not, as men too often do, desire war because they have never known it or in the belief that it is either a good or a safe thing. Any one who calmly reflects will find that the war about which you are now deliberating is likely to be a very great one. When we encounter our neighbors in the Peloponnese, their forces are like our forces, and they are all within a short march. But when we have to do with men whose country is a long way off, and who are most skilful seamen and thoroughly provided with the means of war, having wealth, private and public, ships, horses, infantry and a population larger than is to be found in any single Hellenic territory, not to speak of the numerous allies who pay them tribute,-is this a people against whom we can lightly take up arms or plunge into a contest unprepared? To what do we trust? To our navy? There we are inferior, and to exercise and train ourselves until we are a match for them will take time. To our money? Nay, but in that we are weaker still; we have none in our treasury, and we are never willing to contribute out of our private means.

"Perhaps some one may be encouraged by the superior quality and numbers of our infantry, which will enable us regularly to invade and ravage their lands. But their empire extends to distant countries, and they will be able to introduce supplies by sea. Or, again, we may try to stir up revolts among their allies. But these are mostly islanders, and we shall have to employ a fleet in their defence as well as in our own. How, then, shall we carry on the war? For if we can neither defeat them at sea nor deprive them of the revenues by which their navy is maintained, we shall get the worst of it. And,

having gone so far, we shall no longer be able even to make peace with honor, especially if we are believed to bave begun the quarrel. We must not for one moment flatter ourselves that if we do but ravage their country the war will be at an end. Nay, I fear that we shall bequeath it to our children; for the Athenians, with their high spirit, will never barter their liberty to save their land or be terrified like novices at the sight of

war.

"Not that I would have you shut your eyes to their designs and abstain from unmasking them or tamely suffer them to injure our allies. But do not take up arms yet. Let us first send and remonstrate with them; we need not let them know positively whether we intend to go to war or not. In the mean time, our own preparations may be going forward; we may seek for allies wherever we can find them, whether in Hellas or among the barbarians, who will supply our deficiencies in ships and money. Those who, like ourselves, are exposed to Athenian intrigue cannot be blamed if in self-defence they seek the aid, not of Hellenes only, but of barbarians. And we must develop our own resources to the utmost. If they listen to our ambassadors, well and good; but if not, in two or three years' time we shall be in a stronger position should we then determine to attack them. Perhaps, too, when they begin to see that we are getting ready, and that our words are to be interpreted by our actions, they may be more likely to yield; for their fields will be still untouched and their goods undespoiled, and it will be in their power to save them by their decision. Think of their land simply in the light of a hostage, all the more valuable in proportion

as it is better cultivated: you should spare it as long as you can, and not, by reducing them to despair, make their resistance more obstinate. For if we allow ourselves to be stung into premature action by the reproaches of our allies, and waste their country before we are ready, we shall only involve Peloponnesus in more and more difficulty and disgrace. Charges brought by cities or persons against one another can be satisfactorily arranged; but when a great confederacy, in order to satisfy private grudges, undertakes a war of which no man can foresee the issue, it is not easy to terminate it with honor.

"And let no one think that there is any want of courage in cities so numerous hesitating to attack a single one. The allies of the Athenians are not less numerous; they pay them tribute, too, and war is not an affair of arms, but of money, which gives to arms their use, and which is needed above all things when a continental is fighting against a maritime power: let us find money first, and then we may safely allow our minds to be excited by the speeches of our allies. We, on whom the future responsibility, whether for good or evil, will chiefly fall, should calmly reflect on the consequences which may follow.

"Do not be ashamed of the slowness and procrastination with which they are so fond of charging you; if you begin the war in haste, you will end it at your leisure because you took up arms without sufficient preparation. Remember that we have always been citizens of a free and most illustrious state, and that for us the policy which they condemn may well be the truest good sense and discretion. It is a policy which has saved us from growing insolent in prosperity or

giving way under adversity, like other men. We are not stimulated by the allurements of flattery into dangerous courses of which we disapprove, nor are we goaded by offensive charges into compliance with any man's wishes. Our habits of discipline make us both brave and wise-brave, because the spirit of loyalty quickens the sense of honor, and the sense of honor inspires courage; wise, because we are not so highly educated that we have learned to despise the laws and are too severely trained and of too loyal a spirit to disobey them. We have not acquired that useless over-intelligence which makes a man an excellent critic of an enemy's plans, but paralyzes him in the moment of action. We think that the wits of our enemies are as good as our own, and that the element of fortune cannot be forecast in words. Let us assume that they have common prudence, and let our preparations be, not words, but deeds. Our hopes ought not to rest on the probability of their making mistakes, but on our own caution and foresight. We should remember that one man is much the same as another, and that he is best who is trained in the severest school. These are principles which our fathers have handed down to us and we maintain to our lasting benefit: we must not lose sight of them; and when many lives and much wealth, many cities and a great name, are at stake, we must not be hasty or make up our minds in a few short hours: we must take time. We can afford to wait when others cannot, because we are strong.

"And now send to the Athenians and remonstrate with them both about Potidea and about the other wrongs of which of which your allies complain. allies complain. They say that they are will

who offers to submit to justice you must not proceed as against a criminal until his cause has been heard. In the mean time, prepare for war. This decision will be the best for yourselves and the most formidable to your enemies."

TH

Translation of B. JOWETT, M. A.

AMERICAN RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. HANK GOD, we live in a country where liberty of conscience is respected, and where civil constitution holds over us the ægis of her protection, without intermeddling with ecclesiastical affairs. From my heart I say, "America, with all thy faults, I love thee still." And perhaps at this moment there is no nation on the face of the earth where the Church is less trammeled, and where she has more liberty to carry out her sublime destiny, than in these United States.

For my part, I much prefer the system which prevails in this country, where the temporal needs of the Church are supplied by voluntary contributions of the faithful, to the system which obtains in some Catholic countries of Europe, where the Church is supported by the government, thereby making feeble reparation for the gross injustice it has done to the Church by its former wholesale confiscation of ecclesiastical property. And the Church pays dearly for this indemnity, for she has to bear the perpetual attempts at interference and the vexatious enactments of the civil power, which aims at making her wholly dependent upon it

self.

Some years ago, in company with the late

Rome, I paid a visit to the bishop of Annecy, in Savoy. I was struck by the splendor of his palace, and saw a sentinel at the door, placed there by the French government as a guard of honor. But the venerable bishop soon disabused me of my favorable impressions. He told me that he was in a state of gilded slavery. "I cannot," said he, "build as much as a sacristy without obtaining permission of the government."

I do not wish to see the day when the Church will invoke or receive any government aid to build our churches or to pay the salary of our clergy, for the government may then begin to dictate to us what doctrines we ought to preach. And in proportion as state patronage would increase, the sympathy and aid of the faithful would diminish.

I heartily pray that religious intolerance may never take root in our favored land. May the only king to force our conscience. be the King of kings, may the only prison erected among us for the sin of unbelief or misbelief be the prison of a troubled conscience, and may our only motive for embracing truth be, not the fear of man, but the love of truth and of God!

no more

In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.

Should I be called where cannons roar,
Where mortal steel may wound me,
Or cast upon some foreign shore

Where dangers may surround me, Yet hopes again to see my love,

To feast on glowing kisses,
Shall make my cares at distance move
In prospect of such blisses.

in all my soul there's not one place
To let a rival enter;
Since she excels in every grace,
In her my love shall centre.
Sooner the seas shall cease to flow,
Their waves the Alps shall cover,
On Greenland ice shall roses grow,
Before I cease to love her.

Her path was studded o'er with gems
Of pleasure's holiest ray;
No cloud had crossed her sunny brow
To steal its light away;

No gloomy shade of grief had cast

Its darkness o'er her face,
Nor tear of anguish on her cheek
Had left its dim, damp trace.

Before her Fancy's wizard charm

Raised from their bowers of bliss Bright visions of a future time.

More glorious even than this; Around her Virtue's halo shed Its pale yet peerless beam, While young Romance stood pensive by And basked beneath its gleam.

Her form was graceful as the sprite
Whose home is in a flower
That pours its balm to elves alone

At midnight's solemn hour;
Her smile was like the first-born tinge
Of gold along the blue
That magic-like wakes beauty's morn,
Bathed in its roseate hue.

She struck her lute and sung of love, A sadly plaintive strain: 'Twas Memory's echo of the past,

That ne'er could come again; Her voice was sweet as Music's breath Low murmuring on the strings Of the wild air-harp ere the wind Shakes breezes from his wings.

I saw her once again, but all
Her loveliness was flown;
Her tongue was silent as the tomb
That claimed her for its own;