well applied the Scripture saying--'There is a
subtle man, and the same is deceived.' Drop Tacitus. Come, now, let me
throw the book overboard."

"Sir, I--I--"

"Not a word; I know just what is in your mind, and that is just what I
am speaking to. Yes, learn from me that, though the sorrows of the world
are great, its wickedness--that is, its ugliness--is small. Much cause
to pity man, little to distrust him. I myself have known adversity, and
know it still. But for that, do I turn cynic? No, no: it is small beer
that sours. To my fellow-creatures I owe alleviations. So, whatever I
may have undergone, it but deepens my confidence in my kind. Now, then"
(winningly), "this book--will you let me drown it for you?"

"Really, sir--I--"

"I see, I see. But of course you read Tacitus in order to aid you in
understanding human nature--as if truth was ever got at by libel. My
young friend, if to know human nature is your object, drop Tacitus and
go north to the cemeteries of Auburn and Greenwood."

"Upon my word, I--I--"

"Nay, I foresee all that. But you carry Tacitus, that shallow Tacitus.
What do _I_ carry? See"--producing a pocket-volume--"Akenside--his
'Pleasures of Imagination.' One of these days you will know it. Whatever
our lot, we should read serene and cheery books, fitted to inspire love
and trust. But Tacitus! I have long been of opinion that these classics
are the bane of colleges; for--not to hint of the immorality of Ovid,
Horace, Anacreon, and the rest, and the dangerous theology of Eschylus
and others--where will one find views so injurious to human nature as in
Thucydides, Juvenal, Lucian, but more particularly Tacitus? When I
consider that, ever since the revival of learning, these classics have
been the favorites of successive generations of students and studious
men, I tremble to think of that mass of unsuspected heresy on every
vital topic which for centuries must have simmered unsurmised in the
heart of Christendom. But Tacitus--he is the most extraordinary example
of a heretic; not one iota of confidence in his kind. What a mockery
that such an one should be reputed wise, and Thucydides be esteemed the
statesman's manual! But Tacitus--I hate Tacitus; not, though, I trust,
with the hate that sins, but a righteous hate. Without confidence
himself, Tacitus destroys it in all his readers. Destroys confidence,
paternal confidence, of which God knows that there is in this world none
to spare. For, comp