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panions, for they stimulate thought, and hold a man to his purpose.-Essays, Poems, and an Elucidation of the Bhagavat Gheeta and "The Choice of Books."

PHILIP JAMES BAILEY. b. 1816 [Living].
Worthy books

Are not companions-they are solitudes;
We lose ourselves in them and all our cares.

We entreat Thee, that all men whom Thou

Hast gifted with great minds may love Thee well, And praise Thee for their powers, and use them most Humbly and holily, and, lever-like,

Act but in lifting up the mass of mind

About them; knowing well that they shall be
Questioned by Thee of deeds the pen hath done,
Or caused, or glozed; inspire them with delight
And power to treat of noble themes and things,
Worthily, and to leave the low and mean-
Things born of vice or day-lived fashion, in
Their naked native folly :-make them know
Fine thoughts are wealth, for the right use of which
Men are and ought to be accountable,―

If not to Thee, to those they influence :

Grant this we pray Thee, and that all who read,
Or utter noble thoughts may make them theirs,
And thank God for them, to the betterment
Of their succeeding life;—that all who lead
The general sense and taste, too apt, perchance,
To be led, keep in mind the mighty good
They may achieve, and are in conscience, bound,
And duty, to attempt unceasingly

To compass.

Grant us, All-maintaining Sire!

That all the great mechanic aids to toil

Man's skill hath formed, found, rendered,-whether used
In multiplying works of mind, or aught
To obviate the thousand wants of life,
May much avail to human welfare now
And in all ages, henceforth and for ever!
Let their effect be, Lord! to lighten labour,
And give more room to mind, and leave the poor
Some time for self-improvement.

Let them not

Be forced to grind the bones out of their arms
For bread, but have some space to think and feel
Like moral and immortal creatures. God!
Have mercy on them till such time shall come.

FREDERICK WILLIAM ROBERTSON.

1816-1853.

Festus.

It is very surprising to find how little we retain of a book, how little we have really made our own when we come to interrogate ourselves as to what account we can give of it, however we may seem to have mastered it by understanding it. Hundreds of books read once have passed as completely from us as if we have never read them; whereas the discipline of mind got by writing down, not copying, an abstract of a book which is worth the trouble, fixes it on the mind for years, and, besides, enables one to read other books with more attention and more profit.-Life and Letters of Fred. W. Robertson, M.A.; edited by Stopford A. Brooke, M.A.

JOHN G. SAXE. b. 1816.

Ah! well I love these books of mine

That stand so trimly on their shelves,
With here and there a broken line

(Fat "quartos" jostling modest "twelves"
A curious company I own;

The poorest ranking with their betters,
In brief-a thing almost unknown,
A pure Democracy-of Letters.
If I have favourites here and there,
And, like a monarch, pick and choose,
I never meet an angry stare

That this I take, and that refuse;
No discords rise my soul to vex

Among these peaceful book relations,
No envious strife of age or sex
To mar my quiet lucubrations.

I call these friends, these quiet books,
And well the title they may claim
Who always give me cheerful looks

(What living friend has done the same?)
And, for companionship, how few,

As these, my cronies ever present,

Of all the friends I ever knew

Have been so useful and so pleasant?

Poems by John Godfrey Saxe, LL.D., Boston.

ARTHUR HELPS. 1817-1875.

So varied, extensive, and pervading are human distresses, sorrows, short-comings, miseries, and misadventures, that a chapter of aid or consolation never

comes amiss, I think. There is a pitiless, pelting rain this morning; heavily against my study windows drives the north-western gale; and altogether it is a very fit day for working at such a chapter. The indoor comforts which enable one to resent with composure, nay even to welcome, this outward conflict and hubbub, are like the plans and resources provided by philosophy and religion, to meet the various calamities driven against the soul in its passage through this stormy world. The books which reward me have been found an equal resource in both respects, both against the weather from without and from within, against physical and mental storms; and, if it might be so, I would pass on to others the comfort which a seasonable word has often brought to me. If I were to look round these shelves, what a host of well-loved names would rise up, in those who have said brave or wise words to comfort and aid their brethren in adversity. It seems as if little remained to be said; but in truth there is always waste land in the human heart to be tilled.

There is another view of reading which, though it is obvious enough, is seldom taken, I imagine, or at least acted upon; and that is, that in the course of our reading we should lay up in our minds a store of goodly thoughts in well-wrought words, which should be a living treasure of knowledge always with us, and from which, at various times and amidst all the shifting of circumstances, we might be sure of drawing some comfort, guidance, and sympathy. We see this with regard to the sacred writings. "A word spoken in

due season, how good is it!" But there is a similar comfort on a lower level, to be obtained from other sources than sacred ones. In any work that is worth carefully reading, there is generally something that is worth remembering accurately. A man whose mind is enriched with the best sayings of his own country, is a more independent man, walks the streets in a town, or the lanes in the country, with far more delight than he otherwise would have; and is taught by wise observers of man and nature, to examine for himself. Sancho Panza with his proverbs is a great deal better than he would have been without them; and I contend that a man has something in himself to meet troubles and difficulties, small or great, who has stored in his mind some of the best things which have been said about troubles and difficulties. Moreover, the loneliness of sorrow is thereby diminished.-Friends in Council.

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

1819-1875.

Except a living man, there is nothing more wonderful than a book!—a message to us from the dead-from human souls whom we never saw, who lived, perhaps, thousands of miles away; and yet these, on those little sheets of paper, speak to us, amuse us, vivify us, teach us, comfort us, open their hearts to us as brothers.

I say we ought to reverence books, to look at them as useful and mighty things. If they are good and true, whether they are about religion or politics, farming, trade, or medicine, they are the message of Christ, the maker of all things, the teacher of all truth.

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