a twig not more than a yard from your body, waiting the result of your unwelcome visit in a state of the utmost despair; you could not fail to be impressed with the deepest pangs which parental affection feels on the unexpected death of a cherished child. Then how pleasing is it, on 4 your leaving the spot, to see the returning hope of the pa rents, when, after examining the nest, they find their nurslings untouched! You might then judge how pleasing it 5 is to a mother of another kind, to hear the physician who has attended her sick child assure her that the crisis is over, and that her babe is saved. These are the scenes best fit6 ted to enable us to partake of sorrow and joy, and to determine every one who views them to make it his study to contribute to the happiness of others, and to refrain from wantonly or maliciously giving them pain. Audubon. 1 SEC. CLXXXVIII. A LETTER OF DR. FRANKLIN. DEAR SISTER, New York, April 19, 1757. I wrote a few lines to you yesterday, but omitted to answer yours, relating to sister Dowse. As having their own 2 way, is one of the greatest comforts of life, to old people, I think their friends should endeavor to accommodate them in that, as well as in any thing else. When they have 3 long lived in a house, it becomes natural to them: they are almost as closely connected with it, as the tortoise with his shell: they die, if you tear them out of it. Old 4 folks and old trees, if you remove them, 't is ten to one that you kill them; so let your good old sister be no more importuned on that head: we are growing old fast ourselves and shall expect the same kind of indulgence: if we give them, we shall have a right to receive them in our turn. 5 And as to her few fine things, I think she is in the right not to sell them; and for the reason she gives: that they will fetch but little when that little is spent, they would be of no farther use to her; but perhaps the expectation of possessing them at her death, may make that person tender and careful of her, and helpful to her, to the amount of 6 ten times their value. If so, they are put to the best use they possibly can be. I hope you visit sister as often as your affairs will permit, 7 and afford her what assistance and comfort you can in her 8 present situation. Old age, infirmities, and poverty, joined, are afflictions enough. The neglect and slights of friends 9 and near relations should never be added: people in her circumstances are apt to suspect this sometimes without cause appearances should therefore be attended to in our conduct towards them as well as relatives. I write by 10 this post to cousin William, to contin ie his care; which I doubt not he will do. We expect to sail in about a week; so that I can hardly 11 hear from you again on this side the water; but let me have a line from you now and then, while I am in London: I expect to stay there at least a twelvemonth. Direct 12 your letters to be left for me, at the Pennsylvania Coffee house, in Birchin lane, London. 13 My love to all: from, dear sister, Your affectionate brother, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. SEC. CLXXXIX. PREAMBLE AND RESOLUTION PASSED AT A MEETING OF FREEHOLDERS AND OTHER INHABITANTS OF THE TOWN OF BOSTON, ON FRIDAY, DEC. 30, 1774. Whereas the town of Boston has unfortunately become the most striking monument of Ministerial tyranny and barbarity, as particularly exhibited in the sudden shutting up this port, thereby cruelly depriving the inhabitants of this metropolis of the means they have hitherto used to support their families; and whereas our brethren in the other colonies, well knowing that we are suffering in the common cause of America, and of mankind, have, from a general, generous and brotherly disposition, contributed largely towards our support in this time of our distress, without which many worthy and virtuous citizens must have been in imminent danger of perishing with cold and hunger; and whereas the honorable members of the Continental Congress have kindly recommended us to our sister colonies as worthy of further support from them, while the iron hand of unremitted oppression lies heavy upon us; therefore, voted, that this town, truly sensible of the generous assistance they have received from their sympathizing brethren, return them their warmest and most sincere thanks for the same, and pray that God, whose beneficence they so gloriously imitate, may bestow on them the blessing he has promised to all those who feed the hungry and clothe the naked; and the thanks of this town are accordingly hereby given to our benefactors afore-mentioned, and to the hon. orable the members of the Congress for their benevolence towards us, expressed as aforesaid; which support, if continued, cannot fail of animating us to remain steadfast in the defence of the rights of America. SEC. CXC. RAIN IN SUMMER. 1 How beautiful is the rain! How beautiful is the rain! How it clatters upon the roofs, 3 Like the tramps of hoofs! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout! It pours and pours; 4 And swift and wide, With a muddy tide, Like a river, down the gutter roars The rain the welcome rain! The sick man, from his chamber, looks At the twisted brooks; He can feel the cool 5 Breath of each little pool; His fevered brain Grows calm again; And he breathes a blessing on the rain. From the neighboring school, Come the boys, With more than their wonted noise And commotion; 6 And down the wet streets Sail their mimic fleets, In the country on every side, 7 Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, Stretches the plain, To the dry grass and the drier grain, In the furrowed land The toilsome and patient oxen stand: The clover-scented gale, And the vapors that arise From the well watered and smoking soil. For this rest in the furrow after toil, 9 Their large and lustrous eyes Seem to thank the Lord, More than man's spoken word. He can behold Things manifold That have not yet been wholly told : Down to the graves of the dead, Of lakes and rivers under group1912 Climbing up once more to heaven, Thus the seer With vision clear, Sees forms appear and disappear 14 From birth to death, from death to birth ; Of things unseen before Unto his wondering eyes reveal The universe, as an immeasurable wheel Turning for evermore In the rapid and rushing river of Time. Longfellow. But ye, beloved, building up yourselves on your most 1 holy faith, praying in the Holy Ghost, Keep yourselves in the love of God: looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. And of some have compassion: making a difference; 2 And others save with fear: pulling them out of the fire: hating even the garment spotted by the flesh. Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and 3 to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, 4 dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen. 32 |