One hour with Thee! When sun is set, The increasing wants, and lessening gains, Woodstock. FAREWELL TO THE MUSE.1 Enchantress, farewell, who so oft has decoy'd me Farewell, and take with thee thy numbers wild speaking Oh! none but some lover, whose heart-strings are breaking, Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came sorrow, As vain thine enchantments, O Queen of wild Numbers, THE NECESSITY AND DIGNITY OF LABOUR. I rely upon it that you are now working hard in the classical mine, getting out the rubbish as fast as you can, and preparing yourself to collect the ore. I cannot too much impress upon your mind that labour is the condition which God has imposed on us in every station of life-there is nothing worth having that can be had without it, from the bread which the peasant wins with the sweat of his brow, to the sports by which the rich man must get rid of his ennui. The only difference betwixt them is, that the poor man 1 Written, during illness, for Mr. Themson's Scottish Collection, and first published in 1822. labors to get a dinner to his appetite, the rich man to get an appetite to his dinner. As for knowledge, it can no more be planted in the human mind without labor, than a field of wheat can be produced without the previous use of the plough. There is indeed this great difference, that chance or circumstances may so cause it that another shall reap what the farmer sows; but no man can be deprived, whether by accident or misfortune, of the fruits of his own studies; and the liberal and extended acquisitions of knowledge which he makes are all for his own use. Labour, my dear boy, therefore, and improve the time. In youth our steps are light, and our minds are ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up. But if we neglect our spring, our summer will be useless and contemptible, our harvest will be chaff, and the winter of our old age unrespected and desolate. From a Letter to his Son. EDUCATION OF THE HEART. I fear you have some very young ideas in your head. Are you not too apt to measure things by some reference to literature-to disbelieve that anybody can be worth much care who has no knowledge of that sort of thing, or taste for it! God help us! what a poor world this would be if that were the true doctrine! I have read books enough, and observed and conversed with enough of eminent and splendidly cultivated minds, too, in my time; but I assure you, I have heard higher sentiments from the lips of the poor, uneducated men and women, when exerting the spirit of severe yet gentle heroism under difficulties and afflictions, or speaking their simple thoughts as to circumstances in the lot of friends and neighbors, than I ever yet met with out of the pages of the Bible. We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine compared with the education of the heart. From his Life. A TRUE MAN. The man whom I call deserving the name, is one whose thoughts and exertions are for others rather than himself,-whose high purpose is adopted on just principles, and never abandoned while heaven or earth affords means of accomplishing it. He is one who will neither seek an indirect advantage by a specious road, nor take an evil path to secure a really good purpose. Such a man were one for whom a woman's heart should beat constant while he breathes, and break when he dies.1 A much fuller, nobler definition of a "True Man," is the following by the great Christian philosopher, Sir Robert Boyle: "In my apprehension, the man that has a great mind is he that uses his utmost moral A TRUE WOMAN. Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her what her father is now-the object of all her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see nothing, and connect herself with nothing, but by or through him. If he be a man of sense and virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigues, and share his pleasures. If she become the portion of a churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness. FORTITUDE AND PERSEVERANCE. The great art of life, so far as I have been able to observe, consists in fortitude and perseverance. I have rarely seen, that a man who conscientiously devoted himself to the studies and duties of any profession, and did not omit to take fair and honorable opportunities of offering himself to notice when such presented themselves, has not at length got forward. The mischance of those who fall behind, though flung upon fortune, more frequently arises from want of skill and perseverance. Life, my young friend, is like a game at cards: our hands are alternately good or bad, and the whole seems, at first glance, to depend on mere chance. But it is not so, for in the long run the skill of the player predominates over the casualties of the game. Therefore, do not be discouraged with the prospect before you, but ply your studies hard, and qualify yourself to receive fortune when she comes your way. From a Letter in his Life. SIR WALTER RALEIGH'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH QUEEN ELIZABETH. They were soon launched on the princely bosom of the broad Thames, upon which the sun now shone forth in all its splendor. "There are two things scarce matched in the universe," said Walter to Blount,-"the sun in heaven, and the Thames on the earth." "The one will light us to Greenwich well enough," said Blount, "and the other would take us there a little faster if it were ebb tide.' "And this is all thou think'st-all thou carest-all thou deem'st the use of the king of elements and the king of rivers, to guide three such poor caitiffs as thyself, and me, and Tracy upon an idle journey of courtly ceremony!" diligence to find out what are the best things he can do, and then, without being deterred by dangers or discouraged by difficulties. does resolutely and steadily pursue them, so far as his abilities will serve: and this out of an internal principle of love to God and man, and with a sincere aim to glorify the one and benefit the other." "It is no errand of my seeking, faith!" replied Blount, "and I could excuse both the sun and the Thames the trouble of carrying me where I have no great mind to go; and where I expect but dog's wages for my trouble-And by my honor," he added, looking out from the head of the boat, "it seems to me as if our message were a sort of labor in vain; for see, the queen's barge lies at the stairs, as if her majesty were about to take water." It was even so. The royal barge, manned with the queen's watermen richly attired in the regal liveries, and having the banner of England displayed, did indeed lie at the great stairs which ascended from the river, and along with it two or three other boats for transporting such part of her retinue as were not in immediate attendance on the royal person. The yeomen of the guard, the tallest and most handsome men whom England could produce, guarded with their halberds the passage from the palace-gate to the river side, and all seemed in readiness for the queen's coming forth, although the day was yet so early. "By my faith, this bodes us no good!" said Blount; "it must be some perilous cause puts her grace in motion thus untimously. By my counsel, we were best put back again, and tell the earl what we have seen." "Tell the earl what we have seen!" said Walter; "why, what have we seen but a boat, and men with scarlet jerkins, and halberds in their hands? Let us do his errand, and tell him what the queen says in reply." So saying, he caused the boat to be pulled toward a landingplace at some distance from the principal one, which it would not, at that moment, have been thought respectful to approach, and jumped on shore, followed, though with reluctance, by his cautious and timid companions. As they approached the gate of the palace, one of the sergeant porters told them they could not at present enter, as her majesty was in the act of coming forth. The gentlemen used the name of the Earl of Sussex; but it proved no charm to subdue the officer, who alleged, in reply, that it was as much as his post was worth to disobey in the least tittle the commands which he had received. "Nay, I told you as much before," said Blount; "do, I pray you, my dear Walter, let us take boat and return.” "Not till I see the queen come forth," returned the youth, composedly. "Thou art mad, stark mad, by the mass!" answered Blount. "And thou," said Walter, "art turned coward of the sudden. I have seen thee face half a score of shag-headed Irish kernes to thy own share of them, and now thou wouldst blink and go back to shun the frown of a fair lady!" At this moment the gates opened, and ushers began to issue forth in array, preceded and flanked by the band of gentlemen pensioners. After this, amid a crowd of lords and ladies, yet so disposed around her that she could see and be seen on all sides, came Elizabeth herself, then in the prime of womanhood, and in the full glow of what in a sovereign was called beauty, and who would in the lowest rank of life have been truly judged a noble figure, joined to a striking and commanding physiognomy. She leant on the arm of Lord Hunsdon, whose relation to her by her mother's side often procured him such distinguished marks of Elizabeth's intimacy. The young cavalier we have so often mentioned had probably never yet approached so near the person of his sovereign, and he pressed forward as far as the line of warders permitted, in order to avail himself of the present opportunity. His companion, on the contrary, kept pulling him backward, till Walter shook him off impatiently, and let his rich cloak drop carelessly from one shoulder, a natural action, which served, however, to display to the best advantage his well-proportioned person. Unbonneting at the same time, he fixed his eager gaze on the queen's approach with a mixture of respectful curiosity, and modest yet ardent admiration, which suited so well with his fine features, that the warders, struck with his rich attire and noble countenance, suffered him to approach the ground over which the queen was to pass, somewhat closer than was permitted to ordinary spectators. Thus the adventurous youth stood full in Elizabeth's eye,-an eye never indifferent to the admiration which she deservedly excited among her subjects, or to the fair proportions of external form which chanced to distinguish any of her courtiers. Accordingly, she fixed her keen glance on the youth, as she approached the place where he stood, with a look in which surprise at his boldness seemed to be unmingled with resentment, while a trifling accident happened which attracted her attention toward him yet more strongly. The night had been rainy, and just where the young gentleman stood a small quantity of mud interrupted the queen's passage. As she hesitated to pass on, the gallant, throwing his cloak from his shoulders, laid it on the miry spot, so as to insure her stepping over it dry-shod. Elizabeth looked at the young man, who accompanied this act of devoted courtesy with a profound reverence and a blush that overspread his whole countenance. The queen was confused, and blushed in her turn, nodded her head, hastily passed on, and embarked in her barge without saying a word. "Come along, sir coxcomb," said Blount; "your gay cloak will need the brush to-day, I wot. Nay, if you had meant to make a footcloth of your mantle, better have kept Tracy's old drab-de-bure, which despises all colors." "This cloak," said the youth, taking it up and folding it, "shall never be brushed while in my possession." |