelids and the hun^ sky But the light
even of those who
controls which could create as ridiculous as to, Be gathered likea scroll within the tomo returned, agd
hm least the de- Unread forever.
nre or the right to With growing sway the growing life of such an unusual de dass his seraphic
This is life to come. ed again for him
man. sire on any personal beings among the
be Pharisaical is So we inherit that sweet purity. grounds save those Which martyred men have made more anrang t3ie douds;
strongly divided,, products of the
For which we struggled, failed aivd of affection, and Christian imagina glorious , It is not therein
and vdiich had bet- For us who strive to follow. May I reach in di^fy or sub-
agonized, the natural yearn tion. They belong
^ be forgotten 9^ With vriderdngretrospect that breddespair. ing to be near, to the generation That purest heaven; be to other satas
fC With respect to Rebellious flesh that would not be sub even in deathVthose The cup ^ strength insome great agony; gip <^cd8, but in
of the fauns; like
putting pressure on
dued, whom we heve fauns, they com Enkindie.generous ardor; feedpureme; artle^ jgrace and'
tl^Deanof West- A vicious Beget the smiles that have no cmdty^ mdodibus t ^ ^ -
<Qinster, I have to parent shaming still its child— loved. And oil Vjtib- bine a certain sav
Poor anxious penitence—is quick dis- lic grounds ihe age wildness a dith- Be the sweetpresenceof a good diffused, nes&

consider that he wish is stil)i^'*%8s

has some confi- solved; yrambic ecstasy And in diffusion even moreint^e.. Now the mppd
daice in me, and Its discords, quenched by mee^ng har intelligible to niffe. of inspiration, a de So shall tjoin the choirJtwmUe which Correggip
One can not eat light inrapid move Whose music is thegladness ofthe world,
before asking him monies, one's cakeand have ments as they revel 'Oh.M«rIJotati»Choirto^— stimulates is one
of natural and
(Cosduded on next pace) it too. Those who amiddoudsor flow
wl^iih he is pretty elect to be free in ers, with theperma
tfaou^t^^ pitei;
r I have thought and deed must not hanker aft^ nent and all-pervading sweetness of the sure. Tp fed his influence and
^pd^he^ I ^ly think it atoriAt
ask
the rewards, if th^r are to be so called, master's style. C infantine or moment to be the subjert of ebxxng
raing^^ a in hisposition to do. which the world offers to those who put pasftinn, or fierce lust, or h^mc resolv^
«0W I c^ 1^ say I do. Howevermuch childlike, these celestial sylphs are scarce
up with its fetters. ly to be distinguishedfor any noblequal or profound cont^plation, or peiifflve
<^rcuiastance, West- 'll^us, howjever I lookat the proposal, it ity ofbeautyj^m Murillo's ch^bs, and mdancholy, is impoi^le. Wantonn^
seems to me to be a profound mistake^ are far less divine than the dioir of diil- innocent b^use unconscbi:^ of
® Christian Church
there. and I can have nothing to do with it. I dren who attend the Madonna in Titian's immor^ because incaps^W of any ^
a Chri^ priest,Christian
and we shall be deeply grie^^ if this resolution "Assumption." But in their boyhood rad ious purpose, is the quality which pre-
gsk hunj^ b^w caas^tional is ascribed to any other motives than their prime of youth they acquire a niU- vidls in ^ that he Im planted
Qeorge M » oi^y
yiiotisfinovniziot tiie Abbey
asa great those iK^ch I have set forth at greater ness of sensuous vitality and a radiance It follows fmm. this ttet |he
lei^;th than I intended. that are peculiar to Corregpo ... • • CorreiSiosity of Corregi^o, \^ch
TOt^i ^ as a person whp^ life said Ever yours very faithfully, T. H As a cox&sequence of the predilecti^ for sharply distingui^c^
were in sotoridus ftntagoiiiiim (Letter to Herbert Spencer.) sensuous and voluptuous forms, Oxntg- vious artists, was the fiac^ olpaintil

Fage 218 ^BLBBRT ffUBBARD^S
a purdy voluptuous dream of beautiful
beings in perpetual movement, beneath
the laughter of morning li^t, 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 witdieriesofcoloring, chiaroscuro and
faunlike loveliness of form into a har
mony so perfect in its sensuous charm.
€[ ^witdied by the strains of the siren
we pardon affectations of expression,
emptiness of meaning, feebleness of
compc^tion, exaggerated and melo
dramatic attitudes In that which is
truly his own—^the delineation of a
trai^ent moment in the life of sensuous
beauty, the painting of a smile on Na
ture's face, whenli^t and colortremble
in harmony with the movement ofjoyous
living creatures—none can approadi
Correggio.—John Addington
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
livingand insistthat wesh^ be governed
by the dead. I bdieve this is an error,
and hence I set myselfagainstthe Church
and insist that men sh^ have the rif^t
to work out their lives in their own way,
alwasrs allowing to others the right to
work outtheir lives in their own way, too.
—Garibaldi.
Bvaywar is a national calamity whether
victorious or not.—<Hn. Von. Moltke.
I^^TIAN by a few strokes of the
brudi knew how to make the gen-
ersl image and diaracter of whatever
object he attempted. His great care was
to preserve the masses of light and of
{^de, and to^ i^ve by opposition the
idea of that soli<Uty which is inseparable
ficom natural objects. He was the great
est of the Venetians and deserves to rank
with Raphael and Michelangdo.
—Sir Joshua Reynolds.
[HE eyes and the mouth are the
supremely significant features of
the human face. In Rembrandt's ix>r-
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 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 Michd.
The Vice of our Theology is seen in the
daim that the Bible is a Closed Book
and that the Age of Inspiration is Past.
—^Emerson.
fe^OME have narrowed their minds,
and so fettered them with the chains
of antiquity that not only do they re
fuse to spe^ save as the andents spake,
but they refuse to think save as. the
andents thought. God speaks to us, too,
and the best thoughts are those now
being vouchsafed to us. We will ^cd
the andents!—Savonarola.
The record of a generous life nms like a
vine around the memory of our dead,
and every sweet, unselfi^ act is now a
perfiuned flower.—^Robert G. Ingersoll.
IT is a happy and striking way ot
expressing a thought.
It is not often, though it be livdy and
mantling, that it carries a great body
with it.
Wit, therefore, is fitter for diversion than
budness, being more grateful to fancy
than judgment.
Less judgment than wit, is more sail
than ^last.
Yet it must be confessed that wit gives
an aige to sense, and recommends it
extremely
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 yoursdf.
—Leoiiardo da Viosi.
;ND and Brother:—^It
the will of the Great
Spirit that we should meet
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 s\m and
caused it to shine with brightness upon
us. Our eyes are opened that we see
clearly; o\ir 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 jrou and can speak what we think.
All have heard your voice and all speak
to you now as one man. Our minds are
agreed
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 detaiii^ou. 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
U8 for clothing. He had scattered them
over the country and taught us how to
take them. He had caused the earth to
produce com for bread. All this He had
done for His red diildren because He
loved them. If we had some disputes
about ow himting-ground they w^
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 idand. Their numbers
were small. They found iHends and not
'' \' I
enemi^. They told us th^ had
their own country for fear of wicke^Ii nfflm'
and had comehere to enjoythdr r^pon.
They asked for a small seat We
pity on them, granted theirreque^, ^d
they sat down among us. We gave the^i
com and meat; they gave us jfioison in
return ^
The white people,brother,had nowfou^d
our country. Tidings were carried ba^
and more came among us. Yd: to did
not fear them «e» We took thd^ to be
friends. They called us brothears. We
bdieved them and gave thdn a l^d"
seat. Atlength their numbers had gre|tiy,
increased. They wanted more land; ffiey
wanted our coimtry fio» Our eyes Vrare
opened and our minds became
Wars took place, Indians wd* hir^ W
fight against Indians, and many of o|^
people were destroyed.They also brouj^t
strong liquor among us. It w^s strong
and ^erM, and has dam Itousands.
c Brother, ourseats were once large ^d
yours were small. You have x»w
amea people,»d we
a place left to spread our blankets.
have got our country, but are not ^
satisfied; you want to force your rdig-
ion upon us. .
Brother, continue to listen. You say-that
vou are sent to instruct us how to vgr-
diip the Great Spirit ag^eaj^y ^
mind; and, ifwe do not take hold ^the
rdigion whidi you white ^ple teadi,
we shall be unhappy hereafter. You s^
that you are ri^t and we are lost. How
do we know this to be fane? We under
stand that your rdigion is ^tten m a
Book. If it was intended for us, as weu
as you, why has not the Great Spirit
given to us, andnotonly to us, but why
did He not give to our forefethers the
knowledge of that Book, with tiie means
of understanding it rightly? We
know what you tell us about it. How
shall we know when to bdieve, bdng so
often deceived by the White people?
^ Brother, you say thete isbutone way
to worship and serve the Gr^t ^irit. If
there is but one religion, why do you
vAdte people diffe" so mudi about it?
Why not agreed, as you can aU'
Ae Book?
Page 220 '^LrBBRSr -HUBBARD'S , <SCRAr>
Brother, we do not understand these you collect money from the meeting. I We boast that we bdong to the
\OW many a man has dated a
things. We are told that your religion can not tell what this money was in teenth century and are mak^g the
new era in his life from the
was given to your forefathers and h^ tended for, but suppose that it was for rapid strides ofany nation. Biit a)^d&
reading of a book. The book
been handed down from father to son. your minister; and, if we should conform how little this village does for its own
exists for us perchance which
We also have a religion which was given to your way of thinking, perhaps you culture. I do not wishto flatter iny towm-
may want some will explain our miracles and
our forefathers and
reveal new ones
men, nor to ^
has been handed They made the chamber sweet with from us. The at present un
flattered by tbeSpi
down to us, their REMEMBER
flowers and leaves, Brother, we are utterable things we
fof that wU not
children. We wor- And the bed sweet with flowerjs on which told that you have may find some Remember me when I am gone away. advance either of
ship in our way. Hay; been preaching to Gone far into the silentland! us. We need to be
where uttered.
It teaches us to be While my soul, love-bound, loitered on the white people in These same ques When you can no more hold me by the provoked goaded
thankful for all the its way, this place ^ These tions that disturb
hand, likeoxOT, as weare»
favors we-receive, / did not hear the birds about the eaves, people are our and puzzle and con Nor I half me
Remember turnwhennomore,day
to go, yet turningbyday,
stay. into a tf6t
have aa compara-
We
to love each other. Nor hear the reapers talk among the neighbors. We are have compwa-
and to be imited. sheaves: acquainted with
found us have in You tellmeofourfuturethatyou planned: tivdy decent sp-
We never quarrel Only my soul kepi watchfrom day to day, them. We wll wait their turn occurred Ordy remember me; you understand nf common
tern of cotninon
to all the wise men; schools^ schools for
about religion. My thirsty soul kept watchfor one away:— a little while and not one has been It will be late to counsel then or pr^.
Brother, the Great Perhaps he loves, / thought, remembers, see what effect your omitted; and each Yet if you should forget me for a while infants only; biit
excepting the h^f^
Spirit has made us grieves, preaching has upon has answered them And afterwards remember, do not S^eve, starved Lyceum
all, but He has At length there came the step upon the them. If we find it For if the darkness and corruption leave in
according to his the wintCT, an4
made a great differ- stair, does them good,
ability, by his word Avestige ofthe thoughts that oncel Md, latterly the pray
ence between His Upon the lock the oldfamiliar hand: makes them hon- and his life. More Better by far you shouldforget
Thanthatyoushouldrememberandbesad, ^ginning of a li
white and His red Thenfirst my spirit seemed to scent the air est, and less dis-
over, with wisdom
children. He has Of Paradise; then first the tardy sand posed to cheat In- we shall leam lib REST
given us different (y time ran golden; and I felt my hair dians, we will con- the state^ no sdxck>l
complexions and tilt on a glory, and my soul expand, sider again of what erality.The solitary for ourselves
hired man on a O earth, lie heavily uponher .
different customs. nrn«/« ^ you have said. Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching. We spend xnpife
^ To you He has THE FIRST DAY Brother you have farm in the out
skirts of Concord,
almost any ai^^
pven the arts. To / wish I could remember the first day, now heard our an- Lie close around her; leave no room for de of bodily ali
who has had his ment or ailina^t
these He has not First hour, first moment of your meeting swer to your talk,
opened our eyes me, and this is all we secondbirth andpe
culiar religious ex
Withits\arsh laughter, norfor sound of than on our mental
aliment. It is tinife
We know these If bright or dim the season, it might be have to say at pres-
things to be true. Summer or Winter for aught I can say; ent. As we are go- perience, and is
She ftatt no questions, she hathno replies^ that we had' un
drivenashebelieves common scJhools,
Since He has made
sogreata difference
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
ing to part, we
will come and take into silent gravity Hushed in and curtained with a blessea
dearth • that we aiQ
that we did' not
not
and exclusiveness
betw^ us in other So dull to mark the budding of my tree yon/by the hand, by his faith may Ofall that irked herfrom the hour^ofbirth; ig^ve offour edu^-
things, why maywe ThatwouldnotblossomyetformanyaMay. and hope theGreait Jith
With stillness
stillness that.?
that is «*/««/»» - ".Y we be-
not condude that If only I could recollect it, such Spirit will protect think it is not true;
but Zoroaster, Darkness moreclearthan noonday holdeth gin to De men and
women. It is time
He has given us a A day of days! I let it come and go you on your jour- thousands of years
different religion its traceless as a thaw of bygone snow; ney and return you Silence'more musical that villages wi^e
®go, traveled the universities, an4
accordix^ to our It seemed to rnean so litUe, meant so safe to your friends, same road and had
Even her very heart has ceased to stir, their elder inhabi
understanding? much; —Red Jackrt. the same expe Until the morning of ug. tants the fellb^
The Great Spirit If only now I could recall that touch, (Reply to a Mis- rience; but he, be Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be. ofuniversities, with
does right He First touch of hand in hand—Did one hut sionary who had ing wise, knew it And when she wakes she will not think IdsUre^if th^ arb
knows what is best know! ~ ' spoken about his long,
to be universal, indeed so well off^
forHisdiildren;we (Conduded onnextpage) Mission among the and treated his " Sonnets." by Christina Georgina Rosseiit to pursue lib^al'
—
aresatisfied. <[Bro- Seneca Indians.) neighbors accord- ,
ther, we do not wish to destroy your re- ingly, and is even said to have mvented, studies the rest of their lives. Shall the
Hgion or take it from you. We only want Public Health is the foundation world be confined to one Paris, or bne
and established worship among
to enjoy our own. upon wh\ch rests the happiness of Let him humbly commune with Zo Oxford forever? Can not students; be
Brother, you say you have not come to the people and the welfare of tJae nation, roaster then, and through the liber^ boarded here and geta liberal education
get our lands or oiv money, but to en- The care of the I^blic Health is the izing influence of all the worthies, with under the skiesof Concord? Can we not
lighten our minds. I will now tell you that first duty of the statesman. Jesus Christ himself, and let " our hire some Abelard to Itecture tb u^?
1 have been at your meetings and saw —Diaradi. church go by the board." AJas! what with foddfering the cattleand
Page 222
tending the store, we are kept from
school too long, and our education is
sajily neglected In this country, the
village should in some respects take the
WUBBARD^S
to Vauduse, I well know the iHE enjojrment of my life practised, and the MiSemiial sfaip
has been greatly promoted ywftn upon the earth would haire
beauties of that diarming valley,
and ten years' residence is proof of my by the undoubted love and now in full vigor and ^tablishj^'
affection for the place. I have shown my untiring kindness of all with ever

place of the nobleman of Europe It
should be the patron of fine arts. It is
rich^ enou^. It wants only the n^g-
nanimity and refinement. It can spend
monqr enough on such things as farmers
and teaders 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.
Ideals are like stars; you will not suc
ked 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 Sdiurz.
l^eedom is alonethe imoriginated birth-
ri^t of man; it belongs to him by force
ofhis humanity, ^d isindependence on
the will and creation of every other, in so
far as this consists with every other per
son's freedom.—^Kant.
XF any pilgrim monk come from dis-
t^t 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
w simply content with what he finds:
he shallbe received, for as long a as
he d^ires. If, inde^, he find fault with
aiQ^mg, or expose it, reasonably, and
with the hun^ity of clxarity, the Abbot
shall discuss it prudently, lest x>erchance
God had sent for this very thing. But, if
he havebeenfound 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 him, honestly, that he must
dep^. If he does not go, let two stout
monks, m the name of G(^, explain the
matter to him.—St. Benedict.
Solitude is as needful to the imagination
as society is wholesome for the character.
—James Russell Lowell.
love of it by the house which I built whom I have ever lived, What divisions, hatreds,
there. There I began my article "Africa," "a numerous association of dis dreadful physical and mental sofferrngs
there I wrote the greater part of my ciples, frOm whom I have continually have been produced by the nan^ 6f
epistles in prose and verse. At Vaucluse received the most pleasant attentionSi Confucius, Brahma, Mo^i
I conceived the first idea of giving an in many cases amounting to a devotion Jesus, Mohammed, Penn, J^ Snath,
to which I was Mother 1^, trtc !
epitome of the Lives of Illustrious Men, Ifanyofth^TOuld
and there I wrote my treatise on a Soli in no way entitled; Come, let me fake thee to my breast.
and I hiave quite Andpledge wene'er shallsunder; have iinaginied l^t
tary Life, as well as that on religious their xiamra ^^d
retirement It was there, also, that I often warned tiiem And I shall spurn, as vilest dust.
against the injur The world's wealth and grandeur. cause ^e disio^h,
sou^t to moderate my passion for hatred wd
Laura, which, alas, solitude only cher ious influence of
And do I hear my Jeannie own ing poor
ished. And so tiliis lonely valley will be names upon the
ludedifelUpw^in
forever sacred to my recollections. independence of That equal transports move herr
* —^Petrarch. mind and of free I ash for dearest life, alone. ri»c^, how theM
fought on aU sub That I may live to love her. good or ix^-int^-
No man is in true health who can not jects tioned persons
stand in the free air of heaven, with his I have had much Thus in my arms, wV thy charms, wouldhavel^cat'
feet on God's free turf, and thank his difficulty in con J clasp my countless treasure; ed that th^r Mi
Creator for the simple luxury of physi vincing many that I ni seek nae mairo* heaven to share ever lived to im
cal existence.—^T. W. Higginson. the authority given Than sic a moments pleasure. plant such deHd-
to names has been
^ hatT<^
I love the man that can smile in trouble, through all past And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, fymn and
that can gather strength from distress, ages most injiirious i swear I *m thine for ever: to rause ^
and grow brave by reflection. 'T is the to the human race, And on thy lips I seal my vow. error and false f<^-
and that at this And break it shall I never, ing between tfa^
business of little minds to shrink, but
he whose heart is firm, and whose con day their weakness
of intellect was
" ToJeannie," by Robert Bums whose happiness:
science approves his conduct, will pursue can arise only
his principles unto death. destructive of mental power and inde- mind and co-oi _
—^Thomas Paine. pendence. That truth required no name of the'r^oiis of the
for its support; itsubstantiaUy supported of tau^tand practised, ever
QEO-PLATONISM is a progressive
philosophy, and does not expect to
ttsdf » But that falsehood and error
filwajrs required the authority of names
state final conditions to men whose to maintain them in society, and to give EMBRANDT'S domestic trouble
minds are finite. Life is an unfoldment, them ready currency with those who served only to heighten and de^
and the further we travel the more truth never reflected or thoufitht for themselvw.
we can comprehend. To understand the Had it not been for the baneful in ms art and perhaps his best canya^
things that are at our door is the best fluence of the authority given to names, were painted under str^ of
this false, ignorant, unjust, extravagant, stances and insadness ofh^. His 1^
preparation for understanding those
crud and misery-producing sjrstem, of
if^ther proof, if need^.
that lie beyond.—^Hypatia. greatest truths and beautiM are to be
individual interest opposed to indi- ^en only throuj^ii tears Too bad for
There is one right which man i8.generally vidu^ interest, and of national interests
opposed to national interests, roidd not the man! But the world—the
world• * that
same un-
* ' 'has ialwayB
thought to possess, which I am confident
he neither does nor can possess—^the right have been thus long maintained throu^ E^^'itl^ch^t thTfiu^a^ pyres
to subsistence^when his labor will not the centuries that] have passed The the ^
fairly purchase it.—^Thomas R. Malthus. universe^—the incalculable, supenonty
of the true, enli^tened, just, economical, £•>
I do not value fortune. The love of labor merciful,, and happiness-pr<^ucing
tem, of union between individuals, na To love and win is the best thing; to
is my sheet-anchor. I work that I may love and lose the next best.
forget, and forgetting, I am happy. tions, and tribes, over the earth, would —William Makepeace Thai^ay.
—Stephen Girard. have bem long since discovered and
 Page 224 rBLBERSr HUBBARD'S
'IME was when slaves were
exported like cattle from the
British Coast and exposed
for sale in the Roman mar
ket. These men and women
who were thus sold were supposed to be
guilty of witchcraft, debt, blasphemy or
theft. Or dse they were prisoners t^en
in war—^thqr had forfeited their right
to freedom, and we sold them. We said
th^ 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 spying, "It's
all ri^t—^they are incapable of self-
government." We were once as qbsciu'e,
as debased, as ignorant, as barbaric, as
the African is now. I trust that the time
will come when we are willii^ to give to
Africa the opportunity, the hope, the
right to att,ain to the same blessings
that we ourselves enjoy.—^William Pitt.
[HE hi^est study of all is that which
teachesus to develop thoseprinciples
ofpurityand perfect virtuewhi(^HeaVen
b^tow^ 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
strug^e toward it we shall strengthen
our characters and give stability to our
ideas, so that, whilst ever advancing
calmly in the same direction, we shall be
rradered capable of applsring the facul
ties i?idth whichwehave been gifted to the
best ix>ssible account.—Confucius
A great city, whose image dwells on the
memory of man, is the type of some great
idea Rome represents conquest; faith
hdvera over Jerusalem; and Athens em
bodies the preeminent quality of the
antique world-art.—Disraeli.
SHence is a true friendwhoneverbetrasrs.
-^-Confucius.
HAT makes a man noble? Not sacri-
fice, for the most extreme sensualist
is capable of sacrifice. Not the following
of a passion, for some passions are shame-
ftil. Not the serving of others without
any self-seeking, for perhaps it is just
the self-seeking of the noblest whidi
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
dedicatedto an im^own God; a courage
that clmms no homage; a self-sufficiency
which is super-abimdant and unites men
and things.—Nietzsche.
IJ^ACROIX told Gustave Dor6 one
day, early in his life in Paris, that
he should illustrate a new edition of his
worlp in four volimies, and he sent tiiem
to him. In a week Lacroix said to Dor6,
who had called, ** Well, have you begun
to read my story? " " OhI 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 thw 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 P^is Prisons. Addressed to
^e King of France.)
A^ man can know nothing of mankind
without knowing something of himself.
Self-knowledge is the property of that
man wbcise passions have ^eir full play,
but who ponders over their results.
—^Disraeli.
Love of truth will bless the lover all his
dasrs; yet when he brings her home, his
fair-faced bride, she comes empty-
handed to his door, herself her only
dower.—^Theodore Parker.
ELIX Mendelssohn was not
a bit" sentimental," thoi^
he had so much sentiment.
Nobody enjoyed fun more
than he, and his company
was the most joyous that could be.
One evening in hot summer we stayed in
the wood above cm* 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 musicl" 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
wretch^est thing in the world, and it
had only one string.
Mendelssohn took the instnmient in
his l^ds and fell into fits of laughter
over it when he heard the sounds it made.
His laughter was very catching, he put
us a}l 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
t)arent of the future;; and that his
thoughts are as children bom to him,
which he may not carelessly let die.
—^Herbert Spencer.
A man is a great thing upon the earth
and throu^ eternity; but every jot of
the greatness of man is unfolded out of
woman.—^Walt Whitman.
The Courage we desire and prize Is
not the Courage to die decently, but to
live manfully.-^arlyle.
HO I am truly sensibly the^lh^i
honor done me in
yet I fed great distress from
ness that my abilities and noUillixg^
rience may not be equal to the
and important trust. However, W
Congress desire it, I will enter upcoi
momentous duty, and exert evoy pw^
I possessin their serviceand fOT the si^
port of the ^orious cause I bqj
will accept my most cordial thanjks ito
fHia distinguished testimony of
approbation ,jit. -
But lest some unlucky event 8iu?md
pen imfavorable to my rq^^tidOj I
beg it may be remembered
gentleman in the room that I
declare, with the utmost sincerity, I i
not think myself equal to the coBon^d
I am honored with. . _
As to pay, sir, I beg leave to
Congress that as nopecumary consid^^
tion could have tempted me to ac^t
this arduous employment at^nle «qpo^
of my domestic ease and
do not wish to make any profit^frpm
I will keep an exact account ©* «jg:
penses. Those, I doubt not, ttey wiH #8-
charge, and that isall I de^.
—George Washington. On His
ment as Comnoander-in-Chief.
Next to knowing when^to^^^^^
portunity, the m<^
life is to know when to rorego m -
vantage.*~"Di8r®®^*
Given agovenm^t ^
NecMdiy refonns'to poor, and satteisy
reforms the rich.—Taatiis.
when the tin® ^ to
assilt in building Wa?w^ W
which roan can live.—John BftnWy-
Page 226 ALBERT fiUBBAKD'S
y piano is to me what his
boat is to the seaman, what
his horse is to the Arab: nay,.
more, it has been till now
my ore, my speech, my life.
Its strings have vibrat^ mider my pas
sions, and its yielding keys have ob^ed
my every caprice Perhaps the secret
tie which "Eolds me so dosdy to it is a
ddusion; but I hold the piano very
hi^ ^
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 ordiestra are only brou^t out by the
combination ofhundreds ofmusicians. . .
We can give brokoi diords 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
piaK> has on the one side the capacity of
assizbilation; the capacity of taking into
itsdf the life of all instrument^; on the
othar it has its own life, its own growtl^
its individual devdppment It is a mi
crocosm
My highest ambition is to leave to
piano-playerB 'after me so^ie useful
instmctiops, footprints of attained
advance, in fact, a work which may some
day provide a worthy witness of the
laW and stu^y of my youth.
I i^ememb^ the greedy dog in La Fon-
taetinus, whi^ let the juicybone fall from
its mouth in order to grasp a diadow.
Let me giutw in peace at my bone. I^e
hour will come, perhaps all too soon, in
'wMdx I diM like mys^ and hunt after
a monstrous intangible shadow.
-—Franz Liszt.
THie art of cGnverration is to be prompt
without bemg stubborn, to refute wili-
out argum^t, and to dothe great mat
ters in a motl^ garb.-^Disra^
Anybody can cut prices, but it takes
brains to malre a better artide.
-^ipyiip D. Annour.
HE first perform^ce of the
Messiah took place in the
Neale's Music Hall in Dub
lin, on 18th April, 1742, at
midday, and, apropos of the
absurdities of faslUon, 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 ^oriously successful, and
over iS400 were obtained the first day
for the Dublin diarities. Handel seems
always to have had a spedal feeling with
regaM 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 sajring of his
may be repeated. Lord Kinnoul li^d com
plimented him on the noble " enter
tainment " which by the Messiah he
had latdy given the town.
" My lord," said Handd, " I should be
S(Mrry if I only entertained them—I
wish to make them better"
And when some one questioned him on
his feelings when composing lihe Hal-
Idujah Chorus, he replied in his peculiar
En^ish," I did think I did see all heaven
before me; and the great God Himself."
What a fine sasring that was of poor
old George III, in describing the Pastoral
^jrmphony 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 pf the work in
London, the audience were exceedingly
struck and affected by the music in
general; and when that chorus struck up,
" For the Lord God Omnipotent" in the
" Halldujah," they were so transported
that they all together, with the king
(who happened to be present), started
up and reiiaained standing until the
(^rus ended. This anecdote I had from
Lord Kinnoul.—Dr. James Beattie.
It is mudi easier to be critical than to be
correct.—^Benjamin Disradi.
HE Pamell I knew—and I bdiind the grille of the
may daim to have known Pamdl was aware of my
him more intimately than tho^igh often he did riot
anyone else on earth, both soon as I came iri, and j^swe^'
in public and private life— wordless message by the J'
was incapable of motivdess brusqueries. knew.—Katherine O'Shea (Mis. i^hwles
That Pamell could crush utterly and Stewart Pamell).
without remorse I know; that he could \
deal harshly, even brutally, with anyone Rome endured as Ion® as
or anything that stood against him in the Romans. America will endu^Mi^^: ^
path he meant to tread, I admit, but we remain American in spirit fuwo'
that he would ever go out of his way to thought.—David StarrJofrd^
say a grossly rude thing or make an un
provoked attack, whether upon the per If we had paid nomore
sonal appearance, morals, or diaracter plants now
Jrould thanbeUving
we haveina
to r o f weed®.
of another man, I absolutdy deny. Par-
nell was ruthless in all his dealings with
those who thwarted his will, but—he
was never petty. The secret of
Pamdl had a most beautiful and har what one likes, but m liking wtet
monious voice when speaking in public. has to do.—James M. Bame.
Very dear it was, even in moments of
passion against his own and his coun
try's foes—passion modulated and sup
pressed imtil I have seen, from the
Ladies' Gallery, his hand dradied until
the " Orders of the Day" which he
hdd were crushed into pulp, and only You n»y depend*^ it
as good hearts toservev^ » pala^ as
that prevented his nails piercing his
hand. Often I have taken the "Orders " in cottages.—Robert Owen.
out of his pocket, twisted into shreds—a
fate that ^so overtook the slips of notes
a!nd the occasional quotations he had
got me to look out for him.
do, it is better than P}^1^1^
Sometimes when he was going to speak
I could not leave my aunt long enou^
to be sure of getting to the Ladies'
G^ery in time to hear him; or we might
think it inexpedient that I should be
seen to arrive so soon after him at the
and wisdom combing are Ac
House. On these occasions, when I was
able, I would arrive perhaps in the mid SS^me and^-Joseph Jpubert.
dle of his speech and look down upon
him, saying in my heart, " Ihave come!" When one be^ns totorn in bed itis tine
and invariably I would see the answering to turn out.—^Wdlington»
signal—the lift of the head arid linger^
touch of the white rose in his coat, whidi Let us be thankfiTfor th? fools. But for
thftti the• rest of us could not suoce^
told me, " I Imow, my Queen." -^Hark Twain.
This telepathy of the soul, intuition, or
what yovL will, was so strong between us
that, whatever l±ie business before Ae detain thou^ts are pr^ere^ Th^ ^
House, whether Pamdl Was spealdii® moriients when, Whatever 1^ the at
or not, in spite of the absolute imposM- titude of the body, the soul la on its
bility of distinguidiing any face or forin knee8^^Vid:<>r Hugo.
Pag9 22% ^LBBRSr «UBBARD*S
INDEXES
N my house you have met in " the still, small voice," and in a
General Bonaparte. Wdl— voice irom the burning bu^. The soul INDEX Of SUBJECTS
he it is who would supply a of man is audible, not visible. A sound
father's place to the orphans alone betrays the flowing of the eternal Achievement, Ibsen, 104.
Advernty: Uoes of, Stowe, 45; and prosperity,
of Alexander de Beau- fountain, invisible to man!—^Longfellow. Johnson, 95; McCarthy, 118; Tacitus, 174;
hamais, and a husband's to his widow. I B\fron, 191. adversity, Irving, 120. .
admire the General's courage, tiie ex [OLDIERS, what I have to offer Advertising and humor, Ad», 04. Boy, Hie American, Booseew, 21.
Advice, Von EuwbMi, 100. Bunker HiU, Adams, IM.
tent of his information, for on all subjects you is fatigue, danger, struggle Affection, , 227. Bums. Robert: Hittis, 96;
he talks equally well, and the quiclmess and death; the chill of the cold night in AfOiction, Ceett, 171. Business: Common law of, Arvumr, 30; Sucpw in.
of his judgment, the free air, and Age, old: Fear of, Ootdsmiih, 47; and youth. Holmes, SdfT^e,9\.
which enables him ASooi and light-hearted 1 take to the heat under the 50; Yeats, 77.
toseizethethoughts open road. burning sun; no Agriculture, Edison, 21; Importance of, EilL, 84; Byron, LaS: MoBauiay, 138; Thamm^ 1?®-
Warner, 89; Jefferson, 148.
of others almost Healthy, free, the world before me. lodgings, no mu Ambition: Burke, 23; Intellectual, Holmes, 25; Capital, and labor: Neweomb, 27; imf^
before th^ are ex The long broum path before me leading nitions, no provis Mardm, 27; Attainment of, Appd, 70; Lincoln, Swing, 175.
Carelessness,
pressed; but, I con wherever I choose. ions, but forced, 112.
fess it, I shrink America, the melting-^t, ZangwiU, 06. Carpenter, The, Whtitt^ 180.
marches, danger
torn tiie despot Henc^orth I ask not good fortune, I ous watchposts Americanism, Oordon, 227.
Amuaement: Balzac, 140; and work. Buskin, 81.
ism he seems de .myself am good-fortune; and the continual Ancestry: VoUaire, 165; Pride of, Overbury, 21.
sirous of exercising Henc^orth I whimper no more, post- struggle with the Ancient^ The, Savonarola, 218. Beauty of, TAoreoti,^.
over all who ap .pone no more, need nothing. bayonet against
Andre, The fate of, Hamilton, 134.
Anger: Dangers of, Metchnikoff, 78; Work and, Charitableness,
proach him His Done with indoor complaints, libraries, batteries—^those
searching glance querulous criticisms. Luther, 82; Dodsley, 164; Penn, 205. ' Charity, Hame^lJQ-
Cheerfulness: Carlyle, 08; Kwgsiey, gg.
w. 80;
who love freedom Animals, Crudty to, Victoria, 20.
has something Strong and content I travel the open road and their coimtry Aphorisms, Disraeli, 225. andgoodness, Ball, 88.
« « * * 4> «
singular and in Apples, Burroughs, 92.
may follow me. April, Watson, 171.
explicable, which All seems beautiful to me. —Garibaldi to his Ar^ment, Gibbon, 94. Farrar, 67; Montesnrt,
imposesevenonour / can repeat over to men and women. Roman soldiers. Aristocracy, Today and tomorrow, Massim, M. 26; of the Ghetto, London, 42.
Directors; judge You have done such good to me 1 Art: IngersoU, 89; Michelangelo, 176; Buskin, SO; Chillon, Byj^ 188. . m -
if it may not in would do the same to you, and education. Whistler, 38; and life, Morris,
HE chief dif- 120; and nature, Dostoievski, 41; and science,
timidate a woman. I wUl recndt for myself and you as I go. ference be Srie, 158; Charm of, Ouitot, 72; Work apd,
E V en — w h a t I will scatter myself among men and tween a wise man atheuis, 19.
oug^t to please mq women as I go, ArUstic temperament. The, PhiUipa, 44. 197; The new, ^
I will toss a new gladness and roughness
and an ignorant
ArUst, The first. Whistler, 24. Orcumstantial ewdence, M^
—the force of a one is,.not ^ t the Aspiration, Alcott, 62. oSion and
passion, described among them. first is acquainted Autumn, Carman, 20; Landor, 193. College, Thft and *•
with an energythat ** The Open Road," by Watt Whitman Columbuft
with regions invisi Comfort, Pj^ Po^ ^
leaves not a doubt ble to the second, Baltimore, Lord, Straus, 51.
Beautiful, The, Orayson, 38. Commenaalism, gl5.
of his sincerity, is pr^psely the cause away from common si^t and interest, Beauty: Balzac, 15; an. aUnpervading prescmce,
which arrests ^e consent I am often on but that he understands the common Channing,56; and trutii, Keats, 59; Maeterlinek,
the point of pronoimcing. things which the second only sees. 128.
—^Letters of Josephine. —Starr King. Beethoven, Music of, Wagner, 71.
Behavior, Necker, 143. Confidence, Coy«r, 07* Lack of, Bocw,
Belief: Terence, 168; Disraeli, 215.
You better live your best and act your We exaggerate misfortune and happiness Bibieni, Cardinal, Letter to niece of, Bavhael, 188.
best and think jrour best today; for today alike. We are never either so wretched Bible,Hie: Aked, 227;Gladden, iSPT; and democracy.
is the sure preparation for tomorrow and or so happy as we say we are.—Balzac. BuxLtUm 02
all the other tomorrows that follow. Bigotry. O^ConneU, 33.
Birth of a child, Tagore, 54.
—^Harriet Martineau. That silence is one of the great arts of Bizby, Mrs., Letter to, Lincoln, 133. Corn laws,The,
conversation is allowed by Cicero him Brahma, Emerson, 146.
lOTV wonderful is the human voice! self, who says there is not only an art, Brav^, Shakespeare, 189.
It is indeed the organ of the soul t but an eloquence in it.—^Hannah More. Bnb^, Oarrick, 58.
Britain, Great, Jay, 193.
The intellect of mnn sits enthroned Brotherhood of man: Herron, 32; MaYkham, 35, 39;
visibly upon his fordiead and in his Whether you be man or woman you George, 17; Terry, 19; AUgdd, 30; MiUs, 78; Co<^= C-^
98; Ne^of, m
^e; and the heart of man is written will never do anything in this world Bobinson, 34.
upon his countenance. But the soul Brown,'John: Wise, 119; His address to the court,
without coxira^e. It is the greatest 120; Burial of, PhiiUps, 124.
reveals itself in the voice only, as God quality of the mind next to honor. Books, Bacon, 8; Gosse, 27; Burroughs, 81; Channing,
revealed himsdf to the prophet of old. 158,198; Travbd, 161; Barrotr, 171; Cuitis, 179; lU! ani
—^James L. Allen. a
 .•m-M

I«e. Bobart E., at Ai^matoii (01^

Hun^ity, Newton, 87. _ , r r L' Envoi* Kipling, 159. ^ .
ioo-, 1W4 FoUy md wisdom. Goldsmith, 86. Humor: Addison, 12; Beecher, 21; Formaof, iMmb,
Food, Wiley, 145. Letters of recommendation, Fromtwh
Thci WHia, 88. 68; and advotidng, Ade, 54. Lexington, Battleof, ^ ,j«.
Eoolishn^: L^, 166; Mark Twain, 827. Hypocrisy, Savonarola, 164. liberty: Whitlock, 61;
Daimes, Carman, 100. Characteriaition of, Brandea, 52. George, 208; Pitt, 224; ^d
Dant^ Miehdangdo, 179. ftanc^ The Queen of. Bvrke, 99. Idealism: Lee, 17;Lincoln, 17; Beecher, 19; HdroM, 78; Political and econonuc» Whmoeitt w*
Dar^ Charles, Htaiey, 211. PVanUin, BCTjamin; Epitaph of, 129; Fiake, 199; 25; Marden, 27; Sandburg, 80; Thackeray, 67; library, la an old. Lamb, 56. ,
De^: 5««, 15; Limsoln, 17; Stevetuon, 49; Raleigh, and W^ungton. Jtfferson, 177. Dreier, 94; Power of. Swing, 22. . Life: Barbauld, 12; Bail^. W;
80; ^nvsoa, 101; SeoU, 108; 8ievenson.l08; 222; Loi^, 82; Dangers of. Qar- Ideals: Grover, 62; Schurz, 222; Chmese, Dwkmson, Twain, 69; Henry, 78; Hypa^
a^hfe, Cni%, 48; The mystery of. Cook, 76; ^ , 58; Guardians of, Depew, 74; of speech, 97; and life. Van Dyke, 172. briand, 216;
BnaJa^h, 72;of thou^^t, Straus,51; Principles Ideas: Old,Shaw, 80; and cities, Dxsraelx, 224. pleatent, 6; The abounding,
Demoe^ of, IngaOa, 77; King, 07; a friend. Idleness: Holiburton, 198; HiUard, 214; Socrates,
iTTanJainf 118* Bu-
R^Thought,Owen,®eU«»oua.
228. Stram, 51; Carlyle, 180. pose of.Swing, 22; Endof,
D^t, a leather, Etnerton, 104. 216; BeneiSts of. Skinner, 86; and sickness, of, AUgeld, 80; and df ^sti^
Dafication, A, Killing, 188. Montaigne, 75; Burrougha, Seneca, 58. , , Gaynor, 44; Joy of, %
Defoo, Daniel Besant, 196.
108; 26;Emerson, 88;Steoenson, 29; Ignorance: Confucius, 197, 227; andwisdom, King, Hamerton, 47; Love of, Sliao BS;
Feril8^)f, Bourne, 59; a ^t, Hughes, 75. 228.
Dem^gatt and Agitators, DisraeU, 186. Ulumons, Mark Twain, 187.
Brooks, 48; a
'Denrtctwy; WkUman, 121; Jay, 180; and En^d. Gardens, Smith, 65. InimortiJity: VoorhMS, 62; Ingersoll, 88; Socrates,
Joys of, Goethe, 57; Mis^ of,
Cobdm, 179. Gemus: SchomtiAauer, 88; and industry, Ralph, 55; consecrated. Van Dyke,
D»tii^, Burrougha,8;Soeratea,109;Shaie*peare,185. 109; Van Dyke, 142; Stevenson, 149. Beauty of, Kirkhan,,
Dirt, Hie love of, JFahter, 89. ^etase^, Reynolds, 71;M&ioU Linnaeus, i08. Inconsistency, 200. « 67; agnificance of,
GenUeiron, Characteristics of a, Galsworthy, 86. Independence: Emerson, 29; Sumner, 72; Plutarcn,
Di^line: St. Benedict, 222; Plato, 28. Ehot, Huxley, 216. 102.
Jfonto&rw, 68; and ,
Dwvntent, Varities<rf, Graham, 78. Indians, The, Sprague, 95.
inheritance, Lubboek,
Discretion, FranMin, HtS. deley, 72: Ideals of,
Indifference: Noyes, 68; Farrar, 67.
Divinity, Luther, 120. Gifts, Patne, 202. of London, 42.
IndustriaUsm, JKetter, 12. lace, 78;Journey of,Bott^ to, xw ^ ci>^
Diae, Gostave,Rooseoeit, 224. GirMd, Stephen. Will of, 168. Cook, 76; The duty
Doubt, Stamelaua, 140.* Gladstone, DisraeU, 192.
Industry: Page, 128; Whitman, 124; FranUtn^ 147. crated, Dreier, 87; a
Drama, The, Cuahman, 26. Godwd His attributes, CarruA, 154; Letters from. InEnite, Th6, Hugo, 110; The thought of the, 92; The consecrated, iofi'
Dreamer.Tbe^C'RetOi/, 181. Pasteur, 78. 101: Preparation for,
rr human, 202. Influence, Sfcpiien, 28.
Dreams, Damea, 181. Golden Rule, 'Rie.Markham, 89. Ingersoll, Ebon C., Tribute to, Ingersoll, 181.
Sil^, 111; a tiioughU
Dnty; Beeeker, 19;Otler, 70;Steoonton,^;MilUt lfi7 Good and Lincoln, 86; Swing, 92. ness of, Qriags, 129; J<>y of,
Innocence: Seneca, 208. Privileges of, Haslitl,
Goodness. Power of, Curtis, 118. Inspiration: Bennett, 75; Dreier, 87.
Eduj^n: Wkiiloek, 48; Loeke, 68; Bismarek, 128; Int^gence, Fottotra, 215.
PeaMff, 211; Cooper, 214; Meuiing of. Buskin, Tbe American, Cobden,
179, lie best, Patne, 197. Spiritual forces of, Frodtd, 18^j, ligo. aidi
17; Benson, 78; and democrat^, fPtbon, 21; Gratitade: Coates, 21; Newcomb, 28. Intn^ection: Whittier, 119; Smith, 127. Gatfidi, 171; Ladda of, jgA; Sd
Dangers of, Wu Ting-Fang, 56; A liberal. Hmo- Gratn^: Irmng, 102; Bacon, 155; The mark of, Jealousy: Stevenson, 97; National, Washington, 75. Love, BUey, 184; Object of, W. ^
l^, 90; Firstaim of,Seton, 145. CarMe, 94. sorrow, Landor, 198;a play. 218;
^otism and ignorance, Btdtoer-Lytion, 61. Gnrf, Bitopadesa, 21. Jefferson, Tliomas, Straus, 51. , love. Masters. 201; A gcneioua,
^sdridty, Wondos of,Hafethome, 57. Jesus: Franklin, 104; Greatness of. Hams, 166. Country, Betxher, 226.
Soqueno^ Cieero, 87. Johnson, Samud, BoaweU, 186.
Emi^n. Balph Waldo. Hdmes, 188. . ^^w*'2l4*' Astor, 211; Sweden- Josephine, Empress, Death of, TFrfwm, 176.
Kideavor. Fiona Mad^ 142. Joy: a boomerang, Cravford, 17; Coates, il;WilKs,
Eirargy, Btadon, 72. ^*8®,Ffwleridc, BeatHe, 226. 91; Wagner, 164; andwork, Brigga, 58; Artand,
Handshaking, Everett, 144. Mathews, 19.
juierawire,runcuon8 —- r-
* 1 and Atoerica, Ccbden, 187.
—ant, limits of, WAster, '58.
Haro^: Soi^, 16; Maeterlinck, 80; Bdiaon, «1; Judea, The ProCTirator of, France, 118.
£2*^ 86; Jerrpld, Jury, The, Dtc&ww, 88. j* ♦!. Louvre, First visit to the, W®*
btaxanfflit, LongfdUna, t5. W; FrankUn, 98; 70; Aurelius,
Ruskitt, 102; 79; Santayaaa,-^
IngeraaU, 106; Justice: George Eliot, 14; Tolstoy, IQ; andtroto. Love: BourdiUon, 89;
——Junnasia. Cheater. 60. Cheney, 127; Ariatc^ 214; an incident^ Haw- Ddtson, 128; Byron, 140;
tovyr i9tB£(A, 69; Fo&otr^, 145. thanw, 411; Tie attainment of, FranUin, 19;and George, 47; Dickens, 88; Frankltn, 89; Gals- 168; Markham, 19®5 ^ 47;
Besets ci, Fiake, 86. ^saon. Tennyson, 88; and pleanir^ 198; toorny, 126.
Stories of. Wells, 8; Divme» ;
Bvoliition: TM, 169;of intellect,Darwin, 84; Sold,
Emerson, 201. *T 55^ Garibaldi, 228.
Hardship.
ffinininations, AmM, 181. 12; Smith, 127; and wisdom,
B^cdtivei Qualifioitions of, Makin, 148. Otdda, 79; and ignorance, Besant,50.
Shabeapeare, 48. Health: DieraeU, 220; Higginson, 222; and happi Eubla Kl^n, Coleriage, 195.
watavaganoe^ Frtmiiin, 58.
country. Boat, 64; Pbil^pf?
ness, Johnson, 96. Rdd of,Drummoni, ®9; inyijt«iy
Heart The human,Ouida, 41. Labor: and capital, Newcomb, 27; Foolishness of. fdlow, 66; /
Cai^ 117. ^mdon, Wm.H., Masters, 150. Skinner, 86; Voice of, Jaures, 46; andcapital, of. Cook, 79; and s l ^ l O O j Tbe test
9^ andinfeienec^ Wilson, 86. Hei^. Patrick. Henry, 192. Lincoln, 50; Attitude of govemiMnt towai^ Rhys, 80; Key, 96; "S &i.; ViSii
«ttl«re!, DuiraiH, 157. Hmtoton. Lincoln, 14)9. Lincoln, 58; necessary to success, BoosevM, 97; oU Westcott, 101; m ISS*; 178:
play, Onrtw, 107. ^•'o'iaiLTniej^cct, Maeaulay, 48. MaUhiia, 222; Dignityof, Ifittrf, W9; and song, of life, Btfccw, 181; and life,
1^: and prac&se, Toletoy, 54; Leek of, Hadley, 61. ^intilian, 172; and happiness, Gvrard, 228. deatii, P«mn. 204. " ;V/:
76; 168;Mastery of, Henley,24. Ia Gioconda, Pater, 100.
HomeaScknesa, Cfwiyi 81. Luck, IfdxOW-188.
RMiItrfiijdiiig, West, 80.
Bter: Niswtaan, 80; JngenoU, 168; Conquest of. Ho^^^gwBonn, 62; Caiiyle, 189; of thought. i^ike. The, Thoreau, 65.
Umb, Charles, Haditt, 146. 'oltttire, 170. ^ .jaW
I^nd: Man and the, George, 89,199. Mahomet, VoUaire,
r««M. «9. Honor, Shaw, i72. laughter; Addison, 86; Blake, 110. Man: T iiif,' li; Kdh'r 18J ffMO, lej
Hodnir, Genial j.. Letter to, lAneeln, 177. l<iw; and tyranny, Pitt, 186; Spiritual, Fddy, 185; vdtmm m; ;rfj'
ISddStjy, MiUon, 64. Hun^ty: Gmhy, 14; George, 17; The war of*
9^1^: Ifvine, 51; B^aAer, 79; Carman, 100; Pasteur, 14; Fourget, 88; and reason, Coke, 42. The measjire pt
Hetne, 94; FrankUn, 99; Comte, 211;IntellecliHa LM 24jA 1^, P*|%T
Blmden, 105;toieman, 113; fetumson, 149,and development of, Fiske, 184: and CtemiifiPB, laws, Socrates, 86; Tacitus, 128.
Badthi 65;Bl^wuiga of, CA 45. J^wyers, Seward, 80. 29; The honratiSptti^. 8^^
Schopenhauer, 208; Loveof. ZJoyd, 24; Warand, to, Jt0rm ««; Gwottt^i «»
»Butdmaon, 146. Pasteur, 1^ Leadership. Newcomb, 27
ii
 bBoranoe of» Bubner-Lyttont 61; Confidence in,
icatUey, 61; and woman ooim^red. Deba, 67;
Hie power of, Emerson 94; 'Aie good, CurtU,
118; a book, Channing, 1^8; £ifiaence of,
DitAmu, U6; WotUi of, Bootevdt, 187; life ct,
Andersen, lfi6; Unahip of, with the Divine^
Monahan, 167; with the hoe, "nie, Markham, 174;
a writing animal. Homers 205; and woman,
WkUman, 225.
Mankind; Duty to, Rutikin, 29; The cause of,
Roosevelt, 145.
Manlineas, RooseotU, 24.
Mann«s and diancta. Winter, 98.
Marlboron^, TheDuIkot, Thackeray, 160.
Marriage: Xeeleff, 62; Paeon, 102.
Martyr, The, WapoUon, 177.
Mary, Qneen ct Scots, Lett^ to, Knox, 197.
Matter and nund, Eddy, 180.
Mediooity, Thudceray, 104.
Men: The need of, Hadley, 66; who do things,
Oliver, 77; Cnds of, Frc^in, 98.
Mendelssohn, Felix, Taylor, 9St6.
Millet, Francoia, Senaier, 175.
Millionaire,' ^e. Lee, 17.
Mind: The, BottrdiUon, 89; Shakeapeare, 128; Free
dom of, Longfdlow, 25; Divine, tiddy, 177.
Minda, Great. Imng, 102.,
BiCning, Coal. Uniermeyer, 25.
Sffilrth, Beeeher, 21.
Miseiy, Untermeyer, 25.
Mockingbird, Tlie, Hayes, 16.
Moderation: Oarrison, 22; Aristotle, 57.
Modesty, Wad^ngj^ 225.
Mona The, jPater, 100.
Mon^: Lorimer, 96; Stevenson, 188; Oredey, 142;
JoMuon, 202; Wadangton, 225; Uses of. Field,
58; Stevenson, 117; Lending, Franklin, 106; The
acqniationof, RaSudtild, 214.
Morality: EUat, 126; MaeteiUnck, 200; and religion,
Kant, 214.
Morning, A wish. Hunt, 78.
Morris, WiOiam, Tebbetta, 178.
Motiierhood, Mastffield, 205.
Mountains, Jfutr, 68. „ .
Muac: Browne, 70; Dwight, 86; Holland, 117
Wadnoorth, '151; Moral power of, Fifwk, 87
Uses at, Dartrin, 52; Solace of, Luther,
D<»nain oi, Heine, 71.
Mystory, B^ 15.
Napoleon, Phillipa, 206; and Jesus compared,
Sitnonde, 180; Grave of, IngerecU, 187; Character
of, De Stad, 158; Manners ol, Josephine, ift8.
Nature: IngeraoU, 18;Htudey, 25;Hoyt, 28;J^w of,
Tdatoy, 15; The Law of, Emerson, 201; Human,
Bidvoer-Lytton, 19; Imat^tion and, Blake, 25;
l^e drama of. Von HumboUU, 82; and art,
Dosloioski, 41; and Art, Whistler, ^5; Tlie God
of, Walton, 48; Beauties of, Whiiman, 52, 66;
B^ties of, Diekens, 96; and mankind, Mabie,
SS',and society, Wilde, 68; Joys Mitdiell, 64;
Fieorots of, Monteesori, 64; Mul of, De Ouerin,
65; Love cX„ Lubboek, 66; Mothoiiood of,
Stanton, 71; CWms of, Chateaubriand, 154;
Army <rf, James, i72.
Necesaty, Bums, 110.
N<m^, ihie, WatMngton, 182.
Ndlsc^ Horatio: Sou^Ousy, 162,215.
Neo^latoniam, HypaH
NewTear,The,lftm<,78.
iv
NiAlj The;BourdiUon, 89; Orr, 148. Pto^Miity and advoaity, Johnson, 98. 8in,#%riKv8^
Nobihty, Nietasche, 224. Plrostitutton, Ledcy, 12. Snoeri^Oormen, tS.
Novelty, PUny, 82. Pkovidence: Hugo, 7; Weslqf, 215. Singer, Idl^ Monit, 191.
November, FtOer, 141. Publicity, Place of, Perkine, 64. Sinpng, Cor^, 08.
Punishment: (hiffiih, 68; Meredith, 111. Slander: HaMtxl, 89; Beedur, iBii, .
Obedience,Hamilear, 60. Slavoy: Industrial, Edwardi, 18; and'
Obetades, MoUere,182. Bailroeula, American, Hill, 70. Wu^ 48; Agricultu^ Qeorie, l^i '
Officer, Qualifications of a good, Penn, 47. Rain, Looeman, lis; Slero: Byron, 42; Cervaates, 86:"Co^
Op«a road: The, Whitman, 228; Secret of the^ Reading, and exerdse, Addison, 87. won, 155; Wdltngton, 9Sft.
Gmyson, 88. Reading Gaol, Hie Ballad of, Wilde, 218. Snobb^, Braley, 88.
Opinions, Bieree, 126. Reason: Johnson, 97; Franklin, 128; and the law. Sodety, Laeater, 187;Human, Shaw,80; and
(^ium Dreams, DeQuineey, 108. Coke, 42; versus force, Oompers, 75. 68; Organisationof,
C^portunity, Disradi, 05. Red Jadcet, Speech of, 219. Solitiide: Thonau, 68; Wordiworthi 87; lawdliim
Orti^lKipling, 6; Altgeld, 18; Swing, 22; Cicero, Reform, Soaal, Oladstone, 86. Independence dt, Emerson, 29.
87; Knox, 195. Relations, Poor, Lamb, 105. Sonnets, Rossettt,- 221.
Orimnality, Higginson, 145. Relaxation, Sttile, 196. Sorrow, Univcnality of, LongfeUow, 4iS; to
Orthodoxy, Wesley, 59. Relimon: Bahac, 15; Penn, 80; Emerson, 51; Frank' Benson, 127.
Ixn, 104; ifttt, 149; Copernicus, 208; £{urf, 227; Soul, The: Houseman, 124; compaitid with fit^
Paine,Thomas, Letter to. Franklin, 148. of usefulness, IngerecU, 18; and goodness,Renan, De Sta^ 19; Sbdstoioe ofj, Voltta^ 66. _
Pamtuig, Cuahnutn,26. 82; and theology, Burbank, 41; Differences in, Speedi, KtpKng, 6; and the mind^ 8; Woo#
Parenthood, FroeM, 26. Penn, 47; Denominations of, Paine, 202. and thi^ Jdataon, 21;Hie Ed|^ E^eon^
Paris, First visit to. Millet, 178. Rembrandt: Meissonier, 158; Michel, 218; Van 51.
Parnell. CharlesStewart, O'Shea, 226: Dyke, 228; Place of, Michel, 11. Spencer, Herbert, Letter to, Hv^t 216.
Patience, Rousseau, 126. Remembrance, Twelve things worthy of, Fidd, 78. Spirit, life of the, Ehrmann, 87.
Patriotism; Root, 64; Wdteter, 74. Renunciation, Dante, 16. Stage, Haditions of the^Shoo, 9.
Patronage, Johnson, 212. Republic, The Ideal, Bryan, 87. Sta^ The: Bynn, 28; Vrdemeyer, 25; Von Hum-
Peaa: Secret of, Besant, 68; Oodhe, 96; of mind, Reamation: Stevenson, 49; Scott, 108. bddt, 82; Keats, 208; Man ai^ th^ 0^ iBi
Stevenso^ 164. Resuution: Edgeworth, 128; Nelson, 188. Stevenson, Robert Louis, Death of, QuiOa<Cou0ii
Pedestrianism, Burroughs, 65. Responnbility, Pinchot, 70. 84.
Poiguinia, France, 170. Right and wrong, Clarke, 95. Stoicism, Santt^fona, 161.
Penn, William, Straus, 51. Rogers, H. H., Mark Twain, 218. Stomach, The, Souvuter, 800.
Pnfection, Moral, Aurelius, 118. Ronmnce: Ageof, Carlyle, 14; Ideas of, Deming, 54. Strife, Hall, 215; Euxnly, ^sop, 128.
Pericles, Appreciation of, Saltua, 26. Rome, Supremacy of. Fuller, 71. St^e, The, Edwarda, 18.
Pemnality, Eliot, 42. Romola, miiA, 198. Style, Literary, Burmuha, 81.
^lih^phy: Shaw, 10; Moral, FrankUn, 99; Fiehte, Rutledge, Anne, Masters, 185. Success: Howe, 16; BriAane, 40;
161. VaU, 95; Horton,102;Schepenhauer, l86;iCl8mp.
Piano, The, Lisxt, 226. Satan, The case of, Mark Twain, 44. bdl, 169; Whiting, 18; Stanlt^56; Fid^
Pictures, Horace, 101. Schools and the nation, Bismarck, 128. and mental attitodb, Seott,20; C^enfalnMa andl
Plants, Huxley, 25. Schopenhauer, Saltue, 166. Kingdey, 2^ and cautbn, Bodcif^er, '54; ^
Plato, Knox, 197. Sdeitce: Spencer, 215; Morley, 225; Teachings of, sentials oX, Barriman, 58; and work, 61;
Huxley, 69; Modem, Huxley, 75. Business, Seffridge, 61; S^t of, Roda^^, §S;
^fieime"^""* work, Le Oal- Scripture: The power of, Shaw, 108; Authority of, Pei^ of. Smith, 69; Conditions of, Sa^ TO;
and anxiety, Stotoo, 917; and nferit, Codb^ 91:
Pleasure: 16; Fincik, 87. Oalileo, 208.
Poe^: Greek andRoman, Markham, 74;Heine, 94; Sculpture, Cuahman, 26. in life. Nelson, 188; and failure, Jonea, 178;
BAolfey, 125; Cushman, 26; Uses of, Darwin, 52; Sea, The: Conradj 98; Masefidd, 107; Tenny8on,U7. faflure, That£erau, 228.
and energy, Arnold,76; Canton, 207. Self-confidence, Johnson, 150. Sublime, The, and the ridiculous. Pom^ 161.
roliticia^ and statesmen compa^, Clarke, 202. S^ control: Arnold,86; Seneca, 167;Da Vina, 218; Suffering, Yow^, 169.
Pontius Pilate, France, 118. Madaren, 226. Sttmma: Indian, Longfdiow, 8; Hie pleuuraqf,
Poppy, Tte California, Joogiitn MiUer, 18. Sdf-interest, Steinway, 88. J^eries,9t.
Powty: Turaemf, 9; Shaw, 14; Hood, 29; Fischer, Selfishness, Wilde, 25; Noyes, 68. Sundown, Whiiman, 52.
81; Oaifidd, 144; Causes of, Whitlock, 48; and Self-knowledge, Disradi, 224. Supontition: Stephen, 20; Darwin, 84; Fqrrw, OT;
onme, Oriffith, 68; Fear of, James, 75; and Sdf-mastery, Meredith, 99. Paine, 181.
morality, Stevenson,107; and riches, Tacitus, 225. Self-restraint, Caio, 54. Sympathy:Ouxda, 41; WUde, 204.
Plcayer: Marden, 27; Evening, Steveneon, 48; The Sdf-sacrifice, Ruakin, 29. Syat^, augo,169.
actor s. Crane, 15; The optimist's; RMnson, 85; Sentiment: Le OaUienne, 88; and the imagination
S<«wwon, 211; The fool's, S»tf,85. Lamariine, 87; The story of human, Henderson, Tardiness, Dionysius, 52.
PreachCT, The, Oilman, 52. 77. 'Hksk, A, Stevenson, 26.
Pireaching and practice, Toletoy, 54. Separation, Hitopadeaa, 21. Tears: Reese, 148; Tennyson, 188.
Present, The, Relation of, to past and future, Svvice: Crane, 20; Stevenson, 29; Traubd, 59; Hianksgiving, A man's, Nevaeoiab, 28.
Webster, 58. Morgan, 79; Owen,227; Rewards of, Aurdius, 89. Theater, The, and social question;^ 8hc^ 42.
Pride: National, Herder, 27; Ben Azai, 45. Sex superiority, Ruakin, 94. Hieology: Einerson, 218; and i^non, liL
Prini^: Meredith, 27; The business of. Porter, 92; Shadow and hght, Oay, 68. Hirift: of- time, Oladdone,
" • 82; - 176.
The art of, Ifonrt, 60. Shaw, G. Barnard, Frank, 145. Thought: Ste]^en, 28; Cdftyte, .
Printing press. The, Davia, 58. Shelley, Percy Bysshe: Poetry of, Thompson, 128; Hugo,227; Pow^ of, Carlyte, 118;
Prisons, Fry, 224. Hie death of, Thompson, 148. , 194.
Procrastination, Franldin, 25. Shqiherdess, Hie, Meyndl, 76. Jibied, The, Patterson, 48.
Pkomss: Ajkid, 29; inlife, Carlyle, 65; Cooper, 184; Shi^ Song of the. Hood, 29. Idsen, Jfendi^MAn, l91.
Savonarola, 218. Silence: Carlyle, 215; Conjuciua, 224; Morei 83ff; Hger. The, Blake, 189.
Prt^heU Hie, Traubel, 11. varitiea of, Ouuon, 78. Hine: TurgeMi,ll; Bettl^,tSbiBr«me,ViliBodii§eni
nroeerptne^ In the garden of, Swinburne, 209. Simidicity, Reynmds, 215. 198;Useof,Bris6an«, 40;'Wf^ &i,Voofhees, ^
 of» Ohiatone, 82; Waste of, FranJdin, M; Wedey, Samud, Letter of mother to, 160. INDEX OF AUTHORS
Knox, £04. Will, liie; Bennett, 7B; and Strength, Hugo, 164.
Reynelia, 218. '^^lliams, Roger, Straus, 51.
IWigr; Duties of, Jordan^ 48; Fran&lin, 124. Adams, John 180 Burdette,Bob. . v||'
T^nd, The, Oarland, 103. Atlniwa, John Quiney Burke, Edmund
Tolstoy, Rdiiaon of, 54. Wisdom: Lincoln, 129; Spencer, 226; Path of, EUot,
Ttevd; 89. Ai<n.ma, Samuel 182 o Bums, Robat ^ .110;.
72; Danle, 74; and folly, Ooldamith, 68; and Burroughs, John 8,66,66, IM, 81.81^ 0^1^'
IVeea: Kilmer, 68; Lanier, 116; BoUin, 167. .ignorance. King, 228. Addison 12,.»7, 86,147
TKal, of, Stmoe, 46. Ade, Geom W Buxton, Powell .72
Wit: Penn.* 218; De Stael, 126. Byron. Lord ^1^#|K
Trouble, Paine, Woman, l^ute to, Stevenson, 69; Self-deoeptionof, Adler, FdSc 147
Tn^: MuUer, 26; Emenon, 86; Mark Twain, 94; ^p 128
Ashmun, 78; The heart of, Watson, 81; Uplift of, Campbell. Alexander ....... i69>
Mimg^, 166; Steoenson, 166; St. Augustine, 168; Schreiner, 94; Relation of man to. Walker, 204; Alcott, L. M 82, 226
Hypaiia. 187; Stnhena, 196; Pindar, 196;Otiwn, Allen. James L 228 Canton, Tl^lliain :... .Sin
Tribute to, MiU, 214i Carole, 14, 88, 66, 68, 94,117. 11^ 147; 180; 216;
and justice.George, 47;Loveof,Burbank, 68; Women and War, Schreiner, 81. Altgdd, John P. 18,80
^ Evolution of. White, 200; Love of,Pcerker, 224. Wonder. Young, 78. Amiel _ ^ 226
Turner, J. M. W., Hamerton, 141,144. Andersen, Hans Christian 166 Carman, Bliss ..^100
Work: NorveU, 20; Hood, 28; Ehrmann, 87; Phillips, Carnegie, Andrew .210
Tytaaaj, Paine, 181. 44; BaUinger,68; Du Maurier, 110; Carnegie, 210; Appd. Joseph H •••.70
Aristotle ^7, 214 Camith, William Herbert ,164
vuwu lulu nureagM^ msop, 128. Drudgery of. Fuller, 9; The world's, Keller, 27; Armour, IKilip D 80, 228 Cato :64
'Umverse, Forcesof the, J^eriea, 41. and amusement, Ruskin, 81; and play, Le Qal- Arnold, Sir Edwin 8® Cavour .............97,
IQNdfi^ess, ITiZdtf. 26. liene, 88; and joy, Brigga, 68; Necessity of, Arnold* Matthew 76 Cedl, Kchard .1^
Useful,The, Shdiey, 148. Burdette, 69; and success, BoUon, 61; Joyful, Arnold, Thomas • ••181 Cervantes .86
l^emc^ SmtOi, 149.
Morris, 62; Joys of, Kingaley, 72; the mission of
mankind, Shaw, 74; Crrative, Page, 128; Love Ashmun, Margaret .78 ^ann^, W^Uam Ellay^.46. 66, 67.126; 1^1^,
^rtoe; Triui^hof, Darmn, 84; Oliver, 161. of, WeUmer, 166; Energy and, 47. Astor, John Jacob 211
Cheney, John Vance. ;l27
^visertiom Vietoria, 20; LamarHne, 76. Workmanship, Good. Ruafnn, 80. Aurelius, Marcus 79, 89, 118,211
Cherbuliez, Victor ;185
yorati^ Respect of, Duikent, 61. Workers, March of the, Morria, 163. Aoai, Rabbi Ben 46, 66
Chester, Heniy..
Voice, 1316 human, Longfellow, 228. World, The beauty and wonder of, Burrougha, 66; Baoon, F^ds 8,102,166 Child,L.M.......... ...p
Walki^,Joys of, Bummgha, 66. Wadaworth, 189. Bail^, Philip James '""gs Cholmonddcy, Maiy %• .72
Worlds, Two, Hunt, 144. Gcero ,87,
Worlds, Other, Spinoza, 148.
Worry: Edison, 21; Hall, 187.
B^in^GM* W".i - 68 Clarke, James Ereeman ^98;.202
^ GaUtenne, 9; Women and,
of, CariyUi 88; Logic Writing, The art of, Buffon, 166. bEb... 16,140,228 CHay, Henry
Coates. Florence Earle.
..C.. ii9i
,21
Barbauld, Aima Letitia ••••-^ Cobden. Ridhard 179; ItMVIlSt
of, Sumnw,87; Hatted of, Barrie, James M ®®6, 2W
44; Evils of! Ydlowstone, GrandCeinyon ofthe lower falls of the, Barrow 171 Cockran, Bourke. ...v.vOI
' Franklin, Hoyt, 28. Beecher. Henry Ward 19.21,62, 79,169,181 ^ke
?£®8reas, Cpbden,46; Causes oK
180. Youth: Burroughs, 80, 92; Conrad, 98; and ag^ Bdl, Jerome B ""if . Coleridge. Samud Taylor ...il% 194i
Holmes, 60;and age, Schopenhauer, Bennett, Arnold Colton. .ilWi
Hugo, 196; and old age, Sieveneot^ 112; and Benson, A. C 1^ Comte, Aguste .gin
teform, Rouaaeau, 181. Benson, O.H •• •78 Confudus .m
Besaat, Annie ^, 68 Conrad, Josq^
Wealth: SAoov 14; Lee, 17; Larimer, 96. Cook, James Hunt .i; i76i
Zaiathustra, Nietaaehe, 198. Besant, Walter
Cooper, Peter...' ,184. 214
Bioce, Ambrose
Bismarck Copernicus i.. .2fllv
Blakn^KatherineD .-.IIO Crue; Frai& .16; W
Blakew William "'JS Crw^ Stmhen 1^ 178
Blandoi* Charles 1^ Ctavfoid, Capt. Jack....... ; .17
Blatdifotd* Robert Orosby, Em^. .81^ 48
Bohon, Sarah A
Curti8,1Ge^ WiBiam .74,107, Ilia,179
Boswdl, James
Coshman, (Sarlpt^. es
Bourdillon, Ftends ^ Dante 16, 74
Bounie» RandoU>h ^ Darwin, Charles .84; 68; 2ili
^ Davies, Mary Caro^ 181
BredhwiA, Charles —•*
Bnde^rBf^n 2 Da Vind, Leoganfo: i :218
Brandts, Geotg f® Davis, Robt, H.. ^
J® Debs,Eugwe V ;.87
Bremer, FMerica , Deming, Seymour,.. m
Dq>ew, ChatmoeyliiL 74
De Qdnc^,^bmas'. ^ Ids
Brisbane, Arthur. Dids^ Cbafles. . 61; 79; 88; 88, 98,128.148
Brtmt^; Ghwiott? DicUhson, G. Lowes W
Dionimus. i.... i ; 6|
Disradi, Bdijamiiin, 146^ 167, 196, 21^, 216,
Brown, John " 220,224, 2^W, 226. 227
Browne^ & Thomas iS Dobson, Austin l88
Browndl, Wm. ; 1^ Dodsley, Rdb^ 164
Biyan.WiIItamJenmng8 .87' Dbstoiei^ 41
Buddha * *•1^ Drder, lltomaB. ST, M
Baflba 1^ DranuQK>]^ Henry. w
BttHxaik, Luther 41, 68 m Dwight^^oM'SM {ffi
Vfl
 Kleiser, Glenville .98 Monta^ne ^
Knox, John 195, lOT, 204 MontcMori, Maria ^.Mi
Ed<ly» Mary Bdser 177, 180, 182,185 Hamerton. Phillip G.. 47,141,144,179 More^ Hannah Jglii]
Edg^ortb, Maria 188 Hamilwir 60 Lamartine 57,75 Moraan, J. Fieii>ont :..,, .79i
Ednoo 81 Hamilton, Alexander 184 Lomb, Charles 56,105,166 Morl^, John
Edwardi, Albert 18 Hare, A. W. 78 Lamb,0. R. 68 Morris, Robert T. ^. .70)
Ehnnann, 37 Haniman, Edward H 58 TjtmBBUs, Wilhelm - 49 Morrio, William 87. 62,li^ l01',v«|
Eliot, Chaa. W. 42, 126, 227 Harris, Ftank 156 Landor. Walter Savage 27, 109, 198 Morrow, Blarco .., ,46!
Eliot, Geom 14,72.198, 216 Hawthorne, Nathanid 47, 57 Lanier, Sidney 116 Muir, John .68'
Emmoii, Buph Waido, 26. 29. 51. 83. 86. 94. 104. Hay. John ; 72 La Rodiefoucauld 71 MUller,Max.... ....'85,
146,172, 201, 218 Hayes, Ednah Proctor (Clarke) 16 Lecky, William, E. H 12, 62 Munger IW
Everett, ^waid 144 Hazlitt, William 100, 136, 146 Lee, Gerald Stanley 17
Heine, Heinrich 71, 94 Le Gallienne, Richard 9, 38 Nc^eon 15^ IW
Farrar, Dean 67, 89 Henderson. C. Hanford 77 Lincoln, Abraham, 17, 50, 58. 86. 88. 112, 129,133, Ne^er, BI. 14f
Fee^ Madame 204 Henl^, William Ernest 24. 33 149,177 Nelson, Lord
Fichte 161 Henry, Patrick 192 Lindsay. Vachd 44 Newcombe, ArAur W 8^ 87
Field, ManhaB 53,78 Hordw 27 linneaus 86® Newman, Cardinal .80!
Find^ Henry T. 37 Herron, Georm D 32
lippmann, Walter..' 62 Newton, Sir Isaac 211
Fischer, Jacob .31 Higginson, T. W 145, 222 U^. 2®6 Nietssclie^ Friedridi .1^ #4.
Fisher. Mahlon Leonard 141 Hill, James J. 84, 70 Uoyd, J. William Norvd, Saunders .80^
Fiske, John 36,194,199 Hilliard 214 Lodce 68 Noyes, AlH«d .W
Fitch, T^^llira C 78 Hillis, Newell Dwight 96 London, Jade 42
Fledcer, James Elroy 119 Stopadesa 21 Longfellow. Hen^Wadsworth,...8. 25. 46, 66, 228 O'Conndl, Daidd .#
Faster, John 107 Hod^n, Balph 198 Lorimer, George Horace 96 O. Henty .78
Foorget, Emile 38 Holland, J. C 117 Oliver, James 77, 161
Holmes, Oliver Wendell 17, 25, 50,183 Loveman, Rob^
France, Anatole 113,170 Lover, Samud -f® Opie,John
Flrank, Dr. Henry 145 Homer 205 0%ei]ly, Jo^'l^le 180
Franklin, Beiqamin, 19, 25, 46, 53, 89, 93, 94, 98, Hood,- Thomas 28 Lowdl, James Rum^ 32, 222
Lubbock, John 66, 71 O'ReU, Max Itt
99, 104, 106, 118, 128, 124, 128, 129, 143, 147 Horace .101 Orr, Hu^ Robert 148;
Horton, B. F. 102 Luther, Martin 69, 82, 120
F^bel, FMedrich 26, 165,177,182,198 Lytton, Bulwa " 19, 61 0'Shea,^therine .W
Fry, Elieabeth 284 Houseman, A. E 124 Oder. ..70
Fuller, Margaret 9, 71 Howe, E. W 16 McCart^, Justin 11« Ouida 41; 79
Fuller, Hiomas 18 Hoyt
ttyt. 28 Ovabury, Sir liiomas .81
Hubbard, Dr. Silas 68 Mabie, Hamilton Wright ^
Macaulay 48, 188 Ovid .»!
Gale, Nraman 93 Hughes, Thomas 75 MacDonald, ^ John 225 Owen, Robert .attt >B27
Galileo 208 Hugo, Victor, 7,12,53,110,151, 164,169,197, 227 Madeod, Fiona 142
Galswortlqr, John 36, 126 Hunt,Lei^ 144 30, 38, 55, 123, 200 Page, Ihomas Ndaon Itt;
Garfidd, James A :... 144, 169, 171 Hunt, W. R 73 P^e, Thomas 161, 181, 197, 80^ 2(M^ ^
Garibaldi 218, 228 Hutdunson. Dr. Woods 146 Magellan 74
Garland, Waiwlin 108 Huxley, Thomas H., 25, 69, 75, 90, 92, 211, 216 Mahin, Jo^ Lm 143 Parker, Theodore
Tlfftlfliiiu 222 Parkman .47r
Garridc 58 Hypatia ..187,190, 222 Mann, Hcnrace 60, lOT Pascal .#
Garrison, William Uoyd 22, 78 Mansfidd, Richa^ ®6 Pasteur, Louis 78'
Gautier 71 Ibsen.. 104 Pater, Walter 100
Gay 68 Ingalls, Johnj . . . ... .77 Marden, Orison Swett W
Markham, Edwin 35. 39. 74. 175, 190 Patterson, Ada
Gaynor, YRlliamJ. 44 IngersoH, Robert G., 13, 55, 82, 88, 89, 106, 181, Patterson, John H .1®?
George,Henry 17,47,89,199,808 137, 168. 218 Martineau, Harriet 228
Masefidd, John 107, 205 Peabo^ George .211;
Gibbon 94 Irvine, Alexander 51 Penn, YVmiam 30, 47, 204, 805,810^ 818
Gilman, Charlotte Perkins 58 Irving. Washington 102, 120 Mason, HarrironD 86
Gitard, Strohen 168, 888,
Masters, E^ar Lee 150, 185, 201 Perkbs, G». W 64
Mathews, WUiam 19 Petrarch
Gladstone^ W. E 88, 86 James, William 75, 76, 172 niiUips,Charles .806'
Jaures, Jean Leon 46 . Maurier du George 110
Goethe 57, 96
Jay, John 180,193
TWoKiini 60 Phillips, David G^am 44, ^
Goldsnuth, Oliver 47, 86 Phillips, Wenddl ..124
Gompers, Samud 75 Jefferies, Richard 41, 67 Meissonier 1^8
Menddssohn, Fdix 191 Pinchot, Gifford .7Qi
Goiky, Maxim 14 Jefferson. Thomas 55, 148. 176. 177, 178.192 Meredith, Gtotge 87 Pitt, William I85i 284
Gosse, Edmund 27 Jerrold. Dou^as 70 Meredith, Owen 99 Plato '88i;M
Graham, Gordon 78 Johnson, Ben 195 Pliny vm
Grant, Gen^ U. S 138 Johnson, Samud 21, 95,* M,' 97, 150, 202, 212 Meredith, Sir William m
Metchnikoff Plutardi ilft?
Grayson, David 38 Jones, Uqyd 187. Porter, Henry P tif
Gredey, Horace 148 Jordan, David Starr 48, 227 Meyndl, AKce 76
Mididansdo 176, 179 Pythagoras IW
Griffith, Griffith, J 68 Josephine 228
Griffith, WlUiam 89 Joubert 226 Michd, EmUe 218
MiU, J. Stewart 72, 149, 196. 214 Quiller-Couch, Sir. A. T 84
Griggs, Ed^it^ Howard. 129 QuintOian ,178'
Grover, Edmn Oraood 62 Kant 214, 222 Miller, Joaquin 13. 60. 286
Guerin, Maurice D. 65 B^ts, John 59, 101, 203 Miller. Joseph Dana 40
Millet 157, 159, 173, 174 Raleigh, Sir Walter M
Guisot 72 Kdler, Hden 12, 27 Ralph, Julian .85
Guyon^ Madame 78 Key, Ellen 95 Mills, Benj. Fay 78
Milton, John 20, 64, 228 Raphad 180, 188
Omer. Joyce 68 Red Jacket 219
Hadley, Arthur T. 61, 66 King, Ben 97 Mirab^u. 71
MitcheU, Donald G 64 Reese, lisette Woodworth .143
Hm(^, Ernst 82. 89 Eng. T. Starr 228 Ernst .88
H«le, Edward W. 226 Kio^ey, Charles 17, 29, 72 Moliere 182
Monahan, Michad 167 Sir Joshua 71, 81^ 218
H^, BoHon 137, 215 KlHing, Rudyard 6, 128, 138, 159 I,
HamStai^ 187 Erkman, Stfuiton Davis 06
vHi
Bhya^ Grace 80 Swinburne, A. C 209 INDEX OF POETRY
James \^tcomb 166^ i84 Swing, David '.'22^'92," 176
Eobmson, Wm. J 84 Symonds, John 189, 217
Bocfcefdler, Jdm D 54, 69 Jamea Qarland, HamtUn
Rbllin • 167 Tabb, John Banister 169 We Live in Deeds, etc .22 Do You Fear the Wind; . ^ , .i .lC®)
Roosevdt, Blandie 224 Tabbetts, Frank P. 173 Barbauld, Anna LetiHa Oilman, Charlotte Perkina
Roosevdt, Theodore 24, 97. 187, 145 Tacitus 128, 174, 225 life 12 To the. Preacher....
Hoot, Elihu 64 B«B, Jerome B. WiOiam.
Tagore, Rabindranath 54
Bosebety, Lord 209 Taylor, Alice 225 Mystery 16
Sossetti. Christina G 78, 220, 221 Tennyson, Alfred Lord 88, 101,147,149, 188 Blake, Katherine D.
BothschUd 214 Terence. 168 Would Ye Leam the Road to Laughtertown. .110 Hayu, Ednah Prodor (jOlarke)
Bousseau 126, 181 Terry, Edward H. S 19 Blake, William ^e Moddngbird. ; .16
Buskin. John 17, 29, 79, 94, 102, 167 . TheTW 189 Eeriey, WiOiam Emett
Thackeray, William Makepeace, 67, 92, 104,160 Invictus
228, 226 Blanden, Charlea 0.
Sa^ BusseQ 70 A Song the Grass Sings 106 Or Ever the Kiii^tly Yean Were G^.... .38i
Thompson, Francis 128, 148 Hodatotu RdhA
Saint. Augustine ITO Baurdillon, Franeia W.
. 68, 66, 189, 221 Time* You Old Gypsy Man ^
Saint Benedict 222 Thorwaldsen 190 The Night has a Thousand Eyes 89
Brooke, BMpert Hood* Thotiuu
Saltua^ Edgar 26. 166 Ting-Fang, Wu 55
Sandburg 80 The Great Lover 67 Song of the Shirt .28,»
Santayana, Gerage 92. 161
SIstoy, ---
Traubd, Horace
16,11,16,69,
86,161
54 Bttrtu, Robert Houaeman, A. E.
Savonarola 164. 218 A Red. Red Rose Be Still, My Sod 124* IW
TroUope^ Anthony 62
Sch«q>enhauer 88. 186, 165. 208 Turgenef 9, n To Jeanme 223
Bvrrougha, Jefm Keata,John
Schremer. (Mive 81. 94, 164 Twain. Mark 44, 67, 69, 94, 137, 214. 227 L^Sonnet.
Schurz, Carl 222 Waiting 8
Scott, Capt Robert F. 108 Untermeyer, Louis 26 Byro^ Lord Kilmer, Joyce
28 Trees :...... ;68
Scott, Sr Walter .227 Kuu, Ben
Scott Walter DiU 20 Vail, Theodore N. 95 So. We *0 Go No More A-Roving 140
Selfridge. H. Gordon 61 Dyke, Henry 60, 66.142,17«, 228 Smmet cm Qiillon 188 It I Should Die Ton^t. ;. .97
§eneca 8. 68. 167. 208 Victona, Queen 20 Kipling, Rudyard
Vind da, Leonardo 218 CantontWilUam • ^ A Dedication .1
Seo^. Alfred 175 L' Envd
Seton. Ernest Thompson 145 VoltaTO. . .. 66. 146. 165. 171. 191. 215 A New Poet ^
Seward, W. H 80 VonHumboldt, ^V^elm .32,100 Carman, BKu
Voorhees. D. W. 62 An Autumn Song :*0 Landor, Walter Sttoage
a»akeroeare^William 48,128,167,186,189 Leaf Afta Leaf Drops Off
^w. George Bernard, 9,10,14.80,42,74,108,172 Daisies 100
I Strove with None
Percy Bysshe 66, 111, 125,143 Camdh, William Herbert . ,
Shdiey, Ifcs. M. W. 56 W^ct' .71.164 Each in His Own Tongue 164, 166 Lanier, Sidney
GSunea, Robert J 186 Wallace^ Alfr^ Russ^ .73 Cheney, JoAn Vance A Ballad of Trees and the Marta...... ...lie
SH. Edwwd^vdand 84 Walton, Icaak. .!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !48 The Happiest Heart 1*7 Le OalKenne, Richard
Simonda, Wm. Day 180 Warner, Chas. Dudley *.! !. !39 Coatee, Florenee Earle The Blumons of War
Washington. BookerT. .182 For Joy 21 Lindaay, Vaehel
Skinner, Charles M 86
Smilet^ Samud 176 Washing^. Geow .2^* 76, 123, 226 Ccleriige, Samuel Taylor Abraham I.iocdn Walks at Mldni^t... .4^45
Smith, Adam 69 Watson. Thomas E. 176 K^laKhan IM LoBeman, Robert
^Doitb, Alexander 65 Watson. William ......... .81,171 Crane, Sievhen April Rain ...118
Simth, F. Hcqpkinson 149 Watterson, Henry 66 If War Be End "8 Low^ JameaRuaaell
Webster, Danid .21! 74 Freedom ....82
frath. Sydney 67, 127 Wdls, H. G ^ ! . .7. .8
Cratdord, Caft. Jack
Socrates 86, 109, 216 "nie Boomerang "
Wdtmer, Sidney A . CrosKty, Emeet Markham, Edtrin
135
Weslqr, John 59,216 Homesick ® Brotherhood .86
Wesl^, Susana I60 The Man with the Hoe IW
Sottthey, ^b^V/.'.'.V. V/. V. V. '. '.... .16, 162,"215 West, Robert 80
lafe and Death 48
Mae^eld, John ^
Souvestr^ Emile. 200 Daoiea,MaryCarolgn Sea-fever lOT
SpjacM, Herbert....- 81, 215,226 Westcott. Bishop ** . .101
i^>ina». 148 Whistler, James^cNdll... .2^ 88,205 Hie Dream-Bei^ 181 C.L.M. SKIS
White, Andrew 197, 200 Du Maurier, Oeorge Maaon, Harmon D. ^ t
Q^les 96 A little WoA ^110 Abraham Lincoln at Oetty^urg .86, 87
paeU De l&dame 19, 126, 168 WhiUng,Lillian 18
Stanifdans 140 Whitlock, Brand... 43, 61 Maatera, Edgar Lee
Whitman, Walt, 62, 66, 121, 124, 184, 200,. 202, Eliot, George William H. Hemdon 150. Wl
Stenlq^i Mrs. A. J... ^ I.!" .66 Oh, May I Join the Choir Invisible... .216,217
Si^ton, Elizabeth 71 226, 228 Anne Rutled^ .180
TOttien John Greenleaf 119 Emerson, Ralph Waldo Luanda Matlock :20l
Stede, Sir RicWd .56, i98 Brahina Iw Meyr^AUee
StemnietK
Steih^way, CharlesH !.!!!!!!!!!.! .88 Wilder, Mashall P. 80 Fiedusr, Jaeeb
^e Shqiherdeas W
Stephcpos, J^es 105 Wley, Dr. Harviey W ! 146 Hie Lady Poverty 81
Michelangelo
Stamen, Sir Leslie. 20, 23 Willis, N. P .'.91 Fiaher, MaJuon Leonard
On Dante 1T0
48, 47, 49, 69, 88
Wilson, Woodrow . ' * .* *.*. .21, 86 November 141
Ifitbr, Joamaa
97,1^,108,112,117,126,183.149,164,166,211 Winter,WiDiam . 98 fieeker, Jamea Blroy
Ihe California Poppy 13
Stbwe, Hamet Beecher 45 Wise, Governor Henry...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! iii9 To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence 119
Columbus 60, 61
Stowe, Mai^lu«t 87 Wordsworth, William *.W,' 106, 161, 189 FnmJMn,.Benjamia MHier,JoapphDana
Straus, OscarS. isi The of Hate. .40, 41
Yeata,William Butler.... 77 Bpitai^ ••120 Mania, WuHxam
Smnttor. Charl^. !!!!!87, 72 Young !!!!*.!!!!!!!*.!!7i**i6o
SwedenbOTg ; 214 QaJs, Nortaan The Ma^ of the Workers 1®2
Dawn.a&d Dftrt;* 93 f. IW|
Jonathan 121, 123, 128, *226 Zangwill, Israd. ;..96
 Nc_ Tabb, John Banister
...68 Evolution 169
Tennyson, Lord Alfred
(JtBoBy, John Boyle Grossing the 101
13ic Dreamer ISO " Break. Break, Break" 147
Flower in the C^nnied Wall 149
Recte, LvseUe Woodworth Tears, Idle Tears 188
Tears 148 Terry, Edioard B. 8. ,
RU^ JotuM WkUeomb Kinship • 10
Wet-Weather Talk 166 Untermeyer, Louis
A Parting Guest 184 CaliTOn in the Coal Mines 25
RosnUijChrisiina O.
Up-Hill 78 Watson, William
Meeting the First Day 220 Song—O, Like a Queen's Her Happ.v Tread 81
Bememoer Best 221 Song—^ril 171
Whitman, Walt
For You O Democracy 121
Shdleyt Perm ByuSte The House-builder at Work, in Cities or
Love's Philosophy 60 Anywhere 124
From "Prometheus Unbound'' Ill O Captain! My Captain! 184
SiXL, Edward Rotdand The Open Boad 2«8
The Fool's Prayer 84, 85 WUde, Oscar
Sieventon, Robert Dmit The Ballad of Beading Gaol 212, 218
Playthings 47 Wordstoorth, W^iam
Bequiem 40 IWandered Lonelyas a Cloud ^87
Trusty, Dusky, "^^vid. True. 69 TTie World is loo Much with Us a89
Swbibume, A. C. Yeais, William Butler
Tbe Garden of Proserpine 209 . When You are Old 77

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