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|genesee evangelist. Whole fc T2L PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY. MARCH 8. 1860..
Sttitv.
For the American Presbyterian.
TO IYIIOTHER.
“If we suffer, we shall also reign with Him.”
Ah, yes! I know the way .
Is oft limes very weary—not a ray
Of God’s own blessed sunlight seems to shine
Upon this path 1 this tear-stained path of thine.
Then all the world is drear!
Doubt and temptation!—dark distressing fear—
Rude, rugged roughness; for thy bleeding feet;.
Sad sorrow’s stormy tempests ’round thee beat.
In tby great grief alone,
List’nlng the wild wind's wailing, mournful moan!
That tearful sound of sighing for the past,
Its precious dreams, oh God I too bright to last.
I know, for I have dwelt
Where came that dreary darkness that is feltl
1 know It all—the suffering, piercing pain! -
That cry of anguish o’er love’s broken chain.
I know the withering blight—
The eager soul-sick longing for the light 1
That aching void! the crown of thorns, all, all!
Alone! Oh Christ, the worm-wood and the gall!
Oh! broken-hearted ond!
Listen, ’Us but the echo of His tone—
“ Eloi! Biol 1 lama sabacthani! ”
Forsaken! oh, my Father! Why, oh why 1
Thou holy Son of God,
Tears for the painful pathway Thou hast trod I
Nearer to Thee! oh sinless, suffering one I
Hera we can say—“ Father! thy will be done.”
Not now a weary way—
Ilis voice, His hand, His counsel day by day!
With Thee, oh Christ, our willing steps we bend—
Bl ight heaven of joy, our home is at the end!
India.
For the American Presbyterian.
NO MORE.
Sweet friend, the paths which we have loved,
By forest, glade, and shore.
Where oft at sunset we have roved,
Shall greet our steps no more.
The raceway by whose grassy brim
The tall gray willows bent—
While from beyond the Bequest’s hymn
Made music as we went.
The leaves that danced all tremblingly,
In summer’s merry mood;
Foie flowers that lifted starry eyes,
Beneath the grave old wood.
The level whence some cheerful tone
Shouted across the wave;
And rocks, from lofty vine-wreathed throne,
Their mystic answers gave.'
The foamy sheet that leaped the ledge,
Falling where wild flowers grew;
Decking each snowy petal’s edge
With drops of silver dew.
Moss-pinks beside the river-swells,
While high as eye could torn,
Were crags o’erhung with crimson hells,
And fringed with plumy fern.
The mount whose green and graceful dome
Such hidden meaning wore;
Bearing aloft, through sun and gloom,
Its changeless word “ No more.”
No more, where night-swung branches nod,
Shall heart commune with heart—
Life’s checkered paths must still be trod,
But thou and I apart.
For the American Presbyterian.
LETTER FROM CHINA.
OONPUOIUS.
In the petty kingdom of Lu in the fmodern
provinoe of Shantung, China, there appeared
about 2408 years ago, a personage whom the Chi
nese delight to honor more than 'any other man.
Confucius was born, according -to the commonly
received chronology, 649 or 550 years before
Christ, or about the time that Gyrus the Great
became King of Persia. He was contemporary
with Ezra and Pythagoras. During his life the
Jews returned from the Babylonian captivity to
the land of Palestine, Greece was invaded by the
"hosts of Xerxes, and Egypt was conquered by
the forces of Persia; all memorable events in his
tory, and marking the era of the Chinese sage.
'Hie father of Confucius was a district magis
trate. DyiDg when his son was three years old,
he committed the superintendence of his educa
ion to his mother. She seemed to have taken
uit oare to fnstill into his youthful mind a love
study and a profound regard for morality.
”ing his childhood and youth, Confucius was
’.rtable for his peculiarly grave behavior, and
his ardent attachment to the precepts and
.orns of more ancient times. He was not ac
mied to engage in the sports and plays com
among boys of Ms age, but preferred to spend
time in the study of moraland political science,
was greatly respected by bis fellow townsmen
account of the extent of his learning and the
•aordinary features of his character. At the
, age of seventeen he received an appointment
a subordinate office in the revenue department
his native state.
He began first to attract the attention of the
lie os a Reformer. He had become enamored
h the maxims contained in the ancient writings
traditions of his country, and/ ashamed of the
seracy of his own times, he earnestly endea
-d to revive the usages of .former ages-both by
jcept and by example. On the occasion of his
iher’s death when he was twenty-four years
he showed the sincerity of his professed ai
lment to the customs of a more rmnote an
uity by conforming to them in all that related
mourning for the death of parents. He imme
tely resigned all his employments under govern
it for the purpose of mourning for his mother
ie years, according to ancient customs. This
)m had gradually been discontinued. Bat
ing to the influence of the example and precepts
the sage, it has since his time become the
iblished and universal practice among office
iders in the Jarneo Land. . This period of
irning he spent in close application to study.
Soon after its completion, he visited, by invita
one of the princes of a neighboring kinig
/ hut unwilling to remain long with. Min,:he
rned to Lu, his . native State, where he'set
self up as a teacher, at the age of thirty,
stly afterwards he received a seoond invitation
isit the Court of another prince; but on ar
ig there he found that curiosity, and not a
lor liis maxims, had procured the invitation,
therefore hade adieu to the prince, and tra
sd for several years in other provinces or king
aecompanied by some of his meat attached
pies. -
t the age of forty-five ho returned to his own
l ry, and there, under the patronage of his own
BY EtJLALIE,
prince, became first a judge, and then chief officer
of his native kingdom. He administered the duties
of his station with much zeal, strictness, and im
partiality, prompted, it would seem, by a sincere
desire to do gdpd to his countrymen. His sense
of order and justice was, indeed, the occasion of
his ruin and degradation from office. For it is
related that he urgently advised his prince to take
-up arms against a certain usurper. Hearing of
this, the' usurper sent to the prince of Lu a con
ciliatory present, consisting of thirty most beauti
ful horses, magnificently caparisoned; a collection
of valuable curiosities, and; twenty; most accom
plished courtesans. This present had its desired
effect on the mind of the youthful prince, and
the stem Confucius was dismissed from his
councils.
He retired with his disciples to a neighboring
State. From this time, he wqs not uniformly
popular and welcome, nor was be at all times free
from personal danger at the hands of his enemies.
Sometimes he was the .objeet.of applause; at other
times, the subject of persecution on account of his
principles. His conduct and his sayings during
this period of his life often remind one of the
G-reek philosopher who obtained the sobriquet of
“dog,” from the caustic and churlish nature of
his remarks, and who used to say, in relation to.
this circumstance, “ Other dogs bite their enemies,
but Imy friends, that I‘ may save them.” Con
fucius, indeed, sometimes compared himself to a
dog driven from his kennel. “I have,” said he,
“ the fidelity of that animal, and I am treated like
it. But what matters the ingratitude of men?
They cannot hinder me from doing all the good
that has been appointed me. If my precepts are
disregarded, I have the consolation of knowing in
my own breast that I have faithfully performed
my duty.”
But it is impossible to notice, in this brief
sketch, even the principal events in the life of
this singular and remarkable man. Let it suffice
to add a few more particulars. He returned from
his travels and sojouruings abroad to his native
province at the age of sixty-eight. He spent the
balance of his life in completing the literary works
which he wished to hand down to posterity, and
in teaching a large and devoted company of pub
lic and -private scholars. It is said that his prose
lytes or disciples amounted to three thousand
men, of whom seventy-two were particularly dis
tinguished for their affectionate devotion to him,
and for their practical conformity to his teachings.
When his books were finished, hd called bis fol
lowers about him; and dedicated them to Heaven,
as the last important act of his life, imploring that
they might be of great benefit to his countrymen.
A few days before his death, It Is related that he
walked slowly about the house, leaning upon the
top of bis staff, and crying out, as if aware of his
approaching end, and of the greatness of his cha
racter, and the value of Ms instructions:—
“ The mountain is crumbling,
• ;■ -ThestrongbeamiSyielding,. ■
ThS sage is withering like a plant.”
Confucius died at the age of seventy-three.
It is said that the authentic history of the •
“Flowery Land” extends little, if any farther'
back into antiquity than the rimes of Confucius.
He collected and recorded all the traditionary,
stories* which he deemed credible, relating to pe
riods antecedent to his age. An effort was made
by the notorious prince who built the great wall
on the northern boundary of China, to destroy all
the writings of this sage. In a vain attempt to
evade the order and save the books they possessed,
History mentions that more; than four hundred
literati were buried alive, and the books they de
signed to preserve were consigned to the flames.
But most, if not all of the compositions of Confucius
escaped destruction through the zeal of the learned.
These and their commentaries have most largely
•contributed to make the Chinese mind, and the’
Chinese literature, and the Chinese government
what they are at the present day.
Probably no uninspired man has ever exerted*
on so large a mass of mankind, a greater and more
marked influence than Confucius. The laws and
fhe usages of the middle kingdom for near a score
of centuries, have been professedly modelled ac
cording to the maxims he inculcated and enforced
in his books. The great fundamental principle
illustrated and enjoined throughout his practical
writings is.simply subordination to superiors. It
is the obedience to this principle rendered by the
Chinese in the various relations of society which
has kept the Chinese Empire together, and has
moulded the character of its immense population
from the days of Confucius to the present time.
A child should obey, his parents, a wife her hus
band, a subject his prinee. This principle of
subordination to superior authority he elucidated
and applied to all the most important departments
and relations of society. He has, indeed, left to
posterity no such productions as the Iliad, or the
iEneid, or the orations of Demosthenes or Cicero.
If he had, men of modern times, and living in
occidental lands, Would doubtless accord him
greater honor as a genius, and his writings would
be more acceptable, and oftener read by foreigners.
But had he written such works he would have
had little or no influence over his countrymen;'
and in nothing is his knowledge of human nature
more evident than in his selection of means to
attain the object he sought. The subjects of his
discourses to his followers, as well as the themes
which he discussed iu his books, are these which
have a most important and practical bearing in a
political as Well as social point of view, and which
the experience of two centuries showed to be sin
gularly adapted to meetUhe approval of the Chi
nese mind, and to satisfy Chinese wants.
Confjicius is universally, regarded among the
Chinese people, as a being worthy of divine honors,
and accordingly divine honors are -actually paid
him by the tfficers of government all over the
Empire in the spring and autumn of each year.
He is styled “ The Most Holy Ancient Teacher,”
and “The Holy -Duke.” pis name is mentioned
only with the prbfoundest-veneration by all classes
among the * hundreds; of millions of the Middle
Kingdom. His memory is cherished as thcori
gihal author of polite and olassical literature, and
as M the perfect man.” Hisffiaxims and instrue-;
tions are esteemed as beyond comparison; more
important, reliable, and complete, than the maxims
and instructions of men in foreign lands. A mis
sionary relates that in the year 1835 he and his
"companions met, on their entrance-into a village
in the native province of Confucius, two elderly
men who declined to receive their'tracts, saying:
“ We have seen your books, and wither desire nor
approve them. In the instructions of our Sage
we have sufficient, and they are far superior to
any foreign doctrines you can briny.” Perhaps
an adequate idea of the regard and veneration
with which the Chinese remember Confucius may
be gathered from the following poem, found in the
sacrificial ritual:—
" Confucius! Confucius! How great is Confucius!
Before; Confucius there never was a Confucius!
Since Confucius there never has been a Confucius!
Confucius! Confucius! How groat is Confucius! ’ ’
Pope, in his “Temple of Fame,” makes men
tion of the Chinese sage in the following honora
ble and eulogistic terms:—
“ Superior and alone Confucius stood,
Who taught that noble seience, to be good.”
With respect to thereliginus opinions of the Most
Holy Ancient Teacher, little favorable or praise
worthy can be. said. On the subject of spiritual
worship of invisible beings he does not profess to
be able to give any instruction. He candidly
confesses his • ignorance about the gods. He
i openly admitted that he did not know much about
them, nor did he recommend their worship. They
were above his comprehension. He preferred
to confine his instructions to .subjects connected
with this life and this world. The obligations of
man, according to him, consisted solely in obey
ing bis sovereign, and in doing good to his coun
try, friends, and family. He enforced his pre
cepts by no pretended divine sanctions. They
were merely the teachings of reason, experience,
and expediency, and depended for their authority
on no superior being. “Not knowing even life,”
said he, “bow can we know death?” Some
times, however; Be seemed to think and talk as
though he had been sent by Heaven to revive the
maxims and enstoms of more ancient ages. For
instance, on one occasion, when in special peril
of his life, be remarked: “If Heaven means not to
obliterate this doctrine from the earth, the men of
Kwang eart do nothing to. me.”
One feature of the writings of Confueius de
serves particular and honorable mention. He
never applauded nor deified vice. Unlike Greek
and Homan classical writings, his pages are not
marred with obscene descriptions and licentious
allusions. While they contain much that is good
and unobjectionable; still, it must be admitted,
there is much in them to be reprobated. Such;
for example, is his precept to a son: “not to live
under the same heaven” with the slayer of his
father, meaning, “exercise.the /‘law of revenge/
and pursue him unto death.” He made altogether
too much of the virtue of filial obedience.
The sage seems to have been nothing better
than a moralist. Some think they have abundant
reason from his writings to pronounce him au
Atheist or a Fatalist. Whatever may have been
his real religious character, he most undoubtedly
had a very high standard of moral conduct. On
a certain occasion he was questioned whether
there was any me word which taught the be
havior proper to observe at all times and at all
places? —‘WilHftJt' the “word “ shir”- aoswertbe
purpose?” was his. reply. He explained it in
this manner:—“ Do not unto others what you
would not have them do unto you.” It is remark
able that he expressed in the form of a negative
proposition, what is a great approximation to the
sentiment which our Saviour expressed in the
form of an affirmative one, when he uttered the
Golden Rule; —“ Whatsoever ye would that men
should do unto you, do ye even so to them.”
But it is time to bring this sketch to a conclusion.
Let it suffice to warn the reader against supposing
that the Chinese, to any great extent, conform in
their practice to the high moral standard of their
e lassies. While multitudes of the literati in every
province are able to repeat, memoriter, a'large
portion of the writings of Confueius without hesi
tation and without mistake, probably few, if any,
strive seriously and heartily to reduce them to
practice. They are studied principally as the
standard of style, and, as furnishing sentiments
and language which they are to incorporate iu
their literary compositions at the established ex
aminations; not as the standard of morals and of
religion by which, to the exclusion of other sys
tems, they are to regulate their conduct. .The
Writings of Confucius are a grand and stupendous
failure so far as the practice of their best moral
sentiments is concerned. The present condition
of this empire, considered with regard to the in
fluence, or rather the want of influence, of the
maxims and examples of this sage over the lives
and the hearts of his professed disciples, exhibits
a most conspicuous instance as well as.a most con
vincing proof of the incompetency of moral pre
cepts and of human wisdom to make men happy,
sincere, and virtuous. Sinim.
“ Fulichau, Dec., 1859.
For the American Presbyterian. ”
GOVERNOR AND LEGISLATURE OF
lOWA.
Our new Republican Governor, Samuel J.
Kirkwood, -of lowa City, aM'our iSfeutenant-
Governor, Nicholas J. Rusch, of Davenport, were
duly inaugurated at the opening of the Session of
the Legislature, last month; and both branches of
the Legislature are now well at work.. '
Mr. Kirkwood is not a member of any Church,
though his father died at lowa city in commuffion
with the Presbyterian Church. Mrs. Kirkwood’s
connexions attend the Methodist Church, where
the Governor, when he attends anywhere, it is
believed, usually accompanies her. Mr. Rusch
is a native of Germany, and educated as a Lu
theran, which connexion he continues. They are
both men of high moral worth, and ill their sta
tions with dignity, commanding the respect of all
parties. Mr. Busch has especially disappointed
many of his opponents in his ready command of
English; and tact in the chair, as President of the
Senate, by virtue of his office.
Mr. Kirkwood, in his Inaugural, has touched
.upon the case of John Brown at Harper’s Perry,
condemning his acts, hut commending his “ disin
terested” motives, and plabing him in the same
category- with Crittenden, of Cuba, and Andre, of
Great Britain, with this difference—that Brown
was aiming at the liberty of the colored race.
Mr. Kirkwood also recommends Colonization in
Central or South America, of the free blacks, —
Mr. Blair's scheme, of St. Louis, ’Mo. He com
mends African Colonization by the way, but deems
it inadequate to the necessity of the free colored”
people, driven out of the free and slave States
alike, and'without a resting place in our country.
These moral topics, together with the Liquor
Laws, have engaged considerable attention, and
will claim the action of our Legislature—Bepub
lican in both Houses—more or. less till the close
of the session. I-
Governor Lowe, on retiring-front
Chair, by the election of the people, has been ex-,
altcd to the station of Chief Justice of our Supreme
Court. Lieutenant-Governor,, Faville* retires to
private life. Both have reared, from the chair of
State with much, honor aqd approbation of the
people at large. ;. «■ r
Thus, one political wave.s fter another Tolls over,
our young State, with over, is hundred thousand
souls to be agitated'and tosspdt without -rest, since
the National and State elections such
quick succession. When .Will the, world, be at.
rest? When will men gettime to prepare for the
world to come? Are political men- to be’only
stayings to the great edifice, of. h.uman society to
be taken down, at death, "as no longer useful?
When shall.our “Senators bps,as at. the first, and
our counsellors as at, the . haye
more action than our fathers, .blit less
more running to and fro, bpt -np great
knowledge or wisdom from S. S.- H-. ■;
XNDII.
SIGNS OP PEOQRESS.
Messrs. Editors: —By tfioge whp are waiting
and praying for the of India, I am
often asked if there are any/jndications of progress
—particularly if there ar.i any change? in the
policy of British rule which show a more friendly
disposition towards Christianity and native con
verts. -
All such changes are very slight, and hesita
tingly made, and yet to tb'd observant"eye of the
missionary, some are transpiring,"which present
themselves to the hopeful as bright fore
shadowings of better thing? td come. ,
The British Government is doubtless feeling its
rule more firmly established, in India than ever
before, and is showing Ims. xleferen qg, to the wicked
superstitions and rites of-the people.*
Though bands of rebelsWilbsubsist in the limits
of Nepaul and some -other.border territories, .yet
their strength-and broken, and. through
out British territory the straggling parties of free
booters are being ferreted destroyed. For
a year-past the strongest .'rebel band in Western'
India , have been the and the, last mail
brings report of their complete destruction. The
brief despatch of' the officer in pursuit of them
says: “I have the pleasurp’.to report that I came
up with the rebel BheefJfyhis. day, at noonand
succeeded in shooting and.cutting up the gang to
a man.” ■ ' \fi .. •
Sadly shaken as British prestige was two years
ago, throughout India, it isidoubtless stronger and
more effective now than ej/er before. Conscious
of this, and somewhat ineebsed perhaps in view of
the fact that past efforts to ooueiliate the people
by yielding to their foolish and wicked supersti
tions have proved a failure the British rulers are
evidentlyTelaaring their -conciliate: by
improper concessions, and are adopting a policy
more impartial and just.
: In illustration of this view, 1 may mention:
1. They are relaxing their rigid proscription of
the Christian Scriptures in their government
schools.
Heretofore, teachers and'professors in their
schools and colleges have been required to be silent
at all times on the subject of Christianity, and not
to explain anything in 'the Bible-even if their
Hindoo pnpils desired it. This requisition for
silence is now limited to school hours.
I grieve to say there is scarcely any Christian
truth in the text hooks allowed in their schools;
and still more to note the fact that “ The (present)
Director of public instruction would have no objec
tion to introduce a set of books from which every
Christian allusion had been effectually weeded.”
Still there is cause for joy that the former rigid
interdict of the Bible and Christianity has been
slightly relaxed, and we may thankfully accept it
as an omen of better things in the near future.
2. Another point is the admission of' low-caste
pupifa into'some of these.schools. This is a step
more decided and aggressive than the other, because
it conflicts more severely with the caste notions of
the Hindoos.
Only a short time ago one of my own pnpils, a
nominal Christian of the Mahar caste, sought ad
mission to one of these schools, but was refused.
An English officer feeling the injustice of this re
fusal, appealed in behalf of the'Christian lad to
the highest officers of the British Government.
His appeal was in vain. The Government grati
fied the Brahmins, and excluded the Christian
youth from the Sfchool.
Now, in the English Government school at
Ahmednuggur, a regulation has been adopted, ad
mitting pnpils of any and dll castes without dis
tinction. A Mahar boy was recently admitted,
and although most of the high caste pupils took
offence and left, the Government has strictly .ad
hered to its. rule;.and the Brahmins must waive
their .'prejudices or<forego-their-own privileges.
3. The Government is more vigorously enforcing
its laws against some of the enormities of Htodoo
ism. It is generally known that sutti, infanticide ,
nieriah sacrifices, Jwok-swinging, and the like,
have been interdicted by the British Government,
but it is not so widely known that these enormities
have become only partially suppressed. For in
stance, the bloody; Meriah sacrifices were inter
dicted years ago, and some efforts have been made
to suppress them. But they still exist, and the
Governor General Fas just sent a new commission
into the Khoud country, with a strong party to
enforce the interdict.
4. A large number of Hindoos and Mahoramedans
recently petitioned the British Government to abo
lish its system of educational grants in aid. These
grants are available for all schools, missionary or
otherwise, provided they impart a certain amount of
secular education. This petition of the natives
for their abolition,, originated in their apprehen
sion that those grants operate in favor of mission
schools. .. -*■■■ '
The Government meets this petition with sound
arguments showing its impropriety;'and firmly re
fusing to grant it. .
This petition of the praying for the
abolition of grants in aid, contrasts strongly with
the fears of some friends of missions, who even ob
jected to receiving these generous giants from; Go
vernment, from an apprehension ofsome.injurious
influence to their .mission schools. - How effec
tively this apprehension is shown to be .groundless
by this petition of the natives! * The idolaters of
India have 1 ever shown that they regard our- schools
as very effective agencies for exposing the errors
of their falsejr'eligions, and supplanting-them’with
Christianity. In the early history of our Bombay
mission the' natives became so thoroughly con
vinced that our schools were undermining Hin
dooism, that they earnestly petitioned the Govern
ment to interdict them. -
-5. The Home Government.of Great Britain is
giving, utterance to sentiments which show less
regard to Hindooism.
Lord Stanley, the late Secretary-of State for
India, openly avowed his determination to main
tain the old policy of the Eask India Company,. A
missionary deputation waiting upon' him were very
coolly received,*and obtained no concessions: He
even sent out an order to India, warning all British
officers to be on their guard, lest they should com-,
promise their official character by giving aid and
countenance to missionary efforts. -
But the present Secretary, Sir Charles Wood,
gives expression to views more worthy of himself
and of the nation. In reply to a similar,deputation;
he-says:. “No persons-can be more anxious for the
spread of Christianity in India than we are. Inde
pendently of Christian considerations, I believe
every additional Christian in India is an additional
bond of union with this country, and an additional
source of strength to the empire. There are po
litical reasons in favor of spreading Christianity.”
Lord Palmerston, too, endorses the same senti
ments: “It is not only our duty,” he says, “but
it is our interest to promote the diffusion of Chris
tianity, as far as possible, throughout the whole
length and breadth of India.”
Now we do not overlook the fact that there are
many, very many, acts of individual officers, and
acts, too, of .the whole British India Government,
which conflict directly ■ with these sentiments.
Still they are right sentiments, and we need not
suppose them to‘be uttered insincerely. They
ought to be adopted in practice as the legitimate
result of the bitter experience of the British during
the last three years. Even their utterance shows
a 'gratifying-advance, and taken' in connexion with
the items already mentioned, they furnish evidenee
‘that past experience arid Christian influence: are
telling upon the character of British rule in India,
We would hot magnify the import of these item's
and events, but like straws they show at least the
direction of the current; and strengthen our con
fidence that the British "will hot much „longer
-maintain in India "that'peculiar 1 kind of “neu
trality” which proscribes their own faith and pa
tronizes all others. ■ Yours truly,
For the American. Presbyterian.
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
- In every age the brightest intellects have fre
quently been the companions of misfortune. The
-minds we now honor, and whose words dwell on
every lip; were; perchance, shrouded in sorrow in
the day 'of their existence. Hence we are ac
customed to associatergditmls witlrsome misfortune.
It is a fact, that of all the poets the world has
ever produced, very few have led happy w lives.
Either domestic relations, and that grim skeleton,
poverty, or the world’s coldness, and the malady
of a broken heart, have one or all combined to
cast shadows over their earthly pilgrimage. .■ But
the star of fortune shone brightly on, the poet
Campbell, and stood over-him on, the day of his
first introduction to the public. Instead of a,cold
reception, or a stinging criticism from the men
that graced'the literary,clubs of Scott and Jeffrey,
he received, the universal praise, of the nation.
His first efforts gave him the sacred name of
poet: The poor tutor with hut few friends arose
from comparative obscurity to a high point in the
literary world. Ushered iuto the company of
Scott, Brougham, Heyden, Graham, Jeffrey,
Smith, Homer, and the prominent minds of .the
age, he saw before him a splendid opening for
future distinction. The greatest orators, some of
the finest poets of any age, the most perfect
statesmen, the ablest critics, and tlie first ..novelists
of the world were his cotemporaries.
At an early age Campbell gave proof of un
common talent for literary and poetic composition.
While a student at the University his commanding
prowess gave him pre-eminence in this respect,
So inborn was his loye of literature and works of
the imagination, that every attempt to turn, his
mind to any professional pursuit proved fruitless.
He passed many hours of each day in the study
of poetry, and the romantic fictions of the great
authors. From sqch sources he drew his mental
food, and cultivated his powers of imagination to
extreme limits. A mind thus directed, and with
out proper discipline from an association with
practical duties, and a familiar acquaintance with
the severer studies of a complete education, soon
loses that balance which is essential to success in
life. With the poet, energy is needed, as it is with
military genius. The relations of the poet to the
world, his companionship with misfortune, his
straggles with pride and poverfcy/and his peculiar
temperament, combine to make his life an ano
maly. Hence decision of character is an element
of success with the poet as well as the historian
or diplomatist. This characteristic did not belong
to Campbell. . Had he possessed the energy of
Shakspeare, his life of sixty-seven years would
have furnished to the world something move than
one small volume of poems. This failure in his
mental constitution, added to his extreme sensitive
ness, made him the toy of fortune, and ill-fitted
him to encounter- the realities'of life. Had not
his first efforts received public patronage and the
applause of a nation, it is probable that he would
have sunk to rise no more, and his subsequent
brilliant productions been lost to the world.
Fortunate for the literature of his country was it,
that she early extended to him a cordial welcome
to share in her greatness, and contribute his genius
for the glory of her name. Those incomparable
war odes which never fail to kindle the soul and
warm the pulse, might never have seen the light
of day; those poeinsof beautiful expression, con
summate finish, and fascinating, imagery, might
never have emanated from the chambers of his
mind, were it not for this. But if Campbell had
this fault, he had traits which endear one to his
fellow-men. He was distinguished throughout
his life for generosity, seldom found among men.
Many a poor way-farer in this vale of tears re
membered him after his death, for his acts of
charity. Bat his devotion to the cause of liberty,
and the interest' he manifested-in the brave Foies,
then contending for their rights, was one of the
noblest acts of his life. ' - '
In Campbell existed a peculiar union of thought
and impulse. His thoughts at times soared on
the wings of genius, b.ut its flight was turned to
earth by an aching heart, or a melancholy presage.
In viewing the life of a poet, we observe traits of
character and idiosyncrasies which exist with genius.
We think of the “ divine art,” as something be
yond the pale of thought, the development of
mind, the cultivation of the schools, and the poet
rises.before us, superior to the man and his sur
roundings in the full splendor ahd majesty of a
power springing frotn within, J[t is thus.that we
comprehend Campbell. He was not like other
men. /We cannot altogether understand him,be
cause he was: a man of genius. Logic is good,
a p4: the eritic’s pen is a useful instrument; but
is “itself, alone,” and often beyond the
grasp of comprehension, so curious are her ways.
W. C. Winslow.
BOOKS THAT-DIJS--A BOOK THAT LITRES.
The tables of literary mortality showthe follow
ing appalling facts in regard'to the chances of an
author to Secure literary fame : out of 1,000 pub
lished books, 600 never pay the cost of printing,
&c.; 200 just pay expenses; 100 return a slight
profit; and only 100 show a substantial gain. Of
these 1,000 books, 650 are forgotten by the end of
the year, and 150 more at the end of three yeans:
only 50 survive seven years’ publicity. Of the
50,000 publications put forth in the seventeenth
century, hardly more than 50 have a great repu
tation, and are reprinted. Of the 50,000 works
published iu the eighteenth century, posterity has
hardly preserved .more than were rescued from
oblivion in the seventeenth century. Men have
• been writing bcjoks these 8,000 years, and there
are hardly more than 500 writers throughout the
globe who have survived the ravages of time and
the forgetfulness of man.
The vanity of young authors—though there are
exceptions—is proverbial. Colton, in his Laeon,
aims at it the most stinging of his arrows. Every
year a thousand writers imagine that they have
something to say which the world ought to hear.
They hurry in to print, and ask men to listen to the
new oracle. But the great world goes on its way,
and. pays no more heed to their modest request,
than the ox in the .fable to the fly on his horn.
Of all books published, the' great majority are
dead to begin with, and it is a work of superero
gation for critics to attempt to kill them. They
fall-from the press like autumn leaves from the
tree, to perish and be forgotten. Of the few which
can be said to have a living mission, many perform
it in a : year, or even a moiith. It is only once in
centuries that a really great genius rises up to
write a book, which he is confident without pre
sumption—like Milton—that “the world will not
willingly let die." A really live book is a rare
production. It is one that will not winter-kill—one
that will be read when the author’s grave-stone
crumbles—one that kindles into action minds that
come in contact with it—one. that has in it the
seed of coming centuries. Such a book cannot.be
-made to'order. Literature has no patterns by
which plodding imitation can shape it. The at
tempt will always prove a failure. Time is sure to
detect the cheat.
R. G. Wilder.
Even of works of real merit in their day, bow
few survive their own age 1 It has been said, with
no little point, that all the honey of antiquity might
be stored itrlTEinglebeeliive. -“Take ;4he : greht ;
writers of the classic age of the Greek and Roman
periods,—Aristotle, Plato, Cicero, Seneca, and
others,. —and how little of real vitality there is in
them! : They are curiosities for the scholar; but,
after all, for the most part, intellectual mummies.
Take the great lights of English literature, Bacon,
and Addison, and Bolingbroke, and Johnson, &e.,
and how the coals their genius kindled are already
half-buried in their ashes. How little read, even
at this early period, are the. writings of Burke, the
most philosophical of English—or Fisher Ames,
almost his peer, of American statesmen; and in
reverting to the speeches and writings of Webster,
how readily one recalls what is almost sure to be
his inevitable fate in the parallel surmise of Ma
caulay, that the time might yet be when some cu
rious traveller from New Zealand might be seen
sitting on a broken arch of London Bridge sketch
ing the ruins of St. Paul’s cathedral.
Once in a while there comes along a hook like
Baxter’s Saints’ Rest, or Bun yap’s Pilgrim’s Pro
gress, that has more vitality in it than a whole
pyramid of metaphysicians and novelists of the
mo'dern stamp. But whence is this? Their vital
element is borrowed from “the living words” of
Christ. By force of this they live themselves.
Almost all- else is buried by the waves of time,
leaving only here, and there a little islaud of living
thought. Let us take the dozens of volumes of
Walter Scott and James, and Dickens and De
Quincey, and a score of other modern literateurs,
and who imagine that they have the stuff of im
mortality in them? Already .they are drifting
away on the sea of time, like the huge admirals of
the Spanish armada, soon to be, if they are not
already dismasted, to leaye on the rocky shore,
for. centuries to corac, only fragments of their
plundered cargo.
Nor would it be difficult’ to name stars in the'
firmament of American literature that are peerless
now, but ere long must give place toothers. New
writers and thinkers will rise up, their equals or:
superiors, to rival and discrown them, only to be
discrowned in turn. In the great host that crowd
the, field, like the stars in the milky way, it is ever
becoming more and more difficult to retain the
pre-eminence. Ten centuries hence, and criticism
will need a Herschel telescope to detect them.
The history of books is much like that of fossil
plants and races—the* products of an antediluvian
age. They have died to form the strata out of,
which others should spriDg, to flourish and perish;
in their turn. So has passed away in succession—
each feeding on the decay of its predecessor—gene
ration after generation of dead books. Nowand
then one has lifted its towering trunk, as we sfce
in -the coal quarries, shooting up through genera
tions ;0f the dead. But after all, it was only a
more distinguished fossil. The gifted and eloquent
are so6n forgotten. Great libraries are great cata
combs, and all the skill of the binder’s art only
builds, for the most part, the splendid mausoleums
of dead books.
Meanwhile, the words of Christ are as fresh and
living as ever. Time has gathered no rust on them.
■4ge has not out-dated* them. Their power and
influence were never before so great as . they are
to-day. Childhood has read them and owned their
power over youthful susceptibility. Age has pe
rused them) and reperused them, and never found
them old. Generation :after generation has taken
them up and pored over them, and found them
fresh as ever. The New Testament is ever new.
The words of Christ are to-day what they were to
Luther when he found them in his monastery
buried in the old Latin Vulgate,-—what they were
a century earlier to Glemengis, when turning.from
Greek and’ Roman classics to the Scriptures, he
declared, that be had learned more from the'last in
hours, than from the first in years.
; What if there should rise up other orators, like
Demosthenes, or Chatham, or Webster; other
thinkers, like Pascal, or Locke, or Bacon; other
poets, like Dante or Milton; other investigators,
like Franklin, or Hersehel, or.Faraday,—who ima
gines that any or all of them would be able to
supplement by a single line, “the living words ’’ of
Christ ? These stand alone by themselves, forever
unapproachable, inimitable.
Most great writers and speakers have had their
crowds, of imitators. Byron has had his in tellee-,
tuul apes, and many a young writej: has made him
self ridiculous by counterfeiting the style, tit
clothing,his thought in the philosophical, or rather
transcendental garb of Carlyle or Emerson. Genius
YOL IV—NO. 28:—Whale No. 193.
seems in fact to live in a’world of mirrors, where
if it gives light enongh to be seen by, it will find
its image reflected from every wall. But who has
ever ventured to imitate, or rather parody, the
Man of Nazareth f Who has ever produced a rival
of the Sermon on the Mount, or attempted to
speak like him in._para.bles? Even if the sacrilege
of the act did not forbid, no man has ever deemed
it possible. One might as well attempt to rival in
dioramas of the tempest, the thunders of the hea
vens or simulate the splendor of the sun with a
Drummond light.
Meanwhile, the most powerful minds have not
been ashamed to confess 'their own indebtedness
to those words-whieh are “spirit and life.” The
wisest have studied them to become more wise.
The holiest, have read them to become more
holy. Paseal was a great mathematician, as well
as a powerful thinker, but he listened with adoring
reverence and child-like humility while the Great
Teacher expounded to him “ the mathematics of
heaven.” John Locke fathomed, as few have done,
the depths of the human understanding,“but in
the ripeness of his. years, and’the fulness of his
attainments, he was‘ ever more anxious to come,
through the study of the Scriptures, to a fuller
understanding of the l providence and grace of God.
Milton, with a genius that could at once plead the
cause of civil and religious freedom and soar to
the loftiest .heights of a hallowed imagination,
would never have counted all : bis own works as a
feather’s weight in the scale against tlfc words of
Him that spake as never man spake; and Lord
BacoD, who could reason where others speculate,
and eould throw off his terse thoughts in striking
aphorisms, was fain to make fast the girdle of his
arguments with golden clasps from the words of
Christ.
The very position of the Scriptures in contrast
with the transient vitality and power of all other
books, vindicates their unrivalled pre-eminence.
They can never be superseded. They can never
become obsolete. There is that in the nature and
condition of man which finds in them alone the
answer to its cravings. .
“Yes, it is only a prayer meeting, and there
fore, if it be a little cold, or wet or snowy—or if
it be a little disagreeable travelling—or if I feel
a little averse to travelling out, that is sufficient
excuse. If it were a sermon, I should not think
of remaining at home, hut it is but a. prayer meet
ing. Few will be present, and it is so dry and
uninteresting, I shall not attend.” Is this the
language of a Christian ? Can it he that the prayer
meeting is an uninteresting place to the follower
of Jesus? Yet is it not too evident that the con
duct of many professors of religion, if put into
words, would speak plainly the above sentiments?
Why is this? Can that church be in a prosperous
condition, where a large majority of the members
feel and act thus in these matters? ,Wc leave the
reader to judge. We could name one little coun
try church, where a weekly meeting for prayer is
attempted,' and though the church stands in a
thickly settled neighborhood, where almost all the
heads of families are members, yet we have been
present wben not more than five or six of these
have been there, and not more: than a dozen per
sons in all. Now we w.ould seriously ask, as iu
the presence of God, —Do such neglecters feel their
own wants, or the wants of Zion?. Do they feel
that interest in the prosperity of the church with
which they stand connected, that the cause.de
mands?
Why is the prayer meeting “dry and uninte
resting?” Does not the church need united peti
tion? Is the Divine blessing on us as a: particu
lar congregation, a matter of small importance?
When you hear of other parts of the church being
visited with “times of refreshing,” does your
heart never burn with the desire that we too might
be visited in the same manner? Look narrowly
into your hearts, and see if, in this indifference to
the prayer meeting, there is not a like indifference
with regard’to the interests and prosperity of the
church? And remember, too, you are not left to
your own choice in this matter. You are under
obligations, by your own voluntarily assuming the
profession of Christianity, to “not forsake the as
sembling of yourselves together,” and also to
“pray-for the peace of Jerusalem!” . Oh! fellow
professors, how can you feel indifferent to these
things? If you even consult your own enjoyment,
is there no pleasure in appearing before God? In
stead of thinking it a task, should we not esteem
it a privilege to meet together and present our
united petitions at a merey seat? How sweet to
plead his promise, “Where two or.three are ga
thered together in my name, there am I in the
midst.” "Do you believe this promise? Remem
ber that Thomas by absenting himself once from
the place of prayer, missed a meeting with his Lard!
Do you go with a desire of meeting with Jesus?
How then can it be uninteresting?
One word, in conclusion, to those who conduct
the meetings for prayer. ■ Try to make them inte
resting! Lead the heart by presenting our par
ticular wants as a ehurch before the throne of
grace. Are not the petitions too general? The
heart must b'e affected by stating our particular
necessiti«j|. Be punctual in attendance, and show
by your ednduet that you yourselves are deeply
interested. Plead like Abraham, “0 that Ishmael
might Jive before Thee !”
-St., Matthew is supposed to have suffered mar
tyrdom, or was put to death by the sword at the
city of Ethiopia.
St. Mark was dragged through the streets' of
Alexandria, in Egypt, till he expired.
St. Luke was hanged upon an olive tree in
Greece.
St John was put into a caldron of boiling oil at
Rome, and escaped death. He afterwards died a
natural death at Ephesus, in Asia.
St. James the great, was beheaded at Jerusa
lem.
. St. James was thrown from a pinnacle or wing
of the temple, and then beaten to death with a
fuller's club.
St. Philip was hanged up against a pillar at
Hierapolis, a city of Phrygia.
St. Bartholomew was flayed alive by the com
mand of a barbarous king.
Sfc. Andrew was bound to a cross, whence he
preached to the people till he expired.
St. Thomas was run through the body by a
lance, near Malipar, in the East Indies.
HABrrs.— There are habits, not only of drink
ing, swearing and lying, and of some other things
whieh are’ commonly acknowledged to be habits,
but of every modification of action, speech and
thought. Man is a bundle of habits. There are
habits of industry,attention, vigilance, advertency;
of a prompt obedience to the judgment occurring,
or of yielding to the first impulses of passion;, of
extending our views to the future, or of resting
upon the present; of apprehending, methodizing,
reasoning; of indolence, dilatoriness; of vanity,
self-conceit, melancholy, partiality; of fretfdlness,
suspicion, captiousness, censoriousness; of pride,
ambition, covetousness; of overreaching, intri
guing, projecting; in a word, there is not a quality
or function, either of body or mind, which does
not feel the influence of this great law of anima
ted nature.
John B, Gough lately gave three lectures in the
Round Room of the Rotunda in Dublin, Ireland,
: which is capable, of containing two thousand five
hundred persons, and was full to the utmost possible
extent. He visited some of the provinces, and in
Belfast alone s succeeded in obtaining two thousand
signatures to the pledge.
“IT IS ONLY A PRAYER MEETING.”
FATE OF THE APOSTLES.