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is such a thing as right and wrong, independent of the opinions of men; and if his conscience trouble him, let him be told that it is only a puerile weakness, which must be subdued ere he can arrive at manhood, and he is as sure to become a slave to his appetites, a mere animal, as is water to find a level.

Can one take fire into his bosom, and not be burned? As well may we expect a child without habits of independent thought, unprotected by moral principle, to escape unharmed from contact with vice, in all its Protean forms.

There is another evil, incident to this partial developeThe universal cry is, not who will show us any good thing; but who will show us some new thing?

ment.

nuncs.

Among the Romans, persons, who, having no business of their own, spent their time in doing little else than hearing or telling some new thing, were called quidWith us, the quidnunc family has become very numerous. Now there is a kind of inquisitiveness which is highly commendable,-a desire to dive deep into the wells of truth,-to know whatever is excellent in nature or art. But the inquisitiveness of which I speak, has no affinity to this. It runs in an altogether different channel. For truth it has no relish. Its aliment is fiction. Persons thus affected, losing their own identity, quitting their hold upon sensible objects, launch into an ideal world; surround themselves with imaginary heroes and heroines, and with them weep and rejoice, sympathize and condole, with all the earnestness of real life. The beaten track of history has no charms for them. There is in it a dearth of thrilling incidents;nought but a monotonous detail of the occurrences of real

life, the actions of mere human beings. They require something more exciting. To satisfy the demands of this class, the inventive powers of man have been taxed to the utmost. Steam has been applied to the press; and by the aid of modern improvements in the arts, the world is literally flooded with reading matter, as it is termed, quack nostrums for grown up children, I would rather say.

I would by no means condemn, indiscriminately, all fictitious writings, for in their dress appear the productions of some of the master spirits of our race. But the question is not, whether we shall have some fiction and some fact. With many it is all fiction, or none. Having ascended into the aerial regions, and romped with fairies, they have no wish to descend to this mundane sphere, and be jostled by flesh and blood. Having sipped at ambrosial fountains, they have no relish for the simple sweets of earth.

In the reading of fiction as in the use of intoxicating beverages, there seems to be no such ground as moderation. It is either total abstinence or excess. When the mind has become matured, when all its faculties are fully developed, when reason is firmly fixed upon her throne, supported on the one hand, by correct literary taste, and on the other by her prime minister, moral sense, by way of relaxation from the continued prosecution of truth, it may with safety, perhaps with profit, cull a few flowers in the regions of fancy. But to feed the immortal mind upon such trash, to think of satisfying its longings after truth with such vapid effusions, not to say poisonous exhalations, as originate in the brains of the Bulwers, and Marryatts, and Coopers of the day, is as preposterous,

as that the body can live and grow fat upon saw-dust bread. With some few exceptions, I am disposed to say with the poet,

"A novel is a book

Three-volumed, and once read; and oft crammed full

Of poisonous error blackening every page;
And oftener still of trifling second-hand
Remark, and old, diseased, putrid thought,
And miserable incident, at war

With nature, with itself and truth at war;
Yet charming still the greedy reader on,
Till done, he tried to recollect his thoughts,
And nothing found but dreaming emptiness."

But whence arises the love of novelty? Phrenologists tell us that the organ of marvellousness is marvellously enlarged. But by what means has this bump so got the mastery over its fellows? Is it not that most of the training which children receive at the present day, tends unduly to excite this faculty?

Out of the school-room almost every thing is urged on by steam, and moves with rail-road velocity. The whole mass of the community appears to be in a state of fermentation; and it would be strange indeed, if, while the dregs are thus constantly being upturned, there were not enough to awaken and keep alive a morbid curiosity. But this is not all. Many of our school-books are designed to flatter this love of the marvellous.

So great has been the rage for simplifying, so strong the desire to allure up the hill of science, that many of the studies of the school-room have been clothed in habiliments of fiction. Even moral and religious instruction, to be rendered palatable, must be conveyed through

the same channel. And it would not be marvellously strange if some future caterer to the fastidious appetites of children should attempt to set mathematics to numbers, and teach conic sections in hexameter verse.

Is it strange, that under such regimen, children should soon learn to regard the Bible, well-written histories, natural, civil and ecclesiastical, and treatises upon the arts and sciences, as dull, prosing books; while the announcement of a new novel is hailed with enthusiastic joy?

Another form, in which this partial developement may be detected, is excessive credulity. The gullibility of our age certainly constitutes one of its prominent traits. There is nothing,—nothing too ridiculous to gain credence. And indeed it would seem as though the further removed from the semblance of reason,-from probability even, the more sure to gain proselytes. The celebrated moon hoax, whose author distinctly descried men and women flying about in the moon, required far less stretch of credulity, than many of the theories which are swallowed at the present day by eager multitudes. And had the idea been conceived by some mercenary wretch, instead of a wag, no doubt a community would have been collected long ere this, for the purpose of colonizing the moon with latter-day saints; each to receive a pair of wings, gratis, on arriving at the place of destination.

This trait of character is variously exhibited. In none perhaps does it produce more mischief, than in relation to medical practice. Some there are, who maintain, that, in order successfully to resist the attacks of disease, a man should be intimately acquainted with the mechanism of the human frame; that he should have studied man

anatomically, physiologically, pathologically and psychologically; that he should be deeply read in Materia Medica; that he should be familiar with all medicinal substances, both mineral and vegetable, and know the effect of each upon the physical organs in a healthy and in a diseased state.

There is another class, who, rejecting every thing pertaining to what is denominated the "Faculty," maintain that nature is to be followed; who has furnished a remedy for every disease. Ergo, none but vegetable medicines can be used with safety. As though minerals were not as essentially the productions of nature as vegetables. Another class, there is, who witnessing the wonderful effects of steam,-how it traverses sea and land, propels machinery, and overcomes every obstacle in the way of man, have conceived the idea of calling this powerful agent to their aid in the healing art. Like skilful generals, regarding all in the enemy's camp alike, they make the attack at every point at once by storm, and diseases fly before them as rapidly as shot from one of Perkins's steam guns. But unfortunately, it is often found, after the smoke, or rather steam, has passed away, that the life of the patient has escaped in the crowd.

Again, there are those who maintain that all diseases originate in the blood; and if that be purified, health will be restored. Consequently, the whole catalogue of diseases must yield to the potency of one and the same remedy. I might mention a multitude of other sects, who profess to have found out some better way; such as Homeopathists, who adopt the old adage, "a hair of the same dog will cure," and administer that in infinitesimal doses; the Aquatics, who put to flight the whole family

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