They only are able and apt to question nature Again: let us not forget that literary men have much to do in the creation of value. It is by them that the people are provided with all those writings that improve the popular taste and raise the tone of popular sentiment. It is by them that the true scales of literary justice are held, and the true merit of literary productions and literary men is tried. It is by them that the tide of corrupt literature, which would otherwise deluge the land, is driven back, and the names of those insufferable authors who attempt to palm off the sin-infected scurf of their rotten morals on the world are condemned to deserved oblivion. Broad, indeed, is their sphere of action and potent their sway. They are the few by whom the many are led in the paths of refined thought and pointed to the pure fountains of sentiment. Some have vainly fancied that the people are capable of sound criticism. The popularity of a book is no proof of its merit, any more than the mere fact that a certain vice is universally practiced makes it a virtue. The press would soon become one of the most powerful agencies of demoralization in society, were the masses left to decide all that is fit to be put in type and circulated as standard reading. The literary mania of the present day is a good illustration of this statement. It has come to be utterly impossible nowadays for criticism to keep pace with production. It needs but a distinguished book publisher's manifesto, posted up along the thoroughfares, and copied by careless or fawning newspaper editors, to make any novelty in print, however tawdry and worthless it may be, circulate through the whole land, and bring a fortune to be divided between the party that dipped the ink in writing its sickly contents, and the party that excited sufficient popular curiosity in its favor to make it marketable. It would seem, indeed, that a race of Liliputian minds had usurped the empire of literature, and were covering the land with their puny and diminutive works. Even children appear to be catching the passion for story-making, and gray-haired men and women are half sorry they did not weave their little web of romance or sentimentality betheir teens were out. Never did American society need to be more forcibly reminded than at this hour of the great truth, that it is not the many, but the few, who are competent to decide what works are to be adopted as the true standards of thought and style, and what works are to be rejected as mere garnished emptiness and specious fustian. It is consoling to know that there is a small body of thoughtful men to stand undismayed amid the flying tinsel after which the masses are chasing, and to guard the honor of those great works of literature that are worthy to live beyond the passing age. Thus we see how essential it is that there should be a powerful class of literary men in society, in order that property should possess a fixed and reliable value. But again: that class of men who conduct the affairs of government act no small part in the creation of value. You mean but little when you speak of a sovereign people. Popular sovereignty has no place, as a truism, in sound politics. True republicanism is but the realization of political equality between the many and the few. A republic is quite a different thing from a democracy. In the former the many and the few are harmoniously united on the principle of equipoise of restraints and privileges; while in the latter they are combined under provisions that allow all privilege to one party and impose all restraint on the other. There may be an overreaching for power on the part of the people, as well as on the part of privileged individuals. In the one case it leads to anarchy; in the other to tyranny. History is pregnant with warnings, not only against the tendencies of monarchs to absolutism, but also against the tendencies of democratic constituencies to absolutism. governmental systems of ancient Greece were ruined simply by an extreme preponderance of popular power. And to use the words of Lord Bacon, "The Roman empire, notwithstanding the magnitude thereof, became no better than a carcass, whereupon all the vultures and birds of prey of the world did seize and ravine for many ages, for a perpetual monument of the essential difference between the scale of miles and the scale of forces." The So you see that no people can prosper through any considerable length of time unless willing to be under powerful restraints. It is a difficult thing to say when the masses, in a nation like ours, should resist the law-making and law-executing power. It is, however, most certain that they condemnation, defend justice and denounce wrong, should never openly defy it. Sadly deficient in wisdom and foresightedness were those enthusiastic partisans who stimulated the people of the north, at the risk of civil bloodshed and anarchy, to oppose the recent unjustifiable attempts, on the part of the pro-slavery power of the south, to extend their favored institution into the virgin territories of Nebraska and Kansas. They forgot, in the hour of their just indignation at the reckless violators of public faith and honor, that, in a republic, wrongs committed by the few against the many can be redressed without the perilous help of gunpowder and mob truncheons. Much wiser would they have done had they charged a constituency, never sufficiently alive to a true patriotic interest, to be more deliberate in electing their representative rulers and law-makers. There is always more or less apology for the enactment of laws, in a republic, existing in the fact, that the body of men who enact them is supposed to constitute an intelligent minority of the land. It is by them that the honor of government is maintained as far as it is. It is true they may not always legislate for the public good; but that man who encourages the people to question their decisions with irreverent boldness, and to withstand their enactments with brute force, should remember that there is always a strong presumption of there being a preponderance of reason in their favor. And were this not the case, such a course of conduct would be shown to be unjustifiable by the fact, that in a republic provision is made, in the frequent succession of different bodies of representative men, not only for completely restraining all the tendencies of the minority in power to undue assumptions, but also for giving the people an incalculable ability to so manage legislation, by their use of the elective privilege, as to promote the general welfare of the nation. Hence, it follows that every true counselor of the masses would, instead of instigating them to dangerous insurrections and rebellions, rather urge them to yield a proper obedience to their acting rulers, and to go more thoughtfully to the polls when the time comes to elect new ones. Once more, and finally: that class of men who take the lead in all religious enterprises contribute largely to the creation of value. It is by these men that the masses are kept as conscientious as they are. They spread religious intelligence, plant religious institutions, form religious associations, conceive and effect great moral reforms, hold up virtue to reverence and vice to make moral worth a recommendation and the want of it a misfortune. They conduce to make popular sentiment favorable to righteousness and averse to wickedness, tolerant of Christians and scornful of infidels. Who can estimate the influence exerted by the few great and good men in the world? You can not conceive how society would be periled were its morals to be neglected, even for one year, by the small number of righteous individuals scattered through its various departments. The conscience of the people would be a poor security for the progress of any nation. Popular opinion can not be pure. It may be so far purified of ignorance and superstition as to be called enlightened; but it must be the result of a blending of truth with error, light with darkness. The ocean remains still a vast deep of brine, though mighty rivers of pure fresh water are ever pouring into it. The sentiment of the masses, pro or con, is at best but a weak argument. Because the multitude cry, "It is right," this does not make it so. There is truth in the maxim, ""They say so' is half a liar." So thought the great John Wesley; for on hearing a man once utter the words, "Vox populi, vox Dei," with his accustomed sagacity, he answered, "No, no; it was the 'Vox populi' that cried, 'Crucify him! crucify him!" The masses are all the time halting between two opinions, and were it not for the Elijahs of the world, how could they go right? God has intrusted the hope of our race in the hands of a small number of devout and exemplary men. There can be no great nation without great exponents of morality and virtue. Martial heroism may conquer, but moral heroism alone can civilize. Let a certain number of God-fearing persons be taken out of England, or France, or America, and every city in each of these nations would soon become a Sodom exposed to Divine wrath. There have been periods in the history of almost every nation when its body-guard of religious heroes were denied the privilege of exerting their ordinary influence on society; and the results that followed in all such cases are before us. The whole course of things seemed to take a new turn. The wheels of progress ceased to revolve. The masses seemed to lapse into an awful stupor. No longer were the ordinary restraints of society effectual to prevent open immorality and vice. The arm of civil law seemed palsied. Crimes multiplied fearfully. Infidelity waxed furious. Domestic institutions were scarcely sustained. The blood of kindred stagnated in human hearts. Property lost its value, patriotism its fervor, virtue its sacredness, tutions of learning and benevolence, in assisting and love its devotion. moral reforms, in giving new life to communities, in identifying his name with great achievements of art and science, literature and religion. He may waste his wealth in vain show and the pursuit of sensual pleasures, and die ignobly and unwept; or he may consecrate it to schemes of great usefulness, and go down to the grave, leaving his name to grow fresher and greener through after ages in the memory of a revering world. Such has been the condition more than once of many a nation in our world. Think what undulations of fortune characterize the history of England. We find her alternately rising and falling, according as her rulers were patrons or persecutors of the righteous few: now up under Henry VII, and then down under Henry VIII; flourishing under Edward VI, and drooping under Mary the Papist; rising again under Elizabeth, But it is not the rich men alone of a nation and again falling under James, of the house of that are to be charged with putting absurd and Stuart. And turning, too, to France, we find whimsical estimates on property. In a nation her, in like manner, vacillating between weal like ours, where a large proportion of the popuand woe; prospering under Henry IV, and after-lation is made up of individuals who combine ward gradually sinking under the succeeding the character of capitalist with that of laborer, members of the Bourbon family, till the limit of her downward progress was at last reached in the bloody Revolution, headed by Robespierre, Danton, and Murat; after which she rose again from her ruins to enjoy a lucid interval under Bonaparte the First. Thus we are brought to see clearly how and in what respect great minds contribute to create the value of wealth. instances of false valuation can not but be frequent every-where among the people. There are but few proprietors who do not set an exorbitant value on their possessions. The secret of most strong local attachment is but a conservatism little above miserly niggardliness. There are hundreds of men in society-or, rather, out of it-who are so attached to their homesteads that they rarely leave them, and who seem to bury We are prepared now to judge of that false not only their bodies, but their souls up in their valuation of property which is so common among plow-furrows. How many a man there is in men of great fortunes. Wealth may not only America who has never ridden a mile in a railbecome poverty by losing its exchangeable value, road car or read a column in a public journal in but also by becoming a dead weight in the hands all his life, simply because the poor muck-worm of its owner. The miser's money is unproduc- could not stop sifting the soil of his farm for tive capital. He has no power over it or through gold long enough to give play to an impulse it; it has him in its power. There are two kinds of manly patriotism! And this incoherent valuof poor men in the world-those who are drudges ation of property is the most stubborn difficulty and slaves for the sake of property itself, and with which the philanthropist and reformer have those who are drudges and slaves for the sake to contend. The majority of the people practiof what property is the means of procuring.cally set a far higher estimate on material than The man who plods for money only is as much a pauper as the man who plods for the value of money. One is swarmed with just as many disabilities as the other, sweats just as big drops as the other, and groans under his taxes just as much as the other. Indeed, is not the man who pants for gain far poorer than the man who pants for bread? The true political as well as philosophical definition of wealth is not the mere quantity of property a man holds, but the power he possesses of gratifying desire by means of it. As this power is exerted, so will the man himself and society be affected. It is his to make himself and those around him either happy or miserable by his use of it. He may lay it out in luxurious living, gorgeous equipage, and costly buildings, and do no good with it at all; or he may invest it in good enterprises, in promoting insti on mental and moral wealth. To the few publicspirited men who propose new institutions and project new schemes of general improvement they say, "Go on; your causes are good; but we can not assist you." Thus it happens often that great projects of reform are struck down on the very threshold of philanthropic devotion. The whole history of human progress is scarcely more than the detail of a long succession of wars between a majority of illiberal property holders and a minority of liberal innovators. What reformation was ever made or what institution was ever founded that did not cost a struggle? The projectors of improvements have to run terrible hazards for society. Every new scheme of benevolence, or learning, or public aggrandizement, has to meet its host of opposers, and to pass its campaign of savage battles. The yeomanry cling close to their lands, and declare war, pugnis et calcibus, against every innovation that threatens to tear down a rail-fence or spoil the square of an acre. It is costly business to run a railroad through a score of connected farms, or to execute a law prohibiting the sale of intoxicating drinks. Now we scarcely need to say, that if these tendencies to overvalue property and to make gain the chief end of existence were not overcome and restrained, to the extent they are, by the few intelligent, disinterested, and persevering individuals in society, the wheels of progress would soon cease to move, and the march of mankind would be backward to a destiny of hopeless poverty and barbaric wretchedness. IN OUR YOUNG PREACHER. BY REV. J. T. BARE, SCOTLAND. The warrior rush'd into the field, The Spirit's sword-the Spirit's shield- MONTGOMERY. N the "Methodist Memorial," published many years since by the Rev. Charles Aturne, we often find the most honorable mention made of ministers whose history is not recorded. But from the brief allusions which refer to their character, they are presented to our view in the most amiable light. Like the sun bursting through the clouds, they dazzle our eyes for a season with their matchless splendor, and then vanish from our sight. Respecting many of the young ministers especially little more is recorded of them than the affecting memorial, which their "Place of fame and elegy supply;" namely, "It pleased the Lord to call them away in the flower of their days, and in the midst of their usefulness." I have gleaned some historical recollections of one of these devoted servants of God, who was called to his reward in the second year of his ministry. In the circuit which was the scene of his labors, and sufferings, and triumphs, there are several aged persons to whom he was personally known. From these I have collected the particulars embodied in the following narration: On a fine autumnal evening, toward the close of the last century, a pious gentleman, of the name of Smith, who resided in the town of in the north of England, had just returned, with his amiable daughter, from the Methodist chapel, and were now seated in their little parlor, conversing about the sermon, when an intimate friend, who sustained the office of steward in the society, was ushered into the room. After a few observations of a desultory character, the young minister, who had lately been appointed to the circuit, became the subject of conversation. "How do you like our young preacher?" asked Mr. Smith. "Not at all," replied the steward, who was evidently mortified because his own nephew was not appointed as their minister; "he is not the man for us. Neither do I think he will ever make a preacher." "I beg to differ from you," remarked Mr. Smith; "considering his youth, my opinion is, he possesses considerable ministerial talents; and if not discouraged in the infancy of his labors, he will become both eminent and useful. His doctrines are thoroughly evangelical; and in addition to the chaste language he employs, he has great facility of expression. With respect to his piety, that is undoubted." "But what of his mental abilities, if he does not throw his soul into his sermons, and thus warm the hearts of his hearers?" "I admit he has not so much animation as some ministers; but at present he is but young, and will no doubt improve. Indeed, I fancied there was an improvement in that particular tonight in the application of his sermon; for it both warmed and comforted my soul. And you must have been in a cold frame, indeed, not to have felt it." "But others complain as well as myself." "That may be true. And my opinion is, if they were to pray more for him, they would have less ground for complaining." "But admitting all that you say in his favor, that he preaches the Gospel faithfully-nay, earnestly-yet there is one part of his duty in which you must acknowledge he is defective: I mean in visiting from house to house. The effects of this negligence are already appar ent. The congregations are falling off, and in a short time he will have to preach to empty pews. He confines himself too much to his study. Let him come out. We do not want fine preaching so much as pastoral visitation." "You are too premature in your conclusions. With respect to visiting from house to house, I do not see what time he has had for that. He has only been in the circuit six weeks; and during that time, you know, in addition to the usual quantum of preaching, he has had to attend to the quarterly visitation of the classes." "Well, he may stay in the circuit till the next conference; though it is hard for the Church to be obliged to support a man who is not approved of by its members." where every attention was paid to his domestic comfort. He returned home, on the evening already mentioned, just after the arrival of Mr. C., the steward, and was making his way toward the parlor, when he heard his own name repeated. Instinctively his heart began to beat. He paused at the door, and heard the whole of the conversation. Tremulous with emotion, he sought the solitude of his chamber-there to "weep till morn." He threw himself on the bed, but could not rest. The idea of being re At this stage of the conversation, Louisa, the daughter of Mr. Smith, hazarded an opinion, which at once put a stop to the unprofitable discussion, and at the same time conveyed a cutting rebuke to the steward, which effectually cowed his dictatorial spirit. During the conversation she had more than once betrayed unmistakable symptoms of impatience while listen-garded as a pauper-an intruder-eating the bread ing to his unfeeling remarks. "Mr. C.," she at length said, "my Bible teaches me to pray for the ministers of Christ, and to esteem them, even for their work's sake. But the freedom with which you have animadverted on the minister who has been appointed over us is both cowardly and unjust. If, as you say, the congregations are falling off, it is not his fault, but yours; for you have given expression to the same censorious remarks in other circles, with a view to create a party feeling against him. And for what reason? Because the conference would not gratify you by sending your nephew! I have no patience with such fault-finding proclivities. My soul has been blessed under his ministry, and so have many others, notwithstanding your nefarious attempts to injure him in their esti mation." The young man who was the subject of the preceding conversation had but recently left the home of his childhood, at the call of conference, for the purpose of engaging in the work of the ministry. And this was his first circuit. He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. He possessed considerable natural abilities, which had been greatly improved by a liberal education. His personal piety was exemplary, and his heart was in the work to which he believed he was divinely called. But he was extremely nervous, and naturally inclined to melancholy. A sensibility, evidently of a morbid character, had grown with his growth, and strengthened with his strength; so that an unkind word uttered in his ear would smite heavily on his heart, and the least act of injustice or oppression exercised toward himself would bow down his spirit, and bring tears into his eyes. He was peculiarly susceptible of those impressions which are made upon the mind by outward objects; consequently, his pleasurable emotions were often quickly succeeded by imaginary fears and forebodings. On his arrival in the circuit, lodgings were procured for him in the house of Mr. Smith, that was reluctantly ministered to him; the fact of being disliked by those to whom he was sent to minister the bread of eternal life; the chilling thought that the congregations were falling off, and that his remaining in the circuit till the next conference was considered by the people as an endurance-all these images passed before the eye of his imagination like so many frightful specters, and forced a weight upon his mind which he felt was too grievous to be borne. He silently counted the hours as they were successively proclaimed by the heavy bell of the church clock, yet still slumber forsook his eyelids. There was one reflection, however, which, during the visions of the night, came opportunely to his relief-a reflection which, like an "angel visit," tended to assuage the anguish of his spirit. It was the reflection of the ingenuous part which the amiable Louisa had taken in the conversation. There was one, then, in a "land of strangers," who cared for him-one to whom his poor labors had been blessed. This thought was, indeed, as "dew and sunshine" to his soul amidst the gloomy clouds by which it was oppressed. About an hour after midnight he began to doze; but his sleep was disturbed by appalling dreams; so that when he awoke in the morning about sunrise, he felt hot and feverish; and when he attempted to rise his whole frame seemed agitated, and his eyes appeared to swim in dizziness. At length he rose, and essayed to cool his head by plunging it into a basin of cold water that stood in his room, and in a short time he felt somewhat refreshed. And, 0, with what earnestness, with what fervency of spirit, did he pray, at that early hour, that he might not shrink from the reproach of the cross, and that through evil report, as well as good report, he might be enabled, by the grace of God, to approve himself a workman that needeth not to be ashamed! From this time he labored abundantly for the good of souls, though as yet he could see no fruit. He industriously applied himself to pastoral visitation, that no farther complaints might |