Part I. 404

The Life of George Eliot 407

Arbor Day 409

How to Work Alone 411

Outline of Required Readings for April 413

Programs for Local Circle Work 413

Local Circles 413

The C. L. S. C. Classes 419

Questions and Answers 420

Editor’s Outlook 423

Editor’s Note-Book 425

C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for April 427

Notes on Required Readings in “The Chautauquan” 429

Paragraphs from New Books 431

Talk About Books 432

The Chautauqua University: What Are Its Claims? 433

Special Notes 434

REQUIRED READING FOR APRIL.

ARISTOTLE.

BY WILLIAM C. WILKINSON.

[The “College Greek Course in English” did not, for a reason

alluded to in the following paper, include Aristotle among the

authors represented. The readers of THE CHAUTAUQUAN will be glad

to get some acquaintance with so great an ancient name through

this supplementary chapter from Prof. Wilkinson’s pen.]

Philosopher, though he by eminence is ranked, Aristotle was, too,

something of an encyclopedist. He traversed almost the whole circle of

the sciences, as that circle existed for the ancient world. But he was

not simply first a learner, and then a teacher, of what others had found

out before him. He was also an explorer and discoverer. Inventor also he

was, if between discovery and invention we are to make a difference. He

was a great methodizer and systematizer of knowledge. He bore to Plato

the personal relation of pupil.

The history of Aristotle’s intellectual influence is remarkable. That

influence has suffered several phases of wax and wane, several alternate

occultations and renewals of brightness. During a certain period of time,

covering several hundred years, he was, perhaps beyond the fortune of

any other man that ever lived, the lord of human thought. We mean the

time of the schoolmen[1] so called. From near the close of the thirteenth

century, until the era of the Reformation, Aristotle reigned supreme in

the schools of Christian theology, which is the same thing as to say that

he was acknowledged universal monarch of the European mind. The business

of the schoolmen may be said to have been to state the dogmas of the

church in the forms of the Aristotelian logic, and then to reconcile

those dogmas so stated, with the teachings of the Aristotelian philosophy.

Curiously enough, the introduction of Aristotle to the doctors of the

church was through the Mohammedan Arabs. These men had, during a term

of centuries, been the continuers of the intellectual life of the race.

While through the long night of those ages of darkness the Christian

mind slept, the Arabian mind, waking, gave itself largely to the study

of Aristotle. The Greek philosopher was posthumously naturalized a

barbarian; for Aristotle’s writings were now translated from their

original tongue into Arabic. In this Arabic version, the celebrated

Ibn Roshd (chiefly famous under his latinized name A-verˈroës) knew

Aristotle and commented on him. The Arabic commentaries of Averroes were

translated into Latin, and the thought of Aristotle thus became once

more accessible to European students. Averroes (A. D. 1149-1198) himself

was of the Moors of Spain.

For centuries previous to the time when the son and successor of good

Haroun al Raschid,[2] known at least by name to the readers and lovers of

Tennyson, collected at Bagdad all the scattered volumes of Greek letters

that his agents could find in Armenia, Syria and Egypt—for centuries,

we say, previous to this, Aristotle suffered an almost complete arrest

and suspension of intellectual influence. That man would have been a

bold prophet who should then have predicted what a resurrection to power

awaited the slumbering philosopher.

Still earlier, however, than this, that is, during the interval between

the third Christian century and the sixth, Aristotle enjoyed a great

vogue. He was studied and commented on as if all human wisdom was

summed up in him. The spirit of independent and original philosophy had

perished, and whatever philosophic aptitude survived was well content to

exhaust itself in expounding Aristotle. Aristotle’s works became a kind

of common Bible to the universal mind of the Roman empire. This was the

period of the Greek scholiasts, so-called—in more ordinary language,

commentators.

Taking the reverse or regressive direction of history, we have thus run

back to a point of time some six or seven centuries subsequent to the

personal life and activity of Aristotle. During the latter half of these

centuries, Aristotle’s fame was gradually growing, from total obscurity

to its great culmination in splendor under the scholiasts.

Before that growth began, the productions of Aristotle had experienced

a fortune that is one of the romances of literary history. The great

pupil of Plato had himself no great pupil to continue after his death the

illustrious succession of Grecian philosophy. His writings, unduplicated

manuscripts they seem to have been, fell into the hands of a disciple,

who, dying, bequeathed them to a disciple of his own, residing in the

Troad. To the Troad accordingly they went. Here, with a view to save them

from the grasp of a ruthless royal collector of valuable parchments,

the family having these works in possession hid them in an underground

vault, in which they lay moldering and forgotten one hundred and fifty

years! It was thus in all nearly two hundred years that Aristotle’s

thoughts were lost to the world. When at last it was deemed safe, the

precious documents were brought out and sold to a rich and cultivated

Athenian. This gentleman, let us name him for honor, it was A-pelˈli-con,

had unawares purchased his prize for a rapacious Roman collector. Sylla

seized it, on his capture of Athens, and sent it to Rome. At Rome it

had the good fortune to be appreciated. One An-dro-niˈcus edited the

collection, and gave to the world that, probably, which is now the

accepted text of Aristotle.

But, romantic as has been the succession of vicissitudes befalling his

productions and his fame, Aristotle is, in his extant writings, anything

but a romantic author. A less adorned, a less succulent style, than the

style in which the Stagirite (he was of Stagˈi-rus, in Macedonia) wrote,

it would be difficult to find. Still it is a style invested at least with

the charm of evident severe intentness, in the writer, on his chosen aim.

Cicero, it is true, speaks of Aristotle’s style in language of praise

that would well befit a characterization of Plato. But Cicero must have

had in view works of the philosopher other than those which we possess,

works written perhaps in the author’s more florid youth. With this

conjecture agrees the fact that a list of Aristotle’s works, made by the

authorities of the renowned Alexandrian library, contains numerous titles

not appearing in the writings that remain to us attributed to Aristotle.

Aristotle was not, as Plato was, properly a man of letters. Or, if he did

bear this character, the evidence of it has perished. What we possess

of his intellectual productions exhibits the author in the perfectly

dry and colorless light of a man of science. Even in those treatises

of his in which he comes nearest to the confines of pure and proper

literature, his interest is rather scientific than literary. He discusses

in two separate books the art of rhetoric and the art of poetry; but he

conducts his discussion without enthusiasm, without imagination, in the

severely strict spirit of the analyst and philosopher. The text of the

two treatises now referred to survives in a state of great imperfection.

Indeed, the same is the case generally with Aristotle’s works. Critics

have even surmised that, in some instances, notes of lectures, taken

by pupils while the master according to his wont was walking about

and extemporizing discourse, have done duty in place of authentic

autograph originals supplied by the hand of Aristotle himself. The title

“Peripatetic” (walk-about), given to the Aristotelian philosophy, was

suggested by the great teacher’s habit, thus alluded to, of doing his

work as teacher under the stimulus of exercise on his feet in the open

air.

The non-literary character of Aristotle’s works has to a great extent

excluded him from the course of Greek reading adopted by colleges—this,

and moreover the fact that he occupies a position at the extreme hither

limit, if not quite outside the extreme limit, of the Greek classic age.

Still he is now and then read in college; and at any rate he is too

redoubtable a name among those names which in their motions were

“Full-welling fountain-heads of change,”

not to be an interesting object of knowledge to the readers of THE

CHAUTAUQUAN.

The productions of Aristotle are numerous. The Alexandrian bibliography

of him gives one hundred and forty-six titles of his works. Of the books

thus catalogued not a vestige remains, except in an occasional quotation

from them at the hands of some other ancient writer. The works commonly

printed as Aristotle’s form an entirely different list. We give a few

of the leading titles or subjects: “Organon,” a collective name for

various writings that made up a system of logic; “Rhetoric,” “Po-etˈics”

(art of poetry), “Ethics,” “Politics,” “Natural Philosophy,” “Biology,”

“Metaphysics.” [This last word, which has acquired in modern use a

very distinct meaning of its own, was originally a mere meaningless

designation of certain investigations or discussions entered into

by Aristotle _after_ his physical researches. The preposition _meta_

(after), and _physica_ (physics), give the etymology of the term.] The

comprehensive or, as we before said, encyclopædic range of Aristotle’s

intellectual activity will to the observant reader be sufficiently

indicated by this list of titles.

For his work in natural history, Aristotle was powerfully supported by

one of the most resplendent military geniuses that the world has ever

seen, Alexander the Great. To this prince and warrior, when he was a lad,

the philosopher had discharged the office of private teacher. It would

appear that either Aristotle was courtier enough, or young Alexander was

man enough, to make this relation a pleasant one to the boy. For, in

later years, the conqueror of the world presented to his former teacher a

round million of dollars to make himself comfortable withal. But who can

tell which it was, gratitude for benefit received, or remorse for trouble

occasioned, that prompted the _ex post facto_[3] royal munificence?

Perhaps it was both—a tardy gratitude quickened by a generous remorse.

The chief glory of Aristotle is to have at once invented and finished the

science of logic. For this is an achievement which may justly be credited

to the philosopher of Stagirus. It would generally be conceded that,

since Aristotle’s day, little or nothing substantial has been added to

the results of his labor in the field of pure logic. The name Orˈga-non

(instrument) is not Aristotle’s word, but that of some ancient editor

of his works. It is a noteworthy name, as having dictated to Bacon the

title to his epoch-making work, the _Novum Organum_ (the new method or

instrument).

It would not be easy to give an exhaustive account of Aristotle’s

productions, and make the account attractive reading. We shall not

undertake so impracticable a task. Let our readers accept our word for it

that Aristotle, though a justly renowned name in the history of thought,

is not fitted to be a popular author.

From his “History of Animals” we present a specimen extract that will

perhaps with some readers go far toward confuting what we just now said.

There are, we confess, some things in this treatise that read almost

as if they might belong to that truly fascinating book, “Goldsmith’s

Animated Nature:”

“The cuckoo is said by some persons to be a changed hawk, because

the hawk which it resembles disappears when the cuckoo comes, and

indeed very few hawks of any sort can be seen during the period

in which the cuckoo is singing, except for a few days. The cuckoo

is seen for a short time in the summer, and disappears in winter.

But the hawk has crooked talons, which the cuckoo has not, nor

does it resemble the hawk in the form of its head, but in both

these respects is more like the pigeon than the hawk, which it

resembles in nothing but its color; the markings, however, upon

the hawk are like lines, while the cuckoo is spotted.

“Its size and manner of flight is like that of the smallest kind

of hawk, which generally disappears during the season in which

the cuckoo is seen. But they have both been seen at the same

time, and the cuckoo was being devoured by the hawk, though this

is never done by birds of the same kind. They say that no one has

ever seen the young of the cuckoo. It does, however, lay eggs,

but it makes no nest, but sometimes it lays its eggs in the nests

of small birds, and devours their eggs, especially in the nests

of the pigeon (when it has eaten their eggs). Sometimes it lays

two, but usually only one egg; it lays also in the nest of the

hypolais,[4] which hatches and brings it up. At this season it is

particularly fat and sweet-fleshed; the flesh also of young hawks

is very sweet and fat. There is also a kind of them which builds

a nest in precipitous cliffs.”

This morsel, our readers must consider, is not a very characteristic

specimen of the feast that, take all his works together, Aristotle

spreads for his students. But it is as toothsome as any we could offer.

If it makes our readers wish for more, that is as friendly a feeling as

we could possibly hope to inspire in them toward Aristotle. We shall now

let them, in that mood, bid the great philosopher farewell.

HOME STUDIES IN CHEMISTRY AND PHYSICS.

BY PROF. J. T. EDWARDS, D.D.

Director of the Chautauqua School of Experimental Science.

CHEMISTRY OF EARTH.

John B. Gough declares that a few kind words spoken to him, in a crisis

of his life, saved him from ruin. He afterward carefully educated the

orphan daughters of the gentleman who uttered those words.

“Why,” you say, “it was a little thing.” “Yes, _little_ for him, but a

big thing for me.”

[Illustration: CRYSTALS OF ALUM.]

The importance of _many_ things depends upon the point of observation.

To a hypothetical astronomer on a distant star, this world would be

too minute for observation. In that shining pathway of the heavens,

called the “milky way,” there have been discovered eighteen millions of

stars, each hundreds of times larger than our earth; yet _our_ atom in

immensity is, just now, of marvelous interest to us. Indeed, it must be

of interest to the highest intelligences, for such are the harmonies of

God’s universe that the minutest planet is in many of its forces and laws

representative of the whole. So that our world is, in a sense, both a

microcosm and a cosmo.

Let us briefly consider some characteristics of the earth, from the

standpoint of the chemist.

All substances have been divided into two great classes, the inorganic

and organic. The latter contains two subdivisions—the vegetable and

animal world. Nature thus comprises three great sub-kingdoms, the

mineral, vegetable and animal.

A mineral is an inorganic body (that is, one in which no parts are formed

for special purposes), possessed of a definite chemical composition, and

usually of a regular geometric form. It may seem at first glance that

the last part of this definition is not correct, but there is reason to

believe that all mineral substances may, under favorable circumstances,

assume crystalline forms. Water and air are minerals. Other liquids and

gases are included in the term, but as we have had already something

to say of these latter substances, we shall, for the purposes of this

article, use the word earth in the popular sense; namely, inorganic

matter, which at ordinary temperature is solid. All materials are

classified into

ELEMENTS AND COMPOUNDS.

By an element is meant a substance which has never been resolved into

parts, and conversely, one that can not be produced by the union of two

or more substances. There is some difference of opinion as to their

number. It is usually given as sixty-four. There are a great many

compounds. Nature seems to delight in surprising us by the simplicity of

the means employed in producing marvelous results. As the mind of Milton

combined the twenty-six letters of our alphabet to form “Paradise Lost,”

so the Infinite arranged and re-arranged the elements to form the sublime

poem of creation. Fifty-one of the elements are metals, and thirteen

metalloids; gold is a familiar example of the former, and sulphur of the

latter. A few, like hydrogen and oxygen, are gases; two are liquids;

quicksilver and bromine: the greater number exist as solids. But few

of them are found native, _i. e._, chemically uncombined with other

substances. In the fierce heat of former ages they were mixed as in a

mighty crucible, and few escaped the power of affinities thus engendered.

Gold and copper are sometimes found pure, but even they, more frequently

than otherwise, exist fused with other substances.

Compounds are of three classes—acids, bases and salts. Sand is a specimen

of the first, lime of the second, and clay of the third. _Fixedness_ is a

characteristic of mineral compounds, yet they are by no means incapable

of change; certain influences come in to promote it, of which the

following are the most important—heat, solution, friction and percussion.

Two gases, oxygen and hydrogen, may remain side by side for years

uncombined, but a single spark will cause them to rush together with

terrific energy.

If the contents of the blue and white papers in a Seidlitz powder are

mixed, no chemical action follows, but if dissolved separately in

glasses of water, and then poured together, a violent effervescence

takes place. If a small amount of potassium chlorate and a _little_

piece of sulphur be put together in a mortar, and then pressed by the

pestle, sharp detonations follow. Dynamite, which is nitro-glycerine

mixed with infusorial earth, sugar or sawdust, is quite harmless when

free from acid, unless struck. The above instances illustrate the various

influences that stimulate chemical combination. Almost all the crust

of the earth is formed of three substances—quartz, lime, and alumina.

Wherever we stand on the round globe, it is safe to say that one or all

of these are beneath our feet.

QUARTZ.

[Illustration: QUARTZ CRYSTALS.]

This mineral comprises about one half the earth’s crust. Its symbol

is SiO₂, being a compound of silicon and oxygen, in the proportions

indicated. It is very hard, easily scratching glass, of which it forms

an important constituent, is acted upon by only one acid—hydrofluoric;

this attacks it eagerly, as may be shown by the following interesting

experiment: Take a little lead saucer, or in the absence of this, spread

lead foil carefully over the inside of an ordinary saucer, and in this

place some powdered fluor spar. This mineral is quite abundant in nature,

and is always to be obtained, in the form of a powder, from dealers in

chemicals. Have a pane of glass covered by a thin film of wax. Now trace

upon this surface with a sharp point, anything you may desire, verse

or picture. Pour into the saucer containing the fluor spar, sufficient

sulphuric acid to make a paste. Place over this the plate of glass, with

the waxed side down, and let it remain for twenty-four hours. Remove the

wax by heating, and on the glass you will find a perfect etching, the HF

having removed the silica.

The same effect may be produced in a few moments by applying to the

bottom of the saucer a moderate heat. Care should be taken not to inhale

the fumes, as they are highly corrosive.

Quartz can be melted at a high temperature, and may be dissolved in

certain hot solutions. It is still a question in dispute, whether the

numerous quartz veins found in rocks were introduced there in melted

form or in solution. Probably, sometimes in one state and sometimes in

the other. Any visitor to a glass manufactory can see how easily glass

in a melted state is manipulated; and travelers often bring from the

geysers[1] fine specimens of silica called geyserite, derived from the

material held in solution in the hot water, and deposited on the edge of

the “basin.”

[Illustration: SIDE AND TOP VIEW OF THE REGENT OR PITT DIAMOND (REDUCED

IN SIZE)—CUT IN THE FORM OF THE “BRILLIANT.”]

Quartz may be classified under two varieties—the common and the rare.

Sand, pebbles, many conglomerates, all sandstone rocks come under the

former head. The old red sandstone described by Hugh Miller,[2] in which

fossil fish are so abundant, and the new red sandstone of the Connecticut

valley, famous for its bird or reptile tracks, brought to light through

the labors of Dr. Hitchcock,[3] were formed of sand cemented together

under pressure by the peroxide of iron. There are many beautiful

varieties of the rarer forms of quartz. Not a few of these were known

to the ancients, as may be seen by reading the twenty-first chapter of

Revelations, where a number are mentioned in the description of the

heavenly city. “The wall of it was of jasper, and the foundations of

the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones.

The first foundation was jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, a

chalcedony; the fourth, an emerald; the fifth, a sardonyx; the sixth,

sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, a topaz;

the tenth, a chrysoprasus; the eleventh, a jacinth; the twelfth, an

amethyst.”

All of these excepting the sapphire, which is crystallized alumina, are

either pure or mixed varieties of quartz, colored with some metallic

oxide. One of the most beautiful forms of these precious stones is

the agate, especially that kind called the onyx, which consists of a

succession of opaque and transparent layers. When carved into gems, this

is called the cameo. A wonderful carved cameo was in the Tiffany exhibit

at the Centennial Exposition, valued at four thousand dollars. The

several layers were so cut as to represent a man looking through the bars

of his prison.

LIME.

Another very plentiful substance in the earth is lime. It is chiefly

found in the form of three salts, the carbonate, sulphate and phosphate

(CaCO₃) (CaSO₄) (Ca₃(PO₄)₂), respectively. The first is familiarly known

as limestone. When crystallized, it appears as marble. The shades of

marble are due to the tinting of metallic oxides, and sometimes to the

presence of fossils. The most beautiful marble is obtained from Carrara,

Italy, which has long been famous for furnishing the material used for

statues. It is pure white. Pure black marble is found in some ancient

Roman sculptures. Sienna marble is yellow. Italy furnishes one kind

that is red. Verd-antique is a mixture of green serpentine and white

limestone, while our beautiful Tennessee marble, used so profusely in the

new Capitol at Washington, is a blended red and white.

Common limestone is almost entirely the product of minute animals[4]

which lived in early geologic times. Ages before the Romans drove piles

into the Thames, or the first hut was erected on the banks of the Seine,

these little creatures laid the foundations which underlie London and

Paris. They built the rocky barriers which gave to England the name

Albion, derived from the white cliffs along her shore. It is a suggestive

crumb of comfort for little folk, that the great tasks in the building of

our earth have been performed by the smallest creatures.

The wide distribution of limestone is shown from the fact that it is

found to be an ingredient in almost all waters. It is readily dissolved,

as is seen in the numerous caves which are found in limestone regions.

When limestone is heated, the carbonic anhydride[5] is expelled, leaving

quicklime. All are familiar with the manifold uses of this material.

United with sand, it forms a silicate of lime, called mortar, which

becomes harder with age. In the old stone mill[6] at Newport, R. I.,

which is of unknown antiquity, the mortar in some places actually

protrudes beyond the stones, showing it to be more durable than the rock

itself. The catacombs of Rome were excavated in a very soft kind of

limestone, called calcareous tufa.

Sulphate of lime, also known as gypsum and plaster of Paris, is widely

distributed. One beautiful variety is called satin spar, and another

alabaster.

Great quantities of sulphate of lime are quarried for use in the arts and

for agricultural purposes. Dr. Franklin was one of the first to discover

its value in connection with crops, and is said to have sown it with

grain on a side hill, so that when the wheat sprang up, observers were

surprised to see written in gigantic green letters, “Effects of Gypsum!”

I suspect he got the hint from Dr. Beattie, who sowed seeds so that their

flowers formed the name of his son, to prove to the boy the existence of

a God, from evidences of design in nature.

ALUMINA—Al₂O₃.

This material is found both alone and in combination with silica. It

forms an important ingredient in alum. Crystallized, it furnishes some

of our most rare and beautiful gems, the color of which depends upon the

metal combined with them.

The ruby is red, the emerald green, the topaz yellow, the sapphire blue.

Slate rocks consist largely of this material, and clay is a compound

of alumina with siliceous anhydride. Among the first earthy substances

utilized by man was clay. We find remains of pottery even as far back

as the stone age[7]. The ingenuity of man seems to have been displayed

constantly and successfully in the ceramic[8] art, the art of making

pottery. Note the accounts given by Prescott, in his “Conquest of Peru

and Mexico,” and the Cesnola collection of Cypriote remains[9] exhibited

in the Metropolitan Museum in New York City.

History is repeating itself by renewing the ancient enthusiasm for

decoration of china and earthen ware. Bricks made from clay are found to

rival granite in durability, and surpass it in resistance to heat, as was

proven in the great fires of Boston and Chicago. It will be observed from

the symbol of alumina that it is largely composed of the metal aluminum.

If this could be readily liberated from the oxygen with which it is

combined, the world would be immensely enriched.

Every clay bank or clayey soil contains it in great quantities. Next

to oxygen and silicon, it is the most abundant element in the earth.

Note its valuable properties. It is but two and one-half times heavier

than water, as bright and non-oxidizable as silver, malleable, ductile,

tenacious, and can be welded and cast. Who will lay the world under

obligation by doing with alumina what has been done with iron ores,

cheaply liberate the oxygen?

[Illustration: TESTING FOR IRON WITH A BORAX BEAD.—THE COMPOUNDS OF IRON

WITH BORAX GIVE A BOTTLE GREEN COLOR.]

In this brief enumeration of earth materials, we have intentionally

omitted the forms of carbon. They constitute no insignificant portion

of the earth’s crust, but belong to the class of organic substances. We

introduce, however, an illustration showing one of the shapes in which

is cut the diamond—that most costly of all forms of matter,—crystallized

carbon.

THE COMMON METALS.

First in importance is iron. The fact already mentioned that its oxide is

the most common coloring matter in the mineral world will also indicate

its wide dissemination.

Trap rock, gneiss, even granite, sands, clays and other rocks all borrow

tints from this source. Iron is never found native except in meteors.

It exists most abundantly in the form of three ores, the composition of

which is as follows:

Black or magnetic oxide (Fe₃O₄), red oxide (Fe₂O₃), hydrated sesquioxide

(Fe₂O₃3H₂O). From all of these the oxygen is removed in a blast furnace,

by the use of some form of carbon. As thus prepared, it is called

cast-iron. Two other varieties are employed in the arts, wrought iron and

steel. The last differs from the first in having less carbon, and from

the second in having more. The general properties of this material are

too well known to require description here. A single property of this

substance alone has marvelously affected the commerce of the world; that

is, the power first discovered in magnetic iron ore, of attracting iron,

and pointing northward. The first compass, it is said, consisted of a

piece of this metal placed on a cork floating on water.

Copper seems to have been one of the few metals known to barbarous

peoples. It is found pure, and in combination. Specimens obtained from

the Lake Superior region, in mines worked by the mound builders,[10] have

led some to believe that they possessed the art of hardening copper.

Malachite is a carbonate of copper, of a beautiful mottled green color,

and is made into elegant ornaments. Some magnificent specimens were in

the Russian exhibit at the Philadelphia Exposition. It is found in great

perfection in the Ural mountains.

Tin is obtained from its binoxide (SnO₂). It was known to the ancients.

Some historians claim that the Phœnicians procured it long before the

time of Christ, from the mines of Cornwall, England. Until recently

our country has seemed to be destitute of this valuable metal. Reports

now indicate that Dakota is destined to supply this deficiency. It is

a handsome metal, but little affected by oxygen, and capable of being

rolled into thin sheets.

Zinc is found in two different ores: red oxide (ZnO) and zinc blende

(ZnS), from which it can be separated by smelting, in much the same

manner as we obtain iron.

Lead constitutes the fifth of the common metals which are preëminently

useful. It is found in the sulphide of lead (PbS), the sulphide being

expelled by roasting the ore. It forms numerous compounds, some of which

are of great value. For example, lead carbonate (PbCO₃), the white lead

which furnishes the most valuable ingredient of all paints.

NOBLE METALS.

These are so called because they retain their brilliancy and are not

easily affected by other substances. Three of them are specially

important: gold, silver and platinum. Gold is mentioned in the second

chapter of Genesis: “and the gold of that land is good.” Although

constituting an inconsiderable part of the earth, it is much more widely

distributed than many suppose, but often exists in such small quantities

that its production is not profitable.

Australia and California are the gold lands. It is found principally in

three situations: in sands which have been washed from the mountains,

in little pockets in the rocks, and in veins of quartz. From the first

it is separated by simply washing away the lighter materials, from the

last situation it is procured by quarrying the rock, crushing it with

stamping machines, then washing with water to remove the pulverized

quartz, and gathering up the powdered gold with quicksilver. The mercury

is removed by vaporizing. Gold is nineteen times heavier than water,

extremely ductile, and the most malleable of all substances. Silver is

abundant in the mountains of the west. It is usually found in the form

of black sulphide (Ag₂S) or horn-silver (AgCl). When unpolished it is

perfectly white, and is called dead or frosted silver. All are familiar

with the properties of this attractive metal. Just now its producers in

Colorado seem to fear its displacement from its important position in the

coinage of the country. In nitrate of silver (AgNO₃) we have a material

that perpetuates the faces of our friends, many a goodly landscape, and

marvelous picture.

[Illustration: MAGNET GATHERING IRON FILINGS.—A MAGNET WILL ALSO ATTRACT

NICKEL FILINGS.]

Platinum stands at the extreme limit of the elementary world in point of

weight, being twenty-one and fifty-three hundredths times heavier than

water. Russia has almost a monopoly of the production of this metal. It

is about the value of gold, and to the chemist is of immense importance,

on account of its high point of fusibility, which is over 4,000°. It is

so ductile that it can be drawn out into wire so fine as to be invisible

to the naked eye. This microscopic wire is used for centering the field

of view in the finest telescopes.

EARTH’S CRUST AND CENTER.

Our earth is called “terra firma;” it is regarded as the very embodiment

of stability, but every waving outline, every hill and mountain peak,

not less than the rumbling of the earthquake, and the bursting forth of

volcanic fires, indicate that it has been, and may again be, the scene

of mighty disturbances. Indeed, upon reflection, one wonders that we can

live on it at all. The temperature of the earth increases one degree for

every fifty feet as we approach the center. At this rate, at the depth

of fifty miles the heat would be sufficient, according to Humboldt,[11]

to melt the hardest rocks. Fifty miles is one one-hundred and sixtieth

of the earth’s diameter. It thus appears that if we should have a globe

three feet in diameter full of molten liquid, surrounded by a covering

of infusible material _one eighth of an inch_ in thickness, that film of

solid matter would represent the earth’s crust. Think of it!

[Illustration: A “LEAD TREE.”

_Ex._—Place in a glass a dilute solution of acetate of lead; suspend in

it a strip of zinc. Some of the lead will be precipitated in crystals

upon the zinc. This is caused by the zinc taking a portion of the acetic

acid, and thus forming a new compound called zinc acetate, thereby

liberating some of the lead.]

Besides, that awful, fiery sea within is subject to tides, currents and

convulsions that constantly threaten to disrupt and destroy this crust.

It is supposed that masses of water percolate through cracks and fissures

until they reach the internal fires and are suddenly converted into

steam at an enormously high temperature, which gives it such tremendous

expansive force as to shake the globe itself. This action, combined

with the violent explosion of gases, creates the sublime and dreadful

phenomena of

EARTHQUAKES AND VOLCANOES.

The destruction of Lisbon and many other cities is matter of history. But

last year a charming city in the Mediterranean was destroyed in a few

seconds, and the stricken inhabitants of Spain are still trembling with

horror at the recent shocks that have desolated their fair country.

Man looks in vain elsewhere for such exhibitions of the power of chemical

forces as are here displayed.

Lord Lytton[12] gives a most impressive description of an eruption of

Mount Vesuvius, in “The Last Days of Pompeii:”

“In proportion as the blackness gathered, did the lightnings around

Vesuvius increase in their vivid and scorching glare. Nor was their

horrible beauty confined to the usual hues of fire; no rainbow ever

rivaled their varying and prodigal dyes. Now brightly blue as the most

azure depth of a southern sky, now of a livid and snake-like green,

darting restlessly to and fro as the folds of an enormous serpent; now of

a lurid and intolerable crimson, gushing forth through the columns of

smoke, far and wide, and lighting up the whole city from arch to arch;

then suddenly dying into sickly paleness, like the ghosts of their own

life!

“In the pauses of the showers you heard the rumblings of the earth

beneath, and the groaning waves of the tortured sea; or, lower still, and

audible but to the watch of intensest fear, the grinding, hissing murmur

of the escaping gases through the chasms of the distant mountain.

“Sometimes the cloud seemed to break from its solid mass, and, by the

lightning to assume quaint and vast mimicries of human or of monster

shapes, striding across the gloom, hurtling one upon the other, and

vanishing swiftly into the turbulent abyss of shade; so that, to the eyes

and fancies of the affrighted wanderers, the unsubstantial vapors were as

the bodily forms of gigantic foes—the agents of terror and death.”

[Illustration: TESTING FOR GOLD WITH PURPLE OF CASSIUS.

_Ex._—When gold is placed in a solution of Stannon’s chloride and ferric

chloride, a precipitate called Purple Cassius appears. Sometimes the

color varies to brown or blue.]

It is claimed that there are about three hundred extinct volcanoes,

and many facts indicate that the convulsions in the earth’s crust are

much less frequent than formerly, yet one can easily conceive of its

destruction by internal forces, when, as the poet has said,

“The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, _the great globe itself_,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

And like the baseless fabric of a vision,

Leave not a wreck behind.”

Revelation clearly announces the destruction of the earth: “In the which

the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall

melt with fervent heat; the earth also and the works that are therein

shall be burned up.”

THE CIRCLE OF THE SCIENCES.

MENTAL SCIENCE

Is the mind’s knowledge of itself, of its faculties, and states.

_Psychology_ is now generally accepted as the most appropriate term to

indicate that knowledge, and the studies that lead to its attainment. The

_psyche_, as used by those ignorant of man’s higher nature, means the

vital principle supposed to animate all living bodies, whether of men or

the lower animals. It is, with them, the same as _life_, and is regarded

as a result of the organizations they see, and not their cause. Others

more consistently hold that, even in the lowest sense, vital forces

precede, secure, and determine the organisms they animate; and that in

the case of man there is a nobler endowment, a superadded, distinct,

self-conscious, personal intelligence. “There is a spirit in man, and the

inspiration of the Almighty giveth him understanding.” This _psyche_, or

living soul, is a distinct, spiritual existence, however closely, for a

time, allied with matter, and acting through bodily organs. It is capable

of a separate existence, and while in the body, presents for our study

phenomena peculiarly its own. Intellectual processes may be more subtle,

and their analysis more difficult, than that of things external, because

in the attempt the mind is, at once, subject and object, the observer and

the observed. And, moreover, when greatly excited, it does not submit to

immediate and direct investigation, as the effort at once arrests the

excited feeling, and lowers the temperature, so that the state can be

analyzed only as it is remembered. But, difficult of attainment as it is,

the science that discusses the mind, proposing to show all that is known

or may be learned respecting it, certainly challenges the interested

attention of all who desire to know themselves. Whatever may be thought

of the substance, or immediate origin of the active, thinking soul,

consciousness affirms its presence, and its power to know and feel. When

in a calm, thoughtful state, the phenomena are as real and as manifest

as anything in physics or material things that are open to scientific

investigation. By thorough introspection, the inquirer finds _himself_

an invisible person, quite distinct from what is merely corporeal in

his belongings, and of which he at once says: It is I; a person or

being that he not only distinguishes from all others, but also from his

own mental acts and states that are not himself. It needs no argument

to prove that the physical frame, made of such material substances as

gases, salts, earths, and metals, the particles of which are constantly

changing, is not the man. It is not in the highest, truest sense, the

body. Every particle of that frame may pass away while the body still

remains. The real body is that which retains its organic sameness, amidst

the incessant change of its materials. It is not the aggregation of gross

substances, visible and tangible, but rather their connection and the

life that unites them, that constitute a human body. We need not hesitate

to say this life is the gift of God to man, made in his own image, and

in his purpose an endowment far higher than mere animal life. When it is

withdrawn, the organic structure built up as its earthly habitation is a

ruin, and its material elements are scattered, the dust returning to dust

again. Others may inquire for the “origin of souls,” asking questions

over which many have wearied themselves in vain, we here only confess our

faith that the sovereign Lord, “God of the spirits of all flesh,” has the

relation of Fatherhood to his human children.

A perfect mental science would require first, the normal action of

the intellectual faculties to give phenomena, and then the accurate

observation, and orderly arrangement of the phenomena given. To have a

starting place there must be the feeling that we are, and can distinguish

between ourselves and the mental acts of which we are capable. This

consciousness is the root of all our soul science, and without it there

could be no fruitful study of the human intellect. It is more than mere

feeling, as it implies that activity of mind by which a man distinguishes

between his body and soul, the senses and their possessor. It is the

self-conscious act of knowing what is within; and when the phenomena

or state is presented, the knowledge is intuitive or immediate. No

reasoning, or other mental process, is required. The soul confronts

itself and its acts face to face, and knows them as they are. The

endowment is natural and universal. Though a child at first may show no

sign of the possession, it has the capacity, and if normally developed,

soon claims the right to be itself and not another. Like other human

powers, this also is capable of culture, and may be raised to a state

of higher activity and clearer discernment. This improved reflective

consciousness brings to view the more occult phenomena within, comparing

and classifying things, that it may have a clearer, more discriminating

knowledge of the facts considered.

Interrogating this witness, each finds in himself a power to think and

reason. That is, an _intellectual faculty_, by the exercise of which

there is intelligence, _memory_ to retain or recall things once known,

and _imagination_, that creates and represents things that are not, as

though they were. These are distinct, though inseparable, faculties or

powers. _Thinking_ is necessary to exact or well defined knowledge, and

until our ready impressions and conceptions are penetrated with thought,

and we discern their nature, grounds, and connections, we have no

science. Information may be received, facts committed to the memory, but

if the treasures are jumbled together, and little thought given to either

their analysis or orderly arrangement, they can be of but little value to

their possessor. In its perceptions and sensations the mind is actively

receptive; and by thought this normal activity is intensified. One who

desires a correct knowledge of his own mind must connect his conceptions

and impressions in some orderly manner, and think much. If there is an

aversion to this, or hindrances arise from the almost incessant demands

of business or society, and a tendency to mental dissipation is noticed,

we may antidote the evil by mostly avoiding the popular light literature,

and choosing, as the companions of our few leisure hours, standard works,

in which are treasured the best thoughts of the world’s great thinkers.

The intelligent study of the outer world, of nature, having the divine

impress on every feature, will also do much to cure the weakness that

many are ready to confess, to themselves at least. Nature does not

think—has not reason, as man has, but the phenomena presented are full of

reasons, the embodiments of God’s thoughts, that are above ours, high as

the heavens are above the earth.

The _will_ is the controlling motive power, and decides the question of

character. A voluntary agent is responsible for his acts. Where there is

conscious freedom, not only to _act_ as he wills, but to _will_ obedience

to the dictates of conscience, character is possible. The freedom spoken

of, and without which there can be no obligation or responsibility, is,

of course, _human_ freedom. The will power is man’s, not that of the

brute. The rational, voluntary agent, having conscience, moral ideas,

sensibilities, and emotions, is, under law, blame- or praiseworthy, and

personally responsible for what he is and does. His involuntary acts, if

such are committed, are without moral character. There are some things

that are not objects of his choice. When different ways of living are

presented, he can freely choose which shall be his. But it is not given

him to choose whether he himself shall have a moral character. That is

inevitable; and his only option in the matter is as to whether it shall

be good or bad.

LOGIC.

When the mind is employed in discriminating, arranging, judging, and

reasoning, these several acts are all of a class, and are called rational

or logical processes. Their importance can hardly be overestimated, as

thus the reasoner gets assured possession of judgments or beliefs that

are more or less general, and derives from them those that are particular

and applicable in any exigency; or by the inductive method, from the

particular facts within his knowledge, arrives at general propositions,

and securely rests in them as true. In many, perhaps in most cases,

both processes, the deductive and inductive, are used or implied. We

understand phenomena or effects by their causes, and infer causes from

their effects, explain the present by what has been, and anticipate the

future by interpreting the past. We reason from what is seen to the

unseen, from the facts of nature to nature’s laws.

Systems of logic, if judiciously arranged, are of much value, and should

be studied as guides and helps in our efforts to know the certainty

of things. Method in reasoning is of much importance. But while

comparatively few understand the rules, or adopt the exact technical

terms used by scientific logicians, others, using methods and terms of

their own, think vigorously, and reason well. The powers employed by

the most thoroughly trained scholar and by the unlettered man may be

equal, nor are their methods half so different as some suppose. Though

the latter forms no expanded syllogisms,[1] says nothing of “subject,”

“predicate,” or “copula,” he as really has his premises, reasons from

what he knows, and in many cases reaches his conclusions with about the

same feeling of certainty. The knowledge he gains does not differ from

that of those who are guided in their reasonings by the best rules that

observation and experience suggest. Some of those, who in this matter of

logic are a law unto themselves, not only reason well, but often very

rapidly. Judgment is given so speedily on the presentation of the case

that it seems intuitive. There is but a step from the premises of an

argument, securely laid in what is conceded in the statement, or what

they already know, to the conclusion that is legitimate, and they take it

at once. Now, if this is true, and common sense reasonings often seem so

easy, while those conducted by men of much science are often difficult

and tedious, it may be asked what advantage, then, is there in the

logic of the schools? A sufficient answer is found in the fact that the

thoroughly trained logician can solve problems the other never attempts.

In his processes the properties and relations observed are less obvious

or more complicated than anything presented to the other. To apprehend

them clearly, closer attention must be given than most men, without

such training, ever give or can give. And then, the conclusions of the

ready, rapid, though untrained, reasoner who investigates only common

subjects, are really less reliable, because more likely to be founded

on too superficial observations. The man of more science, and yet slower

progress, is expected to handle the more difficult problems, and subject

all their elements to a sharper scrutiny.

LANGUAGE

Is intimately connected with thought, not only as its expression, but

as an auxiliary. Thoughts always become clearer and more firmly fixed

in the mind by being expressed. Though words are not thoughts, and,

carelessly uttered, may be quite meaningless, thoughts not only seek

to embody, or clothe themselves in language, but our best thinking is

done in the use of words, uttered or unexpressed. Though there may be no

sound for the ear nor symbol for the eye, the word inly spoken serves

to fix the otherwise transient thought so that it can be afterward

recalled, and perhaps uttered, to stimulate the thinking of others. Hence

the importance of the study of language, of words and their syntax,

as employed to express mental processes. Grammar is important as an

intellectual science.

ÆSTHETICS.

The science of the beautiful is an important and delightful branch of

study; the knowledge gained being mostly through immediate perceptions

and sensible impressions. Beauty, wherever discovered, appeals to the

sensibilities, and raises pleasant emotions. As a means of culture it

elevates and refines. Communings with nature in her lovelier moods

subdue asperities, and inspire gentle, kindly dispositions, while

the beautiful creations of architecture, statuary, and painting, of

poetry and music, fill the souls of discerning, susceptible persons

with indescribable pleasure. But though such emotions are frequently

excited, and seem familiar, they are of all our mental phenomena least

understood, and most difficult to analyze. Some of our most common

experiences are, on examination, found the most inexplicable. All, in a

general way, know that beauty of form, proportion and color, wherever

seen, excites pleasurable emotions. But our knowledge of sensations

and emotions is generally, though direct and immediate, imperfect, and

can become thorough only when the first impression is retained, and

the higher faculties employed in studying its character and its cause.

Dr. Porter’s[2] chapters on “Sense Perceptions” are, on the whole,

satisfactory, and will help advance this branch of knowledge toward the

dignity of a science. They give an analysis of beauty in objects that

address the senses, and also of the emotions it awakens. Thoughtful

students confess their need of more help. The science has its charms,

but is still in its adolescence. Some things elementary are yet wanting,

or known only by the names given them. Men talk of the “line of beauty”

in architecture and sculpture, but do not yet know just what it is, or

by what peculiarities it works on the sympathies of the beholder. We

feel the exquisite pleasure but do not know just wherein the charms

of the music that most delights us, consist, nor how it awakens the

feeling it does. We can not tell just what it is in the poem we admire

that gives its rhythm, figures of speech and imagery such enchanting

power. The literature on the subject is extensive. We have, as all who

read Ruskin’s[3] works know, a rich treasure of astute observations,

with keen, incisive criticisms, but yet no thorough analysis of all the

materials necessary to complete the science of Æsthetics.

MORAL SCIENCE, OR ETHICS.

The science of duty, often called _moral_ as relating to customs or

habits of thought and action, discusses human obligations, or inquires

what responsible voluntary agents ought to do, and why. Man has a moral

nature; is so constituted, and placed in such relations that he feels

certain things to be right for him, and others wrong; he says: I ought

to do this, and that I ought not. These words, or their equivalents,

expressive of obligation, can be traced in all languages of which we

have any knowledge, and they voice the common sentiment of the race.

Men differ widely in their intelligence, and consequently in their

ability to discriminate with respect to acts or states that are purely

intellectual. Their metaphysics may be cloudy and confused, so that their

judgments on such matters will have neither agreement nor authority. But

the moral sense discovers moral qualities more clearly. Its decisions are

prompt, and their authority is acknowledged. Speculative questions on

the subject are not all answered with the same agreement. If it is asked

_why_ a thing is right, different persons may answer differently. One

says because it is useful; another because it is commanded by a higher

authority; and another because it accords with the fitness of things.

These are questions for the intellect and not for the moral sense. Its

province is simply to decide whether the act or state is right or not,

and there it stops. Whether the basis of the rectitude approved is in

some quality of the act itself, in an antecedent, or a consequent, may

be properly asked, and reasons assigned for the answers given. But such

questions are speculative, and the answers do not have, even when the

best are given, the force of a moral conviction. In saying a thing is

right because it is right, we affirm our conviction of the fact, but

tacitly confess we may not know all the reasons why. How the fact is

known is sufficiently explained by a reference to consciousness. We

are so constituted that when moral qualities, in ourselves or others,

are fairly presented and understood, there arise feelings of approval

or condemnation, corresponding to that which excites them. Of such

convictions and emotions we are at once conscious, and can have no more

certain knowledge of anything than of what is thus felt. Connecting them

with their exciting cause, it, too, is known, not by any outward or

sense perception, yet not less certainly by an inward moral sense, whose

decisions are promptly given, and with authority. There are frequent

occasions for men to distinguish between what is right and what is

merely lawful. A villain, destitute of moral rectitude, who for his own

pleasure, or gain, robs society of its brightest jewels, spreading ruin

and desolation through the community, may violate no statute, and escape

legal condemnation; but, though having no fear of the law or of the

courts, he is not less certainly a guilty man.

Conscience, as a faculty of the soul, differs but little from

consciousness. Both words are from the same root, and neither, in its

primary, etymological meaning, implies anything as to moral character.

Consciousness is self-knowledge, the mind’s recognition of its own state

as it is; and that a man has a conscience, or capacity for passing moral

judgment on himself, is a condition that makes character of any kind

possible. Each word, however, has now an additional meaning, sanctioned

by general usage. The former generally implies emotions of approval or

disapproval, and the latter that there is in the mind a standard of

action, and a clear discrimination between right and wrong, with an

immediate feeling of responsibility, or obligatory emotions.

Though thus richly endowed with intellect, sensibilities, and will, by

nature capable of the highest mental activities, the structure of the

soul would be strangely incomplete if the religious element were wanting.

But it is not wanting. Man is a religious animal, and ever prone to

worship. He has capacities that are not filled, longings unsatisfied,

and must go out of himself for help and rest. Of all the sciences that

concern him most, no other is half so important as the science of God, an

infinite, all-wise, ever-present, personal God; our Creator, Redeemer,

Benefactor. This science is transcendent, and confirmed by indubitable

evidence. It satisfies and saves. “This is eternal life, to know the only

true God, and Jesus Christ, whom he hath sent.”

SOCIAL SCIENCE

Investigates, in an orderly, scientific manner, the principles of

association, and whatever relates to the interests and improvement of

men in communities. It has its basis in psychology, as that science of

the soul reveals most clearly the elements of a _social_ nature. By

instinctive longings for sympathy and fellowship, men are drawn together,

and readily consent to the restraints of society, whose earlier tacit

agreements and maxims are at length formulated into rules and laws for

their better government.

Civil governments, incomplete at first, and encountering many hindrances,

often progress but slowly, and sometimes even recede from vantage

ground that has been gained. Some known in history have made but little

advancement during the nineteenth century, and still fail to adjust their

political machinery to the wants and demands of the people. They will

hardly survive much longer without some promise of better progress in

the future. All really good governments are not equally good, and that

is regarded best which secures the greatest liberty to the individual

citizen, consistent with the rights of others and the public security.

That end, when honestly proposed, may be, to some extent, secured under

very different charters or constitutions, and very much depends on the

wisdom of the administration. When the governing power is in the hands

of one man, and he irresponsible for his manner of exercising it, it

is called an _autocracy_, or _despotism_. When vested in one person,

whose executive functions are exercised by ministers responsible to a

legislative assembly or parliament, it is a _constitutional monarchy_.

If the nobility, or a few principal men govern by a right, in some way

claimed, and conceded to them, it is an _oligarchy_, or an _aristocracy_.

If the power is in the hands of the people themselves, or their immediate

representatives, as in the United States, it is a _democracy_, or

_republic_.

Social science embraces a wide range of subjects of more than ordinary

importance. It discusses both principles and facts, the principles that

underlie all social institutions, and the practical, economic regulations

that are wisely adopted in well ordered, prosperous communities. If

the institutions are established, its province is to examine theories,

collect, arrange, and generalize facts, that may have some bearing on

any proposed corrective and reformatory measures. It scrutinizes public

crimes, penal codes, judicial decisions, and prison discipline, with

whatever else pertains to social life. It shows the relation of men to

men, of the ruler to the governed, of the employer to his employes,

of the rich to the poor, the fortunate to the unfortunate, and by its

expositions instructs men how to act in their various relations. If the

science were much better understood, the dangerous classes would be less

dangerous; and the troublesome problems of pauperism, the liquor traffic,

Mormonism, and the social evil, would be less appalling to average

legislators and judges.

The experience of ages shows that the ameliorating, helpful agencies

and influences that lift communities up to higher levels, often operate

silently as the leaven, till the whole lump is leavened. In many tribes

the advance from savagery and the usurpation by irresponsible leaders,

of absolute power toward complete civil liberty and personal rights,

has been slow. The change has come by means almost imperceptible, or by

struggles that seemed at the time fruitless. The improved condition of

society does not bring entire security, or freedom from assault. The

yoke once taken from the neck, and the heavy burdens from the shoulders,

new ideas of property, justice, and personal rights are developed. The

spirit of enterprise is awakened, because each finds himself in the

position of affluence and influence, to which his talents, industry

and self-denial entitle him. Men become competitors, and inequalities

of condition are inevitable. Incompetence, idleness, and extravagance

bring want and misery. Wealth and poverty exist side by side, the rich

growing richer, and the poor poorer. Class distinctions become odious.

Capital and labor, that should be allies, are often in conflict, to the

great injury of both. There may be occasion for complaint against those

“who oppress the hireling in his wages,” and “grind the faces of the

poor.” But many are envious without cause, and suffer only the penalty

of their idleness and extravagance, become enemies of the community, and

are deaf to remonstrance if they see, or think they see, any way of

relieving themselves at the expense of those who have acted more wisely,

and possess large estates. Here come in the functions of government,

that is of society, with its better notions of right and justice, and

power to enforce them. True “social science,” founded on the experience

of ages, recognizes the necessity of government, the obligations of the

citizen, and the right of all to the property they have lawfully and

honestly acquired. It demonstrates that real progress is in the way

of a safe conservatism, while it admits the possibility of change and

improvement, fully justifying the work of the reformer where reformation

is needed. If existing institutions are inadequate because of some

radical defect, have outlasted their usefulness, or become oppressive,

revolution may be demanded. But any government, though unjust and

despotic, is better than anarchy, and should be repudiated only when it

is, under all the circumstances, possible to establish a better. When

legitimate authority is resisted in the spirit of lawlessness or efforts

at revolution prompted by an evil ambition, the actors are guilty.

There have been many attempts, mostly abortive, to solve the problem

of government, and reconstruct the social fabric. Some of them by good

men, whose schemes were simply theoretical and impractical; others by

malcontents and destructionists who mistake license for liberty. Plato,

a man of probity and justice, but lacking the wisdom of the statesman,

prepared a constitution for a model republic, which had too many defects

for adoption; a republic with advantages for a select class, but slavery

for the masses doomed to manual labor, which was made despicable. More

wrote his “Utopia,”[4] regarded by some as a kind of program for a

needed social reform. It had little influence with his countrymen, most

of whom ranked it with works of the imagination, where it belonged,

whether so intended or not. Campanella,[5] a radical communist of Stilo,

in Calabria, wrote his Utopia, called “The City of the Sun,” a sensual

paradise, in which there was to be a community of goods and of wives.

For more than a century socialistic and communistic publications were

numerous; many of them denouncing property as a sin, and advocating

the greatest license in the intercourse of the sexes. Rousseau, in his

discourse on the “Origin and Grounds of Inequality Amongst Men,” speaks

with approval of “a state of nature,” something like that among our

American Indians before they had any knowledge of civilization. He seems

to have supposed there was no inequality, no vice, no misery, among

untutored savages, and advised those who could, to return to a state of

nature.

The skeptical Owen,[6] and the philosophical Fourier,[7] more practical

than others, attempted to establish communities as models or examples of

what could be accomplished on their theory, but failure attended their

enterprises, or the communities were saved from utter disintegration by

the tacit admission of principles that were once disavowed.

Modern socialism, akin to communism, and in all its tendencies subversive

of good government, declaims over the poverty and misery of the unhappy

masses, laments their insufficient shelter, food, and clothing, is

sentimental on the subject of labor and wages, and seeks to rouse the

abject sufferers to a sense of their sad condition. Its pictures of

suffering are in many cases not overdrawn, and the greatest efforts can

hardly exaggerate the facts. But socialism is not “social science.”

It is utterly and perversely unscientific; it discusses effects,

carefully leaving causes out of view; and would reform communities by

corrupting and debasing individuals. With a vague notion that every man

has a natural right to whatever he needs, it allows that the problem

of equalization may be solved by violence, and thus all brought to a

common level. The crimes against society, which have lately appalled us,

are doubtless the result of the pernicious principles and teaching of

“socialistic reformers.” But a reaction is sure to come, and the better

instincts of the race will yet destroy the corrupt tree whose fruit is

evil.

SUNDAY READINGS.

SELECTED BY CHANCELLOR J. H. VINCENT, D.D.

[_April 5._]

Ecclesiastics 7:29: “Lo, this only have I found, that God hath

made man upright; but they have sought out many inventions.”

If we should stand amid the uncovered treasures which mark the site of

ancient Nineveh or Babylon we would doubtless find in the objects, as

they are this moment, very much to engage our most interested attention.

We would regard with wonder and pleasure the specimens of beautiful

architecture, the evidences of human skill and industry which modern

exploration has disclosed to view. And yet, full of interest as such an

occupation would be, we could not prevent our minds from engaging in

another. Without any conscious exercise of will, our thought would revert

to the day when these fallen structures stood in all their magnificence;

when these halls, now filled with the sand of the desert, echoed to the

strains of music and to the voices of the noblest and greatest of the

land; when through these arches, now crumbling, armies marched gaily to

battle, or returned in triumph, bearing the spoils of conquest. We would

not be insensible to the value of the columns and capitals, the statuary

and tablets before our eyes, and yet the very grandeur of these ruins

would evoke the genius who would lead our thought by an irresistible

constraint to look upon the prior vision of those cities in the day of

their pristine perfection.

My friends, we do stand amid ruins. We walk day after day amid shattered

greatness, in comparison with which the prized relics of Nineveh and

Babylon, of Thebes, and Luxor,[1] and Troy, sink into insignificance.

Far be it from me to underestimate the work of man, as we see him and

know him to-day, or as we read of him in the records of the past. I am

aware of what he is, and of what he has done. I am not insensible to his

work, and yet I declare that man, great as he is—and he is great—is in

certain respects not as great as he was. I mean that he is not what the

progenitor of the race was. And viewed in comparison with that primitive

condition—that condition at creation—man to-day, considered physically,

intellectually, morally and spiritually, is a conspicuous instance of

fallen grandeur—not worthless and valueless—far from that; but his

perfection has departed; he is vastly inferior to what his great original

was. Realizing this, we can not fail to revert in thought to that early

day, and seek to see what the greatness was from which we have fallen.

Before, however, we attempt to look upon that picture, it will be

necessary to establish and defend the theory of man’s condition and

history upon this earth, with which it is inseparably connected.

A view of human history, which has been strongly advocated of late,

is that our race began physically, intellectually, and morally at the

lowest possible point. Some even maintain that the first men and women

were but the latest and highest developments of certain species of

brutes. But whether this phase of the theory of evolution be included

in it or not, the essential idea of the view to which we refer is that

the progenitors of our race were the lowest kind of savages, in their

powers and capacities, their tastes and pursuits scarcely distinguishable

from the brutes around them, and that from this low beginning men have

gradually come to the height of attainment and improvement which they

occupy to-day. If this theory be true, the statement which we have made,

and which we proposed to consider, is false. If such were the origin

of our race, if the first men and women were in all the parts of their

nature but a shade removed above the brutes of the forest and the field,

of course we of to-day are in no respect their inferiors—of course ours

is not, as has been declared, a fallen race. We maintain, however, that

the theory which makes our race begin in a condition of barbarism and

imbecility is untrue. I know that it is supported by eminent names; I

know, too, that it has been pressed upon public attention with much noisy

and confident assertion; I know all this, and yet I declare that the

theory is unproven; more, I declare that it is untrue.

Let us look at a few considerations which may shed the light of truth

upon this matter of the primitive condition of mankind, and by this I

mean the condition of those who succeeded Adam himself on the stage of

the world’s history:

1. We all know how long, in families which have lost position or power,

the memory of former greatness is cherished. You will find in your

charitable institutions, in the depths of poverty, and, perhaps, of

wickedness, those who will tell you by the hour of the fortunes of

their house in remote days, of the distinction which some ancestor, far

removed, conferred upon the name. Such memories are preserved with care,

and transmitted from generation to generation, and they become more and

more precious as the descendants themselves have less and less honor of

their own. The same principle operates with nations and with the great

tribes of men, particularly when they have themselves sunk so low that

they are conscious of no ground of glorying in themselves. Now it is an

instructive fact that the traditions of all nations have more or less

reference to a golden age, from which men have fallen. This is true in

India, in China, in Egypt, among our own Indians, among the inhabitants

of Central and South America—wherever traditional knowledge is preserved.

It is a vague memory—nevertheless a memory cherished by the race, handed

down through the ages, not of an era when humanized monkeys rejoiced

in their promotion, but of a golden age, when men as gods dwelt upon

the earth. The only explanation of such a wide-spread tradition is that

there must have been a fact corresponding to it; there must have been a

substance to cast this shadow over so many generations. Those who hold

that mankind began at the lowest point, can not satisfactorily account

for this tradition of the race.

2. Not only tradition, but history sustains our position. If the true

explanation of man’s condition to-day, in the civilized countries, is

that he has gradually raised himself from a state of absolute barbarism,

we certainly ought to have in the records of authentic history the

account of at least one nation, which, as matter of fact, before the eyes

of the world, has done the same thing. But no such instance can be found,

not one of a people, entirely barbarous, lifting themselves unaided,

to the higher plane of even a comparative civilization. Archbishop

Whately[2] says: “We have no reason to believe that any community ever

did or ever can, emerge, unassisted by external helps, from a state of

barbarism unto anything that can be called civilization.” And we may

follow the course of civilization from our own land back to western

Europe, from western Europe to Italy, from Italy to Greece, from Greece

to Egypt and the farther East, and still, as far as history takes us we

see the barren portions of the earth continuing to be barren—continuing

to bear only the wild fruits of barbarism, until the stream of knowledge,

and culture, and civilization, is led to it from some other place.

And that stream may be followed all the way back to the beginning of

authentic secular history, and in no one instance does the dry ground

yield fruit and flower of itself. We maintain that the vivifying stream

began to flow because there was in the beginning, in the East, a fountain

filled by God himself. Or, leaving the language of allegory, we assert

that if our race was utterly barbarous at the beginning, it never would

have risen from its barbarism, and authentic history can not adduce a

single instance of a nation rising unaided from barbarism to overthrow

this position. Mankind, therefore, did not begin at the lowest point, or,

judged by all the analogy of history, it would be there still.

3. Again, the records, outside of the Bible, which have come down to us

from early times, are few and imperfect, but the oldest of those which do

remain indicate the existence of nations in a high state of civilization

in the earliest periods of human history. In Egypt, China, Chaldea, these

earliest records, whether monumental or written, bear evidence, not of

universal barbarism in the previous ages, but of powerful and enlightened

nationalities. Such a state of things is inconsistent with the theory

which makes the history of our race a gradual development from a brutal

and degraded beginning.

4. Still further, the science of paleontology comes forward to prove

the same thing. There have been found in Belgium and in France, some

human skulls and skeletons, unquestionably of very great antiquity.

Concerning them one of the most competent of human judges, Principal

Dawson, of McGill University, Canada, says: “These skulls are probably

the oldest known in the world.” But what sort of men do they indicate

as living at that remote day? “They all represent,” he says, “a race of

grand, physical development, and of cranial capacity equal to that of the

average modern European.” Further he says: “They indicate also that man’s

earlier state was the best, that he had been a high and noble creature

before he became a savage. It is not conceivable that their great

development of brain and mind could have spontaneously engrafted itself

on a mere brutal and savage life. These gifts must be remnants of a noble

organization, degraded by moral evil. They thus justify the tradition of

a golden and Edenic age, and mutely protest against the philosophy of

progressive development, as applied to man.” Again, he concludes from a

careful study of these remains: “The condition, habits and structure of

Palæocosmic[3] men correspond with the idea that they may be rude and

barbarous offshoots of more cultivated tribes, and therefore realize, as

much as such remains can, the Bible history of the fall and dispersion

of antediluvian men. We need not suppose that Adam of the Bible was

precisely like the old man of Cromagnon.[4] Rather may this man represent

that fallen yet magnificent race which filled the antediluvian earth with

violence, and probably the more scattered and wandering tribes of that

race, rather than its greater and more cultivated nations.”—_Nature and

the Bible, pp. 174-179._

5. In addition to these arguments from tradition and history, and

monumental and written records, and an actual study of human remains,

which experts pronounce to be older, probably, than the flood, we have

evidence within ourselves. We are not unfamiliar with stories of children

of noble, perhaps of royal, descent, who have been abducted and brought

up among people of low tastes and habits. But ever and anon, in gesture

or inclination or bent of life, the blood shows itself, and to an

attentive eye tells of the gentler and loftier sphere from which it came.

So with us. Our consciousness reveals within us remnants of a former

greatness; aspirations which this world has never taught us, longings for

peace and purity which we feel we ought to have, but which we know this

world never imparts. These things are the impress of the joys of that

golden age which all these centuries have been powerless to erase from

the souls of Adam’s sons. Morally, we know we are not what we ought to

be; we are conscious of our degradation. As regards intellect, we retain

powers which have, indeed, accomplished marvelous results; and yet, let

some abnormal stimulus affect the brain—whether it be that produced by

sudden excitement or passion, or that caused by powerful artificial

agencies, and we see flashes of power yet in reserve which intimate what

this wondrous human mind may once have been. And physically, our frail

bodies, quickly tired and quickly crumbling to dust, tell us daily that

here, at least, the theory of development from imperfection to perfection

has signally failed.

[_April 12._]

From these considerations we deem it evident that the theory of man’s

development from a primitive condition of barbarism is untrue. The

various glimpses which we have been able to obtain of the early ages

reveal man as in an advanced condition. To all this the representations

of the Bible correspond. It is not the design of the inspired volume to

give a minute description of the customs, habits, knowledge, employments

of the nations of the world. All that it says upon these subjects is

incidental, yet no one in reading its accounts of those early times, and

of the people then living, could possibly imagine that the men and women

of whom it speaks were such as the rude Hottentot or the savage Caffre of

to-day. The picture of man in the primitive times drawn from the Bible,

is the same as that which is drawn from all these other sources; a being

of physical and intellectual power; not a savage, not a barbarian, but an

enlightened, capable, efficient man. How much he knew, how much he could

accomplish, what acquaintance he had with the forces of nature, which

we are now beginning to understand, must be matters of conjecture. Sin

had commenced its blighting work, but we must remember that man in those

early days had inherited from the first man splendid powers, and probably

varied and extensive knowledge. His physical strength and his length of

days were still great, and doubtless in all respects, save morally and

spiritually, he was even yet a magnificent creature, and a power upon the

earth.

Still, this was not the point which, in this discussion, we wished

to reach. All this was the greatness of man after he had begun to

deteriorate, after the poison of sin had begun to do its certain

and terrible work. This vision of primitive man in his physical and

intellectual strength is the splendor which abides a little while in

the sky after the sun has set. Nevertheless, the sun had set, and there

is a world-wide difference between this picture and that unto which

we would lead you—the picture of that sun in its glory—the picture of

unfallen man—the first man—the perfect man. Now let us look upon it.

The long ages of preparation have rolled away and the earth is a garden

of loveliness. Upon the splendors of its landscapes, the beauty of its

lakes, the grandeur of its mountains and oceans, the sun looked down from

his pavilion in the sky by day, and the moon and the stars by night. The

magnificent domain waited in harmony and beauty for its inhabitants, “And

God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” “So God

created man in his own image: in the image of God created he him.” “And

God saw everything that he had made, and behold it was very good.”

In the place of honor and dominion in that waiting world of beauty,

enthrone a being who shall be the counterpart of those words of

infallible description—a _man_, made in the image of God, and receiving

the unqualified commendation of his divine Creator. We may, without

danger of mistake, consider him to have been physically a being of

magnificent stature, and of matchless perfection of feature and form,

with a body ignorant of weakness or disease, free from the seeds of

sickness and of death. That a change would afterward have been necessary

to fit his body of flesh and blood for its immortality is possible, but

such change would not have been what we understand by death. Age would

not have brought infirmity to him. Nature would have had no debt to pay

to the grave.

Enshrined in this perfect body as in a glorious temple was a mind

corresponding, doubtless, in excellence to its habitation and to the

terms which describe its creation. Intellectually as well as morally,

he was created in the image of God. He was possessed of reason and of

actual knowledge. When the various classes of animals were passed in

review before him, he had such an apprehension of their distinctive

characteristics as to be able to give to them all appropriate names. And

as he knew thus much of nature, how shall we limit his familiarity with

her mysteries? And what shall we say of the powers of discernment, of

intuition, of memory, of judgment, of the facility in working, of the

unwearied and the unending delights and achievements of a mind made in

the image of God, and not yet marred or weakened by sin!

But the crowning glory of that first man, that which marks his distance

from us more than any physical or intellectual superiority, is that in

his moral and spiritual nature he bore a likeness to his divine Creator.

This being, whose body knew no imperfection, whose mind was rich in its

possessions, and mighty in its power to acquire and enjoy every kind

of truth, was holy. No thought arose in that heart which could not be

published in heaven—none which could mantle his cheek with the blush of

shame, or cause his manly eye to drop in consciousness of wrong, or make

a ripple of disquiet in the sea of perfect peace which filled his soul.

His thoughts were God’s thoughts. His loves, his wishes, his purposes,

in harmony with God’s, ascended and descended like the angels Jacob saw,

in perfect and blessed communion between heaven and earth, and earth

was heaven begun. Of this world, with its abounding life, he was the

acknowledged king. Within him was the consciousness of peace, and joy,

and immortality. All about him was beauty, and amid the glories of his

Eden home, God himself condescended to walk with him and be his friend.

Such is a faint outline of the picture on which I would have you look—the

picture of man as he was in the beginning. Does not the sight justify the

assertion that we are a fallen race? Does it not confirm the teaching of

our text, that “God hath made man upright, but they have sought out many

inventions?”

I need not delay to prove that this picture is not a representation of

our present condition. Think of these frail physical existences, begun

with a cry, continued in pain and weakness, and extended with difficulty

to their three score years and ten. Think of the ages through which the

intellect of the most favored portion of the world has been struggling to

its present attainments. Think particularly of the moral and spiritual

condition of the race, in comparison with that heavenly vision of

Godlikeness which stands at the beginning of our history. I need not

delay then to prove that mankind has fallen. I will, however, ask you to

remember when you reflect upon the sad disorders of the present state,

upon the sorrows and weaknesses and wickednesses of men to-day, that God

did not thus create the progenitors of the race. If we see ruins about

us and within us, let us remember that the temple as it was fashioned by

the supreme architect was perfect. Let us remember also the real and only

cause of this terrible catastrophe. It was sin—sin that always has ruined

and always will destroy the beautiful, the pure, the true. Men did indeed

go from that height of exaltation into the depths of barbarism; it is

true enough that the pages of remote history show us men living in caves,

and almost reduced to the level of the brutes—and sin led them there!

Men did lose the moral beauty of our first parent; they did lose much of

the intellectual and physical strength which lingered for a season in

his immediate descendants—and sin was the despoiler that remorselessly

stripped from them those glorious robes! You and I might have been as

Adam—ignorant of sorrow and of suffering, and the world still an Eden

about us, but sin has cast us down.

But let us remember also, with infinite gratitude and hope, as we look

upon that picture of primeval perfection which we have sought to restore,

that that condition may be regained. The crumbled arches, the fallen

walls, the shattered foundations of Nineveh’s or Babylon’s palaces

can never by any human skill be made to reproduce the glory that has

departed, and yet the temple of man’s Eden estate, though cast down with

a more fearful destruction, can be restored! Yea, made more glorious

than it was before, and established upon a foundation, so that through

the eternal ages it can never again be moved! Thanks be unto God, this

is possible to us. Jesus Christ has come from heaven and has undertaken

the accomplishment of the stupendous task. Jesus Christ has promised to

effect it for every one who will yield to his influences. And he can do

it, for he is the Savior, he is the Redeemer, the buyer-back of that

which was lost, and of nations and of regions as well as of individual

souls. … His spirit is the inspiration of the life which here is lived.

That is enough to lift up any place or any people. And just as certainly

will it lift up any human soul. Just as certainly will it redeem it from

the consequences of the race’s fall. Not in this life, indeed, may we

expect to have again the perfection of power and the freedom from sorrow

which our first parent had; but the work of bringing men back to all the

blessedness which Adam enjoyed, with new elements of blessing added, will

be done—yea, it is even now going on, through the power of an indwelling

Christ in souls that are here to-day. Let us all take the loving and

mighty hand which is extended for our uplifting; let us seek our

birthright, and though, through the first Adam our Paradise was lost, let

us yield ourselves to the second Adam, by whom a better Paradise shall be

regained.—_The Rev. Dr. E. D. Ledyard._

[_April 19._]

Monarchs reign, but their dominion is merely external. They do not and

can not enter into the realm of the soul; but “there is another king,

one Jesus,” whose right it is to sit enthroned in every heart, to direct

every conscience, and to have dominion over every thought and action.

Have you given him the sovereignty of yourself?

Sin reigns, and that king, alas! holds sway in many—I ought to say in

the vast majority of human souls. But he is an usurper; for “there is

another king, one Jesus,” who is the rightful lord of the heart. Under

which king are you? He who repudiates the royalty of Jesus over him is

guilty of treason against the majesty of heaven, and is but courting his

destruction.

Death reigns, and day by day he is sweeping in new multitudes into his

silent realm. The mightiest and the meanest alike must yield to him

who is the terror of kings, no less than he is the king of terrors.

At one time he rides on the hurricane, and dashes the laboring vessel

and the freighted souls within her on the roaring reef; at another he

drives through the city streets riding on his pestilential car, and

spreads desolation round him. Now he careers upon the boiling flood, and

sweeps whole villages before him into swift destruction; and again he

leaps in the lightning-flash upon some devoted building, and kindles a

conflagration that burns many in its flames. He laughs at men’s efforts

to elude his grasp; and as we look upon the settled countenance of the

loved one whom we are preparing to lay in the grave, we are almost

compelled to own him conqueror. But no! “there is another king, one

Jesus,” who is “the Resurrection and the Life,” and “who hath abolished

death and brought life and immortality to light by the Gospel.” Let us,

then, be undismayed by this last enemy. He is a vanquished foe. Our Lord

Jesus has gone into his domain, and having conquered him there, has

brought him back with him to his palace, to be there the page who opens

the door for his friends into the chamber of his presence. Yes! as we

stand by the remains of our Christian dead, and under the influence of

sight are moved to speak of Death as king, we recall in another sense

than they were meant, but in a sense which faith recognizes as true, the

words “There is another king, one Jesus.”

Paradoxical as it may seem, these two things always go together. Where

Christ is owned as the sole sovereign, there his service is perfect

freedom; but where his supremacy is either ignored or given to another,

there comes the slavery of superstition, or the tyranny of priestcraft,

or the cold domination of philosophy, and it is hard to say which of

these is the most degrading.—_W. M. Taylor._

[_April 26._]

He who would preach the Gospel with power must be himself a believer in

the Lord. The secret of true, heart-stirring eloquence in the pulpit is,

next after the power of the Holy Ghost, that which the French Abbé has

very happily called “the accent of conviction” in the speaker. Behind

every appeal that Paul made to sinners, there was the memory of that

wonderful experience through which he passed on the way to Damascus;

and therefore we are not surprised that he _so_ preached as either to

secure men’s faith or to rouse their antagonism. But his conversion

alone, without his Arabian revelations, would not have made him the

apostle he became. In the desert he met his Lord, and received from him

many important spiritual communications. There, too, he meditated on the

truths revealed to him, and poured out his heart in prayer for a thorough

understanding of their meaning and a full realization of their power.

Thus he came back to Damascus, if not with a face glowing like that of

Moses when he descended from Sinai, at least with a heart filled and

fired with love to Him who had there unfolded to him the mysteries of the

Gospel. Now, what Paul thus received from the Lord has been given to us

by evangelists and apostles in the New Testament Scriptures. Our Arabia,

therefore, will be the study and the closet in which we pore over these

precious pages, and seek to comprehend their many sided significance, as

well as to imbibe the spirit by which they are pervaded. He who would

preach to others must be much alone with his Bible and his Lord; else

when he appears before his people, he will send them to sleep with his

pointless platitudes, or starve them with his empty conceits. Get you

to Arabia, then, ye who would become the instructors of your fellowmen!

Get you to the closet and the study! Give your days and nights to the

investigation of this book; and let everything you produce from it be

made to glow with white heat in the forge of your own heart, and be

hammered on the anvil of your own experience!—_W. M. Taylor._

EASY LESSONS IN ANIMAL BIOLOGY.