THE INDESTRUCTIBLE COINAGE. 297 from you a brand more indelible than any which the die imparts to the metal; and if you are careful to have every impression what it should be, you will, in the end, be richer in intellectual and moral wealth than Croesus ever was in the gold that perisheth. It was by taking care of these seconds, "the gold dust of time," that the men we have named and their fellows, rose to eminence and honour. I have styled this "a profound art," and so it is. Not one in a thousand understands it. Franklin himself declares that in carrying out his curious scheme for "arriving at moral perfection," his rule of Order, which ran thus, "Let all your things have their places: let each part of your business have its time," gave him more trouble than any other part of it. By perseverance, however, he mastered it in some good degree; and we may all do the same. Many of those who imagine that they cannot possibly find leisure for useful books, actually devote a great deal of time to certain kinds of reading. It is one of the incidental results of the science and enterprise of the day, that our country is flooded with a "cheap literature," native and exotic, no small portion of which is very trashy or very pernicious. Young men are apt to resort to publications of this sort for pastime. The latest French or German novel (pamphlet edition, double column, and miserable pa per), or the last volume of "Capital Trials" or "Awful Murders," might be found lying upon the small table in their dormitory, or tucked away on one of the shelves of the warehouse, to be devoured by snatches when the principals "are not about." As a natural consequence, they have no relish for substantial reading. The palate pampered on highlyseasoned dishes, revolts at simple and nutritious food. The more the imagination is indulged with these stimulating doses, the stronger will be its cravings. It is a well-authenticated fact, that "the inveterate thieves of London make it a practice to attend all the executions, not so much for an opportunity of picking pockets, as for the pleasure of excitement, which, through the very exciting nature of their lawless pursuits, they become incapable of deriving from any ordinary source." And on the same principle, a mind accustomed to such reading as has been referred to, will collapse unless supplied with overwrought narratives and extravagant fictions. But light literature has an accomplice, which must also be arraigned here. Dr. Franklin, in writing from Philadelphia to the Bishop of St. Asaph, in 1786, complains that "the reading-time of most people was so taken up with Newspapers and periodical pamphlets, that few now-a-days ventured to attempt any solid reading." So far as I have been able to 1 ascertain, there were at that period printed in Philadelphia, two small weekly newspapers, and one daily, commenced two years before. I think it must have been this last paper, the "Pennsylvania Packet," (which finally ripened into that sedate, time-honoured journal, "Poulson's American Daily Advertiser,") that did the mischief the venerable sage so feelingly deplores. However that may have been, if the newspaper press of that day laid itself open to this grave censure, what must be said of it now ? This is delicate ground. Who stands upon so proud an eminence that he can rebuke his neighbours for their devotion to the newspaper, without exposing himself to the retort -"Physician, heal thyself!" I frankly confess, not I. My house is of glass, I fear very thin glass, and it is not safe for the tenant to be too forward in throwing stones. There are few bills I pay more cheerfully, than those for my newspapers. "This folio of four pages, happy work! Which not ev'n critics criticise; that holds Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair, Its fluctuations and its vast concerns?" And yet I cannot in my heart approve of the prevailing passion for newspapers: nor endorse at all the common plea of mercantile men that they have "no time for books." In particular cases, this is no doubt true. But look at one of these gentlemen as he goes home to his tea: what is that huge roll in his hand or projecting from his surtout pocket? Newspapers. And if it happen to be a Friday or Saturday evening, when the "Weeklies" are superadded to the "Dailies," he will have typography enough in his parcel to make a large octavo volume or a pair of them. And what is more, he will go through with it. This "very busy" merchant, who is so oppressed with care that he has not "a moment's time for reading," will travel through one folio page after another until he has mastered the contents of his entire pacquet. Not satisfied with the articles pertaining to commerce, and a general survey of the affairs of the world, he has acquired a sort of morbid taste for the endless miscellany that makes up an ordinary journal, even down to the "Police Reports," the broken arms, the collisions of omnibuses, the "accidents" in distant cities, the state of the "weather" on the other side of the globe, and, when these items are exhausted, the "Lost and Found" and other weighty matters in the advertising columns. Now, I will not retract the sentiment, that "knowledge of every kind may be useful," but, really, one cannot see this process going on, day by day, with thousands WHERE THE LOST TIME GOES. 301 of merchants, without having two reflections forced upon his mind. The first is, that these gentlemen are under a strange delusion when they imagine tha they have "no time for reading." And the other is that newspapers are great moths. One of the familia headings they present to city readers, is, "Bewar of Thieves!" What is this but the cry of the pilfere who runs away from the scene of his depredations shouting, "Stop thief!" Certainly, if a man make inquisition for his lost time, he will be very apt t find that his favourite newspapers have robbed him of a good share of it. They are the culprits: and it is only half their criminality, that they have stolen his time. They have broken up his early habits of reading, perverted his taste, impaired his mental discipline. and indisposed him to all vigorous thought and patient research. He can scarcely summon energy enough to sit down to one of the Quarterly Reviews, or to listen while his son or daughter reads to the family circle from any standard History or Biography. His literature and his resolution have disappeared like Pharaoh's fat kine, and there is nothing but the newspaper to show for them! Thus much for the supposed "want of time," which reconciles so many merchants and clerks to the neglect of all instructive literature. The common effect, as just intimated, is, to generate a distaste for solid |