many; a finished passage is found on every page. A few extracts, taken almost at random, will be the best method of indicating its charm and revealing those varying moods, common to humanity, but seldom chronicled with such concise vividity.

14 March, 1834.-This is one of my beautiful days, one of those days which commence sweetly and finish sweetly, like a cup of milk. God be thanked for this day passed without sadness! They are so rare in life, and my soul, more than any other perhaps, is affected by the least thing. A word, a remembrance, the sound of a voice, a sad face, a nothing, I know not what, often troubles the serenity of my soul, a little sky which the lightest cloud can sully.

12 December, 1834.-Nothing to say, nothing to write, no thoughts: the cold cripples even the soul. It seems as if in winter thoughts did not circulate; they freeze in the brain like icicles. This is what I feel often, but then some pleasure comes to me-a letter, reading, a sentiment which restores me. The thaw begins and the waters flow.

I

11 April, 1839.-On my pen a little creature is walking, not bigger than the dot of an i. Who knows where she goes? on what she lives, or if she has any grief of heart? Who knows if she is not seeking some Paris where she has a brother? She gets along very fast. I stop her on her road: now she is on the page: now far away. see her with difficulty: I see her no more. Bon voyage, little thing. God conduct you where you wish to go. Shall we see each other again? Did I frighten you? No doubt I was great in your eyes; but perhaps for that very reason I was passed over as a mere immensity. My little creature has led me far; I am like this in the eyes of God, a little and infinitely little creature that He loves.

5 May, 1838.-I want to chronicle a beautiful day, calm, sweet, and fresh, a true spring morning-everything sings and grows. We have come in from a walk, papa, I and my dog. . . . We have brought in white, blue and violet flowers, which we have made

into a charming bouquet. I have broken off two to send to . . . they are dames de onze heures, so called apparently because they open at that time, as do other flowers at other hours, charming clocks of the country, clocks of flowers which mark the beautiful hours. Who knows if the birds consult them, if they do not regulate by the flowers their restings, their repasts, their meetings? Why not?

Writing this in the splendors of the sun, under a sky the gayest and most blue, the most spring-like, in November. It makes me think of those in Paris, that iron grey which you see, which displeases you and makes so much evil to the soul. It is bad for a man strong as you are, a being strong as a man, to be overcome by a little atmosphere! The weather is so demoralizing you say: is there no means of escaping the influences of the atmosphere, or of at least turning aside from it? Too great a question to be treated at le Cayla, where, to preserve ourselves from the weather, we think on eternity, like the poor hermits. I do not dare to tell you the happy influence which high thoughts of faith have on me. Thrice blessed to have this benign help, but often a little 'atmosphere' does me harm too.

Two visits. I note them because they are rare at present in our desert, and because of finding a man admirably ugly, a Pélisson, a remarkable face, deformed-and then the soul effaced the features! At first sight he shocked, at the second he pleased, at the third he attracted. Intelligence gives a charm and elevates this human face of flesh!

29 May, 1835.-Never was storm so long! It still goes on, for three days thunder and rain. The trees bend under the deluge, and it is sad to see them with this languishing air instead of with the triumph of May! We said that this evening at the window of the salle as we gazed at the poplars bending their heads sadly as those who suffer under adversity. I could not help feeling for them a little; it seemed to me as if a soul were suffering.

5 September, 1838.-Louise said to me that where others see nothing I find so much to say. You would find

plenty of things to say about that,' she said. It was the latch of the door which she held as she went out. Assuredly one could say and think much about that morsel of iron which so many hands have touched, which is lifted with so many different emotions, with so many feelings, by so many men, for so many days, so many years. Oh, the history of a latch would be long!

24 September, 1838.-No writing or quiet for several days: the world, the world, all the country to receive! We were twelve at table to-day, to-morrow we shall be fifteen, autumn visits, ladies and sportsmen, some curés, too, as if to bless the crowd: the life of a castle in the good old times. It would be very pleasant if it were not for the tracàs of ménage. .. Oh if it were not so late, what could I not say of these two days of mysterious visiting, of walks, of words sown in the wood, under the leaves of the vine.

But the shorter passages are perhaps the gems of the journal. They recall sometimes the spirit of "Guesses at Truth," sometimes they rise to the heights of Pascal's "Pensées," and are not unworthy of a place beside them. Here are a few, taken at random.

Le beau n'est pas ce qu'on cherche, mais ce qu'on rencontre.

Un grand homme ressemble tant aux autres hommes!

Les teintes de l'âme sont changeantes et s'effacent l'une sous l'autre, comme celles du ciel.

Qu'il demeure, cet inexorable ennui, ce fond de la vie humaine. Supporter et se supporter, c'est la plus sage des choses.

Voilà le mal de voir et de vivre, c'est de laisser toutes les plus jolies choses derrière.

La santé est comme les enfants, on la gâte par trop de soins.

Tonnerre, orage, tempête au dehors, mais calme au dedans, ce calme d'une mer morte, qui a sa souffrance aussi bien que l'agitation. Le repos n'est bon qu'en Dieu, ce repos des âmes saintes qui, avant la mort, sont sorties de la vie. Heureux dégagement! Je meurs d'envie de tout ce qui est

céleste: c'est qu'ici-bas tout est vil et porte un poids de terre!

Il y a des plaisirs tristes, comme celui de parler des morts, de voir ceux qu'ils ont aimés.

En allant au Pausadou, j'ai voulu ne voit que l'ombre de la félicité.

Ce sont des riens, mais les riens du cœur ont leur charme.

En allant au Pausadou, j'ai voulu prendre une fleur très jolie. Je l'ai laissée pour le retour, et j'ai passé par un autre chemin. Adieu, ma fleur! Quand j'y reviendrais, où serait-elle? Une autre fois je ne laisserai mes fleurs en chemin. Que de fois cependant cela n'arrive-t-il pas dans la vie?

The great blow came at last; Maurice died. There are few things in literature more profoundly touching than the journal, still continued, but now addressed "à Maurice au ciel." It has been said that there is something morbid in this, but I cannot see that this is so. There is, indeed, abiding grief in all the after pages, but they are yet the record of a soul struggling against grief, struggling to find the old joy, though to her the earth could never again be green or the sky blue, because tout est changé au cœur. She writes much of Maurice, but she writes-or tries to write-of the sky, the clouds, of the wind as it blows over a field of wheat: "J'ai passé une demi-heure à contempler cela et à me figurer la mer, surface verte et bondissante." And she finds happiness still.

This morning I visited the fields for the Rogation at sunrising. It is beautiful to be out at that hour, to find oneself at the awakening of the flowers, the birds, of the spring morning, and then, too, prayer is easy! It goes out sweetly into the scented air among the sights of the gracious and magnificent works of God. One is so happy to see spring again. God wished to console us for the earthly paradise, and nothing gives me such an idea of Eden as this reviving nature, waving,

resplendent, in all the beautiful freshness of May.

There is nothing morbid here; and for the grief which must find its place in a journal which is the outpouring of her Temple Bar.

whole heart, it is but the human cry of a human soul which-who knows?finds unconscious relief in expression, though the hearts of those who read may well ache over these heartaches of a heart long since at rest.

This little book is an excellent example of what a biography in a "series" should be, but often is not. Hugh Latimer is best treated just at this length and just in this way. A longer life of him necessitates padding, which certainly is the fault of Demaus's, in many respects, adequate life. The truth is that not enough details have come down for any one to be able profitably to construct a long account of what he did, but his sermons are the reflection of what he thought far more than are the sermons of most men either of his century or of our own. Consequently his latest biographers have been able, by careful collation of each of these outspoken public utterances with the little that is known of his circumstances and actions at the moment of its delivery, to make out very clearly the various stages of his thought in its slow but undeviating advance towards the Protestant creed for which he finally suffered. The stages and causes of the development which his dogmatic opinions underwent, without any change in his very marked character and fundamental principles, the nature and degree of his influence on the nation at each stage of his career are not only clearly grasped, but well set out in this book, whose chief merits are propor

Hugh Latimer. By R. M. Carlyle and A. J. Carlyle, Chaplain and Lecturer of University College, Oxford. ("Leaders of Religion" Series.) Methuen and Co.

tion, composition, and a talent for explaining the circumstances of the time to readers who may not have the intricate history of the English Reformation at their fingers' ends. By the help of copious but well-selected quotations from his sermons-which, on account of their hard-hitting, are probably the most amusing sermons in the language-the reader is given a very definite and vivid impression of Latimer, as a moral, social, and religious reformer. For that was what he wasnot a theologian, but а Hebrew prophet, living in an age and country sadly in want of prophecy. The reason he came to be a Protestant was not because he studied the Fathers, but because he found by experience that the Catholic priesthood encouraged superstitious rites and abuses of religion which had the effect of deadening morality in practice; and that they sought to keep the people in ignorance instead of stirring up in them a new religious life which could be based only on personal knowledge and reflection. This bearing of the religious controversies of the day on his own longings after righteousness seems to have been first brought home to him-not during his long residence at Cambridge, where he had done the University much good by perpetual and personal denunciations of everything and everybody that needed reform-but durduring his parish work in the Wilt

shire village of West Kingston. Here

he stayed from 1531-4, as a man already nearing fifty, and made frequent visits to the neighboring city of Bristol, where he naturally caused the most violent dissension. It was chiefly at this time he came to see what religon actually meant to the common people; and still more, what it did not, but should, mean.

Then came his great opportunity. Cranmer, anxious to get at least an uncompromising supporter of change placed in high position in the church, had him called up to preach before the King at a moment when Henry was drifting fast in the Protestant direction. His outspoken sermon, not against any of the King's enemies, but against some of the King's faultsfor he always made a point of attacking his audience-won for him, at this critical moment, the bishopric of Worcester, for Henry "loved a man." He used this high post and the favorable political circumstances of the moment to effect in his new diocese the revolutions on which his heart had been set by his experience of parish work. Images, shrines and all objects of superstitious reverence were sought out and destroyed, and the ignorance and indifference of the clergy were seriously taken in hand by their energetic bishop. A few years later came the reaction; Henry deserted the cause of the Reformers, having drawn from it as much money as he wanted and rather he unpopularity than liked. Latimer was forced to retire from his bishopric, and never again held high office in the Church. In the palmy days of Edward VI he was one of the foremost men of the victorious party, but it was as a preacher and not as an administrator that he served the cause in its premature triumph. He now used his influence over the young King, and the respect with which he was treated by all the members of the

more

Council, to call attention to the crying social evils which the religious struggles concealed from SO many of the combatants. These sermons before Edward are perhaps even more interesting in their subject-matter and even more characteristic of their author, though it may be less important in their effect, than any which he preached on controversial theology. A few examples will serve:

But let the preacher preach, till his tongue be worn to the stumps, nothing is amended. We have good statutes made for the Commonwealth as touching Commoners and Inclosures, many meetings and sessions; but in the end of the matter there cometh nothing forth. Well this is one thing I will say unto you, for whence this cometh I know, even from the Devil. I know his intent in it; for if ye bring it to pass that the yeomanry be not able to put their sons to school and that they be not able to marry their daughters, ye pluck salvation from the people and utterly destroy the realm. For by yeoman's sons the faith of Christ is and hath been maintained chiefly.

And again

It would pity a man's heart to hear that, that I hear of the state of Cambridge; what it is in Oxford I cannot tell; there be few do study divinity, but so many as of necessity must furnish the colleges, for their livings be so small and victuals so dear. It is not that, I wis, that will keep out the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome. Here I will make a supplication that ye would bestow so much to the finding of scholars of good wits, of poor men's sons, to exercise the office of salvation, in relieving of scholars, as ye were wont to bestow in pilgrimage matters, in trentals, in masses, in pardons, in purgatory matters. You may be sure if you bestow your goods on this wise ye shall bestow it well, to support and uphold God's word; wherein ye shall please God. There be none now but great men's sons in col

leges, and their fathers look not to have them preachers, so every way this office of preaching is pinched at.

And again on the employment of leisure:

Men of England in times past when they would exercise themselves-for we must needs have some recreation, our bodies cannot endure without some exercise-they were wont to go abroad in the fields a-shooting, but now it is turned into glossing, gulling, and whoring within the House. The art of shooting hath been in times past much esteemed in this realm; it is a gift of God that He hath given us to excel all other nations withal; it is a goodly art, a wholesome kind of exercise, and much commended in Physic.

Lastly, on the preacher and his task:

SO

Now England cannot abide this gear; they cannot be content to hear God's minister and his threatening for their sin, though the sermon be never good, though it be never so true. It is a naughty fellow, a seditious fellow; he maketh trouble and rebellion in the realm, he lacketh discretion. I will now ask you a question: I pray you, when should Jonas have preached against the covetousness of Nineveh, if the covetous men should have appointed him his time? I know that preachers often have a discretion in The Speaker.

their preaching, and that they ought to have a consideration and respect to the place and the time that he preacheth in. But sin must be rebuked; sin must be plainly spoken against. Nineveh shall rise against England because it will not believe God nor hear His preachers, but cry daily unto them, nor amend their lives, and especially their covetousness.

These few quotations give some idea of Latimer's conception of the functions of a clergyman in the church reformed as he wished to reform it. Today when Wordsworth's wail for "altar, sword, and pen" is far more true than when he wrote it a hundred years ago, Latimer's old-world views of a parson's business may seem strange. It would, indeed, probably not be well if many clergymen tried to adopt his methods, for such straight speaking can only come from a man at once intellectually and morally above his brother men. Some, too, like the late Dr. Martineau, may no less effectually rebuke sin by subtler and more psychological but no less exalted oratory. If, however, there is now in England even one man endowed with the apparently extinct qualities of Latimer, it will be well for him to trv whether or not the clank of machinery can prevent men from hearing thunder when it peals.

G. M. Trevelyan.

It is wonderful, as Carlyle said, how long a rotten fabric will last. We suppose that Providence permits this mystery for large ends unperceived by our finite minds, and we accept the fact. But it is certainly strange that Turkey, menaced all round, honeycombed by internal rottenness and discontent, plun

dered by a gang of marauding rulers, and treated as no longer a really sovereign Power, should yet continue to endure, a great barbarism in the very midst of civilization, and occupying the central part of the habitable globe. Since the battle of Lepanto Turkey has declined, she has seen slice after slice