accusation of his uncle echoes in his ears; the injunction to revenge, and the imploring supplication again and again repeated, 'Remember me!'

"And when the ghost has vanished, whom do we see standing before us? A young hero panting for revenge? A prince by birth who feels proud that he is enjoined to punish the usurper of his crown? No! astonishment and perplexity confound the solitary youth; he vents the bitterness of his soul against smiling villains, swears never to forget his father's departed spirit, and concludes with the expression of deep regret that:

'The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,

That ever I was born to set it right!'

"It seems to me that in these words will be found the key to Hamlet's whole course of conduct, and it is evident that Shakespeare meant to describe a great duty imposed upon a soul unable to perform it. And in this sense I find that the whole play is conceived and worked out. An oak tree is planted in a costly vase, which should only have borne beautiful flowers in its bosom; the roots expand and the vase is shattered.

He views every duty as

He is called upon to do itself, but impossible to

"A lovely, pure, noble, and highly moral being, without the strength of mind which forms a hero, sinks beneath a load which it cannot bear and must not renounce. holy, but this one is too much for him. what is impossible; not impossible in him. And as he turns and winds and torments himself, still advancing and retreating, ever reminded and remembering his purpose, he almost loses sight of it completely, without ever recovering his happiness."

"Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship," Book IV., Chap. xiii.

WHE

GROWTH BY EXCHANGE OF IDEAS

THEN several persons live together in friendly intercourse, at the same time that they have a common interest to advance their culture, and keep in view separate, closely united aims, they feel that they are coming in contact in the greatest possible variety of ways, and that even a direction that seems to lead to their separation will soon happily reunite them.

Who has not felt what profit, in such cases, results from conversation? But conversation has no permanence; and though we do not lose any portion of the results of a mutual interchange of acquisition, the memory of the means by which they were arrived at disappears.

The steps of such a common progress are better preserved by means of a correspondence by letter. Each moment of growth is thus fixed, and while our attainment gives us a feeling of satisfaction, we shall derive advantage from a backward look at the process of growth, which gives us reason to hope for ceaseless future progress.

Brief notes, in which we set down from time to time our thoughts, convictions, and wishes, in order to return and converse with ourselves after an interval of time, are also an excellent means of aiding our own culture, and that of others; a means that no one should neglect, when we consider the short space of time allotted to life, and the many hindrances we meet with in the way of advancement.

It will be seen that we are now speaking of an interchange of ideas among friends, who have a common aim of artistic and scientific cultivation. At the same time, so great an advantage ought not to be neglected in a life of action in the world.

But in matters of art and science, a limited connection of this sort is not sufficient; to stand in some relation to the public is equally agreeable and necessary. Whatever a man does or thinks, of general concern, belongs to the world, which in time brings to maturity whatever it can appropriate of the efforts of individuals. The desire for applause which the writer feels is an instinct that nature has implanted in him, to draw him on to something higher. He thinks he has achieved the laurel, but soon perceives that a more laborious cultivation of all his faculties is necessary, to hold fast the public favor, which through fortune and accident may be retained for a few short moments.

In early times the writer perceived this significance in his relation to the public, and even in later days he cannot dispense with it. However little he may seem called to give instruction, he still feels the need of imparting to others with whom he has a sympathy, but who are scattered up and down in the world. He wishes by this means to renew his relations with old friends, to strengthen those friendships now existing, and to acquire others. in the new generation for the remainder of his term of life. He

wishes to spare the young those circuitous ways in which he wandered up and down, and whilst he observes and profits by the advantages of the present time, preserves the recollection of earlier and more meritorious endeavors.

From Goethe's Introduction to the "Propylæum.»

LIFE AS AN APPRENTICESHIP

RT is long, life short; judgment difficult, occasion transient. To act is easy, to think is hard; to act according to our thought is troublesome. Every beginning is cheerful; the threshold is the place of expectation. The boy stands astonished, his impressions guide him; he learns sportfully, seriousness comes on him by surprise. Imitation is born with us; what should be imitated is not easy to discover. The excellent is rarely found, more rarely valued. The height charms us, the steps to it do not; with the summit in our eye, we love to walk along the plain. It is but a part of art that can be taught; the artist needs it all. Who knows it half, speaks much and is always wrong; who knows it wholly, inclines to act and speaks seldom or late. The former have no secrets and no force; the instruction they can give is like baked bread, savory and satisfying for a single day; but flour cannot be sown, and seed corn ought not to be ground. Words are good, but they are not the best. The best is not to be explained by words. The spirit in which we act is the highest matter. Action can be understood and again represented by the spirit alone. No one knows what he is doing, while he acts rightly; but of what is wrong we are always conscious. Whoever works with symbols only is a pedant, a hypocrite, or a bungler. There are many such, and they like to be together. Their babbling detains the scholar; their obstinate mediocrity vexes even the best. The instruction which the true artist gives us opens up the mind; for where words fail him, deeds speak. The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the unknown, and approaches more and more to being a master.

From "Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.»

A

THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD

PROTESTANT Country-clergyman is, perhaps, the most beautiful subject for a modern idyl; he appears, like Melchizedek, as priest and king in one person. In the most innocent situation which can be imagined in the world, that of a husbandman, he is, for the most part, united to his people by similar occupations, as well as by similar family relationships; he is a father, a master of a family, an agriculturist, and thus a perfect member of the community. On this pure, beautiful, earthly foundation, reposes his higher calling; to him is it given to guide men through life, to take care for their spiritual education, to bless them at all the leading epochs of their existence, to instruct, to strengthen, to console them, and, if present consolation is not sufficient, he calls up before them the hope and firm assurance of a happier future. Imagine to yourself such a man, with feelings of pure humanity, strong enough not to deviate from them under any circumstances, and by this already elevated above the many, of whom one can expect neither purity nor firmness; give him the learning necessary for his office, as well as a cheerful, equable activity which is even passionate, for he neglects no moment for doing good,—and you will have him well endowed. But at the same time add the necessary limitation, so that he must not only labor on in a small circle, but may also, perchance, pass over to a smaller; grant him good-nature, placability, resolution, and everything else praiseworthy that springs from so decided a character, and over all this a serene condescension and a smiling forbearance towards his own failings and those of others; so will you have put together pretty well the image of our excellent Wakefield.

The delineation of this character on his course of life through joys and sorrows, and the ever-increasing interest of the plot, by the combination of what is quite natural with the strange and the wonderful, make this romance one of the best which has ever been written; besides this, it has the great superiority of being quite moral, nay, in a pure sense, Christian, for it represents the reward of good intentions and perseverance in the right, it strengthens an unconditional confidence in God, and asserts the final triumph of good over evil, and all this without a trace of cant or pedantry. The author was preserved from both of these

by an elevation of mind that shows itself throughout in the form of irony, by reason of which this little work must appear to us as wise as it is amiable. The author, Dr. Goldsmith, has without question great insight into the moral world, into its strength and its infirmities; but, at the same time, he may thankfully acknowledge that he is an Englishman, and reckon highly the advantages which his country and his nation afforded him. The family, with whose delineation he has here busied himself, stands upon one of the lowest steps of citizen-comfort, and yet comes in contact with the highest; its narrow circle, which becomes still more contracted, extends its influence into the great world through the natural and common course of things; this little skiff floats full on the agitated waves of English life, and in weal or woe it has to expect injury or help from the vast fleet which sails around it. I may suppose that my readers know this work and remember it; whoever hears it named for the first time here, as well as he who is induced to read it again, will thank me.

From Goethe's "Autobiography.»