Part 33 (2/2)

EPHRAIM PEABODY

”It is not enough to have great qualities,” says La Rochefoucauld; ”we should also have the ement of them” No man can call himself educated until every voluntaryis conscious of two natures One is ever reaching up after the good, the true, and the noble,--is aspiring after all that uplifts, elevates, and purifies It is the God-side of e of the Creator, the iravitation of the soul faculties toward their Maker The other is the bestial side which gravitates doard It does not aspire, it grovels; it s in the mire of sensualism Like the beast, it knows but one law, and is led by only one ry nor thirsty, or when gorged and sated by over-indulgence, it lies quiet and peaceful as a lamb, and we sometimes think it subdued But when its imperious passion accumulates, it clamors for satisfaction You cannot reason with it, for it has no reason, only an iratification

You cannot appeal to its self-respect, for it has none It cares nothing for character, for manliness, for the spiritual

These two natures are ever at war, one pulling heavenward, the other, earthward Nor do they ever become reconciled Either her nature rovel, toin the ence, but it always rebels and enters its protest It can never forget that it bears the ih of sensualism

The still small voice which bids man look up is never quite hushed If the victiet that he was born to look upward, if he could only erase the ie of his Maker, if he could only hush the voice which haunts him and condemns him when he is bound in slavery, if he could only enjoy his indulgences without the mockery of remorse, he thinks he would be content to rehost of his better self rises as he is about to partake of his delight, and robs him of the expected pleasure He has sold his better self for pleasure which is poison, and he cannot lose the consciousness of the fearful sacrifice he has made The banquethis doom

Give me that soul, superior power, That conquest over fate, Which sways the weakness of the hour, Rules little things as great: That lulls the hus kind, And makes the trials of our life The triumphs of our mind

CHARLES SWAIN

Reader, attend--whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights above the pole, Or darkly grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuits: Know prudent, cautious self-control Is wisdo is the man who can--CARLYLE

I have only one counsel for you--Be master--NAPOLEON

Ah, sillyothers, not thyself Thy slaves Serve thee, and thou thy slave: in iron bands Thy servile spirit, pressed ild passions, raves

Wouldst thou live honored?--clip a: Thrice noble is the

PHINEAS FLETCHER

”Not in the clamor of the crowded street, Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, But in ourselves are triumph and defeat”