the highest at which humanity has ever arrived; that for which Mr. Harrison is dimly groping now; that what humanity needs is the dethronement of the selfish individual principle from its supremacy in the human heart, and the substitution for it of love to God, and love to man :—

"The mystery dimly understood That love of God is love of good, And, chiefly its divinest trace In Him of Nazareth's holy face: That to be saved is only this, Salvation from our selfishness, From more than elemental fire, The soul's unsatisfied desire, From sin itself, and not the pain Which warns us of its galling chain',' 'Nothing could more grossly travesty the Christianity of Christ,-and I acknowledge no other than to talk of it as a "code of mere selfishness." The salvation of the soul, in other and less abused words, the purification of the heart, is simply the transmutation of man's being and energies from the service of self to the love and service of God and man. The ideal of "humanity" as a principle of action, is the child of Christianity, though Mr. Harrison seems to think it owes its existence to M. Auguste Comte! The "enthusiasm of humanity" radiates from the cross of Jesus Christ as it never could have radiated in this world from any other quarter. Look at such a man as Plato, for instance - in so many respects before his age-congratulating the Athenians on 66 a pure and heartfelt hatred of the foreign nature. !"'

'Still,' objected Graham, 'you must admit that there has been many scattered instances of the enthusiasm of humanity,' even before Christ-for instance, Confucius, Buddha-the first Buddhist missionaries.'

"Good cause it is for thankfuluess, That the world blessing of His life; With the long past is not at strife!

"That was the true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world." But in the fulness of time came His clearer manifestation. On that first Christmas morning, something happened, which in time has changed the face of the civilized world; which made a new era, by which you and I, whether believing Christians or Positivists, have to date our letters today; which created a new standard of virtue, and gave to the whole world the ideal and the impulse of the "enthusiasm of humanity," which has so worked itself into the conscience of men, as to produce in time, Mr. Harrison and M. Auguste Comte.'

'Then, if the lesson has been so well learned, might not humanity go on well enough, even though the lineaments of the teacher should fade away?'

'I do not admit the parallel,' quickly responded Warburton. 'I did not say that the lesson had been well learned. Alas! no. Only that the ideal had become fixed- -a very different thing. Of all religions that the world has seen, Christianity is the only one that supplies at once the ideal and the power to reach it. What does all Mr. Harrison's disquisition really amount to? Why, simply this, that in none of the non-Christian theories-nor in Christianity, as he understands it, which as I have shown, is not understanding it at all-does he find the lever which can raise the world. And this he hopes to find in a certain ideal of humanity, which for practical purposes means simply the old lesson that men are to learn to love their neighbours as themselves. But how is he going to get them to do it? I grant that the finer and higher minds may, even in the theoretic rejection of Christianity, become so impressed with the beauty of its root idea of self-sacrifice, that it may be in them a strong moral force. And the human mind has such unlimited capacity for worship that,

in default of something higher, it can worship very heartily, for a time at least, an eidolon of its own mind. But how is he going to infuse this sentiment into the people he himself describes, "the rude men who sweat and swelter in mines, in furnaces and factories-the hedger and the ditcher, and the cottager, with her pinched bome-the women who stitch and serve the children wandering forlorn and unkempt into rough lifehow are they to be sustained and comforted by science and enlightenment? How will free thought teach discipline to the young and self-restraint to the wild? Human nature is not a thing so docile and intellectual that it can be tamed by fine thought, nor is society amenable to pure ideas." Most assuredly not, Mr. Harrison! I could not find stronger words than your own to express the problem. And if so, how is the idea of humanity going to tame it, and check the selfishness you admit to be rampant? We must have for the soul a worthy object of devotion, you say. How are these struggling people to find it in the humanity they see around them? Are they to find out its beauty among the squalid conditions of their own life, or in the selfish hardness or indifference of their employers, or the richer classes in general? I grant there are exceptions, but these are either Christians, or moulded on the Christian idea. How, above all, are they going to learn to love their enemies? And how are you going to teach the others to love them? Even the Christian philanthropist would find it impossible to keep a spirit of love towards the wretched and degraded men and women among whom his labours lie, if he did not feel the constraining love of Christ-if he could not see humanity transfigured in the face of the Son of man-if he did not feel that it had been for ever ennobled because Divinity had entered into it, to raise it through Divine sacrifice and suffering, to a share in the life Divine.'

'Yes,' exclaimed Mrs. Warburton, 'and I have often wondered what comfort any other than a Christian could carry to those who were crushed under hopeless suffering of whatever kind bereavement, physical painconscious failure and degradationthe loss of all hope, so far as this world is concerned. And, oh, there are so many! What have they but despair, if they can turn to no higher source than mere humanity And then there is not only the hope of a new and better life for those that have failed here, and how few have not failed, after all! But there is the loving human sympathy, too, that the thought of Christ can bring. I don't suppose that Swinburne meant homage to Christianity, when he wrote"The face is full of prayers and pains,

To which they bring their pains and prayers."

but in that very truth lies much of its power over the heart. The "fellowship of Christ's sufferings" will wake a response where no other comfort seems to gain admittance, and for the tried and tempted, no words shine out like these "in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin."'

Oh, I grant you the beauty of it all,-that side at least,' said Graham. The only question is-its truth! But you must admit that there is a dark side to the picture.'

'Yes,' replied Warburton, there is a dark side to every picture I know of -and must be while there is the dark shadow of sin-the insoluble mystery of evil! Into the nature of the future life our eyes are not strong enough to look, and I believe that a revelation was given us, not to gratify curiosity, but to give us prac tical guidance now. And with my human limitations and short-sightedness I am content to leave that ques

tion with Him-the expression and symbol of whose infinite love is--the Cross! But as you say-the question is one-not of light or shadow, but of truth. And that is a question worth settling! Harrison says, in words worth considering: "Is there anything by which man can order his life as a whole? Is there anything by which our nature may gain its unity, our race may acknowledge its brotherhood? If there be such a principle, all else in human nature is of little moment till we have it. If harmony of the whole nature be possible, it must be the supreme good dreamed of by the philophers. It must be happiness, duty, wisdom, peace and life all in one. And I say yes! and its name is Christianity.'

'But you must confess there are difficulties,' said Graham.

'I do. How could there but be difficulties, where the subject is one so far beyond our finite power to grasp? But many of the difficulties have been caused by the tendency of theology to speculate and reason too far with the inevitable human one-sidedness. I would not impose on any enquirer any human and therefore partial conception of Christianity, when its outlines are so clearly given in the only authentic source from whence all may draw. But the difficulties of believing are to my mind far outweighed by the difficulties of not believing! True, I could not communicate to any one else what to me is the strongest evidence -that of consciousness. Coleridge says, "Believe, and if thy belief be right, that insight which gradually transmutes faith into knowledge will be the reward." And he says, again, that to be truly convinced of "the process of renewal described in Scripture, a man must put himself within that process.'

'But how is any one to do that unless he is to a certain extent convinced

already?' objected Graham.

'Well, it does not need the strong

est degree of conviction to be willing. to try a remedy, if we need it, and if it be a true remedy, it will prove itself. But perhaps the first requisite is to be convinced of the need. They who came to Christ for physical healing did not need extraordinary_evidence to give them faith enough to ask. And they went away with the stronger faith of experience. Here is

a passage I once copied from Coleridge for my own benefit. It is a practical enquiry, "from what you know of yourself, of your own heart and strength, and from what history and personal experience have led you to conclude of mankind generally-dare you trust to it? Dare you trust to it? To it, and it alone? If so well! It is at your own risk, I judge you not. Before him who cannot be mocked you stand or fall!" As for myself, I have no hesitation in replying-I dare not! I want all the help, and just the help that Christianity can give me, and accepting it, I prove it for myself.'

Graham was silent, and Warburton presently went on : 'But we have talked long; I have, rather; and I dare say you have had enough of it. I only say this, unhesitatingly. Christianity, and Christianity alone, can supply the "complete human synthesis" that Mr. Harrison is looking for and hopes to find in a way of his own devising. It is the only force strong enough to bind man to God and man to man, to inspire hope in sorrow, and strength and patience to endure; to raise man above himself, above the dull common-place to which life is ever tending; to maintain, through all disappointment and all failure, the continuous inspiration of a high ideal; to be the vital principle of a spiritual life as real as the physical, though as great a mystery; to give the best evidence of a nobler future by the progressive development of that life within; and to breathe, through all the jarring discords of this mysterious life, an undertone of music which an

'CANOEING?' says a Toronto

6

young lady, who has had some experience in the stern sheets of a skiff, on the placid waters of The Bay.' 'What is Canoeing? Oh, I know; a man sits in a horrid, cranky, narrow little boat, all boxed over with a deck, except a little place in the middle, and he waves about a long thing like two big spoons, joined together in the middle he calls it a double-bladed paddle, you know-and he paddles up and down the Bay, and he tumbles out into the water now and then, if he doesn't mind. I have seen them when I have been out rowing with Willie.'

Oh, no,' says her friend, who has had relatives out with exploring parties in the back country or the NorthWest, That's not it. Canoes are always made of birch-bark, and there are always Indians in them. You get into the middle of the canoe, and you sit very quiet for fear you should upset, and there is an ugly-looking Indian at each end, and they say nothing but "ugh," and they paddle along all day with things like short oars, and they run down rapids and waterfalls.'

Our fair friends are both right, barring a few feminine inaccuracies of description.

The term 'canoe' conveys different ideas to different people. To the resident of, or visitor in, the numberless lakes and rivers, not far back from our frontier, it means a light open craft of birch-bark or wood, without decks, and propelled by a single-bladed paddlevery rarely by sail;-whilst many city people, and those fresh from the old country, will understand 'a canoe' to

mean the craft so graphically described by young lady number one, at the opening hereof.

The modern cruising canoe, about which I have a few words to say, differs from each of these types, although having points of resemblance to each. It is in fact a miniature yacht. It can be propelled either by sail or paddle, according to the state of the wind; it carries provisions enough to make its captain independent of hotels; it provides him comfortable sleeping quarters at night; it will keep him dry in wet weather; and he can haul it ashore or portage it without difficulty. It offers excellent facilities for hunting and fishing; affords access to the fine scenery of our innumerable Canadian watercourses; and gives great variety to camp life when used in conjunction with camping out. Such a vessel evidently yields exceptional facilities for

pleasant holiday journey, or a long exploring trip, wherever there is water to float on; and of course its shape, weight and size, are modified according to the work it has to do. A different canoe is needed for open rough water than for narrow streams and frequent portages.

Some apt comparisons have been made between modern canoeing and yachting. This is what the genial authors of Canoeing in Kanuckia' have to say about it: While the canoe is flying along under sail, its occupant has every pleasure experienced by the owner of a twenty-thousand dollar yacht. He has the same glorious wind whistling in his ears, the same sharp remonstrance of the