there are ways to recover the general again. Sue to him, and he's yours.

Cas. I will rather sue to be despised. Drunk! and squabble! swagger! swear! and discourse fustian with one's own shadow! Oh, thou invisible spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.

Iago. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?

Cas. I know not.

Iago. Is't possible?

Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men should put an enemy into their mouths to steal away their brains: that we should, with joy, gayety, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

Iago. Why, but you are well enough how came you thus recovered?

Cas. It has pleased the devil, Drunkenness, to give place to the devil, Wrath; one imperfection shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.

Iago. Come, you are too severe a moralizer. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen; but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. Cas. If I ask him for tell me I am a drunkard!

my place again, he will

Had I as

Had I as many mouths

as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil.

Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used; exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.

Cas. I have well approved it, sir. I, drunk!

Iago. You or any living man may be drunk at some time, man. I tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the general. Confess yourself freely to her; importune her help to put you in your place again. She is of so free, so apt, so kind, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her husband, entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. Cas. You advise me well.

Iago. I protest in all the sincerity of love and honest kindness.

Cas. I think it freely, and betimes in the morning, I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me.

Iago. You are in the right. Good-night, lieutenant, I must go to the watch.

Cas. Good-night, honest Iago.

FROM SHAKESPEARE'S "OTHELLO."

26. PROFANENESS.

Profaneness is a low, grovelling vice. He who indulges it is no gentleman. I care not what his stamp may be in society, I care not what clothes he wears, or what culture he boasts-despite all his refinement, the light and habitual taking of God's name in vain betrays a coarse nature and a brutal will.

Profaneness is an unmanly and silly vice. It certainly is not a grace in conversation; and it adds no strength to it. There is no organic symmetry in the narrative which is ingrained with oaths 8; and the blasphemy which bolsters an opinion does not make it any more correct. Nay, the use of profane oaths argues a limited range of ideas, and a consciousness of being on the wrong side; and, if we can find no other phrases through which to vent our choking passion, we would better repress that passion.

Profaneness is a mean vice. It indicates the grossest ingratitude. According to general estimation, he who repays kindness with contumely, he who abuses his friend and benefactor, is deemed pitiful and wretched. And yet, O profane one! whose name is it you handle so lightly? It is that of your best Benefactor! You, whose blood would boil to hear the venerable names of your earthly

parents hurled about in scoffs and jests, abuse, without compunction and without thought, the name of your Heavenly Father!

Profaneness is an awful vice! Once more, I ask, whose name is it you so lightly use! That holy name of God! Have you ever pondered its meaning? Have you ever thought what it is that you mingle thus with your passion and your wit? It is the name of him whom the angels worship, whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain !

Profane young man! though habit be ever so stringent with you, when the word of mockery and blasphemy is about to leap from your lips, think of these considerations, think of God, and, instead of that wicked oath, cry out in reverent prayer,"HALLOWED BE THY NAME!"

-E. H. CHAPIN.

It is not growing like a tree,

In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day

Is fairer far in May,

Although it fall and die that night,
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauty see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.

27. THE COLD-WATER MAN.

It was an honest fisherman,
I knew him passing well;
And he lived by a little pond,
Within a little dell.

A grave and quiet man was he,
Who loved his hook and rod:
So even ran his line of life,

His neighbors thought it odd.

For science and for books, he said
He never had a wish:

No school to him was worth a fig
Except a school of fish.

In short, this honest fisherman
All other toils forsook;

And, though no vagrant man was he,
He lived by hook and crook.

He ne'er aspired to rank or wealth,
Nor cared about a name;

For, though much famed for fish was he,
He never fished for fame.

To charm the fish he never spoke,
Although his voice was fine: