worthy vessel, with its whole cargo of hopes and fears, safe to its port; if he could believe that in the summons of the time to unselfish service he was in reality hearing the call of the Living God; then he would see in the church not, as he is often inclined to see, an obstinate defender of impossible opinions, or a hothouse for exotic piety, or a cold storage warehouse to preserve traditions which would perish in the open air, but the natural expression of organized righteousness, the body of those who are sanctified for others' sakes, and to such a church he would offer his honest and practical loyalty.

These are the tests to which the church must submit if it would meet the religion of a college student the tests of reality, reasonableness, and practical service. A religion without reality-formal, external, technical, obscurantist; a religion without reasonableness - omniscient, dogmatic, timid; a religion which does not greet the spirit of practical service as the spirit of Christa religion of such a kind may win the loyalty of emotional or theological or ecclesiastical minds, but it is not acceptable to the normal type of educated American youth. Such natures demand first a genuine, then a rational, and then a practical, religion, and they are held to the Christian church by no bond of sentiment or tradition which will prevent their seeking a more religious life elsewhere. And what is this but a wholesome challenge to the church of Christ to renew its vitality at the sources of its real power? The intellectual issues of the present time are too real to be met by artificiality and too rational to be interpreted by traditionalism; the practical philanthropy of the present time is too absorbing and persuasive to be subordinated or ignored. It is a time for the church to dismiss all affectations and all assumptions of authority, and to give itself to the reality of rational religion and to the practical redemption of an unsanctified world. This return to simplicity and service will be at the same time a recognition of the religion of a college student and a renewal of the religion of Jesus Christ. FRANCIS G. PEABODY.

J..

THE HOUSEKEEPER'S STONE.

THE science of to-day has but a cynical smile for the deluded alchemist who published "The Key of Wisdom" and "A Secret Book on the Philosopher's Stone;" yet for nearly eight centuries the world has profited incalculably by his invention of soap. Baffled in the attempt to transmute the baser metals into gold, he discovered something infinitely better a boon to the race.

Doubtless, he who modestly claims to have discovered the Housekeeper's Stone will be classed with the lamented author of the mystical books alluded to; yet, in full confidence of the result, the writer recommends an intelligent, patient trial of his recipe in the solution of some of the vexed problems of domestic economy. Let him premise, however, that he is not a quack, and does not proffer a cure-all for the ills of the kitchen. The wisest of physicians defers humbly to Dame Nature, and in his confidential moments avows that he simply touches a button and she does the rest.

The remedy proposed for the embarrassments ensuing from reliance upon domestic service is as old as the hills. It would not warrant copyrighting, and yet it may startle not a few readers. It embraces as its most vital feature the elimination of the title "servant" from our designation of household workers. No just reason can be given for its exclusive use in this connection. In truth, we are all servants of each other or ought so to be; but the word wears an offensive and obnoxious aspect when restricted to the description of those valuable factors of the human family who minister to us in our most sacred shrine, the home. If any distinction is to be made among workers, let the highest rank attach to this particular class, since our most precious interests are interwoven with the faithful performance of its duties.

The artisan who saws and planes boards, and drives into them the connecting nail, is a "carpenter;" the man who beautifies woodwork, a "painter;" the grimy but intelligent person who controls mechanism in the production of indispensables, a "machinist; " while among our literary treasures is Longfellow's tribute to yet another honored trade:

"The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy handз;

And the muscles of his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands."

The lady who displays to us a shawl, a roll of muslin, a book, or what not, at a store counter, is entitled a "saleslady;" her sister, who ingeniously contrives headgear for women, a "milliner; her cousin, who fashions fabrics of silk, or cotton, into neatly-fitting garments, a "dressmaker;" but the lady who invests our dwelling-place--"home, sweet home with an air of neatness and comfort, turns a piece of steak to a nicety, bakes for us the wholesome, delicious bread of our grandmothers, and, above all else, cares for our children, is, perforce, a “servant!" True, in some instances household helpers are classed as "cooks," chambermaids," "nursery-maids," and "ladies' maids;" but, unfortunately, all of these cognomens are grouped under the generic term of servants." Why?

"

Whittier's "Maud Muller" is an universal favorite, and the reading world daintily echoes the Judge's opinion:

"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet.

And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair."

But when Miss Muller enters the kitchen the world is disillusioned. The poem tells of the Judge:

"But he thought of his sisters proud and cold,

And his mother vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone."

And in certain social quarters, the moment a girl crosses the threshold of a house as "hired help," she acknowledges therein inferior rank. Shame upon such philosophy! In a word, it is the upas tree of caste, whose deadly shade is steadily creeping over our family life; for the baleful distinctions of rank are unquestionably multiplying and growing more emphatic.

In the parable of Dives and Lazarus we have an impressive delineation of the fixedness of separation which may exist between two individuals. The gulf existed in the terrestrial life, but might then have been bridged by Dives: in the life celestial not even Lazarus, transposed

as he was in respect of preferable location, might traverse the shadowy abyss. In these days the gulf between Dives and Lazarus is widening; and until the former sends the latter something more than the crumbs that fall from his table, and bridges the gulf by those ministries in general which that immortal man of the common people, Abraham Lincoln, termed "the better angels of our nature," the hiatus will remain.

This is not a dissertation upon socialism. The writer has an equal horror of the man, who, occupying a position in which he can use hundreds of his brethren for his own aggrandizement, forgets their monumental share in his achievements, and the thriftless, cunning fellow, who, after securing an equitable division of the world's wealth, and immediately squandering his portion, insists upon a fresh division. But into the sky of our vaunted democracy has come a cloud rather larger than a man's hand. The social customs of monarchical countries have been freely imported; and the republican eye is frequently offended with a flunkeyism analogous to that which prevails abroad, and too often a labored copy of it.

It is humiliating to observe men dressed in conspicuous livery sitting at the front or rear of private carriages under such marvellous restraint of rule that not by the faintest nod may they recognize the existence of their own mothers if they chance to meet them. It causes one to blush for our humanity to reflect on such an incident as the following: A lady who was being temporarily served in a rural retreat, among old-fashioned farmers, by a young schoolmistress, who took her sick sister's place as a mere matter of accommodation to her employer, requested the obliging teacher to wear her hair plainer and cover it with a cap, lest she be mistaken for a member of the family. The refined girl was wearing a dress as modest as that of a Quakeress; but the obvious purpose of the employer was to make clear the deadly distinction in rank.

It is true that caste prevails in every direction; but in no other sphere is it so keenly realized as in domestic service. The world is wide, and many plebeians may play Diogenes with the patricians without danger; but the wholesome spirit of independence cannot easily be indulged in such close contact with the patrician's family.

There are conditions that cannot be simulated, and relationships that cannot be made harmonious at the fiat of a theorist. It is improbable

that the Judge would have done wisely to marry Maud Muller. Though he was not contented when

"He wedded a wife of richest dower,

Who lived for fashion, as he for power;"

yet he was doubtless more philosophically situated than if he had obeyed the sudden impulse of his equestrian hour. Notwithstanding the inference conveyed by the poem, that, since the learned man sighed when he thought of "the simple beauty and rustic health" of the meadow maiden, he would have been better off with her as his life's companion, other conditions hinted at indicate that bliss would scarcely have attended the union.

The only concession sought is the elimination of caste from the environment of household service. But this will open the way for a remarkable transformation. Let the profession of housekeeping be put upon the same plane as that of the bookkeeper, telegrapher, typewriter, saleslady, etc., and observe the consequence. It may be that many women who seek mercantile positions are disinclined to the so-called drudgery of housework. If this be true, the necessity of making such work attractive to women in general is all the more apparent, for it goes without saying that every woman should know how to keep house, whatever her profession and whatever her rank. If Maud Muller knew how to cook plain food well, and keep a house tidy, the Judge may be forgiven for his indulgence in day dreams, when he

"... closed his eyes on his garnished rooms

To dream of meadows and clover-blooms."

And the concession would probably bring from their country homes many a prize, in the shape of a girl desirous of becoming acquainted with city life, who would prove eminently satisfactory in performing the work of the house, but who would under no circumstances submit to be entitled a "servant;" for there are many Maud Mullers, sweet and sunny in disposition, kindly and good, and reared in homes of the best moral and religious type, who might be secured as assistants in the home, if they could be sure of being measured by the Golden Rule.

But some bewildered reader will exclaim - as a vision of untidiness, not to say absolute slatternliness, rises to her view, or as she imagines with painful vividness that she is breathing the smoky, choking atmosphere of the kitchen after the ruin of a choice bit of broiling meat"Surely, there are no such girls to be had!" I calmly reply that they are not at all idealistic, but exist corporeally, doing their work intelligently and cheerfully, and conferring blessings upon the families in which they are employed. There are others awaiting engagements, but we would not recommend them to households in which the social ban prevails. 'Servants" they will not be, nor can we criticise them therefor.