When any one comes to disagree with these formulations, he should either hold his peace, or give up his membership. Any full and frank discussions from within the body would thus become impossible. Intellectual conformity would become the test of loyalty. It is an automatic method for driving thinkers out of the Church. And yet the Church needs thinkers.

But why should uniformity of opinion be looked upon as essential to a church, any more than to a family? Why should not people who hold a variety of opinions still feel their need of one another, and unite heartily in order to improve their spiritual condition? Religion organizes itself in response to human needs rather than in assent to any formulated opinion. It defines itself in deeds rather than in words.

"The disciples were called Christians first at Antioch." Before that they were spoken of as people of "the way." We are told that "there arose no small stir about that way." Of course it was not so much the way as the fact that there were people who actually walked in it that caused the stir. It didn't matter that they had not yet agreed upon any name; they were recognized by the way they actually lived.

One wonders whether much would have been lost if the movement had been allowed to go on in that manner. Perhaps it has gone on in that manner more than we realize. The great ecclesiastical personages whose names loom so large in church history had often very little to do with the obscure people of the way, except to try to repress them when they became too troublesome. Yet the Church has survived because these people have always persevered, and have refused to be driven out of the institution which belonged to them.

In times when there is no small stir in the Church, and much dissatisfaction with its forms of worship and of thought, it is not safe to jump to the conclusion that the Church is going to pieces. It may be that those are signs of a new awakening. An institution that sets out to reform the world must from time to time reform itself. It may be now as when Paul and Silas came to Thessalonica, and it was rumored that they "that turn the world upside down are come hither also."

Of course Paul and Silas did not actually turn the world upside down, desperately as they tried to do it, and neither have their successors.

After centuries of Christian endeavor a citizen of the Roman Empire would find much that was familiar in London or New York. But the essential thing is that the people who try to turn the selfish and brutal world upside down are still working. They are not discouraged, and all attempts to exterminate them have failed.

Their protests against existing wrongs and popular superstitions are still heard. The play of spiritual forces upon actual conditions still goes on. Once the critics of social institutions were looked upon as enemies of society. Now it is coming to be seen that they have a function that is creative. That society is in the healthiest condition, and has the best promise of long life, which produces the greatest number of free and virile individuals who are not satisfied with it as it is, and who are eagerly and intelligently endeavoring to transform it into something better. Such a society will be the scene of many conflicts of opinion, and it will thrive on them. It will develop unevenly. It will organize itself according to needs and not according to doctrines. Its growth will be illogical and unpredictable. It will not correspond to any man's idea of Utopia. Unlike Utopia it will be interesting.

THE CONSERVATISM

OF GUIDE-POSTS

IN considering the relations of opinions to institutions, there is a third element which must be taken into account the formulations of opinions that are no longer held. That is to say, the opinion is no longer held, but the form of words which expressed it is held, and that very tenaciously. The formula has a way of surviving long after it has severed its connection with its original meaning. These ghosts of old opinions haunt their former dwelling-places.

It is often much harder to change the name of a familiar institution than it is to change its actual character. The consequence is that we are confused by many misnomers. I have been struck by the conservatism of guide-posts. Their prime function is to point the way to travelers, and one might suppose that they would be kept strictly up-to-date. Their didactic purpose is so evident, they have so few words at their disposal, and there is such obvious necessity to preserve a reputation for veracity, that there

would seem to be no occasion for historical romanticism. Yet as a matter of fact they have a tendency to forget the facts of the present in their fond recollection of the past.

At a fork in the road with which I have long been pleasantly familiar, there stood till recently a guide-post which bore the inscription, "Tamworth I. W. 2 miles."

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Years ago, when I first passed that way, quired of a local loiterer, "What does the I. W. stand for?"

"Iron Works."

"Where are the Iron Works?"

My laconic friend pointed, not to the road, but to the guide-post, and, as if teaching a child a lesson on the blackboard, repeated slowly:

"Tamworth Iron Works, Two Miles."

But my desire for knowledge was more realistic than literary, and leaving the letter of the board I tried to get at the facts.

"Are there any iron works there?"

"No! not to say iron-works. But Chocorua village used to be called the Iron Works. They say there were iron works there in 1812. Must have burned down about that time. If it's Chocorua village you want to go to, that's the road."