sermons from time to time at Yale University, which have been received most graciously by the students in spite of the compulsory chapel attendance, his sermons and addresses at Cornell Univ.rsity and at the University of Chicago, his lectures at the Johns Hopkins University, have indicated his power over college students and his ability to interest them in the subject of religion. By voice, by pen, and by the Chautauqua service he has devoted his What is life but a period of training for something higher and beyond? Education is also something which should be symmetrical, running parallel with life itself and adapted to the needs and necessities of life. His mother's doctrine, reiterated by his father, he tells us, was, "Education without religious faith and life is valueless." That this doctrine sank deep into the heart of the son his whole life bears testimony. Still, education must be broad and comprehensive, not a little here and a little there, but something everywhere, and to be regarded as ideal only in proportion as it makes one able to deal with the problems of life, and brings him into contact with all the culture of the higher life of civilization. (2) Education is not to be confined to formal study. It includes this, but it includes much more.. Books alone are insufficient. THE MAIN RECITATION HALL, CHAUTAUQUA energies unceasingly to the cause of higher education. His service in that cause has been all the more zealous because of his appreciation of the loss incurred in early life by reason of his failure to receive a college education. But the friends of Bishop Vincent to-day will agree that his greatest work has been done at and in connection with Chautauqua. If the word Chautauqua signified only the local Chautauqua with its Assembly, its Sunday-School Normal, its Schools of Sacred Literature, its Schools of Bishop Vincent Philosophy, Ancient Literature, Modern Literature, Mathematics, and Science, its School of Physical Culture, its schools of practical work in every line of effort, and its platform lectures given by men of every country and of highest position, the work would have been a great work, and more than sufficient to assure a lasting fame. But it will be remembered that the local Chautauqua is really something small and insignificant when compared with the world-wide Chautauqua. When we recall the scores of Chautauqua Assemblies established throughout the United States, the Oxford summer meeting established on the basis of the Chautauqua idea, the hundreds of thousands of readers who have been connected with the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, the tens of thousands of homes into which a new light has penetrated as a result of the Chautauqua idea, the hundreds of thousands of books which have been bought and read by those who were eager for a learning which had been denied them, we obtain a faint conception of the meaning and significance of the term Chautauqua. For what will Bishop Vincent's name stand in the fardistant future? As what will he be best known? As student, preacher, or teacher? I do not hesitate to say that his fame will go down to our children's children as a teacher and an educator. His work has influenced for good the cause of education more strongly than that of any man living today. What are the ideas which he has emphasized? The answer may be given briefly: (1) Education and life are inseparable, indeed identical, and consequently this thing called education is something which should be continuous, never ceasing, lasting as long as lile lasts. LANDING PIER ON LAKE CHAUTAUQUA One must come in contact with people, and especially with "the ablest men and women, specialists, scientists, littérateurs," "great teachers who know how to inspire and quicken minds," and from whom a special inspiration may be gained for the doing of special service. One must travel at home and abroad, and bring himself into contact THE HAIL IN THE GROVE, CHAUTAUQUA with the localities in which the great lives of the world have been lived and its great events enacted. Per haps more may be gained than in any other way from personal thought and meditation, in hours during which one is able to examine himself and hold before his soul a mirror in which shall be reflected his inner life and thought. (3) Education is not limited to any place or places. It should be the highest work of the home, and the entire policy of the home life should be directed towards the encouragement of that kind of living which shall be essen tially educative in its character. It will of course be the exclusive work of the school; but outside of school, at the desk, in the factory, anywhere and everywhere, the desire to secure it should be the most intense desire of the human heart. (4) Education shall not be restricted in time. At no stage in life should one feel that his education has been finished. There is no age at which the work of education is impossible. Every man should be a student every day through all the days of life. Very striking are the words with which Bishop Vincent closes his article in the Forum," ""How I was Educated:" "I am in school now as a student every day, and unfinished curricula reach out into undefined futures. I shall never 'finish' my education." These are the principles which underlie the Chautauqua movement; the factors which have entered into that movement to make it so great a success; the ideas for which the founder of Chautauqua has stood and to-day stands. Does some one suggest that these ideas are commonplace; that every one accepts them; that, indeed, they have never been denied? This, perhaps, may be true, but it is Chautauqua's founder who has made possible for many the realization of these ideas, who has laid such emphasis upon them, and given them such prominence that to-day they are the common property of all. Their, extended prevalence, it should be remembered, is due in large measure to the world-wide work of Chautauqua. In conclusion, no one who has been associated with Bishop Vincent has failed to observe two striking characteristics, both of which are closely related to what has already been said, both of which would be expected in a man of his antecedents. As he grows older in life he does not grow narrower. His views are constantly expanding, and his interest in the work that is going on about him increases every day. This is explained by his constant reading and studying, which have become a life habit. At the same time he stands loyally by what he believes to be the fundamental truths of his Church and his theology. No one is in doubt as to his position upon every essential question. This double characteristic which presents itself so clearly is perhaps the truest index of his character. No man ever heard Bishop Vincent speak without respecting him. No man ever came into close touch with him without loving him. ففرقة ON THE LAKE What are we set on earth for? Say, to toil; Theocritus O Singer of the field and fold, Thou sang'st the simple feasts of old, Thou bad'st the rustic loves be told, To-day our songs are faint and cold, -Austin Dobson. I T is related that a few years ago the good people of a pretty village, not remote from the great metropolis, having with considerable effort and sacrifice secured a few thousand dollars for the building of a rural church, went to an eminent architect for advice and designs. Their committee were quite aflame with schemes and ideas for the new building-much, indeed, as the private citizen is apt to be when contemplating the erection of a house for his own family. Many of them had sought the available books on Church Architecture, and fastened upon some especial feature or features that seemed to them supremely desirable. One hoped that "whatever else might be lacking, the church would have a plenty of gargoyles, as they were the most charming features of any church." Another greatly admired flying buttresses, and desired to have one or two, "to give it such a cathedral effect," and, when a more practical brother remonstrated that they were unsuitable for their little church, as they were the constructive features of great vaulted naves, replied that "they were remarkable triumphs of construction, and one would certainly be a very educational feature in the town." Still another desired the highest spire in the county, urging that it could be cheaply done in slate, and so not only be a lofty landmark, but a monument to their economy and ability to make much out of little." A member who was specially interested in matters ecclesiastical longed for "nave, aisles, transept, and an ambulatory-an ambulatory, if possible." only a little village church to seat two or three hundred persons." "Oh! I see," replied the architect-" you want a cathedral in a bandbox." This desire for a "cathedral in a bandbox" has for a long time been the bane of our rural churches. It is not always a Gothic cathedral which is desired, but, whatever may be its style, it is apt to be a building of a too pretentious type for the means in hand, the community, or the uses required. This naturally leads to an unsubstantial and tawdry structure-perhaps the most despicable combination that can be thought of. The moldings and ornaments, which on account of expense cannot be carried out in solid material, are executed in some inferior substance or in imitation of the genuine, and so the whole affair is disgraced, not only by poor material and work, but by the evident desire for ostentation, even if attained by a mockery, and by the fact that, if it teaches the community any lesson in connection with the worship of God, it is that display is the most desirable of attainments, and in the church, as in the world, "keeping up appearances," however false, is essential to success. Some time ago, as the writer was journeying through a beautiful portion of New England, far from railroads and works that reminded of the active forces of the time, but where mountain and lake scenery were of marvelous loveliness, upon passing around the side of a mountain he came in view of a little hamlet nestling in the hills—a scene that must once have been one of rare charm, but which was now quite spoiled by a church that had recently been erected. It was a cruciform building with a large square tower at the intersection of nave and transepts. The roof of the tower (which presented quite an extensive surface from any point of view) was covered with tiles which seemed to be of the brightest scarlet, and which, of course, had nothing in common with the natural surroundings, but was always asserting itself in the most positive manner, giving the "rash gazer constant provocation to "wipe his eye." Another extremely inharmonious and staring color effect, even at a distance, was the glazing of the windows, which were showily done in opalescent glass, a material which, however fine in its interior effect, is liable to distressing exterior results unless managed with great care. Here the crude blues and whites of the "art glass," as tradesmen nowadays delight to call it, did their best to vie with the scarlet tile of the tower, and, it must be confessed, with no mean success. The nearer approach to the building did not reveal any mitigating features. The elaborate cornice of the central tower proved to be of galvanized iron, painted to match the stone of the walls; the greatly foliated window-tracery was of wood, the joints and cracks of which were opening in many places; the ornate cappings of buttresses and pinnacles were of cement or artificial stone; the showy, clumsy finials and crestings were of cast iron, but gilded in so generous a manner that they added still more to the glaring effect of the building. Later inquiry brought out these facts: that the summer boarders in this lovely mountain region desired a house of worship, had contributed liberally towards it, and, finally, the large subscription of a wealthy lady completed the amount deemed necessary; that it was thought a fitting and happy thing to make it a memorial to a home missionary who had spent his life- -a most laborious and self-denying one-in that part of the country; that the fashioning of the building had been put in the hands of a young architect who was summering in the neighborhood; that it was soon likely to be closed, as it was some five thousand dollars in debt, it having been found that so much "elegance" could not be secured for the sum contemplated. This story of a village church is not an unusual one. the failure to take a simple type of building which could be admirably and solidly built within the means at disposal, which would from its very simplicity be likely to harmonize with its natural surroundings and add to their charms, many a pretty countryside has had its beauty ruined by a building of a style so pretentious as to be unfitted for its place and purpose, and so inherently expensive that it could be built only in a cheap and flimsy manner, even then running its founders into debt. How often, as we journey in England or France, we are strongly attracted by the village churches, until at length we come to watch for them as among the most pleasing objects to be met! They seem so simple, so effective, so suited to their sites, and so in harmony with nature generally. Not only are the most refined and cultivated charmed by them, but every one declares them "picturesque" and "lovely," and has a feeling that they could not be other than they are without a distinct loss to the little town or hamlet. And what are the factors from which the little buildings receive this beauty and interest? Usually low, massive walls of rugged stone; an immense roof that surmounts them, with few or possibly no features to break its surface (which gets quite enough relief from its rough, deep-toned covering); a few simple but welllocated windows, and occasionally the walls between them. strengthened by bold, irregular buttresses. Very likely there may be a low, sturdy stone tower connected with the building at some unexpected point, or growing out of its composition-often, however, seeming quite an accidental matter. Who has not met with such buildings again and again, and longed to transport them to his own neighborhood, or at least reproduce their like? They were sometimes the crowning glory of the town. They had lasted for numberless decades, and deserve as many in the future, gathering around them the associations, affection, and interests of generation after generation. They cannot become out of fashion, for they have never entered into the passing fancies and fads of the time. season of the first anniversary of her death-the 3d of September-for Mr. Barrie to illumine her memory with the reflected light of his fame, by publishing "Margaret Ogilvy," in her honor. The affectionate appropriateness of this tribute is best understood by those who best knew the perfect sympathy of their relations, the afterglow of which may perhaps receive a more personal tinge of coloring from these few reminiscences of an American's visit to Mrs. Barrie and her surroundings-"Thrums." Kirriemuir "Thrums "-located sixty-odd miles north of Edinburgh, was visited even in the summer of 1890 by 3,500 pilgrims, who voiced a small part of the Scotch applause. A local guide-book has now been published, and one of Scotland's best photographers has taken pictures of the famous village, to satisfy the demands of enthusiastic visitors. In 1891 it was the privilege of the writer, in company with two Scotch friends, to be shown the Barrie landmarks of the town by one of its former provosts, Mr. Ogilvie, who knew the Barrie family. The epicurean sightseer, accustomed to picturesque fare, finds little to suit his taste here. The streets are treeless and relentlessly monotonous, unenlivened by the gay flowering window-boxes which are so familiar a sight in humblest English homes. A small eye of a window is quite a common feature, and lends an architectural squint to the village countenance. Typifying the Scotch propensity for presenting the most unattractive aspect possible, the small red sandstone dwellings apparently "turn their backs on the pub , одчіварив lic," being generally entered through a rear garden, and with no door opening upon the street. Any one accustomed to the American version of " tenement" would be surprised to hear that term applied to the row of two-storied houses (in one of which Mr. Barrie was born) to distinguish them from the ordinary one-storied cottages. Mr. Barrie asserts that many of the "Thrums" weav ers "lived and died 'Thoreaus' without knowing it," and he had every opportunity for forming this opinion, as his father, still living, hale and hearty at eighty years of age, was a hand-loom manufacturer who employed several men, and carried on the weaving on the first floor of his dwelling. In former times, during the dark Northern winter days, often one weaver read aloud some paper, thus supplying his companions with topics for discussion, while a small hanging "cruizee," primitive in its whale-oil and rush pith, feebly furnished artificial light; but it is told how mischievous "laddies," not more contented then than now with the sober light of knowledge and philosophy, would delight in slyly cutting the "cruizee's" string, momentarily illuminating the darkened scene by a flash of fun!-one more glimpse of "Thrums villagers, who, if philosophical and humorous, are also, it appears, eminently independent and self-respecting, for a shoemaker who, in consequence of his friendship for one of her Majesty's gillies, had received repeated orders to make shoes for the Queen-the condition of satisfaction, comfort, being complied with still sturdily refused to consider himself or his work improved by royal patronage (thus differing from London's gayly emblazoned shopkeepers of Piccadilly and Regent Street), and scorned to placard his shop "Bootmaker to the Queen"! The "Auld Licht Kirk" building and the Town Hall in the market-place especially demanded attention, for they echoed loudest with the public life of the past. The Town Hall still stands; from the outside stairway of which, according to an old custom, the sales for the coming week were formerly announced on Sunday. The "Auld Licht Kirk" building, demolished since the writer's visit to it, was built of stone, painted white, and its form in nowise suggested ecclesiastical affairs. The floor was of stone and earth. Several hundred people could be accommodated, but the attendance had dwindled to thirty or forty faithful souls, who dauntlessly aspired to a new edifice. The minister's pew, located in a corner near the entrance, was the only one upholstered, contained a cloth-covered center-table, and could be closed by a narrow door. When the building was torn down, Mr. Barrie pur |