s
generally the first, and love of praise the second, motive, hold up
their hands? (_One hand reported to have been held up, behind the
lecturer._) Very good; I see you are with me, and that you think I
have not begun too near the ground. Now, without teasing you by
putting farther question, I venture to assume that you will admit duty
as at least a secondary or tertiary motive. You think that the desire
of doing something useful, or obtaining some real good, is indeed an
existent collateral idea, though a secondary one, in most men's desire
of advancement. You will grant that moderately honest men desire place
and office, at least in some measure, for the sake of beneficent power;
and would wish to associate rather with sensible and well-informed
persons than with fools and ignorant persons, whether they are seen in
the company of the sensible ones or not. And finally, without being
troubled by repetition of any common truisms about the preciousness of
friends, and the influence of companions, you will admit, doubtless
that according to the sincerity of our desire that our friends may be
true, and our companions wise,--and in proportion to the earnestness
and discretion with which we choose both, will be the general chances
of our happiness and usefulness.

6. But, granting that we had both the will and the sense to choose our
friends well, how few of us have the power! or, at least, how limited,
for most, is the sphere of choice! Nearly all our associations are
determined by chance, or necessity; and restricted within a narrow
circle. We cannot know whom we would; and those whom we know, we
cannot have at our side when we most need them. All the higher circles
of human intelligence are, to those beneath, only momentarily and
partially open. We may, by good fortune, obtain a glimpse of a great
poet, and hear the sound of his voice; or put a question to a man of
science, and be answered good-humoredly. We may intrude ten minutes'
talk on a cabinet minister, answered probably with words worse than
silence, being deceptive; or snatch, once or twice in our lives, the
privilege of throwing a bouquet in the path of a Princess, or arresting
the kind glance of a Queen. And yet these momentary chances we covet;
and spend our years, and passions, and powers in pursuit of little more
than these; while, meantime, there is a society continually open to us,
of people who will talk to us as long as we like, whatever our