which drain, about fifteen feet wide, was infested by water rats. I have seen a large cat belonging to the house lie crouched in the sedges by the drain-side an hour and more at a time, upon the watch for a water-rat to appear upon the scene. The moment the rat showed its head, pussy would spring into the water to seize it, and generally succeeded in so doing, at which it appeared greatly elated, and would bring the dead rat for all in the house to see. This occurred more than once to my personal knowledge."-Public Opinion.

THE FEEBLENESS OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. -Mr. G. Woodberry's essay on American literature (in the Fortnightly Review, reprinted in a recent number) is a paper of much thoughtfulness and grace, but it does not, to our minds, explain fully the feebleness of American literature. It may be true that the cultivated class in America has little influence, that critics are in. competent, or, rather, non-existent, and that the body of the people seeks for facts and knowledge rather than ideas, but all that was true of Englishmen in the Elizabethan period. Poets have risen without cultivated classes or critics, and in countries, too, which seek their literature in a foreign land. That America should have no Pope is intelligible, but why no Burns? Is not the true explanation this-that as yet the American by himself, and separate, has hardly been? He is growing fast, though, and we think we see in Henry James, Howells, and Hawthorne the forerunners of a separate and very admirable American literature, wholly of the soil, not English in any way, except in forms of expression.-The Spectator.

OVERWORKING THE UNDEVELOPED BRAIN. -"Overwork," properly so-called, can only occur when the organ upon which the stress of the labor falls is as yet immature, and, therefore, in process of development. When an organ has reached the maturity of its growth it can only work up to the level of its capacity or faculty for work! Fatigue may produce exhaustion, but that exhaustion will come soon enough to save the organ. Repeated "efforts" may, under abnormal conditions, follow each other too rapidly to allow of recuperation in the intervals of actual exertion, and as the starting-point will, in each successive instance, be lower than the previous state, there may be a gradual abasement; but even this process should not seriously injure a healthy and welldeveloped organ. In short, a great deal of nonsense has been said and written about the "overwork" of mature brains, and there are grounds for believing that an excuse has been sought for idleness, or indulgence in a valetudinarian habit, in the popular outcry on this subject which awhile ago attracted much atten

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tion. Nevertheless there can be no room to question the extreme peril of overwork" to growing children and youths with undeveloped brains. The excessive use of an immature organ arrests its development by diverting the energy which should be appropriated to its growth, and consuming it in work. What happens to horses which are allowed to run races too early happens to boys and girls who are overworked at school. The competitive system as applied to youths has produced a most ruinous effect on the mental constitution which this generation has to hand down to the next, and particularly the next-but-one ensuing. School-work should be purely and exclusively directed to development. Cramming" the young for examination purposes is like compelling an infant in arms to sit up before the muscles of its back are strong enough to support it in the upright position, or to sustain the weight of its body on its legs by standing, while as yet the limbs are unable to bear the burden imposed on them. Another blunder is committed when one of the organs of the body-to wit, the brain-is worked at the expense of other parts of the organism, in face of the fact that the measure of general health is proportioned to the integrity of development, and the functional activity of the body as a whole in the harmony of its component systems. No one organ can be developed at the expense of the rest without a corresponding weakening of the whole.-The Lancet.

THE BROKEN OAR.

ONCE upon Iceland's solitary strand

A poet wandered with his book and pen, Seeking some final word, some sweet Amen, Wherewith to close the volume in his hand. The billows rolled and plunged upon the sand, The circling sea-gulls swept beyond is ken, And from the parting cloud-rack now and then, Flashed the red sunset over sea and land. Then by the willows at his feet was tossed A broken oar; and carved thereon he read, "Oft was I weary, when I toiled at thee;" And like a man who findeth what was lost, He wrote the words, then lifted up his head, And flung his useless pen into the sea.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

Might there not be some deeper hidden thought
In the words wafted from the billowy sea,
"Oft was I weary when I toiled at thee,"
Than the fit use for them the poet sought,
To close the volume with his labor fraught?
Some shipwrecked sailor may have striven to reach
With broken bark and oar, in vain the beach,
And carved the words thereon as one who fought
Life's battle well, and saw the rest at hand,
Nor minded weary limbs that plied the oar-

Who viewed the sunset o'er the watery strife
Calmly, and mused, as closed the vision grand,
And the sea opened wide its prison door,

"Oft was I weary when I toiled at life."
C. DREW.

TALLAHASSEE, FLA., August 25, 1878.

THE question suggested by the title of this paper is certainly the most important and interesting of the many new subjects with which the intelligence of the present and succeeding generations will have to concern itself. What, men are asking all around us, will be the effect of the philosophy of evolution upon the Christian religion? Some points are indeed already determined, or nearly so. It is clear, for instance, to those who are the most capable of judging correctly, that there is no necessary incompatibility between the two-that is to say, that the influence of the former upon the latter, however overwhelming and perhaps destructive it may ultimately turn out to be, can, by the nature of the case, be indirect only. Evolution may be true, and revelation may be true also; the facts from which Christianity derives its existence are, if they occurred, as much facts of the universe NEW SERIES.-VOL. XXXIV., No. 5

as those of which science claims to give an exhaustive account. But the question remains: What will be the indirect effect of the one upon the other? What may we reasonably anticipate will be the precise form into which the relations between these two mighty powers will ultimately be cast? Will the predominance of the new philosophy leave room for the existence of the old religion? Will not the need of faith in the unseen be quenched in knowledge of the visible so complete as to be capable of satisfying all the aspirations of man after life and happiness?

The time has, in my judgment, fully arrived when we may reasonably attempt to find some preliminary answer to these questions, and may with fair promise of success trace the action of positive philosophy upon the fortunes of the Gospel of Jesus Christ; and, if I am the first to make the attempt, it is

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only because I am one of the few-so few, indeed, that I know not for certain whether there be another besides myself -to whom both are alike precious and indispensable, so that to seek to find a modus vivendi between the two is a kind of pressing intellectual necessity. And this being so, it follows that I approach the subject as one to whom evolution is a more certain and necessary truth than revelation; and I am afraid it also follows that, in thus attempting to obtain from an examination of the indications of what I may call the intellectual weather a forecast favorable to the prosperity and perpetuity of the Christian creed, I am exposing myself to hostile influences from two very different quarters. The conservative instinct will teach many to distrust a new argument for religion, even while they admit in terms that new developments of thought require new treatment, and also that no one is at present very well satisfied with the old. In the opinion of others, I am well aware that I expose myself to the suspicion of partiality and to that most serious of intellectual vices, unconscious unfairness. But whether I have succeeded or not in stating the case fairly, that I have tried my best to do so will be, I hope, apparent to every reader whose kindly judgment it is at all worth one's while to secure.

We must begin by framing some conception of evolution so stated as to set out as distinctly as possible its relations toward religion, and for this purpose hypothesis is admissible. I suppose, then, that our world was formed by an aggregation of molecular atoms cast off by the sun, or in some way connected with it, and that from these have grown up by natural causation all the varied phenomena of that which we call nature -matter, life, thought, and civilization itself. In this case it will be clear that, from the time of its "creation" until now, nothing has been, so to speak, put into the earth from without save the heat, light, and attracting power of the sun (perhaps solar system" might be more verbally accurate) from which it was in the first instance originated. If it be answered to this that the hypothesis is very far from being verified, I reply that the precise form in which the evolutionary philosophy will ultimately emerge

is purely a question for science, and that for our purpose it is incumbent to deal with evolution in its most rigid, uncompromising, and, to my mind, satisfactory shape. If once more it be asserted that the idealistic statement, "Matter is but the organization of mind," is just as true an account of things as the materialistic, “Mind is the product of matter," I reply once more that this does not affect the present discussion and that the latter has at least the twofold advantage of being the more intelligible in itself, and also of being selected by those who have the best title to speak in the name of evolution.

Now upon this state of things there are certain more superficial aspects of the relationship between evolution and . revelation that force themselves upon our attention at once. These I shall state and dismiss in as few words as possible, not because they are not of much importance, but partly because I have touched upon them in my book on the Divine Legation of Christ, and partly because they do not affect the vital points of the subject we have in hand. Still it is essential to our purpose that they should be cleared out of the way.

The first and prominent thought suggested by this statement of the modern scientific creed is that which is most unfavorable to the prospects of the Christian faith. It is at any rate well to know the worst at once; and the worst is summed up in the natural question: How can such a system as this leave room for, or even tolerate the existence of, those events upon which Christianity professes to found its origin and its claims to our allegiance? It must indeed be a case-hardened faith that does not appreciate, at least sometimes, the tremendous force of this overpowering difficulty; assuredly the writer of this would be very insufficiently equipped for his task if he had not felt it in the very inmost depths of his moral being. But then a robust and resolute nature will, if from nothing else, at least from sheer dogged power of contradiction, find within itself an impulse to resist the first blast of such a storm, the first rush of this flood of new thought down ancient channels. It will be apt to remember that the first results of new discoveries are always the most over

whelming, and it will resolve not to yield, at least until the full extent and true direction of the movement be discerned. Blind and foolish resistance to new truths is by no means the same thing as the refusal to surrender old ones at the first blast of the invader's trumpet, and I suspect that the easy readiness of much Christian thought to throw overboard this or that fact that seems to occasion trouble or inconvenience does not, in the long-run, win much respect from scientific minds. Be this as it may, if, remembering that we are at the beginning and not the end of the discovery of evolution, we strive to peer through the driving mist and blinding rain, we may chance to find some gleams of sunshine behind the storm, and may at least comfort ourselves with the reflection that no hurricane lasts forever. Let us then proceed to mention four points in which the tendency of evolution will be favorable to the Christian religion.

1. It compels us, whether we like it or no (and a great many excellent Christians apparently do not like it at all), to identify religion with revelation. And this it effects by enabling the mind to form a clear and intelligible conception of what is meant by nature, and its consequent incapacity to afford a basis for religion. Nature is the sum total of all that has been derived from the original agglomeration of atoms. It may be described, in the words of one eminent thinker, as a "realm governed by uni

* The reference is to Professor Huxley's "Life of Hume," p. 44, which I take as the latest statement of the case from the scientific point of view. I agree with nearly everything in it, and I cannot help but think that, from the sheer desire of being fair and clear, he has stated the Christian position much more strongly than most Christian advocates would do it for themselves. But upon one point, which, though merely verbal, is of great importance in the right understanding of the subject, I am at issue with him. I mean his use of the word " nature." No doubt every thinker is entitled to use words like this in his own sense, provided, of course, he adheres strictly to it. But one must needs sigh for what I may call an international, or rather inter-individual, coinage of words in the language of philosophy; it is, for one thing, often so very difficult to find the proper amount of small change for big words. Professor Huxley's definition of nature is as follows (p. 131): "For nature means neither more nor less than

form laws, and based upon impenetrable darkness and eternal silence. In the language of another it is that which can be known as contrasted with the unknowable. If so-and I heartily concur in the definition--then religion, to have any meaning at all for a consistent evolutionist, must be a voice out of that silence, a revelation of that which otherwise must remain unknown. It is of course open to Christian apologists to place the essential foundation of their religion in conscience, or free will, or morality touched with emotion, or in the existence of a spiritual substance called a soul. But it is not possible for them to convince the scientific mind that this deserves the special name of religion, or can lead us up to God, or can satisfy the instinct of worship. Whatever else these, e.g., conscience, may be, they are the products of the original atoms, part of that system of things that falls within that which is; the sum of phenomena presented to experience; the totality of events, past, present, and to come. Every event, therefore, must be taken to be a part of nature, until proof to the contrary is supplied."

Now, if this use of the word were exact or even common, I think the case for so-called "miracles' would be stronger than it really is. But, putting this aside, let us try and give to nature a rigidly scientific meaning. It is, first of all, the sum total of phenomena that have existed or occurred within the sphere,

both as to their causes and their results, of this present world -in other words, of that which can be made the subject of knowledge. To this might be added, but doubtfully, all phenomena belonging to other worlds which can be ascertained by astronomical inquiry; it is possible, but hardly "natural," to say that the position of a certain star in the heavens, or of a given line in its spectrum, is according to nature. But to extend the use to all events including "miracles" (if they happen), is sure to mislead. Miracles-using a bad word for the present under protest-are phenomena presented,, indeed, to experience, but proclaiming themselves to be caused by powers of which nature knows nothing; they may be natural, but the nature is not ours, nor that by which our intelligences are conditioned. the mind of science they are extra-natural, in that of religion, supernatural, because they point back to powers not only other, but also higher, than any which obtain in nature as we know it; hence, to speak of miracles as violating the laws of nature is, as Professor Huxley points out, absurd, but not absurd to speak of thein as transcending those laws. The full meaning of all this will appear further on; for the present I am merely indicating in what sense I use these words, which has the double advantage of being both popular and exact.

In

the region of the knowable, totally inadequate, therefore, to extend our information or to prolong our destinies beyond nature itself. Better confess the plain truth at once. Without the aid of revelation we look up through nature to

the original atoms.

It must, in short, be confessed that a great disservice was done to Christianity by those eminent and earnest thinkers who defended it as a republication of natural religion. But they were, like us all, creatures of their day, and did what work they had to do with such materials as lay ready to hand. And the same discernment which taught them then how, upon certain given premises, Christianity could be perfectly well defended, would teach them now to abandon a line of argument which the simple march of thought and discovery has outflanked and turned. For the short and sufficient answer is that if a religion of nature were possible, a religion of revelation would be quite unnecessary and impertinent; and it is satisfactory to perceive that in the grasp of evolution the idea of a natural religion is dying like Rousseau's dream of a primitive natural society. Christianity must at least gain something from a philosophy which pronounces, in the matter of religion, either revelation or nothing.

2. In the light of evolution we are enabled to obtain a clear and consistent definition of revelation, together with an insight into the part which it plays in the economy of the universe. Let us define it somewhat as follows. It is the exhibition, within the limits of nature and to sensible experience, of phenomena which, being the productions of super-evolutional causes, attest the existence of supernatural forces, and also convey some useful information about them. Once more, it is the "eternal silence' that must speak, a voice out of the unknowable that must make itself known. And, the Christian instinct, which may surely, in so vital a matter as this, be trusted to go right and to know the ground of its own beliefs, has never ceased to proclaim the occurrence of such phenomena as are above described. For the purposes of this argument I expressly confine revelation within the limits of the life, death, and resurrec

tion of Christ, or rather, following the example of the early Church, to the facts of the Apostles' Creed. Now I have already admitted that Christian thinkers must be at liberty, if they prefer it, to place the basis of their faith elsewhere than in a revelation (as just defined), even while I profess my own inability to comprehend their position. But there is a state of mind increasingly prevalent, and fraught with growing danger to the future fortunes of the Christian religion, from which the progress of evolution is even now beginning to set us free. It is that tone of thought which regards the occurrence of superevolutional phenomena as being, on the whole, a matter of comparatively slight importance; and with this tone the genius of evolution, with its intense and vivid appreciation of the meaning and potency of facts, will tend more and more to make it impossible for the mind of man to be contented. Parenthetically it must be observed that this temper of mind must not be confounded with another which is content to say: "Whether the facts occurred in this way may be uncertain, but if they did this is what they mean.

The time is then, I think, rapidly drawing on when modern thought will demand of theology, and that with some excusable peremptoriness of tone, to state once for all upon which footing it elects to stand. At present the tone of many scientific minds seems to be somewhat as follows: "We really cannot occupy ourselves in serious discussion, because we never quite know where we have you. You always seem to us to assume a supernatural standpoint, and then, when confronted with the obvious difficulties involved in this, to fly elsewhere for refuge. Adopt the alternative that the Christian history is true in fact, and we will argue the question. Adopt the alternative that it is only a framework for moral ideas and spiritual truths, and that too we can make shift to estimate. But to halt uneasily between the two, to say that so tremendous an event as the resurrection of a dead man may have happened or may not, but that on the whole it does not much matter, is to interpose a fatal barrier to sincere discussion with minds that have been trained to estimate the nature and con