the city, and what they arise from? Of course you have considered these points with a view of making the resources which are scanty become copious, and of finding some substitute for those which fail."-"In fact," said Glaukon, "those are points which I have not considered."—"Well, if that be the case," said Socrates, " tell me at least what are the expenses of the city, for of course your plan is to retrench anything that is superfluous in these." —“ But, indeed," said he, "I have not given my attention to this matter."-"Well, then," said Socrates, we will put off for the present this undertaking of making the city richer; for how can a person undertake such a matter without knowing the income and the outgoings?"

once.

66

Glaukon of course must by this time have had some misgivings, at having his fitness for a prime minister tested by such questioning as this. However, he does not yield at "But, Socrates," he says, "there is a way of making the city richer by taking wealth from our enemies.""Doubtless there is," said Socrates, "if you are stronger than they; but if that is not so, you may by attacking them lose even the wealth have." you "Of course that is so," says Glaukon.-"Well then," says Socrates, "in order to avoid this mistake, you must know the strength of the city and of its rivals. Tell us first the amount of our infantry, and of our naval force, and then that of our opponents."—"O, I cannot tell you that off-hand and without reference."—"Well, but if you have made memoranda on these subjects, fetch them. I should like to hear."-"No; in fact," he said, "I have no written memoranda on this subject.". Then we must at any rate not begin with war: and indeed it is not unlikely that you have deferred this as too weighty a matter for the very beginning of your statesmanship. Tell us then about our frontier fortresses, and our garrisons there, that we may introduce improvement and economy by suppressing the superfluous ones."-Here Glaukon has an opinion, pro

"So.

bably the popular one of the day. "I would," he says, "suppress them all. I know that they keep guard so ill there, that the produce of the country is stolen." -Socrates suggests that the abolition of guards altogether would not remedy this, and asks Glaukon whether he knows by personal examination that they keep guard ill."No," he says, "but I guess it."-Socrates then suggests that it will be best to defer this point also, and to act when we do not guess, but know. — Glaukon assents that this may be the better way. Socrates then proceeds to propound to Glaukon, in the same manner, the revenue which Athens derived from the silver mines, and the causes of its decrease -the supply of corn, of which there was a large import into Attica- and Glaukon is obliged to allow that these are affairs of formidable magnitude. But yet Socrates urges, "No one can manage even one household without knowing and attending to such matters. Now as it must be more difficult to provide for ten thousand houses than for one," he remarks that "it may be best for him to begin with one;" and suggests, as a proper case to make the experiment upon, the household of Glaukon's uncle, Charmides, for he really needs help."-"Yes," says Glaukon, “and I would manage my uncle's household, but he will not let me." And then Socrates comes in with an overwhelming retort: "And so," he says, "though you cannot persuade your uncle to allow you to manage for him, you still think you can persuade the whole body of the Athenians, your uncle among the rest, to allow you to manage for them." And he then adds the moral of the conversation: What a dangerous thing it is to meddle, either in word or in act, with what one does not know.

Plato: Whewell.

HUMILITY.

If thou be one whose heart the holy forms
Of young imagination have kept pure,
Henceforth be warn'd, and know that pride,
Howe'er disguised in its own majesty,

Is littleness; that he who feels contempt
For any living thing has faculties

Which he has never used; that thought, with him,
Is in its infancy. The man whose eye

Is ever on himself doth look on one,

The least of Nature's works, one who might move

The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds
Unlawful ever. Oh, be wiser, thou !

Instructed that true knowledge leads to love;

True dignity abides with him alone

Who, in the silent hour of inward thought,
Can still suspect and still revere himself
In lowliness of heart.

Wordsworth.

CONTENTMENT.

A SHOE Coming loose from the fore-foot of the post-horse, at the beginning of the ascent of Mount Taurira, the postilion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket. As the ascent was five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of having the shoe fastened on again as well as we could; but the postilion had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in the chaise-box being of no great use without them, I submitted to go on. He had not mounted half a mile higher, when, coming to a flinty piece of road, the poor horse lost a second shoe, and from off his other fore-foot.

I then got out of

the chaise in good earnest; and, seeing a house about a

quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a great deal to-do I prevailed upon the postilion to turn up to it. The look of the house and of everything about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster. It was a little farmhouse, surrounded by about twenty acres of vineyard, nearly as much corn, and close to the house on one side was a potagerie * of an acre and a half, full of everything which could make plenty in a French peasant's house, and on the other side was a little wood, which furnished wherewithal to dress it. It was about eight in the evening when I got to the house, so I left the postilion to manage his point as he could, and as to mine I walked directly into the house. The family consisted of an old grey-headed man and his wife, with five or six sons, and sons-in-law and their several wives, and a joyous genealogy out of them. They were all sitting down together to their lentil soup; a large wheaten loaf was in the middle of the table, and a flagon of wine at each end of it promised joy through the stages of the repast: 'twas a feast of love. The old man rose up to meet me, and with a respectful cordiality would have me sit down at the table. My heart was set down the moment I entered the room, so I took my place like a son of the family; and, to invest myself in the character as speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed the old man's knife, and taking up the loaf, cut myself a hearty slice; and as I did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not only of an honest welcome, but of a welcome mixed with thanks that I had not seemed to doubt it. Was it this? or tell me, Nature, what else it was, that made this morsel so sweet; and to what magic I owe it, that the draught I took of their flagon was so delicious that the flavor remains upon my palate to this hour? If the supper was to my taste, the grace which followed it was much more so. When supper was over, the old man gave a knock on the

* Potagerie (pron. pot-azh-cree), kitchen-garden.

table with the haft of his knife, to bid them prepare for the dance. The moment the signal was given, the women and girls ran all together into a back apartment to tie up their hair, and the young men to the door to wash their faces and change their sabots *; and in three minutes every soul was ready, upon a little esplanade before the house, to begin. The old man and his wife came out last, and, placing me betwixt them, sat down upon a sofa of turf by the door. The old man had in his earlier years been no mean performer upon the guitar; and old as he was then, he touched it well enough for the purpose. His wife sang now and then a little of the tune, now leaving off, and then joining her old man again as their children and grandchildren danced before them.

It was not till the middle of the second dance, when, from some pauses in the movements wherein they all seemed to look up, I fancied I could distinguish an elevation of spirit different from that which is the cause or the effect of simple jollity. In a word, I thought I beheld Religion mixing in the dance; but as I had never seen her so engaged, I should have looked upon it now as one of the illusions of an imagination which is always misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance ended, said that this was their constant way; and that all his life long he had made it à rule, after supper was over, to call out his family to dance and rejoice, believing, he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to Heaven

that an illiterate peasant could pay. "Or a learned prelate either," said I.

* Sabots (t silent), peasants' wooden shoes.

Sterne.