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MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTUR/AL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
ttcatianaL 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.] 
SELF-MADE, SELF-EDUCATED MEN. 
“No mau can be made a scholar—no one 
can be made learned.” There is no influence 
from without, (except persuasion,) no foreign 
power, which can be bro’t to bear like steam 
or electricity, that can ever fill the mind with 
ideas, or deposite therein those stores of 
knowledge that are necessary to make the 
scholar—the truly learned man. 
The teacher may solve or remove difficul¬ 
ties, may suggest subjects of study or trains of : 
thought, and in many ways aid the young as¬ 
pirant after knowledge, but he can never make 
him a great scholar—a 1 armed man. This 
must be his own work. 
An extensive library, much reading, espe¬ 
cially if miscellaneous, will not of themselves 
make a learned man. Indeed, a great library 
may rather prove a hindrance than a help, by 
dividing the thoughts among too many objects. 
Hence great miscellaneous readers are not gen¬ 
erally great scholars. They may have an ex¬ 
tensive amount of general information, and 
yet not be truly learned. 
To become learned requires close, deep, in¬ 
vestigating thought. Whatever is made a 
subject of study, must be investigated and 
studied, and pondered, until it is fully under- 
st mf, and h - ideas become our own—till a 
plan of the whole subject lies clearly before 
the mind’s eye; so that we can ever suggest 
“ additions, corrections, or alterations,” if the 
subject admits; or at least discover its perfec¬ 
tion without them. 
Almost any one can be a scholar, and be¬ 
come learned, if resolved to be. Let him first 
learn to think, to observe, and to investigate 
and the work is already half done. How 
many young people there are who waste 
their time, bury their talents, and it may be 
said, destroy their intellect, and go through 
life and down to the grave in obscurity if not 
in disgrace, who might otherwise have been 
ornaments to society and blessings to the world. 
Out West, Aug., 1S04. H. 
MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
The season of the year has again returned, 
when those who have a taste for intellectual 
enjoyments, or aspirations for mental culture, 
may more readily gratify the cherished desires 
of their hearts, than at any other period of 
the year. With the mass of people, whose 
days are given to physical toil, winter is the 
great season for mental improvement. The 
frosts that bind the outer world in death-lil-.e 
repose, and set a seal upon nature’s grave that 
only the vernal solstice cau remove, also serve 
to quicken and stimulate the mind, and to pre¬ 
pare it for the culture it needs and craves.— 
The winter of the physical world, is the spring¬ 
time and harvest-season of the mental. The 
lengthening evenings, and the bracing, energi¬ 
zing air,—imparting unwonted vigor to mind 
not less than body,—alike invite to intellectu¬ 
al pursuits. Happy will those be who make 
a good use of these leisure hours, and of the 
superadded mental force which usually accom¬ 
panies a northern winter. 
Many of our younger readers, who have 
toiled hard upon the farm or in the shop for 
six or eight months, will enjoy school privile¬ 
ges, during the coming winter. If wisely im¬ 
proved, these privileges may exert a most hap¬ 
py influence upon all who are favored with 
them. But there are doubtless others, among 
our readers, who feel the need of mental cul¬ 
ture, and yet cannot avail themselves of the 
benefits of the common school or the acade¬ 
my. To such we beg leave to recommend a 
term in the school of selj instruction. This is 
an institution which, in our country, is open to 
all, without money and without price. The 
only condition of membership is application; 
and in proportion to the diligence of that ap¬ 
plication, will be the progress of the pupil.— 
While we would not disparage the common 
school, the academy and the college, we hold 
that it is a truth, pervading every department 
of human effort, that success in an underta¬ 
king does not depend so much on the enjoy¬ 
ment of groat facilities, as on making the most 
of such as we can command. How often does 
the man of a few opportunities and scanty 
privileges for the attainment of knowledge, 
outstrip those who have been almost smother¬ 
ed by favoring fortune, in the distribution of 
her gifts 1 Unlike the result in the parable, 
the one talent of opportunity often increases 
faster than the ten. Or, to use another famil¬ 
iar Scripture figure, the seven lean and ill-fa¬ 
vored kine not only surpass, but swallow up 
their seven well-favored and fat brethren. 
No one, whose evenings are his own, should 
complain of want of time for mental culture. 
Let these valuable hours be devoted wisely 
and faithfully to the acquisition of knowledge, 
and the result, even of a single winter’s effort, 
will be far from insignificant. There should 
be a definite purpose in view and a particular 
course of study marked out at the beginning: 
and every effort should be so directed, as to 
swell the grand result. An hour or two spent 
every evening in desultory reading, or in hear¬ 
ing miscellaneous lectures, will be of little ben¬ 
efit. This is literary dissipation, not culture. 
It may be an agreeable way of killing time, 
but hours thus spent can hardly claim to be 
devoted to intellectual improvement. To ac¬ 
complish anything of importance, there must 
be a definite aim, and a patient concentration 
of effort towards the attainment of that ob¬ 
ject. 
About sixteen years ago, a party of young 
men in a town in this State, who felt the need 
of mental culture, formed a private lyceum, 
and inet’from night to night, with closed doors, 
for mutual improvement. The best educated 
among them had cyphered about half through 
Adams’ Arithmetic, and had a little knowledge 
of parsing, and of t lie other elementary branch¬ 
es usually taught in our public schools. The 
members persevered in their studies, and as¬ 
sisted by the stimulating effect of numbers, 
and the advantages of mutual aid, they made 
good progress. The first result of these at¬ 
tempts at self culture was seen in the town- 
meetings. Before, a few old codgers had man¬ 
aged the town’s affairs, and by common con¬ 
sent had everything their own way; but now 
there were young men who had the presump¬ 
tion to take part in public matters. One of 
these ancient representatives of fogydom be¬ 
came at length so vexed at this alarming do -1 
velopment of youthful talent, that he public¬ 
ly declared an old man could not speak in 
meeting, but up popped a young one, to argue 
a point or offer a suggestion. Since that day, 
one of those young men, whose early life was 
spent in poverty and ignorance, has occupied a 
seat in the Senate of the State, and is at the 
present time a candidate for a still higher of¬ 
fice. Another member of that humble band 
is a postmaster, and the president of a railroad 
company; and most of the others, we are told, 
now hold honorable positions in society, and 
have been elected to offices of honor and trust 
by the people. 
Such instances are by no means rare, 
and they are full of encouragement to those 
who are striving to make the best of limited 
means of self-culture. It may not be conven¬ 
ient, nor even desirable, in all cases, to take 
possession sf the social principle, i:i the pursuit 
of this object. No man, therefore, need wait 
for a mutual aid society, to help him in this 
work. If he has a true love of knowledge, 
he will pursue his evening studies with as much 
diligence, and perhaps as much profit, around 
his own fireside, as he could in the lyceum or 
the school.— JYew Eng. Farmer. 
MAN LIKENED TO A BOOK. 
Man is, as it were, a book; his birth the ti¬ 
tle-page; his baptism, the epistle dedicatory; 
liis groans and crying, the epistle to the read¬ 
er; his infancy and childhood, the argument 
or contents of the whole of the ensuing trea¬ 
tise; his life and actions, the subjects; his 
crimes and errors, the faults escaped, his re¬ 
pentance the connection. Now there are 
some large volumes, in folio, some little ones 
in sixteen?, some are fairer bound, some plain¬ 
er; some in strong vellum,some in thin paper; 
some whose subject is piety and godliness, some 
(and too many such) pamphlets of wantonness 
and folly; but in the last page of every one 
there stands a word which is finis, and this is 
the last word in every book. Such is the 
life of man; some longer, some shorter, some 
stronger, some weaker, and some fairer, some 
coarser, some holy, some profane; but death 
comes in like finis at the last, to close up the 
whole; for that is the end of all men.— Filz. 
Geoffry. 1620. 
Prussia and her University. —In the mor¬ 
al and intellectual history of modern times, 
there is no event more striking and instructive 
than the majestic stand made by Prussia, after 
its disastrous overthrow by Napoleon at Jena. 
The monarchy was all but ruined,—on the very 
brink of dismemberment,—when the sagacious 
statesmanship and far-seeing wisdom of Stein 
and his noble associates, established the Uni¬ 
versity of Berlin,—for the expressly avowed 
purpose of elevating the character of the peo¬ 
ple, and thereby enabling the nation to throw 
off the yoke of France. The tree thus planted, 
within ten years yielded fruits. The spirit of 
the community was revived and rekindled.— 
Prussia was disenthralled,—and the University 
stands, with its one hundred and fifty professors, 
and four thousand students, a monument of 
the wisdom of its founders, and will stand 
while letters endure.— Duty of Columbia Col¬ 
lege: by a Trustee. 
Singular Contrast. —It is worthy of no¬ 
tice, that only a few years before George the 
Second founded Columbia (then King’s) Col¬ 
lege, he had established a similar institution, 
in another part of his dominions. In the little 
town of Gottingen in Hanover, a German 
province of scanty resources, without com¬ 
merce, almost without a city, and often scourg¬ 
ed by war, he planted a seat of learning, that 
came into life the competitor of his twin broth¬ 
er in the Western World. In 1825, less than 
one hundred years from its birth, it had 89 
professors, 1545 students, and a library of 
three hundred thousand volumes, and it stands 
proudly aloft, among the great beacon lights 
of the intellectual world. The catalogue of 
Columbia College, in this the hundredth year 
of its existence, shows one hundred and forty 
students, and six professors.— Ibid. 
Books. —God be thanked for books? They 
are the voices of the distant and the dead, and 
make us heirs of the spiritual life of past ages. 
Books are the true levellers. They give to all 
who will faithfully use them the society, the 
spiritual presence of the best and greatest of 
our race. No matter how poor I am; no 
matter how poor I am; no matter though the 
prosperous of my own time will not enter my 
obscure dwelling. If the sacred writers will en¬ 
ter and take up their abode under my roof, if 
Milton will cross my threshold to sing to me 
of Paradise, or Shakspeare to open to me the 
worlds of imagination and the workings of the 
human heart, and Franklin to enrich me with 
his practical wisdom, I shall not pine for want 
of intellectual companionship; and I may be¬ 
come a cultivated man, though excluded from 
what is called the best society in the place 
where I live.— Channing. 
I hold it to be a fact, says Pascal, that if 
all persons knew what they said of each other, 
there would not be four friends in the world. 
This is manifest from the disputes to which in¬ 
discreet reports from one to another give rise. 
ry-' y * , serenity upon the stainless bosom of the upper 
vIa 1} C Qjy $ $ (1 |) | 5 t + deep, affording material for the dreamy spec- 
O 05 illations of philosophers and astronomers. 
When the mind wanders over the intermin- 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.] ab ] e r of the univergej everywhere be- 
TIIE MILKY-WAY. spangled with myriads of gigantic suns and 
nv i) h ahhfy worlds—all moving in silent harmony through 
- the dark realms of ether, perpetually submis- 
Wiiex we look out upon the spangled vaults sive to the laws that govern them, and con- 
of heaven on a clear night, a long brilliant stantly requiring the watchful care and super- 
train or pathway of light may be seen extend- intending power of the Great Ruler of the 
ing entirely across the starry heavens, forming universe, who regulates their harmonious 
a luminous zone, which, from its singular ap- movements and takes care of the most insig- 
pearance, has long been known as the Galaxy nificant creature that inhabits the most distant 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE MILKY-WAY. 
BY D. I!. ABBEY. 
or Milky-Way. 
Many strange theories were entertained by 
world, we are lost in the stupendous labyrinth 
of Creation, and can only contemplate in silence 
the ancient philosophers and poets respecting I the exalted wisdom and omnipotence of Jcho- 
the origin and nature of this singular phenom- | vah; for silence is the only language that be 
enon. Some believed that it was once the fits man, when words are no longer eloquent 
sun’s path, and that its luminous appearance "Well may we exclaim with the Psalmist, when 
was caused merely by the shining rays that contemplating the glories of Creation, “ 0 
lingered behind as it swept on in its vast jour- Lord, how manifold are thy works; in wis- 
ney; others, that it was the celestial path dom hast thou created them all.” 
which led to the throne of Jupiter, and that v i wvw wv><w^<w^/wn<>^w 
its golden pavements were continually swept C*- V a v / y ♦ 
by the feet of their deities. But the light of ill S till l vf/li O' 
Science has dissipated these superstitious no¬ 
tions, and in place thereof developed realities 
which are in keeping with the rapid march of TAME WHALE, 
intellect. 
It is one of the grand achievements of As- B “| c ™ t ™ v ' clcr ’ 5 " » Polished 
. . , , , ,. . , , work entitled “Notes of 1 ravel, relates the 
tronomy that has resolved this great nebulous f 0 ]i ow i n or simrular fact, which came under his 
An Eastern traveler, in a newly published 
work entitled “Notes of Travel,” relates the 
following singular fact, which came under his 
zone into millions of distinct stars, whose feeble observation at Muscat. No visitor to the 
rays mingling together give rise to that beau- harbor is better welcomed by the natives than 
tiful belt of light which encircles the blow of “ Muscat 1 om. 1 his name has been given by 
evening, while earth is shrouded in the mantle 
of darkness. 
sailors to a male fin-back whale which has made 
it an habitual practice for over forty years to 
enter, feed and frolic about the cove several 
It is very generally believed that our sun hours in each day, always leaving before night, 
belongs to this extensive cluster or nebula, Sometimes a smaller one of his tribe, supposed 
and although so immensely distant from it that to bc a “e, accompanies him His length 
, , may not be less than seventy feet, and that of 
lignt must be for ages m winging its silent and b j g companion fifty feet. Since his arrival sig- 
louely flight to those distant orbs, yet it is, nalizes the departure of the sharks which infest 
doubtless, as near to any one of them as they the waters of the harbor to the prevention of 
are to each other. sea bathing by the natives, the most strenuous 
„ caution is observed not to interfere with his 
Of the number, the magnitude, and the .. .... 1T , ,. 
’ 0 pursuits and diversions. He shows no fear of 
movements ol the stars that compose this sucb vessels as trespass upon his watery field. 
mighty group, ive have but very little definite 
knowledge;—they are too far back in the re- 
One day as he came rolling leisurely and 
jollily alongside of a vessel at anchor in the 
gions of space for the researches of finite harbor, and on board of which I was, one of 
? . 1 , ,, the crew threw with considerable impetus a 
beings; and we can only gaze upon them in stick of wood into his open m0 utb, as he raised 
silent admiration as they sparkle so mildly from llis bead out of the wa ter. This breach of the 
their silvery thrones, far, far away from earth in good treatment which he had been wont to 
the realms of infinity,—but know no more.— receive, did not draw any signs of displeasure 
The great Herschel, however, succeeded in fr0 ™ hi f. whaleship although more than one 
D . . . . . , „ . i malediction was bestowed upon the imprudent 
penetrating, with lus vast telescope, so far into tftr> by exasperated natives who had observed 
the illimitable depths of space as to behold the his censurable conduct. 
stainless blue that lies entirely beyond this -«- . . «-- 
milky haze. On a clear evening, he brings his PROPERTIES OF GLASS. 
powerful reflector to bear upon the luminous - 
zone, and stars, hitherto unknown, glitter upon Glass has properties peculiarly its own; one 
its shining surface; he increases the space-pen- °f which is that it is of no greater bulk when 
„ , . . . , , , hot, or in the melted state, than when cold.— 
etratmg power of his instrument, and other Some writers state that it is (contrary to the 
stars, still farther back, spring, as it were, into ana i og y 0 f metals) of greater bulk when cold 
being; again and again he renews his efforts to than when hot. 
sound its mighty depths, but with the same 
results as before,—that milky haze still lingers 
It is transparent in itself; but the materials 
of which it is composed are opaque. It is not 
malleable, but its ductility ranks next to gold. 
beyond, while thousands of beautiful stais its flexibility also is so great that when hot it 
glitter like gems in its radiant crown. Finally, can be drawn out like elastic thread miles 
he brings to his aid the full power of his pon in length, in a moment, and to a minuteness 
derous telescope to enable him to pursue his equal to that of the silk worm. Brittle, also, 
o 1 1 to aproverb.it is so elastic that it can be 
flight still deeper into the almost unfathomable b , 0 J tQ a gauze . likc thinnesS) so as easily to 
abyss of this lucent zone; when, lo! the neb- float upon the air. Its elasticity is also shown 
ulous haze has disappeared, and naught but the by the fact that a globe, hermetically sealed, 
deep, unclouded blue of heaven rolls beyond, U dropped upon a polished anvil, will recoil 
while millions of stars glitter like jewels on its two-thirds the distance of its fall and will re- 
. , x . . main entire until the second or third rebound, 
pure, transparent bosom. I he great problem y esse i s ca.llcd bursting glasses are made of 
that had baffled the skill of the mightiest in- sufficient strength to be drawn about the floor; 
tellects for ages, was solved, and the Milky- a bullet may be dropped into one without frac- 
Way assigned its limits! The stars composing ^ ur(i °f S biss ’ even the stroke of a mallet 
" , . , 1 . . \ sufficiently heavy to drive a nail has failed to 
this immense cluster are found to be ranged J T tv , , 
0 break such glasses. In a word, ordinary blows 
one behind the other, five hundred deep ; and f a j[ p rod uce an impression upon articles of 
though long and weary ages must circle away this kind. If, however, a piece of flint, cor- 
ere light can traverse the mighty interval that nelian, diamond, or other hard stone, fall into 
separates us from the nearest star that gems one of these glasses, or be shaken therein a few 
, f , , . , 0 moments, the vessel will fly into a myriad ot 
thia rndinnt. znne: vet. each is. nerhans. no ■ •' 
this radiant zone; yet each is, perhaps, 110 
nearer to the olher, and may be subject to the 
same laws of gradation. Then with what line 
Statuary at the Capitol. —The IVashing- 
shall we measure the mighty interval that ^ Qn g en tj n el remarks that the eastern side of 
separates us from the star that marks the limits the Capitol in Washington is, and probably 
of this vast nebula? will continue to be, the field in which to dis- 
Of all the visible constellations that garnish P^ a Y tbe n ? arb ' e 8 t at -uary procured by Govern- 
the siderml heavens, the Milky- ay ho ds the tures w j tb which it is adorned, are two which 
pre-eminence, and fills the mind with the lof- K tand on either side of the great entrance door 
tiest conceptions of magnitude and sublimity, from the portico to the rotunda, one beingthe 
When we consider what countless millions of figure of War, and the other the figure of Peace, 
suns and systems compose this mighty group, 
whose distance is so great that the most pow bke ne jg bbor an olive branch which he does 
erful telescopes can scarcely separate the rays no t seem disposed to accept. The statue of 
of their mingled twilight into distinct points, War is nine feet in height, and that of Peace in 
we fall as far short of adequate language to proportion. '1 he figures are sculptured in Lar- 
we fall as far short of adequate language to 
express our ideas of such sublimity and gran¬ 
deur as we do of instruments to measure and 
compute their elements. 
rara marble. O 11 the southern abutment of the 
grand steps is the group of the “ Discovery of 
America,” consisting of two marble figures, one 
of which is an Indian maiden looking up to a 
That each one of these countless stars or I figure intended for Columbus, holding in his 
suns forms the centre of a complete planetary outstretched hand the globe. All ol the a io\ t 
system, affording light and heat and the agree- ___ _ 
able change of day and night to its surround- „ , , , 
f , b . Cheerfully acknowledge merit in otliejs, 
ing worlds, peopled with an innumerable host and j n ^ urn you W ]H always receive that kind 
of intelligent beings, all dependent upon God’s consideration which you desire. When you 
own hand, will scarcely admit of a doubt; for cannot consistently praise, by all means re- 
it would be derogatory to the character and main silent, unless there be a manifest wiong, 
infinite wisdom of the All-wise Creator, to btiseiv ' 1) L censure. ^ ^_ 
suppose that these immense globes of light , A ... 
, , . ,, , ,, , . e One of the greatest evils of the world is, 
were merely designed to adorn the curtains of . P . .. . , r ..i 
Jo men p raige rather than practice virtue. 1 he 
darkness, and shed a few glimmering rays upon p ra j se 0 f honest industry is on every tongue, 
this insignificant earth or atom, as it were, of bu t it is very rare that the worker is respected 
the universe, or to sparkle with such pure more than the drone. 
Cheerfully acknowledge merit in otliejs, 
d in turn you will always receive that kind 
m\kw lifting. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THOUGHTS. 
BY IDA FA I RFIKID. 
A oarnkr there is, in the Heavenly land, 
Where the sheaf is bound for the harvest time, 
And thither is borne, by angel wings, 
Each germ of the soul—each thought sublime. 
A ladder there is, whose golden top, 
Just fades away, in the sun-bright clouds, 
And silently every round is pressed 
By spirits who walk in their silvery shrouds. 
Daily and hourly they come and go, 
With tireless wing and vigilant care, 
And every thought, front its shadowy cell, 
To the chambers of radiant light they hear. 
Then tremble, oh mortal! thy thought is heard. 
Though whispered low, in thy secret soul— 
Its echo in other and far-off worlds, 
Through endless cycles of time shall roll. 
From thy pensive hours is forged a chain, 
Enwreathod with the light of thv fancy’s glow. 
Which links thy spirit to beauty above, 
Or binds thee with adamant fetters below. 
Then linger thou long in the solemn groves, 
Where holy religion her altar upre us, 
Where the sacred lire of humanity glows, [tears. 
And the dew-gems which glisten aro sympathy’s 
Bind to ihy spirit that Heavenly frith 
Which stretches away to the coming time, 
Triumphing ever o’er sin and death, 
All-conquering, glorious and sublime. 
So shall thy thoughts as they Heavenward roam, 
Hear thee in their pathway of raidant light, 
Till around thee the day-beams of beauty and joy, 
Shall dispel every shadow of earth and of night. 
Independence, Nov., 1854. 
[Translated from the German for the New-Yorker.] 
THE GREATEST TREASURE LOST. 
A teacher once related the following to liis 
pupils:—A thief broke into a palace. On 
seeing the rich treasures which lay spread be¬ 
fore him, he stood as if rooted to the floor.— 
He revelled in the enjoyment of beholding 
such a vast number of precious trinkets of gold 
and silver, and was deliberating upon the ob¬ 
jects he would select. Here a large diamond, 
set in a crown, flashed like lightning; there a 
diadem beset with jewels glittered. On all 
sides was dazzling splendor! He had already 
stretched his defiled hand to grasp some treas¬ 
ure, but he withdrew it again and again, for 
some still more splendid object continually at¬ 
tracted his sinful covetousness. At length he 
sees another door; he rushes through it to the 
adjoining room. Is it mere magic show and 
deception that bursts upon his view? The 
wealth of many kingdoms seems to be gather¬ 
ed here! Tables, chairs, chandeliers and 
vases of massive gold, embossed with the most 
precious stones and pearls! Everything glis 
tens as in a land of fairies, and the eye of the 
thicf’feasts on the countless beaming beauties. 
But he does not linger long in this mansion of 
magnificent lustre, but heedlessly rushes along 
from apartment to apartment. Everywhere 
unheard of riches meet his eye. He still 
struggles with himself, not satisfied as to what 
he should seize. Suddenly he hears loud steps, 
and the watch-word of the guards. The day 
has dawned, and the thief must now look for 
liis own safety. And thus he is obliged to 
leave behind all the gorgeous wealth, and 
would be glad if he could only save his naked 
life. 
After a brief pause, during which his pupils 
looked up for an explanation, the teacher con¬ 
tinued:—Thus it is with man. lie enters this 
world, a palace of magnificence and glory.— 
What is there sweeter than life on this earth 
so full of beauty and grandeur, brightened by 
the beaming fire of the sun? Yet he rushes 
from pleasure to pleasure and hastens to every 
enjoyment. The possession of one blessing 
will not satisfy him, but will load him to de¬ 
mand more. He knows not what to seize and 
retain for his own. Like the thief, he casts 
away the pearls in order to grasp the diamonds. 
Virtue and justice, love towards God and man, 
benevolence and upright dealing, are left far 
in the rear of his continual longings for sensu¬ 
al pleasures. And as the day suddenly breaks 
upon the thief, so death at last comes upon 
him, and he stands before the all-powerful 
Creator, naked as when he came unto life, de¬ 
void of the wealth which he amassed in this 
world, empty and discontented, lamenting the 
last days of his life. s. t 
A FRAGMENT. 
When I look upon the tombs of the great, 
every emotion of envy dies within me; when I 
read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inor¬ 
dinate desire goes out; when I meet with the 
grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart 
melts with compassion; when l see the tombs 
of parents themselves, I consider the vanity of 
grieving for those whom we must quickly fol¬ 
low; when I see kings lying by those,who des- 
posed them; when 1 consider rival wits placed 
side by side, or the holy men that divided the 
world with their contents and disputes, I re¬ 
flect with sorrow and astonishment on the lit¬ 
tle competitions, factions, and debates on man¬ 
kind; when 1 read the several dates of tombs, 
of some that died as yesterday, and some six 
hundred years ago, l consider that great day 
when we shall all of us be cotemporaries, and 
make our appearance together. 
