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The question is obviously insoluble, because we cannot look into a rogue's mind, and it is precarious work to infer it from his outward words and actions. If such a feat could be performed, it would, of course, make the task of detection easier. Meanwhile we have the consolation of reflecting upon the advantages of the tattooing. It is easy enough to persuade a large part of the world, and even, it may be, to deceive oneself; but, after all, there generally remain a certain number of hard insoluble facts which have an awkward way of cropping up without having been properly foreseen. The ease with which an impression can be made upon uncritical minds

answered, but which appears to be open late falsehood, to render them altogether to discussion, whether the Claimant him- evanescent, and to substitute for them a self did not at some time or other really set of factitious recollections gradually acbelieve himself to be what he professed. quiring firmness and consistency? George IV., it is credibly said, believed himself to have been at the battle of Waterloo, by dint of telling the story often enough. There is certainly a period at which a liar of the first water, a man who has that passion for falsehood which great thinkers have for truth, gradually loses the power of distinguishing between fact and fiction. Garrick maintained that, for the time of acting, he believed himself to be Richard III. A man who systematically represents the part of somebody else may end, after a sufficient course of lying and dissimulation, in becoming puzzled as to his own identity. Everybody has sometimes been puzzled between the recollection of having done something, and the recollec-illustrates the ease with which a legend tion of having heard about it. How can we assign limits to such a process, or say confidently that we may not, by assiduous labour, generate a kind of permanent hallucination which will become to us a second nature? It has often been asked lately what is the value of our recollections of another person whom we have not seen for fourteen or fifteen years. We may go further, and ask what is the value of our recollections of ourselves? Are they not sufficiently shadowy to make it possible, by sufficient doses of what is at first deliber

would spring up in the ages before criticism was possible; but the difficulty of satisfying anything like a genuine inquiry remains so enormous that the chances must always be indefinitely great against permanent success. Luckily, we have not yet reached the consummation of settling legal facts by universal suffrage and the average common sense. When that happens, we may expect some very singular results, and nobody would know with any great certainty whether he was himself or somebody else.

From Good Words.

SPIRITUAL SONG.

FROM THE GERMAN OF NOVALIS.

EASTWARD far, lo, dawns the mountain!
Gray old times are growing young.
From the flashing colour-fountain
I will quaff it deep and long.
Sacred boon to old desire's rogation!
Sweet love in divine transfiguration!

Comes at last, our poor earth's native,
All-heaven's one child, simple, kind!
Blows again, in song creative,
Round the earth a living wind;
Scattered sparks long driven of joyless weather,
Blows to new and quenchless flames together!

All about, from graves abounding,
Forth springs new-born life and blood.
Endless peace for us firm founding,
Plunges he into life's flood;

In the midst, with full hands, gaze caressing,
Waits but for the prayer to give the blessing.

Let his mild looks of invading

Deep into thy spirit go;

By his blessedness unfading,

Thou thyself possessed shalt know;

Heart and soul and sense, in solemn pleasure,
Join and break into a new-born measure.

Grasp his hands with boldness yearning;
Stamp his face thy heart upon;
Turning towards him, ever turning,
Thou, the flower, must face the sun.

Who to whom his heart's last fold unfoldeth,
True as wife's his heart for ever holdeth.

Ours it is-with us abiding!
Godhead-word at which we quaked-
South and north in dark earth hiding,
Heavenly germs hath sudden waked!
Let us then in God's full garden labour,
And to every bud and bloom be neighbour!
George MacDonald

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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY

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From The Contemporary Review.
HENRY WARD BEECHER.

PART I.

which he presides. As English dissent in its general tendency is narrow and evangelical, so American dissent is broad and Mr. Ward Beecher and Mr. Spurgeon. latitudinarian, and these tendencies are IT would be no compliment to call Henry faithfully reflected on the one hand by Mr. Ward Beecher the American Spurgeon. Spurgeon, and on the other by Mr. Ward He may be that, but he is more. If we Beecher. It is perfectly extraordinary how can imagine Mr. Spurgeon and Mr. John able and powerful the great Baptist can Bright with a cautious touch of Professor be within his very narrow doctrinal limits Maurice and a strong tincture of the late-it is equally remarkable how wide and F. W. Robertson-if, I say, it is possible catholic is the teaching of the great Amerto imagine such a compound being brought up in New England and at last securely fixed in a New York pulpit, we shall get a product not unlike Henry Ward Beecher.

ican Congregationalist, and yet how devoid of anything like doctrinal novelty. Whether this be a strength or a weakness, we must leave others to decide; we have already Mr. Beecher is quite as remarkable for hinted at our own view of the question. what he lacks as for what he possesses. He who has no one doctrine around which With the exception of a strong and ener- all others group themselves, and which in getic personality which is highly original his hands becomes a new truth, will leave - he is almost without originality. He no school behind him, because he will either has no mental monomania, no idiosyncrasy, leave no formulas or too many. He who no new "doctrine," no new "tongue," no has some one point which he has the genius new "revelation ;" and it is altogether re- to bring out at the right time, or for the markable that the two most prominent first time, will leave a school strong and preachers in England and America re- coherent enough, but pledged to support spectively should be alike in this, that they one dogma at the expense of every other. have added nothing to the fertile field of If Mr. Spurgeon fails to leave a school it theological dogmatism. Perhaps we ought will not be for want of his definite Evanto be thankful for the omission-it may gelical cast of doctrine, but merely because be a hopeful sign of the theological times he is the eloquent exponent of a dying tradia new era may be dawning upon a world tion. The crowds that flock every Sunday weary of the heat and dust of contro-to the Metropolitan Tabernacle are not realversy," when men shall no more run to ly drawn thither by the doctrine preached and fro crying Lo here! and Lo there! be- there the same doctrine is constantly cause they will feel that the kingdom of heard elsewhere, and inspires the impartial God is within them. Perchance the listener with something very unlike relistill small voice of common sense has whis-gious emotion. Had Mr. Spurgeon lived a pered in the ear of each orator, "There is century ago, when conversion was proquite enough theology in the world, you claimed in the form of a mighty reaction need not manufacture any more; do you against the Slow Church — that word not think it is time to see about the reli- would have been nearly as electric in the gion of the people? There has been plenty mouth of his followers as it is in his own, of theology without religion, can you not and he would have founded a school; but fit up some of the old theological vessels as it is, conversion has become the stock-in(of wrath ?) with a good sound freight of trade of the Slow Church, which has, in religion and morality, instead of sending fact, preached itself to death with the to sea great argosies of pain and havoc, without a human heart on board, full of brimstone and all ablaze like so many fireships?"

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As both Mr. Spurgeon and Mr. Ward Beecher are emphatically men of the day, each has unconsciously reflected the characteristics of the vast dissenting body over

watchwords of the faith it once persecuted. But Mr. Spurgeon resembles the last rose of summer. His fragrance is undoubted, his robustness, considering the time of year, remarkable — only he stands blooming alone. His religious influence will, we doubt not, be lasting, but his doctrinal influence will be nothing. Chapels raised by

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