esteem, which thinks that these are easy to ourselves, and therefore is ready to undertake everything of this kind, but has not counted the cost. An uncalculating generosity it is, arising in the very contrary direction from Sentimentalism-for the "Senti ́mentalist" substitutes his own flights of emotion, and his glowing words for true action; but the man who is "Unreal," he has looked at things as they are presented to him ordinarily in literature, surrounded by a glow of Romance, a halo of rainbow colors; he takes them to be such as they are represented, and hence no appreciation has he of the truth and the fact. Garlands of flowers for him festoon all circumstances. Odors, not of Araby, but of "Lubin et Cié, à Paris," breathe a soft fragrance; the whole world is a Boudoir to him :—and he does not understand what it is to struggle and to endure, to bear and to forbear.

The Literature of the day has done this,-it has created this Unreality, it presents stimulating fiction and sweetly poisonous untruth to the young, who spend upon these dreams the nobleness of feeling, and fervor of heart, that truly cherished and truly expended, would lead to the loftiest action. And then, at the first real contact with life, they find the falsehood and untruth of these Romantic views,-they fling them aside, and with them, too often, alas! the nobleness of feeling that had been thus mislaid upon an imaginary world, and sink into calculating Selfishness, the fixed determination of mind, that all nobleness, all tenderness of thought, all generosity of heart is folly and imagination, and that self is all and in all.

And hence it is, that they who might have been the noblest, sink into self-enjoying Epicureans, whose business and thought is that of the old pagan: "Eat, drink, enjoy thyself, the rest is not worth a fillip.' Or else the still lower and viler sentiment engraved upon the tomb of the English Poet:

"Life's a jest, and all things show it;

I thought so once, and now I know it."t

And this Epicureanism is destroying the Educated Classes: they are perishing and decaying by it. And they who have been led

* Inscription upon the tomb of Sardanapalus.

† How wretched in life must the man have been, if these sentiments were really and truly the opinion of his heart. Although perhaps we may charitably

by their strife with poverty and labor from childhood, to feel the world as it is as a reality, and life as a reality, they fight their way to the wealth the others waste,-that their children may go through the same process of self-indulgence and consequent mental and bodily decay.

We have spoken of this at length; we say to the rich: “Train your children in religion, a disciplinary religion, a religion, not of emotion, but of duty. Let them feel and know a power superior to Wealth; let the Home, a holy Home, open their minds to the sense of the Unseen God and His realities,-to the Affections of the Heart, to an obedience to the Conscience, and to a sense of the power and glory of the Will. Let the Father train the child to Obedience, and the Mother to Love, and the Clergyman to a Religion verifying itself in Faith and Works. And so shall he

suppose that they were rather the offspring of that good-natured foolhardiness by which, in the last century, men of Genius were seduced into trifling with subjects, upon which they actually believed with trembling, in order to show their wit.

That such might have been the case with poor good-natured Gay, we may believe. But it was carrying the joke too far, to inscribe such blasphemous flippancy upon a tomb!

How much loftier and truer are the lines of our great American poet, Longfellow:

grow up as a Man, not as an animal whose one idea is that enjoyment of the senses is all, and that riches is all-mighty to procure this enjoyment, and that the whole world has for this reason only its existence. And so he shall not, because he has merely grown up as an animal (for it is not Education), be prepared to give up to a stimulating and unreal literature, whatsoever natural earnestness and natural nobility there was in his Heart."

"Let not this be so, but let the child have, and obtain a truly religious training, and then this sense of Unreality, this hankering after stimulants for the mind, this inward Selfishness of Heart shall be abated."

And for those who feel that Romance and Unreality makes a part of their moral character, and who would themselves get rid of it, I should think that an abstinence from such literature, a direct contact, self-sought, with the misery and sorrow of existence in the way of relief and sympathy, as well as a direct and steady employment and object in life, would be of great service.

And above all things, I would recommend as a remedy for Unreality and Romance, a duty enjoined in the Scriptures as a Spiritual discipline,-the duty of fasting. I mean not merely the change of one kind of food for another, but an actual abstinence, for a set time, from all food, say once in the week, of course under the advice of a physician,-so that it shall not be an injury to the constitution, but with this limitation, fasting sharp and severe, so as to acquaint the man with the suffering of hunger. It is astonishing how much Unreality this will do away with, how much Romance it will destroy; how much sympathy with poverty and misery it will produce. It is a Spiritual Discipline, prescribed in the New Testament, and we here advise it as a remedy, much to be used.

We now go on to speak of "Day Dreaming," or "Building Castles in the air."

Now to bring this forward in a book upon morals, may seem, to some, superfluous. And yet, we believe, to notice it, is absolutely necessary, for it is a disease of the two noblest powers of man, the Imagination* and the Affections. And one which, we are convinced, from our experience as an educator, wastes more energy

* What is called Imagination, distinguished rigidly from Fancy, is a great deal more nearly akin to the Spiritual Reason, than men imagine.

and destroys more naturally high and lofty minds, than perhaps any other.

The Day-dreamer feels himself limited in power by the situation. wherein he is placed; ordinary life is not enough for him, but he would do wonders of Benevolence, requiring mines of wealth and inexhaustible power. Therefore, he turns away with disgust from active life, and revels in dreams of overflowing wealth, of which he is the possessor and the dispenser, and of lofty and splendid deeds, of which he is the hero; and inwardly, upon the theatre of a prolific fancy, he enacts many scenes which would, in themselves, be perfectly ridiculous, but for their sad effects upon the mind of the

man.

For life and its duties pass by him unheeded, while he is occupied with these inward visions; mental energy is dissipated by the morbid effect of the Imagination; decision of action and of aim is utterly lost; and too often, alas! it is directly true that, according to the principle of Bishop Butler, "the going over the theory of virtue, and drawing fine pictures of it, is so far from necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit of virtue in him, who thus employs employs himself, that it may harden the mind in a contrary direction." I consider that this "day-dreaming," upon these grounds, is directly injurious to the Moral powers, directly Evil.

Hitherto we have supposed it innocent, as far as the thoughts are concerned, but often, especially in those not baptized with the baptism of Christ, it is the introducer to direct sin. It leads in wandering thoughts and these become gradually vicious and evil, thoughts of rioting, lasciviousness, violence, avarice, revenge, indulged in, cherished by the Heart, and swarming in it, ready to burst forth into evil words and evil actions, before the man is himself aware of it.

For "thought," as Butler remarks, "is action," "words are actions," and "deeds are action." That is, thoughts voluntarily cherished, assented to, agreed with,—words freely and intentionally spoken-acts willingly done-all these are action for which we are responsible.

And so does it often happen, owing to the seductive influence of this vice of the moral habits, that in the family, unknown to the parents, the youth shall have been laying up for years the materials for a moral explosion that shall bring upon him sudden ruin

and destruction. Well was it that our Saviour placed in the Heart the "issues of life and death," truly according to the facts and the reality of our nature, did he insist upon watching over the "Heart;" for there is the source of almost all evil.

Now in reference to this disease so expounded, I give this advice; first:

sr

Let the person who has fallen into the habit of "Day Dreaming," let him set before himself, in view, a fixed and determinate end to fulfil, an object and employment in life that he judges worthy of an effort, and let him steadily struggle and labour towards it with all his energies and all his powers. Again, let him avoid solitude, as this especially gives room for these reveries of the Imagination, and keep in society, except so much as may be absolutely necessary for the business of life. If alone, let him be employed; for an idle solitude, an unbusy loneliness, is in itself a temptation to reverie. And lastly, let him avoid long sleep in the morning as enervating to the body and the mind; for in fact, the state of morning sleep, half dreaming, half awake, is injuricus to men's energies, mainly because it leads to this habit of dreaming reverie.

And as the last and most efficient remedy, especially if those scattered and wandering thoughts have become evil and have led to evil; I advise the person, especially if a youth under the care of a religious and thoughtful Father and Mother, to lay open to them under strict confidence, the state of his mind, and to be of them guided as to his conduct. For evil thoughts hidden shall rankle and become as ulcers to the moral being; whereas laid open to the eye of a Father or a Mother, they shall by their care be healed.

And here I would add a remark for the Parent and for the Child. The fact is, that between a "Lawyer" and his "Client" there exists a "Legal confidence," to which the lawyer is sworn that he will maintain it, in consequence of which the client consulting with him, may inform him of many matters, that discovered, would bring detriment, but all which the lawyer is bound to conceal. Between the "Physician" and his "Patient" there is a confidence also by which the "Physician" is bound to keep secret and entirely unknown, all matters so revealed, if not in law, at least in the common law of honour that exists in the Profession. And this exists in consequence of the natural position of "Lawyer" and "Client," "Physician" and "Patient;" and is recognized in