Still no fish. Once more, and no success. Now, he is taken back upon the raft, slapped soundly on the head, and thrown angrily down. He hastily paces for the other end of the raft, stumbling heels over head and looks very much ashamed of himself. Such is the course of training they undergo, and then when "call-time," is sounded, the master stands whip in hand, prepared to punish the one, so unfortunate as to bring up the rear, and hence it is not difficult to comprehend the import of that phrase so frequently heard in Canton, "the last duck." The Fishing-Cormorant belongs to a genus of aquatic birds, of which there are about fifteen varieties. The China bird is of a blackish brown on the upper part of its body, the lower parts are whitish spotted with brown, and the throat is white. They are extremely voracious, as their name indicates, and generally while fishing, a cord is fastened around the throat to prevent them from swallowing the fish. W. For the Lutheran Home Journal. WHAT IS GENIUS? DISTINGUISHED teacher and president of a college, defined genius to be, "the power of making efforts." A There seems to me to be a great want of thought and reflection in the above aphorism, for if genius consists merely "in the power of making efforts," then, a posteriori, the possession of this power, insures to the possessor a right to be considered a genius, yet how many persons there are who both can and have made the most strenuous efforts all their lives, and yet who could not lay claim to the possession of the least spark of genius. And again, how many true geniuses of innate worth-diamonds in the roughhave come into the world, lived their ephemeral life, and have passed quietly away, without society being in the slightest degree aware of the intrinsic value of the intellect which had moved so noiselessly through it, simply, because it did not possess "the power of making efforts," in other words, was too indolent to make the mental exertion requisite; or perhaps― taking up the simile-the gem had been left in its rocky bed, uncut, unpolished, and therefore attracting no notice, appearing only to the casual observer, as a dull, lumpish mass, utterly nnsusceptible of refinement. Or again; it might by mere attrition, or by any other fortuitous occurrence, be freed from the dross and filth which hide it, the sharp corners rounded, and be rendered smooth and shapely, and thus be enabled to shine forth in all its innate lustre and beauty; all this having been accomplished without any effort or act of volition being put forth by any one, the lapidary having had no hand in its refinement, nor the gem-hunter in its invention. Genius, is an abstract quality; it is not a property which may be acquired, otherwise, that title could be conferred on an Irish hod-carrier, or a horse, both of which often possess the "power of making efforts" in an eminent degree. No! Genius is innate, born in or with us, our idea of which, is almost synonymous with that of the genius or demon of the ancients, which was not only a good or evil spirit presiding over human destiny, but which was a divine essence or emanation-more particularly the Greek datuou-which pervaded those individuals who were supposed to be the peculiar favorites of the gods. These were not only permitted to do certain things with impunity, but were also endowed with peculiar gifts and privileges, and hence, the personages thus gifted, appeared to those who were not so highly favored, as individuals in whom the 66 'viri indivine essence was apparent, as genii," in short, as Men of Genius, a title which we now confer upon those, who by their brilliant talents and intellectual endowments, seem to be especially fitted to occupy and adorn a high and refined grade in the social scale. The term genius, has been very much abused and misapplied in recent times; a man acts in an eccentric manner and in dulges in strange vagaries, or writes or speaks in a confused, rambling style, the world instantly says, Oh! he is a genius, under which friendly shelter as a cloak, he does and says many things, which if done and said by another not so distinguished, would entitle that one to lodgings in a madhouse; for genius, likec harity, covers a multitude of sins. ing and the calmness of the evening hour steals over the landscape. Beneath that lofty palm-tree, but a short distance from the town, sits a poor, blind beggar. Day after day, his cry for aid is heard: day after day, it is unheeded. Poor old man! his sightless eyeballs roll in vain to find a piercing ray of light divine. Before him lies a scene of oriental beauty-Jericho's walls and towers crowned with a halo of golden light; its inhabitants flocking around its gates; the noble palms rearing their majestic heads towards heaven's blue, unclouded dome;but, he enjoys it not, to him no more "returns Day, or the sweet approach of even and morn, The world is almost as full of these "dabblers in prose and verse," as when Pope wrote his "Dunciad" or Dryden his "Mac-Flecknoe," and as many now as then disgrace the very word genius, in having it and their paltry names uttered in the same breath, when they possess neither reason nor imagination, for, genius is the action of reason and imagination, their joint action; with one of these only, it cannot exist, but the presence of both in the right proportion, reveals the "divinus afflatus" or essence. And yet, as has been beautifully said-Genius is one, individual, indivisible; like a star, it shines alone. But hark! what sounds break the deepThis would seem to be paradoxical, that ening stillness; shouts rend the air, footnotwithstanding that two separate, dis- steps are heard over the beaten road; the tinct faculties are necessary for its very tumult approaches, a vast multitude passexistence, yet, genius is but a unit, ab- es, the blind man asks the meaning of the sorbing and revolving in its profound sub-assemblage, they tell him "Jesus of Nazartilty, its more tangible and apparent components. "Genius! thou gift of Heaven! thou light divine! Or want, (sad guest!) will in thy presence come, B. For the Lutheran Home Journal. "JESUS OF NAZARETH PASSETH THE BY." eth passeth by !" Who is this Jesus of Nazareth? Is he the conqueror of the world? The hero of a thousand battles? Comes he in a triumphal car, a crown of laurel on his head, trumpets sounding before him, banners waving above him, swords glittering around him, captives in chains of gold following him and multitudes rending the air with praises of his valor? No, no! Jesus, the son of David, is a meek and lowly Nazarene; "despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;" "he cometh meek, and sitting upon an ass, upon a colt the foal of an The only crown he ever wore was ass." HE weary god of day flings the "gol- a crown of thorns. den arrows of sunset" across an eastern city. The walls of Jericho cast their lengthening shadows on the sandy plain. The hum of busy voices is subsid The multitudes that surround him on his way to Jericho, had received benefits which the wealthiest and most powerful earthly monarch could never have bestow MISS A. P. R. ed. He had restored sight to the blind; | let me beseech you not to neglect such hearing to the deaf; renewed strength and great mercies, such loving kindnesses. vigor to the halt and lame, causing them If you do not, you will ever bless the day to throw away the crutch and walk and on which you heard, that "Jesus of Nazaleap with overflowing joy. He had blessed reth passeth by." their sick with health, and snatched their dead from the yawning sepulchre-the damp, dark vault-the dominions of relentless death. All this, and more was given; unasked, "without money and without price," and was it not sufficient to cause the very stones to cry aloud, "Hosanna!" On they pass, with the blessed Saviour in their midst. His name and deeds are not wholly unknown to the blind man, for, in a voice that rises above the tumult, he cries, "Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy upon me." Who ever called thus in vain? That gracious ear is always ready to listen when sinners cry. He turns and says, "What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee." Oh! blessing-fraught question! Oh! faith-born answer, "Lord, that I may receive my sight." Sinner, blind and wretched, groping along life's thorny way; wanting "sight, riches, healing of the mind;" seeking rest and finding none; "Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." Call aloud, fear not though they rebuke thee; call louder than before, he will hear, for hath he not said, "Ask, and ye shall receive?" He will open thine eyes to see his wondrous mysteries; he will bind up thy broken heart; he will bestow riches and honors the world can never give; and in him thou shalt find rest for thy weary soul. Mother, who mournest thy first-born, check those gushing tears, "Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." Thy child heard his voice, and left this cold and hollow world, to join the flock of the good Shepherd, which roams in heavenly pastures. Call on that kind Master, and He will send thee aid to bear this affliction, with meekness and patience. Reader, listen with this blind man ; ask with him, "what is meant?" then call aloud in earnest faith, nothing wavering, "Lord, that I may receive my sight." Oh! For the Lutheran Home Journal. FICTION READING IS PERNICIOUS. ICTIONS are exaggerations of real FIC life, in highly wrought descriptions, clothing ordinary occurrences and personages in an atmosphere more than earthly, narrating in language beyond truth or nature, the exploits of heroes, conquerors, lovers, often smoothing over the deformities of vice, showing it as excusable or even amiable and lovely, and often debasing virtue by holding it up to ridicule and scorn. We need only judge by the fruits. If the effect of the cultivation of a certain plant, were wide-spread disease and death, the plant should not be cultivated; if by the sale of intoxicating liquor, disease, poverty, death, are produced, and not the slightest benefit, the sale should immediately be stopped. So, if fictional writings produce to us, evil greater than any good they can accomplish, we should immediately cease reading them. "For to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.” The first argument we present is this. Just as the use of intoxicating liquors creates an appetite of the body, which can only be gratified by liquor; so, reading of fiction produces an appetite of the mind, which can only be appeased by highly colored and exaggerated writings. This is a law universal, and not confined to drinking and fiction reading. If you read your Bible much, the more you will like to read it. If you accustom yourself to a certain posture, your body will naturally assume that posture. If then, fictions produce evil, the appetite for them should be checked and destroyed. Now, no one will say that fictions are the most beneficial reading. Many other provinces of literature, might be named, any one of which is far more instructive and useful. By any of these the taste for reading may be grati- | fied, and good received at the same time. But in the gratification of the appetite for fiction, time is continually taken from other occupations of more benefit to us and to the community. Another argument is, that by fiction reading, a distaste is engendered for works of a scientific or religious character. After the perusal of a novel or some tale of romance, no one can sit readily down to the profound consideration of a problem of mathematics, any deep question in science, or a truth of the Scripture. By the continual excitement indispensable to make fiction interesting, the mind lives in an atmosphere that is not natural, and amid scenes forced and different from those of every day life; and the habit once formed, it is hard to bring the mind back to the sober realities of life. In fictions, particularly novels, virtue is often held up to ridicule, and vice is shown to be lovely. Thus pernicious views are presented as to the beauty of virtue and deformity of vice. Anything that will do this is certainly pernicious. Again, criminals and villains get their morals principally from novels and literature of a kindred character. We find no Bible in their haunts of iniquity, they take no pleasure in reading the lives of great and good men, but a vicious taste encouraged by education, leads them to tales of intrigue and scenes of blood, from a perusal of which, their character for evil becomes fixed. A remark has been made that the morality of a people may be judged by its literature. Among the families who habitually read novels, the morality is not of the highest type. Works of fiction present unnatural views of life, and by creating longings which can never be satisfied, make distasteful all that is pure and holy. The writer of fiction has his own standard of a man and presents a model for imitation unlike that of the Bible. "Be ye holy, for I am 66 holy," and Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." What reader of fiction can rise from his book and go to the house of God to a social prayer-meeting, or into his closet and enjoy close communion with God? The very idea would be distasteful; and yet this is an effect of fiction reading. We have the testimony of the great and good against it. What man, great in any calling, spent his time over fictions? Did Washington, or Clay, or Webster, did Sir Robert Peel, or Wilberforce, read such books? What clergyman has not deplored the evil effects of fiction reading? None ever became great because they made fiction their chief study. But here it may be said, was not Sir Walter Scott great? He was the Prince of Novelists, and he became renowned by his writings. But that which is truth is not fiction. Sir Walter Scott professed to write novels founded on fact. As far, therefore, as they contain mere fact, they are history. As for anything else, the definition of fiction in the dictionary is 'falsehood." Sir Walter Scott was great, and so is Charles Dickens now. But as far as their works are misrepresentations, they do the work of the evil one. Satan loves a shining victim. Great as Scott was, great as was the number of his volumes, great as is Dickens, and great as is the number of his writings, onepo or writer, John Bunyan, has done more good by a single work, "The Pilgrim's Progress," than they both. 44 It is vain to say, "I am safe; I can read what I please and be unharmed. No one knows how far he can go with safety. It is just as in drinking. I never knew a drinker or tobacco-chewer who did not believe that he could stop when he wished. But how few can. In reading novels, the beginning is by light novels as they are called, or those more in the style of a story. The reader would not think of reading one of Sue's or Sands' novels. But gradually, the taste is formed, the habit becomes settled; and if a light novel is not at hand, no hesitation is felt in taking up one that is more openly shameful. Thence | draws off the mind from the great work of the course downward is very easy. But it is objected. Fiction must be beneficial, for some of the noblest minds have been engaged in its production. But is this argument worth anything? What if the greatest men were to resort to lying, cheating and stealing, would their practice justify these acts? Consider how many souls might have been saved had these great writers spent their strength on treatises on things heavenly and divine, and passed their time in the zealous service of Christ, instead of writing works of at best very doubtful tendency. At life. If man dies not as the beasts, if he lives forever, then every work which diverts from the great object of life, which is to prepare for the life to come, is pernicious. We have but a short time to live and fiction reading is not the best way of employing it. These are the plain and simple arguments against the habit of novel reading. Examine them carefully and resolve to use all your influence against the cultivation of this habit in yourself and others. E. P. C. SHOPPING EXPEDITION.* THE Bazaars of no Oriental City are com parable to those of Damascus, a city which is so beautiful in every respect, that Mohammed dared not look upon it, fearing that he should find so entrancing an earthly paradise as entirely to rob him of any desire to reach that of the skies. But Damascus is not Jerusalem, and as everybody likes to know how one goes shopping in Jerusalem, I shall not withhold a description of its bazaars because of their small share of attractiveness. Jerusalem being a spot of so much attraction to every nation under heaven, we here see every variety of costume, making the bazaars a continual carnival. One moment you are Again, it is urged that the voice of the people is for fiction; and say the advocates of it, "vox populi, vox Dei," the voice of the people is the voice of God. A heathen uttered this sentiment: is it true? Immediately after the Deluge, the voice of the people was that the Tower of Babel was to be built. Was it the voice of God? Mount Sinai, immediately after God had audibly said, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," the voice of the people was to have Aaron make a golden calf. Does God contradict himself? Was it the voice of God? The voice of the Jews, in the time of Christ, the Son of God, was "Crucify him, Crucify him ;" was this the voice of God? No! The voice of the people is not always the voice of God. An Irish-greeted with a garb betokening the highman contending for theatres in the same manner, acknowledged this when he said, "Theatres must be beneficial, for we have in their favor, the king of England, the king of Spain, and all the kings and nobility besides; and you poor devils have nobody on your side except God Almighty!" But it is said that our blessed Saviour used fiction in his parables. Our Saviour in his parables employed as figures, scenes of every day life, he did not exaggerate, but all was perfect truth. This is not fiction. The minds of men are naturally so dull that they could not at all understand heavenly things unless figures were used to illustrate their sublime truths. But to conclude; we know that fiction est civilization, and the next, with the coarse camel's hair garment of a Bedouin from the burning sands of the desert. At one step you meet the black silk wrappings of the Egyptian woman, and the next, the ghostly white robes of her Syrian sister. But nothing can compare, in richness and beauty, with the flowing robes and full white turban of her lord and master. The wayfaring man wears a girdle which is so arranged that one end answers the purpose of a bag, in which he carries his money, valuables, and other small articles; and in his bosom may be The engravings and matter of this article are from the recently issued work "Hadji in Syria," for sale at the Lutheran Publication House. |