and the newspapers were strictly limited as to the length of their verbatim quotations. Most Americans would have been amply satisfied with the summaries the newspapers were allowed to print, but Englishmen are different; they demanded verbatim text, and to get it were obliged to buy the book. There is much speculation as to the amount Mr. Balfour made by it, and estimates run as high as $18,000.

The photographs shown here were taken at Médan, Zola's old home, where a large company of his friends and admirers gathered on September 29th to celebrate the first anniversary of his death. The larger of the two photographs shows Mme. Sévérine making an address, Mme. Zola and Mme. Dreyfus seated on her right. The gathering, by the way, demanded a reopening of the Dreyfus case.

"It is faith in the ultimate similarity of great minds," says the Academy and

Literature, "which makes great literature possible, for not even genius could produce without the hope that at some time its work would be taken at its value. An evidence for the faith may be seen in the peculiarity of all the work of the highest genius-that it appears capable of growth, no matter how old it has become. There are passages in Homer and Shakespeare which it has been impossible for the world to appreciate or understand till this very moment. They appear to have been growing with the world, so much more can the world discover in them now than at any past time. This is why the works and teachings of the highest genius are rightly called immortal. They never grow old because they are always growing new. Anyone with five years' courage may test this quality of excellence for himself. Let him take some great book, like the Bible, which has been familiar to him from his childhood. Let him seal it up for five years and try to forget all about it while he goes on leading an ac

CELEBRATION, AT MEDAN, OF THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF ZOLA'S DEATH

tive life, travels, associates with various kinds of men, works hard, and reads occasionally. Then let him open the sealed book again, and he will find what a different thing it has become while it has lain apparently so still. Much of it may have rotted away and become abhorrent, but the best part, the part of genius, will have gained a lustre, a kindling depth of meaning, of which he had no conception before. With what a sweet shock of revelation will the man who has lived in mining circles, or in clubs and Courts, or among philanthropists, come upon that passage about considering the lilies. It was trite with the tramplings of ten thousand clergy, but now it has recovered and grown; it sparkles with new rays like the frost; it is seen to include the garment of the soul as well as of the body; it is the secret of genius; it is the law of life.

"I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came.' When the poet of Job wrote that astonishing paradox, he was feeling out to an age still hidden by four thousand years from his own. It sometimes seems as though no one could have understood his meaning till the days of Carlyle. What did mankind realize of Montaigne's friendship for Steven de la Boitie till Walter Pater came? Or who has sailed with Drake and Hawkins till to-day? These are but diverse instances of the power of faith by which men, who have grasped at the very heart of life, have put on record the thing they found in assured confidence that the human mind at its moments of greatness is always the same, and that the highest human thought possesses in itself the growing power of immortality. Those who work for the moment have their reward. In every generation they have audience fit though many. Plenty of the mediocre, the indifferent, the good-enough can always be had to meet the passing demand. That is why the mediocre, the indiffer