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nation, personal strength becoming a subordinate factor. Wolves hunt in companies, and together fearlessly attack animals which would easily master them separately. Insects live in communities and tho individually they are weak, by concert of action they make themselves formidable to the strongest of animals. But the central feature of the teaching of Christ was the law of love. It constantly appears in His words—now clothed in one parable now in another. The new command given to man was to love his enemy, to do good to them that hated him, to help the weak, to pardon the erring, to resist evil, and to give to him that asked. Henceforth it was to be the peacemaker who should be blest, and he who wished to be greatest was to be servant of all.—, Methodist Review.
 * regard of death, that form the sinews of the

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See.

SOCIAL TRAITS IN CHILDREN

Pedagogs tell us that the plays of children under seven or eight are noncompetitive and noncooperative. Kindergarten children play side by side or in pairs, rarely spontaneously in groups. They are gregarious rather than social. The plays between the ages of seven and twelve are social, cooperative and competitive games, but each child usually plays for himself. After twelve group games with opposing sides are more popular, and finally tend to crowd out all others.

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SOCIAL VANITY

I read in a Paris paper an interesting account of a reception that some of our distinguished friends passing the season in Newport gave to a chimpanzee. Of course, it was mortifying to an American to have it known by Europeans that my compatriots were prepared to confess in that practical way to their belief in the evolution theory, and to have it understood in the cultivated centers of English and Continental life that over here people of advertised refinement could drop into such close relations of social reciprocity without either the Newport gentlemen and ladies or the chimpanzee feeling themselves insulted by the contact. But that first feeling, which of course was one of loathing, not for the chimpanzee, but for his companions, soon gave place to one which I am sure was more just and wholesome, this, namely, a pathetic realization of the horrid sense of emptiness which people must be suffering under to be willing to fill up the vacuum with material of such an abominably unhuman type; like a man so agonizingly hungry that he had rather fill himself with carrion than go to bed supperless, and not only that, but reduced to such an extreme point of inanition as even to acquire an appetite for carrion.—

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SOCIETY IS MAN'S PLACE

The man of the city closes his house, forgets his office and goes away. He has a suit of store clothes on him and two linen collars in his handbag, but for the rest he carries the garb of the vagabond, and getting into this as quick as he can he buries his face in the pine-needles and lets the wind and rain beat down on his uncovered head and untrimmed beard. And the weeks pass; and then happens the stranger thing. Through the music of the forest and the harmonies of the falling waters, he hears, at first, far away and hardly audible, then ever nearer and clearer, the voice of the city he deserted, and to his manhood's spirit that voice speaks with a charm which overcomes the woodland's spell and in another day he is back again, back in the old street, to the old work, to the ever dear old city. And once more keeping step with the vast army of toilers, he knows that not in solitude, but in society, is character made, and more, that not nature, but human nature, is God's best handiwork.—

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Soil—See.

SOLACE OF THE SEA

The following paragraph is the conclusion of James G. Blaine's eulogy of President Garfield, and forms one of the finest passages of English prose:

Gently, silently, the love of a great people bore the pale sufferer to the longed-for healing of the sea, to live or to die, as God should will. Within sight of its heaving billows, within sound of its manifold voices, with wan, fevered face tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze, he looked out wistfully upon the ocean's changing wonders, on its far sails whitening in the morning light, on its restless waves rolling shoreward to break and die beneath the noonday sun, on the red clouds of evening arching low to the horizon, on the serene and shining pathway of the stars. Let us think that his dying eyes read a mystic meaning, which only the rapt and parting soul may know. Let us believe that,