there, also, if there have been philosophical antagonists to Christianity, there have been likewise philosophical advocates-aroused to action by this very antagonism; and, even judged by a purely intellectual standard, the arguments of the advocates are far more effective than those advanced by the opposition. But the conflict is not simply metaphysical. That which Protestantism primarily depends upon for victory is not the intellectual armor with which it clothes each individual Christian, but the grand argument furnished by the gospel itself, and which profoundly affects the heart, promising divine help to the consciously helpless, and realizing that promise wherever it is accepted. And there is something sublime-as involving the strongest faith-in the confidence with which Protestants rely upon the efficiency of this great argument, unaided by an appeal to the senses through a stately ceremonial. The attack made by a Christian bishop upon the Mosaic arithmetic does not disturb their equanimity. The attacks of modern science upon the Hebrew cosmogony and astronomy do not touch them; even if they were deprived of the doctrine of inspiration, and had only left them the human testimony of the four Evangels as to the teachings of Christ and as to the events of that significant drama, beginning with his birth and terminating in his ascension to heaven, their fortress would still remain impregnable against the World, the Flesh, and the Devil.

Our readers will observe that we have had but little to say on that feature of the new Anglican movement, which is most obvious to the popular eye, and from which, accordingly, it derives its name. Not that we would make the vulgar mistake of ascribing the ritualism of the new reformers to a love of unmeaning pomp. So far are these pomps from being unmeaning, that their pregnant significance attracts the attention of thoughtful minds from the sign to the thing signified. We have been more careful to unfold the ideas which they represent, than to

dwell on the details of millinery, and upholstery, and processional tactics, in which they consist. To all diligent readers of newspapers, these details are already familiar. As briefly summed by the Bishop of Gloucester, they are as follows:

"The communion-service of the prayer-book is set, as it were, in the frame of the Roman Catholic ceremonial, with all the accompaniments of the high or chanted Mass, vestments, lights, incense, postures, and gestures of the officiating clergy. It is interpolated with corresponding hymns, and supplemented by private prayers, translated from the Roman missal. To make the resemblance more complete, several of the clearest directions of our own rubric are disobeyed, and the Roman observance substituted for that appointed by our church. To the eye hardly any thing appears to be wanting for an exact identity between the two liturgies; and it is but rarely that any difference can be detected by the ear." In one of the private prayers, at the close of the Mass, the priest implores that the sacrifice which he has offered "may be propitiatory for himself and all for whom he has offered it." In one of the ritualistic manuals of devotion the sacrament is described as "a sacrifice of praise and propitiation," in which our Lord, "through His own presence, communicates the virtues of His most precious death and passion to all His faithful, living and departed." The consecrated elements are not elevated for worship, but this concession to Protestant sentiments is expressly declared by the Ritualists to be only for a time.

Among the most advanced of the Ritualists other usages have sprung up, such as confession, priestly absolution, and vows of celibacy.

Such is the new faith. In England the controversy which it has excited awakens alarm. The Earl of Shaftesbury declares that unless the laity come forward to oppose the movement, nothing less than a miracle can save the Reformation. Disraeli fears that it may do away with the connection between

church and state. Merle D'Aubigné writes from Geneva that the Church of England, agitated as it is by the invasion of Ritualism, is like a fine ship amidst breakers, and sailing without a helm. In this country, where the Anglican Church has no state connection and no preponderance in numbers over other denominations, the movement excites less interest. But it advances here as in England, and toward exactly the same end. And it finds no feeble support in the claim put forward by the Rev. Morgan Dix, that the priesthood is endowed with supernatural powers not accorded to other men, and that the laws and traditions of the church can no more be altered than we can choose a new Redeemer.

The movement tends toward Rome. And what then? What if it reaches its goal? Why, then, say we, let Rome beware of her converts. Strange as it may seem, it is still true that Roman Catholicism loses, and Protestantism gains, by every conversion to the Papal Church. Of course, we allude to conversions from Protestantism. The case of Dr. Newman will serve as an example. He has been a member of the Roman Catholic Church over twenty years, and in point of eminence yields precedence to no other convert. But after this long probation, he declares (in his controversy with Dr. Pusey): "I prefer English habits of belief and devotion to foreign, from the same causes and by the same right which justifies foreigners in preferring their own." There lurks in this declaration the inevitable antagonism between Eastern and Western thought, of which the Papal authorities may well be suspicious. And they are suspicious of it. They know that the Anglo-Saxon civilization of today is itself a protest against Rome; they know that the conversion of Dr. Newman does not eradicate from his mind the influences of that civilization. Father Faber's writings, with their glamour of Italian enthusiasm, may have influenced him for a time; but as he himself confesses, "to whatever extent I might be carried away, my mind in no

long time fell back to what seems to me to be a safer and more practical course.” He relies upon the national good sense preserving English Catholics from the extravagancies which are elsewhere to be found," and goes on to say: If the Catholic faith spreads in Engiand these peculiarities will not spread with it. There is a healthy devotion to the Blessed Mary, and there is an artificial. It is possible to love her as a Mother, to honor her as a Virgin, to seek her as a Patron, and to exalt her as a Queen, without any injury to solid piety and Christian good sense; I cannot help calling this the English style." Creature-worship may seem necessary “to Italian youths and Italian maidens; but as an Englishman he holds that the dogma of a mediatrix between man and his Redeemer is not to be inculcated on his countrymen. And regarding some sayings, quoted by Dr. Pusey from foreign Catholic writers of great authority, he says: "As spoken by man to man in England in the nineteenth century, I consider them calculated to prejudice inquirers, to frighten the unlearned, to unsettle consciences, to provoke blasphemy, and to work the loss of souls." Of course, Archbishop Manning (also a convert) denounces this sort of criticism as "the illuminism of the individual revising the discernment of the church; the climax and efflorescence of the private judgment which criticises all things-first Scripture, then fathers, then churches, then councils, then pontiffs, finally, the accumulated living Christianity of the Catholic church, in which the head and mind of fathers, councils, and pontiffs breathe and teach and worship." But what could an archbishop say less? And what is Dr. Newman to do against this array of fathers, councils, pontiffs, et cetera ? Why, still write on, we presume, after his cherished English style of thinking what he pleases, and speaking his thought when and how he pleases. From such a convert the Holy Father certainly obtains poor comfort, and but for courtesy to so eminent a writer, we should long ago have found Dr. New

But let us take another case, that of an American convert to RomanismFather Hecker, who, Mr. Parton says, is at the head of an organization (the Paulist Fathers), the object of which is "to convert Mr. Emerson and his friends and the educated people of America." Let us consider some of his peculiar ideas, as quoted by Mr. Parton. "Man

has no right to surrender his judgment." "Endowed with free will, man has no right to yield up his liberty. Reason and free will constitute man a responsible being, and he has no right to abdicate his independence. Judgment, liberty, independence, these are divine and inalienable gifts; and man cannot renounce them if he would." Again: "Religion is a question between God and the soul. No human authority, therefore, has any right to enter its sacred sphere. Every man was made by his Creator to do his own thinking." "There is no degradation so abject as the submission of the eternal interests of the soul to the private authority or dictation of any man, or body of men, whatever may be their titles. Reasonable religious belief does not supplant reason, nor diminish its exercise, but presupposes its activity, extends its boundaries, elevates and ennobles it by applying its powers to the highest order of truth. There are several primary, independent, and authoritative sources of truth. Among others, and the first, is reason."

Well, this is good enough ProtestantIsm for us-though we very much doubt whether it would go down with the Ritualists. Go on, by all means, say we, and convert "Mr. Emerson and his friends and all the educated people of America" on that basis. If this is to be the occidental style of Roman Catholicism, we will give it a hearty welcome. And we opine that such it is really to be in a good time coming. It makes as rub our eyes to think of it-Rome coming over to us, and turning herself inside out to suit our institutions, instead of our following these Ritualists over to Rome with a surrender on our

The fact, then, that Roman Catholicism is gaining ground in America is perfectly consistent with the other indisputable fact, that on the Continent of Europe it is daily losing ground. Its loss is where it is most distinctively Roman Catholic; its gain is where it is compelled by the tendencies of civilization to relax its ancient claims. We have nothing to fear from the spread of the Romish Church in this country. No religious organization can prevail here except in conformity with the outward circumstances under which its development goes on; and all these circumstances are fatal to the medieval claims of the Papacy. The Roman Bishop, in the first instance, it must be remembered, gained a preeminence over the other early episcopates, not through the theory of his succession to Peter (which was an after-thought), but through the sounder and more practical development of the Western Church, in those days, as compared with that of the Eastern, which had become entangled with Neo-Platonic speculations. This healthier development was largely due, also, to the executive capacity growing out of familiarity with Roman jurisprudence.

The practical rather than the speculative tendencies of the early Western Church, and its larger executive capacity, were due to local circumstances. In the same way, and for similar causes, Roman Catholicism in England and America cannot be the same thing which it is in Continental Europe. It is the old conflict repeated between the West and the East.

It is not difficult, from this point of view, to foresee that America is destined, not only to develop for the world the theory of popular government, but also to furnish the basis for an universal Christian brotherhood. The union of the Christian churches is not to come through compromise, but as the result of the conflict of the last three hundred years. The intense activities which were aroused by the Reformation tend finally toward rest from strife-toward the peace of Christendom.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

MISS BULBOUS was favored with a clear starry night for her soirée dansante, which was a good thing in the country, where the invited have, some of them, to come quite a distance over unilluminated roads. The rooms were pretty well filled when the Camerons arrived.

"Where is Miss Milla?" asked the fair hostess, magnificent in pale yellow satin and pearls, with a trail like that of a comet, as Mrs. Cameron appeared before her.

"She is coming with the Grizzles, thank you. Their carriage was larger than ours, and they offered her a place."

man.

"I hope they'll not be late. I depend upon Mr. Dassel to direct the GerIf Mrs. Grizzle should take it into her head that it was aristocratic to come late, she would not appear before midnight. I never did see a woman so infatuated on the subject of style;" and Miss Bulbous curled her lips, giving a sly glance backward, to see if her train was properly displayed, as we may have observed a peacock do when handsomely perched on a suitable fence.

"If she knew that you expected Mr. Dassel to take a leading part, she would be here in due season, for she is very proud of him," said Mrs. Cameron, with a smile.

"He's a real baron, isn't he-not of the French barber kind?" queried their hostess. They say he's splendidly accomplished."

"They can hardly exaggerate his accomplishments. He is one of those true gentlemen who have given up ease and rank for an idea of right.”

"Oh, how nice! I should love to hear him expatiate on the subject! I should think you'd set your cap for him, Miss Cameron."

"It would be better for you to do that," was Elizabeth's quiet reply,

"since you have money enough for both."

What Miss Bulbous would have said to this is not known, as the tide of company was at its height, and the Camerons were drifted on beyond their hostess. Elizabeth glanced uneasily at every new arrival. She was dreading the advent of Sam Grizzle.

When she dressed, that evening, for the party, she stood long before her mirror, after the last possible touch had, apparently, been given to her toi lette. Finally, she turned, and said to her mother, who had entered her chamber to ask if she were ready,

"Are there any camelias in the con servatory, mamma?"

"There is one very fine blossom ; noticed it this afternoon."

I

"How would it look in my hair?" "I should like to see it there," answered Milla; "your hair is so dark,and the white flower would look well with your blue dress. Let Sabrina bring it."

"Shall I?" asked Lissa, again, of her mother.

"Of course, my dear, if you fancy it." Elizabeth sat down, with thoughtful eyes, while Sabrina brought the flower.

"Let me place it for you. You will not refuse to let me fasten it with this little brooch, sister? and, remember, it is a gift from me."

6

"I will wear the brooch to please you, Milla, for this occasion only.' Make it secure, for I should dislike to lose it."

Milla was dressed in white. She wore a pair of solitaire ear-rings, but had been dissuaded from the rest of the jewels, which Sabrina was to take spa cial charge of during their absence.

"What's the matter with you, Sabrina?" asked Mrs. Cameron. "I know you've been crying. If you have any trouble, why do you not share it with

as? I should think we have been your friends long enough."

The old woman began to cry and sob.

"Don't worry yourself about her, mamma. I know what is the matter with her; it is nothing serious," said Milla, a little impatiently.

"I must know all about it if you are in trouble, to-morrow, nurse."

"Yis, yis, to-morrow you know all about it, true 'nuff," muttered Sabrina, wiping her eyes.

"I wish the Grizzles would come for you before we leave, Milla. I do not like to go first."

"Oh, never mind that, mamma. There's Mr. Dassel now, coming to keep me company until they call. It cannot be many moments. I will take my cloak and bouquet, and go down to the parlor with you."

They all went down, the old nurse following, to fasten the door after they should be gone. Mr. Dassel was in the hall.

"Don't fear-I'll take good care of the little girl," he said, as Mrs. Cameron answered her husband's question, if she were ready. "Madame Grizzle promised to be here in less than ten minutes."

Keep your cloak well about you; it will be chilly," called the mother, looking back through the vestibule, to where her darling stood, under the lamp in the hall, clinging to Mr. Dassel's arm, and watching her friends depart with a face the color of her dress.

"Yes, mother."

The carriage-door was closed, the horse started. Sabrina stood on the porch, looking after them.

"Milla was so pale, wife, I'm afraid this excitement is not good for her."

"She always changes color so easily. She may look like a rose by the time she arrives at Miss Bulbous'."

Now the first detachment had arrived, they looked vainly, for some time, for the second. Elizabeth supposed she had the camelia in her hair, and was not anxious for the moment when Sam Grizzle should enter the rooms, and fix his greedy eyes upon it. In walking

about she came opposite a mirror, in a small boudoir, nearly deserted. It was natural that she should glance at her image-that she should look for the fatal flower which she had chosen as the signet for a life-long bondage of soul and body. Why did she start and smile when she found the camelia gone? The blossom had dropped from her hair. Where she had lost it, she did not know, probably in getting out of the carriage.

"I prayed to God to decide for me," she murmured, "and He has done it.”

"Miss Bulbous is getting quite out of patience," said her mother, finding Elizabeth in the corner where she had remained, watching the brilliant groups down the vista of handsome rooms, idly listening to the sweet music, but busily thinking over the temptations of the last few days, and rejoicing in her escape.

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Mother, I feel uneasy; it is strange they do not come."

"I do not see that we need to feel uneasy. What possible accident could have happened? Miss Bulbous will be obliged to choose another leader for the German, which is nothing so very serious."

By this time nearly every one expected had arrived. There was quite a crowd, considering that it was a country-neighborhood party almost entirely, the only exceptions being a dozen or two of young men from town, required as partners in the dance, and about to be useful, also, in keeping champagne corks flying during the approaching supper. Miss Bulbous selected one of these important members of modern society to the leadership, and the dancing began.

Elizabeth was asked to participate, and did not decline. She was glad to be thus engaged when Sam should arrive. She asked her mother to take the diamond brooch from her hair, and place it in the lace at her throat.

"I lost the camelia, mamma, and cannot replace it."

"Never mind, you are well enough without it."