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6
THE HESPERIAN STUDENT.
1
tjiclr reality seems but tt short distance In
to the future. While the gray-hulrcd old
grandsiro reverses tlie picture, and takes
a retrospective view. The youth
admires patriotism, bravery In times
of danger, and courage nl feats of daring;
so his imaginations partake largely of the
adventurous sort. At one lime I have
imagined myself a second Hob Hoy, and
nt the head of my band of stalwart out
laws, sent terror into the hearts of the low
land Scotch. Again I am a Robin Hood,
and no more gentlemanly robber was over
depleted by novelist. Then my imagina
tions carry mo into Africa, where with
Oummings and Gerard I hunt lions, leop
ards and elephants, or with Pit Chaillu I
shoot the gorilla. The sea, in my youth
ful imagination, set med fraught with the
wonders of a fairyland. Oh, how I longed
to become a sailor, to visit foreign shores,
and see strange sights of other lands.
Soon however the hunter or sailor is
superseded by the knight or warrior; and
at the head of my long columns I figure
in all the grandeur of an Alexander, or a
Bonaparte. At the tournament I bear
away all honors; my lady fair is rescued
from the hands of eucmics, and jealous
lovers challenged and conquered. Rut
our ideal world changes with our years,
and soon the history of great statesmen
and literary men fires me with enthusiasm.
To be among the greatest of them is now
my ambition for who, in his early teens,
does not see in some great man a model
in whose image lie expects some day to
make his own name great among men.
These ambitious thoughts are incentives
to study, and soon they gather themselves
into a more definite shape, the model stand
ard becomes somewhat lowered, until
now, in later teens, the great statesman is
metamorphosed into a respectable peda-
gogue. t nave somen mes wonuercu
whether other people are as imaginative
as myself, and whether I can congratulate
myself on the possession of this gift as a
blessed quality of the human mind, or
whethor it should bo censured as danger
ous to tho requirements ot real life. 1
suppose, however -hat this, like any other
pleasure, is gootl enough in its place; but
if carried to excess it cannot help being
dangerous in its cflccts. Rut there are
species of air-castles built up around us
everyday; built up by other minds than
our own, and for our enjoyment and hap
pincss, or our unhappiuess and ruin. The
most important of these are such as we
find in the literary world. The poet and
the novelist are air-castle builders on a
grand scale; and although their fields of
labor are widely unlike in some respects,
yet they appeal to tho imaginative part of
one's nature alike. No one doubts tho
benefits which are derived from poetry as
a class of litoralure. No one will say
that, as a class, it is any way injurious in
ito effects. Tho poet is given free scope
-)v the exorcise of his powers, and his pro
ductions occupy the first place on our 11.
brary shelves Rut tho novelist has not
met with such unobstructed freedom; and
with the exception of a low, perhaps, as
Scott and Pickens, he has been condemned
by a largo class of peoplo, who would
have us believe that he is a dangerous
companion. Much has boon said against
novel reading as pornicious in its ofi'octs
upon the mind. Tlioso who discard this
class of literature, claim that it lias no
counterpart in real life, and should bo
avoided because it draws the mind from
it3 proper channel. Rut what if it docs
draw the inind from its proper channel.
Is not that channel toil-worn enough to ad
mit of recreation? Is the mind to boused
solely as an Intellectual machine, and not
bo allowed the sport and recreation which
wo give the body? What if tho story has
no counterpart in real life? It is but an
air-castle which somebody else has built
Instead of ourself. Why not as well pon
der for u time upon the pictures which
others paint, as to paint them for our
selves? Resides, there is a groat deal in
those literary air-castles which does par
take of every day life. The scenes and
people depicted arc generally truthful
representations of countries and nations
and the characters portray vividly the va
rious qualities of human nature. "Rut,"
says somebody else, "this class of litera
ture is not conducive to good mental (lis
cipllne." True, if read to the exclusion of
more solid mallei, it destroys the memory
and weakens the mental powers; but if
properly read it strengthens both. Then,
too, wo can gain much general knowledge
from the novel. Some historical charac
ters are Introduced, national characteris
tics, and geographical and physical fea
hires vividly presented to us through tho
life-like descriptions. These names and
places will attach themselves insepornbly
to some incident, and remain in tho mem
ory as clear and fresh as a panoramic scene
to the eye. There is nothing in the whole
range of litoralure so lilc-like as a story.
The eye may be bent upon the page and
there trace the written characters, but the
mind is far away, enjoying, it may be, the
scenes of another clime, and the pleasures
of another race. Or it may live for a
time in tho palace of the wealthy, or clus
tor around the hearthstone of the hum.
blest cottages.
In my opinion, novel readme, if noi.
t ... a,
I carried to excess, is a pleasant and profita.
bio pastime. Rut it is often carried to ex
cess, and hence becomes injurious, as all
earthly pleasures will when thus treated.
This, however, should not be urged
against novels as a class; tho fault lies
with tho reader and not with tho novel.
Thus, too, there arc bad novels, and cor
rupting seed is often sown in tho mind by
reading them. Rut does not the samo
thing happen in reading other classes of
literature? Tho trouble in this case is in
a bad solcction of authors, or in a misap.
plication of what is read. Mr. Portor
tells us that a book, in a certain sense, is
an individual, and when wo read it wo
converse with him. Now it is quite pos
siblc that wo may find in this way a com
panion whose company is injurious; but
because this is the fault with some, is no
just reason for condemning the whole. It
seems to me that it would bo bettor for pa
rents to make a good selection of authors
and then teach children to read novels
with impunity, than to hold thorn up as
forbidden fruit, when nearly every news,
paper, magazine, and library, is Innrolv
! filled with them.
Rut this quality of tho human miiul has
been tho source of much good in leading
to tlu discovery of many mechanical and
scientific inventions. An ideal is framed
in the mind, embryonic, perhaps, at first,
but gradually rounding into somedefinito
shape, it finally becomes the archetype for
something now or improved in human
knowledge or industry. Scientists boast
that their profession is, or should be.
built upon facts and accurate knowledge
Rut science is founded rather upon imagi
nation. To the ordinary mind there are
but few axioms. First an hypothesis is
advanced often, too, of tho most far-
fetched materials lint as Its truth becomes
more apparent it gradually works Itself
into a demonstrated and accepted theory.
The beautiful picture which delights the
eye of tho observer, or the poem which
pleases the reader, depends not more upon
thcpcrfcctncss of the outlines, Hum upon
the imagination which Is in it embodied.
In short, tills aestlietlcal quality of our
nature plays the most important purl of
our being; and far from being condemned,
it should be fostered and cultivated.
A.U.1I.
Incentives Jo liiiimiti l.ahor.
The world is filled with busy life. In
dustry lies at the door of every undertak
ing and every success. From tho tiny in
sect to man, the lord of creation, there is a
necessity for labor and motors which load
to a life of industry. In the animal, in
stincl is tho guide, the prime motor. The
bird builds its nest, the beaver constructs
its dam, and the bee fashions its honey
comb. The labor of bird, beaver and bee
is a natural outgrowth of their natures. It
is a part of their being, and each plies its
little trade and becomes the recipient of
its humble occupation, not by its own free
or intelligent choice, but by following tho
natural tendency of its mind, which is in
stinct. Rut man conducts his labor intel
ligently. His occupations are manifold,
and his capacities for filling tlicni, various.
Ho is free to choose, free to act, and free
to make himself of great usefulness in the
world, or become an idler, and a nuisance
to society.
What then are the motors that
load man to industry? First we might
say that a man feels bound by some moral
obligation to be industrious. He recog
nizes a duly which bids him labor both
for his own good and the well-being of
those around him. All may not feel the
obligation as equally binding, yet all do
feel and recognize it to some extent There
are always some kinds of labor which arc
irksome oven to tho must industrious per
sons; still the tasks are performed, be
cause it is felt that tlioy ought to be done.
The missionary who leaves homo and
friends, who takes up his life abode among
brutal Ca fires or degraded Hottentots, im
perils his life, and endures the piercing
cold of arctic winters and tho scorching
lieat of torrid summers, docs so, not be
cause the task is in any wise ngreoublc
but because duly seems to enjoin it upon
him.
Some may bo intltienced by second
ary motives. Tlioy may lie urged along
by love of admiration, by a desire to on
coimter these very dangers, just m a boy
is lead to sea by the reading of Robinson
Crusoe and Captain Cook. Rut in most
cases I believe that personal comfort and
enjoyments are sacrificed, and this rough
life chosen because duty seems to call for
it. We might adduce other examples to
illustrate this point, but will m on to
consider other inlluoiicos quito as potent
as tills and tending towards the same ond.
Prominent among these influences is tho
alluring fascination which tho god'dess of
wealth holds over the mindb of men. She
is tho oupid, wlio from her exalted posi
tion hurls darts of insatiable "desiro
into tho hearts of tho great mass of mail
kind, and stings and goads ambition into
the wildest flight. Fortune, wo are told,
la a fickle goddess, but flcklonoss, instead
of detracting aught from her merits, seems
rather to add moro grace to her attractive
ness; and, like the gay belle that she is.
causes moro suitors to kneel to her beauty
by making skilful use of a little coquetry.
Her favors are often exceedingly hard to
win, but this, instead of discounting her
admirers rattier causes Hum to press their
suit tho moro boldly. Wo are told that her
company i dangerous: said the teacher of
men, "It is easier for a camel to puss
through tho eye of a needle than for a Huh
man to enter tho kingdom of heaven."
Yet it would seem that many aie willing
to run the risk of condemnation rather than
forego the sweet pleasures of her eompa.
ny. Notwlihstaudingall these hideous rep.
rescntalions of her character,-the siren j3
sought, and petted, and flattered, and cour.
ted, now as she ever has been, and ever
will be.
To gain wealth, in the mind of nianj.h
tho grand ond of life, to roach which, time
and physical strength must bo given, and
intellectual culture mado subservient To
these, it is the iiminnm bonum of life, ami
thoii labor in pursuit of it is unremitting.
A lew years ago an old man might have.
'been seen wending his way every mom.
! ing down a certain street in New York
icily, and back again the same way at
J night. Everyday, through sunshine and
through storm, through summer anil
winter, he wont to his olllce in Hie mora
ing and returned home again at night.
His industry was constant and indefatiga
ble, and his life seemed all absorbed in his
business. Fortune was the goddess whose
favors lie sought, at whose shrine he
bowed, in whoso fane he worshipped. For
tune smiled benignly upon him and
i crowned his dibits with gold, and John
J Jacob Astor arose from the humble digni.
ty of flute pedlar to that of money prince
I who counted his wealth by the millions.
The possession of wealth was the motive
for making his life one of such unwearied
I inrlliati'v .mil it la Mm l'l.w.it'il ii'liinl, iiwi.i
or less excites tho great mas of mankind
in civilized communities to industrial pur
suits. Nor is its influence entirely unfelt
among savage or uncultivated people.
The Indian trios to surpass his brother in
the number of his ponies, and Hie excel
lence of his bends; and the Esquimaux
glories m the possession of his dogs and
bone trinkets.
Rut if the goddess of wealth holds the
cornucopia which showers riches upon
her industrious votary, the goddess of fame
holds the laurel wreath for his brow, and
insignia which are alike sought by warrior,
genius and clown. To gain honor and ro.
notvn is an incentive to labor at once po
tent and lar-reaching. It redoubles tho
strength of the soldier on the march,
and Increases his courage and physical
endurance on the battle field. It nerves
tho overtasked student lo a newness of life,
and vigor of action. It leads a Livingston
into the hcarl of Africa, and a Kane to the
icebound const ol northorn seas. Its in
fluence is felt everywhere; in high circles
of society and in low ones, among civil
zed and among savage peoplo. Fame is
nomething which men have ever striven
to win, from the earliest dawn of civiliza
tion. .Moved by it longing ilosiro to ren
der her name immortal, Semiramis, at tho
very beginning of historic record Jed her
conquering armies from tho Indus to Cen
tral Africa. Fame was to her tho same
glorious acme of human greatness, for
which site lnborod with tho same assidui.
ly to win, as did Alexander more than two
thousand years afterward, when he con.
quercd the same world with his band of
Mabedonian heroes, or as Napoleon, who
at a still later day sought to bring the
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