applications we have doubled the wealth and power of England, and incalculably lessened the pressure of human suffering from material causes. In education I look to the practical effect which it is likely to produce on life; and, although I know well that theory is one thing, practice another, yet I do believe (to take one instance of many) that if men knew a little more about the air they breathe, and the water they drink, there would be a saving of many lives now destroyed or shortened by deficient sanitary arrangements. So again, if men understood better the functions of the brain, there would be fewer deaths from overwork, from mental excitement, or even from intemperance. Generally speaking, I believe, that for one person who breaks a physical law with a full clear conscience that he is breaking it-knowing what he is doing and foresceing the consequences-there are 100 who break these laws in sheer ignorance, and whom a little knowledge would render cautious. So again, when I said just now that it seemed to me unnatural that a man should be held to be fully educated, who knew not the first elements of legal science, I did not, and do not suppose, that law should be studied by a layman as it is by a lawyer. But every man, though it may never happen to him to have to set foot within a court of justice, has something to do with evidence: it is surely of use to every one to know when an improbable tale is told him in a matter which concerns his interests, what are the chances of that tale being true or false; and in works which treat of evidence, those chances are minutely analysed, and the collective results of many men's experience is brought to bear on the subject. Again, dealing with another branch of social science, I may venture to say even here, that if the first rules of political economy had been a little better understood, both by governments and communities, the worst sufferings which have prevailed in these manufacturing districts (some of them self-inflicted, some of them the faults of others) might have been avoided, or to a great extent diminished.

Human Action the End of All Teaching.

To sum up in a word, I mean this-that the end of all human teaching is human action; that that teaching is most valuable which tends to direct and economize action; that such teaching must concern itself mainly with two things-the laws which govern inanimate nature, and the laws which govern man ; and that whatever does not add to our knowledge on one or other of these subjects is, comparatively speaking, of little value. And herein, as I think, one great merit of popular literary institutions consists, that, being tied down by no statutes, no founders' wills, no traditions of immemorial antiquity, they not only supply instruction to the people, but they supply that kind of instruction for which a popular demand exists. They follow the national taste; they do not, in attempting to direct that taste, pervert it. Long may this state of things endure; and in education, as in other matters, may the transition from past to present habits of thought take place, as in this country such transitions mostly do, by no demolition of that which exists, by no sudden disruption of ancient ties, but by the greatest and almost imperceptible accommo dation of all intelligent minds to that, which all persons see to be inevitable in the course of events!

V. ST. PAUL AT THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS.

(From the Earl of Carlisle's" Diary in Turkish and Greek Waters," 1854, pp. 151, 257.) What is admirable and wonderful at Athens, is the harmonious blending of every detached feature with each other, with the solema mountains, the lucid atmosphere, the eternal sea,—all wearing the same unchanged aspect as when the ships of Xerxes were shivered on that Colian Cape bencath: as when the slope of the Acropolis was covered with its Athenian audience to listen under this open sky to Eschylus and Sophocles, to

the Agamemnon or the Edipus; as when St. Paul stood on the topmost stone of yon hill of Mars, and while summit above and plain below bristled with idols, proclaimed, with the words of a power to which Pericles could never have attained, the counsel of the true God. Let me just remark, that even the impressive declaration of the Apostle, that "God dwelleth not in temples made with hands," may seem to grow in effect when we remember that the buildings to which he must have almost inevitably pointed at that very moment were the most perfect that the hands of man have ever reared, and must have comprised the Theseum below and the Parthenon above him. It seems to have been well that "art and man's device" should be reduced to their proper level, on the very spot of their highest development and glory. It is wholly fanciful to think, that, in presence of St. Paul, on this spot of the Areopagus, something of allowance as well as of rebuke was conveyed to the surrounding associations of the scene? The direct and immediate object of his appearance and address here, was undoubtedly to annul the false sanctities of the place, to extinguish every altar, strip every shrine, and dethrone every idol. This object has been achieved with entire success. Whatever may have been substituted in the interval, we may feel a reasonable confidence that on the rock of the Acropolis. paganism can never be rescated. The words of the man "weak and contemptible in bodily presence," spoken on that rocky brow, amidst the mocking circle, still live and reign, while tongues, and races, and empires have been swept away. But the pre-eminence of the true faith being thus secured, it surely need not be with the abandoned shrines of Hellas, as with the uncouth orgies of barbarous tribes, or the bloody rites of human sacrifice. It could not have been without providential agency, that within the narrow and rugged circuit, hemmed in by the slopes of Parnes, Pentelicus, and Hymettus, were concentrated the master efforts of human excellence, in arts and arms, in intellect and imagination, in eloquence and song. The lessons of the Apostle have taught mankind that all other beauties and glories fade into nothing by the side of the cross; but, while we look at the cross as the law of our life; while we look to that Apostle on the hill of Mars, at Athens, as the teacher whose words of truth and soberness have superseded the wisdom of all her sages, and the dreams of all her bards, then, if then only, it will be lawful for us to enjoy the whole range of subordinate attractions. It will be felt not to be without its import that St. Paul himself did not refuse to illustrate Gospel truth by reference to human literature; nor without its import, too, that those who did most to revive the express teaching, and exhibit the actual spirit of St. Paul, Luther, Melancthon, and their brother reformers, would have been conspicuous as the revivers of classical literature, even if they had not been the restorers of scriptural faith. And so for us, too, the long line of the Panathenaic procession may seem to wind through the portals of the Propylæa, and ascend the steps of the Parthenon; for us the delicate columns of the unwinged victory may recall the lineage of Miltiades and the shame of Persia. For us the melodious nightingale may still pour her plaint in the green coverts of the sparkling colonos; and hill, and plain, and grove, and temple, may feed us unrebuked with their thronging images of the past glory and the living beauty.

VI. THE GREEK AND LATIN AUTHORS COMPARED,

(From Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton's address before the Associated Societies of the Edinburgh

University, 1854.)

Dignity and polish are the especial attributes of Latin literature in its happiest age; it betrays the habitual influence of an aristocracy, wealthy, magnificent, and learned. To borrow a phrase from Persius-its words sweep long as if clothed with the toga. Whether we take the sonorous lines of Virgil, or the swelling periods of Cicero, the

easier dignity of Sallust, or the patrician simplicity of Caesar, we are sensible that we are with a race accustomed to a measured decorum, a majestic self-control, unfamiliar to the more lively impulse of small Greek communities. There is a greater demarcation between the intellect of the writer and the homely sense of the multitude. The Latin writers seek to link themselves to posterity rather through a succession of select and well-bred admirers than by cordial identification with the passions and interests of the profane vulgar. Even Horace himself, so brilliant and easy, and so conscious of this monumentum ære perennius, affects disdain of popular applause, and informs us with a kind of pride that his satires had no vogue in the haunts of the common people. Every bold school-boy takes at once to Homer, but it is only the experienced man of the world who discovers all the delicate wit, and the exquisite urbanity of sentiment, that win our affection to Horace in proportion as we advance in life. In short, the Greek writers warm and elevate our emotions as men-the Latin writers temper emotions to the stately reserve of high-born gentlemen. The Greeks fire us more to the inspirations of poetry, or (as in Plato and parts of Demosthenes) to that sublimer prose to which poetry is akin; but the Latin writers are perhaps on the whole, though I say it with hesitation, safer models for that accurate construction and decorous elegance by which classical prose divides itself from the forms of verse. Nor is elegance effeminate, but on the contrary nervous and robust, though, like the statue of Apollo, the strength of the muscle is concealed by the undulation of the curves. But there is this, as a general result from the study of ancient letters, whether Greek or Roman; both are the literature of grand races, of free men and brave hearts; both abound in generous thoughts and high examples; both, whatever their occasional license, inculcate upon the whole the habitual practice of many virtues; both glow with the love of country; both are animated by the desire of fame and honor. Therefore, whatever be our future profession and pursuit, however they may take us from the scholastic closet, and forbid any frequent return to the classic studies of our youth, still he, whose early steps have been led into that land of demi-gods and heroes, will find that its very air has enriched through life the blood of his thoughts, that he quits the soil with a front which the Greek has directed towards the stars and a step which Imperial Rome has disciplined to the march that carried her eagles round the world.

VII. THE TRIUMPHS OF KNOWLEDGE.

We are looking forward to the advent of better days; and I rejoice to know that the means of securing them are in operation. Every letter taught to lisping infancy, every newspaper furnished, every school, and every institution of learning in the land, brings "the good time" nearer, and encourages us to persevere in sowing that sure and golden seed, which, once rooted in the mind, brings forth beautiful and everlasting flowers. Knowledge opens to the mind a better and more cheering world. It introduces us to objects and glories which genius alone can portray. It lifts us above the earth; it takes us around and across it, pointing out and explaining matters miraculous and stupendous. It brings back the dead-those who went down to their graves thousands of years ago, but whose spirits still light the world. It recalls deels and re-enacts ́eveats over and over again, as truthfully as though we had been eye-witnesses. It also stretches far into the future. From the past to the present it ascends the dark staircase of time. It comprehends the possible as well as the actual, and furnishes histories long before they have taken place. Knowledge enables us to live through all time. We can tread the earth from creation's dawn up to the existing moment, and become the spectators of every change it has undergone. The overthrow of dynasties, the revolutions of empires, the

triumphs of art and literature, and the wars and conquests with which history groans, may all be crowded into our life's volume. The experience of a day becomes the experience of an age, and almost gives to man the attributes of omnipresence. From the wandering Homer, who sang as never man sang before, up to Shakspeare-the bard of all time-and down to Byron, Burns, and Moore, we can sit and hold communion with every brilliant spirit, whose corruscations dazzle the earth. Nor does the desirability of knowledge rest here. It awakens our sympathies, and by enlarging our desires, it multiplies them. It enables the possessor to command, within himself, all that is commendable and attractive to the eye of mankind. It brings him in contact with society, and adorns him in robes more costly than hand can weave, or skill invent. It is his passport, his companion, his counsellor; and, what is seldom met with in this world, it is his unfailing, unflinching, uncompromising friend. Knowledge! the ability to acquire it is the one great gift of God to man. It is the channel through which He makes himself known to us. The High and Mighty One is the source of all knowledge. Knowledge is the bulwark of our country. It is the basis of her government, the source of her glory, and the prop of her institutions. The most illustrious men of this and other ages sprung from the humbler classes of mankind, and genius does for them what wealth and station cannot do for others. Knowledge is essential to enable us to know ourselves, to understand the relative dependencies of men upon their fellow-men, to guard against cunning, intrigue and sophistry, and to teach us how to appreciate the government of that Divine Agent whose arm encircleth the Universe. It is, likewise, necessary in business; for unless the head go with the hand, wheels may move, hammers may fall, and spades wear bright in vain. Man was made for knowledge. His erect figure, his penetrating eye, and his organs of speech, all proclaim it. There are patriots who bear the brand and the sword, and patriots in name and speech; but the truest and best of patriotism is that which looks to the mental and moral, as well as the physical conditions of a country, and which desires, above all other things, the cultivation of that intellect with which God has endow ́ed its people.-Anonymous.

VIII. SCIENCE AND ART.

Art is the application of science to useful purposes. Science is the head to conceive,art the arm to execute. They are, together, in emblems, as sisters. Science is the elder, and it is her province to lead art, the younger. Science assumes that she is less liable to stumble, and claims that art should follow. Yet it must be confessed, that the great romp often gets ahead, and frequently finds shorter and more eligible routes in which her elder sister is glad to travel. Yet they love each other, and their path is the same, and their journey is ever onward. Around them the forest falls, and the rays of the sun come in upon the bosom of the earth. Cottages spring up, and flowers blossom. The neighboring woods echo to the ring of the anvil and the noise of the saw-mill, for the wild wood stream is dammed and throbs like a great artery with a flutter-wheel for a heart. Together, they have done wonders. They have timed the arrows of light, and have split the sunbeam into rainbows. They have marked out paths on the restless ocean, and measured its tides. They have stolen from the moon the secret of her motion, and betrayed the mystery of her eclipses. It is as though they had hung a pendulum to the clock work of the universe, and registered its motions upon the dial.-Dr. Waterbury.

IX. LIBRARIES AND STUDY.

Beside a library, how poor are all the other greatest deeds of man-his constitution, brigade, factory, man-of-war, cathedral-how poor is everything in comparison! Look

at that wall of motley calf-skin, open those slips of inked rags-who would fancy them as valuable as the rows of stamped cloth in a warehouse? Yet Aladdin's lamp was a child's kaleidoscope in comparison. There the thoughts and deeds of the most efficient men during three thousand years are accumulated, and every one who will learn a few conventional signs-24 (magic) letters-can pass at pleasure from Plato to Napoleon, from the Argonauts to the Afghans, from the woven mathematics of La Place to the mythology of Egypt and the lyrics of Burns. Young readers! pause steadily, and look at this fact till it blaze before you; look till your imagination summon up even the few acts and thoughts named in the last sentence; and when these visions-from the Greek pirate to the shepherd Scotchman-have begun to dim, solemnly resolve to use these glorious opportunities, as one whose breast has been sobbing at the far sight of a mountain resolves to climb it, and already strains and exults in his proposed toil.-Thomas Davis.

X. THE POETRY OF THE STEAM ENGINE.

There is, to our own thinking, something awfully grand in the contemplation of a vast steam engine. Stand amidst its ponderous beams and bars, wheels and cylinders, and watch their unceasing play; how regular and how powerful! The machinery of a lady's Geveva watch is not more nicely adjusted—the rush of the avalanche is not more awful in its strength. Old gothic cathedrals are solemn places, presenting solemn lessons, lonely and solemn things; but to a trifler, an engine room may preach a more serious lesson still. It will tell him of mind-mind wielding matter at its will-mind triumphing over physical difficulties--man asserting his great supremacy-" intellect battling with the elements." And how exquisitely complete is every detail!-how subordinate every part towards the one great end! how every little bar and screw fit and work together! Vast as is the machine, let a bolt be but the tenth part of an inch too long or too short and the whole fabric is disorganized. It is one complete piece of harmony-an iron essay upon unity of design and execution. There is deep poetry in the steam engine-more of poetry of motion than in the bound of the antelope-more of the poetry of power than in the dash of the cataract. And ought it not to be a lesson to those who laugh at novelties, and put no faith in curiosities, to consider that this complex fabric, this triumph of art and science, was once the laughing stock of jeering thousands, and once only the working phantasy of a boy's mind as he sat, and in seeming idleness watched a little column of vapour rise from the spout of a tea kettle.-Illuminated Magazine.

XI. THE BIBLE THE BEST OF BOOKS.

(From the Boston Anglo-Saxon.)
[No. 1.]

A nation would, indeed, be truly blessed, if it were governed by no other laws than those of this blessed book; it is so complete a system that nothing can be added to it, or taken from it; it contains everything needful to be known or done; it affords a copy for a king, and a rule for a subject; it gives instruction and counsel to the senate, authority and direction for a magistrate; it, cautions a witness, requires an impartial verdict of a jury, and furnishes the judge with his sentence. I sets the husband as lord of the household, and the wife as mistress of the table-tells him how to rule, and her how to manage. It entails honor to parents, and enjoins obedience to children. It prescribes and limits the sway of the sovereign, the rule of the ruler, and the authority of the master; commands the subjects to honor, and the servants to obey; and promises the blessing and protection of the Almighty, to all that walk by its rules. It gives direc