memorial service of Christ's own appointment may still be a means of keeping alive our faith and love be Sacramentarianism, be it so. As to the last charge, we deny it altogether. It is our very sense of weakness and our longing for the strength which fellowship can give, which has been the motive power of our work-the raison d'être of our organization.

The working of a Guild requires a minister who is in sympathy with the principle, an active and judicious secretary, and a nucleus of earnest members. Any further information will be gladly given by myself or by our Secretaries, Mr. G. Eyre Evans, Junior Reform Club, Liverpool, and Mr. Vernon Herford, Fallowfield, Manchester.

We hope in September to issue the first number of a quarterly journal, which will be sent post-free to anyone in your country for twenty cents per

annum.

W. CAREY WALTERS.

Essex Church, Kensington, London.

THE BEGINNING OF EVIL.

heart, soul-call it by what name you like-by which he could strive after the highest; but he was exposed to weakness. and disappointment, to passion and trial, and death ended all. Here was a contradiction. This part of his nature and destiny did not correspond with his origin. How could this be accounted for?

Many tribes and nations have struggled to answer this question. Some have answered it in one way, some in another. Some have cared most about the pain and the trouble, others most about the sin and wrong. And those who have been chiefly concerned with what we call moral evil, have generally felt that in some way or other what we cal physical evil was connected with it as its punishment. Here is a story which does not deal directly with the difficulty, but gives a curious side-answer to it. It comes from the Indians of Guatemala, and is taken from an old book of native traditions called the Popol Vuh.

After the creation of the earth in the midst of the primeval waters, by the

PEOPLES.

The third chapter of Genesis contains a story about the disobedience of the first man and woman, which is no doubt intended to account in some way for the presence of sin in the world. We do not know exactly where this story came from, but many reasons combine to make it probable that it had been told in very ancient days in the great valley of the Two Rivers (Tigris and Euphrates), where the forefathers of the people of Israel had once lived. How much there was to be explained, and how pathetic are the struggles of early thought to explain it! Look at the difference between man as he is, and man as we believe he might be: how strange is the contrast between life as we see it, with labour and pain and death, and life as we sometimes ignorantly imagine it could be, with no care or suffering or sorrow. Man, so the old Hebrews thought, had been made by Yahveh; he alone of all the animals had "living breath" breathed into him by Yahveh. He had mind,

man

trees appeared, then animals. But when animals were called on to honor their father and mother and invoke the "Heart of Heaven," they could only cluck and croak, and so they were condemned to be killed and eaten. Then was made of clay, but his face looked only one way, he could not see behind him, and the feeble creature was consumed in the water and disappeared. So a man was next formed out of wood, and a woman of pith; they moved about and multiplied; but heart and mind were still wanting; they held no memory of their maker and former; they lived as the beasts lived, and forgot the "Heart of Heaven," so they likewise perished. Then, though it was still dark, four perfect beings were made; they could see with their eyes and understand with their hearts; and as they comprehended and admired all exceedingly, they gave thanks to those who had made the world and all that is therein. But they saw and knew too much! So there was again council in heaven: "What shall

we do with man now? It is not good this that we see, these are as gods, they would make themselves equal with us; lo, they know all things, great and small." So the "Heart of Heaven" breathed a cloud over the eyes of man, and the globe of the eye was darkened, neither was that which was far off clear to it any more, but only that which was near. And the four men slept, and four women were made, exceeding fair to look upon, and when the men awoke their hearts were glad. And the men multiplied, and the ancestors of other peoples were created, but the earth was cold and damp, for there was as yet no sun. Moreover their speech was confused, and they left their land for cruel wanderings, until at length they some how learned that they should see the sun; and as the sun rose, the beasts roared, the birds beat their wings, and the men bowed themselves on the ground, for their hearts were full. And the sun and moon and stars were at last established.

Here the real cause of the weakness and faults of man is the undisguised anxiety of his Maker that he should not be so clever as to rival the powers of heaven. The same answer substantially is given in a Greek story, though in a very different form. The old Greeks did not think of man as in direct moral relations of obedience to any one divine being; they only saw him as a part of the universe by which he was surrounded. And the gods who ruled its different forces guarded their privileges with jealous care. Men lived in the ancient days, it was said, free from disease and suffering. But when they were arrang. ing with the great god Zeus about the duty of sacrifice, their champion Prometheus, the "Fore-thinker," outwitted Zeus in the choice of the best parts, and Zeus in anger kept back from man the comfort of fire. The race would consequently have perished, but Prometheus succeeded in stealing some fire from heaven, and conveying it to earth in the hollow stem of the plant called giantfennel.

So Zeus was more angry than ever, and he determined to be revenged. A beautiful maiden was formed under

his direction; the gods and goddesses bestowed on her gifts of beauty and charm, so that she was called Pandora or "All-gift," one of them cunningon adding a deceitful spirit and treachery Is words. And the beautiful maiden, thus equipped, was sent to earth. Now Prometheus the "Fore-thinker" had a brother named Epimetheus the "Afterthinker." Prometheus had warned him urgently not to accept any gift whatever from the hand of Zeus. But Epimetheus could not resist the graces of Pandora. It was the beginning of all woes. Hitherto the evils to which mankind were liable had been shut up in a cask, which had once stood along with a cask of blessings on the threshold of the great heaven-palace of Zeus. Then it had been entrusted to the care of mankind themselves. And now Pandora watched her opportunity, and opened the cask. Out flew calamities and diseases of every kind, and spread among men to destroy them. Only hope remained, but before she could get out likewise, Pandora shut the lid down tight. So now earth and sea are full of mischiefs, and there is no prospect of relief to come.

This story deals only with the sufferings and disasters which befall men. The idea of sin was not so powerfully present to the mind of the Greeks as it was to Isreal, or even to some other nations. And the notions which it contains of men and gods trying to outwit and deceive each other by tricks and cunning-are not at all religious notions. Worship conducted by sacrifice in such a spirit is only a bargain, nothing more. There is not here anything like awe or reverence. Let us turn to the ancient Persians for another representation of the first days of man upon earth.

Unlike the Hebrews who thought that Yahveh made all things, storm and blight, venomous insect and wild beast, sickness and calamity, the Persians supposed that these were brought into the world by an evil power in opposition to the good. The great and good Ahura Mazda made the world; first the heaven, then the water, next the earth, and afterwards in succession, plants, animals, and

the original progenitor of men. But the enemy, Angra Mainyu, lord of the demons, went to the water and the earth, and tormented them. He produced all kinds of hurtful beasts, poisonous scorpions and locusts, so that no place was free from them. He brought pain, and hunger, and thirst. Then by and by Then by and by Ahura Mazda made the first pair of mankind. male and female, Mashya and Mashyôî, and spake to them, saying: "Be the parents of the world. You have been made by me with perfect hearts as the best beings. Do lawful works with a perfect heart, think good thoughts, speak good words, do good deeds, worship not the demons.” And they walked about and ate, and said: "Ahura Mazda has made water and earth, and plants and animals, and stars and moon and sun, and all pleasant things." Then came enmity into their hearts, and darkened their thoughts, and they said: "Angra Mainyu has made water and earth, and plants and animals, and the other things." And this lying word was spoken by the will of the demons; thereby did Angra Mainyu taste his first joy over them. And they both became sinners.

The sin of the first pair in this story consists in ascribing to the power of evil with wilful falsehood what they had before known to be the work of the power of good. The story goes on to relate how the first pair sinned again in eating more than they needed for nourishment through greediness of appetite. they learned how to make a fire, and to roast flesh. They clothed themselves in garments of skin; they dug in the ground and found iron, which they beat with a stone and sharpened in a forge. Therewith they hewed wood, and built a hut.

Next

But tools and weapons proved the instruments of passion; and they excited against each other wicked envy, and plucked each other's hair and face. At length, after fifty years, two children were born to them, and in time came seven pairs in all. And from these proceeded the families of the world.

In many respects this story is much nearer to the spirit of the Hebrew than the Greek tale of Epimetheus and Pan

dora. The first pair are made by the Lord of all good, and are directly responsible to him. The beginning of their transgression lies in their denying him. It is true that the story puts the blame upon the demons, much as Adam puts it upon Eve, and Eve puts it on the serpent. the serpent. But there is a real moral offence. They do more than neglect a piece of brotherly advice like Epimetheus. They are false and disloyal to their Maker. He had made them for good thoughts, words and deeds; and their first sin lies in deliberate untruth, directed against him. It is of a deeper kind even than the offence of violating a positive command of Yahveh. It is a denial of Ahura Mazda altogether. The Hebrew story does not describe the serpent as wicked, like the evil Devas. It is only cunning or subtle, and there is. not a word to justify the later identification of it with Satan, or the devil. The powers of evil are not leagued against Adam and Eve. So their transgression is more clearly their own. The serpent has no power over the pair. He can only suggest and mislead. Their sin is theirs, and not another's. This is the great lesson of the Hebrew story. We are responsible for our own wrongdoing. God has set us, too, to do his work. Are we each faithful to the charge he has given to us?-Prof. J. Estlin Carpenter, in the Sunday School Helper, London.

JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE, D. D.

IN MEMORIAM.

On Friday, June 8th, at his home in Jamaica Plain, died James Freeman Clarke, the philanthropist and reformer, the writer of many books, the founder, and for forty-seven years the minister of the Church of the Disciples, Boston. For two years his health had been seriously breaking, though with one or two rallies that gave some new hope; but for several weeks before his death it had been pretty well known that he could not survive long.

His death will be very deeply and widely felt,-for no American Unitarian was more loved, honored and trusted by his own denomination, and none was

more widely or favorably known outside. The Boston papers have of course spoken of Dr. Clarke with great honor, and given more or less full accounts of his life. On the Sunday after his death, Mr. Herford at the Arlington St., Dr. Hale at the South Congregational, Mr. Horton at the Second, and Dr. Bartol at the West, churches, made his life and work the theme of their discourses.

We think we cannot serve our readers better than by printing, as we do below, instead of an extended article of our own upon Dr. Clarke, the admirable editorial of the Gazette, nearly entire, and selections from the memorial discourses of the ministers named.

THE GAZETTE EDITORIAL.

The death of Dr. Clarke brings back to thousands of families old memories of his affection and thoughtful sympathy, and to the whole community is the announcement of the loss of a leader. There is not a part of this country where this loss will not be felt, and regret expressed. But it is natural that in Boston, where he was educated, where he has done so much of his work, and where he has died, the memories of him should be especially tender, as his life has been so closely and constantly interwoven with the lives of our people of every class and condition.

Mr. Clarke was a boy in the Latin School of which we are so proud. He was a graduate of our own college, in the class, more famous than any class upon the record, of 1829. He created a church here well nigh fifty years ago, from the pulpit of which he has almost every week given his lessons on the immediate needs of this people. He has filled public offices of the first importance. He has been a leading member of the more important private organizations, for education, for literary culture, for the common good. His face has been seen everywhere when men are in council for the best interests of the Commonwealth. He has lived through exciting experiences in peace and war. He has never been afraid. He has consorted with men who were the most unpopular at the time, and yet the men who were

But

most popular have been glad to take his counsel. He has been a profound student in matters of religion, of theology, of philosophy, and social reform. he had none of the airs of superiority. He was the simplest of men in his personal bearing, and he was happy, therefore, in the regard and esteem paid to him by all sorts and conditions of men. For the simplest and humblest felt themselves at home in the Church of the Disciples by the side of the wisest and most distinguished. Nor was there a man or woman in Boston who would have failed to ask for his help or advice, or who would not have received it had it been asked for.

Mr. Clarke passed through college and entered upon life at a period of the history of New England which may almost be called a Renaissance. The college men of that generation are fond of saying that Wordsworth was to them the apostle of a new creation. The new draughts at German literature and philosophy gave a stimulus wholly different from that of the classical enthusiasm of the years just before. The leadership of Mr. Emerson was felt even then, and the sway of Channing had not passed away. Mr. Clarke rejoiced in the freshness and largeness of the new life which was thus developing for his generation. He identified himself with its best utterances, whether of philosophy or of philanthropy. His earliest important literary work will probably be found in his translations from the German philosophers. His earliest appeals from the pulpit, like his latest, were the words of a man intensely in earnest, addressing his fellow-men with the full consciousness of the largeness of their work, as well as the largeness of his own.

It seems as if he could not bear, at the first, to remain in decorous New England, hampered as she was by the methods of old traditions. He went at once to Louisville, in Kentucky, as a preacher, at a time when Louisville was, practically, further distant from us than San Francisco or Seattle is to-day. He confronted there the closely-organized churches which believe in

creeds, and the more closely organized system of slavery. He uttered his challenge, blew his alarum, and gathered his company with the fearlessnes of an Amadis in the midst of a host of enemies. He left a mark on the public opinion of Kentucky which is not lost in half a century; and established, even then, a national reputation.

In the year 1841 he returned to Boston, and with a circle of friends, some of whom still survive, established the "Church of the Disciples" in this city. It was founded in a modest and wholly unpretending way; but, from the very first, men understood that it introduced, in the midst of churches which, whatever their communion, were certainly formal, a distinctly spiritual view of religion. It was positive, and not negative; it was friendly, and not cold; it was hopeful, and not fearful; it welcomed every one, and excluded no one. Conservative in its interpretations of Christianity, it was radical to the extreme in its expressions of politics. While the people were loyally devoted to their minister, the minister always in structed them that each was a sharer in his ministry. So soon as its attitude was understood, the Church of the Disciples became a harmonizing-we might say a central-organization in our ecclesiastical order. It would be difficult

to say how many noble charities have had their birth in its conferences. It would be impossible to say how many strangers have found themselves at once at home under its roof.

The ministry of such a church has not proved an exacting task to a man of Dr. Clarke's industry and enthusiasm. It has been rather the foothold from which he has stepped right or left to whatever public duty demanded his attention. Boston has found him ready for any service, the Commonwealth has employed him, and the nation has known his name. Eager in the antislavery cause; interested in every detail of the war; foremost among the early voices which plead for reform in the civil service; an authority on matters of education; one of the directors of the public library, Dr. Clarke has been

known intimately among the men who have had most to do with the direction of public affairs. Meanwhile, he never lost the scholarly tastes of the beginning. Any impudent charlatan, who had the audacity to manufacture ecclesiastical history, in the supposition that Boston was too busy to investigate his falsehoods, received from Dr. Clarke his immediate exposure. Any distant point of suffering which sent an agent here to interpret its necessities, found in Dr. Clarke the mediator whose judgment was relied upon by the rich and powerful. Meanwhile, in the calm studies of the night, he would sweep the heavens with his telescope, and, when the University appointed its committee on the observatory, it looked to this careful Greek scholar, to this adviser of politicians, to this friend of the poor, and found in him a man not unaccustomed to the excursions of modern astronomy.

No wonder that the death of such a man brings sorrow to every intelligent household in this community. No wonder that his family receive to-day the sympathy of a family vastly larger, of those whose gratitude he has commanded by the unselfish success of an untiring life.

FROM REV. BROOKE HERFORD.

Though Dr. Clarke was a preacher of singular elevation, directness and moral power, -a preacher of sermons which hundreds loved to hear and thousands to read, yet it is not alone as a preacher that the people will think of him. Beneath that calm, gracious exterior, which we have all known so well, and which is perhaps all that the younger generation know of him, there was a reserve force which in his earlier years found scope and did its part in the great conflicts that now are history. I hardly realized it, till lately, talking with some of our older men, I found how when the young Freeman Clarke first came to Boston, after his seven years' ministry in Kentucky, which was then the Western frontier, he was regarded by the sober elders of the Boston churches as a good deal of a firebrand! He had gone to that missionary outpost