Who's that? indeed! You're certain How much you made me start; Men seem to lose their wisdom Whene'er they lose their heart. Yes, there he is: I see him; The lamp his shadow throws Across the curtained window; He's stepping on his toes. He'll never think of tapping, Or making any din; A knock, though e'en the slightest, Is worse than looking in. He thinks my mother blind. 'Tis plain I must go to him: It's no use now to cough; I'll the door just softly, ope If but to send him off. "Tis well if from the doorstep He be not shortly hurled; Oh, men, there ne'er was trouble Till ye came in the world! Tapping at the window And peeping o'er the blind, Oh, man, but you're a trouble, And that we maidens find. The famous painters filled their wall, The famous critics judged it all. The combatants are parted now, Now strife is hushed, our ears doth meet, In the hot-press of the noonday. And o'er the plain where the dead age MATTHEW ARNOLD. The age has talked and worked its fill: The famous orators have done, The famous poets sung and gone, HANNIBAL TO HIS SOLDIERS. KNOW not, soldiers, wheth- which, even when your num if arms. This is the place which Fortune has appointed to be the limits of your labors; it is here that you will finish your glorious warfare and receive an ample recompense of your completed service. For I would not have you imagine that victory will be as difficult as the name of a Roman war is great and sounding. It has often happened that a despised enemy has given a spised enemy has given a bloody battle, and the most renowned kings and nations have by a small force been overthrown. And you but take away the glitter of the Robers were undiminished, you were hardly man name, what is there wherein they may stand in competition with you? For-to say nothing of your service in war for twenty years together with so much valor and success from the very Pillars of Hercules, from the ocean, from the utmost bounds of the earth, through so many warlike nations of Spain and Gaul, are you not come hither victorious? victorious? And with whom are you now to fight? With raw soldiers, an undisciplined army, beaten, vanquished, besieged by the Gauls the very last summer, an army unknown. to their leader and unacquainted with him. able to force a passage. Here, then, soldiers, you must either conquer or die the very first hour you meet the enemy. But the same fortune which has laid you under the necessity of fighting has set before your eyes those rewards of victory than which no men are ever wont to wish for greater from the immortal gods. Should Should we by our valor recover only Sicily and Sardinia, which were ravished from our fathers, those would be no inconsiderable prizes. Yet what are these? The wealth of Rome, whatever riches she has heaped together in the spoils of nations, all these, with the masters of them, will be yours. You have been long enough employed in driving the cattle upon the vast mountains of Lusitania and Celtiberia; you have hitherto met with no reward worthy the labors and dangers you have undergone. The time is now come to reap the full recompense of your toilsome marches over so many mountains and rivers and through so many nations, all of them in Or shall I, who was-born, I might almost say, but certainly brought up in the tent of my father, that most excellent general; shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul, and not only of the Alpine nations, but, which is greater yet, of the Alps themselves,-shall I compare myself with this half-year captain?-a captain before whom should one place the two armies without their ensigns, I am persuaded he would not know to which of them he is consul. I es teem it no small advantage, soldiers, that there is not one among you who has not often been an eye-witness of my exploits in war—not one of whose valor I myself have not been a spectator, so as to be able to name the times and places of his noble achievements; that with soldiers whom I have a thousand times praised and rewarded, and whose pupil I was before I became their general, I shall march against an army of men strangers to one another. On what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all full of courage and strength-a veteran infantry; a most gallant cavalry; you, my allies, most faithful and valiant; you, Carthaginians, whom not only your country's cause, but the justest anger, impels to battle. The hope, the courage, of assailants is always greater than of those who act upon the defensive. With hostile banners displayed you are come down upon Italy; you bring the war. Grief, injuries, indignities, fire your minds and spur you forward to revenge. First they demanded me that I, your general, should be delivered up to them; next all of you, who had fought at the siege of Saguntum; and we were to be put to death by the extremest tortures. Proud and cruel nation! Everything must be yours and at your disposal. You are to prescribe to us with whom we shall make war, with whom we shall make peace! You are to set us bounds, to shut us up within hills and rivers, but you-you are not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed! Pass not the Iberus." What next? What next? "Touch not the Saguntines." Saguntum is upon the Iberus. "Move not a step toward that city." Is it a small matter, then, that you have deprived us of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sar dinia? You would have Spain too? Well, we shall yield Spain; and then you will pass into Africa. "Will pass," did I say? This very year they ordered one of their consuls into Africa; the other, into Spain." No, soldiers, there is nothing left for us but what we can vindicate with our swords. Come on, then! Be men! The Romans may with more safety be cowards. They have their own country behind them, have places of refuge to flee to, and are secure from danger in the roads thither; but for you there is no middle fortune between death and victory. Let this be but well fixed in your minds, and once again, I say, you are conquerors. N BOOKS. TITUS LIVIUS. (Livy.) N that most interesting and instructive book Boswell's Life of Johnson an incident is mentioned which I beg leave to quote in illustration of this part of my subject. The doctor and his biographer were going down the Thames in a boat to Greenwich, and the conversation turned upon the benefits of learning, which Dr. Johnson maintained to be of use to all men. "And yet,' said Boswell, 'people go through the world very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without learning.' 666 Why, sir,' replied Dr. Johnson, ‘that may be true in cases where learning cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the Argonauts, who were the first sailors.' He then called to the boy, 'What would you give my lad, to know about the Argonauts?' 666 Sir,' said the boy, 'I would give what | single hour than the sun in his whole day's I have.' circuit. The poet's visions of evening are "Johnson was much pleased with this an- all compact of tender and soothing images. swer, and we gave him a double fare. Dr. Johnson then turning to me, 'Sir,' said he, a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind, and every human being whose mind is not debauched will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge.'" For the knowledge that comes from books I would claim no more than it is fairly entitled to. I am well aware that there is no inevitable connection between intellectual cultivation, on the one hand, and individual virtue or social well-being on the other. "The tree of knowledge is not the tree of life." I admit that genius and learning are sometimes found in combination with gross vices and not unfrequently with contemptible weaknesses, and that a community at once cultivated and corrupt is no impossible monster. But it is no overstatement to say that, other things being equal, the man who has the greatest amount of intellectual resources is in the least danger from inferior temptations-if for no other reason, because he has fewer idle moments. The ruin of most men dates from some vacant hour. Occupation is the armor of the soul, and the train of Idleness is borne up by all the vices. I remember a satirical poem in which the devil is represented as fishing for men and adapting his baits to the tastes and temperament of his prey; but the idler, he said, pleased him most, because he bit the naked hook. To a young man away from home, friendless and forlorn in a great city, the hours of peril are those between sunset and bedtime, for the moon and stars see more of evil in a It brings the wanderer to his home, the child to his mother's arms, the ox to his stall and the weary laborer to his rest. But to the gentle-hearted youth who is thrown upon the rocks of a pitiless city, and stands "homeless amid a thousand homes," the approach of evening brings with it an aching sense of loneliness and desolation which comes down upon the spirit like darkness upon the earth. In this mood his best impulses become a snare to him, and he is led astray because he is social, affectionate, sympathetic and warmhearted. If there be a young man thus circumstanced within the sound of my voice, let me say to him that books are the friends of the friendless, and that a library is the home of the homeless. A taste for reading will always carry you into the best possible company and enable you to converse with men who will instruct you by their wisdom and charm you by their wit, who will soothe you when fretted, refresh you when weary, counsel you when perplexed, and sympathize with you at all times. Evil spirits, in the Middle Ages, were exorcised and driven away by bell, book and candle; you want but two of these agents-the book and the candle. GEORGE S. HILLARD. AFFECTION. Он, cast thou not Affection from thee! In this bitter world Hold to thy heart that only treasure fast; Watch, guard it; suffer not a breath to dim The bright gem's purity. FELICIA HEMANS. |