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THOUGHTS FROM THE ARCADIA.

BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

“G

IVE tribute, but not oblation, to human wisdom.”

Longer I would not wish to draw breath, than I may keep myself unspotted of any heinous crime.”

“ In the clear mind of virtue treason can find no hidingplace.”

“The only disadvantage of an honest heart is credulity.”

“ The hero's soul may be separated from his body, but never alienated from the remembrance of virtue.”

“ Doing good is the only certainly happy action of a man's life.”

“ The journey of high honor lies not in smooth ways.”

“Who shoots at the midday sun, though he is sure he shall never hit the mark, yet as sure he is that he shall shoot higher than he who aims but at a bush.”

“Remember that in all miseries, lamenting becomes fools, and action, the wise.”

“ The great, in affliction, bear a countenance more princely than they were wont; for it is the temper of highest hearts, like the palm-tree, to strive most upward when it is most burdened.”

“ The perfect hero passeth through the multitude as a man that neither disdains a people, nor yet is anything tickled with their flattery.”

“ In a brave bosom, honor cannot be rocked asleep by affection.”

« Contention for trifles can get but a trifling victory."
“ Prefer truth, before the maintaining of an opinion.”

“A man of true honor thinks himself greater in being subject to his word given, than in being lord of a principality.”

“Joyful is woe for a noble cause, and welcome all its miseries."

“ There is nothing evil but what is within us; the rest is either natural or accidental.”

“ While there is hope left, let not the weakness of sorrow make the strength of resolution languish.”

“ Who frowns at others' feasts, had better bide away."

“ Friendship is so rare, as it is to be doubted whether it be a thing indeed, or but a word.” « Prefer

your friend's profit before your owr. desire.” “A just man hateth the evil, but not the evil-doer.”

“One look (in a clear judgment) from a fair and virtuous woman is more acceptable than all the kindnesses so prodigally bestowed by a wanton beauty.”

“ It is folly to believe that he can faithfully love who does not love faithfulness."

“Who doth desire that his wife should be chaste, first be he true ; for truth doth deserve truth.”

“ It is no less vain to wish death than it is cowardly to fear it.”

“ Everything that is mine, even to my life, is hers I love, but the secret of my friend is not mine."

THE NAME IN THE BARK.

By J. T. TROWBRIDGE.

\HE self of so long ago,

And the self I struggle to know, I sometimes think we are two, — or are we shadows of one?

To-day the shadow I am

Comes back in the sweet summer calm To trace where the earlier shadow flitted awhile in the sun.

Once more in the dewy morn

I trod through the whispering corn, Cool to my fevered cheek soft breezy kisses were blown;

The ribboned and tasselled grass

Leaned over the flattering glass,
And the sunny waters trilled the same low musical tone.

To the gray old birch I came,

Where I whittled my school-boy name: The nimble squirrel once more ran skippingly over the rail,

The blackbirds down among

The alders noisily sung, And under the blackberry-brier whistled the serious quail.

I came, remembering well

How my little shadow fell, As I painfully reached and wrote to leave to the future a

sign:

There, stooping a little, I found

A half-healed, curious wound,
An ancient scar in the bark, but no initial of mine!

Then the wise old boughs overhead

Took counsel together, and said, —
And the buzz of their leafy lips like a murmur of prophecy

passed,
“ He is busily carving a name

In the tough old wrinkles of fame;
But, cut he as deep as he may, the lines will close over at

last!”

Sadly I pondered awhile,

Then I lifted my soul with a smile, And I said, “ Not cheerful men, but anxious children are we.

Still hurting ourselves with the knife,

As we toil at the letters of life, Just marring a little the rind, never piercing the heart of

the tree.”

And now by the rivulet's brink

I leisurely saunter, and think How idle this strife will appear when circling ages have run,

If then the real I am

Descend from the heavenly calm, To trace where the shadow I seem once flitted awhile in the

sun.

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