The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1871-11-10
True Moral Perfection.


intimately associated with unconscious
ness. In the physical nature the most
complete health is where each organ
performs its part UNDECIDED, where the
activities are harmoniously engaged,
not In analyzing their own nature, but
in accomplishing their own functions.
Directly any part Of the body asserts
Its own separate existence, and demands
special notice, IL Is a proof that some.
thing is out of order, and is the first
symptom of disease. The countryman,
who, on being asked how he kept his
physical system in such perfect order,
replied, that "for his part he had no
SYSTEM" showed by his answer per.
fection Of health, which but few ever
realize. 1t is when the head aches, or
the tooth throbs, or the limb is injured,
that we become specially conscious of
their existence; when they are in good
working order we forget them, and only
consider the results they produce.
This truth is not confined to the bod
lily functions. The strongest mind is
not the most conscious of its strength.
The greatest geniuses of the world have
lived aud died unaware OF the richness
Of their mental treasures. Tho true
artist is 80 absorbed in the love of his
art that he forgets his own powers,
while the mere dabbler is vainly con-
sciou5 OF his inferior abilities. Often
those faculties upon which we most
pride ourselves are the most superficial
ly developed, while our real powers lie
unfathomed and unknown. He who
works for lame or applause is always
measuring his own skill, and estimat-
ing his own progress, while he whose
heart is centred in the work itselfdwells
not upon his own instrumentality, but
rejoices in the furtherance of the object,
by whatever means. One orator, filled
with the greatness of his theme, or bent
on effecting some reform, and anxious
to inspire others with like enthusiasm,
is unconscious Of the eloquence which
holds his audience in rapt attention,
nor does he care 10 measure it (; his object
lies ahead of himself, and he uses him
self, as it were, for step by which to
reach it; he employs his powers, as the
carpenter his tools, merely as instru-
ments to accomplish higher purpose.
Another, bent on selfdisplay, only
handles his subject with view to carve
his own fame. Unipspired by great
thoughts, he is keenly alive to all his
rhetorical excellencies and failures he
weighs his abilities with accurate pre-
cision, and measures his success by the
degree to which his hearers appreciate
him, instead of the conclusio ions they
form as to his theme. The same differ
ence divides all the intellectual labor of
the world. Its best performance is
always attended with certain uncon-
seriousness of self, while its inferior
work is characterized by keen analysis
of the powers employed. The one is
natural, the other artificial the one
regards the end as all absorbing, the
other loves rather to dwell on the
means.
Equally does this truth apply TO our
moral conduct. Virture requires GER
tain degree of Inconsistencies to main-
tain her very existence. The moral
worth of good action depends greatly
upon its spontanelty. Where it is the
natural outflow of a loving or generous
heart it is priceless, but when we begin
10 praise ourselves inwardly, and think
now meritorous we are, it Immediately
loses It's bloom. Not more surely is the
snow dissolved and dissipated by the
rays of the sun, than goodness fades
and vanishcs before the conscious pride
of ttself. Some one, in writing of
humility, has said,
IL is so frnil, so delicate a!thing,
| II IL but look upon itself, It's gone
A nd he who vcntures'to esteem IL his
| Irovcs.by that. very thought he has II not
And the same is true to a great extent
of every virtue. lie who most fully
appreciates his worth, has generally a
slender stock to estimate. Above all,
the boaster, who talks glibly OF virtue,
in order to eXtol himself, knows moth
ing Of its profound realities. Even self.
depreciation is not akin to virtue in its
deep significance 1t is at the best,
when sincere, an unhealthy sort of
goodness, which dwells upon SELF after
all, to the neglect of higher things /; and
when insincere it is the basest hypocrisy
Tho truly virtuous man is he who sinks
self in his object, who labors in the
cause of right and truth, sacrificing his
own interests, without feeling himself
a martyr, without boasting of his deeds,
without too closely analyzing his own
part in the matter, either to applaud OF
to censure. He exerts all his powers to
the utmost, and rejoices in their ability
to carry out his noblest conceptions; but
he values them as the mechanic does
his tools, not for their own sake, hut fol
what they can produce. He exults,n no
in his own benevolence, but in the hap
piness it sheds; he congra ulates him
self, not in his own sense Of justice, bu
that Others have their rights; he tri
umphs, not in his ability to convince o
pursuade men, but in their acceptanc
of the truth. His is that natural, spon
taneous and unconscious virtue tina
! pauses not to gaze upon itself but has
/ tens to forward and to welcome glorious
results; his the heroism, the fortitudt
/ and the martyr spirit that animates life
1 to noble deeds, but know not of them
g selves, Ledger.
LUCK AND LABoR.-Two boys left
last week, their country homes to seel
their fortune in the city
J. ~ shall see what luck will do 70
j me-" said one.
n 81 shall see what labor will do 70
J, me-" cried the other.
Which is the better to depend upor
;, luck or labor? Let us see.
n Luck is always waiting for somethln
y to turn up.
e Labor will turn up something.
Il Iuck lies ahed wishing