Chapter 298 of 399 · 704 words · ~4 min read

Book iii

. Chap. iii._

The greatest of faults, I should say, is to be conscious of none.[579-3]

_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Prophet._

In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time: the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.

_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._

The true University of these days is a Collection of Books.

_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._

One life,--a little gleam of time between two Eternities.

_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._

Adversity is sometimes hard upon a man; but for one man who can stand prosperity there are a hundred that will stand adversity.

_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._

FOOTNOTES:

[578-1] How comes it to pass, then, that we appear such cowards in reasoning, and are so afraid to stand the test of ridicule?--SHAFTESBURY: _Characteristics. A Letter concerning Enthusiasm, sect. 2._

Truth, 't is supposed, may bear all lights; and one of those principal lights or natural mediums by which things are to be viewed in order to a thorough recognition is ridicule itself.--SHAFTESBURY: _Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour, sect. 1._

'T was the saying of an ancient sage (Gorgias Leontinus, _apud_ Aristotle's "Rhetoric," lib. iii. c. 18), that humour was the only test of gravity, and gravity of humour. For a subject which would not bear raillery was suspicious; and a jest which would not bear a serious examination was certainly false wit.--_Ibid. sect. 5._

[579-1] Carlyle in his essay on Mirabeau, 1837, quotes this from a "New England book."

[579-2] MONTESQUIEU: _Aphorism._

[579-3] His only fault is that he has none.--PLINY THE YOUNGER: _Book ix. Letter xxvi._

THOMAS C. HALIBURTON. 1796-1865.

I want you to see Peel, Stanley, Graham, Sheil, Russell, Macaulay, Old Joe, and so on. They are all upper-crust here.[580-1]

_Sam Slick In England._[580-2] _Chap. xxiv._

Circumstances alter cases.

_The Old Judge. Chap. xv._

FOOTNOTES:

[580-1] Those families, you know, are our upper-crust,--not upper ten thousand.--COOPER: _The Ways of the Hour, chap. vi._ (1850.)

At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand of the city.--N. P. WILLIS: _Necessity for a Promenade Drive._

[580-2] "Sam Slick" first appeared in a weekly paper of Nova Scotia, 1835.

WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. 1797-1835.

I 've wandered east, I 've wandered west, Through many a weary way; But never, never can forget The love of life's young day.

_Jeannie Morrison._

And we, with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies.

_Jeannie Morrison._

THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY. 1797-1839.

I 'd be a butterfly born in a bower, Where roses and lilies and violets meet.

_I 'd be a Butterfly._

Oh no! we never mention her,-- Her name is never heard; My lips are now forbid to speak That once familiar word.

_Oh no! we never mention her._

We met,--'t was in a crowd.

_We met._

Gayly the troubadour Touched his guitar.

_Welcome me Home._

Why don't the men propose, Mamma? Why don't the men propose?

_Why don't the Men propose?_

She wore a wreath of roses The night that first we met.

_She wore a Wreath._

Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.

_Teach me to forget._

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear, Long, long ago, long, long ago.

_Long, long ago._

The rose that all are praising Is not the rose for me.

_The Rose that all are praising._

Oh pilot, 't is a fearful night! There 's danger on the deep.

_The Pilot._

Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may'st be.

_The Pilot._

Absence makes the heart grow fonder:[581-1] Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!

_Isle of Beauty._

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, The holly-branch shone on the old oak wall.

_The Mistletoe Bough._

Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands, And many friends I 've met; Not one fair scene or kindly smile Can this fond heart forget.

_Oh, steer my Bark to Erin's Isle._

FOOTNOTES:

[581-1] I find that absence still increases love.--CHARLES HOPKINS: _To C. C._

Distance sometimes endears friendship, and absence sweeteneth it.--HOWELL: _Familiar Letters,