To develop or evolve just such a self-perpetuating organism is the aim and end and crowning work of organic life. The lower forms of animal life were and are perishable and ephemeral. Those that are exceptions and are longer-lived, are species in which the life forces are sluggish, and the waste is exceedingly slow. Nature builds up human organisms weighing from one to two hundred pounds, which must be entirely rebuilt every few years, and yet are capable of living and vigorous action even for a century. We all know how simply and yet how wisely and beautifully this is done. The organism draws its supplies from the great world of substance in existence around it. Having appropriated and used its material and force for its own purposes, it returns the debris to surrounding nature, and takes in new pabulum. Under favoring circumstances, some of these organisms have existed into the second century.

By strict compliance with all the laws of nature, we can hardly tell how long even these ponderable and coarse bodies might last.

We can readily understand, then, that an organism so pure, and perfect, and refined, that to our scales it is imponderable, to our eyes invisible, to our touch intangible, might be perpetually enduring. Its activities would produce the waste of so little substance that it could easily and readily be replaced. As the matter by it used would be no more destroyed than is the matter used by our present bodies, and as it has the whole universe of matter from which to draw its supplies, there is no reason why it could not continue as an organized entity forever.

That it might at remote periods, perhaps, cast off an external covering, as it does this it now inhabits, is indeed possible. This would, however, only render it more and more capable of continued and perpetual existence.

It is not intended or attempted in this paper to actually prove the existence of such an interior entity, even if it could be done. It is only desired to show from the processes of nature, and analogies derived therefrom, that an individualized, organized entity com

mencing on this planet may not necessarily cease to exist here.

If we

There is no doubt in the writer's mind that all existence, and life, and intelligence, and spirit now on this planet began here, not as new matter and new force, but, as before said, as new manifestations of old matter and old force. The idea of the preexistence of the intelligent personality is entirely too shadowy, and is unsupported by any evidence. An intelligent preëxistence that has lost all its intelligence, knowledge, and memory, amounts to no existence at all. It is an existence without useful results; a trifling waste of time, and entirely at variance with the usual economy of nature. have had innumerable preëxistent experiences, and come into this life, as we do, without knowing anything, it is, to say the least, extremely discouraging for the future. All the innumerable facts of heredity are powerful arguments against independent preëxistence. Our tendencies, our dispositions, our intellectual peculiarities, in fact, very many of the things that make up our individual personality and identity, can be directly traced back to father and mother and preceding ancestors. This would not and could not be so, if an independent preëxistent soul took possession of our bodily organism, and developed and controlled it. We should then be independent of heredity. Nearly every fact of nature tends to prove that all there is of us bodily, intellectually, and spiritually began here, and is the result of organic life.

If, then, the final work of development on this planet produces an immortal entity that is capable of everlasting improvement and unfolding, we can see that evolution means something. The long labor and travail of nature has not been fruitless. The waiting has been long, but the result has been glori

ous.

Sometime we may be able to trace back the upward steps, and be wise enough to comprehend and understand the philosophical necessity of the long, tedious, laborious processes that have attended the progress of the past from star dust up to immortal spirit.

E. A. Clark.

In presenting a new metrical translation of the Dies Ira-the famous medieval hymn which has been so often translated, reproduced, paraphrased, and imitated a few prefatory words may not be out of place.

Not a great while ago two translations of the hymn with the Latin text appeared in one of our local journals. A critical and comparative examination of these, commenced as a pastime, became a curious and interesting study, which-pursued at intervals, and at times almost forgotten-finally resulted in a translation; first in iambic, and then, that which is here presented, in the more difficult trochaic measure, with the ternary double rhyme, and the rhythmic quantities more in conformitity with the original.

A "Bibliography of the Dies Ira,” recently published in the Bulletin of the Mercantile Library of Philadelphia, abundantly illustrates the great labor which has heretofore been bestowed in the numerous efforts made to effect translations, and is also sufficiently suggestive that no satisfactory one has yet been accomplished, but that the fascinating and illusive theme remains unexhausted.

In attempting a literal translation of the Latin, in similar English verse, the chief dif ficulty is encountered in the necessity of providing for each stanza three appropriate English words of double rhyme, and to accomplish this it often becomes necessary to resort to paraphrase; but even then, as it must be admitted, the solemn grandeur and

musical cadences, with the peculiar vowel assonances, which characterize the Latin verse, cannot be reproduced in our language.

Beginning with an exclamation from the Scripture " Dies Ira, Dies Illa"-the first six stanzas of the hymn are descriptive of the last judgment: the eleven next succeeding contain an appeal and supplication for mercy made, in view of the impending judg ment, solely in behalf of the actor. The last stanza, classed by some as of the addenda, has sometimes been translated as being a universal prayer for the dead, as if the word "huic" referred to the word "homo," and this is the adaptation generally made when the hymn is used in the church service; but by others the stanza has been construed as if it were intended, like the eleven immediately preceding it, to be a part of the same individual appeal for mercy. In the version here given, the latter interpretation has been adopted ; but if the former should be deemed preferable, a corresponding change can be made by substituting in the last two lines. "me" for "him"; or the stanza may be translated, as follows:

Day of tears and lamentation,
Man from dust and earth's cremation
Guilty comes; O, God, prepare him
For that judgment day and spare him!

Precedents have been followed in making use of the present tense of verbs, in place of the futures and future participles of the original.

Tuba, mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulchra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.

Mors stupebit, et natura,
Quum resurget creatura,
Judicanti responsura.

Liber scriptus proferetur,
In quo totum continetur,
Unde mundus judicetur.

Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet apparebit,
Nil inultum remanebit.

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus,
Quem patronum rogaturus,
Quum vix justus sit securus?

Rex tremendæ majestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis.

Recordare, Jesu pie,
Quod sum causa tuæ viæ;
Ne me perdas illâ die.

Quærens me, sedisti lassus,
Redemisti, crucem passus!
Tantus labor non sit cassus.

Juste Judex ultionis, Donum fac remissionis Ante diem rationis.

Ingemisco tanquam reus,
Culpâ rubet vultus meus;
Supplicanti parce, Deus!

Qui Mariam absolvisti,
Et latronem exaudisti,
Mihi quoque spem dedisti.

Præces meæ non sunt dignæ,
Sed tu bonus fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.

Inter oves locum præsta,

Et ab hædis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextrâ.
Confutatis maledictis
Flammis acribus addictis,
Voca me cum benedictis.

Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis;
Gere curam mei finis.

Lachrymosa dies illa! Qua resurget ex favillâ, Judicandus homo reus: Huic ergo parce, Deus!

Trumpet's wondrous peal is falling, All the dead of ages calling,

To the throne, in sounds appalling.

Death and nature, stunned and quaking,

See resurgent man awaking,
While the day of doom is breaking.

There the book divinely worded,
Open lies with all recorded:
Whence the judgments are awarded.

Lo the Judge the throne ascending;
Lo! the veil of secrets rending:
Naught is spared the vengeance pending.

Oh, what then shall I be saying;
Whom invoke for aid while praying,
When the just are fear betraying?

King of majesty and splendor, Who dost free salvation tender, Mercy's source, be my defender.

Blessed Jesus, my salvation Caused thy gracious visitation; Leave me not to condemnation.

Toiling, weary, thou hast sought me,
On the cross redemption brought me ;
Be this hope not vainly taught me.

Holy Judge of retribution,
Grant me saving absolution
Ere the judgment distribution.

As in guilt I groan repenting,
Sin in shame's red blush lamenting;
Save me God, be thou relenting.

Mary's sin thou saw'st condoning;
Thou did'st heed the robber's moaning,
In my soul thus hope enthroning.

Prayers of mine are unavailing,
But do thou with grace prevailing,
Spare me endless fire and wailing.

With the sheep from goats divided,
Be for me a place provided,
On thy right to safety guided.

When the wicked, headlong flying,
Doomed to flames in woe are crying,
Call thou me to joy undying.

Low in prayer before thee bending, Grief my contrite heart is rending; Shield me when this life is ending.

Day of tears and lamentation,

When from dust and earth's cremation
Man shall rise: O God, prepare me
For that judgment day, and spare me !
John S. Hager.

It was a delightful surprise to me, one hot August afternoon, to receive a dispatch from my friend, the Professor, proposing, if agreeable, to join me for a short raid on some trout streams we knew of in the wild fastnesses of the Sierra Nevada. The pleasant visions the trip opened out to me, amongst which those snow-banks near the summit figured prominently, caused me to instantly return him a favorable reply; and ere three days more had passed, our preparations were all completed, and we were only waiting the advent of darkness before bidding adieu, for a season, to the ways and haunts of civilized life. Our avowed object in starting at night was to avoid traveling during the intense heat of the day. Some of our friends rather intimated it was to escape the criticism our personal appearance was liable to awaken. As we reversed our mode of travel after the first night, it is barely possible their view of the case may have been the correct one.

Our expedition had been projected on an extremely limited scale. My friend and I My friend and I constituted the infantry, while the cavalry was represented by an ancient Rosinante, destined to convey the few articles we, as old campaigners, considered all-sufficient for our mountain wants. The guarantee of his owner that the horse was always gentle, proved singularly truthful and satisfactory; and as the only compensation he exacted for his services was a promise from us "not to bring back anything but his shoes," we felt that, in a pecuniary sense, we were making a decided success of it from the start.

Feeling fully competent to act as guide, I elected myself to that position, and decided we should take the ridge road, which, though longer, would avoid the heavy timber and consequent darkness of the lower one; but before a dozen miles had been passed over, I became painfully conscious of the fact that I had not the slightest idea where we were, or whither we were tending. The road was an unknown one to me, and an indescribably

rough one; down, down we went, pitching and plunging deeper and deeper into almost total darkness. The subject being an uninviting one, I carefully avoided it in my conversation with the Professor, who was bringing up the rear of our cavalcade, I having our steed in tow; I supposed he, in his absent-minded way, and trusting entirely to me, would not think of it at all, or, if he did, would believe it was all right; and I, in the meanwhile, would find some way to get out of the scrape. But a crisis was precipitated by his calling out, as though in soliloquy, but unnecessarily loud, "This is surely the most bewildering state of affairs I ever encountered in all my varied experiences. I have traveled over the greater portion of three continents, and supposed I had seen every imaginable variety of landscape; but this is the first time I ever found a ridge tightly wedged in between two high mountain ranges."

I promptly called a halt, and after making a clean breast of it, tendered my resignation as guide; it was not accepted, and we soon resumed our march, deciding it was better to grope our way onward, no matter where this strange road might lead us, than to demoralize ourselves thus early by retreating.

A few more trying miles had been accomplished, when I was again stopped by my friend's saying, in a puzzled tone, "Nearly ever since our last halt, our charger has been acting very strangely. His gait is far from uniform; his front feet keep up a regular walk, but his rear ones are continually breaking out into a kind of waltz. Do you suppose his pack is all right ?"

"Oh, yes," I replied confidently; "that is all right; I believe I understand packing, and I put it on to stay"; and I reached around through the darkness to give the pack a confirmatory shake. Alas, o packing was there! Only a rope, tightly bound across the "gentle" creature's back.

The discovery of our loss was very humil.

iating to me, and I unkindly tried to throw some of the blame upon the Professor by saying, "It strikes me if I had been walk ing behind that horse, I should have recognized the pack when I fell over it."

He quieted me by saying calmly, "On anything but a 'ridge' road you probably would, my dear young friend; but they are so filled with stumps and roots that a slight obstruction like our pack would never be noticed."

I began gathering some leaves together to start a fire to throw some light upon the subject, while the Professor pleasantly beguiled the time and encouraged me by saying, that, having no further use for the horse, and as I probably had the facilities about me for detaching his shoes, we would soon be ready to resume our little pleasure trip without him.

A new surprise awaited us when the fire blazed up, for there, beneath the animal, all our effects were safely swinging; his "waltz" having been caused by his "rear" feet trying to find something besides the pack to walk on.

While I was putting things to rights, my friend was maneuvering around the bow of our craft, and an excited exclamation from him sent my blood down to zero again.

“Out with it, man !" I said resignedly; "I am past being surprised, and am prepared for anything he hasn't lost his head, has he?"

"Oh, no," he replied soothingly, "Only the use of it-do you know, he is sound asleep and snoring vigorously ?"

"It is more likely," said I, taking a practical view of the case, "he has become paralyzed by the sawing of this rope on his spine for the past hour."

"I think not," the Professor answered calmly, "It appears to be only a case of chronic drowsiness-it certainly has been dark enough for him to sleep nicely, and I think quite likely his nap is all that has saved us from having an active eruption of circus, here on the ridge."

The darkness seemed more intense than ever when we were again plunging through

it, and only about a mile more had been scored when our horse stopped so suddenly that the Professor walked part way over him before he succeeded in checking himself. The trouble was caused by his having become tightly wedged between two trees that stood directly in our path; we had at last found the end of the road, and the statement I had made a few minutes before, that it would surely bring us out somewhere pretty soon, though plausible, proved to be unreliable.

I did not trust myself to speak for some moments; I felt the utter folly of trying to grapple with the subject, and I think it was a disappointment to my friend when I quietly told him I would yield the floor to him. His suggestions, as usual, were to the point. He believed he had had enough for the first night; he thought he could safely say the same for the horse; if I also had, why not make our first camp right there, and take daylight for our future explorations? But if I wanted more, we could go ahead, with a fine prospect of getting it in a very short time.

The result of his good advice was that in a few minutes the cheerful blaze of the huge fire we built had melted away all our annoyance at our recent mishaps. Our faithful horse had been released and unpacked, and we, wrapped in our blankets, with a soft bed of pine leaves beneath us, knew nothing more until awakened by the sun's bright rays streaming through the trees upon us.

Within a few minutes thereafter I had made several discoveries. One was that we had been traveling all night over a new, unfinished logging road; another, that our horse had been amusing himself by eating about half our supply of flour; and that a short distance away was a log cabin, from the chimney of which smoke was issuing. This I hastened to investigate, and soon returned with the glad tidings that I had found a man who had agreed to "knock a breakfast together for us in less than no time." When we came to dispose of it, we found it bore abundant evidence of having received some rather hard knocks, but we were too