Thirdly, the social pleasures of authorship are among its rewards. There is a sort of miniature fame, which if it be not so stirring an object of desire as a world-wide renown, is certainly not less real and tangible. To have your works read and admired, and your name repeated, by multitudes of whom you know nothing, has more of glory in it, doubtless, but less of pleasure, than to have your merits appreciated and acknowledged by the favorite few. But the circle of fame may be narrowed down still more, and with still less alloy in it perhaps. Since, unlike most other pursuits, the author's is one which retains him mostly at home, and his workshop is under his own rooftree, it is but natural that domestic happiness should be interwoven with his literary pleasures. There may be those who would hardly rank the company of others, while writing, among the delights of the profession, and most would perhaps generally prefer to think in solitude. But to such as appreciate the joys of home, and choose on occasions, the rule of the Penates in conjunction with Minerva, the mention of such a minor recompense will not seem undesirable. Sterne's wife would knit and listen while he read her chapters of his works. It is true, such enjoyments will be apt to be at the expense of the thought, and this the author must take into account. The encouragement of one's own household must, however, certainly be a solace. Reading the precious labors of his brain to the sympathizing circle about his own hearth-stone, he may for a while forget to fear the critic's sternly just decisions.

But there is another benefit resulting from authorship which is not unworthy of a mention here. I mean the reflex influence on the author. The very exercise of elucidating truth is an improvement to a man. By writing out his thoughts he gives them a greater definiteness, and knows his own opinions better.

"To remember, write; to be accurate, write; to know your own mind, write;

Hast thou a thought upon thy brain, catch it while thou canst! The commonest mind is full of thought, some worthy of the rarest, And could it see them fairly writ, would wonder at its wealth."

He may also strengthen himself in all pure and virtuous purposes. He may make his best moments counsellors to

himself, and thus become his own mentor. His experience is recorded for his own benefit, as well as that of others. In his times of weakness and self-distrust, when all his thoughts are but common-place, and his lower nature seems predominant, at such times he may recur to the inspirations of his nobler hours, and find both a refreshment, and an earnest of the higher state to which he may attain. Or when sin has overcome the will, and he has yielded to temptation, among the messengers of retribution that throng around him, come silent reproaches from the pages that tell of the lofty purpose, and the higher view of duty vouchsafed unto his soul.

Such are some of the rewards which the author may expect to reap in the prosecution of his calling; no glori ous and dazzling prizes indeed, but such as he alone can receive. They are, perhaps, the truest rewards of duty, and no less than are granted to her followers in other directions. Like most other recompenses in life, they follow in the line of, and are consequent upon, the labor itself. We are prone to look for some imaginary and external pleasure, but it remains as true now, as when the proverb-writer spoke it, that "the good man shall be satisfied from himself."

J. C. P.

ART. XXVIII.

Moral Influence of Worship.

Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. Boston: Gould and Lincoln. 1853.

WE Confess that we were prejudiced against this book when we first read the title, but we have found so much to approve in it, that we can overlook the folly of its author in selecting such a conceited form of announcing his subject, and thank him for his plain statement of truths, which our Calvinistic friends have not always been willing to accept as truths.

He begins by stating three postulates: I. Man is a religious being. He will worship. II. He becomes assimilated to the moral character of the object which he worships. III. There are no means within the reach of human power or wisdom by which man could extricate himself from the evil of idolatry, either by an immediate or by a progressive series of efforts. These positions he proceeds to illustrate and defend, and in the line which he has thus marked out, we propose to consider this subject in the remarks that follow.

Man is essentially a religious being. He has within him that which leads him to look up to something out of himself. We believe there is no well-authenticated case of a nation without some indication of this common feeling. It is seen in the rudest and most abject nation as well as in the most civilized. The merry, thoughtless African, and the indolent tribes of our own continent, have gods to whom they look for the supply of their daily wants, for assistance against their enemies, and for protection against pestilence and famine. This feeling has assumed various and strange manifestations; sometimes it is shadowed forth but faintly, yet everywhere may be found traces of its existence.

The earliest manifestation of this element of man's nature among savage tribes, is what is called Fetichism. In this form of development, the shapeless stone, the most loathsome reptile, objects the most vile and disgusting, were consecrated by a vague and mysterious reverence, as the representative of an unseen being, the author of their welfare. The kindness of this being was manifested by supplying the daily wants of life, and was fitted, therefore, only for the rudest state of society.

The Tsabaism of the oriental tribes was a simpler and a nobler system of worship. It was simpler in its ele ments, yet it soon branched out into mythological fables, which derived much of their beautiful character from the poetic genius of the people. In its earliest manifestation it was a sort of Dualism, in which light and darkness seemed contending for the sovereignty of the world; the one endeavoring to pour out the full horn of fertility and blessing; the other, the vial of wrath and misery upon the human race. As poetic fancy expanded, however,

each different manifestation of these primitive powers was raised to a separate god, until we lose ourselves in the multiplicity of their divinities. The old gods of Polytheism were as varied as nature herself. Nature projected her own gorgeous images, and men bowed down and worshipped. The naiads of the brook and the dryads of the woods were not, to their dim apprehensions, mere figments of the brain, but actual beings, by whose agency the various changes that they witnessed in nature were affected.

Out of this nature-worship arose the Anthropomorphism of the more highly-cultured nations. This was the embodying of the divine power in human form. It is doubtful whether any higher conception of God was attained than this by any people before the advent of Christ. Without much doubt many of the wise men of old had more just notions of the supreme Being, but the great mass even of the wisest nations supposed him to be endowed with human organs of sensation. When they spoke of the hands and eyes of God, we may believe that they thought these organs literally constituted parts of that great Being who created, governs, and sustains all.

The second fact stated is, that man by worshipping becomes assimilated to the character of the being whom he worships. This point the author attempts to sustain by citing the testimony derived from the history of idolatry. He shows that the character of every nation and tribe on the earth has been modified by the character attributed to their gods. The Northmen, whose gods were bloodthirsty and cruel, manifested the most ferocious passions, and gloried in sanguinary deeds. They supposed that only through a violent death could they be admitted to the hall of Valhalla. They seemed, therefore, to take a horrid delight when revelling in scenes of blood and carnage.

The gods of Greece and Rome, though at one time possessed of some noble qualities, soon degenerated into beings of the worst passions. Pope's couplet is not far wrong,

"Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust;

Whose attributes were rage, revenge, and lust.”

The Egyptians too, the first patrons of the arts and sciences, were brute-worshippers, and bestiality was com

mon among them. The worship of Venus made men brutal voluptuaries, and reduced her followers to the lowest state of degradation. The uniform testimony of history on this point is, that man has ever been assimilated to the character of the object of worship in proportion to the sincerity and intensity of his adoration. The author quotes an extract from a public document laid before the English Parliament by H. Oakley, Esq., a magistrate in lower Bengal, to show that in modern times the same thing is true. He is speaking of Kalé, one of the most popular idols: "The murderer, the robber, and the prostitute all aim to propitiate a being whose worship is obscenity, and who delights in the blood of man and beast, and without imploring whose aid no act of wickedness is committed. The worship of Kalé must harden the hearts of her followers; and to them scenes of blood and crime must become familiar." In China the priests of Buddha fully understand this; for they say, "Think of Buddha and you will be transformed into Buddha. If men pray to Buddha and do not become Buddha, it is because the mouth prays and not the mind.”

Now out of this evil of idolatry man had no power to extricate himself without the aid of some higher wisdom. Left to the unaided workings of his own mind, he had not grown into a purer worship, but had wallowed deeper into the mire of superstition. The second fact stated wast that man assimilates to the character of the being he worships. It is no less true that he ascribes to his god his own characteristics. Under the influence of his impulses, he embodies his sensations and passions as a god; he projects his feelings, and falls down before the image in adoration and praise. The man of kindness and benevolence surrounded his god with the halo of love, while the fierce and revengeful clothed his in the thunder-cloud of vengeance. Untaught, he put himself forward in the character of his god. The influence of the climate has also been felt, and the diversities of scenery have imparted much to the character of the object of worship. The northern tribes, dwelling amid eternal snows and accustomed to the severities of an inclement sky, arrayed their deities in terrible qualities, while the inhabitants of the more delicate regions, whose characters were cast in a