If there is a truth which ought to be written on the right palm of every man, it is that much reading does not consist in the number of books read, but rather in the amount of labor bestowed on books. We will venture to say that the greatest readers have not been those who have been over the most ground. A great reader is one who reads to the most purpose what he reads. travels over as much ground as possible, yet no farther or faster than he can safely pick his way. one. He The way to read a book, is to read it as you would write it, with the mind at its highest tension. We know there are those who hold a different doctrine, yet they are of that large class who neither know the value of a book nor the proper design of With them, a book is to be read in a quiescent state, partly approaching to torpidity, and knowledge, in their view, is something that is to fall softly upon the mind and the affections, as the rain falls on and is drunk up by the quiescent earth. They would gain knowledge as we gain sweet sounds, by letting the ear lie open to them, the mind meanwhile in a sort of delightful equipoise, noting the pulsations on the drum of the hearing organ. Of this class are all those who from time to time have regaled the literary world, with essays on the best method of perusing books, at the least expense of time and physical comfort. We are told of the luxury of lolling on a sofa of an afternoon, reading a good book, and that by one of our first writers ;* as if that which is to store the mind with rich materials, invigorate its powers, and set a man on that upward active course which is to be perfected in another state, was a thing of no more importance than the gratification of the meanest of our physical appetites! We wonder if such men ever dream that the life we live is for some other end than the perfecting of our merely animal nature. One volume thoroughly mastered, will furnish the mind with more available intellectual wealth, than will fifty read without reflection. Let a man choose his books as he would choose a friend, not for the glitter about them, but for their real worth. In this way will he be prepared, at least, to derive some benefit from their acquaintance. And perhaps as he in his solitary hours seeks, and seeks earnestly, for that which truly feeds him, he may find a pleasure stealing through his heart as much more exquisite than the pleasures of light reading, as is a vein of pure gold preferable to its counterfeit, or a strain of sweet music to an overture on a tin kettle. B. SHYLOCK. "Thy currish spirit Governed a wolf, who, hanged for human slaughter, Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous." Merchant of Venice. Most admirers of Shakspeare are captivated with the thread of thrilling incident woven in every story. They forget the savage legend and the fireside tale possesses still more of that they laud, and which, though useful in its sphere, calls for the exercise of a power only handmaid to the noblest faculties of mind. Others are dazzled and enchanted with those gems of thought, the pebbles in his universe, whence they are gathered by every author to add lustre and value to his own creations. These do indeed bear witness to a might of intellect, and are worthy contemplation-yet that a perfect delineation of human character in its nicest shades, is the bard's chief excellence, all allow. While the general voice styles him the mirror where nature may behold herself reflected, to examine the foundation for this title is of inestimable value to the student. His daily observation and judgment are called into exercise, while comparing this portrait of the soul with its original-above all, the hidden machinery of mind and heart, are laid open, their powers investigated, and the learner thus taught to govern earth's noblest. In the scrutiny, we should first strive to discover the author's idea, and notice how well he has succeeded in depicting it; then may we decide whether the design conform to truth. For such reasons, and in such a manner, would we investigate not Shakspeare's noblest character, not the unearthly form of of his wild imaginings; but one in which he treats of life, wanders amid the busy hum of men, and becomes a partner in their daily dealings. The Jew at Venice is no Prospero calling the spirits of air and sea to do his bidding, and by magic working revenge; nor crazed Hamlet haunted by a father's ghost, and reasoning meanwhile with angel eloquence on the mighty future; but a frail mortal, possessing only his fellow's strength, subject to human statutes, and beholding that which is to be, with the erring vision of a clay-clad soul. Hence this character is more easily estimated. We need not soar where Avon's bard floated to judge his power of wing, but we treat of one like in passions to ourselves, and have but to look in, and around to find the model. Shakspeare's idea of Shylock may not better be described than as "The wretch concentred all in self." He knew no god but his own advantage; and its natural attendants, avarice, cowardice, and cruelty, held undisputed sway over his soul. Educated in the creed of Israel, he cherished it not as a solace in sorrow, a hope of immortal joy, but rather that the Talmud permitted him to take usury, and wrong at will his neighbor. Does he exclaim, "I hate him, for he is a Christian,”— the next sentence declares the hidden reason, and shows the former but a pretext with which to soothe an half-seared conscience; "But more for that in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down He could praise the counsellor who seemed to forward his nefarious scheme, and cry "A Daniel come to judgment !" before a Nazarene. No trust in his father's faith prompted the bitter prayer, "Would any of the stock of Barabbus Had been here, husband, rather than a Christian ;" but the thought, 'I shall never see my gold again;' and at last he showed the mockery of his professions, by abjuring his supposed eternal right to an heavenly mansion, for a moment's longer tarry in his earthly tabernacle, and a still more feeble hold on its fleeting treasures. Belief in Judaism, to which he was born and nurtured, he made priest at the dark shrine of self, blessing with an holy hand the ever smoking incense of his heart, and, when no longer of advantage to the idol, unhesitatingly sacrificed her on the altar she had consecrated. His love for wealth was but another stream from the ever welling fountain of self-affection. He was not possessed by the lunacy of one hoarding treasure merely for its glitter, envious that the light of heaven should view it with himself, and so enchanted as for its sake to bear the scorn of man, wrap himself in shreds, and finally, unpitied, to die for lack of food, in his last gasp, breathing a sigh, that he must leave his gold. Shylock erred not, when he declared wealth, -"the prop That doth sustain my house, -the means whereby I live." He gathered it as the most acceptable sacrifice to the divinity he adored, that which could satisfy every earthly wish, which was the strength of mortal power, the glory of worldly honor. He mourned its loss only when that loss brought him no profit, and gladly made it an instrument to gratify his ruling passion, or take vengeance on a foe. Freely did he pour it forth, when it might answer his own selfish, and because purely selfish, necessarily hellish motives. "If every ducat in six thousand ducats Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, I would not draw them ;-I would have my bond." Cowardice is another prominent and natural trait in this character. His own confession acknowledges that "with a patient shrug" he bore the insults of Antonio, was spit upon, and yet returned it not. Was it the long sufferance of the truly great— that conqueror of self, who would bear all ignominy rather than blood should stain his hand? Had the godlike maxims of the Galilean influenced even the Israelite by their purity and truth? The sequel answers-secretly the venom worked. He dared not boldly to return the blow, nor even in the midnight gloom to wield the assassin's brand, but entrenched behind the arm of law, he would torture the bound victim, and glut his cruelty where resistance was not dreaded. Many esteem his lofty bearing in the court as courage, and wonder at his dauntless spirit. Such is the courage of the tyrant, taunting a rack-torn foe; the howling courage of the wolf, tearing the prey sinking amid the quicksand; the courage of the vulture, gorging on the carcass staining some battle-field. When entangled in the snare set for another, his tone of triumph changed; no longer he declared himself not bound to please with answers,' but afraid to use the whetted knife with scarce half the courage of a thievish cur, to the demand of the two things he hated most, only answered, "I am content," and, in the voice of a sick child begged, "I pray you give me leave to go from hence, Thus Shakspeare here intended to paint a man of noble intellect, chaining his powers within the narrow cell of self, where, chafed and weakened through lack of room, they at last worked their own destruction. He was ever true to this model amid all the varied scenes in which he placed this being of his fancy. Driving a bargain on the Rialto, mourning a daughter's flight worse than her death, since she might then have carried nothing with her, triumphing in the torture of an enemy, or himself |