tion, there is a mountain valley in Wales which might have been worth, at the outside, £800 a year as a sheep farm. But coal and iron were found, works created, and a town of 10,000 inhabitants sprung up, and the landlord now gets a secure income of £8,000 a year. This extra value has been created by the outlay of capitalists, most of whom lost their money, and by the labor of the community who live on the soil.

Now I do not care how the landlord's ancestors got the land in the times of the Tudors or Plantagenets, nor would I propose to confiscate his income on the plea of equal rights or ancestral robbery. But without being a Rousseauist, I may be permitted to say that I think the original legislation was bad which did not reserve the mining rights for the State or Commune, and that the modern legislation was bad which did not impose some large share of the local rates on the fortunate landlord, to provide the requisites of civilized life for the community, which had thus grown up, and to which he was in debted for his enhanced income.

Again in the case of betterments in towns. Am I a Rousseauist if I hold

that where a street is widened at the expense of the rate-payers by taking one side of it, and by so doing the value of the other side is greatly increased, the owner of the soil ought to contribute some fair proportion of the rates?

These are the sort of questions which are fast coming within the range of practical politics, and they are obviously in a totally different sphere of ideas from speculations as to the original equality of mankind, and the abstract rights or wrongs of the principle of private property.

They will be solved not by any appeal to such abstract theories, but by what Professor Huxley admits to be the only method of solving such complicated social problems, by trial and error, by practical experience, and by the survival of the fittest in the struggle for existence. Such solutions are not far off, and it is pretty clear in what direction they will be. In the mean time, I can only say that advancing years and closer observation make me every day less alarmed at the inevitable progress of democracy, better satisfied with the present, and more hopeful of the future.-Contemporary Review.

-Spectator.

We hope that the President of the Royal Society intends to publish at length the lecture delivered at the Finsbury Polytechnic Institution on Sunday, of which the Times gave a short report in its Monday's issue. It is obvious that the lecture was one of great interest, though a great part of its drift has been so much condensed in the Times' notice of it as to diminish very much its value for those who were not present. Professor Stokes's main thesis seems to have been that neither is the intellectual part of man the mere product of molecular changes in the brain, nor, on the other hand, is physical organization the mere cage or prison of the soul. Professor Stokes holds both the materialist hypothesis which makes the consciousness a blossom of the material organization, and the psychic hypothesis which makes the material organization a sort of bondage or confinement for the free spirit, to be inconsistent with the facts of life. He illustrated the error of the former view by remarking that after a great physical shock, such as a bricklayer is said to have received who was struck down and rendered unconscious for a time by a falling brickbat, the first thought on recovery of consciousness has been to complete the sentence which had been begun before the blow was received. Now, said Professor Stokes, the blow must have caused a great variety of important physical changes in the brain, yet the moment consciousness returned, the mind went on working in

precisely the same groove of continuous purpose in which it was working before the blow fell. Could this be if the mind were nothing but the product of the molecular action of the brain? On the other hand, the notion that the body is rather a dead-weight than otherwise, which limits and confines the action of the soul, was regarded by Professor Stokes as subject to difficulties quite as great as the materialistic theory. We are not told in the report what these difficulties are, but we think we could suggest some of Professor Stokes's objections. If it were so, there would, one would think, be a greater approach to freedom and activity of mind during the decay of bodily power which precedes the dissolution of the tie between soul and body, than there is in the full vigor of the mature body; yet this is found not to be the case. The health and strength of the body implies a more favorable condition for the vigorous action of the mind than its frailty and decay. It is not in extreme old age nor in illness that the mind usually acts with most freedom and power, but, on the contrary, in the maturity and highest vitality of the body. The mens sana is found more perfect in corpore sano, than in any decadent state of the body; nor have we any evidence worth mentioning that at the approach of death the mind can take a more lofty and stronger flight. All this suggests that the relation between mental power and physical power is not one either

even chiefly, upon the will itself, though that is the one element of character which is self-determining, and which can more or less modify and change the set of the whole stream of tendencies and aspirations. Let any man consider in what the individuality of himself or any of his most intimate friends chiefly consists, and he will very rarely find that it is solely, or even mainly, the set of his purposes, the attitude of his will. That enters very deeply, of course, into his individuality, but it is very seldom the most conspicuous feature, and never the only conspicuous feature in it. The individuality depends still more on the bias of nature, the proportion between a man's feelings and his intellect, the vividness of his sensations, the tenacity of his memory, the vehemence of his passions, the eagerness of his curiosity, the depth of his sympathies,-all matters which are more or less determined for him, and which his will, though it has the power to regulate and guide, has no power to revolutionize. Thus individuality is something far wider than thought, or even "will ;" and though will "" enters into it, almost as the direction of the helm enters into the course of the ship, nobody can deny that individuality includes elements which involve deeply the physical organization no less than elements which are purely mental. Hence we agree with Professor Stokes that individuality lies deeper than either the purely mental or the purely physical elements of life, and we should be very willing to find reason to think, that the individuality moulds both the mental and the physical organization and the relation between them, rather than that it is the product of the mental and physical organization and of the relation between them. But as no one was ever conscious of the moulding of his own or any other mental and physical organization, and of the relation between them, it must be more or less matter of inference from more general considerations, whether the individuality was first conceived so as to precede and determine the mental and physical conditions under which life commences, with the relation between them, or whether these conditions, and their reciprocal influence on each other, constitute the individuality. Of course those who believe that there is something more in human life than any materialist hypoth

of mental effect to physical cause, or of a spiritual cause in a phase of conflict with an obstructing agency, but rather is the relation resulting from some deeper agency which contains in it, if we understand Professor Stokes's drift rightly, the principle of individuality, and determines both the form of character and the physical frame as well as the connection between them. Professor Stokes said that there were indications in Scripture "of a sort of energy lying deeper down than even the manifestation of life, on which the identity of man, and his existence, and the continuance of his existence, depended. Such a supposition as this was free from the difficulties of the two theories he had previously brought before them, the materialist theory and what he had called the psychic theory. It represented the action on the living body as the result of an energy, if he might say so, an energy which was individualized; and the process of life, thinking included, was the result of interaction between this fundamental individualized energy and the organism. The supposition that our individual being depended on something lying deeper down than even thought itself, enabled us to understand, at any rate to conceive how our individual selves might go on in another stage of existence, notwithstanding that our present bodies were utterly destroyed and went to corruption. It would be impossible, we think, to doubt that our individuality, that is, our character, depends on something" lying deeper down than thought itself," for all that determines the direction and the drift of thought, the passions, the affections, the purposes, the will, must be conceived as preceding, or at all events as coexisting with, thought, and giving it, so to speak, its sailing orders. It is not thought which usually determines character, but in an immense majority of cases, character which determines thought; and it is impossible to conceive that which determines otherwise than as preceding that which is determined. And we quite agree with Professor Stokes that the individuality includes more or less the physical organization. The desires, the tastes, the ambitions, the affections, the spiritual yearnings, are more or less profoundly involved in the character of the senses and the physical organization. It is impossible to make the individuality depend solely, or

esis will account for,-especially those who believe in free-will, will be very much more inclined to take the former view, than those who accept evolution as explaining not only the method but the absolute causation of human life. It is impossible to believe in free-will without believing in a divine mind, for it is clear that material forces could never have broken loose from their own fetters and blossomed into freedom; and the moment you believe in a divine origin for the will of man, it is impossible not to believe that the divine purpose has placed the evolution and training of human character as a whole above all the other purposes of our human life. So much, we think, then, may safely be said, that if the human will is free, as Professor Stokes evidently believes, the evolution of the physical part of our life must have been more or less subordinated to the evolution of the moral and spiritual part of our life; so that it is not unreasonable to conclude that there is some individualized energy, deeper than life itself, which has more or less controlled the development both of the mental and the physical organization of every man, and the relation between them. We say "" more or less controlled," because no one, of course, can say how far the laws which regulate the evolution of social relations may not interfere with, or even supersede, what we should regard as the evolution of individual character. No man in his senses denies the lineal transnission of good and evil tendencies from parent to child, or even the contagion of good and evil between mere companions and friends, which has so astounding an effect as well on the regeneration as on

the corruption of social groups; and our knowledge of this truth renders it quite impossible to say that the divine purpose contemplates the evolution of individualized characters as a thing apart from the evolution of the whole social character of which they will form a part. Professor Stokes therefore would not dream of regarding the individualized energies in which he finds the probable basis both of mind and of physical organization, as formed without reference to the ancestors from whom those who were about to be brought into existence had sprung, and the society and nation in which they were to be developed. Still, we think it may be said by all who believe in the free will of man and the providence of God, that human character cannot be regarded as the mere product of circumstances and organism, but must be treated as stamping a new individuality on the life and the organism, by which in no small degree the character of that life and the power and elasticity of the organization are controlled and directed. Professor Stokes believes that this individuality more or less evolves the bodily organization, and cannot be left without a bodily organization, even after our present bodily organization falls into ruin or decay. To him the body is a constituent element of the individual, which will express itself in another, perhaps a less imperfect body, so soon as the old body disappears. That is certainly the suggestion of revelation, and appears to be quite consistent at least with reason, not to say of something which looks rather like the beginning of experience.—Specta

tor.

SIBERIA, the land of the exiles, is a vast country with many climates, many soils, and many towns, which are all places of punishment for those whom the Master of all the Russias and the commander of millions of soldiers deems dangerous to his power.

George Kennan has described to the indignant world our exile system as a whole. I will not retrace his steps in speaking of

that national calamity of ours. My object is to say a few words about the exile into the far North not visited by Kennan, where the exiles have to undergo not merely complete intellectual isolation, but a series of most cruel physical and material sufferings, which make that form of arbitrary punishment just as heavy as, if not heavier than, the hard labor in the mines.

Let me tell the reader the story of one of the early settlers in that inhospitable region, a certain Zalessky, a land surveyor in the province of Kursk. In 1877 he was arrested on the charge of having distributed a few Socialist pamphlets, and exiled without trial to Verko-Yansk, a village in latitude 67° 34', numbering 290 inhabitants, wretchedly poor, and completely savage. In that awful place, where he was at that time the only educated man, Zalessky remained for full eight years without a book, without a newspaper, without a letter, suffering from the terrible Arctic cold, from hunger, and want. It was not the cruelty of the gendarmes which inflicted so dire a punishment for so trifling an offence; we will not bring against our enemies any unwarranted charge. Zalessky was simply forgotten by them. When, by mere accident, his existence was discovered, an order was sent to Siberia to bring him back to his native country. As he had no money to make the journey at his own expense, he had to travel right across Siberia on foot, under escort, with a batch of vagabonds sent to their native villages in European Russia. It took him a year to come to the Moscow central prison, which he reached in 1886; there he was met by a number of political exiles on their way to Siberia. One of them, who escaped afterward, told me that the appearance of Zalessky was that of a man who had spent twenty years in a gloomy dungeon. Though under forty, he looked like an old decrepit man, with bent and shattered body, blinking, almost sightless eyes, and toothless mouth.

It is not only the climate which works such havoc upon a man's frame, but the life of utter misery and isolation. Whenever an exile is sent to a new place, where he is quite alone, his fate is always extremely hard. Here is another_example of more recent date. In 1884 Jordan, a student of the Kharkoff Veterinary Schools, was arrested for having taken part in the printing of the pamphlets of the peaceful Socialists-those who were against political terrorism. After a year of imprisonment, namely in 1885, he was exiled without trial to Verko-Lensk (not Verko-Yansk), a town in Southern Siberia. On reaching this place he wrote to his friends at Kharkoff asking them to send him at his own address all the new

things issued by the secret press, saying that the local police superintendent was a good man, who did not open the letters of the exiles. This letter was intercepted by the Kharkoff police, and Jordan was sent off to the Arctic zone to Vilusk, lat. 63° 45', where he had to live quite alone among the savage Yakuts. The sufferings and privations he underwent were such that he died there in 1888.

When the number of exiles increases they mutually help each other morally and materially so as to make life more tolerable even in such places cursed by nature as Verko-Yansk, Sredne-Kolymsk, and Vilusk. Still, the sufferings and privations to which they are subjected are extremely severe. These are non-inhabitable places, for Europeans at all events. Nova Zembla, which is visited by men only during the summer months, has a much milder climate than the Arctic region of Siberia. In the former the average temperature for a year is 13° F., with 7° below zero for the three winter months; while in Verko-Yansk the average both for the winter and autumn months is 31° F. below zero, the average temperature for the three months of eternal night, December, January, and February, sinking to 53° F. below zero, which is full 13° below the freezing point of mercury. As to the average temperature for the year, it is only 1° F. above zero, the lowest temperature that has been observed at any point of the northern hemisphere. During the short summer the temperature rises, rapidly reaching 56° F. But with the warm season come the mosquitoes, which are a plague of these regions more difficult to endure than cold. I never would have believed," says the correspondent of the Russky Vedomosty (Moscow), who has been exiled to these parts, "that the insects could appear in such swarms. They literally darkened the light, filling the air with an incessant noise, covering, as with a black mantle, our horses, whose flanks were soon bleeding all over. Maddened with pain, the horses kicked and reared, but seeing that all was unavailing, they drooped their heads and submitted to the inevitable. In vain we tried to protect ourselves with veils, travelling, notwithstanding the hot weather, in winter gloves and overcoats. The mosquitoes penetrated through the sleeves under the shirts, stinging the breast