home with a sad countenance; but the sour faces of the multitude, like their sweet faces, have no deep cause, but are put on and off as the wind blows and a newspaper directs. Yet is the discontent of the multitude more formidable than that of the senate and the college. It is easy enough for a firm man who knows the world to brook the rage of the culti vated classes. Their rage is decorous and prudent, for they are timid as being very vulnerable them selves. But when to their feminine rage the indigna tion of the people is added, when the ignorant and the poor are aroused, when the unintelligent brute force that lies at the bottom of society is made to growl and mow, it needs the habit of magnanimity and religion to treat it godlike as a trifle of no con

cernment.

The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past act or word, because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them.

But why should you keep your head over you shoulder? Why drag about this corpse of you memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place? Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then? It seems t be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone, scarcely even in acts of pure memory, but t bring the past for judgment into the thousand-eye present, and live ever in a new day. In your meta physics you have denied personality to the Deity;

yet when the devout motions of the soul come, yield to them heart and life, though they should clothe God with shape and colour. Leave your theory, as. Joseph his coat in the hand of the harlot, and flee.

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said to-day.—“Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood."-Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and e spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is ta misunderstood.

I suppino man can violate his nature. All the sallies of his will are rounded in by the law of his being, as the inequalities of Andes and Himmaleh are insignificant in the curve of the sphere. Nor does it matter how you gauge and try him. A character is like an acrostic or Alexandrian stanza;-read it forward, backward, or across, it still spells the same thing. In this pleasing, contrite wood-life which God allows me, let me record day by day my honest thought without prospect or retrospect, and, I cannot doubt, it will be found symmetrical, though I mean it not, and see it not. My book should smell of pines and resound with the hum of insects. The.

swallow over my window should interweave that thread or straw he carries in his bill into my web also. We pass for what we are. Character teaches above our wills. Men imagine that they communicate their virtue or vice only by overt actions, and do not see that virtue or vice emit a breath every moment.

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There will be an agreement in whatever variety of actions, so they be each honest and natural in their hour. For of one will, the actions will be harmonious, however unlike they seem. These varieties are lost sight of at a little distance, at a little height of thought. One tendency unites them all. The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks. See the line from a sufficient distance, and it straightens itself to the average tendency. Yolcuine action will explain itself, and will expla" your cother genuine actions. Your conformity expus nothing Act singly, and what you have already will justify you now. Greatness app future. If I can be firm enough to-day tonight, and scorn eyes, I must have done so muc right before as to defend me now. Be it how it w do right now. Always scorn appearances, and you always may. The force of character is cumulative. All the foregone days of virtue work their health into this. What makes the majesty of the heroes of the senate and the field, which so fills the imagination! The consciousness of a train of great days and vic tories behind. They shed a united light on the advancing actor. He is attended as by a visible

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scort of angels. That is it which throws thunder nto Chatham's voice, and dignity into Washington's Sort, and America into Adams's eye. Honour is enerable to us because it is no ephemeris. It is lways ancient virtue. We worship it to-day because t is not of to-day. We love it and pay it homage, because it is not a trap for our love and homage, but Is self-dependent, self-derived, and therefore of an old mmaculate pedigree, even if shown in a young person.

I hope in these days we have heard the last of conformity and consistency. Let the words be gazetted and ridiculous henceforward. Instead of the gong for dinner, let us hear a whistle from the Spartan ffe. Let us never bow and apologise more. A grei man is coming to eat at my house. I do not wish. please him; I wish that he should wish to please me I will stand here for humanity, and though i would make it kind, I would make it true. saffront and reprimand the smooth mediocrity alid contentment of the times, and hurl in the of custom, and trade, and office, the fact which he upshot of all history, that there is a great responsible Thinker and Actor working wherever a man works; that a true man belongs to no other time or place, but is the centre of things. Where he is, there is nature. He measures you, and all men, and all events. Ordinarily, everybody in society reminds as of somewhat else, or of some other person. Character, reality, reminds you of nothing else; it takes place of the whole creation. The man must be so much, that he must make all circumstances indifferent. VOL. II.

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Every true man is a cause, a country, and an age; requires infinite spaces and numbers and time fully to accomplish his design;- and posterity seem to follow his steps as a train of clients. A man Cæsar is born, and for ages after we have a Roman Empire Christ is born, and millions of minds so grow and cleave to his genius, that he is confounded with virtue and the possible of man. An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man; as, Monachism, of the Hermit Antony; the Reformation, of Luther: Quakerism, of Fox; Methodism, of Wesley; Abolition of Clarkson. Scipio, Milton called "the height d Rome;" and all history resolves itself very easily inte the biography of a few stout and earnest persons.

Let a man then know his worth, and keep thing under his feet. Let him not peep or steal, or skulk x up and down with the air of a charity-boy, a bastard or an interloper, in the world which exists for hir But the man in the street, finding no worth in him:" which corresponds to the force which built a tov sculptured a marble god, feels poor when he look these. To him a palace, a statue, or a costly boo have an alien and forbidding air, much like a gay equip age, and seem to say like that, "Who are you, sir?' Yet they all are his, suitors for his notice, petitioners to his faculties that they will come out and take pos session. The picture waits for my verdict: it is not to command me, but I am to settle its claims to praise That popular fable of the sot who was picked up dead drunk in the street, carried to the duke's house, washed and dressed and laid in the duke's bed, and