and pain of surgical operation, to make him sympathetic for the millions of wounded and dying men in the armies of the world. The thoughts of these past years have all converged toward the Peace. Congress at The Hague. His memory of that hour is unquestionably the introduction to a new chapter in human history.

During the Mexican war General Scott's army were pressing through a somewhat mountainous country when they were arrested in their progress by a deep, dry cañon, the only bridge over which had been destroyed by the retreating Mexicans. The engineers, called for consultation, reported that owing to the great depth and the precipitous sides of the canyon it would take two days to replace the bridge. There was in the army a regiment from Maine, recruited from the lumbermen of that State, commanded by a colonel whose own experience had been greater in log-driving than in soldiering. A man who in the spring freshets of the Penobscot-freshets augmented by letting loose the pools of water of the lakes of the northern wilderness-had led his men along. Now breastdeep in icy water, now struggling through the thickets on the banks, and again leaping in mid

stream from log to log, guiding the on-rushing million of feet of lumber in the mad career to tidewater. In spite of all effort he had occasionally seen those logs in the gorges of the Rippogenus, pile and jam and twist themselves into masses, towering aloft like Cologne Cathedral. As he listened to the report of General Scott's engineers and glanced at the hillsides thickly grown with pine, he exclaimed: "Two days to bridge this crevasse, and my men standing here idle!" The hint was taken. All the axes in the army were distributed to the men from Maine. The trees came crashing down as fast as the horses, loosed from the artillery wagons, could haul them to the edge of the abyss, into which they were tumbled as you tumble hay out of a hayrick. Other men hewed string-pieces and cross-pieces for a corduroy road, and in two hours the army were marching across the cañon. Memory brought back all the scenes and struggles in the Maine forest. All the experiences in the distant homeland rendered the impossible for other men the strangely possible for these men. The thought of what a man has done makes him ready for equal or larger service. They placed a small handkerchief over the back of a chair which stood at the

head of the coffin when John B. Gough was buried. The silver-tongued orator had many times told the pathetic story of that handkerchief. He said: "I have in my house a small handkerchief, not worth three cents to you, but you could not buy it from me. A woman brought it and gave it to my wife and said: "I am very poor. I would give your husband a thousand pounds if I had it, but I brought this. I married with the fairest and brightest prospects before before me, but my husband took to drink, and everything went. The piano my mother gave was sold, until at last I found myself in one miserable room. My husband lay intoxicated in a corner and my child was lying restless and hungry on my knee. The light of other days had faded, and I wet my handkerchief with my tears. My husband,' said she to my wife, 'met yours. He spoke a few words to him and gave a grasp of the hand, and now, for six years, my husband has been to me all that a husband can be to a wife, and we are gathering our household goods together again. I have brought your husand the very handkerchief I wet through that night with my tears, and I want him to remember, when he is speaking, that he has wiped away those tears from my eyes forever.

Ah,"

evangel of dying love which secures for society that which no other element can furnish. No relief was ever given to the poor except the relief of love. No enmity was ever effectually destroyed except by the hand of love. No sorrow was ever lessened or burden lightened except by love.

That which is unquestionably true of success and society is also true of salvation. The divine Saviour of men was willing to rest the whole future of His kingdom upon one simple word. It was not a question of creed, or pledge, or law. It was the one demand of personal love. The only security He asked of His disciples was the security of their love. A deathless love would conquer all opposition. "Lovest thou Me," revealed the whole future. Peter might break a promise when he faced a jail door or a cross, but he never could break with love. In that was the certainty of service, and sacrifice, and ultimate victory. When was genuine love ever conquered? Never! The armies of the world could vanquish an army of Peter's with drawn swords, but all the military forces in the kingdoms of earth could not overcome the love in a single soul. What supreme wisdom in the Christ to understand this deep secret and move contrary

to all the powers of the world! Simple love was to save the apostles and to save their world. Its triumphant march has not disappointed the heart of the Christ. Systems of theology, elaborate organizations, magnificent buildings, perfect methods, are all artificial. The controlling power of the attachment of personal love to a personal representative of God's goodness and holiness and perfection. Man can be made perfect only in the simplicity and naturalness of this method. Perfect love, perfectly lived, is the secret. It is not mystery. It is revelation easily understood and made clearer by a thousand illustrations. This impulse in the heart of man was called by Christ a new commandment. It found its novelty in being a spirit which worked from within, and forced men to cross oceans, and climb mountains, and brave dangers, and face death, to give and spend of self for the sake of others. In the early hours of this new history, as the heroes were slain by cruel hands, other heroes instantly arose to take their place, and startled the old historians into momentary paralysis. The pen refused to make its way through such astounding mystery. They could not discover laws which demanded such obedience. They