3. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, p. 82; No. 2, pp. 88, 76; No. 3, p. 59.
1. Let not, then, the young man sit with folded hands, calling on Hercules. Thine own arm is the demigod: it was given thee to help thyself. Go forth into the world trustful, but fearless. Exalt thine adopted calling or profession. Look on labor as honorable, and dignify the task before thee, whether it be in the study, office, counting-room, work-shop, or furrowed field. There is an equality in all, and the resolute will and pure heart may ennoble either.
2. While you are gazing on that sun which is plunging into the vault of the west, another observer admires him emerging from the gilded gates of the east. By what inconceivable power does that agèd star, which is sinking fatigued and burning in the shades of the evening, re-appear at the same instant fresh and humid with the rosy dew of the morning? At every hour of the day the glorious orb is at once rising, resplendent as noonday, and setting in the west; or rather our senses deceive us, and there is, properly speaking, no east or west, no north or south, in the world.
3. In all natural and spiritual transactions, so far as they come within the sphere of human agency, there are three distinct elements: there is an element of endeavor, of mystery, and of result; in other words, there is something for man to do, there is something beyond his knowledge and control, there is something achieved by the co-operation of these two. Man sows the seed, he reaps the harvest; but between these two points occurs the middle condition of mystery. He casts the seed into the ground; he sleeps and rises night and day; but the seed springs and grows up, he knows not how: yet, when the fruit is ripe, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. That is all he knows about it. There is something for him to do, something for him to receive; but between the doing and receiving there is a mystery.