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should probably dislike the proceeding, so much as to complain of it, as an uncommon and unjustifiable exercise of power. We cannot, therefore, approve of the change of title which has been effected in the present American edition of Miss Martineau's "Traditions of Palestine.' Even if this original title is not quite so good as that of Times of the Saviour,' — which we do not allow,— yet we maintain that the change ought not to have been made. It would have been sufficient to suggest it in the Preface to the author's consideration.

We make the above remarks unwillingly, for we are grateful to the American editor for bringing us acquainted with this delightful book, and we should be sorry to have it

supposed that we are not grateful. We know, moreover, that every alteration which he has made, was prompted by a sense of duty to the public, and to the writer herself. It is our duty, while we acknowledge the taste of the editor, and our obligations to him, to express our disapprobation of the principle on which he has proceeded in this case.

The Traditions of Palestine' has been, under the name of The Times of the Saviour,' so much read among us, and received with such decided approbation, that it is unnecessary for us to praise it, or to offer any particular account of its contents. One extract we must give, however, for the sake of those who have not seen the volume. It is from the first narrative, entitled "The Hope of the Hebrew. Two friends, Paltiel and Sadoc, with a companion whom they had overtaken, are seeking the Teacher' along the shores of the Lake of Genesareth.

• The noon-day heats became oppressive : the way was now stony and sandy; the glare of the sun, reflected from the transparent lake, wearied the eye, and the travellers began to look around for a place of repose. Paltiel remembered, that at the distance of two furlongs from the spot where they now were, a cluster of palm-trees grew in a recess of the hills, where a fountain of cool water gushed from a rocky cleft. As soon as they arrived within sight of the trees, they perceived, by the motion of garments, that some one was already at the spring. On approaching nearer, they saw an aged man couched on the ground as if asleep, while à maiden watched over him. She had spread her veil to shade his face from the light; but when she heard the sound of footsteps and perceived that strangers were drawing near, she hastily replaced her veil, and bent over the old man, as if speaking to him. He arose and surveyed the

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three companions, placing his hand above his eyes, as if even the softened light beneath the palm-branches was painful. Seeing that they paused, as if wishing yet fearing to join company with him, he courteously invited them to repose and drink. Before accepting his offer, Sadoc uttered the inquiry, which was ever uppermost in his mind, whether the Teacher had passed that way. or He hath,

blessed be his name, and the name of Jehovah who sent him !"

(“Thou believest on him!” said Sadoc with joy.

6" I must needs believe on him,” replied the old man, he hath wrought a great work of mercy on me. When yonder sun had been an hour above the mountains, all was dark as night to me, as it hath been for years past. I now see.”

" And the Prophet hath done this !” 6" He laid his hands on me, and the blessed light returned to me. I have seen the face of my child. The sparkling of the waters also, and the fruit and leaves of these trees, greener and fairer than they were in my remembrance, have gladdened my heart. Yet will they be more beautiful unto me tomorrow;

for my sense is yet weak, and I can scarce even look upon you, though the face of man has been long as a dream unto me, and this hour is like a pleasant waking. Blessed be he, who hath gladdened my age with light!”

Amen, amen,' murmured the maiden, as she sat with her head bowed on her knees.

"“But the Teacher," exclaimed Sadoc, “how came he unto thee, and where?5-6 We ręsted beneath this tree,” replied the old man.

"I heard the steps of men, and knew that a company approached. My daughter believed that the Prophet was among them, and therefore I went forth and bowed before him. He asked if I believed on his words, and looked to him for the salvation of Israel ; and then he removed darkness from me.' Again the maiden spoke in a low voice,

According to thy faith be it done unto thee.' Those words shall be hidden in my heart evermore.”

"" Wherefore have ye not followed him ? inquired the Nazarene.

""I hastened to do so, when I should have bestowed my child in safety ; but the Teacher saw that my spirit trembled within me, and he took my hand and led me hither, and desired me to abide, till the heat of noon should be overpast. And he gave us his blessing, and went on his way,"

666 Didst thou not fear before him ?


I feared before the manifest power of Jehovah. But this man I fear not. On his countenance my opened sight first rested, and I gazed without confusion. It seems to ine, that whether men fear him or no, they cannot but love also. My heart has followed him, and if it please the Lord, I will offer my thanksgivings at the feet of his Prophet once again.”

• When Sadoc had heard all that the old man could relate, he was impatient to pursue

his journey Paltiel reminded him of his home, his family, and occupation; but Sadoc earnestly replied,

7" Shall Jehovah put forth his wonders in our land, and shall mine eyes not see and mine ears not hear? I go not back, till I have learned of his doctrine and sought to be his disciple.”

He retired to a solitary place to pour out his spirit before Jehovah in thanksgivings that the long-desired year of salvation had opened gloriously, and in prayer that Israel might be exalted over other nations, and that all the power and perity of the earth might be concentered in the people of God. Not doubting of the holiness of his petition, he set forth once again with a glowing heart and a countenance of joy.' — pp. 21 - 24.

We hope that the book, of which the foregoing extract, tender, pathetic, and solemn, is but a fair specimen, will be purchased and read, under whatever title it may be offered. We hope that more books, on a similar plan, will be written with likę success.

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[For the Christian Examiner.]

Art. III. – Some Thoughts on Self-Education, considered

with Reference to the State of Literature in this country.

EDUCATION, in the broadest and most comprehensive sense of the term, is the just and harmonious developement of all the faculties and powers, by which each is prepared to fulfil its appropriate purpose, and all are made to advance the highest improvement of the individual. In fewer words, , man's whole nature is the subject upon which education should be made to operate, and the perfection of his whole nature is its end.

But as man's whole nature is made up of various parts, each requiring a culture, in some respects, peculiar to itself; it is expedient, and, indeed, necessary, in considering the subject, to divide and subdivide it, and to examine it under distinct points of view.

Thus, education, considered in reference to the grand divisions of man's intellectual and moral nature, is of two kinds : - that which teaches him to know, and that which induces him to be ; that which instructs him, and that which improves him ; that which makes him a wiser being, and that which makes him a better being; that which fills his mind with light, and that which fills his heart with love ; that which opens to him a fuller communion with the intelligence of the Deity, and that which brings him into an ever-increasing conformity to his moral perfections.

Education, further, viewed in reference to the modes in which it is conducted, is of three kinds.

First, there is that which consists of direct instruction, and is communicated by parents, teachers, and in seminaries prepared for this purpose.

Secondly, there is that instruction which is indirect, and consists of the insensible influence of events, and of the condition in which, in providence, we are placed.* It is that, for 'example, which a child sees, when we perceive not him; what he hears, when we are unmindful that he is a listener; what he thinks of us and of our conduct, when we do not think of him ; his silent inferences from our modes of life, habits, opinions, likings, and prejudices; the unsuspected influences of our associates and of his own; in a word, all the influence of all the circumstances wherein he is placed, which, though quiet and unsuspected in their operation, are very palpable and decisive in their effects.

And, thirdly, there is that education which the individual accomplishes in and for himself, that self-education, which is the result of voluntary effort and self-discipline.

Of these three modes of education, the first, namely, direct instruction, which is commonly thought to be of the greatest importance, has least influence in the formation of character; the second, or the silent education of events and circumstances, exerts a more decisive influence ; and the third, Self-Education, is, on all accounts, the most essential.

* See, for a fuller illustration of this, the admirable Essay of Mrs. Barbauld on Education."

It is on this, that we propose to offer some remarks. We shall, first, attempt to establish and illustrate the position, that knowledge and virtue, or, in other words, intellectual and moral improvement, are mainly the mind's own work; and we shall next advert to some practical uses of this truth.

In the first place, it is a plain fact, that without this selflabor, self-discipline, self-education, all direct instruction must be unavailing and useless. And is not this obvious ? For what is the nature and extent of all the ordinary processes of direct instruction ? They are, at best, but means, facilities, and aids, which presuppose in the mind to which they are applied an active, self-moving coöperation. Without this, they can effect nothing. They are efficacious just so far as the individual by his own energies seconds their application, and no further. They cannot advance him a single step, unless he makes corresponding efforts to go. As means, facilities, and aids, they are of immense importance. They may put us in a condition for improvement; they may afford us the light of experience to direct our efforts; they may remove unnecessary obstacles from our path; they may point out our defects, and show us the method of correcting them; they may enable us to strengthen what is weak, and to use well what is strong; they may instruct us in the best employment of our faculties; they may teach us how to study, when to study, what to study, and wherefore to study; but, after all, study we must, and study is self-work, and incomparably the hardest work that is accomplished beneath the sun. For study, be it remembered, is not dreaming awake, though we sit, through the livelong day, in the student's posture, with our eyes fixed upon a book. It is not much preparation and bustle about the means of knowledge. But it is, and it is nothing less than, the intense concentration of all our intellectual powers upon a given train of thought, to the temporary annihilation of all things else, to the forgetfulness even of our own existence. It is the grappling of the entire mind with a subject, as if for life, until it yields the blessing we seek. It is an effort, compared with which, the hardest toil of the day-laborer is play and pastime. And this, we need not say, is self-work. None can do it for another. None can carry us up the hill of

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