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dinaire, trying to go down as orthodox port, and very meagre ordinaire too!
To Hopkins' historical works?—to Pumpkin's poetry? Ordinaire, ordinaire again—thin, feeble, overrated; and so down the whole list. And when we have done discussing our men friends, have we not all the women? Do these not advance absurd pretensions? Do these never give themselves airs? With feeble brains, don't they often set up to be esprits forts? Don't they pretend to be women of fashion, and cut their betters? Don't they try and pass off their ordinary-looking girls as beauties of the first order? Every man in his circle knows women who give themselves airs, and to whom we can apply the port-wine simile.
Come, my friends. Here is enough of ordinaire and port for to-day. My bottle has run out. Will anybody have any more? Let us go up stairs and get a cup of tea from the ladies.
It had been hard for him that spake it, to have put more truth and untruth together in few words, than in that speech, Whosoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god;' for it is most true, that a natural and secret hatred and aversion towards society, in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue, that it should have any character at all of the divine nature, except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self for a higher conversation; such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathens-as Epimen. ides, the Candian; Numa, the Roman; Empedocles, the Sicilian; and Apollonius, of Tyana; and truly, and really, in divers of the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the church. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth; for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal where there is no love, The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: Magna civitas, magna solitudo ['Great city, great sol. itude']; because in a great town friends are scattered, 60 that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in less neighbourhoods; but we may go further, and affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true friends, without which the world is but a wilderness; and, even in this sense also of solitude, whosoever, in the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.
A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body, and it is not much other. wise in the mind; you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt
openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.
It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we speak—so great, as they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own safety and greatness; for princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, except, to make them. selves capable thereof, they raise some persons to be as it were, companions, and almost equals to them. selves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give unto such persons the names of favorites, or privadoes, as if it were matter of grace or conversation; but the Roman name attaineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them participes curarum [' participators in cares ']; for it is that which tieth the knot; and we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned, who have oftentimes joined to them. selves some of their servants, whom both theinselves have called friends, and allowed others likewise to call them in the same manner, using the word which is received between private men.
It is not to be forgotten what Comineus observeth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardynamely, that he would communicate his secrets with none; and, least of all, those secrets which troubled him most. Whereupon he goeth on, and saith, that towards his latter time, that closeness did impair and a little perish his understanding. Surely Comineus might have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his second master, Louis XI., whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true, Cor ne edito-eat not the heart. Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts; but one thing is most admirable-wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship—which is, that this communicating of a man's self to his friend, works two con. trary effects, for it redoubleth jcys, and cutteth griefs in halves; for there is no man that impareth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more, and no man that impareth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less. So that it is, in truth, of operation upon a man's mind of like virtue as the alchymists use to attribute to their stone for man's body, that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of nature; but yet, without praying in aid of alchymists, there is a manifest image of this in the ordinary course of nature; for, in bodies, union strengtheneth and cheriseth any natural action, and, on the other side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression-and even so is it of minds.
The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign for the understanding, as the first is for the
affections; for friendship maketh indeed a fair day in innumerable rocks and dangerous surprises, from the affections from storm and tempests, but it maketh exceedingly many needless incumbrances and vexa. daylight in the understanding, out of darkness and tious toils of fruitless endeavors, she redeems and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, which a man receiveth Wisdom instructs us to examine, compare, and from his friend; but before you come to that, certain rightly to value the objects that court our affections it is, that whosoever hath his mind fraught with and challenge our care; and thereby regulates our many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify passions and moderates our endeavors, which begets and break up, in the communicating and discoursing a pleasant serenity and peaceable tranquility of mind. with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily For when, being deluded with false shows, and relyhe marshalleth them more orderly-he seeth how ing upon ill grounded presuinptions, we highly they look when they are turned into words-finally, esteem, passionately affect, and eagerly pursue things he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more by an of little worth in themselves or concernment to us; hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. It was as we unhandsomely prostitute our affections, and well said by Themistocles to the king of Persia, that prodigally misspend our time, and vainly lose our speech . was like cloth of Arras, opened and put labor, so the event not answering our expectation, abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure, our minds thereby are confounded, disturbed, and whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither distempered. But when, guided by right reason, we is this second fruit of friendship, in opening the conceive great esteem of, and zealously are enamunderstanding, restrained only to such friends as are ored with, and vigorously strive to attain, things of able to give a man counsel-they indeed are best- excellent worth and weighty consequence, the conbut even without that a man learneth of himself, science of having well placed our affections and well and bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth employed our pains, and the experience of fruits cor. his wits against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a responding to our hopes, ravishes our minds with word, a man were better relate himself to a statue or unexpressible content. And so it is; present appearpicture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother. ance and vulgar conceit ordinarily impose upon our
Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship fancies, disguising things with a deceitful varnish, complete, that other point which lieth more open, and representing those that are the vainest with the and falleth within vulgar observation, which is faith- greatest advantage; whilst the noblest objects, being ful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well, in of a more subtle and spiritual nature, like fairest one of his enigmas, · Dry light is ever the best:' and jewels inclosed in a homely box, avoid the rotice of certain it is, that the light that a man receiveth by gross sense, and pass undiscerned by us. But the counsel from another, is drier and purer than that light of wisdom, as it unmasks specious imposture, which cometh from his own understanding and judg
and bereaves it of its false colors, so it penetrates ment, which is ever infused and drenched in his affec- into the retirements of true excellency, and reveals tions and customs. So as there is as much difierence its genuine lustre. between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel THE BEAUTIFUL ALONE NOT GOOD FOR of a friend and of a flatterer; for there is no such
MAN. flatterer as is a man's self, and there is no such rem
JOHN RUSKIN. edy against flattery of a man's self as the liberty of a friend.
I believe that it is not good for man to live amongst
what is most beautiful; that he is a creature incap.
able of satisfaction by anything upon earth; and that
soever, the utmost that earth can give, is the surest
RICILARD H. DANA.
in reality, better for mankind that the forms of their brains. Theirs is the natural movement of the soul, common landscape should offer no violent stimulus intense with new life and busy after truth, working to the emotions—that the gentle upland, browned by to some purpose, though without a noise. the bending furrows of the plough, and the fresh When children are lying about, seemingly idle sweep of the chalk down, and the narrow winding and dull, we, who have become case-hardened by of the copse-clad dingle, should be more frequent time and satiety, forget that they are all sensation, scenes of human life than 'the Arcadias of cloud. that their outstretched bodies are drinking in from capped mountain or luxuriant vale; and that, while the common sun and air, that every sound is taken humbler (though always infinite) sources of interest note of by the ear, that every floating shadow and are given to each of us around the homes to which passsing form come and touch at the sleepy eye, we are restrained for the greater part of our lives, and that the little circumstances and the material these mightier and stranger glories should become world about them make their best school, and will the objects of adv ture—at once the cynosures of be the instructors and formers of their characters for the fancies of childhood, and themes of the happy life. memory and the winter's tale of age.
And it is delightful to look on and see how busily Nor is it always that the inferiority is felt. For, the whole acts, with its countless parts fitted to each so natural is it to the human heart to fix itself in hope other, and moving in harmony. There are none of rather than in present possession, and so subtle is the us who have stolen softly behind a child when laborcharm which the imagination casts over what is dis- ing in a sunny corner digging a lilliputian well, or tant or denied, that there is often a more touching fencing in a six-inch barn-yard, and listened to his power in the scenes which contain iar-away promise soliloquies and his dialogues with some imaginary of something greater than themselves, than in those being, without our hearts being touched by it. Nor which exhaust the treasures and powers of Nature have we observed the flush which crossed his face in an unconquerable and excellent glory, leaving when finding himself betrayed, without seeing in it nothing more to be by the fancy pictured or pursued. the delicacy and propriety of the after man.
A man may have many vices upon him, and have
walked long in a bad course, yet if he has a love of CHILDREN.
children, and can take pleasure in their talk and play, there is something still left in him to act upon
something which can love simplicity and truth. I “ Heaven lies about us in our infancy,” says have seen one in whom some low vice had become a Wordsworth. And who of us that is not too good habit, make himself a plaything of a set of riotous to be conscious of his own vices, who has not felt children with as much delight in his countenance as rebuked and humbled under the clear and open if nothing but goodness had ever been expressed in countenance of a child?—who that has not felt his it; and have felt as much of kindness and sympathy impurities foul upon him in the presence of a sin. toward him as I have of revolting toward another, less child? These feelings make the best lesson who has gone through life with all due propriety, that can be taught a man, and tell him in a way with a cold and supercilious bearing toward children, which all else he has read or heard never could, how which makes them shrinking and still. I have paltry is all the show of intellect compared with a
known one like the latter attempt, with uncouth pure and good heart. He that will humble himself condescension, to court an open-hearted child, who and go to a child for instruction, will come away a
would draw back with an instinctive aversion; and I wiser man.
have felt as if there were a curse upon him. Better If children can make us wiser, they surely can to be driven out from among men than to be disliked make us better. There is no one more to be envied of children. than a good-natured man watching the workings of children's minds, or overlooking their play. Their TRUTH.—The imputation of novelty is a terrible eagerness, curious about everything, making out by charge amongst those who judge of men's heads, as a quick imagination what they see but a part of - they do of their perukes, by the fashion, and can their fanciful combinations and magic inventions, allow none to be right but the received doctrines. creating out of ordinary circumstances and the com- Truth scarce ever yet carried it by vote anywhere at mon things which surround them strange events and its first appearance: new opinions are always sus. little ideal worlds, and these all working in mystery | pected, and usually opposed, without any other to form matured thought, is study enough for the reason but because they are not already common. most acute minds, and should teach us, also, not too But truth, like gold, is not the less so for being newly officiously to regulate what we so little understand. brought out of the mine. It is trial and examination The still musing and deep abstraction in which they must give it price, and not any antique fashion; and sometimes sit, affect us as a playful mockery of older though it be not yet current by the public stamp, yet heads. These little philosophers have no foolish it may, for all that, be as old as nature, and is cersystem, with all its pride and jargon, confusing their tainly not the less genuine.-John Locke.