his friends; the sun rages, and nothing is done; no friends came. Then he says a second time to his son: 'These friends,' says he, 'are very tardy indeed. Let us rather go and invite our relations and neighbors, and desire them to come early tomorrow and reap.' The affrighted young tell this to their mother: she again desires them not to be at all anxious or alarmed. There are no relations so obsequious as to comply instantly with such requests, and undertake labor without hesitation. But do you observe if anything shall be said again.' The next morning comes, and the bird goes to seek food. The relations and neighbors omit to give the assistance required of them. At length the master says to his son, 'Farewell to our friends and relations; bring two sickles at the dawn of day; I will take one, and you the other, and to-morrow we will reap the corn with our own hands.' When the mother heard from her young ones, that the master had said this: "The time is now come,' says she, 'for us to go away; now what he says will undoubtedly be done; for he rests upon himself, whose business it is, and not on another, who is requested to do it.' The lark then removed her nest; and the corn was cut down by the master." This is the fable of Esop concerning confidence in friends and relations, which is generally vain and deceitful. But what else do the more sententious books of philosophers recommend, than that we should make exertions for ourselves, nor consider as ours, nor at all belonging to us, what is external with respect to ourselves and our minds? Quintus Ennius has given this apologue of Esop in his Satires, with great skill and beauty, in tetrameters. The two last, I think, it is well worth while to have impressed on the heart and memory.

"Always have in mind this sentiment,-Expect not from your friends what you can do yourself."

WHAT LED PROTAGORAS TO PHILOSOPHY.

They say that Protagoras, a man eminent in his pursuits of learning, with whose name Plato has inscribed his celebrated tract,' when a young man hired himself out to procure a livelihood, and was accustomed to carry burdens, which sort of men the Greek call az opopot, and we in Latin bajuli. He was

"Protagoras, or the Sophist." This anecdote is related by Plato, by Plutarch, and by Diogenes Laertius; but, as Gronovius remarks, by none so fully as by Aulus Gellius.

once carrying from the adjoining fields to Abdera, of which he was an inhabitant, a number of sticks secured together by a short rope. It happened that Democritus, a citizen of the same place, a man very highly respected for his virtue and philosophic attainments, as he was walking without the city saw him with this burden, which was inconvenient to carry and hold together, walking with ease, and at a quick pace. He came near him, and contemplated the wood, which was put together and secured with great skill and judgment. He then asked him to rest a little; with which request, when Protagoras complied, Democritus observed of this heap, and, as it were, mass of wood, that it was secured by a small rope, and adjusted and poised with a certain mathematical nicety: he inquired, who thus disposed the wood; the other replied, that he had. He was then desired to undo it, and place it a second time in the same form; which, when he had done, and put it a second time together, Democritus, wondering at the acuteness and the skill of an unlearned man, "Young man," says he, "as you have a genius for doing well, there are greater and better things which you may do with me." He instantly took him away, and retained him at his house; maintained him, instructed him in philosophy, and made him what he afterwards became.

PHILIP AND ALEXANDER.

Philip, son of Amyntas, king of Macedonia, by whose valor and exertions the Macedonians, increasing their opulence and dominions, began to have sovereignty over various nations, and whose power and arms the celebrated orations of Demosthenes declare to have been formidable to the whole of Greece; this Philip, though at all times occupied and exercised in the toils and triumphs of war, never neglected the liberal pursuits of literature, and the studies of humanity. He did and uttered many things with equal facetiousness and urbanity. There are said to have been volumes of his letters full of elegance, grace, and wisdom: such is that in which he related to Aristotle the philosopher the birth of his son Alexander. This letter, as it seems to be an inducement for care and diligence in the education of children, I have thought proper to transcribe, that it may impress the minds of parents. It may be interpreted nearly in this manner :

"Philip sends health to Aristotle-Know that a son is born to me; I therefore thank the gods, not so much because he is

born, but that he happened to be born during your life-I hope that, being instructed and brought up by you, he may prove worthy both of me and the conduct of affairs."

They who are accustomed to observe the proprieties of the Latin language do not interpret the word "humanitas" according to the common acceptation, and as the Greeks call it Pixaropenia, "philanthropy," signifying a certain ready benevolence indiscriminately exercised toward all men; but they consider humanity to be what the Greeks called raidetav (paideian), "learning," and what we term instruction and initiation in the liberal arts, which they who earnestly follow and obtain, may be said to be most humanized. For the pursuit and discipline of science is given to man only of all the animals, therefore it is called "humanitas." And in this sense almost all books show that the ancients used this word, and particularly Marcus Varro, and Marcus Tullius.

A PHILOSOPHER'S ANSWER TO A RICH MAN.

In our way from Cassiopia1 to Brundusium we passed through the Ionian, a sea violent, vast, and agitated with storms. During the whole first night of our voyage a very stormy side wind filled our vessel with water. At length, after much complaining, and sufficient employment at the pump, daylight appeared, but brought no diminution of our danger, nor cessation of the storm; but the whirlwinds seemed increasing, and the black sky, and the balls of fire, and the clouds, forming themselves into frightful shapes (which they called "Typhons"), appeared hanging over us ready to overwhelm the ship. In the company was a celebrated philosopher of the stoic school, whom I had known at Athens, a man of some consequence, and rather distinguished for the good order in which he kept his pupils. Amidst all these dangers, and this tumult of sea and sky, I watched this man attentively, anxious to know the state of his mind, whether he was dauntless and unalarmed. I observed that he expressed no fear nor apprehensions, uttered no complaints like the rest, nor gave into their way of exclaiming;

1 Called also Cassope, a town on the coast of Epirus.

but in paleness and terror of countenance he differed but little from his neighbors. When the sky grew clear, and the sea became calm, a certain rich Greek from Asia approached the stoic; his wealth was proved from his expensive appearance, his quantity of baggage, and his train of attendants. "What is the reason" (said he, in a bantering humor) "that when we were in danger, you, who are a philosopher, were afraid, and looked pale, while I was neither afraid nor pale??? The philosopher, doubting a little whether it was worth while to make any answer: "If (said he) in so violent a storm, I did discover a little fear, you are not worthy of being told the reason; but that follower of Aristippus shall give you an answer for me, who, upon a similar occasion, being asked by a man much like yourself, why, as a philosopher, he was afraid, while he feared nothing, replied, that there was not the same cause for fear in one as the other, for the preservation of a worthless coxcomb was not an object worthy of much anxiety, but that he was concerned for the safety of an Aristippus." With this reply the stoic got rid of the rich Asiatic.

JUSTIN.

FLOURISHED ABOUT A. D. 200.

Of the life of the historian M. Junianus Justinus, we know very little, and are even uncertain as to the period when he flourished. He wrote an abridgment of the Universal History of Trogus Pompeius,' or what might rather be called a collection of elegant extracts from that work, without much chronological order. His style is easy and perspicuous, and the work is not only highly entertaining in character, but has preserved from oblivion many facts not elsewhere recorded.2

The work of Trogus, extending from the reign of the founder of the Assyrian empire, Ninus, to the reign of Augustus, is now lost. It was comprised in forty-four books, and entitled Liber Historiarum Philippicarum, because its chief object was to give an account of the origin, progress, and decline of the Macedonian monarchy; but he indulged in so many excursions, that he embraced a very wide field of investigation; though his work by no means deserves the title of Universal History.

The best edition of Justin is that of Gronovius, reprinted and edited by Frotcher, Leipsic, 3 vols. 8vo., 1827. The translations in English are by Codrington. Bayley, Clarke (London, 1732), Turnbull (London, 1846), most of which have passed through several editions.

COMPARISON OF PHILIP AND ALEXANDER.

Philip took more pains and had more pleasure in the preparation of a battle than in the arrangement of a feast. Money was with him only a sinew of war. He knew better how to acquire riches, than how to preserve them; and living on plunder, was always poor. It cost him no more to pardon than to deceive. His conversation was sweet and alluring. He was prodigal of promises, which he did not keep; and whether he were serious or gay, he had always a design at the bottom. His constant maxim was, to caress those whom he hated, to instigate quarrels between those who loved him, and separately to flatter each party, whom he had alienated from the other. He was possessed of eloquence, had a ready apprehension, and a graceful delivery. He had for his successor his son Alexander, who had greater virtues and greater vices than himself. Both triumphed over their enemies, although by different means. The one employed open force only; the other had recourse to artifice. The one congratulated himself, when he had deceived his enemies, the other when he had conquered them. Philip had more policy, Alexander more dignity. The father knew how to dissemble his rage, and sometimes to conquer it; the son in his vengeance knew neither delay nor bounds. Both loved wine too well; but drunkenness, which opens the heart, produced different effects in them. Philip, in going from a feast, went to seek for danger, and exposed himself with temerity; Alexander turned his rage against the associates of his rivalry. The one often returned from battle, covered with wounds, received from his enemies; the other rose from table, defiled with the blood of his friends. The father wished to be loved; the son desired only to be feared. Both cultivated letters, the former through policy, the latter through taste. The one affected more moderation to his enemies, the other had in reality more clemency and good faith. It was with these different qualities that the father laid the foundation of the empire of the world, and that the son had the glory of completing the illustrious achievement.

ATHENS AFTER THE DEFEAT AT EGOS POTAMOS.

When the news of the defeat was understood at Athens, the inhabitants, leaving their houses, ran up and down the streets