c to a child-like faith in
him, who lived and died for me and for all, I would feel that I had not
lived in vain.

APHORISMS.--NO. XV.

'Men,' saith my Lord Bacon, 'think to govern words by their own reason:
but it also happens that words throw back their force upon the
understanding;' and thus, we may justly add, often distort our thoughts,
and lead us to very erroneous conclusions.

This is apparently the case with the word _motive_, in speaking of human
volitions. A motive power in mechanics is one that produces motion; and
hence the application of the word to the occasion or reason of any
particular act of choice, with the all but inevitable fallacy of
confounding the idea of a mechanical force with that of an influence
upon the mind. That there is some analogy must be admitted; but that
there is such similarity as is often assumed, we are obliged to deny.
The almost total difference between a mechanical power and a thought or
desire--between a material and spiritual subject of operation--is too
apt to be left out of the account.

SKETCHES OF AMERICAN LIFE AND SCENERY.

VI.--TO SARANAC AND BACK.

Few indeed are the pleasures that can be compared with the keen
enjoyment of travel in a new and beautiful country, where every sense is
stimulated by the purest and most aromatic of atmospheres, and where
rocks, trees, rivers, lakes, and skies offer every possibility of
combination imaginable under the structural conditions of the region.
The life of the scout and the pioneer is a constant succession of
pleasant surprises and unanticipated adventure; every hilltop promises a
new picture, every dawn and sunset an additional novelty for that
gallery, longer than the Louvre, and fuller than the Vatican, of which
memory holds the key and is sole warden. Hardship and even danger are
enclosed in surroundings so beautiful, so fresh and invigorating, that
they seem only to add zest to the pursuit, to give dignity and
significance to an occupation which might perhaps otherwise be
stigmatized as mere selfish vagabondage. Oh, the freedom of the wild
woods! the rest to the soul of the shadowy forest and flower-strewn
turf! The wind may toss the locks, the sun brown the skin, and the
brambles tear the garments, but there are none to cavil, none to count
the gray hairs or the freckles, or see that said garments are of last
year's fashioning. If the eyes look kindly, the peering squirrels will
be content, and if t