"You comfort me very much," said Mr Merton, "but such ungovernable passion, such violence and
impetuosity——"
"Are indeed very formidable," replied Mr Barlow, "yet, when they are properly directed, frequently produce the noblest effects. You have, I doubt not, read the story of Polemo, who, from a debauched young man, became a celebrated philosopher, and a model of virtue, only by attending a single moral lecture."
"Indeed," said Mr Merton, "I am ashamed to confess that the various employments and amusements in which I have passed the greater part of my life have not afforded me as much leisure for reading as I could wish. You will therefore oblige me very much by repeating the story you allude to."
"THE STORY OF POLEMO."
"Polemo (said Mr Barlow) was a young man of Athens, and although he was brought up with the
most tender solicitude and care by his mother, and at one time promised fair to be of a studious and virtuous turn of mind, as he appeared very fond of reading, and much attached to literary pursuits, and would frequently retire into the fields, and for hours sit upon the stump of a tree, with his book before him,—still, after a few years, he became so distinguished by his excesses, that he was the aversion of all the discreeter part of the city. He led a life of intemperance and dissipation, and was constantly surrounded by a set of loose young men who imitated and encouraged his vices; and when they had totally drowned the little reason they possessed in copious draughts of wine, they were accustomed to sally out, and practise every species of absurd and licentious frolic.
"One morning they were thus wandering about, after having spent the night as usual, when they beheld a great concourse of people that were listening to the discourse of a celebrated philosopher named Xenocrates. The greater part of the young men, who still retained some sense of shame, were so struck with this spectacle, that they turned out of the way; but Polemo, who was more daring and abandoned than the rest, pressed forward into the midst of the audience. His figure was too remarkable not to attract universal notice; for his head was crowned with flowers, his robe hung negligently about him, and his whole body was reeking with perfumes; besides, his look and manner were such as very little qualified him for such a company. Many of the audience were so displeased at this interruption, that they were ready to treat the young man with great severity;
but the venerable philosopher prevailed upon them not to molest the intruder, and calmly continued his discourse, which happened to be upon the dignity and advantages of temperance.
"As the sage proceeded in his oration, he descanted upon this subject, with so much force and eloquence that the young man became more composed and attentive, as it were in spite of himself. Presently the philosopher grew still more animated in his representation of the shameful slavery which attends the giving way to our passions, and the sublime happiness of reducing them all to order; and then the countenance of Polemo began to change, and the expression of it to be softened; he cast his eyes in mournful silence upon the ground, as if in deep repentance for his own contemptible conduct. Still the aged speaker increased in vehemence; he seemed to be animated with the sacred genius of the art which he professed, and to exercise an irresistible power over the minds of his hearers. He drew the portrait of an ingenious and modest young man who had been bred up to virtuous toils and manly hardiness; he painted him triumphant over all his passions, and trampling upon human fears and weakness: 'Should his country be invaded, you see him fly to its defence, and ready to pour forth all his blood; calm and composed he appears, with a terrible beauty, in the front of danger; the ornament and bulwark of his country; the thickest squadrons are penetrated by his resistless valour, and he points the path of victory to his admiring followers. Should he fall in battle, how glorious is his lot; to be cut off in the honourable discharge of his duty; to be wept by all the brave and