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Vol. 4. iTH8vsoTalrx,nnJh.E4WEST-} CHICAGO AND CINCINNATI, yATURDAY, APRIL 2, 1887. Ithveo7.exY.cSoe%nt4 No. 14.
Tlge Ugjctssiqususilist. A RELIGIOUS AND FAMILY WEEKLY. Universalist Publishing House, PUBLISHERS. CHARLES CAVERLY, General Agent. Issued by Western Branch. 69 Dearborn St., Rooms 40 and 41 crxxic.A.ai-0, xx.r.. LORD A THOMAS, MANAGERS ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. forms : Postage Paid, 8*2.50 A Year, in Advance. Sample Copies Free. Western Advisory Board. Wm. H. Ryder, D. D., Hon. Joh^R. Buchtei O. A. Pray, Rev. W. S. Crowe, Chas. L. Hutchinson. Entered at the Postoftice as Second-Class Mail Matter. " .- i sine-Lia! Goutributnrs. : ___.____..._Asi__ _ BREVITY AND DESTINY. By Rev. R. O. Williams. (Upper Lisle, N. Y.) “Thou hast made my days as a hand breadth”—“they are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle.” So said the Psalm ist; so said Job, and he added, “We are but yesterday, and our days on earth are a shadow.” David says also, “Our days on.earth are as a shadow, and there is no abiding”—no hope of continuance. All this is only an expression of human experience. The brevity of life is a common theme, an unavoidable thought. Yet, on this brief cast of a weaver’s shuttle, popular theology has suspended the destinies of the whole human race, for better or for worse through all eter nity. It is called a “day of probation,” wherein poor, frail, ignorant human beings are to be tried for life—a capital trial, whose end for the wicked will be infinitely worse than choking with a halter, or chopping oft' a hand, or strang ling with a garrote. But God formed and fashioned the human race, and knew full well, aye, with unening cer tainty, what would be the result of all this “probation”—knew from eternity who and how many of these vast and countless millions would rise to glory, and how many sink to unutterable tor ment ! According to old Calvinism he foTeord8ined«uch results, and made thr> doom of man unavoidable. Even Armi nians on this point gain nothing from the plea of free will. It carries noth ing beyond the scope of infinite knowl edge and makes no change in the cer tainty of the result. The advocates of a free will, no matter how txplained, must allow an infinite foreknowledge of the ultimate impenitence of every sinner who failed in his “probation.” That ultimate impenitence must have been as fixed, certain and, unavoidable as it could have been made by an abso lute decree of reprobation. The argument then of free will, taken in connection with punishment with out end, is only a blind or a subterfuge to cover over, conceal and apolog:ze for a very dark feature of a Christian faith. No fact could be known with certainty as occurring in the future, unless some provision or something else were made to secure its occurrence. Look again, God is good ; “God is love.” Love is the foundation and mainspring of all his purk oses, and all his doings. All denominations of Chris tians speak in admiration and approval of the love of God and the love of Christ. They all unite in calling it in finite, unchangeable and endless. If God created men, placed them in this world, and then left them poor, blind, ignorant, dazed, and in utter confusion of thought, to woik their way upward through probation, and avoid eternal evils, terror, shame, suffering and “the pains of hell forever,” is he good V Can he be good ? Is it possible to recon cile such horrible results with infinite goodness ? John Noonan sent his son, named Peter, to the residence of a neighbor to borrow a pint of meal. There was a long stretch of forest to pass through which John knew to be infested with wild beasts, horrid serpents, and pois onous herbs. Peter had never traveled the road and kuew nothing personally of its dangers. “Now, Peter,” said his father, “you must keep closely in the straight path, for I tell you there are great dangers in the way; there are bears, wolves, tigers, hyenas and other savage beasts in the forest, but if you don’t get out of the path, I think you will not be hurt.” John couldn’t know positively, that his son would wander and be devoured, but he knew that this result was very imminent and very pro bable. lie knew there was no safety out of the path, and might be some in it. Was John Noonan a good father in sending his son out on such a perilous mission V Let every mother answer the question. There is not one that would not condemn the man as brutal. Even the return of the boy unhurt would scarcely change the aspect of the question. If he passed through, as by a miracle, it was no honor and no credit to John, the father, who sent him into such perils. It is altogether false to say that John Noonan loved his boy. He certainly could not love him as God loves his children, and as he loved the whole world, when he sent his beloved son to seek and save it. lie could not love with such a love as aroused an apostle to exclaim, “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be called the sons of God.” No love like that ever stirred the human breast. No love like that could have conferred a free will or mor al agency, which, it was thoroughly and eternally foreknown, might and would inevitably result in interminable loss to countless millions of his own creatures. The common theory of probation then, must be thrown aside. It hangs immense interests and eternal destinies on a mere speck of time. But that speck is given to man wisely, benignly, for his own great blessing. It is truly “a day of grace,” a day of opportunity, of action and of hope; a day of exper ience and of acquisition. It is the opening scene of a long, sublime, and brilliant existence. It seems to have been designed especially for the begin ning of a life that shall never end, and is made, therefore, a day of attainment and of preparation for this higher stage. But it is a day of experience, all the same, whether its opportunities are im proved for good, or allowed to run to waste and become an utter loss. The experiences of the worst of sinners are never lost, but may have their work and their power on all the future. The memory of the sad penalties that have been suffered in sin may rise up as an avenging angel and an eternal bulwark against any future sin. It seems impossible that any one, though “dying in sin and deeply dyed in it,” on his entrance into another life, with all his old bodily allurements and temptations dissolved away, should re main long, alienated, impenitent and resistant to the sweet voices of entreaty and the tender calls for his return. But the memory of these old experiences must remain, not as an anguish or “eternal regret,” but as a perpetual and very forcible admonition against any future sin. Here may be a sound reason why “man was made to mourn,” and why sin was allowed to mar the works of creation. ■ --•-* — — -- “***' RETRIED Fluff. By Hattie Tyno Ghikwoi.d. (Columbus, Wis,) II. In all our large cities these dramas are being enacted. They come of van ity, of idleness, of bad reading, of a general lowering of the social tone. Harmless flirtations—so-called, often end in compromising scandals. The highest position cannot screen one from the consequences of his folly, as has been abundantly shown in England in times near at hand, for a3 Tennyson says: “These are the new dark ages, you see, of the popular press.” Neither can any lapse of time be held as secu rity against the consequences of a folly. Who has not had his heart wrin g with pity for the Lady Dedlock, of Dickens’ tale, fated just as surely by the English as by the Russian uovelist to expiate an early error, by a life of gilded woe, and by a tragic death? Who has not watched with even breathless interest where, “upon my lady’s picture over the great chimney piece, a weird shade falls from some old tree, that turns it pale and flutters it, and looks as if a great arm held a veil or hood, watching an oppor tunity to throw it over her,” and has not trembled in sad foreboding when he has been told that, “Of all the shad ows in Chesney Wold, the shadow in the long drawing room upon my lady’s picture is the first to come, and the last to be disturbed,” and has not shiv ered, as “by this light it changes into threatening hands raised up, and me nacing the handsome face with every breath that stirs.” Who has not pitied her as she listened for the ghost’s step on the gravel at Chesney Wold, or as the inexorable Tuikingham has drawn his net about her; as she pays her fa tal visits to Tom- All- Alone’s; as she makes her solitary way upon that last journey, whose end was a dreadful, if not unwelcome death. Ah, it was all very pitiful, very heart-breaking, but it was as the great novelist knew, only natural, only true. Even sins of youth, of ignorance, of infatuation, are thus punished, and the guilty ones thus pur sued, as it seems to us by a relentless Nemesis. It is the law of the uni verse, and the individual goes down be fore it—even in such pitiful plight as this. Many are the Lady Dedlocks, in our own midst, who, in sorrow and shame, are saying, “I must travel my dark road alone, and it will lead me where it will. From day to day, sometimes from hour to hour I do not see the way before my guilty feet. This is the earthly pun ishment I have brought upon myself. I bear it, and I hide it.” And there is a Ghost’s Walk at many another place than Chesney Wold, where the guilty woman can hear the phantom step of a dead sin, “through the music, and the beat, and everything.” Does retribution attend this kind of sin alone, or especially ? Ask the man who has sinned against his own body — his intellect, his soul, his family, and society, by prolonged intemperance. Can he tell you no tale of retribution V Is there any other sin in the whole dark catalogue of evil, that brings with it its own reward so surely and so pal pably as this ? When a man has be come a physical wreck, when his mind is blurred, when his inteilect plays him false, or goes out in madness or imbe cility—when all his fine sensibilities are hardened, and none but the gross est pleasures can allure him,—when his whole being has no spring of action ex cept one fell desire; does he know any thing of retribution ? Yes, but he is often destined to know more. lie often lives to see the ruin of every soul he loves, through his own weakness and folly. His fortune flies, his wife sink3 into an early grave—and his children heap curses on his head. Too often these children are the avenging furies who pursue him. Born with shattered nerves and unsound constitutions, their fearful inheritance often eventuates in epilepsy, in madness or idiocy. Could any retribution be so fearful to a parent as that which I witness many a time from my window, when a girl, now grown to womanhood, reels past like a man in the worst stages of intoxication. There is no light of in telligence in her face, but in its place the vacant stare of the imbecile, and in every lock, every movement, she car ries the maik of her drunken father upon her, and must carry it till she dies. And I often deplore the lot of another father, deeply intemperate in his youth, but now in every way tem perate and high minded, who sees the sons who should be the staff of his old age, caged like wild beasts in the ma niac’s cell. Ah, what imagination can conceive of retribution such as this— poet nor novelist cannot paint it, nor cau the heart of any man, who has not endured it, conceive of it. This, too, is meted out to ignorant as well as to will ful oftenders, and the young boy in his frolicksome youth, before he has learn ed how these ways take hold on hell, may sow the seeds in his own person of such frightful punishments as these. The fathers eat sour grapes and the child, en’a teeth are set on edge—the doctrine may seem a hard one—but ex perience has proved, through long age3, that there is no truer truth than this, that “the sins of the father are visited upon the children, to the third and fourth generations.” The doctrine of heredity is, of itself, a doctrine of retri bution; and he who denies inspiration, must take the same unwelcome dogma from science. What shall we say of the retribution which overtakes the dishonest man and the hypocrite ? I)o you not believe in such retribution ? Head the account of Huistrode,in “Middlemarch,”and you will see distinctly before you the fate of many a prosperous and honored man to-day. Outwardly all is well, but with in is a seething hell of apprehension, of remorse, of dire foreboding. Take this account of Huistrode, shivering on the brink of exposuie, and see if it is not life-like, and might not be matched in the next street. “A great dread had seized his susceptible 'rame, and the scorching approach of shame wrought in him a new spiritual need. Night and day, while the resurgent threatening past was making a con science with him, he was thinking by what means he could recover peace and trust; by what sacrilice he could stay the rod. His belief in these moments of dread was, that if he spontaneonsly did something right, God would save him from the consequences of wrong-doing. For religion can only change when the emotions which fill it are changed, and the religion of personal fear remains nearly at the level of the savage.” The description of Bulstrode’s night by the death-bed of Bullies is one of the masterpieces of George Eliot’s pen, for it is a part of the retribution for many evil deeds, that the weakened nature yields to temptations, which it had sure ly resisted before the first wrong-doing. One can but pity the “strange, piteous corfiict in the soul of thisunhappy man, who had longed for years to be better than he was ; who had taken his selfish possessions into discipline and clad them in serene robes, so that he had walked with them as a devout choir, till now that a terror had risen among them, and they could chant no longer, but throw out their common cries for safety.” Is there no retribution that awaits hard-heartedness, and cruelty, uukind ness, and unlovingness in the home ? When the pale and unloved wife has faded out of the life, as poor little Mrs. Dombey, faded out in that most pathet ic story; when the children have been driven forth by harshness and spurned aStctiou, as poor Florence Gay had been driven forth; when perhaps old age, or sickness, or poverty have come; then will there arise from the deserted soul no cry of agony; will there stalk through the memory no visions of the days that are no more, days of uegltct ed opportunities for kindness and for tenderness; and will there be sent up to God uo unavailing pray ers for one more chance to do the duty which had been so neglected or so scorned-!1 But not to many is it given to have such prayers answered. To very few do the lost children return. CONCERNING DR. WAlfe’S HYMNS. By Mirk HoMtfKi). (Chicasro.) James Montgomery stpd Or. Isaac Watts was almost thw inventor of liymns in our lauguageJjRVe may sup pose it a standing factSwat the “chil dren of this world are Wiser in their generation than the cbiwren of light.” Certainly the ballad, all flown the ages of European people, has tfcen a power to express human sorrows aBrell as cheer ful, gay and sportive senwnents. It is but recently that short lyUcs have been brought into requisition! as means to excite religious fervor, Vd as convert ing influences. It wot|9 appear that Christianity started out tfth this power ful auxiliary in social Worship, devo tion and communion, aft to this may be attributed to some exftnt the spread of Christianity and the Jhesion of its adherents. X The solemn last suppr of Christ with his disciples, beingBnded, “They sang a hymn and went oil,” and in two Epistles the brethren a® exhorted to teach and admonish on another “in p3aims and hymns and t dritual songs, singing and making rr flody in your heart to the Lord.” Th tcheerfulness and song being the genl is of the gos pel, it i3 astonishing ho' I the opposite idea should take possesi ion of Christ ianity, makingreligiona \ eeping Niobe, and heaven to be earned by the morti fication of every humaojj instinct, and sighs and groans, the steame to open the doors of heaven. Hilt a moment’s reflection convinces us it was not strange that the sincere and Jevout should mourn and weep. A pfgan Tartarus had been embodied in thjp creed, and it was only the honest expression of a be lief in it—a creed over which our mod ern orthodox people can Entile and laugh and feast like ancient epicureans. We read of the Renaissance in the arts ushered in about thfe time of the Reformation, but the 1 new thought was not limited to qttesflions of archi tecture or subjects on tfce canvas. It invaded the realm ol? floral and spir itual thought, prorhpjtii^- the human spirit to the exercise agjXinscious free dom, which is its bjjth Wight, to ques tion that in the erflgjts ,%hich was re pulsive to human Then did the old begin to <gst faffl-Mgae off its aus terities at.dpuTonu««* |W?T< •.* reality,1 change the monk for the angel, the “garments of praise for the Bpirit of heaviness.” In nothing is seen more distinctly work and progress in this line, than in the service song. It was a happy thought then, for Dr. Watts to give to religion his psalms and hymns, by grafting Polyhymnia—the many hymned ope—one of the muses, into the service of Christian work. In nothing is seen the advance of correct thought about God, man, and his destiny, than in hymnology. It was to be expected the early hymn book would shadow forth some of the old. llut rejection and ex purgation for the past fifty yeai‘3 has been doing thorough work, so that at the present time it is difficult to find copies of the old hymn-books to refer to. Referring to Dr. Watts’s psalms and hymns, among the many truly gos pel ones we find interspersed here and there the medimval thought that this world, is a miserable, sinful, treacher ous one, that we are in duty bound to treat as a seductive enemy. In what book of prayer do we now And the following : “How vain are all things here below, How false and yet how fair; Each pleasure hath its poison too, And every sweet a snare; "The brightest things below the sky, ’ Give but a battering light, Wo should suspect some danger nigh When we possess delight. “The fondness of a creature’s love, How strong it strikes the sense! Thither the warm affections move Nor can we call them theme.” And yet Dr. Watts was inspired to write it, and no doubt thought he was serving godliness as against worldliness. I can well recolleet hearing an old clergyman relate what was the inspir ing cause of its composition. Like any true man. Watts felt it was not good to be alone, and he became attached to a lady of the name of Kowe. She not re ciprocating, disappointed love found its best solace in the t If usions of that hy mn. I do not know but that the hymn served some good purpose in its age. I re member one evening, when quite a lad, being at a prayer meeting, when a young man was called upon to select a hymn, and lead in prayer, and selected the above. It was known that his affec tions had been lacerated by non-recipro cation, aud he felt quite badly. lie, no doubt, thought the plaintive hymn suited his case, and that it was per fectly proper to carry his grief to a throne of grace. There were many smiles exchanged during the singing, and not all shaded away during his prayer, which would naturally express the sad condition of his mind. What clergyman now would give out the following for his congregation to sing: “My thoughts on awful subjects roll ' Damnation and the dead. What horrors seize the guilty soul. Upon bis dying bed.'* And yet if the creed is true, in solemn and mournful cadences the arches of every church ought to reverberate the awful truth. The spirit that has no time to spend on dead pagans might, perhaps, feel a thrill of joy, singing— “Awake, and mourn ye heirs of hell Let stubborn sinners fear; You must bo driven from earth and dwell A long forever there. “See how the pit gapes wide for you And Hashes In your face: And thou, my soul, look downward too And sing recov'ring grace. “Ho Is a God of sov’relgn love Who promised heaven to me. And taught my thoughts to soar above, Where happy spirits be.'* Reprobation and discriminating grace stand out prominently in the above, strong enough to suit an elder of the church John Calvin founded, who still sticks to the form of “sound words.” But there are few, indeed, who looking down into a ‘ flashing pit” would feel like singing there. Human tenderness here would forbid it, but safely housed in heaven, a celestial stupefaction will have come over our earthly susceptibil ity, so that what caused sorrow, will there cause exultation that we are all right. The prevalence of Arminianism has shut down on some hymns as too boldly expressing'Divine knowledge and man agement as to human destiny. "Before his throne a volume lies With all the fates of men, With every angel’s form and size Drawn by the eternal pen." was once quite a favorite when sound doctrine as to God’s sovereignty pos sessed the religious mind. It now finds little room in our present books of praise. The sentiment might find a place in a Universalist hymn book. God says “all soul3 are mine,” and as he knows all that are his, and is as will ing and as able to keep them, their des tiny is in good keeping. Though Arminianism ha3 well nigh driven distinct Calvinism out of the hymn book and the pulpit, it is destin ed in its turn to live out its day. Christ ianity cannot afford to give up its cer tainity in God. It is hard to see what advantage Arminianism has over Cal vinism or to see how it saves more. The latter has a certainty; the former an uncertainty. The one says who soever will may come, and yet holds nntwic!'’ mlttfons -never wlH, and further says, that many that do come will go back and be lost. To enthrone the human, Arminianism dethrones the divine will, subjecting it to the necessity of unwillingly allowing the damnation of countless myriads ; of failing in motive power for some, while there is a sufficiency for others, thus indicating an impsrfection in his gen eral plan, which impugns his wisdom, in that he could not see through the eternal ages so as to adapt motive power equal to the moral obstruction to be overcome; so that a will to save all should not be frustrated. As in the material world for the perfecting of it, one formation has been superinduced upon another, so in theologic thought Calvinism and Arminianism will be superinduced by a combination of what is partially true in both, positing the will of man as vincible, and the will of God invincible, and so reflecting honor on the Father and insuring safety to the child. And to bring this about is not the gospel muse, in its hymnology, one of the most t fficient workers? The gospel muse, haunts not the weird and desolate scenery along the Stygian pools. Hope is her constant song, and although a heartless theology compelled her to sometimes dip her young pinions in the dark waters of Styx, the Elysiau fields and the river of life, where every prospect pleases, are now where she de lights to wave her golden wings. There is no surer indication of the passing away of God-dishonoring dog mas than is seen in the hymn-book of the present day. Few indeed are the hymns in any but that a Universalist can use in public worship. Evangeli cals, who still cling to the hell of the past with its fiery billow3, think the subject is not one for song. Atrophy will do its work, and when we have sung a few more years that the last one is safely housed with the ninety and nine, and of Christ “crowned Lord of all,” the gospel muse for awhile may rest and plume her wings for other flights. THE RELATIONS OF BRAIN AND MIND. Br Hev. William Tucker, 1). D. (Mount Gilead, O.) The relation of the brain to mental action or intelligence is understood in two different ways, by two contending schools in the science of physiology. The one regards the brain as the orig inal agent, the producing cause of thought, feeling and action ; or of in tellect, emotion and will. The other school of scientists regards it as the in termediate instrument of thought. Ac cording to the one, the brain thinks as the stomach digests. According to the other, the brain is tbe instrument of thought played upon by the mind as the piano is played upon by the musi cian. These two schools may meet on common ground when they come to the facts of physiology, for the observed facts or phenomena are the same wheth er the brain be regarded as the organ or instrument of thought. But it makes a vast difference in the interpretation of the phenomena which of these theories you adopt. The in strumental relation of brain to mind will explain all the observed facts in the physiology of thought, but the causal relation of brain to mind will not explain the observed facts of psy chology. Of this large class of facts given us in consciousness and experi ence, embracing mental, moral and re ligious phenomena, ti e causal relation of brain to mind gives no rational ex planation. Thought is associated with brain action, but as its cause and not as its effect. As intelligence and voli tion have their physiological side, be cause they are revealed through the nervous organism, the question of the relation of the brain to thought is to be answered in part by physiology. As such it is to be determined by scientific au thority to the extent that it stands connected with the action, state and condition of the nervous system. Dr. Carpenter says : “The conscious life of every individual man essentially con sists in an action and reaction between his mind and all that is outside of it. But this action and reaction cannot take place in his present stage of exist ence without the intervention of a ma terial instrument, whose function is to bridge over the hiatus between individ ual consciousness and the external world. But few, if any philosophers would be disposed to question the fact that the brain is the instrument of our higher psychical powers.” Dr. Winslow, who is high English authority as a medical specialist in the department of mental disease, says : “The brain being the material instru ment of the intelligence, the physical medium through which the mind man ifests its varied powers, it is rational to infer that no change in its structure or investing membranes can exist without to some extent interfering with or mod ifying its psychical functions.” (Wins low on “Brain and Mind,” p. 32 ) Buthe farther states, however: “Cases are on record in which serious injury has been done to the brain during life without apparently damaging the intel ligence"; and considefabUnflgephalfc disorganization (as the result of disease) has taken place without any aberration, exaltation, depression, or impairment of mind having been observed previously to death.” Page 32. This shows that the brain is not the cause, but the in strument of thought, emotion and voli tion. Muller says: “The action of the mind is dependent on the fibrou3 matter and composition of the brain. Still this amounts to nothing more than that the brain by its organization is the instru ment by which the mind operates and is active.” (Muller’s Physiology). Solly says: “If there is one point in the physiology of the brain more une quivocally demonstrated than another, it is that these glangia are the instru ments of the mind.” Solly on the Brain, p. 335. The science of physiology, therefore, demonstrates that the mind is the agent, and the brain the instrument of thought. If the brain is only the material instru ment of the mind, created for its use, aud adapted to its service, its condi tion of health or disease must affect the action and modify the manifesta tions of the mind as the spiritual and personal agent. The size and quality of the instrument will also affect the action of the agent using it. A man could chop more wood with a large axe of line steel, and keen edge than he could with a small one of poor metal. So the mind can do more and better thinking with a large brain of line quality thau with a small brain of poor quality. The instrument is bet ter, and better fitted for use and the work as a necessary result is better— larger in quantity and finer in quality. The brain being the instrument of thought, there must be au agent to use it. The existence of tools proves the existence of a mechanic; the existence of an engine proves the existence of au engineer; so the existence of the brain proves the existence of the spiritual, intelligent agent who is able to use it in thought, emotion, volition and ac tion. —An old church edifice on the corner of Ohauucey and Essex streets, Boston, is to be taken down in a few days. It was always a noted church under the pastorate of Itev. Nehemiah Adams. For severul years before the war he was well known for his conservative views on sla very as Wendell Philips was for bis radi cal views. The home of the latter was so near the church that in summer time he could hear parts of Dr. Adam’s sermons. Rev. John Pierpont lived oiose by, and the neighborhood wbs full of residences of noted Bostonians. —Dr. William Adamson, of Bootland, once said, “We grow us we think.” He might have added also, “We grow as we work.” The character and the life are ehaped by our thinking and doing. Yaitorial Briefs. BY REV. I. M. ATWOOD. D. D. Canton, N. Y. We are criticised—by a ■' genial critic ” —for using the terms ‘orthodoxy,” “evan gelical,” etc., in the accepted rather thnn in the etymological meaning. Are not we orthodox and evangelical? Yes; un derstanding the words literally. But ro one would understand us to use the words in this seuee unless we explained each time. We prefer to be understood. We write for those who get their meaning of words from current usage and from the dictionary. If our friend will look care fully he will find that a considerable per centage of the terms we use are obnox ious to the same criticism. Mr. Blaine claims to be a “democrat ” in the etymo logical meaning of the word; but he does not covet the political designation. The badge “orthodox” has been the sign and protest of so much error and evil that we are quite content not to wear it. —The Tuftonian deplores the lack of appreciation of the gymnasium on the part of the students. “Once, all the siu dents clamored for this means of physical culture; now less than one-sixth of them take regular exercise there.” Onr in quiries concerning the use of the gymna sium-in several colleges lead to the con clusion that the students of Tufts are not an exception to a general rule. In one large institution, with a fully equipped and costly gymnasium, we were told that the only exercise in which the students showed even a languid interest, was !he military drill. Base-ball, foot-ball, and rowing call, for some use of the gymna sium as a preparation for the few who are to amuse the populace. But those who most need the physical culture the gym nasium is intended to supply—the great body of the students, do not, for some reason, avail themselves of the benefit. —Maurice Thompson overstates the fact when he says: “Snobbery is kept alive and fat all over the world because it is safer to be a snob than to be a sincere and independent man.” This is one of those exaggerations, however, which may be pardoned on the same ground that we forgive the extravagances of the reform orator. If a precise statement of the ex act truth had been made, the truth itself would not have been seen. Wendell Phillips avowed that he overstated the faots deliberately. It was the ouly way I to draw attention to them. Jl calm, judi I dal statement would never stir StWSHt nor fire the heart. —As a matter of fact, it is not safer, in free society, to be a snob than to be a sincere and independent man. It is only safer for snobs; and SDobs are persons who think it is safer to toady than to be sincere. Of course sincere and indepen dent men have to take the responsibility of their sincerity and independence. If they are unwise, ignorant, conceited, coarse, they will get an unsavory reputa tion. If they are in earnest in any im portant matter they will be abused and hated by some. But If they are right and really wise, they will win increasing honor and gratitude for their courage and frankness. And these good things are worth the trial they cost. —Sir W. Thompson has been making soma calculations based on the theory of Helmholtz, that the sun’s heat is kept up by the motion generated by its gradual contraction. Supposing this theory to bo true, Sir W. Thompson estimates that the sun will not exhaust its store so as to in terfere with life on this planet for about six millions of years. On the validity of the same theory he calculates that tire sun can uot now bo over twenty millions of years old. It the sun is such a young ster it follows that the earth is an infant. But then Helmholtz may not be in pos session of the latest and revised return". —It is a carious eircamstauce that there should be two sets of martyrs in tbe (Jniversalist church at the present time. One set consists of the conservat ive brethren, who hold fast by the ancient ways and the accepted traditions of the denomination, and who in doing so feel that they bear the brunt of unfavor able criticism, are misunderstood, de nounced as obstructionists, fossils and all that. They are a living saorifloe to the good name and continued Christian in fluence of the church. The other group consists of the radical brethren, who lean rather further forward than their stand ing place, who exploit new theories and schemes, and who in departing from the usages or beliefs of the fathers feel that they are incurring a certain odium and taking the risk of an insecure position in the denomination. — One who is so situated as to listen to the private tale of each of these parties is struck with the common fact that both are bearing a cross. The conservative brethren are sure that they have placed themselves in the imminent and deadly breach; that while the welfare of the canse depends on their steadiness and courage, the position they occupy is an unenviable one, because it is never popu lar to oppose “progress.” But the radi cal brethren are even more certain that they are standing up for liberty and ad vance against great odds, because it is never popular to innovate. In point of fact, sympathy, approbation and applause are accorded both; criticism, opposition opprobrium are earned by both. But tha agony is altogether in the imagination of the sufferers.