little besides in heaven or earth: who thought more of our seats in the School than of the Church of Christ, and put the traditions of Rugby and the public opinion of boys in our daily life above the laws of God? We couldn't enter into half that we heard; we hadn't the knowledge of our own hearts or the knowledge of one another; and little enough of the faith, hope, and love needed to that end. But we listened, as all boys in their better moods will listen (ay, and men, too, for the matter of that), to a man whom we felt to be, with all his heart and soul and strength, striving against whatever was mean and unmanly and unrighteous in our little world. It was not the cold clear voice of one giving advice and warning from serene heights to those who were struggling and sinning below, but the warm living voice of one who was fighting for us and by our sides, and calling on us to help him and ourselves and one another. And so, wearily and little by little, but surely and steadily on the whole, was brought home to the young boy, for the first time, the meaning of his life: that it was no fool's or sluggard's paradise into which he had wandered by chance, but a battle-field ordained from of old, where there are no spectators, but the youngest must take his side, and the stakes are life and death. And he who roused this consciousness in them showed them at the same time, by every word he spoke in the pulpit, and by his whole daily life, how the battle was to be fought; and stood there before them their fellow-soldier and the captain of their band. The true sort of captain, too, for a boys' army, one who had no misgivings and gave no uncertain word of command, and, let who would yield or make a truce, would fight the fight out (so every

boy felt) to the last gasp and the last drop of blood. Other sides of his character might take hold of and influence boys here and there, but it was this thoroughness and undaunted courage which more than anything else won his way to the hearts of the great mass of those on whom he left his mark, and made them believe first in him, and then in his Master.

THE RIGHT STANDARD. From "Shadows of the Stage," second series. Copyright, 1893, by Macmillan & Company. (Reprinted with permission.) By

WILLIAM WINTER.

CRIM

RITICISM is neither hostility nor scorn. The motive that impels a thoughtful observer to condemn much that is accepted by the multitude is not the wish merely to injure or to contemptuously deride or dismiss the popular mediocrity, but the desire that the age shall excel in all kinds of worth, and that the people shall both be the best and have the best. The poet Pope asserted the comfortable doctrine that "whatever is is right." Mr. Chalcote, the brewer, in Robertson's comedy of "Ours," announced the freer though less agreeable conclusion, that "whatever is is wrong." There are writers who celebrate the glories of the present age, and who continually minister to vanity by informing the people that they are but little lower than the angels. Such writers are not the source of strength and help. The world does not prosper through being flattered. Too much is heard about the rights of man; too little about his duties. The moralists who frankly tell a people the truth, when that people, as often happens, is doing wrong and going wrong, are better friends of mankind than the flatterers of the popular mood and conduct.

Man is a brotherhood. In Roman days it was a saying with the aristocrats of mind and of rank, “The common people like to be deceived; deceived let them be." That saying was the essence of selfishness—a selfishness that the better part of the intellectual world has outgrown. There cannot be one law for persons of superior mental endowment and another law for the

rest. Knowledge avails nothing unless it be communicated. Blessings are but half blessings if you keep them to yourself. Those who have clear vision and stalwart strength of mind should guide the rest of the world. The advancement of all human beings concerns every individual. The safety and comfort of the top of the pyramid depend on the security of the base. The enlightened philosopher knows that it is both selfinterest and benevolence to keep the multitude in the right path-to civilise, to refine, to lead upward the masses of mankind, so that their eyes may be opened to beauty, their minds to truth, and their hearts to gentleness and aspiration. The guidance of the people is the duty of the thinker, and if he performs that duty he will sometimes speak in terms of censure, and he will make the censure positive enough to be felt and to be productive of good results.

Observation, with extended view, perceives that people in general are more deeply interested in what they call amusements than in serious occupations. You must study popular amusements, therefore, if you wish to understand the mental condition and tendency of the people. Those matters engross much attention, and it is through the discussion and guidance of their amusements that the people are most easily and directly reached and affected. Two methods of that discussion and guidance, both long in vogue, are sharply contrasted in contemporary practice-that of universal laudation, and that of objection and remonstrance. The former largely predominates, and it has wrought evil by making bad matters worse. Within recent years—although noble and beautiful works have been shown, and important steps have been taken-an

avalanche of trash has been cast upon the stage, and the people have accepted it and have, practically, approved it, while scarcely a voice among public censors has been raised against that flagrant abuse of the theatre. On the contrary, the public has been told to accept it, has been praised for accepting it, and has been prompted to encourage the extension of it. "We are a hard-working, nervous, tired community”—so runs the stream of mischievous counsel-"and we need recreation. When we go to the theatre we want to be amused. We do not want to think. Let us have something light!” Thus cajoled, and thus cajoling itself, the popular intelligence surrenders to folly, and the average theatrical manager brings forth Rag Babies and Parlor Matches, and complacently remarks, "I must give them what they want."

The writers and the managers who reason in that way do not reason well. custom of viewing the stage as an "amusement” ever It is unfortunate that the prevailed; for the stage is an institution higher and finer than any amusement, and it possesses an influence upon society second only to that of the hearthstone. But, even viewing it as one of the amusements, no man has a right to degrade its character or impair its usefulness. If we overwork ourselves, as a community, let us quit that injurious and useless custom. Half of the activity that people commonly call "work" consists of parade and pother. The actual work of the world is done silently, by the minority, and usually it does not occupy all the time or exhaust all the strength. Let us economise our energies and stop the snorting and the waste. If we are "tired" and "nervous" we can, surely, rest and refresh the nerves with