terity you have ferreted out every little occurrence of my private life.”

'A Queen has no private life. She is doomed to live in public, and woe to her if she cannot account to the world for every hour of her existence! If she undertake to have secrets, her very lackeys may misrepresent her innocence and make it crime."

Good heavens, Joseph," cried the Queen, "you talk as if I were a criminal, before my accusers.”

“You are a criminal, my poor young sister. Public opinion has accused you, and accusation there is synonymous with guilt. But I, who give you so much pain, come as your friend and brother, speaking hard truths to you, dearest, by virtue of the tie which binds us to our mother. In the same of that incomparable mother, I implore you to be discreet, and to give no cause to your enemies for misconstruction of your youthful follies! Take up the load of your royalty with fortitude, and when it weighs heavily upon your poor young heart, remember that you were not made a Queen to pursue your own happiness, buť to strive for that of your subjects, whose hearts are still with you in spite of all that your enemies have done or said. Give up all egotism, Antoinette - set aside your personal hopes, live for the good of the French nation, and one of these days you will believe, with me, that we may be happy without individual happiness.”

The Queen shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. “No, no, dear Joseph, a woman cannot be happy when she is unloved. My heart is sick with solitude, brother. I love my husband, and he does not return my love. If I am frivolous, it is because I am unhappy. Believe me when I tell you that all would be well if the King would but love me.”

“ Then, Antoinette, all shall be well,” said a voice behind them, and starting with a cry of surprise and shame, the Queen beheld the King. “I have heard all,” said Louis, closing the door and advancing toward Joseph. With a bright, affectionate smile, he held out his hand, saying as he did so, “Pardon me, my brother, if I


am here without your consent, and let me have a share in this sacred and happy hour.”

"Brother,” repeated Joseph, sternly,"you say that you have overheard us. Since you have no love for her, you are no brother to me, for she, poor child, is the child that unites us. Look at her, sire, look at her sweet, innocent, tear-stricken face! What has she done that you should thrust her from your heart, and doom her to confront alone the sneers and hatred of your cruel relatives? She is pure, and her heart is without a stain. I tell you so - I, who, in unspeakable anxiety, have watched her through hired spies. Had I found her guilty, I would have been the first to condemn her - but Antoinette is good, pure, virtuous, and she has but one defect - want of thought. It was your duty to guide her, for you received her from her mother's hands, a child — a young, harmless, unsuspecting child. What has she ever done that you should refuse her your love?”

Ask rather, what have I done that my relatives should have kept us so far asunder?” replied Louis, with emotion. Ask those who have poisoned my ears with calumnies of my wife, why they should have sought to deny me the only compensation which life can offer to my royal station — the inestimable blessing of loving

and being loved. But away with gloomy retrospection! I will say but one word more of the past. Your Majesty has been watched and your visit here discovered. I was told that you were seeking to identify the Queen with her mother's empire — using your influence to make her forget France and plot dishonor to her husband's crown. I resolved to prove the truth or falsehood of these accusations myself. I thank heaven that I did so, for from this hour I shall honor and regard you as a brother."

"I shall reciprocate, sire, if you will promise to be kind to my sister.”

The King looked at Marie-Antoinette, who, seated on the sofa whence her brother had risen, was weeping bitterly. Louis went toward her, and taking both her hands in his, he pressed them passionately to his lips. “Antoinette," said he tenderly," you say that I do not love you. You have not then read my heart which, filled to bursting with love for my beautiful wife, dared not ask for response, because I had been told that you — you

But no, I will not pain you with repetition of the calumny. Enough that I am blessed with your love, and may at last be permitted to pour out the torrent of mine! Antoinette, will you be my wife?"Joseph II. and His Court; translation of ADELAIDE DE V. CHAUDRON.

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clergyman; born at Bainbridge, N. Y.,

March 5, 1830. He was graduated from Yale in 1851, and at Yale Theological Seminary in 1855, and was pastor of Congregational churches in Dorchester, Haverhill, and Lawrence, Mass., from 1865 until 1875. In 1875 he established a Congregational church in San José, Cal., and in 1885 became pastor of the United Church, New Haven, Conn. The degree of D.D. was given to him by Illinois College in 1883, and he was made a Fellow of Yale in 1887. He is the author of On the Threshold (1881); The Freedom of the Faith (1883); Lamps and Paths (1885); The Appeal to Life (1887); Horace Bushnell (1899), and Character Through Inspiration (1901).


In accepting evolution it is well to remember that we make no greater change than has several times been made in all the leading departments of human knowledge. In sociology the despotic idea yielded to the monarchial idea, which in turn is now yielding to the democratic idea. In philosophy the deductive method has yielded to the inductive. In religion the priestly idea is yielding to the ministerial. So, in accepting evolution as the general method of creation, in place of that which has prevailed, we only repeat the history of the exchange of the Ptolemaic system for the Copernican, and of those new theories of astronomy and geology which forced us to redate the age of the world and of man's life upon it. The wrench to faith and the apparent violation of experience are different, but no more violent than were those of the past. The present incompleteness of evolution has its analogy in the Copernican system, which waited long for the additions of Kepler and Newton; and geology is still an unfinished story. Nor are we justified in withholding our assent to evolution because we cannot, each one for ourselves, verify its proofs. The vast majority of men could not now verify the Copernican system; it has not even won recognition in human speech. The sun “rises” and “sets,” and will be so spoken of while men watch its apparent motion. Evolution is an induction from many sciences - chemistry, astronomy, mathematics, geology, botany, biology - and it is impossible that any but the special student should critically make the induction. But the Copernican system was an induction from mathematics, and even from those higher forms of it that ordinary men have never traced. Its acceptance was, and is still, an act of faith. Belief in evolution should be easier because it is confirmed by several sciences working on independent lines. It is not the biologist alone who proposes evolution, but the astronomer, the chemist, the geologist, the botanist, and the sociologist. I cannot examine and test their conclusions. I do not, however, thus make myself the slave of their opinions, for these opinions run off into other fields, where I may be as good a judge as they. I may represent a science as real as theirs, and possibly larger and more authoritative. Hence, in accepting evolution as a probably true history or theory of the method of creation, we do not necessarily yield to all the assumptions and inferences that are often associated with it. It is not above criticism, like the germ-seeds of which science treats, each

tive way

one of which threatens to possess the whole earth, and would do so if not checked by other growths; so evolution — shall we say through affinity with it's chief theme ? — threatens to take possession of the universe. But its myriad thistle-down, blown far and wide by every breeze, meets at last the groves of oak and pine that limit and define its spread. All about these various sciences stands the greater science — philosophy — under which they are included, from which they draw their life, and to which they must bow. Evolution is to be feared not in its bare doctrine of development, but in the scope and relations assigned to it. If it be regarded as supreme, it gives its own law, of necessity, to all else. But if it is subordinate to philosophy, if it is considered as under-thought relations, if it is held as finite and relative, it carries no danger to morals, or religion, or faith. It may possibly modify, but it cannot overthrow, them, simply because they stand in a larger order. But evolution is not to be accepted in a simply negabecause it can

no longer be resisted. We are under no obligation to accept any truth until it is serviceable. It is possible to conceive of truths that would be of no value to men -- such as the constitution of other orders of beings; if made known it might be passed by. But evolution, properly regarded, is becoming tributary to society, and seems destined to clarify its knowledge, to enlarge and deepen its convictions, to set it upon true lines of action, and to minister to the Christian faith.

Among the important services it has begun to render is that it is removing a certain empirical thread that has been interwoven with previous theories. The unity of creation has never been seriously denied except by extreme thinkers of the dualistic school. But the principle of unity has not been recognized until of late. The bond or ground of unity was justly found in God, but that conception merely asserted that because God is one there is unity in all created things. This may be faith, but it is noť philosophy. May not faith become also philosophy? Unity exists not only because one God created all things, but because He works by one pro

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