part of the fellow,' were no longer soft and lustrous, but haggard and cavernous, the very homes of care. 'I am sorry to be so late,' was his first greeting; 'in the country, you will be my witness, I used to keep better hours; but the fact is, I don't sleep very well in London.'

Mr. Raynes thought to himself, "You look as if you never slept at all;' but he felt no pity for the man on that account; that insulting proviso in Sir Robert's will that now hauled poor Gresham up every morning at so unwelcomed an hour (which everybody knew had been dictated by Walcot) occurred to him at once, and 'it serves the beggar right' was his reflection.

6

What he said, however, was, Ah, you are not used to the carts and omnibuses.' And then he grinned from ear to ear, as though he had been delivered of an epigram.

It is certainly noisier here than at Halcombe,' returned Mr. Walcot.

By the bye, [here the waiter brought in the morning paper, and the speaker paused till he went out again] 'how are all the good folks at Halcombe?'

'All well in health, except, perhaps, Lady Arden, and even in her case I fancy that mental trouble has more to do with her state of health than

And the children? interrupted Mr. Walcot.

'Oh, the boys are in high feather; indeed, I think Frank is brighter than he used to be; the discredit that attached to the poor lad about that giant he met on his way from our house, until all was so happily cleared up, I do believe affected his spirits, for he seems quite another boy; as for the Great Baba, he is the same affable tyrant as ever.'

'But the others--the girls?'

'Oh, I didn't know you included them in your inquiry after the children; they are both as charming as ever, and, as you have doubtless

heard, their charms have been appreciated.'

'I have heard nothing,' said Mr. Walcot, in a husky voice, and tones of which he endeavoured in vain to render indifferent.

'Miss Millicent is going to make a great match with Mr. Mayne, George Gresham's friend; it is not going to come off just yet, I believe, though really, under the circumstances

And here Mr. Raynes began to stammer, remembering by whom the circumstances (namely, of Sir Robert's estrangement) had been brought about.

'And Evelyn?' inquired Mr. Walcot, taking up The Times.

This action-committed at the expense of courtesy-was intended to convey extreme indifference, and also perhaps, to hide the workings of his countenance; but his companion noticed and mentioned it afterwardshow the paper trembled in his hand.

"Well, they say she, too, is going to make a love match, though not so splendid a one as her sister. Rumour gives her to the Curate, Dyneley; one of the best of men. He was always very friendly with the family; but the affair has taken them all by surprise, I hear. The wedding, however, like her sister's, is not to come off just yet, whereas George Gresham's-you were aware, no doubt, of his penchant for the pretty little governess?'

Walcot bowed his head. It was not so much a gesture of assent, however, as the mechanical action of one who affects attention when his mind is far away.

'Well, he is going to make short work of it. There is an inconvenience, you see, in his intended's staying on at the Hall, as half friend, half governess; so the young couple are to be made one next month. The whole family are coming up to town, under pretence of getting her trousseau; but in reality, as I understand, in hopes to divert Lady Arden's melancholy.'

Here Mr. Raynes' unaccustomed flow of speech was arrested by the expression of his companion's face, which had suddenly become distorted as if from internal passion. His eyes, still fixed upon the paper, were starting almost out of his head, and his teeth were set together like those of one in a fit.

'Good Heavens! is there anything the matter, Mr. Walcot?'

'With me, no!' The sudden distortion had disappeared and was replaced by the old quiet smile of superiority. 'It is a weakness of mine, Mr. Raynes to show my feelings, when any act of wrong or cruelty is brought under my notice.

I had the

discourtesy to cast my eyes on such a case in to-day's paper while you were addressing me, pardon me; with respect to this four-acre field, then, you were saying

'I have said nothing about it yet,' observed Mr. Raynes with an aggrieved air; for he felt that he had been wasting his breath for the last ten minutes.

'This is the map of the estate,' said Mr. Walcot, pointing to where it hung on the walls; there have been a great number of nibbles at it; but I wish to sell the whole to one man. However, in your case, I shall be glad to serve an old friend.'

Mr. Raynes did not altogether relish this compliment; but he bowed his acknowledgments nevertheless.

'I was thinking that ten pounds an acre would be a fair price for such land as that, Mr. Walcot; you see it is rather an outlying bit, and doesn't spoil the symmetry of the Halcombe property, as it were;' and he indicated with his finger the situation of the spot in question.

As there was no reply, he turned his head, and there was Mr. Walcot poring once more over the newspaper, as though he had been alone in the He had certainly no intention of being discourteous, for the next moment he was profuse in his apologies

room.

'To be frank with you, Mr. Raynes, I am not myself this morning. It is unusual with me, as you know, to exhibit such weakness; but I have seen here the death of an old friend. Once more, forgive me. You shall have the Four-Acre field at a reasonable price.'

'I named ten pounds an acre,' observed Mr. Raynes.

'Then so let it be. If you will only put the matter in legal form, but not through Mr. Hayling, if you please— I have my own reasons for declining to do business with that gentleman.— You may consider the matter settled.'

'I am really obliged to you, Mr. Walcot. I am sorry I should have brought ill news with me

Who said you had brought illnews?' inquired the other with irritation.

'Nay, I only meant the coincidence of my calling on so unfortunate a morning. You said a friend had

died.'

'True, true. It is too early to offer you any refreshment? Good morning, then; good morning.'

I have got the field,' soliloquised Mr. Raynes, when he found himself outside the door, and I have escaped from a madman! What the deuce can be the matter with the man? He's off his head for certain. I believe I could have bought the land for five pounds an acre. However, it is a good bargain as it stands, and I'll get it ratified at once. I musn't go to Hayling, it seems; but there's that Mr. Sturt, Mayne's lawyer. I'll go to him.'

As his cab drove away from the door of the Cosmopolitan,' its commissionaire stood staring after it with his mouth at fullest stretch-a faint reflex of the grimace with which Mr. Raynes had favoured him instead of six-pence.

'Well, I'm blessed,' exclaimed that astonished official, if ever I seed a gentlemen grin so.'

(To be continued.)

N publishing this work before the

IN

completion of vols. II. and III. of the Principles of Sociology, which logically precede it, Mr. Spencer deviates from the order originally laid down in the programme of his Synthetic Philosophy. He has been led to do so, as he explains in the preface, by the fear that persistence in conforming to that order 'might result in leaving the final work of the series unexecuted. Hints, repeated of late years with increasing frequency and distinctness, have shown me that health may permanently fail, even if life does not end, before I reach the last part of the work I have marked out for myself.' There is a resigned sadness in this sentence which will remind the reader of a well-known passage in Buckle, in which he realized that only a fragment of his great work could be achieved in what remained to him of life. Happily the parallel ceases here. Mr. Spencer, were his apprehensions realized, would leave behind him, not a mere fragment but a system of thought, theoretically and abstractly, totus, teres, atque rotundus, with nothing lacking but the practical deductions necessary for its application to life and conduct. Moreover, according to the latest accounts, Mr. Spencer has now fully recovered his health.

But to have left his philosophic system without any indication of its bearings upon actual life, without some definite statement of its ethical aspect, would have been to have left it without the very keystone of the arch; to have

*The Data of Ethics: By HERBERT SPENCER, New York: D. Appleton & Company, 1879. Toronto: Hart & Rawlinson.

6

omitted that part of his task to which, as he says, he regards all the preceding parts as subsidiary. From the publication, in 1842, of his first essay on The Proper Sphere of Government, he adds, my ultimate purpose, lying behind all proximate purposes, has been that of finding for the principles of right and wrong in conduct at large, a scientific basis. To leave this purpose unfulfilled after making so extensive a preparation for fulfilling it, would be a failure, the probability of which I do not like to contemplate; and I am anxious to preclude it, if not wholly, still partially. Hence the step I now take.' The necessity for 'the establishment of rules of right conduct on a scientific basis,' strikes Mr. Spencer as especially urgent at the present moment, when, to use his own words, moral injunctions are losing the authority given by their supposed sacred origin.' Those who are already conversant with the general tenour of Mr. Spencer's views, as, indeed, of the prevalent views of the most prominent scientific writers of the day, will not be startled to meet this bold assumption at the outset. Doubtless it will be widely resented as unwarranted by the facts, and will bring down upon him much hostile criticism, which, indeed, he fully expects. But all who, having eyes, will see, are well aware that, whether it be gratuitous or not, the assumption is not peculiar to Mr. Spencer, or by any means unheard of in these latter days. Not unbelievers only, but distinguished Christians participated some time ago in a Symposium at which was discussed 'The Influence upon Morality of a

Decline in Religious Belief,' and it was certainly never objected that the Symposium was an anachronism; while it was only last month that Prof. Goldwin Smith discussed in the Atlantic Monthly, The Prospect of a Moral Interregnum,' upon a very distinct enunciation of the same assumption. Thus, without here entering at all into the merits of the question, it is evident that Mr. Spencer cannot justly be made the scape-goat for an assumption which, however much it may be combatted, is certainly in the air' of the intellectual life of the day, and familiar to all who breathe it; though it may be startling and unwelcome to those who studiously keep their mental windows down. Therefore, a work like the present one should be read fairly and without prejudice, upon its own premises, if it is to be properly estimated or successfully criticised. Those who are inclined to lose their temper over the assumption referred to, will be wise to read no further than the preface; for they will certainly not be soothed as they proceed. With more philosophic minds a work written with such a serious conviction of its necessity, and such a masterly breadth of treatment, cannot but command respectful examination, if not agreement. Not many, at all events, will dispute the very solemn truth of Mr. Spencer's remark that 'few things can happen more disastrous than the decay and death of a regulative system no longer fit, before another and fitter regulative system has grown up to replace it.' The seriousness of this consideration is fully recognised on the Christian side, and no argument is more commonly employed against the encroachments of sceptical criticism than that it aims at the overthrow of a creed on which is based the whole of current morality, and offers no valid substitute for what

it would destroy. How far it is to the honour of the defended creed to meet attacks upon its truth with the plea that it ought to be left undisputed

because, whether true or not, it is very useful for keeping people in order, need not now be discussed. It is, at all events, an argument ad terrorem which is used with considerable effect, but not always with great discrimination. Against Mr. Spencer, whose philosophy is both in name and purpose, not destructive, but synthetic, it has always been inappropriate; and will now be even more out of place. For in this work the orthodox challenge is definitely met, and the substitute which modern science and non-christian thought have to offer for the Christian basis of ethics is indicated in outline; although not containing the specific conclusions to be set forth in the entire work, yet implying them in such wise, that definitely to formulate them requires nothing beyond logical deduction.'

It is almost needless to say that Mr. Spencer derives the first principles of the fitter regulative system which he considers destined, in some shape, to replace the current one, from an application to the facts of life and conduct of the theory of evolution. Hitherto the ethical tendencies of this, the representative doctrine of modern scientific thought, have been discussed only in a very loose and general fashion, which has allowed of a good deal of optimistic over-statement on the one side and not very logical hostile depreciation on the other. Here we see them traced by the master hand and brought into strict logical relation with the first principles of that comprehensive system of thought which the same hand has already reared, and with the vast body of facts on which it is based.

If evolution be the governing principle of the phenomena of life in general, it must apply to conduct, which is but part of the aggregate of actions, that part which comprehends acts adjusted to ends. Ethics, again, being concerned with but a part of conduct at large, conduct at large must be generally understood before that part can