Earlier text: IS THE CHILD OF GOD A FREETHINKER?THERE is in London, holding a high position in a firm of Eastern merchants, a Chinese who for many years has belonged to the Boxers’ secret society in China. “You English,” he observed to a London Express reporter, speaking English with remarkable fluency, “look at Chinese matters only from your own point of view. Ah! if you could only look at them from ours! Western civilization is to us a mere mushroom. It is a thing of yesterday. We consider ourselves at least two thousand years ahead of you. “There was a time when we had, like you, our ‘struggle for life,’ our race for wealth, our ambition for power, our haste and hurry and worry. We, too, had your clever inventions,—gunpowder, printing, and the rest,— but we have lived long enough to find out how essentially unnecessary all these things are. “We have also had our periods of doubt, fanaticism, and dissension in matters of religion. We have had our martyrs, our reformations, our non-conformists, our intolerance, and finally our toleration,—yes, thousands of years ago. “But, as I say, we have outgrown it all. From the experience of past centuries we have learned wisdom; from the mistakes and disasters of our ancestors we have learned that none of the things for which we strove were really worth striving for. “Our passions and ambitions have settled down into a calm desire for happiness in this world; our religion is reduced to a philosophy of life, which the test of the last two thousand years has proved to be absolutely sound. “We believe that the best thing to pursue in this life is happiness, and we teach our children that their happiness can be secured only by the performance of duty, by the observance of moral and business obligations, and by surrounding one’s self with a circle of equally happy friends and relatives. “If a Chinaman prospers beyond the lot which falls to his kindred, he finds his greatest happiness in sharing his good fortune with them. And in China we never cease to work. There is no such thing as ‘retiring from business.’ Work is part of our pleasure, because it is part of our duty. “All through China you will find the same level, uniform spirit of content. You may think we live lives of ignorance and squalor and idleness, but I assure you it is not so. We are as well off as we want to be, and no man can improve on that. “Now, these being our circumstances, you of the Western world come to us with what you call your new ideas. You invite us to build railways, so that we may fly from place to place at a speed which for us has neither necessity nor charm. You want to build mills and factories so as to debase our beautiful arts and crafts, and produce tawdry finery in place of the beautiful textures and hues which we have evolved after ages of experiment. “Against all this we protest. We want to be let alone. We want to be free to enjoy our beautiful country and the fruits of our centuries of experience. When we ask you to go away, you refuse; and you even threaten us if we do not give you our harbors, our land, our towns. “And now, having carefully considered the matter, we of the so-called Boxers’ society have decided that the only way to get rid of you is to kill you. We are not naturally blood-thirsty. We certainly are not thieves. But when persuasion and argument and appeals to your sense of justice are of no avail, we find ourselves face to face with the fact that the only resource is to put you out of existence. “If we wanted your railways and machines, we could, of course, buy them; but we do not. We have no use for them. We have learned to do without them. Yet you say you will force us to buy them whether we will or not. Is that just? I say it is an impertinence — an outrage. “A good deal is made of the fact that we are not soldiers. Well, we have ceased to be soldiers because we have become civilized. War is a barbarism. The effect of our having arrived at our present stage of civilization is that we have increased and multiplied beyond every other race on the face of the earth. In spite of our great morality (which seems to be very shocking to you, although we recognize in it only a wise provision of nature), the Chinese race is increasing at a greater rate than any other people in the world. “We could, if we chose, overwhelm the rest of mankind. That we do not do so is due to the perfection of our civilization, our philosophy, and our morals. We number four hundred million human beings, and who could withstand us if we chose to assert our power! Do you think we are unconscious of it? On the contrary, we understand it only too well. Let the white races of the earth appreciate the fact that we, and not they, are its masters. “There have been twenty so-called successful invasions of China. But what has happened? Have invaders dominated the Chinese?—No. The conquered have absorbed their conquerors. All have become Chinese. The very Jews who have come among us have been absorbed by our race—a thing which has never happened elsewhere. “Let me repeat that all the forces which divide men in the West have practically no existence in China. Politics, religion, private ambitions, the necessity for expansion, land hunger, gold hunger,— all these have no existence in China. You think that because a Chinaman is inert, careless, and simple, he is a child. There never was a greater mistake. “He has learned the secret of being happy. His life is placid, and nothing troubles him so long as his conscience is clear. “There you have our character in a sentence. Let us alone, and we will let you alone.” Eighty-Four-Pound Salmon Caught
ASTORIA, June 9.—What is said to be the largest salmon ever caught in the Columbia River was delivered to-day to the Elmore cannery. It weighed eighty-four pounds; and when cut up, made five and three-fourths dozen cans. The monster was four and one-half feet long, and three and one-half feet at the largest circumference. The fisherman was paid $5.46 for the fish.—Daily Oregonian. THE question has been asked, How could God have been in William Miller’s work, when he taught an error? How could God have been in Martin Luther’s work? The keynote of the Reformation was justification by faith. Faith does not make void the law: it establishes the law. Yet Luther was an habitual transgressor of the fourth commandment of God’s law. John Wesley added sanctification to the justification taught by Luther. Wesley and his godly associates did a mighty work for the Lord; but none of them observed the true Sabbath. Can one be justified and sanctified while continuing in sin? you may ask. God suffered William Miller to make a mistake without setting him right. Christ did the same when the people shouted, “Blessed be the kingdom of our father David, that cometh in the name of the Lord.” Could anyone say that God was not in that work? The people could not understand the nature of the kingdom of God at that time; yet their attention must be directed to the One who was about to be crucified for the world; he must appear as the legal heir of David’s throne. Just so the Lord has overruled the errors of his workers. Justification by faith separated his people from the antichristian church. In Miller’s time the generation was in existence that was to witness the second coming of Christ, and his church must be made ready for translation. The first thing to do was to separate them from merely nominal professors of Christianity. This the test of the first angel’s message accomplished. On the other hand, very shortly after the disappointment the church saw “the temple of God . . . opened in heaven.” Judging from the typical sanctuary, the temple must have the ark containing the tables of the law. And now comes the light on the Sabbath; Luther’s and Wesley’s works are rounded out; and we behold a harmonious whole—a design so beautiful, so full of tender mercy, that our hearts are filled with reverential love and gratitude. For twelve hundred and sixty years the papacy “cast down the truth to the ground,” till it was said that there was not a doctrine of the Bible which she had not perverted. When the Lord undertook to restore the truth, he did not give it all at once. There has been a gradual unfolding of truth during the last four hundred years. Christ said to his disciples, “I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye can not bear them now.” He has given time to understand and appropriate each truth before giving another. What tender consideration is this! Can we help loving and trusting the Lord more as we see him keeping pace with the weakest and smallest? Coming down to the nineteenth century, William Miller gave the world the first angel’s message, — “Fear God, and give glory to him; for the hour of his judgment is come.” The great idea of this message is time. Since the angel represented the Lord, God’s part of William Miller’s work was time. Mr. Miller founded his work on Dan. 8:14: “Unto two thousand and three hundred days; then shall the sanctuary be cleansed.” God still gives one point at a time. The sanctuary belongs to the Third Angel’s Message, and was not to be understood till the third angel came. It is all plain now, and point by point the dear Saviour is bringing his people to perfection, to present to himself “a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing,” but “holy and without blemish.” AN ENGLISH PLEA FOR SIMPLER FOODS.
THE famous English athlete, author, and tennis champion, Eustace H. Miles, M. A. (Cambridge), has recently told his personal diet experience in a book entitled “Muscle, Brain, and Diet: a Plea for Simpler Foods,” published by the Macmillan Company, New York. At the age of twenty-eight, being threatened with Bright’s disease, the author was ordered to give up alcohol. In his efforts to abandon alcohol, he temporarily discontinued the use of flesh foods. Of the effects produced upon his system by the new régime, he says:— Before long I grew more learned in such matters; and as time went on, I found that the desire, or even the liking, for alcohol was departing—a thing I had never imagined possible. I found that I was spending far less on my food and drink; that I was saving a great deal of time in various ways; that much of my superfluous fat had disappeared; that my skin was getting a healthier color; that in exercise and at games my clearness of eye, my skill, my endurance, and—a strange thing, surely, between the ages of twenty-seven and thirty-two—my activity and flexibility were all gradually increasing; that my brain work was far better in respect of range of subjects, of sheer quantity, of quickness, and of quality than it had ever been before; that I was somewhat suddenly developing a most satisfactory memory, especially for history and “general” subjects; that I was acquiring for the first time a power of “observation,” and a power of quickly arranging my subjects; that I saw many new analogies between one subject and another; that I could work for long stretches of time without a breakdown. In fact, I may say that brain work has become almost as natural a thing to me as breathing, except at night. Even when I go for a holiday, I seldom rest my brain—I usually find it enough rest to change my work. All this will sound very like self-illusion. “You imagine all this,” the skeptic will say, “but it needs proof.” In reply I appeal to statistics: That during the last year I have coached nearer to one hundred and fifty than to one hundred honors pupils, that since last January I have had the schemes of more than ten books accepted by various well-known publishers, and, in the intervals of my coaching, have already written nearly all of them, as well as a good many articles,—all this I can prove. It is less easy to prove that I have never felt so happy as I do now; that I feel altogether better in every way than I used to; that my motives in life are higher than they used to be. First of all comes an extraordinary change of motive, such as I believe no historian has ever recorded. I began to drop the flesh foods as an experiment; I soon continued to do so because the discontinuance of their use was taking away my desire for alcohol (and so was probably saving my life), and because it saved money and time. The motive here would be self-preservation and the desire to save and gain money and time. Then I continued, not only for the foregoing reasons, but also because my work was improving, my feelings were improving, and my enjoyment of life was increasing. Here the added motive was the desire to increase what was positively good. Then, while these motives (including self-preservation) still continued to move me, there was added the desire to set an example and to help others; this is a higher motive than the others, and was utterly absent at the start. It is one of the chief of the motives that have led me to write this book. Secondly, as to fatigue, depression, and many other distressing symptoms, I find that they are almost entirely in proportion to the error of food, and not in proportion to the work done. In other words, it is far less tiring for me to do twelve hours a day of the most severe brain work, while eating the proper kinds and amounts of fleshless foods, than to do two hours a day while eating flesh with my meals. Thirdly, and this will astonish many readers, the better the “condition” I am in, and the better my games and work are, the more I feel errors of diet. I can not help thinking that this must be because my blood is purer, and therefore like a glass of pure water; that is, more likely to be considerably changed by a little “mud” than a glass of muddy water would be; or I might say that I am analogous to a man with a pure mind—he feels an error more sensitively than a hardened sinner would. But even when I am guilty of some error in diet, I do not think that my state falls much below my state three years ago. It is hard to say. Fourthly, as to stimulants, repeated experiments have given results which at first surprised me, but now seem quite to fit in with all the other results. Tea and alcohol have “picked me up,” at any rate for the time being, and have left little appreciably bad after-effects, when I have been overtired; for instance, after a hard match played on a more or less empty stomach. But when I have been in the pink of condition, when I can take more exercise and do more work without fatigue than any one of my acquaintance, then tea and alcohol positively depress me. So far from improving my condition even at the moment, both the immediate effects and the after-effects are wont to be almost misery. Meat, and flesh foods in general, produce depression and tiredness, and pains in one or more of my joints, within a very short time, but more especially so when (for example at a dinner party) I have felt perfectly fit to start with. This point may be worth noticing: Tea, with me, has usually produced the desire for more tea later on (say after four or five hours). Alcohol, with me, has almost invariably produced the more or less immediate desire for more alcohol or tea. Lastly, the flesh foods, with me, have quite invariably produced, immediately, the desire for one or all of the three,—tea, alcohol, and flesh foods. . . . Lastly, whereas it might be thought that I should have to eat huge quantities of food to keep up my strength, I do not eat nearly so much as I used to, probably not a quarter, certainly not a half; in fact, so long as I eat the right things (especially proteids), the less I eat and drink—the less I need to eat and drink. I insist on good health being not merely an absence of certain more or less definite signs of illness or bad health, but on its being also a positive and active tendency toward whatever is good, the tendency to develop, as God meant man to develop, in every direction—physical, mental, and moral. If a man not only looks healthy and satisfies the doctor’s tests, but also is enabled to get out of himself nearly the most possible good in whatever noble direction and for whatever noble end he chooses, then, and not till then, I call him “healthy;” for such a man is bound to feel a tendency and a desire to bring every one else into a similar state of good health. Thus, in the things of the world, they of the world who strive for the mastery must be temperate in all things: how much more, then, should those who are “not of the world”? For they do it “to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible.” A LITTLE seed lay in the ground,
And soon began to sprout;
“Now which of all the flowers around,”
It mused, “shall I come out?” “The lily’s face is fair and proud,
But just a trifle cold;
The rose, I think, is rather loud,
And, then, its fashion’s old. “The violet is very well,
But not a flower I’d choose;
Nor yet the canterbury-bell—
I never cared for blues. “Petunias are by far too bright,
And vulgar flowers besides;
The primrose only blooms at night,
And peonies spread too wide.” And so it criticised each flower,
This supercilious seed;
Until it woke one summer hour
And found itself a weed. “In 1891 there were nine hundred thousand persons living in London whose condition amounted to illegal overcrowding as defined by act of Parliament. Since then the population of London is computed to have increased three hundred thousand, and a great part of this increase is in the overcrowded areas. Such a pitch of overcrowding has been reached. In many districts, after the legal number of occupants of a room have been stowed in or upon the beds, another equal number lie underneath the beds. Beds which used to be let on a ‘Box and Cox’ arrangement to a day and a night tenant, are now let in eight-hour shifts, three occupants getting the use of them in the twenty-four hours. One of the most appalling facts is that it is becoming more and more common for workingmen to be unable to find any kind of lodging at all, and they are actually driven to take their wives and children to the workhouse, while they themselves find shelter in a common lodging house. You may go on piling up wealth; your trade returns may expand and expand; you may add province after province to the empire, but unless this evil is cured, your empire has a canker at its heart, which will grow and grow until the whole fabric comes to the ground with a crash.” And the New York Times says that New York City “is worse” than this extract shows London to be. A Dog’s Faithful Mourning
“WHEN Emil Zola was in exile, his faithful dog, after searching for him everywhere, mourned, and died of a broken heart. And yet some persons say, ‘Only a dog!’ Would your dog or horse mourn for you if you were gone? If not, be assured the reason is in you and not in those dumb friends.” EXPERIENCES WHILE TRAVELING.
By Mrs. Geo. A. Irwin.
It has been my lot to travel a great deal. Of late I have made it a rule to get acquainted with persons on the train, and to drop some seed of truth; and my experiences have been of the most interesting and encouraging nature. I naturally dread a long journey on the cars; but since I have resolved to do it for the Lord, and make of it a means to our one great end, it has lost its dread, and the miles just fly by as I become interested in conversation. One time, when going South, I looked about the car to see if there was any one whom I thought I could easily approach; and seeing a young girl, I took occasion to sit down beside her, and begin conversation. I found that she was going to my native State, near my old home, and of course it was then easy to carry on conversation, which was mutually interesting. She told me about her home life on a farm, and that she was a professed Christian, belonging to the Methodist Church. She seemed very willing to talk to me, and we formed a pleasant acquaintance. I asked her if she had ever heard the truth which Seventh-day Adventists teach. She said that she had heard of such a people, but did not know much about what they believed, and that she would be glad of reading-matter concerning their faith. When we separated, I gave her my card; and when I reached home, I wrote her a motherly letter, and sent her a copy of “Steps to Christ,” which I had mentioned to her on the train. I am having an interesting correspondence with her, and hope to see her at our State camp-meeting, which is to be held near where she lives. I had a long talk with a traveling man who had heard something in regard to the truth, and had many inquiries to make. He was well informed on the Scriptures, and raised many objections, but a plain “Thus saith the Lord” was sufficient to satisfy him on every point. In my conversation with him I was impressed more than ever before with the importance of diligently studying the Scriptures, so we may be able to use them at any time, even if we can not turn to the Bible itself. The Lord wonderfully blessed me, and brought the scriptures to my recollection, as he has promised to. I also made the acquaintance of a woman with a young child, who said she had heard the truth, and would like to know more about it. A short time ago, as I was crossing the plains, I became acquainted with a young couple who were returning home from their wedding trip. The young woman was frail, and that gave me an opportunity to ask if I could do anything for her. She was glad to have me talk with her, and eagerly listened to all I could tell her about the health principles and proper diet. She said that she had always been delicate, and now she was anxious to be strong, that she might not be a burden to her young husband. As our journey together was a long one, she often came and sat with me, and told me a great deal about her life and her home. I told her about the truth, which is so dear to me. She said that she had heard some of our ministers preach in a schoolhouse near her mother's home; that she and her mother had attended the meetings; that her mother was convinced that we had truth, and that she herself partly believed it. Before we separated, she asked me to write to her when I reached home, and gave me her mother's name and address, saying that her mother would be glad to hear from me, and to know more of our faith. On that same train I found a sick woman. She heard me say something about Battle Creek, and asked if I knew anything about the place. When I told her that that is my home, she was glad, and said that she was on her way to the sanitarium from her home in Montana; so of course I had a long talk with her. She was anxious to learn all about our people, and I promised to visit her at the sanitarium after I got home. At another time I noticed a little girl who was sick, and this led me to go to her mother and ask if I could do anything for her. I found that they had been traveling a long way, and that the child was very ill indeed, so they would have to stop off to rest before reaching their destination. I promised to write to the mother, and send her some numbers of Good Health. In this way I hope to reach her with the Third Angel's Message. I know that if we lift our hearts to the Lord in prayer to direct us in speaking to others while traveling, he will do it, and eternity only will reveal how much is accomplished by these little things. If we show ourselves friendly, and take an interest in the welfare of others, we shall always find a response. I was forcibly impressed with the fact that everyone I spoke to had heard something in regard to the truth, and was inquiring to know more. We shall certainly be responsible if we fail to meet these inquiries, and we should always continue any acquaintance we make, with personal letters and reading-matter. We should never start on a journey without a supply of literature to distribute in a careful way. On leaving the car, it is a good plan to leave in the seat a leaflet or a tract, with special points carefully marked, so as to call attention to them. Nearly every one is glad of reading-matter when traveling, and especially while waiting at depots. I have been much surprised to find so little of our literature in the depots. It is seldom that a reading-rack is found containing any of our papers and books, although there is no better means for securing a widespread dissemination of the truth. The Spirit of Prophecy has told us that the printed page is doing even more than the living preacher for the advancement of the truth; and it seems to me that our sisters in every place should take it upon themselves to see that there is a reading-rack in the depot at the place where they live, and that it is kept filled with literature on the present truth. Others realize their opportunity in this way, and there is nearly always literature of some kind, which is eagerly read. At one place I found, chained to the reading-rack, a book on Christian science, and it showed that it had been used a great deal. Why should not we be as diligent in placing present truth in public places as are those who, perhaps ignorantly, promulgate the deceptions of Satan? THIS DAY.
By James Buckham
FATHER, help me on my way
Day by day!
Not too far I'd look ahead;
Brief and plain the path I tread;
Give me daily strength and bread—
Thus I'll pray. Just this day in all I do
To be true!
Little loaf takes little leaven—
Duty for this day, not seven,
That is all of earth and heaven,
If we knew! Ah, how needlessly we gaze
Down the days,
Troubled for next week, next year,
Overlooking now and here!
“Heart, the only sure is near,”
Wisdom says. Step by step and day by day,
All the way!
So the pilgrim soul wins through,
Finds each morn the strength to do
All God asks of me or you—
This: obey.
— James Buckham. EXTRACTS FROM CORRESPONDENCE.
SOME time ago I saw an extract from a sister’s letter in which she seemed to be in doubt as to our work with fallen women, and I thought perhaps some of my experience might be a help to her. Two years ago this summer I met, at the bedside of a dying woman, the mother of several children who had gone to school to me. She was in company with a woman who was regarded one of the worst characters in our town of three thousand inhabitants. I felt a great interest in this woman and in the children, who were my pupils; and one day a sister and myself called upon her. After that we met quite frequently. In the winter she was taken with a long sickness, and then we took special pains to do all we could for her. Many times we had misgivings as to what people would think and say, but I know now that the Lord took care of our reputation. This woman recovered from her illness, and I recently received a letter informing me that she had attended the quarterly meeting, and had taken part in the ordinances. I have never been sorry for what we tried to do; and I know that if we do the best we can, the Lord will see to it that our labor is not in vain. It is not safe to let the impressions of the Spirit pass by unheeded. During, and for a short time before, our last Week of Prayer I was greatly concerned about my low spiritual condition, and my inactivity in this great, closing work. I sought my Saviour in prayer. I felt that there was a work for me; but I was overreaching, and did not receive the answer nor the blessing of the Holy Spirit that I wished. The days of the Week of Prayer passed one by one, until I read the last sermon, and the last prayer had been offered, and the services closed. I can not tell you the sense of sadness, sorrow, and condemnation that pervaded my whole being. On my way home I resolved to continue prayer for myself. On reaching home I went to my closet, and cried, in agony of soul, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? Lead me, and I will follow.” I was wonderfully blessed, and I saw the necessity of beginning my missionary efforts in my own home. The result is that my children are all interested, and one daughter-in-law is rejoicing in the truth. I soon saw my field of labor broadening, and began in weakness to do in the neighborhood what I had left undone so long. I did not realize then how the dear Lord would lead me, but I have in a strange and unexpected way been called to leave those surroundings, and am in a field where souls are starving for the truth. The Lord is wonderfully blessing me and my family. Kindly remember me at the throne of grace, that I may put on the whole armor, and that I may at last have the rich experience of Ps. 126: 6. “Please pray for my husband, who is very bitter against the truth. Ask the Lord to show him his need of a Saviour.” “Pray for my unconverted husband, and for my son of twelve years. My Heavenly Father has given me the assurance that my family shall be saved in the kingdom of heaven. Ps. 37: 4, 5.” “Please pray for my husband. He is a straightforward man, with no bad habits; but because of the misconduct of some in the church, he has become discouraged, and refuses to go to church services, and is gradually becoming indifferent.” Prayer is requested for a sister who has been deserted by her husband, for which there is no cause known to her. She and her little child are praying that the Lord will touch his heart and bring him back to them, and would like the prayers of the sisters in his behalf. “My husband, although a Sabbath-keeper, does not feel the importance of giving offerings, or even of paying his tithe. Will you not pray that the Lord will send a mighty arrow of conviction to his heart, one that will thoroughly pierce his selfishness, and cause him to lay all upon the altar? We have money which should be used in the Lord’s cause.” Souls Perish While We Delay
While many are getting ready to do something, souls will perish for the light and knowledge.—“Gospel Workers,” page 180. THE FAILURE OF REPUBLICS.
EUROPEAN writers are expressing and discussing “a decline of belief in the value of the republican form of government.” In this discussion, of course, the United States forms a prominent item. This is altogether a pertinent question. A republican form of government being “a government of the people, by the people, for the people,” is simply self-government. The people govern themselves by themselves for themselves. And as each individual, as far as he personally is concerned, is the people, a republican form of government—self-government—is that in which each individual governs himself by himself—by his own powers of self-restraint exercised upon himself—for himself, for his own best good in the enjoyment of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And so long as that is done, a republic anywhere is a success. But, in a republic, just as soon as a single individual fails to govern himself by himself for himself, that republic has begun to fail; and so far as that individual is concerned, a republican form of government is a failure. Just as soon as two individuals fail to govern themselves, the republic is just so much more of a failure. Yet so long as the majority of the people composing a republic, do individually govern themselves, by themselves, for themselves, the government will be a success; because they, being the majority, are able to protect themselves from the infringements of those who fail to govern themselves, and have to be governed. But just the moment the majority turns to the other side, the moment the number failing to govern themselves crosses the line and becomes greater than the number of those who do govern themselves,—that moment republican government has failed. And though the name may continue for a time, the thing is gone; the government is no longer a republic. At that point, however, the failure does not so palpably appear as when the majority—those who fail to govern themselves—has become larger and yet larger. But when that majority that fails to govern itself, each by himself, becomes so great that its influence is felt upon all the procedure of the government—then republican government has failed utterly; it is no longer a republic in any true sense: it is a despotism—not indeed a despotism of one, nor of a few, but of the many. And a despotism of the many—of the majority—is not at all the least of despotisms. Yet, then, it is only a question of time when the despotism of the many will merge in a few, then in a very few, and finally in a despotism of one,—and that is monarchy. Wherever in a republic there is found a man who fails to govern himself by himself, in that man there is found an open bid for a monarchy. And when that man becomes a majority, a monarchy is certain. It may indeed be an elective monarchy, but it is none the less a monarchy. Thus it is literally true that in government there are just two things, one or the other of which people must consider—republicanism and monarchy; self-government or government by another; liberty or despotism. What is the republic of France to-day, but the former monarchy only under another name? Now anyone who for any number of years has read and thought, knows full well that in the United States the number of those in all phases of society who fail to govern themselves is very great, and is rapidly on the increase. Notice the startling increase of crime. Notice the strikes that so frequently occur, and at times almost cover the country, invariably accompanied with violence and often with rioting. Notice the electoral corruption—municipal, State, and national. Notice the procedure in State legislatures, especially in the electing of a United States Senator. See the large number of organizations and combinations in different fields, which are constantly being formed for protection, and to beat back that which they know is certainly coming to grind them under. But all these combinations, organizations, and associations are composed only of men who have failed and do fail as individuals to govern themselves. And a combination of men for the purpose of governing themselves and others, who, individually, have failed to govern themselves, is just as much of a failure in self-government, is just as much of a failure as to a republic, as in the case of the individuals before forming the combination. Since a republican form of government is only self-government, and since all these things are a universal testimony that the great mass of the people of the United States are failing to govern themselves, it is perfectly plain that this great example of republican government in the world is certainly failing. And when such is the truth which is forced upon the attention of the world, and which the outside world is seriously discussing, what is there left for the world to contemplate other than that which, with foreboding, is mentioned by the London Spectator?— The peoples consider only monarchy and republicanism; and, for the reasons we have indicated, the favor of republicanism declines, with a grave result, we fear, in an increase of political hopelessness, and therefore a decrease of political energy. And the outcome of that can be only that monarchies, and even society itself, shall fail and perish in their own corruption. Thus has it ever been with the nations; thus only will it ever be. And the end hastens. *The following words from an editorial in the Detroit News-Tribune of May 27 well describe the present situation of the world:—* There is now a general feeling, which can be referred to no particular facts, nor explained on any rational theory, that we are approaching a period of greater combats [than those of the preceding century], a world-struggle, in which the tremendous machinery which has been organized for war is to be put to a full test between the rival Powers who are grasping at the earth, or all of it that remains unattached to the great empires. There has certainly been no period in the past when the ambitions for conquest were so keen and so widespread as at present; when so many powers, armed to the teeth, were watching with jealousy every movement of their neighbors, and looking about with so little scruple for compensations. “The nations” are “angry;” and soon there must burst upon the world that “time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation.” “Get ready, get ready, get ready.” *In an article in Harper’s Weekly for May 19, on the subject of labor unions, Rupert Hughes states that* “recently in London a laborer was fined by his union for the offense of ‘shoving up the line’ too fast; that is, he had been guilty of laying more bricks than the prescribed limit, which, incredible as it may seem, had been placed at one hundred and forty a day. In New York City twelve hundred bricks a day is thought a good average, while in the West, previously to the latest rulings of the unions, from three thousand to thirty-five hundred bricks were not an uncommon quota for a single man, and on jobs where haste was demanded men have been known to lay four thousand bricks a day.” Speaking of “the plumbers and the allied interests,” he writes: “They soon decided that it would be pleasant to limit the daily output of their trade, and now it is forbidden for a plumber to wipe more than so many joints, or for a steamfitter to run more than so many feet of pipe, a day. The rest of the time the man may loaf and invite his soul.” And again: “In the plumbering trade, for instance, the more easily intimidated contractor was not permitted even to appoint his own foreman, but must accept the election of the men. He could not discharge a man, and the only way to get rid of an undesirable workman without bringing on a strike was to resort to the technical procedure of laying him off for the time being, or of putting so many men to plaster one corner that they stepped upon one another’s feet, and so interfered with one another that some of them resigned of their own volition.” Even further: “The bricklayers were limited [by their union rules] to the laying of fifteen hundred bricks in eight hours, though an expert could more than double this without unwholesome exertion. . . . The plasterers are limited to so many square feet a day, and the other trades are similarly hide-bound. Other restrictions are set also in the matter of the use even of material made by nonunion hands, and certain styles of work are not permitted to machinery.” The writer then asks: “Does it not seem that the laboring man, whose favorite bogie is the trust, has himself organized a trust of the most despotic sort?”