d seize--less than nothing. We can not rest without
perfection in _everything_, yet the labor of a life devoted to _one
thing_, only shows us how unattainable it is. I am oppressed with
gloom--oh, for light, light, light! _Feb. 20th._--Alas! my feelings of
discouragement and despondency, instead of diminishing, strengthen every
day. I have been ill for the last fortnight; and possibly physical
causes have contributed to shroud my mind in this thick darkness. Yet I
can not believe that conviction so clear, conclusions so irresistible as
those which weigh me down, are entirely the result of morbid physical
action. In order to prove that they are not, and to have the means of
judging hereafter of the rationalness of my present judgments, I will
record the grounds of my despondency. As nearly as I can recollect, the
thought which oftenest pressed itself upon me, when these feelings of
gloom began, was that I was living to no purpose. I was conscious,
not only of a conviction that I _ought_ to live to do good, but of
an _intense desire_ to do good--to _know_ that I was living to some
purpose; and I felt perfectly certain that this knowledge was essential
to my happiness. I began to wonder that I had been contented to seek
knowledge all my life for my own pleasure, or with an indefinite idea
that it might contribute in some way to my usefulness,--without any
distinct plan.... I then began to inquire what results I had of "all my
labor which I have taken under the sun" and these are my conclusions:

1. I have not that mental discipline, or that command of my own powers,
which is one of the most valuable results of properly directed study. I
can not grasp a subject at once, and view it in all its bearings.

2. I have not that self-knowledge which is another sure result of proper
study. I do not know what I am capable of, nor what I am particularly
fitted for, nor what I am most deficient in. I am forever pouring into
my own mind, and yet never find out what is there.

3d. I have no principle of arrangement or assimilation which might unite
all my scattered knowledge. Oh, how different if I had had one definite
object which, like the lens, should concentrate all the scattered rays
to one focus. I met with this remark of Sir Egerton Bridges to-day; it
applies to me exactly: "I have never met with one who seemed to have the
same overruling passion for literature as I have always had. A thousand
others have pursued it with more pr