even in the argumentative parts.  I felt, as I have so often done before, if I were a man, the gift I would choose should be that of eloquence.  That power of forcing the vital currents of thousands of human hearts into ONE current, by the constraining power of that most delicate instrument, the voice, is so intense,—­yes, I would prefer it to a more extensive fame, a more permanent influence.’

’Did I describe to you my feelings on hearing Mr. Everett’s eulogy on Lafayette?  No; I did not.  That was exquisite.  The old, hackneyed story; not a new anecdote, not a single reflection of any value; but the manner, the manner^ the delicate inflections of voice, the elegant and appropriate gesture, the sense of beauty produced by the whole, which thrilled us all to tears, flowing from a deeper and purer source than that which answers to pathos.  This was fine; but I prefer the Thompson manner.  Then there is Mr. Webster’s, unlike either; simple grandeur, nobler, more impressive, less captivating.  I have heard few fine speakers; I wish I could hear a thousand.

Are you vexed by my keeping the six volumes of your Goethe?  I read him very little either; I have so little time,—­many things to do at home,—­my three children, and three pupils besides, whom I instruct.

’By the way, I have always thought all that was said about the anti-religious tendency of a classical education to be old wives’ tales.  But their puzzles about Virgil’s notions of heaven and virtue, and his gracefully-described gods and goddesses, have led me to alter my opinions; and I suspect, from reminiscences of my own mental history, that if all governors do not think the same ’t is from want of that intimate knowledge of their pupils’ minds which I naturally possess.  I really find it difficult to keep their morale steady, and am inclined to think many of my own sceptical sufferings are traceable to this source.  I well remember what reflections arose in my childish mind from a comparison of the Hebrew history, where every moral obliquity is shown out with such naivete, and the Greek history, full of sparkling deeds and brilliant sayings, and their gods and goddesses, the types of beauty and power, with the dazzling veil of flowery language and poetical imagery cast over their vices and failings.’

* * * * *

’My own favorite project, since I began seriously to entertain any of that sort, is six historical tragedies; of which I have the plans of three quite perfect.  However, the attempts I have made on them have served to show me the vast difference between conception and execution.  Yet I am, though abashed, not altogether discouraged.  My next favorite plan is a series of tales illustrative of Hebrew history.  The proper junctures have occurred to me during my late studies on the historical books of the Old Testament.  This task, however,