Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, March 30, 1873, Page 10

10 THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, MARCH 30, 1873. “THE KEY TO ALL MYTHOLOGIES.” A Conversation with Farcus Au- relius. BY.¥. W. FTORT, THE AMERICAN ACULPTOL. From the Fortmghtly Review. Tt was a dark and stormy night in December. Everybody in the houso had long been in bed and asleep; but, deeply interosted in the Medi- tations of Marcus Aurelius, I had prolonged my resding until the small hours hd begun to in- Crease, and I heard the bells of tho Capucin Convent strike for 2 o'clock. I then laid dovn xay book, and began to reflect upon it. The firo {iad nearly burned out, and, unwilling yot to g0, 1 threw on to it a bundlo of canne and a couple of sticks, and agnin the fresh flame darted out, 20d gove a glow to the room. Outeide, the piorm was fierco and passionate. Gusts beat gainst the panes, shoking tho old windows of hie palace, and lashing them with wild rain. At intersals # sudden blue light flashed through the room, followed by a trampling roar of thun- der overbead. The fierce Libeccio howled like o wild beast around the house, a3 if in search of ‘(s prey, and then died away, disappointed and growling, and after o short interval again leaped with fresh fury against the windows and walls, ' g3 if maddened by their resistance. As I sat, quietly gazing into the fire aud musing on many ighadows of thought that camoand passed, my 'imagination went back in the far-past when Mare cus Aurelins led his legions against tho Quadi, the Marcomauni, and the Sarmati, and brought before me the weather-beaten tent in which he . gat somany a bleak and bitter night, after tho daty of tho day was done, and all his men had Yolired to rest, writing in his private diery those noble meditations, which, though meant solely for his private eye, are one of the most precious “beritages wo have of ancient life and thought. I seemed to ece him thero in thoso bleak wilds of Pannouis, seated by night in his tent. At his | #ide burns o flickering torch. Sentinels pace to ‘and fro. The cold wind flirts and flaps the folds of Pratorium, and shekes the golden eagleabove Far off is heard the howl of the wolf prowl- ing through the shawdowy forests that encom- pass the camp; or the silence 18 broken by the eharp, shrill ery of some right bird flying over- head through the dark. Now aod then comos theo clink of armor from the tents of tho cavalry, or tha call of the watch-word along the line, or the neighing of horses as the Circuitores malke their ronnds. Heisill and worn with toil and care. He is alone; and there, under the shadow ©f night, beside his camp-table, bio sits and med- irates, and writes upor his wazen tablots thoee lofty rediences of admorition to duty and en- couragement to virtue, those counscllings of himself to beroic action and patient en- durance of evil and teanquility of jife, that breathe the highest spirit of morality and philozophy. * Little did he think, in his lonely watches, that the words Le was rriting only for himself would etill bo clorished 2fter long centuries had passed away, aud would “bopondered over by the descendants of nations which were then uncultured barbarians, as low in civilization as the Pannonians against whom he was encamped. Yot of all the books that ancient litorature Lins left us, none is to be found con- taining tho record.of higher and purer thougl or more carncst snd_unselfish churacter. lanced up at the cast of the Capitolino bust of fitm which stood in the cornes of my room, snd £aw the sweet melancholy of that goutle face, erocaro and dicappoitment had como ovor it and ruled it with lines of age aud anxiety, & etrange longing came over me {o soe lLim &nd hear his voico, and a ead senso of that great void of time and space which eparated us. ~Where i ‘henow ? what is be now? I asked myself. Inwhat ‘other distant world of thought and being is his £pirit moving ? Has it any remembrance of the past—has it any knowledge of the present ? Yot 1he hand that wroto is now but dust which may ve floating about the mausoleum where Le was buried, noar the Vatican, or perhaps lying in that library of the Popes upon some stained manuscript of this very work it wrote, to be blown carelesly away Dy some studious abbe as he anges it on iis shelf among the other precious records of the past. The hand isbut dust, but the thoughts that it recorded are fresh and living as ever. Siuce Lo yassed from this world, how little progress have ‘e made in philosophy and morality I Here in this littlo book are rules for tho conduct of lifo which might shame almost any Chuistian. Hero sre meditations which go to tlie root of things, end exploro the dim eecret world which sur- younds us, and return again, 88 all our ex- plorations ' do, uneatisfiod. All these cen- turies bove passed, and the smme ques- tions _we till and find no snswer. Where beis now ho knows the secret, or T is beyond the desire to know it. Themystery §8 solved for him, which we are guessing, and bis is eitber 8 Jarger,sweoter life, growing on aud on | —or everlasting rest. A stoic, he found comfort in his philogophy, as grest perhaps as wo Chris- tians find in our fmith. Ho belioved in his _gods 88 wo believe in ours. How could they satiefy a mind like his? How could these impure and yassionste oxistences, given to human follies and Veakncstes, tolow intrigues, to vulgar jeslousies, 1o degraded loves, satisfy & nature so high, 0 ecli-denying, £o earnest, 80 puro? Yet thoy were his gods; to them he sacrificed, in them he trustod, Iooking forward to a calm future with & ecrenity at least _equal to ours, undisturbed by misgivings ; bolieving in justice, and in unjust gods—believing in purity, and in impure goda. > “No!" said & mild voice, I did not beliove in impure and unjust gods.’ And looking up I saw before me the calm face of the Emperor_and philosopher of whom L was thinking. There ho stood before me as 1 Xuew him from his busts and statues, with his full brow and eyes, hi sweet mouth, bis curling hair, now a little grizzled with age, and a deop meditative Jook of tendor earmestness upon his 200, T Imor not why I was not startled to rce him thero, but I was not. It scemed to me natural, as events eeem in a dream. The realitios, as wo call those facts which are merely visionary and transitory, vanished ; and the unrealitios, as wo call thos ‘of thought snd being, usurped thoir place. Nothing secmed more fitting than tliat Lo thould be there. To tho mind all things are rossible and simplo, and there is no time or epsco in thought which aunihilates them. Lroso to greet my guest. with the reverence due to such & presonce. Do not dusturb yourself,” ho said, emiling ; “ will it hero, if you pleaze ;” and sospeaking, e took the seat opposito mo at the fire. Bt Tou,” he continued, “‘and I will endeavorto an- Bwer of the questions you were asking of youreai +<H0d T known your presence I should hardly, perhapy, havo dared to ask such quostions, or af eust in such & form,” I eaid. “Why not ask them of me if you ssk them of ouredlf " ho answered. * Thoy were just and Tatural in themselves, and the forms of things 2re of little use to ond who cares for tho essence —just es tho forms of the divinitics I belioved in are of no_consequence compared to their es- cences. What wo call thoughts arobut too often mere formulas, which by dint of repetition we finally got Lo believe aro mn themselves truths, while they are in fact mero dead husks, having no life in them, and which by their very _rigidity _provent' life. No singlo stato- ment,” however _plausible, can contain truth, which is inflnito in form and in spirit. If e ara to talk tcgethor, let us freo ourselves, it we can, from formulss, since they ouly check rowth in the spirit, and, so to speak, aro mere fins at which wo rest for 8 moment ot account of our weariness snd weakness. If we stay permanently in them we Darrow our minds, Owarf our experience, and mako no_progress. For whst is truth but & continual progression to- vard the divine ?” “Yet would you eay that formulasare of no use that we should not in them eum up the beet of our thought ?” “Undoubtedly they are useful. They aro trunks in which we pack our goods. But as wo ceymire more goods, we must have larger and even larger trunks. It is only desd formtlas hicis kill. and the tendency of formulas is to @ and thvs to repress thought. Look at the :t-+hell that holds the precious germ of the trec. It isa necessery prison of & mo- Lat as that germ guickens and the ehell must give way, or death is the “Thie infinite truth can be compre- Jended iu no formula and no_system. All at- 15 to do this bave resulted in the samo end Every religious creed should beliving, Chw ¢l formalizes it intobarren words =, and, ere long. Faith—that is, the liv- pirivg principle—dics, wrapped up- in ita brerancea or rigid statements, and_be- e the dead mummics of the Egyptians res ceneequence. tions and formulas get the better of our minds. But pray continue ; I only listen ; and pardon Tme for interrupting you.” ““What I soy han direct relation to the ques- tions you wereesking when I entered. Thereisa grain, often many grains, of truthin everysystem of religion, but complete Truth in none. If wo wait antil we attain the perfect before adhering to one, wo shall never arrive at auy. Eachago hay its religious ideas, which are tuo aggregato of its mo pun:eElious influenced by its imeg- inative bias, and theso are shapen into formulas or systems, which serve as inns, or, churches, or temples of worship. These begin by reprosent- ing the highest reach of tho best thought of the age, but soon_degenerate into commouplaces,— thought moving on beyond them, and of its very Sitality of mature sccking boyond them. At thoso inna the common mass pat up, 2ud_tho Lost or priest controls them whilo thoy are there, and society orgavizes them, and soa cortain: ood is sticined. In what youcall tho auciont 5;;5, ‘when I lived on the earth, I found a system already built and surrounded by strong bulvarks of power. 'To strike at that was to striko at the existenco of society. A religious revolution is s social rovolution; ouc cannot alter a Faith ont altering everything out of which is moulded. To do that, it ‘moro ovil might result than good. Man's nature i such that if you throw down tho temple of his worship at once, assaulting its very foundations, you do not improve bis faith,—you but too often 3unililate it, 8o implanted is it 1n old prejudices, in tho forms siamped on tho Leart in youtl, aud in tho habits of thought. It is ouly by gradual changes that any real good can be done,—by en- Targing and developing the principles of truth which alreeds exist, and not by overthrowing tho whole systom at once.” “But in the relig gave your adlorenco,” I ¢ there” grand snd _inspiring! thero out of which you could us xystom to which you "1 exclaimed, “ what was What truth was hope to develop & u could not believe in the di S Tieverence to tho gods thet were,”be an- swered, “to a power bove and bevond us, Lecognition of divine powers and attributes, This Jay as the corucr-stono of our worship, as it oos of yours.'" “ Almost,” T cried, it eecms to mo worse to woraliip such gods as yours than to worship nono stall. Their attributes wera at best only hu- Tuan, and their conduct low and uaworthy, their passions sensual and debased. Any good man {¥ould bo ashiamed to do tho acts calmly atirib- 1tted to tho diviities you woshipped. This, in iteclf, must havo hnd a_dograd the nation. How could 2oy ac allowed and uttrib ** Your notions on this o calmly answered, * but they 2re complel taken, ‘Thera iu no doubt latin ev of religion tho tendency is to humur 3 a certain oxtent, degrade God. o attribute to Him our own passions is, with the mass, uni- Sersal. 'To deify man or to humanize God is the Tulo. You deify that Leantiful charactor named Christ, and ou bumianize God by represouting Tim g4 inspired with anger and crmelty beyon ansthing in our system. You attribute to Hun 2 tchiomo of tho univesse which is to mo ablior- Tout. Will you excare me if 1 state (hus plainly. Bow it strikes ons who belonged to » different aze and crecd, and who, therefore, eaunot euter into the deep-grained prejudices and ideas of your century and faith ? : “Speal boldly,” I eaid. “Do not fear to shock me. T am so deeply planced that I do not Fear to bo uprooted_ n my faith. And, besider, _that is not trnth which docs not court asseult, suro to be strengtbened by it. If you can over- throw my faith, overthrow it.” ““Thai T should be most unwilling to do,” he answered. “No word would I say to produce such n vesult. In your faith thefe is anoble and Leautiful trutly, which sheds a soft Justro over 1ifo; and in my own day tlie pure and philosoph- ic spirit of Jesus of Nazaroth wes 1ecognized by mo. and roverenced. 'Tis mot of Mim L Would spealk, but rather of tho general echeme of the regulation of -this world by God fuat T alluded to; and I yob pause, fe to shock you by a simple statement of flus creed.” T prey you do not besitato; speak! I um ready and anxions to hear you.” “1t 15 only in answer to what you eay of tho acts and passions attributed by s to our divin- ities, as constituting a clear reazon by we should not reverence them, that I speak. You attribnte to your God omnipotenco, omniscience, and in- finite love. Yet in his omnipotence ho made first a world, and then placed in it man and Womsn, whom ho also mede and pronounced good. Tn this, according to your beliof, Ho §% mistaken. The man and woman proved immediately ot to be good ; end Ils, omnuipo- fent as he wae, was foiled by auother power pamed Satan, who upset at onco his whole scheme. Afterinfivite cousideration, and in pity for man, Ho could or did inveut no bezter scheme Of redceming him thuu for himself, or an cmanation from himself, to take the Torm of man, and suffor death through their wicked- Dees and at their hands. Thus man, by adding to the previous fault the crime of killing Godon the carth, sequired a claim to bo saved from the consequences of bis first feult.' A new crimo af- fords a cause of pardon for & provious feult sim- plv of disobedionce. What was this fire fault Silich induced God to drive the first man sud Woman out of the Paradise be bad mado for them? Simply that they ate an apple when thoy woro prolibited. Is auy Pagan legoud moro ab- urd than this? ‘Then for tho justico of God,— on what principle of Tight can_ the subsequent crime and horror without example of killing God, or & person, s you say, of the Triui afford a renvon for femoving from man a penal- iy previously inzmred? Whon ono_remcmbers thiat you nestme God to be omniecient as well as omnipotent, and that llo might have mado auy other echeme, by simply forgiving men, or obliging him to redeem hmself Dy doing good and_ acting_virtuously, instend of committing o crimo and a horror, this Lelief be- comes still more strange. Nor can you explain it youreoll; you only eay it is & myslers which iu bogond your reessn, but nono iho less trus. Yet, though it offends all ecare of justice and right in my mind, you believe it and adhore to it 258 cornet-stone of your faith, Are you suro I do uot offend you ? “Pray goon,” I said. *When yon havo eaid it is o myatery, you bave said all. Shall man, With his deficiént rearou, protend to understand God? This is truth revealed to us by ITis only bogotten Son, Jesus Christ, who was Himeelf in o human form; and when God revenls tousa mystery, shall wo not believo it? Shall wo meaguro Him by our feable wits 2" T do not mean to arguo with you. This is furthest from my intention; thougl I might eay thin holds good of usin the sncient days, aswellas with younow. Lonty wish, hovever, to show you that,you believe what yon acknowledge to be be- vond reason—s mystery, g9 yon callit. . You bo- Tieve this, and vet you despise the Pagan for be- lieving what his gods told him, simply because it was nureasonable or ridiculous.” “The question,” I said, “ is very different ; but let it poss. Pray go on.” “ Your God is 5 God of infinite love, you say. Yot in tho opinion of many of you, at lczst, this infinitely loving God, omnipotenit, and having the porer tomake man 88 Ho chose—omniccient, and knowing how to make him good and happy if Ho wished to—has chosen in his love to make him weak and impotent, to endow him with passions which are temptations to evil, to afflict Lim with disesse and pain, to render him suscoptible to torments of every kind, and sufferings beyond bis power to avoid, however ho sirive to bo good and virtuous and obedient. And then at the last, sfter s life of -uffer- jog and struggle here, eithor to savo Lim and make him oterually heppy; or, if Ho 8o clect, without any reason intelligible to you or any oue, to plungo him into everlasting torment, from which he cau never freo himsolf. Now, I ask you in what respect is such o God betfer than Jupiter, who, even sceording to tho lowest oBuler uotione, whatorer Lis pasious, s ot cast placablo; who, whatever were his follies, was not o demon likg this? And when oo takes into consideration thoe fact that there is not » humane ma living who would not_bo sshamed to do to his own child, however vicious, what he calmly attributes to his all-loving God, the boliof in such & God seoms all tho more estraordina- e It is & mystery,” I said, ““that ono like yoa, born in another age and tinctured with another croed, could not be expected to understand. it would be uscless for mo to attemptit, and cortainly mot now, when I so greatly prefor hearing you ' than spesking mysolf. My puorpose is not now to defend my religion, Dbut to listen to your defense of yours.” “Woll, then, allow us to bave our mystory, to0. If you cannot explain all, neither could we; but noither with us nor with you was that & reason for not believing at all. It was the mys- tery iteelf, perhaps, attracted us end attracts sou. The love of tho unintelligible is at the root of all systems of nfigon‘ f man is unintel- Tigible to us, shall pot God be? Man has always invested hus gods with his own passions, and his gods aro for fho most part his own ehadows cast B0t “into infinite space, enlarged, gigantic, and Sivaterious. Man cannot, with the utmost ex- ercis of his faculties, get out of himself any moro than be’ can n st Ho cannot comprehend (or inclose within him-~ seif) God, who comprehends and _encloses him ; and therefore he vaguely magnities his own powers, and calls the result God— ‘forn:s of life, not the reality.” ‘00 true,” I answored, “all history proves Every real aud thinking man feels” it As it gels L better of our bodies, ro conven- God the Infinite Bpirit made man; but man in every system of religion makes God. In our own reason He is the best that wo can imag- ine—that is, our own selves purged of evil aud leap' over his own shador. | extonded. Wo cannot strotch.beyond our- selvos.” Ay, but your gods wero' not ihn best you could conceive, They wore lowerof nature than Saan himaclf in somo particulars, and wero guilty of ncts that you yourself would reprove.” A This is becauso you cousider thom purely in their mythical history, sccording to tho notions of tho common ignorent mass—not looking be- hind those acts which were purely typical, often simply allcgorical, to the idens which they rep- rosented and of which they wero incarnations. You cannot beliove that 8o low & system as this eatisflod the epiritunl needs of thoso august and refined souls who still ehine like planets in the sky of thought. Do you enppoxo that Plato and Epictetus, that zeto and Socrates, that Seneca aud Cicero, with their expand- el minds, accopted these low formulas of Divinity? ' As well might I supposo that the low superstitions of tho Christian Chureh, in which tho vulgar beliove, roprozont the highest philos- oply of the bost thinkers. Yet for long contu- ries of superstition tho Church has been accept- ed by you just ns it stands, with its saints and their miracles, and its singular rites and _core- monies. Nor lias any eifort been made to cleanso the bark of St. Potcr of the barnacles and rub- 51 which encunbor, and deflle it. = Religious faith ensily degonerntes into superstition in the common mind. And why hes tho superstition been nccopted? Simply becausa it is wo deeply ingrainad into the belief of the unthinking mass, that thero might be danger of destroying all faith Ly destroying the follies and accidents which bad bacomie imbedded in it. Not only for this; by moans of theso verv superstitions men mey bo led and governed, and lenders will not surronder or overthrow means of power. Yet tho best mind,” he continued, ‘did what thoy could in -ncient daya to purify and refine the popular fnith, and sought even to elevato their wuotions of tho gods by cducating their sense of tho beauliful, and by presenfing to them imagos of the gods unsiained by low pas- sions and glorions in their forms.” “But surely vour idea of Jupiter or Zeus," I answerod, * was moat unworthy when compared with that whick we entertain of the infinite God, the soutce of nll created things, tlo sole and gupremo Creator. The Hebrews certeinly ot- {ained a far loftier conception in their Jehovah than you in your Jupiter.” :What matters names ?” ho replicd; *Zeus, Jehovah, God, are all mere names, sad the ideas Uhoy ropresented were only differenced by the temperaments and claracter of tho various peo- ples who worshiped them.” «But tho Jehovah of the Jews was not meroly iho hesd ruler of many gods, but a single uni- al God, one and infinite.” No! I {link not. Tho Jehovah of tho Jews undcrwent meuy changes sud developmonts with the grow(l of the Hebrew people ; and in mauy of their_ritings bo s roproscnted as a ssionato, vindictive, and even unreasonable dunjust od. whose passions were modified Ivnan erguments, And, so far from being a al God of ll, ho was epecizlly the God of thio Mobrews, and ix 50 constantly represented in their Seriptures. mes dovn upon earth and interferea personally in the doings of men, end talks with them, and di: it with them, and sometimes oven vice. In process of time this notion is modificd, and aeFumes a nobler type ; but ho is never tho Universal Fa¢ :r, nor the God whose essence is Jove—never, that is. until tho coming of Christ, who first cnnciated tho ifea that God is lovo— rejoicing over the eaving of man, far and above all humzy passions. * Vengoanuce is mine’ was the original idca of Jehovah ; aud e was feared and worshiped Ly the Jowsas their peculitr God, chose chosen pooplu they were. As for his vhetever smay have been the popular su- perititions of the Greeks snd Romans, God is Toccgnized by the greatest and purest minds a8 oue and indivisible, the Father of all, who com- mends all, who creates all, who is_invisible and omnipolent. Do you not remembor the frag- ment of the Sybiliiua verses proserved by Lac- tantius, 5. Theophilus Antiochenus, and S. Jus- tinus, whero it ia #aid that Zeus was one being nlove, self-creating, from swhom all things o ade, - who bénols all mortals, bnt whom no mortel can behold # And Euripides exclaims, *‘ Where is the house, tl:e fubric rearcd by man. that could contain the immeneity of God:” and rdds that the true God aeeds po tacrifices on kis ultar. And Sophocles, alao in lar lines, proclaims the unity and uni- vemality of God. Aud Theocitus, in his 1dylls, echoes tho sams sentiment. The samo east of thought, the samo iofty ides of _God, is fonnd among sho anciert Romans. Lucan exclnims in his * Pharsalia " i “#Juplter_est quod cumquo ¥ quo cumquo mo- veri.” Valariu Scranus makes him tho ome universal omnipotent God, the Fatlier and Mother of us a « Jupiter omuipotens, regum rerumaquo denmaque, Proaenitor, genctrizqie daum, deud unas et cmuce.” Can any statement bo larger sud moro inclusive tiio this? Such indeed was tho truo phil- sophic idea of Jupiter, as outeriaiued by the Dest end most exalled in oucient days. You tmustgoto the bhighest sources to learn Whnt the ~highest noticns of Deity are emong aus people, and not grope amovg tho popular supersiitions znd_myths. Then, again, Wint noller expressions of our relation to an icfinite and univ “gpirit_of God are to be found than in Epictetus snd Sencea? ¢ God in near you, is with_you, is within you,' Seneca writes, *A sacred spirit diwclls within us, the observer and guardian of all our ovil and all our good. There is no good mau without God.’ Aud agai von from & comer it is possi- ble to” spring up into heaven. Rise, thereforo, and forh thyself into a fashion worthy of God.’ And again: ‘It is no advantago that con- Leionce 15 shat up within us. Wo lio open to God.' And still agaia: * Do you wish to render the gods propitions? Do virtnous.' One might cite such passages for hours from tho _writings of thess mcn. Can you, thon, think that our notions of God and duiy were go low and so debased ? “ But, after all, through this there is a belief in a puro and infinite Being beyond—a Being be- yond all humen pazsion ; 10t imperfect and sub- ject to wild caprices, and capable of sbominable acts.” “ You £ee, wo go back to the samo question,” ho replied. ‘¢ You profess to worship a- God sbovo mnature, aud yet your prayers aro to Christ, the man,—to the eaints, who were lower men and women,—end you cling to theso as me- diators. Well; and wo also bolioved in a Spirit and Pover uudefined and abovo all, whose na- ture we could not grasp, and who expressod Him- self in every living thing. Our gods wero but anthropomorphic rymbols of special powers aud developments of an infinite and overruling pawer. ‘They partly represont, in outward shapo and form, philosophic ideas aid human notions about the infinite God, and partly Lody forth tho phenomenn of nature, that lint at the great nlti- mate cause bebind them, of which they are, so to epeak, tho_outward garment, by which'the Univereal Deity is mado vieiblo fo man. In our religion nature was but tho veil which half hid the Divine power. Everywhero they peered out upon us, from grove and river, from night and morniog, from lightiing and storm, from all tho clowonts and all the changes and mysterios of tho living universa. It delightedus to feel thoir absolute, aclive presonce amobg us,—not far away from us, invoived in utter obscurity, and beyond our_comprehension. Wo saw tho Great Cause in its second plano, close to us, in the growing of the Sower, in tho drifting of the cloud, in the rising and sotting of tho sun. Our gods (representing the great idea beyond, and doing its worls) were anthropumorphic by neces- #ity, just o8 yours are in art. Thepopular fables &r6 bt the tnythical garb behind which lio great facts and truths. They arnsymbolical representa- tionsof the grent procestes of nature, of the Juws of lifo and prowth, of the changes of the scasons, of tho strifo of the elements.- Apollo “was the life-giving sun; Artemis, the mysterions moon; Ceres and Proserpine, tho burial of the grain iu_ tho earth, aod its reappear- ance and fructification. 8o, on suother plane, Miuerva was the philosophic mind of man; Venus, the imprisoned - embodi- foctions; isacchus, the scrcno and full enjoy- ment of nature. We but divided philosophically what you sum up in one final causo; but all our divisions look back to that cause. Inanim- aginative people like the Greeks, thero is also s nataral tendency to mythical embodiment of facts in history a8 well a8 in naturc; and, in the early periods, when little was written down, tra- ditions oasily sssumed the myth form, ldsas were reduced to visible shapes, and facts wore etborealizod into idess and im- aginatively transformed. The story of Disos and Endsmion, of Cupid and Psyche, will always be true—not to tho reseon, but to the imagination. It expresses poetically » sentiment which cannot die. So also, what matters it, if Dedalus built a ship for Icarus, and Iearus was simply drovned ? Sublimed into poetry, it - became a myth, znd Icarus flew on Wazen wings across the ses. All poetry is thus allegorical. The wind will always have win until it ceases to blow. Theee myths aro simp%; poetic moulds of thought, in which yague senti- ments, ideas, and facts are wrought together intoan express shape. Think what your own literature or thought would be withont the old Grecian poems. Let the reason_reject them aa it wll, and drive them out into the cold, the im- agination will ran forth and bring them back again to warm and cherish them on its breast. Facts, 08 facts, are but dead husks. The spirit cannot live upon them. Besides ; e not our myths enchanting? -Conld anything take ‘ment of human love, as Eros was of spiritual af-- : ss bage and lost; haliavinf their place? Can science, peering into all things, ever find tho sccrets of naturo? Aftor all its explorations, the final elemont of ife, the motive and inspiring clomeat, that is tho essence of all tho organism it uses, and with- out which all i mero material, mere mnchivery, fleos utterly boyond its reach, and leaves it at Iast with only dust in its hands. Does not the little child thiot makes playmates of the flowers, and the brooks, and the sands. find God there Detter than any of ua? The subtle divinity hides anywhere, enfices overywhere—is just out of reach overywhore. We catch glimpses of it, Dreathe its odor, bear its dim voice, sco the last flutter of its robe, pursuc it cndlessly, and ncver can seize it. The poot is poet because he loves this spirit in nature, and comes noarer it; but he cannot grasp it ; and for all his pursuit he comes back laden at last with o eecret Lie cannot quite tell, and shapes us o myth to express it as well a9 ho may.” “But surely,” I answored, ‘‘we should distinguish between mere pootry and fact— botween &cience snd fancy. So long 28 we admit the unreality of merely fan- ciful croations aud oxplanations of " facts, wo may bo pleased with them; but Jet us not bo mieled by them into a bolief of their acientific truth.” 4 Ah, "tis the old story! The littlo child has s bit of wood, which, to her, in‘tho free play of her imagination, is a pereon with good and bad qual- ities, who acts well or ill, whom she loves or de- spiucs. She whipsit; ehecaresses it ; sho ecolds it ; she gonds it to school or to bed; she for- givos it and fondles it. Al is real to the child— more real, perhans, than to the nurse who stands bosido her and laughs at hor, and eays ‘How gilly! Como awny,—it is only a stick!” Which isright? Thoe Grecks wero the child, and you aro tho purse. What is truth, which is always on our lips,—truth of history, truth of scionce, truthof any kmd? Who knows,—bistory? Two persons standing together sec’ tho gume ocour- Tence,—ig it tuo sxmo to both? Far from it. The literal friend is amazed to hear what the im- sginative friend eaw. Yet both may bo right in tiieir report, only ono saw what the other had no senses to perceivo. We only seo and foel ac- cording to our nutures. What we aro modifies what wosce. Out of the camomilo flower tho physician makes a decocticn, and tho poot a inm of with- toug. History is but u dried herl: ered facts, unlces tho imegination interpret them. I cannot but smile at whas is calied his- tory ; and of all bietory, that of our own Roman world roerus thoe strangest, because, porbaps, I knor it best."” WAL I broko in, “how one wishes you had written us familiar temoirs of your time, and given us somo iatimate insight “into_sour life, Sour thoughts, yonr daily doings. We have 50 to grope about T the dark for any knowledze of you. Aud then, in the history of art, what dread- ful blanks ! I'domot feel assurod, except from your * Meditatione,' a8 wo call them, and your lotters, that we renlly know anything accuritely cbout Fou. About_the Thundering Legion, for instanco—what is tho truth " . “There,” he answered, “is an instance of tho ©aso witls which a fablo i¢ made, and Lhow a_sim- plo fact may be tortured into ax untreth merely io suit & purpose. When I was on my campaigh against the Quadi, in tho year 174, thie incident to which you rofer bappened. ‘Tho spring had Deen cold and late, azd suddenly tho beats of sammer overtook us in tho eucwmy's country. After a long aud difficult march on a very ot day, wo_suddenly came upon the encmy, who, desconding from the mountaius, attacked ms, ovorcome with fatigue, in the plaius. The bat- tlo went against us for somo time, for my army sffered 50 from thirst, and hieat, aud exhauation that they wero unable to repel -tho attack, and wore forced back. Whilo they wera in fuil re- treat and confusion, suddenly the eky became clouded over, and o drenching shower poured upon us. My men, who were dying of thirst, stopped fighting, took off their holmots aud | Tevoreod : thoir shieldn to catch the roin, and whilo they were thus engaged the' encmy renewed their sscault with doubls fury. All seemed lost, when suddenly, aw sometimes occurs amen the mountaine, 8 florce wind swopt down with_torrible peals’ of thunder and vivid flashes of lightning; the rain changed into bail, which was blown and driven With #uch fury into the facer of tho cucmy, that they were confounded aad confueed, aud_ began in their turn to fall back. My own men, hving Y10 storm only in their backs, refreshed by tho rain they had druken from their sbields and Lel- ety and cooled by their bath, now enew at- tacked, and pouring upon their foo with fury, cut them to pieces. Among my eoldicrs at this imo was an old logion, organized in the time of gustus, named tho Fulminata, from tho fast {2 Tuey bore on their shiclds a thunderbolt, and upon this siople story, repoated by many early riters in the Christian Church, that this legivit Christizos that was composed of = Chs only the storm was a miracalous interpret tion of their God in answer to thol Iminata, in commenoraticn of this mirsela. i3 is tho simplo_truth of tho case. Mr:aen enid that Jupiter Pluvius’came to their aid, and they eacrificed to him in gratitudo ; and on the columa afterwazds dedicated to me in commen- oration of my services by the Senate, yeu will seo the sculptured figurc of Jupiter Pluvius, from whose beard, erms, and head tho water iy streaming to refresh my eoldiers, whilo bLis thundorbolts aro flashing against’ tho barba- rians.” "As he spoke these words, a fiash of lightning, &0 intensc as to blind the lamps, gleamed through the room, followed by & startling peal of thunder, which scemed to shake not only the house but tho sky above us. He tmiled and said, “ Wo should havo said in older time that Jupiter affirmed the truth of my statoment: but you are above such puerilities, I suppose.” A ! Certainly T should not say it was o sign from Jupiter. The thunder was tha left, apd that a8 considerca by you a good omer, was it not? ¢t ceeli genitor de parte serens. Intonuit Levum.’” . « This thander on the left was considered a good omen. But what was it you eaid after you asked the question? You seemed to bo maKing a quotation in & strange tougue,—nt lenst a tongue I nover heard.” “hat was Latio,” I anawered, blushing a lit- tlo, “and from Virgil—Virgilius, perhaps, I ought to say—or perbaps Maro.” praser and that they then reccived tho namo of T '¥Ah! Latin wasit,” hesaid; “I beg your pardon, 1 thought it iglit havo been o cham to avert the Evil Eyo that yon were uttering,” s Ag difficult to understand as the Eleusinian mysterics,” Lsaid. * And, by the way, what “vero the Eleusinian mysteries " SThey wero mysteries! Ican morely say to you that me{ concealed under formel rites the orship of the spirit of nature, as symbolized in Demetor, and Perscphone, and Dionysos. In their purest and hiddon meaxing, they represent- od the trausformation, purification, and resurrec- tion of humauity in a new form and in another existence. DButIam notat liberty to say more than this. The outward rites wero for the mul- titnde, the inner mesuning for the highest and oot developed minds. Were it pérmitted to mo 1o explain them to.yon, I' think you would not take 80 low o view of our religious Khxlouap].\y as You now seom to Liave. What you hoar and read 38 wae merely the outward and mystical drama, with its lustrations and fasting, ‘and cakes of geszme and honey, and processions—as symboli cal in its wey as your mass aud baptism, and hay- ing as pure & 8ij jcance. & de:." he coggnned, “to revert to the ques- tions which wo were proviously discuseing. It soems, to mo in certain respects that your Faith is not even s0 satisfactory as ours; forits ton tency is to_degrado- tho present in view of the fature, and to debase humabity in its own Sowr. Life with us was not considered diegrace- Tul, or man 8 mean and ~ontemptiblo creaturo. Wodidnot systimatically humiliate oursolves and cringe beforo the Divino powers, but strove §o stand" erect, snd_not to forget that wo wers made by God_after his own image. We did not affect that false humility which in thoe view of the ancient philosophers was contemptible—nay, even we thought that the pride of humility was of all the most despicable. We sought to keep ourselves just, obedient to our best instincts, temperate and simple, looking upon life asa nonfe gift of the gods, to bo used for noble pur- poscs. We_believed, beside this, that virtue shonld be practised for iteelf, and not through any hope of reward or any fear of punish- Toont here or hereafter. To act mp to our Dighest iden of what was right was our rinciple, not out of torror or in the Eopa of conciliating God, but becauso it was right; and to look calmly on death, not as an evil, but a3 & stap onward to another existonco, To desire nothing too much; to hold. oneself equal to any fato ; to koep oneself in harmony with nature and with one's own nature; calmly to endure what is inevitable, steadily to abstain from ail that is wrong; to remomber that ther i» no such thing ss musfortune to the brave and fse, but only phantasms that falsely assume these shapos to shake the mind ; that when what o wish does not happen, we should wish what Goes happen that God hiath given ns courage, magnanimity, and fortitude, 80 that we may stand up n% gt invasions of evil and bear mis- fortuno. Buch were our principles, and they onabled ua to live heroic lives, vindicating the pobility of human nature, and not despising it e in the justice of God and not on'his caprice and enmity to any of us, nd having no ignoble fear of the future.” % But are ot for the most part these principles oura?" I answered. Do we not believe that virtue is the grand duty of man? Do none of us goek to live heroic lives, and eacrifice our- solves to do good to the world and to our broth- Ly heroic lives; but your great principlo i3 hility,—your great motive, reward or fear. You profess to look on this life 28 mean and miserable, and on yourselves as creatures of the dust ; and you declare that you hve o claim to bo saved from eternal dagina- tion by lending a just life, but ovly by a capri- cious olection hereaftor. ~ You profess that your God is & God of love, and you attribute to Him enmity and injustico of which you yourself would be ashamed. You think you are to be savod bocause Clrixt dicd on the cross for you, and are not kure of it even then. But with us every ono devorved to bo tried on Lis own merits, and to expiate his own errors and crimes."” * It is supposed by somo that you were half & Christian yourself. Is this 807" “If you mean that I revereuced the life and doctrines of Christ, and #aw in Him a pure mau, I certainly did. ' But in my principles I was a stoic purely, and it is only 2s a philosopher that I admired the character of Christ. You thiuk the principlcs Lo preaclid woro ey 5 they were really as old g6 the world almost. His life was blamcless, and he sacriticed his life for his principles ; and for this 1 roverenco him, but no furtner. His followers wero, however, far lees pure and self-denying, aud they sought power and endcavorad to overthrow tho State.” f:x Was it for this you persecuted them?” I eaid. “I did not porsecute them,” ho answered. # Ag Cluistians they were perfectly free in Rome. All religions were free, sud all admitted. Noone waa interfered with merely for his religious beliel and worship, whether it were that of Isis, of Mithra, or of Jehoval, or of any other deity. Tt was only when the Christians endeavored to attain to power aud provoke disturbance in the State, to abuso authority, and set at deflance the Iaws, that it bocamo neccssary—or, at all events, wes considered necessary—to stop them. When they were not content with wor<hipping accord- ing to their own creed, Lut sggrossively de- nounced thoe popular worship as Siznable, sod gought to cast public contempt on all gods but their own, they ontraged the public senso as much a5 if auy one now ghould denounce Christ 28 8 vagabond, and seek by abuse to overthrow your Church by all sorts of blasphemous lan- Fuago. Nor would it matter in the lesst in your own time that any person so outiagiug deceucy should be abeolutely honest in hig intentions, and nmssured in his own mind of the truthof his own doctrines. Suppose ona step further, that any sct of won should undertake not only to furn Clirist into ridicule publicly, but siould alzo abuso tho government and couspire to over- throw the monarchy. You would then have a caso similar to that of the Christiuns in my day. At all events, it was belioved that it wasa wettlod plan with.them to overthrow the empiro, and it was for this that they were, as you call it, orsecuted. For my own part, I was eorry for it, deeming in such matters it was betiter to'take 16 measurcs #o sovere; but I personally had nothing to do with it. It was the fanatical zeal of the Govcrnment, who, acting without my com- mands, took advau‘age of ancicnt Jaws to punith tho Christiaus ; and this your own Tartu'lian will prove to you, They undoubtedly supposod that tho Christians were endeavoring to create a political and social revolution,—that they were in fact Commupists, ns you woi now call them. intent upon ~ overthrowing ‘the Sate. I confess that there was n good deal of color given to such s judg- ment by the conduct of tha Christians. Tt os for myzelf, as [ snid, I as oppozed to nuy movement against them, believing them all $0 be of honest purpoes, thongh perbaps some- what oxeitod and funatical.” “Why did you think that thoy were Com- munists 2" Lasked. * Had you any suflicient gronnds for such a belief =" . “ Suroly ; the most ample grounds in the very teachings of Christ himself. His system vns eseentially communistic, and nathing eise. His followers and disciples were all Communists ; they all Jived in comuon, had 3 common purse, 00 ono was allowed {0 own anything. ~They wero ordered by Christ not to labor, but to live from day to day, and take no Deed of the future, and Iay up nothing, but ol all they bad, and live like the raveus. Christ himsel{” denounced riches constantly—not the wroug uso of riches, Dut tbo mere posaession of them ; and eaid it was easior foracamel to go through theeye of o needle then for a rich man to inlerit the gdom of Aven. Nota bad rich man, observe, butany man. So, tco, his story of Lazarus and s turna on tho same point. It docs not ap- TLazarus was good, but only that Lie \7as poor; uor does it appear that Dives was bad, but only that he wesrich; aud whon Dives in IIsdes prags for a drop of water, he is told that hio biad the ool things in his lifotime, aud Laz- arus tho evil things, and that tierefore be is now tormented, and Lazarus comforted.” “3at, surely,” I answered. “it wag intended to mean thal Dives had not used his riches prop- orly ' 5 *XNothing is said of ‘tho kind, or even inti- matod; for all that sppears, Dives may have Boan n good mian, aua Lezarus not. The ooy apparent 1 Tezarus is, that ho was 2 bag- gar; the only fauit of Dives, thet ho was rich. Do ¥ou not re.nember, alzo, the rich young man Who desired to becomo one of his followers, and =ked what ho should do to be gaved? And Ch: told him that doing the commandments, and heing virtious and honest, was not enough ; but that ho must sall all that Le had, and give it to the paor, and then he could follow Him, and tho rich good man was very sorrowful, and went away. Whit does all this meen but Communism ? Yeu: the system Ie woull carry out was com- munity of goods, and Ie would permit no one to have possessions of his own. It was this ‘which made his scct so feared and hated amon cortain clssscs in Rome. Bat, for maelf, I hia hevorany bend in any persecutious, cither.of Chri or others, nor was I ever aware that they, were persecuted. 1 knew that persona wero unished for political offenses who happened to o Christians : ead that was all, I think, that Lappened. Diolieve me, my sonl was averse from all'such things, nor would I ever allow oven my enemies to be persccuted, much less those who merely differed from me on moral and philo- Sophical theses. Nay, I may oy they differed Dttle from me oven on these points, 88 you may well geo if you read that little diary of mine in Tannonia, wherein I was not 80 ‘base as to lic to myself.” . Y¥indced,” T cricd, “that book is a most precious record of the purest end highest mo- Tality.” “+“Tig n poor thing,” he answered, * bot sia- cere. I strove to act up tomy best principlos 3 Dbut lifo is diflicult, and maa is not wise, aud our apinions are often incorrect. Still, 1 strove to ant pecording to my .natura—to do tho things which were fit for me, and not to be divorted from them by fear of any blamo; tolkeep the divine part_in we tranquil and content ; end to Jook upon death and Lifo, honor and dishonor, pain and pleesure, as neither good nor evilin themselves, but only iu the way in which weé re- coive them. For fame I eonght not; for what is fame but o smoke that vauishes, ariver that runs dry, o lamp that kcon is extinguiehed—n tale of & dny, and scarcely oven o much. There- foro, it befits ns not deeply to coneider it, bat to passon throngh tho little space essigned to T8 conformably to naturc, and in content, and to leave it at last grateful for what we have received, just as an olive falls off when it is ripo, bloseing mature which produced it, aad thanking the tree on which it grew. S0, also, it is our duty not to_ defilo the divinity in our Dreast, but to follow it tranquilly and obediently o4 20d, saying mothing coutrary to truth, and doing nothing_ contrary to jusiice. =For our opinions are but running strexms, flowing in Shrious waye ; but truth and justice ar ever the same, ard permanent, aud our ¢ « Dreak abont them ae the waves ronnd a rock, while they stand firm forever. For every accident of life thero i a corresponding virtuo to exerciee ; and if wo consult the divine within us, we know what it is. As wo cannot nvoid tho inevitablo, we should nceept it without murmuring; for we crnnot struggle ngainst the gods without injur- fng ouracives. For tho good wo o to others, hioe our immediato reward; for the evil that othors do to us, if we cease to think of it, thero is mno evil to us. It is by sccepting an offenso, and entertaining it in our thoughts, that we_incroase it, and reu- der ourvelves unhappy, and veil our reason, and disturb our genses. As for our life, it should o iven to propor objecs, or it will not be decent {aiteelf ; for a man ie.dho eame in quality as tho object that engages his thoushts. Our whole Dture takes the color of our thoughts and ac- tions. We should also be careful to kecp our- selves from rash and promature judgments about men and things ; for often & seeming wrong douo %o us is & wrong only throngh our misapprehen- sion, and arising from our fault. And 80, mak- ing lifo as bonest as possible, snd calmly doing our duty 1n the present, as the nour sud the act Tequires, and not too curiously considering the future beyond us, stauding ever erect, an be- Teving that the gods aro just, we may mako our 2383g0 thmn{g.n this life no di=konor to the Power that placed us here. Throughout the of my life, my father, Antoninus him my father, for Le was ever dear to me, and was like a father,—taught me to bo Isvorious and nssiduous, to be serene and just, to bo Eober and kind, to be brave and without envy or vanity; and on his death-bed, when he felt tho shadow coming over him, ho ordered the Captain of the Guard to transfer to ma the golden statuette of Fortune, Ti Div pear that early portion Pius,— call and gave him his last watchword of * Equanim- turn, T 1oft the cares of empire and of life, I ever kept that watchword iz ciy heart—equanim- ity ; mor do I kaow & better one for any man.” _“’0l, tell mo, for yo1 know,” Ioried, * what in therd beliind ' {bis dark veil which' we call death ? You have toldme of your opinions and thoughts and principlee of life, haro; but of that lifg heroattor sou have aot eaida word. What is it " . There was s blauk silonce. I looked up—the chair was empty! Tihat noble figare Wwasno Iouger there, *“Fool thet Twas! ® Teried, * whydidI dis- cuss with him these narrow quertions bolong- ing to life sud history. aud. leave that stupendous question noasked which torments us all, and of which he could have given tho solution 2" T rose from my chair, and, after walking up and down tho room sesoral minutes, with " tho influence of him who had left me still filing my boing as & refined_an: delicato odor, I west to the window, pushed wide tho curtsins, sud looked out upon tho night. The clouds wers broken, and through a rifc of decp, intense blue, tho moon was looking out vu the earth, Far amay, tho lieary and ragged etorm was Lovoring over the mountaing, sullen and black, and Tecallod the words of St. Paul: “\When tho Gentiles, who have mot the law, do by naturo the things contained in tho law, those aving not the law ro a law unto them- ono day the work of two, to make in one year the fortune of his whole life and his children's, ta earn before be is 40 the reputation which belongs to threo scoro and ten, 8o long he will go about the streets wearing his present abject, pitiable, overwrought, joylees look. But, even withont a change of heart or & reform of habits, he might botter his countenance s liitle, if ho would. Even if ho does not feel like smiling, he might smile, if he tried; and that would bo something. The rausoles aro all thore; they count the same in the American a8 in the French or the Trish face; they relax casily in youth: the trick can be learned. And cven a trick of it is bettor than none of it. Laughing-masters might be as well aid o8 dancing-masters to help on society.— Srom Bils of Talk, by H. H. LADY LURE. The golden day was over, A glorious day in Juno ; And up from the shimmering ocesn Slow rose tho lady moon. And the wavolets on tho shingle Rippled s slambrous tune, Whilst an angel's yoico wss singing A lay to “1a belle lune 17 An sngel, yer, though earth-born. The sheen of those voilet cyes 1 knew wero but retlections selves, and the doers of tho law eball be justied.” . BABY AND MUSTARD PLAYING BALL. A FLONIDA INCIDENT. Nonn In the tropics, blue and bright, Under the palm-tree stands oprigot ; The dew of the rainbow :: burned in s glare, But it leaves o dazzlo and Hush in the vr; Aud the breath of the fragras.t month of Juze Te sweet with tho spices of summer noon. Under the ehattuck and lemon trees Grandpa dozesawsy at case; Tise partridge-pes, with its crimson hood, 14 s.attered about like drops of blood ; Slips juto his slumber, and interweaves ‘A dream of the arrows parting :ho leaves, And the gallant fellows who fcll with Dade In tho reddened grass of the Everglade, And tho Colouel-Governor going to tine, Jith his own Liood red in the cups of wize, The polliceana's panicics, With bird-of-paradise plume sad bells, Are steeped. in sun, till petals ary rolled In tiny edging of scallped gol ¢ ‘Aud tho Cape jessamine's scented smo Breaths in this frogrance and in the Rlow § And the spico of the oleander flies Under thie lids of Lis sleopy eyos ; And o cypress-vine hath blown a score Of scarict, blooms on the pusihcon floor— Over the floor and rustic hall Where baby and Muatard are plagisg ball: Laby a round Littlo one-summicr man, ‘And Mustazd o pickle of biack-and-tan,” And sweet little rustic scene it is Of tropical splendor and homely blisa. Tue sunburned Laby, a8 brown as a nut, “Toseen the ball n the broad log-hut, Till Muntard catches {t, band over Land, Aud rolls outside, with 3 bump, on the ssnd ;¢ ‘And grandpa dozes and inly grieves. ‘A hie dreams of the arTows parting the lesves § While baby backs on his limber Wrist, Tolding the Lone-rattle fast in his fist, ‘And over the stoop, with a stumble and fall, For Mustard and byby are playing ball. Chubby and ssucy, my brave little man, Collar aud tousle the black-and-tat, For ke can bound and bounce with the ball, Whilo you, my little one, have to crawl, And flover and foliage fence you in Tho porehes of yellow Jessamiue, ‘But outelde meadows Liave daffadowndillies, ‘Aud all the lake margin {8 whito with iilies, Whero the shadows of ilying paroquets, Green and gold fu the quivering hezts, Seem to plunge in the water, and skim. In a cool refrahing under-swim ; Far under the nosing alligator, Whose bubbling spins cloug tlie water Startles the shadowy-white egret Out of the border of emerald wet ; Whilo grandpa dozes and dreams again Of an cld wound opened with {resh red stain, And knows not baby hos on all fours ! Crept and tumbled quite out-cf-doors, Nor Lears the mocking-bird's mimic call Of baby andMustard playing ball. Spirm japonicas, prince’s-feather, Dablfas and asters crammed togsther ; Lilacs, laburnums, virgin'egrace, l ‘And pasafon-flower In blue and lace ; Cateli-ly and cockscomb, crimson ruffed, Portulaccas and candy-tufi ; . Orchids, pinks, and anemoncs, The myriad phlox and argemones ; Marigild, heartiease, violet, Verbwnas and pansies, mignoaetto ; Sensitive plant and the rose of Sharoz, Adam's neodle and the rod of Aarcn— Growing together, the wild and tame, And more tiat the fiorist can not name, For every spear-grass shows a comb, ‘And weeds in flower are quite at home. A jolly play-ground thia for the man, Tlaying at ball with the biscc-and-an, ‘And mamma away st her spinning-wheel While grandpa, shuddering, seemd to £ The Indian arfow-head scrape the bone, And awakes with a sudden sigh or groan— ‘Awakes for 8 hasty glance and call To baby and Mustard playizg ball. Grand is the golden Florids Juno In the sweet of the fragrant afteraoon, In vital being ko rich and rife ; : Tho lake's whito pebbles ero sarke of life, And the fountaln, bubbling hour by hour, Biooms In a beautiful foumy fower, With stamen and pistils of prismy spray, And pollen of sunsbine blowing awas, . But baby, with crab-like lurch and crawl, ‘And frisky Mustard had lost the ball, When out of the portulacea bed, There shoots 3 conoshaped, acaly head, The red blood curdles and Lard bones quake At the whir of the deadly rattlesnako Not a foot from tho baby's chubby fat, iiia cliuched corals and lifted wriat— Too Iate for belp : no bullet could 3, fore tho Little onohas fo die. ¢ Oir! God of mercy ! how dread a screen “To draw before the beautiful scene ! All Life and loclincss 1 at a reath The horror and shudder of sudden death ! A littio white dove, whose tender plumes Bearce beat the afr with their featliery fumes, Tlucked by o cruel band, and the apit Seut quivering, bleeding, quite tarongh 1t ; Alitue white bud that's pulled apart To the pink of ita innocent little heart, That might have given some joy, we know, Had it been loft alone to blow ¢ ‘All cruel things that we do each day Sum and completo themeclves in the way Tho cruel anake, with its cusped fang, Out of the portullaccas sprang. Careless, unconecious, brave littls one, Tawny and ripe in thé Florida sun, Chubby and naked, with nut-like fist, Tic strikes with & biby's randor wrist, “The cofled unako striick, fu collisivo Lattle, Hin poizcn fangs—in the baby's rattle ! Te Dewm laudamuas A baser cause, 1us atirred and waliened a people's applause, When a shouting armsy, in rank on rank, ‘Have crowded the chircbes just to thank Their God, with vocal and brazen din, “Tiat He bas permitted ther 60 to sin. ut here—r ay, tarry your glad surprise— ‘A Florida rattiésnake never ilics. Tae beaaty of wiftly-recovered coil, Sadaen aid smonth as the glide of ofl, ‘And the shuddering beat of Lis deadly hum 7a tho raitlosnake's rallzing tenor drum. Courage! littlo oue, chubby and tough, Tut surcly now you have done envugh ¥ Not, with your baby and naked hands, To ¢rapplé the preity thing in the sauds? Yot granapa’s shout und mamma's scream Burkt like Life in a startled dream. » Too late; but Mustard has heard the call ‘A goes for the enake instend of the ball Tug and twist, and s sudden Jork— Bravo! Mustard has done ths work! Limp, with tho life beginning to fafl, Down to the tip of his raitle-tail, While grandpa powders av3y a3 luls head, And—ruins the portulscca bed. And this, T gather, will do for all Of haby and Murtard plsying bull In the fragrant Florida aftsranon. ‘And juicy beauty of splcy Jurs; ‘Aud, liko the snake, to erid wiih tale— One dog in the world thero is, *not for sale.” Jesus, who loveth 2nd chastent/h - Some to mercy and some to desth ! Blessed are such as roceive Hie ‘And n their Littlo ones aee Iix —WUL Wallaos Harncy in Hurpers’ Mogarine for pril = = The Joyless American Face. * Yhat is to bo done to provent this acrid look of misery from becmnir):i; a organic characteris- tic of our peoplo? * Maka them play more,” says ono philosophy. No doubt they need fo “ play more ;” but, when uuo looks at tho aver- ago expression of a Fourth of July crowd, one doubts if ever g0 much muitiplication of that kind of holiday would mend tne matter. Zio doubt we work for too many days in the yesr, and play for too fow; bot, afier all, it is the heart, and the spirit, and the expression that wo bring to our work, sui rot those that wo bring to our play, by which our real wm- tality st be tested, axd by which our faces will be stamped. If we do not work henith- fally, reasoningly, moderately, tbanktully, foy- onely, we ehall liave neither moderation “nor gratitude, nor joy in our plsy. And here is the hopelesaness, here ia the root of the tronble, of the joyless American face. Tha worst of all demons, the demon of unrest and overwork, broods in the very sky of this land. Blue and clear and crirp and sparkling'es our atmosphere 1s, it cannot or docs not exerciss the spell. Any old man can_count on the fingsrs of cne hand the persons ho has known who led lives of se- rene, unhurried content, made for themselves occupations and not tasks, and died at lsat what might be called nataral deats. ity From that day io the day when, 1a my So long a4 the American is resolved to doin | Of hiues from Paradise. Thoso tressea bathed in moonlight, Fhat vestment's classic fold, Beemed an angel’s snowy mantls, "And radiznt crown of gold. And I almost feared to sce her Join * sister spirita ” fair, And ascend to the asphodel moadows Up yonder silver stair. o drew her closer to me, ’And her band more tightly preas'd ; © And lovingly her beauteous head ‘Bho pitlowed npon my breast. Sho wea mine, she vowed, mine oaly, Whilst moons should wax or wane ; She longed to giva her virgin troth To me in holy fane. Bhe sought not rank or honors, She spurned the thought of gold; The lovo I profler'd to ker Waa more than wealth untold. She would sharo my name and fortuncs, Tt could not be to0 200n ; She {nvoked, to wituess that malden vow, “Ihio changeable lady moon. And T Xsa'd, and robaptiz'd ber, To those waveleta’ siumbrous tune, By, alas! the ominous title "3t beautitul Lady Luze, She deserved it. Noxt November ‘Shie married a big dragoon ; bares his wealth, She owns his name, o i3 now his Lady—Loon! —London Society. ‘HUBIOR. Tristed hemp cures felons. —When is charity like a bee? When it begins tc bum. o The national pair o docs—Pub. docs and Mo- a. Can s sonbo snid to take after his father, when the father leaves nothing to take 2 —_A Toxas paper speaks of © the death of sov- esal residents of this district by throat-disesse, superinduced by razors.” = This engine ywon't work,” said a firoman to the Chief of the Fire Departmont. */No won- doe,” was tho reply ; * it was made to piay.” " The little boy who sang, “*I want to be an angel,” in Sunday-echool with o much energy that Lie almost choked Limeelf, confessed to an enterprising reporter that ho really wanted to ba & captain o a canal-boat. ZNermont forgets all the hardships of tha past winter in jubilation over its maple-sugar Ecason, snd checrfully asks, What's the odda &0 long 88 it’s 5appy ? 0y Foliticu.l orator, speaking of a_certain General whom be admired, eaid ha was always on thie field of battle where the bullets wers tha thickest. ‘¢ Where was that? " asked one of the suditors, “In the smmunition wagon,” re- sponded another. —+ Do you like Browning 2" ssked & resding man of a young lady whom he had taken down tc dinner. The fair creature by his gide (who was Do book-worm) ansvwered, * Yes. Thatis, I like —I am s self-made man,” said a sharper, the other day, to a gentleman whom he had just got the best of in a bargain. I am glad to hear you say 80, responded the gentleman, Horich ieves my Maker of a great responei- ihity.” —3pivens eays that he can't perceive that the currency bas any of the elasticity that Boutsoll brags about. Ho tried to stretch a fivo-dollar Ditl to a ten, but only succeeded in _demonstrat- ing the legal tenderness of the paper. We are inclined to believe that women are going for the polls in dead earncst, from the fact that, of nino married mon talking politics ina Danbury grocery, on Saturday evening, seven wero entirely bald.—Danbury News. —FEmmy~ (mamma's volunteer Secretary) s « How is this to be ansywered, Kitty? _Idon't Jnow what to say !—(Reads)— Mra. Fitzmode at home on the 30th inst. from 4 to 6 o'clock. Kitty: “Well, Ishould write and say mamma 3did not know Mrs. Fitzmode had been away, bul wonders she should return to stop only twa hours! ” —A Parisian gun-maker has the following no- tice outeido his window: “To those Dieap- pointed in Love. A Great Choice of Patent Ro- ~olvers. N.B.—In the case is all the apparatus necessary_for extracting the ball and dressing the wound.” — Punch finds fup ia the conl famine. Wife— <0, Charles, how kind of the Brosns | —(reads)— < Mts. Brown presents her compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Jones, and hopes thoy will give her the pleasure of their company at a fire party on Mon- day, March 3. Fires lighted at 6:30.” " ZIn St. Louis, the other Sunday, the Rev. Dr. Burlingame gfeudled from the text: “How old art thon?” ‘The next day about one-third of the women in his congregation called around to tell bim that it was none of his business. —Tho Macoupin (Ill.) Inquirer says_that a Graeno Couaty Foung lady, who is worth 230,000, recontly refused to marry a clergyman becanse sho thought she was untit to be the wifc of a minister. He then abandoned his eacred calling and proposed agnin. The second time sho de: clined his offer on the ground that she was too good to marry & man who would throw nway his clerical robes to win a womau's hand. 0. the enore, the beantiful snore, filling her chamber from ceiling to floor! Over the cover- lot, under the sheot, from her dimpled chin to Der protty feet! Now rising aloft like & beo in June; now sunk to the wail of o cracked bas- soon! Norw, flute-like, subsiding, taen rising again, is the beautiful enore of Elizabeth Jano. —A fond father in Burlington growled like a dog with a sore head bacause a physician charged 210 for removing a kernel of corn from his son's ear, where it had lodged. He eaid a coftin only cost 37, and the corn would have sprouted soon, and might have been palled up by the roots. _ —Recently it raim:gvury heavly, and a besn- tiful soung 1ady was waiting in a doorway fora car. "Up came polite vouth, and, with & Chester- fieldian bow that would have delighted Edmund Yates, enid : * May I have tho pleasure of pro- tecting you with my umbrella?* And she said, in & charming voice; * Elevato your rag.” Ha looked as though the remark depressed him con- siderably. - —A Hartford toper appealed to & merchant of that city for the wherewithal to buy a drink. The merchant, being a temperance man, could not comply with his request: but the fellow's mqlonng manner and condition touched him. “Well," "said the persistent fellow, “if you can't give it to me, couldn't you lend that gentle- man ten cents (pointing to the clerk), and he could give it to me.” It ia needless to eay that the chap, 50! his ten cents. —A middle-nged man, & stranger, was pitched upon bgan ruffian while crossing Essex street bridge, Baturday, and, after being pretty well pum- meled, was flung over the angm His cries brought out tho neighbors, but the rumor sudden- 1{( arising that the victim was a Dook agent, tho villain effected bis escape. Whon the bleed- ing stranger heard what he had beon taken for, he nsrofauel regretted he hadn’t struck on his head whenhe went over the bridge, and frac- tured his own skull.—Danbury News. 3 al piety sometimes assumes most affect- ing forms. An Eastern physician, who paysa 003 deal ot attention to saatoms, was presented 7 his son, upon his birthday, recently, witha very interesting corpse which the dsvoted child had resurrected from the cemetery the night be- fore. When the father saw it, he sat down upon the pranc-stool and burat into tears. He said that at least ho felt repaid for all the trouble ha bad with thatboy, for all the nights he had charged aronnd the room with him in his infao- e5, aud for the anxiety ‘with which the fathor had watched and directed the growth of the cluld;a (;n(‘)-‘nl nature. Z —A Gallowstown lady recently requested her hrigband 0 g0 10 the, dressmakor and. fell bat that eho (his wife) had changed her mind, and would have the watered silk made up instead of the poplin, and that ‘“if she thinks it would look better with biss flounces, without pufiing, and box plaited below tho egmwr, which should be gathered in hemstitched gudgeons up and down the seams, with a gusset-stitch between, she can make it up that way, instead of fluting the bobi~ net insertion and piecing out with point ap plique, es I suggested yesterdsy.” The maniy DOW & I&7ing MAnia0.