arning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust."

Here in rhythmic form we have the thought of the mighty apostle--"O
Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?" Shakspere
was too intensely human to be absolved from mortal weakness; but, in
the main, he took the one view which I should be glad to see cherished
by all. His words sometimes make us pause, as we pause when the violet
flashes of summer lightning fleet across the lowering dome of the sky;
but, in the end, he always has his words of cheer, and we gather heart
from reading the strongest and most perfect writer the earth has
known. Turn where we will, we find that all of our race--emperor,
warrior, poet, clown, fair lady, innocent child--are given to dwelling
on the same thought. It is our business to seek out those who have
spoken with resignation and dauntlessness, and to leave aside all
those who have only affectations of bravery or affectations of horror
to give us. Here is a beautiful word:--

"The ways of Death are soothing and serene,
And all the words of Death are grave and sweet;
Approaching ever, soft of hands and feet,
She beckons us, and strife and song have been.
A summer night, descending cool and green
And dark on daytime's dust and stress and heat,
The ways of Death are soothing and serene,
And all the words of Death are grave and sweet.
O glad and sorrowful, with triumphant mien
And hopeful fancies look upon and greet
This last of all your lovers, and to meet
Her kiss mysterious all your spirit lean!
The ways of Death are soothing and serene!"

Even Shakspere hardly bettered that!

I should not like to see men begin to encourage the recklessness of
the desperado, nor should I like to see women affect the brazen
abandonment of the Amazon. I only care to see our fellow-creatures
rise above pettiness, so that they may accept all God's ordinances
with unvarying gratitude. Is it not pitiful to see a grown man
trembling and waving his hand with angry disgust when the holy course
of Nature is spoken of with gravity and composed resolution? I have
seen a stout, strong man who had amassed enormous wealth fly into
pettish rage like a spoiled child when a friend spoke to him about the
final disposal of his riches. Like a silly girl, this powerful
millionaire went into tremors when the inevitable was named in his
ear, for he had imbibed all the cowardly conventions that tend to
poison our existen