Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

It is not in the bottoms of the rivers, then, that the material worn away from the surface of the land can find any lasting rest. And yet the rivers do get rid of a good deal of this material as they roll along. You have, perhaps, noticed that a river is often bordered with a strip of flat plain, the surface of which is only a few feet above the level of the water. Most of our rivers have such margins, and, indeed, seem each to wind to and fro through a long, level, meadow-like plain. Now this plain is really made up from the finer particles of decomposed rocks which the river has carried along. During floods, the river, swollen and muddy, rises above its banks, and spreads over the low ground on either side. Whenever this takes place, the overflowing water moves more slowly over the flats; and, as its current is thus checked, it can not hold so much mud and sand, but allows some of these materials to settle down to the bottom. In this way the overflowed tracts get a coating of soil laid over them by the river, and when the waters retire this coating adds a little to the height of the plain. The same thing takes place year after year, until by degrees the plain gets so far raised that the river, which all this while is also busy deepening its channel, can not overflow it even at the highest floods. In course of time the river, as it winds from side to side, cuts away slices of the plain and forms a newer one at a lower level. And thus a series of terraces is gradually made, rising step by step above the river.

Still the laying down of its sand and mud by a river to form one or more such river-terraces is, after all, only a temporary disposal of these materials. They are still liable to be carried away, and in truth they are carried off continually as the river eats away its banks.

When the current of a river is checked as it enters the sea or a lake, the feebler flow of the water allows the sand and mud to sink to the bottom. By degrees some portions of the bottom come in this way to be filled up to the surface of the river, and wide flat marshy spaces are formed on either side of the main stream. During floods these spaces are overflowed with muddy water, in the same way as in the case of the valley plains just described, and a coating of mud or sand is laid down on them until they slowly rise above the ordinary level of the river, which winds about among them in endless branching streams. Vegetation springs up on these flat swampy lands; animals, too, find food and shelter there; and thus a new territory is made by the work of the river.

These flat river-formed tracts are called deltas, because the one which was best known to the ancients, that of the Nile, had the shape of the Greek letter Δ (_delta_). This is the general form which is taken by accumulations at the mouths of rivers; the flat delta gets narrow toward the inland, and broader toward the sea. Some of them are of enormous size; the delta of the Mississippi, for example.

Each delta, then, is made of materials worn from the surface of the land, and brought down by the river. And yet vast though some of these deltas are, they do not show all the materials which have been so worn away. A great deal is carried far out and deposited on the sea-bottom; for the sea is the great basin into which the spoils of the land are continually borne.

Having now followed the course taken by the water which falls on the land as rain, we come to that taken by snow.

On the tops of some of the highest mountains in Britain snow lies for great part of the year. On some of them, indeed, there are shady clefts wherein you may meet with deep snow-wreaths even in the heat of summer.

But in other parts of Europe, where the mountains are more lofty, the peaks and higher shoulders of the hills gleam white all the year with unmelted snow.

Let us see why it is that perpetual snow should occur in such regions, and what part this snow plays in the general machinery of the world.

You have learned that the higher parts of the atmosphere are extremely cold. You know also that in the far north and the far south, around those two opposite parts of the earth’s surface called the Poles, the climate is extremely cold—so cold as to give rise to dreary expanses of ice and snow, where sea and land are frozen, and where the heat of summer is not enough to thaw all the ice and drive away all the snow. Between these two polar tracts of cold, wherever mountains are lofty enough to get into the high parts of the atmosphere where the temperature is usually below the freezing-point, the vapor condensed from the air falls upon them, not as rain, but as snow. Their heads and upper heights are thus covered with perpetual snow. In such high mountainous regions the heat of the summer always melts the snow from the lower hills, though it leaves the higher parts still covered. From year to year it is noticed that there is a line or limit below which the ground gets freed of its snow, and above which the snow remains. This limit is called the snow-line, or the limit of perpetual snow. Its height varies in different parts of the world. It is highest in the warmer regions on either side of the equator, where it reaches to 15,000 feet above the sea. In the cold polar tracts, on the other hand, it approaches the sea-level. In other words, while in the polar tracts the climate is so cold that perpetual snow is found even close to the sea-level, the equatorial regions are so warm that you must climb many thousand feet before you can reach the cold layers of the air where snow can remain all the year.

There is, you see, one striking difference between rain and snow. If rain had been falling for the same length of time, the roads and fields would still have been visible, for each drop of rain, instead of remaining where it fell, would either have sunk into the soil, or have flowed off into the nearest brook. But each snowflake, on the contrary, lies where it falls, unless it happens to be caught up and driven on by the wind to some other spot where it can finally rest. Rain disappears from the ground as soon as it can; snow stays still as long as it can.

You will see at once that this marked difference of behavior must give rise to some equally strong differences in the further procedure of these two kinds of moisture. You have followed the progress of the rain; now let us try to find out what becomes of the snow.

In such a country as ours, where there is no perpetual snow, you can without much difficulty answer this question. Each fall of snow in winter-time remains on the ground as long as the air is not warm enough to melt it. Evaporation, indeed, goes on from the surface of snow and ice, as well as from water: so that a layer of snow would in the end disappear, by being absorbed into the air as vapor, even though none of it had previously been melted into running water. But it is by what we call a thaw that our snow is chiefly dissipated; that is, a rise in the temperature, and a consequent melting of the snow. When the snow melts, it sinks into the soil and flows off into brooks in the same way as rain.

In the regions of perpetual snow the heat of summer can not melt all the snow which falls there in the year. What other way of escape, then, can the frozen moisture find?

You will remember that the surplus rainfall flows off by means of rivers. Now the surplus snow-fall above the snow-line has a similar kind of drainage. It flows off by means of what are called glaciers.

When a considerable depth of snow has accumulated, the pressure upon the lower layers from what lies above them squeezes them into a firm mass. The surface of the ground is usually sloped in some direction, seldom quite flat. And among the high mountains the slopes are often, as you know, very steep. When snow gathers deeply on sloping ground, there comes a time when the force of gravity overcomes the tendency of the pressed snow to remain where it is, and then the snow begins to slide slowly down the slope. From one slope it passes on downward to the next, joined continually by other sliding masses from neighboring slopes until they all unite into one long tongue which creeps slowly down some valley to a point where it melts. This tongue from the snow-fields is the glacier. It really drains these snow-fields of their excess of snow as much as a river drains a district of its excess of water.

But the glacier which comes out of the snow-fields is itself made not of snow, but of ice. The snow, as it slides downward, is pressed together into ice. You have learned that each snowflake is made of little crystals of ice. A mass of snow is thus only a mass of minute crystals of ice with air between. Hence when the snow gets pressed together, the air is squeezed out, and the separated crystals of ice freeze together into a solid mass. You know that you can make a snowball very hard by squeezing it firmly between the hands. The more tightly you press it the harder it gets. You are doing to it just what happens when a glacier is formed out of the eternal snows. You are pressing out the air, and allowing the little particles of ice to freeze to each other and form a compact piece of ice. But you can not squeeze nearly all the air out, consequently the ball, even after all your efforts, is still white from the imprisoned air. Among the snowfields, however, the pressure is immensely greater than yours; the air is more and more pressed out, and at last the snow becomes clear transparent ice.

A glacier, then, is a river, not of water, but of ice, coming down from the snow-fields. It descends sometimes a long way below the snow-line, creeping down very slowly along the valley which it covers from side to side. Its surface all the time is melting during the day in summer, and streams of clear water are gushing along the ice, though, when night comes, these streams freeze. At last it reaches some point in the valley beyond which it can not go, for the warmth of the air there is melting the ice as fast as it advances. So the glacier ends, and from its melting extremity streams of muddy water unite into a foaming river, which bears down the drainage of the snow-fields above.

A river wears down the sides and bottom of its channel, and thus digs out a bed for itself in even the hardest rock, as well as in the softest soil. It sweeps down, too, a vast quantity of mud, sand, and stones from the land to the sea. A glacier performs the same kind of work, but in a very different way.

When stones fall into a river they sink to the bottom, and are pushed along there by the current. When mud enters a river it remains suspended in the water, and is thus carried along. But the ice of a glacier is a solid substance. Stones and mud which fall upon its surface remain there, and are borne onward with the whole mass of the moving glacier. They form long lines of rubbish upon the glacier, and are called moraines. Still the ice often gets broken up into deep cracks, opening into yawning clefts or crevasses, which sometimes receive a good deal of the earth and stones let loose by frost or otherwise from the sides of the valley. In this way loose materials fall to the bottom of the ice, and reach the solid floor of the valley down which the ice is moving; while at the same time similar rubbish tumbles between the edge of the glacier and the side of the valley.

The stones and grains of sand which get jammed between the ice and the rock over which it is moving are made to score and scratch this rock. They form a kind of rough polishing powder, whereby the glacier is continually grinding down the bottom and sides of its channel. If you creep in below the ice, or catch a sight of some part of the side from which the ice has retired a little, you will find the surface of the rock all rubbed away and covered with long scratches made by the sharp points of the stones and sand.

You will now see the reason why the river, which escapes from the end of a glacier, is always muddy. The bottom of the glacier is stuck all over with stones, which are scraping and wearing down the rock underneath. A great deal of fine mud is thus produced, which, carried along by streams of water flowing in channels under the glacier, emerges at the far end in the discolored torrents which there sweep from under the ice.

A glacier is not only busy grinding out a bed for itself through the mountains; it bears on its back down the valley enormous quantities of fallen rock, earth and stones, which have tumbled from the cliffs on either side. In this way blocks of rock as big as a house may be carried for many miles, and dropped where the ice melts. Thousands of tons of loose stones and mud are every year moved on the ice from the far snowy mountains away down into the valleys to which the glaciers reach.

The largest glaciers in the world are those of the polar regions. North Greenland, in truth, lies buried under one great glacier, which pushes long tongues of ice down the valleys and away out to sea. When a glacier advances into the sea, portions of it break off and float away as icebergs. So enormous are the glaciers in these cold tracts that the icebergs derived from them often rise several hundred feet above the waves which beat against their sides. And yet, in all such cases, about seven times more of the ice is immersed under water than the portion, large as it is, which appears above. You can realize how this happens if you take a piece of ice, put it in a tumbler of water, and watch how much of it rises out of the water. Sunk deep in the sea, therefore, the icebergs float to and fro until they melt, sometimes many hundreds of miles away from the glaciers which supplied them.

You will come to learn afterward that, once upon a time, there were glaciers in Britain. You will be able with your own eyes to see rocks which have been ground down and scratched by the ice, and big blocks of rock and piles of loose stones which the ice carried upon its surface. So that, in learning about glaciers, you are not merely learning what takes place in other and distant lands, you are gaining knowledge which you will be able by and by to make good use of, even in your own country.

SUNDAY READINGS.

SELECTED BY THE REV. J. H. VINCENT, D.D.

[_December 2._]

FROM THE “CHRISTIAN’S PATTERN.”

By THOMAS À KEMPIS.

“He that followeth me walketh not in darkness, saith the Lord.” These are the words of Christ, by which we are admonished that we ought to imitate his life and manners, if we would be truly enlightened and delivered from all blindness of heart.

Let therefore our chief endeavor be to meditate upon the life of Jesus Christ.

What will it avail thee to dispute sublimely of the Trinity, if thou be void of humility, and art thereby displeasing to the Trinity?

Truly, sublime words do not make a man holy and just; but a virtuous life maketh him dear to God.

I had rather feel compunction, than know the definition thereof.

If thou didst know the whole Bible, and the sayings of all the philosophers, by heart, what would all that profit thee without the love of God?

Vanity of vanities! all is vanity, but to love God and serve him only.

It is therefore vanity to seek after perishing riches.

It is also vanity to seek honors.

It is vanity to follow the desires of the flesh, and to labor for that for which thou must afterward suffer grievous punishment.

It is vanity to wish to live long, and to be careless to live well.

It is vanity to mind this present life, and not those things which are to come.

It is vanity to set thy love on that which speedily passeth away, and not to hasten thither, where everlasting joys remain.

All men naturally desire to know; but what availeth knowledge without the fear of God?

Surely an humble husbandman that serveth God is better than a proud philosopher, that, neglecting himself, studies the course of the heavens.

He that knoweth himself is vile in his own eyes, and is not pleased with the praises of men.

If I understood all things in the world, and had not charity, what would that help me in the sight of God, who will judge me according to my deeds.

There are many things, to know which doth little profit the soul.

And he is very unwise, that minds any other things than those that tend to the welfare of his soul.

Many words do not satisfy the soul; but a pure conscience giveth confidence toward God.

The more thou knowest, and the better thou understandest, the more grievously shalt thou be judged, unless thy life be the more holy.

Be not therefore lifted up; but rather let the knowledge given thee make thee afraid.

If thou thinkest that thou knowest much: yet there are many more things which thou knowest not.

Be not over wise, but rather acknowledge thine own ignorance.

The highest and most profitable lesson is, the true knowledge of ourselves.

It is great wisdom to esteem ourselves nothing, and to think always well and highly of others.

We are all frail, but remember, none more frail than thyself.

[_December 9._]

It is good that we be sometimes contradicted; and that men think ill of us, and this, although we do not intend well.

For then we more diligently seek God for our inward witness, when outwardly we are contemned by men.

Wherefore a man should settle himself so fully in God, that he need not seek comforts of men.

When a man is afflicted, tempted, or troubled with evil thoughts; then he understandeth better the great need he hath of God.

So long as we live in this world, we can not be without temptation.

Hence it is written in Job, “The life of man is a warfare upon earth.”

Temptations are often very profitable to men, though they be troublesome and grievous; for in them a man is humbled, purified, and instructed.

All the saints have passed through, and profited by, many tribulations, and temptations:

And they that could not bear temptations, became reprobates and fell away.

There is no place so secret, where there are no temptations.

There is no man that is altogether secure from temptations while he liveth.

When one temptation goeth away, another cometh; and we shall ever have something to suffer.

Many seek to fly temptations, and fall more grievously into them.

By flight alone we can not overcome, but by patience and humility we conquer all our enemies.

He that only avoideth them outwardly, and doth not pluck them up by the roots, shall profit little: yea, temptations will soon return unto him, and he shall feel them worse than before.

By patience (through God’s help) thou shalt more easily overcome, than by harsh and disquieting efforts in thy own strength.

Often take counsel in temptations; and deal not roughly with him that is tempted.

The beginning of temptation is inconstancy of mind, and little confidence in God.

For as a ship without a rudder is tossed to and fro with the waves, so the man that is negligent is many ways tempted.

Fire trieth iron, and temptation a just man.

We know not often what we are able to do: but temptations show us what we are.

We must be watchful, especially in the beginning of the temptation; for the enemy is then more easily overcome, if he be not suffered to enter the door of your hearts, but be resisted without the gate at his first knock.

Wherefore one said, “Withstand the beginning: for an after remedy comes too late.”

First, there occurreth to the mind a simple evil thought; then a strong imagination; afterward delight; and lastly consent.

And so by little and little our malicious enemy getteth entrance, while he is not resisted in the beginning.

And the longer one is slack in resisting, the weaker he becomes daily, and the enemy stronger against him.

Some suffer the greatest temptation in the beginning of their conversion; others in the latter end.

Others again are much troubled almost throughout their life.

Some are but slightly tempted, according to the wisdom which weigheth the states of men, and ordereth all things for the good of his elect.

We ought therefore, when we are tempted, so much the more fervently to pray unto God; who surely will give with the temptation, a way to escape, that we may be able to bear it.

Let us therefore humble ourselves under the hand of God, in all temptations and tribulations; for he will exalt the humble in spirit.

In temptations and afflictions a man is proved how much he hath profited.

Neither is it any such great thing if a man be devout and fervent, when he feeleth no affliction; but if in time of adversity he bear himself patiently, there is hope then of great proficiency.

Some are kept from great temptations, and are overcome in small ones; that being humbled, they may never trust themselves in great matters, who are baffled in so small things.

[_December 16._]

Turn thine eyes unto thyself, and beware thou judge not the deeds of other men.

In judging others a man laboreth in vain, often erreth, and easily sinneth; but in judging and examining himself, he always laboreth fruitfully.

We often judge of things according as we fancy them: for affection bereaves us easily of a right judgment.

If God were always our desire, we should not be so much troubled when our inclinations were opposed.

But oftentimes something lurks within, which draweth us after it.

Many secretly seek themselves in their actions, but know it not.

They live in peace of mind when things are done according to their will: but if things succeed otherwise than they desire, they are straightway troubled.

Diversity of inclinations and opinions often causes dissensions between religious persons, between friends and countrymen.

An old custom is hardly broken, and no man is willing to be led farther than himself can see.

If thou dost more rely upon thine own reason, than upon Jesus Christ, late, if ever, shalt thou become illuminated.

The outward work without charity, profiteth nothing; but whatsoever is done out of charity, be it ever so little and contemptible in the sight of the world, is wholly fruitful.

For God weigheth more with how much love one worketh, than how much he doeth.

He doth much that loveth much.

He doth much that doth a thing well.

He doth well that serveth his neighbor, and not his own will.

Often it seemeth to be charity, and it is rather carnality; because natural inclinations, self-will, hope of reward, and desire of our own interest, are motives that men are rarely free from.

He that hath true and perfect charity seeketh himself in nothing; but only desireth in all things that God should be exalted.

He envieth none, because he seeketh not his own satisfaction; neither rejoiceth in himself, but chooses God only for his portion.

He attributes nothing that is good to any man, but wholly referreth it unto God, from whom, as from the fountain, all things proceed: in whom finally all the saints rest.

O that he had but one spark of true charity, he would certainly discern that all earthly things are full of vanity!

[_December 23._]

When one that was in great anxiety of mind, often wavering between fear and hope, did once humbly prostrate himself in prayer, and said, O, if I knew that I should persevere! he presently heard within him an answer from God which said, If thou didst know it, what wouldst thou do? Do what thou wouldst do then, and thou shalt be safe.

And being herewith comforted and strengthened, he committed himself wholly to the will of God, and his anxiety ceased:

Neither had he any mind to search curiously farther what should befall him; but rather labored to understand what was the perfect and acceptable will of God, for the beginning and accomplishing every good work.

Hope in the Lord, and do good, saith the prophet, and inhabit the land, and thou shalt be fed.

One thing there is that draweth many back from a spiritual progress, and diligent amendment; the horror of the difficulty, or the labor of the combat.

But they improve most in virtue, that endeavor most to overcome those things which are grievous and contrary to them.

For there a man improveth more, and obtaineth greater grace, where he more overcometh himself and mortifieth himself in spirit.

Gather some profit to thy soul wheresoever thou art; so if thou seest or hearest of any good examples, stir up thyself to the imitation thereof.

But if thou seest anything worthy of reproof, beware thou doest not the same.—And if at any time thou hast done it, labor quickly to amend it.

Be mindful of the profession thou hast made, and have always before thine eyes the remembrance of thy Savior crucified.

Thou hast good cause to be ashamed, looking upon the life of Jesus Christ, seeing thou hast as yet no more endeavored to conform thyself unto him, though thou hast walked a long time in the way of God.

A religious person that exerciseth himself seriously and devoutly in the most holy life and passion of our Lord shall there abundantly find whatsoever is necessary and profitable for him; neither shall he need seek any better thing out of Jesus.

A CHRISTMAS PRAYER.

Come thou O Lord, and dwell within me, giving me light, and love, and liberty. May the spirit of the sweet Christmas Child possess me! May the Star of Bethlehem abide above my dwelling place! May the angels who seek thee be drawn toward me, and surround my path! May their song fill my life. Glory to God in the highest. On earth peace, good will to men.

[_December 30._]

This life will soon be at an end; consider therefore how thy affairs stand as to the next.

Man is here to-day; to-morrow he is gone.

When he is out of sight, he is soon forgotten.

Thou shouldst so order thyself in all thy thoughts and all thy actions, as if thou wert to die to-day.

Hadst thou a clear conscience, thou wouldst not fear death.

It were better to avoid sin than to fly death.

If thou art not prepared to-day, how wilt thou be to-morrow?

To-morrow is uncertain, and how knowest thou that thou shalt live till to-morrow?

What availeth to live long, when we are so little the better?

Alas! long life doth not always mend us; but often increased guilt.

O, that we had spent but one day well in this world!

When it is morning, think thou mayst die before night.

When evening comes, dare not to promise thyself the next morning.

Be therefore always in readiness; and so live that death may never take thee unprepared.

Many die suddenly, and when they look not for it; for “in such an hour as you think not, the Son of man cometh.” Matt. xxiv: 44.

When that last hour shall come, thou wilt have a far different opinion of thy whole life.

How wise and happy is he, that laboreth to be such in his life as he would wish to be found at the hour of his death.

Whilst thou art in health, thou mayst do much good, but when thou art sick, I know not what thou wilt be able to do.

Few by sickness grow better; and they who travel much are seldom sanctified.

Trust not in friends and kindred, neither put off the care of thy soul till hereafter, for man will sooner forget thee than thou art aware of.

If thou art not careful for thyself now, who will be careful for thee hereafter?

The time present is very precious; now are the days of salvation, now is the acceptable time.

But alas! that thou shouldst spend thy time no better here, where thou mightest purchase life eternal. The time will come when thou shalt desire one day or hour to amend in, and I can not say it will be granted thee.

Ah fool! why dost thou think to live long, when thou canst not promise thyself one day!

How many have been deceived, and suddenly snatched away!

How often dost thou hear, such a man is slain, another is drowned, a third has broken his neck with a fall; this man died eating, and that playing?

One perished by fire, another by sword, another of the plague, another was slain by thieves! Thus death is the end of all, and man’s life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.

Who shall remember thee when thou art dead? Do, do now, my beloved, whatsoever thou art able to do: for thou knowest not when thou shalt die, nor yet what shall be after thy death.

Now, while thou hast time, lay up for thyself everlasting riches.

Keep thy heart free, and lifted up to God, because thou hast here no abiding city.

Send thither thy daily prayers, and sighs, and tears, that after death thy spirit may happily pass to the Lord. _Amen._

POLITICAL ECONOMY.

By G. M. STEELE, D.D.

III.

EXCHANGE.

1. Exchange is the mutual and voluntary transfer of the right of property held by different persons. This implies, (_a_) the existence of the _right of property_; (_b_) that the transfer must be _mutual_, otherwise there is no exchange; (_c_) that it be _voluntary_, otherwise it would be robbery.

2. The principles that form the basis of exchange are the same as those implied in the great law of association and individuality; namely, those which give rise to the combination and division of labor. There is usually some one kind of labor, or at most a few kinds, for which each individual is competent. But the variety of occupations so nearly corresponds with the variety of aptitudes in every well-ordered community, that each may, with little effort, find the calling to which he is suited.

But while each individual is thus limited in his productive capabilities, his claims and wants are nearly limitless. He is in need of a thousand commodities, only a very few of which he can produce. He depends for the remainder of these upon his fellow-men. On the other hand, he can produce a thousand times as much of the few kinds of commodities to which he devotes himself, as he himself needs. These he transfers to his fellow-men, taking in return the surplus of their several products. This is exchange, or commerce. It is implied in the very constitution of man. Association is an imperative condition of humanity.

3. A distinction is sometimes made between _commerce_ and _trade_—a wise distinction, as it seems to me, though observed by but few writers. The former is the _object_ to be accomplished; the latter is the _agency_ through which it is accomplished. Thus, a farmer has wheat, butter, eggs, poultry, wool, etc., which he wishes to exchange for cloth, sugar, agricultural implements, boots and shoes, and a hundred other articles. He can not go to the several producers of these, carrying his own products to exchange for them, except at immense disadvantage. Hence arises the necessity for the trader, or merchant. Trade and commerce have sometimes been represented as mutually antagonistic. This is true only to a certain extent. The great economical point to be guarded is to have no more traders than are necessary to make the exchanges. When the industrial and commercial conditions of a country are such that the producers and consumers, who are the real exchangers, are placed and kept at a great distance from each other, so that they can not combine with each other except through the agency of a great number of middle-men, the conditions are highly detrimental to the interests of the parties chiefly concerned. Beyond a certain point, the greater the power of trade, the worse it is for commerce. It is nevertheless true that there are certain natural obstacles to direct commerce which can be surmounted only by some kind of intermediate agency; and this makes the trader necessary. In this respect, and to this extent, trade is an aid to commerce. Yet commerce should be as direct as possible. To this end it is desirable that the greatest number of commodities for which productive facilities exist, should be produced in the same community.

4. The general law of exchange is _value for value_. This will be obvious if we recur to one of our statements concerning the nature of value, namely, that is the quantity of one commodity that may be equitably exchanged for a given quantity of another. It will be still more obvious if we recall the complete definition: value is our estimate of the sacrifice requisite to secure possession of a desired object. Thus, if it require the labor of one day to produce a pair of shoes, and the labor also of a day to produce three bushels of oats, then the rule of exchange would be three bushels of oats for a pair of shoes, because the required labor in the one case is precisely equal to that in the other.

This is the fundamental law, but it is modified in its operation by certain other facts and principles. Chief among these is the law of _supply and demand_. By supply is meant the quantity of any commodity which is in the market. Demand signifies the quantity which is desired at a given price. The definitions are sometimes erroneously given of supply as the quantity which exists, and demand as the quantity desired. But a man may offer for sale a load of wheat, provided the price is a dollar a bushel, but withdraw it from the market if the price is but ninety cents. A thousand people in a certain town may desire diamond necklaces, but not half a dozen may be able to purchase them. Hence supply is all that is offered in the market; and demand is desire with ability to purchase.

Demand and supply affect prices in this way. Suppose a community has been exclusively using wood for fuel, and their wood can be had at a certain price. After a time a coal mine is discovered in the vicinity, and coal can be furnished much cheaper than wood. This would lessen the demand for wood. As there would be the same amount for sale as before, the seller would be in competition, and the price would fall. So if for any reason before the discovery of the coal the supply of wood had been diminished one half, the demand being the same, the price would rise. Thus we have the general principle that other things being equal, the greater the supply, the less the price; the smaller the supply, the greater the price; the greater the demand, the greater the price; and the smaller the demand, the less the price. In other words, the price varies directly as the demand, and inversely as the supply. In general price varies as the cost of production plus or minus the effect of supply and demand. These principles are affected again in many ways which we can not here explain. Yet the variations are always temporary, and the price or market value always tends to seek the level of cost of production.

5. Trade has been spoken of as an agent of exchange. An _instrument_ also is needed. The primitive method of exchange was by barter. That is, by giving the commodity one produces for that which one desires to possess. But this was early found inconvenient. The man who made shoes and wished to exchange some of them for a coat, would not readily find a coat-maker in want of shoes; or if he should, the latter very likely would not want just so many pairs of shoes as would be equal in value to the coat. All other exchanges might be at a similar disadvantage. What is needed is a commodity which will be a _medium_ of exchange—which every one will be willing to receive for any commodity which he has for sale, and which will command anything which he wishes to buy. Such a commodity is usually the main element in the machinery of exchange, and is what constitutes _money_.

This instrument in order to meet the want, it is generally believed, must have the following characteristics: 1. Value in the material of which it is made. 2. Uniformity of value throughout the world. 3. Much value in small bulk. 4. Approximate constancy of value. 5. Not readily destructible. 6. Divisibility into small portions which are capable of being reunited. 7. Of universal use. 8. Capable of receiving stamps and marks. Most of these properties are found in gold and silver, if not to such an extent as has been claimed for them, at least so far that they have been the basis of the money of the civilized world.

6. But supplementing in a certain way, and representing these, the instrument of exchange comprises also the large element of _credit_. This consists chiefly of book accounts, promissory notes, bank notes, government notes, bank deposits, checks, drafts, bills of exchange, stocks and bonds. One of the great agencies in modern commerce by which credit is made effectual as a part of the mechanism of exchange is that of _banks_. Banks are institutions which serve to abbreviate and facilitate the business of exchange and to extend and render available the credit of the community.

There are four kinds of banks, namely: savings banks, banks of deposit, banks of circulation and issue, and banks of discount. In our modern banking system the last three are generally found in combination, that is, each bank exercises all the functions implied.

A savings bank is an institution in which small sums of money are deposited from time to time as they accumulate in the hands of persons of moderate incomes. The depositors are credited with these amounts, and receive a certain, usually not very large, rate of interest in any case, and an additional amount contingently. The bank loans the money thus deposited in large sums to trustworthy persons who can furnish good security, the rate of interest being somewhat higher than that paid to the depositor.

The benefit of such an institution is two fold. In the first place there are many persons who have small sums of money which they desire to be earning something in some safe place. The amount is too small to be loaned to advantage. Such persons are not likely to know how, even if the sums at their disposal were sufficient, to find the best investment, or to determine concerning the security offered. But put into the hands of men who make this their business, under rules devised by the best financial talent of the community, and who can combine these small sums and invest them to the best advantage, it is made both safe and profitable for the small capitalists.

In the second place there are many persons who wish to unite their labor and skill with capital in some productive enterprise, and having no capital of their own, desire to borrow. They do not know the persons who have money to loan. The savings bank affords them an opportunity and gives them an advantage which they would not otherwise have. It is a benefit first to those who have some surplus, but are unable to loan it to advantage; secondly to those who are in want of capital, but do not know where to find it.

A _bank of deposit_ grows out of the necessities of commerce in a community where much business is transacted. All persons engaged in trade will find from time to time large or smaller accumulations of money in their hands which it is not safe without considerable expense, to keep by them. Hence the custom of depositing these for safe keeping in the bank. Usually no interest is paid as the money may be withdrawn any time at the will of the depositor. It was early found that only a small proportion of these deposits were likely to be withdrawn at any one time; hence a considerable proportion of them could be loaned on short time, and thus the bank would in this way receive compensation for its care, without expense to the depositors. In this way, too, the capital of the community could be kept more fully employed.

But the credit factor in the deposit system soon came to have a much wider scope than is here indicated. Instead of each depositor going to the bank and drawing his money as he needs it, he now gives an order or _check_ on the bank to any man to whom he may have occasion to make a payment. In many cases the receiver of such a check also has deposits at the same bank. In such a case he sends in the check to be deposited with his cash for the day. The amount is debited to the drawer of the check, and credited to the depositor of it, and thus by a simple _transfer_ of _credit_ much business is done without the intervention of any money. This expands into a great and complicated system of exchange between individuals doing business at different banks, by banks in different cities, and by traders in remote nations. Goods are sold in one locality and paid for in the goods of another locality by means of drafts, bills of exchange, etc., meeting and canceling one another, so that very little money is transferred from point to point.

The function of _discount and loan_, as has been intimated, is in modern banking usually combined with that of _deposit_, as also that of _circulation or issue_. When the capital of a bank is paid in by the stockholders, and the officers elected, it is then ready for business under regulations imposed by its charter. There are two ways in which the public is accommodated. First, when a wholesale city merchant sells a bill of goods to a country retail merchant, it is frequently the case that the former makes out his bill, which the latter accepts, promising to pay in thirty, sixty or ninety days. This accepted bill the wholesale merchant carries to his bank, where it is received with his endorsement, and the cash, less the interest for the given time, is paid him or placed to his credit. This is _discounting_ a bill. A loan is sometimes made by a borrower’s giving his own note endorsed by some reliable person, and payable in some brief time as above. Sometimes the note is discounted; at other times the interest is paid when the note is taken up.

The function of _circulation_ is exercised by the issuing of bank-notes to be circulated as money. When a bank is instituted the stockholders are required to pay in their respective shares in metallic or lawful money. But as the borrower would find coin most inconvenient to carry about, the device arose of substituting notes of the bank, payable on demand, thus leaving the specie in the bank. It was further soon observed that only a very small proportion of these notes were likely to be called for at any one time. Hence a large part of the specie could be used for other purposes instead of being kept idle in the vaults. Under the national bank system now in operation the capital of the bank may be largely invested in United States bonds which are retained in the government treasury, but on which the bank draws the usual interest. The bills of the bank are then guaranteed by the government, so that there is never any loss to the holder of the bills, even if the bank fails.

PROTECTION AND FREE TRADE.

7. We have space but for a very brief outline of this important question. It is one which has for a long time agitated the public mind, and one on which honest and highly intelligent men widely differ. A _protective tariff_ so called, is a system of duties levied by the government of a country on certain commodities produced in other countries to prevent their coming into unequal competition with similar commodities of domestic production in such a way as to cripple or destroy the industries implied in the latter.

_Free trade_ is opposed to all those duties, the design of which is to afford any advantage to domestic industry. It implies the same freedom between producers in different nations as between those in the same community.

The main arguments in favor of protection are as follows:

(1) It is the only sure defense of new and feeble industries against the unequal competition of those long established in other or older communities. Freedom of competition is admitted as desirable, but it is denied that this exists under the conditions referred to. A community which has long experience, skilled labor, and accumulated capital, possesses great advantages in the contest with a nation destitute of them.

(2) It is urged that a restrictive system gives a steady and uniform market at an expense less than the benefit accruing.

(3) It is also supposed to be essential to societary completeness; that is, to such a diversification of industry as will most profitably meet the diversity of ability and aptitude in the community.

(4) It is thought to be necessary to the highest prosperity of the unprotected interests. Among these agriculture is the most prominent. It is for its advantage that the tax of transportation be saved by having manufacturing communities in the midst of agricultural areas. Also, a community compelled to confine itself to agriculture mainly, must virtually transport its soil, the land constantly diminishing in fertility.

The advocates of free trade, on the other hand, present the following arguments in its favor, and objections against protection:

(1) Free trade is said to be the method of nature.

(2) It is objected that protection violates the right of every man to do what he will with his own.

(3) It is said to be of the nature of a tax on all the other industries for the support of those protected.

(4) It is objected that the restrictive system causes a diminution of exports from the protected country, on the principle that if the latter does not buy of the former, then the former can not pay for the goods of the latter.

(5) Another argument is that “infant industries” under protection never come to maturity.

(6) Finally, the case of the United States is cited as an instance of free trade on a large scale between widely remote sections, with the most satisfactory results.

READINGS IN ART.

III.—MODERN SCULPTURE.

The ten centuries following the second have no sculptural remains of value. The dark ages threw their shadow over art, as over literature and society. No doubt the feeling prevalent in the early Church that the “graven image” might become an idol, hindered the progress of the plastic art quite as much as the general decay that pervaded every form of human undertaking.

In the first half of the thirteenth century lived Nicola Pisano, the founder, one might say, of modern sculpture. Nicola is supposed to have been influenced by his study of the remains of Greek sculpture to be seen at Pisa, his home. Applying the principles of the Greek work to the modern subjects, his sculpture inaugurated the Italian renaissance. Church decoration was the field of labor to which all artists of those centuries betook themselves, and Pisano executed his best work, bas-reliefs, on the façades and pulpits of the churches of Pisa, Siena, and other Italian cities. A marble urn of St. Dominic, now at Bologna, is among his celebrated works. Pisano had many followers, among whom were his son (more famous, however, as an architect), and Andrea Orcagna. The latter belonged to Florence, to whose churches he devoted his genius. His masterpiece in sculpture is the tabernacle of the Virgin in the church of San Michele, at Florence. It is a pyramid-shaped altar in white marble; the profusion of reliefs which cover it represent the life of the Virgin. A little before the time of Orcagna lived Giotto, at one time a leader of artistic activity in Florence. He is known well by his beautiful campanile, or bell-tower, and the bas-reliefs with which it is decorated are his best-known sculptures. The basement story is decorated, and, says a writer, speaking of these ornamentations, “This rich cycle of works represents with perfect clearness, and in simple and truly artistic treatment, the whole progress, from the creation of the first man, through the successful conflict with the forces of nature, up to the climax of a life illumined by learning and art, and secured under the maternal shelter of the Church.”

It was in the fifteenth century that sculpture attained its highest standpoint. Foremost among the artists of this “golden age,” as it has been called, is Lorenzo Ghiberti, the Florentine. The latter was first brought into prominence in 1401, when leading men of Florence offered a prize for the best design for a bronze folding door to be used in the baptistery of San Giovanni. Each artist was allowed a year to complete the test panel, the subject of the design of which was to be the “Sacrifice of Isaac,” and the work was to be a bas-relief. Ghiberti was declared the victor, even by his most famous rivals, Donatello and Brunelleschi. For twenty-one years he labored at his doors, and at the end of that time was entrusted with another. The latter occupied him nearly as long as the first, and was even superior, Michael Angelo declaring it worthy to be the gate of paradise. While busy at the gate of the baptistery, Ghiberti executed three bronze statues of St. John the Baptist, St. Matthew, and St. Stephen, and a bronze sarcophagus of St. Zenobius. Donatello has been mentioned as a rival of Ghiberti in the contest for the door: he deserves mention as one of the most faithful followers of nature during this period. He even carried his naturalism to excess, copying the deformed, the horrible, and the grotesque. There are, however, several fine statues by him in San Michele. Among these are the statues of St. Peter and St. Mark, in niches on the outside, and a fine statue of St. George. The first equestrian statue of modern art was by Donatello, and is at Padua.

Lucca del Robbia lived at the same time, and his name is associated with the beautiful terra-cottas found in such quantities in the churches of Florence. These works are in white, on a pale-blue ground, and were glazed by a process now unknown. The subjects used on them were almost invariably the Madonna and Child. But Robbia did much in marble and bronze. In the Uffizi is to be seen a frieze for the front of an organ, by him. “It represents boys and girls of different ages, dancing, singing, and playing on various musical instruments, and is full of charming simplicity and childlike grace, and rich and varied in action. Some of the figures are almost wholly detached from the background, particularly in the representation of the dance.” There are many more names which might be added to this Tuscan or Florentine school of sculpture. Andrea Verocchio is the only one we will mention, and his strongest influence was exerted as the teacher of that master-artist of the sixteenth century, Leonardo da Vinci.