its ideas. At first sight it might seem just as improbable that sounds, empty and unmeaning in themselves, should influence the reason of which they are the creatures, as that the baseless towers of Nephelococcyggia should hang suspended upon nothing in the atmosphere. Yet experience has proved that in a medium so thin and unsubstantial as that of words, obstacles may exist of strength to oppose the loftiest aspirings of genius after truth, and to prevent the communion of human intellect with the realities of nature.

The theological aspect of the subject is thus delineated:

Men, before they come to study the Scriptures, have & sort of vocabulary of Biblical terms fixed in their heads with meanings already attached to them, taken out of favorite systems of divinity; consequently, when they meet a word in the Bible they look out for its meaning, not in the Bible itself, but in the glossary, as it were, of Calvin or Arminius, the Articles of the Church of England or the Westminster Confession, the works of Priestley, perhaps, or Wesley, the Council of Trent or of Nice, or the Consensus Patrum.

FOGGY LITERATURE

To the same learned prelate, from whom the preceding extracts are taken, we are indebted for the following:

The injury done by vague and indeterminate forms of expression upon practical subjects-such as Theology, Morals, and Politics-has been well compared to the mischievous effects of a London fog. The dan

through which some remote ideas, scarcely distinguishable in their outlines, loom as it were upon the view, in a kind of dusky grandeur which vastly exaggerates their proportions.

It is chiefly in such foggy forms that the metaphysics and theology of Germany, for instance, are every day exercising a greater influence on popular literature; and their practical effect is felt much more in a distaste, and even contempt, for everything of homegrowth than in substituting anything definite in its place. It has been, indeed, carefully instilled into men's minds that Germany has something far more profound to give than anything hitherto extant in our native literature; but what that profound "something" is, appears not at all so generally understood by the mass of its admirers. We are willing to suppose that the gentlemen who have set this fashion, have, in their private studies, acquired a more exact acquaintance with it than they deem it needful to exhibit in their writings; but we are pretty sure that many of their disciples are content to take matters upon trust, and believe with an implicit faith that what seems such hard thinking must be accurate thinking also. And many would, no doubt, throw aside as trivial, or even perhaps as stark folly, if stated in plain English, what they now admire as recondite wisdom, precisely bocause they only half understand it.

GOD'S TILLAGE GROUND.

KRUMMACHER is the most spiritual of German religious writers. At times, indeed, he spiritualizes to an undue excess, but more

obscurity. If the absence of light were total, and the darkness were, like that of Egypt, "a darkness that might be felt," an entire suspension of all human activity would ensue. "They saw not one another, neither rose any from his place." But the light in a fog is just sufficient to tempt men to continue their business, and venture abroad; though not enough to save them from the risk of running against a lamp-post or stumbling down a cellar. So, likewise, in the case of an intellectual haze, the great danger is that men, with nothing better than half-views and glimmering notions of things, will nevertheless judge and act as confidently as if they were judging and acting in the broad daylight of clear reason.

But there is another peculiar danger connected with some intellectual fogs, for which it is less easy to find a parallel. The citizens of London, though pretty well accustomed to November mists, are never known to fall in love with the grand obscurity of that mysterious state of the atmosphere, or to persuade themselves that they can then cross Fleet-street most safely when they cannot distinguish an omnibus from a dogcart. But let the reader imagine to himself, if he can, a mist so resplendent with gay prismatic colors-such 66 gorgeous canopy of golden air"-as that men should forget its inconvenience in their admiration of its beauty, and a kind of nebular taste should prevail for preferring that glorious dimness to vulgar daylight. Nothing short of such a case as this could afford a parallel to the mischief done to the public mind by some late writers, at present very popular in England and America; a sort of "children of the mist," who wage war upon Christianity under cover of the twilight. These persons have long been accustoming their disciples to admire, as a style truly philosophical, what can hardly be described otherwise than as a certain haze of words imperfectly understood,

as in the following:

A husbandman named Otho called one day on his neighbor Godfrey, and said: "I have for many years observed your life and actions; but one thing has always appeared to me most excellent, and, at the same time, most extraordinary. Although your lot has been very variable, and many troubles have befallen you and your family, still your countenance appears bright and peaceful, and your conversation and actions are the same on your unfortunate as your happy days. Teach me how you are able for such things."

Godfrey answered: "That will I do in few words. My own vocation and my dayly labors are my instructors. Behold, I have learned to consider myself and my life as a tillage field."

At these words, Otho looked up as if he did not understand his friend, who went on: "Behold, my brother, when trouble comes, I think of the plow and the harrow, which turn up the earth. I then search for the waste spot in my own heart, and for the weeds which flourish therein. These must be eradicated, or every exertion will be vain to make the fruits flourish. Sometimes I look upon my trouble as a thunder-storm, which at first appears dark and threatening, but which afterward draws down rain and clears the air; and then I think, when this is over the sun will shine again. It is thus that I consider myself and my life as a tillage field. Dare the field say to the plow, 'What doest thou here?'"

"But," said Otho, "you tell me of the fruits instead of the root; tell me how you arrived at these thoughts and meditations."

And Godfrey answered and said: "Can spiritual gifts come from any one but from Him who sends rain and sunshine on our fields, and who causes the ground to produce food for us to eat? Behold, we are God's tillage ground."

roof of our mouth, and speech is gone, and sight is gone, and hearing gone, and the right hand, lying powerless by our side, has lost its cunning, Jesus, then may we remember thee! If the shadows of death are to be thrown in deepest darkness on the valley, when we are passing along it to glory, may it be ours to die like that saint, beside whose bed wife and children once stood, weeping over the wreck of faded faculties; and a blank, departed memory. One had asked him, "Father, do you remember me?" and received no and another, and another, but still no ananswer; swer. And then, all making way for the venerable companion of a long and loving pilgrimage-the tender partner of many a past joy and sorrow-his wife draws near. She bends over him, and as her tears fall thick upon his face she cries, "Do you not remember me?" A stare-but it is vacant. There is no soul in that filmy eye, and the seal of death lies upon those lips. The sun is down, and life's brief twilight is darkening fast into a starless night. At this moment one, calm enough to remember how the love of Christ's spouse is "strong as death," a love that "many waters cannot quench," stooped to his ear and said, "Do you remember Jesus Christ?" The word was no sooner uttered than it seemed to recall the spirit, hovering for a moment ere it took wing to heaven. Touched as by an electric influence, the heart beats once more to the name of Jesus; the features, fixed in death, relax; the countenance, dark in death, flushes up like the last gleam of day; and with a smile in which the soul passed away to glory he replied, "Remember Jesus Christ! dear Jesus Christ! he is all my salvation and all my desire.'

THE STORY OF A MOTHER.
WELL translated, from Hans Christian
Andersson, and inculcating a good practical
lesson, are these simple lines:

There the little one lay white and dying,
And beside its bed, with sorrow wild,
Wail'd the mother, unto Heaven crying,
"Spare my baby! Spare, O God, my child!"

Then the darkness death arose before her,
Laid its hand upon her baby's heart;
And, a nameless anguish creeping o'er her,
From her infant saw she life depart.

It was dead, and fix'd before her eye was
That dear face that on her should have smiled;
But a moment dumb with grief, her cry was,
"Father! Father! give me back my child!"

Then it was as if God will'd to send her

Answer to the wail that from her rose; And it seem'd as if, with accents tender, Death breathed, "Fate, what might have been, disclose !"

And, with anguish that she might not smother,
Look'd she through the distant years with awe;
All the child had lived to, saw the mother;
All its grown-up life the mother saw.

And she saw her babe, her heart's dear treasure,
Fated not to peace and joy, alas!
Fated not to know a pure life's pleasure,

But through want, and woe, and guilt to pass.

Then the mother knew her human blindness,

And even through her tears she brightly smiled. "Blessed be God!" she cried, "that in his kindness Bore, from earth, and sin, and shame, my child!"

The National Magazine.

AUGUST, 1857.

EDITORIAL NOTES AND GLEANINGS. RETROSPECTIVE. It is not our custom to print letters from correspondents which have no interest for the general reader; but here is a note from one who gives us his name, and to whom are due a few words in reply:

"DEAR DOCTOR,-Your article on the propensity of religious editors to quarrel with each other, and to indulge in ungentlemanly personalities, was timely and pertinent. I must demur, however, to your broad allusion to my friend H. [we omit the name] and his law, suit. That was a case of gross aggravation, and, in my opinion, justified a suit at law. Although it is true the jury awarded but nominal damages, yet he [H.] had their verdict. I regret that you should have dragged his case before your readers, many of whom are Churchmen, to the wounding of the feelings of a good, but greatly injured man. I will send you, if you wish, the whole account of the trial, and leave it to yourself to judge what reparation justice demands in order that our friend may be set rectus in curia before your readers."

We assure the writer that in the article referred to it was far from our intention to wound the feelings of anybody. We called no names, and simply adverted to the lawsuit and the six cent damages, as an illustration of the topic under consideration. The provocation may have justified a suit at law. We did not discuss that question, nor was it necessary. Our correspondent, it seems, demurs only to what he calls our "broad allusion." The rest

of the article he indorses as "timely and pertinent." Not so, however, with an anonymous writer in a neighboring periodical. He pays his respects to the same article, calling it, “in the general too true, and very timely."

"But," he adds, "it, nevertheless, contains personal charges which we deem not well founded, uncalled for, and tending to wound the feelings of a pure-minded and able editor, and to the encouragement of an illegitimate and anti-Church publication in Central New-York."

Moreover, he assures us that he will

"Be greatly surprised if it does no harm to one who is not guilty; and if it does not strengthen the hands of those who, as a brother said to me a short time since, are battering down the walls of the Church from the inside.""

After naming the editor to whom, he says, the allusion in our article was made, he enters into a labored explanation of the matter, and concludes by giving us some very good advice. We have only to say that in this, as in the former case, THE NATIONAL made no "personal charges," called no names, and alluded only, by way of illustration, to a thing done, and not to him who did it. Nothing was further from our thoughts than the idea of giving to THE NATIONAL a partizan character, and if we have wounded the feelings of a pure-minded and able editor, we are free to say that it was unintentional on our part, and that we are sorry for it. The insinuation that THE NATIONAL Would willingly "strengthen the hands of those who are battering down the walls of the Church from the inside" is simply preposterous. We may add, that it is a palpable non sequitur, to say that, because we stated what a political

editor might be expected to do in a certain contingency, that, therefore, THE NATIONAL would justify him in so doing, or that, therefore, a Christian editor is deserving of the same treatment. It is this logical error that has misled our good brother as well as the editor himself in a long article upon the subject in his paper of June 17. To that article we do not feel disposed to make any further allusion, nor are we aware that it is in our power to make any further "reparation" to our city friend who writes to us, directly, over his own signature; or to satisfy the brother who pre'fers to labor with us anonymously through the columns of another journal. It is surely quite enough that they hold us responsible for what we say, without expecting us to defend, or to make "reparation" for, unauthorized inferences drawn by others. We have their united testimony that, with the exception each has thought proper to make, the article complained of was, according to the one, timely and pertinent," and, according to the other, "too true and very timely."

Just now a letter upon the same subject has reached us. It is from a gentleman wellknown in the literary world as an editor and an author. We print a portion of it, not in justification of our former article, but to show the light in which the subject is regarded by others:

"One thing is certain, your animadversions on the religious press are just and loudly called for, and are just such sentiments as a popular journal is justified in giving a manly utterance to. If your remarks apply to any religious editors other than those alluded to, it is to be hoped they will profit by them, and not consider you an enemy because you tell them the truth. That they have such an application almost every day, affords sad evidence of the fact. I have before me a religious paper published in a sister city. The editor, in calling attention to a religious journal of New York, of the same denomination, says: "The leading editorial in the of last week surpasses, in low billingsgate blackguardism, everything of the kind that we ever saw in the vulgar print which glories in the unblushing treason,' etc. It then makes a quotation in support of the above declaration, and concludes by saying: Relieved by the utterance of foul calumny and falsehood, of which the above is a mere specimen,' etc. Still another religious paper, of another denomination than the one above alluded to, in an editorial referring to a religious paper of the same Church as its own, perverts its caption and stigmatizes the paper as 'The Banner of Abuse,' and adds: Our Church cotemporary at has most ably sustained his claims to this new and significant cognomen.' It then calls attention to five or six columns of abuse, and concludes by saying: 'But the most deplorable thing of all is to see the sacred symbol of our most holy faith (alluding to the caption of the paper) so shamefully profaned by such an association." One would think, if the religious press is the exponent of the piety of the Church, that the ancient proverb has been reversed, and now reads, See how these Christians hate one another.' You have done well to reprove your editorial brethren, and it is to bo hoped they will profit by the reproof."

GOOD FEEDING.-We were forcibly struck by the gastronomic propensities of the reverend speakers who delivered addresses at what is called by one of our religious papers "The Central Attraction of the Anniversary Season." This was the Festival of the American Congregational Union. It was held in the " City Assembly Rooms," and attended by a large company of ladies and gentlemen, mostly from New England. The paper which pronounces it "The Central

Attraction of the Anniversary Season" assures the public also that, "but for the provision made by the American Congregational Union to accommodate ministers from abroad, the high literary character of the address which it provides for their instruction, and the happy blending of the literary, the social, and the religious at its festival, there would be little in the present phase of anniversary week to attract hither strangers from the country."

The same paper gives a full report of the specches made previous to the opening of the doors of the supper room, but what they did in there, we are told, "cannot be reported verbatim." We have only the anticipatory ebullitions, from which it would appear that eating and drinking was the prominent idea of the eloquent divines then and there assembled.

A gentleman by the name of Clark was the first of the regular speakers. He was quite facetious. Among other good things he told of his visit to the South, where he

"Endeavored to impress them with the advantage which they would derive from having New England institutions there; but I found they were ready to sneer at the idea. They talked about our tendencies to make money-and to bring down wooden clocks. One man said to me down there, 'You make wooden nutmegs.' 'Well,' said I, my friend, on the wooden nutmeg question I shall have to keep silent, but I would rather come from that part of the country where the people make wooden nutmegs, than to come from that part of the country where the people are fools enough to buy them."""

This did not "bring down the house," but his peroration is thus given, with the effect produced by it:

"I will not tresspass. I regret that I am obliged to leave and go to another place this evening; but I shall endeavor to be back before those doors are opened[pointing to the room in which the collation was spread.] (Laughter.) In the kind sentiment with which I was greeted, the vigorous sons of New England were referred to. I do not know whether it was physical or mental vigor that was meant; but I have sometimes prided myself that there are two places where I always have a good appetite-one is when I am at home, and the other is when I am away from home. (Great laughter.) And lest any of my friends may be anxious about me, I hope to be able to meet them and to participate in the other department of the duty of the occasion-which may be more agreeable to those whom I have addressed. [Mr. Clark sat down amid great laughter and applause.]"

The next speaker was Dr. Todd, who was introduced by the chairman in the following appetizing strain. We quote from the official report:

"He introduced Rev. Dr. Todd, of Pittsfield, Mass., by saying that there were two places where the people always had an appetite to hear the author of the 'Index rerum-at home, and away from home. (Laughter.)"

Mr. Tyng, of Philadelphia, made a very catholic speech, and was loudly cheered. He could not refrain, however, from an allusion to the feeding which had been promised, but he connected with it a question which his diocesan bishop perhaps can answer:

"We are now, as I understand it, come to a part of these exercises from which I should be as unwilling as Brother Clark was to detain you. We are going to sit down in brotherly feeling to partake of the good things of divine Providence. Why should we not also sit down beside a holier table, to partake of the memorials