Oakfield, it seemed that when he had left college, he had left a stage of intellectual preparation, to enter at least on some partial devotion to ends worthy of that preparation; and it fretted him to find that the work of life held out no direct aims comparable in dignity with that of the preparatory task in which he had been engaged. Whereas the end of college life had been the discipline of the intellect, the employment to which, when disciplined, it was to be devoted consisted of little but contrivances to secure "incomes." Thus the step into the great arena of the world was plainly a step DOWN, if the ripened intellect was to be employed only in the service of the physical conditions of life. The tuning of the instrument seemed to be in itself a much higher end than the sort of music it was required to play.

Oakfield's restlessness of mind at the utter want of finality in nearly all human pursuits, is often discernible in characters of the ethical cast. It would at first appear that a mind suffering from such a restlessness is clearly meant for the church. For it is in the church that the ultimate purposes of existence are singled out and pursued through their intricate connection with the threads of a more transient life; it is there that the absolute or spiritual ends of life are contemplated and preached. But Oakfield did not care to add to the multitude who memorialise others as to what life ought to be, he wished rather to rank among those who had themselves been effectually memorialised on the subject, and were eager in consequence to carry out religious suggestions, not to issue them.

But beyond this there is a deeper difficulty, a difficulty which is the real root of moral restlessness in men who are thus eager to be consciously employed on permanent interests, on something which is itself an end and not a means. It expresses itself in this question, "Is there, in fact, any regular and conscious line of voluntary effort which can be said to be a final end of life, and not a mere step to something else?" We may suggest many, but we believe it will be found that in this life the moral and religious pursuits (so called) purely concern the reduction. of our lives into right order, while the moral and religious ends of life, our human and spiritual affections, cannot give us voluntary occupation as industrious beings, but only possess and permeate our thoughts.

The old form of the question always recurs, "What ought to be the main employment of my own will in the highest form of earthly life?" A question which is necessary, as a standard, to direct the mind in all attempts to remodel society. It may be felt that direct relations with God should take a far greater prominence in the allotments of life's occupations than even religious theory assigns to them. And this may be true. But they cannot directly occupy the will, except so far as the form or law of moral life is concerned. Except with relation to reducing our own hearts into submission to God's law, there is nothing which we can do for God apart from the discharge of human functions. The active or industrial part of man cannot find any task exclusively proper to religious affections. For ordinary men the affections are

the only true ends of life; and though you may work in order to express them, the work itself is not of immediate but only mediate value. Hence we believe that the only true remedy for the restlessness which not rarely consumes natures of an ethical turn natures eager at once for active exertion and for high permanent interests natures with too much moral activity for that life of contemplation in which the poet lives on the mere richness of his own insight; and with too much insight to endure the torpid monotony of a perpetual absorption in ways and means is that they should be so deeply engraved with some spiritual interest, whether of joy or suffering, as to give a permanent sense of real life within, and thus render them insensitive to the jars and pettiness of external arrangements. Oakfield had more disposable force of will than he had disposing emotion; he felt that no spiritual interest occupied him as he desired to be occupied; and he wanted to manufacture by personal energy, interests which nothing but internal affections can give. But all merely voluntary exertion is meant to be subordinated to ends beyond itself; so that we cannot, ought not, to expect the active part of life to be self-sufficient for us, and no inner restlessness can be stilled by any address in the mere selection of pursuits.

Prospective Review.

There would seem to be an incurable variance between the life which men covet for themselves and that which they admire in others; nay, between the lot which they

would choose before hand, and that in which they glory afterwards. The aim which God assigns to us as our highest is indeed the direct reverse of that which we propose to ourselves. He would have us in perpetual conflict; we crave an unbroken peace. He keeps us ever on the march; we pace the green sod by the way with many a sigh for rest. He throws us on a rugged universe; and our first care is to make it smooth. His resolve is to demand from us without ceasing, a living power, a force fresh from the spirit he has given; ours, to get into such settled ways, that life may almost go of itself, with scarce the trouble of winding up. Every way he urges our reluctant will. He grows the thistle and the sedge; but expects us to raise the olive and the corn; having given us a portion of strength and skill for such an end. He leaves in each man's lot a thicket of sharp temptations, and expects him, though with bleeding feet, to pass firmly through; having given him courage, conscience, and a guide divine, to sustain him, lest he faint.

And after all, in spite of the inertia of their will, men are, in their inmost hearts, on the side of God, rather than their own, in this matter.

In an old and complicated structure of society, the number is multiplied of those who exist in a state of benumbed habit, who walk through their years methodically, not finding it needful to be more than half awake; who take their passage through human life in an easy chair, and no more think of any self-mortifying work than of the ancient pilgrimage on foot; and are so pleased with the finish and

varnish of the world around them, as to fancy demons and dangers all cleaned out.

years,

The battle of life is not now, so often as of old, thrust upon us from without; it does not give us the first blow, which it were poltroonery to fly; but it is internal and invisible; it has to be sought and found by voluntary enterprise. When I look back over a few I find there is no sort of personal libertinism, of domestic infidelity, of mercantile dishonesty; no breach of faith in States, no mean dishonor in officials, no shuffling expediency in public life; no kindling of national malignity, no outrage of military atrocity, no extreme of theological Jesuitry; which we have not heard excused by amiable laxity, and shrugged off into the dark; or palliated in books enjoying disgraceful popularity; or defended and admired by statesmen who should elevate and not deprave a nation's mind. Is it then too much to fear that the new generation may grow up with bewildered vision; without the clear and single eye of conscience full of light ; and therefore without the resolute and hardy will of one who plainly sees what he is to avoid and what attain ?

Martineau.