reputation. Under such a stimulus, they very rarely fall asleep, or relax their efforts, until age or debility arrives.

"This continued strife has the happiest effect on the literature of this country, and in this respect, the German universities are better organized than any others in Europe. It is folly to suppose, that the mere influence of principle will induce most professors who do not feel great enthusiasm in their departments, to make the necessary efforts to arrive at excellence. They will often find bad weather in winter, and real or imaginary debility the rest of the year, an excuse for relaxation or indolence.

"American professors are usually stationary from forty-five to fifty years of age, until their decease; or, to indulge the utmost charity, they advance very little after that period; here, they are continually acquiring fame by new attainments, and they are rarely unoccupied, even at seventy.

"In the United States, the professors usually write but one course of lectures, which is delivered from year to year, until it loses with even themselves half its interest, from its monotony; here, there are very few who do not deliver two, three, and even four courses on different branches of their profession at the same time, which occupy them as many hours during three, four, and even five days of the week. With us, a professor is usually chosen at a very early period of life, and long before his attainments have qualified him for his station, with the hope that his talents and industry will justify the appointment. If, as is sometimes the case, they are chosen at a more advanced age, they are selected from one of the professions, in which they have been so long occupied, that they have had but little time to devote to anything but the practical part of it. This is particularly true of theology and medicine, and is almost equally so in the department of law. Though they make very good clergymen, lawyers, and physicians, very few of them, however distinguished are their talents, make able professors. A man designed for such a station, like an officer in the army, should be educated for his profession, and should go through all the gradations of ascent, until he arrives at the highest chair of instruction. It is almost as unsafe to choose a professor of theology, of law, or of medicine, because the person chosen was a good preacher, lawyer, or physician, as it would be to elevate a common soldier to the rank of general, because he performed his drill with great precision. The one requires as long a course of study and of diligent application as the other. Happily for Germany, a very different course is pursued here. Before an individual can reach the humble station of teacher, he must exhibit fine talents, and an amount of learning which few of our professors possess. In this station he remains a long time, and years must roll away, unless his attainments are very uncommon, before he is raised to the extraordinary chair. Previous to this elevation, he passes six, eight, ten, and sometimes fifteen years, in the most diligent research, relying entirely upon his own efforts for success.

"When a professor at length takes the first ascending step, he is not considered qualified to receive the compensation or title of an ordinary professor. Here he remains many years, dependent upon the three or four hundred dollars that he receives from government and on the fees of his lectures for subsistence, until he shows the same decided superiority over his brethren of the same class that he did when, as a teacher, he was called to the extraordinary chair. Even this is not enough. The German universities are all rival institutions, and the custom is universal of appointing those who fill the prominent places in any one of them to a similar place in another. To induce them to leave the chairs which they occupy, large pecuniary offers are made, and to these are not unfrequently added titles and decorations. The government of the university are thus under the necessity of retaining them by similar offers, or of seeing many of the students following the professor to a neighboring institution. Learning and talent are thus thrown into the market, and become as much an article of commerce as any branch of manufactures. They are usually struck off to the highest bidder, unless the peculiar excellence of the library, as at Gottingen, or of the hospitals, as at Berlin, should induce the individual to make a pecuniary sacrifice for the sake of the greater facilities which his actual situation affords for arriving at eminence." pp. 178–181.

We have exceeded our limits, but we will take one more passage, to show the poetical cast of the author's mind, and give at the same time a specimen of his style.

"The peculiar charm of an Italian landscape, however, is felt when the sun is approaching the horizon. Our evenings are often intensely beautiful, from the piles of clouds which the sun draws around him, and which he often lights up with a radiance, which an Englishman might almost mistake for a view of a brighter world. Near the Alps, at Venice for example, when the sun retires behind the Friuli mountains, he veils his dying glories with clouds of as gorgeous a coloring, as are seen with us. When no summit is near to attract them, the sun of Italy rarely sets in glory, as it usually disappears without a cloud to reflect its beams. But in the rich tints which are thrown over the landscape, he fully compensates the Italians for the loss of our brilliant sunsets. About half an hour before the sun reaches the horizon, a flood of golden light is shed on every object. This soon assumes a rosy tint, like the light blush on a maiden's cheek, when it soon changes to a deeper and deeper red. A purple of exquisite softness gradually succeeds it, its hue soon changing to one of a more intense beauty, which, floating over the landscape, transforms every object to this loveliest of colors. It is at this time that the bay of Naples is seen in all its glory. At this hour the range which bounds it, and Vesuvius, the beau ideal of mountains, are melted down into a softness which is indescribable. Long after the bay is shaded by the hills of Baiæ and Ischia, this purple light floats from the sides and summits of the opposite mountains, as if the sun was unwilling to leave a scene so lovely."

p. 352.

We think this book calculated to be a standard one on the country which it describes. It is ground which has been well occupied. The two best volumes of modern travels we know have taken it for a theme"Russell's Tour," and a small but delightful book, "A Ramble in Germany." The latter is full of those delightful, wayside thoughts, which make the author and the reader so intimate, and within a narrow compass comprises a wonderful amount of interest. We have had neither time nor disposition to find fault with Mr. Dwight. Rather than be so unfashionable, however, as to dismiss a book without objection, we will mention the occurrence, here and there, of collegisms like "quantum suff." and "the stove emitting its caloric"-blemishes which a less hasty publishment would have corrected. The style generally, is singularly pure, and the whole volume leaves upon the mind a relish of scholar-like and racy simplicity.

SUMMER.

LET us go forth, pale student! Nature hath
Voices for thy worn spirit, and a pulse
Beating in concord with a weary mind

O'erspent with its vain toil! Awhile forsake

The lore of bygone intellect-the dreams
Of old Pythagoras, and his, who died
The martyr to a high philosophy

At sunset's quiet hour! Let us go forth!
For by that quivering flush upon thy cheek,
I know that thou hast pondered cunningly
Upon the old world's wisdom! "Tis not well
That one who hath a spiritual thirst

For that deep fount whose element is mind,
Should waste on dogmas of the olden time
Life's brief and perishing taper. Let us forth
Upon the paths of Nature.

Sweetly breathes

The noontide winds among the green arcades,
Form'd by a master hand. Glad summer's voice
Trills in the babbling brooks'and in the notes
Of twice ten thousand warbling choristers!
Look how the grain bends to the breeze's kiss;
And watch the sunlight sparkling thro' the shade
Of yon old time-worn wood! Now mark yon scene!
A simple cottage slumbering on the breast
Of a green valley, like a pale white cloud
Living among the soft blue depths of heaven!*
List on the wind's wing comes the silvery note
Of some untutor'd girl, and hear! tis' mock'd
By viewless echo 'mong the distant hills!
Look now around, pale scholar! see the sheaves
Piled in the winnowed meadows, and away

Over the lovely landscape, mark the girls
"Binding the corn!"

The twilight hastens on

Come let us watch from this enamell'd bank

For the first star! Shadows are crowding fast
Over the silent valleys, and the birds
Fly in strange order towards tomorrow's dawn!
Thy cheek, young student, hath a healthier hue-
Thy step is more elastic. It were well
That thou did'st oftener wander from the crowd,
Holding brief commune with the living things
That pant in nature's bosom. Time soon steals
The polish from young temples. Thou wilt be
Too soon among thy fathers, that thy strength
Should all be wasted in the mazy paths
Leading to wisdom's temple. Live awhile,
And gaze among the crowd in thoughtfulness!

* We cannot help putting this exquisite picture in Italics.

ED.

Soon wilt thou then grow weary of the palm,
And deem its glories idle. I have been
Long time a delver into hidden mines,
And find that glory is not happiness,
Nor wisdom, as the world unravels it,
The food for peace!

Philadelphia.

R. M.

LOOSE THOUGHTS ON BIOGRAPHY.

Ex vitio alterius sapiens emendat suum. PUBLIUS SYRUS.

vast

MORAL maxims present to the mind in a condensed form amount of practical wisdom. They are general rules for the regulation of moral conduct, derived from a cautious examination and comparison of the results of different dispositions of events, and the tendencies of dissimilar principles of action. They are an epitome of the knowledge, which the uniform experience of ages has collected, and which, after diligent sifting, has been universally adopted as unquestionable truth, and left on register for our improvement. But they possess little efficiency-do not exert that controlling agency over the tenor of our lives, which they ought to exercise, and without which they are to us unmeaning hieroglyphics. For though their intrinsic value, and the authority by which they are recommended, give them strong claims on our attention, they are seldom understood, or if the abstract proposition be assented to, are seldom appreciated; and this intrinsic value is immense, for they touch our daily interests, claim the right of governing those feelings which are daily brought into action, and come to us in a shape which renders their application easy and indubious; and their authority is high, for the unvarying experience of all ages attests their correctness, and amid the endless and numberless disputes respecting the nature of virtue and the foundation of moral distinctions, these only remain inharmed and unquestioned. We are taught them from our childhood, and grow up in the belief of them, and when they come before the mind, assent without hesitation, and almost without reflection to their truth, and go away and forget them. The proposition for example, that 'honesty is the best policy,' as it is evidenced by the observation of every man, and strictly logical inference from it is on all hands acknowledged to be true. But how few model their conduct on this principle. How few are there I mean, who maintain that severe integrity which shrinks more from the falsehood than from the impu

tation of it, which will not suffer itself to be seduced to the smallest deviation, by any prospects of emolument. And yet, where do we hear more frequently the above mentioned maxim than from those who sometimes make a compromise between duty and interest, and smother, for the sake of gain, the expostulating voice of conscience? The fact is that general principles seldom fasten on the mind, and become a part of our habitual train of thought, and incorporate themselves with our modes of action. Were this the case they would possess a mighty efficiency, and impart their complexion to our whole character. Now let these same truths be presented to us in a visible and palpable form; let them come in the shape of actions, and they acquire a mysterious and unfailing virtue; otherwise they would float in the mind inert and useless; but now they bring with them a vivid apprehension, and solemn and permanent conviction of their reality and importance, and operate with unwonted energy and effect.

In analyzing the two processes generated by truths in their abstract form, and when bodied forth in action, we notice this distinction. In the former case our conceptions are vague and confused; in the latter definite and vivid. This dimness of our conceptions results from the generality which is the essence of moral maxims. To this distinction we are disposed to refer the difference of effect produced by the two modes of contemplating truth. For we have observed that the man whose conduct is characterised by scrupulous rectitude and resolute consistency, usually possesses a clear and nicely discriminating perception of moral distinctions; while he whose course is marked by an unstable regard to truth and virtue, or a uniform neglect of the distinction, lives in a circle of perpetual moral occultation.

From these remarks we might infer the necessity of caution in the selection of associates; but the topic is too hackneyed, and the propriety of such a course too devious. We might also infer the necessity of caution in the selection of books. Apart from incidental remarks, which we may convert into means of self improvement, and apart from the knowledge we derive from its perusal, we find on laying down a volume, that a general impression remains on our minds, a new direction is given to our thoughts, or a new current of feeling is set in motion--an effect very analogous to that produced by our companions. None but base passions can be brought into action by the perusal of a work saturated or tinctured with pollution; while high and fervent aspirations after moral perfectness, are the result of an intimate communion with those etherial spirits, who seem to belong to a higher order of intelligences, and who sometimes deign to visit our world on a holy errand of love and mercy to lift our thoughts above the din, and vain imaginings of earth, to