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triumphing over all competition. But wise men will rather do sacrifice to envy in suffering themselves to be crossed and defeated in things of little importance. Notwithstanding so much is true, that greatness borne in a plain and open manner, without ostentation and vanity, draws less envy than if it we e carried in a more crafty and cunning fashion; for in this way a man but disavows fortune, and seeming conscious of his own want of worth, teaches others to envy him.

Lastly, to conclude this topic, as we said in the beginning, that the act of envy has something in it of fascination or witcheraft; so there is no other cure for it than the cure of witchcraft, and that is to remove the lot, as they call it, and to lay it on another; for which purpose the wiser sort of great persons always bring forward somebody to attract and receive the envy that would fall upon themselves; sometimes ministers and servants, sometimes colleagues, associates and the like; and for such an emergency there are never wanting persons of violent and forward spirit, who, so they may have power and business, will take it at any cost.

Now to speak of public envy: There is even some good in public envy, whereas in private there is none; for public envy is like an ostracism which brings eclipse upon men when they grow too great, and therefore it is also a bridle to great men to keep them within bounds. This sort of envy being in Latin, invidia, goes in the modern English by the name of discontent. It is a disease in a state resembling infection, for infection spreads over that which is sound and taints it, so when envy is gotten once into a state, it traduces even the best measures, bringing them into an ill odor; and little is gained by intermingling plausible actions, which argues but weakness and a fear of envy, hurting so much the more as is usual likewise with infections that are more apt to fall upon you if you fear them. This public envy seems to bear chiefly upon principal officers or ministers, rather than upon princes or rulers. But it is a sure sign, that if the envy of the minister is great, without much cause in him for it, or if the envy be in a manner general, affecting all ministers of state, then the envy, though the cause be hidden, is truly fallen upon the state itself.

We will add this in general touching the affection of envy, that of ali the passions, it is the most importunate and unceasing. Of other affections, occasion is given but now and then, and therefore it was well said, Invidia festos dies non agit; for it is ever at work in some direction. And it is also observed that love and envy make a man pine away, but other affections do not, because they are not so continual. It is also the vilest affection and the most depraved; for which reason, it is the proper attribute of the devil, who is represented as "the envious man that soweth tares among the wheat by night;" and it always comes to pass that envy works with subtilty and in the dark, and to the prejudice of whatever is good. Spencer drew a true portrait of the odious monster, in the following lines:

Her hands were foul and dirtie, never wash'd

In all her life, with long nayles over raught,
In these she held a snake with venime fraught,
On which she fed and gnawed hungrily,

As if that long she had not eaten aught;
That round about her jawes one might desery
The bloudie gore and poyson dropping loathsomely.

And if she hapt of any good to heare
That had to any happily betid,

Then would she inly fret, and grieve, and teare
Her flesh for fellnesse, which she inward hid:
But if she heard of ill that any did,

Or harm that any had, then would she make
Great cheare, like one unto a banquet bid;
And in another's loss great pleasure take,

As she had got thereby and gayned a great stake.

THE SPIRIT'S EVENTIDE.

BY THE EDITOR.

THE spirit hath its evening hours,
When dies away life's restless din;
Then peace sheds down its soothing powers,
As when the night falls round the flowers—
And shuts their fragrance in.

The bird makes soft its shaded nest

With down it gathered in the sun; And thus we come to sweetest rest When toil is o'er and work is done. Serener light, as day declines,

O'er the hot field of labor shines;
While memory, in this holy hour,
Asserts its reproducing power;
And to our resting heart appears,
The fruit of toil without its tears.
Such peace is felt divinely nigh,

In rudest storms and darkest night;
How sweetly doth the spirit lie
In covert as the rage goes by;

A rainbow in the dismal storm
Stauds o'er us like a heavenly form,
And all beneath is bright.

How peaceful will that evening be,

When life's last work is bravely done;

And every wo of life shall cease,

Near that great heart of love and peace,

That beats above the Sun!

METASTASIO.

Dunque si sfoga in pianto.

IN tears, the heart opprest with grief
Gives language to its woes;
In tears, its fulness finds relief,
When rapture's tide o'erflows!
Who then unclouded bliss would seek
On this terrestrial sphere;

When e'en the delight can only speak,
Like sorrow-in a tear?

GOLDEN PARABLES.

FROM THE GERMAN BY THE EDITOR.

X X X.-S MILING AT DEATH.

AN aged pious man was nigh to death, and his children and grandchildren were gathered around his couch. He appeared to lie in a pleasant slumber, and with closed eyes he smiled three times. When he opened his eyes again, one of his sons asked him why he had smiled three times.

The venerable man said: "The first time it seemed as if all the joys of my life passed before me, and I was induced to smile at the thought that men can regard such bubbles as matters of importance.

"The second time, I called to mind all the sorrows of my life, and was glad that to me they have now lost all their thorns, and that the time has come when they will bring me roses.

"The third time I thought of death, and it made me smile to think that this angel of God, who comes to release us from all suffering, and lead us into the habitations of eternal joys, should be feared by men."

XXXI. FRIENDS AFTER DEATH.

A certain father once related to his children this story: "A ruler who governed for a certain king on an island, was once ordered to come into the presence of the king to give an account of his stewardship. Those of his friends in whom he had reposed most confidence, permitted him to depart without showing any concern for him. Others, in whom also he had but a little trusted, accompanied him to the ships. But still others in whom he had but very little confidence, went with him the whole voyage, and came with him up to the throne of the king, where they spoke in his favor, and secured him the good will of his lord."

"Thus," said the father, "man has also three kinds of friends on earth -friends whom he only learns rightly to know, when he is called away from the present life to give an account of his actions before God."

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The first of these friends, money and prosperity, remain entirely behind the second, friends and acquaintances, go with him only to the grave; the third, good works, go with him on his long journey into eternity, speak for him before the throne of God, and are the measure of the grace and mercy which he shall obtain.

How foolish, therefore, is the man who does not concern himself for such faithful friends. For nothing follows us into the better world but the good which we have done in this life.

XXXII. THE INHERITANCE.

A rich merchant gave all his property to his children, and they in. turn promised to provide for him till his death.

At first all went well; but by and by the children began to treat him very roughly. They closely counted every piece of bread he ate, and did not even provide him with suitable clothing. Often would the distressed father say: "I have erred in giving all my property into the hands of my children. It were better if they would have to ask me for what they need, than that I should be compelled to ask them for what I need."

It so happened, at a certain time, that the father very unexpectedly received $20,000 from an old friend in business, which he had long before given up as lost. He now bought a strong iron chest, secured by many locks, into which he placed his money.

The children now began again to treat their father with great kindness, hoping to induce him by their flatteries to give them this money, as he had done before. But he gave them not a penny; and now they could do nothing else than comfort themselves with the hope of inheriting it at his death.

After his death they eagerly opened the chest in order to divide the money; but, behold! the father had privately given all the money to the orphan asylum, and filled the chest with tiles. On the tiles lay a note, in which was written these words: "Unto children who act ungrateful toward their parents, all their money shall turn into stones."

EMPIRE OF WOMAN.

SCHILLER.

Her smile is gentleness; she winneth sway
By a soft word, and by a softer look;
Where she, the gentle, loving one, hath failed,
The proud or stern might never yet succeed.

Strength, power, and majesty, belong to man ;
They make the glory native to his life,
But sweetness is a woman's attribute;

By that she has reigned, and by that will reign.

There have been some who, with a mightier mind,
Have won dominion; but they never won

The dearer empire of the beautiful;

Sweet sovereigns of their natural loveliness.

ENVY.

DYING, once more to meet thy dear caress,

I sit and languish in my loneliness.

Return, sweet friend, secure from doubt or blame;
One kiss, which seems even now my lips to bless,
Shall say thy love is matchless as thy fame.

DEATH OF PRESCOTT, THE HISTORIAN.

IN the September number of 1857, as the readers of the Guardian will remember, we gave a sketch of the manner in which this great man worked his way on to fame through a series of difficulties which would have discouraged and defeated any man of ordinary courage and perseverance. He has just been suddenly called away by death in the midst of his last unfinished work, "The History of the reign of Philip the Second." But he lived long enough to win a world-wide fame, and now that he has gone to his grave, two continents mourn after him; for he was as well known in Europe as in his own land. He has gone, but his work lives. His noble example of perseverance will inspire young men in pursuit of knowledge in ages to come; and his name will be remembered and cherished by the learned and good, in whose keeping alone true fame can be entrusted, when many Kings and Presidents will have been forgotten. We copy, from the Lancaster Daily Express, a brief notice of his life and labors.

Mr. Prescott was born in Salem, Mass., May 4, 1796. He was the grandson of the brave Colonel William Prescott, of Pepperell, who commanded the American militia at the battle of Bunker Hill, June 17, 1775. His father was the late Judge Willlam Prescott, who removed from Salem to Boston, in 1808-a man distinguished no less for the sterling probity of his character and the urbanity and kindness of his manners, than for his eminence as a jurist, and his solid attainments in various branches of learning. After preparing for College in Boston, Mr. Prescott entered Harvard University at the age of fifteen, where he graduated in 1814, having already won a brilliant reputation for the elegance of his tastes, and his proficiency in classical literature. It had been his purpose to study for the bar, to which he was naturally destined both by his family connections and his personal inclinations. But this intention was frustrated by an accident, just as he was closing his collegiate course, which instantly deprived him of the sight of one of his eyes. The other eye was soon after so severely attacked by inflammation, that for some time he had lost the sight of that also; and though it was subsequently restored, the organ was permanently debilitated, and twice during his life he was deprived of it, for all purposes of reading and writing, for several years together.

Under these circumstances, Mr. Prescott was compelled to relinquish the professional prospects which had dawned upon him so brightly. But his physical infirmity has proved the condition of his fame. Had he retained the use of his eyes, he would doubtless have become a learned jurist, and, perhaps, an eloquent advocate; but would have remained unknown to the world as the historian, who shares the honors of Robertson and Thierry.

His inclination was to become a historian, and in order to qualify himself thoroughly, he appropriated ten years to the study of the classics and of moral and political philosophy. When this severe course of reading was accomplished, and he felt himself qualified to begin his labors, he selected for a subject, the history of the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella

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