By-and-by a sound roused her from this agony of tears.

"There is the first dinner-gong," said she, to herself, starting up, "what shall I do? Perhaps Charley won't like it if I don't go to dinner.

My head aches dreadfully. I don't mind that so much, but (looking in the gla.s.s) my face is so flushed. I wouldn't for the world vex Charley, I'm sure." With this she began some hasty toilet preparations; but her hands trembled so violently as to force her to desist.

Wrapping her shivering form in her shawl, she sat down on a low chair, and again gave way to emotions which gradually shaped themselves thus:

"I am so sorry I came with Charley. He was never anything but kind till we came here. And then I should have, at least, had nothing but pleasant things to remember. But now--I am afraid Charley is ashamed of me; he looked at my dress so scrutinizingly this morning, when he came to my door. I know I'm not the least fashionable; but Mrs. Tillou is, and she complimented me on this _neglige_--it is soiled now, and my pretty slippers, too, walking back through the mud! 'Isabella!' How cold and strange it sounded! I am so used to 'cozzy dear,' and have learned to love it so. My poor heart!" pressing both hands upon her side as if to still a severe pang. Then she rose, and creeping slowly along the floor, swallowed some water, and seating herself at the table, drew writing materials towards her. Steadying her hand with great effort, and every moment pressing her handkerchief to her eyes, she achieved the following note:

"Having a little headache to-day, dear Charley, I prefer not to dine, if you will excuse me. I will be quite ready to meet you in the parlor before tea.

"Ever yours, "BELLE.

"_Tuesday Morning._"

Designing to accompany this with some of the flowers she now remembered, for the first time since her return from her ill-starred morning excursion, Belle hastily re-arranged the prettiest of them in a little bouquet. As she removed an already withered wild-rose from among its companions, a solitary tear fell upon its shrivelled petals. "Perhaps,"

she murmured mournfully, with a heavy sigh, "I should have made another idol,--perhaps I should soon have learned to _love Charley too well_, if this chastening had not come upon me--could he have thought so?" As she breathed this query, the small head was suddenly thrown back, like that of a startled gazelle, and a blush so vivid and burning as to pale the previous flush of agitation, flashed over cheek and brow.

Quickly ringing the bell, and carefully concealing herself from observation, behind the door, when she half-opened it, the servant who answered her summons was requested to hand the note and flowers to Mr.

Cunningham, if he was in his room, and if not, to place them where he would "be sure to see them when he came up."

"When will I ever learn," said Belle, in a tone of bitter self-reproach, as she re-locked the door, "not to cling and trust,--not

----"to make idols, and to find them clay!"

"I have not seen you looking so well since you came here, Miss Cunningham," said a gentleman to Belle, joining her as she was entering the public parlor that evening. "Do allow me to felicitate you! What a brilliant color!--You were driving this morning, were you not? No doubt you are indebted to your cousin for the bright roses in your cheeks!"

And now, my dear young friends, let me only add, in concluding this lengthened letter, that, had I early acquired the _habit of writing_, you would, doubtless, have less occasion to criticise these effusions--attempted, for your benefit, at too late a period of life to enable me to render them what I could wish. Use them as _beacons_, since they cannot serve as _models_!

Adieu!

HENRY LUNETTES.

LETTER XI.

MENTAL AND MORAL EDUCATION.

MY DEAR NEPHEWS:

Having touched, in our preceding letters, upon matters relating to Physical Training, Manner, and the lighter accomplishments that embellish existence, we come now to the _inner life_--to the Education of the Mind and Heart, or Soul of Man.

Metaphysicians would, I make no doubt, find ample occasion to cavil at the few observations I shall venture to offer you on these important subjects, and, painfully conscious of my total want of skill to treat them in detail, I will only attempt a few desultory suggestions, intended rather to impress you with the importance I attach to _self-culture_, than to furnish you with full directions regarding it.

The genius of our National Inst.i.tutions pre-supposes the truth that education is within the power of all, and that all are capable of availing themselves of its benefits. Education, in the highest, truest sense, does not involve the necessity of an elaborate system of scientific training, with an expenditure of time and money entirely beyond the command of any but the favored few who make the exception, rather than the rule, in relation to the race in general.

Happily for the Progress of Humanity, the "will to do, the soul to dare," are never wholly subject to the control of outer circ.u.mstance, and here, in our free land, they are comparatively untrammeled.

"There are two powers of the human soul," says one of our countrymen, distinguished for a knowledge of Intellectual Science, "which make self-culture possible, the _self-searching_, and the _self-forming_ power. We have, first, the faculty of turning the mind on itself; of recalling its past, and watching its present operations; of learning its various capacities and susceptibilities; what it can do and bear; what it can enjoy and suffer; and of thus learning, in general, what our nature is, and what it is made for. It is worthy of observation, that we are able to discern not only what we already are, but what we may become, to see in ourselves germs and promises of a growth to which no bounds can be set; to dart beyond what we have actually gained, to the idea of perfection at the end of our being."

a.s.suming that to be the most enlightened system of education which tends most effectively to develop all the faculties of our nature, it is impossible, practically, to separate moral and religious from intellectual discipline. If we possess the _responsibility_ as well as the capacity of self-training--that must be a most imperfect system, one most unjust to our better selves, which cultivates the intellectual powers at the expense of those natural endowments, without which, man were fitter companion for fiends than for higher intelligences!

Pursued beyond a certain point, education, established upon this basis, may not facilitate the acquisition of wealth; and if this were the highest pursuit to which it can be made subservient, effort, beyond that point, were useless. But if we regard the acquirement of money chiefly important as affording the essential means of gratifying the tastes, providing for the necessities, and facilitating the exercise of the moral instincts of our being, we return, at once, to our former position.

"_He, therefore, who does what he can to unfold all his powers and capacities, especially his n.o.bler ones, so as to become a well-proportioned, vigorous, excellent, happy being, practises self-culture._"

Those of you who have enjoyed the advantages of a regular course of intellectual training, will need no suggestion of mine to aid you in mental discipline; but possibly a few hints on this point may not be wholly useless to others.

The general dissemination of literature, in forms so cheap as to be within the reach of all, renders _reading_ a natural resource for purposes of amus.e.m.e.nt as well as instruction. But they who are still so young as to make the acquisition of knowledge the proper business of life, should never indulge themselves in reading for _mere amus.e.m.e.nt_.

Never, therefore, permit yourselves to pa.s.s over words or allusions, with the meaning of which you are unacquainted, in works you are perusing. Go at once to the fountain-head--to a dictionary for unintelligible words, to an encyclopedia for general information, to a cla.s.sical authority for mythological and other similar facts, etc., etc.

You will not read _as fast_, by adopting this plan, but you will soon realize that you are, nevertheless, advancing much more rapidly, in the truest sense. When you have not works of reference at command, adopt the practice of making brief memoranda, as you go along, of such points as require elucidation, and avail yourself of the earliest opportunity of seeking a solution of your doubts. And do not, I beg of you, think this too laborious. The best minds have been trained by such a course. Depend upon it, _genius_ is no equivalent for the advantage ultimately derived from patient perseverance in such a course. I remember well, that to the latest year of his life, my old friend, De Witt Clinton, one of the n.o.blest specimens of the race it has been my fortune to know, would spring up, like a boy, despite his stiff knee, when any point of doubt arose, in conversation, upon literary or scientific subjects, and hasten to select a book containing the desired information, from a little cabinet adjoining his usual reception-room. His was a genuine _love of learning_ for its own sake; and the toil and turmoil of political life never extinguished his early pa.s.sion, nor deprived him of a taste for its indulgence.

Moralists have always questioned the wisdom of indulging a taste for fict.i.tious literature, even when time has strengthened habit and principle into fixedness. The license of the age in which we live, renders futile the elaborate discussion of this question of ethics. But, while permitting yourselves the occasional perusal of works of poetry and fiction, do not so far indulge this taste as to stimulate a disrelish for more instructive reading. And, above all, do not permit yourselves to acquire an inclination for the unwholesome stimulus of licentiousness, in this respect. Every man of the world should know something of the belle-lettre literature of his own language, at least, and, as a rule, the more the better; but,

"Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise;"

and the vile translations from profligate foreign literature, which have, of late years, united with equally immoral productions in our own, to foster a corrupt popular taste, cannot be too carefully avoided by all who would escape moral contagion.

You will find the practice of noting fine pa.s.sages, felicitous modes of expression, novel thoughts, etc., as they occur even in lighter literary productions, not unworthy of your attention. It will serve, collaterally, to a.s.sist in the formation of a pure style of conversation and composition, a consideration of no small importance for those whose future career will demand facility in this regard. Carlyle has somewhere remarked that, "our public men are all gone to tongue!" This peculiarity of the times, may, to some extent, have grown out of its new and peculiar social and political necessities. But, whether that be so, or not, since such is the actual state of things, let all new compet.i.tors for public distinction seek every means of securing ready success.

While I would not, without reservation, condemn the perusal of fict.i.tious literature, I think you will need no elaborate argument to convince you of the superior importance of a thorough familiarity with _History_ and general _Science_.

Let me, also, commend to your attention, well-chosen _Biography_, as affording peculiarly impressive incentives to individual effort, and, often, a considerable amount of collateral and incidental information.

The Life of Johnson, by Boswell, for instance, which, as far as I know, still retains its long-accorded place at the very head of this cla.s.s of composition (some critic has recorded his wonder that the best biography in our language should have been written by a _fool_!) contains a world of information, respecting the many celebrated contemporaries of that great man, the peculiarities of social life in England, at his day, and the general characteristics of elegant literature. So, of Lockhart's Life of Scott, and other records of literary life. The lives of such men as Sh.e.l.ley, and Coleridge, afford an impressive warning to the young--teaching, better than a professed homily, how little talents, unguided by steadfastness of purpose and principle, avail for usefulness and happiness. The examples of Lord Nelson, Howard, Mungo Park, Robert Hall, Franklin, and Washington, may well be studied, in detail, for the lessons they impress upon all. And so, of many of the brave and the good of our race--I but name such as pa.s.singly occur to me.

Do not permit newspaper and magazine reading to engross too much of your time, lest you gradually fall into a sort of _mental dissipation_, which will unfit you for more methodical literary pursuits.

A cultivated taste in Literature and Art, as, indeed, in relation to all the embellishments and enjoyments of life, is, properly, one of the indications, if not the legitimate result, of thorough mental education.

But, while you seek, by every means within your control, to enlarge the sphere of your perceptions, and to elevate your standard of intellectual pleasures, carefully avoid all semblance of conscious superiority, all _dilettanti_ pretension, all needless technicalities of artistic language. Remember that _modesty_ is always the accompaniment of true merit, and that the smattering of knowledge, which the condition of Art in our infant Republic alone enables its most devoted disciples to acquire, ill justifies display and pretension, in this respect. So, with regard to matters of literary criticism--enjoy your own opinions, and seek to base them upon the true principles of art; but do not inflict crudities and plat.i.tudes upon others, under the impression that, because of recent acquisition to a tyro in years, and in learning, they are likely to strike mature minds with the charm of novelty! Thus, too, with scientific lore. If Sir Isaac Newton only gathered "pebbles on the sh.o.r.e" of the limitless ocean of knowledge, we may well believe that

----"Wisdom is a pearl, with most success Sought in still water."

Let me add, while we are, incidentally, upon this matter of personal pretension, that to observing persons such a manner often indicates internal distrust of one's just claims to one's social position, while, on the contrary, quiet self-possession, ease and simplicity, are equally expressive of self-respect and of an entire certainty of the tacit admission of one's rights by others. Nothing is more underbred than the habit of taking offense, or fancying one's self slighted, on all occasions. It betokens either intense egotism, or, as I have said, _distrust of your rightful position_--that you are embittered by struggling with the world--neither of which suppositions should be betrayed by the bearing of a man of the world. Maintain outward serenity, let the torrent rage as it may within, and _never allow the world to know its power to wound you through your undue sensitiveness_!

Well has the poet a.s.serted that

"Truth's a discovery made by _travelled minds_."

No one who can secure the advantage of seeing life and manners in every varying phase, should fail to add this to the other branches of a polite education. Do not imbibe the impression, however, that merely going abroad is _travelling_, in the just sense of the term.

"Oft has it been my lot to mark, A proud, conceited, talking spark, Returning from his finished tour, Grown ten times perter than before.

Whatever word you chance to drop, The travelled fool your mouth will stop:-- 'Sir, if _my_ judgment you'll allow, I've _seen_, and sure _I_ ought to know!'

So begs you'll pay a due submission, And acquiesce in his decision."

Send a fool to visit other countries, and he will return--only a "_travelled_ fool!" But give a rightly-const.i.tuted man opportunities for thus enriching and expanding his intellectual powers, and he returns to his native land, especially if he be an American, a better citizen, a more enlightened, discriminating companion and friend, and a more liberal, useful, catholic Christian!