"Well, Scholar, I have almost tired myself, and, I fear, more than almost tired you.But this pipe is nearly burned out, and the few short whiffs that are left in it shall put a period to my too long discourse.Let me tell you, then, that there be some men in the world who hold not with these my opinions.They profess that a life of contention and noise and public turmoil, is far higher than a life of quiet work and meditation.And so far as they follow their own choice honestly and with a pure mind, I doubt not that it is as good for them as mine is for me, and I am well pleased that every man do enjoy his own opinion.But so far as they have spoken ill of me and my opinions, I do hold it a thing of little consequence, except that I am sorry that they have thereby embittered their own hearts.
"For this is the punishment of men who malign and revile those that differ from them in religion, or prefer another way of living; their revilings, by so much as they spend their wit and labour to make them shrewd and bitter, do draw all the sweet and wholesome sap out of their lives and turn it into poison; and so they become vessels of mockery and wrath, remembered chiefly for the evil things that they have said with cleverness.
"For be sure of this, Scholar, the more a man giveth himself to hatred in this world, the more will he find to hate.But let us rather give ourselves to charity, and if we have enemies (and what honest man hath them not?) let them be ours, since they must, but let us not be theirs, since we know better.
"There was one Franck, a trooper of Cromwell's, who wrote ill of me, saying that I neither understood the subjects whereof I discoursed nor believed the things that I said, being both silly and pretentious.It would have been a pity if it had been true.There was also one Leigh Hunt, a maker of many books, who used one day a bottle of ink whereof the gall was transfused into his blood, so that he wrote many hard words of me, setting forth selfishness and cruelty and hypocrisy as if they were qualities of my disposition.
God knew, even then, whether these things were true of me; and if they were not true, it would have been a pity to have answered them;but it would have been still more a pity to be angered by them.But since that time Master Hunt and I have met each other; yes, and Master Franck, too; and we have come very happily to a better understanding.
"Trust me, Scholar, it is the part of wisdom to spend little of your time upon the things that vex and anger you, and much of your time upon the things that bring you quietness and confidence and good cheer.A friend made is better than an enemy punished.There is more of God in the peaceable beauty of this little wood-violet than in all the angry disputations of the sects.We are nearer heaven when we listen to the birds than when we quarrel with our fellow-men.I am sure that none can enter into the spirit of Christ, his evangel, save those who willingly follow his invitation when he says, 'COME YE YOURSELVES APART INTO A LONELY P1ACE, AND REST AWHILE.' For since his blessed kingdom was first established in the green fields, by the lakeside, with humble fishermen for its subjects, the easiest way into it hath ever been through the wicket-gate of a lowly and grateful fellowship with nature.He that feels not the beauty and blessedness and peace of the woods and meadows that God hath bedecked with flowers for him even while he is yet a sinner, how shall he learn to enjoy the unfading bloom of the celestial country if he ever become a saint?
"No, no, sir, he that departeth out of this world without perceiving that it is fair and full of innocent sweetness hath done little honour to the every-day miracles of divine beneficence; and though by mercy he may obtain an entrance to heaven, it will be a strange place to him; and though he have studied all that is written in men's books of divinity, yet because he hath left the book of Nature unturned, he will have much to learn and much to forget.Do you think that to be blind to the beauties of earth prepareth the heart to behold the glories of heaven? Nay, Scholar, I know that you are not of that opinion.But I can tell you another thing which perhaps you knew not.The heart that is blest with the glories of heaven ceaseth not to remember and to love the beauties of this world.And of this love I am certain, because I feel it, and glad because it is a great blessing.
"There are two sorts of seeds sown in our remembrance by what we call the hand of fortune, the fruits of which do not wither, but grow sweeter forever and ever.The first is the seed of innocent pleasures, received in gratitude and enjoyed with good companions, of which pleasures we never grow weary of thinking, because they have enriched our hearts.The second is the seed of pure and gentle sorrows, borne in submission and with faithful love, and these also we never forget, but we come to cherish them with gladness instead of grief, because we see them changed into everlasting joys.And how this may be I cannot tell you now, for you would not understand me.But that it is so, believe me: for if you believe, you shall one day see it yourself.
"But come, now, our friendly pipes are long since burned out.Hark, how sweetly the tawny thrush in yonder thicket touches her silver harp for the evening hymn! I will follow the stream downward, but do you tarry here until the friend comes for whom you were waiting.
I think we shall all three meet one another, somewhere, after sunset."I watched the gray hat and the old brown coat and long green rod disappear among the trees around the curve of the stream.Then Ned's voice sounded in my ears, and I saw him standing above me laughing.
"Hallo, old man," he said, "you're a sound sleeper! I hope you've had good luck, and pleasant dreams."
