PS 1^41 I5l IN THE SCHOOLS THER ESSAYS P/ . ^^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Chap CopynglitVo Shelt.R4-l I 5 F UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ¥ m PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS, ^ m BY W. L. C. HUNNICUTT, D.D. Fii/y to express a worlhy tlioui^lit is to j^ivi- it winffs and s,in{ it forth, preassurt'd of welcome and appreciation in ex'cry mind. Nashvillk, Tp:xn.: Publishing House M. E. Church, South. Barbkk & Smith, Agents. 1898. p 1 4-//^" r Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1898, By W. L. C. Httnnicutt, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 2no COPY, 1898. TWO COPIES RECFIVFO. \\ - PREFACE. In offering this book to the reading })ii])lic the au- thor hopes to help some, especially the young, to better thinking and wiser action in connection with the sul)- jects herein discussed. He does not claim to be a poet, but ventures to in- tersperse tlie essays with verses with a view to vary- ing (he hoi)es not unpleasantly) the contents of the book. He asks for the thoughts herein presented only that consideration which an earnest in<|uirer' after truth should expect from those actuated by the same motive. Believing that these essays will at least provoke, if they do not impart, some valuable thoughts on their several themes, the author sends them forth to the kindly reader. W. L. C. U. Glostor, .Miss., November 17, 18!i7. CONTENTS. rA(5E Pkize-Figiiting in the Schools 7 IVjem: Fill Your Own PUuv, or Moral;^ in liliyiiie. 35 Freedom, Himan and 1 )i\ ink 37 Poem: The Kill <>2 Mrs. Susannah Wesi.ky ()5 Poems: I Wonder What Were ChiMron >hide for. 103 Children In\ ited 104 Appeal to C'liildn-n 105 The Study of the New Testament in (tkeek lOG Poems: The Soul's Prayer 122 We Miss Our Father Everywhere 123 Noise as a Bkain-Developer 125 Poems: The Weather and 1 137 Satire on Unhelief 130 The Former Days and Thi-xe 142 Poem: If We Knew Fach Other lietter 170 Money 181 Poem: Autumn 204 PEIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. If a gladiatorial show, after the ancient Eoman style, were proposed in a Christian nation at the present day, the public taste would be offended and the public conscience shocked. Were a Christian community in- vited to attend a walking-match, a pugilistic combat, or a bull-fight, the majority would turn indignantly away from such cruel and debasing pastimes. Yet, while we scorn the grosser forms of vice, we may be deceived by its more refined displays. Are we not con- stantly witnessing in the daily conduct of the schools, in England and in America, espe- cially at the great exhibitions and commence- ments, the bloodless slaughter of thousands of unoffending spirits, in a manner scarcely more excusable than was the butchery of men and beasts to make a Roman holiday? Cruel- ties are inflicted not upon beasts, but upon the tender feelings of youths and little chil- 8 . PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. dren. The principles and methods by wliich a few are taught in all the schools to rejoice in triumphing over their companions will, upon examination, be found to harmonize rather with the practise of heathen and ruf- fians than with the spirit of Christian civiliza- tion. On the occasion of the installation of Dean Stanley, a few years since, as Chancellor of St. Andrews University, in England, that dis- tinguished Churchman and popular divine quoted as embodying the spirit of his remarks at that important hour the time-honored motto of the university, which is, when trans- lated, " To aim at highest honors and surpass my comrades all." This motto is here intro- duced because it so aptly expresses the pre- dominant sentiment of all the schools. It im- plies, when analyzed, that honor is the chief object of, at least, all scholastic endeavor, and that the best method of obtaining it, as well as the proper criterion of deserving it, is the surpassing of others. Are the young to be taught that honor is TRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 9 the essential good, the ambrosia of the soul, the strength and delight of its highest life? Is it the divinely appointed solace of unsatis- fied spirits? If honor signify simply the love and esteem of our fellow men, then may it be an object of innocent desire; but what means the word "highest," with which it is here as- sociated? Do not "highest honors" for one imply lower and lowest for all others? AVhen- ever higher things for some necessitate and depend upon lower things for others, the higher should be foregone. We may not make a pleasure of others' woes. That the essence of this motto is not misjudged to con- sist in a desire to exalt self in preference to others is shown by its latter half, which de- clares the aim to be "to surpass my com- rades all." But why should one desire to surpass another? Is there essential good in excelling another? Can a generous spirit re- joice in the mortification or defeat of its fel- low? Is one the better for making another appear worse than himself? If it be replied that the object is not to distress another by 10 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. defeat, but to promote personal merit, which may be estimated by comparison, the answer is ready. First, that our fellow-men have never been declared by any competent au- thority to be criteritms of excellence in us. The great apostle Paul thought those "meas- uring themselves by themselves, and compar- ing themselves among themselves, are not wise." Secondly, the very pith of the senti- ment seems to be in the joy which one is to experience in excelling others. The spirit of this motto is not to be distinguished from that which exults in victory on the field of battle, and most exults when most of treasure is captured and most of life destroyed; and being thus engendered and fostered in the young, has done more to fill the world with envious rivalries, cruel hates, and deadly strifes than perhaps any other unrecognized child of Satan. Can he who loves his neigh- bor as himself wilfully defeat him in a con- test, and then rejoice more at his own success than he grieves for his neighbor's defeat? Yet, almost universally in the schools, the PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 11 surpassing of others is made the chief evi- dence of merit and the sole ground of reward. It begins with the "turning down" and "standing head" of the infant class, and closes with the gold medal or the first honor at the end of the scholastic career. If those thus taught and accustomed to derive happi- ness from the misfortunes or the faults of others ever learn the charity and the self- sacrificing devotion to the good of others which characterize a noble nature, they mast do so in spite of these teachings of their youth. Ill support of these views let us examine the most popular method of inciting to dil- igence and promoting scholarship in the schools. That method is, almost everywhere, a system of what may be termed exclusive prizes. A system of prizes is exclusive when the number of prizes is less than the number of competitors. In every such case some are mathematically doomed to failure. Only so many of the whole number can obtain a prize, and success depends solely upon excel- 12 PEIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. ling others. The result is, not that one suc- ceeds and others fail, which might be the case were a prize in reach of all, but, one suc- ceeds beat use others fail. To obtain the prize, one need not be worthy or faithful, but sim- ply superior to others. Superiority alone takes the prize. But is superiority ever a proper criterion of merit, or a just ground of reward, save where it is attained by more faithful endeavors? Consider the case where three prizes are offered to a hundred students. All may strive, but ninety-seven must be disappointeil, How shall we balance the rejoicing of the few against the disappointment of the many? Yet this is the inevitable result of an unnec- essary device which engenders and rewards a selfish ambition. If the object be to promote general diligence in study, this plan must signally fail; since perhaps a majority would deliberately relax their efforts, and but few make any positive exertion to obtain a prize where the chances are ninety-seven to three against them, and where success, with at least PBIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 13 seven out of ten, would be a moral impossi- bility. The effect of this plan upon many is the reverse of that which is intended, lead- ing them to study less, in order to avoid the mortification of apparent defeat in a contest thus unfairly thrust upon them. If it be intended only to promote excellence and reward high merit in a few, then may the wisdom of the end, as well as the justice of the means, be seriously questioned. Is it wise or just to aim at the high development of a few tlirough the neglect or detriment of the many? Are not higher attainments for all rather to be desired than the highest culture for a few? If learning, like money, shows a natural tend- ency to accumulate as the possession of the few, shall a system of education, professedly designed for all, be operated so as chietly to benefit thn more intellectual? Those who are aptest to make high attainments need least stimulant to exertion. The dull boy must strive, if he strive at all, against inevitable fate. Any plan which rewards only the high- est excellence must forever fail to reach the 14 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. mediocre multitude who most need to be aroused to exertion. If it be said that the ap- proval of friends and the consciousness of mental improvement are sufficient for the many, while additional premiums are given to the few who excel, it may be answered that the supposition that the few who gain the prizes are really any more worthy of reward than others is often wholly without founda- tion. Indeed, the system of prizes is perhaps more at fault in its moral equities than in its prac- tical results. Any system which rewards mere excellence, without regard to the circumstan- ces under which it is attained, must be lacking in moral propriety. Naturally the prizes will go to those of superior native intellect, or to those having enjoyed other advantages which imply no merit in the possessor. Ancestry for generations back, conversations heard or questions asked around the family fireside in childhood, a good teacher in early life, a dozen- or a hundred incalculable influences, may com- bine to decide who shall take the prize on a nilZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 35 great commencement day. Yet none of these are personal merits of the student. As well re- ward the boy whose father is richest, or whose mother is prettiest, as to assign premiums to those only who know most. Nothing can be a just ground of reward or punishment except voluntary conduct. Now, if the relative intel- lectual capacities and attainments of the sev- eral contestants could be ascertained, and due allowance could be made for all natural ine- qualities and circumstantial advantages, at the outset; and if at the end it could be seen just how much advancement each had made, then some approach toward justice in the assign- ment of rewards might be attained. Other- wise, the crowning of the highest can not be more just when intellectual attainment is made the standard of judgment than if physical height was made the criterion of merit. He who begins witli two talents and ends witli four is more meritorious than he who begins with five and ends with eight; yet according to the system which judges solely by final results, the latter would carry off the palm. All lauat 16 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. admit that, unless the competitors are equal at the outset, no just estimate of exertion or prog- ress can be made by applying a common stand- ard at the end of the contest. One of supe- rior mind may with little exertion outstrip an- otlier of inferior powers, though he exert them to the utmost. Are the bestowments of heav- en and the gifts of fortune to be made the grounds of disparaging comparisons and odi- ous discriminations among those who should be taught to love as brethren? Besides all this, the offering of prizes, which a number are led to desire, and often expect, but which only a few can obtain, leads not only to disappointment to many, but to a suspicion of unfairness or fraud on the part of the pro- poser of the prizes or of the judges of the contest. Who ever heard of a distribution of honors or prizes which gave satisfaction to the students or to their friends? Those who strive for the prizes can not be made to understand why honest toil should not be crowned with its merited and expected reward. Nor should they be satisfied; for none should ever be led to d.e-. PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 17 sire, much less to expect, that which they can not obtain. This whole plan of measuring stu- dents by their fellows is erroneous and harm- ful in high degree. It has fostered discontent, jealousy, envy, and even malicious hatred among the young, who have, to their sorrow, found these evil passions growing stronger in later years. While it has highly honored and sometimes overstimulated a few, it has morti- fied the spirits and weakened the energies of thousands who most needed quickening and encouragement. Often the body of the stu- dents seem chiefly used ms foils to set ofi" the shining qunlities of a few whom nature or ac- cident has made the smartest scholars in school. But to use the mediocre multitude only as stepping-stones to honor for a few bril- liant intellects must ever be as unfortunate in result as it is unjust in principle. This subject is of sufficient pi actical and eth- ical importance to justify some inquiry as to the opinions of the ancients concerning it. Homer, the faithful mirror of the Grecian soul, represents Achilles as instituting various 18 PKIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. contests during the festivities which were ob- served in honor of his departed friend Patro- clus. On these interesting occasions the num- ber of prizes and the number of competitors are invariably the same. The rewards are never too few for every honest aspirant to receive some token of appreciation from the distribu- tor of prizes. If five ambitiously contend in the chariot-race, five separate rewards must be theirs at the end. If two engage in a boxing- match, the victor of course claims the first prize; yet sympathizing friends could not see the vanquished depart without some consola- tory proof of their appreciation of the manly part he bore in the contest. They reckoned, not without reason, that fate had decreed that one or the other should be defeated, but felt that failure in such a case was far from being a proof of inferior merit. So, too, in wrestling, in foot-racing, in fen- cing, and in contests in archery; no more competitors were said to enter the lists than the number of premiums offered. The rule was va- ried from only in the single instance in which PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 19 a huge mass of iron became the property of him who could throw it farthest, which excep- tion rather confirms than violattfs tlie rule; since the mass doubtless had many successive owners, and was valued only as a means of testing the strength of any who might be dis- posed to heave it. That tliose high-souled Greeks, though hea- then, were not destitute of the capacity, nor wanting in the disi)osition, practically to en- force the nicest moral distinctions is so beau- tifully illustrated in the case of two who dis- pi^ted for the prize at the close of a chariot- race, that the passage deserves to be quoted. One, it appears, had, in a narrow pass, pressed his chariot-wheels against tlK)se of his compet- itor, and, by means which seemed not fair, had rushed into tlie way ahead of his rivah Was he, though victor in fact, entitled to the pre- ferred prize? After some discussion, the one who thought himself wronged thus appealed to his opponent: What Greek sball l)l;nne me, if I bid tliee rise, And rindicate, by oath, th' ill-gotten prize? 20 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. Rise, if thou dar'st, before thy chariot stand, The driving scourge high lifted in thy hand; And toiicli thy steeds, and swear, thy whole intent Was l)ut to conquer, not to circumvent: Swear by that God whose liquid arms surround The globe, and whose dread eartlujuakes heave the ground. These direct aud solemn words evoked a con- scientious response; the wrong-doer confessed his wrong and freely yielded the prize he had unfairly won. Though Yirgil may have imitated Homer in many things pertaining to the style and struc- ture of a heroic poem, yet we may not suppose him to misrepresent the moral sentiments of the age in which he lived. He describes ^ne- as as conducting certain games in honor of his father's memory on the anniversary of his de- parture to the land of spirits. On this grand occasion, the contestants in the ship-race, the foot-race, the boxing-match, and in shooting at the flying pigeon, " to the mast's high pin- nacle confined," received, each one, whether many or few were engaged, a suitable reward. As he invites the eager multitude to enter the PllIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 21 foot-race, hear him magnanimously exclaim: "Not one of you this day shall leave the field without his due reward!"" Such kind and considerate regard for the feelings of all who should honestly enter the race is in strange contrast with the cold and heartless literary contests of modern times. Those heathen could not bear to see a single one who had honestly striven go unrewarded away; but Christians, in this day, can witness with de- light the mortifying disappointment of a hun- dred sensitive spirits, if one may exult in the selfish possession of a prize. AVe wonder that they should have enjoyed the gladiatorial shows, where men with beasts contended, but we delight to witness competitive examinations, prize declamations, and all that round of cru- cial conflict, in which the children and youth of our land are trained to appear, for the pub- lic delectation, at least once a year. What if feelings are publicly wounded, hopes disap- pointed, aspirations nipped in the bud, and sweet expectations drowned in the applause of * Nemo ex hoc numero mihi non donatus abibit. (".Eneid," Book V., v. 305.) 22 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. the victor's merits? We have discovered the best; we laud and reward them, and what care we for the rest? The obedient herd are brought before the multitude to be crowned or crushed, and joy stands tiptoe when strong ambition drags feebler merit in triumphal disi)lay be- fore the public gaze. Is not the pojjular ma- nia for intercollegiate contests in baseball and football the legitimate outcome of such meth- ods of teaching? A player's life, crushed or kicked out in the reckless and ruthless strife upon the field, is not a too costly, nor (shame to tell!) a very uncommon, price to pay for the empty privilege of huzzaing for the victo- rious team. One vitiating principle of con- duct inculcated in youth may be expected to corrupt and poison all the motive forces of the entire after-life. It is readily admitted that it is much easier to discover errors than to correct them, to point out the faults in a system than to show a more excellent way. I suggest that no re- wards be offered to students but such as it is both mathematically and morally possible for PKIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 23 all to obtain. The dull aud the idle need most to be quickeued and energized, yet these are apt to be affected not at all, or only injurious- ly, by exclusive premiums. That a few bril- liant aud ambitious minds should exhibit on special occasions the most admirable results of diligence and high culture is a far less im- portant achievement in the great cause of ed- ucation than that hundreds of mediocre and unaspiring souls should be raised to a high- er, though not the highest, level, and be made to feel that the worUl recognizes in them mental and moral powers as appreciable and as indispens.ible to the welfare of our race as any possessed l)y those who are regai-dcd as most gifted of mortals. The plan of specially honoring exclusively the best must forever re- press the humble aspirations of the conscious- ly inferior mind. It must, too, forever remain chargeable with injustice, unless it can be shown that the inferiority is in each case the f((Klt of its subject. Doubtless the Omniscient Eye as much approves tlie faithful use of humble powers as the achievements of the 24 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. mightiest minds. The gifts are God's, and those who use them, too, and he who uses best his gift is worthiest. A true mother bestows most care and appreciation on the least gifted of her children. Nor should those wdio are training souls for immortality base their plans upon any other principle. To ignore the truth that low attainments may be as worthy of rew^ard as high ones is, in many instances, to injure the innocent and Avrong those who are without defense. This plan of measuring every man by others tends to engender a heartless and insatiable ambition, which only feeds upon victory, not over himself, but over one's neighbor. The youth who has spent his school-days in the atmosphere of such teaching enters manhood with the idea that he must surpass somebody or be nobody. Hence, among men of all trades, professions, and callings, jealousies, envies, and bitter animosities are but the legitimate fruit of early training. The ambitious soldier ruth- lessly destroys the lives of others; the ambi- tious student unwittingly destroys his own. PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 25 Even into the sacred desk this unhallowed passion has crept, and the minister of the gos- pel, half unconscious of its sway, has over- tasked his powers, not to save son Is, but to gain reputation or surpass others; and by slow" but surely suicidal steps offers himself an un- timely sacrifice on the altar of ambition. In- deed, whenever and wherever an unholy am- bition has destroyed the peace of individuals or families, broken the harmony of communi- ties, or overthrown the liberties of nations, there may be seen the ripened fruits of this pitting policy of the schoolroom. The negative results of ambition, though not so striking, are often as real, and possibly as abundant, as its positive effects. Though it drives one to do and dare, it suspends anoth- er's energies entirely. He will move neither hand nor foot nor tongue in any good cause if he see not a prospect of excelling another or of outdoing and triumphing over his neigh- bor. If he can not do some great thing, he will do nothing. The foot says: " Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body." Mortified 26 PKIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. pride schism atically abandons its place, be- cause it is thought not to be sufficiently high. The ear pines in discontent, because it is not the eye. It was the man of one talent who, half in envy, half in spite, and all in proud contempt of the meagerness of his gift, hid his lord's money in the earth. As the Scriptures furnish confessedly the only perfect standard of morals, let light be sought from them on this vital question. Does the Bible in any place teach that one man should strive to excel another; or make one man's conduct or attainments the standard by which others are to be judged? Can the idea of rewarding one for excelling another be found in the Book? Did the great Teacher ever utter a word to suggest or encourage strife for preeminence among his followers? Does any New Testament writer hint such a doctrine? The apostle Paul was driven into boasting by the influence of certain false teach- ers. Yet where else can such a piece of sar- casm be found as that in which he defends his folly, declaring that he "speaks not after PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 27 the Lord, but as it were foolishly; " not from choice, but because they had compelled him. For their sakes, though to his own disgust, he parades his unparalleled sufferings and pro- claims his "visions and revelations of the Lord," avowing, nevertheless, that he was a fool in thus glorying, and that, though in noth- ing was he behind the very chiefest apostles, yet was he nothing. The spirit of Biblical teaching is, everywhere, that we are not to seek our own good in preference to another's. We are to love our neighbor as ourselves; and to " look not every man on his own things, but also on the things of others." "In honor," we are exhorted " to prefer one another." How unanswerable is the Saviour's question, "How can ye believe, which receive honor one of an- other, and seek not the honor that cometh from God only ? " All the life of Jesus Christ on earth was a sacrifice of himself for the good of others; but in order to make us realize the power of this great truth as no mere words could do, he proceeded to lay down his life for us, and, says the apostle John, " we ought to 28 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. lay down our lives for tlie brethren." The contrast between the spirit of these teachings and that which makes a struggle for preem- inence the life of the schools is strong and painful. Children may play and sit and eat together in peace, but the great object for wdiich they are sent to school must be accom- plished only through an endless conflict for place, honor, or reward. None is to be satis- fied while another is head. Consequently only one can be satisfied in the largest class. What angry looks, what despairing countenances, what weeping faces have we seen in the school- room, under tlie ruthless operation of this baneful system ! I wonder what the teachers thought when a little girl overtaxed her brain striving to commit to memory the greatest number of verses to recite in Sunday-school, and died, it was supposed, of fever produced thereby! Away with such a system, with its selfish motives, its exclusive rewards, and its unjust standards of merit; and let a system of truth and equity, which appreciates and rewards the PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 29 merits of all, take its place. As well punish only the worst, as reward only the best. Let duty be enthroned as the aim, the guide and the measure of effort; as the motive, the rule, and the criterion of merit in scholastic and in all other life. Duty is, as the word iiTiplies, that which we owe to God, our neighbor, and ourselves. While no standard of duty can be perfectly understood or applied in our present degenerate state, yet the w-ord of God, inter- preted and applied by the conscience of man, is at once the most comprehensive and the most simple to all who have that word; to all who have it not, a purblind conscience becomes the author of many errors. Conscience is not an originative but simply a discriminative fac- ulty, exhibiting as in a spectrum the elements of duty involved in the facts held by the in- tellect. AVhile conscience is by no means in- fallible, and can never be above or contrary to the knowledge of each individual, it is in all cases the only possible guide in morals. Let every student study because duty to self, to parents, to mankind, and to God requires it, 30 PKIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. not because some other student studies. Let progress be measured from each pupil's for- mer status, and merit be determined by the steady efforts and advance of each, not by one's outstripping another. The system which drags one forward and holds another back, to suit the pace of a third, is injurious to all. Only so far as a man does his duty is he use- ful in the world. The young can not, then, be too early trained to act from a sense of duty. No principles should prevail in the schoolroom but such as should hold stronger sway in future life. If knowledge is power, too much care can not be taken that such moral principles shall accompany its acquisi- tion as shall insure its rightful use. If ambi- tion should be the mainspring of conduct, then let it be made strong in the young; but if it is the bane of manhood, it is the poison of youth. There are two great systems of morals in the world: the theistic and the empirical. The former makes accountability to God the ba- sis of conduct; the latter makes present expe- diency the criterion of right. Never was there PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 31 a time when Christians had more need to guard with jealousy the spirit and conduct of all educational appliances. In several Euro- pean nations, and in this country, the state provides education for the public. The state professes no religion, and can teach none. The result of the theory may be, as is evi- denced by several foreign countries, a godless education and a nation of skeptics and infidels. Most of the teachers in our public schools are Christians now, but this may not always be the case. AYlien Christian principles and good moral character sliall be no more a nec- essary qualification for a teacher of a public school than they now are for a sherifi;'or a ju- ror, what then will become of morals in the schools? President Grant proposed, in exact accordance with the spirit of our government, to exclude the Bible from public schools. It is not now taught, if read at all, in one out of ten public schools. Can such schools satisfy Christian people? The Churches should main- tain and multiply, with increasing zeal and liberality, the large number of literary insti- 32 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. tutions under their control; and see to it that duty to God, our neighbor, and ourselves be made the fundamental rule of conduct in them all. If selfish ambition rule among the chil- dren of this world, let it not poison the foun- tains of Christmn education. Let not sons and daughters go out from our schools filled with an insatiable ambition, but thoroughly taught and trained to obey the behests of duty. Ambition is never satisfied, and is ever disappointed; duty often realizes more than its moderate ex- pectations. Ambition lays its plans, and claims God as the Author of them ; duty seeks only to make God's plans her own. Ambition en- slaves us to a dominant passion; duty subjects us to divine commands. Duty holds our pow- ers under gentle and constant sway; ambi- tion drives with impetuous and exhausting fury. Duty is a spirit from on high; ambi- tion is a fury from the pit. Duty would serve, but ambition would rule. There is neither piece nor rest to the ambitious soul, but the dutiful spirit is kept in perfect peace. "Duty is the sublimest word in the English PKIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. 33 language," said Robert E. Lee, as he passed from the battle-field of failure in his country's cause to the peaceful toils of the schoolroom. He who would pronounce the man less worthy, or his achievements less meritorious, because he was not successful in conquering his oppo- nents must surely be lacking in the best ele- ments of judgment. To fail as he did was certainly nobler and better than to succeed as many have done. The theory which makes superiority alone the test of merit in the schools is quite of a kind with that which makes might the sole arbiter of right in the social and political spheres. Yet the latter princij)le is so abhorrent to the dictates of justice that none would avow it, and none but tyrants would act upon it. Away, then, with the system of strife and injustice, and let duty's wholesomely energizing power be dif- fused through all the schools. Instead of the selfish and vindictive spirit of the motto quo- ted in the outset, which proclaims a purpose to surpass all others and claim the best for it- self, let the motto rather be, io 'nnpvove all mij 8 34 PRIZE-FIGHTING IN THE SCHOOLS. time and poicers, and do my dufij in all things. Let ^'Dutif be the motto of the school, the in- spiration of the student, and the talisman against all foes and failures in coming life. Let the honest youth inquire not " How I shall ex- cel all others? " but" How shall I make the best use of all my powers?" how shall I answer the ends for which I was created? and how shall I secure for my own conscience and from all who know me, the wholesome and not uncharitable plaudit, 'Wdl done? ' " Thus, by "mounting on the shoulders of our former selves," and not by riding over others, shall we advance in learning and in all things for the best. FILL YOUR OWN PLACE, OR MORALS IN RHYME. Nothing is ever done beautifully which is done in rivalship, nor nobly which is done in pride.— Ruskin. Fill your own place, and fill it well ; From ro3'al throne to prison-cell, 'Tis worth, not hirth, adorns each place And helps to raise our fallen race. Through discontent th.e angels fell And found their proper place in hell. The lives of toil and deaths of pain Have brought mankind the greatest gain. Who pinetli for another's lot The heavenly rule must have forgot, That each shall his own burden bear, And each shall feel his brother's care. Who'd fill your place if you did not? Perhaps you fill it to a dot. Would you unto another give The life designed for you to live? Forego a glory all your own In strife to seize another's crown? There's need for what each soul can do. The world is made complete by you. The man whose state you most admire 36 FILL YOUK OWN PLACE. May look on yours with strong desire. The feet and hands, the ear and eye In envy cry — in scorn reply — They all are of one body parts, Wliiche'er is pained the other smarts. Another turn in fortune's wheel The proud man's fate for woe may s<^al; Who once was rich, but now is poor, Had Ijetter never known good store. The tallest tree the storm strikes first, And tears the richest foliage most ; The low, scant shrub bends and escapes While desolation round it sweeps. Then be thy lot or low or high In sweet contentment live and die; To do the work assigned to thee Is as an angel's ministry. Seek thou no place, no duty shun. But be with Christ in Spirit one; God will not praise you in that day That you've crushed rivals by the way; But if you've helped a helpless one, Then you the noblest work have done. FEEEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. If the will, which we find governs the members of the b ) ly, and determines their motions, does govern itself, and determines its own actions, it doubtless de- termines them in the same way, even by antecedent volitions. The will determines which way the hands and feet move, by an act of choice; and there is no other way of the will's determining, directing, or com- manding anything at all. Whatsoever the will com- mands, it commands by an act of the will. So that the freedom of the will consists in this, that it has it- self and its own actions under its command and direc- tion, and its own volitions are determined by itself. It will follow that every free volition arises from another antecedent volition, directing and commanding that; and if that directing volition be also free, in that also the will is determined; that is to say, that directing voli- tion is determined by another going before that; and so on, till we come to the first volition in the whole series; and if that first volition be free, and the will self-determined in it, then that is determined by an- other volition preceding that — which is a contradic- tion, because by the supposition it can have none be- fore it. But if that first volition is not determined by 38 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. any preceding act of the will, then that act is not de- mined by the will, and so is not free in the Arminian notion of freedom, which consists in the will's self- determination. And if that first act of the will be not free, none of the following acts, which are determined by it, can be free. The above is taken from the famous work of Jonathan Edwards on " The Freedom of the Will and Moral Agency," first published in 1853. By this W(3rk chiefly he acquired a world-wide reputation as a metaphysician of the highest order. Able transatlantic critics pronounced him "the highest of all his con- temporaries," and "perhaps unmatched, cer- tainly unsurpassed, among men," in the field of metaphysical argumentation. The above is a select specimen of his strong and subtle reasoning, according to which every act of the human will is bound fast in the iron chain of fate. But mankind need not consent to be robbed of the "liberty wherewith God has made us free," by even this masterly logic. This argument presents a most remarkable instance of w^hat the logicians call begging the question, assuming, as it does through- FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 39 out, the question in dispute. It is said: "If the will determines its own actions, it doubt- less determines them in the scune wai/ in which it determines the motion of the hands and feet — that is, by antecedent volitions^ No, not doidjfJess, for there is grave doubt. Why is the will properly said to govern the motions of the body by antecedent volitions? Is it not because the will itself must be supposed to be external to and more or less distant from each member of the body, and therefore to require time and sequence for the trans- mission of its orders to the different members of the body? But this idea could not enter into any proper conception of the self-detei'- mination of the will. Is not the will an indi- visible unit? Would not its volitions, on the supposition of its being self-governing, ' be each spontaneous, instantaneous, untransm it- ted, and independent of any antecedent, save the existing mind? One of the chief difficul- ties in connection with this question arises from the lack of proper words, and especially of proper illustrations by which to convey 40 FEEEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. our ideas. The Arminiau holds the will to be free in a sense to which there is no anal- ogy in the universe save in God himself. To set out, therefore, in the discussion of the freedom of the will, with conceptions and ex- pressions of its action which imply constraint, is to beg the question at the start; and to il- lustrate thi^ orighiation of its acts by those things which are confessedly under the con- trol of others is not only equivalent to as- suming what should be proved, but it is to fetter our own minds, while we befog and mislead the minds of all others who adopt the illustration. It is even asserted that " there is no other ■waij of the will's determining anything at all, except by antecedent volitions." Why not? That is the question. Says our author: "If that first volition is not determined by any preceding act of the will, then that act is not determined by the will; and so is not free in the Arminian notion of freedom." Here the ic'iU and an act of the irill are confounded. If the will can not act without a preceding act FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 41 of the will, then, if it acts at all, it must have been acting from eternity. Every act must have been preceded by another. There could have been no primal act. It is as much as to say, the will can not will without previously willing to will. All the acts of the v>-ill are first assumed to be related to each other, as the links in a chain, and then the possibility of a first link is denied, on the ground that there is no preceding link on which it may hang. This argument rests upon the error of what Sir William Hamilton calls " a one-sided view of the finitude of the mind." By this method the infidel may easily prove, either that God as the great First Cause can not exist, or that he is himself the subject of eternal fate. If we can not conceive how anything can exist without being dependent on something previously existing, then we can not conceive of God as a cause uncaused, and we should conclude, according to this mode of argu- ment, that God does not exist. Likewise it may be argued that if the human will can put 42 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. forth no act that is not determined by a pre- ceding act of itself, then every act of God is, for the same reason, determined by a prece- ding act, and God is himself controlled by un- alterable necessity, and that, too, a necessity not arising from his moral attributes, but natural, constitutional, and invincible. If there is, then, any freedom in the universe — if it be not a vast complex machine, moving without a mover — there must be some other way for wills to act than that to which Ed- wards would confine the Armiuian notion of freedom. If God is free, could he not make man also free? Why may not the human will be the source of volitions, as the sun is of light? Does the sunlight of to-day depend upon the sunlight of yesterday? Can not God lodge power in man to be used, within certain limits, as freely as God uses his own? May not self-government be synonymous with freedom? Our inability to conceive the absolute commencement of volition is no ar- gument against its possibility, si'nce we are equally unable to conceive the absolute non- FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 43 commencement or infinite regression of voli- tions. Volition in man must have had a be- ginning, or else man bad no beginning. Why not, then, admit that the will is free, in the sense that its acts are not caused by anything outside of itself, and that they are independ- ent of all preceding acts or states of itself; that it is a power which assimilates man to his Maker, and renders him capable of ac- countability to God? Yery difierent conclusions from these of Edwards may be reached by stating the ar- gument thus: If the will governs itself, it doubtless determines its own acts in a differ- ent way from that in which it controls the meml)ers of the body, which are external to itself. The actions of the body are deter- mined by antecedent acts of the will, whose influence is trMiismitted to its various parts by those nerves which our Creator has sup- plied for this purpose; but the will, being an indivisible unit, can not be conceived as giving orders to itself (except in a figurative sense which requires the idea of plurality of parts 44 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. in the will), but must be supposed to act in a manner peculiar to itself. It is itself the fountain of action. It can act for or against any and all motives, and can not be forced by any power known on earth or revealed from heaven. Since, then, nothing can be thought to be the author of its own enslavement, and since our whole consciousness would be a lie and our accountability to God absurd, if our wills are controlled b}^ any power outside of ourselves, we must conclude that the human will is sovereign in itself — the image of God in the soul of man. It is personality in man that wills and acts without cominilsion. Otherwise his nature is a fraud and himself a machine or a slave. If, however, according to the argument of some writers, God is himself the subject of necessity, then all support for the doctrine of human freedom, drawn from the supposed free- dom of God, must fail. They maintain the freedom of man, as a probationer choosing and fixing a moral character; but deny freedom to God, as under subjective necessity to act FKEEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 45 just as lie does. Yet it ma}^ be asked, if God's acts are determined, who or what de- termines them? God, or some other being or power? To say that the laws of his being de- termine them is not satisfactory. Are the laws of his being stronger than God? If so, how did they come to be so, and how do we know that they will continue to be so? To say that God can not do otherwise than lie does is to make him a machine. To affirm that he will not do wrong, and that his choice will ever be the manifestation and criterion of wisdom and goodness, is to ascribe to him his true glory. The Scriptures''-' decLare that it is impossible for God to lie. No clear thinker * Seneca, a Stoic, f-ays: " Vir bonus non potest non facere quod facit; in omni actn par sibi, jam non concilio bonus, sed more eo j^erductus; ut non tantum recte fa- cere possit, sed nisi recte facere non possit." Velleius Paterculns said of the younger Cato: "Homo virtuti simillimus, et per omnia ingenio Diis quani hominibus propior, qui nunquam recte fecit ut facere videretur, sed quia aliter facere non poteraU' (Farrar's '* Early Days of Christianity," p. 029, note.) 46 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. would confouiKl the impossibility here spoken of with that implied in the assertion, it is im- possible for man to fly. The impossibility in the one case arises from physical inability; in the other, from moral indisposition. God will not lie, not because truth controls him, but be- cause he maintains truth. It adds far more to God's glory to think that, having the power to do wrong, he will always do right, than to suppose that he does right because he can not do wrong. Can wo not trust God with liberty? There appears to be nothing gained by those metaphysical philosophers and theologians who seek to find a surer criterion of right and wrong, and a firmer basis for moral law, than the will of God. They have sought it in " the authority of the state;" in "something inher- ent in the nature of things," as "fitness," "truth," "relations," "moral beauty;" in "the highest happiness;" in "pride gratified by flattery;" in "an inner reciprocal sympa- thy;" in "the moral sense;" and in "intui- tion." Why thus tax their brains for some- 47 thing stronger, surer, clearer, or more author- itative than the will of God? If there is an essential fitness of things, did not God make that fitness? And does not God maintain that fitness? Did not God ordain our ideas of fit- ness? Could he not have made us to think otherwise of fitness than we do, had he so chosen? Who dare answer these questions in the negative? And are the things that are determined by the will of God more stable than that will itself? The objection to the will of God as the ultimate rule of right seems to be that it is arbitrary; and, therefore, con- ceivably changeable. Why should anything be thought more unchangeable than the free will of God? Any such supposition involves the idea that God is somehow under the do- minion of an established order outside of him- self, or at least that he is controlled by the immutability of his own attributes. AVho can affirm that aught is immutable, but the will of God? And that immutability we hold, as we do God's existence, upon faith alone. If, however, according to the teachings of 48 FKEEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. many moralists, the will of God is not the sole foundation of the moral law and the ultimate rule of right, it is certain no surer ground or rule can be found elsewhere. One says: " The law of God is supreme, unchangeable reason; it is unalterable rectitude; it is the everlast- ing fitness of all things that are or ever were created." How does reason become unchange- able, but by the will of God? Did reason es- tablisli itself without God, and above God? Who decides what rectitude is? How did we come to have our ideas of rectitude? Es- pecially, wliat makes rectitude unalterable? Did it make itself so, or was it made so by our thoughts; or did God make it so? All such expressions as the above quotation seem al- most meaningless, unless we suppose some- thing to exist independent of God. If all things, save God, were created, all laws of thought are the results of creative pow- er; and, while we can not even imagine how we should have thought or felt about right or wrong, or aught else, had we been created dif- ferently, we surely can not limit God's power FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 49 or prerogative, and say that, he could not have made us to think fundamentally differently on any or all subjects from what we now do. Why, then, speak of " the everlasting fitness of things?" How can "everlasting fitness" be any better or stronger than the simple will of God? Did things have a fitness before they were made, or did not their fitness arise from their relations as created? If, then, God made the fitness of things, their fitness only expresses his w^ill. To undertake fJius, even i)i f/ioinjhf, fo cjiko-coi- tee the uioval stabiliti/ of the iiin'rerse by deny'nifi freedom and absolute creative authorship^ even of moral distinctions^ to God, is no yain to reason and a great loss to faith. Whenever we un- dertake to bolster the will of God by his at- tributes or by the postulates of reason, those attributes or postulates will, in their turn, require to be bolstered, and we gain nothing in the end. As an origin of law, right, and authority, there is nothing imaginable that compares with the will of the Supreme Being. All other sources of right and law seem to be 4 50 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. the mere figments of human fancy. We are compelled to come to the incomprehensible and absolute first cause somewhere. Why undertake to rob the Biblical theology of its preeminent excellence and simplicity, tracing, as it does, the origin and support of all things to the will of a personal God, by our vague and endless endeavors to find sometldng more stable than the will of God? Every suggestion of anything superior to the will of God savors of })antheism, as when we say that a thing is right not because God wills it, but God wills it because it is right. AVhence does the right come that rules God? Either from himself or some other being. If from another, then we have another and a superior God; if from himself, then it is but the expression of his will. All these varied attempts to find other foundation for right and law than the will of God seem to be but the futile efi'orts of intel- lect to avoid the exercise of faith. Man would rather understand than believe. He prefers the pride of reason to the humility of FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIYINE. 51 faith. Yet he who will not believe where he can not understand can never take hold of the things of God. The exercise of faith is God's supreme requirement of man, and the utmost duty of the soul to its Maker. The sublime simplicity of faith is marred by the anxious, though futile, attempts of reason to supersede or support it. Biblical philosophy stands contradistin- guished from all other systems in ascribing to a personal God the origin, authorship, and absolute sovereignty in all things. The strongest and most laborious intellects of the ages have sought in vain for a more satisfac- tory foundation for that faith to which all must come at last, or wander "in endless mazes lost." Yet even some believers in the Bible have, as has been shown, allowed them- selves to be led by the speculations of meta- 13hysician8 to seek for a better foundation for right than the will of God. In so doing they have abandoned their strength. The at- tempt of the ancients to account for the sup- port of the world by the serpent on the back 52 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. of the tortoise was not more futile tlian all attempts to find a basis for moral law outside the will of God. Quite similar in origin and tendency is the doctrine which denies moral freedom to God. The Scriptures declare: "He doeth accord- ing to his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth: and none can stay his hand, or say unto him. What doest thou;" "for he giveth not account of any of his matters." It has already been shown that nothing is gained by denying freedom to God, Let us now in([uire what the divine oracles teach on tlie subject, not directly, but by necessary implication. 1. The fact that Adam was endowed at his creation with the capacity to choose moral good or evil is a demonstration of the moral freedom of his Maker. If, as is maintained, God is ever under subjective necessity to act in a certain way, and that the best iDOSsible, how is it conceivable that he could endow his creature, man, with the power of choosing and doing either good or evil? If any deny FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 53 that Adam was free to choose good, it is not proposed to reason with them now. That de- nial would lead to the doctrine of the eter- nity of matter, make the universe a machine, and God only a part of its matter or forces, sanction stoicism in philosophy, and lead to licentiousness for religion. But that Adam possessed the power to choose and do evil is incontestably proved by the fact that he ex- ercised that power. Now it is inconceivable that God could produce in his creature, man, moral powers which he did not himself pos- sess, and could not exercise if he chose. Could God impart to man a moral or other sort of power which he did not realize in his own being, or could not realize if he would? No powders can be supposed to reside in the creature which did not exist, actually or iws- sibly, in the Creator. We ma}; easily imagine the creature doing that which his Maker would not do, but not what his Maker could not do if he would. It is not forgotten nor overlooked that our opponents hold that the necessity which binds God to righteousness 54 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. is wholly subjective. The purpose to create Adam was subjective, till it began to be real- ized objectively. That purpose embraced a capacity of free choice in God's ideal of his noblest earthly creature. Let him show who can that God, if for any reason himself in- capable of free moral choice, either could or would endow his creature, man, with such power. Yet Adam was so endowed, or else fated to do wrong. If the latter be affirmed, then must God be supposed not only to pos- sess the power to do wrong, but to have ex- hibited it through man from the beginning to this day. 2. The Scriptures, in declaring that man was made in the image of God, do virtually affirm the moral freedom of God, in whatever sense freedom may be admitted as belonging to Adam. This argument must not be confound- ed with the preceding, for it is quite distinct. Man might have been free and not in the im- age of God; or he might have borne the image God and not have been free, if God were not free. But, man being free, the first argument FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 55 inferred that his Maker was free; if, moreover, man was both free and in the image of God, this second argument affirms the unavoidable conclusion that his Maker must have been free also. All the force of the preceding ar- gument passes into this, and herein receives the immense corroboration of the scriptural affirmation that man, free as he was, was tbe image of his Maker. AYhatever we may sup- pose the image of God as existing in man to imply, we can scarcely imagine man's highest attribute, his capacity for moral freedom, to be excluded from that image. We can not but believe that the noblest attributes of man re- flect most truly the image of his Maker. That image is usually sui3posed to consist in right- eousness and true holiness. But to speak of a necessitated righteousness, or a compulsory holiness, is to speak irrationally, if not absurd- ly. If, then, the essential elements of the divine image in man do not exclude, but ne- cessitate moral freedom, why should such free- dom be thought to be an impossible or an un- worthy attribute of God? 56 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. The conclusion then follows that, if man at his creation was morally free, his Maker must have been free also; or, if man was not free, he must have been somehow constrained by his Maker to the choice of evil, which assump- tion imputes a choice of evil rather than good to God; and he, being immutable, must forever continue to choose the evil and compel his crea- ture, man, to practise it — a conclusion too monstrous and revolting to be affirmed. The only alternative is, that God is free as to the choice of moral good and evil, and that he so created man, who, by the abuse of his liberty, " Brought death into the world and all our woe." This supposition by no means jeopards the great doctrine of God's immutability, which must not be given up. How can we be more certain that God can not change than that he will not, though he can? His declared un- changeableness is simply a fact that chal- lenges our faith. All attempts to guarantee it by seeking reasons in his attributes or in any conceivable relations of things seem ut- terly vain, setting out in a circle of secondary FEEEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 57 reasons, each of which requires another, till we are finally driven to the will of God as the ultimate and self-sufficient reason for all things. If it be asked why do two and two make four, or why am I obliged to tell the truth, the answer is, I am so constituted that I can not think otherwise in the one case, nor feel otherwise in the other. Could God have made me to think and feel otherwise? I dare not say that he could not. The relations of things result from their ci'eation, and our ap- prehension of those relations and of the duties which those relations suggest arise from the adaptation of our minds to our surroundings. If we think in accordance with the true rela- tions of things, we are sane; if we think other- wise, we are, to the degree of that erroneous thinking, insane. If we act in accordance with our true relations, we are good; if we act other- wise, we are bad. To ascertain the true rela- tions of things to ourselves is but to learn the will of God concerning us. Conscience, or the moral sense, is that in man which renders him capable of realizing a feeling of obligation or 58 FEEEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. duty in view of his relation to God and to his fellow beings. Hence every imaginable form of the rule of right amounts, in its application, only to a man's own judgment of what he ought to do. But the great underlying question is: " What ought a man to think to be right? " Is his conscience or his judgment of the fit- ness of things, or his sense of personal worthi- ness, always a safe guide? By no means. These are but the divinely appointed aids to man in his efforts to find out that which is un- doubtedly the ultimate criterion of right, the will of God. This will may be learned from God's Word, or inferred from his works, or felt in the instinct of our souls, but is unquestion- ably the only ultimate rule both of our faith and our practise. It is concluded, then, that God is not only free, but the author and x^erpetual maintainer of all truth, right, and law. He commands a thing not because it is right, or was right be- fore he commanded it, but all his commands are the declarations of his will, which is the fountain, criterion, and law of right. Through FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 59 the ages we expect God's commauds to be con- sistent with all his previous works and words. This is, indeed, all that is really meant by the nature of things and the eternal fitness of things. Let it be remembered that things have no nature but what God gave them, and that things, as here spoken of, are not eternal, much less can their fitness be so, it being only the mutual adaptation of their relations and our ideas under the will of God. All mathe- matical as well as other truth rests upon the will of God for its basis. If there were no God, there would certainly be no outward uni- verse. Wliether numbers be regarded as ob- jective realities, or subjective conceptions of the mind, without God there would neither be things to be counted nor minds to count them. If there were no God, two and two would not be four, for neither one nor two nor four would have any existence. But does our belief that two and two make four, as things are, depend upon the will of God? Undoubtedly it does. A crazy man might think otherwise. If any man denies that we owe the sanity of our 60 FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. minds to God's providential care, these reason- ings are not for liim. Suppose tliat in answer to the question, ** Shall not the judge of all the earth do right? " it should be replied, " In many things God does wrong." Would not such an answer be futile? "Who art thou, O man, that repliest against God?" Shall a man argue against the stand- ard of right, or tliink against the criterion of thought? Indeed, some do presume to ar- raign God's word and wijrks for condemna- tion. If the above question be supposed to imply that liberty, then may God be put under C(jn- demnation by his creatures, and the sovereign of the universe stand guilty at the bar of hu- man reason. Is not the question rather a challenge for men to perceive and admire the rigliteousness of God? We can conceive of God as doing- wrong onl}^ by acting out of harmony with himself. Our judgment of right and wrong springs from the constitution of our minds as affected by all tliat is about us. We exj^ed FREEDOM, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 61 constancy and consistency in God; hat if we should suppose that we had discovered aught to the con- trary, our fhougJits should be corrected by his will and works, and not liis ivill and works by our thoughts. " He is before all things, and by him all things consist." "Yea, let God be true, but every man a liar." If harmony, fitness, and truth bind God, he first established the harmony, designed the fitness, and gave to truth her being, her beauty, and her power; so that he is a law unto himself, which is the highest style of freedom. The will of God must forever remain the highest reason for itself, as well as for all things else, since what- ever may be adduced to justify, sanction or support it must be reckoned among its crea- tures or dependencies. Tin: KILL. Linos found in tin- l.rainln'H «»f n willow ovcrhanciiiL' n pclililo- b«>ddeehbly way Where minnows play the livelonj? day; My birds make morn witli music thrill; At eve I wake the whippoorwill ; And when the stars 8en, I dash and sweep, My joyous way I always keep; I dance and run, I wait for none; And, as piy rills have always done, I snatch warm kisses from the sun And dash them everywhere for fun. THE KILL. 63 I sometimes wind an^ with hurnim: lieat 64 THE RILL. Drive famished herds to my retreat, The sweltering kine wade to their knees And bathe and drink and breathe at ease. Slip o'er the hill just when you will, And though you find me lying still. Yet come close by and take a peep, And you'll not find your love asleep. I've often seen you passing by, And oft your going made me sigh; Why don't you stop and dip your feet? My touch would be to them so sweet. I'd make you long, e'en in your dream, To spend your days beside my stream. If you'll come near and look at me. You'll on my breast your picture see; And your sweet face shall then be mine, And I shall with your beauty shine. The happiest stream in all the land To have so fair and fond a friend; And so we will our graces twine. And vou shall be mv Valentine. MES. SUSANNA WESLEY. The original constructor of the engine is the real author of the power and motion of the train. The molder of a character is the maker of a destiny; and whoever imparts transcendent qualities to a human soul coop- erates with the Divine Being in promoting the highest good of our race. The mother who brings into the world and trains a child who shall marshal the great forces of hu- manity on the side of truth and right, who shall quicken and enlarge the better thoughts of millions, or who shall inspire or fitly ex- press those nobler sentiments by which man- kind are raised toward the higher ends of life, deserves herself to be ranked among the great ones of the earth. To have been the mother of one such man as either John or Charles AYesley was enough to command for any woman more than a common regard; to have been the mother of them both entitles bb MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. Susanna Wesley to a double portion among the children of honor forever. Among these originating and determining forces which i)ro- duced and guided the great religious move- ment of the last hundred and fift}^ years called Methodism, the mother of the AVesleys must not be uncounted. Occupying during her life only the ordinary sphere of her sex, she so filled her place as mother and mistress in her home as to transmit a more i)owerful and permanent influence for good tlian per- haps any other human being of her day. She planted the handful of corn upon the top of the mountain, the fruits whereof did shake like Lebanon. She trained a lawgiver whose self-enforcing, because conscience-quickening, rules for holy living were to regulate myriads — yea, millions of the noblest lives on two continents, and wliose influence is destined, no doubt, to spread throughout the world. She tuned the harp whose divine strains were to gladden and bless all hearts, and go echo- ing down the centuries, waking slumbering souls to the dread of hell and to the hopes of MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 67 eternal life. As the gentle and genial sun- beams silently permeate the atmosphere, and muster the forces that move in the sweeping tornado or murmur in the storm that shakes the earth, her forming hand and her inform- ing spirit wrought wondrous things in her two sons, brewing the gospel thunder and the poetic lightning which were to startle the English Church and rouse the careless world to a new sense of duty and of God. It is not surprising to find evidence that so extraordinary a woman owed much to he- reditary endowments. To doubt the possible moral improvement of our race and the cu- mulative enhancement of all our nobler pow- ers through the transmitted lesults of ances- tral growth in intelligence and virtue is to doubt the persistent prevalence and final tri- umph of good over evil in this world. Mrs. Wesley was honorably descended, being a daughter of the celebrated Dr. Annesley, who was one of those clergymen who at the time of the Eevolutiou preferred ejectment from their places to the subjection of their con- bo MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. sciences to the dictation of the government. He was indeed one of the most remarkable men of his times, especially for his zeal and popularity as a preacher and for his helpful kindness to the dissenting ministers of his day. His daughter Susanna had a superior mind, and was well educated not only in English but also in the Latin, Greek, and French. She was pronounced intelligent, amiable, beautiful, and pious. Her faculties were too evenly balanced to suggest any claim to genius, which usually consists in certain admirable extravagances of intellect, which are apt to be accompanied by corresponding deficiencies. She was much disposed to think for herself, and for a time became involved in metaphysical speculations which interrupted the constancy of her Christian faith. Though her father was, and continued to be for fifty years, a most devoted, self-sacrificing, and useful minister among the Dissenters, she of deliberate choice became a member of the Established Church. Her doctrinal specula- tions and aberrations — for she wandered for a MKS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 69 time amid the errors of Sociuianism — togeth- er with her change of Church relations, show, to say the least, her independence of character. At about twenty years of age she was married to Rev. Samuel Wesley, a minister of the Es- tablished Church, and afterward for many years rector of Epworth. He was a man who, though not devoid of many great excel- lences of character, was yet better fitted by many of his habits and mental peculiarities for celibacy or for heaven, than for the care of a large family of children on this mundane sphere. He spent the chief part of his time in "beating rimes," as he expressed it, in writing and preaching sermons, in dispensing charity beyond his means, and in rousing wrath by the indiscreet assertion of his High- church and royal preferences, never taking due care that bread should increase with the increase of his family. His picture shows a man who looked to heaven, to the exclusion of earth. His wife was compelled to manage the temporal interests of the family— he had no turn for practical affairs. The years of 70 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. Susanna Wesley's married life became years of increasingly burdensome toil. The story of her domestic struggles reads like the tale of a beleagued garrison. She was the mother of nineteen children, thirteen of whom were liv- ing at the same time. Notwithstanding the poverty and even want in which they often lived — enough to have crushed the spirit of any but one of the truest heroines the world ever produced — the order and discipline of her household were a model for all who came after her. A historian tells us: "The income of the rector of Epworth was comparatively small, and his children were very numerous. Twice the parsonage house was unfortunately burned down, and rebuilt at his own expense. His circumstances, therefore, were painfully embarrassed, and the children were far from having any superfluity of either diet or cloth- ing." In a letter dated January 20, 1722, Mrs. Wesley says to her brother, Mr. Samuel Annesley: "Mr. Wesley rebuilt his house in less than one year; but nearly thirteen years are elapsed since it was burned, yet it is not • MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 71 half famished, nor are his wife and chiklreii half clothed to this day." In answer to ques- tions on the subject, she informed the Arch- bishop of York that she often experienced so much difficulty in obtaining bread, and in paying for it when it was obtained, as nearly equaled the pain of destitution. Indeed, it may be inferred from all our information on the subject that the Wesley family at Ep- worth often knew not one day how or where their living for the next was to be obtained. Constantly harassed and once imprisoned for debt as the father was, he yet failed, during his frequent absences from home attending the convocation in London, and on other public duties, duly to appreciate the pinching poverty and unshared toils of the mother who was giving her life to and for the children at home. Seldom, if ever, has the Biblical doc- trine that " it is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth " found a more signal illustration of its beneficent results than in the Wesley family at Epworth; for surely never did a mother know better than Susanna 72 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. Wesley how to develop strength by the judi- cious application of the burdens of poverty and the restraints of law, or liow to sharpen wits at the grindstone of want. Amid the distress of her situation, God was her con- stant trust and helper. Her strength was from on high. "God," says she, "supports, and by his omnipotent goodness often totally suspends all sense of worldly things." The family government at Epworth em- braced, among other things, a school kept for many years in a room of the house set apart for that purpose. No hired teaclier officiated in that school. It was in conducting this home school that Mrs. AVesley gave evidence of such superior good sense and skill as must forever entitle her to the admiration and the honor of mankind. At five years of age each child was taken into the schoolroom, and, with rare exceptions, was taught its letters in one daj^ It was then put immediately to spelling out words and to reading the Bible. The interminable analytical nonsense of b-a ba, b-i bi, b-o bo, and b-u bu, had no place in MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 73 her system of teaching. In setting her chil- dren to reading as soon as they learned the alphabet she anticipated by a hundred and fifty years the results of modern progress in the art of teaching. The hours of school were from nine till twelve in the morning and from two to five in the afternoon. No girl was put to sewing till she could read distinct- ly and correctly. The children were all so trained in the nursery from birth that they needed very little governing in school. The exercises were opened and closed with sing- ing, else how had proper early development ever been given to Charles's unparalleled apti- tude for metrical composition? Here was trained the greatest hymn-writer the world ever produced. "Every child's will must be subdued while it is very young," says this wise, because practically successful, expound- er and illustrator of child-training; "for this is the only strong and rational foundation of a religious education, witliout which both precept and example will be ineffectual." Her children were taught to be quiet at fami- 74 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. ly prayers, and to ask a ])lessing by signs be- fore tliey could kaeel or speak. Each child was taken in turn to a ])lace of private prayer, and was botii taught to pray and commended to God. A sense of individual responsibility to Goil is the source of all personal piety. Here was inaugurated and maintained that sacred order of thought and action which qualitied John to be what he afterward be- came: a reformer of the doctrines and lives of almost all Christendom. The world had an abundance of sound doctrine and much of wise and wholesome precept before the days of Wesley; but it had nothing so short, so simple, and so good a guide for holy living as the "General Eules" which John Wesley i)re- pared for his United Societies. But whence came his ability to set forth such a formula for holiness? Were not the "General Eules," in spirit at least, like the words of King Lemuel, the proi)liecy which his mother had taught him? The family government at Ep- worth was the embodiment of Mrs. Wesley's idea of the teaching of God's Word. It was MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 75 the form of her effort to fashion her chihlren unto godliness. Let it not be thought that in all this she was without sadder trials than any that mere labor and poverty may bring. Her spirit had trium[)hed over want when she wrote to the Archbishop of York: "I have learned that it is much easier to be contented with(jut riches than with them." The rectory was a home church and family school as hap- py, notwithstanding many privations, as per- haps any home in England; but Mrs. Wesley was not without the peculiar and deeper sor- rows incident to parenthood. Then, as now, not every worthy young woman could find a worthy man for a husband. Some of her daughters were very unhappily married, and brought inexpressible grief to the mother's heart. In the agony of her sy duly appreciating these rules we shall greatly benefit ourselves, ascribe wor- thy honor to her name, and preserve the fittest monument to her memory. They are thus stated by herself: " The children were always put into a regu- lar method of living in such things as they were capable of, from their birth, as in dress- ing, undressing, changing their linen, etc. " When turned of a year old - and some be- fore—they were taught to fear the rod and to cry softly; by which means they escaped abun- MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 91 dance of correction they might otherwise have had, and that most odious noise of the crying of children was rarely heard in the hoase, but the family usually lived in as much quietness as if there had not been a child among them. "As soon as they were grown pretty strong tliey were confined to three meals a day. At dinner their little tables and chairs were set by ours, where they could be overlooked; and they were suffered to eat and drink as much as they would, but not to call for anything. If they wanted aught, they used to whisper to the maid that attended them, who came and spake to me; and as soon as they coul(,l handle a knife and fork they were set to our table. They were never suffered to choose their meat, but always made to eat such things as were provided for the family. "Mornings they had always spoon-meat, sometimes at night; but whatever they had, they were never permitted to eat at those meals of more than one thing, and of that sparingly enough. Drinking or eating between meals was never allowed unless in case of sickness, 92 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. which seldom happened. Nor were they suf- fered to go into the kitchen to ask anything of the servants when they were at meat. If it was known they did, they were certainly pun- ished and the servants severely reprimanded. "At six, as soon as family prayers were over, they had their supper; at seven the maid washed them, and, beginning at the youngest, she undressed and got them all to bed by eight, at which time she left them in their several rooms awake; for there was no such thing allowed of in our house as sitting by a child till it fell asleep. "They were so constantly used to eat and drink what was given them, that when any of them was ill there was no difficulty in making them take the most unpleasant medicine, for they durst not refuse it, though some of them would presently throw it up. This I mention to show that a person may be taught to take anything, though it be never so much against his stomach. "In order to form the minds of children, the first thing to be done is to conquer their MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 93 will, and bring them to an obedient temper. To inform the understanding is a work of time, and must with children proceed by slow de- grees, as they are able to bear it ; but the sub- jecting the will is a thing which must be done at once, and the sooner the better; for by neg- lecting timely correction they will contract a stubbornness and obstinacy which is hardly ever after conquered, and never without using such severity as would be as painful to me as to the child. In the esteem of the world they pass for kind and indulgent whom I call cruel parents — who permit their children to get habits which they know must be afterward broken. Nay, some are so stupidly fond as in sport to teach their children to do things which in a while after they have severely beat- en them for doing. Whenever a child is cor- rected it must be conquered, and this will be no hard matter to do if it be not grown head- strong by too much indulgenee. And when the will of a child is totally subdued, and it is taught to revere and stand in awe of the par- ents, then a great many childish follies and 94 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. inadvertences may be passed by. Some should be overlooked and taken no notice of, and oth- ers mildly reproved; but no wilful transgres- sion ought ever to be forgiven cliildren with- out chastisement less or more, as the nature and circumstances of the ofifense require. " I insist on conquering the will of children betimes, because this is the only strong and rational foundation of a religious education, without which precept and example wil-l be ineffectual; but when this is thoroughly done, then a child is capable of being governed by the reason and piety of its parents till its own understanding comes and the princii)les of religion have taken root in the mind. " I can n(^t yet dismiss this subject. As self-will is the root of all sin and misery, so whatever cherishes this in children insures their after wretchedness and irreligion. What- ever checks and modifies it promotes their future happiness and piety. This is still more evident if we further consider that religion is nothing else than doing the will of God and not our own; that the one grand impediment MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 95 to our temporal and eternal happiness being this self-will, no indulgence of it can be trivial, no denial unprofitable. Heaven or hell de- pends on this alone; so that the parent who studies to subdue it in his child w^orks togeth- er with God in renewing and saving a soul. The parent who indulges it does the devil's work — makes religion impracticable, salvation unattainable — and does all that in him lies to damn his child, soul and body, forever. "The children of this family w^ere taught, as soon as they could speak, the Lord's Prayer — which they were made to say at rising and bedtime constantly — to which as they grew bigger were added a short prayer for their par- ents and some collects, a short catechism and some portion of Scripture, as their memories could bear. " They were very early made to distinguish the Sabbatli from other days before they could well speak or go. They were as soon taught to be still at family prayers and to ask a blessing immediately after, which they used to do by signs before they could kneel or speak. 96 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. '' They were quickly made to understand that they might have nothing they cried for. and instructed to speak handsomely for what tliey wanted. They were not suffered to ask even the lowest servant for aught without saying, 'Pray, give me such a thing,' and the servant was chid if she ever let them omit that word. Taking God's name in vain, cursing and swearing, prof anenoss, obscenity, rude, ill-bred names, were never heard among them. Nor were they ever permitted to call each other by their proper names without the addition of brother or sister. " None of them were taught to read till five years old, except Kezzy — in whose case I was overruled — and she was more years learning than any of the rest had been months. The way of teaching was this: The day before a child began to learn the house was set in order, every one's work was appointed them, and a charge given that none should come into the room from nine till twelve or from two till five — which were our school-hours. One day was allowed the child wherein to learn its let- MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 97 ters; and each of them did iii that time know all its letters, great and small, except Molly and Nancy, who were a day and a half before they knew them perfectly, for which I then thought them very dull; but since I have ob- served how long many children are learning the hornbook, I have changed my opinion. But the reason why I thought them so then was because the rest learned so readily, and Samuel, who was the first child I ever taught, learned the alphabet in a few hours. He was five years old on tlie 10th of February; the next day he began to learn, and as soon as he knew the letters began tlie first chapter of Genesis. He was taught to spell the first verse, then to read it over and over till he could read it ofPhand without any liesitation — so on the second, etc., till he took ten verses for a lesson, which he quickly did. Easter fell low [came late] that year, and by Whitsun- tide he could read a chapter very well ; for he read continually, and had such a prodigious memory that I can not remember ever to have told him the same word twice. What was yet 7 98 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. sti'anger, any word he had learned in his les- son he knew wherever he saw it, either in the Bible or any other book, by which means he soon learned to read an English author well. " The same method was observed with them all. As soon as they knew the letters they were put first to spell and read one line, then a verse — never leaving till perfect in their lesson, were it shorter or longer. So one or another continued reading at school-time without any intermission, and before we left the school each child read what he had learned that morning, and ere we parted in the afternoon what he had learned that day. "There was no such thing as loud talking or playing allowed of, but every one was kept close to their business for the six hours of school; and it is almost incredible what a child may be taught in a quartei' of a year by a vig- orous application, if it have but a tolerable capacity and good health. Every one of these — Kezzy excepted — could read better in that time than most of women can do as long as they live, MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. 99 " Kising out of their places or going out of the room was not permitted, unless for good cause; and running into the yard, garden, or street without leave was always esteemed a capital offense. " For some years we went on very well. Never were children in better order. Never were children better disposed to piety or in more subjection to their parents, till that fatal dispersion of them after the fire into several families. In those days they were left at full liberty to converse with servants — which be- fore they had always been restrained from — and to run abroad and play with any children, good or bad. They soon learned to neglect a strict observation of the Sabbath, and got knowledge of several songs and bad things which before they had no notion of. That civil behavior which made them admired when at home by all who saw them was in a great measure lost, and a clownish accent and many rude ways were learned, which were not re- formed without some difficulty. " When the house was rebuilt and the chil- 100 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. dreii all brought home, we eutered upon a strict reform; and then was begun the custom of singing psalms at beginning and leaving school, morning and evening. Then also that of a general retirement at five o'clock was en- tered upon, when the oldest took the youngest that could speak, and the second the next, to whom they read the Psalms for the day and a chapter in the New Testament — as in the morning they were directed to read the Psalms and a chapter in the Old, after which they went to their private prayers before they got their breakfast or came in to the family. "There were several by-laws observed among us: "1. It had been observed that cowardice and fear of punishment often lead children into lying, till they get a custom of it which they can not leave. To prevent this, a law was made that whoever was charged with a fault, if they would ingenuously confess it, and promise to amend, should not be beaten. This rule prevented a great deal of lying. "2. That no sinful action— as lying, pilfer- Mrs. SUSANNA WESLEY. lOl ing, playing at church or on the Lord's day, disobedience, quarreling, etc. — should ever pass unpunished. "3. That no child should ever be chid or beat twice for the same fault; and if they amended, they should never be upbraided with it afterward. "4. That every signal act of obedience, es- pecially when it crossed upon their own incli- nations, should be always commended, and frequently rewarded according to the merits of the case. " 5. That if ever any child performed an act of obedience or did anything with an intention to please, though the performance was not well, yet the obedience and intention should be kindly accepted, and the child with swreet- nesB directed how to do better for the future. " 6. That propriety [ownership] be inviola- bly preserved, and none suffered to invade the property of another in the smallest matter, though it were but the value of a farthing or a pin, which they might take from the owner without — much less against — his consent. 102 MRS. SUSANNA WESLEY. " 7. That promises be strictly observed, and a gift once bestowed — and so the right passed away from the donor — be not resumed, but left to the disposal of him to wiiom it was given, unless it were conditional, and the con- dition of the obligation be not performed." I WONDER WHAT WERE CHILDREN MADE FOR. I WONDER what were children made for! AVhy, to be loved and trained and prayed for, And do their parents' will ; And whatever may l)e said of them, The best old folks were mao^/man, nor />(f(l, as might be inferred from our word despot derived from the latter part of the Greek compound. "Add to your faith rirfnc :'' Greek, d/jcT>yV, courage. "A clieerful giver, l\ap6v, simply rlmr/ul or irilliiif/. The Greek does not precisely corre- spond in meaning with the English word Jiila- r ions J derived from it. NEW TESTAMENT IN GREEK. 119 " Godliness." Not God-Uke-ness, but Eva-efSeia, reverence, profound adoration toward God. "Anathema." A thing accursed or devoted to destruction. " Maran atiia " — " Our Lord Com- eth." The words are Syriac. " Conversation" — 'Ava(iTpo(f>T] — conduct J is never confined to the idea of words as it is in present usage. "Slew all the children," tov^ TratSa?, male children. "Strain (ft a gnat;" strain out a gnat, Si'jXi^d). '^Qukk and powerful " — /. e., alive and full of energy, ^wv. Misled by tliis Eng- lish word, a writer recently published a long article in a newspaper to prove that we should expect sudden or instantaneous results from God's word. " The ax is laid unto the root of the trees " — /. e., lies at, Ketrat. "For it was not the time of figs." Let the smooth l)reathing of the ou be changed into the rough breathing, and it be- comes ov, and the passage may be translated, icJie)i indeed it was the time of figs. This con- jecture of my own, if allowable, certainly throws light on a very mysterious passage of scripture. 120 NEW TESTAMENT IN GKEEK. " Easily besetting sin," — rather, close-fitting garment^ Ifxariov for afiaprtav. Should secular schools ever exclude the Greek from their courses of instruction, which they are not likely to do, Christian schools can never follow such an example. Christian scholars must ever delight in studying the New Testament in the Greek, and the word of our God in that divinely selected tongue must forever remain the sacred classic of the Church. To abandon the Greek would be to forsake the only standard by which the hun- dreds of translations into the various languages, dialects, and idioms of earth can be verified, harmoiiized, and authenticated as the word of God. Let us study— study Greek, that we may be able thoroughly to understand and rightly to teach the word of God. The time has passed, if it ever existed, when sanctified ignorance in a public teacher could even seem to be edifying to men ; and it certainly can no longer be acceptable to God, when he has placed the means of knowledge within the reach of every student. Let us search the sa- JfEW TESTAMENT IN GREEK. l21 cred Book in the original Greek, as for hid treasure; and familiarize ourselves with the very words which the Spirit used, that we may be filled with the spirit which they convey. We need not only preachers and teachers whose hearts are aflame with the fire cv.ight from the living words of the Master, but we need also profound expositors and learned ex- egetes who can meet the enemy in the gate and reprove the ignorance, the presumption, or the gracelessness of those advocates of higher (or lower) criticism who would rob mankind of the water of life by picking holes in every vessel in which it is carried. THE SOUL'S prayp:r. Fatiikr, I ask one gift of thee, Deny not that one gift to nie, Thy giving can not waste thy store, Nor can withholding make it more. Since thou dost give and not upbraid, Thy suppliant need not l)e afraid; Thy riches all are to be given — Thou wilt not e'en deny us heaven. 1 need not tell thee my re(iuest. For thou canst read it in my breast; Grant me, I pray, the unsi>oken boon, Turn thou my midnight into noon. Make me, O Lord, what I should be, And give me all thou hast for me; The fulness of thy nature give. That I henceforth in thee may live. The night is gone, the death is past, My soul finds life in thee at last; Infinite joy thou givest me. Infinite praise I'd give to thee ! A slave to sin, I lingered long, Salvation now is all my song! My soul, exulting in my Lord, Finds all her prayer in Christ is heard. cu WE MISS OUR FATHER EVERYWHERE * We miss liim in the corner where Now vacant sits the old armchair, We miss him when the meal is spread, We miss him when the grace is said. We miss him at the hour of prayer, We miss our Father everywhere. The world looks now no more the same, Its bright things all seem cold and tame, Its gladness mocks our lonely woe. And taunts our grief where'er we go; No sound is sweet, no scene is fair. We miss our Father everywhere. I miss him on my morning walk I miss his wise, observant talk ; At evening hour I walk alone, Since he who walked with me is gone ; The fields and Woods are sad and bare — I miss my Father everywhere. In vain we search for him we've lost, We can not pass the stream he's crossed ; But while our hearts throb out his name * Written upon the death of my father, Dr. J. E, P. lluiuii- itt, who died at Turin, Ga., Maich 7, 1SS4. 124 WE MISS OUR FATHER EVERYWHERE. We hear a kindly voice proclaim: " Weep not my children, God is near; A home of peace awaits you here." Then ^ight the fire when day's work's through As Father long was wont to do, And let its glow the orphans cheer When they at eve shall gather near; His spirit, too, shall join with ours. Communing tiiere with heavenly powers. Around the home-hearth still we'll meet And seek for strength at Jesus' feet. There wiping oft affection's tears New hope shall spring for future years; Tliere we shall prove the power of prayer — Our Father's God will still be there. NOISE AS A BEAIN-DEVELOPEK Little had I suspected, till recently, that while the propensity to " make a noise in the world" is characteristic of most energetic men, the noise-making of all healthy children is not only natural, but is perhaps physically necessary to the highest develox^ment of their brains. Every child is instinctively a noise- maker, and my theory is that certain kinds of noise are powerfully promotive of brain- growth. The voice, the ear, and the brain are by no means independent of each other; but vocal chords, auricular structure, and high-wrought brain for thought are all joined in special and mutual helpfulness. Human life, with reference to our inquiry, may be divided into three periods: (1) the period of uproarious noise-making; (2) the period of silent work; (3) the period of still- ness and decadence. In the first, the child 126 NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. lives in ceaseless noise and perpetual motion; in the second, man studies, works, and at- tends to business, avoiding noise and utilizing motion; in the third, both noise and motion lose their charms, and stillness is courted, while enfeebling age lulls man to his final sleep. Men are so constituted that all their pow- ers can not be equally active at the same time; some must rest while others work. The chief function of a chikl is to grow. The entire body, including the brain, should grow rapidly in child liood. One great i3ro- moter of growth is motion. Chemical de- composition and recomposition of particles, adjustment of molecular elements, enlarge- ment and increase of strength in all parts of the body are the result of activity. And what motion is to the body in general, sound is to the brain in particular, the brain being precluded by its surroundings from the effects of motion on other parts of the body. It can scarcely be questioned that the exercise of each and all of the five bodily senses has a NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. 127 great effect in developing the capacities of the brain for its varied kinds of work. The impinging of light upon the eye affects the ])rain through the optic nerve. The contact and movement of sand upon the tender skin of a child produces not only exquisite pleas- ure through the sense of touch, but also a quickening of perceptivity and of general bodily consciousness. All children should have sand beds to play in. That the exercise of the sense of hearing is essentially connected with the higher powers of the brain may be inferred from the fact that the auditory ganglia of the brain are devel- oi:)ed along with and usually in proportion to the intelligence of the animal. In the cod- fish, for instance, the optic and olfactory ganglia are distinctly shown, with the cere- bral lobes and the cerebellum; while here, as in most reptiles and even in rabbits and birds, the auditory ganglia are almost rudi- mentary. Indeed, the marvelously complex apparatus of the sense of hearing in the higher animals seems to demonstrate the 128 NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. eminent importance of the power of hearing to the functions of the brain. The effect of mere sound, regardless of its signilicauce, would be to develop the brain not so much in size as in molecular structure and in functional capacity, as the seat of sensations and the author of movements. This I hold to be the easiest possible mode of enhancing the thinking power of the brain. Should a child strongly exert his mental powers in order to increase the thinking ca- pacity of his brain, he would thereby in large degree suspend the normal activity of parts of his body, restrict growth, and injure his health ; as may be seen in the case of young children who are excessively fond of study or are too much pressed to books. Noise exercises the brain without tiring it, as play does the body. The inrush of sound through the auditory ap- paratus to the brain quickens and enhances its powers, as play does those of the body. It is said that no two particles of matter are in actual contact. Perhaps those of the best brains come nearest to touching that NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPEE. 129 they may present the highest possible degree of vibratility. The effect of multitudinous vocal sounds, to which no attention is paid, seems to be to promote such an adjustment of the particles of the brain as shall qualify it for higher grades of intellectual work and for the authorship of more graceful muscular move- ments. Sound-waves from without and heart- pulses from within conspire to j^romote that exquisite vibratility in the millionary gos- samers of the brain which make it the inscru- table mystery of science, the miracle of mira- cles among the works of God. The scientific theory of sound lends itself readily to the confirmation of these views. While waves of light are transverse, waves of sound are longitudinal — /. r., in the direction of the motion of the wave. Hence, waves of sound would be eminently calculated to af- fect decidedly the delicate matter of the brain by means of the impulses which would reach it through the ear. And does not the brain respond to the contributions which sounds have made to its thinking capacity by fabri- 9 130 NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. eating its very thoughts in sounds? Does not consciousness reveal the fact that we not only think in words, but that the mind formu- lates those words to itself, in their last phys- ical analysis, in mere sounds? Repeat mental- ly a familiar passage of literature, and you have no vision of the shapes or numbers of the letters or words, but the mind runs through the series of appropriate sounds whereby the thought is expressed. Do we not, then, think in sounds? The truth of this theory would demand not only appropriate noise, but good hearing organs in order to the highest intel- lectuality. And do we not find the congeni- tally deaf not only dumb, but much restricted in their mental capacities? Would not chil- dren of good hearing be greatly lessened in mental activity if reared in silence? But we need not now invade the realms of the anatomist or of the metaphysician. We may confidently expect future investigations to show that certain meaningless sounds im- pinging on the matter of the brain exert a pow- erful ejBfect upon the intellectuality of man. NOISE AS A BKAIN-DEVELOPER. 131 Let as ratlier look at the phenomena of child- hood, as a period of noise-making, comparing it with the same period in the lives of brutes. Who ever knew the command, " Stop your noise, children?" to fail to .kill all the joy of the rompers, if it did not stop the play altogether? To forbid the motions and the noises of children is to suppress the foun- tains of vitality within them. Yet noise is no essential part of play. It is only intellec- tual, human young that must play noisily, or not at all. The young of almost all lower animals play, but they play for the most part silently. This silence in the young of wild animals may be accounted for by the instinct of self-preservation, lest noise should betray them to their foes. But this reason will not account for the noiseless sports of the young of domestic animals. Lambs, kids, colts, and calves evidently enjoy their noiseless play, and puppies at times give only slight pre- monitions that they will be loud barkers some day, by their half-suppressed guttural laugh-grunts in play. 132 NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. The young of birds seem too mucli taken up with the work of digestion while full-fed during the growing period, or with the pangs of hunger when starved to lighten them for flight as they approach maturity, to think much about play. The cries of the nestling, which, by revealing its whereabouts, liave brought death to many a hapless birdling, have in them nothing of the gladness of play. Only the child, the prince among animals, free, fearless, and divinely intellectual, is pre- eminently a noise-maker in all his play; inso- much that we may say, the more noise he makes the happier he is, and — may we not add? — the more intellectual he becomes. But this propensity to stir the aerial ocean round into a dinning tempest of sound in order to their highest satisfaction, though peculiar to the human species, is not con- fined to little children. College boys, when at liberty, are notoriously vociferous except when engaged in schemes whose execution demands the secrecy of silence. College *' cries" are becoming more and more uni- NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. 133 versal and uproarious as intellectuality ad- vances. AVlien the sentimental collegian saws with his fiddle bow through hours wearisome to all but himself, he is doubtless wearing off the rngosities of his cranial convolu- tions, preparatory to the due realization and expression of the tenderer affections of his heart. Those sandpapering sounds adjust his brain to the softer emotions of his soul, and he is a different man forever after. This universal propensity to noise-making can not be regarded as an accident, much less as an expression of a vicious desire to sur- prise, annoy, or alarm others. It doubtless finds its deep and sufiicient explanation in the l)hysiology of the brain. Those schools, perhaps they should be styled scholastic prisons, where too much stillness is required and too much silence is exacted of the growing child have often pro- duced effects the very opposite of those in- tended by parents and teachers, and have tended rather to make dull machines than lively thinkers; while, perhaps, loud-studying 134 NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. schools have made up in general brain-de- velopment what they lacked in special and technical mind-training. Even a blow upon the ear, not severe enough to injure the or- gan internally, has, in possible instances, produced far better effects upon the brain than the terai)er of the administrator wouhl allow to be expected upon the heart of the child. If chiklren do not live by noise, it is largely by noise they prove they are alive. Scotch law declares that if a child does not cry load enough to bo heard it is never alive at all. While I was writing this essay three of the prettiest little girls marched unceremoniously into my study, each holding one of McGinty's babies in her hand, And thoy blew and they blew and they blew till I found all my protests were utterly futile. What could I do, but rejoice in their joy, recognize the happy and unexpected demon- stration of my theory, and congratulate the parents on the infallible promise of intel- NOISE AS A BEAIN-DEVELOPER. 135 lectuality in their children? From this view of the question it should be expected that noisy children would excel in manifestations of mental power. And who can say they do not? Are not the children of negroes, of In- dians, and of all other unintellectual races by far less noisy in play and elsewhere than the children of the Caucasian race? The former often in their frolics remind one of the mute dulness of young brutes. How much to be regretted it is that all the sore-nerved mothers and thousands of others who through the ages have been afflicted and tormented by the ever-varying, never-ceasing, and irrepressible babblings, rompings, roar- ings, and thunderings of playing children did not know that all these noises were not only proofs, presages, and p/romoters of high intellectuality, but were really essential agents in producing the greatest minds of the world! Only think, that all the bawlings of all the bawlers that ever bawled were eminently pro- motive of mind-growth in the bawlers! The very thought is a balm to the ears of adult 136 NOISE AS A BRAIN-DEVELOPER. humanity, and turns millionary torments into joys. Then let the children loudly play And every bawler have his day. The bawling thrills the brain within, And thought-power grows amid the din. THE WEATHER AND I. The weather and I could never agree ; Just why this was so, I never could see, 1 When the weather was dry I wished it would rain,'^ And when it was warm I clamored for cool- To quarrel with him was simply ray rule. I warred with the weather for many long years, I found fault with him and he pinched my ears; 2 Now why should the weather afflict us with pain? 'Twas always the wrong sort of weatlier for me — My hahit forever his wrong side to see. So, when 1 was pleased, and v/hen I was not, The weather kept changing from cold back to hot ; 3 An unruly fellow he surely must be! I cowered before his on-sweepirg blast, And found I was under the weather at last. Oh, then, T bethought me, with him I'll agree, And the wisdom of all his changes I'll see— 4 Since I can't make him submissive to me; In sunshine or showers, hot or cold, I will say. What beautiful weather ! a very fine day ! *Thc inimbercd lines may be read as a stanza. 138 THE WEATHER AND I. How gladsome the sunshine! how sweet are the showers! The heat and the cold are the heavenly powers ; 5 O shame that I ever found fault with my friends! They fill all the earth with fruits and with flow- ers, And show us God's thoughts, far higher than ours. Shall I ever again of the weather complain? The worst-seeming days are good in the main; f> Could I make them better for (iod's gracious ends? Each day is the best that could possibly be, To those wlio have eyes its blessings to see. A SATIRE ON UNBELIEF. The world thus far has banked on truth, As well became its artless youth ; But now she feels that she's grown wise, And boldly proves the power of lies. A fiction's been for centuries told Of Eve's and Adam's sin of old, How they transgressed the rule of heaven And forth were from the garden driven ; Of how they fell from God's good grace, And sank the souls of all their race. Long after that, we hear it said, A covenant was with Abraham made By which he was to serve the Lord, And God was pledged to be his God, And all his seed were to be blessed. And all the earth should be possessed By one descended from his line Who should with heavenly virtues shine. So, when the years had rolled away. The writers of this story say, A child was born, a wondrous child. On whom a virgin mother smiled, 140 A SATIRE ON UNBELIEF. King of the Jews and God's own Son, Jesus, tlie Clirist, the Holy One, Who brought a gracious plan from heaven By whicli men's sins might be forgiven. He taught and wrought and died to save, And conquered sin, hell, and the grave; He claimed the world as all his own. And said its praise his name should crown. His followers say he went to heaven Till what he taught tlie world should leaven. Science now late her head exalts Proclaiming all this story false. The supernatural can't be true, 'Twould all the fixed laws undo. Yet Jesus' doctrines widely spread, They're to the souls of men as bread ; Wise men say they can not doubt them — They could not live or die without them; Honor and truth spring from^their sway, Our thoughts are shaped by them to-day. Obeying them all lives are blest, Of moral fruits they yield the best, From strength to strength their votaries go. Bounds to their empire none may know. Jesus is worshiped everywhere, ' His name gives form to every prayer, All those who follow him do right. As guided by unearthly light, A SATIRE ON UNBELIEF. 141 While love and joy and all good will The lives of his disciples fill. Yea, strange to tell, we see this day- He holds the world heneath his sway. The years are numbered from his birth, And Cliristians rule the spacious earth, The nations that confess him Lord Could sweep the world of Satan's horde. If lies thus take earth's ills away Then may these lies forever stay. How strange is this, could truth do more — The truth that infidels adore? THE FOKMEK DAYS AND THESE. "Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this." (Eccl. vii. 10.) Had Solomon written noth- ing more than this weighty warning against forming erroneous oj)iuions on a question which through the ages involves alike the honor of God and the w^elfare of man, he would deserve a place among the wisest of our race. Were the former days really better than these, or do they only seem so? Our object in this essay will be to show how and why, even though they were not better, there will ever be a tendency in many minds to think that they were, and yet that the evidence is decidedly in favor of the present w^hen com- pared with the past. Among those especially who have passed FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 143 the meridian of life, the opinion is apt to pre- vail that whatever pertains to tlie welfare of man is on the decline. The seasons appear to them to be growing more severe, the heat more intense, the cold more intolerable, while all malignant elements combine in unwonted ways to ruin our peace. To them, every form of evil seems to be on the increase, and the good to be everywhere pushed to the wall. The situation is sad and the prospect gloomy. If the world is not really on the "easy de- scent to hell," it is honestly feared by many that it is nearly approaching the verge of that perilous declivity. The sadness of those who view things thus is intensified by the thought of the past. " The former days were better than these," say they. " Give us back the good old days, or we must go down in sorrow to our graves." How far such views and feel- ings as these, affecting as they do thousands of the best people, are warranted by facts, and how far they result from the conditions and operations of their own minds, is a ques- tion well worthy of investigation. 144 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. In what respects, then, is it thought that the former days were better? Surely none believe that the past had any advantage over the present in the useful arts or in the prac- tical sciences. Within the present century new applications of steam as a motive power have revolutionized the manufacturing and commercial operations of the world, increas- ing beyond all anticipation the physical com- forts and enjoyments of life, and wonderfully facilitating transportation and rapid and ex- tensive intercommunication among men. The use of gas and of electricity as illumi- nators has furnished guiding and protecting light to thousands of cities that had pre- viously been accustomed to sit in dangerous darkness when sun and moon were out of sight. Electricity has been made to run on obedient errands over lines constructed and located with marvelous skill and enterprise, bearing and delivering messages of thought to the most distant parts of the world with such speed and accuracy as to almost annihi- late space, and amazingly transcending all FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 145 previous conception of possibility. The gov- ernment of a nation, located at its capital, whence diverging and ramifying telegraphic wires sj^read like network over its surround- ing domains, may constitute itself a grand sensorium, almost as quickly conscious as a human brain of any important change in even the most distant part of the body politic. As a motive power it works like a magician, and is superseding even steam itself as a mover of the machinery of the world. Astronomers have pushed their inquiries into distant space, discovering new worlds and systems of worlds; have given special atten- tion to the sun, and by the aid of the spectro- scope have been enabled to read a revelation of the elementary constituents of the great king of day written by his own beams. Ge- ologists, too, have been searching the depths of the earth and are beginning to read the chronicles of creation that have been buried, but not lost, for uncalculated ages, from leaves of the great earth-volume that had never been turned before. 10 146 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. Indeed, in all knowledge we have been progressing, and Mr. Edison, tlie wizard of tlie nineteenth century, is almost daily sur- prising the world by some invention or dis- covery in the realm of science. Neither in the extent and variety of learn- ing, nor in its skilful application to the pur- poses of life, is the present age inferior to any that preceded it. AVherein, then, is the world thought to be retrograding? In moral status — in the power and prevalence of truth and righteousness, we are told. The preaching is not so powerful nor the singing so inspiring as they once were. Peoi)le are neither so good nor so hai)py as they were in former years. Men are lapsing from the faith of their fathers and losing confidence in the teachings of the Bible, while diabolical wick- edness of many kinds prevails. We have fallen upon evil times. Are these really facts? We have two sour- ces of evidence, history and experience. The testimony of history is neither meager nor doubtful. Universal tradition corroborates FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 147 the brief Biblical account of a flood by which the Almighty swept from the earth a vast population whose wickedness had become in- tolerable, thereby not only preventing the further increase of their ungodliness, but for- ever hiding from the generations to come all special knowledge of a people the particulars of whose history would have been an ever- recurring suggestion to sin. Notwithstanding this, wickedness of the grossest kind became shockingly prevalent among all nations pre- vious to the coming of Christ. Earthquakes, famines, and pestilences were penalties which demonstrated the enormity of men's crimes. Pharaoh, Sodom, Korah, and many others evidence a degree of criminality as then prev- alent of which we can now form no adequate conception. The political history of the world for many centuries is little else than an account of the animosities, strifes, and murders of rival prin- ces; the oppression or enslavement of their subjects, and the wholesale destruction of their enemies. More men, in proportion to 148 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. the populatioD, often lost their lives by pri\-ate feuds or public wars then, in a few years, than now perish from the same causes in a century. Social and personal morals were exceedingly depraved. Woman was universally enslaved and abused by the brutal power of tyrannical man; children in some of the most enlight- ened nations were taught to steal; revolting scenes of bloodshed and horror were every- where regarded as the most delightful enter- tainments for all sexes and classes of society; while the hope of drinking their enemies' blood from bowls made of their skulls was their very highest idea of felicity in the world to come. But lest we be thought to draw our evidence from too remoli^ a period, let us look at the state of the world after the more general spread of the gospel. It is true the picture seems somewhat modified, yet it is sufficiently dark. "Wars and manifold wickednesses claim a large share of attention. Even the Church of Christ becomes often involved in such bloody struggles with heretics or heathen that we might reasonably infer that it was her FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 149 chief aim to destroy, instead of to save, men's lives. It is scarcely a hundred years since the Christian world arrived at the conclusion that persecution of heretics was not the noblest mark of the divinity of the Church. The dark ages — dark not only in literature, but in mor- als — spread their gloomy centuries like a wall of blackness between us and the apostles' day; centuries which surely no sane man could wish to have repeated in the world's history. But during the last few centuries new and power- ful agencies for good have been abroad. The invention of the art of printing has greatly facilitated the multiplication and lessened the cost of copies of the Holy Scriptures, and the Bible, released from the thraldom of conceal- ment in which it had lain for ages, has gone forth a radiant luminary into the kingdoms of darkness and the nations have been quickened and blessed by its heavenly light. The invention of railroads has greatly facil- itated all kinds of transportation, men have mingled with each other, knowledge of every kind has greatly increased, and civilized man 150 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. seems to have been advanciug in wisdom and virtue. He who jutlges the course of a stream by objects circling in eddies along its banks would be apt to mistake the direction of the current. The battle between good and evil should be judged by the movements of nations and the moral trend of the centuries. Let us note a few signs: 1. From the time when Constantino marched to victory under the banner of the cross, Chris- tianity has deepened and widened her power till Christian nations have now become the dominant nations of the world. 2. Multiplying millions are being annually expended in Christian charities, churches, schools, hospitals, and asylums; all govern- ments are being mitigated, and prison disci- pline is everywhere being humanized, through the intluence of the name of Christ. 3. The spirit and practise of war are greatly dhninished. With the amazing increase in means of transportation, which might have multiplied wars and intensified contiicts, na- tions have learned forbearance, which is evi- >;:> FORMEK DAYS AND THESE. 151 denced by the numerous arbitrations of na- tional disputes and the urgent proposal of treaties of universal and permanent arbitra- tion between all nations. 4 Never before did Cliristians make such efforts to save the heathen as are now being made. Certainly one of the most marked fea- tures of the latter half of the nineteenth cen- tury is its missionary feature. 5. Among the greatest obstacles to the prog- ress of Christianity have been the schisms and strifes among its professors. The failure of the Church to keep herself pure and peaceable hindered her spread more than all opposition from without. The errors, corruptions, and tyranny of Romanism gave rise to Protestant- ism. Limitation of mind and selfishness of heart gave ignorance and ambition a devilish sway in the Church, till even the lieathen re- jected the caricature of Christianity as a sub- stitute for the powerless rites of their ancestral religions. But now we see the day -not of perfect harmony, but of milder strife — when Churches contend less for dogma and more 152 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. for Christ, less for victory and more for the salvation of souls. Surely the Church of to- day presents less of the repulsive and more of the attractive and convincing before the eyes of the unbelieving world than did the Church of two or five hundred years ago. Thus we perceive that a general survey of the past forces upon us the conclusion that the world has not been moving backward. There may have been temporary periods of exception, but the general tendency and move- ment have been from bad to good, from dark- ness unto light. Indeed, we are ever liable to learn less than the truth concerning the evils of the past. The natural preference of the mind for good rather than evil; the injunction of the classic motto, " Nothing concerning the dead unless it be good;" and the natural tendency of men to speak favorably of their own achievements and characters — authorize us to expect history to give us a somewhat flattering picture of the past. The bearer of evil tidings can give no pleasure by his tale, but is liable to be regard- FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 153 ed as was the man who ran to tell David of Absalom's death. The historian often looks through friendship's j)artial eyes or charity's fault-hiding evil. It is hard to learn the whole truth about the past. History is apt to show it With mentioned faults a little dwarfed, And many faults untold. But perhaps we have misconceived the po- sition of those with whom we would reason. They do not mean to say that ancient were better than modern times, but that during the period of their experience the times have cer- tainly not improved; and they sigh for the " good old days." The world, the Church, and all things seemed to them better a few decades ago than now. The children were more obe- dient and respectful, the parents more discreet and careful, the preachers were more pious aud profound, the laws were better executed, and even the water they drank from grandfa- ther's spring was colder and sweeter than any the earth affords in these degenerate days. There is something so natural and at the same time so saddening in this state of mind 154 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. that its philosophy well deserves our investi- gation. Let us examine it. Were the bygone days which we hear so much eulogized really superior to these in which we live, or do they only seem soV AVe think the superiority of the past is only seeming. How, then, does this seeming become a most affecting reality to many wise people who would not be unjustly censorious of the times in which they live? 1. A poet tells us: 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. And clothen the mountain in its azure hue. Doubtless the appearance of other matters than mountains often depends upon the dis- tance of time as well as of territory over which they are viewed. Were we nearer to those distant days, they would not seem the same to us. A closer inspection would reveal many deformities not perceived in the dis- tance, even as a mountain range, which looks wdien seen afar soft and smooth as the sky, becomes, on a near approach, a rough and craggy barren, quite unlovely to behold. FORMEE DAYS AND THESE. 155 2. Tlie source of this error may be the bet- ter appreciated by bearing in mind the fact that memory instinctively retains that which is good, and as naturally rejects that which is evil. The mind treasures the remembrance of all things good and pleasant as a constant source of joy. Though duty and necessity often conspire to produce a habit of dwelling upon the evils of the present, collecting their evidences and brooding over their effects, in- terest and pleasure incline us to forget the evil of the past and remember the good. The oft-recurring vexations and disappointments of the present drive the mind to seek solace amid the delights which memory has saga- ciously stored away in her treasury. The fresh scratch of a brier upon our person pro- duces more present dissatisfaction than the cicatrix of a dangerous wound which has long since healed. The petty annoyances of a sin- gle day of ordinary life are more trying to even a patient spirit than are the remembered horrors of a score of hard-fought battles. There is a sort of joy in the recollection of 156 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. ills that are past, arising no doubt from the thought that we have esca^^ed from them and are beyond their reach; but the instinct of self-preservation disposes ns to exaggerate every evil which affects ns in the present. What a happy thing, too, is it that memory prefers to treasure up only good! Is it not a trace of the divine nature yet lingering in the soul, burying evil in forgetfulness and hold- ing only to the good? Let us not be de- ceived; the past had its evils which are out of sight, the present has more of good perhaps than we are prepared to see. 3. The correctness of those views will the more clearly appear if we consider that for several reasons we almost necessarily give a disportionately large share of attention to present ills as compared with those that are past, while the reverse takes place with re- gard to whatever is good. A natural and often unconscious selfishness leads us to magnify the faults and vices of our cotem- poraries; while personal rivalries, jealousies, and hates too frequently disqualify us for FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 157 forming a correct estimate of their virtues. Perfect impartiality is scarcely to be expected, however honestly aimed at by an interested party. Besides, our very nearness to the evils about us, by a well-known law of physical optics, not inapplicable to moral vision, ren- ders it impossible that present ills should not occupy an uiiduly large part of our field of view, when compared with those of the dis- tant past. A man's hand laid over his eyes shuts out the world. It may be asked: Does not the same law apply to our estimate of the favorable aspects of past and present, and will not the one error counterbalance the other? We answer negatively, since the dangerous- ness of the present evils must, for the time, distract our attention from all other objects of thought. A single source of imminent evil, however small, effectually i:)revents, while it occupies the mind, all consideration of a hun- dred sources of greater good. A violent storm of an hour's duration attracts more at- tention and leaves a more profound impres- sion upon the minds of a community than a 158 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. score of serene and sunshiny clays. A single riot is more noticed than the preaching of a hundred st?rmons or the i:)eaceful continu- ance of civil government for a twelvemonth. Self-preservation, or the shunning of all evil, is the strongest instinct of liunianity. Hence the evils which affect i(s noir are thought greater than all others. 4. That good men should find themselves often regretting the backwaid moral tenden- cies of the world is not surprising. Wicked men have no idea of sin except such as is suggested by its calamitous effects. But the Christian, in whose soul the principles of the divine nature have been developed, feels a constantly increasing sensitiveness to the moral turpitude of sin. The illumi- nated understanding, the quickened con- science, becomes painfully cognizant of what- ever is inconsistent with the divine will. The more we become like God, the more keenly alive are we to all ungodliness. The world seems to be growing worse, because we are growing better; the regions around aio- FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 159 pear darker, bec^iuse the light within us is in- creasing. It was when Elijah was most zealous for God's kingdom that he believed himself to be its only surviving representative. His horror at the surrounding wickedness blinded him to the thousands who had not bowed the knee to Baal. 5. Let us not then infer the moral deteriora- tion of the world from our own advancement in holiness; for as we grow in grace sin must ever continue to appear yet "yet more ex- ceeding sinful;" and so the ungodly world seems always to be growing worse to those who are going on unto perfection. The train that is moving more slowly than ours seem to us to be moving backward. 6. But perhaps the saddest of all reasons for gloomy views of the i)resent moral state and tendency of the world is to be found in the backslidden condition of tliose who enter- tain these views. How much of the appear- ance of any object seen is due to the mind that perceives is a (question which philosophers inO FORMER DAYS AND THESE. fiud not easy to answer. We know that the color of any object may be changed by throw- ing upon it in succession the different pris- matic rays. We know, too, that certain dis- eased states of the brain or of the organs of vision result in the most absurd and distorted perceptions of sight. Tlie notion we form of the moral state of society is perhaps ([uite as niurh dependent upon the condition of our own hearts as the appearance of physical things is upon tlif (juality of the light or upon the condition of our visual organs. To the mourning spirit every object is suggestive of sadness, even the very same which to the clu'i'rful heart is a minister of gladness. The soul that has lost the joys of former days sees all things through a tear-dimmed eye, som- bereil by the shadow which itself has cast. Seltishness, too, powerfully aids the decep- tion. Men are loath to believe others gener- ally better tlian themselves. When a soul has wandered from the light of God's coun- tenance and walks amid the fogs of doubt and unbelief, it sees all men enveloped in the in- FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 161 siguia of its own iiufaitlifulness. Whoever knew one who had lost the joys of the great salvation that did not think that the Cliurch and all the appliances and evidences of grace had manifestly deteriorated within the period of his remembrance? We read of one in olden times whose feet were almost gone, whose steps had well-nigh slipped, and who had rashly concluded that the righteous have no advantage over the wicked, and that it is a vain thing to serve God. In the blindness of his mind he had begun to envy the apparent prosperity of the wicked. Having lost his own faith, he at once imagined all faith to be vain. But wdien he went to the sanctuary and studied God's truth in the light of his providence, he was over- whelmed with a sense of the folly of his rea- soning and the wickedness of his thoughts. It is a fortunate thing that all men are never sick at once, and we should beware of infer- ring the moral state of the world from the un- healthy, backslidden condition of individual souls. 11 102 FORMEK DAYS AND THESE. 7. But finally, the i)ievaleiicy of the idea that the days of our early remembrance were better than these is attributable, more than to any other single cause, to the permanency of early impressions. There is a mysterious beauty in the relative states and o])erations of th(^ mind at ditVi-rcnt p<'riods <»!' life. The in- timate conin'ction Ix'twtM'n th«' mental states of ehildluMul and old ai;e is one of the most curious facts of our earthly existence. It is at once interestini^: and wonderful to see the resurrection in the minds of the aged of the long-dormant impressions of early childhood. Our lives seem naturally divisible into three great periods: the j)eriod of feeling, thei)eriod of action, and the period of reflection or ret- rospection. As age advances the mind seems to look farther back into its early history, as if its final operations were but an unwinding of the thread of thought, and living child- hood over again; or, as if life under some un- seen power first flowed so far forth and then ebbed back to its starting-point. Hence it is that the aged are never in })erfect sympathy FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 163 with current events, but are perj^etually dwell- ing in the past. "Still o'er those scenes their nieiuory wakes, And fondly l>roo(ls with niiscr care; Time ])ut tlu^ impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear." Fortunately for the young and for the aged too, the mind's first impressions of its eartiily home are of the most favorable character. To those just entering it, the world is full of beauty. To the young the sunshine is brighter, the breeze more delightful, the water more refreshing, fruits more delicious, and all scenery more delectable than to the old. To them all things wear the charm of novelty. With eager curiosity they go forth into life, their minds being rendered pecul- iarly receptive by the absence of all i)re- occupying thoughts and anxious cares. With fervent and untutored imagination they ex- aggerate every object, viewing all things as colored by a glowing fancy and magnified by contrast with the diniinutiveness of the be- holder. Seeking happiness with an instinct 1G4 FOKMEK DAYS AND THESE. as iiiierriiig as that wliicli guides the butterfly to the sweets of the new-blown flower, they see and hear and taste all things beautiful and delightful. They neither know nor de- sire to know of the evils of life. It is only the exi)erience of after-years that teaches tlu'in that many of the flowers that c-liarniiMl their childhood were poisonous; tliat serpents often lie conceahnl beneath the fairest bowers; that our dearest friendships are of siiort du- ration and sometimes insincere; tluit lal)or and disappointment are tlu* lot of all; that losses and diseases are inevitable attendants of life; and tliat death ])ursues us through every period of our earthly career with a thousand executioners, infallibly sure by one means or anotlu'r to arrest us at last and hurry us away from all we here have loved. Those who judge the world by the impressions re- ceived in childhood always judge it amiss. Comparing things seen through youth's ad- miring eyes ^\ith things as viewed through the penetrating visi(ni of schooled, suspicious and often embittered age, it is not strange tha FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 165 tliey should find their preference all in favor of the former days. The world was never so good as we once fancied it to be; it is better now than oar chafed spirits are willing to ad- mit. Cliildren are just as happy now as their grandparents were in their childhood seventy years ago. The world does not grow worse, though men grow old. The living majority is always young. No, we do not inquire wisely concerning this. God is better than oui- thoughts, and his kingdom is not failing. Christians ripen in grace UKn-e rai)idly than the world around them. Their moral prog- ress is more speedy. Hence they become dis- couraged when viewing the apparently slow (and seemingly backward) moral moveiiKMit of tlie ages. Jacob's reply to IMiaraoh is characteristic of the aged: "Few and evil liave the days of tlie years of iny life been, and have not at- tained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage." Not Benjamin alive nor all the glory of 16G FOllMER DAYS AND THESE. Joseph in Egypt could oven for a nioinent suspciid Ja('()l)'s liabit of dwclliiiL;- upon the sorrows of his life. The absence of his be- loved boys had burned lines of grief into his soul so deep that no present joy, however great, couhl suddenly obliterati> thcni. The liabit of looking only into the past for models of perfection was tlie natural result of all efforts at improvement on the part of men to whom the future was wholly unrevealed. Heuce the heathen statesmen, ))lii!osopher8, and ])oets exhausted their skill in depicting the excelh»nces of the primitive times, which they su])posed to be in exact proportion to their remoteness, so that the earliest period Could only be fitly represented as the t/oldm (h/c of the world. From that blissful state the world seemed to them to have })erpetually declined by the gradual loss of every element of happiness. This heathenish idea has doubtless had mueh influence in producing a very general tendency in modern minds to exaggerate every desirable characteristic of the past, and to disparage every claim of ex- FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 167 cellence on the part of the present. Chris- tianity first undertook to teach mankind that into the future, and not into the past, they shouki look for the highest types of perfection. Yet many fail to appreciate her doctrine and spend much time in vain regrets that the present is not as the past was, and in fruit- less endeavors to recall the irrevocable, and live over the lives of their grandparents. The times have changed, and we have changed with them. We are not, and should not be, precisely what our ancestors were. It may be profitable to review the errors of the past, that we may avoid them; but to undertake or desire to repeat the history of the past is sheer folly. The world can not elevate and redeem itself by repeating its own history, Increasing age and experience reveal to men the existence of internal as well as external sources of evil of which they had no concep- tion in early life; hence they sigh most nat- urally for the innocence of childhood. Con- scious of the disease and ignorant alike of its cause and of its remedy, the restless spirit 168 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. seeks relief in the ljapj[)y remembrance of the innocence and peace of bygone earlier days. That vain regrets for departed blessings and futile attempts to restore the world to tlie fancied status of some former period should have been per])etually repeated from age to age by men destitute of divine revelation is no surprising thing. The future being to tliem a dread obscurity, they could look only into tlie j)ast for criteria by wliic-li to estimate tlie present. Ihit for men accepting as in- si)ired a book whose autlior saw and declared the future as clearly as the ])ast, and whose pages are burdened with piomises of things to come more glorious in all icspects than the past has ever known, such idolatry of the past is as inconsistent with sound wisdom as it is with saving faith. We have no evidence that men were ever better satisfied with their sur- roundings than are the men of the ])resent generation. Every past age was to those wdio lived in it a present j)eriod and no more sat- isfactory to them than our times are to us. The men of every i)ast generation lived and FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 169 died regretting the unlikeness of their times to the former times. The Christian revela- tion, on the contrary, abounds with promises of future good. No state of personal or of social life was ever so greatly blessed that its successor was not legitimately expected to surpass it. The world's advancement in all real good is to be accomplished not by a repetition of its own history, but by a per- petual approach to a state whose ideal is re- vealed only from heaven. The model is ever above and before us. The New Jerusalem is to come down from God out of heaven. The angel's exhortation to Lot, 'J Look not behind thee," embodies the sentiment of heaven's instruction to the men of every age. AVe are to "forget the steps already trod and onward urge our way." We are not to think of returning to Egypt, as did s(mie (and were not they the proto- types of our modern eulogizers of the past?) whose souls were married to memories of its flesh-pots, but we are to look only to the un- imagined delights of Canaan before us. 170 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. Does the kingdom of heaven among men seem to any to l)e waning? Let them re- member that the stone which was cut out of the mountain without hands fiUed the whole earth, and that the promises of God are as sure as his power can make them. Though " I visit their transgressions with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes, neverthek^ss my h)ving-kin(lness will I not utterly take from liiui, nor suffer my faithfulness to fail." (Ps. Ixxxix. 32, 33.) " In the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed. . . . It shall stand forever." "Of the increase of his government and peace tliere shall be no end." Surely, if these predictions and promises are true and faithful, there can be no absolute deterioration in the world's moral state. Surely they are mistaken who suppose the world is growing worse, for some in every preceding age thought the same, and if they thought truly, then is the world nearer perdition now than ever before. But God, who is the strength of our hearts and our por- FOBMER DAYS AND THESE. 171 tiou forever, has assured us of better things. " Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased." " The earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." " The kingdoms of this world are to become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; and he shall reign forever and ever." "New Jerusalem shall come down from God out of heaven" — "the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God." *'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." '' It doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him ; for we shall see him as he is." "O'er the gloomy hills of darkness Look, my soul, be still and gaze; All the promises do travail With a glorious day of grace." Are there, indeed, no visible proofs in the current history of our race that the world, in 172 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. spite of all the powers of darkness, is really advancing in all wisdom, grace, and goodness? Are there there no indications that the doc- trines of heavenly truth are pervading the na- tions and leavening the whole world? If the promises are being fulfilled, the signs of ful- filment will not be wanting. Even a cursory survey of the Christian world does not fail to present to the appreciative eye njost gratify- ing tokens of moral progress. If outward and visible fruits are to ])e iaken as any indication of the inward and spiritual state, the present age has no cause to shrink from comparis(jn with any of its X)redecessors. In all those char- ities which are the offspring of genuine benevo- lence and the exh ibi t ions of that self-sacrificing love of our neighbor which Ciiristianity alone inspires, no age of the world has surpassed or even equaled the present. Large sums of both public and private funds are annually expend- ed in the erection and maintenance of hospi- tals for the relief of the afflicted poor. Com- fortably housed and tenderly nursed, thousands of the poor are soothed in spirit and healed of FOBMER DAYS AND THESE. 173 disease by the kindly ministry of sympathi- zing Christians. Everywhere over the ever- widening domain of Christian civilization asylums, built and sustained at a cost of millions of money, stand as monuments of the liberality of Christians in providing for the relief and comfort of the insane, the blind, the deaf and dumb, and the orphan. Hundreds of thousands of dollars are annually expended in the publication and gratuitous distribution of religious literature with the sole view of extending the Eedeemer's kingdom, while a number of societies organized for the especial purpose of printing and circulating the Bible are flooding the nations with the Word of God. In the establishment and endowment of schools and colleges increasing millions are every year bestowed in pure good will to men. Churches are being erected in the United States alone with such rapidity that each rev- olution of the earth presents complete and dedicated to God more than one on which the sun never shone before. These represent con- tributions of millions of dollars to the cause 17-1 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. of God. Ill this country alone not less than sixty thousand men are exclusively engaged in preaching the gospel, supported at an an- nual exi)ense of not less than thirty millions of dollars. The Sunday-school lias grown to be a mighty power, and, tliough using less money than many other agencies, accomplishes an amount of good which is incalculabU\ AVithouta dol- lar paid for salaries she employs more than a million of teachers and instruct many millions of cliihlri'ii and oldrr i)eople, and furnishes for their reading a great variety of excellent literature. Perhaps no agency bestows so much labor without monetary consideration as the Sunday-school. Missionaries have gone into all the world, and, armed with the sword of the Spirit, are pressing the battle against ignorance and sin. They have only to be supported by the prayers and the money of Christendom, and we shall see the heathen become Christ's inheritance and the uttermost parts of the earth his pos- session. Murders, lynchings, and other hor- FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 175 rible crimes, still prevalent in Christian lands, do but indicate the intensification of the con- flict between good and evil. Devils protested against the i:»ersonal presence and power of Christ, and are still most signally manifest where the powers of good are strongest. Christ subdued and cast them out, and his word and Spirit shall still prevail to the final exorcism of devils from the hearts of men. The missionary operations of the Christian world are so extensive and rapidly increasing that it is (juite impossible to estimate their annual expenditures or achievements. Sure- ly not less than 5,000 foreign missionaries are in the employ of the various branches of the Protestant Church in the world, exclusive of more than 10,000 native teachers and help- ers in the different fields, who are supported at a yearly outlay of not much under 5^10,000,- 000. Of private and unrecorded Christian chari- ties, known only to the giver, the receiver, and to God, eternity alone may reveal the un- counted millions bestowed and the blessed 17G FORMER DAYS AND THESE. fruits which they will have produced. Such are a few of the more obvious and easily estimated, but by no means the highest, evidences of the progress of Christianity. Though founded on a basis of numerical and pecuniary calculation, they are none the less certain and satisfactory indications of the hold which religion has taken upon the hearts and i)urses of mankind, and are all the better adapted to this age when "money an- sweroth all things " and even piety is most effectually expressed and most readily esti- mated by a pecuniary standard. These re- sults show what is in men's hearts. The above-stated estimates show, too, not* only the present state, but the rapid growth of Chris- tianity, since the quantities they represent have increased tenfold in the last hundred years and fivefold at least in the last half- century. Can any, in view of these facts, sup- pose for a momt'ut that real love of God and man is waning in the earth? Nay, the king- dom which was at first as a mustard-seed is spreading in spite of all opi^osition in many FORMER DAYS AND THESE. 177 hearts and among all nations. It will fill the whole earth. The winding stream may in places seem to be flowing back toward its source, yet its real course is ever forward. So the onward march of Christ's kingdom may be checked or delayed, but is never re- versed. Each age doubtless has its predomi- nant vices, yet each has also its prevailing virtues, and virtue is ever the stronger in the end. Then, friend, if your heart be in heaviness through manifold temptations, if the present look not so fair as the historic pictures of the past, if present experiences be not so happy as the sweet remembrances of youth, if the signs of promise be hid for a time from your eyes, spread not the veil of your despondency over the hopeful visions of the generations that are to follow you. Let not son or daughter hear words of faithless despondency from you. Blight not the energizing hopes of youth by distorted and embittered views of life. God's bow has not yet failed from the clouds, nor have the blessings of which it is 12 178 FORMER DAYS AND THESE. the pledge been withheld or diminished. If your increasing meetness for heaven lessen your appreciation of earthly good, take not away the signs of promise and the grounds of hope from those who are engaged in the mighty struggle to restore all things unto the heavenly pattern. "Say not, AVhat is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely con- cerning this." IF WE KNEW EACH OTHER BETTER. Our frail and erring brotlier Is much the same as we, And oft his hard surroundings Have made him what we see. Perhaps he sees our failings, And counts them by the score. If we knew each other better, We would love each other more. Could we know Iiis cranial structure, And feel his nervous strain. The divinely fixed machinery Of hereditary brain. AVe'd feel a thrill of mercy We never felt before ; When we know our brother bett(T, We shall love our brother more. When malice, hate, and vengeance Enrage the souls of men. How nation against nation Hurls murderous missiles then! Then ignorance of our brother Floods land and sea with gore; When we know our neighbor better, We shall fight and slay no more. 180 IF WE KNEW EACH OTHER BETTER. North and South knew not each other Nor what tliey fought about; Each saw the devil in his brother And thought to knock him out. Tlie devil's transmigrated, And laughed to see men fall; Had these brethren known each other, They had never fought at all. MONEY. Few subjects connected with human his- tory are of more curious interest than that of money. Before discussing the dollar, which is our specific form of money, let us inquire somewhat into the nature, history, and func- tions of money in general. The word "money " is derived from the Latin Moncta, a surname of Juno, in whose temple at Rome money was coined. Money is his- torically anything used in trade as a substi- tute for commodities. Men everywhere and always desire to exchange the products of their own labor for those of others. When one product is exchanged directly for another product the transaction is called barter. This method of exchange being found in many instances inconvenient or impracticable, men in all nations, from the earliest times, learned to employ substitutes for commodi- 182 MONEY. ties, to avoid the cumbersomeness of exchange ill kind. Different things have been used in different ages and countries for this purpose. The American Indians used uanipum, or shells strung and woven into belts and neck- laces, some being white, the real wampum, and others dark or black. Our forefathers used leaden bullets; others have used nails, rings of co{)per, (juills of salt or of gold-dust, shovel blades, and many other things, all of which seemed to possess some intrinsic value either for use or ornament. Lycurgus used iron for money in order to discourage extrav- agance among his people, although silver and gold had long been in use in buying and sell- ing. He believed that so coarse and heavy a metal as iron could not be handled in sulii- cient (juantities to i)urcliase many luxuries. Tlie liomans used sheep and cattle as media of exchange, hence our word " pecuniary," from the Latin jtrrun, a "herd." While an indetinite variety of things have been made to serve the i)lace of money, gold and silver were certainly among the earliest MONEY. 183 and have been by far the most extensively employed as money. Every civilized nation now nses them, and few, if any, barbarous ones are without them. Perhaps the first recorded instance of sale and purchase for money is that of Abraham buying a piece of ground for a burying-place, and weighing out the silver to pay for it. Money may be defined as that which at any time and place all men agree to take in ex- change for whatever they have to sell. It is virtually an order, endorsed by mankind, and of universal acceptance for every transferable power and possession of man. While many exchanges are made in kind and many com- mercial transactions are made by checks, or- ders, and other substitutes for money, yet none of these can supersede the necessity for the precious metals in the business of the world as a means of final payment. Money is to commerce what tools are to mechanical operations. Saws and hammers are scarcely more indispensable to the mechanic than is money in some form to the tradesman. 184 MONEY. Wliy any particular thing should be adopted to represent all others is a very interesting question, which takes specific form when we inquire why silver and gold have been so uni- versally adopted for this purpose, and are therefore called the precious metals. We know that neither of these metals is so useful as iron, yet each of them is many times more valuable in men's estimation. Their values arise largely from their use as money, as may be seen in the case of silver when its disuse for that purpose is threatened. For physical reasons it is very desirable that whatever is to measure all other values should itself possess much value in small compass. Money is not only exceedingly useful when exchanged for other things, but its terms and values are al- most indispensable in measuring the values of articles to be exchanged in kind. One might be no little perplexed in exchanging horses of different qualities for land of varying fertility, unless he had some common measure of value to apply to each. Twenty-five horses, aver- aged at a value of sixty dollars each, would MONEY. 185 purchase one hundred acres of land averaged at fifteen dollars an acre. None but ideal dollars enter into this transaction, but he who fails to note that the ideal dollar is of very great importance has no adequate ideas on the subject of money. As one of the chief functions of money is to measure and to transfer values, it may be well to define value, and especially to distinguish it from utility, with which many confound it. They are by no means the same, nor are they in proportion to each other in cases where they coexist. Many useful things have no value, and some valuable things have little utility. Air is useful, but not valuable, while diamonds have high value but are of little use. Value is simply purchasing power. Perry says: "Value is the relation of mutual purchase established between two commod- ities by their exchange." Money is a representive of all values, and may be said to hold them in imperishable form. The value of the muscular power in a laborer's arm at any given moment, if not then exerted. 186 MONEY. is lost forever, while the shekels that Abraham paid his servants for a day's labor would com- mand a day's labor still, if they were now in hand. One dollar may be made to pay a mil- lion of dollars of debts, if it be used often enough. How does money originate ? Is it a discov- ery or an invention, or is it the creature of the government, a thing that lives by statute law? Here we have a very broad and intri- cate question, which we shall not fully dis- cuss. It is^enough for our present purpose to say that the general agreement of mankind from immemorial time to use silver and gold as money, giving and receiving them in ex- change for all transferable values, seems al- most to demonstrate a providential design that they should be so used. It should not be overlooked that each of these metals has a val- ue which is entirely independent of its use as money. Both w^ould be extensively used if they were never coined as money. Just what part of their |jresent values is due to the fact that they are used as money is an interesting MONEY. 187 question which it would be impossible to an- swer. One of the most important inquiries con- nected with this whole matter of money is whether it is best to use one metal or two as money; and if two, what should be the rela- tive values of the two. The world is now mightily exercised on these questions, and very much of the stability of commerce and of the prosperity of nations depends upon their proper solution. An able writer has said: " In its theoretic or economic respects money presents a field of apparently hopeless discord, controversy, and confusion, without a single doctrine established as a principle of univer- sal or even of general acceptance." Some think that this is a question to be decided solely by legislation. They think that the government has power to create money, and that it should simply declare its will and set- tle the matter forever. Doubtless the functions of government are of the highest importance in connection with this great question, but no government can 188 MONEY. create money. Congress may do much to reg- ulate currency, but it can not make money. If Congress should authorize the stamping of oak chips or leather buttons as money, would that make them money? If the government should stamp a piece of silver of the size of our dime with the words, one dollar, would it pass for one dollar? And could Congress make such money a legal tender if it should try? Na- tions may weigh and stamp or coin gold and silver, metals already in use, as money, but no nation on earth has the power to endow any metal or other material with the func- tions of money at its pleasure. As a matter of fact, every nation in the world uses gold for its chief currency, except Bolivia, Peru, and a few^ of the smaller South American republics; while every nation uses silver for coins of smaller value. Silver is too bulky and heavy to be handled in large amounts; gold is far more convenient, and therefore passes at about the same value among all nations. A Mexican gold dollar is worth about a dollar in the United States, but a Mex- MONEY. 189 ican silver dollar passes for less than seventy- five cents, though it contains more pure silver than our dollar. This arises from the fact that silver bullion has fallen in the markets of the world, and our silver dollar is held above its real value by law. The relative values of silver and gold have varied in past ages, as- the following table will show; gold rising from nine to sixteen times the value of an equal weight of silver. , Ratio of Value of Silver to Gold. At Rome about the Christian era, In England, mint price A.D. lo44, era, 1 to 9 1344, 1 *' 12.475 1509, 1 " 11.400 1600, 1 " 11.100 1717, 1 " 15.209 1816, 1 " 15.209 1863, 1 '' 15.069 1893, 1 " 16 Gold. Silver. In America Relative production in 1800 in ounces, 1 to 42 " 18()3 " 1 " 63 In London during a crisis in 1847 no gold at all could be raised on £60,000 of silver; dur- inir a similar crisis in Calcutta in 1804 it was 190 MONEY. impossible to raise a single rupee of silver on £20,000 of gold, gold not being a legal tender. In recent days silver bullion has depreciated in the market's of the world till it can be bought for a little more than half its former price. Whatever may constitute a currency, it is of the utmost practical importance that it be uniform and not fluctuating in quantity nor in value. It is the duty of tlie government to coiiJ mcmey in order to secure a uniformity in size and purity of coins and to prevent frauds. If two metals are used as currency, a great dif- ficulty arises in keeping them at par with each otlier; indeed, it would be best to have the kind of currency in which a debt is to be paid specified in the contract. In the marts of trade dollars of different values would de- stroy confidence and obstruct commerce, and would be as the divers weights and divers bal- ances which are declared by Solomon to be an abomination to the Lord. Those values which are to measure all other values should fluctu- ate as little as possible. MONEY. 191 If money is appreciating in value, the cred- itor class are growing rich at the expense of the debtor; if money is depreciating, the debt- or class is growing rich at the expense of the creditor. If two grades of money are in use at the same time, the inferior will invariably drive out the superior, since every one will buy goods and pay debts with the cheapest money that will pass. The government does not confer value upon money, but its jjower to decide what shall be legal tender may enable it to float unworthy money for a time. Should the government make other than real values a legal tender for debts, it would simply outrage and rob the people and stop all trade. All values grow out of the desires of men, and no law can create or increase men's desires. The government can give neither value nor price to commodities, and money is not an exception to this rule. Fiat money would prove to be a fraudulent delusion and prac- tical impossibility. To authorize the pay- ment for debts in it wouki be equivalent to the confiscation of property; to receive it in 192 MONEY. payment of taxes would speedily bankrupt the government. Governments adopt money which existed before they did. No govern- ment now in existence is as old as the pur- chasing power of gold and silver. The unit of the money of the United States is the dollar. The word is of German origin, thidevy the coins having been first struck off in St. Joachim's valley or thai, in about the year 1518. It is not accurate to say that one hundred cents make a dollar; rather we should say that one dollar contains a hundred cents. The dollar is the unit, existing first in fact and in thought, and cents are fractions of it. Our silver dollar contains 371.25 grains of pure silver and 41.25 grains of alloy, making it weigh 412.5 grains. Our gold dollar con- tains 23.22 grains of gold and 2.58 grains of alloy, making it weigh 25.8 grains, nine- tenths pure gold. English coined gold is jA pure and their silver \l pure. Previous to 1834 our gold coins contained 27 grains of gold to the dollar. The gold dollar is too small for convenient use, and is no longer MONEY. 193^ coined. Oar silver dollar was first coined about the year 1790. The pound sterling, or easterling as frora the east, was originally and up to 1300 A.D. a pound Troy of silver, 11 ounces and 2 pennyweights pure and 18 pennyweights alloy. So the pound of money was a pound in weight. Now the pound in weight of silver makes 3£ 6s. of sterling money in the British Empire. It is a common delusion with writers on money that the labor required to produce it is the source of its value. An encyclopedia says that "money has value put into it by costing labor and skill in bringing it into ex- istence." This is an error. It hi true that value is often in proportion to the cost of pro- duction, but the bestowment of labor can not confer value. A man might spend a lifetime of labor in carving an image out of a moun- tain which would have no value when he had finished it; while another might, without any labor at all, pick up a diamond worth thou- sands of dollars. Value springs from human desire and fluctuates with supply and demand. 13 194 MONEY. Nor is utility the same as value. Water and air are useful, but valueless, the supply is free. A thing does not sell because men be- stow labor on it, but because men want it and .can not get it without buying it. The fact that a metal is used as money cer- tainly adds much to its value, since it may thus gratify a greatly enlarged sphere of de- sires; and the more extensively and thor- oughly a metal answers this purpose, the more desirable it becomes for currency. If no government has power to fix the value of either gold or silver as related to commodities in general, then certainly none has power to fix their values in relation to each other. For a government to propose to change all the silver that may be brought to its mints into dollars of a given value in relation to gold would be perilous indeed. It would be equivalent to an offer to raise the price of all the silver bullion in the world to a par with gold as a ratio fixed by itself. Now, if a gov- ernment can arbitrarily fix one ratio, why not another? If the Conorress should enact that MONEY. 195 an ounce of gold shall be worth one hundred ounces of silver, could it make it so? The truth is, that the government, as a coiner of money, has nothing to do v^ith fixing its value, but simply guarantees quantity and quality, the weight and the fineness of coins. Trade alone fixes values or fluctuates them (for they are never fixed), and it is only in the marts of trade that governments are mighty factors in fixing values. In collecting and disbursing taxes they largely influence prices and values. But should a government receive for taxes anything not current as money in the com- mercial world^ it would stultify itself and ruin its credit. Our government did not originate our mone}'; it simply adopted the Spanish sil- ver dollar then in circulation, ordered similar ones to be coined, and adopted gold and silver for currency, as other nations had done from time immortal. How much currency a nation needs we will not now discuss. Most enlightened nations seem to prosper best when the currency is from fifteen to thirty dollars for every inhab- 196 MONEY. itant. It must be borne in mind, however, that the amount of trade is by no means limited to the volume of the currency. A very large majority of the trade of the world is carried on by means of bank-notes, checks, drafts (representative money), exchange of com- modities, and balancing of accounts. Money seems to be needed chiefly to pay balances in trade between nations or individuals. While, as we have said, all nations use gold for coins of larger value, no nation can dis- pense with silver for smaller currency. There seems to be an almost natural adaptation be- tween the size, weight, and value of a silver dollar and an ordinary day's work. Perhaps eight-tenths of the cash transactions of the world involve not more than the value of a dollar. For all these gold is wholly unsuit- able. Silver is for several reasons the best currency for such trade. It is durable, bright, too bulky to hoard, and too heavy to carry on the person in large quantities, easily coined, and has a musical ring. It goes and iDroves itself current by running. It would be a I MONEY. 197 curious thing to trace the movements of some silver dollars for a year or even for a month. Probably one often does more purchasing or paying in a year than a thousand dollars of gold. Is not gold a lazy king, who has of late been growing fat by lying still? When men can make a better interest by investing their gold than by hoarding it, they will use it. Good and lasting security and sure and large profits promote investments and enliven trade. In general, a depreciating currency promotes trade, since no man wishes to hold that which is growing less in his hands; while an appreciating currency checks investments and restricts trade, since men naturally hold to that which will be worth more to-morrow than it is to-day, and avoid contracting debts which must be paid in a currency whose cost is constantly increasing. Kence, when money is rising (in value) times are hard; when it is falling, times are easy; if it is falling fast, money will be plenty and times flush. Gold is now too precious to constitute the best cur- rency—that is, it has too much purchasing 198 MONEY. power, while silver has too little. If the two could be tied together, or every debt be made payable one-half in silver and the other in gold, each metal being estimated by its price in the open marts of the world, a happy me- dium of trade would probably be found. Much has been written and much learned about political economy, while but little is taught in books or in schools about personal economy — that is, the management of one's own finances. Indeed, it is not exaggeration to say that there are men who know enough about political economy to manage the ex- chequer of a nation, who yet can not manage their own personal expenses so as to "make ends meet " at home. If w^e except sin and disease, there are per- haps no greater causes of unhappiness among men than poverty and debt. How to avoid these is a question of prime importance. Let every youth be taught how to earn a dollar and how to keep it till he has earned another, and not to spend more than one of these till he has earned two more, and never to go in MONEY. - 199 debt. This rule will prevent poverty and lead to any degree of j)ecuniary abundance. Very many seem never to have learned that the sav- ing of money is sim^^ly the storing away of tlie fruits of one's labor for future use, which must be done if we would avoid dependence upon the uncertainties of daily wages. The- making and saving of money is largely a. habit, which all should form. Among the in- spired laws for the guidance of human life there is an emphatic doctrine on this subject: ^' If any provide not for his own, and spe- cially for those of his own house, he hath de- nied the faith, and is worse than an infidel," Wide-spread, thorough, and profound in- vestigations of the question of money, as to what should constitute the body or the basis of currency — whether one of the precious metals or both should be taken as the stand- ard money, and what should be their relative values if both be adopted, have occupied the wisest financiers through the ages, and have been especially earnest throughout the finan- cial world in recent j^ears. The Congress of 200 MONEY. the United States seems to have been almost hopelessly perplexed by these difficult prob- lems. Ye may we not hope that these labo- ious inquiries and extensive disturbances in the commercial world will soon result in the adoption of the same money by all civilized nations, so that the coins of all, silver and gold, shall circulate everywhere without dis- count, estimated by their weight and fineness alone? And will not such unity in the me- dium of trade have a powerful tendency to unify the nations in spirit? Nations inter- locked in commercial and financial interests can not afford to fight each other. If God works morally through men, and men work chiefly through money, then it is through money at last that God will transform the world. When the money power of the world shall have become subservient to Christ's kingdom, then shall the " knowledge of the Lord" speedily "cover the earth as the waters cover the sea." A scientific journal recently asked: What invention is most needed now to advance the MONEY. 201 civilization of the world? The answer given by one was: "A machine for storing without ap- preciable loss the electrical force generated by waterfalls, streams, tides, and other great na- tural dynamic agents." Have we not just such an agency for storing and holding and transmitting to any desired distance, and applying in any desired way, the physical, intellectual, and even the moral forces of the world? Is there any known limit to the power of money? It supports thrones, equips and moves armies, measures the powers of nations and the extent of their dominions, fires brains, prints and distributes books, sends the heralds of the cross with the gospel to the heathen, and transforms the world by the ubiquity of its presence and the exhaustless applicabilities of its power. No seasons obstruct its movements, no climate af- fects its health, no dangers daunt its purjDose. Epidemics do not alarm it, contagions do not infect it, and quarantines do not exclude it. It is everywhere welcomed, whether it come from friend or foe. It is the concentrated embodi- 202 MONEY. ment of the magnipotence of man. It is the efl&cient ageut in every human achievement, but its most admirable form of work is in the realization of the benevolent purposes of God and man. This is jn-eeminently the age of benevolence, when money, the embodiment of every form of i^ower, is being employed as never before to conquer the forces of evil, and give universal reign to truth and righteousness. Money not only builds railroads, digs ca- nals, sends steamships across the ocean, and spans continents with telegraph wires and the ocean with submarine cables, but it illu- minates the world with the light of electricity and with the light of the Word of God. How wonderful is the fact that money loses none of itself in effecting its immeasurable achievements! The identical silver and gold which wrought their miracle as money and as plate in the erection and ornamentation of Solomon's temple may in our day be mightily aiding to bring to pass the far greater miracle of extending Christ's kingdom to the utter- most parts of the earth. MONEY. 203 Money is indeed a thing of Protean forms, and undergoes its changes with marvelous facility. If money be put into a railroad, from the railroad money comes. If money feeds intellect, intellect reproduces money. It is transformed, but not lost. It is not only transformable and transmissible, but like a spirit may pass into different bodies, assume different shapes, and be transmitted to any place with ease. A bank draft weighing less than one-sixteenth of an ounce may move whole tons of silver or of gold. Every power of man's body and of man's soul may find its most efficient expression through the agency of money. AUTUMN A RURAL SCENE. Since 'tis meet the ripening year Should in richer robes appear; Autumn's dress takes gorgeous hues From the sunshine and the dews. While with chemie rays the sun Dyes the leaflets one by one, Fields and forests gleam and glow, One vast panoramic show. Poplars clad in green and gold, Towering tops like banners hold; Sweetgums shine in fiery red, The oak too lifts its blazing head. See vast forests far and near, Changing with the changing year. Fields display more brilliant flowers Than were theirs in vernal hours: Swaying ranks of goldenrod, Lengthening plumes conspicuous nod; Seas of floral beauties glow With more tints than painters know, While the varying shades declare Hand divine paints everywhere — Hues that angels might admire Wonder, love, and joy inspire. Strolling through these woodland wilds. Rapture every sense beguiles. Shadows from the sylvan height AUTUMN. 205 Broider far the fields of light, Awe pervades the slumbrous air, Glory lingers everywhere, Silence reigns o'erhushing all, Does she hear the leaflets fall? how sad, so fair a scene May to-morrow but have been! For when south wind moistly blows, Every leaf its breathing knows ; AVon by its mysterious wooing Hence ere long they all are going, Quitting these enchanting bowers, Quivering down in golden showers. Late in autumn's frosty days Pale wich-hazel's leafless sprays From their unpretentious bloom Send a rare and rich perfume Till the air with fragrance laden Soothes like odors fresh from Eden. Here I linger hours away, Here forget the passing day. Ah ! could mortal skill redeem Aught from time's resistless stream These blest days would I dissever. And would make them mine forever. II. BIRDS IN AUTUMN. Once in early autumn days, So the beech-tree legend says, Robin Redbreast's youngest son Died when life had just begun. Lost by chance from mother's nest. Fate denied him other rest. Downy drapery dipped in dew 206 AUTUMN. Chilled the birdling ere he flew. Father drooped upon the tree, Mother mourned in minor key, Birds around in sadness pine, Dimly too the sun did shine, Falling leaves dropped slowly down, Sounds were sad, the earth grew brown, Winds sang dirges in the air. Gloom was brooding everywhere . Sad and rueful was the day When young Robin passed away. Curling leaf was shroud and grave, Drooping branch did o'er him wave. Silence reigne.d long time they say, On young Robin's burial day. Yet the sadness soon was past. Sorrow Imt a night did last, Sharpest grief takes quickest flight, Songs came with the morning light; Joy thrilled all the birds again — Joy is stronger after pain. Hear the mock-bird's autumn lays. Mellow as the autumn days. Day and night I hear him sing, Fresh as in the burst of spring. Now, too, hear the flute-toned wren, Calling o'er and o'er again, Till the silvery notes deploy Flinging wide the sounding joy. List! the speckle-breasted thrush. Creeping through the tangled brush, Chatters threats, with baneful eye, At the heedless passer-by. Now the birds with prudent care Store away their winter fare. AUTUMN. 207 For they all appear to feel, While yet distant, coming ill. And prepare for it betimes. Or depart to friendlier climes. Nature, too, makes them to know Which should stay and which should go. Sporting now in airy ocean, Swallows whirled in wild commotion, Congregate at evening hour, Down some chimney-throat to pour. Moved by strangest inspiration. They prepare for their migration ; Seeming every one to know Just the time for them to go. Thousands upon thousands come, Gathering for their journey home. Bluebirds, too, go south w^ard now, Till the time when farmers plow ; Man may hear their concert chime. When they start for distant clime. Marshaled high in pathless skies. Bird to wandering bird replies ; Plaintive notes borne through the air. As of angel near despair, Heard amid our dreamy slumbers, Wake us by their mystic numbers. Marking tardy hours of night Slowdy passed in weary flight — Signal -sounds on high to tell Heaven and earth that all is well. in. THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES. One by one they lose their hold; Some are crimson, some are gold, 208 AUTUMN. Some are pied and some are brown- All come circling gently down. Quitting shrub and lofty tree, Giddy things the leaves must be. Wafted through the airy ocean, Whirling all in glad commotion, Swaying oft with unheard sound, Veering coyly to the ground. Trembling on the plain below, Kissing breezes o'er them blow, Soothing the vast company With low, rustling harmony. Fading each without a sigh, Cheery deaths the leaves mu^^t die I Covering o'er the hills and dales, Tiny plants from frosty gales : Comfort they to others give, Die that other leaves may live, Beautify the mourning earth. Give to future glorious birth. In autumnal s{»lend«»rs clad. Their departing is not sad; They {.-ave spring and summer grace. They give charm to autumn's face. Falling from their stations high, Monarchs' crowns beneath us lie; Realms bereft and kings made bare. Yield the tints that mingle here. Mansion hall was never spread With such carpet as we tread, When the earth herself adorns With the trifts of all her sons. AUU 5 1«98