TOLERATION.

"THERE was a very droll dispute at school to-day, papa!" said George; one boy insisted that a word was spelt one way, another another way. The quarrel became so hot that we expected it would have ended in blows; when one of the bigger boys recommended that each should bring his book: and it was found that each had spelt the word correctly from his own copy, but they had different editions*, and the spelling of one was printed inaccurately."

"It was," said Mr. Howard, "only a small display of that intolerance of which there are too many great exhibitions in the world. Each boy thought himself right, and had good reason for thinking so; but there was not the same reason for thinking the other wrong...He had seen his own book with his own eyes, and had, therefore, very sufficient evidence for himself; but he could not know what evidence the other had had. Hence the folly of expecting everybody to think as we think...They will think as we think, if the same reasons are given to them, and if those reasons influence them as they influence us. If they have other reasons unknown to us, or if our reasons appear to them not to warrant our opinions, they cannot think as we think : it is impossible, and there is no help for it...But what ought to be helped, and ought to be avoided, is our attempting to punish others because they do not see as we see, or think as we think. This is persecution.

"Well, then, the lesson I wish to teach you is this:Never be angry with any person merely because his opinion is not your opinion; never be angry because you cannot persuade him to change his opinion; and above all, never do him any injury, or hesitate about doing him a good, because his opinion and yours are different. In fact, it is a mark of sterling honesty of character to avow and to be consistently guided by one's own convictions...Nobody can believe what he likes, however he may try to do so; at all events, if he hears all that is to be said on all sides of a question. Still less can

*Editions, single impressions of publications, identical in form and character. [That alluded to, is technically termed a "typographical error."]

anybody believe according to the likings of others... Where you doubt, inquire. In your own opinion seek nothing but truth, because truth, after all, is the great thing. In your conduct to others, be guided by the rule that you should never cause useless pain... In the minds of the best men there is, always has been, and always, perhaps, will be, much difference of opinion as to what is true, but everybody knows and feels what is kind, and truth itself is most likely to be found when it is sought for by tolerance and benevolence." Bowring's Minor Morals.

MANY years since, two pupils of the University at Warsaw were passing through the street in which stands the column of King Sigismund, round whose pedestal may generally be seen seated a number of women selling fruit, cakes, and a variety of eatables, to the passers-bye... The young men paused to look at a figure whose oddity attracted their attention. This was that of a man apparently between fifty and sixty years of age: his coat, once black, was worn threadbare; his broad hat overshadowed a thin wrinkled face; his form was greatly emaciated, yet he walked with a firm and rapid step...He stopped at one of the stalls beneath the column, purchased a halfpenny worth of bread, ate part of it, put the remainder into his pocket, and pursued his way towards the palace of General Zaionczek, lieutenant of the kingdom, who, in the absence of the Czar Alexander, exercised royal authority in Poland.

"Do you know that man?" asked one student of the other.

"I do not; but, judging by his shabby-genteel dress, and mournful countenance, I should guess him to be an undertaker."

Wrong, my friend; he is Stanislas Staszic."

"Staszic!" exclaimed the student, looking after the man, who was then entering the palace. "How can a mean, wretched-looking man, who stops in the middle of the street to buy a morsel of bread, be rich and powerful?"

"Yet, so it is," replied his companion. Under this unpromising exterior is hidden one of our most influential ministers, and one of the most learned men of Europe."

The man whose appearance contrasted so strongly with his rank, who was as powerful as he seemed insignificant, as rich as he appeared poor, owed all his fortune to himself -to his labors, and to his genius.

Of low extraction-he left Poland, while young, in order to acquire learning. He passed some years in the Universities of Leipsic and Göttingen, continued his studies in the College of France; gained the friendship of Buffon; visited the Alps and the Apennines; and finally, returned to his native land, stored with rich and varied learning.

He was speedily invited by a nobleman to take charge of the education of his son. Afterwards, the Government wished to profit by his talents; and Staszic, from step to step, was raised to the highest offices of state... His economical habits made him rich. Five hundred serfs cultivated his lands, and he possessed large sums of money placed at interest... When did any man ever rise very far above the rank in which he was born, without presenting a mark for envy to aim its arrows against? Mediocrity* always avenges itself by calumny †; and so Staszic found it, for the good folks of Warsaw were quite ready to attribute all his actions to sinister + motives.

A group of idlers had paused close to where the students were standing. All looked at the minister, and every one had something to say against him.

"Who would ever think," cried a noble, "that he could be a minister of state? Formerly, when a Palatine § traversed the capital, a troop of horsemen both preceded and followed him. But what respect can be felt for an old miser, who has not the heart to afford himself a coach, and who eats a piece of bread in the streets, just as a beggar would do?" "His heart," said a priest, "is as hard as the iron chest

* Mediocrity, the middle state, or inferior ability. Calumny, unjust accusation.

Sinister, left-handed, underhand, cunning.

Palatine, a prince who exercises royal jurisdiction over a province; or one to whom that power is delegated.

in which he keeps his gold ; a poor man might die of hunger at his door, before he would give him alms.”

"He has worn the same coat for the last ten years,” remarked another.

"He sits on the ground for fear of wearing out his chairs," chimed in a saucy-looking lad, and every one joined in a mocking laugh.

A young pupil of one of the public schools had listened in indignant silence to these speeches, which cut him to the heart; and at length, unable to restrain himself, he turned towards the priest, and said :—

"A man distinguished for his generosity ought to be spoken of with more respect. What does it signify to us how he dresses, or what he eats, if he makes a noble use of his fortune?"

"And pray what use does he make of it?"

"The Academy of Sciences wanted a place for a library, and had not funds to hire one. Who bestowed on them a magnificent palace? Was it not Staszic?"

"Oh! yes, because he is as greedy of praise as of gold. But, my young friend, if you want really to know a man, watch the daily course of his private life. This ostentatious miser, in the books which he publishes, groans over the lot of the peasantry, and in his vast domains he employs five hundred miserable serfs... Go some morning to his house-there you will find a poor woman beseeching with tears a cold proud man who repulses her. That man is Staszic; that woman his sister. Ought not the haughty giver of palaces, the builder of pompous statues, rather to employ himself in protecting his oppressed serfs, and relieving his destitute relative?"

The young man began to reply, but no one would listen to him. Sad and dejected at hearing one who had been to him a true and generous friend, so spoken of, he went to his humble lodging.

Next morning the student repaired at an early hour to the dwelling of his benefactor. There he met a woman weeping, and lamenting the inhumanity of her brother.

This confirmation of what the priest had said, inspired

the young man with a fixed determination. It was Staszic who had placed him at college, and supplied him with the means of continuing there. Now, he would reject his gifts; he would not accept benefits from a man who could look unmoved at his own sister's tears.

The learned minister, seeing his favorite pupil enter, did not desist from his occupation, but, continuing to write, said to him:

"Well, Adolphe, what can I do for you to-day? If you want books, take them out of my library; or instruments order them, and send me the bill. Speak to me freely, and tell me if you want anything."

"On the contrary, Sir, I come to thank you for your past kindness, and to say that I must in future decline receiving your gifts."

"You have then, become rich ?"

"I am as poor as ever."

"And your college?"

"I must leave it."

"Impossible!" cried Staszic, standing up, and fixing his penetrating eyes on his visitor.

"You are the most pro

mising of all our pupils; it must not be!"

In vain the young student tried to conceal the motive of his conduct; Staszic insisted on knowing it.

"You wish," said Adolphe, "to heap favors on me, at the expense of your suffering family."

The powerful minister could not conceal his emotion. His eyes filled with tears, and he pressed the young man's hand warmly, as he said:

"Dear boy, always take heed to this counsel' JUDGE NOTHING BEFORE THE TIME.' Ere the end of life arrives, the purest virtue may be soiled by vice, and the bitterest calumny proved to be unfounded. My conduct is, in truth, a riddle, which I cannot now solve; it is the secret of my life." Seeing the young man still hesitate, he added:

"Keep an account of the money I give you, consider it as a loan; and when some day, through labor and study, you find yourself rich, pay the debt by educating a poor, deserving student. As to me, wait for my death, before you judge my life."