LIFE.

sphinx is this life of ours, to all men and societies of men. Nature, like the sphinx, is of womanly celestial loveliness and tenderness; the face and bosom of a goddess, but ending in claws and the body of a lioness. There is in her a celestial beauty, which means celestial order, pliancy to wisdom; but there is also a darkness, a ferocity, a fatality, which are infernal. She is a goddess, but one not yet disimprisoned; one still half-imprisoned, -the inarticulate, lovely, still encased in the inarticulate, chaotic. How true! And does she not propound her riddles to us? Of each man she asks daily, in mild voice, yet with a terrible significance, Knowest thou the meaning of this day? What thou canst do to-day, wisely attempt to do." Nature, universe, destiny, existence, howsoever we name this grand unnameable fact in the midst of which we live and struggle, is as a heavenly bride and conquest to the wise and brave, to them who can discern her behests and do them; a destroying fiend to them who cannot. Answer her riddle, it is well with thee. Answer it not, pass on regarding it not, it will answer itself: the solution of it is a thing of teeth and claws. Nature is a dumb lioness, deaf to thy pleadings, fiercely devouring.

LIFE-Routine of.

Carlyle.

Life consists not of a series of illustrious actions or elegant enjoyments: the greater part of our time passes in compliance with necessities, in the performance of daily duties, in the removal of small inconveniences, in the procurement of petty pleasures; and we are well or ill at ease, as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small obstacles and frequent interruption. Johnson.

LIFE-Rule of.

I take it to be a principal rule of life, not to be too much addicted to any one thing. Terence. LIFE-a Shadow.

For we are but of yesterday, and know nothing, because our days upon earth are a shadow. Job.

LIFE-Shortness of.

O gentleman, the time of life is short;

So live, that, when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustain'd and
soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Bryant.
LIFE-Stages of.

There is a greater difference both in the stages of life and in the seasons of the year than in the conditions of men: yet the healthy pass through the seasons, from the clement to the inclement, not only unreluctant but rejoicingly, knowing that the worst will soon finish, and the best begin anew; and we are desirous of pushing forward into every stage of life, excepting that alone which ought reasonably to allure us most, as opening to us the Via Sacra, along which we move in triumph to our eternal country. We labour to get through

Shakspeare.

Though we seem grieved at the shortness of life in general, we are wishing every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be at age; then to be a man of business; then to make up

hatred of procrastination, in everything but the amendment of our practices and the adornment of our nature, one would imagine we were dragging Time along by force, and not he us Landor. LIFE-Seven Stages of.

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
And then, the whining school-boy, with his
satchel,

And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school; And, then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow: then, a soldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice;

In fair round belly, with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipp'red pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
is second childishness, and mere oblivion:
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every-
thing.
Shakspeare.

LIFE-Storms of.

The firm-set oak must bend before the storm,
Which oft distorts the beauty of its form;
'Tis but some passing gales, yet power have
they

To change the beauty of the growing spray,
And thus it is with man- -the storms of life,
Its sad reverses, and its petty strife,
Bend the stern purpose, mar the gentle growth
Of kindly feeling and of generous worth.
Not wholly mar, but slightly bend the mind,
Which else the chivalry of life might bend,-
And selfish thoughts and feelings those hearts
spoil,

Which else had risen high o'er evil's toil.
The good form still is seen as stately eak,
But the fair spreading of the branches broke;
Fine feelings, which ought far and wide to
spread,

Blasted and warp'd, by sad suspicions fed.
Still fair the tree, still beauteous to behold,
But lacking the full worth it might unfold;
Alas! that desert blasts can thus impair
What else had been so upright and so fair.
LIFE-Stream of.

river.

Roberts.

Life bears us on like a stream of a mighty Our boat at first glides down the narrow channel, through the playful murmurings of the little brook, and the winding of the

grassy borders. The trees shed their blossoma over our young heads, the flowers on the brink seem to offer themselves to our young hands; we are happy in hope, and we grasp eagerly at the beauties around us; but the stream hurries on, and still our hands are empty. Our course in youth and manhood is along a wilder and deeper flood, amid objects more striking and magnificent. We are animated at the moving pictures of enjoyment and industry passing around us; we are excited at some short-lived disappointment. The stream bears us on, and our joys and griefs are alike left behind us. We may be shipwrecked-we cannot be delayed; whether rough or smooth, the river hastens to its home, till the roar of the ocean is in our ears, and the tossing of the waves is beneath our feet, and the land lessens from our eyes, and the floods are lifted up around us, and we take our leave of earth and its inhabitants, until of our further voyage there is no witness save the Infinite and Eternal. Bishop Heber.

season.

Beneath me flows the Rhine, and, like the stream of time, it flows amid the ruins of the past. I see myself therein, and know that I am old. Thou, too, shalt be old. Be wise in Like the stream of thy life runs the stream beneath us. Down from the distant Alps, out into the wide world, it bursts away, like a youth from the house of his fathers. Broad-breasted and strong, and with earnest endeavours, like manhood, it makes itself a way through these difficult mountain-passes. And at length, in old age, it falters, and its steps are weary and slow, and it sinks into the sand, and through its grave passes into the great ocean, which is its eternity. Thus shall it be with thee. Longfellow.

Slow pass our days
In childhood, and the hours of light are long
Betwixt the morn and eve; with swifter lapse
They glide in manhood, and in age they fly;
Till days and seasons flit before the mind,
As flit the snow-flakes in a winter storm,
Seen rather than distinguish'd. Ah! I seem
As if I sat within a helpless bark,
By swiftly running waters hurried on
To shoot some mighty cliff. Along the banks,
Grove after grove, rock after frowning rock,
Bare sands, and pleasant homes, and flowery
nooks,

And isles and whirlpools in the stream, appear
Each after each, but the devoted skiff
Darts by so swiftly that their images
Dwell not upon the mind, or only dwell
In dim confusion; faster yet I sweep
By other banks and the great gulf is near.

LIFE.

Wisely, my son, while yet thy days are long.
And the fair change of seasons passes slow,
Gather and treasure up the good they yield
All that they teach of virtue, of pure thoughts
And kind affections, reverence of thy God
And for thy brethren; so when thou shalt

come

LIFE-Success in.

Into these barren years, thou mayst not bring A mind unfurnish'd, and a wither'd heart. Bryant. You should bear constantly in mind that nine-tenths of us are, from the very nature and necessities of the world, born to gain our livelihood by the sweat of the brow. What reason, then, have we to presume that our children are not to do the same? The path upwards is steep and long. Industry, care, skill, excellence in the parent, lay the foundation of a rise under more favourable circumstances for the children. The children of these take another rise, and by and by descendants of the present labourer become gentlemen. This is the natural progress. It is by attempting to reach to the top at a single leap that so much misery is produced in the world. The education which is recommended consists in bringing children up to labour with steadiness, with care, and with skill to show them how to do as many useful things as possible; to teach them to do all in the best manner; to set them an example of industry, sobriety, cleanliness, and neatness; to make all these habitual to them, so that they shall never be liable to fall in the contrary; to let them always see a good living proceeding from labour, and thus remove from them the temptation to get the goods of others by violent and fraudulent means.

Life is not entirely made up of great evils or heavy trials; but the perpetual recurrence of petty evils and small trials in the ordinary and appointed exercise of the Christian graces. To bear with the failings of those about uswith their infirmities, their bad judgment, their ill-breeding, their perverse tempers; to endure neglect when we feel we deserved attention, and ingratitude when we expected thanks; to bear with the company of disagreeable people whom Providence has placed in our way, and whom He has perhaps provided or purposed for the trial of our virtue; these are best exercises of patience and self

LIFE.

denial, and the better because not chosen by ourselves. To bear with vexation in business, with disappointment in our expectations, with interruptions of our retirement, with folly, intrusion, disturbance-in short, with whatever opposes our will, contradicts our humour-this habitual acquiescence appears to be more of the essence of self-denial than any little rigours or inflictions of our own imposing. These constant, inevitable, but inferior evils, properly improved, furnish a good moral discipline, || and might, in the days of ignorance, have superseded pilgrimage and penance. Hannah More.

LIFE-True.

The mere lapse of years is not life. To eat, and drink, and sleep-to be exposed to darkness and the light-to pace round in the mill of habit, and turn thought into an implement of trade this is not life. In all this but a poor fraction of the consciousness of humanity is awakened; and the sanctities will slumber which make it worth while to be. Knowledge, truth, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone can give vitality to the mechanism of existence. The laugh of mirth that vibrates through the heart; the tears that freshen the dry wastes within; the music that brings childhood back; the prayer that calls the future near; the doubt which makes us meditate; the death which startles us with mystery; the hardship which forces us to struggle; the anxiety that ends in trust; are the true nourishment of our natural being.

LIFE-Uncertain.

James Martineau.

Man's uncertain life Is like a rain-drop hanging on the bough, Amongst ten thousand of its sparklingkindred,

The remants of some passing thunder shower, Which have their moments, dropping one by

one,

And which shall soonest lose its perilous hold,
We cannot guess.
Joanna Baillie.

Since a few minutes can turn the healthiest bodies into breathless carcases, and put those very things which we had principally relied on into the hands of our enemies, it were little less than madness to repose a distrustless trust in these transitory possessions, or treacherous advantages, which we enjoy but by so fickle a tenure. No; we must never venture to wander far from God, upon the presumption that death is far enough from us; but rather, in the very height of our jollity, we should endeavour to remember, that they who feast themselves to-day, may, themselves, prove feasts for the worms to-morrow.

Bogle.

Ah! what is life with ills encompass'd round; Admit our hopes, fate strikes the sudden wound;

To-day the statesman of new honour dreams, To-morrow death destroys his airy schemes. 13 mouldy treasure in thy chest confined? Think, all that treasure thou must leave behind;

Thy heir with smiles shall view the blazon'd hearse,

And all thy hoards with lavish hands disperse;
Should certain fate th' impending blow delay,
Thy mirth will sicken, and thy bloom decay;
Then feeble age will all thy nerves disarm,
No more thy blood its narrow channels warm.
Who then would wish to stretch this narrow
span,

To suffer life beyond the date of man.

Gay.

When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat,
Yet, fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit;
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay,-
To-morrow's falser than the former day;
Lies more, and while it says we shall be bless'd
With some new joys, cuts off what we possess'd.
Strange cozenage! none would live past years
again,

Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
And from the dregs of life think to receive
What the first sprightly running could not give.
I'm tired with waiting for this chymic gold,
Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.

Dryden.

LIFE-Vicissitudes of

Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are;
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew;
Or like a wind that chases the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood.
Ev'n such is man, whose borrow'd light
Is straight call'd in, and paid to night.
The wind blows out, the bubble dies,
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies;
The dew dries up, the star is shot,
The flight is past, and man forgot.

King.

There is no unmixed good in human affairs; the best principles, if pushed to excess, degenerate into fatal vices. Generosity is nearly lead to ruin; the sternness of justice is but allied to extravagance; charity itself may one step removed from the severity of oppression. It is the same in the political world; the tranquillity of despotism resembles the stagnation of the Dead Sea; the fever of innovation, the tempests of the ocean. seem as if, at particular periods, from causes inscrutable to human wisdom, a universal frenzy seizes mankind; reason, experience, classes who are to perish in the storm are the prudence, are alike blinded; and the very first to raise its fury.

LIFE-Voyage of

It would

Alison.

We sail the sea of life: a calm one finds, And one a tempest; and, the voyage o'er, Death is the quiet haven of us all.

LIFE-Walk of.

Wordsworth.

We talk of human life as a journey, but how variously is that journey performed ! There are those who come forth girt, and shod, and mantled, to walk on velvet lawns and smooth terraces, where every gale is arrested and every beam is tempered. There are others who walk on the Alpine paths of life, against driving misery, and through stormy sorrows, over sharp afflictions; walk with bare feet and naked breast, jaded, mangled, and chilled. Sidney Smith. LIFE-Unconscious Waste of.

Like Mekkah's milky stone, which wastes

LIFE.

LIFE-Weariness of.

They who are most weary of life, and yet are most unwilling to die, are such who have lived to no purpose,-who have rather breathed than lived. Lord Clarendon.

LIFE-a Mingled Yarn.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. Shakspeare.

LIFE-ASSURANCE-Value of.

Perhaps one of the most remarkable examples of the value of general laws is to be found in life assurances; for what apparently can be more precarious and uncertain than the duration of life in any individual? Yet, in the aggregate, mortality is so regular, that it has been said by an eminent mathematician that there is no investment so certain as that of a prudently-conducted assurance society. If we take 5,000 persons in the prime of life, 600 die in the first ten years, 700 in the second ten years, 850 in the third. experience under different circumstances varies but little, as Jenkin Jones, Neison, and Farren, have shown; and it is a curious fact, that lives which might be called first-class are as prone to disease as those which appear to belong hardly to so high a class. Timbs.

LIFE AND DEATH.

Hast thou seen with life incessant Bubbles gliding under ice,

Bodied forth and evanescent,

No one knows by what device?

The

LIGHT.

Unbodied, unsoul'd, unheard, unseen; But Life was like a fair young lusty boy,

Such as they feign Dan Cupid to have been; Full of delightful health and lively joy, Deck'd all with flowers, and wings of gold fit to employ. Spenser.

To be, or not to be, that is the question:-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them?- To die,-to
sleep,-

No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural
shocks

That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die;-to sleep ;To sleep! perchance to dream;-ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may

come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of
time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death,—
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,-puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of!
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. Shakspeare.