e old cynical,
worldly, Latin poet of his friend--that poet whom, for all his deftness
and grace, we are apt to accuse of a certain mundane heartlessness,
though once or twice there flickers up a sharp flame from the
comfortable warmth of the pile. Had he the secret hidden in his heart
all the time? If one could dream of a nearness like that, which doubts
nothing, and questions nothing, but which teaches the soul to move in as
unconscious a unison with another soul as one's two eyes move, so that
the brain cannot distinguish between the impressions of each, would not
that be worth the loss of all that we hold most sweet? We pay a price
for our qualities; the thistle cannot become the vine, or the oak the
rose, by admiration or desire. But we need not doubt of the divine
alchemy that gives good gifts to others, and denies them to ourselves.
And thus I can gratefully own that there are indeed these high mysteries
of friendship, and I can be glad to discern them afar off, as the
dweller on the high moorland, in the wind-swept farm, can see, far away
in the woodland valley, the smoke go up from happy cottage-chimneys,
nestled in leaves, and the spire point a hopeful finger up to heaven.
Life would be a poorer thing if we had all that we desired, and it is
permitted to hope that if we are faithful with our few things, we may be
made rulers over many things!

IV. HUMOUR

There is a pleasant story of a Cambridge undergraduate finding it
necessary to expound the four allegorical figures that crown the parapet
of Trinity Library. They are the Learned Muses, as a matter of fact.
"What are those figures, Jack?" said an ardent sister, labouring under
the false feminine impression that men like explaining things. "Those,"
said Jack, observing them for the first time in his life--"those are
Faith, Hope, and Charity, of course." "Oh! but there are FOUR of them,"
said the irrepressible fair one. "What is the other?" Jack, not to
be dismayed, gave a hasty glance; and, observing what may be called
philosophical instruments in the hands of the statue, said firmly, "that
is Geography." It made a charming quaternion.

I have often felt myself that the time has come to raise another figure
to the hierarchy of Christian Graces. Faith, Hope, and Charity, were
sufficient in a more elementary and barbarous age; but, now that
the world has broadened somewhat, I think an addition to the trio is
demanded. A man may be faithful, hopeful,