to be more tenaciously conservative in their prescribed ethical values. Here and there we hear a protest. Some few Christian men may be fairly classed as leaders of the great forward movement, the most potent the world ever saw-the rising power of the common man. They are not contented until they have united the "idealism of the gospel with the realism of life." But the real Protestant who is the enthusiast and supporter of his denomination is undemocratic in his action, if not in his sympathies. The evangelical and high church Anglican are cases of arrested development. They have not come up to the mark in the ethical development of social Democracy. They have not advanced beyond the pace set by their leaders a half century ago. Their morals are conventional, individual and automatic. They are so intensely in love with their system, their plan of salvation, their ritual and their doctrine that they cannot see any growth of the moral consciousness from without. Their moral as well as their theological truth was made for them long ago and it has become crystalized now, hard and unchangeable. The bitter cry of the submerged tenth, the moral prodding of the new Democracy has liberated some noble exceptions who call themselves evangelical Protestants, or high Church Catholics, but the old paternal or autocratic ideal of their party or sect is still the same and their morals are stationary.

The liberal or progressive Protestant and the broad church Anglican may fairly be charged with paralysis of the will. They have fallen so completely under the dominion of science that they have become slaves to the scientific method. As Prof. James tells us, "Science has organized this nervous fear, lest we be deceived, into a regular technique-her so-called method of vindication; and she has fallen so deeply in love with the method that one may even say, she has ceased to care for the truth by itself at all. It is only truth as technically verified that interests her." The advanced liberal Protestant is in a similar plight. He may be ranked with the Brahmins of science and in a class by himself. He has set up the ac

cidents of life, education and culture as sometimes to be reverenced, his own experience and moral standards as something quite apart from the rank and file of men.

And of all kinds of claims to aristocracy, the aristocracy of education and culture is the most nonsensical and the most reprehensible. The Aristocrat of wealth can be tolerated for he or his family has done something and he does not know any better than to be exalted in the pride of power. The aristocrat of blood or of caste may be silly and foolish, but he is not willfully depraved. He does not knowingly sin against the light. But the so-called aristocracy of education or culture is without excuse. He knowingly crucifies the Christ without and within, and, so far as the liberal Christian has fallen under the evil spell of pride, he presents a sorry spectacle of a halting gait and a faint heart. He refuses to advance in moral values of the social consciousness without absolute proof and verification and that, as external evidence in human beings, is impossible. He may have high ideals. But, as Bishop Brent says' of modern prophets, "It is not that the ideals are too high, but that they are sketched with a faltering hand; their appeal to self-sacrifice is too timid and imprecise, the challenge to courage is too low voiced with the result that the time of inspiration is low." Many of our leading men of advanced Christian thought may be ranked fairly with these Brahmins of science. They have studied the Bible thoroughly and scientifically. They know the A B C and D writers of the Pentateuch. They have the history of religion and theology all systematized and recorded in their minds. They are open to the truth that can be verified in their own way, but they are very doubtful and halting in their estimate of moral values and of their faith in men.

The liberal Christian too, like the ultra orthodox, has become insufferably intolerant. He cannot permit anything to pass as truth that is not verified in his orthodox way. But unlike the ultra conservative, the modern liberal by his doubt and hesitancy has fostered a

spirit of skepticism that makes belief impossible. Nothing that springs from the popular will is true for either party, for it is not orthodox, or it is not verified in the orthodox way. It is not in the tradition of the fathers, or it was not found out by science. Thus the old orthodoxy and the scientific liberal can agree in discrediting Democracy and Democratic moral values. The one, because of its arrested development, is so far removed in its ideals that its positive teaching falls on dull ears. It fails to touch life with the hand of power. The other, because it holds its ideals with a faint heart and proclaims them with a faltering voice, has become paralyzed in will power and can do nothing. It has become a slave to method, and by its method, finds it impossible to verify the truth that the social consciousness is teaching us. Their party cannot stoop to know the truth by walking and suffering with the common lot of

man.

The great common man, therefore, cares nothing for these things of religion. He feels that they are entirely outside his life. He is content to work on his own line of moral discernment. He feels that the clergy and the church are a hindrance rather than a help to a moral advance. He is even ready to fight for his ideals to the great surprise and alarm of the conventional Christian.

The undemocratic Christian, the equally undemocratic scientist continue to belabor him-the common man-in the same old way. Ministers and Christians of good society use the most vile epithets and language in referring to striking workmen. Granted that they are in the wrong in using intimidation and violence, who is to be their judge? They have some undoubted social virtues as

well as personal ones. They are fighting for what they believe to be a high ethical standard. Is it not possible that their moral values are really higher and better than that of the conventional standard that denounces them? Is not

the Christian in using such vile, intemperate language, indiscriminately against any mass of human beings violating good morals? Many Christian men have sinned grievously in social righteousness; they have left undone almost every social duty, civic and industrial, that is laid upon them; they have violated almost every social right of society and yet these same men pride themselves on their superior moral qualities. A little child could lead them in social virtues. The blindest fool is wiser in discernment of moral values. Between these and the common man filled with Democratic consciousness of divine worth of all, there is a great gulf. The Christian minister and gentleman has a long way to travel, afoot and alone across dusty plains and over barren hills and mountains before he is able to cross that gulf that today divides the moral consciousness of the world. Protestantism has failed to fill the gulf because of its undemocratic satisfaction with the standards of individual culture. It is not up in moral values even to the average man. It has not leaders brave enough to lead where direction is necessary, nor wise enough to follow where a moral advance is certain.

Can we look to Protestantism again to assume its leadership in moral values? The signs are hopeful in many quarters. Narrow and bigoted sectarianism seems to be dying out for want of leadership. The most socially inclined and righteous men no longer want to be labeled by their denominational name or party creed. A real Catholicity, another name for Democracy, seems to be forming which will not be satisfied with the low moral values of partisans. The line of our horizon in social righteousness will, we believe, be soon advanced. The code of ethical righteousness will be taught and he that offends in the least of social duties will be held accountable. The last word in the field of industry, science and democracy will be that of the gospel and of mastery.

was

Two business men were spending an evening together. One asked the other, "How do you manage to break away from your work in thought as well as in deed?" His companion replied: "One method I will describe by a little story. The other day was a very busy one to me, and when I ready to go home I found my mind full of my work. I put one million dollars in my pocket, stepped on the rear platform of a street car, lighted a good cigar, and proceeded to spend the money according to the methods which I hope I would employ if I really had a fortune. I did not awake from my dream until I stepped across the threshold of my home and was greeted by the children. I had left my work entirely behind me, and had had all the pleasures of distributing the million dollars without any of the attendant responsibilities."

The first speaker asked: "Do you often indulge in such dreams?"

The other replied, “Not too often, but just often enough.'

The first speaker said: "I'm glad you have made that confession. I have in

dulged in that pastime myself frequently and I began to fear for my mental condition."

While we are told by one of the old poets that hearts have been broken and heads have been crushed by giving fancy such a free rein, we know that in the language of that same poet "there's mony a mighty mon buildin' castles i' the air." These dreams are doubtless indulged in by men in every walk of life. With some the dream never goes higher than fancy, but with others it is of that order that entitles it to rank as imagination.

Emerson gave us the distinction when he said: "Fancy amuses; imagination expands and exhausts. Imagination is the vision of an inspired soul, but as the soul is released a little from its passion and at leisure plays with the resemblances and types for amusement, and not for its moral end, we call its action fancy."

Edward G. Maggi, one of Nebraska's well known orators, has drawn the distinction in this way: "Imagination is the stellar system moving on in silent grandeur; fancy the transient meteors flashing athwart the sky. Imagination is the eagle soaring on eager wing, the lark whose song filters down from the skies; fancy is the humming bird flitting from flower to flower, the butterfly fluttering in a field of fragrant clover."

One great poet has called the air built castle "the fool's paradise," but another poet has provided for those who at times yield to the temptation to roam in that paradise the apology that "we figure to ourselves the thing we like; and then we build it up, as chance will have it, on the rock or sand-for thought is tired of wandering o'er the world, and homebound fancy runs her bard ashore."

Even though one would not be willing to condemn the practice of building air castles such as were constructed by our million dollar philanthropist, there will be little disposition to deny the propriety of the plain admonition contained in the statement of his companion to the effect that such fancies should not be indulged in "too often," and we are all, perhaps, prepared to agree with him that "often enough" is, indeed, often enough.

A man upon whom fortune had not always smiled purchased on one occasion a ticket in a lottery. It had been the hope of the members of this man's household to have at some time a horse and carriage, and the kind hearted parent returning to his home proudly displayed his lottery ticket and calling wife and children around him told them that the capital prize was $15,000. He then drew a fine picture of the carriage which he intended to purchase with his prize.

The children were of course delighted with the prospect, and little "Becky" exclaimed, "I'm going to ride on the front seat with papa!"

But "Ikey," the older brother, put in "No, I'm going to ride on the front seat!"

The father undertook to pacify“Ikey,"

but he seemed bent upon having the front seat; and finally the father bending down, as it were, from the heights of his air castle exclaimed: "Ikey, get right down out of the carriage!"

In

Perhaps this is even a better illustration than that given by our million dollar philanthropist of the kind of air castles the construction of which may be mere waste of time. But if in these day-dreams we can obtain that recreation which many men say they do obtain from such fancies, without the danger of becoming an idle dreamer, there is little harm in the pastime. deed it may become beneficial if by yielding to fancy we prepare ourselves for that imagination which plays not for amusement but for moral end. We have been told that "as imagination delights in presenting to the mind scenes and characters more perfect than those which we are acquainted with, it prevents us from ever being completely satisfied with our present condition, or with our past attainments, and engages us continually in the pursuit of some untried enjoyment or of some ideal excellence;" and further: "Destroy this faculty and the condition of man will become as stationary as that of the brutes."

Goschen, the English statesman, gave, in an address delivered at Edinburgh college, an interesting description of the uses of the imagination. He declared that one of the most precious faculties which Providence has planted in the human breast is the faculty of wise, sympathetic, disciplined, prospective imagination." He referred to "constructive imagination," which having the power of picturing absent things "takes its start from facts but supplements them and does not contradict them." He contrasted constructive imagination with analysis, saying that the latter eliminates, separates, strips off, reduces, while the former proceeds in the opposite direction.

Coleridge said that Tom Moore had fancy, but no imagination; but Poe explained that Moore's fancy "so far predominated over all his other faculties and over the fancy of all other men as to have induced, very naturally, the idea that he was fanciful only." And Poe

declared that by Coleridge's estimate "never was a greater wrong done the fame of a true poet."

One of the world's greatest word builders has told us that the man of imagination is merely the man of genius; that that man having seen a leaf and a drop of water can construct the forests, the rivers, and the seas, and that in his presence all the cataracts fall and foam, the mists rise, the clouds form and float; that he has lived the life of all people, of all races; that he knows all crimes and all regrets, all virtues and their rich rewards; that he has been victim and victor, pursuer and pursued, outcast and king-has heard the applauses and curses of the world, and on his heart have fallen all the nights and noons of failure and success; that he knows the unspoken thoughts, the dumb desires, the wants and ways of beasts; that he has knelt with awe and dread at every shrine, has offered every sacrifice and every prayer; that he has lived all lives, and through his blood and brain have crept the shadow and the chill of every death, while his soul, Mazeppa-like, has been lashed naked to the wild horse of every fear and love and hate. And the greatest castle-builder among all the architects of the air, the greatest dreamer of all the dreamers of the world concluded this powerful description: "The imagination hath a stage within the brain, whereon he sets all scenes that lie between the morn of laughter and the night of tears, and where his players body forth the false and true, the joys and griefs, the careless shallows, and the tragic deeps of every life."

The man who slept and dreamed that life was beauty awoke and found that life was duty. His was of the dreams that come true. Toiling on unceasingly he discovered that men who learn that life is duty, and act accordingly, find in fact that life is beauty.

What would life be without its dreams? What would humánity do without its dreamers? The value of our contributions to the world are to be gauged by the character of our dreams. The man who imagined that he had one million dollars and found pleasure in dreaming

that he was spending it for the benefit of his fellows is not likely to spoil his own character by his dreams or to injure society by the cultivation of fancies of that order. The man who, having invested in a lottery ticket, found his greatest delight in anticipating the pleasure he might give to his wife and little children had in him the stuff out of which good dreamers are made. He needed but to separate himself from the notion that outside the charmed circle of "frenzied finance" something can be obtained for nothing, or that the parent can bring happiness to his loved ones without an effort. Had that dream been realized upon through the medium of a lottery ticket, it would have been like Dead Sea fruit that tempts the eye but turns to ashes on the lips. It would have been like a victory without a struggle, an achievement without an effort, a prize without a contest, a token of love without a sacrifice. Such victories, achievements, prizes and tokens are without value.

The best of all dreams are those to which, perhaps, we attach not the greatest importance. But they are of the sort that come true and are true just as "the best portion of a good man's life" are "the little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love."

The dreams of love, of humanity, of righteousness, come true. They are, in fact, true in the very dreaming. Every thought that contemplates help to the helpless, that deals with the uplifting of

the fallen, the advancement of humanity, the dispensation of charity, the sacrifice of the strong for the weak, the checking of the orphan's sobs, the drying of the widow's tears, the restoration of manhood and womanhood to those who have lost hope, the winning of the world to truth-these are the dreams that make life worth living, these are the dreams that come true.

It is as old as the hills, but it is always good: When Abou Ben Adhem awoke one night from a deep dream of peace he saw an angel writing in a book of gold, and to the presence in the room he said: "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head.

And with a look made of all sweet accord

Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord;"

"And is mine one?" said Abou. “Nay, not so," Replied the angel.

low

Abou spoke more

But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee,

then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the name whom love of God had blessed—

And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

A thoughtful English writer said 50 years ago: "God creates the physical distinctions among animal life. Kings and laws make the moral distinctions among men." To that we could add: "And all social distinctions and social discords come from kings, republics and their respective laws." And John Morley, the great English savant in the

political order, has recently said: "Historians have underestimated the great dictum of, 'There is no change in social conditions without a change in property.' Another addition we beg permission to suggest: "And social turmoils, unrest, universal unhappiness shall be the order of all national life as long as men fail to see the folly of all