family, a whole state becomes living, and from its courtesies, the whole state becomes courteous, while, from the ambition and perverseness of the one man the whole state may be led to rebellious disorder." Thus the saying: "Affairs may be ruined by a single sentence; a kingdom may be saved by one man. The qualities of head and heart, unpossessed by the ruler, cannot by him be permanently fixed in those whom he rules. And on this principle: "never has there been a man, who, not having reference to his own character and wishes in dealing with others, was able effectually to instruct them." And while, as the Prophet Joseph Smith declared, "it is the disposition of almost all men, entrusted with a little authority, as they suppose, they straightway exercise unrighteous dominion," and thereby demonstrate that "there are many called but few chosen." Yet even the few chosen may be vilified, misrepresented aud accused by the arrogant, whose estimate of manly courage is often exhibited in violations of all the rules of propriety. Posing as champions of physical and moral courage, such entertain neither respect for superiors nor veneration for age. Suspicious and ambitious, they boast the possession of a tender conscience, while rudely trampling under foot things sacred and holy. With supercilious sneers they trench upon the prerogatives of the authorized, and with assumption claim the right of control, while unwilling themselves to be governed. With swelling importance they make of themselves the standard of fitness, guaging every man by their narrow views and warped and prejudiced minds. From such turn away. Like the moth trying to eclipse the light, so they hum, and buzz, and sputter until in the blaze their wings are clipped, and they fall helpless, objects of pity and contempt. The characteristics of a superior man are always striking. In his personal conduct, he is humble, to his superiors, he is respectful; in nourishing the people, he is kind, in ruling them, he is just, and in defending and protecting them from frauds, however disguised, he is brave, determined and, if necessary, fierce and unrelenting. Unlike the small man, always thinking of fame and favors to be gained, he "thinks of the sanctions of law," the triumphs of virtue, and the victories of justice. Though the bad may murmur against him, he acts not with the view to "his own personal advantage." Such an one is never concerned that he hath no public place, but rather that he may fit himself for public station. Instead of being concerned, because unknown he seeks to become worthy to be known. When punishments," said the philosopher, “are not properly awarded, the people do not know how to move hand or foot." In other words when punishments are unequally enforced. When one receives a light penalty, another a heavy one for like crimes, the people know not how to move hand or foot, because they know the government is guided by partiality and not principle. Whether to flatter the ruler, lay wires to please and advance his friends, or rebel against wrongs they know not which to do. Nothing in life is more painful than the preaching of a just code, under the practice of unjust judges. "When the great leader loves and enforces equally the rules of propriety, his people cannot fail to be reverent. If he love and practice righteousness, the people will gladly follow his example. If he manifest good faith, his people will certainly become sincere; so that, "those near will be happy and those afar off will be attracted." For "when a prince's personal conduct is correct, his government is effective without the issuing of orders. If his personal conduct is not correct, he may issue orders, but they will not be followed." "If he cannot rectify himself, what has he to do with rectifying others?" Can a known failure in religious, political, financial or social circles inspire confidence? But "if a ruler's words be good, is it not also good that no one oppose them? But if they are not good, and no one opposes them, may there not be expected from this one sentence the ruin of his country?" Under the administration of a ruler, who comprehends the difficulty of being a successful leader, the happiness of a people, and the prosperity of a country, may almost be assured. "The superior man,' said the great Chinese sage, "is easy to serve and difficult to please. If you try to please him in any way, which is not in accord with right, he will not be pleased. But in his employment of men, he uses them according to their capacity. The mean man is difficult to serve and easy to please. If you try to please him, though it be in a way which is not right, he may be pleased. But in his employment of men he wishes them to be equal to everything." Think of this! Carry it to legitimate conclusions, and then gaze at the grandeur, beauty and strength of this bit of Chinese philosophy, ante-dating by nearly twenty-five centuries our present civilization and enlightenment. Easy to serve but difficult to please is the superior, man. Why? Because the service, adulation and worship of his fellows are not uppermost in his mind. His soul is too great for that, the grasp of his intellect is too broad to be trammelled, vexed and annoyed by flattering and useless attentions. Having a noble, generous heart, he is easily served because unselfish. The chief seat in the synagogue, or the praises and flatteries of sycophants are of no consequence to him, who in the magnitude of his work, almost entirely loses his personality. The accomplishment of his life, labor being first, his individuality comes last. It is easy to serve because demanding nothing. But the vile-tongued flatterer and adroit feeder of worldly pride, who greets with a kiss, then stabs in the back, cannot please the superior man. The cunning who lay and pull wires in the dark cannot please him. Plotters who plan schemes and offer him dividends from dishonest transactions cannot please him. Accusers of his brethren and defamers of the reputation of others cannot please him. The blighters of fame and fair names cannot please him, because none of these things are in accordance with that which is right. The superior man stands on principle firm as the rock of ages, the embodiment of virtue, the personification of manhood, above the taint of bribery in every form. "Easy to serve, hard to please." How different the mean, small mangreat in little things-and whose individuality is first and last and to him everything. The front, easiest and best seat for him always. Hard to serve, because his almighty dignity is always ready to resist an affront whether real or imaginary. Brainless, autocratic and unfeeling, others to him are as mere tools formed as instruments of his gratification. His conceit eclipses all glories, and his love of praise is boundless. He poses and smirks before mirrors, even in the pres ence of disaster and death, and thirsts for worldly influence and power even as the desert-bound traveler thirsts for water. Sampson-like, he would tear down the pillars of liberty if he could perish as the central figure. The discord, disunion, or disruption of a nation he would esteem as a light matter, provided all his imaginary rivals could thereby be brought to ruin. "Easy to please!" Yes, and without any consideration of the means employed. A division of the profits on questionable transactions would give him no compunctions of conscience whatever. In his presence any number of schemes might be planned, and any number of wires laid for the downfall of others without rebuke, provided they looked to the exaltation and advancement of the man easily pleased, but hard to serve. Moses Thatcher. Man was never meant to live only on one line, to grow only in one direction; his life may be rich and full, valuable and happy, if he but understand the laws of his being, and feed his higher nature as sedulously as he does his physical. As the wise health-seeker remembers to fill his lungs with pure and fresh air, so men must let their minds and hearts ever draw in the mental and spiritual atmosphere which they need for their best development and their highest influence. VI. THE EASTERN QUESTION. Ir was one of those hot sultry days when the dogs lie stretched out on the cobblerock pavements of Constantinople, and the oriental lady, in a state of semiexhaustion lounges about on the divan before the open window, in her robe de chambre, when a nasal monotonous chant greeted my ears, as I made my way through a narrow alley, winding in all directions of the compass, and leading somewhere-a place I was trying to get out at. Suddenly the little donkey ahead pitched forward his elongated ears, and with a knowing air, accompanied by the savage yell of his master, drew himself into an angle of the street and halted. It soon dawned upon me that there was a procession of some kind moving towards us, and I stationed myself in the rear of the donkey, from whose back two broad boards were suspended on either side, upon the boards there was a traveling meat market. The yellow, wolfish looking dogs on the shady side of the alley, then made the discovery that they must gather up their skin and bones, and clear the way for what was coming. Thus arranged in order of donkey, self and dogs, we awaited patiently that which had disturbed the even tenor of our way. The people in the houses which faced the street, seemed to understand the meaning of all the stir and noise, and from every window a family group, of half combed heads and seldom washed faces, made an unceremonious appearance. It was a Greek funeral. The first in the procession was a man dressed in black uniform, and carrying a deep coffin lid. Then came three dirty faced boys, bareheaded, dressed in white robes, and bearing the crucifix and ecclesiastical insignia. Three priests, with black robes and .curious shaped stovepipe caps, were contributing their services, by moaning out such a monotonous chant, as to horrify the living and paralize the dead. Following the priests, and borne by four men, came the corpse, exposed in a shallow coffin, with up turned face, beneath the scorching rays of a hot summer sun. To one whose prejudices run with the life of western cities, there is something painful and unnatural in the sight of the dead exposed to the public view, in the midst of the whirl and indifference of the multitudes that gaze with simple curiosity, or it may be with awe, upon the passing and unknown dead. It was the first Greek funeral I had witnessed, and the scene came upon me so unexpectedly that I looked on more with amazement than with those serious emotions, which are due the last respects paid by the living to the departed. The corpse was that of a beautiful female. There was something remarkable in the high forehead, the prominent cheek bones, and the well defined nose of the deceased. Her long, black hair was tastefully arranged about the shoulders, and her dress was as if after an evening walk in the city, she had been laid undisturbed in her coffin to sleep. Her delicate hands and slender fingers held, in a seeming clasp, the picture of the Virgin Mary, before which lay a gilt edge volume of the Bible, and upon her breast some kind friend had carefully placed a boquet of flowers. Seldom have I seen so beautiful a corpse. What wonder, with such classic models, the sculptors' chisel of ancient Greece should move as if by inspiration. Such perfection is rarely observed in modern Greeks, and the symmetry of head and face is often destroyed by an ungainly body. They are broken bits of classic beauty, which one may here and there discover in the ruins of that unfortunate race. When nature is not perverted, and vanity and gaudiness are not displayed, in the pathetic there is interest and veneration, which may awaken ennobling feelings, when one gazes upon the lifeless form of a man or woman; but on this occasion the real and lovely features which had awakened so much admiration for the remains of some stranger, were painfully marred by the well-meaning hand, that had distastefully painted the cheeks and lips vermillion. That which was intended to produce a realistic picture of the departed relative, was ghastly to behold, and the coloring of the finger nails, was equally inappropriate on such an occasion. So anxious are these people to present their relatives or friends, in their funeral procession, as they appear when living, that men of prominence are sometimes bandaged up in chairs, and carried, seated through the streets in their robes or insignia of office, intended merely to give publicity to the dead man's rank. It not infrequently happens that these sights are repulsive, and one can hardly suppress the wish, whatever freedom he may feel belongs to the Greeks in celebrating these rites, that exceptions might be made to the rule." The corpse may be mutilated or deformed, and it often happens, that the public should be spared the most horrid scenes; still the Greek is so persistent, that he would carry his religious ceremonies far enough to upset the government, if he were allowed. Attracted to the window on one occasion, I was painfully surprised to behold the face of a young lady of about fifteen, who had died from the black measels. Her coal black and bloated face presented a sickening and ghastly appearance. Α Roman Catholic lady standing by could not resist such an opportunity to express her contempt for any government, that would allow those abominable Greeks to make such a horrid parade of their dead. How different with the Turks. The coffin is closed, and four men raise it to the level of their shoulders; and with a promiscuous crowd of twenty or thirty, as the case may be, rush off to the cemetery with such haste, as to remind one of the fire brigade, rushing in the direction of the towering flames. There are no women to retard this unceremonious rush, for they remain at home and pay their respects later, by visiting the cemetery and lounging about the grave of the departed. Graveyards are favorite laces of resort, especially for Turkish p women, whether the graves be in the door yard, in a neighboring garden, or in a distant grove of cypress. 'Tis there they fancy themselves associating with the invisible spirits of those with whom they associated on earth. It is often asserted that the cypress exhales a pleasant odor, which makes such places not only agreeable, but healthy. There are no ghost stories mingled with the thoughts, which the Moslem entertains for the resting place of the dead; and the stranger soon adapts himself to such sentiments, and will wander about the cemetery unconcious of where he is roaming. Like everything Turkish, they are neglected and left in a ruinous state. For months I occupied a room, facing on one side a Turkish graveyard. The Jews had partly taken possession of it, and moved the tombstones so as to make space enough to permit the execution of their workspinning fish lines. Amusing thoughts have often crossed my mind as I stood by the window, and looked out upon the tombs. The tombstones of men had a head with carved turban, but those of women were all minus that important member of the human body. One may imagine what he pleases, but since Congress has severed the political head of all of Utah's fair sex, it is hardly consistent to accuse Turks of a barbarous distinction. A satisfactory explanation of this peculiar notion of tombstones among Moslems, I have never been able to glean. Turkophobs say it is because Mohammedans consider women simple animals, minus a head, and employ this means of showing their contempt for the weaker sex. Turkophils say it is simply in keeping with Turkish ideas of the retiring modesty which should belong to women, and that the tombstone of man represents him at the head of the family. Greek, Jewish, Armenian, and Levant boys, vandal like, show their contempt for such differences, by breaking off these heads, while carrying on their destructive sports about the cemetery. In his religious devotions and ceremonies, the Mohammedan is much more Not retired than the oriental Christian. far from my window is a Catholic convent. Every morning, just at five o'clock, the large bell in the tower is rung to wake up the nuns, and call them to mass. The bell is pulled like a fire alarm, and I am sure it could never have failed to accomplish its purpose. Of course, non-Catholics are always routed; but it is questionable whether they are in any humor to devote themselves to prayer. It is difficult, always, to suppress a smile when one hears the Turk, up in the minaret, calling the faithful to their morning devotion just at the time the bells are clamoring. The noise is so great he can seldom be heard, besides the Christian must feel, that even in Constantinople, Christianity has gained a decided victory over Islam. There was a time when the Turks prohibited bellringing in the empire. Christians were granted religious tolerance, but were not allowed to make a parade of the churches by building them in the principal parts of the city, so as to make Christianity appear the religion of the state. Greater religious tolerance than is granted to-day in Constantinople it is impossible to imagine. The ringing of bells certainly verges upon the domain of public nuisances, especially on holidays, and the Greeks have about one hundred and sixty in the year. They range in importance from the honor in which the respective saints are held. Yesterday was saint somebody's day, to-day is saint what's-his-name's day, and to-morrow will be saint whose-is-its day. Greek and Roman Catholics have many features of their religion in common. The ceremonies of the Greek Church are so similar in appearance to those of the Roman Catholic, that one often wonders why it is the "orthodox” (as the Greek styles himself) and the Romanist so mutually dislike each other, and why the two churches should not be united. The high altars, the priests in their canonical robes, the smoke issuing from the swinging censer, the lighted candles, the nazal vocalization of the choir, the pictures of the Savior, the Virgin Mary, and numerous saints hung about on the walls of the churches are features peculiar to both. The Greek orthodox, however, rejects the doctrine of the procession of the Holy Ghost from Father to Son; and he denies the power of direct absolution by the priest. The belief in purgatory he does not accept, although he prays for the departed spirits, that they may receive mercy at the final judgment. Among the Romanists the auricular confession is made by the penitent, who kneels before the confessional box in which the priest is concealed by a latticed screen, and is more common than among Greeks, who hear, in some retired part of the church, the penitents confession made in the presence of a few select elders. Infant baptism is common to both; but the Romanists baptize the child by making the sign of the cross on its forehead. This the priest does with his finger which he dips in holy water. Greeks adopt the true immersion. When the latter make the cross, they unite the tips of the thumb and first two fingers, and touch alternately the forehead, the navel, the right breast, and the left breast three times in succession. This they are supposed to do every time they pass a church, see a holy image, or hear the name of the Savior pronounced. The Romanists make the sign of the cross before the forehead and eyes, and accompany this observance by the genuflection of the right knee. In processions the orthodox employs the Greek cross as the insignia, instead of a painting of the Savior and Virgin Mary usually displayed by the Romanist. With the latter paintings of the Virgin Mary may be with or without the infant, Jesus, while in Greek paintings the infant is always represented. An obstacle, however, which no orthodox would think of surmounting in any attempt of unification, is the authority of the pope. The Jesuits establish their schools and charities in all parts of the kingdom of Greece, and in the Oriental cities where the Hellenic race is scattered, in hopes that by extending, in a secret way, an invitation to join them, the Greek orthodox may be won over to Roman |