conspiracy was exposed. They got into prison, and he came forth like gold from the fire.

As lying begins in cowardice, and is the refuge of one who is afraid of the consequences if he tells the truth, so courage is a virtue to be taught, and always to be had in honor. Especially if the disposition of the child is timid, and he easily yields to discouragement and fears. Brace him up. The martyr-spirit does not run in the blood of all of us. But the youth may be trained to stand fire. The weakling may become a hero. Boys should grow early into manliness in duty and danger, scorning the wrong and sticking to the right, in the face of reproach, or loss, or death itself. There is not much martyr stuff now to be had. There never was too much of it in this world anywhere. But the good citizen must have enough of it to uphold the right, and when he has done all, to stand.

These are homely virtues, and honesty is another, of which there is an abundant lack in our day, and in all other days of which we read in history, sacred or profane. We are not wise in saying the former times were better than these. Human nature is the same in all ages and places. Probably, if you take the world as a whole, there is more good and less evil in it than in any age since all flesh corrupted its way into the earth and the flood came and swept them all away. And yet it remains true that the boys of this land, in the midst of homes and schools and churches and bibles and good books-yes, and good newspapers, too, are growing up in great numbers without those safeguards of character essential to good citizenship. They may know more of books and the world, they may be more refined and manly; but knowledge is not virtue and refinement is not strength. The boys need stability and bravery, a moral courage that dares to be right, that they may be neither coaxed nor driven into the ways of the wicked. In schools and colleges those cowardly vices of the many inflicting bodily and mental suffering upon the few and defenceless are vices tending to the destruction of every high, manly, and noble virtue in a young man's breast. Brutality develops the

brute, not the man. Chivalry has its highest ambition gratified in defending the weak and delivering the oppressed. The greatest deficiency in the character of the boy and young man of to-day is the want of reverence for those who are older, wiser, and superior. Indifference to parental authority, contempt of law and order, a spirit that laughs at restraint and scorns to obey, is the feature of the times. But this respect for that which is above is the first lesson to be taught to the child in the cradle and impressed on him till his beard is grown.

Let every young man seek first and before all else to be a true-hearted follower of Him who is the pattern of all that is noble, generous, and good. And having enlisted under His flag, let him fight manfully the good fight, warring against the world, the flesh, and the devil. For such young men the country cries out as for volunteers when the enemy is at the gate.

PHILOSOPHERS GETTING KNOWLEDGE.

WHEN Dr. M'Cosh, now the President of Princeton College, came to this country on a visit for the first time, he made a tour of the Western cities. I was his travelling companion from this city to Niagara and beyond. The day after his arrival we took our seats in the cars at the depot of the Hudson River Railroad, and when we were out of the city and fairly under way, Dr. M'Cosh said to me:

"Now tell me of the cities of the West I am to see: what about Chicago?"

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Chicago," I replied, "is the great grain market of this country indeed the greatest in the world, unless Odessa in Russia ships more wheat, and of that I am not sure.”

And Cincinnati,” he inquired, "for what is it famous?" "Cincinnati is the greatest pork mart in the United States," I said. At this moment the head of a man sitting on the seat behind us was thrust between our heads, and

opening its mouth the head said "I beg your pardon: Chicago killed thirty thousand more hogs last year than Cincinnati." It withdrew after this deliverance, and when we had recovered from the amusement and surprise this sudden communication had produced we resumed our conversation. I said to the foreign traveller :

"Dr. M'Cosh, I had hoped you would make your journey through this country, and go home without an occurrence like that: and here it has happened in the first half-hour of your travels." He smiled, and said he ought to be thankful for information, and the manner of giving it was of no importance. Soon afterwards I had occasion to leave the seat for a moment, and on returning found Dr. M'Cosh in free conversation with the Western man whose head had been recently projected between us. So far from having taken any offence, Dr. M'Cosh reasoned if the man knew so much more than I did about the pork market, he probably knew much more on other matters, and so he drew him out. By and by they got side by side, and the learned Professor was more learned when he had extracted a great amount of knowledge from the stranger.

John Locke was a great mental philosopher; so is Dr. M'Cosh, as the world knows. And Locke was given to asking questions of those who knew more than he did of a subject he had not studied. Indeed he regarded the conversational habit as the great agency in the cultivation of the mind. His work on the Human Understanding, though far from being a safe or sufficient treatise on mental science, has made him famous in the world of thought as one of the great teachers of the seventeenth century. When he was asked how he had contrived to get a mine of knowledge so rich, extensive, and deep, he said that for what he knew he was indebted to his habit of not being ashamed to ask for information, and that he made it a rule all through life to converse with all sorts of men on those topics chiefly that formed their own particular profession and pursuits. This is evidently the habit Dr. M'Cosh has. If we would not expect to discover it in the case of great mental philosophers, here

are two examples of its indulgence and success which may well commend it.

This is quite a different habit from that of asking questions simply from idle or impertinent curiosity. Inquisitiveness is a vice, not so bad as stealing, yet resembling it somewhat. It is prying into other people's affairs, which the inquirer has no business to meddle with. "Just let me ask you one question," says this intrusive individual; and then follows a stream of inquiries of no possible use to him who asks or him who is compelled for the sake of good-nature to answer. Some of the most disagreeable persons in the world are these persecuting questioners. Hence the question came in former days to mean the examination of a person by torture: putting him on the rack or over a fire to extort answers to questions which the victim was unable or not willing to give.

But it is a positive pleasure to every intelligent person to impart information to a sincere inquirer after useful knowledge. And this pleasure is the greater when the inquirer is the superior in general information. When Dr. M'Cosh turned upon the champion of Chicago, and began to ply him with questions about the city of whose fair fame he was justly jealous, the man could see in a moment that his questioner with his Scotch accent and handsome, scholarly countenance was a man of mind, and being learned wanted to learn more at once he becomes a teacher of the wise, and he is proud to tell all he knows. It is an art to extract the knowledge such a plain man has. He may be unlettered, but he knows his own business, and of course more about it than a philosopher could ever get out of the books or schools. And it is an attribute of greatness to observe little things, to master minute details. The world is made up of small matters, little grains of sand,—and he who despises them makes a fatal mistake. The commanding officer who lets one point be unguarded may be sure the enemy will find it, and tell him so to his cost. Mr. Locke considered the conversational capacity to be a discipline and a talent, the means to a most important end; and he pursued it, not with

those only who were wiser and better than he, for he was one of the most thoroughly and variously read men of his day when great learning was common: but he pursued the art among the "common people," the people who heard the great Teacher gladly. A wise man gathers this varied information into a well-ordered mind, arranges and assimilates it, labels and puts it where he can find it when he wants to use it, and becomes a practical and useful man whatever may be his calling. No one needs this general information more than the preacher. For lack of it he fails to make himself intelligible or interesting. With it, he reaches the understandings of his people, and even their affections are apt to be won when he manifests interest in their affairs, knowledge of what they know. How the Master walked into the hearts of his hearers by illustrations drawn from their avocations and experiences! He was not abstract nor abstruse, didactic nor dogmatic, but he was very interesting.

Parents make a great mistake when they discourage their children in asking questions. True their questions are often hard to be answered, and many a child has been snubbed or sent away because its question was too much for the parent. But the little inquirer should be always treated as a rational being, and if the answer is not ready it should be sought and found if possible. This is the way to learn. Ask, and it shall be given. Seek, and ye shall find. This applies to the highest of all learning—the knowledge of God; and he that is in the lowest class in the school of divine wisdom, by asking continually will be filled with the knowledge of Him whom to know aright is eternal life.

ANOTHER WAYMARK IN THE MARCH OF TIME.

WHEN the Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen was Chancellor of the University of the City of New York he called the attention of the assembled students on New Year's Day, or just afterwards, to the "Letter" suggested by the return of