iCt-,W
No. 1.
" Nil. Admihaiu."
2(57
Sf
m .
which is not the case, for thorn aro many
good authors of whom each has his pe
culiar stylo of writing. With this truth
before us, to say that all should confotm
to one stylo of writing is false. If critic
ism, then, is a matter of opinion with the
critic, how adsurd it is for one to set up
a standard of his own and criticise every
thing as though there was no other stylo
of writing, no other opinion.
Outkua.
"NIL ADMJliAltf."
The power of self-government is one of
the most valuable aquisitious of man. To
ho able to resist the fascinating allure
ments of honor, fame or wealth, until
reason lias time to assert her sway over
desire, is a rare possession. The man of
impulses is continually going wrong. His
view is always superficial; his first im
pression is the one always acted upon. His
decisions are made under the influence of
temporary excitement, and his course gen
erally completed before the voice of rca
son can be heard.
The man of passion is still more unfor.
tunatc. In his case reason is never heed
ed, but he madly pursues the object of his
desires until ho is worn out by the chase;
while the prize that has seemed continu
ally within his reach, fades away like the
" fatal lire," leaving him entangled in the
mud and brier of the swamp.
lint the man, who under all circum
stances is able to stop and consider, makes
no such mistakes. While all around are
swayed by seemingly uncontrollable im
pulses, he remains calm and unmoved.
In the whirl and din of the flying throng
his reason firmly retains hei seat. His eyo
is never dimmed by the film of passion, but
its clear, penetrating light sees every rut
and miry place in which he may stumble.
He judges not the depth of the stream,
when the storm sweeps over it, and the
tossing water is darkened ; but when the
wind has passed, and through the clear
depths tlie bed is again visible. His opin
ion is to bo relied upon. Ho carefully
weighs every argument, counts every
move, reasons and calculates, and, finally,
after having looked upon every possible
side, ho makes his decision, and if he goes
wrong it is a mathematical error.
The acme of virtue is undoubtedly best
attained by a mind that does not regard
the false colorings of excitement; whose
decisions are made when undisturbed by
grief or joy, desire or fear. Hut there is
another phase of the question. The Stoic
principle of allowing the mind on no
consideration to rise above 01 sink below
the same general level, seems an unneces
sary and an unnatural restriction? Who
is there that has never fell the promptings
of passion, or the glowing of the poetic
lire; whose heart has not beat faster at the
cry of patriotism, or whose blood has not
rushed to his cheeks and the tears to his
eyes at the talo of pathos? In the world
of art there is a constant appeal to some
thing more than mathematical accuracy,
a necessity for something besides a calm,
unchanging temperament. It is an appeal
to passion itself. All the really great
works of art are the offsprings of minds
that must have been influenced by the pas
sions they have portrayed. It is impossible
to produce in others the emotions we can
not create in ourselves. No artist can stand
outside of his work and with a mind
undisturbed by any feeling lay upon can
vas a delineation of passion, or coolly
carve in marble the writhing agonies of
the haocoon. Does it seem as if the love
ly picture of the Madonna was the product
of a mind that had never been swayed by
a stronger impulse than methodical judg
ment? Does the passionate warmth of
Lalla Hookh indicate a soul whose lire
was carefully covered that the heat might
be unvnrying? The man who has never
known a passion is a nonentity. Belter
the burning heat of a tropic sun, followed
by the refreshing breezes of evening, than
the dim, unending glare of a polar twi
light. The influence of pure passions is inval-
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