matter of the book and its utility are never for once thought of; and herein is his weakness. His disease, unlike those of the body, usually affects the mind and pocket; and, upon the depth of the latter, its intensity almost wholly depends. The poor man cannot be seriously a biblio-maniac. This need not be proved, for we have seen it tried-have tried it ourselves, and found it impossible. That passion for collecting books, however, which couples utility with rarity, is to be commended.

If all the books that have been written had been preserved, it would be literally true that "the world itself could not contain them." As the universal custom, in ancient times, of burning the dead, saved the earth the burden of countless graveyards, so the amusement the barbarians indulged in of destroying libraries, and making bonfires of manuscripts, has saved scholars of modern times incalculable labor and expense. The Danes, in rummaging the monasteries and destroying the small libraries that monkish charity and care had collected, did good service for posterity, besides both affording themselves pleasure and gratifying their revenge. Of ancient, as well as of Saxon and early English books, we have enough left. For hardly a respectable minority of those we call educated men ever read the classics to any extent. This statement we make after long observation and extensive inquiry. And perhaps those who mourn deepest over "treasures lost," are the very ones that have read least of the treasures saved. And adopting the maxim that but few books have weight enough to sink them down to posterity, we may conclude that the choicest fruits of antiquity are garnered in our libraries.

We are children of noble parents; and of their works, which constitute our early literature, we may be proud. In those works which are left, the peculiar characteristics of the English mind are prominent from the very first. Chiefest of these is what Juvenal calls sensus communis, "plain good sense." This strikes us at once in the Saxon literature, and again, especially after the Conquest, when the Norman influence became an element in English life. We find it in those early dramas which Shakespeare took as the ground-work of his nobler edifices, in the prose of the day, in the familiar letters, and espe

cially in the songs, and satires, and political poetry of the reigns of Henry III., and Edward I. and II. The elements of this early literature gave promise of something nobler, which was more than fulfilled in the days of Elizabeth and James: those early germs ripening into manly strength, keen satire and wit, charming poetry, and the most dignified prose. We act, then, only a filial part when we gather up the literary gems, the flashes of wit, the maxims of wisdom-rich legacies which they have left us-and try to better our lives by them.

There was, in the third century before Christ, a style of writing highly commended by scholars and men of judgment, which was practised to a very limited extent, but which soon fell into neglect, to be revived again with remarkable success in the sixteenth century of our era. This we term

CHARACTER WRITING,

which Overbury, whose definition thereof is as inimitable as are the characters his pen has drawn, says "is a picture quaintly drawne, in various colours, all of them heightened by one shadowing. It is a quicke and soft touch of many strings, all shutting up in one musical close: it is wit's descant on any plaine song." Isaac Casaubon said, "character writing was a medium between moral philosophy and poetry." To draw a character skillfully requires a master-hand, deep knowledge, a lively imagination, and a happy turn of expression. It is human nature in its various forms and affections that must be sketched, and to do this one must study other men and understand himself. As every action has its thought, and every thought its proper expression, the successful character writer must be a thorough critic of men and manners, a critic of thought and a critic of language. The features of every single passion must be known, and the relation which that passion bears to another must be discovered. The heart is frequently actuated by more than one passion; then the leading one must be ascertained and made so conspicuous through the whole that at every step the reader will perceive it. Again, both the mode of thinking, and the style, must be laconic; the

sentences short and pointed. Brevity of diction always adds new life to a good thought. A true character must have brevity, and sound sense, and wit, and satire, with wisdom to apply the reproof so kindly that it will be taken in good part; and the whole must be agreeable and be according to nature. The subject, wherever he is found in life, seems for the moment to be snatched out of himself, so that the beholder "sees him as he is." O. W. Holmes's three Johns illustrate well our meaning. In common writing, you see only Thomas's John: but in character writing you see neither the Maker's John, nor Thomas's John, but John's John. Rochefoucault laid bare the hearts of men, and though he belongs among the character writers he is not among the chief, for his thrusts, though legitimate, are too unkind. For this reason his success was less than that of La Bruyere, who surpassed most moralists, whether ancient or modern, in correcting folly and vice. It will be seen that no common writer can draw a character well; and they are no mean men of whom we are about to speak; but on the contrary they are among the most talented and distinguished men of the ages in which they lived.

We begin with THEOPHRASTUS, who was the son of a fuller, born 371 B. C., studied at Athens in the school of Plato, and afterwards in that of Aristotle, of whom he was the favorite pupil and successor. Aristotle charmed with his wit and eloquence, changed his name, which was Tyrtamus, to Euphras tus-a fine speaker, but this being not a sufficient term to express the character of his genuis, he called him Theophrastusa divine speaker. After the murder of Socrates he became the head of the peripatetic school of philosophy, and two thousand students are said to have attended his lectures. He enjoyed a wonderful reputation, which was well deserved; his books a multitude in number, were eagerly caught up and read; but from the list of two hundred given by Diogenes Laertius, only about twenty have escaped the ravages of time, among which are his "Characters," or Ethic Portraits, by far the most celebrated of all his productions. St. Jerome, in a letter to Nepotianus, says that Theophrastus died at the age of 107 years, lamenting the comparative brevity of human life, complaining

of nature's partiality in granting longevity to the crow and to the stag, and withholding it from man. In his own preface he determined, he says, to write of all the virtues and vices, and as he began at the age of 99, the work is probably not complete. Indeed, we know that the early editions have only fifteen characters. Henry Stephens afterwards found eight more in one of the libraries of Italy, and still later a learned German, named Freherus, found five more in the Heidelberg library, and these make up the present number of twentyeight. He is said to have been an excellent mimic, and could give the character of some men by the motions of his body as well as he could others by his pen.

Ancient authors thought the work of Theophrastus a masterpiece of its kind;—he had studied long and diligently, and was a thorough critic of men and manners. Were there no other evidence, the simplicity and truthfulness of the portraits would alone prove the greatness of their author. Cicero speaks of the "agreeableness of Theophrastus," calls him his friend, and says that his works were familiar to him, and that the reading of them had afforded him much exquisite pleasure. The world has shown its appreciation of his Characters, as well as of this style of writing, by entitling the work of Theophrastus "The Golden Book," from which we give a few extracts at random.

Avarice is a passion for saving money beyond decency. A man of this cast, though his debtors bring their interest duly every month, yet will he dun them publicly for the odd farthing that remained upon balance of last account. If he makes an entertainment, he carefully observes how the cups go round, and keeps an exact account how much each man has drunk..... Whatever you buy for him, though a full value of the money, he shakes his head, the vender has exacted." He is a niggardly master of his servants; for if they happen to break an earthen pot or dish, he invariably deducts out of their allowance to the full value of the damage. If his wife has lost only a piece of brass, the bed is rummaged, every nook and corner pryed into, and the whole house turned inside out. Whatever he sells, the purchaser has always a hard bargain. He will not suffer any person to gather a single fig out of his garden, or even to take up from the ground an olive or a date. And if you go over his grounds, you may depend upon being indicted for trespassing. He is in perpetual fears of being wronged by his neighbors, for which reason he makes every day a visit to the bounds of his estate, to see if anybody has removed them, or encroached upon his land..... When he goes to market he is so very loath to part with his money, that he frequently comes back again without buying anything. His great skill in all the arts of

saving enables him to give his wife most excellent lectures in her department: "Never lend any salt or matches, not even any herbs or flour, nor anything that may be used in the house, for all these things,” he says, “amount to a great deal at the year's end.".... He makes himself ridiculous by wearing clothes that are too short and small, .... and to save the expense of having his hair frequently cut, he orders his barber to shave him to the scalp. He takes off his shoes in the middle of the day to make them last the longer. . . .

....

Distrust-is a suspicion that all men are knaves. When a distrustful man sends one of his servants to market, he never fails to dispatch another after him to inquire what price the first gave for the provisions which he bought. When he brings home a sum of money which he has just received, be carefully counts it over every now and then by the way to see whether he has received his full due. When he is in bed he calls his wife to account and asks her if she has locked all her trunks, sealed the money bag, and bolted the street door; and though she assures him that she has taken care to do all these things well, nevertheless this suspicious fellow is not satisfied, but rises out of his bed, lights a candle, and, without any clothes or shoes on, goes about all the house, examines everything, and so at last, with great difficulty, hardly gets to sleep. When he goes to receive his interest money he always takes with him some witnesses for fear his debtors should deny that they ever owed him the principal. When his coat needs to be mended, he does not send it to the best workman in town, but to him who gives the best security that the coat shall be safely returned again. He never obliges his neighbors by lending them any little article, for fear it should be broken, or not returned. . . . . When any one has agreed with him for something, and not having ready money about him, desires him to place it to his account, he immediately replies, "I wont trust you; you must either pay down the money, or leave the goods.”

....

From this time we have no more of character writing until 1565, when appeared "The Fraternity of Vagabondes," with a second edition in 1575. In 1567 appeared "A Caveat for common Cursetors;" in 1605, "A Picture of a Puritan," and in 1608,"Characters of Virtues and Vices," by JOSEPH HALL. To Earle has frequently been given the credit of reviving this kind of literature; but this is a mistake, for Earle's first edition came out in 1628, when Overbury's characters had passed through twelve editions, the first appearing in 1614, and Hall's, which appeared six years before Overbury's, through three editions. Joseph Hall was born in 1574, and died in 1656. He was made Bishop of Exeter in 1627, and translated to Norwich in 1641, in which year, protesting with other bishops, against all laws made during their forced absence from parliament, he was sent to the Tower, and only released on giving