to be analytic, needs more vigor and plain, common life. I must be more with business men. How many of them advertise honestly? Finished Water Babies this afternoon. Bright, witty, pregnant. Loses himself, sometimes, I think, in his symbolism. June 26th. I had a charming drive with Mrs. Wiltsie, before breakfast. We started at half-past five, reaching home by half-past seven. How strange people will sleep so late! Here Took a walk after the prayer-meeting to Morgan Hill. richer and sweeter than any symphony was the blowing of the wind through the trees in the moonlight! I seemed to fall away and lose myself in kind waves of sound. Last night, at the concert, I felt gloomy and misanthropic. For all mankind I cared little, and wanted little from them. How much we take! How little we need! June 27th. Monday night, a swift fire swept away a large part of Marblehead. Father was absent, and mother, Anna and Agnes were alone in the house, terrified, but collected. What preparations they could, they made for moving. But the house was touched. The loss to the town was $500,000. June 28th. not Your vivid description of the fire brought everything plainly before me. I could see Anna going round from place to place, gathering up what seemed precious, and you, with every wit at work in the midst of danger, and Agnes, quick and determined. You were all heroes. Congratulations to you all! Thanks to God! July 3d. In our excursion down the river, I was vividly reminded of our sail on the Loch Katrine. But there was no day so fine as that at Staffa and Iona. I hear yet the organ notes of the sea, singing into Fingal's Cave, and among the deep columns. I had my hair cut, yesterday, "dead rabbit," as they call it, and am greeted everywhere by looks of horror and amazement or merriment. It is amusing where people feel that politeness requires them to notice nothing. Mrs. Wiltsie advised me to hide myself in the Catskills, but Dr. Cate said, "No, they would shoot him for a wild man." Edward early formed the habit of getting his pulpit preparations through by Saturday noon. Then he would devote the remainder of the day to long walks, or some form of thorough physical recreation, bicycles not being then in vogue. This exercise insured a good sleep for Saturday night, so that in the morning, refreshed and invigorated, he would enter on the duties of the Sabbath. This arrangement, so far as possible, he followed through life, and strongly recommended to his ministerial friends. Study, Saturday, July 7th. This morning, wrote a sermon, spending much time in brooding over it. In the afternoon, early, crossed the river in a ferryboat. The two caissons are now standing in the river, and one has a great dredge at work. An immense tub descends into one of the compartments, opens, claws itself full, swings up and out into the stream, and opens, like two immense clam shells, with teeth, and the whole contents of black mud splash into the river. The caissons look like islands, swarming with men. I strolled up the river by a wood-path to the road. Then along through chestnut and oak groves, picking black-caps and red raspberries. Went into Bellevue villa, and was shown to the tower, from which there was a superb view, the same view that grows more beautiful to me as my life becomes a part of it. The Hudson was at my feet, calm, stately, sweeping in prolonged curves between its wooded banks, on towards the Fishkills, where it seems to stop, its way blocked up. Steamers and tugs, drawing long trains of barges and canal boats, slowly move up and down. The two furnaces stand like great smoking altars on its banks, one at each end of the city, where we sacrifice to the iron god. The city itself sleeps, embowered and partly hidden among the trees. Prominent, as everywhere, is College Hill, wholly Grecian, a temple on the Acropolis. Farther north and near the river stands the Insane Asylum-an immense spread-out mass of brick, encircled by trees. A range of low hills begirts the whole, running from the high Fishkills down to lower ranges. wise Am reading Augustine's Confessions and Goethe's Life, together. Some striking resemblances. Augustine, however, had the more passionate, intense nature, went deeper into dissipation, and was loftier in flight. Goethe more sided, broader, more artistic. Both sensuous. Both vivid imagination, sense of the Infinite. Both misled by affections. Augustine grosser, if both paint themselves truly, yet in the end purer, truer, grander, not as in nature, more taught of God. Goethe was receptive, came much under the influence of men and things, and had great assimilating force. But the power of his personality was very strong, and while he was influenced by almost every one, he rejected what did not belong to him, and went his own way. He was continually being drawn into positions of danger to himself, and sometimes to others. Often, others were wronged by this willingness to let everything act upon him. Yet he had a strong will, which came to his rescue, by which he tore himself loose from the danger, and soon found help from new objects. "Wir wollten nicht lernen," he says, "wir wollten nicht." Goethe's was a thoroughly Greek nature. In anything which concerned the welfare of the community or the country, although outside his church work, Edward never hesitated to speak plainly or to act openly. No fear of being charged with interfering in politics kept him silent as to corrupt practices at the polls by either party. His frank utterances often appeared in the Eagle, whose editor opened its columns for free discussion or unsparing rebuke. Edward continued to labor earnestly and unceasingly in the temperance cause, and at one time, on three successive Sunday evenings, gave the history of the reform in this country. Allusion has been made to his habit of taking wine and beer, in Germany. From a report of one of these sermons, in a city paper, the following is quoted :— The Rev. gentleman then made an impressive reference to a chapter in his own experience, when holding different views from those he now advocated. The dangers and effects of moderate drinking exhibited themselves in a most startling and tragic light. Mr. Lawrence continued: "I assure you, it was not long before I reached a conclusion. It was plain that there was only one thing to be done. That was to practise and to urge abstinence. I found myself among a people of irritable appetite, which, in any one, might be as easily kindled by the use of an intoxicant as powder by a spark. I did not think it manly to go about through homes, which might any of them harbor a hidden cask of dynamite, with a lighted match in my hand, even though I knew I should pass out myself before an explosion came. Right about me were homes devastated by just such an explosion. I did not find it unmanly to say, "Since I live among powder magazines. I will not use matches." And it seemed to me the true use of Christian manliness, liberty and charity, to urge all others to accept the teaching of experience and also abstain. . . It is Christian charity to drink no wine, lest it should make our brother offend. And it is justice to demand that the law shall stamp as illegal a traffic which public sentiment declares immoral and facts prove to be disastrous.. SUCCESSFUL CHAPTER XIV. WORK AND HAPPY NATURE. DAYS WITH Dear Lord, we thank thee for the joy of living, day by day, When Edward came to understand the financial condition of his church, he was much troubled. Besides the encumbrance of a heavy debt, it did not meet its current expenses, and was therefore getting more and more involved. His mother received a letter from a friend in Chicago, who was connected with one of Edward's families, telling her of a great sacrifice he had made in order to relieve the church. She wrote him, asking why he had not enlightened his parents. He replied that he did not like to speak of such things, but that since they had heard of the matter, he would enclose his pastoral letter, adding: "At the Church and Society meetings, after speaking of the state of things, I said I would take from them only enough to meet my necessities. I thought that would not be more than $1,000, I hoped less. I felt that it would be the only right thing to do." He thus gave up half his salary. But as this sacrifice did not relieve the present emergency, it was resolved to have a fair, as was the fashion in those days. And as he had great confidence in the skilled women of his parish, he entered warmly into their plans. October 20th he writes: Another idea about our fair is to issue a paper, containing unpublished pieces by the best writers we can lay hold of. I have thought of something from Whittier, Mrs. Livermore, Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, and others. I want also something from the members of my own family. You have helped me already in this matter more than I can tell. We shall have no raffling in any form. The preparation is bringing our people together, and I think the result will be good. I am not only editor-in-chief, but the only editor, and I have even taken to the street to solicit advertise ments. Later he wrote: Tuesday evening. I want to make up a column of Chips, that is, small items, facts of interest and Bubbles-by which I mean anecdotes, bright sayings, or anything amusing. Perhaps you can help me about it. Send any little scraps, such as you often do in your letters, or any favorite of yours or father's from his scrap book. I hope, too, for his Lady Bountiful. We may need all we can get. All goes well. Ned. On a visit to Dresden, in Germany, Dr. Jenkins had shown him a remarkable poem, which had been rendered into English verse,-The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam, the astronomer poet of Persia, who lived in the latter part of the eleventh century. Edward was very desirous to secure a copy, and after much book hunting, he succeeded in obtaining one in Piccadilly, London, published in 1872. The edition of the paper, which was entitled The Fair, was confined to two numbers. And, dividing the Persian poem, he put the whole into these numbers. From his introductory remarks, one or two sentences are quoted:"We give the poem entire, believing that those to whom Christ is the Answer will only be helped by this book, to what, to Omar, was agonizingly insoluble. And yet, judged rightly, the antidote is contained in his own verses. If Omar has not found the 'Everlasting Yea,' he, at any rate, gropes eagerly for it, and believes that there must be some Infinite Affirmative." It may be added here that Mr. Nathan Haskell Dole of Boston, the translator of Tolstoi, has published a variorum edition of the Rubáiyát. He sent a copy of this to the Shah of Persia, who issued a firman, ordering a medal to be pre |