ence to render these letters a sort of magical spell for kindling the emulation of the wise and good whenever they shall reach the human ear." Desire of Esteem not a safe Rule of Conduct. I would by no means be understood, however, to present the desire of esteem as, on the whole, a safe and suitable rule of conduct, or to justify that inordinate ambition which too fre quently seeks distinction regardless of the means by which it is acquired, or of any useful end to be accomplished. The mere love of fame is by no means the highest principle of action by which man is guided by no means the noblest or the safest. It is ever liable to abuse. Its tendencies are questionable. The man who has no higher principle than a regard to the opinions of others is not likely to accomplish any thing great or noble. He will lack that prime element of greatness, consistency of character and purpose. His conduct and his principles will vary to suit the changing aspect of the times. He will, almost of necessity, also lack firmness and strength of character. It is necessary, sometimes, for the wise and good man to resist the force and pressure of public opinion. He must do that, or abandon his principles, and prove false at once to duty, and to himself. To do this costs much. It requires, and, at the same time, imparts, true strength. Such strength comes in no other way. That mind is essentially weak that depends for its point of support on the applause of man. In the noble language of Cicero, "To me, indeed, those actions seem all the more praiseworthy which we perform without regard to public favor, and without observation of man. The true theatre for virtue is conscience; there is none greater." The praise of man confers no solid happiness, unless it is felt to be deserved; and if it be so, that very consciousness is sufficient. Disregard of public Opinion equally unsafe. It must be confessed, however, that if a regard to the opinions of others is not to be adopted as a wise and safe rule of con duct, an entire disregard of public opinion is, on the other hand, a mark neither of a well ordered mind, nor of a virtu ous character. "Contempta fama," says Tacitus, "contemnantur virtutes." Accordingly we find that those who, from any cause, have lost their character and standing in society, and forfeited the good opinion of their fellow-men, are apt to become des perate and reckless, and ready for any crime. CHAPTER IV. HOPE AND FEAR. Nature of these Emotions.—In the analysis of the sensibilities, which was given in a preceding chapter, hope and fear were classed as modifications of desire and aversion, having reference to the probability that the object which is desired or feared may be realized. Desire always relates to something in the future, and something that is agreeable, or viewed as such, and also something possible, or that is so regarded. Add to this future agreeable something the idea or element of probability, let it be not only something possible to be attained, but not unlikely to be, and what was before but mere desire, more or less earnest, now becomes hope, more or less definite or strong, according as the object is more or less desirable, and more or less likely to be realized. And the same is true of fear; an emotion awakened in view of any object re garded as disagreeable, in the future, and as more or less likely to be met. As desire and aversion do not necessarily relate to dif ferent objects, but are simply counterparts of each other, the desire of any good implying always an aversion to its loss, so, also, hope and fear may both be awakened by the same object, according as the gaining or losing of the object be comes the more probable. What we hope to gain we fear to lose What we fear to meet, we hope to escape. ance. The Strength of the Feeling dependent, in part, on the Importance of the Object.-The degree of the emotion, however, in either case, the readiness with which it is awakened, and the force and liveliness with which it affects the mind, are not altogether in proportion to the probability merely that the thing will, or will not, be as we hope or fear, but somewhat in proportion, also, to the importance of the ob ject itself. That which is quite essential to our happiness is more ardently desired, than what is of much less consequence, though, perhaps, much more likely to be attained; and because it is more important and desirable, even a slight pros pect of its attainment, or a slight reason to apprehend its loss, more readily awakens our hopes, and our fears, and more deeply impresses and agitates the mind, than even a much stronger probability would do in cases of less importWhat we very much desire, we are inclined to hope for, what we are strongly averse to, we are readily disposed to fear. Nothing is more desirable to the victim of disease than recovery, and hence his hope and almost confident expectation that he shall recover, when, perhaps, to every eye but his own, the case is hopeless. Nothing could be more dreadful to the miser than the loss of his treasure, and nothing, accordingly, does he so much fear. Poverty would be to him the greatest of possible calamities, and of this, accordingly, he lives in constant apprehension. Yet nothing is really more unlikely to occur. It is the tendency of the mind, in such cases, to magnify both the danger of the evil, on the one hand, and the prospect of good on the other. Illustration from the case of a Traveller. "There can be no question," says Dr. Brown, "that he who travels in the same carriage, with the same external appearances of every kind, by which a robber could be tempted or terrified, will be in equal danger of attack, whether he carry with him Little of which he can be plundered, or such a booty as would impoverish him if it were lost. But there can be no question, also, that though the probabilities of danger be the same, the fear of attack would, in these two cases, be very different; that, in the one case, he would laugh at the ridicu lous terror of any one who journeyed with him, and expressed much alarm at the approach of evening; and that, in the other case, his own eye would watch, suspiciously, every norseman who approached, and would feel a sort of relief when he observed him pass carelessly and quietly along, at a considerable distance behind." Uneasiness attending the sudden Acquisition of Wealth. This tendency of the imagination to exaggerate the real, and conjure up a thousand unreal dangers, when any thing of peculiar value is in possession, which it is certainly possi ble, and it may be slightly probable, that we may lose, may, perhaps, account for the uneasiness, amounting often to ex treme anxiety, that frequently accompanies the sudden acquisition of wealth. The poor cobbler, at his last, is a merry man, whistling at his work, from morning till night. Bequeath him a fortune, and he quits at once his last and his music; he is no longer the light-hearted man that he was; his step is cautious, his look anxious and suspicious; he grows care-worn and old. He that was never so happy in his life as when a poor man, now dreads nothing so much as poverty. While he was poor, there was nothing to fear, but every thing to hope, from the future; now that he is rich, there is nothing further to hope, but much to fear, since if the future brings any change in his condition, as it is not unlikely to do, it will, in all probability, be a change, not from wealth to still greater wealth, but from present afflu ence to his former penury. - The Pleasure of Hope surpasses the Pleasure of Reality. It will, doubtless, be found generally true, that the pleas ure of hope surpasses the pleasure derived from the realization of the object wished and hoped for. The imagination invests with ideal excellence the good that is still future, and when the hour of possession and enjovment comes, the reality does not fully answer the expectation. Or, as in the case, already supposed, of the acquisition of wealth, there come along with the desired and expected treasure, a thousand cares and anxieties that were not anticipated, and that go far to diminish the enjoyment of the acquisition. From these, and other causes, it happens, I believe, not unfre quently, that those enjoy the most, who have really the least, whether of wealth, or of any other good which the mind naturally desires as a means of happiness; nor can we fail to see in this a beautiful provision of divine benevolence for the happiness of the great human family. Influence on the Mind. The influence of hope, upon the human mind, is universally felt, and recognized, as one of the most powerful and permanent of those varied influences, and laws of being, that make us what we are. It is limited to no period of life, no clime and country, no age of the world, no condition of society, or of individual fortune. It cheers us, alike, in the childhood of our being, in the maturity of our riper years, and in the second childhood of advancing age. There is no good which it cannot promise, no evil for which it cannot suggest a remedy and a way of escape, no sorrow which it cannot assuage. It is strength to the weary, courage to the desponding, life to the dying, joy to the desolate. It lingers with gentle step about the couch of the suffering, when human skill can do no more; and, upon the tombs of those whose departure we mourn, it hangs the unfading gar land of a blessed immortality. Angel of life! thy glittering wings explore Earth's loveliest bounds, and ocean's widest shore.' The same poet who sang so well the pleasures of hope, has depicted the influence of this emotion, on the mind which some great calamity has bereft of reason. “Hark, the wild maniac sings to chide the gale |