O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold Our Cæsar’s vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors. * * * * * Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honorable: What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it! They are wise and honorable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men’s blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Cæsar’s wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but, were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Cæsar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. _From “Julius Cæsar.”_ THE TWO ROADS. JEAN PAUL RICHTER. JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER was born in 1763 at Wunsiedel, in the principality of Bayreuth, where his father was at different times schoolmaster, organist, and preacher. His passion for letters developed at an early age, and he read by stealth in his father’s library at times when severer tasks were appointed him. He attended the gymnasium at Hof and in 1781 matriculated as a student of theology in the University of Leipsic. He soon abandoned the study of theology for that of literature. That his early works did not suit the popular taste is shown by the fact that in 1784 he was obliged to flee from Leipsic to escape the debtor’s prison. He persevered, however, with his writings, earning a bare livelihood by tutoring. He called the books he wrote “his own children,” as contrasted with those he taught. Success came with hard work, and he was honored with a pension, was made Councilor of Legation, and received the degree of Doctor of Philosophy from Heidelberg. He was an original thinker, a humorist, and a true poet. His death occurred in 1825.