ht up to him, and with an eye on the
announcement in question, asking point-blank whether she has the
pleasure of addressing that eminent divine. Smith hesitates, and is
lost. His egg and coffee disappear. The table is cleared, and the chairs
arranged with as little regard to comfort as may be. The divine retires
for the sermon which--prescient of his doom--he has slipped into his
valise. The landlord produces two hymn-books of perfectly different
origins, and some time is spent in finding a hymn which is common to
both. When the time comes for singing it, the landlord joins in with a
fine but wandering bass, catching an English word here and there as he
goes along. The sermon is as usual on the Prodigal Son, and the Indian
civilian nods at every mention of "going into a far country," as a topic
specially appropriate for the occasion. But the divine is seen no more.
His cold becomes rapidly serious, and he takes to his bed at the very
hour of afternoon service. The British maiden wanders out to read
Tennyson in the rock-clefts, and is wonder-struck to come upon the
unhappy sufferer reading Tennyson in the rock-clefts too. After all, bed
is not good for a cold, and the British Sunday is insufferable, and
poetry is the expression of the deepest and most sacred emotions. This
is the developement which religion takes with a British maiden and a
British parson in regions above the clouds.

AENEAS:

A VERGILIAN STUDY.

In the revival side by side of Homeric and Vergilian study it is easy to
see the reflection of two currents of contrasted sentiment which are
telling on the world around us. A cry for simpler living and simpler
thinking, a revolt against the social and intellectual perplexities in
which modern life loses its direct and intensest joys, a craving for a
world untroubled by the problems that weigh on us, express themselves as
vividly in poems like the 'Earthly Paradise' as in the return to the
Iliad. The charm of Vergil on the other hand lies in the strange
fidelity with which across so many ages he echoes those complex thoughts
which make the life of our own. Vergil is the Tennyson of the older
world; his power, like that of the laureate, lies in the sympathy with
which he reflects the strength and weakness of his time, its humanity,
its new sense of human brotherhood, its pitifulness, its moral
earnestness, its high conception of the purpose of life and the dignity
of man, its attitude of curious but c