earthwork; the Redan, a like bulwark, confronted the English. A year from the war's opening, September 8, 1855, it was decided to take these by assault. Thirty-five thousand French, in a brief but bloody effort, captured the Malakoff. The English took the Redan, but were driven from it with great loss. That day the war ended. The assault on the Redan would have been renewed, but the Russians at once left their now untenable position, crossed the bay, and left Sevastopol to their foes. And what was there to leave? Two thousand wretches skulked among its ruins. If anything of its costly forts and docks remained the allies now at leisure blew these into the air. They had now brought to the Crimea two hundred thousand men, amply furnished with all that modern warfare requires. Russia, wasted and powerless, was at their mercy. Nicholas, in bitterness and brokenness of heart, had died before the end of the struggle. His son Alexander, best of all the czars, was willing to negotiate, and, utterly helpless as he was, the terms of peace were not difficult of adjustment. Chief among these were that there be no Sevastopol on the Black Sea; that a few police boats be Russia's only armed vessels in its waters; and that no Russian ship of war sail down through the Bosporus.

Then, in less than two years from their coming, the allies sailed for home. They had inflicted on Russia damage and suffering enormous. England had spent two hundred and fifty millions of money and fifty thousand of her choicest youth. France had spent and lost still more. "Nothing is sadder than such victory, unless it be such defeat." Turkey alone was happy. Entrance to an infidel church by front door or side, the small dust of the balance, had given to "the sick man of Constantinople," as Nicholas had called him, a demoniac sway in the affairs of Europe. The Duke of Argyle on behalf of the British government made for the war this defense: "We do not wish to save Turkey, whose fall is inevitable, but we do not wish Russia to occupy her place without the consent of Europe." Turkey was saved to oppress and plunder, for at least another half century, eight million Christians. Fifteen years later, when Germany had France by the throat, Alexander announced that he should no longer

regard the conditions of the peace which had been laid down. He has restored Sevastopol. His navy sweeps the expanse of the Black Sea and sails at will the wide Mediterranean. All is in statu quo ante bellum, and the struggle is a drama living in literature alone, as it were a tale full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Trivial in its origin, wasteful and agonizing in its progress, transient in its results, what a show of mortal folly and passion! The heroism, the fortitude, the homely work of Soyer, the heavenly ministry of Florence Nightingale, the charge of the Light Brigade-how these survive the crash and ruin of the storm! History gives no war that so shows forth the good and evil of our human nature simply that and nothing more. The Black Sea-of old called in mockery "Euxine," "the hospitable"-has consumed more strangers than ever were engulfed in the fierce old days when Iphigenia presided at Tauris; but no scar of battle is now seen on its restless waves. The actors in the war, with all the sovereigns-save her majesty-who took part in it, have passed like the foam on its changing waters, and the gigantic struggle now but points a moral or adorns a tale.

A.B. Hyde

ART. V.-IS THE POWER OF THE PULPIT WANING? SOME time ago this statement appeared in a prominent religious paper, the official organ of a great denomination: "It is generally believed that the preaching of to-day does not grip the consciences of men as vigorously as that of the fathers did. This belief, we suppose, has some foundation in fact. While the pulpit, as a general rule, is quite as intelligent and as strong as in former generations, yet it fails in some measure to wield the commanding motives of the Gospel with the old-time vigor." If these things are so, it is right that, as honest men, the accredited ambassadors of Jesus Christ should inquire into the reasons for these conditions. The extension of the visible kingdom of Christ has increased the number of preachers of his Gospel; the multiplication of educational advantages has given them an equipment superior, in many essential respects, to that possessed by the fathers, and the beneficent influences of the refinements of civilization have eliminated many features of irreligion with which our predecessors had to contend as with the beasts at Ephesus. Yet, in spite of all these facts and conditions and others of a similar character, there seems to be a prevailing impression, which is growing deeper and broader and more convincing, that the agency for the proclamation of the Gospel of the Son of God is stricken with a sort of creeping paralysis, and, consequently, is becoming more and more impotent. This accusation would be unworthy of consideration if it emanated from sources hostile to Christianity and its promulgation, but it is because it proceeds from those who are friends of the Gospel and from the honored and honorable defenders of the faith that it is received, not with skepticism, but with profound concern. For, if the criticism has foundation in fact, something is wrong, not with the Gospel preached, but with the instrument and means of its proclamation.

The pulpit has had a large place in the molding of modern civilization. No conscientious historian will ignore the sweep of its beneficent power. The results of missionary endeavor attest its far-reaching influence; the progress of every moral

reform bears its indelible impress; the best thought of the times acknowledges its molding touch; the noblest philanthropic impulses can be traced to its inspiration. It has been, and still is, an instrument of tremendous power, and this is largely so because of the divine character of its message and the unparalleled devotion of those who proclaim it. But, whereas the pulpit once exercised undisputed sway, its authority and dominion are challenged now by another institution. The modern printing press, with its multifarious product, good, bad, and indifferent, has done much to strip the pulpit of its power and challenge its authority, and has caused some sincere souls to look back with regret and apprehension to that glorious time when, as Moses Coit Tyler says, “for once in the history of the world the sovereign power was in the hands of sovereign men."

But the influence of the press has been stimulative, as well as detrimental; and it has been made to supplement the work of the pulpit with the most gratifying results, by bearing the holy message everywhere, and by scattering its healing leaves broadcast. On the whole, it must be conceded that if the press, materialistic and irreligious as it frequently is, has been a contributing factor in curtailing the power of the pulpit, it is only one of many such factors; and it does not require any particular genius for investigation and discernment to discover that not a few of these contributing factors originate in the pulpit itself, and among those most intimately associated with it. One has only to read the daily papers to discover to what base uses the pulpit is sometimes subordinated. Every time the pulpit is diverted from its appointed and legitimate mission its influence is lessened. There may be no formal public protest against this degradation of the pulpit, but there can be no doubt that it circumscribes the preacher's power and creates distrust in the public mind. The pulpit is set for preaching the Gospel, which is the predominant function of the minister; and "in all circumstances and in every age it is his being an ambassador of Christ, with Christ's message on his lips, that constitutes him a Christian minister." When, therefore, he abandons the exalted work of preaching and turns his pulpit into a lecturing platform or a place of entertainment, the 59-FIFTH SERIES, VOL. XV.

minister manifests an inadequate conception of the dignity and solemnity of his calling. Not that there is no place for the lecture and the entertainment, but the claim is made that when a minister enters his pulpit to perform the high functions of his calling he is expected to bring all his powers into service that he may persuade men to seek the salvation of their souls or their higher development in the things pertaining to the spiritual life. To minify the essential duties and functions of the pulpit by introducing extraneous or irrelevant features is sure to lead to irreverence for sacred things, or to a secret suspicion of the validity of the minister's call.

Take, for instance, the performances of some so-called evangelists. Is there anything more calculated to militate against the high reputation of the pulpit in popular esteem? What a pitiable spectacle some of these persons present! No one will deny that there is a sphere for the man who is called of God and the Church to do the work of an evangelist. He has his proper field, and many men have wrought honorably, valiantly, and successfully in it. May their tribe increase! But there are evangelists of a totally different stripe-men who, with their own performances as evidence, would better be in some other business, since the salvation of souls and the sale of their own photographs and song books and the taking of free-will offerings seem to be of equal importance. They are evangelists for revenue only, or largely this. Having failed in the pastorate, they do not hesitate to invade a community and temporarily, and sometimes permanently, supplant the pastor and attempt to instruct him in the care of his flock. Having failed as preachers, being unable wisely to divide the word of truth, they utter all manner of heresies in their frantic and fantastic efforts to attract attention and to reach the unconverted both as to soul and purse. Out of harmony with their ecclesiastical authorities, they attack the Church with insinuation, innuendo, invective, and sometimes with blatant and baneful accusation. They are a veritable shirt of Nessus on the back of the Church, which it seems impossible to throw off. If we must have evangelists, let them be men approved unto God and the Church, workmen that "needeth not to be ashamed;" men of intellectual power; men of high spiritual