If you have nothing, then society, as such, owes you nothing. Christian philanthropy may put its arm round you, as a lonely young man, about to spoil for want of something, but it is very sad and humiliating for a young man to be brought to that. There are people who devote themselves to nursing young men, and doing them good. If they invite you to tea, go by all means, and try your hand. If, in the course of the evening, you can prove to them that your society is desirable, you have won a point. Don't be patronized.

some.

Young men are very apt to get into a morbid state of mind, which disinclines them to social intercourse. They become devoted to business with such exclusiveness, that all social intercourse is irkThey go out to tea as if they were going to jail, and drag themselves to a party as to an execution. This disposition is thoroughly morbid, and to be overcome by going where you are invited always, and at any sacrifice of feeling. Don't shrink from contact with anything but bad morals. Men who affect your unhealthy minds with antipathy, will prove themselves very frequently to be your best friends and most delightful companions. Because a man seems uncongenial to you, who are squeamish and foolish, you have no right to shun him. We become charitable by knowing men. We learn to love those whom we have despised by rubbing against them. Do you not remember some instance of meeting a man or woman at a watering-place whom you have never previously

known or cared to know-an individual, perhaps, against whom you have entertained the strongest prejudices—but to whom you became bound by a life-long friendship through the influence of three days' intercourse? Yet if you had not thus met, you would have carried through life the idea that it would be impossible for you to give your fellowship to such an individual.

God has introduced into human character infinite variety, and for you to say that you do not love and will not associate with a man because he is unlike you, is not only foolish but wrong. You are to remember that in the precise manner and degree in which a man differs from you, do you differ from him; and that from his standpoint you are naturally as repulsive to him as he, from your standpoint, is to you. So, leave all this talk of congeniality to silly girls and transcendental dreamers. Do your business in your own way, and concede to every man the privilege which you claim for yourself. The more you mix with men, the less you will be disposed to quarrel, and the more charitable and liberal you will become. The fact that you do not understand a man, is quite as likely to be your fault as his. There are a good many chances in favor of the conclusion that, if you fail to love an individual whose acquaintance you make, it is through your own ignorance and illiberality. So, I say, meet every man honestly; seek to know him; and you will find that in those points in which he differs from you rests his power to in

struct you, enlarge you, and do you good. Keep your heart open for everybody, and be sure that you shall have your reward. You shall find a jewel under the most uncouth exterior; and associated with comeliest manners and the oddest ways and the ugliest faces, you will find rare virtues, fragrant little humanities, and inspiring heroisms.

Again: you can have no influence unless you are social. A strictly exclusive man is as devoid of influence as an ice-peak is of verdure. If you will take a peep at the Hudson River some bright morning, you will see, ploughing grandly along towards the great metropolis, a magnificent steamer, the silver wave peeling off from her cutwater, and a million jewels sparkling in her wake, passing all inferior barks in sublime indifference, and sending yacht and skiff dancing from her heel. Right behind her you see a smaller steamer, the central motive power of a plateau of barges, loaded to their edges with the produce of thousands of well tilled acres. She has fastened herself to these barges by lines invisible to you. They may be homely things, but they contain the food of the nation. Her own speed may be retarded by this association, but the work she does for commerce is ten fold greater than that accomplished by the grand craft that shuns abrasion as misfortune, and seeks to secure nothing but individual dignity and fast time. It is through social contact and absolute social value alone that you can accomplish any great social good. It is through the invisible lines which you are able to

attach to the minds with which you are brought into association alone that you can tow society, with its deeply freighted interests, to the great haven of your hope.

The revenge which society takes upon the man who isolates himself, is as terrible as it is inevitable. The pride which sits alone, and will do nothing for society because society disgusts it, or because its possessor does not at once have accorded to him his position, will have the privilege of sitting alone in his sublime disgust till it drops into the grave. The world sweeps by the isolated man, carelessly, remorselessly, contemptuously. He has no hold upon society, because he is not a part of it. The boat that refuses to pause in its passage, and throw a line to smaller craft, will bring no tow into port. So let me tell you, that if you have an honorable desire in your heart for influence, you must be a thoroughly social man. You cannot move men until you are one of them. They will not follow you until they have heard your voice, shaken your hand, and fully learned your principles and your sympathies. It makes no difference how much you know, or how much you are capable of doing. You may pile accomplishment upon acquisition mountain high; but if you fail to be a social man, demonstrating to society that your lot is with the rest, a little child with a song in its mouth, and a kiss for all, and a pair of innocent hands to lay upon the knees, shall lead more hearts and change the direction of more lives than you.

LETTER VIII.

The Reasonableness and Desirableness of Religion.

Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends!

Hath he not always treasures, always friends,

The great good man? Three treasures, love and light,
And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath;

And three firm friends, more sure than day and night—
Himself, his maker, and the angel death?

COLERIDGE.

OUNG men, I hate cant, and I do not know

YOUNG

exactly how to say what I wish to say in this letter; but I desire to talk to you rationally upon the subject of religion. Now don't stop reading at the mention of this word, but read this letter through. The fact is, it is the most important letter I have undertaken to write to you. I know you, I think, very thoroughly. Life looks so good to you, and you are anticipating so much from it, that religion comes to you, and comes over you, like a shadow. You associate it with long faces, and prayer meetings, and psalm-singing, and dull sermons, and grave reproofs and stupidity. Your companions are gay, and so are you. Perhaps you make a jest