But, after all, comes the great question, Was the man who effected in his own day so great a reform an impostor? Was his whole career one of sheer hypocrisy? Was his divine mission a mere invention of his own of whose falsehood he was conscious throughout? Such was the notion of the elder controversialists, like Prideaux, but to an unprejudiced observer it carries its confutation with it on the face of it. Surely nothing but a consciousness of really righteous intentions could have carried Mahomet so steadily and consistently, without ever flinching or wavering, without ever betraying himself to his most intimate companions, from his first revelation to Khadijah to his last agony in the arms of Ayesha. If the whole was imposture, it was an imposture utterly without parallel, from its extraordinary subtlety and the wonderful long-sightedness and constancy which one must attribute to its author. Whether persecuted or triumphant, whether in the hour of victory at Beder or in the hour of defeat at Ohud, whether corresponding with the kings of the earth or with rivals of his own people, his lofty spirit never deserted him for a moment.

tors who appeared in imitation of him at the close of his career. Mahomet had no miracle but his Koran; Al Assouad, Tuleila and Moseilama deceived the senses of their followers by tricks of vulgar sleight-of-hand, while some of them relieved them from the heavy observances of prayer and fasting laid upon them by the ascetic of Mecca. Compare Moseilama and Mahomet. Compare their letters. "From Moseilama the Apostle of God to Mahomet the Apostle of God: Now let the earth be half mine and half

thine." 'From Mahomet the Apostle of God to Moseilama the Liar: The earth is God's; he giveth it for inheritance to such of his servants as he pleaseth, and the happy issue shall attend those that fear him." Surely in one we see the timid, bungling, doubting production of a conscious impostor, while the other displays the lofty confidence of one who fully believed in his own claims. Again, in the hour of death, amidst agony and delirium, not a word escapes him to betray any flaw or doubt in his pretensions. His last unconnected, half-inarticulate words still spoke of his hopes in Paradise, of his "fellow-citizens on high." Surely he was not playing the hypocrite at that awful moment.

That Mahomet in his early career was actuated by the noblest intentions and that he fully believed in his own mission is, I think, perfectly evident. That prosperity corrupted him, though it did not wholly turn him astray, is, I think, no less evident. That confidence in his own teaching followed him to the last is equally so. But this is by no means inconsistent with some alloy of conscious imposture during the

later and less noble portion of his career. This view has been adopted by many eminent writers who fully acquit him of all imposture at the beginning. That he fell off in many respects is clear; he may have even fallen so far as to put forth as divine revelations mere excuses for his own frailty or devices to obtain his own ends. Yet I would not willingly believe this. I would rather believe, as appears to have been the view of Dr. Möhler, that even where Mahomet most grievously erred he still never stooped to conscious forgery. Accustomed to regard all his impulses as arising from divine inspiration, he may, when one false step had permanently degraded him, have sincerely recognized a divine command in the mere impulses of his passions, or even in suggestions the reverse of divine. His moral sense was evidently obscured; he may have been open to the charge of self-delusion; but I do not believe that at any moment he was the conscious deluder of others.

Mahometanism is a national system which attempts to be universal, and which most grievously fails in the attempt. Its great rite is typical of this its aspect. Mahomet did not, or could not, rise above a local worship; he had, therefore, a holy placea place of pilgrimage. Sprung from the blood of the hereditary guardians of the Kaaba, it was the object of his life to restore that venerated temple to its true purpose, to expel the idols from the holy place of Abraham and Ishmael. His traditionary love so clung around it that he adopted from its local worship many grotesque and superstitious ceremonies which seem strangely at variance with the generally reasonable and decorous ritual of the Moslem. In an Arab,

a son of Ishmael, all this was, if not rational, at least natural. But why should Persians, Moors, Turks and Indians, aliens from the stock of Abraham, be sent to worship at a shrine the whole of whose associations belong to another nation? Going on pilgrimage somewhere seems a natural impulse among men of all creeds, but why should any but Arabs compass the Kaaba of Abraham or reverence the holy well of Ishmael? To a devout Mahometan the tomb of Mahomet himself would seem the most natural object of pilgrimage. And so it is; to this day many of the Faithful from distant lands are not satisfied with the communication in the national worship of Arabia which their law requires, but follow a truer impulse in turning aside to pray at the tomb of the Prophet of their own faith.

2

In one or two respects Mahometanism has actually appeared as a retrograde system, even among heathen nations. One cannot doubt that the doctrine of fatalism had a wonderful effect in animating the spirits of the first Saracens, but its ultimate effect has been pernicious to the last degree. When the first heat of enthusiasm is over, this same doctrine leads to quite opposite results. It becomes a mere excuse for stupid and listless idleness; submission to the divine will is held to render all human exertion superfluous. Nothing in the world is so energetic as a Mahometan nation in its youth; nothing is so utterly feeble as a Mahometan nation in its old age.

The religious and moral aspect of Mahomet is one of the most wonderful phenomena which history or moral philosophy can present. A man himself sincere and righteous, the greatest of reformers and benefactors to

his own people, a preacher and legislator of truth and civilization, has eventually done more than any mortal man to hinder the progress alike of truth and of civilization. The religious reformer has checked the advance of Christianity; the political reformer has checked the advance of freedom, and, indeed, of organized government in any shape; the moral reformner has set his seal to the fearful evils of polygamy and sla

very.

Whether Mahomet be personally the Antichrist of Scripture I do not profess to determine, but I do know that his religion, approximating as it does so closely to Christianity without being Christian, has eventually proved, above all others, emphatically Antichristian. Such has been the fearful result of one, at most of two, false steps, in his personal history. A little more inquiry, and Mahomet might have proved a Christian missionary; and had he only abstained from attacking other nations, he might in any case have been honored as the benefactor of his own. As it is, from the Atlantic to the Ganges, the creed of Islam, engrafted on the old social and political system of the East, has proved the bitterest of all foes to Christian faith and Western law. No opposition, political or the ological, ever approached the bitterness which reigned for centuries between the champions of either faith, whether in the school of disputation or on the field of battle. No warfare has ever called forth such enthusiasm on either side as that in which the Cross and the Crescent have sunk and risen with the defeat and the triumph of the contending hosts.

EDWARD A. FREEMAN, M. A.

"How devotedly he loves me!" thought Julia, with a sigh. "No, no! I cannot break his heart.'

Poor girl!" thought Alfred, bringing one of the curls of his whiskers more killingly over his cheek; "her affections are irrevocably fixed upon me; the slightest attention calls to her face all the roses of Sharon."

They proceeded down a long gravel-walk bordered on both sides with fragrant and flowery shrubs, but, except that the pebbles rubbed against each other as they passed over them, there was not a sound to be heard. Julia, however, was observed to hem twice, and we have been told that Fitzclarence coughed more than once. At length the lady stopped and plucked a rose ; Fitzclarence stopped also, and plucked a lily. Julia smiled; so did Alfred. Julia's smile was chased away by a sigh; Alfred immediately sighed also. Checking himself, however, he saw the absolute necessity of commencing a conversation.

"Miss Appleby!" said he at last. "Sir?"

"It is two years, I think, since we parted."

Alfred was silent. "How she adores me!" thought he; "she can tell to a moment how long it is since we last met."

There was a pause.

"You have seen, no doubt, a great deal since you left Malhamdale?" said Julia. "Oh, a very great deal," replied her lover. Miss Appleby hemmed once more, and then drew in a vast mouthful of courage:

"I understand the ladies of England and Ireland are much more attractive than those of Wales."

"Generally speaking, I believe they are. 'Sir!"

"That is, I mean- I beg your pardon. The truth is I should have said that— that You have dropped your rose."

Fitzclarence stooped to pick it up, but in so doing the little miniature which he wore round his neck escaped from under his waistcoat, and, though he did not observe it, it was hanging conspicuous on his breast, like an order, when he presented the flower to Julia.

cousin Rosalind."

"Your cousin Rosalind! Where? How? The miniature! It is all over with me! The murder is out! Lord bless me, Julia! how pale you have grown! Yet hear me! Be comforted. I am a very wretch, but I shall be faithful. Do not turn away, love; do not weep. Julia, Julia, what is the matter with you? By Jove! she is in hysterics; she will go distracted. Julia, I will marry you, I swear to you by—"

WE

FROM THE GREEK OF THUCYDIDES. HEN the Lacedæmonians had heard the charges brought by the allies against the Athenians, and their rejoinder, they ordered everybody but themselves to withdraw, and deliberated alone. The majority were agreed that there was now a clear case against the Athenians, and that they must fight at once. But Archidamus, their king, who was held to be both an able and a prudent man, came forward and spoke as follows:

"At my age, Lacedæmonians, I have had experience of many wars, and I see several of you who are as old as I am, and who will

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 have 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