measure we mete, it shall
be measured to us again, and therefore let us look well to our dealings
with the unfortunate.

Nothing makes me more sick of human nature than to see the way in which
men treat others when they fall down the ladder of fortune: "Down with
him," they cry, "he always was good for nothing."

"Down among the dead men, down, down, down,
Down among the dead men, there let him lie."

Dog won't eat dog, but men will eat each other up like cannibals, and
boast of it too. There are thousands in this world who fly like vultures
to feed on a tradesman or a merchant as soon as ever he gets into
trouble. Where the carcass is thither will the eagles be gathered
together. Instead of a little help, they give the sinking man a great
deal of cruelty, and cry, "Serves him right." All the world will beat
the man whom fortune buffets. If providence smites him, all men's whips
begin to crack. The dog is drowning, and therefore all his friends empty
their buckets over him. The tree has fallen, and every body runs for his
hatchet. The house is on fire, and all the neighbors warm themselves.
The man has ill luck, therefore his friends give him ill usage; he has
tumbled into the road, and they drive their carts over him; he is down,
and selfishness cries, "Let him be kept down, then there will be the
more room for those who are up."

How aggravating it is when those who knocked you down kick you for not
standing up! It is not very pleasant to hear that you have been a great
fool, that there were fifty ways at least of keeping out of your
difficulty, only you had not the sense to see them. You ought not to
have lost the game; even Tom Fool can see where you made a bad move.
"_He ought to have looked the stable-door;_" every body can see that,
but nobody offers to buy the loser a new nag. "_What a pity he went so
far on the ice!_" That's very true, but that won't save the poor fellow
from drowning. When a man's coat is threadbare, it is an easy thing to
pick a hole in it. Good advice is poor food for a hungry family.

"A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds."

Lend me a bit of string to tie up the traces, and find fault with my old
harness when I get home. Help my old horse to a few oats, then tell him
to mend his pace. Feel for me and I shall be much obliged to you, but
mind you, feel in your pocket, or else a fig for your feelings.

HOPE.

Eggs are eggs, but some are r