of distinctions too subtle for them to appreciate, thus giving obstinacy the acuteness of judgment: or he will confound the difference between a possibility and a probability, denying what is probable because the evidence has not annihilated every contrary possibility, thus recommending his own superiority, which can balance and set aside substantial testimony with a negative possibility, nay more, can establish, with negative suppositions alone, a position whose opposite is supported by appropriate evidence. Such are the artifices, by which professed philosophers, too stupid to admire truth in its golden purity and freshness, too indolent to explore and toil in the mine, and too proud to confess their indifference, gather and remould the already stamped coin, and pass it off in their own names and mingled with their own alloy. Among poets also, of those who claim for themselves a character distinct and original, there will be found some who have not even the poor merit of having selected the choicest portions of authors whom they have defrauded by downright plagiarism, or disgraced by attempts to imitate. Others there are, who, unable or unwilling to make the effort that would command praise, have sought a name by basely flattering the favorite prejudices, or commending the faults of the great; while others still, having corrected the acknowledged faults of those who have gone before them, claim for this insignificant service the superiority of reviewers and improvers of genius, with as good a title as that of the heroic Falstaff, demanding a reward of valor for having stabbed the already murdered Percy. Small then is the number of those, even among wits, philosophers and poets, the great aspirants for originality, who have ever performed the labor or exercised the self-control necessary to merit the honor for which they strive. Still that honor, difficult as it may be to attain and rarely reached as it is, is notwithstanding, worthy of all the assiduity and toil required in its successful pursuit. And it is an honor which invites the student with no common attractions, for it appeals to the deep sympathies and meets a response in the conscious capabilities of his intellect. The noble impulses of his nature all aspire to this highest human attainment,-the full development and yet absolute harmony and control of the powers of his mind; while on the other hand he who adopts the means of mental improvement without habitual and growing self control, acquires distinction indeed, but it is distinguished disgrace and increasing shame. It is not claimed that if all passiveness were banished and every mind were completely self controlled and independent, there would be that originality in each which excludes resemblance to all others; for originality of mind is not defined by calling it a new and singular mode of viewing and investigating subjects, it is rather an independent self controlled mode,-singular, not because it is unnatural or needs to be unfrequent, but only because it is, in fact, uncommon. With this definition, every student can have an original mind, and he betrays his own weakness, abuses his privileges and dishonors education, if those who know him and are capable of judging cannot discern in him, as he advances, growing independence and originality of mind. But the difficulties opposing such an attainment are great and almost insurmountable. The mind must receive its opinions, not from authority, but testimony,-must suspend its decisions until after impartial examination and comparison-fancy must be checked, prejudice hushed, and passion quieted—the tribunal of reason must be faithfully secured against the corruptions of place, of interest and of ambition-the mind instead of receiving, must be constantly active in acquiring-in short all its powers must be sustained in vigorous action upon, and control over, outward influences. All this must be done and that not for a short time and at intervals, but constantly, and through the whole course of its discipline. The reason why many fail, of those who ought to succeed, is, they commence too late, or remit their exertions at frequent intervals after they have commenced. The system of early education lays the foundation in many instances, of those habits which are totally incompatible with subsequent originality of mind. That system proceeds upon the principle that the mind is a storehouse, in which facts alone may be treasured, and the learner is employed solely in gathering and storing away what has been previously adapted, not to the mind as including imagination and fancy, and taste and reason, but adapted to the memory alone, as if the young and proud intellect were nothing but a pure and lifeless page, upon which teachers and authors might transcribe their own knowledge and opinions. How can minds be expected to become independent, whose training until the period of habit-forming is past, has been one unchanging process of committing to memory and reciting? How can those who are never permitted to explore for themselves, by such a system of limiting and leading, become bold and successful adventurers? "Can the Ethi opian change his skin?" Why is it that genius, original and commanding, has ever been found to open like the morning sun upon the dawn of the intellectual history of nations, and afterward to become obscure, and finally to set in eternal night? Because at first the mind was free and unfettered by rules and schools and teachers, causes that may cripple and destroy, but can never inspire or create genius. In our system of education, the prospective artisan, merchant and mechanic, are placed in the same school and subjected to the same process with him whose life is to be devoted to study, the former to acquire facts and knowledge which he will need in his vocation, (for which another stage and one of preparation and apprenticeship awaits him,) and the latter to lay the foundation of an independent thinking mind. The former passes from the school to his apprenticeship, where he commences his discipline, that of active experiment, the only sure way to independent qualification; and the only thing that the school has done for him, or can do for any one, is to furnish his memory with convenient knowledge. But he whose life is to be devoted to study, needs more than any other, a stage of appropriate discipline, an apprenticeship of independent experimental thinking, and no such process is provided in our system, nothing is demanded of him but to commit and recite! How then can it be expected that while the whole attention of the mind is occupied in following instructions, in committing lessons, and in copying models, the spontaneous principle of independence shall arise, and with unaided energy control these overgrown habits of imitation? Our system of early education has its use-to supply those who do not purpose to cultivate their minds as the business of life, with such information as they will need in their several callings; but, like a magazine, it can only furnish weapons, it cannot teach their use. The want of originality and independence of mind, an evil so general and so disgraceful to man, has its origin, as we have seen, in two powerful and permanent causes-the natural indolence of the mind and the influence of early education. To endeavor effectually to remove or even to arrest the influence of these causes, in the case of many minds, is a task too long neglected to admit of a present prospect of success. They have been committed to the stream and gently borne upon its bosom, or whirled in its eddies, till like a pleased boy they have fallen asleep and are unconsciously wafted on by the unresisted current, while the task of life, the proper culture of their minds, is left untouched. By timely warning, others may be enabled to overcome the influence of these causes, and yet to such, the undertaking is of no ordinary magnitude, and the danger that they will continue in that easy way which so many have followed, becomes daily more and more alarming. Unless they can be persuaded to think, and to think till they have disturbed the settled habits of the mind, and produced new and original combinations; to think till they can distinguish what is produced from what is imbibed; to think till they can hold the parts and see the relations of a subject, till they can compare, unite, except or pass by, as truth requires; to think till they can do all this with deliberation, with clearness, with assurance and with decision; unless they can be persuaded to do this, they can never attain the perfection of mental discipline, or merit the honor of intellectual independence. "Nil sine magno Vita labore dedit mortalibus." C. W. A WISH FOR MY FRIEND. BRIGHT as heaven's starry brow;- Till thy home on high is won. LETTERS FROM THE OLD DOMINION. No. II. Staunton, Va., May 8, 1837. As we employed Saturday last in accomplishing one great object of our visit to this place, that of visiting Weyer's Cave, which is in its neighborhood, and as the stage arrangements prevent our leaving here for the Natural Bridge before to-morrow, I am able to devote a few hours of to-day, my dear M***, to the fulfilment of the perhaps ill-advised promise of my last epistle. Indeed, I have almost repented of having made it: but as I have commenced, I suppose I must continue; and though to others I might owe an apology for the attempt, I feel secure in my reliance on your long tried friendship, for a good share of indulgence to these meagre descriptions and dull narrations of barren incidents. Immediately on my arrival here, I found the value of that bond, by which a connection with one Alma Mater, so naturally unites her foster children. What you have seen and known of the pleasure exhibited by students, when in vacation they have chanced to meet at a distance from Yale, with their classmates and their college friends, will account to you for the gratification I felt, in meeting at this place with one who is not only a quondam Yalensian but a fellow Calliopean. Although it had been some years since he had left Yale, the affection retained for his college and especially for his society, secured to me a hearty welcome: and in asking and answering questions of the present and the past, at Yale, we spent many minutes with mutual interest and pleasure. You will remember that in my last letter I expressed my intention of paying an early morning visit to Table Rock. Fortunately I awoke a few minutes before the rising of the sun; and, (as Milton describes him,) as he, "With wheels yet hov'ring o'er the ocean brim Shot parallel to th' earth his dewy ray," I reached the desired spot. It is this rock, on which tradition says. that Jefferson stood some forty years ago and viewed, with delight, the wild beauty of the scene. The slab appeared to be about eight feet square, and from two feet and a half to three feet in thickness, resting on a pedestal of perhaps four feet in diameter, and inclined to the horizon at an angle of about twenty-five degrees. If this is really the spot from which Jefferson took his impressions of the scenery, there must have been great changes in the view since that time. From here one could hardly obtain a glimpse of the Potomac, though it may have been otherwise before the erection of houses and bridges, and the growth of the trees had intercepted the view. When Jefferson saw it, too, man had probably done little towards violating the sanctity of the place-a place which should have been ever left inviolably sacred to nature alone. You have probably heard of the U. S. works at Harper's Ferry, for the manufacture of fire arms. On the Potomac are the manufactories of the common muskets used by our militia: on the Shenandoah, about a mile and a half from the ferry, are manufactured the patent rifles. The latter works we visited and witnessed the process of making the rifles in all its minutiæ. The completion of a single gun requires nearly three hundred operations, which by a division of labor, are performed by nearly as many hands. We were told that about twenty thousand rifles are made here in a year, at an expense of from ten to fifteen dollars each. Though all the operations were highly interesting, I was especially struck with the ingenious contrivances for procuring exactness in the size of the several parts of the gun; as they are all so accurately fitted to the same model that if any part of one gun should be lost or destroyed, its place could be supplied by the like part of any other from the same manufactory. As we knew of no other objects of particular interest at the ferry, we left there on Wednesday afternoon for Winchester, thirty-two miles distant, by rail road. Leaving that city at four P. M. on the ensuing morning, after a rather fatiguing ride of nearly one hundred miles by the stage coach, we arrived at this |