- a by the two volumes that I now do, and has done it admirably. Only I could not but smile when I saw Hora Subsecivæ exchanged for "Spare Hours," good title, but not mine; and my smile broke into laughter when I found myself dedicated "affectionately" to an excellent man and poet, whom, to my sorrow, I do not know. While thanking my American friends, and shaking hands with them across the great deep, I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of acknowledging the following portion of a letter received a day or two ago from an unknown friend Charles D. Warner, of Hartford, Conn., U.S.: "I see you lay some stress upon the fact that your venerated father was very tenacious of purpose, and that that is a trait of the Browns. The branch of the family in this country also assert the same of themselves. "In further reading how your father came, late in life, when it was too late, to know that he had neglected his body, I called to mind a remark of another Dr. Brown, which I thought you might like to hear, as confirmatory of your theory of the unity of the Browns. "Dr. John Brown, D.D., was a native of Brooklyn, a in this State. He was settled at one time in Cazenovia, New York, and finally died at the age of fifty, prema、 turely worn out, at Hadley, Mass. He was a man of great tenacity of purpose, strength of intellect, a clear thinker, and generally a powerful man. He was also much beloved, for his heart was large and warm. "While he was waiting for death to overtake him, being undermined as I have said, I have heard my mother say that he once remarked, 'I have worn myself out in labour which God never required of me, and for which man never will thank me."" Those of my readers who think life in the main more serious than not, will forgive this grave and weighty passage. Those who do not think so, will not be the worse of asking themselves if they are safe in so doing. 23, RUTLAND STREET, 15th Feb. 1862 J. B. Human wisdom has reached its furthest point when it gets to say I do not know - GOD knows. In the child's story of "Beauty and the Beast," the Beast says to Beauty, "Do you not think me very ugly?" Why, yes," said she, "for I cannot tell a story." "You are right," replied the Beast; "and besides being ugly I am very stupid." "I think you cannot be very stupid," said Beauty, "if you yourself know this." From a thoughtful Discourse on Plato, by, I believe, a Liverpool Merchant. |