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Selections for Schools and Private Reading



Secretary of the American Humane Association

--which "plead the cause
Of those dumb mouths that have no speech."


And I am recompensed, and deem the toils
Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine
May stand between an animal and woe,
And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge




The compiler of this little book has often heard inquiries by teachers of
schools, for selections suitable for reading and recitations by their
scholars, in which the duty of kindness to animals should be distinctly

To meet such calls, three successive pamphlets were published, and a fourth
consisting of selections from the Poems of Mr. Longfellow. All were
received with marked favor by the teachers to whom they became known.

This led to their collection afterwards in one volume for private
circulation, and now the volume is republished for public sale, with a few
omissions and additions.

All who desire our children to be awakened in their schools to the claims
of the humbler creatures are invited to see that copies are put in school
libraries, that they may be within the reach of all teachers. And this, not
for the sake of the creatures only.

As Pope has said, "Nothing stands alone; the chain holds on, and where it
ends, unknown."

Many readers may be surprised to find how many of the great poets have been
touched by the sufferings of the "innocent animals," and how loftily they
have pleaded their cause.

The poems in the collection are not all complete, because of their length
in some cases, and, in others, because a part only of each was suited to
the end in view. A very few, however, like "Geist's Grave" and "Don," could
not be divided satisfactorily.

To all who have aided in this humble undertaking, heartiest thanks are
given, and especially to its publishers who have accorded to it their
coveted approval and the benefit of their large facilities for making the
volume widely known.

May the lessons of kindness and dependence here taught with so much
poetical beauty and with such mingled justice, pathos and humor, find a
permanent lodgment in the hearts of all who may read them!

A. F.

BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A., June, 1883.


A Prayer
He Prayeth Best
Our Morality on Trial
Results and Duties of Man's Supremacy
Justice to the Brute Creation
Can they Suffer?
Growth of Humane Ideas
Moral Lessons
Duty to Animals not long recognized
Natural Rights
Care for the Lowest
Say Not
See, through this Air
The Right must win
Animated Nature
Animal Happiness
No Grain of Sand
Humanity, Mercy, and Benevolence
Living Creatures
Nothing Alone
Man's Rule
Dumb Souls
Little by Little
Animals and Human Speech
Learn from the Creatures
Pain to Animals
What might have been
Village Sounds
Old Hindoo
Our Pets
Egyptian Ritual
A Birthday Address
To Lydia Maria Child
Acts of Mercy
The Good Samaritan
Children at School
Membership of the Church
Feeling for Animals
Effect of Cruelty
The Poor Beetle
The Consummation
A Vision
Speak Gently
For the Sake of the Innocent Animals
Ring Out
Fame and Duty
No Ceremony
True Leaders
Be kind to Dumb Creatures
"In Him we Live"
Firm and Faithful
Heart Service
Exulting Sings
In Holy Books
The Bell of Atri
Among the Noblest
The Fallen Horse
The Horse
The Birth of the Horse
To his Horse
Sympathy for Horse and Hound
The Blood Horse
The Cid and Bavieca
The King of Denmark's Ride
Do you know
The Bedouin's Rebuke
From "The Lord of Butrago"
"Bay Billy"
The Ride of Collins Graves
Paul Revere's Ride
Sheridan's Ride
Good News to Aix
Dying in Harness
Plutarch's Humanity
The Horses of Achilles
The War Horse
Pegasus in Pound
The Horse
From "The Foray"
On Landseer's Picture, "Waiting for Master"
The Waterfowl
Sea Fowl
The Sandpiper
The Birds of Killingworth
The Magpie
The Mocking-Bird
Early Songs and Sounds
The Sparrow's Note
The Glow-Worm
St. Francis to the Birds
Wordsworth's Skylark
Shelley's Skylark
Hogg's Skylark
The Sweet-Voiced Quire
A Caged Lark
The Woodlark
Keats's Nightingale
Lark and Nightingale
Flight of the Birds
A Child's Wish
The Humming-Bird
The Humming-Bird's Wedding
The Hen and the Honey-Bee
Song of the Robin
Sir Robin
The Dear Old Robins
Robins quit the Nest
Lost--Three Little Robins
The Terrible Scarecrow and Robins
The Song Sparrow
The Field Sparrow
The Sparrow
Piccola and Sparrow
Little Sparrow
The Swallow
The Emperor's Bird's-Nest
To a Swallow building under our Eaves
The Swallow, the Owl, and the Cock's Shrill Clarion in the "Elegy"
The Statue over the Cathedral Door
The Bird let Loose
The Brown Thrush
The Golden-Crowned Thrush
The Thrush
The Aziola
The Marten
Judge You as You Are
Robert of Lincoln
My Doves
The Doves of Venice
Song of the Dove
What the Quail says
The Linnet
Hear the Woodland Linnet
The Parrot
The Common Question
Why not do it, Sir, To-day
To a Redbreast
To the Stork
The Storks of Delft
The Pheasant
The Herons of Elmwood
Walter von der Vogelweid
The Legend of the Cross-Bill
Pretty Birds
The Little Bird sits
The Living Swan
The Stormy Petrel
To the Cuckoo
Birds at Dawn
Evening Songs
Little Brown Bird
Life's Sign
A Bird's Ministry
Of Birds
Birds in Spring
The Canary in his Cage
Who stole the Bird's-Nest
Who stole the Eggs
What the Birds say
The Wren's Nest
On Another's Sorrow
The Shepherd's Home
The Wood-Pigeon's Home
The Shag
The Lost Bird
The Bird's must know
The Bird King
Shadows of Birds
The Bird and the Ship
A Myth
Cuvier on the Dog
A Hindoo Legend
Ulysses and Argus
William of Orange saved by his Dog
The Bloodhound
Llewellyn and his Dog
Looking for Pearls
To my Dog "Blanco"
The Beggar and his Dog
Geist's Grave
On the Death of a Favorite Old Spaniel
Epitaph in Grey Friars' Churchyard
From an Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog
The Dog
Johnny's Private Argument
The Harper
The Irish Wolf-Hound
Six Feet
There's Room enough for all
His Faithful Dog
The Faithful Hound
The Spider's Lesson
The Spider and Stork
The Homestead at Evening
The Cattle of a Hundred Farms
The Newsboy's Cat
The Child and her Pussy
The Alpine Sheep
Little Lamb
Cowper's Hare
Turn thy Hasty Foot aside
The Worm turns
Grasshopper and Cricket
The Honey-Bees
Cunning Bee
An Insect
The Chipmunk
Mountain and Squirrel
To a Field-Mouse
A Sea-Shell
The Chambered Nautilus
Hiawatha's Brothers
Unoffending Creatures
The Lark
The Swallow
Returning Birds
The Birds
Mohammedanism--The Cattle
The Spider and the Dove
The Young Doves
Dumb Mouths
The Parsees
The Tiger
Value of Animals
Societies for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals


* * * * *


And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very
good.--Gen. i. 31.

But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt
not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor
thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy
gates.--Ex. xx. 10.

For every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle upon a thousand

I know all the fowls of the mountains: and the wild beasts of the field are
mine.--Psa. l. 10, 11.

The Lord is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works.

The eyes of all wait upon thee: and thou givest them their meat in due

Thou openest thine hand, and satisfiest the desire of every living
thing.--Psa. cxlv. 9, 15, 16.

A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.--Prov. xii. 10.

Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to
destruction.--Prov. xxxi. 8.

But ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee; and the fowls of the
air, and they shall tell thee.--Job xii. 7.

Thou shalt not see thy brother's ox or his sheep go astray, and hide
thyself from them: thou shalt in any case bring them again unto thy
brother. And if thy brother be not nigh unto thee, or if thou know him not,
then thou shalt bring it unto thine own house, and it shall be with thee
until thy brother seek after it, and thou shalt restore it to him again.

In like manner shalt thou do with his ass; and so shalt thou do with his
raiment: and with all lost things of thy brother's, which he hath lost, and
thou hast found, shalt thou do likewise: thou mayest not hide thyself.

Thou shalt not see thy brother's ass or his ox fall down by the way, and
hide thyself from them: thou shalt surely HELP him to lift them up
again.--Deut. xxii. 1-4.

Who _is_ a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by the
transgression of the remnant of his heritage? he retaineth not his anger
for ever, because he DELIGHTETH IN MERCY. He will turn again, he will have
compassion upon us; he will subdue our iniquities: and thou wilt cast all
their sins into the depths of the sea.--Mic. vii. 18, 19.

Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom, and stretch her wings toward the south?
Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high?--Job
xxxix. 26, 27.

Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise:
Which having no guide, overseer, or ruler,
Provideth her meat in summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.
--Prov. vi. 6-8.

And the Lord sent Nathan unto David. And he came unto him, and said unto
him, There were two men in one city: the one was rich, and the other poor.

The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds: But the poor man had
nothing save one little ewe-lamb, which he had bought and nourished up: and
it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did eat of his own
meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a

And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his
own flock, and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that was
come to him; but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that
was come to him.

And David's anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to
Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely
die. And he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and
because HE HAD NO PITY.--2 Sam. xii. 1-6.

Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights. Praise ye
him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts.

Beasts and all cattle: creeping things, and flying fowl.--Psa. cxlviii. 1,
2, 10.

Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King
and my God.--Psa. lxxxiv. 3.

And should not I spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than
sixscore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and
their left hand, and also much cattle?--Jonah iv. 11.

For the scripture saith, Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the
corn.--1 Tim. v. 18.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Matt. v. 7.

Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor
gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them.--Matt. vi. 26.

Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is
forgotten before God?--Luke xii. 6.


* * * * *


Maker of earth and sea and sky,
Creation's sovereign, Lord and King,
Who hung the starry worlds on high,
And formed alike the sparrow's wing:
Bless the dumb creatures of thy care,
And listen to their voiceless prayer.

For us they toil, for us they die,
These humble creatures Thou hast made;
How shall we dare their rights deny,
On whom thy seal of love is laid?
Teach Thou our hearts to hear their plea,
As Thou dost man's in prayer to Thee!


* * * * *


O wedding guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide, wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.

O sweeter than the marriage feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!--

To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old man, and babes, and loving friends,
And youths and maidens gay!

Farewell! farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.


* * * * *


Bishop Butler affirmed that it was on the simple fact of a creature being
_sentient_, i.e. capable of pain and pleasure, that rests our
responsibility to save it pain and give it pleasure. There is no evading
this obligation, then, as regards the lower animals, by the plea that they
are not moral beings; it is _our_ morality, not _theirs_, which is in


* * * * *

"Never," said my aunt, "be mean in anything; never be false, never BE
CRUEL. Avoid those three vices, Trot, and I can always be hopeful of you."

C. DICKENS, in _David Copperfield_.

* * * * *


Wherefore it is evident that even the ordinary exercise of this faculty of
sympathy implies a condition of the whole moral being in some measure right
and healthy, and that to the entire exercise of it there is necessary the
entire perfection of the Christian character, for he who loves not God, nor
his brother, cannot love the grass beneath his feet and the creatures that
fill those spaces in the universe which he needs not, and which live not
for his uses; nay, he has seldom grace to be grateful even to those that
love and serve him, while, on the other hand, none can love God nor his
human brother without loving all things which his Father loves, nor without
looking upon them every one as in that respect his brethren also, and
perhaps worthier than he, if in the under concords they have to fill their
part is touched more truly.


* * * * *


The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above this sceptred sway:
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore,...
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,--
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.

SHAKESPEARE: _Merchant of Venice_, Act 4, Sc. 1.

* * * * *


And in that primeval account of Creation which the second chapter of
Genesis gives us, the first peculiar characteristic of the Human Being is
that he assumes the rank of the Guardian and Master of every fowl of the
air and every beast of the field. They gather round him, he names them, he
classifies them, he seeks for companionship from them. It is the fit
likeness and emblem of their relation to him in the course of history. That
"earnest expectation of the creature" which the Apostle describes, that,
"stretching forth the head" of the whole creation towards a brighter and
better state as ages have rolled on, has received even here a fulfilment
which in earlier times could not have been dreamed of. The savage animals
have, before the tread of the Lord of Creation, gradually disappeared.
Those creatures which show capacity for improvement have been cherished and
strengthened and humanized by their intercourse with man. The wild horse
has been brought under his protecting care, has become a faithful
ministering servant, rejoicing in his master's voice, fondled by his
master's children. The huge elephant has had his "half-reasoning" powers
turned into the faculties of a gentle, benevolent giant, starting aside
from his course to befriend a little child, listening with the docility of
a child to his driver's rebuke or exhortation. The light, airy, volatile
bird seems to glow with a new instinct of affection and of perseverance
under the shelter of the firm hand and eye of man. The dog, in all Eastern
nations, even under the Old Testament itself, represented as an outcast,
the emblem of all that was unclean and shameful, has, through the Gentile
Western nations, been admitted within the pale of human fellowship. Truly,
if man has thus, as it were, infused a soul into the dumb, lawless animals,
what a community of feeling, what tenderness should it require from him in
dealing with them. What a heartless, in one word, what an _inhuman_ spirit
is implied by any cruelty towards those, his dependents, his followers, his
grateful, innocent companions, placed under his charge by Him who is at
once their Father and ours. Remember our common origin and our common
infirmities. Remember that we are bound to feel for their hunger, their
thirst, their pains, which they share with us, and which we, the
controllers of their destiny, ought to alleviate by the means which our
advancing civilization enables us to use for ourselves. Remember how
completely each of us is a god to them, and, as a god, bound to them by
godlike duties.


* * * * *


The rights of all creatures are to be respected, but especially of those
kinds which man domesticates and subsidizes for his peculiar use. Their
nearer contact with the human world creates a claim on our loving-kindness
beyond what is due to more foreign and untamed tribes. Respect that claim.
"The righteous man," says the proverb, "regardeth the life of his beast."
Note that word "righteous." The proverb does not say the merciful man, but
the righteous, the just. Not mercy only, but justice, is due to the brute.
Your horse, your ox, your kine, your dog, are not mere chattels, but
sentient souls. They are not your own so proper as to make your will the
true and only measure of their lot. Beware of contravening their nature's
law, of taxing unduly their nature's strength. Their powers and gifts are a
sacred trust. The gift of the horse is his fleetness, but when that gift is
strained to excess and put to wager for exorbitant tasks, murderous
injustice is done to the beast. They have their rights, which every
right-minded owner will respect. We owe them return for the service they
yield, all needful comfort, kind usage, rest in old age, and an easy death.


* * * * *


The day may come when the rest of the animal creation may acquire those
rights which never could have been withheld from them but by the hand of
tyranny. It may come one day to be recognized that the number of legs, or
the villosity of the skin, are reasons insufficient for abandoning a
sensitive being to the caprice of a tormentor. What else is it that should
trace the insuperable line? Is it the faculty of reason, or perhaps the
faculty of discourse? But a full-grown horse or dog is beyond comparison a
more rational as well as a more conversable animal than an infant of a day,
a week, or even a month old. But suppose the case were otherwise, what
could it avail? The question is not "Can they reason?" nor "Can they
speak?" but "Can they suffer?"


* * * * *


The disposition to raise the fallen, to befriend the friendless, is now one
of the governing powers of the world. Every year its dominion widens, and
even now a strong and growing public opinion is enlisted in its support.
Many men still spend lives that are merely selfish. But such lives are
already regarded with general disapproval. The man on whom public opinion,
anticipating the award of the highest tribunal, bestows its approbation, is
the man who labors that he may leave other men better and happier than he
found them. With the noblest spirits of our race this disposition to be
useful grows into a passion. With an increasing number it is becoming at
least an agreeable and interesting employment. On the monument to John
Howard in St. Paul's, it is said that the man who devotes himself to the
good of mankind treads "an open but unfrequented path to immortality." The
remark, so true of Howard's time, is happily not true of ours.

MACKENZIE'S _Nineteenth Century._

* * * * *


And let us take to ourselves the moral lessons which these creatures preach
to all who have studied and learned to love what I venture to call the
moral in brutes. Look at that faithful servant, the ox! What an emblem in
all generations of patient, plodding, meek endurance and serviceable toil!
Of the horse and the dog, what countless anecdotes declare the generous
loyalty, the tireless zeal, the inalienable love! No human devotion has
ever surpassed the recorded examples of brutes in that line. The story is
told of an Arab horse who, when his master was taken captive and bound hand
and foot, sought him out in the dark amidst other victims, seized him by
the girdle with his teeth, ran with him all night at the top of his speed,
conveyed him to his home, and then, exhausted with the effort, fell down
and died. Did ever man evince more devoted affection?

Surely, something of a moral nature is present also in the brute creation.
If nowhere else we may find it in the brute mother's care for her young.
Through universal nature throbs the divine pulse of the universal Love, and
binds all being to the Father-heart of the author and lover of all.
Therefore is sympathy with animated nature, a holy affection, an extended
humanity, a projection of the human heart by which we live, beyond the
precincts of the human house, into all the wards of the many creatured city
of God, as He with his wisdom and love is co-present to all. Sympathy with
nature is a part of the good man's religion.


* * * * *

Whenever any trait of justice, or generosity, or far-sighted wisdom, or
wide tolerance, or compassion, or purity, is seen in any man or woman
throughout the whole human race, as in the fragments of a broken mirror we
see the reflection of the Divine image.


* * * * *


It is not, however, to be reckoned as surprising, that our forefathers did
not dream of such a thing as Duty to Animals. They learned very slowly that
they owed duties to _men_ of other races than their own. Only in the
generation which recognized thoroughly for the first time that the negro
was a man and brother, did it dawn that beyond the negro there were other
still humbler claimants for benevolence and justice. Within a few years,
passed both the Emancipation of the West Indian slaves and the first act
for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, of which Lord Erskine so truly
prophesied that it would prove not only an honor to the Parliament of
England, but an era in the civilization of the world.


* * * * *


But what is needed for the present is due regard for the natural rights of
animals, due sense of the fact that they are not created for man's pleasure
and behoof alone, but have, independent of him, their own meaning and place
in the universal order; that the God who gave them being, who out of the
manifoldness of his creative thought let them pass into life, has not cast
them off, but is with them, in them, still. A portion of his Spirit, though
unconscious and unreflecting, is theirs. What else but the Spirit of God
could guide the crane and the stork across pathless seas to their winter
retreats, and back again to their summer haunts? What else could reveal to
the petrel the coming storm? What but the Spirit of God could so geometrize
the wondrous architecture of the spider and the bee, or hang the
hill-star's nest in the air, or sling the hammock of the tiger-moth, or
curve the ramparts of the beaver's fort, and build the myriad "homes
without hands" in which fish, bird, and insect make their abode? The Spirit
of God is with them as with us,--consciously with us, unconsciously with
them. We are not divided, but one in his care and love. They have their
mansions in the Father's house, and we have ours; but the house is one, and
the Master and keeper is one for us and them.


* * * * *


I can hardly express to you how much I feel there is to be thought of,
arising from the word "dumb" applied to animals. Dumb animals! What an
immense exhortation that is to pity. It is a remarkable thing that this
word dumb should have been so largely applied to animals, for, in reality,
there are very few dumb animals. But, doubtless, the word is often used to
convey a larger idea than that of dumbness; namely, the want of power in
animals to convey by sound to mankind what they feel, or, perhaps, I should
rather say, the want of power in men to understand the meaning of the
various sounds uttered by animals. But as regards those animals which are
mostly dumb, such as the horse, which, except on rare occasions of extreme
suffering, makes no sound at all, but only expresses pain by certain
movements indicating pain--how tender we ought to be of them, and how
observant of these movements, considering their dumbness. The human baby
guides and governs us by its cries. In fact, it will nearly rule a
household by these cries, and woe would betide it, if it had not this power
of making its afflictions known. It is a sad thing to reflect upon, that
the animal which has the most to endure from man is the one which has the
least powers of protesting by noise against any of his evil treatment.


* * * * *


His parent hand
From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore,
To men, to angels, to celestial minds,
Forever leads the generations on
To higher scenes of being; while supplied
From day to day with His enlivening breath,
Inferior orders in succession rise
To fill the void below.

AKENSIDE: _Pleasures of Imagination._

* * * * *


I would not enter on my list of friends
(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility) the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail
That crawls at evening in the public path;
But he that has humanity, forewarned,
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight,
And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes,
A visitor unwelcome, into scenes
Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove,
The chamber, or refectory, may die:
A necessary act incurs no blame.
Not so when, held within their proper bounds,
And guiltless of offence, they range the air,
Or take their pastime in the spacious field:
There they are privileged; and he that hunts
Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong,
Disturbs the economy of nature's realm,
Who, when she formed, designed them an abode.
The sum is this: If man's convenience, health,
Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims
Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs.
Else they are all--the meanest things that are--
As free to live, and to enjoy that life,
As God was free to form them at the first,
Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons
To love it too.


* * * * *


Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt and taints of blood;

That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroyed,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;

That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth with vain desire
Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire,
Or but subserves another's gain.


* * * * *


Say not, the struggle naught availeth,
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright.


* * * * *


See, through this air, this ocean, and this earth,
All matter quick, and bursting into birth.
Above, how high progressive life may go!
Around, how wide! how deep extend below!
Vast chain of being! which from God began,
Natures ethereal, human, angel, man,
Beast, bird, fish, insect, which no eye can see,
No glass can reach; from infinite to thee;
From thee to nothing. On superior powers
Were we to press, inferior might on ours;
Or in the full creation leave a void,
Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroyed:
From Nature's chain whatever link you strike,
Tenth, or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.
All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
That, changed through all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame;
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;
Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:
To Him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals all.


* * * * *


Oh, it is hard to work for God,
To rise and take his part
Upon this battle-field of earth,
And not sometimes lose heart!

Ill masters good; good seems to change
To ill with greatest ease;
And, worst of all, the good with good
Is at cross purposes.

It is not so, but so it looks;
And we lose courage then;
And doubts will come if God hath kept
His promises to men.

Workman of God! Oh lose not heart,
But learn what God is like;
And in the darkest battle-field
Thou shalt know where to strike.

For right is right, since God is God;
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin!


* * * * *


Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds,
But animated nature sweeter still
To soothe and satisfy the human ear.
Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one
The livelong night: nor these alone whose notes
Nice-fingered art must emulate in vain;
But coying rooks, and kites that swim sublime
In still repeated circles, screaming loud,
The jay, the pie, and ev'n the boding owl
That hails the rising moon, have charms for me.
Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh,
Yet heard in scenes where peace forever reigns,
And only there, please highly for their sake.


* * * * *


The heart is hard in nature, and unfit
For human fellowship, as being void
Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike
To love and friendship both, that is not pleased
With sight of animals enjoying life,
Nor feels their happiness augment his own.
The bounding fawn that darts along the glade
When none pursues, through mere delight of heart,
And spirits buoyant with excess of glee;
The horse as wanton, and almost as fleet,
That skips the spacious meadow at full speed,
Then stops, and snorts, and throwing high his heels,
Starts to the voluntary race again;
The very kine that gambol at high noon,
The total herd receiving first from one
That leads the dance a summons to be gay,
Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth
Their efforts, yet resolved with one consent
To give such act and utterance as they may
To ecstasy too big to be suppressed--
These and a thousand images of bliss,
With which kind Nature graces every scene,
Where cruel man defeats not her design,
Impart to the benevolent, who wish
All that are capable of pleasure pleased,
A far superior happiness to theirs,
The comfort of a reasonable joy.


* * * * *


The very meanest things are made supreme
With innate ecstasy. No grain of sand
But moves a bright and million-peopled land,
And hath its Edens and its Eves, I deem.
For love, though blind himself, a curious eye
Hath lent me, to behold the heart of things,
And touched mine ear with power. Thus, far or nigh,
Minute or mighty, fixed or free with wings,
Delight, from many a nameless covert sly,
Peeps sparkling, and in tones familiar sings.


* * * * *


When that great and far-reaching softener of hearts, the sense of our
failures and offences, is vividly present, the position we hold to
creatures who have never done wrong is always found inexpressibly touching.
To be kind to them, and rejoice in their happiness, seems just one of the
few ways in which we can act a godlike part in our little sphere, and
display the mercy for which we hope in turn. The only befitting feeling for
human beings to entertain toward brutes is--as the very word suggests--the
feeling of _Humanity_; or, as we may interpret it, the sentiment of
sympathy, as far as we can cultivate fellow feeling; of Pity so far so we
know them to suffer; of Mercy so far as we can spare their sufferings; of
Kindness and Benevolence, so far as it is in our power to make them happy.


* * * * *


What call'st thou solitude? Is mother earth
With various living creatures, and the air
Replenished, and all these at thy command
To come and play before thee? Know'st thou not
Their language and their ways? They also know,
And reason not contemptibly; with these
Find pastime, and bear rule; thy realm is large.

_Paradise Lost_, bk. 8.

* * * * *


One all-extending, all-preserving Soul
Connects each being, greatest with the least;
Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast;
All served, all serving: nothing stands alone:
The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown.


* * * * *


Thou gavest me wide nature for my kingdom,
And power to feel it, to enjoy it. Not
Cold gaze of winder gav'st thou me alone,
But even into her bosom's depth to look,
As it might be the bosom of a friend;
The grand array of living things thou madest
To pass before me, mak'st me know my brothers
In silent bush, in water, and in air.

_Blackie's Translation of Goethe's Faust._

* * * * *


Even the she-wolf with young, on rapine bent,
He caught and tethered in his mat-walled tent,
And cherished all her little sharp-nosed young,
Till the small race with hope and terror clung
About his footsteps, till each new-reared brood,
Remoter from the memories of the wood
More glad discerned their common home with man.
This was the work of Jubal: he began
The pastoral life, and, sire of joys to be,
Spread the sweet ties that bind the family
O'er dear dumb souls that thrilled at man's caress,
And shared his pain with patient helpfulness.

GEORGE ELIOT: _Legend of Jubal_.

* * * * *

Nor must we childishly feel contempt for the study of the lower animals,
since in all nature's work there is something wonderful. And if any one
thinks the study of other animals despicable, he must despise the study of
his own nature.


* * * * *


Thus born alike, from virtue first began
The diff'rence that distinguished man from man:
He claimed no title from descent of blood;
But that which made him noble made him good.


* * * * *


Little by little the time goes by--
Short if you sing through it, long if you sigh.
Little by little--an hour, a day,
Gone with the years that have vanished away;
Little by little the race is run,
Trouble and waiting and toil are done!

Little by little the skies grow clear;
Little by little the sun comes near;
Little by little the days smile out
Gladder and brighter on pain and doubt;
Little by little the seed we sow
Into a beautiful yield will grow.

Little by little the world grows strong,
Fighting the battle of Right and Wrong:
Little by little the Wrong gives way,
Little by little the Right has sway;
Little by little all longing souls
Struggle up nearer the shining goals!

Little by little the good in men
Blossoms to beauty for human ken;
Little by little the angels see
Prophecies better of good to be;
Little by little the God of all
Lifts the world nearer the pleading call.

_Cincinnati Humane Appeal_.

* * * * *


Life may be given in many ways
And loyalty to truth be sealed
As bravely in the closet as the field,
So generous is fate;
But then to stand beside her,
When craven churls deride her,
To front a lie in arms, and not to yield,
This shows, methinks, God's plan
And measure of a stalwart man,
Limbed like the old heroic breeds,
Who stands self-poised on manhood's solid earth,
Not forced to frame excuses for his birth,
Fed from within with all the strength he needs.


* * * * *


Animals have much more capacity to understand human speech than is
generally supposed. The Hindoos invariably talk to their elephants, and it
is amazing how much the latter comprehend. The Arabs govern their camels
with a few cries, and my associates in the African desert were always
amused whenever I addressed a remark to the big dromedary who was my
property for two months; yet at the end of that time the beast evidently
knew the meaning of a number of simple sentences. Some years ago, seeing
the hippopotamus in Barnum's museum looking very stolid and dejected, I
spoke to him in English, but he did not even open his eyes. Then I went to
the opposite corner of the cage, and said in Arabic, "I know you; come here
to me." He instantly turned his head toward me; I repeated the words, and
thereupon he came to the corner where I was standing, pressed his huge,
ungainly head against the bars of the cage, and looked in my face with a
touch of delight while I stroked his muzzle. I have two or three times
found a lion who recognized the same language, and the expression of his
eyes, for an instant, seemed positively human.


* * * * *


And I, contented with a humble theme,
Have poured my stream of panegyric down
The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds
Among her lovely works, with a secure
And unambitious course, reflecting clear
If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes.
And I am recompensed, and deem the toils
Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine
May stand between an animal and woe,
And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge.


* * * * *


See him from Nature, rising slow to Art!
To copy Instinct, that was Reason's part;
Thus then to man the voice of Nature spake:--
"Go, from the creatures thy instructions take;
Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield;
Learn from the beasts the physic of the field;
Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave;
Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
Here, too, all forms of social union find,
And hence let reason, late, instruct mankind:
Here subterranean works and cities see;
There towns aerial on the waving tree.
Learn each small people's genius, policies,
The Ant's republic, and the realm of Bees:
How those in common all their wealth bestow,
And Anarchy without confusion know;
And these forever, though a monarch reign,
Their sep'rate cells and properties maintain.
Mark what unvaryed laws preserve each state,
Laws wise as Nature, and as fixed as Fate.
In fine, thy Reason finer webs shall draw,
Entangle Justice in her net of Law,
And Right, too rigid, harden into Wrong;
Still for the strong too weak, the weak too strong.
Yet go! and thus o'er all the creatures sway,
Thus let the wiser make the rest obey;
And, for those Arts mere Instinct could afford,
Be crowned as Monarchs, or as God adored."


* * * * *


Granted that any practice causes more pain to animals than it gives
pleasure to man; is that practice moral or immoral? And if exactly in
proportion as human beings raise their heads out of the slough of
selfishness, they do not answer "immoral," let the morality of the
principle of utility be forever condemned.


* * * * *


It might have been that the sky was green, and the grass serenely blue;
It might have been that grapes on thorns and figs on thistles grew;
It might have been that rainbows gleamed before the showers came;
It might have been that lambs were fierce and bears and tigers tame;
It might have been that cold would melt and summer heat would freeze;
It might have been that ships at sea would sail against the breeze--
And there may be worlds unknown, dear, where we would find the change
From all that we have seen or heard, to others just as strange--
But it never could be wise, dear, in haste to act or speak;
It never could be noble to harm the poor and weak;
It never could be kind, dear, to give a needless pain;
It never could be honest, dear, to sin for greed or gain;
And there could not be a world, dear, while God is true above,
Where right and wrong were governed by any law but love.


* * * * *


Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close,
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose;
There as I passed with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came softening from below;
The swain responsive to the milkmaid sung:
_The sober herd that lowed to meet their young;
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool:_
The playful children just let loose from school;
_The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind_,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind,--
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And filled each pause the nightingale had made.


* * * * *


The Buddhist duty of universal love enfolds in its embraces not only the
brethren and sisters of the new faith, not only our neighbors, _but every
thing that has life_.


* * * * *

As a mother, even at the risk of her own life, protects her son, her only
son, so let a man _cultivate good-will without measure toward all beings_.
Let him cultivate good-will without measure, unhindered love and
friendliness toward the whole world, above, below, around. Standing,
walking, sitting, or lying, let him be firm in this mind so long as he is
awake; this state of heart, they say, is the best in the world.

_Metta Sutta._

* * * * *

He who lives pure in thought, free from malice, contented, leading a holy
life, _feeling tenderly for all creatures_, speaking wisely and kindly,
humbly and sincerely, has the Deity ever in his breast. The Eternal makes
not his abode within the breast of that man who covets another's wealth,
who _injures living creatures_, who is proud of his iniquity, whose mind is


* * * * *


The discontinuance of the murder of human beings and of cruelty to animals,
respect for parents, obedience to father and mother, obedience to holy
elders, these are good deeds.--_No. IV._

And now the joyful chorus resounds again and again that henceforward not a
single animal shall be put to death.--_No. V._

In a summary of the inscriptions by Arthur Lillie, in "Buddhism and Early
Buddhism," he says, they require also, for the benefit of both beast and
men, "that gardens be cultivated everywhere of healing shrubs and herbs."

[The inscriptions were written on "rocks, temples, and monuments" in India
for the instruction of the people, by order of the Emperor Asoka, who lived
about 250 years before Christ.]

* * * * *


God is within this universe, and yet outside this universe; whoever beholds
all living creatures as in Him, and Him the universal Spirit, as in all,
henceforth regards no creature with contempt.

_Quoted by_ REV. J. E. CARPENTER.

* * * * *


It fortifies my soul to know
That though I perish, truth is so,
That howsoe'er I stray and range,
Whate'er I do, thou dost not change.
I steadier step when I recall
That, if I slip, thou dost not fall.


* * * * *


We, dying, fondly hope the life immortal
To win at last;
Yet all that live must through death's dreary portal
At length have passed.

And from the hope which shines so bright above us,
My spirit turns,
And for the lowlier ones, that serve and love us,
Half sadly yearns.

Never a bird its glad way safely winging
Through those blest skies?
Never, through pauses in the joyful singing,
Its notes to rise?

Not one of those who toil's severest burdens
So meekly bear,
To find at last of faithful labor's guerdons
An humble share?

Ah, well! I need not question; gladly rather,
I'll trust in all--
Assured that not without our Heavenly "Father"
The sparrows fall.

And if He foldeth in a sleep eternal
Their wings to rest;
Or waketh them to fly the skies supernal--
He knoweth best?


* * * * *


God is the causer of pleasure and light, _maker of grass for the cattle_,
and of fruitful trees for man, _causing the fish to live in the river and
the birds to fill the air_, lying awake when all men sleep, to seek out the
good of His creatures.

_Quoted by_ REV. J. E. CARPENTER.

* * * * *


There is a higher consanguinity than that of the blood which runs through
our veins,--that of the blood which makes our hearts beat with the same
indignation and the same joy. And there is a higher nationality than that
of being governed by the same imperial dynasty,--that of our common
allegiance to the Father and Ruler of all mankind.


* * * * *



For eighty years! Many will count them over,
But none but He who knoweth all may guess
What those long years have held of high endeavor,
Of world-wide blessing and of blessedness.

For eighty years the champion of the right
Of hapless child neglected and forlorn;
Of maniac dungeoned in his double night;
Of woman overtasked and labor-worn;

Of homeless boy, in streets with peril rife;
Of workman, sickened in his airless den;
Of Indian parching for the streams of life;
Of negro slave in bond of cruel men.

O Friend of all the friendless 'neath the sun,
Whose hand hath wiped away a thousand tears,
Whose fervent lips and clear strong brain have done
God's holy service, lo! these eighty years,--

How meet it seems thy grand and vigorous age
Should find beyond man's race fresh pangs to spare,
And for the wronged and tortured brutes engage
In yet fresh labors and ungrudging care!

Oh, tarry long amongst us! Live, we pray,
Hasten not yet to hear thy Lord's "Well done!"
Let this world still seem better while it may
Contain one soul like thine amid its throng.

Whilst thou art here our inmost hearts confess,
Truth spake the kingly seer of old who said,--
"Found in the way of God and righteousness,
A crown of glory is the hoary head."


* * * * *


Pain, terror, mortal agonies which scare
Thy heart in man, to brutes thou wilt not spare.
Are these less sad and real? Pain in man
Bears the high mission of the flail and fear;
In brutes 'tis purely piteous.


* * * * *


Who knows thy love most royal power,
With largess free and brave,
Which crowns the helper of the poor,
The suffering and the slave.

Yet springs as freely and as warm,
To greet the near and small,
The prosy neighbor at the farm,
The squirrel on the wall.


* * * * *


It is the simple idea of dealing with a living, conscious, sensitive, and
intelligent creature as if it were dead and senseless matter, against which
the whole spirit of true humanity revolts. It is the notion of such
absolute despotism as shall justify, not merely taking life, but converting
the entire existence of the animal into a misfortune which we denounce as
a misconception of the relations between the higher and lower creatures. A
hundred years ago had physiologists frankly avowed that they recognized no
claims on the part of the brutes which should stop them from torturing
them, they would have been only on a level with their contemporaries. But
to-day they are behind the age.

As I have said ere now, the battle of Mercy, like that of Freedom,

"Once begun,
Though often lost, is always won."


* * * * *


From yon blue heavens above us bent
The grand old gardener and his wife
Smile at the claims of long descent.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me
'Tis only noble to be good;
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.


* * * * *


Yes, any act of mercy, even to the humblest and lowliest of God's
creatures, is an act that brings us near to God. Although "the mercy of
God," as the Psalmist says, "reaches to the heavens, although his judgments
are like the great deep," yet still, as the Psalmist adds, it is the same
mercy, the same justice as that which we know in ourselves. "Thou
preservest both man and beast; how exalted is thy mercy, O Lord; therefore
the children of men take refuge under the shadow of thy wings." That mercy
which we see in the complex arrangements of the animal creation, extending
down to the minutest portions of their frames--that same Divine mercy it is
which we are bid to imitate. He whose soul burns with indignation against
the brutal ruffian who misuses the poor, helpless, suffering horse, or dog,
or ass, or bird, or worm, shares for the moment that Divine companion wrath
which burns against the oppressors of the weak and defenceless everywhere.
He who puts forth his hand to save from ill treatment, or add to the
happiness of any of those dumb creatures, has opened his heart to that
Divine compassion which our Heavenly Father has shown to the whole range of
created things--which our blessed Saviour has shown to the human race, his
own peculiar charge, by living and dying for us. "Be ye merciful" to dumb
animals, for ye have a common nature with them. Be ye merciful, for the
worst part of the nature of brutes is to be unmerciful. Be ye merciful, for
ye are raised far above them, to be their appointed lords and guardians. Be
ye merciful, for ye are made in the image of him who is All-Merciful and


* * * * *


He beheld the poor man's need;
Bound his wounds, and with all speed
Set him on his own good steed,
And brought him to the inn.

When our Judge shall reappear,
Thinkest thou this man will hear,
Wherefore didst thou interfere
With what concerned not thee?

No! the words of Christ will run
"Whatsoever thou hast done
To the poor and suffering one
That hast thou done to me."


* * * * *


Thus, when Christianity announced its fundamental idea of love, it, by an
immovable logic, enveloped all things in that affection, and every dumb
brute of the street comes within the colored curtains of the sanctuary. The
Humane Society is a branch of God's Church, and we Christian church-members
are all members of all such associations, so far as we are intelligent
members of the Church of Christ. Love does not mean love of me or you, but
it means love always and for all.


* * * * *


If children at school can be made to understand how it is just and noble to
be humane even to what we term inferior animals, it will do much to give
them a higher character and tone through life. There is nothing meaner than
barbarous and cruel treatment of the dumb creatures, who cannot answer us
or resent the misery which is so often needlessly inflicted upon them.


* * * * *


Love and charity being the basis of Christianity, it is as much a question
for the Church to ask, when a person wishes to be admitted into her bosom,
"Are you kind to animals?" as it is to ask, "Do you believe in such or such
a doctrine?" Certainly the question would be pertinent to Christian life
and consonant with the fundamental and distinguishing principle of the
Christian religion; and the mere asking of it at so solemn a juncture could
not but do much to assimilate and draw closer the heart and life of the
novitiate to Him who sees every sparrow that falls.


* * * * *


The power of feeling for animals, realizing their wants and making their
pains our own, is one which is most irregularly shown by human beings. A
Timon may have it, and a Howard be devoid of it. A rough shepherd's heart
may overflow with it, and that of an exquisite fine gentleman and
distinguished man of science may be as utterly without it as the nether
millstone. One thing I think must be clear: till man has learnt to feel for
all his sentient fellow-creatures, whether in human or in brutal form, of
his own class and sex and country, or of another, he has not yet ascended
the first step towards true civilization nor applied the first lesson from
the love of God.


* * * * *


Nay, on the strength of that same element of self-sacrifice, I will not
grudge the epithet "heroic" which my revered friend Darwin justly applies
to the poor little monkey who once in his life did that which was above his
duty; who lived in continual terror of the great baboon, and yet, when the
brute had sprung upon his friend the keeper, and was tearing out his
throat, conquered his fear by love, and, at the risk of instant death,
sprung in turn upon his dreaded enemy, and hit and shrieked until help


* * * * *


The effect of the barbarous treatment of inferior creatures on the minds of
those who practise it is still more deplorable than its effects upon the
animals themselves. The man who kicks dumb brutes kicks brutality into his
own heart. He who can see the wistful imploring eyes of half-starved
creatures without making earnest efforts to relieve them, is on the road to
lose his manhood, if he has not already lost it. And the boy who delights
in torturing frogs or insects, or robbing birds'-nests, or dogging cattle
and hogs wantonly and cruelly, can awaken no hope of an honorable after


* * * * *


Oh may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence: live
In pulses stirred to generosity:
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
For miserable aims that end with self;
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge men's search
To vaster issues.


* * * * *


The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

_Measure for Measure_, Act 3, Sc. 1.

* * * * *


It is little indeed that each of us can accomplish within the limits of our
little day. Small indeed is the contribution which the best of us can make
to the advancement of the world in knowledge and goodness. But slight
though it be, if the work we do is real and noble work, it is never lost;
it is taken up into and becomes an integral moment of that immortal life to
which all the good and great of the past, every wise thinker, every true
and tender heart, every fair and saintly spirit, have contributed, and
which, never hasting, never resting, onward through ages is advancing to
its consummation.


* * * * *


Salt of the earth, ye virtuous few
Who season human kind!
Light of the world, whose cheering ray
Illumes the realms of mind!

Where misery spreads her deepest shade,
Your strong compassion glows;
From your blest lips the balm distils
That softens mortal woes.

Proceed: your race of glory run,
Your virtuous toils endure;
You come, commissioned from on high,
And your reward is sure.


* * * * *


When 'twixt the drawn forces of Night and of Morning,
Strange visions steal down to the slumbers of men,
From heaven's bright stronghold once issued a warning,
Which baffled all scorning, when brought to my ken.

Methought there descended the Saints and the Sages,
With grief-stricken aspect and wringing of hands,
Till Dreamland seemed filled with the anguish of ages,
The blots of Time's pages, the woes of all lands.

And I, who had deemed that their bliss knew no morrow
(Half vexed with their advent, half awed with their might)--
Cried, "Come ye from heaven, Earth's aspect to borrow,
To mar with weird sorrow the peace of the night?"

They answered me sternly, "Thy knowledge is mortal;
Thou hear'st not as we must, the plaints without tongue:
The wrongs that come beating the crystalline portal,
Inflicted by mortals on those who are dumb.

"Ye bleed for the nation, ye give to the altar,
Ye heal the great sorrows that clamor and cry,
Yet care not how oft 'neath the spur and the halter,
The brutes of the universe falter and die.

"Yet Jesus forgets not that while ye ensnared Him,
And drove Him with curses of burden and goad,
These gentle ones watched where the Magi declared Him,
And often have spared Him the long desert road.

"They crumble to dust; but we, watchers remaining,
Attest their endurance through centuries past,
Oh, fear! lest in future to Judgment attaining,
These woes, uncomplaining, confront you at last!"


* * * * *


Speak gently! it is better far
To rule by love than fear:
Speak gently! let not harsh words mar
The good we might do here.

Speak gently! 'tis a little thing,
Dropped in the heart's deep well,
The good, the joy, which it may bring,
Eternity shall tell.

* * * * *

O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

_Measure for Measure_, Act 2, Sc. 2.

* * * * *


Is there not something in the pleading eye
Of the poor brute that suffers, which arraigns
The law that bids it suffer? Has it not
A claim for some remembrance in the book,
That fills its pages with the idle words
Spoken of man? Or is it only clay,
Bleeding and aching in the potter's hand,
Yet all his own to treat it as he will,
And when he will to cast it at his feet,
Shattered, dishonored, lost for evermore?
My dog loves me, but could he look beyond
His earthly master, would his love extend
To Him who--Hush! I will not doubt that He
Is better than our fears, and will not wrong
The least, the meanest of created things.


* * * * *


The heroes are not all six feet tall,
Large souls, may dwell in bodies small,
The heart that will melt with sympathy
For the poor and the weak, whoe'er it be,
Is a thing of beauty, whether it shine
In a man of forty or lad of nine.

_Scattered Seed._

* * * * *


During his march to conquer the world, Alexander, the Macedonian, came to a
people in Africa, who dwelt in a remote and secluded corner, in peaceful
huts, and knew neither war nor conqueror. They led him to the hut of their
chief, and placed before him golden dates, golden figs, and bread of gold.
"Do you eat gold in this country?" said Alexander. "I take it for granted,"
replied the chief, "that thou wert able to find eatables in thine own
country. For what reason, then, art thou come among us?" "Your gold has
not tempted me hither," said Alexander; "but I would become acquainted with
your manner and customs." "So be it," rejoined the other; "sojourn among us
as long as it pleaseth thee." At, the close of this conversation two
citizens entered, as into their court of justice. The plaintiff said: "I
bought of this man a piece of land, and as I was making a deep drain
through it, I found a treasure. This is not mine, for I only bargained for
the land, and not for any treasure that might be concealed beneath it; and
yet the former owner of the land will not receive it." The defendant
answered: "I hope I have a conscience as well as my fellow-citizen. I sold
him the land with all its contingent, as well as existing advantages, and
consequently the treasure inclusively."

The chief, who was also their supreme judge, recapitulated their words, in
order that the parties might see whether or not he understood them aright.
Then, after some reflection, he said, "Thou hast a son, friend, I believe?"
"Yes." "And thou (addressing the other) a daughter?" "Yes." "Well, then,
let thy son marry thy daughter, and bestow the treasure on the young couple
for a marriage portion." Alexander seemed surprised and perplexed. "Think
you my sentence unjust?" the chief asked him. "Oh, no!" replied Alexander;
"but it astonishes me." "And how, then," rejoined the chief, "would the
case have been decided in your country?" "To confess the truth," said
Alexander, "we should have taken both into custody, and have seized the
treasure for the king's use." "For the king's use!" exclaimed the chief.
"Does the sun shine on that country?" "Oh, yes." "Does it rain there?"
"Assuredly." "Wonderful! But are there tame animals in the country that
live on the grass and green herbs?" "Very many, and of many kinds." "Ay,
that must then be the cause," said the chief; "for the sake of those
innocent animals the all-gracious Being continues to let the sun shine and
the rain drop down on your own country, since its inhabitants are unworthy
of such blessings."


* * * * *


Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
_With sweeter manners, purer laws._

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
_Ring in the common love of good._

Ring in the valiant man and free,
_The larger heart, the kindlier hand;_
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.


* * * * *


"What shall I do, lest life in silence pass?"
"And if it do,
And never prompt the bray of noisy brass,
What need'st thou rue?
Remember, aye the ocean-deeps are mute;
The shallows roar:
Worth is the ocean,--fame is but the bruit
Along the shore."

"What shall I do to be forever known?"
"Thy duty ever."
"This did full many who yet slept unknown."
"Oh, never, never!
Think'st thou perchance that they remain unknown
Whom thou know'st not?
By angel trumps in heaven their praise is blown--
Divine their lot."

"What shall I do to gain eternal life?"
"Discharge aright
_The simple dues with which each day is rife,
Yea, with thy might_.
Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise,
Will life be fled,
Where he, who ever acts as conscience cries,
Shall live though dead."


* * * * *


No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipt like him;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.

_Measure for Measure_, Act 2, Sc. 2.

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