teach that there is not that immense disparity in intellect which we usually suppose that it is more owing to some peculiarity in the material part of our nature than in that subtile, unknown essence which constitutes our spirits.

At times every one feels that matter is an imperfect medium for the display of the workings of intellect. Occasionally it seems very imperfect, and an unusual incumbrance. Can we not conceive then that mind is subjected to an unequal domination of matter; that sometimes it is permitted a wide range, and again made subject to the closest confinement ?

It often slumbers on with only enough vitality to prove its claim to the title of intellect-some potent watch-word is whispered, and it springs forth to ceaseless and energetic action. Another soars to what is considered the very height of intellectual attainment—some misfortune befalls its material frame, and it becomes the raving maniac or vacant idiot. The educated mind, by its constant training and activity, learns to slip off one by one its confining bonds, and gradually to emerge from servitude-the stupid or rather closely imprisoned intellect, by some accident, slips at once its chains and stands forth in its native strength and dignity.

The genius with his sanguine temperament, finds his confinement easy and supportable, and seems to make matter a sympathizer and assistant in his actions; the dull and phlegmatic are inferior conductors of an exciting influence, but when that is once so accumulated as to thrill the mental fibre, the whole soul is kindled so as to threaten the destruction of its prison-house.

It has been termed a pitiful sight to see mere intellect striving to enlarge its proportions to stretch itself up to the colossal stature of genius. It would be so indeed, were that in every respect a real disparity which in this world forms the distinction in mental strength; but since from that strange evidence which the history of intellect has a few times furnished, it would seem more truly owing to some differences in the union of mind with matter-since we have reason to believe that every intellect, if expanded to its true dimensions, would manifest more power than has ever yet been displayed by the greatest genius-nothing can be more highly sublime; for it is the grand and truly admirable struggle of mind to gain its lawful dominion over the obstacles of matter. A struggle which here can never be entirely successful, but ending, when the spirit is released, in a victory most sudden and complete; those who have struggled to reach by degrees their true stature, attaining it at once, and those who from some unusual obstacle have remained almost inactive, expanding instantly into the full proportions of their intellect, and taking their true station for that great mental competition which will go on throughout eternity.

ALIQUIS.

Now we know that childhood's visions

Of a smooth, untroubled seaWhere no wrecks, or mad collisions Ever could our fortune be

Were like golden tints of morning,
Bright, but evanescent, too;
Fading, they have left the warning,

Trust not dreams, but seek the true!

"Be not with the future ravished

Hers the charms that distance lends

Love upon them freely lavished

Oftenest in sorrow ends."

Strange!―Though every earthly treasure

Readily our call obeys,
Still we hope to-morrow's measure
Will be fuller than to-day's.

And when manhood's care or sorrow
Furroweth the anxious brow;—

Ever we desire the morrow

Though "the happiest time is, now.”

So we pass the precious hours
God hath measured for our use,
Venting discontent, in showers
Of complainings, or abuse.

Grieving for the time when sorrow
Shall forever flee away;
Or, possessing not, we borrow

Grief enough to spoil To-day ;

Till the almond tree doth flourish,
And the evil days are come,
When no joys the soul can nourish,
And it loathes its earthly home.

Not upon this cruel mission

Came sweet Hope, with men to be,—

To engulf each day's fruition

In the future's shoreless sea;

ALL ages and all nations have had their stories and their songs; stories that have roused the blood and summoned up the fiercest passions, spurring men on to heroic deeds and daring adventures, or stories that whiled away an idle hour, the gossip of a day; songs that lulled the infant to its rest, or songs that commemorate the glory of chieftains, and form their monuments, more enduring than brass. A few of ancient date have come down to us, but vastly more have perished with the nations who have left as the enduring testimonials of their existence, only their rude implements of war and domestic life, their ruined cities and their undecyphered language. Most have had their mythological wonders, the outgushing poetry of the heart. Classic lands have no monopoly of these. Wherever the human mind has been placed, however much its vision has been darkened, it has still struggled to pierce the thick and impenetrable mystery that hangs around its existence. In Peru, and in Mexico, on the banks of the Ganges, and on the banks of the Ohio, in the islands of the polar or the tropical seas, men have left proofs that they felt an unseen and resistless Power that surrounds and governs all things, and in some way or other they have sought its protection and feared its vengeance. Every exhibition of force has been exalted into a Deity, the story of whose form and nature has been fashioned by the peculiarities of the phenomena and the character of the people. These mythological stories, mingled with accounts of heroes, real or fabled, make up the earliest records of literature. They have enlisted attention, formed a

part of the religion and enjoyment of men in other ages and in other circumstances, and therefore indicate their character; for the character of any age or nation may be inferred from what gives it pleasure. The mythology and the best poems of the Greeks indicate a soul highly imaginative and deeply impressed with a love of beauty and of the pleasures of sense, but not more certainly than the negro songs indicate the inanity and coarse, shallow feeling of that peculiar race. On the other hand, this kind of literature has exerted, does now and ever will exert, an influence in forming the opinions and in shaping the destiny of the human race. In amount it is by far the greatest of any. It engrosses the attention more exclusively; its characters dwell with us, and we gradually come to think the thoughts and adopt the sentiments of our favorites. Who has not seen too many of the little Don Juans which the lofty and impulsive genius of Byron still continues to warm into being? What magnanimous pirate has not been strengthened for his work, has not felt an increasing reverence for his art, or has not risen to a nobler contempt for humanity and law, by a communion with the spirit of the Corsair? Who has not felt a more thorough hatred for villainy, by becoming acquainted with lago, or a more reverential regard for purity and disinterested affection, from having read the words of Desdemona ?

Whole nations have sometimes acknowledged the power of an imaginative work, in changing their institutions, manners, and sentiments. All Europe was convulsed with laughter that shamed knighterrantry out of existence, when Cervantes sent forth the chivalrous Don Quixote. The Marseilles hymn rang out upon the air of France, and the whole nation became frantic with enthusiasm. It is said that the English navy owes much to " Ye Mariners of England." "Let me form a nation's songs," said a shrewd observer," and I care not who makes their laws ;" and in this he implied an important truth.

Let us, then, try to understand more fully the kind and extent of the influence which imaginative literature exerts. There is something in figurative language that, taking hold of the imagination, arrests attention and excites the feelings. The fact cannot be denied, however we may explain it. In the early stages of civilization, language is more highly metaphorical than at any other period, for every thing must then be represented in the concrete rather than in the abstractby images rather than by propositions and syllogisms. Reason is not yet fully developed, and the feelings, well or ill cultivated, have almost undivided sway. Hence poetry is the earliest form of national literature, and must ever continue to make up an important part of a nation's means of happiness. The Scriptures, given to teach us truths more sublime than the unassisted mind of man has ever yet been wrought up to fully understand, present us figurative expressions to aid our feeble powers. They are to us a kind of algebraic formula, whose exact value we may never comprehend, but whose relations we know, and whose properties we can apply to the solution of difficult problems.