ERRORS ARE NOT TO BE JUDGED BY THEIR EXCESS. 209

though the laws of nature will work out the change, individuals may hasten it.

North. I remember saying something like that to you, years ago, Tickler; and an acute writer, in some papers in the Examiner, entitled the "Spirit of the Age," expatiates well on this topic, though I know no reason why he should have said that I live, any more than himself, in the strife of party politics. The Sanctum in Buchanan Lodge and the Snuggery here-are philosophical retirements not unvisited by the Muses, who are lovers of contemplation and peace.

Tickler. We should judge aright the period which is gone by, and that period which is coming on - so rightly may we act during the present. In judging the past, we are not to condemn errors simply because they were errors. the necessary guidance of man.

many of them

They were

Neither

ought we to judge the total effect of the error by the effect of the excess of the error.

Shepherd. I wuss you wad repeat that apothegm.

-

Tickler. For example, James, we are not to judge the total effect of monastic orders by the worst pictures of sloth and vice which monasteries have afforded not the total effect of Aristotle's Dialectics, if erroneous, or erroneously used, by the most frivolous and vain of the scholastic subtleties - not the total effect of the Roman Catholic religion at a Spanish or English auto-da-fé.

-

Shepherd. You're a true liberal, Mr Tickler. Sae are you, Mr North; and sae am I; and sae are the Noctes. Nae snorin noo.

Tickler. To judge thus, gentlemen, is to introduce into our minds an asperity of feeling which will infallibly disturb our judgment, will prevent our understanding the world as it is, and our proceeding with the calmness and temper necessary for doing well what we have got to do. Our business is not to hunt error out of the world, but to invite and induce truth.

I can

Shepherd. A mild and majestic sentiment, sir. scarcely believe my een and my lugs when they inform me that the speaker is Southside-Tickler the▬▬▬▬▬▬ North. Hush, James. Hear the Sage. Tickler. It is a work not of enmity but of love. Shepherd. Beautifu' !

VOL. III.

210

WILL AND INTELLECT.

Tickler. We see the line of human progress, Kit; and the opposite character of the two extremities; but know not whereabouts we stand in it. We see errors gone and going; we see truths come and coming;-but we are not to conclude that every error which is left has outstaid its time, and is now no longer anything but pernicious-nor that every truth that will ever be wanted is now wanted—and, least of all, that any little morsel of truth which we happen to hold, is of such wondrous efficacy that a prodigious effort is to be made to impart it.

Shepherd. You've overheard Mr North in your sleep, Mr Tickler, sae congenial are your thoughts wi' his ain bruthers.

Tickler. Eh, North?

twun

North. Oh! for a full and perfect union in man of Will and Intellect! In the first period to which you alluded, Will is provided, Tickler; in it you see indeed all the energetic Wills; -the Homeric Greeks, the Spartans, the earlier Romans, the Arabs, the Germans, the Vykingr, the American Indians-you see it everywhere, from north to south; then all the youth of the world was on fire. But, in the second period, man has naturally to provide Will, for in it he comes to be deficient ; and what there is, is comparatively cold. In the first period Will, and in the second Intellect, is over-preponderate.

Shepherd. In the third, let us howp that the twa will be sae nicely balanced, that a grain o' sense or a drap o' feelin will either way turn the beam.

North. James, my dear boy, you are well qualified, both by nature and education, to judge on this question.

Shepherd. What question, sir?

North. In early society mark how the Will is made strong by the passionate and hard-contending condition of ordinary physical life. Also then, James, the different ranks of society being by the simplicity of life more nearly united, common feelings pervade all. A deep, broad sympathy imbues sentiments and opinions. Superstitions, tenets, faiths of all sorts, hold unquestioned dominion. Men believe by sympathy; for what none has disputed, that is faith. What half dispute, perhaps none cordially believe.

Shepherd. I ken that, by experience o' what is noo gaun on amang the shepherds o' the Forest, wi' their debating clubs,

THE WILL IS THE MAN.

211

and what not-few noo believe even in the Brownie o' Bodsbeck.

North. Now, my dear friends, pardon the anxiety of an old man for the children growing up round his feet.

Shepherd. The rising generation, about to shoot up into saints or sinners!

Tickler. Wheesht, James!

Shepherd. Wheesht yoursel!

North. Education must now form the two-Will and Intellect-one with and by the other-or Education is lame, with one hand only, and, I fear, that the left.

Shepherd. Whulk?

Tickler. Wheesht!

North. Intellect does everything, or nearly, for Will, and Will everything for Intellect. But which is the ultimate object? Will, certainly. The Will is the Man.

Shepherd. Hear it—a' ye nations-the Will is the Man ! North. Our idea of education is too frequently one of schools and colleges, drawn thence, and formed upon them; but how small a part!

Shepherd. Sma' pairt indeed.

North. The roots of the Will are in the body-and the roots of Intellect in the Will.

Shepherd. In the body!

North. Yes, James, in the body. See how the state of the affections which are Will-nourish even imagination, and how imagination acts into the purely intellectual faculties-and what vivacity mere health and joy will give to the memory, who, you know, in the olden time was called the mother of the Muses.

Shepherd. Sae, indeed, she was-Mymoshuny.

North. What, I ask you, James, can a listless child learn, an unwilling child understand?

Shepherd. Naething.

North. Will not a boy, whose heart is full of poetry, learn Greek in Homer, by the force of poetry, though he has a bad talent for languages?

Shepherd. Nae dout-nae dout. I sune learnt Erse in Ossian. North. Will not thought and feeling make him a good speaker and writer at last, though he could never understand his grammar?

212

THE GLASGOW GANDER.

Shepherd. Confoond grammar!

North. The first thing is that the understanding grow in the Will, and the Will up through the heart of the understanding, and an Intellect of ten or twelve years old, may, so far, have been powerfully educated without a single lesson. Shepherd. Mine was yedicated sae-whether poo'rfully or no, it's no for me to be tellin.

[Timepiece strikes Twelve-and enter AMBROSE, bending under his load, with his Tail and Supper.

North. Timothy-James- -run to the support of mine host -or he faints and falls.

[The ARCADIAN and SOUTHSIDE reach AMBROSE just in time to prevent his sinking to the floor.

Ambrose. Thank ye, gentlemen; this burden is beyond my strength.

North. What is it?

Ambrose. The GLASGOW GANDER, sir.1

North. The great prize Glasgow gander! Rash man! even for one moment to have dreamt of bearing him in singlehanded.

Shepherd. Mair strength! mair strength! Tappy, King Pip, Sir Dawvit!

The Pech. Coming, sir.

North. Let me give a lift.

[By the united exertions of the Knights, and of the Household, the great Glasgow Gander is at last deposited, with some loss of gravy, on the table.

Tickler. How it groans !

Shepherd. What! the gander?

Tickler. No, the quadruped under him-the table.

Shepherd. Props, Awmrose-props!

Ambrose. The timbers are all sound, gentlemen, and now that they have stood the first shock of the pressure

Shepherd. I'se uphaud them for a croon.

Tickler. It is not the legs of the table I tremble for, but the joists of the floor.

Shepherd. Wha's aneath?

Ambrose. The coffee-room, sir.

North. Why, Mr Ambrose, in case of any accident, it might be a serious business; for, to say nothing of the deaths of so

1 See ante, vol. ii. p. 30, note 2.

ANECDOTES OF GANDERS.

213

many unoffending, yet I fear, unprepared individuals, actions of damages, at the instance of the relatives of the deceased, might be brought against us, the survivors

Shepherd. Na, na-only again' the relatives o' the gander, and wha ever heard o' legal proceedings again' a flock o' geese?

North. Hush! did no one hear something creaking?

Tickler. Only a coach rattling down Leith Walk. Let us be seated.

North. Well, I had heard from several persons of credit who had seen him on his walk, that he was like the cow that swallowed Tom Thumb, "larger than the largest size;" but he out-Herods Herod-I should rather say, out-Goliaths Goliath. Tickler. I am surprised his owner, instead of selling him, did not put him into a show. "Twould have made his

fortune.

Shepherd. Wha'll cut him up?
North. If you please-I.

Shepherd. Awmrose, you should hae sent an order to Brummagem for a knife on purpose.

North. Perhaps the usual instrument will do. How hot he is! Shepherd. Let him cool, while we help ourselves to caulkers.

[They help themselves to Caulkers till the Gander cools. North. A Gander is an amiable bird. You know, that while his wife, the Goose, whose duty it is to sit in general, on any particular occasion takes to her waddlers, her husband, the Gander, drops down with his doup on the eggs, and broods over them in the most maternal manner imaginable, looking fully as like a lady as a gentleman.

Tickler. He is apt, however, by the inferior heat resident in his dolp, to addle the eggs, or to vivify them into goslings that bear little analogy to the parent pair.

Shepherd. A feather-bed micht hae been made-I howp has been made-frae the fleece o' the feather'd fule-though I suspeck the smell may prove onything but soporific. The pluckins o' toon geese bring naething like the pund-wecht, compared to them that's bred in the kintra. They're sae coorse -ye see-and seldom or never sweet.

North. Our friend on the table is tame-but of wild geese I have heard many well-authenticated anecdotes, that denote prudence apparently beyond the reach of mere instinct. They