s, very clear, very precise.
Behold them:--

1. _Always leave my friend something more to desire of me._ If he asks me
to go and see him three times, I go but twice. He will look forward to my
coming a third time, and when I go, receive me the more cordially.

It is so sweet to feel we are needed, and so hard to be thought
importunate.

2. _Be useful to my friend as far as he permits, and no farther._

An over-anxious affection becomes tiresome, and a multiplicity of
beautiful sentiments makes them almost insupportable.

Devotion to a friend does not consist in doing _everything_ for him, but
simply that which is agreeable and of service to him, and let it only be
revealed to him by accident.

We all love freedom, and cling tenaciously to our little fancies; we do
not like others to arrange what we have purposely left in disorder; we
even resent their over-anxiety and care for us.

3. _Be much occupied with my own affairs, and little, very little, with
those of my friend._

This infallibly leads to a favorable result. To begin with, in occupying
myself with my own affairs, I shall the more speedily accomplish them,
while my friend is doing the same.

If he appeals to me for help, I will go through fire and water to serve
him, but if _not_, then I do both myself and him the greater service by
abstaining. If, however, I can serve him without his knowledge of it, and
I can see his need, then I must be always ready to do it.

4. _Leave my friend always at liberty to think and act for himself in
matters of little importance._ Why compel him to think and act with me? Am
_I_ the type of all that is beautiful and right? Is it not absurd to think
that because another acts and thinks differently to myself, he must needs
be wrong? No doubt I may not always say, "_You are right_," but I can at
any rate let him _think_ it.

Try this recipe of mine, and I can answer for it your friendship will be
lasting.

XI.

BENEATH THE EYE OF GOD, GOD ONLY

As you read these words, are you not conscious of an inward feeling of
peace and quietness?

_Beneath God's Eye!_ there is something in the thought like a sheltering
rock, a refreshing dew, a gleam of light.

Ah! why always such seeking for some one to _see_ me, to _understand_,
_appreciate_, _praise_ me?

The human eye I seek is like the scorching ray that destroys all the
delicate colors in the most costly material. Every action that is done,
only to be seen of other