oined on turning a corner. I suppose
the Mississippi, which was flowing quietly along, minding its own
business, hates the Missouri for coming into it all at once with its
muddy stream. I suppose the Missouri in like manner hates the
Mississippi for diluting with its limpid, but insipid current the rich
reminiscences of the varied soils through which its own stream has
wandered. I will not compare myself, to the clear or the turbid current,
but I will own that my heart sinks when I find all of a sudden I am in
for a corner confluence, and I cease loving my neighbor as myself until I
can get away from him.

--These antipathies are at least weaknesses; they may be sins in the eye
of the Recording Angel. I often reproach myself with my wrong-doings. I
should like sometimes to thank Heaven for saving me from some kinds of
transgression, and even for granting me some qualities that if I dared I
should be disposed to call virtues. I should do so, I suppose, if I did
not remember the story of the Pharisee. That ought not to hinder me.
The parable was told to illustrate a single virtue, humility, and the
most unwarranted inferences have been drawn from it as to the whole
character of the two parties. It seems not at all unlikely, but rather
probable, that the Pharisee was a fairer dealer, a better husband, and a
more charitable person than the Publican, whose name has come down to us
"linked with one virtue," but who may have been guilty, for aught that
appears to the contrary, of "a thousand crimes." Remember how we limit
the application of other parables. The lord, it will be recollected,
commended the unjust steward because he had done wisely. His shrewdness
was held up as an example, but after all he was a miserable swindler, and
deserved the state-prison as much as many of our financial operators. The
parable of the Pharisee and the Publican is a perpetual warning against
spiritual pride. But it must not frighten any one of us out of being
thankful that he is not, like this or that neighbor, under bondage to
strong drink or opium, that he is not an Erie-Railroad Manager, and that
his head rests in virtuous calm on his own pillow. If he prays in the
morning to be kept out of temptation as well as for his daily bread,
shall he not return thanks at night that he has not fallen into sin as
well as that his stomach has been filled? I do not think the poor
Pharisee has ever had fair play, and I am afraid a good many