is due to the personal element; but the real cause is the change of condition. The pope is no longer open to old suspicions when he acts, and the world listens when he speaks, because his voice is not that of an Italian prince but that of the Bishop of Rome. If the Rochesterian were to frame an argument for the civil independence of the pope, he would base it on practical and political considerations. The existing condition in Italy cannot last; and statesmen should consider what is to take its place. The old system, "humanly speaking," was an utter failure, and should not be restored. It was unfair to other nations and unsatisfactory to Italy, like the present makeshift settlement. The arguments of Archbishop Ireland, as hinted in this discussion, cannot be pushed home from the religious standpoint; but they have force from the international standpoint. It is to the interest of Europe that there be no nationality in the papacy, no subserviency, no civil subjection, but absolute freedom, because in every nation there are multitudes of Catholics, spiritually subject to its authority. It is the business of sound statesmanship, therefore, to secure some sort of settlement that shall take the papacy absolutely out of European politics and make the pope independent. If nations could sink their religious animosities, which have retarded civilization for ages, this could be readily done. The pope could be established within a small reservation, the city of Rome would be the most natural place,-made sovereign within that sphere, and secured by international guarantees in peace and independence. That would be a simple as well as an ideal solution of the difficulty. He has no right to ask this; it is not essential to his spiritual authority; there is no obligation on the nations in the matter. It is only a plain, practical scheme for bringing about a great practical good.-March 6, 1901. TRADITIONAL SAYINGS In reading over a discussion of a few of the traditional sayings of Christ, one thinks, by a curious trick of association, of certain passages in the Gospels which suggest what he said rather than record it. When he was lost, and his parents found him in the temple, disputing with the doctors, "both hearing them, and asking them questions," we are told that "all that heard him were astonished at his understanding and his answers." As a little boy, the writer used to wonder how he dared to get lost, how his father and mother let him stray, but beyond everything else, what the doctors asked him, what he answered, and what he asked them. The thought of a child twelve years old putting all these learned people to confusion was delicious; but one longed to know just how he did it, and partake of his triumph to the last drop. Then the phrase, “But his mother kept all these sayings in her heart," is deliciously tantalizing. It is not strange, for all mothers keep in memory the prattle of a child, and most of them are ever ready to tell it over to eager or unwilling auditors, -the quaint, the nonsensical, the impudent, the trivial, glorified in maternal love; but, alas, we cannot know the secrets of the divine boyhood, the things that Mary kept in her heart. Would that some mother who is a poet might give even a faint and dreamy conception of them! Another passage that vexes one is the closing verse in St. John, after the relation of incidents succeeding the resurrection: "And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written." To be perfectly frank, the writer used to feel so dissatisfied, when he came to this “lame and impotent conclusion" of the last Gospel, that he felt like impeaching the sincerity of the evangelist. What business had he, if there was so much more to record, to neglect the task? And if there was nothing more that seemed essential, why did he vex the imagination with that vague allusion to divine converse and adventure, and set one into a torment of thinking as to what may have happened after the commission to Peter and the promise to John of survival to the second coming? IS IT REVERENT? There has come into vogue recently a habit of talking about the Saviour in a way that the Rochesterian is old-fashioned enough to dislike. We are told what He would do if He came to Chicago; if He were editor of a newspaper; if He were proprietor of a department store. Nothing could be more irreverent; and, therefore, to put the matter on the very lowest plane, nothing could be in worse taste. We know what He did and what He taught, and that if we take the lesson to heart, any task that we do in life may become consecrate. Those among us commissioned to preach His gospel ought to have full faith that when they are following His example they are doing what He would do. That was the labor He laid out for them. In no other wise will they inspire or regenerate men. If they do their work in His spirit, the rest of us may do our work better, and the Golden age may come. There is little hope else.-March 19, 1900. TWO HACKNEYED WORDS There are two words much in use at present, and altogether overworked, optimist and pessimist. A man says, when any clearly existent evil comes up for discussion, and he smiles superior as he says it: "I am an optimist; that is a blessing in disguise." In calling himself an optimist he seems to think that he is asserting that he is cheerful, hopeful, wise, in harmony with the divine order. And he adds in a condescending way to his opponent, "Oh, you are a pessimist"-as if criticism were a weakness of mind or a disease leading to senseless despair. Here is an utter misconception of the meaning of the words optimism and pessimism. The true optimist is the man who believes that the world can be made better than it is, sees the evil in human nature and in human society, and makes a strenuous struggle against it. The true pessimist is the man who looks on the world as it is, accepts it with all its ills and dangers as the best to which human nature can attain, and decries every criticism of the bad in it, every aspiration for a higher future, and every struggle against wrong. Christ was one of the worst of pessimists, taking the current interpretation of the word; for he was at war with the society into which he was born.-January 31, 1903. Notes on Journalism THE LEADING ARTICLE In a speech at the 60th anniversary dinner of the "Newsvendors' Benevolent and Provident Institute," Lord Rosebery discussed the newspaper business, and, like many other gentlemen in public life, he essayed to define his ideal of a newspaper. He said: "It seems to me that there is some demand for practical journalism, more demand for knowing how people live and what people are doing; less demand, if I may say so, for leading articles which criticize the news of the day, more demands for news of all kinds itself. I sometimes wonder what would be an ideal newspaper, and I believe it would be a well-arranged 'Times' without the leading articles. I do not mean to say that I have any particular objection to the leading articles in the 'Times,' which, for all I know, may be the best ever written or conceived. But my idea is that the 'Times' is, on the whole, the first newspaper in this country, and, if it is the first newspaper in this country, the first newspaper in the world. What I should like best is to have the best conceivable newspaper without any articles to assist me in my criticism of the news. Perhaps, after all, we may reach that ideal. The leading articles are being cut down, not by lines, but by paragraphs, and we may at last reach the ideal moment when the newsvendors and the children, whose cause we advocate to-night, may be shrieking aloud in reference to the newspapers, 'Nothing but truth.' No, I do not mean what you mean. I mean truth undefiled. My idea of journalistic happiness would be that we have advertised and brought to our notice nothing but truth, uncriticized, unmitigated |