the errors, and these are the fruits of misspend- | riences of hunters, fowlers, fishermen, shep ing our prime youth at the schools and universities as we do, either in learning mere words, or such things chiefly as were better unlearned." herds, gardeners, apothecaries; and in the other sciences, architects, engineers, mariners, and physicians? When all these employments are well conquered, then will the choice histo "And despite these evils you wish to be- ries, heroic poems, and Attic tragedies of come a teacher?" "I wish to do so, because I have long since formed the design of reforming our whole system of education. This idea has long, in silence, presented itself to me, of a better education, in extent and comprehension far more large, and yet of time far shorter, and of attainment far more certain, than has been yet in practice. The end of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love Him, to imitate Him, to be like Him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which, being united to the heavenly grace of faith, makes up the highest perfection. But because understanding cannot in this body found itself but on sensible things, nor arrive so clearly to the knowledge of God and things invisible, as by orderly conning over the visible and inferior creature, the same method is necessarily to be followed in all discreet teaching. With the elements of grammar, I will instill into the minds of my pupils the teachings of virtue and morals, for words are only the envelopes of ideas, and language is the garb of thoughts. My pupils shall learn to read and think at the same time. And after mastering the principles of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and geography, with a general compact of physics, they may descend in mathematics to the instrumental science of trigonometry; and in natural philosophy, they may leisurely proceed from the history of meteors, minerals, plants, and living creatures, as far as anatomy. To set forward all these proceedings in nature and mathematics, what hinders but that they may procure, as oft as shall be needful, the helpful expe stateliest and most regal argument, with all the famous political orations, offer themselves; which, if they were not only read, but some of them got by memory, and solemnly pronounced with right accent and grace, as might be taught, would endow them even with the spirit and vigor of Demosthenes or Cicero, Euripides or Sophocles. In which methodical course it is so supposed they must proceed by the steady pace of learning onward, as at convenient times, for memory's sake, to retire back into the middle ward, and sometimes into the rear of what they have been taught, until they have confirmed and solidly united the whole body of their perfected knowledge, like the last embattling of a Roman legion. By this time, years and good precepts will have furnished them more distinctly with that art of reason which in ethics is called proairesis; that they may with some judgment contemplate upon moral good and evil. Then will be required a special reënforcement of constant and sound indoctrinating to set them right and firm, instructing them more and amply in the knowledge of virtue and hatred of vice. But in cultivating the minds of the pupils, sight must not be lost of the development of their bodies. The leisure hours are to be devoted to repose, physical exercise, and the divine harmonies of music, which has a great power over dispositions and manners, to smooth and make them gentle from rustic harshness and distempered passions. In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature, not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth. I should not, therefore, be a persuader to them of studying worth to believe you could ever stoop as low as many poets of the present time have done, and become a mere parasite and sycophant of the nobles." "Dear father, you know neither the house of the Countess of Derby, nor the noble family of Bridgewater." "But I know the world, and especially the sentiments of the nobles, owing to my expe much then, after two or three years that they have well laid their grounds, but to ride out in companies, with prudent and staid guides, to all the quarters of the land; learning and observing all places of strength, all commodities of building and of soil for towns and tillage; harbors and ports for trade. These ways would try all their peculiar gifts of nature, and, if there were any secret excellence among them, would fetch it out, and give it fair op-rience as a lawyer, as which I frequently came portunities to advance itself by, which could in contact with them. Of course, there are not but mightily redound to the good of this exceptions, and I am willing to regard your nation, and bring into fashion again those old- patrons and friends as such; nevertheless, I admired virtues and excellencies with far more wish to warn you, lest you should meet sooner advantage now in this purity of Christian or later with bitter disappointments, and be knowledge. Nor shall we then need the mon- rudely aroused from your dreams. I am willsieurs of Paris to take our hopeful youth into ing to admit that our nobles are honoring poets their slight and prodigal custodies, and send and attracting them to their houses; but they them over back again, transformed into mimics, esteem and befriend only the poet, and not the apes, and kickshows." man. If the latter should be bold enough to demand real friendship, or even true love, they would soon show him that they think they are his superiors. You know the Latin proverb, Procul a Jove, procul a fulmine.'” "I am glad," replied his father, gravely, "that you have weighed your plan so carefully, and still more, that you think at last of choosing a vocation. To tell you the truth, your present occupations caused me to doubt it. Your associations, too, filled me with a certain distrust. It is true, the intercourse with aristocratic persons, with whom you have associated of late almost exclusively, offers come advantages, to which I attach due importance; but you must never forget that one may thereby very easily lose one's own independence, and become the sport of their whims and amusements. They foster and protect talents only so long as they serve to divert them and help them to kill their time. They are never forgetful of their higher position, and always retain their innate pride, despite their seeming condescension. So soon as you pretend to treat them on terms of equality, they will haughtily tell you that they are your superiors; and when they have no longer any need of you, they will drop you unceremoniously. I have too good an opinion of your Milton's father uttered these words so emphatically, and with so significant a glance, that the poet blushed and dropped his eyes. He felt that the secret of his heart was betrayed. His father then left him, and Milton remained absorbed in his reflections. Before him lay the last scene of his mask Comus, which he had just written when his father's entrance had interrupted him. As if to quiet his agitation, he read once more the lines describing Alice's appearance in Haywood Forest. Her lovely image was before his eyes, and dispelled all at once the doubts and fears which his father's warnings had awakened in his mind. He read in a loud, sonorous voice, the lines which the lovely girl was to recite on this occasion: "This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, Of riot and ill-managed merriment, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain, That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud While the poet was reading these lines, the door opened noiselessly. Unnoticed by him, his friend Edward King had entered the room and overheard at least the latter part of the lines recited. He knew at once that Alice was to recite this passage on appearing in Haywood Forest. The love which he had felt for the charming girl ever since his first meeting with her, reawoke now with redoubled strength. A sigh escaped his breast. Milton turned and perceived his friend. "Welcome, my Lycidas!" he exclaimed. "You have kept me waiting a long time for your visit." "I was afraid of disturbing you, as I knew you were occupied with your mask." "I shall finish it very soon, and besides I have always time and leisure for my friends. If you have no objections, we will take a walk. I have worked all day, and a stroll with you will do me good." The room also seemed to his friend too Both left it and entered upon their habitual walk. narrow. CHAPTER XIV. LOVE'S SACRIFICE TO FRIENDSHIP. THE friends walked a long while side by side, without conversing as they used to do. Their thoughts were fixed on the same distant object; the same inclination made them silent. Perhaps each suspected the other's feelings, and therefore avoided speaking to each other. A certain bashfulness prevented them from mentioning Alice's name, and alluding to their late sojourn at Ludlow Castle. Milton, who noticed the change in his friend's de meanor, and the pallor of his cheeks, broke at last the almost painful silence. "You look very pale," he said; "what ails you, my Lycidas ?" His friend started almost in dismay from his musing. "What ails me?" he asked, evasively. "I am as well as ever." "And yet I think you have lately undergone a marked change. Your cheeks are pale, your glance is wild and wandering, and I have heard you sigh repeatedly, contrary to your former habit. If some secret grief weighs down your heart, communicate it to me. I long to ad- ments. No other woman can be compared vise and help you." "Oh, you are so good," murmured King, "and I do wrong in concealing from you a secret that fills my whole heart. Yes, you shall know all, this very day." "Indeed, you excite my curiosity." "Come, let us repose here under this linden. In its fragrant shade I will confide to you what I have scarcely ventured to confess to myself. I am in love." "You are!" exclaimed Milton, in surprise. Oh, now I understand it all, for love is a powerful wizard, transforming us and all our peculiarities. It makes the bold bashful and timid, the wise foolish, the eloquent mute, and the mute eloquent. It saddens the glad, and gladdens the sad. No wonder is impossible to it, as it is itself the greatest wonder in which the mysterious power of Nature reveals itself You are in love; now I comprehend why my once gay Lycidas creeps along like the shivering ghosts on the banks of the Acheron, and fills the woods with his lamentations." to us. "You depict love as though you were yourself enamoured of some fair girl. One hearing you would take it for granted that you had likewise succumbed to the tender flame." "Who knows?" said Milton, smiling and crimsoning with confusion. 'Perhaps my hour has struck too; perhaps I may likewise surprise you soon by my confessions; but first I must find out what nymph has won your coy heart. I am sure she is as shy as a young roe, endowed with a noble heart, and with all the charms that fill us with rapture, as beautiful as Venus, and as accomplished as Pallas. Such I fancy to be the woman capable of winning your heart." with her. Language is too tame and feeble to describe her loveliness. Is it necessary for me to utter her name?" A shudder seized Milton, his heart stood still, and consciousness threatened to leave him. He well knew that his friend alluded to Alice Egerton. It was only by a violent effort that he restrained his agitation, which escaped the speaker, who was absorbed in his own thoughts. "Alice!" murmured the poet, in profound emotion. "Alice! You have guessed it," said King. "I loved her the moment I saw her in Haywood Forest. At that time I fancied she was the fairy of the forest, a blessed angel descended from above. Afterward I became better acquainted with her, and every day lent new charms to her. It was not only her beauty that won my heart; a more profound impression was made upon me by the innocence surrounding her whole form like a halo, and her accomplishments, coupled as they are with the most touching modesty. Oh, she is peerless on earth!" Every word by which his transported friend extolled the loveliness of Alice added to the grief with which this unexpected confession could not but fill the poet's heart. He almost succumbed to his agony, and succeeded, only by the most violent efforts, in mastering his emotions and restraining an outburst of his tortured feelings. "And she returns your love?" faltered out Milton. "Oh, I would you were the true prophet of my happiness. Hitherto I have not ventured to put such a question to her; but I may confess to you that I am not entirely destitute of hope, for what would life be worth to me in future if I could not hope? Alice did not reject my admiration, but received it with en "You portray her as though you knew already who she is. Well, you know her as well as I do. You have seen her, and undergone the fascination of her charms and accomplish-couraging kindness. When she spoke to me, hand." A painful sigh escaped the poet, and now at last King perceived Milton's agitation. His deathlike pallor, the profound grief stamped on his features, could no longer escape him; but, so far from suspecting the real cause of these marked symptoms of suffering, he attributed them to an entirely different one. or met me, her conduct was such as to make no doubt that you will obtain Alice's me believe that I was not entirely indifferent to her. Her parents, too, and especially her father, seemed not to disapprove my bashful efforts to obtain their daughter's love. All this, however, does not convince me that my suit would really be agreeable to them. Your own experience has shown you, perhaps, that a lover's heart at first fluctuates between blissful transports and overwhelming despair. Now, I have come to you to obtain some certainty about it. I have no more faithful friend than you, and whom should I apply to but my Thyrsis, the playmate of my childhood and faithful companion of my youth?" "I shall know how to deserve your friendship more than ever before," replied the poet, with all the self-abnegation of which he was capable at that moment. "I count upon you," continued his friend, with the blind egotism of an ardent lover. “You have known Alice longer than I, and are just now on even more intimate terms with her. Perhaps you may succeed in observing her in unguarded moments, or even gaining her confidence. She knows that we are friends. A word from you now and then may do a great deal of good, and disclose the true state of her heart to me. Therefore, strive to approach her even closer than hitherto, and speak to her much and often about me, that I may learn her feelings toward me. But whatever you may bring to me, life or death, I shall always gratefully acknowledge the service which you will render me thereby." "I will try to comply with your request," faltered out Milton, whose heart was bleeding from a mortal wound. “And I am convinced that you will leave nothing undone to second my courtship. I implore you in the name of our friendship to aid me energetically and honestly, for I feel that I cannot live without her." "Pardon me," he said, after this discovery, "if, in speaking of my love-affair, I entirely forgot yours. If I did not misunderstand you, you alluded to a similar inclination filling your heart with grief and anxiety. Follow the example I have set you, and unbosom your sorrow to me. Speak as frankly as I have done, and command me. All that I am and have is at your disposal, and I should rejoice if I could help you to attain your object. Speak, beloved Thyrsis, and you will see that love has not deadened in my heart the sacred feelings of friendship. Let me know, too, what grieves your heart." "Not now-no, not now," groaned Milton; "perhaps some other time." "And why not now?" said his friend, pressingly. "I hope you do not believe that my sympathy for you and your friendship is less ardent than it was? Oh, how I grieve at the mere thought of it! You know me, you know how dearly I love you. I should be capable of giving up all for you-yes, Thyrsis, all! Have we not often sworn to each other fidelity and devotion until death; are we not, as heretofore, brothers such as Castor and Pollux were of yore-you, my Damon; I, your Pythias? Or do you think that such instances of a league of souls are to be found only in Greece and in past centuries? No, I am animated, as heretofore, by the love and enthusiasm which would make me willing to die for you." "No, you shall not die for me," exclaimed "I will assuredly do all I can, and I have the poet, deeply moved. "If one of us is to |