5. There is another and a higher company, who thought little of praise or power, but whose lives shine before men with those good works which truly glorify their authors. There is Milton, poor and blind, but "bating not a jot of heart or hope;" in an age of ignorance, the friend of education; in an age of servility and vice, the pure and uncontaminated friend of freedom; turning his heart to those magnificent melodies which angels might stoop to hear; and confessing his supreme duties to humanity in words of simplicity and power. "I am long since persuaded," was his declaration, "that to say or do aught worth memory or imitation, no purpose or respect should sooner move us than love of God and mankind."

6. There is St. Vincent de Paul, of France, once in captivity in Algiers. Obtaining his freedom by a happy escape, this fugitive slave devoted himself with divine success to labors of Christian benevolence-to the establishment of hospitals, to visiting those in prison, to the spread of amity and peace. Unknown, he repaired to the galleys at Marseilles, and touched by the story of a poor convict, personally assumed his heavy chains, that he might be excused to visit his wife and children. And when France was bleeding with war, this philanthropist appears in a different scene. Presenting himself to her powerful minister, the Cardinal Richelieu, on his knees, he says: "Give us peace; have pity upon us; give peace to France."

7. There is Howard, the benefactor of those on whom the world has placed its brand, whose charity, like that of the Frenchman, inspired by the single desire of doing good, penetrated the gloom of the dungeon, as with angelic presence. "A person of more ability," he says, with sweet simplicity, "with knowledge of facts, would have written better, but the object of my ambition was not the fame of an author. Hearing the cry of the miserable, I devoted my time to their relief."

8. Such are some of the exemplars of true glory. Without rank, office, or the sword, they accomplished immortal good. While on earth, they labored for their fellow-men; and now,

sleeping in death,-by their example and their works,-they continue the same sacred office. To all, in whatever sphere or condition of life, they teach the same commanding lessons of magnanimous duty. From the heights of their virtue, they call upon us to cast out the lust of power, of office, of wealth, of praise, of a fleeting popular favor, which "a breath can make, as a breath has made;" to subdue the constant, everpresent suggestions of self, in disregard of those neighbors, near or remote, whose happiness should never be absent from our mind; to check the madness of party, which so often, for the sake of success, renounces the very objects of success; and, finally, to introduce into our lives those lofty sentiments of conscience and charity which animated them to such godlike labors.

9. Nor should these be mere holiday virtues, marshaled on great occasions only. They must become a part of us, and of our existence; ever present in season and out of season, in all the amenities of life; in those daily offices of conduct and manner which add so much to its charm, as also in those grander duties whose performance evinces an ennobling selfsacrifice. The first are as the flowers, whose odor is pleasant, though fleeting; the latter are like the precious ointment from the box of alabaster poured upon the head of the Lord.

10. To the supremacy of these principles let us all consecrate. our best efforts and strength. So doing, let us reverse the very poles of the worship of past ages. Men have thus far bowed down before stocks, stones, insects, crocodiles, golden calves, graven images, often of cunning workmanship, wrought with Phidian skill, of ivory, of ebony, of marble,but all false gods. Let them worship in future the true God, our Father as He is in heaven, and in the beneficent labors of His children on earth. Then farewell to the Syren song of a worldly ambition! Farewell to vain desire of mere literary success or oratorical display! Farewell to the distempered longings for office! Farewell to the dismal, blood-red phantom of martial renown! Fame and glory may then continue,

as in times past, the reflection of public opinion, but of an opinion, without change or fickleness, enlightened by those two suns of Christian truth, love to God and love to man.

11. From the serene illumination of these duties, all the forms of selfishness shall retreat, like evil spirits at the dawn of day. Then shall the happiness of the poor and lowly, and the education of the ignorant, have uncounted friends. The cause of those who are in prison shall find fresh voices; the majesty of peace, other vindicators; the sufferings of the slave, new and gushing floods of sympathy. Then, at last, shall the brotherhood of mankind stand confessed: ever filling the souls of all with a more generous life, ever prompting to deeds of beneficence; conquering the heathen prejudices of country, color, and race; guiding the judgment of the historian; animating the verse of the poet and the eloquence of the orator; ennobling human thought and conduct, and inspiring those good works by which alone we may attain to the heights of true glory. Good works! Such, even now, is the heavenly ladder on which angels are ascending and descending, while weary humanity, on pillows of stone, slumbers. heavily at its feet.

LESSON XLIX.

LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.

BY HORACE GREELEY.

Horace Greeley, a leading American journalist, was born at Amherst, N. H., February 3, 1811. At the age of fifteen he learned the art of printing, and soon afterward went to New York City "to seek his fortune." After being connected with several newspapers, he founded the New York Daily Tribune in April, 1841. He was thoroughly conversant with the politics of the country, had strong convictions on every question, and, through his powerful editorials, contributed largely to the shaping of political opinion throughout the nation. He was the author of What I Know About Farming, Recollections of a Busy Life, The American Conflict, and several other works. In 1872 he became an unsuccessful candidate for the Presidency, nominated by the "Liberal Republican Party." He died at his home at Chappaqua, N. Y., November 29, 1872.

IT

T is a very common but a very mischievous notion, that the writing of a book is creditable per se. On the contrary, I

hold it discreditable, and only to be justified by proof of lofty qualities and generous aims embodied therein. To write a book when you have nothing new to communicate,—nothing to say that has not been better said already,-that is to inflict a real injury on mankind. A new book is only to be justified by a new truth. If Jonas Potts, however illiterate and commonplace, has been shipwrecked on Hudson's Bay, and has traveled thence overland to Detroit or Montreal by a route previously unknown, then he may give us a book—if he will attempt no more than to tell us as clearly as possible what he experienced and saw by the way,—which will have a genuine value, and which the world may well thank him for; and so of a man who, having manufactured charcoal all his days, should favor us with a treatise on burning charcoal, showing what was the relative value for that use of the various woods; how long they should be on fire respectively; how much wood should be burned in one pit, and how the burning should be managed. Every contribution, however rude and humble, to our knowledge of nature, and of the means by which her products may most advantageously be made subservient to our needs, is beneficent, and worthy of our regard.

2. But the fabrication of new poems, or novels, or essays, or histories, which really add nothing to our stock of facts, to our fund of ideas, but, so far as they have any significance, merely re-say what has been more forcibly, intelligibly, happily, said already,—this is a work which does less than no good, —which ought to be decried and put down, under the general police duty of abating nuisances. I would have every writer of a book cited before a competent tribunal and made to answer the questions: "Sir, what proposition is this book intended to set forth and commend? What fact does it reveal? What is its drift, its purport?" If it embodies a new truth, or even a new suggestion, though it seem a very mistaken and absurd one, make way for it! and let it fight its own battle; but if it has really no other aim than to be readable, therefore salable, and thus to win gold for its author and his accomplices, the printer and publisher, then let a bonfire be made

of its manuscript sheets, so that the world may speedily obtain from it all the light it is capable of imparting.

3. I once received a letter from a somewhat noted novelist, pressing me to read thoroughly one of his works just issued, which the cover proclaimed his "greatest novel," and which he wished me to commend to general favor, saying he was anxious to do his part toward the emancipation of the poor from their unmerited degradations and miseries. I was not able to read the book,-editors receive too many requests like this; but I replied to the letter, saying, in substance: "You wish to improve the condition of the poor. Well: allow me to suggest a way. Take hold of the first piece of vacant earth you can gain permission to use, plant an acre with potatoes, cultivate and gather them, give one-half to such poor creatures as really need them, and save the balance for your own subsistence while you grow more next year. In this way, you will do more toward meliorating the condition of the poor than you could by writing novels from July to eternity." My philanthropic friend did not take my advice, he did not even thank me for it; but he soon after started a newspaper, whereof he sent me the first five numbers, in every one of which I received a most unmerciful flagellation. The paper is since dead; but I have no doubt its editor continued his castigations to the last, and died laying it on with whatever vigor he had left. I could not help that. I never made any reply; but my convictions, as expressed in my letter to him, remain unchanged to this day.

4. Yet let us not seem to disparage the author's vocation; nay we dare not, we cannot. There is no other earthly exercise of power so Olympian, pervasive, enduring. Reflect how many generations, dynasties, empires, have flourished and vanished since the Book of Job was written; and how many more will rise and fade, leaving that sublime old poem still fresh and living. See Cicero, Virgil, Horace, Livy, still studied and admired by the patrician youth of nations unknown to Rome in her greatness, while all other power pertaining to the pagan era of the Eternal City has long since