There would be something amusing in observing the operation of this habit of caution, if it were not too serious a misfortune. When Dr. Channing's work on Slavery came out, the following conversation passed between a lady of Boston and myself. She began it with—
"Have you seen Dr. Channing's book?"
"Yes. Have you?"
"O no. Do not you think it very ill-timed?"
"No; I think it well-timed; as it did not come out sooner."
"But is it not wrong to increase the public excitement at such a time?"
"That depends upon the nature of the excitement. But this book seems to have a tranquillising effect: as the exhibition of true principles generally has."
"But Dr. Channing is not a practical man. He is only a retired student. He has no real interest in the matter."
"No worldly interest; and this, and his seclusion, enable him to see more clearly than others, in a case where principles enlighten men, and practice seems only to blind them."