1735

You say, not always wisely, Know thyself!Know others, ofttimes is the better maxim.

—Menander, Born 342 B. C.

No object is more pleasing to the eye than the sight of a man whom you have obliged; nor any music so agreeable to the ear, as the voice of one that owns you for his benefactor.

Self-laudation abounds among the unpolished, but nothing can stamp a man more sharply as ill-bred.

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

Some persons have a prudent consideration for Number—one.

Some persons can neither stir hand nor foot without making it clear they are thinking of themselves, and laying little traps for approbation.

—S. Smith.

We hardly find any persons of good sense, save those who agree with us!

We find few sensible people, except those who are of our way of thinking.

Never trouble another for what you can do yourself.

The question was asked, "Why can we see other people's failings sooner than our own? and why can we give advice to others easier than follow it ourselves?" A sensible man asked in reply, "Why can our eyes see everything else but themselves?"

What others say of me, matters little.What I myself say and do,Matters much.

Self-interest is but the survival of the animal in us. Humanity only begins for man with self-surrender.

—Amiel.

Did it ever strike you that continual mourning was multiplied selfishness?

—Ursula.

Take the selfishness out of the world and there would be more happiness than we should know what to do with.

—H. W. Shaw.

"There is no harm in being respected in this world, as I have found out," said Thackeray, "and if you don't brag a little for yourself, depend on it there is no person of your acquaintance who will tell the world of your merits, and take the trouble off your hands."

Common sense among men born to fortune is rare.

—Juvenal.

He lacks sense who broods over the past.

2 Kings x, 16.—"Jehu said, Come with me, and see my zeal for the Lord."

John Fox, the author of the "Book of Martyrs," was once met by a woman who showed him a book she was carrying, and said, "See you not that I am going to a sermon?" The good man replied, "If you will be ruled by me, go home, for you will do little good to-day at church." "When, then," asked she, "would you counsel me to go?" His reply was, "When you tell no one beforehand."

A clergyman thought his people were making rather an unconscionable objection to his using a manuscript in delivering a sermon.

They urged, "What gars ye tak' up your bit papers to the pu'pit?"

He replied "that it was best, for really he could not remember his sermons, and he must have the paper."

"Weel, weel, minister, then dinna expect thatwecan remember them."

A leading Welsh minister—and Welsh ministers are, I think, among the best preachers—was invited to preach an anniversary sermon before one of the great societies in London. Naturally anxious to disregard no propriety, he consulted the proper authority, the secretary. "Should I read my sermon?" "Oh, it is no matter, only bring some of your Welsh fire with you." "But you cannot, my dear sir, carry fire on paper." "No, that is true; but you may use the paper to kindle the fire."

—Rev. John Hall.

The Rev. John Brown, of Haddington, rose from a poor shepherd boy to become a distinguished minister, and afterwards a celebrated professor, author of the "Self-Interpreting Bible," and many other works. Robert Turnbull said of him in one of his books:—"When a poor shepherd boy, he conceived the idea of learning Latin and Greek, and having procured a few old books, actually accomplished the task,while tending his cattle on the hills. So successful was he that some of the old and superstitious people in the neighborhood concluded that he must have been assisted by 'the evil spirit.' On one occasion he went to Edinburgh, plaided and barefoot, walked into a bookseller's shop, and asked for a Greek Testament. 'What are you going to do with a Greek Testament?' said the bookseller. 'Read it,' was the prompt reply. 'Read it!' exclaimed the sceptical bookseller with a smile; 'ye may have it for nothing if ye'll read it.' Taking the book, he quietly read off a few verses, and gave the translation; on which he was permitted to carry off the Greek Testament in triumph."

—Rob't Turnbull.

If we would give ourselves only half an hour's reflection at the close of every day, we would preach to ourselves the best sermons that could be uttered every week.

Oh ponder well! be not severe!

—Unknown.

What shadows we are! what shadows we pursue!

"Oh, gentle Shepherd, climbing rugged mountains,And crossing waters deep,How long wouldst Thou be willing to go homeless,To find a wandering sheep?""I count not time," the Shepherd gently answered,"As thou dost count and bindThe days in the weeks, the weeks in months;My count is just until I find.And that should be the limit of my journey,I'd cross the waters deep,And climb the hill-slopes with untiring patience,Until I found my sheep."

—Luke xv, 4v.

Sickness is every man's master.

—From the Danish.

No duns outside, and no doctors within.(Absence of sickness and debt.)

—Chinese.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Silence is the safest response for all the contradiction that arises from impertinence, vulgarity, or envy.

—Zimmerman.

Silence is the best resolve for him who distrusts himself.

—Rochefoucauld.

Silence is the consummate eloquence of sorrow.

Of keeping silence few have paid the cost;Of having said too much, a countless host.

Silence is often an answer.

The silence often of pure innocence,Persuades, when speaking fails.

—Shakespeare.

There is a sure reward for faithful silence.

—Horace.

He knows much who knows how, and when, to be silent.

—Scotch.

Plated silver.(Sarcastically applied to pretenders.)

Most rare is now our old simplicity.

Commit a sin twice, it will seem a sin no longer.

—From The Talmud.

Men's sins are before our eyes: our own, behind our backs.

—Seneca.

Many a man will give another man a letter of recommendation, though he would hardly lend the applicant a dollar.

An excellent clergyman, possessing much knowledge of human nature, instructed his large family of daughters in the theory and practice of music. They were all observed tobe exceedingly amiable and happy. A friend inquired if there was any secret in his mode of education. He replied—"When anything disturbs their temper, I say to themsing, and if I hear them speaking against any person, I call them to sing to me; and so they have sung away all causes of discontent, and every disposition to scandal."

—Arvine.

He who stands still in mud,—sinks.

A lady who had been in the habit of spreading slanderous reports once confessed her fault to St. Philip Neri, who lived several hundred years ago. She asked him how she could cure it. "Go," he said in reply, "to the nearest market-place, buy a chicken just killed, pluck its feathers all the way, and come back to me." She was greatly surprised, wondering in what way a dead chicken could help her overcome her evil habit; but she did as he bade her, and came back to him with the plucked chicken in her hand. "Now go back," he said, "and bring me all the feathers you have scattered." "But this is impossible," she replied: "I cast the feathers carelessly, and the wind carried them away; how can I recover them?" "That," he said, "is exactly like your words of slander. They have been carried about in every direction. You cannot recall them. Go and slander no more." It was a striking way of teaching a very important lesson.

He who slanders his neighbors makes a rod for himself.

—Dutch.

He will always be a slave, who does not know how to live upon a little.

—Horace.

Slaves cannot breathe inBritain; if their lungsReceive our air, that moment they are free;They touch our country, and their shackles fall.

—Cowper.

O execrable son! so to aspireAbove his brethren, to himself assumingAuthority usurp'd, from God not given.He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl,Dominion absolute; that right we holdBy His donation; but man over menHe made not lord; such title to HimselfReserving, human left from human—free.

—Milton.

Sleep.—I never take a nap after dinner, but when I have had a bad night, and then the nap takes me.

—Sam'l Johnson.

We are all equals when we are asleep.

—Spanish.

If you want the night to seem a moment to you, sleep all night.

O sleep! it is a gentle thing,Beloved from pole to pole.

—Coleridge.

Sleep.—Even sleep is characteristic. How charming are children in their lovely innocence! How angel-like their blooming hue! How painful and anxious is the sleep and expression in the countenance of the guilty.

—W. Von Humboldt.

When I go to sleep, I let fall the windows of mine eyes.

—Shakespeare.

The sleep of a laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much: but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep.

—Eccles. v, 12v.

Heaven trims our lamps while we sleep.

—Alcott.

Sleep! to the homeless, thou art home,The friendless find in thee a friend;And well is, wheresoe'r he roams,Who meets thee at his journey's end.

—Ebenezer Elliott.

Dean Ramsey relates that the Earl of Lauderdale was alarmingly ill, one distressing symptom being a total absence of sleep, without which the medical men declared he could not recover. His son, who was somewhat simple, was seated under the table, and cried out, "Sen' for that preaching man frae Livingstone, for fayther aye sleeps in the kirk." One of the doctors thought the hint worth attending to, and the experiment of "getting a minister till him" succeeded, for sleep came on and the earl recovered.

Come sleep, O sleep! the certain knot of peace,The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,The indifferent judge between the high and low!

—Sir P. Sidney.

Sleep.Do not omit the heavy offer of it;It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,It is a comforter.

—Shakespeare.

Sleep, thou patron of mankind,Great physician of the mind,Who dost nor pain nor sorrow know,Sweetest balm of every woe.

—Sophocles, born 496 B. C.

Sleep has often been mentioned as the image of death, so like it, that we should not trust it without prayer.

What mortal knowsWhence came the tint and odor of the rose?What probing deepHas ever solved the mystery of sleep?

—T. B. Aldrich.

Whether seen playing upon the face of young innocence, or upon the furrowed visage of venerable age, smiles arealways attractive and blissful. He who wears a smiling face is a practical philanthropist. He dispels the clouds of gloom that overshadow the brows of care, and the hearts of sorrow he meets in his life-paths, as the sun dispels the misty clouds of morning from the face of nature.

A smile is ever more bright and beautiful with a tear upon it.

Put a smile on your face when you go out for a walk, and it will be surprising how many pleasant people you will meet.

Who can tell the value of a smile? It costs the giver nothing, but is beyond price to the erring and relenting, the sad and cheerless.

A new story of Adam Smith was told recently at a convention in Kirkaldy, Scotland, the birthplace of the economist. The professor fell in love and proposed. The offer was refused. Next day the lady met Smith in Princess street, Edinburgh, and reopened the question of the proposal, about which she had been thinking. "You remember what I said?" the lady inquired, and the philosopher replied that he did. "Well," added the lady, "I was only joking." "You remember what I asked?" said Smith. "Yes" replied the lady. "Well," said Smith, "I was only joking too."

It is said that Sir Walter Raleigh once made a wager with Queen Elizabeth that he could weigh the smoke from his tobacco pipe. He weighed the tobacco before smoking, and the ashes afterwards. When Elizabeth paid the wager, she said, "I have seen many a man turn his gold into smoke, but you are first who has turned his smoke into gold."

Among unequals what societyCan sort, what harmony, or true delight?

—Milton.

Society is built upon trust, and trust upon confidence of one another's integrity.

—Dr. South.

Society is no comfortTo one not sociable.

—Shakespeare.

If you wish to appear agreeable in society, you must consent to be taught many things which you know already.

—Lavater.

Society is ever ready to worship success, but rarely forgives failure.

—Mme. Rowland.

Johnson:—"Sir, your levellers wish to level down as far as themselves; but they cannot bear levelling up to themselves. They would all have some people under them; why not then have some people above them?"

—Boswell's Johnson.

The true art of being agreeable is to appear well pleased with all the company, and rather to seem well entertained with them, than to bring entertainment to them.

Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,Some boundless contiguity of shade,Where rumor of oppression and deceit,Might never reach me more! my ear is pain'd,My soul is sick, with every day's reportOf wrong and outrage, with which earth is fill'd.

—Cowper.

Something.—To do something, however small, to make others happier and better, is the highest ambition, the most elevating hope, which can inspire a human being.

—Lord Avebury.

On his 21st Birthday, with a Silver Lamp, "Fiat Lux."

—Lady Dufferin, 1807-1867.

How shall I bless thee? Human loveIs all too poor in passionate words;The heart aches with a sense aboveAll language that the lip affords:Therefore a symbol shall expressMy love,—a thing not rare or strange,But yet—eternal—measureless—Knowing no shadow and no change.Light! which of all the lovely showsTo our poor world of shadows given,The fervent prophet-voices choseAlone, as attribute of heaven!At a most solemn pause we stand,From this day forth, for evermore,The weak but loving human handMust cease to guide thee as of yore.Then, as thro' life thy footsteps stray,And earthly beacons dimly shine,"Let there be light" upon thy way,And holier guidance far than mine!"Let there be light" in thy clear, clear soul,When passion tempts and doubts assail;When grief's dark tempests o'er thee roll,"Let there be light" that shall not fail!So, angel-guarded, may'st thou treadThe narrow path which few may find,And at the end, look back, nor dreadTo count the vanished years behind!And pray that she, whose hand doth traceThis heart-warm prayer,—when life is past—May see and know thy blessed face,In God's own glorious light at last!

At a most solemn pause we stand,From this day forth, for evermore,The weak but loving human handMust cease to guide thee as of yore.Then, as thro' life thy footsteps stray,And earthly beacons dimly shine,"Let there be light" upon thy way,And holier guidance far than mine!"Let there be light" in thy clear, clear soul,When passion tempts and doubts assail;When grief's dark tempests o'er thee roll,"Let there be light" that shall not fail!

So, angel-guarded, may'st thou treadThe narrow path which few may find,And at the end, look back, nor dreadTo count the vanished years behind!And pray that she, whose hand doth traceThis heart-warm prayer,—when life is past—May see and know thy blessed face,In God's own glorious light at last!

—From the Victorian Anthology,—by Sir M. E. Grant Duff.

A clever man once said to his son: "John, when you chase the dollars, all right; but look out, my boy, when the dollars chase you."

Send your son into the world with good principles, a good education, and industrious habits, and he will find his way in the dark.

Some of the rarest gems and most beautiful flowers are often found in out-of-the-way places. Here is one.

Do you know that your soul is of my soul, such part,That you seem to be fibre and core of my heart?None other can pain me as you, dear, can do;None other can please me or praise me as you.Remember the world will be quick with its blameIf shadow or stain ever darken your name."Like mother, like son," is a saying so true,The world will judge largely of "mother" by you.Be yours then the task, if task it shall be,To force this proud world to do homage to me;Be sure it will say, when its verdict you've won."She reaps as she sowed, lo, this man is her son."

—Author Unknown.

At ten years of age a boy thinks his father knows a great deal;

At fifteen he knows as much as his father;

At twenty he knows twice as much;

At thirty he is willing to take his advice;

At forty he begins to think his father knows something, after all;

At fifty he begins to seek his advice;

And at sixty, after his father is dead, he thinks he was the smartest man that ever lived.

A son who loves his home is a joy to his parents.

A man who has got a good son-in-law, has gained a son; but he who has found a bad one, has lost a daughter.

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopped, doth burn the heart to cinders.

—Shakespeare.

Sorrow's best antidote is employment.

There are people who are always anticipating trouble, and in this way they manage to enjoy many sorrows that never really happen to them.

—H. W. Shaw.

The love of the poor, to the poor, is often remarked: Privation and sorrow knit hearts as no bands of gold can.

—Thos. D. Brown.

If hearty sorrowBe a sufficient ransom for offense,I tender it here; I do as truly sufferAs e'er I did commit.

—Shakespeare.

When sorrow is asleep wake it not.

All sorrows are bearable if there is bread.

—Don Quixote.

Let your thoughts dwell on your blessings, and you will forget your miseries.

—Gestfeld.

The little that I have seen in the world, and known of the history of mankind, teaches me to look upon their errors in sorrow, not in anger. When I take the history of one poor heart that has sinned and suffered, and represent to myself the struggles and temptations it passed through, the brief pulsations of joy, the tears of regret, the feebleness of purpose, the scorn of the world that has little charity, the desolation of the soul's sanctuary, and threatening voices within, health gone, happiness gone,—I would fain leave the erring soul of my fellow-man with Him from whose hands it came.

—Longfellow.

Sum up at night what thou hast done by day,And in the morning what thou hast to do.Dress and undress thy soul, mark the decayAnd growth of it; since we shall beMost surely judged, make thy accounts agree.

—George Herbert.

Somewhere, beyond the limitless space,That mantles the stars, there is a place;A beautiful place, where angels dwell.Somewhere—but just where, no one can tell.Nowhere on this realm, from pole to pole,Did God appoint a home for the soul;Yet "somewhere," above yon starry domeThere's a "house not made with hands," a home.There, all is fragrant with sweet perfumeThat falls from flowers which ever bloom;In that far-off unknown land so fair.Where the great Redeemer dwells—'tis there.

Somewhere, beyond the limitless space,That mantles the stars, there is a place;A beautiful place, where angels dwell.Somewhere—but just where, no one can tell.

Nowhere on this realm, from pole to pole,Did God appoint a home for the soul;Yet "somewhere," above yon starry domeThere's a "house not made with hands," a home.

There, all is fragrant with sweet perfumeThat falls from flowers which ever bloom;In that far-off unknown land so fair.Where the great Redeemer dwells—'tis there.

When you can say nothing good of a man, change the subject.

Gentle speech and courteous moodCost nothing, and are always good.

Loose thinking leads to inaccurate speech.

Forbear sharp speeches to her. She's a ladySo tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,And strokes death to her.

—Shakespeare.

Everything that one says too much, is insipid and tedious.

—Boilau.

It is unbecoming in inferiors to assume boldness of speech.

—Aeschylus.

Have more than thou showest;Speak less than thou knowest;Spend less than thou ownest.

—Greek.

Obedience.—The man who has lost his purse will go wherever you wish.

—Horace.

Many years ago Dr. Valpy, a well known English scholar, wrote a little verse of four lines as the longing of his heart and the confession of his faith. This was the simple stanza:—

"In peace let me resign my breath,And Thy salvation see;My sins deserve eternal death,But Jesus died for me."

Some time afterwards he gave this verse to his friend Dr. Marsh, and it became a great blessing to him. Dr. Marsh read the lines to his friend Lord Roden, who was so impressed with them that he got the doctor to write them out, and then fastened the paper over the mantlepiece in his study, and there, yellow with age, they hung for many years.

—By Canon Dyson Hague, in London Record.

Stars.—Those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air.

—Shakespeare.

Thou, proud man, look upon yon starry vault,Survey the countless gems which richly studThe night's imperial chariot;—TelescopesWill show themyriadsmore, innumerousAs the sea-sand:—each of those little lampsIs the great source of light, the central sunRound which some other mighty sisterhoodOf planets travel,—every planet stockedWith living beings impotent, as thee.Now, proud man—now, where is thy greatness fled?What art thou in the scale of universe?Less, less than nothing!

—Henry Kirke White.

The stars govern men, but God governs the stars.

No man can be expected to be wise on an empty stomach.

The more violent the storm, the sooner it is over.

—Seneca.

If a man be gracious unto strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and his heart is no island cut off from other lands, but a continent that joins them.

Be willing to pity the misery of the stranger! Thou givest to-day thy bread to the poor; to-morrow the poor may give it to thee.

—Michaelis.

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