the light within him was faint, he was not in total darkness. If his spiritual vision saw indistinctly, it was at least open. Low as he really was in his ideas and forms of homage, he was still immeasurably above that blank condition of the spiritual nature which worships no God-which asks only for the meat which perisheth.

The practical point all along implied is, that the great danger of the present age does not come from paganism, but from an opposite direction. It is an age full of worldly activity, rife with schemes to benefit the temporal man-to diminish the toils and multiply the comforts of the physical nature. In such an age, there is but little danger that man will relapse into idolatry, and run after strange gods. The danger is far more serious, that, in their greed for selfish and worldly gain, men will lose sight of their spiritual nature altogether; that in their eagerness to over-provide for the body, they will forget that they have souls; that in fixing their attention exclusively on the bread which feeds the animal appetite, they will altogether miss the word which proceedeth out of the mouth of God; that under the temptations to worldliness of speech, thought, and life, they will sink far below idolatry itself-will sink into the slough of indifference to all religious interests, and so far from running after strange gods, run after no god whatever.

The subject has an application sufficiently obvious. It points out the great danger of the age, and it exhorts men to take alarm, as the torpor of spiritual indifference threatens to rob them of their spiritual life. Of course, we have bodily wants, and we owe to ourselves many temporal duties. The prudent man will advise no one to neglect any necessary selfish pursuit. We must have even the meat that perisheth. We must have food for the appetite, raiment for the body, and shelter from the storm. But let not a proper anxiety to provide for the wants of the body be a temptation to forget that there are other and more durable. wants, the spiritual cravings of imperishable souls. And while it is right and duty to seek a supply for the temporal necessities, it is atheism, in its worst form, .to act upon the presumption that man can even live by bread alone. This fatal error cannot be charged upon paganism. Idolatry, in its grossest form, is infinitely to be preferred to practical

atheism.

E. R. N.

ART. XX.

Address, delivered by Rev. A. A. Miner, at his Inauguration as President of Tufts College, July 9, 1862.

In the remarks I may now submit, I do not propose to ask your acceptance of any new doctrines in regard to education; nor do I intend to discuss the usual cast of collegiate studies; nor yet to enter into the controversies between the devotees of the Classics and Metaphysics, on the one hand, and of the natural and exact Sciences, on the other. Far less ambitious will be the discussions of the hour. Our general convictions in these respects are sufficiently indicated in the facts and circumstances surrounding Our work is not revolutionary, but regenerative. We have not founded here a New School in Science and Literature, but a new instrumentality for the furtherance of the Old Schools. We pay our homage to the older institutions, in the labors we here perform, in the sacrifices we here make, and in the hopes we here cherish. We aim to secure for our own young men throughout New-England, the same benefits which other institutions are securing to the young men of other sects.

us.

Whatever we might prefer in relation to Colleges being sustained by the whole public, independent of sectarian control-a cherished plan with some of the most learned men of our time-we really have no opportunity for choice. The field throughout New-England is occupied. The several institutions of the higher grade, outside of our cities and larger towns, are all under-I use the term in a good sense-sectarian control. They are doing their work—a noble work-and are doing it well. But they are not doing our work. They do not reach our young men do not awaken that ambition for generous culture which is essential to the true life of a people. This can be done alone by institutions born of our own loves; nurtured by the sweat of our own brows; sustained by our own efforts; enriched

The delay in the appearance of this, as also the preceding number of the Quarterly, occasioned by the death of the publisher, gives us an opportunity to publish, seemingly in advance, the Inaugural Address of the new President of Tufts College.—[EDITOR.

VOL. XIX. 25

by our own sacrifices; and consecrated by the blessing of Almighty God through our own prayers.

us.

There are in New-England, at a low estimate, probably, a hundred and fifty thousand persons who are either directly or indirectly connected with us as a religious people. Besides these, a very large portion, perhaps the larger portion, of those who profess no religious faith and attend upon no place of worship, in their hearts lean upon Such is the genius of the several Christian bodies in our community, such the conscious or unconscious influences experienced by those who have taken no religious position, that their confidence is given chiefly to those who entertain the broadest Christian hopes. In their seasons of festivity and of affliction, their thought turns to us. Whether it be honorable or dishonorable to us as a Christian body, the fact remains the same, and our responsibilities are correspondingly increased. This whole body of people may be influenced by our efforts in the cause of Education, as they can be by the efforts of no other branch of the church. Were they all fully awake to the value of liberal culture, they would send up their young men to this youthful Parnassus in such swarming numbers that these Halls would be too straight for them; and our young College would rival, in this respect, the most venerable institutions in the land.

It is because this institution is ours-because it belongs more especially to this body of people of whom we speak, that it can awaken among us a nobler ambition for sound learning. It can speak as no man can speak. The most able and influential of its projectors and patrons, however vigorous their efforts, could qualify but slightly this mighty current of social life. These learned Professors, in their several more private spheres of influence, could reach relatively few. But when their combined utterance is heard from this eminence, emphasized by years of labor, and by the noble sacrifices of the numerous patrons of the College, that utterance becomes as it were a voice of thunder, echoing and re-echoing among the mountains and along the valleys until it wakes every town and hamlet in New-England. A College sustained by any body of people as their own, sets up a new standard of attainment among them; quickens them with new and nobler loves; and nurtures among

them juster and more liberal tastes. In a quiet country village the grammar-school often marks the limit of the highest youthful ambition. But plant a higher seminary alongside that grammar-school, and you almost immediately elevate the aims of the better class of young men to the level of its possibilities. What the higher seminary of learning can thus accomplish in the retired village, the College accomplishes more completely among that whole body of people who regard it as their own. It begets juster, broader, nobler views of the true ends of knowledge; and thus assimilates the ambitions of a people to the true aims of a College. In commending the good resulting from the employment of the regular instrumentalities of culture, no suspicion of invidiousness will attach to one who has made few approaches to that good, save by irregular methods; and who would be but too happy to aid young men in avoiding the inconveniences he himself has experienced. Whatever may be said in criticism of the usual course of collegiate studies, it comes to this at last-that every people must bow to the prevailing practical judgment of the world about them. Every class in the community, therefore, must adjust its instrumentalities to the current facts of the time; and, having done this, it must industriously employ those instrumentalities or grow lean in intellect and in heart.

We have but to look about us to discover how unworthy is the estimate often placed upon education. Far the greater number, probably, regard it chiefly as an element of enterprise, of commerce, of trade-as a means, in a word, of gaining a livelihood. Hence, instead of demanding that a nobler culture shall exalt and glorify the aims of business, and bear on the fruitage of the world's toil to the noblest ends of life, they logically conclude that one's business aims should both qualify and limit his course of study. If the farmer, or the mechanic, or the day-laborer, asks himself what facilities for education he shall afford his sons, he too often resolves the problem by determining the occupation to which he will devote them. Instead of inquiring what education can do for his sons, he inquires how little education can enable his sons decently to bear their part in the enterprises of life. If he proposes no more for them, in the way of business, than he himself has at

tempted, he deems the rudiments of an education quite sufficient. If, on the contrary, he intends to devote them to trade, or to any one of the learned professions, he enlarges their opportunities accordingly. Their education, however, is still special, and respects not the discipline of their powers as a good in itself, but the successful performance of their labors in their chosen vocation.

Such an aim is both narrow and defective, and cannot but lead to most unsatisfactory results. It is quite true that every calling in life demands special preparation therefor; but it is a grave error to deem that knowledge alone valuable, even in a business regard, which bears directly upon one's immediate pursuits. No man is strong and every way well-equipped, whose culture is confined to the pathway of his daily travel. All about that pathway lie the fields of knowledge, every flower gathered from which sheds beauty and fragrance upon his toil. By a more varied culture in the several branches of learning cognate to his pur suits, he gains elasticity, freshness, and sunlight, where else all would be dull, dank, dark.

Nor is this all. There is a pretty direct bearing of all sound learning upon every practical aim in life. Culture in any one profession or pursuit, is useful in every other profession and pursuit. Human life has multiform needs and interests, demanding varied resources in him who would minister thereto. These varied interests are connected not by discrete methods, but by concrete; and may, therefore, be promoted alone by concrete movements. several professions, both on their theoretical and practical side, have much in common. However far removed from each other may be their respective centres of gravity, there cannot but be broad fields of mingled interests, and corresponding domains of truth applicable thereto.

The

Take, for example, the science of Theology and the Christian ministry. They employ themselves with God and the human soul; with divine commands and human obligations. The Christian minister accepts not the service of the hands, but properly requires the sacrifices of the heart. He deals of necessity with thought and feeling; with principle and sentiment; with purpose and emotion. Whatever qualifies these, trenches upon his domain, professionally concerns him, and becomes to him a proper subject of thought and inquiry.