a Devil to put the blame on, does not look to the average man like the soul of that universe of which he learns and has experience during the week. When men have to choose between faith and sight, no wonder they incline to choose sight, and religion suffers. But the world needs religion, in some sense, and may need it more. With our superficiality, our restless pursuit of pleasure, our ruthless selfseeking, we may need a revival of the sense of sin, and may even be seeking a source of redemption. What science may tell us of the injury to ourselves and to society wrought by our course of life is not enough; the heedless world will take chances. The world needs the absolute to come down and stiffen it. Yet neither of our modern religions can bring this, neither the narrow old nor the flabby new. Such dilemmas, in which the thinking man constantly finds himself, intellectual history helps us to understand, and one day may help us to solve.

When one talks of the past, a certain feeling of chivalry leads one to take up the cudgels in behalf of our now helpless ancestors. They were not all fools, even though they are dead. But more than this, they and the view of history which we get through surveying them may teach us some precious things; things for which in these trying days of world-history we may be grateful. They teach us to stand firm and not to be swept off our feet by new isms and new ideals, which too may pass away; not to give up ourselves to everyone who has just found, or forged, a new key to the kingdom of heaven. They give us renewed confidence in the good sense and good feeling of the bulk of humanity; they show that in the long run the world has always acted rationally, under its circumstances, and that where the world has gone wrong it has been led wrong by ill-proportioned ideals. They make us feel that action and reaction, recurrence and cycle, have been due to intelligent free-agents trying to square themselves and their world with an absolute good beyond them; and that we can do no less, and with their guidance may do it better.

MANU AND THE FISH

(Translated from the Mahabharata.)

ARTHUR W. RYDER

There was a gentle, holy sage
Named Manu, in a former age.

The woes of life he would not blink;
For many years he did not wink.

With ragged clothes and frowsy hair
He lived beside a stream. And there

He saw a fish who thus began
To speak to him. "O holy man,

I am a little fish, you see;
And bigger fishes frighten me.
For bigger fishes eat the small;
It is their nature, once for all.

So dreadful terror weighs me down;
Besides, I fear that I shall drown.
Then save me. Some day I will do
An equal favor, sir, to you."

So Manu, when he heard his wish,
Stretched forth a hand, and took the fish,

And dropped him in a water-jar
That was as bright as moonbeams are.

And in the jar the little fish

Had everything his heart could wish.

He grew and thrived on food and fun,
For Manu loved him like a son.

At last he grew too big by far

To live within the water-jar.

He said: "Good Manu, I would thank
You very kindly for a tank."'

So Manu took him to a tank

Eight miles in breadth from bank to bank, And twice as long. There, free from fears, He lived and grew for many years.

And when he grew too big to play
There in a comfortable way,
He said to Manu: "Pray deliver,
And put me in the Ganges River.

And I will never show you spite,
But some day help you, as is right.
My growth has not been selfish; it
Has happened for your benefit.''

Kind Manu, anxious to deliver

His friend, went to the Ganges River,
And left him happy. As before,

He grew in time a little more.

And then he said to Manu: "Dear,

I can no longer wiggle here.

My holy friend, be good to me,
And take me quickly to the sea."

So Manu took him tenderly

And travelled quickly to the sea.
The fish tried not to weigh too much,
And to be nice to smell and touch.

The fish, when he had reached the ocean,
Smiled at his holy friend's devotion,
And said: "O kind and holy man,

You do as much as fathers can.

And now 'tis time for me to do
A little something, dear, for you.
For you must know, my holy friend,
The world is hastening to its end.

A dreadful time is near at hand
For all the things that move or stand;
There comes a flood that has no bound,
And everybody will be drowned.

So build a ship, and build it strong;
Put ropes on board, both stout and long.
And one thing further you will need,
Neat packages of every seed.

Embark then with the seven seers,
And wait, good Manu, free from fears,
Until I come. And you will see
A horn upon the head of me.

Till then, farewell. Do not delay.
The danger grows from day to day."

Then Manu packed most carefully
The seeds, and straightway put to sea.
His good ship gently rose and fell
Upon the ocean's mighty swell.

He longed to see the friendly fish,
Who came in answer to the wish.
He seemed a floating mountain dread;
A horn was growing on his head.

So Manu, feeling less forlorn,
Fastened a rope about the horn,
And felt the ship glide speedily
Over the dancing, salty sea.

But when the wind began to roar
And ocean thundered more and more,

The tossing, shaken ship began

To stagger like a drunken man.

No land remained to cheer them there,

But only water, sky, and air;
No life through all those many years
Save Manu, fish, and seven seers.