state, what philosophic account may be given of this? We cannot content ourselves with a vague utterance, such as, that "it has come into men's minds” to think in this way, or in that. We must ask how such things came into men's minds. And if a progressive theory have any value in it-if it be framed on the acknowledgment that logical consistency runs through even savage theories-if it point to an ampler use of reason as the condition of progress-the progress referred to is not mere movement, in the sense of continuance on the same level, but progress from lower to higher conceptions of man's life and destiny. If this be the very meaning of a progressive theory, then the lower which leads to the higher cannot adequately, of itself, explain that which is higher, any more than the less can account for the greater. It is not new experience which accounts for new thought, but new thought which leads into new experience. The development of loftier phases of human theory does not come into man's mind, but comes out of that region. If savages regard themselves as possessed of a spiritual nature-if they consider that their personality may continue, though the body die— and if you say that "the doctrine of a future life is the all but necessary outcome of savage animism" or belief in spirits, you still want a philosophic theory as to the possibility of all this. If savages have a recognition of the distinction between mental and bodily life, it is because of what they know of themselves. If they believe that the mind can exist apart from the body, this cannot be explained by supposing, as Mr. Tylor does, that it is reached by the aid of dreams, for if it be true that they see the departed in their dreams, it is just as true that in their dreams they see the living, and themselves among the number, in scenes where they know they never have been. And if it be not explained thus, it can be accounted for only by the knowledge of what their own personality involves. And if, recognising the possibility of separate mental existence, they believe in two distinct forms of experience in a future state-and two distinct places of existence-this is "the natural outcome" of the former knowledge, only if you superadd a further knowledge of moral distinctions, without which the new conception is unexplained. Thus, it seems to me, recent investigations of savage life are tending towards a confirmation of an intuitional philosophy; and what is now required to make this more manifest, is a rigid scrutiny of the vast mass of evidence now at command, such as would make it possible to throw off the accidental, and clearly mark out the constant and uniform testimony of the several stages of life on the highway towards civilization. In a word, what is now most urgently required for ethnology is that some one should do for that science what Kant did for philosophy, attempt a scientific separation of the necessary from the accidental. H. CALDERWOOD.

IN these days of travel, nothing is more astonishing than the igno

rance which still prevails as to nationalities and national institutions differing from our own. It seems to be possible for even cultivated people to visit strange lands and reside in them for some time, and yet to remain almost entirely ignorant of the genius, temper, and religious and social characteristics of those amidst whom they have been living. This lack of sympathy with the features of another national life, and incapacity of appreciating its habits and modes of thought, have been sometimes said to be peculiarly English. But national narrowness is certainly not confined to England. The French might be supposed, from the advantages of their geographical position, and the natural quickness and liveliness of their sympathies, to be superior to such narrowness, and able to enter into the meaning and force of national facts differing from their own; but in truth they are notoriously deficient in this respect. The impressions of French travellers are probably less to be trusted than those of any other travellers; while the supreme complacency of their superior ignorance and constant mistakes, not only as to the subtler aspects, but as to the very nomenclature of foreign customs and ways, are more flagrant and ludicrous perhaps than those of any other people. Till the experience of the recent war, it may be safely said that the majority of educated

Frenchmen derived all their ideas of Germany from the vague pictures and vapoury nonsense of Madame de Staël's well-known book, "De l'Allemagne;" and the mass of the French soldiers, without knowledge of the roads of their own country, probably had no conception whatever of the real confines of that Rhine-land which they yet coveted with a passionate lust of conquest which can only be bred in vain and ignorant minds. Even now, it may be doubted whether the temporary head of the French Republic has any real appreciation of the characteristic forces which, during the last twenty years, have gradually, with a slowly accumulating, but irresistible energy, welded the peoples of Italy into a powerful nationality.

But it must be admitted that John Bull, if not exceptionally ignorant of other things than his own, has a very pretty share of national blindness. And what is particularly inexcusable on his part is, that he insists on maintaining this attitude towards countries like Ireland and Scotland, which are integral parts of the British Empire with himself. Of course there is something reciprocal in the attitudes of these nationalities towards him. There are evidently plenty of men in Ireland—as the Home Rule agitation showswho, notwithstanding the abolition of the Church of England there, still regard John Bull as a species of tyrannical monster, ready, if he only had the power, to thrust all his forms of political and social order upon a people impatient of them, and keenly sensitive as to external interference. And there may be in Scotland those who still look upon England as their "auld enemy," as there are certainly here and there true blue Presbyterians, who see in the forms of the English Church only the rags of Popery, and may even denounce with King James-before he went to England and learned better the Prayer Book as an "ill-said mass in English." I do not doubt that such types of provincial narrowness are still to be found in these countries. But even blindness or prejudice like this is not quite equal to the dense obscurity which veils to the average English mind the special characteristics of Scotch or Irish nationality. I confine my remarks, for the present, to the relations of England and Scotland, and indeed to the relations of the two Established Churches of these countries, which have received some striking illustrations from recent events.

It is well known that Scotland is a pleasant hunting-ground to many Englishmen in autumn. In addition to the more favoured hundreds who go there to kill grouse on the breezy moorland, or to lie in wait for the deer in the corries of the hills, there are thousands who hunt for health and recreation amidst the picturesque spurs of the Trossachs, or along the noble route of the Caledonian

Canal. It might have been supposed that as the result of this, Scotland and the Scotch would really have been pretty well understood, at least by the travelling English public. But there is good reason to doubt whether this is the case. It is even doubtful whether some of the most obvious geographical features of the country have impressed themselves upon the minds of men who have not only been educated at the English universities, but who now hold distinguished positions at the Bar or in the Senate. There are whispers that a certain distinguished legal luminary, who had promised to lecture in Edinburgh, actually engaged himself to stay with a friend, at a place forty miles distant, under the idea that it was close to the scene of his lecture, if not a part of Edinburgh. And there can be no doubt that letters from high quarters-even Government offices-are sometimes addressed to Aberdeen, and even Glasgow-not to mention Edinburgh-when intended for some official in an ancient University, whose prior existence marks an epoch in the history of Scottish civilisation. But these are trifles. Knowledge of geography, it is well known, has never been a strong point with university men; and it is too much to expect, that minds which have devoted their energies in youth to making nonsense verses in a dead language should be impressed with the importance of knowing the exact features of a country which was a savage waste when this language was spoken in its purity.

The outflow of ignorance regarding the Scotch National Church, which has enlivened many of the English newspapers during the last autumn, is a more serious if not a more excusable phenomenon. And yet nothing could be more simple and natural, and in itselfdivested of conventional accessories-less deserving of astonishment than the incident which has led to so much discussion. We feel almost ashamed to be supposed to attach any undue importance to it, or to be under the necessity of bringing it once more under public view.

Glengarry is one of the loveliest glens in the north-west highlands of Scotland. It is so pleasant a spot, and the modern mansion which rises in comfortable and stately elegance almost under the shadow of the old highland tower, now silent and tenantless, is such a hospitable retreat, that we do not wonder that English bishops, and even archbishops, find their way there in those leisure autumn days when so many home-staying flocks must be left to strange, and, it is to be feared, meagre pasture. Some way up this glen there stands on a bank above the picturesque stream, and by the side of the road which traverses it, a modest parish church. The building is modern, and as like a church as one expects to see in such a district. Here on two Sundays this autumn, two dignitaries of the

VOL. XIX.

Church of England conducted a simple service to the edification and delight of the homely inhabitants of the glen. Some of the congregation no doubt never saw a bishop, still less an archbishop, before; but probably they thought very little of the ecclesiastical position or dignity of those who conducted their devotions and preached to them. They must have been very unlike an ordinary Scotch country congregation if they had such things much in their mind. They thought a good deal more, I feel sure, of the quality of what they heard, and how far it really touched and interested them.

So simple and natural a Christian act on the part of men whose function it is, according to St. Paul, "to preach the Word, and to be instant in season and out of season," it might have been thought, would have met with approval everywhere, or, better still, have been allowed to pass without special observation. The open Church was there the parish minister necessarily absent in the discharge of his duties in a more distant part of the glen-the congregation was gathered from many a moorland hut away among the hills; and a minister of the Divine Word was at hand, otherwise unemployed. To those who are strangers to ecclesiastical subtleties, it must be wonderful that the fact of Christian ministers doing what appears so obviously to have been their duty in the circumstances should have called forth any extraordinary remarks; still more wonderful that it should have provoked a storm of vituperative indignation; and afterwards have been made the subject of elaborate explanation and excuse on the part of these ministers themselves. All this, however, has happened; and the ideas which have thus come to the surface in a large class of minds are deserving of examination, if the incident itself may very well be forgotten. It cannot, indeed, be said that there is any novelty in these ideas. They are as old as the beginning of all ecclesiastical error. But there has been a vivacity in their tone, and a mixture of insolence and ignorance in their expression, which may have been imposing to some minds. Only John Bull— and he when in cassock and in excelsis-could well have made such an example of himself.

I think I am not mistaken in generalising the objections made to Archbishop Thomson and Bishop Wilberforce preaching at Glengarry as follows: The Presbyterian Church of Scotland, it is said, has no claims to be considered a branch of the Catholic Church. It is, indeed, properly speaking, no church at all, but only a Presbyterian sect accidentally established by unhappy circumstances in the northern part of the island. The true Church of Scotland is the Scottish Episcopal Communion-a small body thinly permeating the country, but on this account all the more precious as alone bearing the vessels of divine grace in a dry and barren land. Scottish Pres