We have seen how the Constitution of the United States, as well as the Constitution of the State of New York, forbids the "taking of private property for public use without just compensation." The high dominion of a state can take private prop erty for public use, preferring the need or good of the whole people to that of a private individual. But in so doing it must render just compensation. By this is protected the right of the citizen to that which is his own. If it were not his own, if he were a thief in holding land to which he had no just title, no compensation could be due. This principle of eminent domain also asserts the natural right of the individual to his property, as the state cannot extinguish that right. If the state created that right it might extinguish it. With what face, then, do socialists refer us to eminent domain when they urge seizure of private property without compensation, and propose the violation of one of the fundamental laws of nations?

There are two points remaining on which we desire to speak before we close this brief essay. We have sufficiently shown the unchristian character of the main principle of Mr. George. His proposition that private property in land is a grievous wrong, has been condemned by the Catholic Church many times in word and act. Some of his friends, we believe with no inspiration from him, take refuge from the censure of the church in the fact that the Sacred Congregation of the Index has not condemned any of his books, and, therefore, assert that Catholics may safely hold his opinions. Any reasoning mind will at once see that this is a dishonest position. If the supreme tribunal of the church has already condemned the main proposition of his theory, that condemnation alone is sufficient for sincere Catholics. No ecclesiastic nor any ecclesiastical corporation could for one moment justly hold any property in land if his theory were true. It is also certain that many books worse than those of Mr. George's are not yet placed upon the Index. It would be a curious reasoning to conclude from this fact that Catholics could follow their teaching. He who proves too much proves nothing. When the Sacred Congregation sees fit in its wisdom to consider the works of Henry George, there can be no doubt that it will condemn his political economy, which is nothing but a

new edition of socialism. Proudhon is already condemned, and to him he owes the theory on which he bases his system. "Property is theft," says Proudhon, and "property in land is theft," says Mr. George, and land is the only "real" property. The passage from this socialism to communism in its complete form is easy.

We do not believe that there is any danger of the adoption of Mr. George's system in our country. We think it would prove the ruin of the very class it seeks to serve. But we would ask the laboring class to consider well the risk they run in giving favor to principles which, if they could be carried out, would diminish their resources and destroy their prospect of independ ence. We make no attack upon the honesty or sincerity of Mr. George. Undoubtedly he believes that he has found a remedy for the ills of society, and thinks his theory the fruit of true philanthropy. Many political economists as wise as he find many contradictions in his statement, and are unable to see how the universal robbery of land-owners can benefit the working class, or stimulate trade or production. For ourselves, we think that his principles acted upon would reduce the earnings of the laboring class and increase the cost of living. But, leaving aside theories of political economy, and arguing from the point of morality, which underlies the prosperity of nations, we can never be made to believe that injustice will benefit any people. Deep in the heart of any prosperous nation must be implanted the sense of justice, the obligation to render to every one that which is his due. A remedy which proposes universal robbery is not only worse than the evil it seeks to cure, but would lead to the disregard of all rights. In the observance of the natural law of God the poor are as much concerned as are the rich.

There is another great evil which flows from socialism and its kindred theories. It seeks to array capital against labor, as if one were the natural enemy of the other. Surely society is made up of different classes, and all should co-operate for the common good; one cannot well do without the other. All are equal before the law, possessing an equality of civil rights. An equality of social condition never has existed and never will exist, and to hold it up as possible is to deceive men with a fool

For

ish dream which can never be realized. Theorists of this kind are the worst enemies of the working classes, deluding them by vain prospects, familiarizing them with injustice, and cheating them of the just rewards of their labor. The Catholic Church is confessedly the friend of the poor. She looks upon them as the most cherished children of her flock. Schemes of benevolence and even of divine tenderness have their fountain in her heart. ages has she been the defender of the oppressed, and she has relieved want and blessed poverty everywhere. She has taught the obligations of the divine law to every class, to the king upon his throne, to the rulers of the state, to the rich in their many cares, and to the toilers in the field and the mine. All her children are equal to her, all the recipients of her bounty, of the grace with which her Lord has endowed her. It is her special mission "to preach the gospel to the poor, deliverance to the captives, and sight to the blind." No philanthropist, however sincere, can measure the fountain of divine pity that is in her. Her priests are specially consecrated to the service of those in want or suffering. They, in their vocation, are the benefactors of the poor, teaching obedience to law and justice, and self-denial where God commands it. Not for this world was man made, but for a world eternal, for a life with God, to which the trials of our different probations lead. To forget this high truth, to trample upon the principles of justice and the precepts of the natural law, is to hurry on the ruin of nations. Thus far by Christian society socialism of every kind has been rejected as the foe of peace and order, the enemy of the honest and industrious poor. We do not believe that the time has come when men, forgetting the truths of religion, and the dictates of the natural law, will tear in pieces the hallowed fabric of society, and consign themselves to a chaos of disorder.

THOMAS S. PRESTON.

THE ELEMENT OF LIFE IN FICTION.

IN attempting to give my views on so difficult and elusive a subject, it may be said, in extenuation, that I have not "rushed in," but have hesitated long, and am complying at last with repeated requests.

At the outset the question naturally arises, What is the element of life? It is not easy to define. Life in all its forms is a mystery, never more so than in a book; yet it is something as real as it is intangible. It is a quality which an author, consciously or unconsciously, gives to his story, thus endowing it with a power to live among living men and women and to interest them. Inherent life in a novel, like life elsewhere, manifests and asserts itself, feebly in some instances because vitality is weak, strongly in others because the principle is robust and aggressive. In the latter case the reader's eye kindles, his pulse quickens; he lays the book down with reluctance, goes back to it when he can, and sits up in the "wee sma' hours" to finish it. He is full of the story the next morning. He berates it for keeping him awake, and in a way which leads his household to seek at once the same cause for sleeplessness. With an irrelevancy only apparent-for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks he mentions the book to friends and acquaintances, who in turn pass under its power and become its advocates. It does not follow that the reader is wholly pleased; on the contrary he may find much to dislike or condemn; but, as he might express himself, "the story took a strong hold on me at the start, and kept it to the end." It is the element of life which gives a novel this grasp on the attention of the average reader.

Many books are read because they contain desired informa tion, or are classics associated with great names, or are the latest sensation in the circle to which the reader belongs. But how about the scores of novels to be published during the next

few months? One after another the majority of them will disappear from public notice, and become a part of the inert sediment which gathers on the book-shelves, dead as their sapless wooden supports. It may be that the least-heralded, leastpraised one of them all will make its way into thousands of homes, and amuse or inspire tens of thousands of readers. Be this as it may, no amount of advertising or praise can make a dead book live, although it may be galvanized into a semblance of life for a time. Unless it makes its own way by a native vitality, sooner or later it disappears and is forgotten. With few exceptions, the value of a novel consists in its power to interest. The story is not the accepted means of information or instruction, although the writer may have aspired to give both abundantly. Neither for the facts nor for the wisdom conveyed in the narrative will it be generally read. The author may seek to further some cause or smite some evil, yet he may learn that while the public sympathizes with his motives, it neglects his book. He may simply be actuated by the legitimate wish to amuse, to rest tired brains, to beguile the sorrowful into forgetfulness, and to wing slow hours; but if he does not amuse, if the weary discover that they must gird up their mental loins for renewed effort, if the sad find the specters of their troubles intervening between the eye and the page, and the dull catch themselves yawning with increasing frequency, a ukase could not make the book go. Ambition of the most consuming quality may drive the pen, but the public is supremely indifferent to our desire to be great. Philanthropy, steeped in the very milk of human kindness, may inspire the effort, but out of sixty millions scarcely a corporal's guard will read a novel from a sense of duty. The author may acquire a style so finished that even the hypercritical cannot find a faulty sentence from cover to cover, and, after all, he may learn from the popular verdict that he has produced mere form. We can fancy Eve lying in faultless symmetry on the green sward of Eden; what a mockery would her beauty have been to Adam unless the breath of life had been breathed into her nostrils! Even the marble statue must suggest life and represent it. While gazing we think of virile manhood, gracious womanhood, sportive, innocent childhood.