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tive promise that those who have here consented to be trained by the King shall sit upon thrones, and judge the tribes of Israel. All this means that we must get ourselves in readiness for promotion. This enhancės the worth of this world and shows the way to success.

Let me make a brief plea for intelligence. We should know many things; but we must know ourselves and our position. We should find out every day where we are, as the sailor does when at sea.

Our relations must be determined as carefully as our personality. The captain does not at noon take his sextant and meditate while he holds at it; nor does he go with it to the engine room, to examine the machinery, converse with the engineers and stokers, and see how much coal is in the bunkers. He looks out and away, and finding the sun finds his ship and his world. He resorts to dead reckoning only when he cannot see the sun. It is upon the live reckoning that he depends. He knows his ship. The man who would be successful must know that he is spirit; not of the world, not of the flesh, but spirit. Knowing that his Creator is Spirit, he must determine his place by his relation to Him. These are practical truths. They may be called religious, which should take nothing from their value. They are practical, of immediate use, and in the best sense, worldly and manly. If this were a sermon, more might be said. This is simply a paper on the daily life of an intelligent

man.

To him these facts are intrusted. Seeing that at present the spirit is in the body, the body must be esteemed. Its health is to be preserved and promoted. Considering how much we have inherited, it would not be just to say that all our infirmities are our faults. They are, at least, our misfortunes; and if they can be escaped, or controlled, we must secure the release. The advance of medical and mental science should make this easier. The body is to be kept in health, and trained to good uses, for the mind's sake that we may be furnished for our efforts. The mind must be furnished with knowledge; not book-learning alone, but knowledge of the laws and methods of a profitable life. This will count for little unless we add force, a vigorous will, patient and brave. There is more than wit in the contrast which was drawn between the Parliament of King John's time and that of to-day; that then most of the members could not write, but they made their mark; now they can all write, and but few make their mark. To knowledge must be added work. There is no dispensing with this. Life grows harder with the modern appliances. Men are more hurried than before the telegraph was invented, as women have less leisure than before the sewing-machine lessened the pressure of care in the home. Whatever is saved in time is expended in new engagements, which often are less healthful and helpful than those they have displaced. We must work if we would live. But with some required tasks, we can elect what we will do. Then comes the call for method, economy, vigilance. The competitions and rivalries are so fierce that we must do our utmost, or lose the race.

When we attempt to describe the things which make for success, many of them seem out of our reach; but they are not beyond us, in so far as they are required. We are brought now upon Duty. Duty is very nearly the synonym of success, He who disregards it invites his own failure. But Duty is not remote, and it is coincident with the ability we have, or can acquire. If we will to do it, it can be found and done. It is only through our perversity, or some mischance, that Duty appears inaccessible. The habit of regarding it as practically impossible is likely to be fatal. It is not creditable to us, nor to Him by whom duty is assigned, and to whom we give account. It was an amusing report which a young minister brought back from his errand to preach in a town high up among the New England hills. He went up height after height, expecting after each ascent to find himself near the village, which seemed to recede as he approached. At last he came to a guide-board from which a nail had fallen, so that one end of the sign had dropped, leaving the guidinghand directed towards the sky, while the inscription still read: "To Peru, three miles." It may be that the apparent distance of Duty is caused by the falling of our sign through the dropping of a nail. We may depend on this, that when we will to do our duty, He who makes it our duty will tell what it is, and enable us to do it.

There is something alluring in the duty we will to do, and a real reward in the knowledge that we have done it. This is confessed. Very rarely in this Republic has a monument been raised to anything but duty which has been done, and the man who has done it. Let the reader think of the monuments in his neighbourhood, the larger and the smaller, and see if this is not so. It is to our honour; a testimony to integrity and usefulness. To these homage is instinctively paid. In the obscure village of Macugnaga in Northern Italy, is a desolate graveyard in which stands a simple monument in memory of an Alpine guide, who lost his life, to use a careless phrase, in an avalanche on Monte Rosa. The inscription gives the name and the dates; and then describes Ferdinand Imseng, “A good man and a good guide." Each word is needed. If he had not been a good man he would not have been a trusty guide; seeing that he offered himself as a guide, and let men trust their life to him; if he had not been a good guide he would not have

been a good man.

Who of us would not consent to have those words for his epitaph? In one of the Museums of Harvard is a mural tablet in memory of a Professor whose face it presents, and whose life it portrays: “A patient investigator, an inspiring teacher, a guileless man." Again no word can be omitted, seeing that it was in his calling to be all which is here said of him.

Duty is a capacious term. All the virtues are in it. For when viewed aright it is not merely what we ought to do, what is demanded of us, but it is also that which we are able to do, and which our manhood desires to do. It is the fulfilment of life, and the filling up of our obligation to our fellow-men. It is an integral part of life. Hence it is permanent, and in its principles has no regard for Chronology or Geography. Maurice said of Mill that the circumference of his life was large, but lacked a centre. Centre life in Duty, and make the radius as long as you can. The great want in many lives is, not effort, nor expansion, but centralising and so compacting.

There is, through exercise, an increase of force, and with this an increase in the requirements laid upon us.

This two-fold enlargement we like. It has been said that the reward for doing our duty is to have done it. There is a higher reward, the call to greater achievements. It accords with the Scripture—that the branch which

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