far as it goes-while yet we have, comparatively, everything to learn in regard to him. And not only this, but we may, to a reasonable extent, be sure of the correctness of our knowledge. This is in accordance with the order

of study established in the nature of things.

Taking this view of the case-the soundness of which will probably not be disputed-it is clear that every person has it more or less in his power to make progress in self-acquaintance every day of his life. And in regard to the vastness of the study, no one can wish it to be less so; in other words, no one can wish his nature to be less exalted than it is, or to be deprived of his noble relationship to the universe and its Author.

By this it is not intended to deny that men, situated as they generally are in life, need much assistance in this important pursuit. They must have aid; and, thank Heaven, aid can be had, both human and divine. In past ages, it was impossible for but few to obtain any considerable amount of knowledge of the nature of manor, indeed, upon any subject introductory thereto; and much of what was considered as knowledge, was altogether useless or untrue. But now the case is widely different. A broad opening has been made in the wilderness. The rock that for ages concealed in its bosom the fountain of knowledge, has been smitten, and streams flow forth in every direction, where all may drink who will. Truth has, to a great extent, become common property; and the mass of mankind have only to avail themselves of the prize within their reach, in order that it may be made common sense. It is true that it needs, for their sake, to be as it were sifted through the popular sieve, that it may be adapted to their reception, and become part and parcel of the popular mind. Indeed, it is comparatively useless to the world, unless it be brought down within the scope of their apprehension; because, if one man needs philosophy, all men need it. But all may now have it—even

that which is most important of all, the philosophy of their own being. We need no longer be like men walking in darkness. We may see ourselves, and we may see others; and it is possible to see clearly the way wherein we should walk. Truth has come down to us, not only to enlighten the valleys in which the world has been so slowly and painfully travelling and toiling in uncertain obscurity, but to lead us up the lofty summits, where every one who venerates its teachings, may have the radiant sunshine of Heaven itself to illumine and to bless him.

THE SHADOW OF OURSELVES.

A Remonstrance.

BY MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.

There is always a dark spot upon our sunshine: it is the shadow of ourselves.-CARLYLE.

WHY should the shadow of thyself be flung
On the bright sunshine, and the singing earth?
Like the wind-harp, all noble hearts are strung
To tones of sadness, not to tones of mirth.
As he, who fitly girds him for the race,
Leaves every weight and obstacle behind,
So shouldst thou onward go, with upward face,
And in thy progress strength and freedom find,
And gladsomeness of heart, and peacefulness of mind.

Touch not the cup of compromise: O, spurn
The lure, though thou art fainting and athirst,
And thy poor heart all wearily may yearn:
To drink the cup of gall thou art not first;
All lips have tasted, and all hearts have felt

The anguish which in words no utterance found:
Enough, if thou in loneliness hast knelt

In the deep solitude, where human sound

Came not, and there hast felt the Godhead gird thee round.

From thy strong citadel of self go forth,

And hold communion with the rock and wood:
Let the strong wind from out the iron North,
And the high mountain, wile thee from thy mood:
Bend down thine ear, like to a listening child,
And hear the gay bird-song, the insect-hum,
And let the leaping brook, with pleasure wild,
Home to thy heart in primal beauty come,
Up to the rocky cleft, where thou a child hast clomb.

And the frail blossom, trembling in the light,
Shall speak to thee of love, and trust, and peace-
Speak to thy heart; young tears shall dim thy sight;
Nor wilt thou doubting ask, Who nourished these?
Forth from the barren rock they trusting start-
The glad airs fan them, and the dew-drops fall:
Deep shall their teachings sink into thine heart,
And voices from the grove to thee shall call,

To speed thee on thy way, released from dangerous thrall.

Call forth the manhood of thy strong right arm, To make thee despot o'er the unyielding earth; And thou shalt find that LABOR hath a charm In his brown face, seducing thee to mirth. How shall the red blood sing along thy veins, And sleep come down a benison at night, When thou shalt listen to the summer rains, That fill thy harvest-home with fresh delightCo-worker thou with God, who aids thee with his might!

Brooklyn, L. I.

HOW TO MAKE A MAN.

BY HORACE GREELEY.

THERE is very much of human attainment dependent on circumstances; let us not forget how much also-I will not say how vastly more-depends on essential man. There is a deplorably immense multitude, who live but to eat bounteously and daintily-with whom the sum of life is practically to compass the largest amount of rich viands and gaudy trappings, with the smallest outlay of effort or perseverance to procure them. This mass will be at Rome, Romans; at Moscow, Russians; and nothing more. There will be some small varieties or shadings of individual character, calculated to gratify, by their study, the minute curiosity of an entomologist, and interesting to him only. But let one of these human ephemera be awakened, however casually or blindly, to the higher impulses, the nobler ends of our being, and he is instantly transferred to a different world; or rather, the world which surrounds him takes on a different aspect, and what before was bleak waste, or dull expanse of wooded height and low herbage, assumes a deep spiritual significance. To his unfolding, wondering soul, nature is no more a poet's rhapsody, a chemist's generalization, but a living presence, a solemn, yet cheering companionship. No matter whether he be, in social position, a peer or a peasant, by birth Danish or Egyptian; one glance at the world within has placed him with those whose countrymen and brethren are mankind. He has no need now to change his daily pursuit or outward condition, for he has risen by inevitable force to an atmosphere of serenity, above the influence of merely external influences and petty limitations. He has not toilsomely, but naturally, attained a condition in which

the soul no longer blindly pants for eminence or homage, but realizes intensely that nobly to Do for the sake of nobly Doing, and its intrinsic results-rightly to Be for the sake of rightly Being, discarding "the lust to shine or rule," is the true end of life.

And here let me hazard the remark, that our unquietness, our ant-hill bustle, is the severest criticism on our present intellectual condition and efforts. True greatness may be said to resemble the water in some perennial fountain, which rises ever and spontaneously, because in communication with some exhaustless reservoir, more capacious and higher than itself; while the effort to be great is like the stream forced up by some engine or hydrant, which towers a moment unsteadily, and then falls, to water but the weeds of the way-side. And thus our young men of promise, who would seem to be touched by a live coal from off the altar of geniuswhom we are led fondly to regard as the light and the hope of our age-the heralds and the hasteners of that fairer future which our hearts so throbbingly anticipate-seem for the most part to lack that element of natural quietude, of unconscious strength, which we are rightly accustomed to consider a prediction and an accompaniment of the highest manhood. Here, in some rude hamlet--in some boorish neighborhood-there starts into view a rare youth, whom the divine spark would seem to have quickened, who bids fair to freshen, by at least a chaplet, the dusty pathway of human endeavor. But forthwith. the genius must be bandaged into rigidity; some education society, or kindred contrivance for the promotion of dullness and mediocrity, must take hold of him, and place him in its go-cart; there must be tomes of wordknowledge, and the petrifactions of by-gone wisdom, hurled through his cranium; he must be led away from all useful labor of the hands, and his already precocious intellect subjected to the hot-house culture of some