CASSIUS ON HONOUR

Well, honour is the subject of my story.-
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life, but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar, so were you;
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow; so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside.
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink."
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tired Cæsar. And this man

Is now become a god; and Cassius is

A wretched creature, and must bend his body
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him I did mark

How he did shake: 't is true, this god did shake;
His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
Did lose his lustre. I did hear him groan;
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius,"
As a sick girl.-Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world,

And bear the palm alone.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates;
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Cæsar: what should be in that Cæsar?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
"Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Cæsar."
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they say till now that talk'd of Rome
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man.
O, you and I have heard our fathers say,

There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king!

-William Shakespeare.

THE HUNTERS

In the bright October morning
Savoy's Duke had left his bride;
From the Castle, past the drawbridge,
Flowed the hunters' merry tide.

Steeds are neighing, gallants glittering.
Gay, her smiling lord to greet,
From her mullioned chamber casement
Smiles the Duchess Marguerite.

Pale and breathless, came the hunters;
On the turf, dead lies the boar,
But the Duke lies stretched beside him,
Senseless, weltering in his gore.

In the dull October evening,

Down the leaf-strewn forest road,
To the Castle, past the drawbridge,
Came the hunters with their load.

In the hall, with sconces blazing,
Ladies waiting round her seat,
Clothed in smiles, beneath the dais
Sat the Duchess Marguerite.

Hark! below the gates unbarring!

Tramp of men and quick commands!""T is my lord come back from hunting." And the Duchess claps her hands.

Slow and tired, came the hunters; Stopped in darkness in the court.— "Ho, this way, ye laggard hunters!

To the hall! What sport, what sport?"

Slow they entered with their Master;

In the hall they laid him down.
On his coat were leaves and blood-stains,
On his brow an angry frown.

Dead her princely youthful husband
Lay before his youthful wife;
Bloody 'neath the flaring sconces:
And the sight froze all her life.

In Vienna by the Danube
Kings hold revel, gallants meet.
Gay of old amid the gayest
Was the Duchess Marguerite.

In Vienna by the Danube

Feast and dance her youth beguiled.
Till that hour she never sorrowed;

But from then she never smiled.

- Matthew Arnold.

SCENE FROM THE LITTLE MINISTER

Within a squirrel's leap of the wood, an old woman was standing at the door of a mud house, listening for the approach of the trap that was to take her to the poorhouse. It was Nanny Webster. She was not crying. She had redd up her house for the last time, and put on her black merino. Her mouth was wide open while she listened. If you had addressed her, you would have thought her polite and stupid. When she heard the dogcart she screamed.

No neighbor was with her. If you think this hard, it is because you do not understand. Perhaps Nanny had never been very lovable except to one man, and him, it is said, she lost through her own vanity.

The door stood open, and Nanny was crouching against the opposite wall of the room, such a poor, dull kitchen, that you would have thought the furniture had still to be brought into it. The blanket and the piece of old carpet that was Nanny's coverlet were already packed in her box. The plate rack was empty. Only the round table and the two chairs, and the stools and some pans were being left behind.

"Well, Nanny," said Doctor McQueen, "I have come, and you see Mr. Dishart, the minister, is with me."

Nanny rose up bravely. She knew the doctor was good to her, and she wanted to thank him. "Thank you kindly, sirs," she said. "Please to take a chair." Both men sat down. The doctor thought it best they should depart at once, and so he rose. "Oh, no, doctor," cried Nanny in alarm.

But you are ready?"

Ay," she said, "I have been ready this twa hours, but you micht wait a minute. Hendry Munn and Andrew Allardyce is

coming yont the road, and they would see me."

"Wait, doctor," the minister said.

"Thank you kindly, sir," answered Nanny.

"But, Nanny," the doctor said, "you must remember what I told you about the poorhouse. It is a fine place, and you will be very happy in it."

"Ay, I'll be happy in 't," Nanny faltered, "but, doctor, if I could just hae bidden on here though I wasna happy!"

66

'Think of the food you will get; broth nearly every day." "It-it'll be terrible enjoyable," Nanny said.

"And there will be pleasant company for you always," continued the doctor, "and a nice room to sit in. Why, after you have been there a week, you won't be the same woman."

"That's it!" cried Nanny, with sudden passion. "Na, na; I'll be a woman on the poor's rates. Oh, mither, mither, you little thocht that I would come to this!"

"Nanny, I am ashamed of you."

"I humbly speir your forgiveness, sir, and you micht bide just a wee yet. I've been ready to gang this twa hours, but now that the machine is at the gate, I dinna ken how it is, but I'm terrible sweir to come awa'. Oh, Mr. Dishart, it's richt tru what the doctor says about the- the place, but I canna just tak it in. I'm-I'm gey auld."

"You will often get out to see your friends," said the minister, Na, na, na, dinna say that; I'll gang, but you manna bid me ever come out, except in a hearse. Dinna let onybody in Thrums look on my face again."

"We must go," said the doctor firmly. "Put on your bon net, Nanny."

She took the bonnet from her bed and put it on slowly.
"Are you sure there 's naebody looking?" she asked.
The doctor glanced at the minister, and he arose.

"Let us pray," he said; and the three went down on theis knees.

It was not the custom of Auld Licht ministers to leave any house until they had offered up a prayer, and to us it always seemed that when the little minister prayed he was at the knees of God; but now Nanny was speaking too, and her words choked