«rr-'^»r^^^-»^'«r-Mr- ?^e ^ i FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. "DEMPSBY & CARROLL." He was not of an age, but for all time ; Sweet swan of avon ! Ben Johnson. — He left the name at which the world grew pale. To point a moral or adorn a talc. Dr. Johnson. Edited i;y Mr. GEOK-GH ». CAHK-OL,!^. Copyright 1882. w XHE ART SXATIOISEIC.S AI^O EI«G».AVK«.S, Union Square (South), 46 East Fourteenth Street, near BROAnwAY, New York. J" NOTICE, C3 SELF. — Explore the dark recesses of the mind, In the soul's honest volume read mankind. And own, in wise and simple, great and small. The same grand leading principle in all, and by whatever name we call The ruling tyrant. Self is all in all. Churchill. At a cost of ($10,000) ten thousand dollars., in the falls of 1880 and j88 I, we published and distributed gratuitously, thou- sands of volumes of " The Art of Correspondence " and "Diamonds from Brilliant Minds"/ they were enthusiastic, ally endorsed by the most learned of the land. After the editions were exhausted^ thousands of letters were received soliciting a copy. That all may have an opportunity to obtain the Letters, Poetry^ Proverbs, Quotations from Shakespere , A£sop's Fables with Appli- catiotis, (written one hundred years ago,) we have published the three books in one volume, Ti^iax^^^y & Carroll's Oems^ which will be sold for $2.00, and numbered slips will be de- livered TVith each book, which we will receive in payment for its face value, .$2.00 on aU purchases of Stationery amounting to the sum of ■$ 10.00. It is unquestionably one of the most valuable books ever pub- lished. Sent by mail, free of postage, on receipt of $2.00. DEMPSEY &- CARROLL. TO OUR PATROKS WHOSE KIND FAVORS HAYE ENSURED OUR SUCCESS WE INSCRIBE THIS YOLUME. There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat ; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures. Shakespere. — Julius Cifsar. Again -uy-e present our compliments to our customers •with, thanks for their continued, iavors, and our conse- quent grand success, T^hich. is unequaled. in the history cf any Stationery and engraving establishment in this or any other country. I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks ; and ever oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. Shakespele. OUR ESTABLISHMENT is now the largest devoted strictly to our line of business, and -we produce the finest -work and best material in the "world, at lo"wer prices than any other house. We execute our o"wn work and. defy competition. Please visit our workrooms, for pleasure and information. Your Obedient Servants, DEMPSEY & CARROLL, Union Square South, Art Stationers and Engravers, Near Broad'way. ON SOCIAL ETIQUETTE ACCEPTED AUTHORITY. Wedding Etiquette and Usages of Polite Society, Price, $l.SO. Tl]e Art of Gorrespondence and Usages of Polite Society, Price, $2.00. The Art of Dinner Giving and Usages of Polite Society, Price, $1.50. Diamonds from Brilliant Minds, . . price, $2.00. Mourning Etiquette, Happy Thouglitl "Dempsey & Garroll," Quotations from Shakespere and ^sop's Fables, Sent free Price, $2.00. Dempsey & Garroll's Gems, Price, $2.00. Three Books in one: " DIAMONDS FROM BRILLIANT MINDS," 300 Poetical Quotations and 650 selected Proverbs ; " THE ART OF CORRESPONDENCE," 176 Letters written by 146 men and women of distinction ; " HAPPY THOUGHT ! DEMPSEY & CARROLL." Gleanings from Shakespere and fifty culled ^sop's Fables, with appli- cations, written one hundred years ago ; a volume of the best literature of all ages ; endorsed by the President, Vice-Preside nt , members of the Cabinet, Senators, Congressmen, and thousands of men and women of culture and education. SENT BY MAIL on receipt of Price, $2.00. CONTENTS, General George Washington's Coat-of-Arms, Frontispiece Title Page, ...... i Please Notice, . . . . . .2 To our Patrons, ..... 3 Our Publications, . . . . . .4 Contents, ....... 5 Christian Roth's Story, . . . . 6, 7 & 8 Wedding Invitations, ..... 9 Claude Melnotte's Palace by the Lake of Como, 10 Eight Sheets of Samples— Wedding Invitations, Receptions, Cards, &c., from Steel Plates. BOOK OXB. GLEANINGS FROM SHAKESPERE— 7>//^, . . i Index to Plays of Shakespeare, . > • 3 Shakespere's Birth, Death, &c., . . .4 ' ' Biographical, . . . 5 & 6 Shakespere's Plays, . . • . 7 to 182 CARD ETIQUETTE FOR LADIES, . . i to 12. " GENTLEMEN, . i to 8. Five Plates — Samples of Monograms, Coats-of-Arms, Street Address Dies, Country Seat Dies, Fac-simile? and Name Dies. BOOK Xl^O. ^SOP'S FABLES AND APPLICATIONS— Te//^-, . i. Contents, . . . . . . 2. ^sop, History of . . . . 3 & 4- Fifty Selected ^sop's Fables, with Applications written over 100 years ago, . . 5 to 54. SELECTED POEM. Christian Hoth's Story. [Stuttgart, May, 1882.] I've called, Mr. Consul, this morning, to ask, if you please, your advice On a matter that gives me great worry — "Let's hear it (wants money, I know)." Here's my citizen-paper — ("All right.") — I was born in the Schwarz- walder Kreis, At Schramberg, and went to America forty-five years ago. Yes, I'm near seventy now, and you see that my step is unsteady — Plenty of trouble, I tell you — I settled in North Illinois, And there, ever since, I've been working and saving up, so that already I've got a nice farm, Mr. Consul, that goes by-and-by to my boys. How many children ? There's four, three boys and a girl. We've had seven; But when the war came along, my William and Carl marched away. Both of them fell on the field, and last winter the good Lord in Heaven Called home our dear little Minnie — she's twelve years old to-day. Yes, the old woman is living. She's there with the boys on the place , And our Lina keeps house for them all. Next spring she'll be just twenty-four. She's the handsomest girl in the county; there's sunshine all over her face ; I can hear even now her sweet voice as she told me farewell at the door. Christian Roth's Story — Continued. Why I left? Well, perhaps, Mr. Consul, 'twere better the truth weren't told. But no matter — it wasn't my fault. My old woman and I had a fight. She is sick and can't work any more, and she's idle. We're both getting old ; So she's cross, and will have it that I'm always wrong and that she's always right. It hasn't been always that way. In the days when we worked for our bread And hadn't a dollar laid by in the bank, she and I were all good And happy together; but since we began to be getting ahead She has tried to be boss over me, and I didn't intend that she should. And when our poor dear Minnie died, I had hoped that the fight would die, too. But no ! it lived on just the same, and one day, about four weeks ago, The old woman sent out for a lawyer, and then, for the first time, I knew That she wanted to separate from me — from 7ne, who have borne with her so. And the boys they all tried to make peace; she would listen to naught that they said, But my Lina stood up by my side — though she spoke not, 'twas easy to see, As she put her sweet arms round my neck, and rested her beautiful head On my breast, that her dear heart was full of the tenderest pity for me. And I said: " My Christina, we've labored and struggled together till now ; Our children are grown, and you want us to separate, now we are old? No lawyer can part us, Christina, no lawyer can sever our vow, But I'll leave you, and go forth alone on my way through the rain and the cold." Then my poor Lina cried, and she bade me reflect, and the boys they said "Stay! " And I paused for a moment and looked at Christina — she said not a word. One word would have kept me. But no, it came not, and I hurried away, And my Lina's sweet voice "Oh, dear father, come back," was the last that I heard. Christian Roth's Story — Continued. And so I have wandered back here to the scenes of my childhood and youth ; Have stood by the grave of my father and mother — have seen the old home On the hillside at Schramberg- — and yet, Mr. Consul, to tell you the truth, I find that I cannot be happy while far from the loved ones I roam. For my sweet Lina's words, "(9i, dear father, come back,''' always . ring in my ears, And I'm going this day ; but for fear there should come on the journey some ill. There's no telling, you know, what might happen, perchance, to a man of my years, I have come, Mr. Consul, this morning, to ask you to draw up my will. And I want you to make my old woman entitled to all that I've got In case of my death. After all I can trust her to do what is fair By the children in case she survives me. Just say that I, Christian Roth— "What! Is your name Christian RotJi ? Here's a letter addressed to you here in my care." A letter ! My Lina'' s handwriting, and postmarked at Scott, Illinois. Here, quick, let me read it: '■'■Dear father, my mother implores you to come. She tenderly asks your forgiveness; and now, she and I and the boys Are lovingly waiting your coming, aiid eager to welcovie you home.*^ George L. Catlin, U. S. Consul at Stuttgart. DEMPSEY & MRROLL, ARTISTIC ENORAVERS & STATIONERS. Jnvttattofts* 46 East Fourteei^th Street, (Omor? Square South,) Near Broadway. Pai/line. — Sweet Prince, tell me again of thy palace by the lake of ComO, Claude Melnotte. — Naj"-, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint The home to which, could Love yulfil its prayers. This hand would lead thee, listen ! — A deep vale Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world ; Near a clear lake, margln"d by iruits of gold And whispering myrtles ; glassing softest skieS, As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadow's, As I would have thy fate ! Pauline. My own dear love ! Claude Melnotte. — A palace lifting to eternal summer Its marble walls, from out a glossy bower Of coolest foliage musical with birds. Whose songs should sj'llabie thy name ! At noon We'd sit beneath the arching vines, and wonder Why Earth could be unhappy, while the Heavens Still left us youth and love ! We'd have no friends That were not lovers ; no ambition, save To excel them all in love ; we'd read no books That were not tales of love — that we might smile To think how poorly eloquence of words Translates the poetry of hearts like ours ! And when night came, amidst the breathless Heaven, We'd guess what star should be our home when love Becomes immortal; while the profound light Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps. And every air was heavy with the sighs Of orange-groves and music from sweet lutes. And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth r the midst of roses ! — Dost thou like the picture ? — The Lady oj" Lyons. iitif ^p^hH^ ^[^bhtttg Inmldixrn* Superiority in every particular. WE ARE THE OHLY EKGRAYERS WHO EXECUTE OUR OWH WORK. CaU and examine our shop and verify our assertion. Ho obligation to take inferior Engraving, poor Paper and Envelopes, and Murred v^crk. BY OUR PATEHT PROCESS WE AGREE TO DELIVER HO BLURRED WORK. See our samples here'with furnished. Yours to Command, DEMPSEY & CARROLL. Church Vv* coding- Plate 'Cr ; ; yy/ //>^'r ^ ^ , AJ.' //y^:7^6mya^er ' ^. ^ ^ /./ Uy/ ///-j '/' (oA^y/Ce^ r ^r/'/j'/yWi r/r/, 77^^n^e4-i^6 ■o/u-^ ye^t^^n^yn^, c^ e^/'ye^^^/^'-n^^y. ^S'SF. X^^^ ,^^^:^Ct^ y<9yc€o^?/(>. r. ^ //y ' /// //' J ' y // // /'/■ ■// ; > ,y ■ '//y/f ■ '^'V^/'en^fe^ yf ///^/ r ////^,y ^A/^/^r/ <■ ^/rrf/. Hous?: Wedding- r L AT I Or: S^' ^^'fiyri-.' )v////////^ / - / //// // // /yr.j/ /// / /y A //'-y///v Or^ '7// ///' /v / //// ^ f / / // f ///'//■ f //f / / f/ // Z/^' /■ ^/// // /' - // - //"///^ A v/ ////// vy. y/X^ ////// //''f,//' A^y7^eTC ^.'//^ r/ . o f.yy^c %''>7^ Z/-/-^^<^^/v ////// / rrr// ///'■// /'/ ///r/} ^/v//////// //-/ // / / '/// / /■/ //y.j//'// ; r //y/ci^/^ j^/je-/// // // ^.^ j^/je-//./ /^ y . \w^//r /// /, Cj^//^' /// r r / ////// y ,.-^^ _ ^//^ / r // r/Yi' /^^^ Wedding- Announcement <■ -^//y. ^ y/^/ff rf /'r/ ' /r . ' >7 ^ // /V/'//, / ///.>., .^//,rr ^'. Wo/r/„„,W. r f f/'f /VV /V/, ' '^/^ ff /-.J^/rf Y , ' y^^y //f rr /'f/ tr f erf/c/ ///A . /S,'^,^. '/■v/" ■/f^fi / /t , Cyri/i^i Wedding- Reception Card Plate 6 >■ /f r/r// // S%9. 'YZ^^y..!M:>?-h' ryv-i'efi^^e-'. Ceremony Card ^,7/^ A a // A a.^)'/ ,tie'7^^yO'iy yO/Mo // A a / // ^/9£2 c^ ///.}.} ^ / / / /^ // f- _^/ / 7 // /^/.J //^ ■// GeintlemeinS Visiting Cards Plate £ "^a^^t/zer^^^y^J /v'' ^Z '' w/ ///// t'e^nj'ty^y, '&/Uyf^'. y/M'^jA..rry '//.,/^r. o///<^-/t.^rf:ifJftf '/////■. fil<: Uc^/ from Lives of great men all remind us, We can make our lives sublime ; And departing leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time. Longfellow. Theatre Parties. Souvenir Programmes for Theatre Parties, giving cast of the play, with or without souper menu, either simple or very elaborate, executed by us. Samples on exhi- bition. Xliis Rool^. Type Setting and Printing was executed by us on our premises. EIGHT STEAM Printing Presses. Sixteen Copper and Steel Plate Printing Presses. (75) seventy-five employees. The largest establishment of its kind in the world, al- ways open for inspection and instruction. Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair; Byron, PLAYS OF SHAKESPERE. COM^£D1ES. All's Well that Ends Well, As You Like It, ... Comedy of Errors, Love's Labor's Lost, Measure for Measure, . The Merchant of Venice, Merry Wives of Windsor, A Midsummer-Nights Dream, . Much Ado About Nothing, . The Taming of the Shrew, The Tempest, TwELFrH Night, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, The Winter's Tale, . HISTORICAL.. King John, King Richard II, King Henry IV (Part i), " *' " (Part 2), - V, . VI (Part I), " " " (Part 2), " " (Part 3), King Richard III, . King Henry VITT, PAGE. 7 II 17 21 25 . 29 35 ■ 39 43 • 47 51 ■ 55 59 . 6:; 67 71 75 79 83 87 90 91 95 10^ TRAOEI>IES Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, . Cymbeline, Hamlet, .... Jl'lius C.bsar, . King Lear, Macbeth, . Othello, Romeo and Juliet, . TiMON of Athens, Titus Andronicus, Troilus and Cressida, . i-AGE. Ill 117 121 125 135 145 149 155 163 171 175 179 OJILLIAm §P)AKG?PGRG, BOKn APRIL 23, 1564, DIGD APRIL 23, 1616, ' AGGD 53 YGARS;. ^TRATFORD-aPOn-AVOn. Judicio Pylinni, genio Socraiem^ arte Maronem, Terra tegit, popiUus mceret, Olympus habei. Stay, passenger, why dost thou go so fast ? Read, if thou canst, whom envious death hath placed Within this monument; Shakespere, with whom Quick nature died; whose name doth deck the tomb Far more than cost; since all that he hath writ Leaves living art but page to serve his wit. Obiit. An°. Dni. i6i6. aet. 53, die 23 Apri. Good Friend for lesus SAKE forbcare To diGG T-E Dust EncloAsed HERe Blese be T-E Man ^ spares T-Es Stones And curst be he moves my bones. WILLIAM SHAKESPERE, POET, BIOGRAPHIGAL. Nature listening stood, whilst Shakespere play'd, And wonder'd at the work herself had made. Churchill. — The Author. Williavi Shakespere was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in War- wickshire, on the 23d day of April, 1564. His father, John Shake- spere, was a considerable dealer in wool, and had been an officer and bailiff of the body corporate of Stratford. Our illustrious poet was the eldest son, and received his early education at a free school. From this he appears to have been soon removed and placed in the office of some country attorney. In his eighteenth year he married Anne Hathaway, eight years older than himself. Being detected with a gang of deer-stealers in robbing the park of Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, he was so vigorously prosecuted by that gentleman, as to be obliged to leave his family and take shelter in London. On his arrival in London, which was probably in 1586, when he was twenty-two years old, he is said to have made his first acquaintance in the play-house, to which idleness or taste may have directed him, and where his necessities, if tradition may be credited, obliged him to accept the office of call-boy, or prompter's attendant. But in whatever situation he was first employed at the theatre, he appears to have soon discovered those talents which afterwards made him Th' applause, delight, the wonder of our stage ! Some distinction he probably first acquired as an actor, although Mr. Rowe has not been able to discover any character in which he appeared to more advantage than that of the Ghost in Hamlet. How long he acted has not been discovered, but he continued to write till the year 16 14. During his dramatic career he acquired a property in the theatre, which he must have disposed of when he retired, as no mention of it occurs in his will. The latter part of Shakespere's life was spent in ease, retire- ment, and the conversation of his friends. He had accumulated considerable property, which Gildon, (in his " Letters and Essays," 1694), stated to amount to 300/. per annum, a sum at least equal to 1,000/. in our days. We have no account of the malady, which at no very advanced age, closed the life and labors of this unrivalled and incomparable genius; and the only notice we have of his person is from Aubrey, who says, ' * he was a handsome, well-shaped man ; ' ' and adds, ' ' verie good company, and of a very ready, and pleasant and smooth wit." He died on his birthday, Tuesday, April 23, 1616, when he had exactly completed his fifty- second year, and was buried on the north side of the chancel, in the great church at Stratford, where a monu- ment is placed in the wall, on which he is represented under an arch, in a sitting posture, a cushion spread before him, with a pen in his right hand, and his left rested on a scroll of paper. In the year 1741, a monument was erected to our poet in West- minster Abbey, by the direction of the Earl of Burlington, Dr. Mead, Mr. Pope, and Mr. Marty n. It was the work of Scheemaker, (who received 300/. for it,) after a design of Kent, and was opened in January of that year. The performers of each of the London theatres gave a benefit to defray the expenses, and the Dean and Chapter of Westminster took nothing for the ground. The money received by the performance at Drury Lane theatre amounted to above 200/,, but the receipts at Covent Garden did not exceed 100/. Shakespere died in 16 16; and seven years afterwards appeared the first edition of his plays, published at the charges of four book- sellers, — a circumstance from which Mr. Mai one infers, "that no single publisher was at that time willing to risk his money on a com- plete collection of our author's plays." Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, Hast built thyself a livelong monument, Milton. — On Shakespere, 1630. £nds Weff. View the whole scene, with critic judgment scan. And then deny him merit if you can. Where he falls short, 'tis nature's fault alone: Where he succeeds, the merit's all his own. Churchill. Hand-Painted Oinner Cards. We have in stock the most elaborate variety of HAND- PAINTED Dinner Cards in this city. It is a speciaitjf with us, and our execution and assortment is acknowl- edged by connoisseurs to be unequaled. Your examin- ation solicited. From the time we first began to know, We live and learn, but not the wiser grow. POMFRET. Ms MrlUliat 6jnhs mi Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech. From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed: Where great additions swell, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honor: good alone Is good, without a name; vileness is so: The property by what it is should go Not by the title. * * * Honors best thrive, When rather from our acts we them derive Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave, Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave, A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb Of honor'd bones indeed. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick 'st decrees Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time Steals ere we can effect them. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. lO Let me not live, — Thus his good melancholy oft began, On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out, — let me not live, quoth he, After my Jlame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies Expire before their fashions: — This he wish'd: I, after him, do after him wish too, Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my hive. To give some laborers room. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy: He that of greatest works is finisher, Oft does them by the weakest minister: So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown From simple sources ; and great seas have dried , When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits, Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. That I should love a bright particular star, A.nd think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind, that would be mated by the lion, Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table ; heart, too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favor. The honor of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. asUouUfieJi Are these the choice dishes the doctor has sent us ? Is this the great poei whose works so content us ? This Goldsmith's fine feast, who has written fine books ? Heaven sends us good meat^ but the Devil sends cooks. Garrick. Souvenir Menus. Menus for private or public dinner parties are a leading feature of our establishment having on our premises our artists, and executing the work, we can please the most fastidious. The richest and most recherche menus produced in this city are from our establishment. Samples on exhibition, prices ranging from 50 cents each to $10 each. Caricature Menus, on which is painted some particular characteristic of the guest, is a happy and amusing feature in which we are very successful. Nothing is new; we walk where others went; There's no vice now but has its precedent. Herrick. £s i@on EihF B. THE SEVEN AGES. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players ; They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover; Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier; Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice; In fair round belly, with good capon lined, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modem instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon; With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends: — That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to bum: That good pasture makes fat sheep: and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun. That he, that hath learned no wit by na- ture nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. 14 He that a fool doth very \Wsely hit, Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob; if not, The wise man's folly is anatomized Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. Good -morrow, fool, quoth I. No, sir, quoth he, Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune And then he drew a dial from his poke; And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says, very ^visely, It is ten o'xlock: Thus may ive see, quoth he, how the world wags. ' Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine; And after an hour more, ^ twill be eleven; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe. And theti, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot; And thereby hangs a tale. Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt. Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. Sermons in stones, and good m every thing. We still have slept together, -Rose at an instant, leam'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's s^vans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 'Tis but a peevish boy: — yet he talks well; — But what care I for words ? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth:— not very pretty: — But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him; He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 15 K ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll 'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear. And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. LOVE. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. It is to be all made of sighs and tears; — It IS to be all made of faith and service; — It is to be all made of fantasy; All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All adoration, duty, and obser\'ance; All humbleness, all patience, all impatience; All purity, all trial, all obedience. MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OF BOTH SEXES. Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Orlando, men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. 1 will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep. Let me be your servant; Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty. For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter. Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you: ril do the service of a younger man In all your business of necessities. i6 Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Sir, I am a true laborer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm: and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck. A FOOL S LIBERTY OF SPEECH. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have : And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh: And why, sir, must they so ? The why is plain as way to parish church. Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly; Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky. That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, The sting is not so sharp As friend remember d not. Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c. For I the ballad will repeat Which men full true shall find ; For your marriage comes by destiny. Your cuckoo sings by kind. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear, And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greater justice. womedi| of While now her bending neck she plies Backward to meet the burning kiss, Then with an easy cruelty denies, Yet wishes you would snatch, not ask the bliss. Francis. Dinner Favors. We keep in stock and make to order the richest Din* ner Favors produced in the city. Our stock is the largest and most varied, and in this department of our business we are acknowledged to be at the head. Sam- ples on exhibition. Satin and silk hand-painted favors in great variety, rich, elaborate and elegant. In the infinite meadows of heaven Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the Angels. Longfellow. doniFilg of CJFForx. A hungry, lean-fac'd villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller; A needy, hollow ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, A living dead man : this pernicious slave. Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse. And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me, Cries out, I was possess'd. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; They can be meek, that have no other cause. A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burden'd with like weight of pain. As much, or more, we should ourselves complain. For slander lives upon succession ; For ever housed, when it once gets possession. The venom clamors of a jealous woman Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing: And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou say'st, his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings: Unquiet meals make ill digestions, Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls; Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, But moody and dull melancholy (Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair); And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life ? 20 I see, the jewel, best enamelled, Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still, That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name. But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ; My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, Ill-faced, worse -bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye. But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky, The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls. Are their males' subject, and at their controls : Men, more divine, the masters of all these. Lords of the wide world, the wild wat'ry seas. Indued with intellectual sense and souls, Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he's worth, to season. Nay, he's a thief too: Have you not heard men say. That time comes stealing on by night and day ? If he be in debt, and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day ? There's not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend; And every one doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me, some invite me ; Some give me thanks for kindnesses; Some offer me commodities to buy: Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop, And shew'd me silks that he had bought for me. And, therewithal, took measure of my body. Frisking light in frolic measures: Now pursuing, now retreating. Now in circling troops they meet; To brisk notes in cadence beating, Glance their many twinkling feet. Gray. Qerman Favors. ' The largest variety of rich and novel designs in German Favors can be seen at our establishment. We make a specialty of keeping in stock or making to order ap- propriate and rich favors. "Xlie German '' Invitations. Young ladies desiring Invitations for Germans are invi- ted to our establishment. We make the price VERY LOW. A sudden thought strikes me, Let us swear an eternal friendship. Canning. EobF's Eabop's EosK When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men , for thus sings he , Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every tree. Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! From women's eyes this doctrine I derive; They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; They are the books, the arts, the academies That show, contain, and nourish all the world; Else, none at all in aught proves excellent. What ? I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! A woman, that is like a German clock, Still a repairing; ever out of frame; And never going aright, being a watch, But being watch'd that it may still go right ? 24 This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeon's peas; And utters it again, when God doth please: lie is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve: He can carve too, and lisp. Why, this is he That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy; This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice In honorable terms; nay, he can sing. * * * * * * :* The ladies call him sweet, The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet. This is the flower that smiles on every one To show his teeth as white as whale his bone- And consciences that will not die in debt. Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. A merrier man. Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal: His eye begets occasion for his wit; For every object that the one doth catch. The other turns to a mirth-moving jest; Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor) Delivers in such apt and gracious words. That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished ; So sweet and voluble is his discourse. But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain ; But with the motion of all elements. Courses as swift as thought in every power; And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye; A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind. JVieasure for M ©asure* There's a strange something, which without a brain Fools feel, and which e'en wise men can't explain, Planted in man, to bind him to that earth, In dearest ties, from whence he drew his birth. Churchill. Our Customers, Our patrons are the Elite, and we spare no pains to please them. "We sometimes make mistakes," and, when doing so, we correct same most cheerfully, and no customer is expected to take an order unless it is satisfactory. Like will to like; each creature loves his kind, Chaste words proceed still from a bashful mind. Herrick. JKFHsnrF fop JKfhsupf. O, but man, proud man ! Drest in a little brief authority ; Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, — like an angry ape. Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep: who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; But, in the less, foul profanation. That in the captain's but a choleric word. Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. Could great men thunder, As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer, Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven ! If thou art rich, thou art poor; For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, Thy bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey. And death unloads thee. Darest thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon. In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. 28 Thou hast nor youth, nor age; But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both : for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich. Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this. That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even. Go to Lord An gel o. And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, All their petition are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them. Let but your honor know (Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue) That, in the working of your own affections. Had time cohered with place, or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of your blood Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose. Whether you had not sometime in your life Err'd in this point which now you censure him, And puU'd the law upon you. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall. I not deny, The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice. That justice seizes. Wha't know the laws. That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, Because we see it ; but what we do not see. We tread upon, and never think of it. Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt. Tfie Merchant of V entce. A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; One should our interests and our passions be, My friend must hate the man that injures me. Pope, Coats of Arms Painted. We make a specialty of looking up Coats-of-Arms, and our report can be relied upon. We emblazon same in their proper colors for framing; painting same on satin, silk or other materials, for ornamentation, AT VERY REASONABLE PRICES. Old houses mended. Cost little less than new before they're ended. CoLLF.Y Gibber. ^|f pprrlflnt of tpnitF. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part. Let me play the Fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, bit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish. There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, /am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! O, my Antonio, I do know of these. That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing. You have too much respect upon the world ; They lose it, that do buy it with much care.' Mark you this, Bassanio, The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. An evil soul, producing holy witness, Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 32 Moneys is your suit. What should I say to you ? Should I not say, Hath a dog money? is it possible, A cur can lend three thousand dtuats? Or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, Say this, — Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; You spurned me such a day; another time You caird me — dog; and for these courtesies ni lend you thus much moneys. How many cowards, whose liearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars; Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk? How far that little candle throws its beams ! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica; look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ; There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins: Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. For herein fortune shows herself more kind Than is her custom: it is still her use, To let the wretched man outlive his wealth. To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, An age of poverty. The quality of mercy is not strain'd; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomes The throned monarch better than his crown: His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above the scepter'd sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. For who shall go about To cozen fortune, and be honorable Without the stamp of merit ! Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity, O, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not derived corruptly ! and that clear honor Were purchased by the merit of the wearer ! How many then should cover, that stand bare How many be commanded, that command I Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: Some that will evermore peep through their eyes. And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper; And other of such vinegar aspect, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea; a beauteous scarf Veilmg an Indian beauty; in a word, The seeming truth whicli cunning times put on To entrap the wises*^ 34 Here are sever'd lips, Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs The painter plays the spider; and hath woven A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes, — How could he see to do them ? having made one, Methinks, it should have power to steal both his, And leave itself unfurnish'd. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : For do but note a wild and wonton herd. Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of music: Therefore the poet Did feign, that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature: The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man hz trusted. — Mark the music. You that choose not by the view. Chance as fair, and choose as true ! Since this fortune falls to you, Be content, and seek no new. If you be well pleased with this. And hold your fortune for your bliss. Turn you where your lady is. And claim her with a loving kiss, About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me; whose posy was For all the world like cutler's poetry Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not. JVierrij ^Ttves of Death finds us 'mid our play things — snatches us, As a cross nurse might do a wayward child , From all our toys and baubles. His rough call Unlooses all our favorite ties on earth; And well if they are such as may be answer'd In yonder world, where all is judged of truly. Old Play. Scliool Certificates. Certificates of Graduation illuminated, or in black, plain, or elaborate, on parchment or silk, after designs fur- nished, or designs made to suit the applicants. In this department we excel. The happy have whole days, and those they choose; The unhappy have but hours, and those they lose. COLLEY. Pfffs Mm of ^inilsoF. Love like a shado2V Jiies, when substance love pursues; Pursuing that thatfiies^ and flying what pursues. We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do. Wives may be merry, and yet honest too: We do not act, that often jest and laugh; 'Tis old but true, Still swine eat all the draff. Pent. I see, I cannot get thy father's love; Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. Anne. Alas ! how then ? Pent. Why, thou must be thyself. He doth object, I am too great of birth; And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, I seek to heal it only by his wealth: Besides these, other bars he lays before me, — My riots past, my wild societies; And tells me, 'tis a thing impossible I should love thee, but as a property. Anne. May be, he tells you true. Pent. No, Heaven so speed me in my time to come! Albeit, I will confess, thy father's wealth Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne; Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags; And 'tis the very riches of thyself That now 1 aim at. Anne. Gentle master Fenton, Yet seek my father's love: still seek it, sir: If opportunity and humblest suit Cannot attain it, why then — Hark you hither. 38 To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals; There will we make our peds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies. Hony soil qui mal y pense, write , In emerald tufts, flowers, purple, blue, and white, Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee: Fairies use flowers for their charactery. Ask me no reason why I love you; for though love use reason for his physician, he admits him not for his .counsellor: You are noi young, no more am I; go to then, there's sympathy: You are merry, so am I; Ha, ha! then there's more sympathy: You love sack, and so do I; would you desire better sympathy ? Let it suflice thee, mistress Page, (at the least, if the love of a soldier can suffice), that I love thee. I will not say, pity me, 'tis not a soldier-like phrase; but I say, love me. By me, ^ Thine own true knight By day or night. Or any kind of light, With all his might, For thee to fight, JOHN FALSTAFF. Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. — Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hail-stones, go; Trudge, plod, away, o' the hoof; seek shelter, pack ! Falstaff will learn the humor of this age, French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page. The offence is holy that she hath committed: And this deceit loses the name of craft, ■Of disobedience, or unduteous title; Since therein she doth evitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed hours. Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. a jVttdstttntitQr^ Enlarge my life with multitude of days, In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays, Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know That life protracted is protracted woe. . Dr. lOHNSON. Scliool Printing;. The necessity for a printing establishment easy of ac- cess to which A LADY CAN APPLY, and have her wishes for fine and tasty work executed AT LOW PRICES, induced us to establish a departnnent for that special purpose, and very many of the attractive school circulars are from our establishment. You are invited with your scholars to visit our work- rooms for pleasure and instruction. All human things are subject to decay, And when fate summons, monarchs must obey. Dryden. 3IEi!isiiniinFF']0ig|fsBFFani. To you your father should be as a god ; One that composed your beauties: yea, and one To whom you, are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure, or disfigure it. For aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history. The course of true love never did run smooth: But, either it was different in blood; Or else misgraffed, in i-cspect of years; Or else it stood upon the choice of friends: Or, if there were a sympathy in choice. War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; Making it momentany as a sound, vSwift as a shadow, short as any dream. I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow; By his best arrow with the golden head ; By the simplicity of Venus' doves; By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves; And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; By all the vows that ever men have broke. In number more than ever woman spoke; — In that same place thou hast appointed me. To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. I know a bank where the wild thyme blows. Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows Quite over -canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine: There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight. 42 Love looks not w'lili the eyes, but with the mind: And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind : Nor hath Love's mind of any judojment taste; Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste: And therefore is Love said to be a child. Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjured everywhere. So we grew together. Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; But yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem: So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction. I/ip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast. And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, Troop home to churchyards. cl(?otit ATotftmq So runs my dream; but what am I ? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry. Tennyson. Wedding Certificates. ILLUMINATED WEDDING CERTIFICATES are one of our specialties in which we claim to excel. We have several designs on exhibition illuminated on parchment which will last forever. We design and paint to order for any number of signatures, and in after years they will be very pleasing mementoes. There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul. Pope. 3IZiir| j£ho jStboQ]^ 2Qol^|ing. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection. No part of it is mine. This shame derives itself from unknoivti loins ? But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised. And mine that I was proud on; mine so much. That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her; why, she— O, she is fallen Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea Haih drops too few to wash her clean again. For it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue, that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes; That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him. 40 O god of love ! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But nature never framed a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endear'd. No, no; 'lis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow: But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, To be so moral , when he shall endure The like himself: therefore give me no counsel. My griefs cry louder than adverli>ement. Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ. Leon. I pray thee; peace; I will be flesh and blood ^ For there was never yet philosopher. That could endure the toothache patiently; However they have writ the style of gods, And made a pish at chance and sufferance. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea, and one on shore. To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, But let them go, " And be you blythe and bonny; Converting all your sounds of woe Into, hey nonny, nonny. Done to death by slanderous tongues, Was the hero that here lies: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs. Gives her fame, which never dies: So the life that died with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. i "^ lamina of tfie ^firew^ Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky. The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die. George Herbert, Conmiencenieiit Annotince- meiits. School and College Announcements engraved and print- ed from steel and copper-plate, or letter-press 'type), in an expensive and recherche style, or neat, at low cost, are one of our leading features. This entire book is the work of our own establish- ment, and shows the class of work we produce. Errors, like straws upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls, must dive below. Dryden. Naming of i\f %\vf\a. THE wife's duty TO HER HUSBAND. Fie, fie ! unknit that threatening unkind brow; And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads; Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds, And in no sense is meet or amiable. A woman moved, is like a fountain troubled. Muddy, ill seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for ihy maintenance: commits his body To painful labor, both by sea and land ; To watch the night in storms, the day in cold. While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; And craves no other tribute at thy hands. Bat love, fair looks, and true obedience; — Too little payments for so great a debt. Such duty as the subject owes the prince. Even such, a woman oweth-to her husband: And, when slie's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will. What is she, but a foul contending rebel, And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? I am ashamed, that women are so simple To offer war, where they should kneel for peace ; Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, Unapt to toil, and trouble in the world ; But that our soft conditions and our hearts, Should well agree with our external parts? Dost thou love pictures ! we will fetch thee straight Adonis painted by a running brook: And Cytherea all in sedges hid; Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, Even as the waving sedges play with wind. For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, To honor peereth in the meanest habit. What ! is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye ? O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse For this poor furniture and mean array. Think you, a little din can daunt mme ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar ? Have I not heard the sea, puff 'd up with winds, Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat; Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies; Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang ? And do you tell me of a woman's tongue; That gives not half so great a blow to the ear, As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire ? Be patient, gentlemen, I choose her for myself; If she and I be pleased, what's that to you ? 'Tis bargain 'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, That she shall still be curst in company. I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate !- She hung upon my neck; and kiss on kiss She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, That in a tvvink she won me to her love. O, you are novices ! 'tis a world to see, How tame, when men and women are alone, A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. HTfte JPem|iQst ♦ To contemplation's sober eye. Such is the race of man. And they that creep, and they that fly. Shall end where they began. Gay, Balls and Parties. Engraved Invitations and Orders of Dancing for public or private bails and parties, in the most approved style, is a branch of our business in which we have met with grand success. Novelty, elegance and dis- patch we guarantee, because we execute our own work. The elegant invitations and orders of dance for PALESTINE COMMANDERY last season were from our House. While timorous knowledge stands considering, Andacious ignorance hath done the deed. Daniel. ©|f ^FinjFsi Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard; and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I liked several women: never any Wiih so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil: but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best. ^Iira. I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen More that I may call men, than you, good friend. And my dear father; how features are abroad, I am skill-less of : but, by my modesty (The jewel in my dower), I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts Therein forget. ^'^' I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king— Hear my soul speak: Ihe very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides. To make me slave to it; and, for your sake, Am I this patient log-man. ^f^^(i- Do you love me ? Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, -A.nd crown what I profess with kind event, 54 If I speak true; if hollowly, invert What best is boded me, to mischief ! I, Beyond all limit of what else i' the world, Do love, prize, honor you. Mir a. I am a fool, To weep at what I am glad of. My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. The wjeck of all my friends, or this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth Let liberty make use of ; space enough Have I in such a rison. Fer. Wherefore weep you? Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take. What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. Fer. My mistress, dearest, And I thus humble ever. Mira. My husband then ? Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. Mira. And mine, with my heart in 't; and now farewell Till half an hour hence. Fer. A thousand thousand ! His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops From eaves of reeds. Twefftft Afigfti A little rule, a little sway, A sunbeam in a winter's day, Is all the proud and mighty have Between the cradle and the grave. Dyer. Music for Oaiiciiis^. As a favor to our customers, Mr. P. A. Herfort, Mu- sical Director, has his head-quarters at our place of business. Any combination of instruments can be en- gaged. Messrs. Dempsey & Carroll have no personal interest in the matter save ensuring their customers, if they wish it, superior music; and we recommend Mr. Herfort because all who have engaged him have, been eminently satisfied. My God, my father, and my friend. Do not forsake me at my end ! Roscommon. WMi^ Pgp. O/i. Why, what would you ? Vw. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night Holla your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me. Too old, by heaven : let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn Than women's are. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it ; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again; it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odor. Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love. In the sweet pangs of it remember me: For, such as I am, all true lovers are; Unstaid and skittish in all motions else. Save, in the constant image of the creature That is beloved. 58 This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must obsene their mood on whom he iests, The quality of persons, and the time; Not like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice. As full of labor as a wise man's art: For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit: But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. Cesario, by the roses of the spring. By maidhood, honor, truth, and every thing, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, ^^^lerein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper-false In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we; For, such as we are made of, such we be. How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath kiU'd the flock of all affections else That live in her ! when liver, brain and heart. These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd (Her sweet perfections) with one self king. She never told her love. But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek; she pin"d in thought: And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. HTfte TTwo 3etitretnen of V erona* The mother to her daughter spake, Daughter, said she, arise: Thy daughter to her daughter take Whose daughter's daughter cries. Riley. Cards of Dances. We paint and illuminate in very elaborate or plain style, cards containing the Orders of Dance. They are hung upon the wall, under a side gas bracket, suspended by a ribbon; are very handsome, in fashion, and are used in place of dancing programmes. Who thinks that fortune cannot change her mind, Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind. Pope. THE t^lDo (jFuHpraFn of ^Frona. Did' St thou but know the inly touch of love; Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, As seek to quench the fire of love with words. Liic. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest It should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it bums ; The current, that with gentle murmur glides. Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; But when his fair course is not hinder'd. He m.akes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtakelh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport, to the wide ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course; I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my love; And there Til rest, as, after much turmoil, A blessed soul doth in Elysium. His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; His tears pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. His years but young, but his experience old; His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe; And, in a word (for far behind his worth Come all the praises that I now bestow), He is complete in feature, and in mind, With all good grace to grace a gentleman. 62 Maids, in modesty, say No, to that WTiich they would have the profferer construe. Ay Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod ! He cannot be a perfect man, Not being tried and tutor'd in the world: Experience is by industry achieved, And perfected by the swift course of time. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears Moist it again, and frame some feeling line. That may discover such integrity: — For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews; Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. O, gentle Porteus, Love's a mighty lord. And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, There is no woe to his correction, Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth I Now, no discourse, except it be of love; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep. Upon the very naked name of love. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her: Send her another; never give her o'er; For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you. But rather to beget more love in you: If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone; For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For, get you g07ie, she doth not mean away; Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne"er so black, say they have angels' faces. That ?nan that hath a tongue, I say, is tto tnan^ If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. So the struck eagle View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel. Byron. Stationery Souvenir Boxes. A very acceptable and useful present is a handsome box of Paper, embellished with arms, crest, monogram, or fac-simile die. We have some very rich plush boxes, and make to order any style of box or case to suit the fancy. Of manners gentle, of affections mild ; In wit, a man; simplicity, a child. Pope. ?^^F Mtor's Wak We were, fair queen, Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' the sun, And bleat the one at the other: what we changed, Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not The doctrine of ill- doing, no, nor dream'd That any did. Had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits never, higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven Boldly, iV ^ -unes, I ran it through, even from my boyish days To the very moment that he bade me tell it' Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances* Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; ' Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach- Of being taken by the insolent foe, ^ ' And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, And portance m my travel's history. 1 his to hear, ^ Would Desdemona seriously incline- .58 But still the house affairs would draw her thence ; Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, She 'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: which I observing, Took once a pliant hour: and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intenlively. I did consent; And oft did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer'd. My story being done. She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, —in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange; 'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me; And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake, She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd: And T lov'd her that she did pity them. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls; Who steels my purse, steels trash: 't is something, nothmg; 'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slaves to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. O curse of marriage. That we can call these delicate creatures ours. And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad. And live upon the vapor of a dungeon. Than keep a corner in the thing I love, For other's uses. 'T is the curse of service; Preferment goes by letter and affection. Not by the old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. 159 We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master's ass. For naught but provender: and, when he 's old, cashier'd: Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are, Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves; And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd their coats, Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profess myself. Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again. Trifles, light as air. Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. O now, for ever. Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars. That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump. The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. The royal banner; and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation 's gone ! By the world, I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; I tliink that thou art just, and think thou art not, I '11 have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black As mine own face. — If there be cords or knives Poison or fire, or suffocating streams, I '11 not endure it. — Would I were satisfied ! i6o O grace! O heaven defend me ! Are you a man ; have you a soul, or sense ? — God be wi' you: take mine office. — O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice ! — monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe. — 1 thank you for this profit; and, from hence, I 'II love no friend, since love breeds such offence. 0th. Nay, stay: — thou shouldst be honest. lago. I should be wise; for honesty 's a fool, And loses that it works for. What ! keep a week away ? seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times ? O weary reckoning ! Had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I 'd not have sold her for it. Had it pleased heaven To try me with affliction; had he rain'd All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head ; Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips; Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; I should have found in some part of my soul A drop of patience: but, alas ! to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at, — O! O! Where should Othello go } Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench ' Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven. And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl ? Even like thy chastity. O cursed, cursed slave ! Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight ! Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur ! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead ? Dead ? O ! O ! O ! i6i 0th. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, was free and merry; I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips: He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, Let him not know it, and he 's not robb'd at all But, I do think it is their husbands' faults, If wives do fall: Say, that they slack their duties, And pour our treasures into foreign laps; Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing- restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us. Or scant our former having in dispite; Why, we have galls; and though we have some grace, Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them : they see and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour. As husbands have. What is it that they do, When they change us for others ? Is it sport ? I think it is; And doth affection breed it ? I think it doth; Is 't frailty that thus errs? It is so too: And have not we affections ? Desires for sport ? and frailty, as men have ? Then, let them use us well; else, let them know. The ills we do, their ills instruct us to. Des. Good night, good night: Heaven me such usage send, Not to pick bad from bad ; but, by bad, mend ! Poor and content, is rich, and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor — Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From Jealousy ! A maiden never bold; Of spirit so slill and quief, that her motion Blush'd at herself; and she,— in spite of nature. Of years, of country, credit, everything, — To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on ! l62 But jealous souls will not be answered so; They are not ever jealous for the cause. But jealous, for they are jealous: 't is a monster, Begot upon itself, born on itself. What shall I do to win my lord again ? Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: — If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form; Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will,^ — though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly. Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much; And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love. Unreconciled as yet to Heaven and grace, If you bethink yourself of any crime, Solicit for it straight. Othello's speech before his death. Soft you; a word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know it ! No more of that. — I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak Of one that lov'd, not wisely, but too well : Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand, Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away. Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood. Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog. And smote him — thus. [Stabs himself. Jvomeo and Jttfiei This matron, whitened with good works and age, Approached the Sabbath of her pilgrimage; Her spirit to Himself the Almighty drew, Breathed on the Alembic, and exhaled the dew. College iMTitatioms. COLLEGE COMMITTEES wishing the best materials and workmanship, can be supplied at our establish- ment, and everything guaranteed as represented, or no money will be taken in payment. Our work is execu- ted in strict integrity, with no mental reservation, Old friends are best. King James us'd to call for his old shoes, they were easiest for his feet. Selden. IBLorapo flnh Jnlipi Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs- Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes- ' Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is It else ? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence. Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright ! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. ' O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art As glonous to this night, being o'er my head As IS a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds' And sails upon the bosom of the air. i66 With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out; And what love can do, that dares love attempt, Therefore thv kinsmen are no let to me. What 's in a name ? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes. Without that title. Romeo, doft' thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon. That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Rom. What shall I swear by ? Jul. Do not swear at all ; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry. And I '11 believe thee. Ro)ii. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light ; Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. Sweet, good night ! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet, Good night, good night; as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed. If that thy bent of love be honorable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow By one that I '11 procure to come to thee. Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I '11 lay. And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world. 167 O, gentle Romeo, If ihou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I '11 frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou may'st think my 'havior light; But, trust me, gentleman, I '11 prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. Sweet, so would 1: Vet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night ! parting in such sweet sorrow, That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow. These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die: like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume. Hist ! Romeo, hist ! O, for a falconer's voice. To lure this tassel-gentle back again ! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; Else would I tear the cave where echo lies. And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name. Love's heralds should be thoughts. Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams. Driving back shadows over low'ring hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. i68 Hang thee, young baggage ! disobedient wretch ! I tell thee what,— get thee to church o' Thursday, Or never after look me in the face : Speak n-ot, reply not , do not answer me ; My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd, That God had lent us but this only child; But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her: Out on her, hilding ! 'T is torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog, And little mouse, every unwortliy thing. Live here in heaven, and may look on her, But Romeo may not. More validity. More honorable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, And steel immortal blessing from her lips; Who, even in pure and vestal modesty. Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not; lie is banished: Flies may do this, when I from this must fly, They are free men, but I am banished. Still my care hath been To have her match'd: and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful and nobly train'd, Stuft'd (as they say) with honorable parts, Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man, — And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, To answer—" I '11 not wed,"—" I cannot love," — " I am too young,"—" I pray you, pardon me." It was the lark, the herald of the morn. No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles areburnt out, and jocund day Stands liptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 169 Give me my Romeo : and, when he shall die, Take him , and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun. I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead, (Strange dream ! that gives a dead man leave to think). And breathed such life with kisses in my lips. That I revived, and was an emperor. Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd, When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ! For though fond nature bids us all lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words. Brags of his substance, not of ornament : They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth. Blister'd be thy tongue, For such a wish ! he was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 't is a throne where honor may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth. My only love sprang from my only hate ! Too early seen unknown , and known too late, Prodigious birth of love it is to me. That I must love a loathed enemy. Gentlemen, welcome ! ladies, that have their toes Unplagued with corns, will have a bout with you. — Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all Will now deny to dance ? she, that makes damty, she, I '11 swear hath corns: Am I come near you now ? The sweetest honey Is loathsome in its own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Here comes the lady ; O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: A lover may bestride the gossamers. That idle in the wanton summer air, An I yet not fall ; so light is vanity. O, I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess' d it; and though I am sold. Not yet enjoy'd: So tedious is this day, As is the night before some festival To an impatient child, that hath new robes, And may not wear them. ROMEO'S LAST SPEECH OVER JULIET IX THE TOMB. O, my love ! my wife ! Death that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath. Hath had no power yet upon thy l^eauty: i^H: ******* Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous; And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour ? For fear of that, I will still stay with thee; ********* Eyes, look your last Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! — Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide ! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark ! Here 's to my love ! [Drinks.] O, true Apothecary ! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. MmoM of am I can no more believe old Homer blind , Than those who say the sun hath never shined ; The age wherein he lived was dark; but He Could not want sight who taught the world to see. Denham. Masonic Work. TH^ GRAND LODGE OF MASONS' fine work was exe- cuted by us. Masonic Lodges and the various depart- ments of masonry wishing emblematical and fine work are referred to us. PAI^ESXIXB COMMAIVOBRY. The Palestine Commandery Invitations, Cards, and Orders of Dances, pronounced by everybody to be of superior excellence in every particular, was executed by us. Who does the best his circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more. Dr. Young. ^imon of 3£]^|Fns. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, Tliat now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would ; are sorry — you are honorable , — But yet they could have wish'd — they know not — but Something hath been amiss — a noble nature May catch a wrench — would all were well— 't is pity — And so, intending other serious matters. After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions. With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods. They froze me into silence. AGAINST DUELLING. Your words have took such pains, as if they labor'd To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling Upon the head of valor; which, indeed, Is valor misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were but newly born: He 's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrongs His outsides; wear them like his raiment, carelessly; And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his grave: So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor self A dedicated beggar to the air. With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty. Walks, like contempt, alone. 174 The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonor traffics with man's nature, He is but outside: these pencil'd figures are Even such as they give out. Gold ? yellow, glittering, precious gold ? No, gods, I am no idle votarist. ********* What this, you gods? Why this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides; Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy adored; place thieves, And give them title, knee and approbation With senators on the bench. *****^*** I '11 example you with thievery ; The sun 's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea: the moon 's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: The sea 's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears: the earth 's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement: each thing 's a thief; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck'd theft. Nay, my lords, ceremony Was but devised at first, to set a gloss On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. Recanting goodness, sorry ere 't is shewn; But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray, sit ; more welcome are ye to my fortunes, Than my fortunes to me. What an alteration of honor has Desperate want made ! What viler thing upon the earth, than friends, Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends ! How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, When man was wish'd to love his enemies: Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me, than tliose that do ! wludromctts* 'T is mighty easy o'er a glass of wine On vain refinements vainly to refine, To laugh at poverty in plenty's reign, To boast of apathy when out of pain. Churchill. Resolutions Illuminated and Kng^rossed. THE COTTON EXPOSITION RESOLUTIONS, presented to the Hon. H. I. Kimball, received great commenda- tions for its appropriate designs, its excellence of illum- ination and elegance of finish ; we had the honor of its execution, as well as that of the beautifully en- graved Invitations and Cards of Admittance to the Opening and Closing of the Exposition. RESOIvXJXIOXS EI^iGROSSEO. Parties wishing superior work, artistically designed and executed, can be accommodated at our establishment. Is this a birth-day ? 't is alas ! too clear, 'T is but the funeral of the former year. Pope. W\h% ^nbFonirns. Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful: Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. INVITATION TO LOVE. The birds chant melody on every bush ; The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun , The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequered shadow on the ground: Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And — whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds. Replying shrilly to the well tuned horns. As if a double hunt were heard at once — Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise: And, after conflict, such as was supposed The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy 'd, When with a happy storm they were surprised, And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,— We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds Be unto us, as is a nurse's song Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts. That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage: Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear ! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. 178 For* now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him. She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore may be won; She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. What, man ! more water glideth by the mill Than wots the miller of. Romans,— friends, followers, favorers of my right, — If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol, And suffer not dishonor to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence, and nobility: But let desert in pure election shine. O reverend tribunes ! gentle aged men ! Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; And let me say that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators. O, calm thee, gentle lord ! although I know. There is enough written upon this earth. To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; And swear with me, — as with the woful fere. And father, of that chaste, dishonor'd dame, Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece's rape, — That we will prosecute, by good advice. Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, And see their blood, or die witli this reproach. Xrotfiis and a^ If blush thou must, then blush thou through A lawn; that thou may'st look As purest pearls, or pebbles do, When peeping through a brook. Herrick. Commercial "Work:, MERCHANTS, HOTEL PROPRIETORS, DOCTORS, DIVINES AND STOCK COMPANIES, wishing fine Sta- tionery, rich designs, or novel advertising announce- ments, should call upon us. HON. HENRY HILTON favored us with an order consisting of eight steel plates from which 50,000 books were printed and gratuitously distributed, enti- tled, " Hotels of Saratoga Springs, New York '^ity, and Garden City," giving steel plate views of the Hotels of the A. T. Stewart Estate, Judge Hilton's Villa in Wood- lawn Park, and Windsor Hotel at Saratoga Springs. The books are gems of engraving, and the printed matter of great interest. Parties desiring fine work are invited to visit our establishment. His rage, not his love, in that frenzy is shown. And the blast that blows loudest is soon overblown. Smollett. ^Foilns flnb QpFSsiba. SUCCESS NOT EQUAL TO OUR HOPES. The ample proposition, that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below, Fails in the promised largeness: checks and disasters Grow ill the veins of actions highest rear"d: As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain Tortive and errant from his course of growth. I ask, that I might waken reverence, And bid the cheek be ready with a blush Modest as morning when she coldly eyes The youthful Phoebus. The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst. For pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision. 'T is certain, greatness, once fallen out wiih fortune, Must fall out with men too. What the declined is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others. As feel m his own fall : for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer; And not a man, for being simply man. Pride liath no other glass To show itself, luit pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 1^2 Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done: perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Welcome ever smiles And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, — That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things past. Mine honor keeps the weather of my fate: Life every man holds dear; but the dear man Holds honor far more precious dear than life. For the love of all the gods. Let 's leave the hermit pity with our mother: And when we have our armors buckled on, The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. Th' imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense: what will it be, When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed Love 's thrice -repured nectar ? death, I fear me, Swooning destruction ; or some joy too fine, Too subtle -potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers ! I fear it much; and I do fear besides. That I shall loose distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying. toadies ward Il.tti^uette DEMPgEY & KARROLL, ARTISTIC BXGRAVERS & STATIONERS. Invitations* 46 East Fourteenth Street, {Unm Square South,) Near Broadway. CARD ETIQUETTE FOR LADIES. " (7se is the judge, the laiv and rule of speech." — Roscommon. LEAVING CARDS. Leaving cards is one of the most important of social observances, as it is the groundwork or nucleus in society of all acquaintanceship; it is the first step towards form- ing a circle of acquaintances, and the neglect of this so- cial duty, or the improper performance of it, or the non- fulfillment of its prescribed rules, would result in the probable loss of desired acquaintanceship, or the risk of beins: characterized as ill-bred. AUTHORIZED CODE OF CARD-LEAVING FOR LADIES. The duty of ''leaving cards " principally devolves upon the mistress of the house : The wife leaves cards for husband as well as for herself. The daughter leaves cards for her father. The niece leaves cards for her uncle. In every case the mistress of the house performs this duty for the master of the house in the circle in which they jointly move. It is not etiquette for ladies, either married or single, to leave cards on bachelors, except after an entertainment given by a bachelor, at which they were present. CARD ETIQUETTE BETWEEN LADIES. Between ladies the etiquette of card leaving is very strictly followed, and punctiliously observed in all its laws. VISITING CARDS MUST BE LEFT IN PERSON. Visiting cards must be left in person; they should never be sent hy post; it is a great breach of etiquette to do so under any circumstances. HOURS FOR CARD-LEAVING AND CALLING. . The most fashionable hours for leaving cards is between three and five o'clock, half past two and six being the earliest as well as the latest possible hours. ENGRAVING FOR VISITING CARDS AND CARDS. The engraving should be in script, clear and hand- somely cut on copper-plate, and printed on bristol card board of correct size — which distinguishes it. Mr. and Mrs. cards are of the largest size. ]\Irs., second. Miss (when used) third in size. The name and address should be on cards — nanie in centre of card, address in right-hand corner, and reception-day left-hand corner, as : Mrs. Charles Smitherton, Wednesdays. i lOO Fifth Avenue. 5 A married lady would never use her christian name on a card, but would use her husband's christian name if his father or elder brother were living. USING CARDS MRS. SMITHERTON. The elder branch of a family use cards with Mrs. , all others the christian name is used before the surname. When Ml', and Mrs. cards are used, a lady and gentle- man would still require separate cards of their own. YOUNG ladies' CARDS. It is not etiquette for young ladies to have visiting cards of their own; it would be considered very bad style were they to use them. (We are speaking of strict etiquette in London society, where young ladies are expected to be and are accustomed to a chaperon when going out into society). Their names are always printed beneath that of their mother on her card, either, Mrs. Smttherlon, Miss Smitherton. iioo Fifth Aveftue. or, when more than one daughter, Mrs. S?tn/herlon, The Misses Smithertoti, I lOO Fifth Avenue. with reception day in left-hand corner, if used. It would be a solecism were the prefix of ''Miss" omitted if a young lady's christian name was used on a card. In case of their being no mother living, the daughter's name would be printed beneath that of her father, on the usual lady's visiting card, but 7iever on the smaller cards used by gentlemen. The same rule (both names on same card) would apply to a brother and sister residing alone. WHEN Miss Smitherion is used. Maiden ladies of a certain age would have visiting cards of their own. « NUMBER OF CARDS TO LEAVE WHEN CALLING. The following is correct and sensible in the number of cards to leave when calling : — One card for all the members of a family cannot with propriety be left when calling — more than an invitation to dinner, party or reception can be sent to include all the family. Special invitations are expected and must be extended and separate cards must be left for each member of the family as a courtesy, and showing they were remembered — it is a solecism to do otherwise. MRS. S AT HOME, WHEN CALLING. Gentlemen seldom accompany their wives on these occasions. If a lady is driving when she makes her calls her man-servant would inquire if the mistress of the house was "at home." If ''at home,'' the lady calling, on leaving the house, would leave Iwo of husband's cards on the hall table in a conspicuous place, or hand them in the hall to the man-servant, one card for the master and one for the mistress of the house. She would not leave one of her own cards, having seen the lady of the house. A lady must on no account give her visiting card to the servant when the mistress of the house is at ho?ne, it would be vulgarism to do so. If the servant does not know the visitor's name, he would say to the visitor,' "what name, if you please, ma'am .''" the servant would precede the visitor to the drawing-room and announce Mrs. A . MRS. S NOT AT HOME, WHEN CALLING. If "not at home," the lady calling would hand the servant three cards, one of her own, and two of her hus- band's : but if a Mr. & INIrs. card, then ^;/^of her husband s would be required ; her card would be left for the mistress of the house ; a lady leaves a card for a lady only ; while a gentleman leaves a card for both husband and wife. The man-ser\'ant of the lady calling would hand the cards to the servant answering the door without remark. If a lady was walking when she left her cards, or paid her call, she would repeat the same formula. IF MERELY LEAVING CARDS. If with carriage, she would hand three cards to her servant saying, " for Mrs. ,'' and he would repeat, "for ]\Irs. '' to the man-servant answering the door. If walking, same formula. Mentioning the name insures leaving cards at the right address. 8 A LADY CALLING ACCOMPANIED BY HER HUSBAND, and the lady being at home, the husband would leave one of his cards for the master of the house, the only card which would be left. If the master of the house was also at home, then 710 cards would be left. CALLING WHERE THERE IS A DAUGHTER OR DAUGHTERS. If there was a daughter, or daughters, the lady call- ing would leave a separate card for the daughters. She would not leave her husband's cards for the daughters. TURNING DOWN THE CORNER OF VISITING CARD signifies that the ladies of the family, as well as the hostess, are included in the call — turning down the end of a card signifies same as the corner. CALLING WHERE THERE ARE SONS. The lady calling would leave her husbands cards, or card, for them^. She would not leave her cards for sons. WHEN NO CARDS ARE LEFT. No cards are left on those members of a family who are at home when a call is made. A YOUNG LADY CALLING ALONE. If a young lady was leaving cards unaccompanied by either father, mother, or her chaperon, she would leave her mother's card on which her own name was also printed, .and draw a pencil through her mother's name, thus inti- mating that her mother was not with her on this occasion. A CARD FOR A CARD, A CALL FOR A CALL. Persons moving in the same spMj-e, either leave cards or call, according as they intend to be ceremonious or friendly, and the return visits must be paid in like man- ner — a card for a card, a call for a call. WRITING ON VISITING CARDS. The name of the lady or gendeman for whom the cards are intended must never be w?'iiten on the card left at the house; it would be a solecism to do this. The only case in which it should be done would be when cards are left for a lady or gentleman staying at a crowded hotel, when, to save confusion, their names might be written on the card. For Mr. and Mrs. S. TIME FOR RETURNING CALLS, OR CARDS. Cards should always be returned within a week, if pos- sible, or ten days at the latest, after they have been left ; within a week would be more courteous. Care must be taken to return the "calls" or "cards" according to the etiquette observed by the person making the call or leav- ing the card ; that is to say, that a "call" mijst not be returned by a card only, or a "card"' by a '^ call."' This is a point ladies are very punctilious about, as the ' ' call " or "card" signifies the intimacy desired, A person holding a higher social position can return a " card " by a "call," and it would be deemed a compliment; but if a tc h.dy was to call upon an acquaintance of higher social position than herself, who had only left a card for her, it would be deemed a breach of etiquette. WHO SHOULD CALL FIRST IN TOWN, Some ladies labor under the mistake of supposing that their acquaintances should first call upon them on their ar- rival in town, but common sense would point to the con- trary, even if there were no etiquette in the matter. As friends cannot be supposed to guess of )our arrival, they therefore require to be officially informed of it by means of visiting cards being left upon them. Until you an- nounce yourself you are supposed to be "not at home." \ WHEN CARDS SHOULD BE LEFT. Visiting cards should be left after every entertainment by those who have been invited, whether they have ac- cepted the invitation or not, and they should be left the day after the entertainment, if possible, but certainly within a week. By entertainment is meant dinners, balls, "at homes," private theatricals, amateur concerts, garden parties, &c. Cards and an inquiry if the hostess is "at home" should be made after a dinner entertain- ment ; on the other occasions cards only are left. WHEN CARDS CANNOT BE LEFT. A lady cannot leave cards on another lady to whom she has but recently been introduced, either at a dinner- party or five-o clock-tea. She must meet her several times in society, and feel sure that her acquaintance is desired tl before venturing to leave cards. If either of the ladies express a wish to further the acquaintance by asking the other to call upon her, the suggestion would come from the lady of highest social position ; if equal, it is imma- terial as to which first makes the suggestion. CALLING UPON NEW " COMEI^S. " The custom of residents calling upon new comers is entirely confined to country society, and is not done indiscriminately, but is confined to individual status in society and to class. In the country the residents are the first to leave cards on the new comers. This they do after having duly ascertained the position which the new comers occupies in society. If the resident does not care to continue the acquaintance after the first meeting, it will be discontinued by not leaving cards or by not calling again; ^nd \^ \.\\q new comers felt disinclined to continue the acquaintance they would return the calls by leaving cards onlv. CARDS TO INQUIRE. Cards to inquire after friends during their illness must be left in person and not sent by post. On a lady's visiting card must be written, above the printed name, "to inquire ; *' and nothing else should be added to these words. RETURNING THANKS FOR INQUIRIES. If the person inquired after was sufficiently recovered to return thanks in person, the usual visiting card, with ''return thanks for kind inquiries" written above the li printed name, is the usual mode of returning thanks and is all-sufficient for the purpose. ' ' NOT AT HOME. " ' ' Not at home " is the understood formula expressive of not wishing to see visitors. ''Not at home" is not intended to imply an untruth, but rather to signify that for some reason or reasons it is not desirable to see visitors ; and as it would be impossible to explain to acquaint- ances the why and wherefore of the inconvenience — the formula of "not at home" is all-sufficient explanation, provided always that the servant is able to give a direct answer at once of "not at home." The mistress of a house should be especially careful tc let her servant know, before the calling hours, whether she intends to be "at home " to receive visitors or not. In order to have time to themselves, ladies have their regular reception days, which, being engraved on their cards, announces the fact, and on all other days (except to intimate friends) they are "not at home." VISITING LIST BOOK, A lady having even a moderate acquaintance should have a visiting book in which to enter the names of her acquaintances, addresses, and note calls made, and calls due. In sending invitations for parties, weddings, or entertainments, it is invaluable. Messrs. Dempsey & Carroll have an admirably arranged book especially for this object. ward Cttc|tiQtte TO OUR PATROKS WHOSE KIND FAVORS HAYE ENSURED OUR SUCCESS WE INSCRIBE THIS YOLUHE. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat ; And we must take the current when it serves. Or lose our ventures. Shakesi'ERE. — ynlius Ctesar. Again "we present our compliments to our customers 'yyith thanks for their continued favors, and our conse- quent grand success, "which is unequaled in the history of any Stationery and engraving estahlishment in this or any other country. I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks ; and ever oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. SHAKESPEr.E. OUR ESTABLISHMEKT is now the largest devoted strictly to our line of business, and we produce the finest vrork and hest material in the vrorld, at Ici-ver prices than any other house. V7e execute our own vrork and defy competition. Please visit our ^Mvorkrooms, for pleasure and information. Your Obedient Servants, DEMPSEY & CARROLL, Union Square South, Art Stationers and Engravers. Hear Broadvray. BACHELORS' CARD ETIQOETTE. POLITENESS. — There is no policy like politeness: and a good manner is the best thing in the world, either to get one a good name or to supply the want oy it. BULWER LVTTflN. Bachelors have to observe and follow the rules of "card- leaving/"' it is an irksome duty to many, and is therefore neglected ; at least in a measure and under various cir- cumstances. If a bachelor has a large number of indmate friends and is a favorite, the consequences of his neglect of this social observance troubles him but little, his friends know where to find him and seek him. But if a bachelor has his way to make in society, and if he wishes to keep up the acquaintances he has already made, he must be punctilious in the matter of card-leaving. Bachelors are often excused for their neglect of this social custom, but it is considered supercilious, negligent and ill-bred. STYLE OF CARDS AND ENGRAVING. Gentlemen's cards are quite small, of bristol board, and should be of thin board; engraving, small, distinct script; name in centre of card; address, right hand corner; and, if a member of a club, name of club left hand corner. Old En.Q^lish, fac-similes, or ornamental style of letters are out of date. A gentleman's card without the prefix of "Mr." would be a glaring solecism, and in the worst possible taste. The correct form, for a gentleman's card is as follows: Mr. Aiigiiste Clarendon, Union League Club. iioo Fifth Avetiue. or, Mr. Auguste Clarendon, IIOO Fifth Avenue. Initials appertaining to honorary rank should never be printed or written on a card. Military or professional title necessarily precedes the surname of the person bear- ing them, and of course are always used, as. Colonel Clarendon. Captain Clarendon. Ra\ Auguste Clarendon, Dr. Auguste Clarendon. SENDING CARDS BY POST. Visiting cards can under no draims/ances he sent by post ; to do so would betray the greatest ignorance of what is done in society. Cards must be left in person. ETIQUETTE OF CARD-LEAVING. The rules of etiquette, though stringent as regards ac- quaintances, have little or no application as regards intimate friends ; friendship over-rules etiquette, and in a manner usurps its place. There is very little "ceremon- ious" card-leaving observed between gentlemen, if any intimacy exists between them. Of course, if a gentle- man should not find his friend at home when calling upon him, he should \e2ive his card as a proof of his hav- ing wanted to see him. NEW ACCQUAINTANCES MARRIED LADIES. A gentleman may nof leave his card upon a married lady, or the mistress of a house, to whom he has been introduced, however gracious or agreeable she has been to him, unless she expressly asks him to call, or gives him to understand in an unmistakable manner, that his doing so would be agreeable to her. This rule holds good when- ever the introduction has taken place. If theacquintance is desired, a polite allusion would be made to his calling at her home, as " I am always at home at five o'clock, if you like to come and see us, '' — but she would not use a \ more direct one — in which case he would leave his card on her as soon afterward as convenient and he would also leave a card for the lady's husband, even if he had not made his acquaintance when making that of the lady. NEW ACQUAINTANCES — YOUNG LADIES. A gentleman may not under any circumstances leave a card on a young lady to whom he has been introduced, unless her mother, chaperon, or the lady under whose care she is for the time, gives him the opportunity of furthering the acquaintance in the manner just indicated for married ladies. It would be considered "ill-bred" were a gentleman to ask ''if he might have the pleasure of calling." CARD-LEAVING AFTER AN ENTERTAINMENT. It is imperative for a gentleman to leave his card on the host or the hostess after every entertainment to which he has been invited whether he was present or not, the fact of his having been invited by them obliges him to pay them this civility. If invited by a new acquaintance, the cards should be left the day after the entertainment, but if by a less recent acquaintance, they may be left within the week, but the earlier the cards are left the greater the politeness shown. If a bachelor acquaintance gives an entertain- ment, the same rule applies as to the necessity of cards being left on him. If a gentleman receives an invitation to an entertainment at the house of a new acquaintance, either from a lady, to whom he has been recently intro- duced, or a mutual friend, he should leave his cards at the house the day after the entertainment, one for the mis- tress and one for the master of the house, whether he had accepted the invitation or not. CARD-LEAVING ON SLIGHT ACQUAINTANCE BETWEEN GENTLEMEN, When the acquaintance between gentlemen is but slight, they would leave a card on one another occassional ly, it generally follows that the one who most desires the ac- quaintanceship is the one to leave his card first. The one of the highest social position would be the one to intimate that he desires the acquaintance of the other. CARD-LEAVING ON RETURN TO THE CITY. Bachelors, as a rule, are expected to leave cards on the master and mistress of a house with whom they are ac- quainted as soon as they are aware that the family have arrived in the city, or if a bachelor himself has been away, he should leave cards on his acquaintances immediately on his return. He should leave one card for the mistress of the house and one for its master. A gentleman would not leave a card for the young daughters of the house, or for any young relatives of its mistress w^ho might be stay- ing with her; but if a married lady with whom he was ac- quainted was staying with their friends, on whom he was calling, he would leave a card for her and her husband, if he was on a visit at the same house. TURNING DOWN CORNEKS OF CARDS. A gentleman does not turn his card down at the corner, even though he may be acquainted with other ladies of the family besides the mistress of the house. OUR VISITING CARDS. Our visiting cards are the finest in the world. Thick or thin card board cut to any size or shape. Our board is made for us, we do our own cutting and can please the most fastidious. DEMPgEY & glRROLL. RGRALDIG enGRAYGR^ ADD PAinCGR?, " Heraldry " is the art of arranging and explaining in proper terms all that appertains to the bearing of Coats-of-Arms, badges, and other hereditary or as- sumed marks of honor. 46 East Fourteei?tl? Street, {Umn Square South,) Near Broadway, New York Sity. DEMPgfiY & 6ARR0LL, monoGRAms for noie papgrs, "Monograms" are as old as -writing itself, and were used by sovereigns, popes and all high dignitaries of ancient times. The modern school Monogram in ornamental form conveys to the eye, without ob- scurity, the initials employed. Fine Monograms, $2. 46 East Fourteei^th Street, (Ur?ion Square South,) Near Broadway, New York Kity. DEMPSEY & CARROLL, ARC $CATIOneR$ ADD enCRAYGR^, Fac-Simile Name and Initial Dies; exact likeness or copy of one's own handwriting, makes beautiful and characteristic heading for note and letter paper, and is now quite the rage. Price from $2 to $5. o^? -/^ 46 East Fourteei?tb Street, ' (Uijion Square South,) Near Broadway, New York Gity. DEMPSEY & SARROLL, CnGRAYGR^ RUB RVd ^lATlOUem, " Cypher Monograms " —Initial letters of a name inwoven, either plain or embellished in drawing, are very elegant and desirable for those wishing a dis- tinctive mark for their paper. The sample is made larger to show the character of our work. Price, from $2 to $5. 46 East Fourteentl? Street, (Ui^ioij Square Soutl],) Near Broadway, New York Gity. • DEMPSfiy & gARROLL, ARC SCATIOneR? ADD enGRAVGRS, Country Seat Address Dies, • • from $5 to $10. City Residence " " ^2. Special designs and great variety. FOREST LAWN. ^J^^e(gq,Ua g oK^^^ ^^ ^K'lode Island %^ab\so\v Q^^etyjce. 46 East Fourteei?tb Street, (Union Square South,} Near Broadway, New York Sity. 50 Selected ^ppftcattotis* IKePRinC OB 100 Y&Km S60.^ CONTENTS. yEsop, Biographical, . . . . 50 .^sop's Failles and Page. 1. ^sop at Play, ... 14 2. Ass Ealing Thistles, . . 9 3. Ant and the Grasshopper, 39 4. Belly and the Members, 37 5 . Bees, the Drones and the Wasp, 12 6. Birds, the Beasts and the Bat, • 40 7. Country Mouse and City Mouse, .... 41 8. Crow and the Pitcher, . 28 9. Ctesar and the Slave, . 13 10. Cupid and Death, . . 43 11. Cock and the Jewel, . 44 12. Deer and the Lion, . .18 13. Eagle and the Beetle, . 36 14 Forrester and the Lion, . 15 1 5 . Fox and the Flies, . . 9 16. Fox and the Boar, . .19 17. Fox and the Ape, . . 25 18. Fox and the Crow, . . 26 19. Frogs and Jupiter, . 51 20. Fox and the Sick Lion, . 46 21. Hercules and the Carter, 29 22. Horse and the Loaded Ass, II 23. Hart and the Vine, . 22 24. Hawk and the Night- ingale, 47 Applications :— 27. 28. 29. 30- 31- 32. 34. 35- 36. 37- 38. 39- 40. 41. 44. 45- 46. 47- 48. 3 & 4 Page. 15 32 27 16 21 48 21 24 5 32 34 3' 25. Jupiter and Pallas, 26. Lark and Young Ones Lion in Love, Lynx and the Mole, . Lion and the Mouse, Leopard and the Fox, Mountain in Labor, Magpie, and the Owl, Master and Scholar, Mouse and the Weasel Man and the Weasel, Old Man and Death, Oak and the Reed, Old Man and His Sons Old Hound, . . . Proud Frog. Peacock's Complaint, 42. Peacock and the Crane 43. Stag in the Ox-Stall, Shepherd turned Mer- chant, 6 Trumpeter taken Prison- er, Two Men and the Axe, Wood and the Clown, Wind and the Sun, . 49. Young Man and the Swallow, .... 52 50. Young Man and His Cat, 53 50 45 23 25 38 35 10 8 17 20 iEsop, Biographical, Born 2400 Years ago. The neighbors stared and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad: Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some heheved him mad. Beattie. "Fables," says Mr. Addison, "were the first pieces of wit that made their appearance in the world; and have been still highly valued, not only in times of the greatest simplicity, but among the most polite ages of mankind." Reading is to the mind, what exercise is to the boay; as by the one health is preserved, strengthened, and invigorated; by the other, virtue (which is the health of the mind) is kept alive, cherished and confirmed. But, as exercise becomes tedious and painful when we make use of it only as the means of health, so reading is too apt to grow uneasy and burdensome, when we apply ourselves to it only for our improvement in virtue. For this reason, the virtue which we gather from a fable or an allegory, is like the health we get by hunting, as we are engaged in an agreeable pursuit that draws us on with pleasure, and makes us insensible of the fatigues that accompany it. iEsop, upon the credit of Plutarch, lived in the days of Croesus, King of Lydia, about five hundred and fifty years before Christ. Born a slave, but as a freeman he came to the Court of Croesus from his old master, Jadmon. Croesus discovered that knowl- edge was power, and he assembled round him all who had at- tained a reputation for wisdom. ^sop quickly grew in favor with Croesus by his genial mode of imparting knowledge; indeed, when all the Seven Sages had had their say, ^sop was often declared the master genius of all. At Corinth we see a mutiny among the common people ap- peased by the fable of the ^* Belly and the Members.'" At Athens he gave a lesson to both prince and people in his fable of the "Frogs and Jupiter." The Delphians ignominiously received ^sop, who appealed to their reverence for the laws of hospitality in the fable of "The Eagle and the Beetle"; but fearing their trade in oracles to be in danger, they hurled the unfortunate fable-maker from the highest of the Phpedrian Precipices. At Athens a statue was erected to his memoiy, done by the hand of the famed Lysippus. THE APPLICATIONS, The applications of the Fables as here published are from a volume published over loo years ago in their entirety, and are golden lessons. Wise men applaud us when we eat the eaters, As the devil laughs when keen folks cheat the cheaters. Scott. GEORGE D. CARROLL. S^FSoj's yailFS, Xlie Master and liis Schiolar. As a schoolmaster was walking upon the bank of a river, not far from his school, he heard a cry of one in distress; advancing a few paces further, he saw one of his scholars in the water, hanging by the bough of a willow. The boy had, it seems, been learning to swim with corks, and now, thinking himself sufficiently experienced, had thrown these implements aside, and ventured into the water without them; but the force of the stream having hurried him out of his depth, he had certainly been drowned had not the branch of a willow, which grew on the bank, providentially hung in his way. The master took up the corks, which lay upon the ground, and throwing them to his scholar, made use of this opportunity to read a lecture to him upon the inconsiderate rashness ot youth. '•Let this be an example to you," says he, "in the conduct of your future life ; never to throw away your corks till time has given you strength and experience enough to swim without them." The Application. — Some people are so self-conceited that they will run themselves into many inconveniences rather than be thought to want assistance. Now there are many hslps in life which they who launch out into ihe wide ocean of the world ought to make use of as supporters till they are grown strong in the knowledge of men, and sufficiently versed in business to stem the tide by themselves. Yet many, like the child in the fable, through an affectation of being thought able and experi- enced, undertake affairs which are too big for them, and venture out of their depth. Few are too wise to be advised, nor are we ever too old to learn anything which we may be the better for. But young men, above all, should not disdain to open their eyes to example and their ears to admonition. They should not be ashamed to furnish themselves with rules for their behavior in the world. However mean it may seem to use such helps, yet it is really dangerous to be without them. As a man who is lame with the gout had better draw the observation of the people upon him by walking with a crutch than expose himself to their ridicule by tumbling down in the dirt. It is as disagreeable to see a young man throw himself into conversation with an assuming air upon a subject of which he knows nothing, as for a child of three months old to be left to go without its leading- strings. And here it may not be improper to say something by way of ap- plication to this whole book. It is not expected that those who are versed and hackneyed in the paths of life should trouble themselves to peruse these little loose sketches of morality. Such may do well enough without them. They are written for the benefit of the young and inexperienced. If they do but relish the contents of this book so as to think it worth reading over two or three times, it will have attained its end; and should it meet with such a reception, the several authors originally concerned in these fables, and the present compiler of the whole, may be allowed not altogether to have mis- applied their time in preparing such a collation for their entertain- ment. The Slieplierd turned Mer- cliant. A shepherd that kept his sheep near the sea, one clear Summer's day, drove them close to the shore, and sat down upon a piece of rock to enjoy the cool breeze that came from the water. The green element appeared calm and smooth, and Thetis, with her train of smiling, beautiful nymphs, seemed to dance upon the floating sur- face of the deep. The shepherd's heart thrilled with secret pleas- ure, and he began to wish for the life of a merchant. "Oh, how happy," says he, "should I be to plow this liquid plain in a pretty, tight vessel of my own, and to visit the remote parts of the world, instead of sitting idly here to look upon a parcel of senseless sheep while they are grazing! Then what ample returns would I make in the way of traffic, and what a short and certain path would this be to riches and honor!" In short, this thought was improved -fc into a resolution. Away he posted with all expedition, sold his flock and all that he had. Then he bought a bark, and fitted it out for a voyage. He loaded it with a cargo of dates, and set sail for a mart that was held on the coasts of Asia, five hundred leagues off. He had not been long at sea before the wind began to blow tempestu- ously, and the waves to rage and swell. The violence of the weather increasing upon him, his ship was in danger of sinking, and he was obliged to lighten her by throwing all his dates overboard. After this his vessel was driven upon a rock near the shore and split to pieces. He himself hardly escaped with his life. Poor and destitute of subsistence, he applied himself to the man who had bought his flock, and was admitted to attend it as a hireling. He sat in the same place as before, and the ocean again looked calm and smooth. "Ah!" says he, "deceitful, tempting element, in vain you try to en- gage me a second time ; my misfortunes have left me too poor to be again deluded the same way, and experience has made me so wise as to resolve, whatever my condition may be, never to trust thy faithless bosom more." The Application. — Bought wit is the best; and the more variety of disappointments we meet with, the greater will be our experience, and the better we shall be qualified to rub through the world. Man- kind have a strange propensity for things that are novel and untried ; and so strong a bias inclines them to shitting and changing, that every one disrelishes his own profession, and wishes he had been of some other employment. The young academic, assigned to the most grave of all professions, hates to think of his peculiar habit, or that formal, reserved deportment by which he is to separate himself from what he counts the pleasures of the world, and bid adieu to that irregularity which youth so much delights in. He longs for a commission m the army, that he may be fashionably licentious, and indulge himself, unquestioned, in the wonted sallies of a brisk, youthful appetite. In the meantime, the old soldier, harassed out with laborious campaigns abroad, and vexed with the slow returns of his half -pay at home, repines at the happy condition of the ecclesiastic fattening in ease and plenty and sleeping unmolested in one of the upper stalls of a cathedral. With remorse, he calls to mind his former perverseness in quitting a college life, and de- feating the purpose of his relations, who had purchased the next re- version of a fat benefice for him. He shakes his head, and reflects that if it had not been for his folly, instead of aching limbs and an 8 empty purse, he might have enjoyed as much leisure and luxury as any priest in the land. Thus, sometimes with, sometimes without, reason, we are disgusted at our station, and envy those who are embarked in another way; which, however it may seem to be a misfortune entailed upon us, yet carries this advantage with it, that, as we are almost sure of be- ing disappointed with a change, we are certain, likewise, of gaining some experience by the bargain and being wiser for the future. Tlie TiJvo Men and tlie Axe. Two men traveling upon the road, one of them saw an axe lying upon the ground, where somebody had been hewing timber; so, taking it up, says he, "I have found an axe." "Do not say /," says the other, "but we have found; for, as we are companions, we ought to share it between us." But the first would not consent. However, they had not gone far before the owner of the axe, hear- ing what had become of it, pursued them with a warrant, which the fellow that had it perceived. "Alas!'' says he to his com- panion, "we are undone." "Nay," says the other, "do not say we, but /am undone; for as you would not let me share the prize, neither will I share the danger with you." The Application. — This fable hints to us the conveniency, if not necessity, of making friendships firm and lasting. And to this pur- pose nothing is so requisite as a strict observance of the rules of honor and generosity ; for the very life and soul of friendship sub- sists upon mutual benevolence, upon conferring and receiving obli- gations on either hand. A stingy, reserved behavior starves it; it ought to be open, free, communicative, without suspicion or distrust. Nor is there anything merely chimerical or romantic in this no- tion; for, if we examine, we shall find that reason will confirm the truth, and experience evince the utility of it. He that hopes for assistance or accommodation in any exigency or time of misfortune, must lay in a provision for it by watching the necessities of his ac- quaintances, and relieving the most deserving of them in their straits by a ready and willing contribution. By this means, gratitude, which is never wanting to an honest mind, will secure us a reason- able fund in reversion; and all the favors we bestow will, like the tide of a river, in due season flow back upon us. Xlie Fox and tlie Flies. A fox was swimming across a river, and when he came to the other side he found the bank so steep and slippery that he could not get up it. But this was not all his misfortune; for while he stood in the water, deliberating what to do, he was attacked by a swarm of flies, who, settling upon his head and eyes, stung and plagued him grievously. A swallow, who was passing at the time, beheld and pitied his condition, and withal offered to drive away the flies which molested and teased him in that sad manner. "Friend," replies the fox, "I thank you for your kind offer, but must desire you by no means to disturb those honest bloodsuckers that arc quartered upon me, and whose bellies, I fancy, are pretty well filled; for if they should leave me, a fresh swarm would take their places, and I should not have a drop of blood left in my body." The Application. — This fable is recorded by Aristotle, who tells us that ^sop spoke it to the Samians as an argument to dis- suade them from deposing their great minister of state. And a shrewd and weighty one it is too. For a minister of state is either an honest, public-spirited man, and labors for the good of the com- monwealth, or he is chiefly intent, by all ways and means, upon fill- ing his own coffers and upon aggrandizing and enriching his rela- tions. Now, where the first happens, one need not say how much it behooves every one to wish for the continuance of so wise and good a patriot; but if he be one of the other stamp, we may con- sider that, like the flies in the fable, he is pretty near full, and if he were removed, would only make way for some other more hungry aspirant. The Ass Bating Thistles. An ass was loaded with good provisions of every sort, which, in time of harvest, he was carrying into the field for his master and the reapers to dine upon. By the way he met with a fine, large thistle, and, being very hungry, began to mumble it; and, while he was do- ing this, he entered into this reflection: "How many greedy epicures lO would think themselves happy amid such a variety of delicate viands as I now carry! But to me the prickly thistle is more savory and relishing than the most exquisite and sumptuous banquet." The Application. — Happiness and misery, and oftentimes pleas- ure and pain, exist merely in our opinion, and are no more to be ac- counted for than the differences in tastes. That which is one man's meat is another man's poison, is a proposition that ought to be al- lowed in all particulars where the opinion is concerned, as well as in eating and drinking. And yet how apt we are to wonder at peo- ple for not liking this or that, or how they can think so and so? This childish humor of wondering at the different tastes and opin- ions of others occasions much uneasiness among the generality of mankind. But if we consider things rightly, why should we be more concerned at others differing from us in their way of thinking upon any subject whatever than at their liking cheese or mustard, one or both of which we may happen to dislike? In truth, he that expects all mankind should be of his opinion is much more stupid and unreasonable than the asa in the fable. Xlie Trumpeter taken Pris- oner. A trumpeter, being taken prisoner in a battle, begged hard for quarter, declaring his innocence and protesting that he neither had nor could kill any man, bearing no arms but only his trumpet, which he was obliged to sound at the word of command. "For that reason," replied his enemies, "are we determined not to spare you; for though you yourself never fight, yet with that wicked in- strument of yours you blow up animosity between other people, and so are the occasion of much bloodshed." The Application. — A man may be guilty of murder who has never handled a sword or pulled a trigger, or lifted up his arm with any mischievous weapon. There is a little incendiary, called the tongue, which is more venomous than a poisoned arrow, and more killing than a two-edged sword. The moral of the fable therefore is this: that if in any civil insurrection the persons taken II in arms against the gover.iment deserve to die, much more do they whose devilish tongues gave birth to the sedition and excited the tu- mult. When wicked men, instead of preaching peace and charity, employ that engine of scandal, their tongues, to foment rebellions, whether they succeed in their designs or not, they ought to be severely punished, for they have done what in them lay to set folks together by the ears, and they have blown the trumpet and sounded the alarm, and if thousands are not destroyed by the sword it is none of their fault. Xlie Horse and tlie Loaded Ass. An idle horse and an ass laboring under a heavy burden were traveling the road together; they both belonged to a country fellow, who trudged it on foot by them. The ass, ready to faint under his heavy load, entreated the horse to assist him and lighten his burden by taking some of it upon his back. The horse was ill-natured, and refused to do it; upon which the poor ass tumbled down in the midst of the highway and expired in an instant. The countryman un girted his pack-saddle, and tried several ways to relieve him, but all to no purpose, which when he perceived he took the whole bur- den and laid it upon the horse, together with the skin cf the dead ass. So that the horse, by his moroseness in refusing to do a small kindness, justly brought upon himself a great inconvenience. The Application. — Self-love is no such ill principle, if it were but well and truly directed, for it is impossible that any man should love himself to any purpose who withdraws his assistance from his friends or the public. Every government is to be considered as a body politic, and every man who lives in it as a member^ef that body. Now, to carry on the allegory, no member can thrive better than when they all jointly unite their endeavors to a.-^^i^t and im- prove the whole. If the head were to refuse its assistance in pro- curing food for the mouth, they must both starve and perish to- gether. And when those who are parties concerned in the same community deny such assistance to each other as the preservation of that community necessarily requires, their self-interestedness in that case is ill directed, and will have a quite contrary effect from what 12 they intended. How many people are so senseless as to think it hard that there should be any taxes in the nation; whereas, were Ihere to be none indeed, those very people would be undone imme- diately. That little property they have would be presently plun- dered by foreign or domestic enemies, and then they would be glad to contribute their quota. The charges of supporting a government are necessary things, and easily supplied by a due and well-propor- tioned contribution. To be ready to assist our friends upon all occasions is not only good, as it is an act of humanity, but highly discreet, as it strength- ens our interests and gives us an opportunity of lightening the bur- den of life. Xlie Bees, tlie Urones, and tlie "Wasp. A parcel of drones got into a hive among the Bees, and disputed the title with them, swearing that the honey and the combs were their goods. The bees were obliged to go to law with them, and the wasp happened to be the judge of the cause; one who was well acquainted with the nature of each, and therefore the better quali- fied to decide the controversy between them. Accordingly, ' 'Gen- tlemen," says he (speaking to both plamtiff and defendant), "the usual methods of proceeding in these courts is pretty chargeable, and slow withal ; therefore, as you are both my friends, and I wish you well, I desire you would refer the matter to me, and I will de- cide between you instantly." They were both pleased with the of- fer, and returned him thanks. "Why, then," says he, "that it may appear who is the just proprietor of these honeycombs (for being both so nearly alike as you are in color, I must needs own the point is somewhat dubious), do you ," addressing himself to the bees, "take one hive; you," speaking to the drones, "another, and go to mak- ing honey as fast as you can, that we may know by the taste and color of it who has the best title to the dispute." The bees readily accepted the proposal, but the drones would not stand to it. And so Judge Wasp, without any further ceremony, declared in favor of the former. 13 The Application — Nothing is so sure a sign of a man's being, or at least thinking himself, in the wrong, as his refusing to come to a reference. And how happy would it be for the public, if our judges now-a-days were empowered to dispatch causes in that easy, expeditious way which the wasp in the fable made use of. Princes may easily be imposed upon if they will take every little fellow's word for the measure of his own merit. And it is indeed scarce possible that the encouragements of a court should always be dispensed to the most deserving men, for such are too modest to offer themselves. But it highly concerns any government, in the dispensaiion of its favors, to distinguish those who have behaved well, and not to let places of profit and advantage be run away with by drones. Caesar and tlie Slave. As Tiberius Caesar was upon a progress to Naples once, he put up at a house he had upon the mountain Misenus, which was built there by LucuUus, and commanded a near view of the Tuscan sea, hav- ing a distant prospect even of that of Sicily. Here, as he was walking in the gardens and wilderness of a most delightful verdure, one of his domestic slaves, which belonged to that house, putting himself into a most alert posture and dress, appeared in one of the walks where the Emperor happened to be, sprinkling the ground with a watering-pot, in order to lay the dust, and this he did so officiously, that he was taken notice of, and even laughed at ; for he ran through private alleys and turnings, from one walk to another, so that wherever the Emperor went, he still found this fellow mighty busy with his watering-pot. But at last, his design being discov- ered, — which was, that he fancied Csesar would be so touched with this diligence of his, as to make him free (part of which ceremony consisted in giving the slave a gentle stroke on one side of the face), — his imperial majesty being disposed to be merry, called upon him, and when the man came up, full of joyful expectation of his liberty, "Hark you, friend," says he, "I have observed that you have been very busy a great while; but it was impertinently busy, in officiously meddling where you had nothing to do, while you might have em- 14 ployed your time better elsewhere, and, therefore, I must be so free as to tell you that you have mistaken your man. I cannot afford a box of the ear at so low a price as you bid for it." The Application. — Phosdrus tells us, upon his word, that this is a true story, and that he wrote it for the sake of a set of indus- trious, idle gentlemen at Rome, who were harrassed and fatigued with a daily succession of care and trouble, because they had nothing to do; always in a hurry, but without business; busy, but to no purpose ; laboring under a voluntary necessity ; and taking abund- ance of pains to show they were good for nothing. Tt is not our be- ing busy and officious that will procure us the esteem of men of sense ; but the intending and contriving our actions to some useful purpose, and for the general good of mankind. ^sop at Play, An Athenian one day found .Esop at play with a company of lit- tle boys at their childish diversions, and began to jeer and laugh at him for it. The old fellow, who was too much of a wag himself, to suffer others to ridicule him, took a bow, unstrung, and laid it upon the ground. Then calling the censorious Athenian, "Now, philoso- pher," says he, "expound this riddle if you can, and tell us what the unstrained bow implies. " The man, after racking his brains, and scratching his pate about it a considerable time to no purpose, at last gave it up, and declared he knew not what to make of it. "Why," says yEsop, laughing, "if you keep a bow always bent, it will break presently; but if you let it go slack, it will be fitter for use when you want it." The Application. — The mind of man is like a bow, in this re- spect; for if it be kept always intent upon business, it will either break and be good for nothing, or lose that spring and energy which is required in one who would acquit himself with credit. But sports and diversions sooth and slacken it, and keep it in a condition to be exerted to the best advantage upon occasion. Amusements ought to be allowed because they are proper. We may, if we like it, as well play with children as men; and rather, if we find they can divert us better, which is not very seldom the case. 15 Jupiter and Pallas. Once upon a time, the heathen gods had a mind to adopt each a particular tree into their patronage and tuition. Jupiter chose the oak, Venus was pleased to name the myrtle, Apollo pitched upon the laurel, Cybele took the pine, and Hercules the poplar. Pallas being present, expressed her admiration at their fancy in making choice of trees that bore nothing. "Oh," says Jupiter, "the reason of that is plain enough, for we would not be thought to dispense our favors with any mercenary view." "You may do as you please," says she, "but let the olive be my tree; and I declare that my reason for choosing it is because it bears plenty of noble, useful fruit." Upon which the thunderer, putting on a serious, composed gravity, spoke thus to the goddess: "Indeed, daughter, it is not without jus- tice <^hat you are so celebrated for your wisdom; for, unless some benefit attends our actions, to perform them only for the sake of glory is but a silly business." The Application. — This fable is to put us in mind that we should intend something useful and beneficial in all our actions. To undertake things with no other view but that of empty glory, is em- ploying our time in a very foolish manner. The Almighty created the world out of his infinite goodness for the good of his creatures, and not out of a passion for glory. And when we talk of glorify- ing the Author cf our being, if we think reasonably, we must mean showing our gratitude to Him by imitating this goodness of His as far as we are able, and endeavoring to make some good or other the aim of all our undertakings. XHe Forester and the Lrion. A forester meeting with a lion one day, they discoursed together for a while without differing much in opinion. At last, a dispute happening to arise about the point of superiority between a man and a lion, the man, wanting a better argument, showed the lion a mar- ble monument, on which was placed the statue of a man striding over a vanquished lion. "If this," says the lion, "is all you have i6 to say for it, let us be the carvers, and we will make the lion strid- ing over the man." The Application. — Contending parties are very apt to appeal for the truth to records written by their own side ; but nothing is more unfair, Such is the partiality of mankind in favor of them- selves and their own actions, that it is almost impossible to come at any certainty by reading the accounts which are written on one side only. We have few or no memoirs come down to us of what was transacted m the world during the sovereignty of ancient Rome, but what were written by those who had a dependency upon it; there- fore it is no wonder that they appear, upon most occasions, to have been so great and glorious a nation. What their contemporaries of other countries thought of them we cannot tell, otherwise than from their own writers; it is not impossible but that they might have de- scribed them as a barbarous, rapacious, treacherous, unpolile peo- ple, who, upon their conquest of Greece, for some time, made a great havoc and destruction of the arts and sciences, as their fellow- plunderers, the Goths and Vandals, did afterwards in Italy. What monsters would our own party-zealots make of each other, if the transactions of the times were to be handed down to posterity by a warm-hearted man on either side! And were such records to sur- vive two or three centuries, with what perplexities and difficul- ties must they embarrass a young historian, as by turns he con- sulted them for the characters of his great forefathers! If it should so happen, it were to be wished this application might be living at the same time; that young readers, instead of doubting to which they should give their credit, would not fail to remember, that this was the work of a man, that of a lion. The Lynx and tlie Mole. Once, by chance, a lynx in his rambles met with a mole. The lynx, pleased with the various beauties of nature as seen by his penetrating eye, solicited the mole to participate with him in view- ing the delightful prospect from a rising ground. The mole, who had just left his hole in the earth, consented to accompany him. When they came in sight of the distant country, "See," said the lynx, "how charming is the view before us! Behold the bright sun, that seems to give life everywhere and makes all 17 things rejoice!" "Well, well," said the mole, "I do not know what you may see; but, for my part, there seems only a heavy mist before me." "Now," said the lynx, "I clearly perceive the difference there is between us: your dull senses perceive little or nothing, while I re- ceive both information and delight. You are no fit companion for one who by alchemy of mind can generate jewels, and whose keen eye can pierce objects the most opaque. Go you back again to your dark abode ia the earth, while I shall range the forest; for to such as have the power of perception, the treasures of nature are every- where teeming with knowledge and with pleasure." The Application.— This fable seems to carry its moral in itself, so that little more remains to be said upon it. Certain it is, that if the very same thing be shown to two persons of different degrees of mtellect, or of different dispositions, their perceptions of it will as widely differ from each other as if they had seen two different things: One views it with apathy and without interest, the other sees it with delight, still heightened by a lively imagination, which brings a thousand associated pleasures in its train ; and thus, while to the one It seems as if deprived even of its own beauties, to the other it IS decked out in borrowed splendor. From this cause proceeds that vast difference of opinions which we often hear given by different persons concerning the same object. The dull perceive but half of what IS shown them, while the genius sees all its excellences refined and magnified. The l^ood and tlie Clown, A country fellow came one day into the wood, and looked about him with some concern ; upon which the trees, with a curiosity nat- ural to some other creatures, asked him what he wanted. He re- plied that he wanted only a piece of wood to make a handle to his hatchet. Since that was all, it was voted unanimously that he should have a piece of good, sound, tough ash. But he had no sooner received and fitted it for his purpose, than he began to lay about him unmercifully, and to hack and hew without distinction, felling the noblest trees in all the forest. Then the oak is said to have i8 spoken thus to the Beech, in a low whisper," "Brother, we must take it for our pains." The Application. — No people are more justly liable to suffer than those who furnish their ^enemies with any kind of assistance. It is generous to forgive, it is enjoined on us by religion to love our enemies; but he that trusts, much more contribute to the strengthen- ing and arming of an enemy, may almost depend upon repenting him of his inadvertent benevolence; and has, moreover, this to add to his distress: That when he might liave prevented it, he brought his misfortunes upon himself by his own credulity. Any person in a community, by what name or title soever distin- guished, who affects a power which may possibly hurt the people, is an enemy to that people, and therefore they ought not to trust him; for though he were ever so fully determined not to abuse such a power, yet he is so far a bad man, and as he disturbs the people's quiet, and makes them jealous and uneasy, by desiring to have it, or even retaining it, when it may prove mischievous. If we consult history, we shall find that the thing called prerogative, has been claimed and contended for chiefly by those who never intended to make a good use of it; and as readily resigned and thrown up by just and wise princes, who had the true interest of their people at heart. How like senseless stocks do they act, who, by compliment- ing some capricious mortal, from time to time, with parcels of pre- rogative, at last put it out of their power to defend and maintain themselves in their just and natural liberty. Xlie Deer and tlie Lrioti. A deer being hard pursued by the hounds, found a cave, into which he rushed for security. But he was no sooner got in, than he saw him- self in the power of a lion, who lay crouched at the farthest end of the cave, and sprung upon him in an instant. Being at the point of death, he complained thus: "Unhappy creature that I am! I en- tered this cave to escape the pursuit of men and dogs, and am fal- len into the jaws of the most cruel and rapacious of all wild beasts." The Application. — Some are so unfortunate as to be ever run- ning into troubles and difficulties; their ill-luck seems to ride them through a series of misfortunes, and, in the meantime, like stumbl- ing horses, the more they are spurred, the oftener they flounce along 19 in the dirt, and the more trips they make. But, as much of this may be attributed to fear and hurry, which, whenever they take place, indispose and hinder us from acquitting ourselves as we should do; it is therefore highly necessary for such as would be thought to behave themselves like men, never to let fear have any share in their words or actions. This passion blinds us from dis- cerning our true interest; it no sooner points out an evil to us, but it throws us into the utmost confusion, in our manner and method of flying from it. We start from the present mischief, before we have fetched upon a place of refuge; and, in the hurry, fall into a thousand worse accidents, which we have not time to observe and avoid. Xlie Fox and tlie Boar. The boar stood whetting his tusks against an old tree. The fox, who happened to come by at the same time, asked him why he made those martial preparations of whetting his teeth, since there was no enemy near, that he could perceive. "That may be, master Reynard," said the boar, "but we should scour up our arms while we have leisure, you know; for in time of danger we shall have something else to do." The Application. — He that is not idle, when he is at leisure, may play with his business. A discreet man should have a reserve of everything that is necessary beforehand, that when the time comes for him to make use of them, he may not be in a hurry and con- fusion. A wise general has not his men to discipline, or his amuni- tion to provide, when the trumpet sounds, "To arms," but sets apart his times of exercise for one, and his magazines for the other, in the calm season of peace. We hope to live to a good old age ; should we not then lay up a store of conveniences against that time, when we shall be most in want of them, and least able to procure them? We must die, nay, never start, we must. Are there not some necessary things for us to transact before we depart; at least some trifle or other for us to bequeath, which a sudden stroke may pre- vent us from doing? Sure there is. And if so, how inexcusable shall we be, if we defer the execution of it until the alarm comes uoon us. 20 The YiTind and tlie Sun. A dispute once arose between the north wind and the sun, about the superiority of their power; and they agreed to try their strength upon a traveler, which should be able to get his cloak off first. The north wind began and blew a very cold blast, accompanied with a sharp, driving shower. But this, and whatever else he could do, instead of making the man quit his cloak, obliged him to gird it about his body as close as possible. Next came the sun, and breaking out from a thick, watery cloud, drove away the cold vapors from the sky, and darted his warm, sultry beams upon the head of the poor, weather-beaten traveler. The man grows faint with the heat, and, unable to endure it any longer, first throws off his heavy cloak, and then flies for protection to the shades of a neighboring grove. The Application. — There is something in the nature of men so averse to severe and boisterous treatment, that he who endeavors to carry his point that way, instead of prevailing, generally leaves the mind of him whom he has thus attempted, in a more confirmed and obstinate situation than he found it at first. Bitter words and hard usage freeze the heart into a kind of obduracy, which mild, per- suasive, and gentle language only can dissolve and soften. Persecu- tion has always fixed and rivited those opinions which it was in- tended to dispel, and some discerning men have attributed the quick growth of Christianity, in a great measure, to the rough and bar- barous reception which its first teachers met within the world. The same may have been observed of the Reformation; the blood of the martyrs was the manure which produced the Protestant crop, on which the Reformed Church has subsisted ever since. Providence, which always makes use of the most natural means to attain its pur- poses, has thought fit to establish the purest religion by this method; the consideration of which may give a proper check to those who are continually endeavoring to root out errors by that very manage- ment, which so infallibly fixes and implants all opinions, as well erroneous or orthodox. When an opinion is so violently attacked, it makes the persecuted party think that worth defending, which, perhaps, they would only have admired awhile, and then resigned of their own accord. In short, a fierce, turbulent opposition, like the north wind, only serves to make a man wrap his notions more closely about him; but we know not what a kind, warm, sunshiny behavior, rightly applied, would not be able to effect. 21 Xlie Mountain in Labor. The mountain was said to be in labor, and uttered most dreadful groans. The people came together, far and near, to see what birth would be produced ; and after they had waited a considerable time in expectation, out crept a mouse. The Application. — "Great cry and little wool," is the English proverb, the scene of which bears an exact proportion to this fable. By which are exposed all those who promise something exceeding great, but come off with a production ridiculously litJ.le. Projectors of all kinds who endeavor, by artificial rumors, to raise the expec- tations of mankind, and then by their mean performances defeat and disappoint them, have, time out of mind, been lashed with the lecital of this fable. How agreeably surprising it is to see an un- promising favorite, whom the caprice of fortune has placed at the helm of State, serving the Commonwealth with justice and integ- rity, instead of smothering and embezzling the public treasure to his own private and wicked ends! And on the contrary, how melancholy, how dreadful, or rather, how exasperating and provok- ing a sight is it, to behold one whose constant declaration for lib- erty and the public good have raised people's expectations of him to the highest pitch , as soon as he is got into power , exerting his whole art and cunning to ruin and enslave his country! The sanguine hopes of all those that wished well to virtue, and flattered themselves with a reformation of everything that opposed the well-being of the community, vanish away in smoke, and are lost in the dark, gloomy, uncomfortable urospect. Xlie Lion and tlie Mouse. A lion, faint with heat and weary with hunting, was laid down to take his repose under the spreading boughs of a shady oak. It happened that while he slept, a company of scrambling mice ran over his back and waked him. Upon which , starting up, he clapped his claw upon one of them, and was just going to put it to death, when the little suppliant implored his mercy in a very moving man- ner, begging him not to stain his noble character with the blood of so despicable and small a beast. The lion, considering the matter, thought proper to do as he was desired, and immediately released 22 his little, trembling prisoner. Not long after, traversing the forest in pursuit of prey, he chanced to run into the toils of the hunters, and not able to disengage himself, he set up a most hideous and loud roar. The mouse hearing the voice, and knowing it to be the lion's, immediately repaired to the place, and bid him fear nothing, for that he was his friend. Then straight he fell to work, and with his little, sharp teeth gnawing asunder the knots and fastenings of the toils, set the royal brute at liberty. The Application. — This fable gives us to understand, that there is no person in the world so little, but even the greatest may, at some time or other, stand in need of his assistance; and consequently that it is good to use clemency, where there is any room for it, tow- ards those who fall in our power. A generosity of this kind is a handsome virtue, and looks very graceful whenever it is exerted, if there were nothing else in it; but as the lowest people in life may, upon occasion, have it in their power either to serve or hurt us, that makes it our duty, in point of common interest, to behave our- selves with good-nature and lenity towards all with whom we have to do. Then the gratitude of the mouse, and his readiness, not only to repay, but even to exceed the obligation due to his benefac- tor, notwithstanding his little body, gives us a specimen of a great soul, which is never so much delighted as with an opportunity of showing how sensible it is of favors received. The Hart and tlie Vine. A hart, being pursued hard by the hunters, hid himself under the broad leaves of a shady, spreading vine. When the hunters were gone by, and had given him over for lost, he, thinking himself very secure, began to crop and eat the leaves of the vine. By this means the branches being put into a rustling motion, drew the eyes of the hunters that way; who, seeing the vine stir, and fancying some wild beast had taken covert there, shot their arrows at a venture, and killed the hart, who, before he expired, uttered his dying words to this purpose: "Ah! I suffer justly for my ingratitude, who could not forbear doing an injury to the vine, that so kindly con- cealed me in time of danger." 23 The Application. — Ingratitude has been always esteemed the greatest of crimes, and what, as it were, comprehends all other vices within it; for he that is capable of injuring his benefactor, what will he scruple towards another? If his conscience cannot be felt with the weight of an obligation added to it, much less will it have any influence where there is none. So that we may conclude that the man who has been guilty of ingratitude, will not stick at other crimes. Since there is no human law to punish this mischief, it would be a great piece of human prudence to mark and observe this kind of criminals, in order to avoid all manner of communica- tion with them. And if this were strictly put in execution, it could be looked upon as no other than a just and proper punishment. The Proud Frog. An ox, grazing in a meadow, chanced to set a foot among a par- cel of young frogs, and trod one of them to death. The rest in- formed their mother when she came home, what had happened, tell- ing her that the beast which did it was the hugest creature that ever they saw in their lives. "What, was it so big?" says the old frog, swelling and blowing up her speckled belly to a great degree. "Oh, bigger by a vast deal," say they. "And so big?" says she, straining herself yet more. "Indeed, mamma," say they, "if you were to burst yourself, you would never be so big." She strove yet again, and burst herself indeed. The Application. — Whenever a man endeavors to live equal with one of a greater fortune than himself, he is sure to share a like fate with the frog in the fable. How many vain people, of moderate, easy circumstances, burst and come to nothing, by vieing with those whose estates are more ample than their own? Sir Changeling Clumstock was possessed of a very considerable estate, devolved to him by the death of an old uncle, who had adopted him as heir. He had a false taste for happiness; and without the least economy, trusting to the sufficiency of his vast revenue, was resolved to be out-done by nobody, in showing grandeur and expensive living. He gave five thousand pounds for a piece of ground in the country, to set a house upon; the building and furniture of which cost fifty thousand pounds more; and his gardens were proportionately magnificent. Besides which, he thought himself under a necessity 24 of buying out two or three tenements which stood in his neighbor- hood, that he might have elbow-room enough. All this he could very well bear, and still might have been happy, had it not been for an unfortunate view which he one day happened to take of my lord Castlebuilder's gardens, which consist of twenty acres, whereas his own were not above twelve. From that time he grew pensive; and before the ensuing Winter gave five and thirty years' purchase for a dozen acres more to enlarge his gardens, built a couple of ex- orbitant green-houses, and a large pavilion at the farther end of a terrace-walk. The bare repairs and superintendencies of all which, call for the remaining part of his income. He is mortgaged pretty deep, pays nobody, and resides at a cheap private lodging. The Magpie and tlie Owl. A pert, conceited magpie was boasting of his own excellence to the owl, saying how much he was superior to all the others of his family. When the sagacious owl thus answered him: "I shall not attempt to argue with you on your superior excellence, when compared with the rest of your family, only I must observe, that we are rarely the most unbiased judges of our own merits; but the great secret towards ac- quiring a competent knowledge of one's self is best found by a criti- cal and impartial view of the most conspicuous qualities of our nearest of kin, and then return to make a strict examination into ourselves, to discover if there is not some slight tincture at least of a family similitude in respect to those propensities which we so often can distinctly descry and despise in those very nearly allied to us by nature." The Application. — The aphorism of "nosce te ipsum" (know thyself) is soon spoken; but then it is a long while in accomplish- ing. Gratian was placed among the seven wise men for having been the author of this maxim: "But never," replies the sage, "was any one placed there for having performed it; some men know as little of themselves as they know a great deal of other men." The fool knows belter what is done in his neighbor's house than in his own; and some argue more about what does not concern them than of what should interest them in the highest degree. 25 The Peacocfs Complaint. The peacock presented a memorial to Juno, importing how hardly he thought he was used in not having as good a voice as the night- ingale; how that pretty animal was agreeable to every ear that heard it, while he was laughed at for his ugly, screaming noise, if he did but open his mouth. The goddess, concerned at the uneasi- ness of her favorite bird, answered very kindly, to this purpose: *']f the nightingale is blest with a fine voice, you have the advan- tage in point of beauty and largeness of person." "Ah!" says he, "but what avails my silent, unmeaning beauty, when I am so far excelled in voice!" Thef goddess dismissed him, bidding him con- sider, that the properties of every creature were appointed by the degree of fate: To him beauty; strength to the eagle; to the nightingale a voice of melody; the faculty cf speech to the parrot; and to the dove innocence. That each of these was contented with his own peculiar quality ; and unless he had a mind to be miserable, he must learn to be so too. The Application.— Since all things (as Juno says) are fixed by the eternal and unalterable decree of fate, how absurd is it to hear people complaining and tormenting themselves for that which it L impossible ever to obtain! they who are ambitious of having more good qualities, since that is impracticable, should spare no pains to cultivate and recommend those they have; which a sourness and peevishness of temper, instead of improving, will certainly lessen and impair, whether they are of the mind or body; if we had all the desirable properties in the world, we could be no more than easy and contented with them; and if a man by a right way of thinking, can reconcile himself to his own condition, whatever it be, he will fall little short of the most complete state that mortals enjoy. The Fox and the Ape. Once upon a time, the beasts were so void of reason as to choose the ape for their king. He had danced and diverted them with playing antic tricks, and truly nothing would serve, but they must 26 anoint him their sovereign. Accordingly, crowned he was, and affected to look very wise and polite. But the fox, vexed at his heart to see his fellow-brutes act so foolishly, was resolved, the first opportunity, to convince them of their sorry choice, and punish their jackanape of a king for his presumption. Soon after, spying a trap in a ditch, which was bailed with a piece of flesh, he went and informed the ape of it, as a treasure which, being found upon the waste, belonged to his majesty only. The ape, dreaming nothing of the matter, went very briskly to take possession, but had no sooner laid his paws upon the bait, than he was caught in the trap; where, betwixt shame and anger, he began to reproach the fox, called him rebel and traitor, and threatened to be revenged of him; at all which reynard laughed heartily; and going ofi", added with a sneer, " You a king, and not understand trap !" The Application. — A weak man should not aspire to be a king; for if he were, in the end, it would prove as inconvenient to himself as disadvantageous to the public. To be qualified for such an office, an office of the last importance to mankind, the person should be of distinguished prudence, and most unblemished integrity, too honest to impose upon others, and too penetrating to be imposed upon; thoroughly acquainted with the laws and genius of the realm he is to govern; brave, but not passionate; good-natured, but not soft; aspiring at just esteem; despising vain-glory; without superstition; without hypocrisy. When thrones have been filled by people of a different turn from this, histories show what a wretched figure they always made; what tools they were to particular persons, and what plagues to their sub- jects in general. XHe Fox and tlie Cra^w* A crow having taken a piece of cheese out of a cottage window, flew up into a high tree with it, in order to eat it. Which a fox observing, came and sat underneath, and began to compliment the crow upon the subject of her beauty, "I protest," says he, "I never observed it before, but your feathers are of a more delicate white than any that I ever saw in my life. Ah ! what a fine shape and graceful turn of body is there. And I make no question but ^1 you have a tolerable voice. If it is but as fine as your complexion, I do not know a bird that can pretend to stand in competition with you." The crow, tickled with this very civil language, nestled and wriggled about, and hardly knew where she was; but thinking the fox a little dubious as to the particular of her voice, and hav- ing a mind to set him right in that matter, began to sing, and in the same instant, let the cheese drop out of her mouth. This being what the fox wanted, he chopped it up in a moment, and trotted away, laughing to himself at the easy credulity of the crow. The Application. — They that love flattery (as it is to be feared too many do), are in a fair way to repent of their foible at the long run. And yet how few are there among the whole race of mankind, who may be said to be full proof against its attacks ! How many are tickled to the last degree with the pleasure of flattery, even while they are applauded for their honest detestation of it? there is no way to baffle the force of this engine, but by every one's examin- ing impartially for himself the true estimate of his own qualities: if he deals sincerely in the matter, nobody can tell so well as himself, what degree of esteem ought to attend any of his actions; and there- fore he should be entirely easy as to the opinion men are like to have of them in the world. If they attribute more to him than his due, they are either designing or mistaken; if they allow him less, they are envious, or possibly, still mistaken; and, in either case, are to be despised, or disregarded. For he that flatters without design- ing to make advantage of it, is a fool: and whoever encourages that flattery which he has sense enough to see through, is a vain cox- comb. The Lrion in Love. The lion, by chance, saw a fair maid, the forester's daughter, as she was tripping over a lawn, and fell in love with her. Nay, so violent was his passion, that he could not live unless he made her his own ; so that, without any more delay, he broke his mind to the father, and demanded the damsel for his wife. The man, as odd as the proposal seemed at first, yet soon recollected that by complying he might get the lion into his power, but by refusing him, should only exasperate and provoke his rage. Therefore he consented, but 28 told him it must be upon these conditions: that, considering the girl was young and tender, he must agree to let his teeth be plucked out, and his claws cut off, lest he should hurt her, or at least frighten her with the apprehensions of them. The lion was too much in love to hesitate ; but was no sooner deprived of his teeth and claws, than the treacherous forester attacked him with a huge club, and knocked his brains out. The Application. — Of all the ill consequences that may attend that blind passion, love, seldom may prove so fatal as that one, of its drawing people into a sudden and ill-concerted marriage. They commit a rash action in the midst of a fit of madness, of which, as soon as they come to themselves, they may find reason to repent as long as they live. Many an unthinking young fellow has been treated as much like a savage, in this respect, as the lion in the fable. He has, perhaps, had nothing valuable belonging to him but his estate, and the writings which make his title to it; and, if he is so far cap- tivated as to be persuaded to part with these, his teeth and his claws are gone, and he lies entirely at the mercy of madam and her relations. All the favor he is to expect after this is from the acci- dental goodness of the family he falls into; which, if it happen to be of a particular strain, will not fail to keep him in a distant sub- jection, after they have stripped him of all his power. Nothing but a true friendship, and a mutual interest, can keep up reciprocal love between the conjugal pair, and when that is wanting, and nothing but contempt and aversion remain to supply the place, matrimony becomes a downright state of enmity and hostility: and what a miserable case he must be in, who has put himself and his whole power into the hands of his enemy, let those consider, who, while they are in their sober senses, abhor the thoughts of being betrayed into their ruin, by following the impulse of a blind unheeding pas- sion. The Croiwr and tlie Pitclier. A crow, ready to die with thirst, flew with joy to a pitcher, which he beheld at some distance. When he came he found water in it indeed, but so near the bottom, that, with all his stooping and strain- ing, he was not able to reach it. Then he endeavored to overturn the pitcher, that so at last he might be able to get a little of it. But 29 his strength was not sufficient for this. At last, seeing some pebbles near the place, he cast them one by one into the pitcher, and thus, by degrees, raised the water up to the brim, and satisfied his thirst. The Application.— Many things which cannot be effected by strength, or by the usual way , may yet be brought about by some new and untried means. A man of segacity and penetration, upon en- countering a difficulty or two, does not immediately despau"; but if he cannot succeed one way, employs his wit and ingenuity another, and to avoid or get over an impediment, makes no scruple of stepping out of the path of his forefathers. Since our happiness, next to the regulation of our minds, depends altogether upon our having and enjoying the conveniences of life, why should we stand upon cere- mony about the methods of obtaining them, or pay any deference to antiquity upon that score ? If almost every age had not exerted itself in some new improvements, of its own, we should want a thousand arts, or, at least, many degrees of perfection in every art, which at present we are in possession of. The invention of any thing which is more commodious for the mind or body than what they had before, ought to be embraced readily, and the projector of it distinguished with a suitable encouragement. When we follow the steps of those who have gone before us in the old, beaten track of life, how do we differ from horses in a team, which are linked to each other by a chain of harness, and move on in a dull, heavy pace, to the tune of their leader's bells? But the man who enriches the present fund of knowledge with some new and useful improvement, like a happy adventurer at sea, discovers, as it were, an unknown land, and imports an additional trade into his own country. Hercules and tlie Carter. As a clownish fellow was driving his cart along a deep, miry lane, the wheels stuck so fast in the clay that the horses could not draw them out. Upon this he fell a bawling and praying to Hercules to come and help him. Hercules, looking down from a cloud, bid him not lie there like an idle rascal as he was, but get up and whip his horses stoutly, and clap his shoulder to the wheel, adding that this was the only way for him to obtain his assistance. The Application.— This fable shows us how vain and ill-ground- ed the expectations of those people are, who imagine they can obtain 30 whatever they want by importuning Heaven with their prayers; for it is so agreeable to the nature of the Divine Being, to be better pleased with virtuous actions and an honest industry than idle prayers, that it is a sort of blasphemy to say otherwise. We please God most when we are doing the most good; ond how can we do more good than by a sober, honest industry to provide for our house- hold, and endeavor to have to give to him that needeth. The man who is virtuously and honestly engaged, is actually serving God all the while; and is more likely to have his silent wishes, accompanied with strenuous endeavors, complied with by the Sapreme Being, than one who begs with a fruitless vehemence, and solicits with an empty hand: a hand which would be more religious were it usefully employed, and more devout were it stretched forth to do good to those that want it. Xlie Oak and tlie Reed. An oak, which hung over the bank of a river, was blown down by a violent storm of wind ; and as it was carried along by the stream, some of its boughs brushed against a reed, whick grew near the shore. This struck the oak with a thought of admiration; and he could not forbear asking the reed, how he came to stand so secure and unhurt in a tempest, which had been furious enough to tear an oak up by the roots? "Why," says the reed, "I secure myself by putting on a behavior quite contrary to what you do. Instead of being stubborn and stiff, and confiding in my strength, I yield and bend to the blast, and let it go over me, knowing how vain and fruitless it would be to resist it." The Application. — Though a tame submission to injuries, which it is in our power to redress, be generally esteemed a base and dishon- orable thing; yet to resist where there is no probability, or even hopes of our getting the better, may also be looked upon as the effect of a blind temerity, and perhaps of a weak understanding. The strokes of fortune are oftentimes as irresistible as they are severe; and he who with an impatient, reluctant spirit, fights against her, instead of alleviating, does but double her blows upon himself. A person of a quiet, still temper, whether it is given him by nature, or acquired by art, calmly reposes himself in the midst of a storm so as to elude the shock, or receive it with the least detriment; like a prudent, experi- enced sailor, who is swimming to the shore from a wrecked vessel 31 in a swelling sea, he does not oppose the fury of the waves; but stoops and gives way, that they may roll over his head without obstruction. The doctrine of absolute submission in all cases, is an absurd, dogmatical precept, with nothing but ignorance and super- stition to support it; but, upon particular occasions, and where it is impossible for us to overcome, to submit patiently is one of the most reasonable maxims in life. The Old Man and Death. A poor, feeble old man, who had crawled out into a neighboring wood to gather a few sticks, had made up his bundle, and laying it over his shoulders, was trudging homeward with it; but, what with age, and the length of the way, and the weight of his burden, he grew so faint and weak that he sank under it, and, as he sat on the ground, called upon death to come, once for all, and ease him of his troubles. Death no sooner heard him, but he came and de- manded of him what he wanted. The poor old creature, who little thought death had been so near, and frightened almost out of his senses with his terrible aspect, answered him, trembling, that having by chance let his bundle of sticks fall, and being too infirm to get it up himself; he had made bold to call upon him to help him ; that indeed this was all he wanted at present, and that he hoped his worship was not offended with him for the liberty he had taken in so doing. The Application, — This fable gives us a lively representation of the general behavior of mankind towards that grim king of terrors, death. Such liberties do they take with him behind his back, that, upon every little cross accident which happens in their way, death is immediately called upon; and they even wish it might be lawful for them to finish by their own hands a life so odious, so perpetually tormenting and vexatious. When, let but death only offer to make his appearance, and the very sense of his near approach almost does the business. Oh, then all they want is a little longer life; and they would be glad to come off so well, as to have their old burden laid upon their shoulders again. One may well conclude what an utter aversion they, who in youth, health, and vigor of body, have to dying, when age, poverty, and wretchedness, are not sufficient to reconcile us to the thought. 32 Xlie Mouse and tlie Weasel. A little, starved, thin rogue of a mouse, had, with much pushing and application, made his way through a small hole into a corn- basket, where he stuffed and crammed so plentifully, that when he would have retired the way he came, he found himself too plump, with all his endeavors, to accomplish it. A weasel, who stood at some distance, and had been diverting himself with beholding the vain efforts of the little, fat thing, called to him and said: " Hark ye, honest friend, if you have a mind to make your escape, there is but one way for it: contrive to grow as poor and as lean as you were when you entered, and then, perhaps you may get off." The Application. — They who, from a poor, mean condition, in- sinuate themselves into a good estate, are not always the most happy. There is, many times, a quiet and content attending a low life, to which a rich man is an utter stranger. Riches and cares are almost inseparable; and whoever would get rid of the one, must content himself to be divested of the other. He that has been acquainted with the sweets of life, free from the incumbrance of wealth, and longs to enjoy them again, must strip himself of that incumbrance, if ever he means to attain his wishes. Some, from creeping inlo the lowest station of life, have, in pro- cess of time, filled the greatest places in it; and grown so bulky by pursuing their insatiate appetite after money, that when they would have retired, they found themselves too opulent and full to get off. There has been no expedient for them to creep out, till they were squeezed and reduced, in some measure, to their primitive littleness. They that fill themselves with that which is the property of others, should always be so served before they are suffered to escape. The Lark and Her Young Ones. A lark, who had young ones in a field of corn which was almost ripe, was under some fears lest the reapers should come to reap it before the young brood were fledged, and able to remove from the place ; wherefore, upon flying abroad to look for food, she left this charge with them: That they should take notice what they heard 3Z talked of in her absence, and tell her of it when she came back again. When she was gone, they heard the owner of the corn call to his son. " Well," says he, " I think this corn is ripe enough; I would have you go early to-morrow, and desire our friends and neighbors to come and help us to reap it." When the old lark came home, the young ones fell a quivering and chirping round her, and told her what had happened, begging her to remove them as fast as she could. The mother bid them be easy. "For," says she, "if the owner depends upon friends and neighbors, I am pretty sure the corn will not be reaped to-morrow." Next day she went out again upon the same occasion, and left the same orders with them as before. The owner came and stayed, expecting those he had sent to; but the sun grew hot, and nothing was done, fornot a soul came to help him. Then says he to his son, " I perceive these friends of ours are not to be depended upon, so that you must even go to your uncles and cousins, and tell them I desire they would be here be- times to-morrow morning to help us reap." W^ell, this the young ones, in a great fright, also reported to their mother. " If that be all," says she, "do not be frightened, children, for kindred and relations are not usually so very forward to serve one another; but take particular notice what you hear said next time, and be sure you let me know it." She went abroad the next day as usual; and the owner finding his relations as slack as the rest of his neighbors, said to his son, " Hark ye, George, do you get a couple of good sickles ready against to-morrow morning, and we will even reap the corn ourselves." When the young ones told their mother this, " Then," says she, " we must be gone indeed; for, when a man undertakes to do his business himself, it is not so likely that he will be disap- pointed." So she moved her young ones immediately, and the com was reaped the next day by the good man and his son. The Application. — Never depend upon the assistance of friends and relations in anything which you are able to do yourself, for noth- ing is more fickle and uncertain. The man who relies upon another for the execution of any affair of importance, is not only kept in a wretched and slavish suspense, while he expects the issue of the matter, but generally meets with a disappointment. While he who lays the chief stress of the business upon himself, and depends, upon his own industry and attention for the success of his affairs, is in the 34 fairest way to attain his end ; and if at last he should miscarry, has this to comfort him, that it was not through his own negligence, and a vain expectation of the assistance of friends. To stand by our- selves as much as possible, to exert our own strength and vigilance in the prosecution of our affairs, is godlike, being the result of a most noble and highly exalted reason ; but they who procrastinate and defer the business of life by an idle dependence upon others, in things which it is in their own power to effect, sink down into a kind of stupid, abject slavery, and show themselves unworthy of the talents with which human nature is dignified. The Man and tlie IJVeasel. A man had caught a weasel, and was just going to kill it. The poor creature, to escape death, cried out in a pitiful manner, "Ob, pray do not kill me, for I am useful to you, and keep your house clear from mice." "Why, truly," says the man, "if I thought you did it purely out of love for me, I should not only be inclined to pardon you, but think myself mightily obliged to you. But whereas you do not only kill them, but yourself do the same mischief they would do, in eating and gnawing my victuals, I desire you would place your insignificant services to some other account, and not to mine." Having said this, he took the wicked vermin, and strangled it immediately. The Application. — This fable is pointed at those who are apt to impute aciions which are done with a private view of their own, to their zeal for the public. This is the case of many a poor Grub- street writer; who, perhaps, is for no party but himself, and of no principle but what is subservient to his own interest: yet has the im- pudence to cry himself up for a quondam confessor of the cause that happens to flourish, a thorough honest man, who durst show him- self in the worst of times. And with this politic view, there are a hundred thousand men in the nation, well attached to which party you please, who are serving the interest of that side only, in their several capacities. By this way of working, they have a double advantage: first, as they procure to themselves a good number of constant customers of the same faction; and secondly, as they are entitled to some remote share in the government whenever their 35 faction succeeds. But such a pretence to favors is, in truth, little better than that of the weasel. Both may chance to have done the services they boast of; but as they Were principally Intended for the promotion of their own private affairs, whatever they might occasion- ally produce, cannot be a sufficient ground for them to raise any merit upon. A highwayman may as well plead in his own behalf, that he never robbed any but those who were enemies to the govern- ment, and men of unsound principles. But how absurd would such a pretence be ! The Stag and tlie Ox-stall, A stag, roused out of his thick cover in the midst of the forest, and driven hard by the hounds, made towards a farm-house, and seeing the door of an ox-stall open, entered therein, and hid himself under a heap cf straw. One of the oxen, turning his head about, asked him what he meant by venturing himself in such a place as that was, where he was sure to meet with his doom, "Ah !" says the stag, if you will be so good as to favor me with your concealment, I hope I shall do well enough ; I intend to make off again the first oppor- tunity." Well, he staid there till towards night; in came the ox-man with a bundle of fodder, and never saw him. In short, all the ser- vants of the farm came and went, and not a soul of them smelt any- thing of the matter. Nay, the bailiff himself came and looked in, but walked away no wiser than the rest. Upon this the stag, ready to jump out of his skin for joy, began to return thanks to the good- natured oxen, protesting that they were the most obliging people he had ever met with in his life. After he had done his compliments, one of them answered him gravely: "Indeed, we desire nothing more than to have it in our power to contribute to your escape; but there is a certain person you little think of, who has a hundred eyes; if he should happen to come, I would not give this straw for your life." In the interim, home comes the master himself, from a neigh- bor's, where he had been invited to dinner; and, because he had ob- served the cattle to look but scurvily of late, he went up to the rack, and asked why they did not give them more fodder; then, casting . his eyes downwards,, " hey day," says he, " why so sparing of your 36 litter? pray scatter a little more here. And these cobwebs — but 1 have spoken so often, that unless I do it myself—" Thus, as he went on, prying into everything, he chanced to look where the stag's horns lay sticking out of the straw; upon which, he raised a hue and cry, calling all his people about him, killed the poor slag, and made a prize of him. The Application.— The moral of this fable is, that nobody looks after a man's affairs so well as himself. Servants being but hirelings, seldom have the true interest of their master at heart, but let things run on m a negligent, constant disorder; and this, gener- ally, not so much for want of capacity as honesty. Their heads are taken up with the cultivation of their own private interest; for the service and promotion of which, that of their master is postponed, and often entirely neglected. Few families are reduced to poverty and distress, merely by their own extravagance and indulgence in luxury ; the inattention of ser- vants swells every article of expense m domestic economy, and the retinue of great men, instead of exerting their industry to conduce as far as possible to the increase of their master's wealth, commonly exercise no other office than that of locusts and caterpillars to con- sume and devour it. Xlie Cag^le and tlie Beetle. A hare, being pursued by an eagle, betook himself for refuge to the nest of a beetle, whom he entreated to save him. The beetle, therefore, interceded with the eagle, begging of him not to kill the poor suppliant, and conjuring him, by mighty Jupiter, not to slight his intercession, and break the laws of hospitality because he was so small an animal. But the eagle, in Avrath, gave the beetle a flap with his wing, and straightway seized upon the hare and devoured him. When the eagle flew away, the beetle flew after him, to learn where his nest was, and getting into it, he rolled the eagle's eggs out of it, one by one, and broke them. The eagle, grieved and en- raged to think that anyone should attempt so audacious a thing, built his nest the next time in a higher place; but there, too, the beetle got at it again, and served him in the same manner as before. Upon this the eagle, being at a loss what to do, flew up to Jupiter, Z1 his lord and king, and placed the third brood of eggs, as a sacred deposit, in his lap, begging him to guard them for him. But the beetle, having made a little ball of dirt, flew up with it and dropped it in Jupiter's lap; who, rising up on a sudden to shake it off, and forgetting the eggs, threw them down, and they were again broken. Jupiter being informed by the beetle that he had done this to be revenged upon the eagle, who had not only wronged him, but had acted impiously towards Jove himself, told the eagle when he came to him, that the beetle was the aggrieved party, and that he com- plained not without reason. But being unwilling that the race of eagles should be diminished, he advised the beetle to come to an ac- commodation with the eagle. As the beetle would not agree to this, Jupiter transferred the eagle's breeding to another season, when there are no beetles to be seen. The Application.— No one can slight the laws of hospitality with impunity; and there is no station or influence, however power- ful, that can protect the oppressor, in the end. from the vengeance of the oppressed. Xlie Belly and tlie Members. In former days, when the belly and the other parts of the body enjoyed the faculty of speech, they had separate views and designs of their own; each part, it seems, in particular for himself, and in the name of the whole, took exception at the conduct of the belly, and were resolved to grant him supplies no longer. They said they thought it very hard, that he should lead an idle, good-for- nothing life, spending and squandering away upon himself all the fruits of their labor; and that, in short, they were resolved for the future to strike off his allowance, and let him shift for himself as well as he could. The hands protested they would not lift up a fin- ger to keep him from starving; and the mouth wished he might never speak again, if he took in the least bit of nourishment for him as long as he lived. "And," say the teeth, "may we be rotted, if ever we chew a morsal for him for the future." This solemn league and 38 covenant was kept as long as anything of that kind can be kept, which was until each of the rebel members pined away to skin and bone, and could hold out no longer. Then they found there was no doing without the belly, and that, as idle and insignificant as he seemed, he contributed as much to the maintenance and welfare of all the other parts, as they did to his. The Application. — This fable was spoken by Menenius Agrippa, a famous Roman consul and general, when he was deputed by the Senate to appease a dangerous tumult and insurrection of the people. The many wars that naiion was engaged in, and the frequent sup- plies they were obliged to raise, had so soured and inflamed the mind of the populace, that they were resolved to endure it no longer, and obstinately refused to pay the taxes which were levied upon them. It is easy to discern how the great man applied this fable. For if the branches and members of a community refuse the government that aid which its necessaries require, the whole must perish together. The rulers cf a state, as idle and insignificant as they may some- times seem, are yet as necessary to be kept up and maintained in a proper and decent grandeur, as the family of each private person is, in a condition suitable to itself. Every man's enjoyment of that little which he gains by his daily labor, depends upon the govern- ment being maintained in a condition to defend and secure him in it. Xlie Peacock: and the Crane. The peacock and the crane by chance met together in one place. The peacock, erecting his tail, displayed his gaudy plumes, and looked with contempt upon the crane, as some mean, ordinary per- son. The crane, resolving to mortify his insolence, took occasion to say, that peacocks were very fine birds indeed, if fine feathers could make them so; but that he thought it a much nobler thing to be able to rise above the clouds, than to strut about upon the ground, and be gazed at by children and silly people. The Application. — It is very absurd to slight or insult another upon his wanting what we possess, for he may, for anything we know, have a just reason to triumph over us, by being master of some good quality which we have not. But in regard to the fable before us, that which the peacock values himself upon, the glitter 39 and finery of dress, is one of the most trifling considerations in na- ture, and what a man of sense would be ashamed to reckon, even as the least part of merit. The mind which is stored with virtuous and rational sentiments, and the behavior which speaks compla- cence and humility, stamps an estimate upon the possessor which all judiciouj spectators are ready to admire and acknowledge. But if there be any merit in a handsome coat, a showy waistcoat, a shoe, a stocking, or a sword-knot, the person that wears them has the least claim to it; let it be ascribed where it justly belongs, to the several artizans who wrought or disposed the materials of which they con- sist. This moral is not intended to derogate anything from the mag- nificence of fine clothes and rich equipages, which, as times and cir- cumstances require, may be used with decency and propriety enough; but one cannot help being concerned, lest any worth should be affixed to them more than their own intrinsic value. Xlie Ant and tlie Qrassliopper. In the winter season, a commonwealth of ants were busily em- ployed in the management and preservation of their corn; which they exposed to the air m heaps round about the avenues of their little country habitation. A grasshopper, who had chanced to out- live the summer, and was ready to starve with cold and hunger, approached them with great humility, and begged that they would relieve his necessity with one grain of wheat or rye. One of the ants asked him how he had disposed of his time in summer, that he had not taken pains, and laid in a stock, as they had done? "Alas, gentlemen," says he, '* I passed away the time merrily and pleasantly, in drinking, singing, and dancing, and never once thought of winter." "If that be the case," replied the ant, laugh- ing, "all I have to say, is, that they who drink, sing, and dance in the summer must starve in winter." The Application. — As summer is the season of the year in which the industrious and laborious husbandman gathers and lays up such fruits as may supply his necessities in winter, so youth and manhood are the times of life which we should employ and bestow in laying in such a stock of all kinds of necessaries as may suffice for the crav- ing demands of helpless old age. Yet, notwithstanding the truth of 40 this, there are many of those which we call rational creatures, who live in a method quite opposite to it, and make it their business to squander away, in a profuse prodigality, whatever they get in their younger days: as if the infirmity of age would require no supplies to support it; or, at least, would find them administered to in some miraculous way. From this fable we learn this admirable lesson, never to loose any present opportunity of providing against the future evils and accidents of life. While health and the flower and vigor of our age remani firm and entire, let us lay them out to the best advantage, that, when the latter days take hold of us, and spoil us of our strength and abilities, we may have a store moder- ately sufficient to subsist upon, which we laid up in the morning of our age. Xlie Hirds^ the Beasts^ and tlie Bat. Once upon a time there commenced a fierce war between the birds and the beasts; when the bat, taking advantage of his ambiguous make, hoped, by that means, to live secure in a state of neutrality, and save his bacon. It was not long before the forces on each side met, and gave battle; and, their animosities running very high, a bloody slaughter ensued. The bat, at the beginning of the day, thinking the birds most likely to carry it, listed himself among them; but kept fluttering at a little distance, that he might the better ob- serve, and take his measures accordingly. However, after some time spent in the action, the army of the beasts seeming to prevail, he went entirely over to them, and endeavored to convince them, by the affinity which he had to a mouse, that he was by nature a beast, and would always continue firm and true to their interest. His plea was admitted; but, in the end, the advantage turning completely on the side of the birds, under the admirable conduct and courage of their general, the eagle; the bat, to save his life, and escape the disgrace of falling into the hands of his deserted friends, betook him- self to flight; and ever since, skulking in caves and hollow trees all day, as if ashamed to show himself, he never appears till the dusk of the evening, when all the feathered inhabitants of the air are gone to roost. 41 The Application.— For any one to desert the interest of his coun- try, and turn renegado, either out of fear, or any prospect of advan- tage, is so notoriously vile and low, that it is no wonder if the man, who is detected in it, is forever ashamed to see the sun, and to show him- self in the eyes of those vv^hose cause he has betrayed. Yet, as there is scarce any vice, even to be imagined, but there may be found men who have been guilty of it, perhaps there have been as many criminals in the case before us, as in any one particular besides, notwithstanding the aggravation and extraordinary degree of its baseness. We cannot help reflecting upon it with horror: but, as truly detestable as this vice is, and must be acknowledged to be by all mankind, so far as those that practise it from being treated with a just resentment by the rest of mankind, that by the kmd reception they afterwards meet with, they rather seem to be encouraged and applauded, than despised and discountenanced, for it. Xlie Country Mouse and the City Mouse. An honest, plain, sensible country mouse, is said to have enter- tained at his hole one day a fine mouse of the town. Having formerly been playfellows together, they were old acquaintance, which served as an apology for the visit. Plowever, as master of the house, he thought himself obliged to do the honors of it, in all respects, and to make as great a stranger of his guest as he possibly could. In order to do this, he set before him a reserve of delicate gray peas and bacon, a dish of fine oatmeal, some parings of new cheese, and, to crown all with a dessert, a remnant of a charming mellow apple. In good manners, he forbore to eat any himself, lest the stranger should not have enough; but, that he might seem to bear the other company, sat and nibbled a piece of a wheaten straw very busily. At last says the spark of the town, " Old crony, give me leave to be a little free with you ; how can you bear to live in this nasty, dirty, melancholy hole here, with nothing but woods and meadows, and mountains, and rivulets, about you ? Do not you prefer the conversation of the world to the chirping of birds, and the splendor of a court to the rude aspect of an uncultivated desert? Come, take my word for it, you will find it a change for the better. 42 Never stand considering, but away this moment. Remember, we are not immortal, and therefore have no time to lose. Make sure of to-day, and spend it as agreeably as you can; you know not what may happen to-morrow." In short, these and such like argu- ments prevailed, and his country acquaintance was resolved to go to town that night. So they both set out upon their journey together, proposing to sneek in after the close of the evening. They did so; and about midnight, made their entry into a certain great house, where there had been an extraordinary entertainment the day before, and several tit-bits, which some of the servants had purloined, were hid under the seat of a window. The country guest was immedi- ately placed ia the midst of a rich Persian carpet: and now it was the courtier's turn to entertain; who, indeed, acquitted himself in that capacity with the utmost readiness and address, changing the courses as elegantly, and tasting everything first as judiciously as any clerk of a kitchen. The other sat and enjoyed himself like a delighted epicure, tickled to the last degree with this new turn of his affairs; when, on a sudden, a noise of somebody opening the door made them start from their seats and scuttle in confusion about the dining-room. Our country friend, in particular, was ready to die with fear at the barking of a huge mastiff or two, which opened their throats just about the same time, and made the whole house echo. At last, recovering himself, "Well," says he, "if this be your town life, much good may do you with it: give me my poor quiet hole again, with my homely, but comfortable gray peas." The Application. — A moderate fortune, with a quiet retirement in the country, is preferable to the greatest affluence which is attend- ed with care and the perplexity of business, and inseparable from the noise and hurry of the town. The practice of the generality of people of the best taste, it is to be owned, is directly against us in this point; but, when it is considered that this practice of theirs proceeds rather from a compliance with the fashion of the times, than their own private thoughts, the objection is of no force. Among the great numbers of men who have received a learned education, how few are there but either have their fortunes entirely to make, or, at least, think they deserve to have, and ought not to lose the opportunity of getting somewhat more than their fathers have left them ! The town is the field of action for volunteers of this kind ; and whatever fondness they may have for the country, yet 43 they must stay till their circumstances will admit of a retreat thither. But sure there never was a man yet who lived in a constant return of trouble and fatigue in town, as all men of business do in some degree or other, but has formed to himself some end of getting some sufficient competency which may enable him to purchase a quiet possession in the country, where he may indulge his genius, and give up his old age to that easy smooth life, which, in the tempest of business, he had so often longed for. Can anything argue more strongly for a country life, than to observe what a long course of labor people go through, and what difficulties they encounter, to come at it ? They look upon it, at a distance, like a kind of heaven, a place of rest and happiness: and are pushing forward through the rugged thorny cares of the world, to make theif way towards it. If there are many, who, though born to plentiful fortunes, yet live most part of their time in the noise, the smoke, and hurry of the town, we shall fiad, upon inquiry, that necessary indispensable busi- ness is the real or pretended plea which most of them have to make for it. The court and the senate require the attendance of some: lawsuits, and the proper direction of trade, engage others: they who have a sprightly wit and an elegant taste for conversation will resort to the place which is frequented by people of the same turn, what- ever aversion they may otherwise have for it; and others, who have no such pretence, have yet this to say, that they follow the fashion. They who appear to have been men of the best sense amongst the ancients, always recommended the country as the most proper scene for innocence, ease, and virtuous pleasure; and, accordingly, lost no opportunities of enjoying it: and men of the greatest distinction among the moderns, have ever thought themselves most happy when they could be decently spared from the employments which the excellency of their talents necessarily threw them into, to embrace the charming leisure of a country life. Cupid and Oeatli. Cupid, one sultry summer's noon, tired with play, and faint with heat, went into a cool grotto to repose himself, which happened to be the cave of Death. He threw himself carelessly down on the floor, and his quiver turning topsy-turvy, all the arrows fell out, and mingled with those of Death, which lay scattered up and down the place. When he awoke, he gathered them up as well as he could; but they were so intermingled that, though he knew the certain 44 number, he could not rightly distinguish them ; from which it hap- pened that he took up some of the arrows which belonged to Death, and left several of his own in the room of them. This is the cause that we, now and then, see the hearts of the old and decrepit trans- fixed with the bolts of Love ; and with equal grief and surprise behold the youthful blooming part of our species smitten with the darts of Death. The Application. — If we allow for this fable's being written by a heathen, and according to the scheme of the ancient pagan theology, it will appear to be a pretty probable solution of some parts of the dispensation of Providence, which otherwise seem to be obscure and unaccountable. For, when we see the young and the old fall pro- miscuously by the hand of Death, and at the same time consider that the world is governed by an all-wise Providence, we are puzzled how to account for so seemingly preposterous and unnatural way of working. We should look upon a gardener to be mad, or at least very capricious, who, when his young trees are just arrived to a degree of bearing, should cut them down for fuel, and choose out old, rotten, decayed, sapless stocks to graft and inoculate upon: yet the irregular proceedings of those two levellers. Love and Death, appear to be every jot as odd and unreasonable. However, we must take it for granted that these things, though the method of them is hidden from our eyes, are transacted after the most just and fit manner imaginable: but, humanly speaking, it is strange that Death should be suffered to make such undistinguished havoc in the world; and, at the same time, just as shocking and unnatural to see old age laid betwixt a pair of wedding sheets, as it is for youth and beauty to be locked up in the cold embraces of the grave. Xlie Cocli and tlie Jei^vel. A brisk young cock , in company with two or three pullets, his mistresses, raking upon a dunghill for something to entertain them with, happened to scratch up a jewel. He knew what it was well enough, for it sparkled with an exceeding bright lustre; but, not knowing what to do with it, endeavored to cover his ignorance under a gay contempt; so, shrugging up his wings, shaking his head, and putting on a grimace, he expressed himself to this purpose: " Indeed, you are a very fine thing; but I know not any business you have 45 here. I make no scruple of declaring that my taste lies quite another way; and I had rather have one grain of dear delicious barley, than all the jewels under the sun." The Application.^ — There are several people in the work! that pass, with some, for well accomplished gentlemen, and very pretty ifellows, though they are as great strangers to the true uses of virtue and knowledge as the cock upon the dunghill is to the real value of the jewel. He palliates his ignorance by pretending that his taste lies another way. But, whatever gallant airs people may give themselves upon these occasions, without dispute, the solid advantages of virtue, and the durable pleasures of learning, are as much to be preferred before other objects of the senses, as the finest brilliant diamond is above a barley-corn. The greatest blockheads would appear to understand what at the same time they affect to despise: and nobody yet was ever so vicious, as to have the impudence to declare, in public, that virtue was not a fine thing. But still, among the idle, sauntering young fellows of the age, who have leisure as well to cultivate and improve the faculties of the mind, as to dress and embellish the body, how many are there who spend their days in raking after new scenes of debauchery, in com- parison of those few who know how to relish more reasonable enter- tainments ! Honest, undesigning good sense is so unfashionable, that he must be a bold man who, at this time of the day, attempts to bring it into esteem. How disappointed is the youth who, in the midst of his amorous pursuits, endeavoring to plunder an outside of bloom and beauty, finds a treasure of impenetrable virtue concealed within ! And why may it not be said, how delighted are the fair sex when, from among a crowd of empty, frolic, conceited admirers, they find out, and distinguish with their good opinion, a man of sense, with a plain unaffected person, which, at first sight, they did not like ! Xlie Old Hound. An old hound, who had been an excellent good one in his time, and given his master great sport, and satisfaction in many a chase, at last, by the effect of years, became feeble and unserviceable. However, being in the field one day, when the stag was almost run down, he happened to be the first that came in with him, and seized him by one of his haunches; but, his decayed and broken teeth not 46 being able to keep their hold, the deer escaped, and threw hina quite out. Upon which his master, being in a great passion, and going to strike him, the honest old creature is said to have barked out his apology: "Ah! do not strike your poor old servant; it is not my heart and inclination, but my strength and speed, that fail me. If what I now am displeases, pray don't forget what I have been." The Application. — This fable may serve to give us a general view of the ingratitude of the greatest part of mankind. Notwith- standing all the civility and complaisance that is used among people where there is a common intercourse of business, yet let the main- spring, the probability of their being serviceable to each other, either in point of pleasure or profit, be but once broken, and farewell courtesy: so far from continuing any regard in behalf of past favors, it is very well if they forbear doing anything that is injurious. If the master had only ceased to caress and make much of the old hound, when he was past doing any service, it had not been very strange; but to treat a pocr creature ill, not for a failure of inclina- tion, but merely a defect of nature, must, notwithstanding the crowd of examples there are to countenance it, be pronounced inhuman and unreasonable. There are two accounts upon which people that have been useful are frequently neglected. One, when they are so decayed, either through age or some accident, that they are no longer able to do the services they have formerly done; the oLher, when the occasion or emergency which required such talents, no longer exists. Phae- drus, who more than once complains of the bad consequences of age, makes no other application to this fable than by telling his friend Philetus, with some regret, that he wrote it with such a view; having, it seems, been repaid with neglect, or worse usage, for services done in his youth to those who were then able to afford him a better recompense. Xlie Pox and tlie Sicli Lrion. It was reported that the lion was sick, and the beasts were made to believe that they could not make their court better than by going to visit him. Upon this they generally went; but it was particularly taken notice of, that the fox was not one of the number. The lion therefore dispatched one of the jackalls to sound him about it, and ask him why he had so little charity and respect, as never to come 47 near him, at a time when he lay so dangerously ill, and everybody else had been to see him ? ' 'Why, ' ' replies the fox, ' ' pray present my duty to his majesty^ and tell him, that I have the same regard for him as ever, and have been coming several times to kiss his royal hand: but I am so terribly frightened at the mouth of his cave, to see the print of my fellovi^-subjects' feet, all pointing forwards and none backwards, that I have not resolution enough to venture in." Now the truth of the matter was, that this sickness of the lion's was only a sham to draw the beasts into his den, the more easily to devour them. The Application. — A man should weigh and consider the nature of any proposal well before he gives in to it ; for a rash and hasty com- pliance has been the ruin of many a one. And it is the quintessence of prudence not to be too easy of belief. Indeed, the multitude think altogether in the same track, and are much upon a footing. Their meditations are confined to one channel, and they follow one another, very orderly, in a regular stupidity. Can a man of thought and spirit be harnessed thus, and trudge along like a pack-horse, in a deep, stinking, muddy road, when he may frisk it over the beau- teous lawns, or lose himself agreeably in the shady verdant mazes of unrestrained contemplation ? It is impossible. Vulgar notions are so generally attended with error, that wherever one traces the footsteps of the many, tending all one way, it is enough to naake one suspect, with the fox in the fable, that there is some trick in it. The eye of reason is dulled and stupefied when it is confined, and made to gaze continually upon the same thing: it rather chooses to look about it, and amuse itself with variety of objects, as they he scattered up and down in the unbounded prospect. He that goes implicitly into a thing, may be mistaken, notwithstanding the num- ber of those who keep him company ; but he that keeps out till he sees reason to enter, acts upon true maxims of policy and prudence. In short, it becomes us as we are reasonable creatures, to behave ourselves as such, and to do as few things as possible, of which we may have occasion to repent. Xlie Hawk and tlie Nightin- gale. A nightingale, sitting all alone among the shady branches of an oak, sung with so melodious and shrill a pipe, that she made the woods echo again, and alarmed a hungry hawk, who was at some 48 distance off watching for his prey: he had no sooner discovered the lit- tle musician, but making a stoop at the place, he seized her with his crooked talons, and bid her prepare for death. "Ah ! " says she, "for mercy's sake don't do so barbarous a thing, and so unbecoming yourself; consider, I never did you any wrong, and am but a poor small morsal for such a stomach as yours; rather attack some larger fowl, which may bring you more credit and a better meal, and let me go." "Ah !" says the hawk, " persuade me to it if you can: I have been upon the watch all day long, and have not met with one bit of anything till I caught you ; and now you would have me let you go, in hopes of something better, would you ? pray, who would be the fool then?" The Application. — They who neglect the opportunity of reap- ing a small advantage, in hopes they shall obtain a better, are far from acting upon a reasonable and well-advised foundation. The figure of Time is always drawn with a single lock of hair hanging over his forehead, and the back part of his head bald; to put us in mind that we should be sure to lay hold of an occasion, when it pre- sents itself to us, lest afterwards we repent us of our omission and folly, and would recover it when it is too late. It is a very weak reason to give for our refusal of an offer of kindness, that we do it because we desire or deserve a better; for it is time enough to relin- quish the small affair when the great one comes, if ever it does come. But, supposing it should not, how can we forgive ourselves for letting anything slip through our hands, by vainly gaping after something else, which we never could obtain ? He who has not been guilty of any of these kind of errors, however poorly he may come off at last, has only the malice of fortune, or of somebody else, to charge with his ill success; and may applaud himself with some comfort, in never having lost an opportunity, though ever so small, of bettering and improving his circumstances. Unthinking people have oftentimes the unhappiness to fret and tease themselves with retrospects of this kind, which they, who attend to the business of life as they ought, never have occasion to make. Xlie Leopard and tlie Fox. The leopard one day took it into his head to value himself upon the great variety and beauty of his spots, and truly he saw no reason 49 why even the lion should take place of him, since he could not show so beautiful a skin. As for the rest of the wild beasts of the forest, he treated them all, without distinction, in the most haughty and disdainful manner. But the fox being among them, went up to him with a great deal of spirit and resolution, and told him, that he was mistaken in the value he was pleased to set upon himself; since people of judgment were not used to form their opinion of merit from an outside appearance, but by considering the good qual- ities and endowments with which the mind was stored within. The Application. — How much more heavenly and powerful would beauty prove, if it were not frequently impaired by the affecta- tion and conceitedness of its possessor ! If some women were but as modest aud unassuming as they are handsome, they might command the hearts of all that behold them: but nature seemed to foresee, and has provided against such an inconvenience, by tempering its great masterpieces with a due proportion of pride and vanity; so that their power, depending upon the duration of their beauty only, is like to be but of a short continuance ; which, when they happen to prove tyrants, is no small comfort to us; and then, even while it lasts, will abate much of its severity by the allay of those two prevailing ingredients. Wise men are chiefly captivated with the charms of the mind; and whenever they are infatuated with a passion for anything else, it is generally observed that they cease, during that time at least, to be what they were, and are indeed looked upon to be only playing the fool. If the fair ones we have been speaking of have a true ascendant over them, they will oblige them to divest themselves of common sense, and to talk and act ridiculously, before they can think them worthy of the least regard. Should one of these fine creatures be addressed in the words of Juba, 'T is not a set of features or complexion, The tincture of a skin that I admire. Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover. Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex. True, she is fair! oh, how divinely fair ! But still the lovely maid improves her charms With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom. And sanctity of manners. the man that should venture the success of a strong passion upon the construction she would put upon such a compliment, might have reason to repent of his conduct. 50 Tlie Old Man and His Sons. An old man had many sons, who were often fallmg out with one another. When the father had exerted his authority, and used other means in order to reconcile Ihem, and all to no purpose, at last he had recourse to this expedient: he ordered his sons to be called before him, and a short bundle of sticks to be brought, and then commanded them, one by one, to try if, with all their might and strength, they could any of them break it. They all tried, but to no purpose; for the sticks being closely and compactly bound up to- gether, it was impossible for the force of man to do it. After this, the father ordered the bundle to be untied , and gave a single stick to each of his sons, at the same time bidding him try to break it: which, when each did with all imaginable ease, the father addressed himself to them to this effect: <'0 my sons, behold the power of unity ! for if you, in like manner, would but keep yourselves strictly conjoined in the bonds of friendship, it would not be in the power of any mortal to hurt you ; but when once the ties of brotherly affection are dissolved, how soon do you fall to pieces, and are liable to be violated by every injurious hand that assaults you !" The Application. — Nothing is more necessary towards complet- ing and continuing the well-being of mankind, than their entering into and preserving friendships and alliances. The safety of a govern- ment depends chiefly upon this; and therefore it is weakened and exposed to its enemies, in proportion as it is divided by parties. "A kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation:" and the same holds good among all societies and corporations of men from the constitution of the nation down to every little parochial vestry. But the necessity of friendship extends itself to all sorts of relations in life, as it conduces mightily to the advantage of particular clans and famihes. Those of the same blood and lineage have a natural disposition to unite together, which they ought by all means to culti- vate and improve. It must be a great comfort to people, when they fall under any calamity, to know there are many others who sympathize with them; a great load of grief is mightily lessened, when it is parceled out into many shares. And then joy, of all our passions, loves to be communicative, and generally increases in pro- portion to the number of those who partake of it with us. We defy the threats and malice of an enemy, when we are assured that he cannot attack us single, but must encounter a bundle of allies at the 51 same time. But they that behave themselves so as to have few or no friends in the world, live in perpetual fear and jealousy of mankind, because they are sensible of their own weakness, and know themselves liable to be crushed, or broken to pieces, by the first ag- gressor. The Progs and Jupiter. The frogs, living an easy, free life everywhere among the lakes and ponds, assembled together one day, in a very tumultuous man- ner, and petitioned Jupiter to let them have a king, who might inspect their morals, and make them live a little honester. Jupiter, being at that time in pretty good humor, was pleased to laugh heartily at their ridiculous request; and, throwing a little log down mto the pool, cried, "There is a king for you." The sudden splash which this made by its fall into the water, at first terrified them so exceedingly, that they were afraid to come near it. But in a little time, seeing it lay still without moving, they ventured, by degrees, to approach it ; and at last, finding there was no danger, they leaped upon it; and, in short, treated it as familiarly as they pleased. But not contented with so insipid a king as this was, they sent their deputies to petition again for another sort of one; for this they neither did nor could like. Upon that he sent them a Stork, who, without any ceremony, fell a devouring and eating them up, one after another, as fast as he could. Then they applied themselves privately to Mercury, and get him to speak to Jupiter in their behalf, that he would be so good as to bless them again with another king, or to restore them to their former state. '* No " says he, " since it was their own choice, let the obstinate wretches suffer the punish- ment due to their folly." The Application. — It is pretty extraordinary to find a fable of this kind finished with so bold and yet polite a turn by Phtedrus: one who attained his freedom by the favor of Augustus, and wrote it in the time of Tiberius; who were, successively, tyrannical usurpers of the Roman government. If we may take his word for it, /Esop spoke it upon this occasion. When the commonwealth of Athens flour- ished under good wholesome laws of its own enacting, they relied 52 so much upon the security of their liberty, that they negligently suffered it to run into licentiousness. And factions happening to be fomented among them by designing people, much about the same time, Pisistratus took that opportunity to make himself master of their citadel and liberties both together. The Athenians finding themselves in a state of slavery, though their tyrant hap- pened to be a very merciful one, yet could not bear the thoughts of it ; so that ^sop, where there was no remedy, prescribes to them patience, by the example of the foregoing fable; and adds, at last, "Wherefore, my dear countrymen, be contented with your present condition, bad as it is, for fear a change should be worse." Xlie Young Man and tlie S^w^al- low. A prodigal young spendthrift, who had wasted his whole patri- mony in taverns and gaming-houses, among lewd, idle company, was taking a melancholy walk near a brook. It was in the month of Jan- uary ; and happened to be one of those warm sunshiny days which sometimes smile upon us even in that winterly season of the year; and, to make it the more flattering, a swallow, which made his appearance, by mistake, too soon, flew skimming along upon the surface of the water. The giddy youth observing this, without any further con- sideration, concluded that summer was now come, and that he should have little or no occasion for clothes, so went and pawned them at the broker's, and ventured the money for one stake more, among his sharping companions. When this too was gone the same way with the rest, he took another solitary walk in the same place as before. But the weather being severe and frosty, had made everything look with an aspect very different from what it did before; the brook was quite frozen over, and the poor swallow lay dead upon the bank of it: the very sight of which cooled the young spark's brains; and coming to a kind of sense of his misery, he reproached the deceased bird as the author of all his misfortunes. *'Ah, wretch that thou wert!" says he, "thou hast undone both thyself and me, who was so credulous as to depend upon thee." The Application. — They who frequent taverns and gaming- houses, and keep bad company, should not wonder if they are ■53 reduced, in a very short time, to penury and want. The wretched young fellows, who once addict themselves to such a scandalous kind of life ; scarce think of, or attend to, any one thing besides. They seem to have nothing else in their heads, but how they may squander what they have got, and where they may get more when that is gone. They do not make the same use of their reason that other people do; but, like the jaundiced eye, view everything in that false light in which their distemper and debauchery represent it. The young man in the fable gives us a pretty example of this; he sees a swal- low in the midst of winter, and instead of being surprised at it, as a very irregular and extraordinary thing, concludes from thence that it is summer, as if he had never thought before about the season. Well, the result of this wise conclusion is of a piece with the conclu- sion itself; if it is summer, he shall not want so many clothes, therefore he sells them: for what? More money to squander away; as if (had his observation been just) summer would have lasted all the year round. But the true result and conclusion of all this is — when both his money and clothes are irrecoverably gone, he comes to his right senses; is ready to starve with hunger, to perish with cold, and to tear his own flesh with remorse and vexation at his former stupidity. The Young Man and His Cat. A certain young man used to play with a cat, of which he grew so fond, that at last he fell in love with it, and to such a degree, that he could rest neither night nor day for the excess of his passion. At last he prayed to Venus, the goddess of beauty , to pity him and relieve his pain. The good-natured goddess was propitious, and heard his prayers: before he rose up from kneeling, the cat, which he held in his arms, was transformed into a beautiful girl. The youth was transported with joy, and married her that very day. At night they went to bed, and as the new bride lay encircled in the em-^ braces of her amorous husband, she unfortunately heard a mouse behind the hangings, and sprung from his arms to pursue it. Venus, offended to see her sacred rites profaned by such an indecent be- havior, and perceiving that her new convert, though a woman in outward appearance, was a cat in her heart , she made her return to her old form again, that her manners and person might \^e agreeable to each other. 54 The Application. — People, as to their manners and behavior, take a strong bias from custom and education, but a much stronger from nature. Her laws are so strong, that it is in vain for us to go to oppose them; we may refine and improve, but can never totally alter her works. Upon this account it is that we oftentimes see silly awkward blockheads displaying their idiotism and folly through all their ensigns of dignity ; for some natures are so coarse and rustic, that all the embroidery of a court cannot conceal them. Doubtless such people were intended by nature for nothing above driving hogs to a fair, and laughing at the jokes of a country merry-Andrew. Fortune has found them worthy of her favors, and given them a lift out of the mire: but yet they do not fail to give frequent indications of their true composition, by a thousand dirty little actions. A fine equipage, and a great estate, may raise a man to an exalted station, and procure a respect to his outward person; notwithstanding which it may so happen, that every time he speaks and acts he cannot help playing the fool for the blood of him. 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