bus, but hundreds of post-captains, with transit- telescope, barometer and concentrated soup and pemmican ; no Demosthenes, no Chatham, but any number of clever parliamentary and forensic de- haters; no prophet or saint, but colleges of divin= ity ; no learned man, but learned societies, a cheap press, reading-rooms and book-clubs without num- ber. There was never such a miscellany of facts. The world extends itself like American trade. We conceive Greek or Roman life, life in the hliddle Ages, to be a simple and comprehensible affair ; but modern life to respect a multitude of things, which is distracting.

Goethe was the philosopher of this multiplicity ; hundred-handed, Argus-eyed, able and happy to cope with this rolling miscellany of facts and sci- ences, and by his own versatility to dispose of them with ease; a manly mind, unembarrassed by the variety of coats of convention with which life had got encrusted, easily able by his subtlety to pierce these and to draw his strength from nature, with which he lived in full communion. What is strange too, he lived in a small town, in a petty state, in a defeated state, and in a time when Ger- many played no such leading part in the world’s affairs as to swell the bosom of her sons with any metropolitan pride, such as might have cheered a French, or English, or once, a Roman or Attic