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Diffidence, and her husband, the giant were got to bod, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and, withal, the old giant wondered that he could, neither by his blows nor counsel, bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied: “I fear,” said she, “ that they live in hope that some one will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape.” “And sayest thou 80, my dear?” said the giant; “I will therefore search them in the morning.”

14. Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day. Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, broke out in this passionate speech : “What a fool,” quoth he, " am I thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty? I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.” Then said Hopeful: “ That's good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom and try.

15. Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outer door that leads into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went very hard, yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the door to make their escape with speed; but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs fail; for his fits took him again, so that he could, by no means, go after them. Then they went on, and came to the king's highway, and so were safe; because they were out of his jurisdiction.

16. Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile to prevent those that should come after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to crect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the stile thereof this sentence: “Over this

stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims.” Many, therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and escaped the danger.


The celebrated Soliloquy which forms the present Exercise, is fron Addison's “Cato;" a tragedy which, though constructed according to the strictest rules of classical propriety, and, in the author's own time, very popular, has failed to maintain its place in the dramatic world, because of its strange deficiency in the representation of manners and character, and its marked improbabilities of time, place, and action.

MARCUS Porcius Cato, the hero of Addison's famous tragedy, was born about the year 95 before Christ. He is often called “ Cato the Younger," to distinguish him from his great-grandfather, so celebrated in Roman history for inflexible virtue, and so well known under the title “Cato the Censor;" being so called in allusion to his severity in the discharge of the duties of his office, as Censor. The Cato, here meant, received, also, the Latin designation Uticensis (pertaining to Utica), from bis tragical fate at Utica. In the terrible civil contest that divided the state, in his day, he took part with Pompey against Cæsar: these being the two great military spirits then struggling for the mastery. Pompey, however, being defeated in Europe, and the hopes of the party utterly extinguished by a decisive battle in Africa, whither Cato had gone with the troops under his command, he still sought to unite the fragments of the defeated army in an effort to hold the town of Utica against the grasp of the conqueror. This proving vain, he retired, in the evening, to his own apartments, and employed himself in reading the Phædon of Plato, * a dialogue on the immortality of the soul: having secretly resolved to commit suicide, which he did, by stabbing himself, towards the approach of morning. It ought to be added that “ Cato ito Younger" falls little behind his great ancestor in all those virtues for which the latter was so justly admired.


ADDISON. SCENE. — Cato seated, with Plato's treatise in his hand, and his

sword beside him.

It must be so-Plato, thou reasonest well!
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,

* See Note on Plato, p. 98.
† For a sketch of Addison, see Exercise CXXIII.

This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror
Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction ?-
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ;
'Tis Heaven itself that points out a hereafter,
And intimates Eternity to man.


Eternity !—thou pleasing, dreadful thought !
Through what variety of untried being,
Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ?
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it.

Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us
(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud
Through all her works), He must delight in virtue:
And that which He delights in, must be happy.
But when? or where? This world was made for Cæsar!
I'm weary of conjectures. This must end them.

[Laying his hand on his sword.

Thus am I doubly armed. My death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This* in a moment brings me to an end;
But this t informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secure in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the Sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years ;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amid the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds!

* The sword

+ The book.


ROBERT BURNS, the celebrated Scottish poet, was born in Japuary, 1759, and died in July, 1796. The son of very poor, but very judicious parents, he had every encouragement to learning, except pecuniary means. This being denied, he employed the intervals of labor on the farm, in the effort to master the English and acquire knowledge by reading. In this he was eminently successful; for his early compositions display such skill in the use of lan. guage, to say nothing of their other merits, as seldom attends the most favored culture. But the struggle with poverty still continued to embarrass his course, and often to bring him into associations unfriendly to regular habits. Hampered in this way, he was, in the year 1786, just about to attempt an escape from the difficulties of his situation, by making a voyage to the West Indies. At this juncture, he received a letter from a friend in Edinburgh, earnestly inviting him to come to that city and issue a second edition of his poems; they having now come to be regarded with especial favor. He went; and soon became the object of almost unqualified admiration. Besides, he received a large pecuniary return. · In 1788 he got married: at the same time securing, through friends, some small political office. But the vexations of want still pursued him; which, added to the inroads of irregular life, soon closed his comparatively short career. Whatever his frailties, however, the world does not often look upon his like, whether you regard his spirit, as a man, or his wonderful power, as a poet.


Oh, enviable early days,
When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze,

To care, to guilt unknown !
How ill exchanged for riper times,
To feel the follies, or the crimes

Of others, or my own!
Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport,

Like linnets in the bush,
Yo little know the ills ye court,

When manhood is your wish


But pleasures are like poppies spread, -
You seize the flower—its bloom is dead •

Or like the snow-falls in the river,-
A moment white-then lost for ever;
Or like the boreälis* race,
That fit ere you can find their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form,
Evanishing amid the storm.



To catch dame Fortune's golden smile,

Assiduous wait upon her;
And gather gear by ev'ry wile

That's justified by honor ;
Not for to hide it in a hedge,

Not for a train-attendant;
But for the glorious privilege

Of being independent !

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When ranting round in pleasure's ring,

Religion may be blinded;
Or if she giet a random sting,

It may be little minded;
But, when on life we're tempest driven,

A conscience but a canker-
A correspondence fixed wi' Heaven,

Is sure a noble anchor!

v. THE RICH AND GREAT NOT ALL TRULY BLEST. A few seem favorites of fate

In pleasures lap caressed;
Yet, think not all the rich and great

Are likewise truly blest:

* That is, the fleeting luminous appearances which pass under the game Aurora Borea'lis.

t Gie, that is, give.

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