Mrs. Trout wiping her eyes in the distance. My thoughts were very confused, but one notion predominated, and that was, that Biggs had assaulted me. This idea Mrs. Trout

confirmed, evidently catching at it as a means of getting out of a difficulty; but she reckoned without her host. The music of the "invisible's" black box meandering up the stairs, brought back the Biggs' infatuation strong upon me, and this combined with an impulse to avenge my wrongs, rendered me deaf to my landlady's entreaties; so leaping from my bed, with three bounds I reached the mysterious chamber. The black box was in the middle of the room, Trout on his knees before it, taking out packet after packet of cigars, a keg of whiskey, and other contraband goods. The place was simply a store-room, Mr. Trout a convicted smuggler, and Biggs a nonentity. The whole truth rushed upon me, and so did Trout. In perfect disregard of all the treatises on etiquette I have ever heard of, he seized me by the collar, and was about to turn my vertical into the horizontal, when a third party made his appearance. The stranger was a coast-guard; and before the slightest allusion could be made to Mr. John Robinson, or any other proverbial personage likely to be of assistance, we were both arrested as smugglers, and the cigars and other property of the imaginary Biggs confiscated in the Queen's name. As we descended the stairs, Mrs. Trout stood in the doorway, weeping into the counterpane of my bed, and sobbing out "that she never thought 'twould come to this."

I made out a clear case to the magistrates, and was at once released. Trout was completely at fault, and subsequently went into retirement under the immediate patronage of the Government.

SONG.

ARM! arm! ye men of England! the battle hour is nigh, The hour when ye must conquer, or vanquished, nobly die. Beware of boasting counsel, beware of long delay,

And leave not till to-morrow, what should be done to-day.

The foeman standeth ready, in grim and fierce array,
And leaders vainly hinder the hands they cannot stay;
Along the whole horizon the war-clouds gather fast;
To scatter them, brave Britons, be ye not found the last.

Go, deck the expanse of ocean with British men-of-war,
And let your squadrons cover the plains both wide and far;
Let no one now look backward; haste on to meet the foe,
And let each heart with courage within each bosom glow.

Remember, that if victors, old England will rejoice,
And cheer each noble effort with all her heart and voice:
And, if ye fall, remember, she never will forget
Those sons that for her freedom their fate have bravely met.

Go, gallant hearts, 'tis England, your own dear native land,
For whom against the foeman ye will combat hand to hand:
Arm! arm! ye men of England! the battle hour is nigh,
The hour when ye must conquer, or vanquished, nobly die.

"J. W. W."

NOTES ON FICHTE.

The Nature and Vocation of the Scholar.

Welche wohl bleibt von allen den Philosophieen?
Ich weiss nicht;

Aber die Philosophie, hoff'ich, soll ewig bestehen.

Those who occupy themselves with Mathematics to the neglect of Philosophy, are like the wooers of Penelope, who, unable to obtain the mistress, contented themselves with the maids.

THERE is no doubt that a certain element in our literature, commonly and correctly ascribed to the influence of German thought and German writers, has of late grown into great and increasing importance. It is curious to observe how nearly all the writers of the present age, who exercise any influence in the regions of thought among young men, are more or less conversant with German philosophy and modes of thought. It influences especially our poetry; perhaps because that is necessarily a truer reflex of the present in each individual, than a work which draws its material from the past. Cambridge has felt the influence but slightly; all her training is opposed to it. Strange that the University devoted to science should be opposed to philosophy? But is it not so? Is there a theology in Cambridge? Are there principles which belong to the present and not to the past? Her theology, politics, and principles are alike hereditary, and are but ill adapted to form leaders of men, men who can enter into and solve the great social, religious, and philosophical problems peculiar to the present age.

To make philosophy attractive even to a cultivated English mind it should be prepared expressly with that view. It must be written by an Englishman who completely com

T

prehends his subject, gets clearly round and grasps it; and not by a German, who dives deeper perhaps into the ocean, but comes back without a specimen of what he found there, that is appreciable by an Englishman. I know not how therefore to persuade others to try a book which I myself found of inestimable value-Fichte's Nature and Vocation of the Scholar.' It was recommended to me by the author of a paper in The Eagle, No. III., and I tried it; and I hope others will do the same.

The life of Fichte is an admirable study. The principle at the root of all his heroism, all his tenderness, and all his philosophy is so simple, that it seems as if all men could be equally great; so pure and spiritual, that men would almost cease to be men if they could but once apprehend it, and it became the fundamental principle of their lives. He felt and knew the spiritual life within him; he saw and knew that it exists in every one; deadened it may be, but not dead; overgrown by the pleasures of sense, the frivolities and indulgences of the intellect; and to the education of this, to the calling it forth into a distinct consciousness, and into the grand ruling principle of thought and action, did he devote those unequalled powers of argument and eloquence, of meditation and enthusiasm, of love and truth, and, above all, the example and testimony of a most noble and heroic life. A truly great man was Fichte; great in head and heart; great in spirit, in will, in intellect; so great, that the unspeakable tenderness of his character is the more admirable. Yet who but a simply great man could have written those letters to Johanna Rahn, which tell of unfathomable though clear depths of purity and greatness and love.

Such too was his philosophy. Never did any one so completely live his own philosophy. To give even a sketch of his system, with its relation to those which preceded and those which followed it, is out of my power; and would be here out of place. Those who care to see the subject briefly handled by an able though severe judge, may refer to Sir Wm. Hamilton's Essay on Cousin?* The Lectures on the Nature and Vocation of the Scholar are intelligible (though they require the stiffest and closest read

*He brings an ingenious argument against Fichte's principles, and refers to it triumphantly as completely overthrowing them; but a closer examination will prove that he assumes the very point at issue.

ing) without any previous knowledge of his system; and this is the work which I would so earnestly recommend. Nor indeed am I about to give the analysis of these lectures which I have prepared. In the first place it would not, and could not, do justice to the original, and in the next place it would be exceedingly dull reading.

On opening the first lecture we find that "the scholar is that man who from the learned culture of his age has attained to the possession of the attainable portion of the Divine Idea. The Student is obtaining glimpses at the same."

Here we strike the keynote of Fichte's system.

What is the Divine Idea?

First, what is culture? Culture, with Fichte, means the acquisition of skill in eradicating certain tendencies which arise from the influence of external things on the character; and partly in modifying them so as to bring them into harmony with our ideas; which is the true summum bonum, or the highest vocation of man. The object of culture then is to lead men to truth and the Divine Idea. If it fails to do so, it is, in so far as it professes to make scholars of them, worthless.

But what is this Divine Idea?

The only absolute Being is the Being of God. The only absolute Life is the Life of God. The universe is the manifestation of God in so far as He can be revealed in any manifestation; but the Life of God must be manifested in Life, and therefore we judge that Human Life is the manifestation of the Divine Life. Human Life then, as it ought to be, has its origin in God; and speaking anthropologically we say that it is the Idea of God in the creation of things.

This is an epitome of Lecture 2, omitting such parts (relating to the position of experience) as have no immediate reference to the question What is the Divine Idea? Now the question is answered-is the answer intelligible? Certainly not. It could not possibly be made so. What then is the use of giving it? I will endeavour to indicate an answer to this question that shall be intelligible.

Ideas are incommunicable by words. A startling assertion perhaps, but true. A strictly speaking new idea, to which no idea similar in kind is already possessed, is incommunicable. This will be readily perceived by an example. Conceive a man from his birth incapable of hearing musical sounds so as to distinguish them. It would be impossible to give him by description any conception of the fullness and