CHAPTER IV.

HABITS OF INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL POWER.

We are capable, not only of acting and of having different momentary impressions made upon us, but of getting a new facility in any kind of action, and of settled alterations in our temper or character. BUTLER'S ANALOGY.

DECISION of character and its opposite, imply, in their different degrees, most of those active habits which education can control, in intellectual power, in moral duty, in the business of life, in religious character. The superiority of decision may at first result from chance. One instance of victory over his fellows may teach the boy confidence and his comates fear and respect; and if this co-operate with an ardent temperament, the soul is

formed which shall not bow before mean men, but command his fellows, and to which scarcely any situation in danger shall be a crisis.

No characteristic of man, no exhibition of his mind, takes such a striking and splendid illustration, as this quality of decision, from the history of our species. It must indeed be strongly marked, because by it have been brought about the most wonderful changes on our globe. It draws the boundaries of kingdoms as distinctly as by a chain of mountains or the walling sea. It levels hills and raises up vallies. It built the Chinese wall and the pyramids of Djezza. It was the magnificent attribute of the Barbarian soldier-king who subdued a thousand nations, and left in last command to turn the course of a river, and make his grave beneath its channels, that it might no more be found beneath the returning waters. In a single mind it hath controlled half the world; stayed the clogged wheels of society with blood; buried old thrones; raised up new. In a single mind it hath effected the most glorious reformations

in political and religious society. It is always unexpected by an opponent, and hath moved, approached, conquered, before he is aware. It bears in grand masses upon the weak point of an adversary's battle, and cuts his strength in twain. In criticism it deals with the spirit of a piece, and is scarcely alive to little defects. In poetry it is epic grandeur. In architecture it is severe simplicity, able to make a Iman shed tears. In oratory it first simplifies, and then throws a mass of eloquent illustration upon the cleared particulars. It is unwearied benevolence in despite of ingratitude. It is a direct face and step towards Eternal Truth. It is manly simplicity of character in all things, that alone stands each test,—a simplicity of which the world is never weary, and which, like the bread and water of our natural life, never breeds loathing, but is ever desired as a necessary staple in the mutual faith of men. In all things it is economy of passion and energy,—without waste,—with a determined application.

Now, how is this grandeur of mind to be

built up? What are the first essential steps in the discipline that can help it?

We see souls that defy the calculations of progressive attainment, that have lain calm and unexpected like a couching lion, but which have arisen at last and shaken opinion off like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,” and in the strong divinity of genius shaped out for themselves a new path.-Such a soul was that of Alfieri.

Circumstances of violent opposition, the desertion of men, and apparent hopelessness of situation, instead of overwhelming the mind, have sometimes been only the means of raising it up in native unappropriated grandeur; whilst a solemn and almost prophetic indignation of heart, in the undeserved castaway, hath been a spur to genius more than fame, or love, or any passion.-Such was the ruling star over that banished Florentine Alighieri Dante, who saw, in great vision, Hell, and the Three Bows of Light in the circles of Trinity. There is a grand decision in the expression of his genius, as of a mind con

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scious that his greatest curse was forgiveness, and not unaware that his fame should, in after times, be the highest and boasted inheritance of his oppressors,-a decision heightened by the pathetic spirit of humanity which, through all, sighs his soul back to his Father-land,—the natural place of a man's honour.

There must be indeed a native greatness of heart, for we see the decisive man developed in all circumstances.-In contrast of situation with the last example, grew the greatest Scipio. In silent retirement he nursed his spirit, and exercised his calculations in all the resources and relations of his country, that he might become her soldier. In extreme youth he was every day alone in the Temple of Jupiter; his decision became hallowed by prayer; and the mysterious reverence of his countrymen was no mean circumstance to the amount of determined self-respect. In all Livy's

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pictured page," there is no nobler scene than that in which the character of young Scipio first burst upon Rome. The heralds had proclaimed in vain that any might come forward