made good men look at him with scorn;
but he fancied himself the cleverest of men. With the grave nearly ready
for him, he could chuckle over things which he had done--things which
proved him base, although none of them brought him within measurable
distance of the dock. But such instances are quite rare. The man whose
vision is lucid, but who nevertheless goes wrong, is usually a prey to
constant misery or to downright remorse. Look at Burns's epitaph,
composed by himself for himself. It is a dreadful thing. It is more than
verse; it is a sermon, a prophecy, a word of doom; and it tells with
matchless terseness the story of many men who are at this hour passing
to grim ruin either of body or soul or both. Burns had such magnificent
common sense that in his last two lines he sums up almost everything
that is worth saying on the subject; and yet that fatal lack of will
which I have so often lamented made all his theoretical good sense as
naught He could give one every essential of morality and conduct--in
theory--and he was one of the most convincing and wise preachers who
ever lived; but that mournful epitaph summarises the results of all his
mighty gifts; and I think that it should be learned by all young men, on
the chance that some few might possibly be warned and convinced. Advice
is of scanty use to men of keen reason who are capable of composing
precepts for themselves; but to the duller sort I certainly think that
the flash of a sudden revelation given in concise words is beneficial.
Here is poor Burns's saying--

Is there a man whose judgment clear
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs himself life's mad career
Wild as the wave?
Here pause, and through the starting tear
Survey this grave.

The poor inhabitant below
Was quick to learn and wise to know,
And keenly felt the kindly glow
And softer flame;
But thoughtless follies laid him low
And stained his name.

Reader, attend! Whether thy soul
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole;
Or, darkling, grubs this earthly hole
In low pursuit,
Know--prudent cautious self-control
Is wisdom's root.

When I ponder that forlorn masterpiece, I cannot help a tendency to
despair; for I know, by multifarious experience of men, that the curt
lines hint at profundities so vast as to baffle the best powers of
comprehension. As I think of the hundreds