of doctrinal formalism during the next two centuries. The spirit of the Reformation, however, was not dead among the Germans, but only sunk in a deep sleep overcome by the evil power of magic, like the Sleeping Beauty in the fairy-tale, or the mythic Brunhilde. The Siegfried, who aroused the sleeper and freed the prisoner, was again, as in Luther's time, the conscientiousness and sincerity of the German people. At the end of the seventeenth century, Phillip Spener, an Alsatian by birth, attempted to replace scholastic learning and barren discussion by active piety of heart and earnest discipline of life. This gave birth to Pietism, of which Moravianism was a counterpart. Both disregarded the theoretical side of religion in favor of practical piety, but while the Spenerians placed all weight upon the will, upon strength of conscience, and sanctity of life, the Moravians assigned all importance to the affectionate heart, to the bliss-giving emotion produced by the love of the Saviour, and the grateful affection felt in return, for Him and for the brethren. If the deep reverence felt by the early Germans for the "holy and mysterious' in woman be recalled, the conclusion will be justified that the effeminate piety of the Moravians and Pietists belongs to that class of phenomena in which the German national character shows itself in a peculiarly characteristic, though imperfect, light.

The supplement, as well as the counterpart to these phenomena, was Rationalism, which arose in Germany in the middle of the eighteenth century. Despite its opposition to ecclesiastical orthodoxy, it is a manifestation of that same German Spirit of Protestantism which gave birth to the Reformation. Just as the conscientious earnestness of the Reformation came to life again in Pietism, so in this awakening of the eighteenth century, there comes to the front once more the earnest striving of the thoughtful soul after truth, the right of individual investigation and examination.

German enlightenment finds its completion, and at the same time its dissolution, in Lessing and Kant. But as Kant taught the purpose and substance of the life of the individual, and of mankind in general, to be the struggle of the good against the bad principle, of reason against sensuousness, of duty against inclination, of the moral religion of reason against the worship of crystallized superstition, his view of life is genuinely German in sentiment and embodies essentially the same doctrine as was held by the primitive German Christians and the Germans of the Reformation.

E

THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE.
FRANK PUAUX, A FRENCH PROTESTANT.
Revue Chrétienne, Paris, November.

RNEST RENAN, by the strength of his work and the flexibility of his mind, by the grace of his thought and the beauty of his style, stood first among the writers of our time. He had a serenity of soul which made a profound impression on others, and his life was that of a sage. None of those who had the honor of being intimate with him could help being bewitched by his aspect, and the charm of his incomparable conversation. He loved science less for its object than for itself, and congratulated himself less on success in his researches than on the austere joy of the researches themselves. His labors were incessant, and he regarded no trouble too great to assure their perfection, but he did not feel it to be his duty to act as a guide for others. If they followed him he was not displeased, but he did not ask them to listen to him. M. Renan separated from Roman Catholicism without making any noise about it, carrying away from Saint Sulpice recollections of which he never spoke without emotion, but animated by a belief that Roman Catholic theology was in a state of irremediable ruin. He knew well the grandeur of its history, and often, on the seashore of Brittany, heard the sad knell of the bells of Ys rising from the depths of the sea of the past, proclaiming the humble charity and ardent faith of the first apostles of the Gauls. M. Renan, however, whose soul

reflected, with such exquisite beauty, the poetry of things, had no longer a vision of the Infinite. In place of the God of the altar, Whom he at first intended to serve, he deified science. It was his religion, one of his fervent admirers has said.

What we have to reproach M. Renan with is that he, with a light heart, diminished the seriousness of the problems of the religious life. It was reserved for him to put in doubt that sacred sadness from which the greatness of that life is born, and to play with questions which are the torment of deepthinking souls. We know what applause was given to those graceful dialogues in which the savant pleaded his cause before the Eternal. What exquisite good-nature! What delicate irony! No one could manifest more serene confidence! Nevertheless M. Renan ignored the pain he gave to those who are neither Pharisees nor pedants, but who, faithful to the tradition of Israel and listening to Christ, kneel before the majesty of the living God.

The example M. Renan set has been followed. Should we not imitate the master? To-day it is the fashion in France to talk about Christianity and the Gospel. Religious effusions have appeared in romances, to the great edification of those worldly people who are delighted to find such effusions in such a place, and it has even been suggested that they be given the freedom of the city at the theatre, where it has not yet been bestowed. His disciples speak of Christianity with very sweet words, like those who sit up with the dead, and, after the example of their leader, prepare those purple shrouds which are piously reserved for religions which are about to die.

The death of M. Renan enables us to measure the gravity of the religious situation in our country. He, whom the Church declared an arch-heretic,ireceived from the Nation supreme homage, and the doors of the Pantheon opened to admit his corpse. Doubtless protests have been, and will be, made, but the slight attention paid to them accentuates the defeat of Roman Catholic and Christian traditions in France. The Church is losing more and more the direction of minds; power will be henceforward, and apparently for a long time to come, in other hands. The descending march of this influence becomes more and more marked in our French society, where politics dominates religion, the Roman Catholics especially being occupied with ecclesiastica! diplomacy, after the fashion of their illustrious head, Leo XIII., of whom they like to say-a strange eulogy for one whom they call the Vicar of Jesus Christ-that he surpasses Bismarck. Hence our fears, not for religious truth, the destiny of which does not depend on the life of a people, but for our country, which separates itself more and more from that strength and elevating power which is in Jesus Christ, and which, for the men of our time, is naught but a noble and touching souvenir of a past which has disappeared forever.

It is impossible not to contrast this indifference of our statesmen in religious matters with the strong declaration of Gladstone: "All that I write, all that I think, all that I hope for, is founded on faith in the Divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, the only hope of our poor sinful humanity."

If we desire to find a certain origin for this decay of faith in France, we must go back to the persecutions of Louis XIV. M. Brunetière has just furnished a decisive proof of that origin in a forcibly written study on The Formation of the Idea of Progress in the 18th Century." I have thought it my duty to reproach this learned critic with the dangerous boldness of his opinions in matters of dogmatism, with an excessive admiration for the memory of Bossuet, with an animosity which seems unjust towards the adversaries of that prelate. I attach so much the more importance to a declaration which redounds to the honor of Protestantism, and which can be appealed to as an indisputable authority. Says M. Brunetière: 'Not to have perceived what force or moral virtue there is in Protestantism, to have sacrificed, if I may be allowed the expression, to the dream of an exterior unity, only apparent

and decorative, the most substantial of realities; not to have understood that whatever was undertaken against Protestantism would accrue to the profit of "deism," as Boyle observed, or of "libertinism "; these constitute the gravest reproach to the memory of Louis XIV. From Dunkirk to Bayonne and from Brest to Besançon, simply for the metaphysical satisfaction of hearing God praised in Latin only, Louis truly destroyed the nerve of French morality, and by driving away the Protestants, summoned Epicureanism to the aid of the monarchy."

THE APOSTLES' CREED-AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. PROFESSOR DR. F. KATTENBUSCH, UNIVERSITY OF GIESSEN.

THE

Christliche Welt, Leipzig, No. 42.

HE case of Pastor Schremff, of Würtemberg, who refused to continue the use of the Apostles' Creed in his church services, and was for this reason deposed from the Christian ministry, has made an inquiry into the origin and character of this Creed one of the burning questions of the day. This is all the more the case because the learned Professor Harnack, of Berlin, in answer to a petition of his students asking whether they should inaugurate a movement looking toward an abolition of the Creed in the ordination vow in the Evangelical Church of Prussia, has made such statements concerning the contents of the Creed that the entire conservative Church of Germany is up in arms against what it regards as a crusade against the venerable and historic Confession.

It is not such a simple matter to determine the original meaning and purport of each statement of the Creed. Modern versions of the Creed are translations based upon the Latin,, and these, again, have been taken from the Greek. Nor does the current version of the Creed harmonize throughout with the original Greek formula. There have been additions which have, however, not been made to the Greek form, but were added to the Latin. Between the time when the first Greek text was formulated and the time when the current version took shape in the Latin form there has been a long history of Christian ideas.

In our day and generation, the leading authority on this matter was the lately deceased Professor Dr. Karl Paul Caspari, of the University of Christiania. He was born a German Jew in 1814, but early became a convert to Christianity, and to his end was a strict Confessional Lutheran. Between thirty and forty years of his life were devoted with all his energies to the study of the origin and historical development of the venerable Symbol of the Church, and what is known on this subject is largely due to his researches.

In the old Church, before infant baptism had generally become the rule, it was the custom to teach the candidate shortly before his baptism a brief confession of faith, which was to embrace the leading features of his faith as he understood it. The communication, or "Transmission of the Symbol," as it was termed, was a most solemn act; it was the final initiation into the essence of Christianity and an entrance into the congregation. The candidates had to learn this formula by heart. At their baptism they were "asked" concerning their faith. They then pronounced their "Confession," and it seems while they were standing in the water. The ceremony of baptism itself took place by being immersed three times; between these times the candidate was asked, first, whether he believed in the Father; then in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, etc. In uttering the words "I believe," he gave expression piecemeal to his faith in the formula of the Symbol which had been given to him. Nowhere else was greater care taken in this respect than in Rome. Here there was in vogue from very ancient times, not only the solemn act of a "Transmission" of the Symbol, but also a special act of his "Return" of the Symbol by the candidate. Each one was compelled before the assembled congregation, from a raised platform, to repeat in a loud voice this formula. Only then, when he had been diligently "interro

gated," was he admitted to baptism. Baptism was not only a congregational act, but also a congregational festival, and took place in the midst of large assemblies only on stated days, e.g., in the Western Church only early on Easter or Pentecost. In this way the Symbol always remained a living reality in the consciousness of the congregation. When infant baptism became the general custom (probably since the fifth century), the so-called "Baptismal Times" were still generally adhered to, the forms, too, of the Symbol-Transmission, etc., were retained, with the one difference, that the Priest or the Sponsor took the place of the child. In the beginning of the Middle Ages, the "Transmission " of the Symbol had disappeared.

The Formula which was imparted to the candidate for baptism was not to be written down. It was transmitted only orally. It was not to be uttered in the presence of unbelievers ; only Christians should know it. The Formula was called “Symbol," because it was a sign (symbolum), by which Christians could be recognized. Christians should recognize themselves and others by the possession of this Formula, and settle their doctrinal disagreements on the basis of this confession.

In the congregation at Rome, that Formula originated on which our Apostles' Creed is based. It can be proved historically that this congregation employed the Greek language in its services. down to the end of the second century. In this language this Symbol was doubtlessly formulated between 100 and 120 A.D. The old Roman Symbol had twelve articles, probably formulated in this shape after the number of the Apostles, and the Symbol was then regarded as the sum of Apostolic doctrine. In the Middle Ages, the favorite name for the creed was "The Twelve Articles.' A comparison of the original Roman form and the present is exceedingly interersting. We give it here:

A Latin translation of the Greek original was soon adopted by the Church at Rome, and received general recognition in the Latin churches. As far as Rome's influence extended the "old Roman" Symbol was generally accepted in the Occident about 200 A.D. But in spreading this, additions were made according to local needs. Certain synods at times discussed this question. Thus the expression "eternal life" was, in all probability, added by the African Church. Hence arose different "types" of the Creed. Our present form can be traced back to the eighth century, although it may have been older. Exactly where it originated is uncertain. The most important fact, however, is that this particular formula has no special value over others, nor did it have any authority over others of its time. It is only one form out of many, and the current conception that it represents the ripest result of a chain of Christian thought and development, is unhistoric. In the Oriental Church, the Apostles' Creed was never officially accepted. In 1438, the Greeks at the Council of Florence declared that they did not recognize this Creed. In the East, there was no accepted Creed until the end of the fourth century, and then the first was the Nicene-Constantinopolitan.

WH

This was the reply of an Aleut when reproached for marrying his daughter. It is characteristic alike of his views of marriage and his intimate relations with the seal.

The Aleut has a happy, self-sufficient soul, and his body, in spite of occasional hard times, is muscular and more than passing plump. He calls himself an Inoit-that is, man; and by that he means the man. Nor is he singular in this, for every savage race considers itself the highest and best, the elect of mankind. Those that are civilized are not above an identical. vanity. But the Inoit has a special revelation on the matter, and will tell you that although his God (a Greenlander who bears the name of Kellak) made the white man and woman first, the lack of experience caused inevitable mistakes. The white man, in fact, was a failure. But in a subsequent attempt the yellow Inoit-the man par excellence—was created. So to him was given the seal.

Those people, whom we have called Esquimaux Aleuts, Thlinkets, Koloshes, Tchoutches, and names even more evil, are all Inoits. They are all members of the most primitive family among the nations, and although it is possible tha their genealogies would diverge could we follow them back into the centuries long gone, there is an influence that has tended to mould them more and more in one type. That influence is climate. In all the regions where the Inoits dwell, the conditions of life imposed by climate are similar. There is the same long, dark winter; the same short summer; the same fish for food; the same animals for fur. In all this region the food is similar-similarly poor. Moreover, it is often extremely scarce, and to these facts they owe in some degree their rearI think that ward position in the march of civilization. civilization increases in ratio to the quality, at least, of food. The human race, says Réclus, is a question of provisions.

The natives of the Seal Islands of Bering Sea are Aleuts, of the same stock as those who inhabit the great semicircular series of ocean stepping-stones which make up the Aleutian chain. They are brothers to the Alaskans and first cousins to the Kamschatkans; and, although the Aleuts of the Seal Islands bid fair to become so conventional and civilized that in a few years the customs which still linger among them, will be as a legend to the children, and to the incredulous a myth, their kinsmen on the larger islands are still unsophisticated, and repay the attention of the curious.

Life is

I am convinced that the little Aleut is very hardy, or surely he would die in the course of his up-bringing. Let me give an instance. If he but lift his voice to weep-and we all know what teething means-he is promptly ducked in cold water, so cold indeed that the ice is often broken to enable his parents to carry out the remedy prescribed of custom. made up of parallels, and a parallel to this is the practice of the Bedaween, who roll their infants in the burning sand at height of noon, that they may become hardy sons of the desert! But the Aleuts have no hygienic appreciations. They do not intend that the infant mortality shall be low. And they have a very practical reason-there is no food for a large population. Indeed, until quite lately infanticide was rife among them.

Among the Aleuts the social duty of visiting has its drawbacks. Several families live together in the Kachims, and during one's visit they lie all around in every conceivable posture, jolly and genial, naked and not ashamed.

But the

fumes of the blubber-oil lamps and stoves, the stores of raw meat, and the many naked bodies well smeared with grease and scented with primitive unguents, combine to make an atmosphere difficult to tolerate and not easy to describe. Yet, if you will, you may enjoy the warmest hospitality, and have heaped upon you the most assiduous attentions. Some of

these the wise man does well to decline. In the summer season the Inoit will move out of the stifling Kachim, and stretch his legs in his barrabkie or barrabore, which may be a tent, a wattle-shed, or even a mere matter of four poles and a flimsy roof. For nasal reasons I prefer the last.

I have no invincible objection to a stew of snakes, and can understand Frank Buckland finding flavor in a rat. But, believe me, the menu of the Aleuts is something very special, and a prentice hand at primitive fare would do well to break himself in on weevils and degenerate pieces of salt pork on his voyage to Aleutia.

Morally, the Inoit is not bloodthirsty. He delights in simple rejoicings, and will play you a game of chess with walrus ivory pieces a duck for a pawn, and a penquin for a king-with greatest good humor. Even when squabbles arise, the argument is carried on in poetry to the accompaniment of dancing; and one would feel inclined to prefer the Aleut angry to the Aleut amiable, did not one know that he also dances when festive and when religious-which, by the by, is not surprising. Among all primitive people dancing is the highest form of expression. Even David danced before the Lord. Dancing affects these yellow Inoits of the frozen north just as it affects the black Soudanese or the copper-colored Makololo.

W

KOREA.

Korean Repository, Seoul, Vol. I., No. 9.

E have here a consolidated, homogeneous nation, speaking the same language, having the same religion, divided into no clans hostile to each other, occupying a country favored as to climate and exceedingly rich and productive in agricultural and food products, with 100,000 square miles of territory and 16,000,000 of people.

It is the habit, I may say fashion, with foreigners here to regard and treat this country in every respect as among the weakest, and entitled to but little, indeed the scantiest, consideration. If mere territory were the chief factor, that tight little island, Great Britain, with only 89,643 square miles, would be of little consequence compared with Brazil possessing 3,287,964. If population, alone, is to be taken into consideration, Germany, France, or the United States would count for little against the teeming millions of China. Korea has a larger area than Great Britain; she has nine times more territory than Belgium; about eight times more than the Netherlands; more than six times that of Denmark or Switzerland; five times that of Greece; three times that of Portugal, and perhaps as much as Italy.

Korea has a population eight times more than Denmark or Greece; five times more than Switzerland; over three times that of Portugal; and nearly three times that of Belgium. In the American Hemisphere there is no nation except the United States which exceeds her in population; of the others, the only two approaching are Brazil, the largest and most populous nation in South America, which has 12,333,000 inhabitants, and Mexico, having 10,400,000.

When the English colonies in America revolted against England their combined population was less than 3,000,000that is to say, not a fifth of the population of Korea; and in more modern times, we may note the successful wars which Chili has recently waged; that within the last year she seemed ready to cross swords with the United States and that in fact great apprehension was felt in that country that she would catch it unprepared, and be able to bombard and levy tribute on its western ports, and yet this doughty and peppery little nation of Chili has, including Indians, only a population of some 2,600,000, or about one-sixth the population of this country.

It would be manifestly improper for me to enter into a discussion concerning the governmental affairs of Korea; but I venture to say, that the most persistent and pronounced pessimists I have met, admit that His Majesty, the King, is humane, just, and enlightened, earnestly desirous of promoting the welfare of his Nation, and devoting all his time, energy, and attention, most industriously and conscientiously, to the accomplishment of this laudable object; indeed about the only criticism I have heard is the unusual, and under all the surroundings the very complimentary one that he gives too much time and attention to the details of the vast business which, as absolute ruler, he controls.

Books.

DON ORSINO. By F. Marion Crawford. New York: Macmillan & Co. 1892.

[The scene of the novel is laid in Rome; the Saracinesca family and their peers are again among the chief actors; but it is no longer the old Rome of the Papacy, depicted in Saint Ilario. Don Orsino Saracinesca, the hero of the story, differs in many essentials from the Roman noble of the old school. He stands as the type of a class in a transition period, in which. moulded by the influence of inherited traditions, he is, nevertheless, stirred by the impulse to adapt himself to the conditions of a new environment from which his elders stand aloof. Don Orsino is worthy without displaying nobility of character, estimable without heroism, generous, but hardly magnanimous ;-man of his age, but of an age which, if troublous, is not heroic. With his many estimable qualities he is vain of his own powers, and the author delights in subjecting him to the severest tests, apparently only to exhibit him as a helpless puppet, the sport of circumstances which he is powerless to surmount or thrust aside. He has all the pride of his order, and the capacity of smiling or looking calm while the fox preys on his vitals, but, then, he is not keenly sensitive to suffering; he has not the high, nervous organization characteristic of true greatness. But the author must be content to get little credit for the care he has exhibited in his portrayal of a type; novel-readers for the most part are more interested in society than in sociology, in the novel as a work of art than as the solution of a problem in psychology; and "Don Orsino" is sufficiently fascinating as a love-story and a work of art to render the average novel-reader indifferent to its claims to rank as a study in sociology.

The heroine of the story, Donna Maria Consuelo D'Aranjuez D'Arragona, is a noble creation. There is a mystery about her which is maintained until the end, when Don Orsino wakes at length, too late, to the full realization of all he had lost in losing her, and to torment himself with the now useless questions: "Could he have ordered things otherwise had he known the whole truth?" "Had he not done all that was in his power?" We can present only a meagre outline of the story, which, it need scarcely be said, can convey little idea of the real charm of the book.]

DON ORSINO, dropping into Anastase Gouachi's study to have

his portrait painted for presentation to his mother, to celebrate his attaining his twenty-first birthday, met and became very much interested in Donna Consuelo D'Aranjuez, a woman young and, if not quite handsome, at least of a very striking personality. She had come from Paris to have her portrait painted by Gouachi, and was without acquaintance or introduction in Rome.

While Orsino was meditating asking his mother to take her up, a chance meeting of the fair stranger with Donna Tullia del Ferice, at the Papal function of the Jubilee, led to her entering the society of the "Grays,” the Roman neutral party with which Orsino's family had no associations. Moreover, Orsino's father had wounded Del Ferice in a duel some twenty-five years before, and there was no love lost between the families.

Orsino, on one of his early calls on Donna D'Aranjuez met Del Ferice, found him less offensive than he had expected, listened with interest to his stories of successful enterprise, and determined to seek his advice about launching into the whirlpool of active life for himself. Del Ferice encouraged him, and Orsino, after a successful run of luck at the card-table, which brought him thirty thousand francs, was put in the way of beginning with an architect for a partner. The business was very simple; they bought an unfinished building; the bank (Del Ferice's) furnished money as required for its completion. If sold at a profit, the contractors pocketed something; if it could not be sold at a profit, the bank took it, and cried quits, or forced the builder into bankruptcy. What was thirty thousand francs to the Saracinesca?

Still, before embarking, Orsino went to his relative, San Giacinto, for advice and was told by the giant that he had already sold out everything in preparation for the coming crash which he foresaw. But Orsino had already made up his mind.

Orsino went often to Consuelo's apartments, and although she laughed at his pretty speeches and professions of devotion she certainly showed herself desirous of winning his love. Once, when she asked Orsino's forgiveness for teasing him, he forgot himself, and stooped and clasped her in his arms. Consuelo uttered a short sharp cry, more of surprise perhaps than of horror, and her duenna at once made her appearance, and although Orsino saw her the next day, and was reproached and assured of forgiveness, the old pleasant intimacy was broken. Orsino called two or three times and was denied admittance; he then proudly decided not to call again. Soon afterwards she left Rome, and Orsino went about his work and was astonished to find how little he really missed her.

It was generally understood among Consuelo's acquaintances that she had a special aversion to Spicca, the old duellist, and avoided meeting him if possible, and Orsino was not a little surprised when

some months later, when dining at the restaurant with Spicca, the old gentleman took occasion to warn him that his vengeance would overtake any one who should harm Donna D'Aranjuez. Orsino asked if she was one whom a man of his family could marry, and the old man replied emphatically that she was one whom any man might marry. She was a widow, but in name only, his blade had prevented her becoming the victim of a worthless although fairly wealthy adven

turer.

The following September Donna D'Aranjuez returned to Rome, intending to keep house and receive. Orsino heard of her arrival from Spicca, called, was received kindly, and his proferred services courteously availed of. He had been giving close attention to business, and his character had acquired ballast, stability. Consuelo exercised her old charm over him, and gradually he came to love her with all the force of his nature. She had loved him from the first in spite of herself, but had realized then that his boyish fancy was no fair return for her womanly devotion, but now she was grateful for his love although she still realized that he did not love her as she loved him. They became inseparable and discoursed of everything in heaven and earth, but however the subject started it always came back to love. The portentous moment came. A fierce storm raged without, her hand was lying on the marble ledge. Orsino laid his own upon it, and both trembled a little. She understood more than any word could have told her.

For how long?" she asked.

"For all our lives now, and for all our life hereafter."

But Maria Consuelo gave only short space to the delights of loving and being loved. She was conscious of insuperable obstacles to a union, and told Orsino they must part. To his demand for reasons, she urged, first, that she married D'Aranjuez after Spicca had mortally wounded him to prevent it, and had solemnly vowed eternal fidelity to his memory; secondly, she was older than Orsino—a year; thirdly, that Spicca was her father, but she did not know who was her mother. Orsino implored and raved, but she remained firm and dismissed him. As he left the hotel, Maria Consuelo's duenna told her venomously that she should never marry him, and handed her papers, setting forth that she was the duenna's natural daughter by Spicca, legitimatized by a tardy marriage. Maria Consuelo, horrified more for Orsino's sake than her own, resolved to leave Rome that night. Orsino ascertained her intention, summoned her, and declared his resolve to follow her wherever she went. She appealed to his honor not to throw discredit on her name. Orsino then went to Spicca who admitted that in spite of what he had previously said there were obstacles, but that Maria could marry if she pleased. Orsino rose with the avowed intention of following her, but the old man, placing himself before the door, declared that Orsino should kill him before he would let him pass without a promise not to follow.

A few weeks later Maria Consuelo wrote Spicca a letter full of bitter upbraidings for all the evil he had done her, and wrote also to Orsino, telling him what she had learnt of her birth, verified by the registry and subsequent legitimization. Orsino read, and bore the shock of parting better than he had supposed possible.

He finished his building before the crash, sold it at a good profit, while other buildings could find no purchasers, and then embarked with his partner in fresh contracts, involving many hundred thousand francs. Before these were finished the crash came, but Del Ferice continued to honor the firm's drafts to completion, and then offered to take the buildings and the profits on the first house, and cry quits, conditional on Orsino's contracting to engage in far more extensive operations on the same terms-that is, to finish buildings begun by firms since bankrupt. Orsino accepted rather than ask his father to settle up for him, and now his liabilities might amount to millions.

After awhile he reopened correspondence with Maria Consuelo, and, craving sympathy, told her about his position. She was then traveling in Egypt with a Royal Highness, an old lady who had taken interest in her as a child, and loved her, as she said, for her resemblance to her own lost daughter. She showed great interest in Orsino's affairs, and extracted every detail from him. Der Ferice was by this time discussing the contracts which he would place in Orsino's hands on completion of his present ones. They would involve more risks than the Saracinesca's immense wealth would cover.

When the day of settlement came, Del Ferice told him to his surprise that if he had no ambition he could now withdraw, and the bank would cry quits with his firm. The papers were duly signed, and

Orsino breathed freely again. The next mail brought him a letter from Maria Consuelo telling of her devoted love to hfm, to be forgotten to-morrow when she would be the bride of Del Ferice. She had sold herself to save the man she loved. She wrote also to Spicca telling him he had now done his worst..

Last scene of all, the royal princess died confessing to Maria, that she was her own orphan grandchild. The marriage between her parents, both of royal blood, had been informal, it was thought desirous to keep her birth secret, as the relations between her parents' respective countries were strained. For love of her, Spicca had suggested the plan which was acted on. Spicca's dying bed was lightened by Maria's tender acknowledgement of his devotion to her family.

By

ABRAHAM LINCOLN; the True Story of a Great Life. William H. Herndon and Jesse W. Weik. With an Introduction by Horace White. 12mo, 2 vols., pp. 331, 348. New York: D. Appleton and Company. 1892.

[These well-made volumes are, if we mistake not, the third edition of Herndon's "Lincoln." Besides the Introduction, Mr. White contributes to the work the fourth chapter of the second volume, on the Lincoln-Douglas campaign of 1858, this chapter having appeared in the second edition. Mr. Herndon prided himself on having written about Lincoln truthfully and courageously. Much emphasis is laid on two facts relating to the subject of the biography. One of these is that the mother of President Lincoln was the bastard daughter of a woman named Lucy Hanks and a small Virginia farmer or planter. The other fact is that Mr. Lincoln married Mary Todd much against his own wishes and principally as a matter of conscience. Naturally Mr. Lincoln, with his supreme tact, especially after he became prominent in the world, was shy of even alluding to either of these unfortunate circumstances. Whether they deserve the emphasis put on them by Herndon, every reader will judge for himself. In the large collection of printed matter relating to Lincoln, Herndon's biography is likely to hold permanently a valued place, notwithstanding his defects as a biographer, these defects being mainly that he for many years constantly saw Lincoln too nearly to get a good perspective view of him, and that Herndon was deficient in general cultivation and literary skill. Well put by Mr. White are two important points relating to Mr. Lincoln.]

AT

T the time when Mr. Lincoln was unconsciously preparing himself to be the nation's leader in a great crisis, the only means of gaining public attention was by public speech. The press did nor exist for him, or for the people among whom he lived. The ambitious young men of the day must make their mark by oratory, or not at all. There was no division of labor between the speaker and the cditor. If a man was to gain any popularity, he must gain it by talking into the faces of the people. He must have a ready tongue and must be prepared to meet all comers and to accept all challenges. Stump-speaking, wrestling, story-telling, and horse-racing were the only amusements of the people. In the first three of these Lincoln excelled. He grew up in this atmosphere, as did all his rivals. It was a school to develop all the debating powers that the community possessed, and to bring them to a high degree of perfection. Politics was not necessary to success, but plainness of diction was. The successful speaker was he who could make himself best understood by the common people, and in turn could best understand them.

Among the earliest accounts that we get of Mr. Lincoln we find him talking to other boys from some kind of a platform. He had a natural gift, and he exercised it as opportunity came to him. When he arrived at man's estate, these opportunities came as often as could be desired. Other young men gifted in this same way were growing up around him. Douglas, Baker, Trumbull, Hardin, Browning, Yates, Archibald Williams, and others, were among them. All these had the same kind of training for public preferment that Lincoln had; some of them had more book-learning, but not much more. We have his own word for it that he was as ambitious of such preferment as was Douglas; and this was putting it in the superlative degree.

The popular conception of Mr. Lincoln as one not seeking public honors, but not avoiding public duties, is a post-bellum growth, very wide of the mark. He was entirely human in this regard, but his desire for political preferment was hedged about by a sense of obligation to the truth which nothing could shake. This fidelity to truth was ingrained and unchangeable. In all the speeches I ever heard him make-and they were mauy-he never even insinuated an untruth, nor did he ever fail, when stating his opponent's position to state it fully and fairly. He often stated his opponent's position better than his opponent did or could. To say what was false, or even to leave his hearers under a wrong impression, was impossible for him. Within this high enclosure he was as ambitious of earthly honors as any man of his time.

Furthermore, he was an adept at log-rolling or at any political game that did not involve falsity. I was Secretary of the Republican State Committee of Illinois during some years when he was in active campaign work. He was often present at meetings of the committee,

although not a member, and took part in the committee work. His judgment was very much deferred to in such matters. He was one of the shrewdest politicians of the State. Nobody had had more experience in that way, nobody knew better than he what was passing in the minds of the people. Nobody knew better how to turn things to advantage politically, and nobody was readier to take such advantage, provided it did not involve dishonorable means. He could not cheat people out of their votes any more than out of their money.

The Abraham Lincoln that some people have pictured to themselves, sitting in his dingy law office, working over his cases till the voice of duty roused him, never existed. If this had been his type, he would never have been called at all. It was precisely because he was up and stirring, and in hot, incessant competition with his fellows for earthly honors, that the public eye became fixed upon him and the public ear attuned to his words. Fortunate was it for all of us that he was no shrinking patriot, that he was moved as other men are moved, so that his fellows might take heed of him and know him as one of themselves, and as fit to be their leader in a crisis.

UNTO THE UTTERMOST. By James M. Campbell. New York: Fords, Howard, & Hulbert.

[This is a series of eighteen short religious essays, the first of which is typical of the whole, and gives its title to the volume. The general purpose of the work is to combat the view that man may sink below the possibility of redemption by vicious heredity, and to assert the universality of the Divine purpose of Redemp. tion. We present a sketch of the author's views on the character and influence of the conditions of man's environment.]

NEVER,

EVER, perhaps, was more weight given than at present to the influence of man's earthly environment upon the shaping of his life and destiny. An ample share of credit is freely accorded to ancestry, physical constitution, climate, education, social position, companionship, home-training, and all the outward conditions and surroundings of life, for the power which they exert in the moulding of character. Indeed, the danger lies in making the earthly environment all in all, so that given the conditions, the product is inevitable. The character of man is thus predestined with the certainity of absolute fate. The doctrine of unconditioned predestination simply shifts ground. Driven from the Divine Will, it takes up its place in the outward environment which the Divine Being has thrown around his creature, man. In either case the result is the same; man is left in the iron grip of a power which he is helpless to resist-a power by which his whole life and destiny are absolutely determined.

An important factor has often been entirely lost sight of in computing the sum total of forces which go to the making up of character, viz., the divine environment-the environment of the human soul by the living God. This higher environment qualifies and balances the lower, and just because it is higher, has proportionately more to do in giving form to character and direction to destiny.

The sense of contact with the divine, the impact of the divine upon the human, is made possible because of oneness of relationship and nature. When the divine within mar calls to the divine without him, what is it but the child calling to the Father? And when the divine without him calls to the divine within him, what is it but the Father calling to his child.

Between man and his divine environment there is the same wondrous correlation, the same wise adjustment, that there is between man and his earthly environment. The eye and light, the ear and sound, are not more manifestly correlated to each other than are man and God. The unborn feeling of dependence from which it is impossible for man to free himself, implies the existence of something objective upon which man can stay himself, something upon which in his conscious weakness he can securely lean. The principle of dualism which gives to every appetite appropriate objects of gratification; to every mental faculty appropriate external objects upon which to exercise itself, gives to the religious feeling its appropriate satisfaction and support. Objective supply is correlated to subjective want. Apart from Me" says Christ "ye can do nothing." Alas for him who will not go out of himself to Christ for power to overcome the evils of his earthly environment, but withdraws within himself, refusing in his pride and self-sufficiency to avail himself of the inspiring, purifying, and ennobling influences which have been thrown around him, and made available for his redemption. But happy the man who can say with Jacob Boehme: "The element of the bird is the air; the element of the fish is the water, the element of the salamander is the fire, and the heart of God is my element." Man was made for God as the ship is made for the sea, and when he is separated from God-like a stranded ship lying high and dry upon the beach, rotting in the sun-he is out of his native element. Abiding in God he not only lives, but he

moves.