And his forbearance toward thee silently teacheth thee to be considerate unto him.

He despiseth not courtesy of manner, nor neglecteth the decencies of life:

Nor mocketh the failings of others, nor is harsh in his cen

sures before thee;

For so, how couldst thou tell, if he talketh not of thee in ridicule ?

He withholdeth no secret from thee, and rejecteth not thine

in turn;

He shareth his joys with thee, and is glad to bear part in thy

sorrows.

Yet one thing, he loveth thee too well to show thee the cor

ruptions of his heart:

For as an ill example strengtheneth the hands of the wicked, So to put forward thy guilt is a secret poison to thy friend: For the evil in his nature is comforted, and he warreth more

weakly against it,

If he find that the friend whom he honoreth is a man more sinful than himself.

I hear the communing of friends; ye speak out the fulness of your souls,

And being but men, as men, ye own to all the sympathies of manhood: (26)

Confidence openeth the lips, indulgence beameth from the eye, The tongue loveth not boasting, the heart is made glad with kindness:

And one standeth not as on a hill, beckoning to the other to follow,

But ye toil up hand in hand, and carry each other's burdens. Ye commune of hopes and aspirations, the fervent breathings of the heart,

Ye speak with pleasant interchange the treasured secrets of affection,

Ye listen to the voice of complaint, and whisper the language

of comfort,

And, as in a do ible solitude, ye think in each other's hearing.

CHOOSE thy friend discreetly, and see thou consider his station,

For the graduated scale of ranks accordeth with the ordinance of heaven:

If a low companion ripen to a friend, in the full sunshine of thy confidence,

Know, that for old age thou hast heaped up sorrow:

For thou sinkest to that level, and thy kin shall scorn thee, Yea, and the menial thou hast pampered haply shall neglect thee in thy death:

And if thou reachest up to high estates, thinking to herd with

princes,

What art thou but a footstool, though so near a throne?
O rush among the lilies, be taught thou art a weed,

O brier among the cedars, hot contempt shall burn thee.
But thou, friend and scholar, select from thine own caste,
And make not an intimate of one, thy servant or thy master;
For only friendship among men is the true republic,
Where all have equality of service, and all have freedom of
command.

And yet, if thou wilt take my judgment, be shy of too much openness with any,

Lest thou repent hereafter, should he turn and rend thee: For many an apostate friend hath abused unguarded confidence,

And bent to selfish ends the secret of the soul.

ABSENCE strengtheneth friendship, where the last recollections were kindly;

But it must be good wine at the last, or absence shall weaken it daily.

A rare thing is faith, and friendship is a marvel among men, Yet strange faces call they friends, and say they believe

when they doubt.

Those hours are not lost that are spent in cementing affec

tion;

For a friend is above gold, precious as the stores of the mind. Be sparing of advice by words, but teach thy lesson by exam

ple:

For the vanity of man may be wounded, and retort unkindly upon thee.

There be some that never had a friend, because they were gross and selfish:

Worldliness, and apathy, and pride, leave not many that are worthy:

But one who meriteth esteem, need never lack a friend; For as thistledown flieth abroad, and casteth its anchor in the soil,

So philanthropy yearneth for a heart, where it may take roo and blossom.

YET I hear the child of sensibility moaning at the wintry

cold,

Wherein the mists of selfishness have wrapped the society of

men:

He grieveth, and hath deep reasons; for falsehood hath wronged his trust,

And the breaches in his bleeding heart have been filled with the briers of suspicion.

For alas, how few be friends, of whom charity hath hoped

well!

How few there be among men who forget themselves for

other!

Each one seeketh his own, and looketh on his brethren as rivals,

Masking envy with friendship, to serve his secret ends.

And the world, that corrupteth all good, hath wronged that

sacred name,

For it calleth any man friend, who is not known for an ene

my;

And such be as the flies of summer, while plenty sitteth at

thy board;

But who can wonder at their flight from the cold denials of

want?

Such be as vultures round a carcase, assembled together for the feast:

But a sudden noise scareth them, and forthwith are they specks among the clouds.

There be few, O child of sensibility, who deserve to have thy confidence;

Yet weep not, for there are some, and such some live for

thee:

To them is the chilling world a drear and barren scene,

And gladly seek they such as thou art, for seldom find they the occasion.

For, though no man excludeth himself from the high capability of friendship,

Yet verily the man is a marvel whom truth can write a friend.

OF LOVE.

THERE is a fragrant blossom, that maketh glad the garden of the heart.

Its root lieth deep; it is delicate, yet lasting, as the lilac crocus of autumn:

Loneliness and thought are the dews that water it morn and even;

Memory and Absence cherish it, as the ba.my breathings of the south:

Its sun is the brightness of affection, and it bloometh in the borders of Hope;

Its companions are gentle flowers, and the brier withereth by

its side.

I saw it budding in beauty; I felt the magic of its smile;

The violet rejoiced beneath it, the rose stooped down and

kissed it;

And I thought some cherub had planted there a truant flower

of Eden,

As a bird bringeth foreign seeds, that they may flourish in a kindly soil.

I saw and asked not its name; I knew no language was so wealthy,

Though every heart of every clime findeth its echo within. And yet what shall I say? Is a sordid man capable of

Love?

Hath a seducer known it? Can an adulterer perceive it?
Or he that seeketh strange women, can he feel its purity?
Or he that changeth often, can he know its truth?
Longing for another's happiness, yet often destroying its
own;

Chaste, and looking up to God, as the fountain of tenderness and joy;

Quiet, yet flowing deep, as the Rhine among rivers;

Lasting, and knowing not change-it walketh with Truth and Sincerity.

LOVE-what a volume in a word, an ocean in a tear,
A seventh heaven in a glance, a whirlwind in a sigh,
The lightning in a touch, a millennium in a moment,
What concentrated joy or woe in blest or blighted love!
For it is that native poetry springing up indigenous to Mind,
The heart's own country music thrilling all its chords,
The story without an end that angels throng to hear.
The word, the king of words, carved on Jehovah's heart!
Oh! call thou snake-eyed malice mercy, call envy honest
praise,

Count selfish craft for wisdom, and coward treachery for pru.

dence,

Do homage to blaspheming unbelief as to bold and free philosophy,