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by proclaiming Aristotle the sole master of a perfect science, was false to the thought of Aristotle. Aristotle, had he witnessed the discussions of the schools, would have repudiated this narrow doctrine; he would have been of the party of progressive science against the party of routine, which was shielding itself under his authority; he would have applauded his contradictors. And so, were Jesus to return among us, he would acknowledge as his disciples, not those who claim to include him entirely in a few phrases of the catechism, but those who labor to continue him. The eternal glory, in every order of grand achievements, is to have laid the first stone. It may be that, in the “Physics” and in the “Meteorology” of modern times there is found no word of the treatises of Aristotle which bear these titles: Aristotle is none the less the founder of natural science. Whatever may be the transformations of dogma, Jesus will remain in religion the creator of its pure sentiment: the Sermon on the Mount will never be surpassed. No revolution will lead us not to join in religion the grand intellectual and moral line at the head of which beams the name of Jesus. In this sense, we are Christians, even though we separate upon almost all points from the Christian tradition which has preceded us.

And this great foundation was truly the personal work of Jesus. To become adored to such a degree, he must have been adorable. Love does not exist without an object worthy to enkindle it, and did we know nothing of Jesus but the passion which he inspired in those around him, we must yet affirm that he was great and pure. The faith, the enthusiasm, the constancy of the first Christian generation is explained only by supposing at the beginning of the whole movement a man of colossal proportions. When we look upon the marvellous creations of the ages of faith, two impressions, equally fatal to good historical criticism, arise in the mind. On the one hand, we are led to suppose these creations too impersonal; we attribute to a collective action what often has been the work of one powerful will, of one superior spirit. On the other hand, we refuse to see men like ourselves in the authors of these extraordinary movements which nature conceals in her breast. Our civilizations, governed as they are by a minute policy, can give us no idea of the power of man in the ages when the originality of each had a freer field for development. Suppose a solitary dweller in the quarries near our capitals, going thence from time to time to the palaces of sovereigns, forcing an entrance, and, in an imperious tone, announcing to kings the approach of revolutions of which he has been the promoter. The idea alone makes us smile. Such, nevertheless, was Eli. jah. Elijah the Tishbite, in our days, could not pass the gate of the Tuileries. The preaching of Jesus and his freedom of action in Galilee are no less entirely beyond the social conditions to which we are accustomed. Untrammeled by our polite conventionalities, exempt from the uniform education which refines us, but which diminishes so greatly our individuality, these complete souls carry into action a surprising energy. They appear to us like the giants of a heroic age, who must have been unreal. Entire mistake! These men were our brothers; they were of our stature; they felt and thought as we do. But the breath of God was free with them; with us it is enchained by the iron bands of a society mean and condemned to an irremediable mediocrity.

Let us then place the person of Jesus on the highest summit of human grandeur.

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REUTER, FRITZ, a German poet; born at Stavenhagen, November 7, 1810; died at Eisenach, July 12, 1874. His full baptismal name was Heinrich Ludwig Christian Friedrich. He went to Rostock University in 1831, and to Jena in 1832, but during a visit to Ber. lin in October, 1833, he was arrested and imprisoned at Silberberg. He was sentenced to thirty years' imprisonment, but was released after seven years' confinement in Magdeburg, Berlin. In 1850 he went to Treptow and published, three years later, his first volume of humorous poems in Low German, entitled “Laüschen un Rimels.” In 1856 he moved to New Brandenburg, and published some comedies and a second book of poems. In 1859 he published the first part of the “Olle Kamellen," a series of prose tales including “Wo aus ik tan ne Fru kamm” (“How I got a Wife”); “Ut de Franzsosentid” (1859), translated with the title “ The Year Thirteen;" “Ut mine Festungstid” (“My Prison Life") (1862); “Ut mine Stromtid” (1862–64), translated in 1878 as “An Old Story of My Farming Days ;” and “Dörchläuchting” (“ His Highness") 1865. Among his other works are “ Hanne Nüte," a poem, which appeared in 1860, and “Schurr Murr," published in 1861. In 1863 he settled at Eisenach, his last home.

THE OLD PARSON'S DEATH.

(From “My Apprenticeship on the Farm.”) EVERY house in the parish had its share of happiness, each of them after its kind ; but one house formed an exception to this rule, although it used to have its full share. In winter round the fireside, and in summer under the great lime-tree, or in the arbor in the garden, there always used to be a calm, peaceful happiness, in which the child Louisa, as she played about the old house and grounds, and little Mrs. Behrens, who ruled all things, duster in hand, had had part; and also the good old clergyman, who had now done with all earthly things forever. Peace had taken leave of the house, and had gone forth calmly to the place from whence she came; and during that time of illness, care and sorrow had taken up their abode there, deepening with the growing weakness of the good old man. He did not lie long in bed, and had no particular illness ; so that Dr. Strump of Rahnstädt could not find amongst all the three thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven diseases of which he knew, one that suited the present case. Peace seemed to have laid her hand on the old man's head in blessing, and to have said to him: “I am going to leave thee, but only for a short time. I shall afterward return to thy Regina. Thou needst me no more, because thou hast had me in thy heart during all the long years thou hast fought the good fight of faith. Now sleep softly : thou must needs be tired.”

And he was tired, — very tired. His wife had laid him on the sofa under the pictures, that he might look out at the window as much as he liked ; Louisa had covered him comfortably with rugs and shawls : and then they had both left the room softly, that he might rest undisturbed. Out of doors the first flakes of snow were falling slowly, slowly, from the sky; it was as quiet and still outside as within his heart: and he felt as if the blessing of Christ were resting upon him. No one saw it, but his Regina was the first to find it out. — He rose, and pushing the large arm-chair up to the cupboard, opened the door, and sitting down, began to examine the treasures that he had kept as relics of the past. Some of them had belonged to his father, and some to his mother: they were all reminiscences of what he had loved.

This cupboard was the place where he had stowed away whatever reminded him of all the chief events of his life; and they had become relics, the sight of which did him good when he was down-hearted. They were not preserved in crystal vessels or in embroidered cases, but were simply placed on the shelf, and kept there to be looked at whenever he wanted to see them. When he felt low and sad, it did him good to take out these relics and to live over again in thought the happy days of which they reminded him; and he never closed the cupboard door without gaining strength and courage, or without thanking God silently for his many blessings. There lay the Bible his father had given him when he was a boy; the beautiful glass vase his old college friend had sent him ; the pocket-book his Regina had worked for him during their engagement; the shell which a sailor had sent him in token of his gratitude for having been shown the way to become a better man; the pieces of paper on which Louisa, Mina, and Lina had written their Christmas and New Year's Day messages of affection, -as also some of their earlier bits of handiwork; the withered myrtle wreath his wife had worn on her wedding day; the large pictorial Bible with the silver clasps, that Hawermann had given him on his seventieth birthday, and the silver-mounted meerschaum that Bräsig had given him on the same occasion; and down below on the lowest shelf were three pairs of shoes, — the shoes that Louisa, Regina, and he had worn when they first entered the parsonage.

Old shoes are not beautiful in themselves, but the memories attached to these made them beautiful in his eyes; so he took them out of the cupboard, and laid them down by his side, and then placing his first Bible on his knee, he opened it at our Lord's Sermon on the Mount, and began to read. No one saw him, but that was not necessary; and his Regina knew when it was all over. He grew very tired ; and resting his head in the corner of the great chair, fell asleep like a little child.

And so they found him when they came back. Mrs. Behrens seated herself on the arm of his chair, clasped him in her arms, closed his eyes, and then, resting her head against his, wept silently. Louisa knelt at his feet, and laying her folded hands on his knee, looked with tearful eyes at the two quiet faces that were so dear to her. Then Mrs. Behrens rose, and folding down the leaf of the Bible, drew it softly out of her husband's hand; and Louisa also rose, and threw her arms round her fostermother's neck. They both wept long and passionately ; till at last, when it was growing dusk, Mrs. Behrens replaced the shoes in the cupboard, saying, as she did so, “ 1 bless the day when we came to this house together;” and while laying Louisa's little shoes beside them, she added, “ And I bless the day when the child came to us.”

She then closed the cupboard door.

The good old clergyman was buried three days later in the piece of ground he had long ago sought out for his last resting. place; and any one standing by the grave which was lighted by the earliest rays of the morning sun, might easily see into the parlor in the parsonage-house.

The people who had been at the funeral were all gone home, and Hawermann had also been obliged to go; but Uncle Bräsig, who had spent the day at the parsonage, helping his friends in every possible way, had announced his intention of remaining for the night. Seeing the two women standing arm-in-arm at

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