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do not go about seeking churches, and are not perpetually changing their fields of work. Such men do not need any spoonfeeding into the seminaries. They have some spark within them of fire from off the altar. They speak and work because they cannot help it. You cannot keep such men out of the university; you need offer no special inducements to such; they can do without societies for the increase of the ministry.

(2) The common custom of offering inducements to young men to enter the ministry works very badly. The ministry is the easiest of all professions to enter, and too many " weaklings" enter it. Better far, in my opinion, leave churches without clergy till the right men are ready for their work. Churches seeking clergy, and seeking in vain, might impress on Christian people generally a very common sin. Worldliness rules in many Christian homes supposed to be unworldly. Parents very often turn their sons' minds away from the ministry as a profession. Its pecuniary advantages are too poor. I often find God-fearing parents steadily resisting the inclination of their sons towards holy orders.

(3) The times need strong, earnest men who believe. Such men can win a hearing multitudes are waiting to hear them speak. I believe there are more such men in the churches to-day than there were twenty years ago. But the times are critical times, and mere pretension or incapacity stands out confessed and condemned as never before. Hence the number of clerical failures.

W. S. RAINSFORD.

St. George's Rectory, New York City.

To the Editors of The Outlook :

There are more competent men in the ministry of all the Protestant churches than the churches can afford to support. There can be no doubt about this. Take the Year-Book or almanac of any Church, and run your eye down the list of parishes, and you will see that the majority of the parishes have less than one hundred and fifty communicants. It goes without saying that parishes of this size cannot, under ordinary circumstances, support a clergyman, with his wife and children. (Bar out, of course, rich suburban congregations, parishes supported by one or two

rich men, and endowed parishes.) Consequently we have the fact that a large proportion of clergy depend on private means, or teaching, or writing to supplement their incomes.

From the point of view of the parson, the case stands that hundreds of them never get a man's work to do. Men are giving their lives to keeping together little flocks of P.E. or M.E. or X.Y.7. brethren who are entirely capable of caring for large churches. Think of all the good men who could visit every soul in the parish in a week, who are confronted every Sunday by the same faces, and are seldom called upon to render any service, and remember that when they were in college they stood high in their class, and they were perhaps more promising than their fellows. Now their fellows are judges, and busy lawyers, and doctors, who complain that they can't find time to eat or sleep. In short, his classmates are doing a man's work in the world, while the poor parson has never had enough to do-enough to call out his best energies.

Now, if he were holding some outpost, if he were in a small place, which, if he deserted it, would have no one to teach and guide and bless the people, it would be another matter. It would be noble for a man to stay at such a post and be loyal to his flock, however small it might be. But there are no such spots in these United States. Everywhere the missionary societies of the different Churches have gone, and everywhere each one has established its representative.

Let me give you a few corollaries : 1. The Churches have more "regulars" enlisted than they can support.

2. But of volunteers they can never have too many.

3. Societies for helping young men into the ministry should be put down with a strong hand.

4. Theological schools should charge for tuition, room-rent, and board.

5. Each of us should advise young men of our acquaintance, unless especially gifted or having private means, to seek other fields of service.

6. Home missionary societies should be investigated with a view to stopping the ruthless sacrifice of noble men on the altar of denominational pride.

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Notes and Queries

NOTE TO CORRESPONDENTS.-It is seldom possible to answer any inquiry in the next issue after its receipt. Those who find expected answers late in coming will, we hope, bear in mind the impediments arising from the constant pressure of many subjects upon our limited space. Communications should always bear the writer's name and address.

1. What is the necessity of atonement? Why not forgiveness without sacrifice? 2. In what sense are men "dead in trespasses and in sin," if there is in "the lowest man a spark of the Divine Life"? 3. How are Bennett's and Adeney's works on the Theology of the Old and the New Testament? 4. Is Hastings's Dictionary of the Bible the best I can get? 5. What readable inexpensive history of the world would you recommend? 6. Do you know where one can take a correspondence course in Biblical and theological subjects? 7. What suggestive books would you recommend for a series of sermons on Judges? J. N. L.

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1. Because forgiveness, if effectual, must be received as well as given, and sacrifice by some one in some way is generally necessary to effect willingness to receive forgiveness. To avoid misunderstandings, see a tract on "The Divine Satisfaction (T. Whittaker, New York). 2. Somewhat as plant life is dead in winter, yet not wholly dead. The word "die " is thus used in Job xiv., 8. 3. They are highly thought of. 4. It is not yet fully published. Another of equal merit is also in course of publication, edited by Canon Cheyne. 5. One among many is Duruy's, translated from the French by Professor Grosvenor (Crowell). 6. Address the American Institute of Sacred Literature, Hyde Park, Chicago. 7. The International Critical Commentary on Judges, Kent's History of the Hebrew People (Scribners); Cornill's "History of the People of Israel" (The Open Court Company, Chicago).

1. Kindly give your idea of the meaning of Matthew xix., 28. 2. Is not Judas Iscariot included in this promise?

H. W. R.

1. The word "regeneration" here denotes the period of the world's renovation (compare Revelation xxi., 5) by the spirit of Christ in the development of his kingdom. The prophecy is interpreted by the history of the kingdom, in which the Apostles through their writings have acted as judges of the spiritual Israel mentioned in the text (compare Romans ii., 29). To them the Church has regularly referred all

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1. Row's "Manual of Christian Evidences (Whittaker, New York, 75 cents). 2. Le Conte's "Elements of Geology," revised to date (Appleton & Co., New York, eral Biology $4). 3. Sedgwick and Wilson's "Gen

(H. Holt & Co., New York, $1.75). 4. Todd's "Stars and Telescopes "summarizes briefly the views given at length in Professor See's recent papers in the "Atlantic Monthly" (Little, Brown & Co., Boston, $2).

C. H. B.-The poem asked for is by Bishop Henry King, "An Elegy on His Wife." S. J. B. sends a copy of the lines, which we will forward on receipt of address.

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The Leopard with Horns

By C. B. Loomis

Once there was a little boy named Jimmy. And he had always lived in the city, and the only animals he had ever seen were horses, dogs, and cats. But he had heard of leopards, because one of his boy friends had told him all about them and how they had spots on them and they could climb trees and eat people.

Well, one day he went to the country, and in course of time his cousin, who was older than he, helped him into an appletree and then went into the house to get something-maybe it was an apple.

Jimmy was rather alarmed at being left alone in the tree, but he managed to stay there. Suddenly he saw a beast come prowling up the road. It was about the size of a leopard, as he imagined, and it was covered with spots even larger than a leopard would have, so it must be (thought Jimmy) a very awful kind of leopard. And, to make things worse, this leopard had a pair of horns, and large, ferocious-looking ears, and every now and then it roared like this: "Moo-oo, moooo!" Jimmy was frightened half to death. But he had the slim hope that the beast would go away without seeing him.

the matter a huge joke, but Uncle Ed was not that kind. He knew that to little Jimmy the horned beast was as bad as the most terrible leopard that ever roamed the jungle, and so he went over to the tree and said, "My boy, you are safe while I am here, because, in the first place, this kind of leopard can't climb a tree, and, in the second place, it isn't a leopard at all, but a cow, and, in the third place, it is Daisy, our pet cow, and if you will take my word for it, you can ride on her back as if she were a horse."

There was something in Uncle Ed's voice that had a very calming effect on Jimmy, and inside of two minutes the dreadful leopard that had come to eat him was turned into a good-natured old cow, and he rode her all around the place, holding on to Uncle Ed's hand.

Now Jimmy is grown up and has a Jimmy of his own, but he will never forget the horror of that five minutes with a horned leopard.

A Wagon and a Carriage

There are boys and girls all over the country who have to take care of younger brothers and sisters, and for a good many hours of the day; but in the cities, in the crowded parts, you see very many of these patient boys and girls, more than patient, loving.

Oh, horrible! The animal came right to the tree, and put its head right up among the branches, and began to sniff. Then it ate an apple. Jimmy was sure that in a moment it would climb the tree after him, so he got up to the top of the tree, though how he did it he couldn't tell next day. He was weak and white with fear when he reached the top branch. The dreadful beast now came close to the trunk and began to rub up and down. Now he would spring up into the tree, beyond a doubt! But just as Jimmy thought he was crouching for a spring he saw his uncle come out of the house, and he screamed to him, "Oh, Uncle Ed, save me, save me! This leopard is going to eat me." Now, some uncles would have thought thing that may be noticed—a regular baby

I wonder if you have ever noticed the difference between a baby-carriage bought in a store and a baby-wagon made at home-a box mounted on wheels. Have you ever noticed that it is a soap-box that is used to make a wagon for a baby who seems to be an absolute stranger to soap, and a starch-box for baby who is so limp that it cannot hold its head up? There is a mystery about it. I have only noticed this. I cannot explain it. Such jolly babies as may be seen in these homemade affairs, with wheels that screech so loudly that the wonder is that a baby can stand the noise! There is another

carriage never takes part in a procession. But these home-made affairs almost seem to suggest a procession. They seem to fit into the needs of the procession. If a chariot is needed for a general, he tucks his legs under him and squeezes into the box, and is wheeled away with dignity. If it is the horse of the home-made baby-carriage which is needed, why, he drops into the procession with ease and yet is able to take care of his charge, or he may find a dozen ready to draw the wagon, while he attends to his duty as a leader.

Then these wagons permit of so much decoration. Nobody objects to have tacks driven in at any place where it may be necessary to produce the desired effects. Really, it will never be known who invented that first jolly home-made babycarriage, but he must have loved children and seen the possibilities for fun that there were in his invention.

But I did not start to talk about these baby-carriages at all, these jolly affairs that some big, loving brother makes for a tiny brother and sister, but about a little girlsuch a little girl, and yet so wise.

She has a number of little brothers and sisters. The baby is so tiny that he seems like a doll. The other day the mother, the little girl, the older baby, and the baby climbed up the hill to a park at the head of the street. The park has a high iron fence about it, so that no one can get in. But the flowers blossom freely, the fountain plays gayly, and the birds, from long, undisputed use, seem to own the park, and play about in the fountain as they do nowhere else.

Somebody sent out a chair for the mother to use, and a picture-book. The mother sat down and took the older baby on her lap, jogging the baby-carriage with her foot.

The little girl, without a word, wheeled the baby-carriage away up the street. Up and down the walk, out of hearing of her mother, the little girl pushed the baby carriage, the mother rocking the older baby and looking at the pictures.

It was hot, and where the mother sat was a breeze, but that little, ragged, barefoot daughter thought of nothing but putting the baby asleep, and letting her mother rest.

The children from the crowded street under the hill, her little playfellows, joined

her mother and looked at the pictures and talked about them. The little daughter trudged on until the crying stopped and the baby was asleep. Then she joined her mother, and leaned against her. They looked so lovingly into each other's faces that you forgot all about poverty and crowded rooms, and a baby who cried night and day, and saw just a loving mother and her little, helpful daughter.

Ah, yes the big brother appeared with a box mounted on wooden wheels, and the older baby rode home at the head of the procession, two of the little girls carrying flags. The baby-carriage was half a block behind.

The March of the Geese

Some interesting stories are told of wild geese. We think of them as flying, not realizing that they have a reputation for marching. Years and years ago, before the days of railroads in England, history tells us that once nine thousand geese marched from Suffolk to London, a distance of one hundred miles; that for this long march but one cart was provided to carry the geese that might fall lame; the owners knew how well the geese would walk. It is said that once a drove of Suffolk geese and a drove of turkeys left Suffolk for London together, and the geese reached London forty-eight hours in advance of the turkeys.

Only a few months ago a flock of three thousand geese, in charge of three gooseherds, were driven down the quay at Antwerp and up the gang-plank aboard an English vessel. There was a narrow canvas side to the gang-plank. They walked sedately aboard and crossed the deck, going down an inclined board to the lower deck into an inclosure made ready for them.

It is said that a flock of geese can march ten miles a day. Thirteen miles a day is the regulation march of a German soldier. A traveler in the Arctic regions says that he has seen the wild geese marching in those regions. They choose leaders who direct them as well as lead them. They walk about ten in a line, but in a column, and carry their heads high. At a signal they spread out and feed, but at another signal from the leaders they fall into line again. These geese, when they cross water in their journey, swim as they march, in a column ten geese 'wide.

The Home Club

Women's Clubs in Paris The President of the National Federation of Women's Clubs has announced that the women's clubs of this country will have an exhibit at the Paris Exposition. A special committee has been appointed in this country, and a local committee in Paris, of members of clubs who will be in that city for several months prior to the opening of the Exposition. The local committees in this country will go to work at once to gather and arrange the State exhibits. The National Association of College Alumna will gather for the Department of Education a special exhibit. This will show the growth in colleges for women and the increase in graduates, compare the increase in men's and women's colleges, and give a consensus of opinion on such questions as: electives; the wisdom of adapting the curriculum on the basis of sex; the

physical development of women during college life, and its effect upon them as compared with other women, women in post-graduate work. The committee will also gather valuable statistics as to the percentage of marriages of college women, the average number of children, and divorces. Those who remember the exhibit of the college women of England will be grateful for this work of the college alumnæ of America.

A Mirror Held by an Englishman The homes of this country and the relations of the children to their parents have furnished topics for the foreign critic. If we do not know our faults, it is because we have chosen to neglect the opportunity these critics have given us. There recently traveled through this country an English critic whose comments on the United States were published as a feature of one of the New York daily papers. The subject of one article was the home life of the people. This critic states that an Englishman who had lived in this coun try for twenty-five years told him that the boys in this country from twelve to twentyone were insurgents against home restraints and influences; that home meant less to an American than an Englishman.

The present visitor has not found this statement verified in his experience. He says.

It has been my privilege to see something of the daily life of a good many families living under their own roof-tree, and in every case, without exception, I have been struck with the beauty and intimacy of the relation between parents and children. When my friend laid down his theory of the intractable American boy, I could not but think of a youth of twenty whom I had seen only two days before, whose manner toward his father struck me as an ideal blending of affectionate comradeship with old-fashioned respect. True, this was in Philadelphia, “the City of Homes," and even there it may have been an exceptional case. I am not so illogical as to pit a single observation against (presumably) a wide induction; I merely offer for what it is worth one item of evidence. Again, it has been my good fortune here in New York to spend an evening in a household which suggested a chapter of Dickens in his tenderest and most idyllic mood. It was the home of an actor

and actress. Two daughters, of about eighteen and twenty, respectively, are on the stage,

acting in their father's company; but the master of the house is a bright little boy of seven or eight, known as "the Commodore." As it happened, the mother of the family was away for the day; yet in the hundred affectionate references made to her by the father and daughters, not to me, but to each other, I read her character and influence more clearly, perhaps, than if she had been present in the beautiful "interior" flesh. A more simple, natural, unaffectedly no novelist could conceive. If the family tie is seriously relaxed in America, it seems an odd coincidence that I should in a single month have chanced upon two households where it is seen in notable perfection, to say nothing of many others in which it is at least as binding as in the average English home.

These pictures are in themselves attractive, and present the ideal of many homes. So close and fair an observer naturally sees the other side of the shield. He has discovered that the American is more migratory than the Englishman, and comments on the hotel and boarding-house life as prone to destroy the sense of home and family life. "The Saratoga trunk is not the best cornerstone for the home." What makes the Saratoga trunk the important part of the belongings of so many families? Is it true that we have acquired tastes that make the simple, independent home seem undesirable?-so undesirable that we

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