gives pain or pleasure to the eye, and promises pain or pleasure to the soul. The blind love the hand that touches them kindly, and the voice that affects them gently. Pleasure, therefore, is the ground of love, and if we desire to be loved, we must be able to please. By the pleasure we receive our love is measured; but as the dull ear receives no pleasure from the rarest music, the dull heart is insusceptible to the tender pleasures of love. Observe how the touch of the musician's tinger draws a sweet tone from the harp; so will the touch of a loving hand draw out a bliss in the soul.

"The whole action of a true votary of Eros, will be to convey happiness to others, while he seeks the same for himself. But if the votary finds it in vain to do this, appealing to a dull heart, he will cease, and have no more desire to give or to receive his proper pleasure.

"The friend desires only to please his friend, seeking no reward but that of knowing that he gives pleasure in the manner intended. For if he means only to convey a pleasure of sense, he is satisfied when he succeeds in this. But if he desires also to convey a pleasure to the heart, or to the spirit, he will not be satisfied unless this desire is accomplished.

"The first kind of love is base in its degree, regarding only the pleasure of the lover, and not that of the person loved. The second is personal and of the heart, and unites friends of all name--husband and wife, parent and child, friend and friend. This is the affection that must share the pleasure that it gives with the person pleased; but it is limited to such as are able to return good for good, and pleasure for pleasure.

"The third and last kind is indifferent who the person pleased may be; but regards all mankind, existing, present, and to be hereafter. This is the love of glory. Its desire is to impress all with a sense of the worth of the universal lover-the lover of glory; and it does this by laying open to all eyes, its own admirable qualities.

"In the school of sensuous and affectionate pleasure, this Immortal Love takes its first lessons of pleasing, but its own pleasure is only in a persuasion that it is regarded by all men as an universal source or cause of pleasure. Learn, then, O friends, to know

when it is that you mistake the sensuous desire of self-pleasure for that true friendship, which can receive only while it gives. And learn to separate your friendship from your love of glory, which, in less or greater circle, includes all your world."

Here Diotima paused in her narrative, and the jester would have made one of his sharp speeches, but Cymon, shaking the cup as though to hurl it, put him to silence.

"Pythagoras took an advantage of you, good prophetess," said Lysis, "and fairly revenged himself. You looked for entertainment, and he treated you to a prosy lecture with a moral at the tail of it."

"Ay," rejoined the jester, defending his head with his arm, with a wink at Cymon, "this sage might have said a wise thing or so, had he not been in love. But, alas! the passion makes fools of us." Cymon, upon this, could not contain his vexation.

"Dear Diotima," said he, "command this joker to keep silence, since you will not let me break his head for him."

But she, waving her hand to the young man, bade him put down the cup which he seemed ready to throw, for that she set a great value on the jester's head for the value of what was in it.

'It is a vinegar-cruet," retorted Cymon, "with the face of a satyr carved on it."

"And thy cranium," rejoined Meton, "shall be compared to a milk pitcher with a straight handle; but the milk is a little turned."

At this sally, Diotima smiled a little, but at the same time looked kindly at Cymon, as if to see how he would bear it. But Lysis, taking up the silver cup out of which he had been drinking, showed Cymon two masks carved on either side of it, one the face of Admetus's shepherd, and the other, of a Pan with pipes.

There are two sides," said he, "young sir, to every perfect figure; and he is the fool who insists there is but one."

Then Cymon blushed and hung down his head, and the prophetess continued her story as follows:

"When Pythagoras had made an end of his brief oration, of which I have related only the substance to you, having no ability to give it that elegance which it took from him, the guests were silent, as not daring

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Dione spoke these words with hesitation and a great deal of blushing, so that we were all ashamed for her, and wished to help out her wise speech; which had so happy an effect upon our spirits, somewhat sunk by Pythagoras's great ranner of speaking, (for his voice was like harmonious thunder,) we seemed all to join in her question, and every one looked kindly upon her. Then the Greek spoke again in these words:

"The lovers of true glory are visited by a comforting spirit, which is pure and holy. It fills them with magnanimity, and grace, and honor. It exalts them to great endeavor for the sake of men: they despise all else for the happiness of men. But the happiness which they desire to give is not solitary, like that of a selfreliant soul, but harmonious, as when a company of friends listen together to sweet music, by which they are made one, and feel as one. This, therefore, is a kind of love the passion of glory is a kind of love.

For the mark of love is, that it desires a harmony or union of pleasure and grief; converting pleasure into bliss, and sorrow into tender sadness. And this it is that teaches the poet to harmonize his sorrows and his pleasures, that others may mingle in them, as in love with himself; for the poet is a lover of glory. And this it is that inspires the speaker with rich power, and gives a pleasure to his voice; for he desires to be mingled in the great sea of divine ideas with the souls of those that hear him. And this it is that urges the hero to the gate of death, defying terror and terrible rage; for he wishes to be mingled in courage with the souls of all the brave, both present, and that have been, and to come. This, then, is a love that we call love of glory, magnanimity, humanity, and by other harmonious appel

; but we might name it the inspir

After we had waited a little time in this silence, I rose and invited my guests into the garden. We went out into cool air, under a heaven glowing with stars. The jewel of Athor had sunk behind the western mountains, but Athor herself, the gloomy Night, rested on the hills. Ascending by a great stair to the summit of the sepulchre at the end of the garden, we stood overlooking the city that lay silent like a place of tombs. The Nile was at the full of his rise, and covered all Egypt like a sea. We beheld afar off the glimmer of lights in the island cities, or saw them moving on the waters. Dione leaned on the arm of our guest, and began to ask him many things regarding the heavenly spheres. Then we drew near him, expecting to hear a wonderful discourse of astronomy; nor were we disappointed, for he spake of the all-glorious sun as of the lord of the near worlds, and of the stars as of other suns ruling other worlds. He told us of the sacred circles of the planets and their harmony; of the music of their motion, which is a geometrie melody of the mind. But of these you have often heard. Then opening the book of the centuries, he set forth the order of creation, and spoke of man the crowning work of God, declaring that for him all these were made; that in him the Deity, hidden from his own sight, emerges as from a sea, casting up a wave which is his form.

"Need I tell you, my friends, how this discourse affected us? Dione caught the fall of his slow voice as a thirsty soul with open mouth catches large drops of rain over the desert. I confess I listened with

"While we stood discoursing and listening, day began to appear. We descended the great stairs, and came in, slow and scattering, to the house, the guests taking their leave of me as they passed; for I and Dione lingered behind with Manes and Pythagoras. When all were gone but the sage and the young priestess, we invited them to retire, which they accepting, were shown each by a train of slaves into sumptuous apartments, not unworthy to be the chambers of princes. But these were princes indeed, for even the Pharao feared Pythagoras; and for Dione, she shone a pure star among the pure."

When Diotima had made an end, Lysis thanked her for the description of the banquet of Pythagoras, but seemed astonished at the boldness of the Egyptian women. “I desire,” said he, "good Diotima, that no such sage or prophet may appear in Athens, intoxicating young girls with discourses of this kind."

"And pray," said the prophetess, "what is it that you fear for them, my prudent friend?”

"That they learn to love banquets and conversations, and go a hunting after fine phrases, which nature forbids to any but the poets."

"A very slight consequence you mention," said Cymon, "my kind Lysis. What harm may follow a little affectation ?"

"When you are older, good youth, you will find that affectation in speech and manners is not the innocent thing it seems to be."

"How so?" inquired the jester in a grave voice.

"I have long noticed," answered Lysis, "that such as use an unnatural cant phrase, in speech or writing, make bad friends, or rather no friends at all. They are an adaptive kind of persons, surprising ly ready to shape themselves to the disposition of any one whom they wish to please; but are for the most part full of cankerous animosity and contempt."

"But how is it possible," rejoined Cymon, "for the conversation of a wise and unaffected person like Pythagoras, a man, if I may so speak, intoxicated with

"I do not say that he breeds it there," answered Lysis; "but only that he gives occasion for it. When the master sings, the dog barks."

"It is this barking that offends me," said the jester, with the same apparent gravity. "I am accustomed to compare the voices of these people," continued he, affecting a deep seriousness, "to the echoes of speeches which return only the emphasized syllables."

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"A stiff comparison," said Lysis, laughing at the gravity of the other; but he continued undisturbedly. And the faces that speak them, I compare to tragic masks, through which the words of a good poet are pertly delivered. The persons themselves I resemble to an unscoured kneading trough, into which the good housewife carelessly put her dough, but it presently began to corrupt. For the words of the sages themselves, they are like the rain which falls equally into filthy sewers and golden pitchers. And for the effects of their words, I observe the kennels swell most after a summer shower."

Cymon and Lysis applauded this speech heartily, and the prophetess seemed not displeased with it.

"I will add one morę," she said, smiling, "to your similitudes. I will compare the words of the wise to the rain that unfolds tender buds; and say that poisonous nightshade feels it as genially as the grass and grain."

"And now, my friends," said Lysis, "let Diotima continue her history; for I see the morning entering."

"For my part," said the young man, "I desire to hear more of this young Egyptian priestess, who seems to be in love with the very wise Pythagoras. Tell us in a few words, dear Diotima, what befell the amiable Dione."

"At another time," answered the prophetess, "I will relate her story, as I had it from hearsay."

"Go on, then, dear prophetess," said Lysis, "with your own story, and let us hear the loves of Dione at another time."

"The morning is well begun," answered she, and though I desire your company, good friends, I will even break off here,

"Especially your spiritual history," said the young man.

"As my friends will," answered she; 'but why should I be so much of a talker, when here is one to whom the Graces are favorable, and who is better able to please you than I am ?”

She said these words in so pleasant and playful a tone, shining with her lustrous eyes upon the rude Meton, he was abashed, and turned his head away. But Cymon now began to show symptoms of discontent; for he had hoped ere this to have found a private opportunity with the prophetess, meaning to disclose his love for her niece; but she, penetrating his thoughts, paid no heed to him, but only joined with Lysis, who was urging the jester to his part in a story, vowing, in jest, that if he did not, he, Lysis, would begin a very prosy one himself. Cymon declared he would rather sleep under Lysis than lie awake under Meton. But the jester, who secretly desired to talk, began presently as follows:

"Since you, good Diotima, wish to hear me, and you, grave Lysis, are of the same mind, I may use my endeavors notwithstanding the youth, whom I pity for his condition," (here Cymon gave a groan,) "which is exactly that of the fox who could not get his head into the narrownecked jug into which the crane put his dinner."

"Stop, good sir," said the prophetess, beginning to laugh at the sight of Cymon's sad countenance. “ This is no story, but a very cruel amusement."

"Before Meton begins his story," said Lysis, “I insist that he tell us in what particulars our friend here resembles the ox."

"Because," said the jester, "it is his fate to be unable to enjoy anything deep or witty, (which is the case with all lovers.) I, who resemble the crane, could sip nothing out of his flat dish; and now, he as little of my witticisms, that have a depth and a pith for a deep sense to get at, (though I say it.) I will tell you a story of an old woman that lived in the Piræus not long ago, and what a cunning way she took to get a living."

"Let the story, good joker, be a short

tragedy," said Lysis, "that we may all go home in a good humor."

But the jester, making no reply, continued as follows:

"This old woman sold cresses for a small profit; but she had a little yellow dog, that brought her more money than all her simples, though she kept the best parcels in the market."

When the jester had got thus far with his story, he stopped and lay quite silent, sipping a little wine with a dull expression. The others waited a while, thinking he would go on, but Cymon grew impatient. "Well," said he, "and what of the

man."

"But is it true ?" said the young man. "As true," answered the other," as the calendar."

"Pray go on," said Cymon, seeing that the jester did not proceed.

When Meton heard this request, he squeezed up the corners of his eyes with a grin, and proceeded :

"You must know, my young friend, that there are two kinds of demons, the good and the bad; and that every man has one of each appointed him at birth."

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I know it," said the other; "but how for the women? Have they a demon?"

"O yes, several," replied the jester, "but with this difference-that the woman's demon, be it good or evil, is not allowed to manifest itself to her directly, but must appear in some other shape; whereas the man's demon may enter into him directly, and become spiritually visible to himself, without external appearance."

"I never heard that before," said Cymon, with a look of surprise.

"Your not having heard it makes nothing against it," said the jester; "but it is certain that this dog had a demon who was a friendly genius to his mistress."

man, "whether the demons of males might inhabit female animals."

"Pray what conjurations have you in hand?" said Lysis, continuing to laugh. But seeing Diotima look offended, he motioned the jester to continue his story; but Cymon would not be put off, and appealed with his question to the prophetess. She assured him mildly,

"Those who profess to know the nature of the good and evil demons, declare they are of no sex, and can inhabit a male or a female body at pleasure."

Meton objected.

"I feel certain to have seen women," said he, "possessed by the male demons, some good and some evil."

But Diotima would not suffer him to proceed.

"I restrict you," said she, "to the finishing of this story, for it is broad morning, and I hear banqueters going home from the ward feast."

Just at this moment there was a noise of voices in the street, some singing, oth

ers shouting, as if intoxicated; and while we listened, some began to beat at the gate; and presently it was opened and a number of young men with garlands on their heads, came into the court calling for Diotima. She immediately rose, and going to the door, they saluted her and threw their garlands at her feet, and presented gifts of wine and other delicacies; and one threw a rich robe over her shoulders, and kneeling down kissed her hand as if she had been a princess. She received their gifts, and having dismissed them courteously, returned to the banquet room, where her guests were waiting in some wonder as to the result. When they saw her returning with the purple robe upon her shoulders, having the air of a princess, they were struck with astonishment. But she only dismissed them, after appointing another day to finish her story, and bidding Cymon attend her in another apartment. Then having saluted her, they left the house.

THE establishment of a people in the enjoyment of liberty and competency is allowed by all writers to be the noblest work in which a man of great spirit can be engaged; but as the opportunity of composing constitutions and building up institutions of freedom is rare, and happens only once in a century or more, it well becomes the ambitious spirits of those ages which offer none of these fortunate occasions to look about them, lest, for mere want of occupation, they fall into contempt, and play the miserable part of eulogists, and defenders of antiquated systems. Their only chance for distinction lies in being the first to pull down what their fathers established. Military conquerors of the despotic order have rare opportunities of immortalizing themselves in this fashion. I

The arts which they pursue are well known, and have not yet gone out of use. But of that order of conquerors who busy themselves chiefly about the foundations of their own States, the world is not half so well informed; not because their work is any less difficult and praiseworthy than that of the warlike order, but that it requires a subtlety and refinement of genius which historians either do not always appreciate, or will not be at the pains to set before the world in a proper light.

A great politician, lately retired from office, and who employs the leisure of his old age in reading, and meditation upon his own experience, proposes to write a volume for the use of statesmen, and for politicians, by which he shall guide them to a more systematic and effectual de