what wonderful logic! Did our readers ever see this piece of logic, or any piece like it? Work of this kind is, however, the best for a thorough-bred logician. Working on moral subjects, he seems very like a man jumping in soft mud; each successive leap he calls taking a good position, though he sink to the middle. See him now extricating himself, drawing up one leg, and then the other; with much difficulty preparing for another leap. Now he has cleared the mud from his eyes, and can almost see the point he aims at. After much floundering and preparatory work, he jumps again, and so on; it being, sometimes, evident to the lookers-on that the muddy man has really made progress. Few men of business ever wait to see him through; and many of them wonder that any man should take to the mud-pool while good firm ground is near at hand.

The writers on moral culture treat of moral soil too much as a thing every where the same; we think rather, that it is not so, but quite otherwise in some places overtilled, worn-out, bearing nothing, or only sickly plants; in others, quite neglected, though covered with a wild, luxuriant vegetation; and in others again, a sandy desert, in which nothing can grow, unless, indeed, the waters of life were turned into it. It were well if these men would go into the fields of agriculture, and take some lessons of the husbandmen there. In those fields, men are really cultivators of the soil, and not mere talkers about the thing. Each man works on his own homestead, thus shewing his neighbors what can be done. Are there not there some fields lying fallow, and in all a rotation of crops? Here again we say, that men prone to run things to the death may follow out our figure; we, having no de. light in a mere carcass, leave it on its legs. In this con

nexion it should be said, that the able man who desires to make a book on moral culture for his fellow-men to read, and profit by, should make but one; the simple and honest history of his own life, his own work; to be published when the writer had departed. Of such books we have none; or very few; of others, more than enough.

In our highest scripture it is written "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." True in the beginning, and true now. Salvation is not gained by mere words; it must be worked out by each man for himself. Almost vain is even the recorded experience of others; quite vain the counsels of the learned; these are, to each man, lessons not written in his book of life; and therefore, by these he profits not much. On this book, his Book of Life, each man must work; must set his own types, read and correct his own proof-sheets, work his own press, and, as the sheets are finished, bind them together. It must be mainly his own work or it were worthless. Others may meddle in the beginning of this book of life, (alas! too much); but its finis is the author's dying gasp. This is to each, his Book of books, and in this he must read otherwise all else were dark to him.

" and again,

"Words," it has been said, are things: it has been said, "Words are not things." Both sayings are true in part. Words or names, are things to him who knows by his own experience the things named so completely, that the utterance of the name (the right name,) brings the thing before him, so that he can see it. When words fail to do this they are not things, but mere sounds, of not much significance. All the words written in one's own book of life are things to him, but to no other in the same kind or degree of meaning as to him. By these words of knowledge each man must in

terpret the words of other men, whether written or oral. No wonder then, that there is so much difference of opinion; so much logic; so much complaint of unfairness ; so much giving of useless advice. The man prone to give advice to all around him, could not do better than hold his tongue, and learn to

In regard to moral speech there is yet another difficulty, arising from the multiplication of words. Our written language is, by many, supposed to have reached its utmost point of perfection. We think, rather, that it has reached something else; its utmost limit of expansion. Once it embraced many things: now it covers and hides all moral things, so that one may go through whole volumes, with spectacles on nose even, and see nothing. The number of moral truths with which we can deal is surely limited; increasing if at all very slowly but of words there is no end, and therefore to the making of books no end. Every new word added to our vocabulary weakens some other word or words; and this addition has gone on so long, that our names have become strangely debilitated: so weak indeed, that few of them seem strong enough to stand alone, and each must be propped up by many others: many words being nearly synonymous with each other, few, if any, quite so. It is not, however, the intention of this writer to treat critically of language: which indeed many a Professor of Rhetoric will say, he is poorly qualified to do but this we will say; that, at this day, our whole literature looks like a decayed, crumbling, ivy-covered city. Few buildings there can stand alone, but, for the most part, each leans on another; and even that one, (our Bible,) the strong

est building there, is deemed an unfit dwelling place for any finely dressed soul. Literary fops and dandies abhor it; and only the poor and the needy go there for shelter and rest. How busy are the workers in this old city. Some of them, painting old buildings, call them new. Others, from the materials of the fallen ones, raise an edifice and boast of their work as original. Worse yet; some dishonest builders steal all their solid materials from their neighbors, and using only mortar of their own (poor cement it is) say: this is all our work. Very few of these buildings are good: the greater part being for show and not for use. Many lovers of this kind of architecture, looking at the things hastily, say; "quite pretty," "very interesting," "pretty good thing," and go on their way to others: paying such fees for the sight of each, that the 'workmen get their living, and get also fame. Such fame! Their names being on the front doors of things which must fall to-morrow. The ivy trainers too are at work forming wreaths: so pretty; so poisonous too! Strange enough this whole thing looks. Now and then, however, an edifice is raised by some hard working, honest builder : who, going out of the city into the native quarries, gets materials not before used, and makes an original work. Such buildings stand through many ages: and some, so built, even strengthen with age. That one of which we spoke, (our Bible) though not a place of resort for the "higher classes," is the best building in this tumbledown city. Men, foolishly enough, have been at work propping it, and so led many to doubt its strength. But it is strong, wondrous strong; firmly based (on eternal truth) and must stand.

Nothwithstanding what we have said of modern language, we believe that there are words of moral meaning,

and moral precepts, having strength to stand alone. All men would see and believe in their strength, if the men of logic would let them alone. The sturdy oak, deep rooted, is, as all can see, able to stand against the heaviest whirlwind but prop it up on every side and all will say, it is rotten, decayed, weak: else, why so many props? One word, not much used in books of moral science, we believe can stand alone if so set up; and quite fearlessly we shew it: Honesty. Rhetoricians, logicians, and other men of many words may be fearful, and doubt its ability to stand. Such may place their little observatories around, though afar off, and, with the instruments they have got, examine it. If seen aright, it would appear an upright thing, leaning neither to this side nor that; to one class of men, nor to another. Instruments however, being defective, and the atmosphere often refractive, we fear that such men will not see it aright. Let them, therefore, rather go into the thing and so know it. Many of them would then, doubtless, dwell there.

At the bottom of all systems of morality, we are quite sure there must be something: and that is what we want; that is the thing could we but get at it. This, however, is difficult, and would be impossible, were it not that these systems often fall down, or are pulled down, so that in favorable moments the thing we look for can almost be seen. Looking at this heap and the other heap, we are almost certain, that the thing beneath is this one which we have named; honesty; and no other. If any at this word think only of paying one's money debts, such are among the money changers in the temple. Those who can think of it only as a part of man's duty are mere logicians, or led captive of such, who never yet saw the