with delight, are expected. Light, heat, electricity, motion, &c., are pronounced to be only modifications of a common "psychic force;" and the Wilful King, during his first three and a half years, will honour "the god of forces,”—psychic force, perhaps, as well as military force. During his last three and a half years he will have "progressed," and will permit no worship but that of himself and his image as the abstract of human intellect. Is not everything in the moral world ripening for man-worship? Look around and see how things are conglomerating and intensifying.

Proudhom, Owen,

In the social world it is the same. Fourier, where are they? They were pronounced impractic-ables. Well-meaning, perhaps, but visionary. No doubt. But their theories are about to be put to an actual test on an unexampled scale; yes, even in the matter of marriage, which of all their notions seemed, thirty years ago, the wildest. But things are intensifying and crystallising. The Internationale has ceased to be an empty name.

The Spiritists, too, no longer conceal their hope and purpose to take the lead and direction in the reconstitution and mock palingenesis of society. Says Mrs Woodhull, in her Preliminary Presidential Message: "The Spirit of the Old is already dead; the Spirit of the New is born and breathes, and is already living in the world." Among the Communists and Internationals, or allied in sympathy with them, are found most of the Socialistic thinkers, most of whom, again, are already allied directly with me in the views and measures which I am engaged in, or propose; and, finally, the more progressive members of both the old political parties and of the church, indicate a growing readiness to concur with this smelting of all the radical elements in one great movement for the reconstruction of society under new auspices and with a new departure."

In commercial pursuits, also, there is an intensification. Vast fortunes are accumulated or lost. Men who were in the last generation accounted rich lived in houses that are now considered mean. Here and there an octogenarian in one of our large cities, once looked upon as a merchant prince, may be found holding on to his patrimony in a street now given up to marble business blocks, and though it is not so long since he was young, or, at least, to him it seems not long, he is regarded, with his simple home comforts, as an antediluvian. Palaces like those those of Rothschild at Ferrieres, or of Stewart in the Fifth Avenue, with its marble staircase, costing alone $80,000, are no longer the result of a nation's wealth concentrated on

one magnificent ruler. A million, though still a great sum, is no longer extraordinary. To become a prince among rich men it is now necessary to have forty, fifty, or a hundred millions. Nor are men content with the old method of slow and steady accumulation. They aim to become rich at a single stroke. Speculation is the madness that infects the commercial classes. Men hope by a few lucky hits to achieve a fortune at once, and our modern commercial arrangements of stocks, paper money, bonds, &c., render it possible. To make haste to be rich is the rage of the day. What vast fortunes have been acquired by individuals in the railroad, mining, and oil speculations! A commission of a one-eighth per cent. on a national loan yields golden results unknown to ancient arithmetic. A barren field hides in its depths enough to cover its surface with silver. Men rush to the ends of the earth for gold, silver, and diamonds! To circumvent the globe is but a more extended excursion, requiring only seventy days, and is taken as a matter of course. Selling short! Ask the merchants of Tyre what that is, ask the "Pilgrim Fathers," ask the "Revolutionary Worthies." Were it possible to do so, a blank and puzzled look would be the only response. The South Sea Bubble, Law's Mississippi scheme,-what were they? They are dwarfed by our modern crops of gift schemes and Black Fridays.

The manipulating of the Erie Road, or the New York city warrants are merely specimens of things that are familiar; for it has got to be a current proverb that every man has his price and what everybody does, no longer carries shame with it, unless it is done bunglingly.

Luxury, too, has reached a pitch that reminds us of the days preceding the downfall of the famous empires of old. But there is this great difference, that then it had a circumscribed limit, whilst now it has reached all classes, and has spread all over the world. For the barriers that separated the nations are fast dissolving before an amalgamating process. The grand object of life is now made to be self-enjoyment; in other words, men have become lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God. And this rage to live beyond one's means extends through all the gradations of society; hence it often happens that the more wealthy are cramped and "involved," as well as the poor. Look around; in the streets of every country village are specimens of the latest fashions, varying every month, displayed, too, in materials that might leave the impression on the mind of a casual onlooker, that in this village there are no poor persons, nor any even in humble circumstances. Young men in cities say they cannot afford to marry." These things are intensifying

with succeeding years. The pulse of fashion throbs simultaneously over the whole civilised world, In Paris, in Melbourne, in Hong Kong, in San Francisco, the ramification is complete.

And men are now able to gratify their natural and æsthetical tastes. "Madam," said a king of Erance to his queen, "I cannot afford to buy you another silk gown." To the Oriental, meat is a luxury. Isaac said to his son: "Make me savoury meat such as I love." But now, many things formerly dear are brought within the reach of the poorest. For what wonders have been wrought by modern machinery, from the making of matches and pins, to the finest watches, and the most exquisite products of the loom. Of this, at least, the ancient world knew nothing. Manufactures are multiplied and cheapened in the same way as would be the case were the population of the world a thousand times greater. Who would, or could, make by hand, for fifty times as much, the numerous articles that we now get for a few cents: our pins, needles, matches, but, above all, our books and newspapers. "The Telegraph," price one penny: "The Sun," price one cent. These examples are as familiar to us as air and sunshine: an effort of the will is needed to concentrate the attention so as to perceive the wonder. And there seems to be no end to combination both of labour and machinery. The thing is intensifying daily, marvellously, unceasingly. Vain man begins to deify his little intellect. Le Verrier and Adams, from inert figures, demonstrate the necessary existence of an unknown planet. "Give me a lever long enough and strong enough, and a fulcrum on which to rest it, and I will lift the earth." If our readers wish to have an illustration of the marvels diffused through the branches of modern human industry, let them go under the pavement some night, in one of our large cities, and watch the stereotyping and printing of a large daily paper. Or let them go into an electrotyping room where expensive engraving-blocks are multiplied, or into one of those establishments where miniatures, once costing large sums, and within the means of the wealthy only, are now put into the hands of the profanum vulgus at the rate of eight for a dollar. Or let them pay a visit to Waltham, or to Manchester! Let them even look about in their own village. Truly there seems to be no end. The thing is intensifying. A thousand instances suggest themselves.

In Prussia every man can read. In America, the log schoolhouse is an "institution." Colleges and seminaries spring up on every hand. New branches are now learned and studied as

a profession in life. Not every man can manipulate a telegraph. Of one of old it was said: "Read this, I pray thee," and he saith: "I am not learned." To another it was said: 66 Canst thou speak Greek?" But now. . . . it is no praise to a man to be able to read, when everybody takes a newspaper; and what are Greek and Latin when the land is sown with colleges, and no one is reckoned to have "a good education," unless he can read them with facility. To attract notice now in the literary world, a man must be a genius indeed, or else owes his notoriety to some exceptional circumstances. Every well-educated man is able to wield his pen with more or less facility. With what talent and skill are the current "editorials" of our numerous daily papers written, yet their authors, though plying their laborious task for many successive years, remain for the greater part unknown. The poorest peasant learns to write "Yours truly," for the penny post seduces him to do it frequently. The money-order system (how wonderful!) is extending over the civilised world. And so greatly is all this "intensifying that no one can any longer hope to excel in more than one particular branch of knowledge. Subdivision is the order of the day. Experts in each department are called for. To have even a fair general acquaintance with every branch of knowledge is getting to be a rare acquirement. "Admirable Crichtons" cannot survive in our modern atmosphere. Nothing escapes scrutiny except the human heart.

"

What rare discoveries, too, are made in the East. The prophecy is fulfilling: "The stone shall cry out of the wall, and the beam out of the timber shall answer it." Truly, of making of books there is no end. Who reads all the novels? Who takes all the religious newspapers? What single man can keep pace with all the good monthly or weekly publications reviewed in them? The publishers have a struggle for life; to succeed they must have constant new attractions. It is an old question, what becomes of the pins? or where do the flies come from? and now we have a new one, what becomes of the books?

In our church societies it is the same. The long list of publications of each,—who can master it? And yet the popular Sunday-schools draw their supplies mainly from other quarters. The singing books for Sunday-schools, the Bells, the Pearls, the Censers, the Wreaths, the Crystals, the Chains, the Gems,—is there an end? What if, ere long, by a revulsion of satiety and disgust, they should all be swept from our church shelves and tables, and leave in their peerless majesty, solitary, the sacred Scriptures, ever fresh, ever new!

And what shall we say of the annals of crime? To assert

that the human heart is worse than formerly were to assume too much; but certainly modern conveniences afford it intensifying developments. It required this age to produce a Fish and a Tweed; a Tweed pre-eminent for this chiefly, that assuming as a fixed quantity the general immorality and the universal dishonesty within the limits of the law, he exhibited the greatest expertness in working up the material for his own advantage, and even did not hesitate within his own circle to speak freely of his mode of procedure. Defalcations for enormous sums excite no more than a passing remark. How can young clerks in stores and post-offices live on their limited salaries? It is the carnival of crime. Crime, too, is reduced to a science. It is the age of abortions. Horrors multiply. Medical jurisprudence is a distinct branch of the profession. Chemical experts for making analysis of poisons command a high price. Horrors multiply. Even the public prints take notice of it. Parkman murder now would not stand alone.

Every sheet is crowded with the most unblushing lies about cures for maladies. Men of standing in their professions sell their certificates to the publishers of these. New devices and adaptation are continually invented to catch the unwary. Breathes there a man who has not seen, has not had thrust into his hand, a patent medicine almanac, in which useful and reliable information is skilfully mingled with cunning falsehood? Talk about the great panacea, or the philosopher's stone? We now have them; we have many of them; they can be had for a trifle-only one dollar! Jayne boasts of a palace. Helmbold outvies the élite with his turnout; and the motto on his carriage is, Quid rides?

Is there any abatement of these nuisances? The German proverb says: "The world loves to be cheated: "--but it must be done cleverly.

We see the same intensification in the development of the social tendencies of our nature. Like our other endowments they are perverted by sin. John heard in vision "as it were the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings." Those gave glory to God. But that time is not yet, though it is near.

At present nothing less than the voice of cannon will suffice for Gilmore's diapasons; and anvil-blows must mark the time. When was such pleasure-seeking? So many theatres and operas? Such multiplied, truly regal, banquets? Such consumptions of whisky and tobacco? Such a multiplicity of magnificent saloons and gorgeous ball-rooms? More money is spent on these in one year, in any single Christian country, than has,