all the recesses of their understandings-will take up their abode with them, transforming law into love, service into freedom, and sorrow into joy.

M.

ART. XXVII.

Authorship, its Importance and its Rewards.

LOOKING, as from an eminence, upon men in the midst of their employments, on their farms, in the busy cities, or on the sea, we behold a number by no means inconsiderable, working silently and quietly in the laboratories of thought. In the same survey, too, we see the results of their labors, and those of their fellow-workmen in former ages, strewn over the length and breadth of the civilized world. In rolls of parchment rescued from the ruins of architectural splendor, in the more compact tomes of a later date, but still dusty and tawny with age, and in the ever multiplying books of the present, bearing in the freshness of their faces an evidence of the newer and fresher life within-in all these, treasured in the libraries of the old world and the new, or scattered through the homes of both, we see the achievements of their noiseless toils, and the works which they have wrought in secret.

And, seeing, we ask with a commendable utilitarianism, Of what use are all these? or, as Longfellow says to himself, at the close of his Outre Mer, "To what end is all this toil? Of what avail these midnight vigils?" The farmer knows that while supporting himself, he is benefitting others. Can such be the consciousness of the author, or is his profession merely an easy way of gaining a livelihood? Are his works such as will "perish in the using?" Have books only a temporary influence, serving but to while away a leisure hour? To consider these questions is to consider the influence of literature upon mankind.

Literature has the privilege and the responsibility of

influencing the mind of man. It is the repository of what has been thought in all times and upon all subjects, and as such is the proper means of imparting knowledge and awakening thought. It collects the discoveries and experiences of all other minds for the benefit of each individual mind. And it has to do not with the intellect alone, but operates also, both directly and indirectly upon our moral and religious natures.. The symmetrical development of the whole soul requires a great variety of means. Truths of all kinds, and from all sources, harmonize and mutually illustrate each other. Even that which is seemingly insignificant has its part to perform. "God gave a different gift to each,

To charm, to strengthen and to teach."

No one, probably, would deny that literature being thus the vehicle of instruction and discipline, is highly valua ble. But its relative bearing upon life-the proportionate part which it has to perform in moulding our characters, may not be quite so obvious. Aside from the knowledge that we gain from our observations on ourselves, on society and on nature, our whole store of wisdom is drawn from books. That is, the two ways in which God instructs us is through our own experience on the one hand, and on the other, through the records of his manifestations to others. The exception to this may be made that the teachings of others are not always in writing. Truth is often imparted and precepts delivered verbally, by father to child, or teacher to pupil. But notwithstanding the advantages of familiar and oral communication, important truths are usually more thoroughly and effectually presented in the written form. In this way the investigation is more careful and complete, and the conclusion derived may be more clearly and persuasively set forth in the exact phraseology of composition. From the greater caution of composing, we can retain and revolve a thought until it acquires definiteness, and delay on the expres sion until it will adequately 'convey our meaning. Says Channing, "We doubt whether a man ever brings his faculties to bear with their whole force on a subject, till he writes upon it for the instruction or gratification of others." We should now, perhaps, be possessed of a

more correct understanding of the opinions and beliefs of Socrates, had he chosen to commit his thoughts to writing. And not only is writing necessary for the more accurate expresson of thought, but also for its preservation. The stories of the blind Mæonian bard were as thrilling to the souls of his village listeners when they rolled forth from his mouth in glorious hexameters, as they are to readers of the present day; but had not Pisistratus fixed them on the parchment, their wonder would have lived only in tradition, and they would not have been as now, "a melody to haunt the world for aye."

We have only to look about us, to see how largely books have to do with our lives in these latter days. They are with us from the cradle to the death-bed, from the time when our infant vision, trembling with new life, reads wonders in its "primer," till the same sight, grown dim with years, rests for the last time on the blessed pages of its Bible. Books are our companions, friends and counsellors. When the mind is weary with toiling, and needs something better than inactivity, when the will is weak, and wants a breath of noble exhortation to arouse it, when the sorrowing heart sighs for consolation, when common life requires the touch of beauty, when new truths are craved or old truth wants confirmation, then do we love those silent creatures that wear their thoughts and feelings as a frontlet-then is it that we welcome books.

Having then considered literature, in general, as exert ing a constant and extensive influence for good or evil, let us examine, more particularly, its value in some of its various departments. Leaving out of consideration scientific and historical works, as those whose importance would be more readily acknowledged, let us confine our attention to some whose practical results are not quite so obvious. Poetry and fiction first claim our attention. Poetry is read, ever has been, and will be. The majority of its readers do not stay to inquire why it has always awakened such an interest and maintained such an important station in the world of thought, but they know they like it. The poet is looked upon as a fanciful dreamer, very little practical, and living far aloof from the busy and common-place world of other men.

With

66 eye in a fine frenzy rolling," and soul "of imagination all compact," he is supposed to catch something of a frantic inspiration, and to compose as some writer has told us, merely "to delight and be praised." But poetry, rightly viewed, has a deeper meaning, and as Hippolyta says of the lover's story in Midsummer Night's Dream,

"More witnesseth than fancy's images,

And grows to something of great constancy."

Channing speaks of it as "the expression of that thirst or aspiration, to which no mind is wholly a stranger, for something purer and lovelier, something more powerful, lofty, and thrilling, than ordinary and real life affords." Again, he says, "In its legitimate and highest efforts, its aim is the same with Christianity, that is, to spiritualize our natures." And thus it is. Constituted as we are, the necessities of life compel the majority of our race to labor mostly for the supply of physical wants. They must employ the might of human energies in dealings with, and control over, the material. The greatest share of time and attention of the greatest part of mankind, is devoted to the least important part of their nature. Agriculture, manufactures, commerce, all, are in themselves mere matter-service. Matter-service, I say, for though the hands control, the mind is too prone to become the subject. The thoughts are too apt to become "of the earth, earthy." The immortal mind becomes gross in its conceptions, and carries its own low standard in the appreciation of lofty truths. Spiritual things are not spiritually discerned, and religion becomes a ceremony. would be the tendency of an exclusive devotion to necessary worldly pursuits. Not to say but that human employments are a most suitable means of disciplining the soul, if there be agencies to counteract such a tendency. And there are. Christianity comes to teach such spirituality as the world would never have known. In the same great work poetry has its part to perform. One of the ways in which it tends to elevate the soul, is by its recognition and disclosures of the beautiful. It lifts us to the appreciation of something more etherial in nature than bedding and shelter. It opens higher enjoyments than those of mere sensation. It spiritualizes matter,

Such

for

it discovers in it the mysterious quality of beauty, which is "in the world, and yet not of the world."

And when the mind has been taught of beauty, no unimportant step has been taken in the culture of the soul. For the divine quality is too widely diffused to retain the thoughts with the physical. It is seen, further, in all hidden and mysterious relations and analogies, all symmetry, harmony and order. Then come glimpses of it in its highest finite manifestation,-of moral beauty. A symmetry, harmony, and order are discovered and felt, exceedingly more beautiful than any to be seen in nature, a symmetry of the soul,-its harmony with the spirit of its God. That inward beauty, which is the result of love and obedience,-of a spirit acting in glad conformity to the will of its Father, becomes a certainty, and recognized as what the Scriptures call "the peace of God which passeth understanding." The whole soul, conscious of the love and countenance of the maker of all things, feels that all creation is its heritage. Every thing becomes a ministry of beauty to it. It lives in an atmosphere of serener joy than others. The scales have fallen from the eyes of the mind. Such is the connection between taste and piety. It comes directly within the sphere of poetry; what higher poetry than to be bearing beauty about within one's self! Again, poetry does a good work in its dealings with "human sympathies.' It enters with deep interest into the heart's experiences, and pours forth its emotions with fervor and sincerity, exhibiting alike its weakness and its strength. While trifling cares perplex the lives of the lowly, and harsh disputations engross the thoughts of the learned, the poet sits and sings of innocence, of pure affections and enjoyments, of strong endeavors and yearnings, of sorrows that overcast the soul, and of love that outlasts the mortal life. Read the great poets of the world, and hear their confident assertions of the eternal unchangeableness of love, and the sublimity of obedience to duty: listen to their sympathy with humanity, and their songs of encouragement to the toiling world, and learn from thence the part that poetry performs in the furtherance of the progress of mankind.