John Keats born 1795.

Thomas Bayard born 1828.

Thomas Edward Brown died 1897.

    Rise, O my soul, with thy desires to heaven,
      And with divinest contemplation use
    Thy time where time’s eternity is given,
      And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse;
    But down in darkness let them lie: 
    So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die!

    —­Sir Walter Raleigh.

The great elements we know of are no mean comforters; the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown—­the air is our robe of state, the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.

    —­John Keats.

    Ah Lord Jehovah! behold, thou hast made the heavens and the earth by
    thy great power and by thine outstretched arm; there is nothing too
    hard for thee.

    —­Jeremiah 32. 17.

Almighty God, I thank thee for the power that gives me the breath of life.  May I be willing to be controlled by its guiding care.  Amen.

OCTOBER THIRTIETH

Rev. John Whitaker died 1808.

John Adams, Massachusetts, second President
United States, born 1735.

Adelaide Anne Procter born 1825.

        And yet thou canst know,
          And yet thou canst not see;
        Wisdom and sight are slow
          In poor humanity. 
        If thou couldst trust, poor soul,
        In Him who rules the whole,
        Thou wouldst find peace and rest;
    Wisdom and right are well, but trust is best.

    —­Adelaide Anne Procter.

    The heart to speak in vain essayed,
      Nor could his purpose reach—­
    His will nor voice nor tongue obeyed,
      His silence was his speech.

    —­John Quincy Adams.

    But still believe that story wrong
    Which ought not to be true.

    —­Richard Brinsley Sheridan.

    Blessed is the man that maketh Jehovah his trust.

    —­Psalm 40. 4.

My Father, may I not be given to unkindly speech.  Deliver me from a critical spirit; and may I not encourage mistrust, but cultivate the kindly considerations in which life abounds.  Amen.

OCTOBER THIRTY-FIRST

All Hallow’s Eve.

John Evelyn born 1620.

Christopher Anstey born 1724.

    Ere, in the northern gale
      The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
    The woods of autumn, all around our vale,
      Have put their glory on.

    The mountains that unfold,
      In their wide sweep, the colored landscape round,
    Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold,
      That guard the enchanted ground.

    Ah! ’twere a lot too blessed
      Forever in thy colored shades to stray;
    Amid the kisses of the soft southwest
      To rove and dream for aye;