ral diffusion of knowledge in
the nineteenth century, it is a lamentable fact that some minds are so
obscured by ignorance, or so blinded by superstition, as to rely
with implicit confidence upon the validity of opinions which have no
foundation in nature, or no support by the deductions of reason. But
truth and error have always been at variance, and the audacity of the
contest has kept pace with the growing vigor of the contending parties.
Some straightforward, conscientious persons, whose intentions are
undoubtedly commendable, are so infatuated by the sophistical theories
of the spiritualist, or so tossed about on the waves of public opinion,
that they lose sight of truth and good sense, and, like the philosopher
who looked higher than was wise in his stargazing, tumble into a ditch.

In 1859 or 1860, Mr. Burroughs began to contribute to the columns of the
"Saturday Press," an organ of the literary bohemians in New York, edited
by Henry Clapp. These were fragmentary things of a philosophical cast,
and were grouped under the absurd title "Fragments from the Table of an
Intellectual Epicure," by "All Souls." There were about sixty of
these fragments. I have examined most of them; some are fanciful
and far-fetched; some are apt and felicitous; but all foreshadow the
independent thinker and observer, and show that this "Intellectual
Epicure" was feeding on strong meat and assimilating it.

I assume that it will interest the reader who knows Mr. Burroughs only
as the practiced writer of the past fifty years to see some of his first
sallies into literature, to trace the unlikeness to his present style,
and the resemblances here and there. Accordingly I subjoin some extracts
by "All Souls" from the time-stained pages of the New York "Saturday
Press" of 1859 and 1860:--

A principle of absolute truth, pointed with fact and feathered with
fancy, and shot from the bow-string of a master intellect, is one of the
most potent things under the sun. It sings like a bird of peace to those
who are not the object of its aim, but woe, woe to him who is the butt
of such terrible archery!

For a thing to appear heavy to us, it is necessary that we have heft
to balance against it; to appear strong, it is necessary that we have
strength; to appear great, it is necessary that we have an idea of
greatness. We must have a standard to measure by, and that standard must
be in ourselves. An ignorant peasant cannot know that Bacon is so