on the bank, an' he called out to 'em to know if they'd ketched anythin'.

"The water jest run down my cheeks when I heerd the min'ster tell that, an' it kinder makes my eyes wet every time I think on't. For't seems 'sif it might 'a' been me in that boat, who heern that v'ice I loved so dreffle well speak up agin so natural from the bank there. An' he eat some o' their fish! O' course, he done it to sot their minds easy, to show 'em he wa'n't. quite a sperrit yit, but jest their own ole frien', who'd been out in the boat with 'em so many, many times. But seems to me jest the fac' he done it kinder makes fish an' fishin' different from any other thing in the hull airth. I tell you them four books that gin his story is chock full o' things that go right to the heart o' fishermen-nets, an' hooks, an' boats, an' the shores, an' the sea, an' the mountings, Peter's fishing-coat, lilies, an' sparrers, an' grass o' the fields, an' all about the evenin' sky bein' red or lowerin' an' fair or foul weather."

In this Fishin' Jimmy has given the keynote of his life. Very little else was said by him of the fruits of this strange conversion, but everybody throughout the neighborhood spoke of his unselfishness, his charity, his kindly deeds and his fondness for children. He taught the boys and girls to fish. He even picked up a little girl baby of an unknown woman, who had fallen dead near the roadside, and the two became great friends.

But one thing troubled Fishin' Jimmy. He wanted to be a "fisher of men," like those the great teacher had called from their boats.

"I make b'l'eve that it was out on Streeter's Pond, an' I was sittin' in the boat fixin' my lan'in'-net, when I see him on the shore. I think mebbe I'm that James-for

that's my given name, ye know, though they allers call me Jimmy-an' then I hear him callin' me, 'James, James!' I can hear him jest's plain sometimes, when the wind's blowin' in the trees, an' I jest ache to up and foller him. 'But,' says he, 'I'll make ye a fisher o' men,' an' he ain't done it. I'm waitin'; mebbe he'll larn me some day."

One afternoon there came over Franconia Notch one of those strangely sudden tempests which sometimes visit that mountain country. It had been warm that day, unusually warm for that refreshingly cool spot, but suddenly the sky grew dark and darker, almost to blackness; there was roll of thunder and flash of lightning, and then poured down the rain-rain at first, but soon hail in large frozen bullets, which fiercely pelted any who ventured outdoors, rattled against the windows of the Profile House with sharp cracks like sounds of musketry, and lay upon the piazza in heaps like snow. And in the midst of the wild storm it was remembered that two boys, guests at our hotel, had gone up Mount Lafayette alone that day. They were young boys unused to mountain climbing, and their friends were anxious. It was found that Dash had followed them, and just as some one was to be sent in search of them, a boy from the stables brought the information that Fishin' Jimmy had started up the mountain after them as the storm broke.

"Said if he couldn't be a fisher o' men mebbe he knowed 'nuff to ketch boys," went on our informant, seeing nothing more in the speech, full of pathetic meaning to us who knew him, than the idle talk of one whom many considered lackin'. Jimmy was old now, and had of late grown very feeble, and we did not like to think of him out in that wild storm. And now suddenly the lost boys themselves appeared

through the opening in the woods opposite the house, and ran in through the hail, now falling more quietly.

Dash did not appear, and as the hours went by, the old man did not return. A searching party was sent out after him. It was nearly night when they found him, at the foot of a mass of rock which looked liked amethyst or wine-red agate, in that marvelous evening light, and Dash was with him. He had missed the boys, and while stumbling along in search, though feeble and weary, he had heard far down the rocky ledge a sound of distress, and old Dash, his fishing comrade, was in trouble. Jimmy saw him holding up his paw helplessly, and looking at him with wistful, imploring brown eyes. He heard his pitiful, whimpering cry for aid, and never doubted his great distress and peril, so the old man, without a second's hesitation, started down the steep, smooth decline to the rescue of his friend. We do not know just how or where, in that terrible descent, he fell. Exhausted by his exertions, and yet clambering down that precipitous cliff, made more slippery and treacherous by the sleet and hail still falling, it seemed impossible that he could have kept a foothold for an instant.

Across the road, slowly, carefully came strong men, bearing on a rough, hastilymade litter of boughs, the dear old man. All that could have been done for the most distinguished guests, for the dearest, bestbeloved friend, was done for the gentle fisherman. We, his friends, and proud to style ourselves thus, were of different, widely-separated lands, greatly varying creeds. Some were nearly as old as the dying man, some in the prime of manhood. There were youths and maidens, and little children. But through the night we watched together. As he lay, he began speaking quietly, and the bishop, in a quick, broken whisper, said, "God bless the man; he's talking to his Master!"

"Yes, sir, that's so," went on the quiet voice, "'twas on'y a dog, sure 'nuff; 'twa'n't even a boy, as ye say, an' ye ast me to be a

fisher o' men, but I hain't had no chance for that, somehow, mebbe I wa'n't fit for't. I'm on'y a poor old fisherman-Fishin' Jimmy, ye know, sir. Ye uster call me James-no one else ever done it. On'y a dog? But he wa'n't jest a common dog. I never seed a man love fishin' mor'n Dash." The voice faltered for an instant, then went on:

"Yes, sir, I'm comin'-I'm glad, dreffle glad to come. Don't mind about my leavin' my fishin'; do ye think I care 'bout that? I'll jest lay down my pole ahin' the alders here, an' put my lan'in'-net on the stuns, with my flies an' tackle-the boys'll like 'em, ye know-an' I'll be right along, I mos' knowed ye was on'y a-tryin' me when ye said that 'bout how I hadn't been a fisher o' men, nor even boys, on'y a dog. 'Twas a-fishin' dog-ye know-an' ye was allers dreffle good to fishermen-dreffle good to everybody; died-for 'em, didn't ye?

"Please wait-on-the bank there a minnit, I'm comin' 'crost. Water's prettycold this-spring-an' the stream's risin'but-I-can-do it; don't ye mind-'bout me, sir. I'll get acrost."

Once more the voice ceased, and we thought we should not hear it again this side that stream. But suddenly a strange light came over the thin face, the soft gray eyes opened wide, and he cried out, with the strong voice we had so often heard come ringing out to us across the mountain streams above the sound of their rushing.

"Here I be, sir! It's Fishin' Jimmy, ye know, from Francony way-him ye useter call James when ye come 'long the shore o' the pond an' I was a-fishin'. I heern ye agin, jest now-an' I-straightway-fersook-my-nets-an-follered."

Had the voice ceased utterly? No, we could catch faint, low murmurs, and the lips still moved. But the words were not for us, and we did not know when he

reached the other bank.

FISHIN' JIMMY. By Annie Trumbull Slosson. Anson D. F. Randolph & Co., New York. May be ordered from publishers.

T

to

I remember some years ago a large English brewer founded an extensive hospital. His fame was published far and near. Somehow I felt that there was another side. My fancy pictured numbers of homes broken up on account of the curse of the liquor traffic. I saw mothers brought to suffering so much worse than death, that it beggars all description. I heard the cries of suffering childhood, who were brought into the world only to live a miserable existence. The ghosts of the murdered whose lives had been taken by men maddened with liquor, seemed to protest against the almost universal praise awarded the "philanthropist."

Is it any virtue when a man, realizing that at the moment of death he must sever his connection with money-all that he had lived for, maybe-for him to make a will leaving it to some charitable institution? Is it not in all cases, when wealth is not accumulated by strictly honest by strictly honest methods, a burlesque on philanthropy? That man who makes his money out of whisky, which is really building up his fortune out of the miseries of wives, mothers and children, and the dead bodies of men, insults true philanthropy by leaving money, which he cannot possibly take with

I believe that most men who wait until death to do charitable deeds, would not do them in their last will and testament if there was any possible way of carrying their riches with them into the next world. The true basis of giving should be based upon the willingness of men of means to give to as many as seem deserving and who seek it, an opportunity to earn their bread and butter.

A movement has already been started in some sections for promoting a purer journalism. Two thousand women in California have petitioned the San Francisco newspapers to elevate the moral tone of their columns and furnish papers free from the evils they deplore, sensationalism, personalities, vicious and debasing news, etc. No paper which devotes most of its space to records of crimes and sensational news, should be allowed to come into the home. Parents would do well to scan their daily and weekly papers before leaving them about for the children. If a person whose talk was as foul and debasing as the details of crime often are in newspapers, should seek members of our family for their associates, they would not for a moment be tolerated by us. Such, after all, are not so very much worse than are many copies of current newspapers.

I believe the day is coming when it will be

considered as grave an offense to smoke as it is now to drink whisky. Business men in New York City who employ 20,000 boys, have decided to give in every case preference to boys who do not smoke. A young gentleman seemingly thinks he is guilty of no misdemeanor when he puffs into a lady's face a mouthful of smoke, a part of which she inhales. If the smoke happened to be a liquid instead of a vapor, there would be no young lady who would not resent taking what came from a young gentleman's mouth into her own. It is only a difference of degree.

the REVIEW. I think I may be pardoned publishing one which, after all, only represents a large number received:

Dear Sir: I received a copy of your most admirable REVIEW, and after carefully examining it, find it to be one of the best. The articles and editorials are of a high grade and very helpful to a man of my profession. The "Winnowings" are especially helpful. You have here in a nutshell all that is going on in the magazines, and for a busy pastor the best thing out. I have been taking Public Opinion, but the price is so high that I was compelled to drop it. This REVIEW is equal to that and much (REV.) JAMES BENNINGER.

A little book, by Geo. D. Herron, is a series of lectures prepared, with the exception of chapter fourth, for the University of Michigan. They were repeated at Princeton College, Indiana University, Lawrence University and Union Theological Seminary. They are like fires at white heat, and are in line with Mr. Herron's views, elsewhere expressed, that "The church was not sent to be an institutional dominion, but a sacrificial and redemptive life in the world."

The Christian Society is the righteous exemplification of all true sociological facts. It is grounded in right social faiths, a society of justice and truth, and Jesus Christ offers the only scientific grounds for all facts and forces of life. Society, then, must be unity with all that is with God and man, with the moral and physical, with the known and the unknown. With this the Christian must be in sympathy, and

should see that nature, God, progress and social order are essentially Christian, because filled with God and because created and ordained for man's good.

Chapter first, on the scientific grounds for a Christian society, is the foundation of the after discussion. Christ, in His person, is the constitution of society, and the church, in the expression of His life, is the means employed for its ends. Society, then, is not rule and letter, institution and organization, but spirit and life; and they must be born of the spirit who would enter the social order of the communion of the spirit and see the Kingdom of God.

Society, according to gospel distinctions, is divided into rich and poor. For both classes, Mr. Herron has stirring words. For the poor the gospel is the good news of the Kingdom, the divine sonship of the people and the democracy of the people.

men.

For the rich the gospel is a message for sacrifice and fraternal consideration for all In a Christian society, men, rich and poor alike, can offer the Lord's Prayer as a true expression of real wants, in the spirit of Christ Jesus. Such are the author's conclusions.

The perusal of Mr. Herron's writings cause a sigh of regret that society is not as he presents it. There also comes a fear that it cannot be. Of course, everyone is not prepared to see in humanity all Mr. Herron sees. There is no question but that too many Christians think of the church merely as an institution and not a life. And it is devoutly to be hoped that writings of this class will stir hundreds of really. earnest men and women to real conceptions of their mission in the world. Unless such be the case and the ideas of Christian society prevail universally, the outlook for a Christian society short of Heaven itself is quite dubious. This is not, however, a faithless outlook. It is a practical view of things. It is a long way over rough paths of human sin and human selfishness to the gospel ideal. That the end can be reached, no Christian heart can doubt; that it can be reached without duly considering the difficulties involved, no sane man should for a moment entertain the thought. With entire sympathy in Mr. Herron's desires, I am compelled to say that his writings do not fairly estimate the difficulties involved. He would revolutionize society by a gospel that only a few understand. He would do it at once. He would do away with the

effects of human sin and error without reflecting upon how much of society will be required to do it.

A nation may be born in a day, but on condition of universal turning to God. Our God works largely through human agency. Here is the mission of the church.

But how should the church operate? Of course, by all agencies-the preacher, the people, the services, the wealth and influence of individual, by human sympathy and loving regard for men irrespective of position and circumstances. This is Mr. Herron's ideal of a church that knows and feels the errors of the world, and with sacrifice and suffering do all it can to redeem men by God's spirit to a new life, and have a new society. Now it is a long way between the ideal and the actual in society. Mr. Herron is doing a glorious work in showing the ideal and applying a gospel, hitherto largely in theory and dogma, to life itself. He may not be commissioned to show how the majority of men can be made to see the benefits of such a gospel and be persuaded, in the face of tradition, selfinterest and worldly ambition, to give up everything for Jesus Christ. To say that Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit can do it is what earnest preachers have ever said; to bring the gospel rule of life to bear practically in business, politics and morals in general, is becoming more and more the practice of earnest Christian men. By the multiplication of these Christian social factors seems to be the only way through the great stretch of intervening territory between the actual to-day and the ideal future.

May Mr. Herron's life be spared to show a practical application of gospel views, and may his pen continue to arouse men and women to the truth as it is in a real everyday Christ, is a prayer many are offering to God. The world needs leaders with Mr. Herron's courage, and it needs books full of instruction in the simplest ways of life. Everyone should read Mr. Herron's books and profit by them, and beneath the abounding rhetoric see a burning heart and a true interpretation of God's gospel in His son.