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Written for Moore'S Rural New-Yorker. 
E08ES. 
BT CLIO STANLEY. 
Swket fragrance rested on the air, 
And on my lifted brow, 
As we stood, hand in hand, beneath 
The waving summer bough: 
A single rose from off its stem 
He broke, with careless hand, 
And hold it there against my cheek 
’Till all the quiet land 
Seemed bathed In roseate hueB of bliss 
Stolen from sunset skies, 
And all my love and longing woke 
In tender trancing sighs. 
ti. 
‘’The rose has lost its splendor, dear,” 
He said, “bnt not from earth 
Has faded, richer than tt seemed 
In its sweet boor of birth, 
It blooms upon your maiden cheek 
And scents your golden hair;” 
“Ah, yes, l know the joy, dear one, 
That marks Its presence there.” 
in. 
To-day he brought a slender spray 
Of roses red and rare, 
And twined them in the fading gold 
Of my unbraided hair; 
Till, as they swept my lifted cheek 
He laid them gently down— 
Smiling, as I replied, with touch 
Of fond love in my tone— 
“ The roses that so long ago 
Bloomed when wc dwelt apart. 
You seek in vain—hut ah, dear soul, 
They’ve blossomed in my heart!” 
IV. 
“ Their color gives a wanner glow 
To life, and love in life, 
Since that dear day, those years ago, 
When I became your wife. 
Ah, love, dear lovo, still hold me close 
To your kind, trusting heart, 
The roses soon would wither, dear, 
Should we two stand apart.” 
GOLDEN MEAN IN DEESS. 
The story it told of an old Turk at Cairo,— 
strong in the faith of his fathers, and with a big 
oted hatred of all the customs or costumes of 
“Infidel dogs,” alia* Franks or Christians—that 
walking down the narrow street one day, clad in 
the flowing amplitude and tnrbaned glory of his 
Moslem garb, lie spied a Frank in tight panta¬ 
loons, snug coat, and stove-pipe hat. Laying his 
hand on the shoulder of his little son by Ids side, 
and pointing to the strange object, lie said with 
dignified scorn, “My son, if you ever forget 
God and the Prophet, you may come to look 
like that!" 
Wc feel a little as the staunch old Turk did, 
when we see man or woman dressed in the ex- 
tram gffashion. Just now a man so clad would 
be a poor spider-legged fellow, with striped 
pantaloons lighter than his skin, a coat scant 
and scrimpy, and a hat like an inverted skillett. 
A woman would be,—we can’t, tell what; for, on 
the very start, the bonnet could not he described 
and analyzed without microscopic aid, and a 
larger knowledge of botany than even the 
learned corps of the Rural possess; and, never 
having been to Nootka Sound, or near the Pota- 
watamie squaws, we arc not versed In beads. 
But either man or woman would be somewhat 
absurd and foolish to the eye. 
Fashions will change. We cannot expect the 
same style for generations, as in the placid stag¬ 
nation of Oriental society. Varied costumes are 
but the rapid current of our intensely active 
life, tossed to the surface in dancing foam, and 
rainbow hues, and all this suized on, magnified 
and perverted, by art Me* who put money in 
their purses thereby. We may not wholly refuse 
to adopt the prevailing modes, but we can keep 
so near as not to be marked for oddity, and yet 
avoid the extremes. 
There is a large class of the best people, cul¬ 
tured and of high standing, whose taste aud gen¬ 
tility are undoubted, who are not fashionable 
extremists. The most perfectly dressed person 
attracts the least attention by display, but the 
most quiet admiration by harmony and fitness 
of costume. 
A cultivated man or woman we admire; first 
for their attractiveness and beauty of character, 
and their dress we simply consider as lit for so 
gifted a person; but the garb of the fasldonablc 
extremist is first, the person subordinate;—and 
wc arc often reminded of Emerson’s saying, “ It 
is easier to buy a tine coat than a fine behavior.” 
Young woman; never go iuto the shop of 
milliner or dress-maker and yield yourself a 
passive, subject to be clad as they decide. If so, 
you often run the risk of being ridiculous when 
“ dressed,” and are quite sure to have a bill to 
pay that will make you stare., llear all their 
suggestions, select with a view to your person, 
complexion,and purse, and decide as to style and 
terms fairly, yet in such manner that it shall be 
understood they are to meet your wishes; not 
to make you a subject to theirs, and tax an extra 
price for your subjection beside. 
Young man; act in a similar way in regard to 
your garments. All this, of course, with no 
overbearing spirit or manner, but because per¬ 
sons so often give up ftU mind or judgment of 
their own in these matters, that artistes in dress 
have, naturally enough, come to feci that the 
sole business of their customers is to submit to 
their decisions, pay their Lulls, and go away 
peaceably. 
Above all, avoid extremes. Find the “ golden 
mean,”—the placid channel, safe between the 
Charybdis of oddity on the one hand, and the 
fearful Scylla of garrish display on the other. 
INFUENCE OF MAEEIAGE. 
In Edinburg, a short time ago, Dr. Stark read a 
paper on the influence of marriage on the death- 
rate of men and women in Scotland: 
Dr. Stark bused file calculations on the statis¬ 
tics issued by the registrar-general, and brought 
out results which, to ft great measure, he be¬ 
lieved, were now presented for the first time. 
He first showed the results in the ease of men. 
He found that between twenty and twenty-five 
years of age the death-rate of bachelors was ex¬ 
actly double that of the married men. As the 
age increased, the difference is the death-rate as 
against the bachelors decreased, bnt at every 
Btage of life the advantage was in favor of the 
married men. From twenty years of age to the 
close of life the mean age attained by married 
men was filly-nine and a half years, while that 
of bachelors was only forty years ; in other 
words, married men had the chance of living 
nineteen and a half years longer than those who 
were unmarried. From twenty-five years of age 
to the close of life the mean age of married men 
was sixty ami two-tenths, while that of unmar¬ 
ried men was ouly forty-seven and seven-tenths. 
Very nearly one-half of all the bachelors who 
died hud not attained thirty years of age. The 
results, Dr. Sturk thought, clearly proved that 
the married state was the condition of life best 
fitted for mankind, and that a prolongation of 
life by that state was a special provision of 
nature. It was based on fixed laws of life. 
Married men were generally more regular in 
their habits, better housed, better cared for, 
and more under the condition of health and 
long life. In the case of women also, the re¬ 
sults were in favor of the married as compared 
with the unmarried, though the difference w r as 
uot so marked as in the case of the men. Mar¬ 
ried women died at a greater proportion during 
the quinquennial periods—from fifteen to twen¬ 
ty, and twenty-live to thirty, but at a lower rate 
from thirty to forty. Tiie death-rate, in the ease 
of married women, was higher between forty 
and forty-five years of age, but the rate was 
in their favor again from the latter period to 
old age. 
t » 
EMPLOYMENTS OF WOMEN IN PAEIS. 
There is no land in which women are so re¬ 
spected and honored as in America. A woman 
in high life on this side, of the Atlantic is treated 
with marked courtesy, but women, as ft class, 
are drndges and nothing else. Looking down 
from iny window I see a scavenger’s cart, with 
two men aud two women scooping up the offal 
of the streets—the women with great brush- 
brooms and the men with shovels. Come with 
me to the great market, of St. Eustach, a few 
steps from the llue de Rivoli. It is an immense 
structure — a great, iron shed or sheds, covering 
tw r o squares—women at all the stalls—burly, 
red-faced, wielding cleavers, cutting up sides of 
beef—fish women, crying in shrill voice the ex¬ 
cellence of their solo and salmon—fruit women— 
also sellers of vegetables, and pretty girls with 
(lowers for sale, beseeching you with such grace 
that you are the owner of a bouquet before you 
know it. There goes ft woman with a basket of 
potatoes on her head; another with a big tub 
filled with meat. There comes one with a rack 
on her back, filled with baskets. Another trips 
along with a yoke on her neck, bearing two palls 
of buttermilk. She is certainly under the yoke, 
and bo are they all. High bora—those who 
would go down on their knees before the Duch¬ 
ess d’Angoulemc or my Lady Highflier— would 
crowd every one of those hard-working women 
into the gutter. No respect is paid them in pub¬ 
lic places. Gentlemen puli' away at their cigars 
hi the cars without deference to the presence of 
a lady, no matter how well dressed or well be¬ 
haved. No Frenchman resigns his soat to a 
woman, lie will bow very low and do every¬ 
thing for Lady So-and-So, hut for a woman whom 
he may meet in public—never!— Carkton. 
AMERICAN WOMEN. 
If what we quote from the Round Table be 
time, it sliows a dawn of wisdom aud truer taste 
which will be well for womanhood, for mother¬ 
hood and humanity: 
The women of America are growing more and 
more handsome every year, for just this reason ; 
They arc growing rounder of chest, fuller of 
limb, gaining substance and development in 
every direction. Whatever may he urged to the 
contrary,we believe this to bo a demonstrable fact. 
We have been accustomed to hear such dismal 
moans over dispepsia and the heat of stoves, had 
food and bad habits of life, that an impression 
of degeneracy finds place in many minds; and 
the proposition, therefore, that American women 
are visibly growing handsomer, inuy at first pro¬ 
voke a good deal of dissent.. We believe, how¬ 
ever, that reflection and observation will endorse 
aud sustain it. The change may be less marked 
among the poorer classes, and may he more pro¬ 
nounced in the chief centers of population and 
refinement; hut that it lias taken place, is pro¬ 
gressing, aud is probably destined favorably to 
affect tbe community at large, we have no doubt. 
When the rising generation of American girls 
once began to wear tliiek shoes, to take much 
exercise in the open air, to skate, to play cro¬ 
quet, and affect the saddle, it uot only began to 
grow more wise, but more healthful, and, which 
must follow as the night the day, more beautiful. 
HOUSEHOLD Cares Noble. — A woman with a 
broom, a cradle, a needle, a few dollars' worth 
of kitchen tools, pursuing her housewifery and 
making home pleasant, and life clean and sweet 
to herself, her husband, children and friends, is 
to me a sight delightful, even sublime. Feeding 
the body, educating the spirit, and teaching 
humankind to got the mastery over the world, 
she is weaving the Jacob’s ladder whereby man¬ 
kind and womankind are climbing to God.— 
Selected. 
®Iioic£ UtlsceHattg. 
THE BROOK. 
BY TENNYSON. 
I come from haunts of coot and hern, 
I make a sudden sally 
And sparkle out among the fern, 
To bicker down a valley. 
By thirty hills 1 harry down, 
Or slip between the ridges, 
By twenty thorp*'- a single town, 
And half a hundred bridges. 
I chatter over stony ways. 
In little sharps and trebles, 
I bubble into eddying bays, 
I babble on tbe pebbles. 
With many a curve my banks I fret 
By many a field and fallow. 
And many a fairy foreland set 
With willow-weed and mallow. 
I chatter, chatter, as I flow 
To join the brimming river, 
For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 
I wind about, and in and out, 
With her*- a blossom sailing, 
And here and there a lusty trout, 
And here and there a grayling. 
And here and there a foamy flake 
Upon me as I travel 
With many a silvery waterbreak 
Above the golden gravel. 
I draw them all along, and flow 
To join the brimming river, 
For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 
I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 
I slide, by hazel covers; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 
That grow for happy lovers. 
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, 
Among my skimming swallows; 
I make the netted sunbeams dance 
Against ray sandy shallows. 
I murmur under moon and stars 
In brambly wildernesses; 
I linger by my shingly bars; 
1 loiter round my cresses; 
And out again I curve and flow 
To Join the brimming river, 
For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PSALM OF LITE, 
“ Let us then be up and doing, 
With a heart for any fate, 
Still achieving. Mill pursuing, 
Learn to labor and to wait." 
I wonder how’ many sad hearts, how many 
weary discouraged ones, have read these words 
from the noble “ Psalm of Life,” by Longfel- 
t.ow, and have taken heart again to face ft stern 
life, and make their way through bitter discour¬ 
agements, and at lust could pause aud rest, look 
back with a smile at the thorny path, and stretch 
out helping bauds to others who toll over the 
same way. The life of the author of such a 
noble poem certainly cannot he an “empty 
dream,” and he has found that “ Life is real , life 
Is earnest ,” and that each and all must be “up 
and doing” if we achieve the victory. There ‘ih 
something so appealin' /, so rousing, &o hearty 
and brave in the simple words, “ Let ub then be 
up and doing,” Is there any that, have “ nothing 
to do?" Look around; what a broad field of 
labor, with only here and there one at his task ! 
How sublime the thought that of this immense 
family of so many millions each has a life-work 
to perform, and the responsibility of doing it or 
not rests upon our own shoulders. 
“ With a heart for any fate." 
Oh! there is the trouble. It is hard to smile 
and be cheerful and curry a brave heart when 
filled with fear lor the future, and heavy with 
the cares and responsibilities laid upon us; sad¬ 
dened by 11 last looks” at dear faces aud hallow¬ 
ed scenes, or embittered by frowns. “Still 
acbieviug, etill pursuing,”—for, if we try we 
may expect to achieve, in part at least, aud if we 
intend to reach the goal we must keep the bea¬ 
con light in view. This line is the best of all, 
“Learn to labor aud to wait.” Yes, we must 
lcara to labor and toil. Some have more to ac¬ 
complish, to be sure, than others,—some are 
more gifted, some have gold and lands, yet to 
labor and t hen to wait is for every one. And for 
what do we wait? Some earthly results, of 
course, we hope to attain, but the end of all tbe 
labor aud waiting is—the eternal life, joy, peace, 
and the higher work, that shall yet be rest for¬ 
ever. Then let us not forget these great words 
of the poet, but make them our watchword. 
Watkins, N. Y. a. m. m. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A WORD ON TEMPERANCE. 
BY A CBIPDLED SOLDIER. 
I imagine I hear a voice from the dark and 
dismal mansions of the dead, saying, “ Oh, ye 
sons of dissipation and excess, come and be¬ 
hold the victims of your folly! ” Behold the 
husband and father forget the duties he once- 
delighted to fulfill, and by slow degrees become 
the creature of intemperance,—and she who has 
ventured every thing feels that everything is lost. 
Woman, silent, suffering, devoted woman, here 
bends to her direst afflu'tiou. Here the hope of j 
his country, and there the promise of connubial | 
bliss aud object of virtuous affection—the flower 
of youth aud beauty, displaying its glory, sked- 
diug its fragrance,—a lather’s pride aud mother’s 
joy—all poisoued by intemperance, and devoted 
to an ignominious death. 
Would to God that I could make an udying 
impression upon the minds of the youth of our 
land, and induce them to forever beware of that 
dreadful mou&tcr, Intemperance. I am well 
aware that fashion and false pride are polluting 
our land, that a vast number of our noble youth 
are laboring under the impression that unless 
they smoke fine Havanas, drink fashionable 
toasts, and use (mb they think) faucy profanity, 
they are not gentlemen. Young men, beware of 
your delusion, for it will prove a snare to your 
feet! 
“Then from yon.dash the bowl away. 
As the ocean sendeth forth her spray,” 
ever remembering that the road to honor and 
fortune is strewn with thorns and temptations. 
We know that valiant and brave men fight and 
die rather than break the laws of man, or 
waver from their duty to their country, and 
suffer themselves to be cut in pieces rather 
than deserve the name of traitor. And yet these 
very men, to avoid the name of drunkard aud 
to preserve their temperance, will not pour a 
cup of wine on the ground when they are invited 
to drink by tbe laws of the circle. If to give 
life to uphold a cause be not too much, they 
should not think it too much to suffer thirst for 
the reputation of that cau«e. 
Liquor! Oh, how many earthly Edens hast 
thou made desolate! How many starved and 
naked orphans hast thou cast -upon the 
cold charities of an unfriendly world! How 
many graves hast thou filled with confiding and 
broken-hearted wives and mother’s. What sad 
wreck hast thou made of brilliant talents and 
splendid genius! Were all the miseries, the 
horrors of intemperance to burst at once into 
view, a peal of seven fold thunder could scarce 
strike greater alarm. Flee the inebriate, ye fair, 
as ye would a deadly malady. Would to God 
there was one universal Temperance Society and 
all mankind were membere of it. But I will say 
no more. Every one who desires to see the 
youth of our noble land respected and happy, 
and our country cleared of the foul stain of in¬ 
temperance, will readily tiud the way and means 
to labor for that end. Willie “T. 11.” 
RushviJlc, Yates Co., N. Y. 
THE VALUE OF ACCURACY. 
It is the result of every day’s experience, that 
steady attention to matters of detail lies at the 
root of human progress, and diligence above all, 
is the mot her of good luck. Accuracy is also of 
much importance, and an invariable mark of 
good training in an individual —accuracy in ob¬ 
servation, accuracy iu speech, accuracy in the 
transaction of affairs. What is done in business, 
must be well done; for it is better to accomplish 
perfectly a small amount of work, than half do 
ten times as much. A wise man used to say— 
“Stay a little, that we may make an end the 
sooner.” Too little attention, however, is paid 
to this highly important quality of accuracy. 
As a man, eminent in practical science, lately 
observed, “ It is astonishing how fcw r people I 
have met in the course of iny experience who 
can define a fact accurately. Yet in business 
affairs, it is the manner in which small mat¬ 
ters are transacted, that often decide men for or 
against you. With virtue, capacity and good 
conduct in other respects, the person who is 
habitually inaccurate cannot be trusted; his 
work has to be done over again, and be thus 
causes endless aunov ance, vexation and trouble. 
WIT AND WISDOM. 
The motto of “fast” j’oung men is meet and 
drink. 
Why is a prolix clergyman like an aged per¬ 
son V Because they both di-late. 
What is better than presence of mind in a 
railroad accident ? Absence of body. 
Allow nobody to tread upon your toes—when 
you have corns—or when you have not. 
Most people seem to think that advice, lik< 
physic, to do good must be disagreeable. 
Why are the Mary’s the most amiable of their 
sex ? Because they cau always be Molli-fied. 
Why arc cats like unskillful surgeons? Be¬ 
cause they mew-till-late and destroy patients. 
Who is the laziest ruau ? The furniture dealer, 
lie keeps chairs and lounges about all the time. 
Which arc the patients that should be placed 
in the highest part of the hospital ? The room- 
attics. 
What kind of essence does a young man 
like when he “pops the question?” Acqui¬ 
escence. 
A lazy fellow’, lying down on the grass said, 
“ Oh, how I wish this was called work, and was 
well paid for.” 
Lend an ear to the advice that is given to you; 
but you will find it a good plan to lend no money 
to the adviser. 
This toast was offered at a railroad festival: 
“ Our mothers, faithful tenders, they never mis¬ 
place the switch.” 
A shoolmaster in Ohio advertises that he 
will keep Sunday School twice a week—on Tues¬ 
days and Saturdays, 
If your parents and relatives are good, love 
them; if bad, put up with them. Tbe same 
course will answer very well with your grapes. 
Speaking of the “ undeveloped wealth of the 
country,” a loafer said that was exactly his posi¬ 
tion; lie possessed vast resources — was very 
rich — but bis wealth was undeveloped. 
A FORLORN fellow says“ When Sally’s arms 
her dog imprisen, I always wish my neck was 
1 hiseu ; how often would I stop and turn, to get 
a pat from a hand like hern; and when she kisses 
Towser’s nose, 0 don't I wish that. 1 were those.” 
If there is anything under the canister of 
heaven that I have in utter excrescence,” says 
Mrs. Partington, “ it is the slanderer going about 
like a boy constrictor, circulating his calomel 
upon honest folks.’’ 
■SaTifcatli ftaa&ittg. 
STAND LIKE AN ANVIL. 
BY BISHOP DOANB. 
“Stand like an anvil,” when the strokes 
Of stalwart strength fall thick and fast, 
Storms bat more deeply root the oakB, 
Where brawny arms embrace the blast. 
“ Stand like nn anvil.” when the sparks 
Fly far and wide, a fiery shower; 
Virtue and truth mast still be marks 
Where malice pruves its want of power. 
“ Stand like an anvil,” when the bar 
Lies red and glowing on its breast; 
Bnty shall be life’s guiding star, 
And conscious innocence its rest. 
“Stand like an anvil," when the sound 
Of ponderous hammers pains the ear; 
Thine but the still and stern rebound, 
Of the great heart, that cannot fear. 
“Stand like au anvil,” noise and heat 
Are born of earth, and dje with time; 
The soul, like God. its source and seat, 
Is solemn, still, serene, sublime. 
UNDYING MEMOEIALS. 
A St. Louis correspondent of the New York 
Evangelist closes a recent letter with the fol¬ 
lowing statement:—The North Church of this 
city still deeply feel and mourn their bereave¬ 
ment in the death of Rev. Frederick Starr, Jr 
Still he lived long enough to infuse his own in¬ 
domitable energy into the souls of this people. 
They are forward not only to speak of his inesti¬ 
mable services to them, but to bike up the cross 
where he fell, among the foremost, and bear it 
on to victory. The study in which I write still 
remains much as he left it. There is the tool- 
chest in one corner, the contents of which he 
was so skillful in wielding. That remarkable 
piece of mechanism, “ the tabernacle,” reposes 
undisturbed in its case near by. And here in 
the bookcase is his library, the tools with which 
he was wont to beat the oil for the sanctuary in 
his prompt and masterly manner. 
It is quite in vain to look again for the man 
who can combine powers suck as he possessed, 
and wield them so uuwearicdly and effectively. 
His congregation has erected to his memory, in 
the vestibule of the church, a beautiful marble 
tablet, containing his photograph in large size, 
and bearing the quotation “ Tic yet speaketh,” 
together with his dying words, “ Tell them to 
be God’s, to be God’s, to be God’s, every one of 
them, to stand up lor Jesus all the time, to hate 
sin and love righteousness.” But his most en¬ 
dearing monument is found in the hearts of this 
people, aud in the church itself, which began 
with his pastorate, after the changes ami close 
of the war, a new aud bright end of its history. 
Enemies Within. — Beyond all doubt, the 
worst of our enemies are those which we carry 
about in our own hearts. Adam fell in paradise, 
Lucifer fell in heaven, while Lot continued right¬ 
eous among the people of Sodom. Indifference 
to little, sins and mistakes, the self-flattering 
voice of the heart, ever ready to siug its lullaby 
the moment conscience is aroused, the subtle 
question of the serpent, “ Hath God indeed 
said ?” These are unquestionably the adversa¬ 
ries we have most to fear. There never was a 
fire but it began with a smoke. I beseech Thee, 
therefore, dear Master, to give me a sensitive 
conscience, that I may take alarm at even small 
sin6. Oh, it is uot merely great transgressions 
which briug a man to ruiu. Little and imper¬ 
ceptible ones are, perhaps, even more deadly, 
according to the beautiful figure of Tauler, w ho 
says :—“ The stag, when attacked, tosses from 
him the great dogs, aud dashes them to pieces 
upon the trees, but the little ones seize him from 
below and tear open his body.”— Tholvck. 
Look Uf !—When the Breton mariner puts to 
sea, his prayer is, “ Keep me, my God! my boat 
is so small, and the ocean so wide !” Does not 
this beautiful prayer truly express the condition 
of each of us ? 
Sir Philip Sidney said, “ I am no herald to in¬ 
quire of men’s pedigrees! It suffieeth me if I 
know their virtues.” 
Fredericu Bremer, in her work on Greece, 
speaks of “ the longings after a freer aud nobler 
life,” which distinguishes many of the finely 
gifted and high-minded young maidens of the 
country. Conversing with one of them, on a 
stormy night, she said, “ I will become good, 
very good! I should not dread a great misfor¬ 
tune, for instance, the loss of my sight, if it would 
give me inner light and goodness!" 
She who so spake was a young girl of prince¬ 
ly birth, rich in everything that can flatter the 
worldly sense. 
Retribution. — No man ever sacrificed his 
sense of right to lust of pleasure, money, power 
or fame, but the swift feet of justice overtook 
him. She held her austere court withiu bis soul, 
conducted the trial, passed sentence and per¬ 
formed the execution. It was done with closed 
doors; nobody saw it, only that unslumbering 
eye, and that mail’s heart. Nay, perhaps the 
man himself felt it not, but only shrank and 
shrunk and shrivelled, aud grew’ less and less, 
one day to fall, with lumbering crash, a ruin to 
the ground. 
O ! HOw r many thousands at this hour are wor¬ 
shiping God iu spirit and truth, and laboring 
to advance His kingdom! and I still stand idle, 
cold aud lifeless, tongue-tied aud fearful, as fast 
bound to the world, and us averse to thorough 
work as ever. 
The Spirit of God is the spirit of benevo¬ 
lence. It will make a man patient towards the 
failings of others. He will be full of delicacy 
and gentlewauliness. 
