ities.

"Quinto"

"Ah! enough, enough, doctor!" cried I. "Pray, do not carry your
examination farther; do not attach a sense of remorse to each of my
pleasures."

The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox.

"You see," said he, more gently, and rising at the same time, "you would
escape from the truth. You shrink from inquiry--a proof that you are
guilty. 'Habemus confitentem reum'! But at least, my friend, do not go
on laying the blame on Time, like an old woman."

Thereupon he again felt my pulse, and took his leave, declaring that his
function was at an end, and that the rest depended upon myself.

When the doctor was gone, I set about reflecting upon what he had said.

Although his words were too sweeping, they were not the less true in the
main. How often we accuse chance of an illness, the origin of which we
should seek in ourselves! Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him
finish the examination he had begun.

But is there not another of more importance--that which concerns
the health of the soul? Am I so sure of having neglected no means of
preserving that during the year which is now ending? Have I, as one of
God's soldiers upon earth, kept my courage and my arms efficient? Shall
I be ready for the great review of souls which must pass before Him WHO
IS in the dark valley of Jehoshaphat?

Darest thou examine thyself, O my soul! and see how often thou hast
erred?

First, thou hast erred through pride! for I have not duly valued the
lowly. I have drunk too deeply of the intoxicating wines of genius, and
have found no relish in pure water. I have disdained those words which
had no other beauty than their sincerity; I have ceased to love men
solely because they are men--I have loved them for their endowments; I
have contracted the world within the narrow compass of a pantheon, and
my sympathy has been awakened by admiration only. The vulgar crowd,
which I ought to have followed with a friendly eye because it is
composed of my brothers in hope or grief, I have let pass by with as
much indifference as if it were a flock of sheep. I am indignant with
him who rolls in riches and despises the man poor in worldly wealth; and
yet, vain of my trifling knowledge, I despise him who is poor in mind--I
scorn the poverty of intellect as others do that of dress; I take credit
for a gift which I did not bestow on myself, and turn the favor of
fortune into a weapon with which to attack others.

Ah! if, in th