sion, and thus the opening of a most disgraceful and inevitably disastrous chapter of American history, to be remembered with sorrow, or those who strive so to shape the results of that brilliant feat of arms that it may stand in history not as a part of a treacherous conquest, but as a true victory of American good faith in an honest war of liberation and humanity to be proud of for all time, as Dewey himself no doubt meant it to be. I know the imperialists will say that I have been pleading here for Aguinaldo and his Filipinos against our Republic. No, not for the Filipinos merely, although, as one of those who have grown gray in the struggle for free and honest government, I would never be ashamed to plead for the cause of freedom and independence, even when its banner is carried by dusky and feeble hands. But I am pleading for more. I am pleading for the cause of American honor and selfrespect, American interests, American democracy; aye, for the cause of the American people against an administration of our public affairs which has wantonly plunged this country into an iniquitous war; which has disgraced the Republic by a scandalous breach of faith to a people struggling for their freedom whom we had used as allies; which has been systematically seeking to deceive and mislead the public mind by the manufacture of false news; which has struck at the very foundation of our constitutional government by an Executive usurpation of the war power; which makes sport of the great principles and high ideals that have been and should ever remain the guiding star of our course, and which, unless stopped in time, will transform this government of the people, for the people, and by the people into an imperial government cynically calling itself republican - a government in which the noisy worship of arrogant might will drown the voice of right; which will impose upon the people a burdensome and demoralizing militarism, and which will be driven into a policy of wild and rapacious adventure by the unscrupulous greed of the exploiter a policy always fatal to democracy. I plead the cause of the American people against all this, and I here declare my profound conviction that if this administration of our affairs were submitted for judgment to a popular vote on a clear issue it would be condemned by an overwhelming majority. I confidently trust that the American people will prove themselves too clear-headed not to appreciate the vital difference between the expansion of the Republic and its free institutions over contiguous territory and kindred populations, which we all gladly welcome if accomplished peaceably or honorably, and imperialism which reaches out for distant lands to be ruled as subject provinces; too intelligent not to perceive that our very first step on the road of imperialism has been a betrayal of the fundamental principles of democracy, followed by disaster and disgrace; too enlightened not to understand that a monarchy may do such things and still remain a strong monarchy, while a democracy cannot do them and still remain a democracy; too wise not to detect the false pride, or the dangerous ambitions, or the selfish schemes which so often hide themselves under that deceptive cry of mock patriotism: "Our country, right or wrong!" They will not fail to recognize that our dignity, our free institutions, and the peace and welfare of this and coming generations of Americans will be secure only as we cling to the watchword of true patriotism: "Our country — when right to be kept right; when wrong to be put right." LIDDON PARRY LIDDON, & det guished Eng logian, the son of a naval officer, was born at North Stoneham, Hampshire, August 20, 1829. He was educated at King's College School, London, and Christ Church College, Oxford, and took orders in the Anglican church in 1850. After several years' experience as a curate in Wantage, in which period his extraordinary talent for preaching began to manifest itself, he became in 1854 vice-principal of Cuddesdon Theological College. In 1859 he accepted the vice-principalship of St. Edward's Hall at Oxford; and four years later was appointed select preacher to Oxford University and was reappointed in 1870, 1877, and 1884, and was twice select preacher to Cambridge University also. In 1864 he was made one of the examining chaplains to the Bishop of Salisbury and given a prebend's stall in Salisbury Cathedral. In 1870 his lectures at St. James's Church, Piccadilly, attracted wide attention and brought him the offer of a canonry at St. Paul's Cathedral which he accepted. For the next twenty years his sermons at St. Paul's were one of the factors of London life, attracting thither men of all nations, ranks, and creeds. Liddon had formed his style on a careful study of such great French preachers as Massillon, Bourdaloue, and Lacordaire, and owed to this study the completeness of the construction of his sermons. His discourses were masterly and impassioned efforts to prove and persuade, and to the attainment of his purpose, his enthusiasm, perfect Intonation, gestures, learning, and argumentative skill all contributed. In spite of the inelastic temper of his mind in theological matters he was a liberal in general politics, ardently supporting Gladstone in the antiTurkish movement in 1876-78. In 1886 he declined the bishopric of Edinburgh, at other times also declining any suggestion of episcopal honors. He died at Weston-super-Mare, September 9, 1890. His published works comprise "Some Words for God" (1865); republished as "Sermons Preached at Oxford; " " Some Elements of Religion" (1886); “Advent in St. Paul's" (1888); "The Magnificat (1889); "Christmastide in St. Paul's " (1890); "Passiontide Series " (1891); "Sermons on Old Testament Subjects " (1891); "Sermons on Some Words of Christ" (1892); "Essays and Addresses " (1892). He left a "Life of Pusey" unfinished, which has since been completed by other hands. SERMON: THE ADEQUACY OF PRESENT OPPORTUNITIES "And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead."-Luke xvi, 31. O N this the first of the long line of Sundays after opens the lessons on Christian duty, which are set before us in the successive gospels, with a force and a pathos which we feel from our early childhood - at least, if I may trust my own experience. The three vivid contrasts of this parable are among the very first features in the gospel to take possession of the imagination and the heart. First there is the contrast between the rich and the poorthat great contrast which is apparently rooted in the nature of things, which reappears in all ages and countries wherever there is a settled order of human society. Dives, with his outer robe of purple wool and with his under tunic of fine linen Dives, with his table furnished day after day with every delicacy that money can buy - he is always here. And Lazarus, thrown down-such is the original expression-thrown down, to lie at the gate of the outer court of the rich man's mansion - Lazarus who feeds upon the crumbs which the slaves of Dives, half contemptuously, throw to him- Lazarus so unclothed that his very wounds are without bandages, and the dogs that roam through the streets of the eastern city stop for a moment as they pass to lick his sores-he, too, is always here; a contrast, I say, as old and as lasting as society, a contrast which met the eye centuries ago in Rome and in Jerusalem, just as it meets it when we walk from the east to the west end of London; a contrast, it must be added, which social science and wise legislation and above all the divine charities of Jesus Christ our Lord filling the regenerated hearts of men, makes less harsh, less shocking, but the cause of which they cannot really remove. And there is a second contrast that of the living and the dead. The parable places us face to face with Dives and Lazarus, first in life and then in the world which follows. This is a more solemn contrast than that between the rich and the poor. It is a contrast between that which passes and that which lasts between appearance and reality. Lazarus so we are told dies in time, worn out, no doubt, by want and sickness. Nothing is said of his burial: perhaps he was not buried at all. And after a while Dives dies too, and of course is buried buried with all due respect and ceremony. And after the brief sleep of death they wake, as we shall all one day wake, in a new world. The life of that world is a continuation of the life of this. Circumstances are altered; characters remain. Enough now to repeat that what we see here is the apparent: what we shall see there is the real. And this contrast between the living and the dead is much more rooted in the nature of things than that between the rich and the poor. It is as old, it is as wide, it is as enduring, as the human race. Day by day men and women around us are exploring it: day by day they are passing the line which separates the living and the dead, and sounding the heights and depths of its stern, of its blessed, significance. And the parable brings before us a third contrast, differing from the two former in this,— that whereas they belong, the first wholly, and the second in part, to this present world, this third is altogether concerned with the next. In the next |