soners and deep thinkers; and this is quite as much as most young men may aspire to. Indeed, if all our youth were left to their own resources, it is probable that multitudes would imitate Prince Hal or Falstaff, where one would conceive the idea of such a character, and write down the conception for the instruction and amusement of others.

"Many men," says Mr. Cheever, "think no employments practical, but those that are immediately mechanical; or those that minister to our bo lily necessities; or those that afford knowledge whose application is immediate and evident. To such men, God himself cannot appear, as the Creator of the universe, as an architect of practical wisdom; for he has covered the earth with objects, and the sky and the clouds with tints, whose surpassing beauty is their only utility; but whose beauty is eminently useful, because man who beholds it, is immortal; because it wakes the soul to moral contemplation, excites the imagination, softens the sensibilities of the heart, and throws round every thing in man's temporal habitation the sweet light of poetry reflected from the habitations of angels, telling him both of his mortality and immortality, giving him symbols of both, and holding with him a perpetual conversation of the glory, wisdom and goodness of God.

To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts, that do often lie too deep for tears.'

"To such men the employment of Milton, while writing Paradise Lost, would have seemed less practical than that of the shoemaker at his next door; nor would it alter their views to represent that all the shoes the man could possibly make in a whole life time, would be worn out in a very few years, while the divine poem would be a glorious banquet and a powerful discipline to all good men and great minds for ages. Whatever in any degree disciplines the mind for effort, is praetical, though for every thing else it be utterly useless."

No man can appreciate the value of mental discipline till he has felt its influence; and if he is unacquainted with any science or department of study, this very fact precludes the possibility of his forming a correct estimate of its utility. The only way to judge of what is practical is to be practical; and the only way to arrive at a just estimate of the real utility of any branch of science, is to study it and master it. The true standard, by which we ought to estimate the benefit of intel

SECOND SERIES, VOL. VI. NO. I.

7

lectual training, is the capacity it creates for doing good. Some students, whose love of ease creates in them an aversion to all laborious exercise either of mind or body, seek a substitute for the prescribed course of collegiate study in extended reading. They admire the ready and flippant student, who, having a smattering of all knowledge, astonishes the uninitiated. They diligently inquire the cause of his marvellous fluency and ready wit, and find that he is a general scholar, a lover of miscellany. Hence they resolve to be readers, and scout the languages and mathematics, which so cramp the intellect, stifle the buddings of genius, and make a man a mere prosing pedant. They plunge at once into an ocean of miscellany, and seize upon this novel, that new poem, and the other review or pamphlet, studiously avoiding the good old standard works of English literature, because, forsooth, they require study, and are almost as difficult to be understood as Latin. After carefully pursuing this labor-saving process of education four years, the student graduates, a mere superficial sciolist, with a small capital of fancy articles, to please the sentimental and romantic, and without the means of increasing it. It would be better to spend four years in the catacombs of Egypt, deciphering hieroglyphics, than devote the same time exclusively to miscellaneous reading. The student would come out of his den better prepared for the business of life, with more strength of intellect for grappling with difficult subjects, than if he had spent his time in the mere dissipation of unthinking superficial reading. I do not object to such reading, in its proper place; but it should be resorted to as a relief from severer studies. All intellectual eminence is the result of patient thought. Mere reading without study or reflection will no more expand the young mind, than listening to sweet music. Either occupation would beguile the tedious hours of an unemployed mind. Hard study, patient, protracted study, discriminating study is absolutely essential to success in literary and scientific pursuits. Miscellaneous reading does not furnish the necessary discipline. The young man, who vainly imagines that such pursuits will qualify him for "the stern realities of life," and resolves to devote no more time to those studies, whose practical utility is not apparent to his feeble mind, than barely to escape public disgrace, by that very resolve dooms himself to eternal mediocrity, if not to inferiority. Before such a person reads polite literature to polish his mind, it may be well for him to get some mind to

polish. Reading, to be profitable, must be something more than a mere" beggarly day-dreaming." "Read," says Bacon," not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested." It might be added, many are not to be read at all; for it can scarcely be doubted that an indiscriminate gormandizing of popular literature only enfeebles the intellect, and begets a sickly sentimentalism. In regard to the alleged immoral tendency of the study of classic mythology, I can only say I have never felt it nor discovered it in others. It is, however, gravely maintained that ancient authors foster a bloodthirsty spirit, and taint the soul by their licentiousness. It is also maintained, by some reformers, that jails and penitentiaries are mere incentives to crime; yet I cannot learn that those who live in the vicinity of such institutions are uncommonly vicious, nor have I ever known a man to be prompted to steal or rob, by visiting or passing by a prison. Neither have I known a student to become a heathen, or even heathenish by studying the classics. I would ask every schemer in education to visit our colleges, and inquire who are the greatest heathens there. I am confident they are not the best classical scholars. I would say to such reformers as Agricola did to his troops: "question your own eyes." Who are the idle, the disorderly and vicious in our literary institutions? Is it they who are most devoted to classical pursuits? No: for they have no time to be dissipated. It is a rare thing to find one, who seeks to excel as a classical scholar, dissipated or immoral. The disturbers of college, the corrupters of the young are generally those who neglect such studies, who have not sufficient elevation of soul to appreciate them, and who find a more congenial employment in reading the corrupting novels and poetry of the age. An extended discussion of this point does not properly belong to my subject, and I leave it. I conclude in the language of Dr. Dana: "If there is a spirit abroad in our land which is corrupting our literature, which would exchange its solid strength for a feeble and meretricious splendor, which regards its surface more than its depth, let us resist it. In an age of too much glitter and ostentation, let us aim at nothing better or higher than solid knowledge, genuine wisdom, unostentatious goodness and substantial usefulness. In an age of ceaseless revolution, let us remember that to innovate is not always to reform; and that old truth is somewhat preferable to new error."

ARTICLE IV.

RELIGIOUS LITERATURE IN FRANCE AND SWITZERLAND:-GAUSSEN ON DIVINE INSPIRATION.

By an American in Paris.

Théopneustie, ou Pleine Inspiration des Saintes Ecritures: par L. Gaussen.

Theopneustia, or the Plenary Inspiration of the Sacred Scriptures: by L. Gaussen: pp 477, 8vo. (Published by Delay, No. 62 Rue Basse-du-Rempart, Paris.)

THE three great races, which possess the greatest degree of civilization, and the greatest amount of moral and political influence in the world, are the English, or rather the Anglo-Saxon, the Germanic, and the French or Gallic. The first of these, including the branch which inhabits the United States and the colonies of Great Britain, probably exceeds forty-four millions of people; the second, forty-two millions; and the third, including portions of Switzerland and Belgium and the colonies of France, thirty-eight millions.

These races, though enjoying a civilization which may be said to be nearly equal, possess characteristics which strikingly distinguish them one from another. The first two, however, approximate much more nearly to each other-having in fact a common origin-than does either of them and the third. An inquiry into the origin of these differences in character-so perceptible, and yet not easy to portray-would be in the highest degree interesting; but it is wholly foreign to the object which we have in view in writing this article.

The Anglo-Saxon mind may be described as being eminently practical, clear in its conceptions, patient in its investigations and pursuits; the Germanic, more patient, more speculative, and more ardent. While the Gallic is more ardent still than that of the dwellers beyond the Rhine, more perspicacious, but greatly wanting in coolness, in patience, in application. We speak only of the most general characteristics of these races

In literature the French are inferior to the English or AngloSaxon race in soundness of view, in clearness of argumentation, and in what may be called the love of the True. They are very inferior to the Germans in profound erudition; and utterly abhor their love of speculation. They love that which is witty, brilliant, striking. But they have not the patience which is necessary to arrive at that which is profound.

What we have just said is characteristic of the national mind and its operations. No people have more genius, and yet no great nation has produced fewer of the grandest discoveries in science, or achieved fewer of the greatest processes of art. And as to literature, while they have displayed great genius, and a most vivid imagination, the overwhelming mass of their writers are frivolous, superficial and immature. This is unquestionably the character of their writers in general.

And yet, although the national character of the French may be designated as light, unstable, and fonder of show than of solidity, nothing is more certain than that when moulded by influences sufficiently powerful to control it, it undergoes the most remarkable transformations. In the pursuit of military glory, what toilsome campaigns have the French not made, what sanguinary battles have they not fought! In pursuit of science, too, they have furnished some of the finest examples of indomitable perseverance.

But under no influence does the French mind seem to undergo so great a change as it does under that of religion. When made to feel the "powers of the world to come," and the motives which Christianity brings to bear upon the human heart, it seems to lose in a great measure those traits which we have described as being national. Calmness, sobriety, seriousness take the place of excessive excitability, frivolity and levity. Under this transforming influence, the French mind becomes remarkably adapted to the clear perception of the truth as revealed in the Bible, and the happy expression of it in spoken or written discourse. It is on this account that France has furnished many of the very ablest expounders of the Christian faith that the world has ever known, as well as many of its noblest advocates and most intrepid martyrs.

Rome, for ages, found in the Gallican church, her most distinguished defenders, and her brightest ornaments. Bossuet, Massillon, Bourdaloue, Fléchier and Fénélon are names than which none greater appear in her calendar of great men.