PAUL'S DISCOURSE ON CHARITY

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding bra.s.s, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a gla.s.s, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

LETTERS

LEWIS CARROLL TO MISS STANDEN

THE CHESTNUTS, GUILFORD

_August_ 22, 1869 _My dear Isabel:_

[Footnote: Little Miss Isabel Standen, whom Carroll had just met in a park in Reading.]

Though I have been acquainted with you only fifteen minutes, yet, as there is no one else in Reading I have known so long, I hope you will not mind my writing to you.... A friend of mine, called Mr. Lewis Carroll, tells me he means to send you a book. He is a _very_ dear friend of mine. I have known him all my life (we are the same age) and have _never_ left him. Of course he was with me in the Gardens, not a yard off, even while I was drawing those puzzles for you. I wonder if you saw him.

Your fifteen-minute friend,

C. L. DODGSON

THOMAS HOOD TO MISS ELLIOT

17, ELM TREE ROAD, ST. JOHN'S WOOD Monday, _April_, 1844

_My dear May_, [Footnote: May Elliot, a little girl Hood had met during a summer vacation.]--

I promised you a letter, and here it is. I was sure to remember it; for you are as hard to forget, as you are soft to roll down a hill with.

What fun it was! only so p.r.i.c.kly, I thought I had a porcupine in one pocket, and a hedgehog in the other. The next time, before we kiss the earth, we will have its face shaved well. Did you ever go to Greenwich Fair? I should like to go there with you, for I get no rolling at St.

John's Wood. Tom and f.a.n.n.y [Footnote: Hood's son and daughter.] only like roll and b.u.t.ter, and as for Mrs. Hood, she is for rolling in money.

Tell Dunnie that Tom has set his trap in the balcony and has caught a cold, and tell Jeanie that f.a.n.n.y has set her foot in the garden, but it has not come up yet. Oh, how I wish it was the season when "March winds and April showers bring forth _May_ flowers!" for then of course you would give me another pretty little nosegay. Besides it is frosty and foggy weather, which I do not like. The other night, when I came from Stratford, the cold shriveled me up so, that when I got home, I thought I was my own child!

However, I hope we shall all have a merry Christmas; I mean to come in my most ticklesome waistcoat, and to laugh till I grow fat, or at least streaky. f.a.n.n.y is to be allowed a gla.s.s of wine, Tom's mouth is to have a _hole_ holiday, and Mrs. Hood is to sit up for supper! There will be doings! And then such good things to eat; but, pray, pray, pray, mind they don't boil the baby by a mistake for a _plump_ pudding, instead of a plum one.

Give my love to everybody, from yourself down to w.i.l.l.y, with which and a kiss, I remain, up hill and down dale,

Your affectionate lover,

THOMAS HOOD

CHARLES d.i.c.kENS TO MASTER HUGHES

[Footnote: Master Hughes had written to d.i.c.kens about _Nicholas Nickleby_, protesting against Squeers' school.]

DOUGHTY STREET, LONDON

_Dec_. 12th, 1838

_Respected Sir_,

I have given Squeers one cut on the neck and two on the head, at which he appeared much surprised and began to cry, which, being a cowardly thing, is just what I should have expected from him--wouldn't you?

I have carefully done what you told me in your letter about the lamb and the two "sheeps" for the little boys. They have also had some good ale and porter, and some wine. I am sorry you didn't say _what_ wine you would like them to have. I gave them some sherry, which they liked very much, except one boy, who was a little sick and choked a good deal. He was rather greedy, and that's the truth, and I believe it went the wrong way, which I say served him right, and I hope you will say so too.

Nicholas had his roast lamb, as you said he was to, but he could not eat it all, and says if you do not mind his doing so he should like to have the rest hashed tomorrow with some greens, which he is very fond of, and so am I. He said he did not like to have his porter hot, for he thought it spoilt the flavor, so I let him have it cold. You should have seen him drink it. I thought he never would have left off. I also gave him three pounds of money, all in sixpences, to make it seem more, and he said directly that he should give more than half to his mamma and sister, and divide the rest with poor Smike. And I say he is a good fellow for saying so; and if anybody says he isn't I am ready to fight him whenever they like--there!

f.a.n.n.y Squeers shall be attended to, depend upon it. Your drawing of her is very like, except that I don't think the hair is quite curly enough.

The nose is particularly like hers, and so are the legs. She is a nasty, disagreeable thing, and I know it will make her very cross when she sees it; and what I say is that I hope it may. You will say the same, I know--at least I think you will.

I meant to have written you a long letter, but I cannot write very fast when I like the person I am writing to, because that makes me think about them, and I like you, and so I tell you. Besides, it is just eight o'clock at night, and I always go to bed at eight o'clock, except when it is my birthday, and then I sit up to supper. So I will not say anything more besides this--and that is my love to you and Neptune; and if you will drink my health every Christmas Day I will drink yours-- come.

I am,

Respected Sir,

Your affectionate Friend

P. S.--I don't write my name very plain, but you know what it is, you know, so never mind.

TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER

Washington Irving

"I appeal to any white man if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not to eat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not."