upon these very questions. These convictions they must be allowed to iterate and reiterate, and to proclaim that in them is to be found the secret of all this (otherwise) unintelligible world.

The second exception is of those who pursue Truth as by a divine compulsion, and who can be likened only to the nympholepts of old; those unfortunates who, while carelessly strolling amidst sylvan shades, caught a hasty glimpse of the flowing robes or even of the gracious countenance of some spiritual inmate of the woods, in whose pursuit their whole lives were ever afterwards fruitlessly spent.

The nympholepts of Truth are profoundly interesting figures in the world's history, but their lives are melancholy reading, and seldom fail to raise a crop of gloomy thoughts. thoughts. Their finely touched spirits are not indeed liable to succumb to the ordinary temptations of life, and they thus escape the evils which usually follow in the wake of speculation; but what is their labour's reward?

Readers of Dr. Newman will remember, and will thank me for recalling it to mind, an exquisite passage, too long to be quoted, in which, speaking as a Catholic to his late Anglican associates, he reminds them how he once participated in their pleasures and shared. their hopes, and thus concludes:

'When, too, shall I not feel the soothing recollec'tion of those dear years which I spent in retirement, ' in preparation for my deliverance from Egypt, asking 'for light, and by degrees getting it, with less of 'temptation in my heart and sin on my conscience 'than ever before?'

But the passage is sad as well as exquisite, showing to us, as it does, one who from his earliest days has rejoiced in a faith in God, intense, unwavering, constant; harassed by distressing doubts, he carries them all, in the devotion of his faith, the warmth of his heart, and the purity of his life, to the throne where Truth sits in state; living, he tells us, in retirement, and spending great portions of every day on his knees; and yet we ask the question with all reverence— what did Dr. Newman get in exchange for his prayers?

6

'I think it impossible to withstand the evidence 'which is brought for the liquefaction of the blood of 'St. Januarius at Naples, or for the motion of the eyes of the pictures of the Madonna in the Roman 'States. I see no reason to doubt the material of the 'Lombard Cross at Monza, and I do not see why the 'Holy Coat at Trèves may not have been what it 'professes to be. I firmly believe that portions of the 'True Cross are at Rome and elsewhere, that the 'Crib of Bethlehem is at Rome, and the bodies of 'St. Peter and St. Paul: also I firmly believe that the 'relics of the Saints are doing innumerable miracles 'and graces daily. I firmly believe that before now 'Saints have raised the dead to life, crossed the seas 'without vessels, multiplied grain and bread, cured 'incurable diseases, and stopped the operations of the 'laws of the universe in a multitude of ways.'

So writes Dr. Newman, with that candour, that passion for putting the case most strongly against himself, which is only one of the lovely characteristics of the man whose long life has been a miracle of

beauty and grace, and who has contrived to instil into his very controversies more of the spirit of Christ than most men can find room for in their prayers. But the dilemma is an awkward one. Does the Madonna wink, or is Heaven deaf?

Oh, Spirit of Truth, where wert thou, when the remorseless deep of superstition closed over the head of John Henry Newman, who surely deserved to be thy best-loved son?

But this is a digression. With the nympholepts of Truth we have nought to do. They must be allowed to pursue their lonely and devious paths, and though the records of their wanderings, their conflicting conclusions, and their widely-parted resting-places may fill us with despair, still they are witnesses whose testimony we could ill afford to lose.

The

But there are not many nympholepts. symptoms of the great majority of our modern Truthhunters are very different, as they will, with their frank candour, be the first to admit. They are free 'to drop their swords and daggers' whenever so commanded, and it is high time they did.

With these two exceptions I think my prescription will be found of general utility, and likely to promote a healthy flow of good works.

I had intended to say something as to the effect of speculative habits upon the intellect, but cannot now do so. The following shrewd remark of Mr. Latham's in his interesting book on the 'Action of Examinations' may, however, be quoted; its bearing will be at once seen, and its truth recognised by many:

'A man who has been thus provided with views 'and acute observations may have destroyed in him'self the germs of that power which he simulates. 'He might have had a thought or two now and then 'if he had been let alone, but if he is made first to 'aim at a standard of thought above his years, and 'then finds he can get the sort of thoughts he wants 'without thinking, he is in a fair way to be spoiled.'

ACTORS.

OST people, I suppose, at one time or another

M in their lives, have felt the charm of an

actor's life, as they were free to fancy it, well-nigh irresistible.

What is it to be a great actor? I say a great actor, because (I am sure) no amateur ever fancied himself a small one. Is it not always to have the best parts in the best plays; to be the central figure of every group; to feel that attention is arrested the moment you come on the stage; and (more exquisite satisfaction still) to be aware that it is relaxed when you go off; to have silence secured for your smallest utterances; to know that the highest dramatic talent has been exercised to invent situations for the very purpose of giving effect to your words and dignity to your actions; to quell all opposition by the majesty of your bearing or the brilliancy of your wit; and finally, either to triumph over disaster, or if you be cast in tragedy, happier still, to die upon the stage, supremely pitied and honestly mourned for at least a minute? And then, from first to last, applause loud and long