for the consciousness of well-doing is an ample reward.

He that makes himself famous by his eloquence, justice, or arms, illustrates his extraction, let it be never so mean, and gives inestimable reputation to his parents. We should never have heard of Sophroniscus but for his son Socrates; nor of Aristo and Gryllus, if it had not been for Zenophon and Plato.

It is not the incense, or the offering, that is acceptable to God, but the purity and devotion of the worshipper.

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A certain Pythagorean contracted with a cobbler for a pair of shoes, and some three or four days after, going to pay him his money, the shop was shut up; and when he had knocked a great while at the door, Friend, (said one,) you may hammer your heart out there, for the man that you look for is dead." Upon this the philosopher went away with his money chinking in his hand, and well enough content to save it; at last his conscience reproached him, and upon reflection, "Though the man be dead, (says he,) to others, he is alive to thee; pay him what thou owest him "-so he went back presently, and thrust the money into the shop through the chink of

the door. Whatever we owe, it is our part to find where to pay it: and to do it without asking too; for whether the creditor be good or bad, the debt is still the same.

There is no profession in which a man may not be virtuous and respected; the fault lies not in the state of life, it depends on the manner of acting.

There is no feeling more opposed to happiness, more lacerating to the human mind, than the consciousness of having drawn on ourselves the disapprobation of our fellow mortals. There is no sen

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sation more in unison with delight, more congenial to our nature, than their approving voice.

To praise good men is but to shew a light of direction, as out of a watch-tower, to posterity.

*** that man is truly noble, And he may justly call that Worth his own, Which his deserts have purchas'd.

Virtue and Truth are inseparable, and take their flight together. A mind devoid of Truth is a frightful wreck; it is like a great city in ruins, whose mouldering towers just bring to the imagination the

mirth and life that once were there, and are now no more.

To light up the face of distress into gladness, and to pour the balm of comfort into the wounded mind, is the truest felicity the human heart is capable of feeling.

True Religion does not consist in cunningly devised fables, in authority, dominion, or pomp ; but in spirit and in truth, in simplicity and social virtue, in a filial love and reverence; not in a servile dread and terror of the Divinity.