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Like emptied sea-shells on the sand; -

Yet, sprinkled with this blushing rain,



The dust restores each blooming girl,

As if the sea-shells moved again



Their glistening lips of pink and pearl.

Here lies the home of school-boy life,



With creaking stair and wind-swept hall,

And, scarred by many a truant knife,



Our old initials on the wall;

Here rest - their keen vibrations mute -



The shout of voices known so well,

The ringing laugh, the wailing flute,



The chiding of the sharp-tongued bell.

Here, clad in burning robes, are laid



Life's blossomed joys, untimely shed;

And here those cherished forms have strayed



We miss awhile, and call them dead.

What wizard fills the maddening glass



What soil the enchanted clusters grew?

That buried passions wake and pass



In beaded drops of fiery dew?

Nay, take the cup of blood-red wine, -



Our hearts can boast a warmer grow,

Filled from a vantage more divine, -



Calmed, but not chilled by winter's snow!

To-night the palest wave we sip



Rich as the pricelessdraught shall be

That wet the bride of Cana's lip, -



The wedding wine of Galilee!

CHAPTER VI.



SIN has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all.

- I think, Sir, - said the divinity-student, - you must intend that



for one of the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Boston you were

speaking of the other day.



I thank you, my young friend, - was my reply, - but I must say

something better than that, before I could pretend to fill out the



number.

- The schoolmistress wanted to know how many of these sayings there



were on record, and what, and by whom said.

- Why, let us see, - there is that one of Benjamin Franklin, "the



great Bostonian," after whom this lad was named. To be sure, he

said a great many wise things, - and I don't feel sure he didn't



borrow this, - he speaks as if it were old. But then he applied it

so neatly! -



"He that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you

another than he whom you yourself have obliged."



Then there is that glorious Epicurean paradox, uttered by my

friend, the Historian, in one of his flashing moments:-



"Give us the luxuries of life, and we will dispense with its

necessaries."



To these must certainly be added that other saying of one of the

wittiest of men:-



"Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris." -

The divinity-student looked grave at this, but said nothing.



The schoolmistress spoke out, and said she didn't think the wit

meant any irreverence. It was only another way of saying, Paris is



a heavenly place after New York or Boston.

A jaunty-looking person, who had come in with the young fellow they



call John, - evidently a stranger, - said there was one more wise

man's saying that he had heard; it was about our place, but he



didn't know who said it. - A civil curiosity was manifested by the

company to hear the fourth wise saying. I heard him distinctly



whispering to the young fellow who brought him to dinner, SHALL I

TELL IT? To which the answer was, GO AHEAD! - Well, - he said, -



this was what I heard:-

"Boston State-House is the hub of the solar system. You couldn't



pry that out of a Boston man if you had the tire of all creation

straightened out for a crowbar."



Sir, - said I, - I am gratified with your remark. It expresses

with pleasing vivacity that which I have sometimes heard uttered



with malignant dulness. The satire of the remark is essentially

true of Boston, - and of all other considerable - and



inconsiderable - places with which I have had the privilege of

being acquainted. Cockneys think London is the only place in the






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