"I don't think writing would be any use. It must stand over until I make another trip into Italy." Balmaine looked disappointed. "In the winter; I am not sure what month. But you may be sure I shall not forget your commission. If you think there is any danger of my doing so (smiling), drop me a line about November. Here is my card." The address on the card was Villa Italia, Nice. "One question more, Colonel Bevis," said Alfred, putting the card into his pocket, "and I will cease troubling you. Do you know what nom de guerre Philip Hardy was in the habit of using?" "I don't. I think he told me at Pallanza what he called himself just then, but I have quite forgotten whether it was Amelio, Fama, Frascati, or Leopardi. I rather fancy it was Leopardi. Martino will tell you in a moment." "I wish I could see Martino a moment," muttered Balmaine despondingly. "I am going to have a short holiday, and almost think I shall cross the Alps and make some inquiries on my own account. Where would you recommend me to go? "About the Italian lakes and North Italy, I should say. That was generally Hardy's beat, I think. And he was very fond of the Baths of Lucca. The Baths of Lucca would be a likely place. But unless you know under what name he went I don't see what you can do. Better wait, and keep your money in your pocket, until I can place you in communication with Martino." "You could not possibly do that at once, could you, Colonel ?" "How can I, when I have not the most remote idea where the man is? I can find out from one or other of my old comrades either at Turin or Milan, or elsewhere; and if the man I ask does not happen to know, he will certainly be able to tell me who does. But as for writing, there is one absolute rule these fellows make about letters, and that is never to answer them." Alfred, seeing it was useless to press the matter further, let it drop, and shortly afterwards took his leave, feeling both discouraged and disappointed; for though the information he had obtained from Bevis was good, so far as it went, it did not go far, and it might be six months before he could be placed in communication with Martino. Bevis might surely get his address before that time if he liked; and why did he not like? Then he was disappointed with the Colonel himself. Garibaldi was Alfred's model hero, the type of all that was noble, unselfish, and loyal. With what splendid disinterestedness he had given up his conquests to the King; and, asking neither riches nor honours, retired to his island home and resumed the cultivation of his garden and the care of his cattle. The companion of such a man," one of the few, the immortal few that were not born to die," ought surely to have imbibed something of his spirit, and to find in the consciousness that he had followed a heroic leader and fought in a great cause a reward far above decorations and pelf. And yet here was Bevis grumbling because Garibaldi had not done more for him than he had done for himself, because he had not stooped to entreat the Italian Government to recompense the men who had redeemed a kingdom with their blood! To blame the Liberator for this was to surpass in meanness the Government which had failed to perform so obvious a duty. Yes, Alfred was disappointed with Bevis. The fine old soldier, whom he had pictured in his imagination, was merely a smart and not very scrupulous canvasser for advertisements, and now that the novelty of the thing was wearing off he began to perceive that most of the people whose acquaintance he had lately made were, more or less, humbugs. Furbey, Corfe, Gibson, Leyland, Mayo, and Bevis were every one humbugs, and the Helvetic News was probably the greatest humbug of all. A few days later, however, he saw reason to modify this judgment and assign the bad pre-eminence to the Pitsburgh Patriot. He had sent his bill to the proprietor when he sent his last article to the editor; and Dr. Pilgrim (who was a shining light of the denomination to which he belonged) in acknowledging receipt of the two documents, wrote as follows: "I am quite at a loss to understand how you can have conceived the idea that we pay for contributions. If I may trust my memory (and it never yet deceived me) nothing whatever was said about payment, and our friends are generally more than satisfied with the consciousness that in writing for us they are promoting a good cause, and the pleasure of seeing their compositions in print. Moreover, the Society which runs the Patriot is just now far from rich, and cannot afford to use paid articles. But as I cannot bear even the implied reproach of having misled you, however inadvertently, I shall send you in the course of a few days the sum of five dollars, being at the rate of one dollar an article, which I trust you will deem in the circumstances a fair equivalent for your trouble." This was a bitter disappointment to Alfred in more ways than one, for counting confidently on getting his money from the Patriot, he had spent rather more freely than he otherwise would have done, and had hardly any money beforehand either for holiday making or contingencies. To make matters worse the Boston Hub, for which he had written three letters, paid him in the same coin as the Patriot. In reply to his request to fill up the "blank bill" he sent them, with whatever amount they thought he deserved, the proprietors observed that, having a good many amateur correspondents in Europe, they were not in the habit of paying for foreign letters, but if he would continue his contributions (which seemed to please their readers) they would be happy to mail him regularly a free copy of their bi-weekly edition. "What a mean lot of beggars they are!" was Balmaine's exclamation as he tore up the letter with unnecessary energy, and threw the bits on the floor. "This is my first experience of American papers and, by Jove, it shall be my last." But he found that if an American journal can be mean, an American gentleman can do all that the most chivalrous regard for honour requires. A few days afterwards he met Harman, and the banker, who was always very friendly, after asking about himself and the paper, inquired how he was getting on with the Pitsburgh Patriot. For reply Alfred showed him Dr. Pilgrim's letter. "The wretched old skunk!" exclaimed Harman, giving the letter a blow with his fist, as if it were in some way answerable for the dishonesty of the writer. "Why, I heard him say myself that he would pay you at the rate of twenty dollars a letter. But look here, Balmaine, I introduced this fellow to you, and recommended you to write for him, and I'll see you paid." He was as good as his word. The very next day Alfred received a letter from the bank, enclosing a bank note for five hundred francs! and this sum, as he afterwards learnt, Harman's agents succeeded in recovering from Dr. Pilgrim. Of all his new acquaintance Balmaine liked best to talk with Madame Karl von Schmidt. She had seen a good deal of the world, possessed a shrewd wit, the vicissitudes she had undergone made her sympa thetic with the troubles of others, and she took a motherly interest in his welfare. Delane, however, she generally kept at a distance, perhaps because she wanted to keep him at a distance from her daughter. Madame Karl took hardly less interest in the Hardy mystery than Alfred himself, and he had to give her a full account of his conversation with Bevis, which had so greatly disappointed him. She hinted, much to his surprise, that if he offered to pay the Colonel for his trouble he would probably find him more communicative. It was not very noble or chivalrous on his part, she said, "but you must take people as you find them." And Bevis knew the value of money-a good many people did not. "I am learning," laughed Balmaine. "I have learned a great deal since I left home. I get more disillusioné every day. I shall think soon, with Napoleon, that every man has his price." "Then you will be wrong. Most men have-but not all. As you say, you are learning, and there is no teacher like experience. But as for this mystery of yours, I must tell you frankly, Monsieur Balmaine, that I think you are making very good progress. You have met a man who knew Monsieur Hardy and his daughter, who confirms that they were in Italy at a certain time, and who promises to give you the address of a person who can give you his nom de guerre, and tell you what became of him. I do not see what you would have more-unless you expect to read all about it in the Journal de Lacustrie, at a cost of fifteen centimes. A mystery that can be solved by asking six questions, ma foi, I would not give a fig for." "You are right, Madame Karl; I am too impatient, and I was so much annoyed at not getting Martino's address that I overlooked the importance of the information I have actually acquired. I must now see what I can do about offering Colonel Bevis something for his trouble." The next day Alfred wrote to Artful and Higginbottom, announcing his intention of making a journey across the Alps in quest of information. He told them, too, what he had learnt from Bevis, and asked them if they would permit him to offer that gentleman an honorarium for the trouble he might incur in obtaining Martino's address. The answer was a letter highly commending his exertions, and urging him to persevere, and requesting him to spare no effort to procure Martino's address. A draft for fifty pounds was enclosed, "to be used for travelling expenses, or otherwise, at your discretion." But before it came Bevis was gone; and N° though Balmaine wrote to him at once his movements were so uncertain, and he was so bad a correspondent, that, as likely as not, the reply might be delayed for weeks. THE POWER OF MORAL SYMPATHIES. SHORT SUNDAY READINGS FOR APRIL. FIRST SUNDAY. Read Romans xii. ; xvi. 17-27. touching almost every duty of human life, is the practical application of the Epistle! One particular apothegm we take as a specimen of its practical wisdom: "I would have you wise unto that which is good, and simple unto that which is evil." (Rom. xvi. 19.) Its occasion is not indicated; it was probably prompted by that subtle feeling of circumstance and occasion which, without precise specification, gives form and tone to so many religious teachings. It is enough that we take it as a self-evidencing maxim of religious culture; singularly penetrating, comprehensive, and felicitous. It gathers into itself an entire economy of religious life. books in the world are so full of golden sentences, proverbial sayings, and condensed wisdom, as the books of the Bible. For lofty sentiment, weighty meaning, and felicitous expression no literature is comparable with them. The sublime themes of the histories, the moral grandeur of the legislative books, the sententious maxims of the Proverbs, the devotional felicities of the Psalms, the medallion-like completeness and symmetry of the Proverbs, the pictorial narratives of the Evangelists, the profound theological thought and spiritual ethics of the Epistles, the individuality of the books, as What an unconscious recognition it is of varied as their authorship-from the broad moral character in man, that we should so impersonal wisdom of the Proverbs to the speak of "good" and "evil!" that we should intense presence and spiritual urgency of the thus divide the world of men into classes! apostle Paul-all constitute a collection of Each class has many gradations: a good writings absolutely unique. Each book is man's excellencies may be qualified by many characterised by a wisdom as profound as its defects; a bad man's evil may be relieved moral truth is transcendent. You never in its by many attemperings of virtue. These teaching detect a false note, or are jarred with distinctions pertain to the practical culture an incongruous expression. In wisdom, piety, of character. But we never mistake the and literary beauty no teachings of human radical qualities of good and evil themselves. life can be compared with those of the We do not often confound the fundamental Bible. characteristics of a man with his inconsisAnd how instinctively religious and prac-tencies. We do not call a man good because tical all its tendencies are! Take, for he does some good things, nor evil because example, the Epistle to the Romans. It is he does some evil things. We intuitively a theological treatise on the profoundest distinguish between fundamental principles, mysteries of spiritual life-the being, pur- inherent tendencies, and the aberrations and poses, and spiritual operations of God, the inconsistencies of temptation and circummoral responsibility and possibilities of man, stance. And we classify men according to the salvation of Jesus Christ, the reality their principles and motives. and intensity of God's fellowship with man, the great hopes of the life hereafter. No metaphysic could be more abstruse, no reasoning could lie amid profounder mysteries. Christian theology is expounded on its philosophical as well as on its practical side. And yet, how the doctrine gathers into practical forces of religious life; how the philosophy lends itself to moral duty; how the reasoning passes into exhortation; so that a whole economy of practical ethics, Paul had this radical difference before him. Men were simply good or evil, qualifications notwithstanding. No cleavage of human life, indeed, is so marked and so profound as that caused by religion. Good and evil, too, present themselves for a man's choice; they are set before him;" they beset and solicit him in every path of his life. Upon his decision and upon his treatment of them his character and his destiny depend. He is therefore so to bear himself towards both-with keen discernment and practical preference-as that it will be the characteristic culture of his life, that he is "wise unto that which is good, and simple unto that which is evil." The terms employed are significant. "That which is good." It is a wide and comprehensive designation. Men have had different conceptions of goodness. Things which an old Roman would have declared good-Stoicism, Roman patriotism, social institutions such as slavery and the relations of the sexes, the doctrine of suicide-are condemned by Christian morality. Many so-called virtues of Pagan. life are reprobated as vices by Christian sentiment. The faculty of conscience is one thing, its intelligence is another. All men distinguish between things that they deem good and things that they deem evil. It is the indestructible instinct of our nature to do so; but men do not always rightly designate the things that they call good or evil; that is the result of moral education. A good man will seek to have the instincts of his conscience rightly instructed. It is no sufficient justification of a wrong thing that it is done conscientiously; there is a previous question-by what processes of inquiry and education has the conviction been reached? Saul "verily thought with himself that he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth." Beyond all doubt he was a sincere religious persecutor; as conscientious in putting the Christians to death, as afterwards in laying down his life for Christ's sake. The more conscientious an ill-informed persecutor is, the more relentless he will be. He thinks himself bound by fealty to God to suppress even his feelings of human tenderness. His conscience goes over to the side of persecution, "pricks his intent" whenever it relaxes. testant intolerance, were among the most conscientious of men. Paul means the goodness that Christianity. inculcates the lofty spiritual life, the transcendent spiritual ethics, the piety, purity, righteousness, benevolence of Jesus Christ's teaching:-"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and soul, and strength, and thy neighbour as thyself." "Be ye perfect as your Father who is in heaven is perfect." Hence Paul will no more call the ritualising Judaizers good, than the persecuting Nero. SECOND SUNDAY. Read 1 Cor. xiii.; Matt. vii. "Wisdom" is also a comprehensive term, a much larger term than "knowledge." A man may know a great deal and be anything but wise. "Wisdom and knowledge far from being one, Wisdom is the right estimate and use of knowledge. A wise man discriminates the value of what he knows, and puts it to the best practical uses. To be "wise unto that which is good" therefore is 1. To have a keen and cultured faculty for the discernment of goodness, even under anomalous forms, and in incongruous places. Some people are dull in recognising goodness; they are incapable of moral discernment, and defective in moral admiration. They may see the grandest features of moral character exhibited, the grandest deeds of moral heroism done; they have no intuitive power of perceiving their divineness; their recognition is limited by conventional forms or by dogmatic prejudices; they discover it only when newspapers and general laudations proclaim it. Many a man has to die before his intrinsic goodness is discovered. "A prophet hath no honour in his own country." The familiarity of human nearness, the incompleteness of superficial observation, the mist of subtle selfishness and envy, disqualify us; only when he dies do we know that a prophet has been amongst us." "When ye have lifted up the Son of man, then shall ye know that I am He." A thing is not necessarily good because a man conscientiously does it. Has he availed himself of the highest teaching concerning goodness? Has he diligently sought right notions as well as right motives? Motive is not a sufficient justification of a man if he has not taken every practicable means of instructing it-if he permits it to be determined by prejudices or passions. Nothing is more futile than the plea of simple conscientiousness: that is only saying that the man is not a rascal. A conscientious man is not therefore necessarily acting rightly; he may be a fanatic, a sectarian, a persecutor, an ascetic, an incarnation of superstition and intolerance. Probably the most terrible persecutors of the Romish inquisition, of Pro-traits of goodness. It is a great grace to be capable of moral admiration, of instinctive reverence; to discern wherever we see it, and under whatever forms, the moral goodness of men; for the instinct for goodness to be quick and true; so that in the family, in social life, whatever the qualifications, we discriminate and honour Some people can recognise goodness only in their own narrow and familiar forms of it; only when it wears the livery of their own sect, worships in their own way, adopts their own forms of speech. How we make accidental, unimportant circumstances tests of character! We test goodness by creeds and attitudes and genuflexions, by Quaker bonnets and baptisms, by denominational habits, by conventional speech, by ascetic rules of life. A Ritualist will not exactly say that a Quaker is not a good man, a Congregationalist in his spiritual freedom will not deny goodness to a Sacramentarian; but it is not the instinct that pronounces the verdict, it is reason and logic that compel the reluctant admission. And there is a latent feeling that they are not quite so good and safe as they would be were they with us. We are incapable of testing them by their simple faith and love and spiritual life; we test them by their garb and customs-the manner is more than the man. How much there is in optimism of feeling, in eager sympathy with goodness; and how largely this may be cultivated! Some people are pessimists; they see only the defects, the worst elements of character, the qualifying circumstance; in describing the sun they would begin with its spots. Instead of "discerning the soul of good in things that are evil," they see the soul of evil in things that are good; instead of being eager and sympathetic in their recognitions, they are critical and depreciating; they are without moral enthusiasm; they do not make the most of your good, but the least. As surely as they open their lips it will be to qualify. What a miserable, meagre soul it is! how utterly inexplicable to it, for in stance, the large words of rejoicing commendation with which Paul opens his letter to the very defective Church in Corinth! Like all genuine things goodness rejoices in sunshine and sympathy. No one would say of these eager, critical fault-finders of life that they are "wise unto that which is good." How can they become so if they do not cultivate the faculty and habit of recognising it, of generously commending it? Love is ever an optimist. one so much as it hurts him who indulges it it effectually disables the keen spiritual discernment of good, which is wisdom. 2. The wise man is he who turns what he knows to practical account. There are people who delude themselves with the mere sentiment of goodness. They play with spiritual ideas and holy sympathies; they are fervent in worship and prayer, and are easily excited by highly wrought spiritual discourse; and in virtue of their sentiment think themselves very religious. There is a kind of sop to conscience even in the way in which a transgressing man will submit to rebuke, condemn himself, and permit others to condemn him. There is nothing he insists upon so much as "faithful preaching." He resents "smooth things," and feels as if he had half condoned his wrong by hearing it denounced. Because the feeling is so far right, he half fancies that he himself is right. Thus the feeling becomes a kind of shield that turns off the darts of conscience. Men are constantly deluding themselves with good feelings, fancying them to be goodness. Thus a man will be devout and fervid in the feeling of public worship and in the sentiment of Christian fellowship who is very doubtful in his ethical conduct; the fervid church feeling does not religiously control his business, compel uprightness, truth, and considerateness, purify his life, sweeten his temper, eradicate his selfishness. Clearly feeling no more constitutes goodness than wishing constitutes doing. A man is not "wise unto that which is good" who has only sentimental sympathies with it, approv ing desires for it. To shed tears over a novel is not practical benevolence. The wise man seeks practically to realise goodness, turns every good thought and feeling into practical life, yields to good impulses, utilises his knowledge, embodies in his character and life the goodness that he conceives. He who possesses knowledge and makes no practical use of it is a learned fool. His knowledge possesses his understanding only, it does not mould his character or regulate his life. The wise man lives to be good; he values knowledge as the means of growNo fear of harm in hearty commendation ing in grace, obeying every precept, practisof good, in genial, generous sympathy with ing every virtue, perfecting every grace, subit, even in magnifying it. Next to the com-ordinating every interest and experience to mendation of God, which is always generous, the commendation of good men is precious and helpful. The habit of keen inquisition for defects, of critical depreciation, of ungracious disparagement rather than of generous recognition and sympathy, hurts no moral perfectness, "keeping his heart with all diligence," "forgetting the things that are behind and reaching forward to things that are before," watchful in self-observation, learning practical lessons from experiencefrom failures as well as from successes. He |