instead of a man and a citizen. They have sacrificed to the thirst of gain, or the excitement of rivalry and a second-rate ambition, or the worship of a dominant idea, what they owed to society and themselves; or they have, themselves, been sacrificed by the vicious organization, the false principles, the insatiable exigencies of society. The higher their abilities and the purer and more conscientious their purposes and labors, the more perilous their exposure to the relentless demands of a system which drags into its vortex, first, whatever is best and noblest in intellect and heart.

Contemplate, again, a merchant-one who has surrendered himself from his early years to the pursuit of gain, or, if you please, to the less sordid but equally engrossing excitement which that pursuit engenders and feeds. What does he come to be, under our system? How does his occupation mould and develop him? If he is lucky and prudent, nay, perhaps, if he is either, he grows rich. We will assume that he does. He acquires power and influence, gains deference and respect-which money generally commands for all practical purposes, and especially among a commercial people. But what manner of man does he make of himself? Do you find him balancing his accounts, closing his books, retiring, even partially, from the busy scenes of excitement and acquisition, to bestow any portion of his yet vigorous years upon private life, upon social refinement and enjoyment, upon artistic tastes, or literary pleasures, or humanizing occupations-the thousand things that make men wiser and better, and civilize and ennoble nations? How unwillingly the hand gives up the ledger, even when it grows too weak to turn over the leaves? know some examples-a few-and no one respects and honors

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them more than I do-of men who, from conviction, have withdrawn themselves from the active pursuit of trade, while full of life, capacity, energy and prospect-content to garner the grain which they had gathered, though the harvest was not yet half cut. But the cases of such genuine manhood, such high moral independence, such appreciation of life and its true purposes, are painfully rare. You may find men enough, who desert the legitimate paths of commerce, to enter upon the more concentrated trade in money. You can lay your hands on merchants enough, who will give up the counting-room and the warehouse for the office-who will leave what is really generous and attractive in commerce-its large adventures, its liberal and manly competition—its broad calculations-its study of daily events and political mutations -the contemplation of national wants and foreign customsof trade and its laws-agriculture and its vicissitudes-the changing seasons-the capricious winds, and the sea's perils. All these things, which are within the scope of commerce, when it is really a profession-you will find men enough to surrender. They will retire from these, into the narrower sphere of what they call employing capital-in other words, dealing in money or its representatives. Like stout Cortesbut with a far less manly purpose-they will sink their ships and then build brigantines. And what comes of such changes? Is it leisure—with its graces, accomplishments and usefulness to others? Not a whit. They have laid no foundation for such things, and have no taste or fitness for them when their season arrives. Is it social expansion-broad views-public spirit-great enterprise-noble example? Not at all-but increasing wealth-time devoted more passionately and exclu

sively than ever, to its augmentation-busy intrigue, instead of generous rivalry-hungry appetite, instead of liberal largeness of soul. And this is what dooms communities to petty destinies the fact that the machinery of large enterprise is worked by small hands, and directed by small capacities, for mean and narrow ends-the fact that the pursuit of gain, for its own sake and multiplication, and not for what it brings or for what it may foster or bless, is the exclusive moral and lesson of mercantile life, as of every other vigorous and active life that yearns and toils about us. Is such a doom irreversible, I pray you? Is it part of the unchangeable nature of things? Surely, history teaches no such lesson of despair. Surely, we learn, from the annals of our race, that it is not merely the pursuit of gain which corrupts—it is its exclusive pursuit. It is only the surrender of life, and heart, and hope to it, that transforms wealth from a blessing into a gilded calamity to men and nations.

In the Columbian Library, at Seville, I saw an old book on Cosmography, which had belonged to Christopher Columbus. It seemed to have been the text-book of his meditations, so full the margins were of notes in his handwriting. I noticed that he had not failed to mark, with most especial care, each passage in the ancient author, which told of spices, or of precious stones or metals, to be found upon the hills or through the valleys of the Indies. Indeed he had condensed such observations on some pages; and mountains all of gold, and islands strewn with pearls, were what he had prefigured as before him in his journey towards the setting sun. And yet, who dims the glory of that pure and lofty soul with one suspicion of a sordid thought? The wealth that made the

Indies precious, was but the embroidered raiment of his dreams, and moved him none the more to grovelling appetite, than did the golden fringes of the clouds, beneath which, evening after evening, he sailed into the darkness-Manhood and Hope, like the angels in the legend, standing through its watches by his helm !

So, in the good old times, when merchants were princes, and deserved to be, the increase of wealth seemed of itself to work an enlargement of men's ideas. There was a perpetually expanding purpose in its pursuit-a "large discourse, looking before and after." It had a past, on which it built, and a future, for which it labored grandly. Commerce was not, then, the speculation of to-day, or the hasty adventure of to-morrow-the short turn-the sharp bargain-the keenscented thrift, snuffing news in advance of the mail. Glorious breezes filled its sails. The "lovesick winds" that wafted Cleopatra's barge, did not hover round more gorgeous canvas. Its freight was art, and literature, and civilization. The seaweed, clinging now, like mourning drapery, along the marble walls of Venice, does but assert a rightful fellowship with splendor to whose triumphs the whole known sea was tributary. The pictures and the statues—the temples, the libraries, the palaces and gardens of Genoa and Pisa-of Florence, Bologna and Sienna-all tell the story of great thoughts and noble tastes, which gold and trade may nurture, when nobleness and greatness deal with them. Judged by such standardsmaking all allowances for change of time and circumstance— conceding on the one side all that it has done for freedom and intelligence requiring from it, on the other, fulfilment of the obligations since imposed on it by all the grand discoveries

which science and genius have given it for handmaids-trade, as we find it now, is surely, in its spirit, far below the level of the high and intellectual calling which made itself so bright a name in history. I speak of its spirit and not of its material progress-of its influence on the men who pursue it, and not of its statistics. I am looking at the hand of the dyer, and not at the garish colors which flaunt from his door. The Son of Sirach has said, and I hope I may venture to say it after him, without offence, that "a merchant shall hardly keep himself from doing wrong, and a huckster shall not be free from sin." I waive the question as to whether the Hebrews, in the days when Ecclesiasticus was written, furnished the most advantageous models of mercantile deportment; for I am quite persuaded that the great moralist told a truth in this, which was intended for all time. And if it be so difficult for men, in the legitimate paths of commerce, to avoid its corrupting tendencies, I fear they hardly can improve their chances by entering the still narrower walks of what commonly is known as mercantile retirement. Does a man widen the scope of his faculties, think you, or improve the opportunities of competence or leisure, because he withdraws himself from actual trade, to look after letting his money out on interest? Does he enlarge the domain of his heart, or open new sources of human sympathy, by watching the fluctuations of the stock exchange or the loan-market? Does the old age of mercantile industry grow in dignity or reverence under such influences? Does it thus heighten its claims to sway the opinions, and rule the counsels, and fashion the tastes and habits-nay, form the very destiny-of this magnificent Republic? Has it not rather let itself out on usury, with its