aded, is to be found in studying, and by
this we do not mean the mere reading, but the digging into and through,
the energizing upon, and mastering such books as we have mentioned at
the close of this paper. These are not, of course, the only works we
would recommend to those who wish to understand thoroughly, and to make
up their minds, on these great subjects as wholes; but we all know too
well that our Art is long, broad, and deep,--and Time, opportunity, and
our little hour, brief and uncertain, therefore, we would recommend
those books as a sort of game of the mind, a mental exercise--like
cricket, a gymnastic, a clearing of the eyes of their mind as with
euphrasy, a strengthening their power over particulars, a getting fresh,
strong views of worn out, old things, and, above all, a learning the
right use of their reason, and by knowing their own ignorance and
weakness, finding true knowledge and strength. Taking up a book like
Arnauld, and reading a chapter of his lively, manly sense, is like
throwing your manuals, and scalpels, and microscopes, and natural (most
unnatural) orders out of your hand and head, and taking a game with the
Grange Club, or a run to the top of Arthur Seat. Exertion quickens your
pulse, expands your lungs, makes your blood warmer and redder, fills
your mouth with the pure waters of relish, strengthens and supples your
legs; and though on your way to the top you may encounter rocks, and
baffling _debris_, and gusts of fierce winds rushing out upon you from
behind corners, just as you will find in Arnauld, and all truly serious
and honest books of the kind, difficulties and puzzles, winds of
doctrine, and deceitful mists; still you are rewarded at the top by the
wide view. You see, as from a tower, the end of all. You look into the
perfections and relations of things. You see the clouds, the bright
lights and the everlasting hills on the far horizon. You come down the
hill a happier, a better, and a hungrier man, and of a better mind. But,
as we said, you must eat the book, you must crush it, and cut it with
your teeth and swallow it; just as you must walk up, and not be carried
up the hill, much less imagine you are there, or look upon a picture of
what you would see were you up, however accurately or artistically done;
no--you yourself must _do_ both.

Philosophy--the love and the possession of wisdom--is divided into two
things, science or knowledge; and a habit, or power of mind. He who ha