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This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!
Look,-when his infant fortune came to age,
And,-gentle Harry Percy,-and kind cousin,-
Oh, the devil take such cozeners!—God forgive me!
5 Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

LESSON CCXXXI.-THE LOVE OF TRUTH.-GEORGE PUTNAM.

Truth is the one legitimate object of all intellectual endeavor. To discover and apprehend truth, to clear up and adorn it, to establish, and present, and commend it,— these are the processes and the ends of study and litera5 ture. To discern the things that really are, and how they are, to distinguish reality from appearance and sham, to know and declare the true in outward nature, in past time, in the results of speculation, in consciousness and sentiment, this is the busines: of educated mind. Logic 10 and the mathematics are instruments for this purpose, and so is the imagination just as strictly. A poem, a play, a novel, though a work of fiction, must be true, or it is a failure. Its machinery may be unknown to the actual world; the scene may be laid in Elysian fields, or infernal 15 shades, or fairy land; but the law of truth must preside over the work; it must be the vehicle of truth, or it is nought, and is disallowed. The Tempest, the Odyssey, and Paradise Lost, derive their value from their truth; and I say this, not upon utilitarian principles, but accord20 ing to the verdict which every true soul passes upon them, consciously or unconsciously. Lofty, holy truth, made beautiful and dear and winning to the responsive heart,this is their charm, their wealth, their immortality. There is no permanent intellectual success but in truth attained 25 and brought home to the eye, the understanding, or the heart.

And for the best success in the pursuit of any object, there must be a love of the object itself. The student, the thinker, the author, who is true to his vocation, loves the 30 truth which he would develop and embody. Not for bread, not for fame, primarily, he works. These things may come, and are welcome; but truth is higher and dearer than these. Great things have been done for bread and fame, but not the greatest. Plato, pacing the silen. 35 groves of the academy, and Newton, sitting half a day on

his bedside, undressed, and his fast unbroken, rapt in a problem of fluxions; Dante solaring the bitterness of exile with the meditations that live in the Commedia, and Bacon taking his death chill in an experiment to test the pre5 serving qualities of snow; Cuvier, a lordlier Adam than he of Eden, naming the whole animal world in his museum, and reading the very thoughts of God after him in their wondrous mechanism; Franklin and Davy wresting the secrets of nature from their inmost hiding-place; 10 Linnæus studying the flora of the arctic circle in loco; and that fresh old man who startles the clefts of the Rocky Mountains with his rifle, to catch precisely the lustrous tints of beauty in the plumage of a bird;-these men, and such as they, love truth, and are consecrate, hand and 15 heart, to her service. The truth, as she stands in God's doings, or in man's doings, or in those thoughts and affections that have neither form nor speech, but which answer from the deep places of the soul,-truth, as seen in her sublimities or her beauties, in her world-poising might or 20 her seeming trivialities,-truth, as she walks the earth embodied in visible facts, or moves among the spheres in the mysterious laws that combine a universe and spell it to harmony, or as she sings in the upper heavens the inarticulate wisdom which only a profound religion in the soul 25 can interpret,-truth, in whichsoever of her myriad manifestations, she has laid hold of their noble affinities, and brought their being into holy captivity;-such men have loved her greatly and fondly; the soul of genius is always pledged to her in a single-hearted and sweet affiance, or 30 else it is genius baffled, blasted, and discrowned.

LESSON CCXXXII.-ENERGY OF THE WILL. THOMAS C. UPHAM.

A higher degree of voluntary power, than is allotted to the great mass of mankind, seems to be requisite in those, who are destined to take a leading part in those great moral, religious, and political revolutions, which have from 5 time to time agitated the face of the world. It is no easy

task to change the opinions of men, to check and subdue vices which have become prevalent, or to give a new aspect and impulse to religion and liberty. The men who take a lead in these movements, are in general men of decision

and firmness; no others would answer the purpose. If the gentle spirit of Melancthon had been placed in the precise position occupied by Luther, would the great event of the Protestant reformation have been urged forward with 5 the same impetus, and to the same issues?

When society becomes greatly unsettled either in its religious or political aspects, when there is a heaving and tossing to and fro, a removal of the old land-marks, and a breaking up of the old foundations, then it is, that men, 10 not merely of intellect, but of decision and energy, (sagacious, cool, decided, persevering, resolute,) find their way upward to the summit of the conflicting elements, and subject them to their guidance. Such is the natural course of things; such men are needed, and no others 15 are capable of taking their places; and they become, almost of necessity, the advisers and leaders in the nascent order of society. The prominent leaders, therefore, in every great religious or political revolution, will be found to illustrate the fact, that there are original and marked differences 20 in the degree of power which is appropriate to the will.

Look at the men who presided at the events of the great English Revolution of 1640, particularly the Puritans; men of the stamp of the Vanes, Hampdens, and Fleetwoods; who, in embarking in the convulsions of that stormy period, 25 had a two-fold object in view, the security of political liberty, and the attainment of religious freedom! Were they weak men? Were they men wanting in fortitude? Were they uncertain and flexible, vacillating and double-minded?

History gives an emphatic answer to these questions. It 30 informs us, that they entered into the contest for the great objects just now referred to, with a resolution which nothing could shake, with an immutability of purpose resembling the decrees of unalterable destiny. They struck for liberty and religion, and they struck not thrice merely, but 35 as the prophet of old would have had them; smiting many times, and smiting fiercely, till Syria was consumed. They broke in pieces the throne of England; they trampled under foot her ancient and haughty aristocracy; they erected the standard of religious liberty, which has waved ever 40 since, and has scattered its healing light over distant lands; and, by their wisdom and energy, they not only overthrew the enemies of freedom at home, but made the name of their country honored and terrible throughout the earth. They seem to have entirely subjected their passions

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to their purposes, and to have pressed all the exciting and inflammable elements of their nature, into the service of their fixed and immutable wills.

In the prosecution of their memorable achievements,

"Of which all Europe talked from side to side,"

they acted under the two-fold pressure of motives drawn from heaven and earth; they felt as if they were contending for principles which were valuable to all mankind, and as if all mankind were witnesses of the contest; at the 10 same time that they beheld on every side, in the quickened eye of their faith, the attendant angels eagerly bending over them, who were soon to transfer, to the imperishable records on high, the story of their victory and reward, or of their defeat and degradation.

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All these things imparted additional fixedness and intensity to their purposes. "Death had lost its terrors, and pleasure, its charms. They had their smiles and their tears, their raptures and their sorrows, but not for the things of this world. Enthusiasm had made them Stoics, 20 had cleared their minds from every vulgar passion and prejudice, and raised them above the influence of danger and corruption. It sometimes might lead them to pursue unwise ends, but never to choose unwise means. They went through the world, like Sir Artegale's iron man Talus 25 with his flail, crushing and trampling down oppressors, mingling with human beings, but having neither part nor lot in human infirmities; insensible to fatigue, to pleasure, and to pain; not to be pierced by any weapon, not to be withstood by any barrier."

LESSON CCXXXIII.-THE SCHOLAR'S MISSION.-GEORGE PUTNAM.

The wants of our time and country, the constitution of our modern society, our whole position,-personal and relative, -forbid a life of mere scholarship or literary pursuits, to the great majority of those who go out from our colleges. How5 ever it may have been in other times, and other lands, here and now, but few of our educated men are privileged

"From the loopholes of retreat

To look upon the world, to hear the sound
Of the great Babel, and not feel its stir."

10 Society has work for us, and we must forth to do it.

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COMMON-SCHOOL READER AND SPEAKER.

[PART II. Full early and hastily we must gird on the manly gown, gather up the loose leaves and scanty fragments of our youthful lore, and go out among men, to act with them and for them. It is a practical age; and our Wisdom, such as 5 it is, “must strive and cry, and utter her voice in the streets, standing in the places of the paths, crying in the chief place of concourse, at the entry of the city, and the coming in at the doors."

This state of things, though not suited to the tastes and 10 qualities of all, is not, on the whole, to be regretted by ed ucated men as such. It is not in literary production only, or chiefly, that educated mind finds fit expression, and fulfils its mission in honor and beneficence. In the great theatre of the world's affairs, there is a worthy and a suffi15 cient sphere. Society needs the well-trained, enlarged, and cultivated intellect of the scholar, in its midst; needs it, and welcomes it, and gives it a place, or, by its own capacity, it will take a place, of honor, influence, and power. The youthful scholar has no occasion to deplore the fate 20 that is soon to tear him from his studies, and cast him into the swelling tide of life and action. None of his disciplinary and enriching culture will be lost, or useless, even there. Every hour of study, every truth he has reached, and the toilsome process by which he reached it; the 25 heightened grace or vigor of thought or speech he has acquired, all shall tell fully, nobly, if he will give heed to the conditions. And one condition, the prime one, is, that he be a true man, and recognize the obligation of a man, and go forth with heart, and will, and every gift and 30 acquirement dedicated, lovingly and resolutely, to the true and the right. These are the terms; and apart from these there is no success, no influence to be had, which an ingenuous mind can desire, or which a sound and far-seeing mind would dare to seek.

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Indeed, it is not an easy thing, nay, it is not a possible thing, to obtain a substantial success, and an abiding influence, except on these terms. A factitious popularity, a transient notoriety, or, in the case of shining talents, the doom of a damning fame, may fall to bad men. But an 40 honored name, enduring influence, a sun brightening on through its circuit, more and more, even to its serene setting, this boon of a true success goes never to intellectual qualities alone. It gravitates slowly but surely to weight of character, to intellectual ability rooted in principle.

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