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even the rigidity of dogma and tradition. No mind can be truly free which entertains a hateful, scornful spirit against another mind. The true liberal not only tolerates, but loves his fellow-men. He is charitable to their intellectual errors and sympathetic with their endeavors after truth. He reverences their reverences. He knows how gradual is the change from one set of opinions to another. Therefore, he is not impatient with error, if it be error held in the spirit of truth. The only unpardonable sin in his eyes is uncharity, a loveless heart, an intolerant mind.

This is Our answer to the question, "What is it to be a liberal ?" These are the liberal things which the liberal devises, and by which he shall stand. This is the true interior spirit of Christianity. "The hour is come when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth." "The spirit of truth shall lead you into all truth." It is the teaching of Paul. "Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." "Serve the Lord in newness of spirit, and not in oldness of the letter." Finally, it is the prevailing temper and purpose of our Unitarian Church, which, in the language of the hymn we sing together so often, declares :

"The seekers of the light are one,"-
One in the freedom of the truth,
One in the joy of paths untrod,
One in the soul's perennial youth,
One in the larger thought of God,-
"The freer step, the fuller breath,
The wide horizon's grander view,
The sense of life that knows no death,-
The life that maketh all things new."

DOWN THE THAMES.*

A favorite summer outing, and one that grows in popularity year by year among Londoners and university men, is the trip down the Thames from Oxford to London. After making up a party, a boat is hired from the "waterman" of the Oxford University Boat Club or from one of the boat-builders on the river. A party usually numbers three or five; and the

*Contributed to July Bachelor of Arts by Arthur Inkersley.

boats generally used are clinker-built, halfout rigged, pair-oars or four-oars. Occasionally a party of four occupies a boat; and then one of them sits in the middle of the boat and handles a pair of sculls, two others row an oar each, while the fourth steers. This arrangement is called "randan," and is, so far as I know, peculiar to the Thames. Frequently, of course, much larger boats are employed, especially when ladies are of the party, and it is proposed to camp by night on the banks of the river. Then a tent and cooking utensils are carried, and the party must be prepared to put up with the discomforts and inconveniences amusingly described in Jerome K. Jerome's "Three Men in a Boat." The usual plan, however, is to stop at riverside hotels or inns, the proprietors of which lay themselves out especially to accommodate boating-parties and cater to their comforts.

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If the party consists of Londoners paying their first visit to Oxford, they probably arrive there a day or two before the date fixed for their start down the river, and occupy themselves in looking over the various colleges, chapels, and libraries of the university. But weeks or months, and not days, are necessary for any proper appreciation of the glorious old structures and almost innumerable charms of the great university.

On a lovely summer's morning early in June, after an excellent breakfast at The Mitre, we stepped into our boat just below Folly Bridge, and, gliding rapidly down. stream past Christ Church meadows, the college barges, the mouth of the tributary Cherwell, and "The Willows," we entered the narrow part of the river known by the not very euphonious name of "The Gut." Soon Iffley lock and mill are reached. Iffley is a pretty little village on the left bank of the river, and is remarkable chiefly for its church, which is one of the most perfect specimens of Norman ecclesiastical architecture in England. A very good view of the sturdy square Norman tower is obtained from the river just after getting out of the lock. A board on the bank of the to London is one hundred and ten and oneriver informs us that the distance by river half miles the distance by road from Oxford to London is rather less than half this, namely, fifty-four miles. We soon

pass under an ugly iron railway bridge, and not long afterward reach Kennington Island, a favorite resort of undergraduates during term-time; for on the island is a pretty inn, where a famous brew of cidercup can be obtained, and a game of quoits played upon the green. On a board at the landing-place are inscribed the appropriate words: :

"Welcome the coming, speed the parting, guest."

But Kennington is so familiar to us from repeated landings upon its hospitable shore that we hurry on without stopping. Just here is a sharp corner which is rather troublesome for an eight-oared boat to round, but our broad-beamed craft experiences no difficulty. On our right a branch of the river turns off over a weir, or "lasher," as it is termed on the Thames. Into the boiling waters beneath the "lasher" bold swimmers sometimes plunge, taking

headers off the base of a stone column placed to commemorate the drowning of some young university men. A little farther on is Langford lock, the banks near which are thickly lined with reeds and rushes, right into which I one evening steered the Brasenose "eight," fortunately without doing any harm to the boat. The purple "flag" flower, which is one of the beauties of the Thames, grows most luxuriantly about Lanford. Lanford lock is a deep one; and, as the water is let out through the lower floodgates, we descend into a green, dank, slimy-sided cavern, from which we are glad to emerge into the open sun-lit stream below. At Sanford there is a riverside inn, a favorite haunt of students; but we have so often visited this on summer afternoons that we do not land

now.

About a mile to the east from the river at this point is Littlemore, the village of which Rev. John Henry Newman, then a clergyman of the Anglican Church, but destined to become a cardinal of the Roman Church, was rector, and where he passed through the terrible mental and spiritual struggle which resulted in his leaving the newer church, and taking refuge in the bosom of the older one. On the right bank of the river, but not within sight, is St. Peter's College, Radley, a small but highly fashionable modern public school, the boys of which send an ex

cellent eight-oared crew to Henley regatta every year to try for the public schools' cup. Nearly opposite to Radley is Nuneham, the seat of the Harcourts. Nuneham Park runs along the river for about two miles, and a splendid grove of dark trees is Nuneham wood. The river parts near Nuneham into two streams round an island, which is joined to the mainland by a picturesque wooden bridge. During the summer, and especially during "Commemoration Week," when Oxford is full of the "sisters, cousins, and aunts" of the undergraduates, Nuneham Park is the scene of many jolly boating and picnicking parties. Our stop for luncheon is made at Abingdon, a town of considerable size, and one of the few towns along the Thames that come down quite close to the river's edge. We are now eight miles from Oxford. The fields round Abingdon are rich in wild flowers, among which we notice especially the daisy, the bluebell, and the marguerite. Abingdon is an old town, and at the time of the compilation of Doomsday Book by William the Conqueror was the seat of a rich abbey, and possessed also an extensive cloth trade. But in 1538 the

abbey was abolished and its revenues diverted. The town was incorporated in the reign of Queen Mary, and up to 1885 returned a member to Parliament; but the Redistribution of Seats Act took away its representative, and merged it into one of the divisions of the county. Some interesting remains of the old abbey are still to be seen; and there are two fine churches, St. Nicholas's and St. Helen's. The latter church has a fine spire, which is a landmark to all the country round: it also contains some curious monuments, brasses, and inscriptions. A good grammar school, founded in 1563, still exists. It possesses five scholarships tenable at Pembroke College, Oxford, which entitle the holders to rooms rent free in the college, and to an allowance of $250 a year for five

years.

Two miles below Abingdon is Culham, where we pass through another lock. About three miles farther down we reach Clifton Hampden, distant from Nuneham Bridge about two and one-half miles, if we walk across Nuneham Park; but the river makes so great a detour that we have rowed eight miles to reach it. A few more miles of rowing and towing along the bank bring

us to Day's Lock, not far from which is Dorchester, where is a famous abbey church, remarkable enough to merit a whole article to itself. Indeed, an entire book, copiously adorned with illustrations, has been devoted to a consideration of its beauties. On the right bank is Wittenham Wood, after passing which we reach Shillingford Bridge, having accomplished nineteen miles since starting, and having two miles to row before we get to our stopping-place for the night, Wallingford. It is growing dark by the time that we reach Wallingford, so we make for the landing-stage, tie the boat up, and hand it over to the care of a boatman. We ourselves proceed up the High Street to our hotel, The George, and order supper and rooms for the night. The George is a picturesque inn, with an antique air and a quaint court-yard, into which coaches used to drive under an archway. The ceilings of the rooms are low, and show the massive beams which support them. After a comfortable supper enjoyed with hearty appetites, we smoke, chat, and regale ourselves with "shandy-gaff." This over, we retire to our rooms to sleep "the sleep of the just."

Wallingford is a very interesting old town, and of such antiquity that traces of Roman fortifications are still to be seen there. Its castle was a strong one, and played a considerable part in the struggles which were so common in the days of the barons. In 1646 the Parliamentary General Fairfax besieged it, and after a stubborn resistance took it. In the council-chamber of the Town Hall is a portrait of Archbishop Laud, said to be the work of the great painter Holbein. But the most interesting thing, especially to young barristers or members of one of the Inns of Court (as two of our party were), is the monument to Sir William Blackstone, the famous legal writer. This is in St. Peter's Church, the ugly tower of which is said to have been designed by the great lawyer himself, who in this was guilty of the same fault as the cobbler who went "beyond his last." The monument bears the following inscription:

HSS

KYRIE ELEISON.

Sir William Blackstone, Knt., One of the Judges of Her Majesty's Superior Courts at Westminster, who was born

A.D. 1724, and died 24 Feb. 1780.

An old inn at Wallingford, called The Row Barge, is remarkable from the fact that its sign was painted by no less a man than a Royal Academician, Mr. G. D. Leslie.

From Wallingford down to Moulsford there is a splendid stretch of water, with only a single bend in it. This forms such an excellent course for racing-boats that the annual contest between the two Oxford "trial eights," preparatory to the interuniversity contest at London in the following year, is held on these waters. Over this course in 1874 I steered the trial eight, stroked by J. P. Way, of the Brasenose College eight, who afterward rowed stroke of the university eight in two successive years, losing one of the races and winning the other. He is now an ordained clergyman, and head-master of a grammar school at Warwick; for, besides being one of the most finished oarsmen I ever saw, he was a good scholar, and took first-class honors in Greek and Latin literature, or, as Oxford University slang expresses it, "a first in classical mods," mods being abbreviated from moderations, the name of the University examination in pure Greek and Latin scholarship.

CHURCH MEMBERSHIP.*

At the regular morning service on January 26 the membership of the church present gave an informal expression of their views upon the subject of church membership. This was done in response to a request from the pastor to interpret for him the latter parts of articles 2 and 7 of the constitution. The general opinion was, briefly, that the church should welcome to its membership all who desire to do right and to help others to do right; that these persons should be admitted even if their efforts for righteousness in the past have been notably unsuccessful; and that they should be continued in membership, even if these efforts should continue to be apparently unsuccessful.

The reason for this action is found in the

*This valuable contribution to an important subject appeared in a series of letters to the parish paper of the Unitarian church of Newburg, N.Y. [ED.]

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belief that the true ideal of a church is an association of men and women for purposes of mutual helpfulness in religious development and growth. It follows from this that the most cordial welcome should be given to those who are most in need of this help; that, instead of keeping sinners outside of the church until they are good, they should be brought into the church and helped to become good; and that, if the process of reclaiming from sin is a long one, something of the divine patience and tenderness should be exhibited by the church toward the erring one.

This attitude does not, of course, imply any lowering of ideals, any winking at unrighteousness, or any compromise with sin. No church in the city has held higher the standard of life and conduct, and this informal action raises rather than lowers that standard. But the church will undoubtedly lose in reputation as much as it gains in character, for a time at least; for the Pharisees of to-day find as much difficulty in distinguishing between the sin and the sinner as did those of the time of Jesus, who pestered his disciples with complaints of his conduct in associating with publicans and sinners. Jesus lost all of his reputation with the righteous of his time, and the church must do the same if it would do his work in saving sinners from their sin.

Since the Reformation two tendencies have been at work in the Protestant churches. Membership in the Episcopalian and Lutheran churches have become more and more a matter of form. Practically, though not theoretically, confirmation ends the matter with a majority of the members. The Roman Church avoids this evil by the enforced confessional, which enables the priest, if he will, to act the part of a physician of souls. On the other hand, the rest of the Protestant bodies have become more and more Pharisaical, drawing the line sharply between the saints and the sinners, and, theoretically at least, admitting none to membership who are not sinless, or, as they express it, "whose sins have been washed out by the blood of Jesus." As a natural result of this, it has become increasingly difficult for these churches to reach those who most need their help. In fact, the churches have practically abandoned direct effort, and rely upon the agency of missions

and revivals. This is exactly what might have been expected; for even sinners who know that they are sinners do not care to go to places where they are looked down upon by people who lay claim to a superiority that is not manifested in their lives.

It is important, then, that there should be in this city at least one church that is Christian in spirit as well as in name; where the sinner is as welcome as the saint; or rather where all the members recognize that they fall short of the highest ideal of character, and are all fighting the same battle with their lower natures with varying success; and where, if one is stronger than another, he should use his strength to support and aid his weaker brother, and not self-glorifyingly to condemn or despise. Our church, then, reiterates the invitation of Jesus: Come unto me, ALL ye that labor and are heavy-laden; for who is so heavyladen as he who bears the grievous burden of sin?

In our last issue we discussed the attitude of the church to outsiders; but the other side of the question is of equal importance. If the churches have been at fault in their methods of dealing with those who are not members, these people have been equally at fault in their attitude toward the churches. A large majority of the Protestants of this city are not members of any church. This indifference is due in part, undoubtedly, to the false position of the churches toward the community, as pointed out in the former paper; but it is also due to the lack of religious earnestness and honesty of the unchurched. Any effort to get people to join a church draws forth a host of excuses, of which many only hide the true reasons, and few are creditable to those who offer them. Let us examine a few of them.

One man says, I am not good enough to join a church. My friend, if that means that you don't want to be manly and honest and truthful and kind, you are in a bad way, -a way that you will find to be full of sorrow and suffering and disappointment, a way that will always lead you into the dark side of life, away from the joy and sunshine that comes only to those who are trying to make the best of themselves. Stand back for a moment and look at your life; see how unlovely it is; think how you despise such lives in others; think how much happier you

would be if you were leading a different life, come to an understanding with yourself, make a square turn, and ally yourself with those who are striving to make the world a better place to live in. But perhaps you only mean that you are conscious that in spite of all your efforts you are not as good as you want to be. None of us are. The churches are made up, not of good people; but of those trying to be good. Don't stand alone, and try to fight it out by yourself. Enlist in some regiment of those who are fighting sin, and you will be surprised to find what strength and courage come from the touch of elbows. The real battles of life, as of war, are best fought shoulder to shoulder.

Another says, There is so much hypocrisy in the church,-I know so many church members who have done unchristian acts. Indeed! So the shoe is on the other foot now. If you are so good, so strong, that you never yield to temptation, you are just the one we need in the church to keep our ideals high, to help those who are weak and wavering, and to encourage those who are disheartened through failure to overcome themselves. Oh, you didn't mean that? Don't think you are better than other people? Ah! I see. You want to be a spectator, you like to chuckle when some other fellow goes down; but you will not admit that you are trying to do right, for fear that some one as small as yourself might have a chance to laugh at you. My friend, you are the real hypocrite. You are really trying to do right, but you will not come out squarely and admit it. You are weakening yourself and the cause of righteousness by your unwillingness to take an open stand for the right. For, say what you will about the individual member, it yet remains true that the church is the one active centre of real religious life and growth; and, if you are not working with it, you are working at a disadvantage.

The next man says, I know that I ought to join some church, but I can't decide which to join. You are like the boy with a holiday on his hands, who didn't do anything, because it took him all day to decide what to do. While you are dallying with the question, others are doing the work, not your work, because no one can do that but you; but you make their work harder by not putting your shoulder to the wheel.

You have an influence which you are not exerting. Now be a man, make up your mind, join some church; for you can certainly find one that you can join honestly, without saying or implying that you believe something that you don't believe.

Still another says grandly, I don't tie myself to any church: I go to all. Why, the man actually thinks that this indicates breadth, when it shows only an unwillingness to shoulder his share of the responsibility. He is willing that some one else shall do the work, while he shares in the good results.

In fact, this is what is back of all the excuses, of which we have given only samples, -the desire to avoid effort and responsibility. But, my friends, you are the greatest losers. It is only by work honestly done, responsibility manfully borne, that character is built up and life deepened and strengthened. The church needs you, has work waiting for you; but you need the church more than it needs you. There is loss all around, but your own loss is the greatest.

If your case has been presented above, give your conscience a chance to drive it home. If it has not, then think over your own excuses, see how flimsy they are, and what a depth of selfishness you try to conceal with them.

So far as we can tell, the earliest Christian churches were informal associations of people who were drawn together by a common interest and purpose. They had accepted the teachings of Jesus, taken his life as their ideal, generally renounced the practices of Paganism, and were trying to live a higher life than Paganism demanded of its votaries. As men are prone to reject innovations, especially when the new thought condemns their lower ideals, these early Christians were the objects of ridicule, misrepresentation, and persecution, very much as is the case with the Unitarians to-day. The weak and the timid were sustained by those who were stronger: the ignorant were instructed by those who were better acquainted with the new religion. It was a union of life and purpose, not of belief; and for three hundred years identity of belief was not generally insisted upon. Gradually, the organization became more formal. Deacons were appointed to care for the poor; the government of the church was placed in

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