tube-like structure, which passes through the style of the pistil, and brings the essential matters of the pollen-grain in contact with the seeds. Regarded even in a cursory manner, the foregoing phases of plant-history are full of meaning to the scientist. Everywhere he sees order and contrivance; blind chance seems to have no part in the ordering of nature's affairs. The growth of the long and short-styled flowers in the primrose, and the upward growth of the flower of myosotis, are purposive actions in the plainest meaning of the term. They are meant to subserve a special endthus much the botanist has discovered-and that they have been "designed," somehow or other, to this end is a statement with which every scientist will agree. That the pollen-grain has been invested by some power, and in some fashion or other, with the property of emitting its pollen-tube when placed on the pistil, and under no other circumstances, is a self-evident fact; and that we are thus witnessing the operation of some well-defined law regulating the functions of pollen-grains, constitutes a statement admitting of no dispute. The great question, however, which underlies these statements, relates to the institution and regulation of the laws whose operation is so readily apparent to the seeking mind. Will it be regarded as a satisfying and reasonable explanation, that contrivances of such orderly and well-balanced nature have arisen by chance, fortuitously, or through the demands which nature at large has made upon her own resources? Has the purpose been self-created and self-propagated ? and has the wondrous intercalation of cause and effect between insect and flower, between pollen and seed, or between one part of the flower and another, been induced and continued entirely by the operation of surrounding conditions? Are we, in short, to begin and end by simply seeing and admitting the perfection of the adaptation, and by assuming the competence of the conditions which we see in operation to have determined, in the beginning, their own impulse, effort, and direction? If we are to answer these questions in the affirmative, and as a certain school of thinkers would reply, it must be said that we are compelled to make calls upon our belief and imagination, of the extent of which we can hardly form any conception. The idea of an order or design which is capable of self-origination, is a conception requiring a much greater exercise of faith in scientific hypothesis than that which, through faith of another order, regards the design as the product of a Mind, correlating the most minute and insignificant as well as the grandest phases of natural law. The entire question, in short, is one of choice between investing force and matter with self-creating and self-sustaining properties, or of relegating the source of natural actions to Mind and Will operating through force and matter, and through laws of well-defined and stable kind. Nor do we think the reasonable mind can hesitate in the choice between the two opinions. If the ordinary experience of life, and the common, every-day sequence of cause and effect in human life, possess any power or value in guiding us towards a rational explanation of the origin and control of nature's ways and works, there can be no hesitation in boldly affirming that the exhibition of design and purpose in nature is only explicable to the human mind on the assumption that there exist a Mind and Designer. The attitude of modern science, where it has joined issue with natural theology, is strongly marked by its negation of the right to infer the operation of Mind in nature from the contrivances and designs discoverable in the universe at large; the presumption placed before us being that the apparent design has arisen out of necessity, and through the operation of the law of adaptation. But what, it may be asked, determines the necessity or institutes the laws which supply the needs and wants of nature? Could this allegation of necessity in nature being the parent of invention and contrivance be shown to possess no exception, and to be invariably explanatory of the origin of animal and plant structure, the theory might be regarded as possessing some strong points. in its favour. But if we are to displace the idea of intelligent design in nature, it behoves us to assure ourselves of the fitness of the rival and deposing idea to fill its place. The belief in the existence of Mind in nature, ruling and controlling the destinies of all nature's belongings, satisfactorily, simply, and fully explains the origin and mutations of the living and non-living alike. If, on the contrary, we are to replace this idea of referring effects to a distinct cause, by another idea, in which the cause is relegated to some inexplicable and indistinct source, connected with, and originating from, "matter and force," we are bound to assure ourselves that matter and force are fully equal, as we know them scientifically, to the performance of the tasks with the performance of which they are credited. A case in illustration of the statement that design and contrivance in nature may arise in utter independence of causes-such as use and disuse-competent to produce many obvious changes in animals and plants, is afforded by the consideration of the electrical organs of certain fishes. As seen in the Torpedo, or Electric Ray, for example, the electrical organs consist of two large masses of honeycomb-like structure, placed one on each side of the head. In this structure are imitated all the conditions which man brings together in forming an electric battery; and through the peculiar modification which nerve-force undergoes when transmitted through this curious apparatus, an electric current is evolved, capable of being used with violent effect on the living beings with which the fish comes in contact. If we inquire how the electrical organ in this fish has been developed, and how the intricate conditions between the nerves and the organs have been adjusted, we find natural science to afford no clear answer to the query. The law of use and disuse of organs is totally inadequate to explain the nature or action of this apparatus, and it can hardly be accounted an explanation of any kind to allege that it has been developed through the interaction and operation of unknown conditions. Its purpose, on the contrary, is very evident. Living animals brought into contact with the fish are either killed or paralyzed, and thus no clearer example of the adaptation of means to an end could well be found than in the consideration of an instance like the present. If we refuse to admit the idea of Design in this case, we may simply confess our inability to form any idea whatever of the nature of the electric organ. If, on the other hand, we recognise this structure as presenting us with a clear example of an organ designed to serve a special end, and by a Mind which has through special laws wrought out its development, all our difficulties disappear. And in the contemplation of the electrical organ of the fish, we behold as perfect an exercise of constructive power, and as admirable an adjustment of means to an end, as, when in the telegraph we note a veritable triumph of human science. The credit we so freely give to humanity in designing an apparatus of such delicacy, intricacy, and utility as the electric telegraph, we may not withhold when paying tribute, in the form of the deepest admiration and reverence, to the Mind, which, for the purposes of its creatures, designed a similar contrivance ages before man appeared on the stage of being. The old standing of teleology, or the reading of purpose and design in the works of nature, can thus be shown to be unaffected by the modern extension of knowledge, and by the wider recognition of the laws according to which living beings are formed and arranged. Even if it be proved to us that the eye and ear of man represent modified and improved states of the organ of sight and hearing in lower animals-or if, as has been alleged, the eye of man itself is, as an optical instrument, not entirely free from defects-the consideration will not in one degree lessen the innate truth that the laws of development have been enunciated and ordered by a Great Lawgiver, and that the purpose and design of these organs are not a whit the less perfectly served, because of apparent imperfections or on account of their mode of origin. Disease itself makes sad havoc in the organ of sight, as well as in every other portion of our frame; and the argument that the imperfection of the eye betokens its emanation from a Hand other than Supreme, is of no more account than that which would maintain the imperfections of our whole frame, and our inability to retain our place in nature, because we are subject to disease and to death itself. The laws of life and development are, in truth, clearly correlated with those of disease and death; and exactly as we can extend our ideas to include all the laws and conditions of life in one great scheme, so proportionally shall we obtain clear glimpses of the perfect harmony between cause and effect, and of the attestation of living nature to the presence of her Lawgiver and Lord. As a closing thought to these reflections, it may be appropriate to point out that, recognising this extension of the purposes of Mind in nature, each fresh discovery may frankly be hailed as furnishing us with new and striking proofs of the operation of intelligence and design. With the special readings and constructions of the Supreme Mind, as contained in systems of religious belief, there may be much with which science disagrees in her interpretation of nature at large. But beneath these discrepancies in the letter, there remains, in fact, the deeper reading of the spirit of a reasonable religion and of true science-a spirit which, recognising the incorporation of Mind with Matter, regards Nature as related to God in the light of a "living appeal of thought to thought." ANDREW WILSON. THE LITTLE MAID THAT SLEPT. SOMBRE folds the windows shroud, Phantom figures come and go Hearts that must not break too loud, Where, 'neath fever's scorching sway, Tossing, tossing, tossing aye. And the mid-sun overhead But she lies so dimpling-fair, In her bed-gown long and white, With her waves of heavy hair Drowning neck and shoulder bright, Half way budded to a smile Pure young heart, O sweet child-heart, And those thin white lids of hers Fancy whispers, "Softly now, But the twin hands fairy-small, Never rise and hang and fall With the breath's soft ebb and flow. Yea, the breaking mother-heart, To the blue-veined marble breast; Yea, the pet-name softly said First to heaven He turns His eyes One long moment, as in prayer, Then upon the maid that lies Like a stream its chain that breaks, As she sighs, and smiles, and wakes. Oh to know thy dream! FREDERICK LANGBRIDGE. ST. PAUL IN THE WITH ST. PAUL IN ATHENS. BY THE REV. PROFESSOR PORTER, D.D. MARKET-PLACE." T. PAUL, as was his custom, directed This attention first to his countrymen, 66 with whom "he reasoned in the synagogue.' But he does not appear to have had much success; he therefore turned to the Greeks, for intercourse and controversy with whom his early training and habits of thought specially fitted him, having been educated in the philosophical school of Tarsus, which at that time rivalled, if it did not excel, Athens. In order to obtain easy and free communication with the people he adopted the plan of their own teachers, and went out into the Stoas of the Agora. The English rendering of this word, market-place," does not convey a right conception of the Greek. The Agora was a place of public resort, in which, it is true, there was a market; but where all classes of the people, learned and unlearned, teachers and pupils, were wont to congregate in spacious halls, beneath long stoas, or colonnades, and in the porches of the numerous temples, for the purpose of hearing the newest philosophical theories, and discussing the events and politics of the day. The character and habits of the Athenians of that period are admirably sketched in a single sentence of the sacred narrative, most probably in the language of St. Paul himself: "All the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear the newest thing.' And this agrees exactly with the judgment of some of their own most famous orators and writers. The Agora, with all its traditions and surroundings, was well fitted to inspire a scholar like St. Paul, and to kindle the pride of the Athenians themselves, It was in shape a natural amphitheatre, some three hundred yards in diameter. On its southern side was the Pnyx, a large artificial terrace on the face of a low hill, sloping gently upwards to the Bema, or pulpit, a little square platform of natural rock, with steps leading to it. On the Pnyx the great popular assemblies were held, and from the Bema the greatest orators of Athens-Demosthenes, Pericles, Themis tocles, and Solon-addressed the Athenians. North of the Agora was the Areopagus; and on the north-east the Acropolis. * Acts xvii. 21. In the Greek. II. In such a place, and among such people, St. Paul found a ready, if not a very hopeful audience. Certain of the Epicureans and Stoics condescended to listen to him; roused, apparently, from their wonted indifference and philosophic repose by the intense earnestness of the man, which was as new and as strange to them as were the doctrines he taught. The Epicureans were the Materialists of Athens, who followed the Atomic theory of Democritus; believing that the world, with all its varied forms of beauty—its plants and animals, its men and women, its literature and art-was the fully developed result of a The gods, they said, led an untroubled life, taking no part in earthly affairs; and consequently they were not to be regarded as objects either of superstitious veneration or disquieting fear. Their ethical system was embodied in the principle, that happiness is the true aim of life, and this happiness consists in the fullest temporal enjoyment. Virtue has no value except in so far as it is agreeable. Happiness is to be attained, however, not by sensual indulgence, for that entails pain, but by tranquillity of soul-doing nothing, and thinking of nothing, present or future, calculated to give pain. Death is annihilation; and there was no terror to the Epicurean in simply ceasing to be. fortuitous concourse of atoms. Matter is the The Stoics were Pantheists. According to them God and matter, body and spirit, are the same in essence. passive foundation of things; God the active and formative power of matter. The world is God's body; God the world's soul. Men are but parts of the universal deity, and consequently individual freedom is a myth. Everything in the universe, animate and inanimate, is inspired by the divine life, ruled by the divine will, and destined to return to the divine unity. This withering system set aside at once the personality of God and the responsibility of man. It will be seen how diametrically opposed these dogmas were to the truths of the Gospel. St. Paul preached a Personal God, the Creator and Ruler of the Universe; man sinful, responsible, immortal; atonement by a crucified and risen Saviour; the resurrection of the dead, and a future state of reward and punishment; together with that sublime ethical code which results from these doctrines, and is developed in his Epistles. These were all new and strange to the Athenian philosophers. The Epicureans simply set them aside, because they would not disturb the calm repose of their minds with disquieting topics; and they called the Apostle "a babbler"-a man who talked fluently without purpose and without effect. The Stoics seem to have been more rational, for they wished to hear the new faith. They thought, perhaps, the Apostle was guilty of the crime for which Socrates had been put to death-that he was "a setter forth of strange gods, because he set forth to them Jesus and the Resurrection." As the Athenians were accustomed to deify abstract qualities, they supposed St. Paul intended to introduce to them two new deities. In order, therefore, that he might have an opportunity of explaining his meaning, they took him away from the din and bustle of the Agora, and placing him in the midst of the Areopagus, said: " May we know what this new doctrine is of which thou speakest? for thou bringest strange things to our ears." There was no force used. They treated the Apostle with the utmost courtesy, and they gave him an opportunity which he himself had doubtless longed for. But as, by the law of Athens, it was death for any private person to disturb the religion of the state by the introduction of a deity not publicly recognised, they considered it only fair to hear St. Paul upon the matter, and to hear him upon the spot where, from time immemorial, such points had been determined in the high Court of the Areopagus. THE AREOPAGUS. Next to the Acropolis, the Areopagus was the most honoured spot in Athens. It was a mound of rugged rock; its sides cliffs, varying from ten to thirty feet in height, and its broad top descending with an easy slope to the south. Below it lay the Agora, with the Pnyx in full view directly opposite. The highest point of the rock was on the east, facing the Acropolis, which was not quite three hundred yards distant. A flight of twenty steps, hewn in the rock, led from the Agora to this point, and at the top was a rectangular area, artificially levelled, having a ledge round it like a bench; here the Court of Areopagus held its sittings. It was, doubtless, by those steps the Apostle ascended, and on that level area, "in the midst of Mars Hill," he stood when he addressed the Athenians. Eschylus, in his tragedy of Orestes, thus accounts for the name Areopagus: "This the hill Of Ares, seat of Amazons, their tent, What time 'gainst Theseus, breathing hate, they came, To Ares they did sacrifice, and hence One The origin of the Court is involved in mystery; though of its remote antiquity and high functions there can be no doubt. popular legend was, that it was established to try Ares (Mars) for the murder of Hephaestus, a son of Poseidon. Eschylus gives another, as follows: Orestes, being pursued by the Furies for the murder of his mother, Clytemnestra, at Mycenae, fled to Athens to claim the protection of Minerva. On arriving there, the Furies agreed to submit the case to her judgment. however, feared to take the responsibility, and so instituted the Court. Eschylus gives her words: "But since this weighty cause hath lighted here, To whom is dear the sanctity of oaths, Will cull; then hither come to judge this cause." She, It is afterwards added in the language of a solemn proclamation: "Behold! This court august, untouched by bribes, Sharp to avenge, wakeful for those who sleep, Establish I, a bulwark to this land." But, whatever may have been its origin, it was held by the Athenians in highest veneration. On one side of the place of meeting was a temple of Ares; and on the other, in a gloomy grotto under the brow of the cliff, was a shrine of the Furies. The Areopagus was the supreme council of Athens-a kind of Senate, or House of Lords; at once the highest criminal tribunal, and, as Eschylus indicates, the guardian of the laws of the State. It had another function: to try and punish the impious and irreligious, and decide cases bearing upon alleged dishonour to the national deities. Its members were men of great distinction, and constituted a civic nobility. ST. PAUL'S SPEECH ON MARS HILL. There is no evidence that St. Paul was taken before the council, or that he was in any sense placed upon a judicial trial. But, at the same time, from the character of the statement made by those who "brought him unto Areopagus,' ""he seemeth to be a setter forth Orestes. |