e also recognised that owing to the limitions of knowledge and reason that iman life must necessarily rest on faith an all-wise and beneficent creator. Life love and love is life, according to Christ : ence his insistence upon social service, selfacrifice, etc. At no time did Christ advote asceticism or religiosity; he advised simple faith in God, realising that withit faith in an ultimate end of Good, in a eneficent God, that is, life would be in>mplete if not impossible.

The conclusion that Christ believed that fe ought to be governed by love cannot e avoided if we consider the distinctly hristian passages in the Gospels, those assages which distinguish New Testament om Old Testament teaching. I will quote few of them. "Thou shalt love thy eighbour as thyself": "A new commandent I give unto you; that ye love one nother"; "By this shall men know that e are my disciples: that ye love one anther." Then again, in that great oration, ne Sermon on the Mount, the spirit of a ɔwerful human love runs right through it, hile if we turn to the life of Christ we see ve incarnated. The great achievement of hrist is not his dying on the Cross, but is living in according with the strictest emands of love; not his victory over eath so much as his victory over selfish

ness. Christ launched the bark of his life on the great and almost unknown sea of love, and trusted it fully; and it held him, for by it his life was carried to a victorious end. It was love by which Christ lived; it was love enabled him to die. Thus we hold that Christ's life is the greatest human achievement the world has yet witnessed. But how few Christians even yet see it thus! Christ laboured to establish the Kingdom of Heaven which John the Baptist had proclaimed, a vast spiritual Kingdom, a veritable brotherhood, and in so doing touched a pinnacle of idealism which transcended that of any of his Jewish fore

runners.

Thus we maintain that in Christianity we have the culmination of a long process of development. From a brief survey of the morals and ideals at different periods we have been able to see that the Jews, like the Teutons, had to develop their spiritual nature by slow degrees; to discover their souls, and eventually the essentially spiritual nature of life. Moreover we have seen that Christ was the first Jew to discover the spirit of man as an objective reality, and that it is that discovery that gives him his place as one of the greatest men and teachers, of all ages.

And Democracy and Christianity are the same at root.

NE of the most extraordinay features of accident assurance is the relatively small number of claims. It seems all the more remarkable when we conder the recurring risks which people run every day of eir lives. It is only when we ponder the matter hat we realize how many narrow escapes we have ad. We go about our work or play, busy and reoccupied, up and down stairs, round corners, and hrough the midst of traffic, and yet it is seldom that n accident happens to us. We almost tripped on e stairs, nearly ran into some obstacle at the orner, all but got run over by a motor-car and the hole time we were thinking of other things, only anaging to dodge the various hazards just in the

ick of time.

Occasionally it dawns upon us that we have had hair's-breadth escape, but a thousand times we are

oblivious of the fact. We realize neither the danger nor the escape. In that very fact our safety lies; for if we were conscious of all the perils that beset us, and if it were left to our judgment to avoid them, there is little doubt that but few of us would live to grow up. By the time we had made up our minds what to do, the disaster would have taken place. A man is lighting a lamp, when it suddenly explodes, and a scorching tongue of flame shoots out straight towards his face. At the same instant he shuts his eyes and jerks back his head, and so escapes injury. He had made these movements actually before he had time to realize his danger. Had the matter been left to his will, the flame would have reached him, and he might have sustained serious damage to his eyesight; for the impression would have had to travel from his eye to the visual centres in his

brain, and thence to the conscious part of that organ, causing him to apprehend his danger and estimate the best and quickest way of dealing with it. After that a command would have had to pass to his motor centres, and from them to the muscles necessary for the movements of the eyelids and neck. The method would have been too long, and by the time the current had traversed it, the psychological moment would have gone by. So nature, by way of saving valuable time and minimizing risk, has devised a speedier method. The portion of the brain governing the muscles works automatically, the conscious part of the affair-the man's observation, judgment, and will-is left out, and so is achieved in the twinkling of an eye what would otherwise have taken an appreciably longer time. Actions such as these are called reflex or automatic, and few people realize that an overwhelming proportion of the movements they go through every day and hour of their lives come under this heading. The chief part of life's experience consists in learning to do things automatically which at first are accomplished only by an effort. A baby staggers across a room, its little mind intent on its own endeavor; two years later the same child walks without thinking about it. Most of us have forgotten the days when we learned to walk, but we all remember those in which we learned to ride a bicycle. It appeared an easy matter after watching experts, but on trying it for ourselves it seemed at first an impossible thing ever to acquire the necessary balance. A vast amount of concentration was required, and the whole business seemed to be hopelessly complex. Even when the balance was gained, there was the steering to be attended to: and meanwhile the learner must not forget to keep on pedalling. Yet in a surprisingly short space of time the pupil became expert, and found himself doing all these things without giving them a thought, even chatting to a fellow-rider and looking about him in the most casual manner. The movements which had needed so much attention at first became practically unconscious. The rider could now turn corners without being aware that he had moved the handle-bars or changed the poise of his body. He soon learned to do something else too in an automatic manner, something more important than the mere act of riding. As he is going along he suddenly swerves, and it is not until he has done so that he consciously sees the obstacle which he has by this means avoided. His thoughts had been elsewhere, though his eyes were fixed on the road, and it was apart from any exercise of his own will that his arms had instinctively turned the steering handle and his body had bent over in the right direction. Another time, as he is going round a sharp bend, he puts on the brake, and for the moment may almost wonder why he has done so until he perceives a trench in the road in front of him. Had the matter depended on his own observation and judgment he would probably have come to grief.

These automatic actions not only save time, but they are infinitely more perfect than conscious ones ever can be. A man who can walk gracefully along a road will often strut in an ungainly manner if, as a late-comer, he has to make his way to the front of a concert hall. Every cyclist knows that in the days of his learning, when he strained his utmost to avoid obstacles, the result was that he ran into them as a rule. A child will stand erect without any thought of maintaining its balance so long as its attention is otherwise occupied: but if you tell it to

stand perfectly still, the chances are that it will swa about in the effort to remain motionless. These are only a few of the many automatic movements wh are constantly taking place. If it were not for the we should have little time to attend to other matters Like the learner of the bicycle, we should make litt progress and get scant enjoyment out of life if w had to fix our mind on all our actions.

However, there is another aspect vastly me important than either of these. Work and happines are not the only elements in our existence. T body must be protected against all hazards whe are continually threatening life and limb, and it is her that automatic movements are of such supreme vah For the instinct of self-defence is ever alert, eve when the individual himself is careless or preocc pied. A person who is asleep will shrink away i hand be placed on his face, and may even do without waking up.

It is in connection with self-defence that the saria of time is essential to the last degree, for the question is one of moments, even of fractions of a momer we might say. The rapidity of reflex acts is prove by a machine for testing the speed of movements Tell a man to pull his hand away as quickly a possible at a given signal, and after that make h put his hand into a hole where an animal lies hidden This time, with the shock of surprise, he will c his arm back the moment he feels the touch of the and will perform this movement in half the time thi he took when doing it deliberately.

The most significant part of this arrangement is the fact that the more important an organ is the more rapid is this reflex action. Of all the senses eyesight is the most precious, and the loss of it irreparable. Therefore the eyelids are gifted with speed of motion unequalled elsewhere in the body The expression "the twinkling of an eye" is proo that this fact has been well known for many centuries It happens not uncommonly that people suddenly blink without knowing why. The next moment they are removing a fly or a midge from their eyelashes They had not consciously seen the insect, but the had really done so, and had instinctively closed the eyes to keep out the intruder. So instinctive is this movement that few persons can keep their eyes ope if a hand other than their own is passed quickly in front of the face.

Another movement, perhaps the next most rapid in the body, is the contraction of the muscles to war off a threatened blow. Here, again, the more vita the part the greater is the speed and the more com plete the movement. An unexpected blow on th arm will cause a contraction, but not nearly to the same extent as a punch on the chest or abdome where the consequences would be more disastrous In the latter case the hard pad of contracted musc forms an effective buffer, which robs the blow o much of its sting.

The body is built, too, in such a way as to lend itself to self-defence. The heart is protected by the bony structure of the chest. The abdomen, where a kick or blow would be more dangerous owing to the absence of ribs, is guarded by one of the strongest masses of muscle in the body. When these muscles contract they not only form a dense pad, which is a protection in itself, but also draw the abdominal wall backward out of the way of harm.

The brain and spinal cord, which regulate the various movements as well as the vital processes o the human system, are guarded by bone which is o the densest nature. The configuration of the skull s

a shield in itself. A blow which would smash an arm or leg bone to splinters may glance off the head with little more than a bruise or cut.

The orbits are so shaped that a direct blow on the eyeball is almost an impossibility. You have only to look at a face sideways to see how deeply the eyes lie behind the upper edge of the cheek and the lower margin of the forehead. Nothing but a pointed instrument can enter the gap and so injure the eyeball; and cases where this occur are extremely rare, for the simple reason that reflex movements again come to our aid. Whether the object is aimed at the eve, or the eye approaches the object-as when a child falls on a spike or a grown-up person jerks his head toward the end of a sharp-pointed twig-the face is instinctively turned aside, so that the cheek, the nose, or the forehead receives the cut, instead of the all-important organs of vision.

When a foreign body, such as a needle, has entered any part of the flesh, nature deals with it in such a way as to render its presence as harmless as possible. For all such objects, especially if they are sharp-pointed-which is usually the case, as otherwise they would not have penetrated the skin-tend to work outward. A needle which has become embedded in a thick mass of muscle, such as that on the abdomen or the back, will gradually make its way to the surface. One which has entered a limb will travel by degrees in the direction of the hands or feet rather than toward the trunk, where its presence would be fraught with infinitely more risk. In one case a needle took six years to work its way from the shoulder to the tip of the thumb, whence it was finally extracted.

The place of pain in the human economy has exercised the minds of philosophers for many years. Yet pain is man's chief source of self-defence. A grit in the eye would probably be left until it had set up ulceration and endangered the eyesight, did not the suffering render its presence intolerable. The pain of pleurisy keeps the affected side of the chest at rest; that of peritonitis secures that quiescence which is of all things essential to the treatment of the underlying complaint. The pain of a broken bone has saved many a simple fracture from becoming compound; a jerk or a struggle would have done the mischief had not the agony of movement prevented it. Pain and rest, dissimilar and irreconcilable as they may seem at first sight, are oftentimes found to be working hand-in-hand for the welfare of the individual.

Not all involuntary actions are the result of practice, the method by which walking, running, jumping, and many others are acquired. Other movements necessary for self-preservation are inherited. If it were not so few infants would survive many days. The newborn child has not learnt to ward off blows or shrink back at the approach of danger, but it is seldom that such movements are required in the case of the helpless little beings Yet there are certain other risks which it runs, even from the moment of birth. Mucus may collect in its throat, threatening to choke it, and likely to do so were the child not provided with reflex actions which come to its assistance. Coughing, sneezing, sucking, and swallowing are instinctive from the first. Of these, swallowing is the most remarkable. If it were not for a certain reflex movement which takes place every time we swallow, food or liquid would find its way into the larynx, seeing that they must pass over the top of this organ. The consequences of such an accident might be disastrous to the last extreme. To avoid this, the upper opening of the larynx is provided with a hinged

lid, which opens to admit air at each act of respiration, and must be closed securely during each act of swallowing; and this mechanical movement is a part of our organization as much as the action of the heart and lungs. So far from being learnt by practice, matters are so arranged that the same movements which pass the food down the throat, automatically close the lid at the same time, shutting the door against all unwelcome intruders.

Furthermore, the throat itself has the power of preventing undesirable material from getting as far as this. It is known that some people are poisoned, more or less, by articles which are pleasant and nutritious to others Cheese, eggs, and shellfish are examples of this, and as a rule people subject to such idiosyncrasies have a corresponding dislike to these articles; if they try to swallow them the throat instinctively closes in a spasmodic manner, and deglutition becomes almost an impossibility. Even if the distasteful food be forced down by an effort of will, the stomach has also the power of dealing with it, as it has with all other undesirables. The latter may manage to get past the outer gates and their adjacent side-turning into the larynx, and yet find themselves turned back when they reach the end of the street. It is one of our inherited modes of selfdefence that poisonous matter which has reached the stomach almost invariably sets up the act of vomiting.

an

In all these various ways Nature is ever on her guard to protect human beings from the constantly recurring risks to which they are liable. There is, however, another phase of self-defence even more wonderful than any of those we have described, another method alongside which these others seem almost commonplace. For it is not accident alone against which provision has to be made, but enemy whose strength lies in its very minuteness, an enemy so small that it needs a high-powered microscope to demonstrate its existence. Place a microbe or bacillus under a strong lens side by side with a speck of dust, and the latter looks like a mountain in comparison. The eye may close to keep out the smallest piece of grit, but there is no sense acute enough to detect a microbe which has found its way into the throat. That being so, it would seem at first glance as though the human system were helpless against the onset of these invisible, hidden foes. Far from it. The human body does not depend solely on the efficiency of the guards at the gates, but has the power of dealing with the enemy that has penetrated to the interior of the citadel. A germ which has succeeded in establishing itself in the tissues of the fauces has more to contend with before it can fulfil its evil designs. There are substances circulating in the blood whose function it is to render such germs inert. Were it not so, the world would be swept from end to end by ravaging epidemics. This property is known as the "resisting power," and it is because of it that many people escape infection, even when brought into close contact with it. Several members of a family may have influenza, while others get off scot-free simply because the latter have greater resistance. It is on this quality that human beings must rely in order to secure immunity from disease, rather than on any attempt to clude the germs, for that is an impossibility. Every one who travels by rail or mixes with other people, either in the way of work or socialy, is bound to encounter microbes, such as those of fevers, tubercle, or influenza, most ubiquitous of all. Safety does not lie in giving germs a wide

berth SO much as in attacking them by that strange, mysterious influence with which human beings are invested, and by means of which these pernicious foes are rendered innocuous. This faculty ebbs and flows, and it may be stated that as a rule it varies with the health of the individual. It follows, therefore, that the most effective way by which people can render themselves proof against

disease is by keeping the general standard of health at as high a level as possible. In this way, by an abundant supply of fresh air, a sufficiency of exercise and rest, and by discrimination in regard to diet, man can increase his own resisting power, and so aid Nature in her most amazing, most ingenious method of self-defence. Chambers's Journal.

T

HE dream of many inventors has been to utilize the magnetic attraction of coils of wire, traversed by the electric current, to produce rapid motion. Not many years ago the papers were full of "electric guns," in which the body to which motion was to be imparted was to be a heavy projectile. Somehow or other, modern armies are not availing themselves of this weapon, and we hear little of it now. Its place bas been taken for the moment by a "flying railroad" based on the same principle. A model of the "flying train,', which its inventor, Emile Bachelet, asserts can travel at the rate of 300 miles an hou has attracted much attention in England, but electric-railway men do not seem to be losing more sleep over it than the artillerists did over the "electric gun." "Primarily the invention is designed for the carrying of mails at a speed which may be as high as 300 miles an hour. The train, or car, is lifted into the air by magnetic repulsion, and, when thus suspended, is pulled forward by magnetic attraction."

"The railway line consists of a pair of rails about 35 feet long, laid over a series of the coils, or bobbins.

The vehicle, weighing 45 pounds, consists of an iron car or tube, fastened to an aluminium bedplate. The repulsive force, acting on the aluminium, lifts it instantaneously, as soon as the circuit is closed.

A FLYING RAILWAY.

one inch clear of the rail.

about half an inch into the air and holds it there. But at intervals the track is spanned archwise by other electromagnets. The iron of the superstructure of the car responds, so that the vehicle is immediately pulled toward them. The electromagnet, as the car reaches it, is automatically deenergized, and ceases to exert any influence on the vehicle, which passes on, being pulled forward by the next magnet beyond it. Thus it travels on, from one magnet to the next, the speed being in proportion to their number and strength. The coils or bobbins in the roadway which lift the vehicle into the air are excited in groups by the moving vehicle, through brushes affixt to the aluminium bedplate and kept in contact with the live rail by springs, so that the vehicle carries its magnetic field with it." Selected.