spirit, which would delight to undermine and throw down every beautiful structure, which had been the work and admiration of generations that are past. Can it be wonderful, that in this general attack, classical learning has not escaped? And shall it be any disparagement to it, that it has met with that fortune which has befallen even Christianity, and natural religion itself? Should we not rather, if it had passed unnoticed, have inferred that it was regarded as unworthy of notice? Would not the satire of neglect have been the keenest possible?

Not that we would be understood, as speaking in disparagement of the age in which we live. We honor the spirit of the age. We honor the spirit of free inquiry, of independent thinking, that is abroad. We are willing, that every old foundation should be tested; assured, that, if it is laid in truth, it will stand every assault; and wishing, that, if laid in error, it might be removed, and all that is built upon it, demolished. We have full confidence in the power of truth; and an unhesitating belief, that, if all the elements of opinion were reduced to a state of utter chaos, there would but arise, from the general confusion, another system of equal symmetry and beauty. Christianity stands far stronger now, than she stood before the attacks of modern infidels; and all their remaining opposition will but aid in perfecting and extending the knowledge of religious truth. In like manner, every attack upon a sound system of philosophy, or a proper method of education, will but leave it the better established.

This result may already be perceived to some extent in regard to classical learning. The discussion respecting its value has had on each side able champions, who have fully exhibited the strength of their cause; and one of our New England institutions, yielded, for a time, so far to what it believed to be the popular voice, as not to insist on a course of classical study, as a pre-requisite for the honors of the institution. But it was soon found, that the sense of the intelligent public had been mistaken; and that the community demanded an acquaintance with ancient learning, in those who profess to be educated men. The discussion seems to be now passing away; and there has perhaps never been a time, when classical education stood on so broad and firm a basis in our country, as at the present; never a period which has promised to do more in its behalf, than that which has just been commenced.

This is then a time peculiarly favorable for the investigation of the great principles upon which classical education should be conducted. The protracted discussion has placed the subject before us in the various attitudes, which can be given it by both friends and enemies; while the prospects before us animate by the encouragement, that such an investigation would not be mere speculative inquiry, and that what might be fixed in principle, would be realized in practice.

Perhaps the subject may be brought before us in the form best adapted to our present purpose, by the inquiry, “What are the great objects which the student should seek, and expect to attain in a course of classical study?" An attempt to answer this question will involve a general view of the method to be pursued, and the advantages which will result; while to go farther into the details of the course, than this question will carry us, would be better suited to the lecture-room, than to the pages of a quarterly; and there is an objection to treating professedly of the advantages of a classical education, from the unhappy effects which have often followed.

The lovers of the classics have often depicted the advantages which result from their study in such glowing colors, and with such indiscriminating strength of assertion, that many who have heard or read, have supposed that these advantages flow from the study of the ancient authors, as necessarily, and as spontaneously, as water from a fountain; and that all there is for them to do, is to be at the fountain, ready to drink from the inspiring stream. As the manner and spirit in which they should study, have not been insisted on, they have been led to expect the promised good as the result of some mysterious process, which, though they do not understand, yet they suppose to be infallible in its effects. They seem to regard the whole business of classical study, as a sort of magic, in which it is only necessary that at particular times they should repeat certain formulas, and the shades of the mighty dead, called by these incantations, will come and confer upon them the highest intellectual endowments.

The disappointment which is the necessary consequence, produces opposite effects upon different minds. Many fancy themselves to have been imposed upon, and forsake, entirely, the study of the languages; often endeavoring to derive a

partial remuneration from the sale of those books, whose use they look upon as so utterly profitless; and warning others not to be cajoled, as they have been. While there are nobler spirits, who after repeated disappointments, still toil patiently on, supposing that the object of their efforts is but a short distance before them; some even till they lose their lives in the eager chase ;-an image of the alchemist, bending over his crucible, in constant expectation of seeing the gold at the bottom, till the feverish sleepless anxiety of his pursuit has consumed the vital energy, and he is beyond the need of earthly treasure.

We would not, then, hold out any fallacious promise, that the study of the languages will prove a philosopher's stone, which will convert, by a touch, all the base metals into gold; but would rather represent it as a plain honest art, which will reward all according to their efforts, and by which all who are willing to labor, may obtain a store of intellectual gold, more precious than all the heaps that ever rose in the imagination of the most sanguine alchemist.

A course of classical study may be properly divided into three great departments; the first, the language of the Greeks and Romans; the second, their history and antiquities; the third, their literature. These, though intimately connected, are yet three entirely distinct departments; as much so as any three branches in mathematics, or natural science. The first has for its object, words; the second, facts; the third, thoughts and feelings. These three classes of objects are linked together in life, and consequently must be in the written pictures of life. For facts, or events, excite thoughts and feelings; these require words for their expression; this expression with corresponding action, gives rise to new events; and thus is completed the circle in which life revolves. Yet, notwithstanding this intimate association, the distinct character of these classes is never lost. Perhaps no illustration of this is better, than the manner in which three persons, who have given an exclusive attention each to a different class, will read the same composition. Let, for instance, an oration of Demosthenes be taken. The mere linguist, notices only the forms, meaning, and connections of the words. Not a point, or an accent can escape his eagle eye. He is in raptures at the discovery of a new example of a peculiar idiom. But ask him, when he has finished the perusal, what light the oration throws on

the history of the times, or what are its distinguishing excellencies of thought or expression, and he is silent. The mere "matter of fact man," gleans every microscopic item of information it contains, and every particle of evidence it furnishes upon any point in history, however unimportant ; but Argus-eyed here, is blind to every thing else, observing neither the peculiarities of the language, nor the beauties of the composition. The mere literary amateur, delights himself in tracing the connections that subsist between the thoughts of the mighty Athenian, and in following and sympathising with the varieties of strong emotion, which accompanied their expression, to the entire neglect of all that interested the two former readers. While the finished classical scholar, whose attainments embrace the three departments, with scarce a conscious effort, observes, appreciates and enjoys all.

Yet, notwithstanding this broad line of distinction, the general method of study in all the parts of a classical course is the same, because this method has no respect to the peculiar characteristics of any part, but is founded on the constitution of the human mind, and the laws which it must follow in the attainment of knowledge. A general statement of this method, with a few remarks upon its application to particular parts of the course, will be all that our limits will permit. A view of the subject, that should have the least claim to be regarded as complete, would require a volume. The first object of the student, then, should be, to obtain a familiar acquaintance with all the important particulars in each department of classical study.

All acquired knowledge must commence with particulars. It is only through these, that we can obtain general truths, and only by a continued observation of them, that our interest in those truths can be preserved. Mere abstracts are perfectly lifeless. Particulars, then, are the materials in the architecture of mind, and can no more be dispensed with, than the stone, the brick, and the wood, in the building of a house. Even if they should be unimportant in themselves, yet they derive from their necessary connection with the most valuable general truths, a high claim upon our attention. We should learn them extensively, to render our general knowledge complete; and minutely, to render it exact.

But the particulars which we find in classical study, are far from being unimportant in themselves. They have a

value independent of the general conclusions to which they lead; and it has been for this value, principally, that perhaps the greater number have studied them.

A minute acquaintance with the language of the ancient Greeks and Romans is of constant service to its possessor. Whatever subject of inquiry he is pursuing, he is admitted by it to sources of information from which he must otherwise be debarred.

A key is not valued, like most articles, according to its material, or weight, or form, but according to the richness of the treasures to which it will admit its possessor. Though of the vilest material, shapeless, bruised, and rusty, it may still have a value superior to that of the proudest diamond that sparkles on a monarch's brow. Now if there is any knowledge, which has a value of this kind, it is the knowledge of the ancient languages.

To assure ourselves of this, let us consider for a moment, what works are brought by this knowledge within the ken of the scholar, as the orbs of heaven are brought near by the wonder-working telescope. If we may pursue the figure, we should mention, first of all, the sun of the moral firmament, that precious volume in which life and immortality are brought to light, left by infinite wisdom in the Greek language for the study of all coming ages. Then we may speak of the orbs that revolve around this centre, the first preachers and interpreters of our heaven-descended religion; and, though we would not deify them, yet we would consider many of them as the first of men, and as those who, standing near our Lord, can claim a high regard for their principles and precepts. Then we would point to the fixed stars, which have shone, through so many ages, with the same undimmed lustre, on the world of mind; fixed, it is true, in the night of heathenism, yet giving even to this night a sublime beauty; drawing the admiration of every eye that is turned to them, either by the separate brightness of solitary stars, or the combined splendor of clusters and constellations; and thus unconsciously reflecting honor on Him who kindled those fires, though they knew Him not; -the ornaments of that vast temple which pagan genius has erected to "The Unknown God."

To ancient writers we may add the moderns who have spoken with the classic tongue. The Latin has been, till within a comparatively short time, the only language admitted