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fore no more,
Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my
affair. Ham. I am tame, sir :pronounce.
Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.
Ham. Your are welcome.
Guil. Nay good my lord, this courtesy is not of the 3 right sort. If it shall please you to make me a whole
some answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon, and my return, shall be the end of my business. Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guil. What, my lord ? · Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased : But, sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command; or, rather, as you say, my mother: there
but to the matter: My mother, you 4 say
Rosencrantz. Then thus she says; Your behavior hath struck her into amazement and admiration. Ham. O wonderful
that so astonish a mother !—But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? impart.
Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed.
Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us? 5 Ros. My lord, you once did love me.
Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers.
Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper ? you do, surely, but bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.
Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.
Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?
Ham. Ay, sir, but, While the grass grows--the proverb is something musty.
[Enter the Players with recorders.] 60, the recorders :-let me see one.-To withdraw with you :-Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?
Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.
Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe ?
Guil. My lord, I cannot.
Guil. Believe me, I cannot. og Ham. I do beseech you.
Ros. I know no touch of it, my lord. Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying : govern these ventages, with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.
Ros. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony ; I have not the skill.
Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You wo play upon me; you 8 would seem to know my stops: you would pluck out
the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. Do you think, I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play up
LESSON CXX. Eloquence of Whitfield.-Gillies. 1 An intimate friend of the infidel Hume, asked him what he thought of Mr. Whitfield's preaching; for he had listened to the latter part of one of his sermons at Edinburgh. “He is, sir,” said Mr. Hume, “the most ingenious preacher I ever heard. It is worth while to go twenty miles to hear him.” He then repeated the following passage which he heard, toward the close of that discourse : “ After a solemn pause, Mr. Whitfield thus addressed his numerous audience;
“The attendant angel is just about to leave the thres2 hold, and ascend to heaven. And shall he ascend and not bear with him the news of one sinner, among all this multitude, reclaimed from the error of his ways?' To give the greater effect to this exclamation, he stamped with his foot, lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and with gushing tears, cried aloud, Slop, Gabriel !~Slop, Gabriel !-Stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the news of one sinner converted to God. He then, in the most sim
ple, but energetic language, described a Savior's dying 3 love to sinful man; so that almost the whole assembly
melted into tears. This address was accompanied with such animated, yet natural action, that it surpassed any thing I ever saw or heard in any other preacher.”
Happy had it been for poor Hume, had he received what he then heard, “as the word of God, and not as the word of man!”
Dr. Franklin, in his memoirs, bears witness to the extraordinary effect which was produced by Mr. Wbitfield's preaching in America ; and relates an anecdote 4 equally characteristic of the preacher and of himself.
“ I happened,” says the doctor, “to attend one of his sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket il handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded, I began to soften, and concluded to give the copper. Another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and
determined me to give the silver ; and he finished so 5 admirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the collector's dish, gold and all. At this sermon there was also one of our club; who, being of my sentiments respecting the building in Georgia, and suspecting a collection might be intended, had by precaution emptied his pockets before he came from home; toward the conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong inclination to give, and applied to a neighbor who stood near him to lend him some money for the purpose.
The request was fortunately made to perhaps the only 6 man in the company who had the firmness not to be
affected by the preacher. His answer was, other time, friend Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee
freely ; but not now, for thee seems to be out of the right senses.”
you read my key to the Romans ??—said Dr. Taylor, of Norwich, to Mr. Newton.—"I have turned it over.”_“You have turned it over ? And is this the treatment a book must meet with which has cost me many years of hard study? Must I be told, at last, that you have turned it over,' and then thrown it aside? You ought to have read it carefully and weighed deliberately what comes forward on so serious a subject.”—“Hold! You have cut me out full employ, ment, if
ту life were to be as long as Methuselah's. I 8 have somewhat else to do in the short day allotted me,
than to read whatever any one may think it his duty to write. When I read, I wish to read to good purpose ; and there are some books, which contradict on the very face of them what appear to me to be first principles. You surely will not say I am bound to read sůch books. If a man tells me he has a very elaborate argument to prove that two and two make five, I have something else to do than to attend to this argument. If I find the first mouthful of meat which I take from a fine-looking joint on my table is tainted, I need not eat through it to be convinced 1 ought to send it away.”Cecil.
On the use of Tobacco.-SULLIVAN. 1 All consumers of tobacco know two things. 1. That
they came to the use of it through painful struggles. 2. That they cannot break the chain of habit, without struggles still more painful. How does it happen, then, that tobacco is so commonly used ? Its use, and that of opium, which is the same thing in a more hateful form, began with savages, Turks, and Asiatics, to fill that aching void, which belongs to all idle and uncultivated minds. It has found its way, unhappily, to those who need no relief from such cauşe ; but who might if
2 they would, fill up every moment, innocently, and prof
itably. It has become so general, from ignorance and thoughtlessness. A still more efficient cause is, the propensity to imitation, and the natural anticipation of approaching stages in life. A boy wants to be a man. He likes to do those things which men do. Men use tobacco, therefore boys must use it; and boys soon find themselves entrapped in a habit, and act as all other persons do who are so entrapped.
Is there any remedy for this evil? Perhaps, there 3 is none but this, not to begin. And why should one begin? Suppose all who use it were asked, if
had never begun, would you, knowing what you do, have had a pleasanter life without it, than you have had with it? One cannot know what the general answer would be; but every one must know this, that from some persons the answer would be, that tobacco has been to me the most distressing evil; I bitterly lament that I ever began this truly afflictive practice; but it has become
a part of my existence; no operation of my will can 4 disengage me from it. Some might answer doubtingly,
and others would not ascribe to this use the evils which they have suffered from it. Why should a young person take upon himself a want voluntarily, which may lead to painful consequences, and the gratification of which is not only not called for by nature, but which is most expressly condemned by this high authority ? Some reasons have been given why it is so condemned. There are many others. Those already
spoken of, and many others. that might be, regard the 5 direct injury to the consumer of tobacco. Others
relate to those with whom the consumer associates. I may be considered as unquestionably true, that every person who uses tobacco, is, in some way, troublesome, or disgusting, to every person in whose presence he uses it. This is a breach of social law. No one has a right to follow a pleasure, which is a grievous displeasure to those who must witness it. If one has been so unfortunate in early life as to fall into the use
of tobacco, as it is entirely a solitary *pleasure, he 6 should use it in solitude, and not where he will poison
the atmosphere which others must breathe, or do those