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mind is finite or not depends upon the meaning we attach to the word finite. There is no fixed limitation upon the expansion of the human mind in this world, to say nothing of another. Every new acquisition of knowledge, especially of things invisible, is a step in the direction of the infinite. We are constantly learning more and more of the things which are not seen, and no one can tell when this will stop, if it ever stops. I cannot differentiate life, mind, soul, or spirit from each other, but subject to the limitations of animal nature, it seems to me they must be considered as a unitythe one invisible, spiritual and eternal man. That there is both a physical or material world and an invisible or spiritual world, admits of no doubt. We do not know what is in the spiritual world as we know what is in the physical world, but the revelations of science and the teachings of human observation and experience constitute premises from which we may argue with reasonable certainty as to results.

world by argument or reasoning as it is to establish in the same way any fact or condition within the realm of human knowledge or belief.

This is only applying to spiritual things what we apply every day to the practical affairs of life. We accept as true a thousand things which are only inferentially or argumentatively true. Νο man knows that he will be alive tomorrow, but from existing conditions he argues that he will, and acts upon this conclusion with as much confidence as though he had actual knowledge of the fact. No one has seen or can see the law of gravitation any more than he can see the Supreme being, but the belief in this law is universal and its existence is dem onstrated by argument from other facts. Take the nebular hypothesis which is, that when the earth was without form and void it existed in an ultra gaseous state. This theory, which I understand is now quite generally accepted by scientists and which relates to conditions millions of years ago, is nothing more than an argumentative conclusion, based chiefly upon observations made by Herschel since he propounded the theory in 1811. Illustrations of this kind might be multiplied indefinitely. I refer to the foregoing to make this point-that it is Just as logical and just as reasonable to establish conditions in the spiritual

Assuming that matter is indestructible, as all scientists admit, or in other words, the invisible elements of which it is composed are indestructible, is it not perfectly logical to argue that life is indestructible? We cannot see life any more than we can see electricity, but we can see physical objects animated by life. Manifestly life emanates from the same source from which all other unseen and eternal things emanate. There seems to be no good reason why one affluence of the Deity should be everlasting and not another. When a tree or an animal dies its life loses its identity in the great storehouse of life, just as a drop of water loses its identity when it falls into the ocean. Its individuality is gone, but its existence is not destroyed.

How, then, is it with the life of man? Has man a conscious, individual existence beyond the grave? This is not an easy question to answer outside of revelation. Men and the lower animals have so many things in common that it is argued, with some force, that the difference between them is one of degree and and not of kind. This argument, however, is unsatisfactory in many particulars. Everybody knows that there is a manifest difference between man and the brute creation. This fact is so self-evident that it may be taken without discussion as the basis of an argument.

The question, then, is, what is the difference, and from what source or cause does it proceed? I believe it to be reasonably certain without reference to Bible authority, that the difference is this: Man has a spiritual life or body not possessed by the lower order of animals. I submit, in support of this proposition the almost universal conviction of mankind that such is the fact. Budda, Plato, Jesus and Mahomet taught, and their followers hold to, this doctrine, and even the untutored savage has an idea of an after life in his happy hunting grounds. Nobody will claim, I presume, that beasts, birds and fishes have any such consciousness. How did this idea originate. if there is nothing in the universe to cor

respond with it? Every other aspiration of human nature implies the possibility of its attainment. Man's capacity to comprehend and reason upon abstract propositions is a fact of great weight in this connection. Bacon, Newton, and Shakespeare had something in them which all men have to a certain extent, but which the beasts of the field do not have. This is a difference of kind and not of degree. Religion of. some sort is a universal characteristic of man. There are no degrees of difference between men and animals in this respect. The differerence is radical and absolute. Selfknowledge alone is sufficient to show that man is something more than an animal. No man can divest himself of the conviction that he has something in him more independent, more intelligent and more enduring than mere animal instinct. There are two theories extant as to the origin of spiritual being. One is that it was imparted by the giver of all life, and the other is that it is an emanation from the animal through the process of evolution. I believe in evolution to a certain extent, but I do not believe that life was evolved from inert matter. I do not believe that a stick or a straw can of itself generate life. Darwin, the great apostle of evolution, was forced to admit that life was imparted by the "Great First Cause" to a filiment of matter and upon this primary fact he constructs his whole system of evolution. Assuming this to be true, and I have no doubt that life was imparted and not evolved, I hold that when man appeared upon the earth by direct creation or otherwise, the Great First Cause imparted to him spiritual life, and this is what makes man man and differentiates him from the brute creation. I claim that it is just as reasonable and just as logical to argue that God imparted spiritual life to an animal as it is to argue that God imparted life to inanimate matter. Some one may ask here, what about those people whose lives are but little above the animals? My answer is this: Take a juvenile savage, no matter how wild he may be, place him in good society and under educational influences and he can be taught at least the rudiments of science and re

ligion, and the principles of morality and justice, and may develop a high degree of mental and spiritual intelligence. No animal is susceptible of this, and I say that this proves not only that man is more than any animal, but that in every human being there is a germ of spiritual life which, under nutritous surroundings, may be expanded into the highest attributes of human nature. We know from experience that we have two kinds of life within us.

Every man, or at least every civilized man, knows that when he is tempted to do an act of cruelty or injustice there is something in him that antagonizes the temptation and remonstrates against the act. This is the spiritual man performing his legitimate functions. I know that this spiritual man may be dwarfed into a flickering existence by neglect and a long course of animal indulgence. Nevertheless, he is a natural enemy of the licentious and grovelling propensities of animal life and cannot, as it seems to me, be the outgrowth or offspring of these propensities.

If it is true that "the spirit lusteth against the flesh and the flesh against the against the spirit," and we know to believe

that it is, it it is hard that these enemies of each other are of common origin. Do all the virtues and all the vices of mankind spring from the same source? Do men gather figs from thistles, or grapes from thorns?

Assuming that God, or the Great First Cause, imparted spiritual to animal life, it cannot be supposed that this proceedure in the Divine economy was without a purpose. Animals were intended to be inhabitants of the material world and spiritual beings to be inhabitants of the spiritual world. If a man dies as the beast of the field dies, the bestowment of a spiritual nature upon him would seem to have been a useless and purposeless act. Individuality is the law of life in the material world, and it must be the law of life in the spiritual world. I accept the teachings of the Scriptures upon this subject, but independent of these I hold that there is enough within human. knowledge and human experience to justify the conclusion that

If a man dies, he shall live again.

LIVING ON $25.00 A WEEK. (Concluded.)

The more I pondered the assertion made by Narcisse to the effect that no young man could afford to marry upon a salary of $25.00 a week, the more firmly convinced I became that he was laboring under a delusion. And the determination grew upon me to prove to him, beyond all doubt and question, that no young man of the right sort, whose income amounted to that very modest sum, could afford to remain single, providing, of course, he could find the ideal of his dreams.

There is no use arguing the question with Narcisse. Though of a most rare and lovable nature, he will persist in usurping the time-honored prerogative of woman, the last word. I usually let him have it without protest, thereby saving breath and patience. One charming thing about him, however, is the readiness with which he yields when confronted with facts, recognizing their stubbornness, probably. Obviously, the thing to do was to find the facts that would prove my position, and present

them.

I knew very well that there were numbers of people of culture and refinement, whose daily lives were a happy refutation of Narcisse's idea, and I meant to discover them. It was not difficult when I took the time and went about it seriously. Indeed, the evidence was so overwhelmingly in my favor that I began to be rather sorry for Narcisse. But it was so clearly a duty to society to give an unprejudiced statement of the facts in the case, that I must not allow my sympathy to bar their publicity. In the first place, then, not to go away from home, there are the Van Klyes-I call them that because their name is something else. The Van Klyes are young, they are married, and they live, not board, upon an income of seventy-five dollars a month, which is something less per week than the amount mentioned by

Narcisse, and this is how they do it.

To begin with, they are people of refined tastes, accustomed, up to the time they left their respective parental rooftrees, to a mild degree of luxury. They were, according to their own confession, sufficiently in love with each other to disregard the advice of friends and relatives, who dismally declared, individually, and in chorus, that the step involved social suicide.

Jack

"We were not particularly interested in society just then," admitted my young hostess, with a charming smile, and a faint deepening of the rose in her cheek. "But we had no intention of being forgotten by our friends, or of giving up anything we really cared about keeping. And in spite of the fact that everybody regarded us as a pair of heedless, headstrong idiots, we gave our future very serious consideration. knew that it meant the relinquishing of many of his luxurious habits, for he had never looked upon his salary as means of defraying his expenses while under under his father's roof, and he rather doubted whether two people would be able to exist upon far less than either of them spent singly, per month, clothes. He even suggested waiting till he had his salary raised. But I-Ì suppose I was born with the housewife's instinct largely predominant. I simply. love to keep house. My mother was always a sensible woman, who insisted upon her daughters learning how to cook and sew and sweep. I took to it all so naturally that my sisters used to say I ought to marry a poor man and do my own washing. Yet," she looked up smiling, "do you know, when I wanted really to do it they all lifted their hands in horror. Inconsistent, was it not?"

for

"But tell me," I said, glancing about the tastefully furnished, low-ceiled room, "how do you manage all this on $75 a month?"

"Oh, that is simple enough. Any girl could do it if she tried, and I know ever so many who would like to try, but-"

"But, what?"

"Well, you see, there are not many young men like Jack. Most of them want to begin where their fathers leave off."

"I have heard that statement made from the other side, but go on, please." "Oh, I was going to tell you how we managed, but you musn't write anything that will lead people to identify us. In the first place, this house belongs to Jack's uncle. It was an old, tumble down sort of place, but the neighborhood is not desirable and the rent low. So we leased it for three years with the privilege of buying if we could ever afford it. When Jack's uncle saw what an untenantable place it 'was he said we could have it rent free for a year providing we succeeded in making it habitable, or he would put it in order and let us have it for $7 per month. We decided upon the latter, when we found he would make any changes we wanted within a certain limit. There are only six rooms, you see, not counting the bath and pantry and closets. There were originally two more, but we had the partitions torn out, giving us a wide hall with the fire place at the end-really the pleasantest of all. We both have legions of relations and they were sensible enough, knowing the situation, to select the wedding presents with a view to our needs. I received household linen, blankets, bedding and so on, enough to last a life time, and Jack's uncle looked after the china closet. My father gave me a check, and I had something left over with which to start a bank account when the house was furnished. I am almost ashamed to tell you how little it all came to, but you can judge for yourself whether I sacrificed taste and comfort to economy. Of course, I have a gas range. No kitchen is complete without one. The ordinary cook stove is a tyrant which no self-respecting woman, whether mistress maid, ought to submit to. Besides a gas range saves the price of a servant." "Surely." I exclaimed, "you do not do all your own work."

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"You see, there is something left over for theaters, and concerts, car fare and church contribution," she said, when I had counted it up. "Jack will need a new suit in the spring, but I shall manage to get along this year with what I have."

"You are not able to add anything to that bank account," I said.

She smiled. "A penny now and then. But I assure you, we could live very nicely on much less than we are in the habit of spending. It is all a matter of habit, you know."

Perhaps she was right. Anyway, I think that I have evidence enough to convince Narcisse that he, or any young man in his very exclusive and aristocratic set, may safely marry on an income of $25 a week, providing the girl of his choice knows how to keep house.

THE SON OF THE WOLF.

By Jack London.

Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston.

CONDUCTED BY DAVIS PARKER LEACH.

There is always a strange fascination in tales of the Artic zone-of the deso

lation and immensity of its frozen fields, its grandeur, its mysteries and its horrors. The spell of the wonderful northland, so vividly set forth by Joaquin Miller and Hamlin Garland, was upon the author when he wrote these nine stories of the Yukon and Northwest Territory.

Mr. London has been by some compared to Kipling. This is a manifest injustice, for, young as he is, he has never been accused of anything so atrocious ast "The Absent-Minded Beggar." He is above all things original, sui generis, with a terse, vigorous style combines realism and romance in a most effective manner and condenses worlds of meaning into a few sentences.

got's life, nothing more. Strange thoughts arise unsummoned and the mystery of all things strives for utterance. And the fear of death, of God, of the universe comes over him-the hope of the Resurrection and the Life, the yearning for immortality, the vain striving of the imprisoned essence-it is then, if ever, man walks alone with God."

It is said that the author has used real people as the material for the romances, and that Malemute Kid, Bettles, Lou McFane, Father Roubean and others are well known along the Yukon.

One's previous impression of the Indian of the North will undergo a decided change, and instead of the stolid, phlegmatic savage usually described, here he is shown to be capable of heroism, loyalty, enduring and romantic affection. This phase of his character is especially brought out in "The Odyssey of the North," which is perhaps the strongest tragedy, "In a Far Country," is the most of the sketches, although the gruesome horrible recital since Marcus Clarke's "For the Term of His Natural Life,"

Fresh from the University of California, he joined the great army of Argonauts who in 1897 invaded the icy wastes of the North in search of the Golden Fleece and in these powerful sketches he has given the world thrilling glimpses of published about a quarter of a century

the comedy, tragedy and romance of that far-away land, as seen by him. His description of the "White Silence" is an example of the rare genius of his wordpainting: "Nature has many tricks wherewith she convinces man of his finity-the ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of the storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long roll of heaven's artillery -but the most tremendous, the most stupifying of all, is the passive phase of the White Silence. All movement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass: the slightest whisper seems sacrege and man becomes timid, affrighted at the sound of his own voice. Sole speck of life journeying across ghostly wastes of a dead world, he trembles at his audacity, realizes that his is a mag

ago.

* * *

MYTHOLOGY FOR MODERNS.
By James S. Metcalfe.
Life Publishing Co., N. Y.

If the man is a benefactor who makes two blades of grass grow where one grew before, then he who brings a laugh where none existed must be classed as a philanthropist. To this latter class belongs James Stetson Metcalfe, and his "Mythology for Moderns" will banish gloom from even the sick-chamber if not taken in too large doses. Few there are who can render the classics into modern, slangy speech, and since Eugene Field one almost resents the attempt as something like sacrilege. The author has shown rare skill in the adaptation, how

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