ous, it would be quadruple that sum, which is one hundred and fifty-six pence, which is seventy-eight two-penny loaves. Now, do you not think that for one man to swallow down seventy-two two-penny rolls at one meal is rather extravagant business?"

"But he drank a bottle of wine; he did not eat seventy-two two-penny rolls, Doctor."

"He drank the money worth of seventytwo loaves, which is drinking the loaves themselves; for money is bread."

"But he has plenty of money to spare, Doctor."

"To have to spare, is to have to give away. Does the gentleman give much away?"

"Not that I know of. Doctor."

"Then he thinks he has nothing to spare; and thinking he has nothing to spare, and yet prodigally drinking down his money as he does every day, it seems to me that that gentleman stands selfcontradicted, and therefore is no good example for plain sensible folks like you and me to follow. My honest friend. if you are poor, avoid wine as a costly luxury; if you are rich, shun it as a fatal indulgence. Stick to plain water. And now,

my good friend, if you are through with your meal, we will rise. There is no pastry coming. Pastry is poisoned bread. Never eat pastry. Be a plain man, and stick to plain things. Now, my friend, I shall have to be private until nine o'clock in the evening, when I shall be again at your service. Meantime you may go to your room. I have ordered the one next to this to be prepared for you. But you must not be idle. Here is Poor Richard's Almanac, which in view of our late conversation, I commend to your earnest perusal. And here, too, is a Guide to Paris, an English one, which you can read. Study it well, so that when you come back from England if you should then have an opportunity to travel about Paris, to see its wonders, you will have all the chief places made historically familiar to you. In this world, men must provide knowledge before it is wanted, just as our countrymen in New England get in their winter's fuel one season, to serve them the next."

So saying, this homely sage, and household Plato, showed his humble guest to the door, and standing in the hall, pointed out to him the one which opened into his allotted apartment.

ALONG time ago, more than five hun

dred years before the birth of Christ, and some seventy before Socrates, in the years when the Jews were returning from the captivity in Babylon, and the Greeks were repelling the armies of Xerxes, a young man appeared among the little feudal kingdoms of Eastern China. His employment was the teaching of Truth to men. He had no distinction of station, or wealth to aid him. He lived among petty rival states, that for the most part disowned his instructions, and followed him with persecutions during his life. He spoke of his mission at the last as a failure, and died discouraged.

The records of him are scanty and perverted by the superstitions of early times; but they show almost undesignedly, out from the mists of antiquity,

a simple and majestic life; such a life and such words-the fit expression of it-as have naturally stamped themselves upon his country and his people, more than all the conquests and exploits of soldiers or emperors since. So that the simple preacher and noble MAN of past times has become identified almost with the personality of virtue. and is wor shipped as a god. Even more,--so impressive and overflowing has been the influence of his character, that a nation of three hundred millions of men, after twenty-three centuries, still in the pettiest details of political science and private manners, revere his words as the authority which they seek in vain to follow. Not Moses, Mahomet, or Calvin, have so imprinted themselves on the legislation and religion and forms of their people, as this Chinese scholar has done, by

words, whose effect he scarcely lived to

see.

It becomes deeply interesting to know what a great man, a truthful man, so far back in the shadows of the Past, without light, except the inner unfailing light of the human soul, has thought upon the great problems of human life. How the even yet awful questions, Why are we here? and, Whither are we going? were to him, as he worked steadily on, in the appointed task of his life.

It is more interesting, as the word comes to us each day from his country, that the corruptions, which have gathered around his system. are being swept away by a new tide of human thought; and that his truths,—a result he had so gladly welcomed-are being filled out by higher and more comprehensive truths, in a change so rapid, that the one seem to bave been the natural preparation for the other.

KOUNG-TSEE, or CONFUCIUS, as is the Latinized name, was born 551 B. C., in the kingdom of Lou, in Shantung, an eastern province of China. His family had been distinguished in former times, even reckoning princes in the line of descent; at his birth, it was not in any way eminent. The usual prodigies, which the reverence of followers throws about the birth of the founder of a religion, preceded him. A singular animal (the ki-lin.) apparently the unicorn, was found near the house with a stone in his mouth, on which was an inscription, purporting that the babe soon to be born, would be "King, but without a kingdom." Dragons were seen in the air; and five wise men from a distance came to the house. Celestial music too was heard in the skies. In the old Chinese histories, this is represented by a band of Chinese angels among the clouds, with spiritual faces and queues and wide sleeves, playing the various national instruments. The child seems to have grown up a serious and sedate boy, thoughtful even then of the solemn things of human life, and conspicuous for his reverence towards the rites. At seventeen, he was appointed an inspector of the sale and distribution of grains. This office, which had been probably one of the government sinecures to be given to aspiring young men, he at once rendered of some value. He rose early; examined the markets; read books and consulted experts as to the fermentation of grain and the best mode of preserving it, until his labors became a terror to all the cheating dealers and monopolists. At nineteen, he was married; and in conse

quence of his unceasing activity in the petty office, he was appointed Inspector General of fields and herds. Every thing here was managed by him as thoroughly as it had been in the subordinate place. He neglected nothing. He rode over the country; talking with the farmers, instructing them. getting information about the peculiar defects of the soil, and working carefully at all the details. Agriculture sprung up again under his care through the kingdom; and large districts of unused, desolate lands were restored. His name was becoming known, and he was fast advancing in the political course, when an event occurred which changed the direction of his whole life.

His mother died. He buried her in the same tomb with his father, with equal marks of respect, thinking. contrary to the Chinese custom, that "those whom we have alike loved in life, should not be separated in our respect in death;" an innovation in their rites, since adopted by his countrymen. He was only twentyfour, and with a distinguished career opening; but he at once abandoned all public employment, and gave himself up to his grief and to quiet memories of her during three years. It was the first outlook to the thoughtful man into the great Unseen, and the first sharp blow on his heart. He never lost the effects of it. Every serious and vigorous life, which has taken hold of something deeper than the surface of things, seems to be naturally preceded by such years of silence. Moses was among the slaves; Socrates worked out great thoughts in quiet company with the hucksters; Luther had his solitary years of struggle, and Cromwell spent his early and mature life on the country farm.

We may well suppose that the young scholar in these years of loneliness and sorrow, questioned often of that sombre, unknown Void, whither his beloved one had gone. Was she still with him? Could she know of his love? Are the genii which the people worship her companions? What is this mysterious "Principle of Life" which the philosophers adore, and what is Death?

The answers which he made to these questionings, as shown subsequently in his philosophy and life, have been much condemned by Christian moralists; yet they seem to us the most natural conclusions which philosophy has attained to. Indeed, without the light of Christianity, we can understand no other.

His first thoughts in this time of his sorrow, were to show respect to her who

was gone. He felt the vagueness over her whole destiny, and yet the tie which binds our heart to the dead, seems almost the only elevating and dignifying bond in life, if superstition be cast aside. He studied the old moralists of the nation, and found that this respect for the dead prevailed in the purer times. He determined to revive it." He constantly urged," says one of his biographers, "to those with whom he had occasion to speak, that MAN. being that which is most precious under the heaven, all which composes him is worthy of the greatest respect; that, being by his nature the king of the earth, all which exists upon the earth is submitted to his laws and owes him homage; and that it is in some sort to degrade him from his dignity, and to put him to the level of the brutes, to have only indifference for that which remains of him, when the breath of life no more animates him." This regard for those who were gone, seemed to him to connect the man with his family and his race, and was a pledge that he himself should not be forgotten. It cherished affection; and, in the daily round of low cares, it elevated his nature to stop a few moments before the image or memorial of the friend deceased, and think of his noble qualities, or call up again the tender love which the mould and worm of the grave could not eat away. He would have the images of the lost, in the most familiar and pleasant places, in the garden, the doorway or the inner home; so that as men walked around, they might be prompted to emulate the virtues of their fathers, and to desire, like them, to be remembered with reverence, by those who should come after. And to him, this love and affectionate adoration to ancestors, seemed the most fitting expression of gratitude or worship to the mysterious PRINCIPLE

of Life," which he vaguely felt to exist.

"God," said he in a conversation later in life, with one of the princes of the country, to whom he was explaining the nature of sacrifices, "CHANG-TY (God) is the universal Principle of Life; it is the fruitful source from which all things have flown. To give to heaven testimonies of gratitude, is the first of the duties of man; to show one's self grateful towards ancestors, the second. . . . After having satisfied in some sort, their obligations towards CHANG-TY, to whom, as to the universal principle of all which exists, they (mankind) were indebted for their own existence, . . . . their hearts turned to those who had transmitted life to them. They

fixed in their honor respectful ceremonies, to be as the complement of the sacrifice offered solemnly to CHANG-TY." (p. 204.)* And again. “In all which I have just recalled to your majesty, you will comprehend, without doubt, that under whatev er title one renders the worship; whoever may be the apparent object of it, and of whatever nature be the external ceremonies, it is always to CHANG-TY that one renders it, and it is CHANG-TY who is the object direct and principal, of the veneration."

Whatever may have been the errors of his followers, it is very apparent that this first practical direction of the Philosophy of Confucius, was based on a rational reverence. His worship of ancestors was no idolatry. Though this one development of his piety has affected his nation now for two thousand years, more than any thing which he taught, it was in reality, but a single superficial expression of his system. This, during these years of solitary thought and study, he was gradually developing. Its features we shall see more clearly as we progress with his life.

The three years of mourning were over. He was at once urged by the king to return to his public office. He declined, and continued to devote himself to his study of the ancient records of the kingdom; the annals of the "golden age" of the monarchy, whose simple manners and humane spirit he perhaps already thought to revive again. His pursuits were now evidently pointing to the future business of his life; yet he continued to practise himself in all the accomplishments of a man of the world. In music, for which he had an enthusiastic love; in the science of etiquette; in the use of arms; in arithmetical practice and nicety of written composition all essentials even then of a gentleman's education in China-he became sufficiently versed. During this period he visited, for a short time, a neighboring court at the urgent request of the prince, to assist in some needed reforms; but returned soon to the kingdom of Lou, to decide on his future course. He withdrew himself from all associates, and weighed the subject carefully. They were the old questions with the young man. "The world is open-what am I fitted for? What is my place? Shall I live for time or the long future? for the common weal of good, or my own narrow good?" It was decided, as some few in all ages decide it. To his friends earnestly remonstrating against his thus

throwing away so many brilliant opportunities in political life, he replied: “Put an end to your remonstrances. They will gain nothing for me. I owe myself indifferently to all men, because I regard men as composing among them only one and the same family, of which I am charged with being the Instructor."

The young scholar has chosen then the highest calling; he is to be the Preacher to his countrymen. His house was at once opened as a lyceum. All were welcomed-young and old, rich and poor, civilians and soldiers. With these he lectured and taught upon morals, history, and especially the practices under their simple kings of old, YAO and CHUN. Whether the philosopher transferred his own high ideals to those dim characters of the past, and taught, under the protection of antiquity, the truths which belong to all ages; or whether he truly found in those records, great lessons, is not clearly apparent. The "Ancient Doctrine" henceforth became his text; and then, twentythree centuries ago, even as now, the young Reformer found the Present corrupted and degenerated, and labored to raise men to the ideal, which always hovers in the distance, either of the future or the past, to the human soul. The fame soon spread through the neighboring peoples of a great teacher among them. The country now occupied by the Empire of China, was at that time held by a number of petty kingdoms, some apparently independent and some tributary to the Imperial Court. From one of these courts-that of the Prince of Tsı, came an invitation to this new philosopher, to visit the kingdom and assist in the improvement of the government and people. Confucius accepted; it being his object henceforth to apply his principles to the sources of influence in society, as well as to his own circle of pupils. On the journey the party come suddenly on an unfortunate man, about to commit suicide. They withhold him, and ask his reason. He tells them that his life had been one of disappointment and discouragement; and that he wished to end it thus. fucius, in a most characteristic speech, dissuades him; assuring him that he had mistaken the object of ambition; that he must learn to be a common man before he could be a sage," and that "no one who had life, should ever despair."

Con

He was received at this court in a friendly manner, and spent a year in efforts for reforming abuses and reviving the "Ancient Doctrine." People, however, were slow to change, especially

those in the atmosphere of the court, and at the close, the reformer prepared to return to his own country. The Prince offered him, as a reward for his labors, the gift of a "town of the third order," which he declined, unless his projects of reform were adopted. At this period, and on two other occasions only of his life, are miraculous powers related of him. all similar in revealing a species of inspired judgment or wise clairvoyance. A rumor was spread through the court, that one of the old imperial palaces was burnt. Confucius at once designated a particular one. On being asked why he formed this opinion, he answered that it was the palace of an Emperor, once notorious for his crimes-and he supposed this the judgment of Heaven.

A courier who arrived soon, confirmed precisely the opinion of the sage.

What he himself thought of supernatural powers, and miraculous signs, can be seen in the following, as well as in the words already quoted at the head of this article.

PROGNOSTICS.

"All these prognostics with which one amuses men; all these arguments, good or bad, which one draws from certain events, are presages which it only holds to man to turn to his profit.

"Yes, these pretended signs of disaster, of calamity and misfortune, can become fruitful sources of happiness, prosperity and glory; these pretended auguries of goods to desire, can be followed by evils the most to fear. It is in the power of man to conduct himself well or ill. and it is on his conduct, good or bad, that will result his prosperities or disgraces, his happiness or unhappiness, independently of all prognostics and all auguries.

"Do not doubt, sire, the good and bad government of sovereigns are omens more sure of happiness or unhappiness, than the most extraordinary events in the order of nature."

The preachers, the wise men of those times seem to have been allowed a certain freedom at the courts. As experienced in human nature, they were frequently invited to take part temporarily in the government; and so, accepting none of the profits, they could sometimes redress the abuses of public offices.

Confucius next visited the Imperial Court, more especially with the view of studying the best ceremonial and of seeing how the highest of the Princes administered the rites. The truthful courtesy and humanity of his bearing won him

friends from every party. He received the honors modestly, and to a splendid eulogium on himself, repeated to him, he replied, "It is extravagant. I do not, in any way, deserve it. One could content himself with saying, that I make a little music, and strive to fail in none of the rites."

In the midst of the splendor, he spoke every where of the simple manners of the early kings, and uttered the words upon government and the ideals of man's character, which his people even yet repeat with admiration.

THE PERFECT MAN.

"It is only in all the universe, the man sovereignly holy, who by his faculty of knowing at bottom and of comprehending perfectly the primitive laws of living beings, is worthy of possessing sovereign authority and of commanding men; who, by his faculty of possessing a soul great, magnanimous. affable and sweet, is capable of possessing the power of spreading abroad benefaction with profusion; who by his faculty of having a soul, elevated, firm,imperturbable and constant, is capable of making justice and equity rule; who, by his faculty of being always honest, simple, grave and just, is capable of drawing to himself respect and veneration.

66

* ** *

Let this man, sovereignly holy, once appear with his virtues, his powerful faculties, and the peoples will not fail to testify to him their veneration; let him speak, and the peoples will not fail to have faith in his words; let him act and the peoples will not fail to be in joy. Every where, where vessels and vehicles can reach, where the forces of human industry can penetrate, in all places, which heaven covers with its immense roof, upon all points which the earth incloses, which the sun and moon enlighten with their rays, which the dews and mists of morning fertilize: all human beings who live and who breathe cannot fail to love him and revere him." 106.

GOOD GOVERNMENT.

"A prince who wishes to imitate the good administration of the ancient kings, ought to choose ministers after his own sentiments, always inspired by te public good. For his sentiments to have always the public good for motive, he ought to conform himself to the great law of duty; and that great law of duty ought to be looked for in humanity, that beautiful virtue of the heart, which is the principle of love for all men "-87.

Previously to this time, the most popu

lar philosophy in China, had been that of the Rationalists under LAOE-TSE (or LAUTSZ). Their system was an abstracti quietistic system; recommending solitude, and reflection as the best means of elevating the human spirit; and teaching an ascetic life as the sure mode of eventually uniting the soul with the supreme ineffable Reason. In the pure form the philosophy never gained a hold over the people; in later times, it became the grossest and wildest of Chinese superstitions. While at the court, Confucius took an opportunity to visit Lautsz. The old philosopher was living in a retired place, and hardly deigned to recognize his visitor. He at length, however, opened the conversation with a severe rebuke to the young reformer for his ambition and publicity. Of the scholar he said, "if the times and circumstances are favorable, he must profit by them, if not, he must retire and keep himself tranquil, without embarrassing himself with what others do."

"He who possesses a treasure, conceals it with care, lest it be taken from him. The truly virtuous man makes no parade of his virtue. **** This is all I have to say-make as much of it as you please."

Confucius being asked what he thought of Lautsz. said, I have seen a dragon." The systems of the two were essentially opposites; for, more and more the younger. was showing himself especially the practical philosopher of his day. With the grasp of a strong mind and with a searching skepticism and honesty, he threw aside all the usual superstitions of the best minds. He would not even palm off his secret dreams and aspirations as a religious creed. Whatever vague ideas of a Principle of Nature" or Supreme Reason he may have had, he never thought it worth his while to utter. a GOD, or a future, he never spoke. They may have been in his inner soul, blissful hopes to him; but he did not find evidence enough of either, to dare to teach. He only studied the present; the relations of men to one another, and the peculiar nature of the soul; and his conclusion, urged through a long life, is, that the health and life of the soul, its object and its happiness, is principally and especially in its humanity-in Love.

Of

Being sick on a certain cccasion, TSEULOU, a disciple, begged him to permit his disciples to address their prayers in his behalf to the spirits and the genii. "Is that suitable?" said the Philosopher. Tseu-lou answered with respect, "That is suitable. It is said, in the book, entitled