[1] “It will be hard to discover a better [method of education] than that which the experience of so many ages has already discovered; and this may be summed up as consisting in gymnastics for the body, and _music_ for the soul.”—Repub. lib. 2. “For this reason is a musical education most essential; since it causes Rhythm and Harmony to penetrate most intimately into the soul, taking the strongest hold upon it, filling it with _beauty_ and making the man _beautiful-minded_. . . . . . He will praise and admire _the beautiful_; will receive it with joy into his soul, will feed upon it, and _assimilate his own condition with it_.”—Ibid, lib. 3. Music (μουσικη) had, however, among the Athenians, a far more comprehensive signification than with us. It included not only the harmonies of time and of tune, but the poetic diction, sentiment and creation, each in its widest sense. The study of _music_ was with them, in fact, the general cultivation of the taste—of that which recognizes the beautiful—in contra-distinction from reason, which deals only with the true. [2] “History” from ιστορειν, to contemplate. [3] The word “_purification_” seems here to be used with reference to its root in the Greek πυρ, fire. * * * * * “I KNOW THAT THOU WILT SORROW!” BY MRS. R. S. NICHOLS. I know that thou wilt sorrow, when first I pass from earth, And at thy pale and quivering lip shall gleam no sign of mirth, For grief shall sit upon thy brow, in sad, unseemly guise, And tears, e’en though thou art a man, shall well up to thine eyes. For each young plant, each speaking flower, and old familiar place Will seem to gaze with sadness, up to thine averted face; And when, perchance, another hand my own sweet chords shall sweep, Thou’lt list to those remembered tones, and turn aside and weep! And when another’s thoughtless voice, shall breathe to thee my name, And whisper that the sound was linked with an undying fame, No pride shall mantle o’er thy cheek, nor darkle in thine eye, For idle words breathed of the dead, should pass as idly by. Thou’lt miss my step at even, when thou drawest near thy home, When gleam the ever-sleepless stars, from yon eternal dome; And thou wilt sit and gaze at them, nor shall thou gaze unmoved, For, oh! thou’lt think, that I too well their startling beauty loved! Thou’lt miss me, and will seek to claim the tempest of thy soul, For passions all untamed as those, shall bend to thy control; And grief, that erst sat on thy brow, thou’lt spurn from out thy heart, And with each old remembrancer most willingly will part. When my dim-remembered features shall pass from memory, When the music of my name, shall wake no answering melody, Thou wilt turn thee to another, and she will be to thee, E’en all that I have ever been,—all I could hope to be!