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3. Fill again to the brim, again to the brim!

For water strengtheneth life and limb!
To the days of the aged, it addeth length;
To the might of the strong, it addeth strength;
It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight;
'Tis like quaffing a goblet of morning light!
So, water, I will drink nothing but thee,
Thou parent of health and energy!

4. When over the hills, like a gladsome bride,

Morning walks forth in her beauty's pride,
And, leading a band of laughing hours,
Brushes the dew from the nodding flowers,
Oh, cheerily then my voice is heard,
Mingling with that of the soaring bird,
Who flingeth abroad his matin loud,
As he freshens his wing on the cold gray cloud.

5. But when evening has quitted her sheltering yew,

Drowsily flying, and weaving anew
Her dusky meshes o'er land and sea,
How gently, 0 sleep, fall thy poppies on me!
For I drink water, pure, cold, and bright,
And my dreams are of heaven the livelong night.
Thou art silver and gold, thou art ribbon and star!
Hurrah for bright water! hurrah! hurrah!



BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 1. HAPPY is the house that shelters a friend! It might well be built, like a festal bower or arch, to entertain him a single day. Happier, if he know the solemnity of that relation and honor its law! It is no idle bond, no holiday engagement. He who offers himself a candidate for that covenant comes up, like an Olympcan, to the great games where the first-born of the world are the competitors. He proposes himself for contests whero Time, Want, Danger are in the lists; and he alone is victor who has truth enough in his constitution to preserve the delicacy of his beauty from the wear and tear of all these. The gifts of

fortune may be present or absent; but all the hope in that contest depends on intrinsic nobleness, and the contempt of trifles.

2. There are two elements that go to the composition of friendship,-each so sovereign that I can detect no superiority in either, no reason why either should be named first. One is truth. A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness, with which one chemical atom meets another. Sincerity is the luxury allowed, like diadems and authority, only to the highest rank, which is permitted to speak truth, because it has none above it to court or conform unto.

3. Every man alone is sincere. At the entrance of a second person, hypocrisy begins. We parry and fend the approach of our fellow-man by compliments, by gossip, by amusements, by affairs. We cover up our thought from him under a hundred folds. I knew a man who, under a certain religious frenzy, cast off his drapery, and omitting all compliment and commonplace, spoke to the conscience of every person he encountered, and that with great insight and beauty. At first he was resisted, and all men agreed he was mad. But persisting—as indeed he could not help doing—for some time in this course, he attained to the advantage of bringing every man of his acquaintance into true relations with him. No man · would think of speaking falsely with him, or of putting him off with any chat of markets or reading-rooms. But every man was constrained by so much sincerity to face him, and what love of nature, what poetry, what symbol of truth, he had, he did certainly show him.

4. But to most of us society shows not its face and eye, but its side and its back. We can seldom go erect. Almost every man we meet requires some civility, requires to be humored : he has some fame, some talent, some whim of philanthropy in his head that is not to be questioned, and so spoils all conversation with him. But a friend is a sane man who exercises not my ingenuity, but me. My friend gives me entertainment without requiring me to stoop, or to lisp, or to mask myself.

5. The other element of friendship is tenderness. We are holden to men by every sort of tie,—by blood, by pride, by fear, by hope, by lucre, by lust, by hate, by admiration, by every circumstance and badge and trifle; but we can scarce believe that so much character can subsist in another as to draw us by love. . Can another be so blessed, and we so pure, that we can offer him tenderness? When a man becomes dear to me, I have touched the goal of fortune. I find very little, written directly to the heart, of this matter in books. And yet I have one text which I cannot choose but remember. My author says, “I offer myself faintly and bluntly to those whose I effectually am, and tender myself least to him to whom I am the most devoted.”

6. I wish that friendship should have feet, as well as eyes and cloquence. It must plant itself on the ground, before it walks over the moon. I wish it to be a little citizen, before it is quite a cherub. We chide the citizen because he makes love a commodity. It is an exchange of gifts, of useful loans; it is good neighborhood; it watches with the sick, it holds the pall at the funeral, and quite loses sight of the delicacies and nobility of the relation. But though we cannot find the god under this disguise of a sutler, yet, on the other hand, we cannot forgive the poet if he spins his thread too fine, and does not substantiate his romance by the municipal virtues of justice, punctuality, fidelity, and pity.

7. I hate the prostitution of the name of friendship to signify modish and worldly alliances. I much prefer the company of plow-boys and tin-peddlers, to the silken and perfumed amity which only celebrates its day of encounter by a frivolous display, by rides in a curricle, and dinners at the best taverns. The end of friendship is a commerce the most strict and homely that can be joined,-more strict than any of which we have experience. It is for aid and comfort through all the relations and passages of life and death. It is fit for serene days, and graceful gifts, and country rambles, but also for rough roads and hard fare, shipwreck, poverty, and persecution. It keeps company with the sallies of the wit and the trances of religion. We are to dignify to each other the daily needs and offices of man's life, and embellish it by courage, wisdom, and unity. It should never fall into something usual and settled, but should be alert and inventive, and add rhyme and reason to what was drudgery.




NOTE.—Observe the character of this selection, and read accordingly. What King John says must be read in a low key,--as low as possible without sacri. ficing distinctness of utterance.

King John. COME hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert !
We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh
There is a soul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love ;
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherish’d.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,–
But I will fit it with some better time.
Indeed, Hubert, I am almost ashamed
To say what good respect I have for thee.

Hubert. I am much bounden to your majesty.

K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet;
But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say,—but let it go ;
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gauds,
To give me audience. If the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a churchyard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Had baked thy blood and made it heavy; thick,
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;)
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ;
Then, in despite of brooded, watchful day,
I would into this bosom pour my thoughts.

But ah, I will not:-Yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well.

Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my lact,
I'd do it.

K. John. Do not I know thou wouldst?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon young boy. I'll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way;
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me. Dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.

Hub. And I will keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.

K. John. Death.
Hub. My lord ?
K. John. A grave.
Hub. He shall not live.

K. John. Enough.
I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee :
Well, I'll not say what I intended for thee,




FROM SHAKSPEARE. Note. This dialogue affords a number of passages to which the plaintivo tremor may be applied with excellent effect.

Prince Arthur-Hubert- Attendants.
Hub. HEAT me these irons hot; and, look thou, stand
Within the arras. When I strike my foot
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth,
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,
Fast to the chair. Be heedful: hence, and watch.

1 Att. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you; look to it.

Exeunt ATTENDANTS Young lad, come forth;. I have to say with you.


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