pathetically, morally, of either of these worlds of life? As long as the Caucasian man — perhaps longer― these creatures have kept their counsel beside him, and there is no record of any word or sign that has passed from one to the other. Nay, what does history yet record of the metaphysical annals of man ? What light does it shed on those mysteries which we hide under the names Death and Immor

tality? Yet every history should be written in a wisdom which divined the range of our affinities and looked at facts as symbols. I am ashamed to see what a shallow village tale our so-called History is. How many times we must say Rome, and Paris, and Constantinople. What does Rome know of rat and lizard? What are Olympiads and Consulates to these neighboring systems of being? Nay, what food or experience or succor have they for the Esquimaux seal-hunter, for the Kanaka in his canoe, for the fisherman, the stevedore, the porter?

Broader and deeper we must write our annals from an ethical reformation, from an influx of the ever new, ever sanative conscience, — if we would truelier express our central and wide-related nature, instead of this old chronology of selfishness and pride to which we have too long lent our eyes. Already that day exists for us, shines in on us at unawares, but the path of science and of letters is not the way into nature, but from it, rather. The idiot, the Indian, the child, and unschooled farmer's boy, come much nearer to these,- understand them better than the dissector or the antiquary.

SELF-RELIANCE.

Ne te quæsiveris extra.

"Man is his own star, and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Command all light, all influence, all fate,

Nothing to him falls early or too late.

Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,

Our fatal shadows that walk by us still."

Epilogue to Beaumont and Fletcher's Honest Man's Fortune.

Cast the bantling on the rocks,
Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat:
Wintered with the hawk and fox,

Power and speed be hands and feet.

ESSAY II.37-49, 57, 37-49,57,58

SELF-RELIANCE.

I READ the other day some verses written by an emi-
nent painter which were original and not conven-
tional. Always the soul hears an admonition in such
lines, let the subject be what it may. The sentiment
they instil is of more value than any thought they
may contain. To believe your own thought, to be-
lieve that what is true for you in your private heart, is

of setrue for all men,- that is genius. Speak your latent/

conviction and it shall be the universal sense; for al-
ways the inmost becomes the outmost,
and our

first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of
the Last Judgment. Familiar as the voice of the
mind is to each, the highest merit we ascribe to Moses,
Plato, and Milton, is that they set at naught books
and traditions, and spoke not what men but what they
thought. A man should learn to detect and watch
that gleam of light which flashes across his mind
from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of