majestic without being fierce." Tsze-chang then asked: "What are meant by the four bad things?" The Master said: "To require from [the people] the full tale of work, without having given them warning; this is called oppression. To issue orders as if without urgency; and when the time comes [to insist on them with severity]; this is called injury. And, generally speaking, to give to men, and yet do it in a stingy way; this is called acting the part of a mere official." The Master said: "Without recognizing the Ordinances [of Heaven], it is impossible to be a superior man. Without an acquaintance with the Rules of Propriety, it is impossible for the character to be established. Without knowing Words, it is impossible to know Men."

In serving his parents a son may remonstrate with them, but gently; when he sees that they do not incline to follow his advice he shows an increased degree of reverence, but does not abandon his purpose; and should they punish him he does not allow himself to murmur.

In archery we have something like the way of the superior When the archer misses the centre of the target, he turns round and seeks for the cause of his failure in himself.

man.

For one word a man is often deemed to be wise; and for one word he is often deemed to be foolish. We ought to be careful indeed in what we say.

Filial piety and fraternal submission, are they not the root of all benevolent actions?

If what we see is doubtful, how can we believe what is spoken behind the back?

WILLIAM CONGREVE.

CONGREVE, WILLIAM, an English dramatist, one of the greatest writers of comedy; born probably near Leeds, England, in 1670; died at London, January 19, 1729. He was educated at the University of Dublin, where he became an excellent classical scholar. After graduating, he went to London, and was entered as a student of law in the Middle Temple. He wrote and published, under a pseudonym, a now forgotten novel entitled "The Incognita." In 1693 his first comedy, "The Old Bachelor," was brought out upon the stage. Next year he brought out a still finer comedy, "The Double Dealer." In 1695 appeared the comedy of "Love for Love," in the next year the tragedy of "The Mourning Bride," and in 1700 the comedy of "The Way of the World." "The Way of the World" was coldly received by the public. Congreve was only twenty-eight when it was brought upon the stage. He never thereafter wrote anything worth the reading. Toward the end of his life he was not only tormented by the gout, but became totally blind. He died in consequence of injuries received by the upsetting of his coach. He was buried in Westminster Abbey with unprecedented pomp.

ALMERIA AND LEONORA.

(From "The Mourning Bride.")

SCENE I.

A Room of State in the Palace.

The curtain rising slowly to soft music, discovers ALMERIA in mourning, LEONORA waiting in mourning. After the music, ALMERIA rises from her chair and comes forward.

ALMERIA. Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast,

To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

I've read that things inanimate have moved,

And, as with living souls, have been informed,

By magic numbers and persuasive sound.

What then am I?
Than trees or flint?

Am I more senseless grown

O force of constant woe!

"T is not in harmony to calm my griefs.
Anselmo sleeps, and is at peace; last night
The silent tomb received the good old king;
He and his sorrows now are safely lodged
Within its cold but hospitable bosom.

Why am not I at peace?

LEONORA.

Dear madam, cease,

Or moderate your griefs; there is no cause

ALMERIA. No cause! peace, peace; there is eternal cause,

And misery eternal will succeed.

Thou canst not tell thou hast indeed no cause.

LEONORA. Believe me, madam, I lament Anselmo,

And always did compassionate his fortune:

Have often wept to see how cruelly

Your father kept in chains his fellow-king:
And oft at night when all have been retired,
Have stolen from bed, and to his prison crept;
Where, while his jailer slept, I through the grate
Have softly whispered, and inquired his health;
Sent in my sighs and prayers for his deliverance;
For sighs and prayers were all that I could offer.

ALMERIA. Indeed thou hast a soft and gentle nature,
That thou couldst melt to see a stranger's wrongs.

O Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo,

How would thy heart have bled to see his sufferings!
Thou hadst no cause, but general compassion.

LEONORA. Love of my royal mistress gave me cause,
My love of you begot my grief for him;

For I had heard that when the chance of war
Had blessed Anselmo's arms with victory,
And the rich spoil of all the field, and you,
The glory of the whole, were made the prey
Of his success; that then, in spite of hate,
Revenge, and that hereditary feud
Between Valentia's and Granada's kings,
He did endear himself to your affection,
By all the worthy and indulgent ways
His most industrious goodness could invent;
Proposing by a match between Alphonso
His son, the brave Valentia prince, and you,
To end the long dissension, and unite
The jarring crowns.

ALMERIA.

Alphonso! O Alphonso! Thou too art quiet-long hast been at peace Both, both father and son are now no more.

Then why am I? O when shall I have rest?
Why do I live to say you are no more?

Why are all these things thus ? Is it of force?
Is there necessity I must be miserable?

Is it of moment to the peace of heaven
That I should be afflicted thus ?

If not,

Why is it thus contrived? Why are things laid
By some unseen hand so, as of sure consequence,
They must to me bring curses, grief of heart,
The last distress of life, and sure despair!

LEONORA. Alas, you search too far, and think too deeply! ALMERIA. Why was I carried to Anselmo's court?

Or there, why was I used so tenderly?

Why not ill-treated like an enemy?

For so my father would have used his child.

O Alphonso! Alphonso!

Devouring seas have washed thee from my sight,

No time shall rase thee from my memory;
No, I will live to be thy monument;

The cruel ocean is no more thy tomb:

But in my heart thou art interred; there, there,
Thy dear resemblance is forever fixed;

My love, my lord, my husband still, though lost.
LEONORA. Husband! O heavens!
ALMERIA.

Alas! what have I said?

My grief has hurried me beyond all thought:
I would have kept that secret; though I know
Thy love and faith to me deserve all confidence.
But 't is the wretch's comfort still to have
Some small reserve of near and inward woe,
Some unsuspected hoard of darling grief,
Which they unseen may wail, and weep and
And, glutton-like, alone devour.

LEONORA.

I knew not this.

Indeed

ALMERIA. O no, thou know'st not half,

mourn,

Know'st nothing of my sorrows. - If thou didst

If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me?

Tell me; I know thou wouldst, thou art compassionate.
LEONORA. Witness these tears!

ALMERIA.

I thank thee, Leonora,

Indeed I do, for pitying thy sad mistress;
For 't is, alas! the poor prerogative
Of greatness, to be wretched and unpitied.
But I did promise I would tell thee

what?

My miseries? thou dost already know 'em
And when I told thee thou didst nothing know,
It was because thou didst not know Alphonso:

For to have known my loss, thou must have known
His worth, his truth, and tenderness of love.

LEONORA. The memory of that brave prince stands fair
In all report -

And I have heard imperfectly his loss!
But fearful to renew your troubles past,
I never did presume to ask the story.

ALMERIA. If for my swelling heart I can, I'll tell thee.
I was a welcome captive in Valentia,

Even on the day when Manuel my father

Led on his conquering troops, high as the gates

Of king Anselmo's palace: which in rage,
And heat of war, and dire revenge, he fired.
The good king flying to avoid the flames,
Started amidst his foes, and made captivity
His fatal refuge. Would that I had fallen
Amid those flames ! - but 't was not so decreed.
Alphonso, who foresaw my father's cruelty,
Had borne the queen and me on board a ship
Ready to sail; and when this news was brought,
We put to sea; but being betrayed by some
Who knew our flight, we closely were pursued,
And almost taken; when a sudden storm
Drove us, and those that followed, on the coast
Of Afric; there our vessel struck the shore,
And bulging 'gainst a rock was dashed in pieces!
But Heaven spared me for yet much more affliction !
Conducting them who followed us to shun

The shoal, and save me floating on the waves,

While the good queen and my Alphonso perish'd.

LEONORA. Alas! were you then wedded to Alphonso? ALMERIA. That day, that fatal day, our hands were joined. For when my lord beheld the ship pursuing,

And saw her rate so far exceeding ours,

He came to me, and begged me by my love,

I would consent the priest should make us one;

That whether death or victory ensued,

I might be his beyond the power of fate;
The queen too did assist his suit - I granted:
And in one day, was wedded and a widow.
LEONORA. Indeed, 't was mournful.
ALMERIA.

'T was as I have told thee;