the "ponts" of a camel), but possibly for greater reasons. We quote again: "The bond between the States is of amazing tenuity. So long as they do not absolutely march into the District of Columbia, sit on the Washington statue and invent a flag of their own, they can legislate, lynch, hunt Negroes through swamps, divorce, railroad and rampage as much as they choose. They do not need knowledge of their own military strength to back their general lawlessness."

"General lawlessness"! But as this military critic offers fewer of his learned comments on this phase of weakness of republics than he does on bad accents, we at least should not be censured for inferring that bad accents and not "general lawlessness" may be the downfall of our republic. A big, fat republic talking through its nose is certainly not an inspiring object for the contemplation of a poet whose ear is attuned to the sweet music of monarchies.

We come now to an incident in Mr. Kipling's varied experiences during his stay in America that led to writing "American Notes," which we think, brings the author of those notes and his church-going admirers in this country who are accustomed to singing his "Recessional" during services, into rather compromising relations, if

enough has not been pointed out already to do so. If there be a church in the city of Chicago where such hollow mockery is made of religious worship as represented by Mr. Kipling in his "American Notes," its doors ought to be closed, and its minister sent to a rock pile to earn his living. Such a course would give the cause of religion the most healthy impetus experienced in a generation. On the other hand, if Mr. Kipling is not a professed Christian, we deem it impolitic, to say the least, to introduce his songs into our religious worship. Moreover, we deem it unpatriotic to use the songs of any one, whether Christian or Infidel, in any public service, whether religious, patriotic, or political, who has so wantonly criticised our republic and the customs of her people. Nay, more, it is more than sacreligious,—it is an insult to the Most High to use in religious worship the songs of a man given to the indulgences of the world, whatever may be his other good qualities. But we hold Mr. Kipling in no sense responsible for the use of "Recessional" by preacher, priest or layman. Our indignation is stirred against those who advisedly use Mr. Kipling's "Recessional," knowing that "he and not He," is the center of attraction in this mock worship. But there is food for thought for

some one in Mr. Kipling's observation on Chicago preaching:

"Sunday brought me to the queerest experiences of all—a relevation of barbarism complete. I found that which was officially described as a church. It was a circus really, but the worshipers did not know it. There were flowers all about the building, which was fitted up with plush and stained oak and much luxury, including twisted brass candlesticks of severest Gothic design.

"To these things and a congregation of savages entered suddenly a wonderful man, completely in the confidence of their God, whom he treated colloquially and exploited very much as a newspaper reporter would exploit a foreign potentate. But, unlike the newspaper reporter, he never allowed his listeners to forget that he, and not He, was the center of attraction. With a voice of silver and with imagery borrowed from the auction room, he built up for his hearers a heaven on the lines of the Palmer House (but with all the gilding, real gold, and all the plate glass, diamond), and set in the center of it a loud-voiced, argumentative, very shrewd creation that he called God. One sentence at this point caught my delighted ear. It was appropos of some question of judgment, and ran: 'No! I tell you, God doesn't do business that way!'

"He was giving them a deity whom they could comprehend, and a gold and jeweled heaven in which they could have a natural interest. He interlarded his performance with the slang of the street, the counter, and the Exchange, and he said that religion ought to enter into daily life. Consequently, I presume he introduced it as daily life -his own and the life of his friends.

"Then I escaped before the blessing, desiring no benediction at such hands. But the persons who listened seemed to enjoy themselves, and I understood that I had met with a popular preacher.

"Later on when I had perused the sermons of a gentleman named Talmage and some others, I perceived that I had been listening to a very mild specimen. Yet that man, with his brutal, gold and silver idols, his hands-in-his-pocket, cigar-in-hismouth, and hat-on-the-back-of-his-head style of dealing with sacred vessels, would count himself spiritually quite competent to send a mission to convert the Indians."

1

Kipling seems to have taken Dickens for his model in his censure; the pupil, however, signally fails to copy the virtues of his master, for Dickens found many things in America, nearly sixty years ago, to merit commendation. But Mr. Dickens was disgusted (and no doubt rightly too) with the excessive and indiscriminate expectorating to which Americans were addicted. Mr. Kipling removed the saliva-exciting "weed" from between his lips, gives a long, scornful puff, and then proceeds to hold up this filthy habit to the renewed disgust of mankind. Mr. Dickens complained of boats not starting on time. Mr. Kipling revives the complaint, but lodges it against our trains, saying, that "when an American train starts on time I begin to anticipate disaster-a

visitation for such good luck, you understand". He has no comment, however, on the remedy; nor does he express his valuable opinion as to whether the trains may not have inherited this criminal neglect from their ancestors-the steamboats. But we suggest that sense of guilt as to the way one "does up" a city may make a little delay seem doubly long and irritating at the hour of departure. Mr. Dickens writes seriously, eloquently, and at the time, no doubt quite truthfully, of the licentiousness of the American press. Mr. Kipling, with a broad field before him, with its good and evil in a marked degree, narrows his comments down to silly railing at newspaper reporters with seeming astonishment at their boldness and stupidity, which he styles "my views of the grinding tyranny of that thing which they call the Press here", a question clearly evaded. Thus this "young man unafraid" makes the reporter the scapegoat for the real sins of the American Press, whatever he may have conceived them to be. But how does the kind-hearted but fearless Charles Dickens treat this question? We shall re-produce it, not only to contrast the ability and fearlessness with which the great novelist goes straight to the core of the question with the burlesque and bombast with which the poet evades it, but also that