But

attain, to suffer and to dare with solemnity.
these rare souls set opinion, success, and life, at so
cheap a rate, that they will not soothe their enemies
by petitions or the show of sorrow, but wear their own
habitual greatness. Scipio, charged with peculation,
refuses to do himself so great a disgrace, as to wait
for justification, though he had the scroll of his ac-
counts in his hands, but tears it to pieces before the

Socrates' condemnation of himself to be maintained in all honor in the Prytaneum, during his life, and Sir Thomas More's playfulness at the scaffold, are of the same strain. In Beaumont and Fletcher's "Sea Voyage," Juletta tells the stout

Jul. Why, slaves, 'tis in our power to hang ye.
Master.

vaults of life, and says, I will obey the God, and the
sacrifice and the fire he will provide. Ibn Hankal,
the Arabian geographer, describes a heroic extreme
in the hospitality of Sogd, in Bukharia. "When I
was in Sogd, I saw a great building, like a palace,
the gates of which were open and fixed back to the
wall with large nails. I asked the reason, and was
told that the house had not been shut night or day,
for a hundred years. Strangers may present them-tribunes.
selves at any hour, and in whatever number; the
master has amply provided for the reception of the
men and their animals, and is never happier than
when they tarry for some time. Nothing of the
kind have I seen in any other country." The mag-captain and his company,
nanimous know very well that they who give time,
or money, or shelter, to the stranger-so it be done
for love, and not for ostentation-do, as it were,
put God under obligation to them, so perfect are
the compensations of the universe. In some way,
the time they seem to lose, is redeemed, and
the pains they seem to take, remunerate themselves.
These men fan the flame of human love and raise
the standard of civil virtue among mankind. But
hospitality must be for service, and not for show, or
it pulls down the host. The brave soul rates itself
too high to value itself by the splendor of its table
and draperies. It gives what it hath, and all it
hath, but its own majesty can lend a better grace to
bannocks and fair water, than belong to city feasts.
The temperance of the hero, proceeds from the
same wish to do no dishonor to the worthiness he has.
But he loves it for its elegancy, not for its austerity.
It seems not worth his while to be solemn, and de-
nounce with bitterness flesh-eating, or wine-drink-
ing, the use of tobacco, or opium, or tea, or silk,
or gold. A great man scarcely knows how he dines,
how he dresses, but without railing or precision,
his living is natural and poetic. John Eliot, the
Indian Apostle, drank water, and said of wine, It
is a noble, generous liquor, and we should be hum-
bly thankful for it, but, as I remember, water was
made before it." Better still, is the temperance of
king David, who poured out on the ground unto the
Lord, the water which three of his warriors had
brought him to drink, at the peril of their lives.

It is told of Brutus, that when he fell on his sword, after the battle of Philippi, he quoted a line of Euripides, "O virtue, I have followed thee through life, and I find thee at last but a shade." I doubt not the hero is slandered by this report. The heroic soul does not sell its justice and its nobleness. It does not ask to dine nicely, and to sleep warm. The essence of greatness is the perception that virtue is enough. Poverty is its ornament. Plenty, it does not need, and can very well abide its loss.

But that which takes my fancy most, in the heroic class, is the good humor and hilarity they exhibit. It is a height to which common duty can very well

Very likely, 'Tis in our powers, then, to be hanged, and scorn ye. These replies are sound and whole. Sport is the bloom and glow of a perfect health. The great will not condescend to take any thing seriously; all must be as gay as the song of a canary, though it were the building of cities or the eradication of old and foolish churches and nations, which have cumbered the earth long thousands of years. Simple hearts put all the history and customs of this world behind them, and play their own play in innocent defiance of the Blue-Laws of the world; and such would appear, could we see the human race assembled in vision, like little children frolicking together, though, to the eyes of mankind at large, they wear a stately and solemn garb of works and influences.

The interest these fine stories have for us, the power of a romance over the boy who grasps the forbidden book under his bench at school, our delight in the hero, is the main fact to our purpose. All these great and transcendent properties are ours. If we dilate in beholding the Greek energy, the Roman pride, it is that we are already domesticating the same sentiment. Let us find room for this great guest in our small houses. The first step of worthiness will be to disabuse us of our superstitious associations with places and times, with number and size. Why should these words, Athenian, Roman, Asia, and England, so tingle in the ear. Let us feel that where the heart is, there the muses, there the gods sojourn, and not in any geography of fame. Massachusetts, Connecticut River, and Boston Bay, you think paltry places, and the ear loves names of foreign and classic topography. But here we are;-that is a great fact, and, if we will tarry a little, we may come to learn that here is best. See to it, only that thyself is here;-and art and nature, hope and dread, friends, angels, and the Supreme Being, shall not be absent from the chamber where thou sittest. Epaminondas, brave and affectionate, does not seem to us to need Olympus to die upon, nor the Syrian sunshine. He lies very well where he is. The Jerseys were handsome ground enough for Washington to tread, and London streets

for the feet of Milton. A great man illustrates his place, makes his climate genial in the imagination of men, and its air the beloved element of all delicate spirits. That country is the fairest, which is inhabited by the noblest minds. The pictures which fill the imagination in reading the actions of Pericles, Xenophon, Columbus, Bayard, Sidney, Hampden, teach us how needlessly mean our life is, that we, by the depth of our living, should deck it with more than regal or national splendor, and act on principles that should interest man and nature in the length of our days.

the sympathy of people in those actions whose excellence is that they outrun sympathy, and appear to a tardy justice. If you would serve your brother, because it is fit for you to aerve him, do not take back your words when you find that prudent people do not commend you. Be true to your own act, and congratulate yourself if you have done something strange and extravagant, and broken the monotony of a decorous age. It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, " Always do what you are afraid to do." A simple manly character need never make an apology, but should regard its past action with the calmness of Phocion, when he admitted that the event of the battle was happy, yet did not regret his dissuasion from the battle.

tell our charities, not because we wish to be praised for them, not because we think they have great merit, but for our justification. It is a capital blunder; as you discover, when another man recites his charities.

We have seen or heard of many extraordinary young men, who never ripened, or whose perform ance in actual life, was not extraordinary. When we see their air and mien, when we hear them speak of society, of books, of religion, we admire their There is no weakness or exposure for which we superiority, they seem to throw contempt on the cannot find consolation in the thought,-this is a part whole state of the world; theirs is the tone of a of my constitution, part of my relation and office to youthful giant, who is sent to work revolutions. my fellow creature. Has nature covenanted with But they enter an active profession, and the forming me that I should never appear to disadvantage, Colossus shrinks to the common size of man. The never make a ridiculous figure? Let us be generous magic they used, was the ideal tendencies, which of our dignity, as well as of our money. Greatalways make the Actual ridiculous; but the toughness once and forever has done with opinion. We world had its revenge the moment they put their horses of the sun to plough in its furrow. They found no example and no companion, and their heart fainted. What then? The lesson they gave in their first aspirations, is yet true, and a better valor, and a purer truth, shall one day execute their will, and put the world to shame. Or why should a woman liken herself to any historical woman, and think, because Sappho, or Sévigné, or De Staël, or the cloistered souls who have had genius and cultivation, do not satisfy the imagination, and the serene Themis, none can,-certainly not she. Why not? She has a new and unattempted problem to solve, perchance that of the happiest nature that ever bloomed. Let the maiden, with erect soul, walk serenely on her way, accept the hint of each new experience, try, in turn, all the gifts God offers her, that she may learn the power and the charm, that like a new dawn radiating out of the deep of space, her new-born being is. The fair girl, who repels interference by a decided and proud choice of influences, so careless of pleasing, so wilful and lofty, inspires every beholder with somewhat of her own nobleness. The silent heart encourages her; O friend, never strike sail to a fear. Come into port greatly, or sail with God the seas. Not in vain you live, for every passing eye is cheered and refined by the vision.

To speak the truth, even with some austerity, to live with some rigor of temperance, or some extremes of generosity, seems to be an asceticism which common good nature would appoint to those who are at ease and in plenty, in sign that they feel a brotherhood with the great multitude of suffering men. And not only need we breathe and exercise the soul by assuming the penalties of abstinence, of debt, of solitude, of unpopularity, but it behoves the wise man to look with a bold eye into those rarer dangers which sometimes invade men, and to familiarize himself with disgusting forms of disease, with sounds of execration, and the vision of violent death.

Times of heroism are generally times of terror, but the day never shines in which this element may not work. The circumstances of man, we say, are historically somewhat better in this country, and at this hour, than perhaps ever before. More freedom exists for culture. It will not now run against an axe, at the first step out of the beaten track of opinion. But whoso is heroic, will always find crises to try his edge. Human virtue demands her champions and martyrs, and the trial of persecution always proceeds. It is but the other day, that the brave Lovejoy gave his breast to the bullets of a mob, for the rights of free speech and opinion, and

The characteristic of a genuine heroism is its persistency. All men have wandering impulses, fits and starts of generosity. But when you have resolved to be great, abide by yourself, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with the world. | died when it was better not to live. The heroic cannot be the common, nor the common

I see not any road of perfect peace, which a man

the heroic. Yet we have the weakness to expect can walk but to take counsel of his own bosom. Let

THE CELESTIAL RAILROAD.

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

testimony to the solidity of its foundation, I should be loth to cross it in a crowded omnibus; especially, if each passenger were eucumbered with as heavy luggage as that gentleman and myself. Nevertheless we got over without accident, and soon found ourselves at the Station-house. This very neat and spacious edifice is erected on the site of the little Wicket-Gate, which formerly, as all old pilgrims will recollect, stood directly across the highway, and, by its inconvenient narrowness, was a great obstruction to the traveller of liberal mind and expansive stomach. The reader of John Bunyan will

be glad to know, that Christian's old friend Evangelist, who was accustomed to supply each pilgrim with a mystic roll, now presides at the ticket-office. Some malicious persons, it is true, deny the identity

Not a great while ago, passing through the gate of dreams, I visited that region of the earth in which lies the famous city of Destruction. It interested me much to learn, that, by the public spirit of some of the inhabitants, a railroad has recently been established between this populous and flourishing town, and the Celestial City. Having a little time upon my hands, I resolved to gratify a liberal curiosity by making a trip thither. Accordingly, one fine morning, after paying my bill at the hotel, and directing the porter to stow my luggage behind a coach, I took my seat in the vehicle, and set out for the Station-house. It was my good fortune to enjoy the company of a gentleman-one Mr. Smooth-it-of this reputable character with the Evangelist of away-who, though he had never actually visited old times, and even pretend to bring competent the Celestial City, yet seemed as well acquainted evidence of an imposture. Without involving mywith its laws, customs, policy, and statistics, as with self in the dispute, I shall merely observe, that, so those of the city of Destruction, of which he was a far as my experience goes, the square pieces of pastenative townsman. Being, moreover, a director of board, now delivered to passengers, are much more the railroad corporation, and one of its largest stock-convenient and useful along the road, than the anholders, he had it in his power to give me all de-tique roll of parchment. Whether they will be as sirable information respecting that praiseworthy en- readily received at the gate of the Celestial City, I terprise. decline giving an opinion.

Our coach rattled out of the city, and, at a short distance from its outskirts, passed over a bridge of elegant construction, but somewhat too slight, as I imagined, to sustain any considerable weight. On both sides lay an extensive quagmire, which could not have been more disagreeable either to sight or smell, had all the kennels of the earth emptied their pollution there,

"This," remarked Mr. Smooth-it-away, "is the famous Slough of Despond-a disgrace to all the neighborhood; and the greater, that it might so easily be converted into firm ground."

"I have understood," said I, "that efforts have been made for that purpose, from time immemorial. Bunyan mentions that about twenty thousand cartloads of wholesome instructions had been thrown in here, without effect."

A large number of passengers were already at the Station-house, awaiting the departure of the cars. By the aspect and demeanor of these persons, it was easy to judge that the feelings of the community had undergone a very favorable change, in reference to the celestial pilgrimage. It would have done Bunyan's heart good to see it. Instead of a lonely and

ragged man, with a huge burthen on his back, plodding along sorrowfully on foot, while the whole city hooted after him, here were parties of the first gentry and most respectable people in the neighborhood, setting forth towards the Celestial City, as cheerfully as if the pilgrimage were merely a summer tour. Among the gentlemen were characters of deserved eminence, magistrates, politicians, and men of wealth, by whose example religion could not but be greatly recommended to their meaner bre

distinguish some of those flowers of fashionable society, who are so well fitted to adorn the most elevated circles of the Celestial City. There was much pleasant conversation about the news of the day, topics of business, politics, or the lighter matters of amusement; while religion, though indubitably the main thing at heart, was thrown tastefully into the back-ground. Even an infidel would have heard little or nothing to shock his sensibility.

"Very probably!-and what effect could be an-thren. In the ladies' apartment, too, I rejoiced to ticipated from such unsubstantial stuff?" cried Mr. Smooth-it-away. "You observe this convenient bridge. We obtained a sufficient foundation for it, by throwing into the Slough some editions of books of morality, volumes of French philosophy and German rationalism, tracts, sermons, and essays of modern clergymen, extracts from Plato, Confucius, and varions Hindoo sages, together with a few ingenious commentaries upon texts of Scripture-all of which, by some scientific process, have been converted into a mass like granite. The whole bog might be filled up with similar matter."

Our

One great convenience of the new method of going on pilgrimage, I must not forget to mention. enormous burthens, instead of being carried on our It really seemed to me, however, that the bridge shoulders, as had been the custom of old, were all snug. vibrated and heaved up and down, in a very for-ly deposited in the baggage-car, and, as I was assured, midable manner; and, spite of Mr. Smooth it-away's | would be delivered to their respective owners at the