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those observers of passing events who are bringing a healing virtue to our longaccustomed to judge the acts of men only suffered divisions, and restoring to our reas they may be seen from the dead level united churches that larger religious effiof the street, and whose views have no far ciency which shall render their ministry horizon line; still less as it may be looked once more worthy the devotion of vigorous askance at by some Protestant scholastics youth. And not the least of the services who linger among us. But such is modern- which the New Catholicism may render to ism as it may be known in the literature the rest of the Christian world, may be to which it has created; as it lives in the lead us all to recover the meaning of that thoughts, glows in the hearts, and trans- great word-Catholic; greatest of all figures the ideals of those who follow its words save one. Modernists, both Roman call of the Spirit, whithersoever it may and Protestant, are learning to speak tolead; although again it may prove true gether that greatest of words—Love. St. that the ecclesiastical foxes have holes, but Peter received the divine commission of it, the Son of humanity hath not where to lay thrice repeated. St. John gave the new his head.

commandment of it. St. Augustine beheld From such modernism we who are it reigning in the City of God. Martin Protestants have much to learn. Its ideas Luther saw it, and exclaimed, “Love concerning the historical development of blesses, belief curses.” And the last of the Church, its dogmas and worship; of the Apostles, who put into our Bible the the worth of these as tested ever anew in inspired portrayal of it-himself the true the life of the world; its firm and constant prototype of the Christian modernist of grasp upon the great truth which Rome every age-added this line, “Love rejoiceth has never lost, that Christianity is a social with the truth.” Because Christianity is fact, and not an individual act—these and true, it is no illusion to dream this dream other ideas of the modernists, if taken up of all the modernists, Roman, Anglican, and worked over in our native thinking, Protestant, that be it soon or late, the one may prove to be reconciling principles Holy Catholic Church throughout the among our denominational contradictions, world shall become visible among men.

(C. E. N.—OCTOBER, 1908)

By C. A. Price

I KNEW a pine that topped an ancient hill,
A mark and beacon to the country-side,
Its head communed with heaven, its branches wide
Harbored the voyagers of the air, but still
Fast did its root in native soil abide.
It recked not much of winds small trees did kill,
Yet to each delicate breeze its leaves would thrill,
And murmurings sweet to the sweet air replied.

And it is fallen, and the wanderer now
Lost or belated on his homeward way,
Shall look for that uplifted head in vain;
How shall he miss that lofty guidance, how,
Through all the darkening paths that cross and stray,
Long to behold his beacon-pine again!

By Henry van Dyke

LOVER of beauty, walking on the height

Of pure philosophy and tranquil song;

Born to behold the visions that belong To those who dwell in melody and light; Milton, thou spirit delicate and bright!

What drew thee down to join the Roundhead throng

Of iron-sided warriors, rude and strong, Fighting for freedom in a world half night? Lover of Liberty at heart wast thou,

Above all beauty bright, all music clear: To thee she bared the splendor of her brow,

Breathing her virgin promise in thine ear, And bound thee to her with a double vow,

Exquisite Puritan, grave Cavalier!

The cause, the cause for which thy soul resigned

Her singing robes to battle on the plain,

Was won, O poet, and was lost again;
And lost the labor of thy lonely mind
On weary tasks of prose. What wilt thou find

To comfort thee for all the toil and pain ?

What solace, now thy sacrifice is vain And thou art left forsaken, poor and blind? Across the years I hear thy firm reply:

“The cause of truth looks lost, but shall be won. For God hath given to mine inward eye

Vision of England soaring to the sun. And granted me great peace before I die,

In thoughts of lowly duty bravely done.”


O bend again above thine organ-board:

Thy Master grants thee peace, but not repose!

He claims thy service still, but not with those “Who only stand and wait” for his reward: He pours the heavenly gift of song restored

Into thy breast, and bids thee nobly close

A noble life, with poetry that flows
In mighty music of the major chord.
Where hast thou learned this deep, majestic strain,

Surpassing all thy youthful lyric grace,
To sing of Paradise? Ah, not in vain

The griefs that won at Dante's side thy place, And made thee, Milton, by thy years of pain,

The loftiest poet of the Saxon race!

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By Edward S. Curtis


H EPHE average reader, when of fortune forced their way into the desert

thinking of the American lands of the South-west, the land that we Indian, thinks only of the now call Arizona and New Mexico, they statuesque, picturesque, buf- found it dotted here and there with human falo-hunting Indians of the habitations, habitations apparently as time

northern prairies, or, per- worn as those of old Spain. They were haps, the gayly dressed warrior in his bark communal structures of stone, cliff-perched, canoe travelling the waters of the lakes and their six stories or more towering high streams of the forests. These characteris- toward the blue dome, so high that when tic types do form a good portion of our we look up to them from the plain they Indian people, but far from the whole, and seem to be on the level with the high-soardecidedly not the most interesting. ing eagles. For miles across the outlying

When the mail-clothed Spanish soldiers desert or along the valley stretched their * See former articles by Mr. Curtis in SCRIBNER'S MAGA

farmlands. Peculiarly administered comZINE for May and June, 1906.

munities they were, with so advanced a Vol. XLV.-18


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form of government that the remnants of ventionalized designs; they were tanners, it, though shadowed by three centuries of dyers and workers in gems, and beyond all white men's greed and politics, remain the arts of their domestic life was the ritual praiseworthy to the present day. To quote of their ancient pagan one, a life exceedLummis, in “Poco Tiempo,” “There were ingly rich in religious ceremony; while their many American Republics before the sail- astronomical and astrological lore is even ing of Columbus."

to-day a thing of wonder to the student. The booty-loving Spaniards, who first The women held legally a higher place found this land, were in search of the seven in the domestic scheme of life at the coming cities of Cibola, with their fabled hoards of of the white man, three centuries ago, than gold and portals of turquoise, the cities of is granted by the laws of many states to the the many-times-told and exaggerated tales white mother and wife to-day. The Pueblo of the Negro Estevan and the Friar Mar- wife was the owner of the home and the cos. Rather than the expected riches, equal- children. Descent was traced through her ling those of the Incas in the Perus, they clan, not that of the father. In case of a found no gold and little turquoise, only defection of a husband, the wife could simple Indians without riches, but with a divorce him; if he returned to the home to life far advanced from that of the nomadic find his personal belongings placed outside tribes, possessed of many arts and crafts. the door, it meant that her decree of divorce They were tilling fields of corn and beans, was sealed; in which case, if he saw fit to and from wild cotton wove cloth which apply to the council in hopes of a reversal would do credit to any art-loom of to-day, of judgment, he might secure sympathy and fashioning from clay utensils of superb and even assistance from her clan, but not workmanship, decorated with highly con- from his own.

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