trates not so much the religious faith as it does the mere formalism and infidelity of society to all religion. The wonder is, not that they do not reach, more often than they do, the hearts and consciences of the people, but that, in spite of the temptations intrinsically connected with their relations to the church and the world, they do not lose their own faith, and "become castaways."

Some persons, dissatisfied with our barren congregational usages, have strenuously advocated the introduction of a liturgy, hoping thereby to overcome the difficulties experienced by the minister, and awaken a new interest among the people. We have never been able to sympathize with any such purpose; for we have never known nor believed the use of a liturgy to have any such efficacy as is hereby attributed to it. We do not know that our brethren in the Episcopal Church feel any more devoutly, or enter any more sincerely into the act of worship, because of the Book of Common Prayer, than do the members of our Puritan congregations, where such things were once deemed an abomination. A stereotyped form of prayer, though embellished by the illuminating hand of antiquity, and attended with all the sacred associations of venerable age, can of itself have no such influence as the advocates of a liturgy imagine. No manual of devotion can awaken the spirit of prayer, though it may serve to guide it when it has already been brought into life by religious convictions; but there is great danger that in its use it may degenerate from its goodly office, and become of no more value than the prayingmachines that in Eastern countries are set by the road-side for the convenience of the passing traveller. This we think is very often the result to which we are brought by our ecclesiastical usages, under whatever administration they may have had their origin.

To recur once more to the article we have already referred to. The writer says: :

"It is frequently asserted, as a proposition which, in order to be received needs only to be stated, that the legitimate purpose of a religious assembly is not the listening to instruction, but the collective offering of praise and prayer; and at the same time it is taken for granted that the supreme importance attached in some quarters to the sermon

indicates a very low type of spirituality. We are disposed to join issue with those who occupy this ground, and to deny that in a just scale of values worship takes precedence of preaching. . . . . . It was for the purpose of preaching that the founder of our religion ordained his twelve Apostles and his seventy disciples, and this office occupies the chief place in his parting charge. Throughout the Acts of the Apostles we read constantly of preaching, while there is only the most cursory reference to any social expression of faith and piety. The Apostolic Epistles recognize preaching as the one instrumentality of Divine appointment and of paramount efficacy for the salvation of men and the growth of the Church."

Without entering at all into the question whether preaching in these modern times is entitled to the great regard which some claim for it on account of its usefulness as a means of public religious edification, a point which we think admits of some doubt, we are free to confess that in our opinion public prayer would bear considerable diminution without any detriment to the interests of religion. If short sermons are gratifying to the people, as we know they are in a promiscuous assembly, short prayers are equally so, and quite as likely to effect the purpose for which they are offered. The devout cannot for a long time pray in the language and voice of another, while the undevout are likely to be attracted by a few simple expressions of devotion, when they would be utterly repelled by such labored exercises as we often hear in our churches, that seem designed to comprehend all subjects in one offering, as though it were "much speaking" that constitutes the grace of devotion, instead of the fire that burns in the heart of humility and gratitude. Let those who have the genius for prayer dilate in the office, but where the inspiration is not, all the cries and attitudes of the speaker will not touch the hearts of the congregation with the revelation of the Divine presence.

ART. VI.- THE ETHICS OF TREASON.

1. C. CRISPI SALLUSTII Catilina. Cura N. BUTLER. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1860.

2. The Spirit of Military Institutions. By MARSHAL MARMONT. Translated by HENRY COPPÉE. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1862.

WHEN among the various classes of convicts and outcasts we pause before the traitors, estimating them with moral discrimination, the most glaring phenomenon in relation to them is this: that all mankind, in all ages, have agreed to regard them with more intensity of detestation than any other specimen of criminals. No species of conduct or type of character has such a brand of infamy and hatred burned into it by the judgment and instinct of the world. Dante, the pictures of whose poetic vision embody the deliberate verdicts of his conscience, traversing the nine successive spheres of torment, found the bottom of the lowest hell assigned to traitors! In order to understand the causes of this unanimous estimate, and to determine whether it is just or erroneous, we must first learn what constitutes treachery or treason.

Searching the etymology of the words employed to express the thing, we find that they all bear one fundamental meaning, namely, to drag out to the light, to deliver up. The essential significance is, to disclose and yield up to a hostile power a trust which we were pledged to keep; by a breach of honor to discover and hand over to an enemy a secret, a cause, or a person, confided to our friendship and integrity.

Now, whoever acts against the justice, safety, welfare of his country, aiding and abetting her foes, is pre-eminently a traitor. Mankind, in every time and clime, have unanimously consented thus to stigmatize that recreant man. Nor is he under any circumstances a traitor merely by construction. He is a full-blown traitor, by the very terms, in overt and signal distinction, though he have never taken office nor breathed oath of allegiance at her altar. For a country always takes for granted the allegiance of her children, and

confides in them accordingly without suspicion. A boy is not exempt from filial obligations until he has formally sworn to love his mother. He is born into those obligations. They are assumed by the sacred relationships of moral being. The loyalty of its members is the first principle of a nationality. Every son of a country is therefore implicitly pledged a patriot from the beginning. Any blow of his against her life, her fame, partakes of the qualities of a parricidal stab. In this truth we begin to see why such a transcendent stigma has always been affixed to the public traitor. He apostatizes from promises having the validity of baptismal vows; he repudiates duty in her holiest form of disinterestedness, sacrificing the authority of his country to the caprice of his passion. Flinging open the breast of a traitor to inspect the interior workings of his character, we behold the meaner forces trampling down the nobler, the lowest motives subjugating the highest. And well may every moral instinct feel that the spectacle is horrible.

Tracing the origination of treachery, we discern three species of it. For the sake of fulness of illustration we may call them three, though the substance is the same in them all; namely, an unprincipled selfishness subordinating to its wishes the commands of authorities rightfully superior to itself.

Terror is a prolific parent of treachery. A brave, highsouled man, placed by the confidence of his country, his friend, his employer, in a situation of responsibility, feels obliged to be faithful to his trust at all hazards. Danger has no fright for him when he remembers what is expected of him. Death, in comparison with the hideousness of dishonor, wears a radiant beauty, and proffers a prize. The fiercer waxes the peril, and the louder sounds the voice of alarm, so much the higher flames his resolution, and so much the closer he clings to his duty. But a timid, little-hearted man, under such circumstances, is cowed to the basest overtures; the color flies from his dastard cheek; his soul flutters with terror; he is at the mercy of every vile temptation, anxious to creep away at some ignominious outlet, ready to betray anything to purchase safety for his miserable body. Here we have the selfishness of fear making a traitor out of the coward. This is the

most contemptible form of treachery. Mankind, by common agreement, have always poured the largest measure of scorn on the representatives of this class. What words open such abysses of abomination and loathing, as coward, craven, poltroon?

Another generator of treachery is wounded conceit, selfish emulation disappointed of its aim and turned into malice. Rankling over defeat, chafing with anguish and rage at every sight of the laurels on the brow of its successful competitor, it thirsts to revenge fancied wrongs by ruining him who has surpassed it in the race, and by humbling those who have dared to crown him. The motive here indicated has played a direful part in the affairs of the world, both ancient and modern. Scarcely a brilliant general or honored statesman ever stood prominent in his time but had some villains around trying, from motives of selfish hostility, to tarnish and drag him down. Here we have the selfishness of envy making a traitor out of the rival. This is the most fearful form of treachery. Vanity, unregulated by moral principle, animated by a virulent greed for power and praise, baffled of winning them in the measure it thinks its due, seeing somebody else more trusted and honored than itself, is thereby changed into flaming poison. Its subject, possessed by a diabolical hate, becomes reckless of everything else in his desire to strip the wreath from the intolerable emulator who has obscured him, stop the sound of his praises, and feel his own superiority by covering him with defeat. He is willing to pay the price of treason to buy this demoniac luxury. History teems with instances. Words were wasted in denouncing a type of character so fiendish. Every healthy conscience will spontaneously assign it its rank and its doom.

There is one more cause of treachery, an unbridled craving for the means of self-indulgence. A man with a loose conscience, powerful propensities, and a rampant will, whose lawless wishes are opposed by his comrades or superiors, in his curbed and exasperated hankerings, free from that virtuous rule of principle which alone makes abstinence tolerable and denial noble, becomes an easy prey to the blandishments of wickedness. His longings for pleasure, praise, power, thwarted