Genre Philosophy. Page - 1

rs to do the work cheaper, I do not know, but shesuddenly withdrew her custom, and I have never heard from her since.

My next venture was tale writing. Who has not tried this mostunsatisfactory method? It is a tremendously anxious time when yourfirst effort is sent out. What a lot of money you expect to obtain forit! You do not intend to be unprepared, so you spend every penny inyour mind beforehand. Then there is the honor and glory of it! Youwill hear everyone talking of the cleverly written tale and wonderingwho is the gifted author!

What made me more hopeful was the possession of a cousin, who was verysuccessful in this line. Indeed, she has reached the three-volumestage by now, and is beginning to be quite well known. I have lost myinterest in her, however, since she took me and my family off in oneof her books. It is such an easy thing to do. You only have to findout a person's peculiarities--and everyone has a peculiarity!--andoverdraw them a little. My sisters and I, I remember, fig

to His fallen creatures, than to have revealed a book which would leave them in doubt and uncertainty, to contend with one another, from age to age, respecting the meaning of its contents. That such uncertainty and contention have existed for ages, none will deny. The wise and learned have differed, and do still widely differ, from each other, in the understanding of prophecy. Whence then this difference? Either Revelation itself is deficient, or else the fault is in mankind. But to say Revelation is deficient, would be to charge God foolishly; God forbid: the fault must be in man. There are two great causes for this blindness, which I will now show:

First, mankind have supposed that direct inspiration by the Holy Ghost was not intended for all ages of the Church, but was confined to primitive times; the "Canon of Scripture being full," and all things necessary being revealed; the Spirit which guides into all truth was no longer for the people: therefore they sought to understand, by their own wisdom,

The first friend a child has in this world is its mother. It comes here an utter stranger, knowing no one; but it finds love waiting for it. Instantly the little stranger has a friend, a bosom to nestle in, an arm to encircle it, a hand to minister to its helplessness. Love is born with the child. The mother presses it to her breast, and at once her heart's tendrils twine about it.

It is a good while before the child becomes conscious of the wondrous love that is bending over it, yet all the time the love is growing in depth and tenderness. In a thousand ways, by a thousand delicate arts, the mother seeks to waken in her child a response to her own yearning love. At length the first gleams of answering affection appear--the child has begun to love. From that hour the holy friendship grows. The two lives become knit in one.

When God would give the world a great man, a man of rare spirit and transcendent power, a man with a lofty mission, he first prepares a woman to be his mother. Whenever in

me future there would come into the world a mighty man; that he would be born a Jew (Deuteronomy 18:15), specifying the place where he would be born (Micah 5:2); that he would come to his own people and they would not receive him; that he would be despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:1-3); that he would ride into Jerusalem upon an ass, the foal of a like animal, and offer himself as king to the Jews (Zechariah 9:9); that he would be rejected by the Jews (Isaiah 53:3); that he would be betrayed for thirty pieces of silver (Zechariah 11:12); that he would die, but not for himself (Daniel 9:26); that there would be no just cause for his death (Isaiah 53:8,9,11); that nevertheless he would be numbered among the transgressors (Isaiah 53:12); that he would die a violent death, yet not a bone of his body should be broken (Psalm 34:20); that his flesh would not corrupt, and that he would arise from the dead (Psalm 16:10)--all of which and many more similar prophecies wer

ften fathomed those "abysmal deeps of personality," the recognition of which is a necessary element of marked individual growth.

We have, therefore, no materials for forming any vivid picture of Seneca's childhood; but, from what we gather about the circumstances and the character of his family, we should suppose that he was exceptionally fortunate. The Senecas were wealthy; they held a good position in society; they were a family of cultivated taste, of literary pursuits, of high character, and of amiable dispositions. Their wealth raised them above the necessity of those mean cares and degrading shifts to eke out a scanty livelihood which mark the career of other literary men who were their contemporaries. Their rank and culture secured them the intimacy of all who were best worth knowing in Roman circles; and the general dignity and morality which marked their lives would free them from all likelihood of being thrown into close intercourse with the numerous class of luxurious epicureans, whose unblu

ine arts, however, and in religion and philosophy, we are still in full career towards disintegration. It might have been thought that a germ of rational order would by this time have penetrated into fine art and speculation from the prosperous constructive arts that touch the one, and the prosperous natural and mathematical sciences that touch the other. But as yet there is little sign of it. Since the beginning of the nineteenth century painting and sculpture have passed through several phases, representatives of each naturally surviving after the next had appeared. Romanticism, half lurid, half effeminate, yielded to a brutal pursuit of material truth, and a pious preference for modern and humble sentiment. This realism had a romantic vein in it, and studied vice and crime, tedium and despair, with a very genuine horrified sympathy. Some went in for a display of archaeological lore or for exotic motifs; others gave all their attention to rediscovering and emphasising abstract problems of execution

To understand allmysteries, to have all knowledge, to be able to comprehend with allsaints, is a great work; enough to crush the spirit, and to stretch thestrings of the most capacious, widened soul that breatheth on this sideglory, be they notwithstanding exceedingly enlarged by revelation.Paul, when he was caught up to heaven, saw that which was unlawful,because impossible, for man to utter. And saith Christ to thereasoning Pharisee, "If I have told you earthly things, and ye believenot, how shall you believe if I tell you of heavenly things?" It isgreat lewdness, and also insufferable arrogancy, to come to the Word ofGod, as conceiting already that whatever thou readest must either bythee be understood, or of itself fall to the ground as a senselesserror. But God is wiser than man, wherefore fear thou him, and trembleat his word, saying still, with godly suspicion of thine own infirmity,What I see not, teach thou me; and, Thou art God only wise; but as forme, I am as a beast before thee.

nclusions beforehand into the acceptable and the inacceptable, the edifying and the shocking, the noble and the base. Wonder has no longer been the root of philosophy, but sometimes impatience at having been cheated and sometimes fear of being undeceived. The marvel of existence, in which the luminous and the opaque are so romantically mingled, no longer lay like a sea open to intellectual adventure, tempting the mind to conceive some bold and curious system of the universe on the analogy of what had been so far discovered. Instead, people were confronted with an orthodoxy--though not always the same orthodoxy--whispering mysteries and brandishing anathemas. Their wits were absorbed in solving traditional problems, many of them artificial and such as the ruling orthodoxy had created by its gratuitous assumptions. Difficulties were therefore found in some perfectly obvious truths; and obvious fables, if they were hallowed by association, were seriously weighed in the balance against one another or against the

t eat Chinese food? They won't be able to go to the country and minister in all the little country churches that are so much in need of help--they can't get Western food there! They had better have stayed at home!

After a few years had passed, however, the young man mentioned above did start to do country work, and he did it very acceptably. What is more, he even came to prefer an ordinary country meal of local food to the best Western dishes that his wife could give him at home! Seeing that, I began to realize a thing that should be a comfort to all young workers who find the food or the living conditions difficult. Over a period of time familiarity not only turns difficulty to ease, but often even removes the "dis" from dislike!

The young worker goes with an older one to make a call or two. Everything is new. Everything is strange. Everything is nerve-wearing. If a seat is offered, it is uncomfortable. If food or drink is offered, either may be unpleasant. Even if he understands more

'to live in love with Onas'--as they called him--'and with the children of Onas, as long as the sun and the moon shall endure.' 'This treaty of peace and friendship was made,' as Bancroft says, 'under the open sky, by the side of the Delaware, with the sun and the river and the forest for witnesses. It was not confirmed by an oath; it was not ratified by signatures and seals; no written record of the conference can be found; and its terms and conditions had no abiding monument, but on the heart. There they were written like the law of God and were never forgotten. The simple sons of the wilderness, returning to their wigwams, kept the history of the covenant by strings of wampum, and, long afterwards, in their cabins, they would count over the shells on a clean piece of bark and recall to their own memory, and repeat to their children or to the stranger, the words of William Penn.' The world laughed at the fantastic agreement; but the world noticed, at the same time, that, whilst the neighboring colo