stigmatized as pedantic?

"I care not," says

Byron, "how blue the stocking, provided the skirts are long enough to cover it." Is he not right?

The desire to leave behind us a name which shall exact the praise of generations unborn, whose censure or whose adulation we can in no wise feel or know, has been considered by some as a kind of "splendid madness.” But others, of more benevolent views," says Dr. Johnson, "have looked upon it as a flame lighted by Heaven,” which continues to enlighten the soul, and burns with inextinguishable lustre in enlarged and elevated minds. That woman is influenced by this desire, I do not, would not, deny; it is the divine glory of her

nature.

The soul which aspires to the companionship of angels looks away beyond the limits of the hour, and beholds itself coöperating with future ages, moulding and fashioning a superior destiny. Such a mind will reproduce itself through a thousand generations; for it throws the chain of its existence across the abyss of coming time, and keeps its messengers traveling to and fro upon it to light the nations onward to their fate.

It is asserted by a celebrated English author, that if we examine closely the conduct of individuals, we shall observe that, in every instance, they copy, or endeavor to copy, some former type of distinguished humanity. If the assertion is true, who of us would not feel a glow of noble pride kindling in the bosom, to

know that our characters should become the model, to which wisdom would point in after ages, and around which the diviner instincts of the race would gather for encouragement and inspiration! That we should, therefore, mark out a path of usefulness and distinction, that we should keep the embers of genius glowing, that we should bring ourselves into a habit of generous and glorious thought, is sufficiently evident to stimulate us to vigorous exertion.

Every one is anxious to leave at least a good name, a diamond amidst the rubbish of life; but in whatever road we seek to ascend to eminence, we find ourselves surrouded by competitors. Shall we, however, attach censure to others, because of the similarity of their aspirations to our own? The soldier in the field, the minister in the cabinet, and the admiral upon the sea, may contend for a common honor, are all aiming at one object. Who dares assert that every energy is exhausted to burst a bubble? Who dares lay that charge to the memory of a Cook, a Pitt, or a Washington?

Again, what lady is charged with vanity who covers her table with the executions of her pencil? Why then, if she employ her pen in the demonstration of truth, in the suppression of vice, and the promotion of virtue, should she receive the frown of the world, and be "read out" of the domestic church?

But why does woman write? Why does the child, that discovers a pebble more attractive than

those of his companions, desire to share his ecstasy with them? Alone, it gives no pleasure. It is a beautiful provision of God, that in nothing shall man be alone.

Why does woman write? Why does the fountain, when surcharged, overflow its limits? Why does the Nile inundate Egypt? To enrich and fertilize. To spread soft beds on which to nurse the golden harvests. Why does woman write? Why does the cloud diffuse its gladdening shower? Why does the flower give out its sweet perfume?

There is something in the mind at times which compels utterance, which can no more be thrown off than a shadowing presentiment. It struggles for freedom, and forces for itself a passage. Indeed, we should garner knowledge only to distribute it. It is not less our duty to impart than to acquire.

Every person has an important mission to fulfill, and is responsible for its execution. We ought, therefore, to consider ourselves as actors in the drama of life. We have a part to perform. Our exertions will tell upon our character and influence in the future. We live not, indeed, for ourselves; but for our country and our race.

III. DISPARAGEMENT OF MERIT.

(1842.)

"I have no title to aspire;

But when you sink, I seem the higher."

WHOEVER has looked upon the actions of men with the view of learning practical lessons of human nature, cannot have failed to observe the propensity, in most, to impede the progress of those who are striving to outstrip them, and to throw a thousand obstacles upon their path to eminence. The first indication of superiority not unfrequently calls forth a volley of disparagements, and the individual learns that the first draught of power is a "bitter thing." "Such is the state of the world," says Dr. Johnson, "that no sooner can any man emerge from the crowd, and fix the eyes of the public upon him, than he stands out as a mark to the arrows of the lurking calumny of others; and receives, in the tumult of hostility, wounds not easily cured."

The foundation of this hostility between man and man is the desire which many feel for the possession of that which they are too indolent to attain: The road to distinction is open equally to all; yet there are those who, possessing superior facilities for advancement, pass beyond their companions. Those who make less progress are at first stimulated by emulation only; but when a prouder wing has soared above them, their emulation degenerates into envy, and they become dogs indeed among

cattle. The air is suddenly dark with missiles; and the unfortunate victor may congratulate himself, if, amid the tempest which hisses around him, he escapes with his life.

Of the hordes which thus, unprovoked, assail genius, first and foremost is that class of vagabonds who enjoy the means and inclination, but not the perseverance and energy, to win their objects. They are unwilling to acknowledge any inferiority; and in striving, therefore, to arrogate to themselves a vast importance, they are driven to the shameful necessity of depreciating the efforts of others. Too slothful to raise themselves to a noble elevation, they endeavor to drag others down to their own level. Qualties which they do not possess themselves, they are slow to recognize in others; and when genius in his gallant vessel rides proudly before their eyes, they must snarl the revengeful hint, with Shylock, "ships are but boards."

Another class, swarming from this busy hive, are those who, possessing talent, capable of discerning and appreciating merit, have fallen in an evil hour from a high estate to life's "fierce dens of guilty shame." Their opinions, abstracted from themselves, weigh much in the estimation of the world. They once dwelt upon the hills, and had their castles. They once were kings, and held brotherhood with kings. The walks of their prison are now become lonely. Shadows stalk arm in arm with shadows. The heart yearns still for compan