Reader! hast thou seen the Greek Anthology? If not, go get it. ’Tis passing beautiful. Dost thou wish to see into the very heart of the finest people God ever made? Dost thou long to acquaint thee with the real character of the bright-souled Grecian? Then lay upon the shelf the fiery Homer, with his “damnable iteration,” and even the neat Xenophon--the soldier, historian, and philosopher. Lay them aside, I bid thee, and run thine eye gently over those little heart-bursts, to which chance gave being, and which chance has most marvellously preserved. Dost thou look to see the true proportions of the actor, as he “struts his brief hour upon the busy stage?” Go to the green-room, and behold him divested of all the super-imposed grandeur of cork and buskin. Dost thou think to _know_ men, by scanning them, as they thread the streets of the city, as they toil in the heat of the forum, or pray among the pillars of the temple? The smile is, indeed, gracious--the bow lowly--the look subdued. But, man, you see the _face_, not the _heart_. They are all masquerading--most ludicrously too. Go to their homes, my friend. Watch them by their fire-sides--with their wives and children--in their household familiarity. Vexings are upon them, and their hearts are troubled. The world--the censorious world is far away, and they fear not the scrutiny of its prying eyes. A cloud comes over the sunshine of the soul, and they fret and fume at their petty tribulations. And are _these_ those unctuous men, on whose faces sat enthroned such unruffled peace? Yea, verily!