religion. Nor has this error in the Church sprung from any error in Christianity itself, but from unexerted reason and exercised prejudice. Because Barnabas prefers Mark, and Paul another, it is no reason that Barnabas should preach a worse doctrine in Cyprus, than Paul in Syria and Cilicia.

Yet we find bigotry common to all sects. While the fact furnishes no argument against Religion, it testifies strongly to human littleness. With some, rejection of the doctrine of immersion would be an open acknowledgment of heresy. The surplice and prayer book, in the judgment of others, are at variance with Christian simplicity and earnestness.

To take Communion with a different denomination shocks the proud piety of an occasional sect or individual.

Narrow-mindedness upon a subject interesting all men alike, is not in keeping with the Divine injunction-"Suffer long and be kind, envy not, vaunt not yourselves, be not puffed up."

Again, how narrow-minded are many politicians! Strife seems essential to political action. When by concussion of minds, new and effective truths are elicited, the contention of party appears excusable. But when enthusiasm makes party the index and embodiment of perfection, judgment, and therefore expansion, are fettered. Why wonder, then, at fanaticism? If one arm of the balance is lightened, the other must preponderate.

Narrow-mindedness in politics, is especially to be condemned, because the successful politician becomes the powerful Statesman. Too much sectionality of feeling, marks a mind circumscribed by petty boundaries. If a statesman's heart is not large enough to love his whole country, let a sense of justice sway his reason.

Who are the narrow-minded men of a nation? We shall find them among the "petty tyrants of a neighborhood"-men who raise factions because able to do so. Such love to enjoy a little temporal power,-to view the image of the Congressman, or reformer, in the "mirror of their own pride." We shall find them among those who, too little to be great among the great, or eminent among men, are necessarily contented to share the honors of infidelity, abolitionism and spiritualism, with deluded women. Sooner than die honorably, yet unknown, they would, like Herostratus of old, fire the temple of Diana, at Ephesus; or like the unappreciated poet, seek immortality in the crater of a volcano.

Even our public men of the higher order, occasionally close the doors of honest investigation, and, wrapping themselves in the cloak of selfcomplacency, deny that any good can come out of Nazareth. Men and

principles, to be worthy, must then, be local. To say nothing of the littleness and injustice of such conduct, prudence should teach men differently. A Bonaparte was born in Corsica,-Cincinnatus stepped from the plow-furrow to the throne. Thus, enthusiasm degraded into fanaticism, is ever blind to the trifles which become so often eras in the world's history.

We now propose to remark a few things on the daily exhibition of narrow-mindedness.

Since we must be brief, it would probably offend no one to hear somewhat concerning contractedness of mind, among collegians. We are inclined to form hasty judgments upon the characters of fellow-students; and this arises principally from the fact, that few think for themselves. The mass of a collegian's ideas, independent of the valuable store acquired by the regular course of study, consists of Review knowledge,—a few generalities on morals and politics, and a vast amount of flimsy, floating philosophy, born, musquito-like, upon the surface of impure streams.

Criticism upon men and things, in College, immediately becomes lively. It moves with the rapidity of a formal dispatch. Like Rumor, in Virgil's description, it swells from activity, until its original author would find dfficulty in recognizing the germ covered by so much adipose

matter.

With equal speed, and characterized by like peculiarities, travel our opinions, even our slightest remarks. Some thoughtless fellow-student has been guilty of impropriety in appearance or action. A passing mention of the fact is made in some one's presence. Ought not magnanimity sometimes restrain the human tongue? Can we not occasionally sacrifice a timely remark to justice and charity? Every stricture upon a man's character, at College, is magnified by circulation, into a justly deduced truth. We sometimes deplore this or that individual's baseness, ere we have proved him base. Any one who would take the trouble, can readily call to mind instances of such hasty judgments. These victims of our indiscreet censure, are generally men possessing less caution than innocence of heart. Moreover, they are, for the most part, generous and plastic in respect to disposition. Too refined in feeling to injure others, they naturally suffer keenly when injured by others. Is it just, and wideminded, then, to discourage and wound them? To point the finger of ridicule and contempt, where we should direct words of kindness? We do not mean that it is proper to disgust every wayward man with cant, for this would fail of its object. The reason is plain. Such reformers come arrayed in the robes of arrogance.

In this world, example is the most powerful of teachers. If men wish to propagate morality, they must make morality fashionable, by furnishing themselves living witnesses of the superiority of a moral life. Thus others may be induced to try the experiment.

We spoke of fashionable morality. Collegians generally aspire to be men. The restraint of home being thrown off, it is at our option to be, or seem to be, men. Now, the difference in results is owing to the difference in method. Make the method a good one, and the result will be good. We show narrow-mindedness in condemning those in word, whom we should reform by deed. If we arrogate to ourselves infallibility, and sit judges of men, we are as criminal as they whom we would judge. If we go on the principle that the "rogues ought to be hung," we may ask with the little boy in the drama, where are the honest men to act as executioners? Errors should be corrected, not despised.

Finally—it is no less a duty than a pleasure to cultivate expansion of mind. Why, it is as easy, as it is infinitely more satisfactory, to view men and principles according to the peculiar nature of the case.

Let us take a broad and thorough view before we act; something im portant might otherwise escape us. While we would avoid the ditch, let us not spring upon the serpent lying concealed upon the opposite bank. It is well enough in momentous affairs, to beat every bush, as the successful rabbit-hunter does.

Making it a principle to take these precautions, we shall stand in no danger of leading a life, the memory of which is so often disagreeable, on account of denial of justice to ourselves and others. Unlike the Pharisee, let us know that we are as other men, with like passions-like tendencies to evil. Some slight difference in circumstances may sometimes make the difference between saint and devil. Let us then make the circumstances of men conduce to their happiness-not their ruin. When that feeling of self-righteousness would steel over us, let us drive it away by viewing the image of our imperfections in the mirror of our everyday life.

C. T. P.

TOWNSEND PRIZE ESSAYS.

The Tragedy of Macbeth.

BY CHARLTON THOMAS LEWIS, WEST CHESTER, pa.

THE Tragedy of Macbeth is the history of a great crime. If the truth of nature, the soul of the drama, is the same forever, the tragic muse must consider crime as a miracle. For she is not limited to the ken of those to whom it is familiar, but gains its full significance by turning back her sympathies to its advent, when

"Nature, from her seat,

Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe,

That all was lost."

But there is one crime, which, even to us, seems a great perturbation in nature." Man's instinctive awe of murder, surviving ages of violence, clings to the race, like an inherited recollection that not disease, not decay, not accident, but a brother's arm was the first instrument of death, To enforce the most terrible view of crime, by representing it in this strongest, darkest form, and by tracing it from its first suggestion to its last earthly consequence, is the dramatic aim and unity of Shakspeare's "Macbeth."

Exhausting, as it does, all that is mighty in art, sublime in poetry, or terrific in passion, this wonderful work is distinguished for every dramatic excellence; but as the chief interest centers in two characters, which are conceived and developed with all the power of Shakspeare, we will confine our attention to them.

Of Macbeth, we first learn that he is a brave warrior, who has won laurels fighting for his king and country. He is then introduced to us in the hour of triumph, when a soldier's fancy is moulding day-dreams of glory in the smoke of the battle, and mighty agents of the lower world, whose nature consists of "the imaginative, disconnected from the good," are striving to enforce these dreams in the form of a definite prophecy, which may cause its own fulfillment. Their supernatural, though not necessarily prophetic power, is immediately confirmed by a message from the king. Macbeth's credulous mind, fully convinced that the "greatest is behind," instantly grasps the only means by which the promised crown can be obtained, and the thought of murder hurries ambition into a con

flict with conscience. But the action of conscience, in a superstitious nature, always excites an indefinite apprehension of danger; and even the brave Macbeth, who found a home upon his country's battle-field, amid "strange images of death," trembles at the ruin which now threatens his moral nature. His unassisted mind is too weak to grapple with the dreadful shadows that haunt it; and while yet parleying with his misinterpreted conscience, he writes to his wife, informing her of "the noble having and the royal hope" promised by the weird sisters, and confirmed by its partial fulfillment.

Lady Macbeth first appears to us in the act of reading her husband's letter, and her resolution is taken instantly, "Thou shalt be what thou art promised." Her reflections upon his character place it in strong contrast with her own, and thus give an insight into both. While his ambition, though great, is checked by the nobler feelings, her's would seem to have absorbed them all. While his practical mind looks upon crime as a wide gulf between him and the Crown, her excited and powerful imagination fastens upon that one grand object, and magnifies it to the annihilation of obstacles. While he would be king, but, made a coward by conscience, dares not compass it unlawfully; she, by her burning energy of purpose, ignores all moral distinctions in the means of attaining such an end, and will be content

"To wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind."

From the first, Lady Macbeth has no struggle with conscience. She overwhelms it with a torrent of enthusiasm.

And now her husband has returned, Duncan is their guest; all the circumstances seem to favor the crime, and to-morrow it will be too late. But Macbeth is still vacillating. Fears of retribution in this world and the next, a sense of honor as a subject and host, kind feelings towards his worthy prince and kinsman,-these are the forms in which conscience urges its last appeal. He cannot meet it, and determines to proceed no further. But Lady Macbeth replies to this suggestion with indignant reproaches, for his irresolution and cowardice,―reproaches which no man can endure to hear from a woman. She then lays her plans before him, and argues against his fears of detection; until he yields, not to her arguments, for they are mere words, but to the enthusiasm of will which enforces them. With feelings not unlike those of a child in danger, under the protection of a parent, his weakness admires and leans upon her strength.