THE preceding pages have been devoted chiefly to the methods by which Bishop Hare did his work for Indians and others, to typical experiences, to illustrations of spirit and character. It is time to take account of results. These may be divided into two broad classes--the outward things, or those which happened, and the inward, or those which expressed themselves in ripened thought and expression.

Of the things which happened, the change in the general condition of the Indians was the most important. The increase of government schools, the existence of such institutions as Hampton and Carlisle, the work of the schools and missions of Protestant bodies and of the 'Roman Catholic Church, all these influences joined their weight to those directed by Bishop Hare for the betterment of the race. From the first he had raised his voice against the reservation system as a permanent arrangement. In his seventeenth annual report (1889)--the year in which a special statute, following the Dawes Allotment Act of February, 1887, prepared the way for the opening of about 11,000,000 acres to white settlers--he announced as "an achievement of incalculable value" the completion of the plan to break up the Great Sioux Reservation into seven smaller reservations. "Time will show," he wrote, "whether the world or the Church will be the more on the alert to take advantage of the occasion. The Indian's state of mind, meanwhile, is one of uncertainty and almost consternation; like that of men on a vast ice-floe which is about to break up into smaller cakes under the action of the wind. God give grace to me and the noble men and women associated with me to make us equal to this great emergency." In his report for the next year he chronicled the accomplishment of the plan, and the opening of the land between the reservations: "a consummation which most of the friends of the Indians desired." The preparation of the Indians for the next step, when "the remainder of the country can be sold to white settlers, and the two races thus be intermingled" is still in progress.

A change in the policy of the Government towards mission boarding-schools seemed at one time destined to impair seriously the fruitfulness of one of the means for benefiting the Indians upon which Bishop Hare placed most reliance. In August of 1901 he received notice that a new interpretation was to be put upon a previous decision of Congress that it was "the settled policy of the Government to hereafter make no appropriations whatever for education in sectarian schools": henceforth this was taken to mean that any Indian child attending a mission boarding school should ipso facto forfeit its rights to the rations issued to its tribe. The schools under Bishop Hare were about to open, and all arrangements for the year had been made. There was nothing for him to do but to raise sufficient funds to make good the loss occasioned by the withdrawal of the rations. This he did for one year, and subsequently sold, at an appalling sacrifice, two of his school establishments--St. Paul's, at Yankton Agency, and St. John's, at Cheyenne Agency. But on the two which remained--St. Mary's, at Rosebud Agency, and St. Elizabeth's, at Standing Rock Agency--he was enabled to concentrate more of thought and zeal. Whatever discouragement lay in the fact that many Roman Catholic schools contrived to overcome the common handicap by drawing upon tribal funds, there was surely a countervailing pleasure in the knowledge that the cause of Indian education, in which he was so effective a pioneer, had made since 1873 extraordinary progress due in considerable measure to his hand in it.

As he was fundamentally a missionary the progress of education for his Indians went hand in hand with progress in Christianity. Mere statistics of growth convey but an external impression of the advance, but at least they are significant. At the time of his death in 1909 it was reckoned that out of about twenty thousand Indians in South Dakota, ten thousand were baptized members of the Episcopal Church. He had confirmed in all about seven thousand Indians. In his annual report for 1907 he presented a summary of figures for the past twenty years which told a remarkable story. In that time his Indian communicants had increased from 936 to 3,782--the corresponding numbers of white communicants being 692 and 2,423. A still more striking contrast is found in the contributions made in 1887 and 1907. At the earlier date the whites gave approximately $10,500, at the later $30,000. In the same years the Indians' annual contributions to the work of the Church, both in South Dakota and in other regions, grew from about $1,500 to about $9,500. The duty and privilege of giving, as an element in civilized existence, was one which he constantly urged--and obviously to good purpose. Of the results of his Indian work in general he said in the last of the Convocation Addresses (1908): "The Indian work will probably be less romantic and eventful in the future, but not less important nor less difficult. The first work among them was quarrying. To-day we stand and say to the people, 'Look unto the rock whence you were hewn and unto the hole of the pit whence you were digged.' For the future, the clergy need to be builders, men who can so carve, and so place these rough hewn stones that they will become a holy temple, a habitation of God through the Spirit."

The Indian Convocation, to which there have been occasional allusions in previous chapters, must be regarded separately as an institution bringing memorable testimony year by year to the changes which Bishop Hare and his fellow-laborers wrought in the condition of the Indians. This Convocation of the Niobrara Deanery is an annual meeting of the Indians under the influence of the Mission. Before the eighties were passed it had begun to hold an important place in the religious and social life of the Indians. Bringing together first a few hundred Indians of various Sioux tribes, it now assembles every year on one or another of the reservations three thousand or more Indians, who travel over the prairies from all parts of South Dakota and camp together for several days given up to religious meetings and friendly intercourse. Similar gatherings are held by other missions than those of the Episcopal Church, but the meetings of the Niobrara Convocation are so intimately associated with Bishop Hare that some definite impression of them must be given. They have been described by many pens, clerical and lay. A Yankton newspaper described the convocation of 1905 at White Swan on the Yankton Reservation, one of the last of these meetings at which Bishop Hare was present. The following passages from the article will speak for the pic-turesqueness and significance of the strange gatherings:

"Many things conspired to make of this year's convocation a great success. The attendance was beyond expectation, the weather was ideal, the site was a magnificent one, and that nothing might be omitted, a beautiful Dakota moonlight lit up the scene at night, giving a weird attractiveness to the great camp that not even sunlight could impart. The Yankton party went by rail to Lake Andes, which place was reached after the supper hour. Here teams were met, with Yankton Indian drivers, and the drive of seven miles was made by moonlight over the reserve to the river and camp. As the Missouri came in sight old abandoned Fort Randall was pointed out, the partially ruined church showing up white in the silvery light, across the river and a couple of miles or so below the camp. A beacon light from the mission sent out a welcome to the late arrivals and as the outposts were reached an aged Indian approached with the brief but cordial greeting of his people, 'How.' Here the team was dismissed and then for the first time it dawned on the visitors that they were absolutely alone at night amidst thousands of Indians, who did not expect them, or even know them.

"The thought weighed but lightly on the travelers, however, who were lost in admiration of the scene presented to them as the ascent of a small but steep hill revealed a long row of tents stretching away west until a hill obscured the end. Indians were moving about noiselessly and were found to be thickly congregated as the hilltop was gained. Nowhere was English spoken, the few white people encountered talking the same tongue as their dusky brethren.

"The church of the mission was found to be magnificently situated on a plateau that commanded a fine view up and down the river. Immediately south of the mission buildings a gentle slope stretched away to the Missouri, on the other side of which rugged and high hills cut off a further view of Nebraska. To the north the plateau ended in hills, while in an immense circle, three miles in circumference, with the church as a center, stretched the tepees of the many tribes of the Dakotas. It was a full mile across the inclosure from east to west, the corral formed by the assembled Indians being well filled with hundreds of horses and wild ponies. From the church came the musical voices of a large gathering of the members of St. Andrew's Brotherhood, as the last hymn of the day was being sung in the Dakota tongue. A few minutes later the last visitors to arrive were taken in charge by a Yankton Indian and introduced to Rev. John Flockhart of Greenwood (Yank-ton Agency), who proved hospitality itself and soon had his guests located in a tent with such accommodations as were to be had under the circumstances. The night was too fine and there was too much to see to think of retiring until a much later hour, and, the rest of the camp on the hill thinking the same way, there was much to occupy one for a couple of hours, while all around the flickering lights in the great circle showed that the many tribes of Indians assembled at the mission, were also keeping late hours. Besides the Brotherhood meeting in the little mission church, a large tent revealed a "feast" that was being given by the Yankton squaws to the sister presidents of the various societies represented. In a circle were seated the squaws, while in the place of honor in the center, were seated on a bench the white lady visitors of the convocation. . . . Each lady president was called upon to speak and recounted in her native tongue the work accomplished at her home agency. The numerous speeches disposed of in a leisurely and dignified way, the refreshments were served, in rough camp style perhaps, but in no way objectionable, and with a 'you're welcome' air about everything that impressed the white visitors greatly.

"Sunday morning the great camp was astir early, the squaws being the first to appear outside their tepees. It was some time before the clouds of mist rolled away revealing what the moonlight had only partially shown the night before, but when at last the sun broke through and cleared up the atmosphere it retained its advantage and the day remained as perfect as the night had been. This was the great day of the convocation in a spiritual way, the previous sessions having been devoted largely to routine business. The venerable Bishop Hare, who for over thirty years has been ministering to the Dakota tribes, appeared early and with a kindly smile greeted all who approached him to pay their respects. Who can say what were the thoughts of the divine as he gazed on the panorama spread before him and which fittingly represented his labors in so many years of hard work? The picture greatly impressed the white visitors and they freely expressed themselves to that effect, and as the day passed to its close, as peaceable and well-ordered a Sunday as was ever experienced anywhere, that impression developed into wonder that so much could be accomplished under the guiding hand of one faithful man, with but a small handful of consecrated men to assist him.

"As the gentle morning breeze unfolded the bunting at the masthead of the flagstaff at the great temporary pavilion, the Stars and Stripes spread out, while underneath the more peaceful banner of the convocation unfolded its strange lettering. The flag was white, its inscription being: 'Le on Ohiya Yo; Niobrara Omiciye Kin,' which in English would mean, 'In this sign conquer; The Niobrara Deanery Convocation.' The flag was the keynote of the day's proceedings, and around its fluttering folds there was much of interest enacted during the day.

"At 9 o'clock the bell in the quaint old mission church rang out the half hour reminder, while at the same time an Indian crier, on horseback, went the round of the camp announcing the morning service. At 9:30 the clerical procession was formed, and numbered, in vestments, in all ranks from Bishop down to helpers, some seventy-five persons, which included the Catechists, Deacons and Priests. Among the latter were noted Bishop Hare, Sioux Falls; Rev. W. J. Cleveland, Pine Ridge, the Dean of the Convocation; Rev. A. B. Clark, Rosebud; Rev. John Flockhart, Greenwood; Rev. H. Burt, Crow Creek; Rev. W. J. Wicks, Springfield; Rev. Frank W. Henry of Flandreau, and Rev. Edward Ashley, Cheyenne. The last named had charge of the great procession and with much cleverness and tact handled the numerous tribes as they approached with flying banners and stately tread, each from their section of the great circle, the picture as the various sections approached the center being of extreme interest. "As the tribes reached the large pavilion where the services took place, banners were folded, and with reverent countenances the Dakotas passed into the temporary church and quietly seated themselves. The banners showed the following agencies represented: Crow Creek, Santee, Rosebud, Pine Ridge, Sisseton, Flandreau, Lower Brule, Standing Rock, Cheyenne, Ponca and Yankton, the last named being a large representation, it being the home tribe, which was out in great numbers. Almost the entire representation was of the great Siouan stock and represented the well-known tribes of Blackfeet, Brule (upper and lower), Cheyenne, Sioux Minnekonjo, Ogallalla, Sans Arcs, Sisseton, Two Kettle, Wahpeton, Wazahzah and Yankton. Many of the tribes named have merged with others and their identity has almost been lost. All these people, numbering over three thousand, were delegates to the convocation. . . .

"As a general rule there was little to note as to dress. The men for the most part had adopted the costume of the day, with sometimes the retaining of the Indian moccasin. Among the women, especially the younger portion, there is more to tell.

"The old squaw was there in her best shawl of brilliant hue. Her more modest sister was on hand in plain black or perhaps a dark green plaid, both of which were very common. Others were to be seen in prized shawl of porcupine or bead work, while many young squaws and girls had advanced far towards the Sunday attire of their white sisters, appearing robed in handsome changeable silk of fashionable style and excellent make. To the silk dress was frequently added the gingham sunbonnet and beaded moccasin. The seven-cent calico in quiet colors, black with small figure prevailing, was also seen, the wardrobe having no effect whatever in attendance at church as it frequently has among the white race. Silk dress marched alongside of calico, and no envious glances were noticed, nor indeed an ill-bred stare, the congregation being intent on the service at hand and apparently bestowing little thought on the minor consideration of dress.

"Among the native clergy were noticed Rev. Amos Ross of Pine Ridge; Rev. Philip Deloria of Standing Rock; Rev. Luke C. Walker of Lower Brule, and deacons, Rev. Joseph St. John Good, teacher, and George Red Owl, besides many others. The first service of the day comprised the rite of confirmation, or laying on of hands, upon a large class of old and young, among whom a blind boy was noticed. Communion followed, hundreds of Dakotas staying for the sacrament. In the afternoon a baptismal service was held at 3:30, and at 4:30 another service took place, at which a number of Indians were made Workers, the first step toward clerical life; a number were promoted to Catechists; others were made Senior Catechists and a few were advanced to Deaconship. At 8 p. M. the last service of the day was held, closing with a number of addresses by white and Indian clergy and others, among whom were Samuel M. Brosius, of Washington, D. C., a counselor-at-law of the Indian Rights Association, and by the secretary of the same society, who was also present. Many spoke through interpreters, so that white visitors could enjoy the addresses.

"Music was furnished by organ and cornet, the latter proving an excellent instrument to lead the vast congregation. The Dakotas astonished the white visitors by their excellent singing; the Dakota tongue is musical and soft, and the hymns were given with much effect and heartiness by people who only a few years ago were in a state of heathenism that many white folks think they are still in to-day, but which the convocation proved was an idea very far removed from the actual facts.

"A convocation such as described calls, of course, for a great amount of work and the Yanktons have been preparing for the great event for over a year. Custom demands that hospitality be extended to all tribes attending and the sum of $600 raised for their entertainment was used up during the gathering. Wagon loads of provisions were shipped into Lake Andes and were hauled to the camp--a daily shipment being fifteen cases of bread alone. Fifteen beeves were killed and were cut up in Indian style by the squaws and hung up to dry on poles, with nothing but the sun to do the curing. All of this and many other sights, made a stroll around the circle of 016 tents of much interest. Many tepees were neatness itself, while next door might be seen the extreme reverse. Everywhere, however, was kindly greeting for the white stranger, who was met with a sincere welcome invariably. Complete absence of anything that might offend the most sensitive ear was remarkable, the assembled tribes being on company behavior, which is largely continued in everyday life, when left alone by the trash that infests the reservations. Many temporary buildings for meetings were in the inclosure, while A. Van Scotter and others conducted restaurants and refreshment stands. There was no sign of intoxicants during the life of the convocation.

"Financially, the convocation proved the greatest in the thirty odd years of its annual gathering, Bishop Hare announcing that the various tribes had brought in an offering that would reach the great sum of $2,500, which is remarkable when the slender means of the Indian is taken into consideration. Many prominent men among the Yanktons assisted materially towards the carrying out of details, while the whole tribe has worked as one man that they might acquit themselves with honor before their visiting brethren, a point that is not regarded with indifference among Indians, who have always regarded hospitality as among their most sacred customs. To the credit of all who attended, it may be stated that there was no violation of the trust and confidence of the Yanktons, and not a tent was molested, although valuable belongings were to be seen everywhere in open tents, both in white and red habitations; the greatest feeling of security prevailed at all times and the Indian police had absolutely nothing to do, though Sunday witnessed the arrival of many visitors which brought the attendance up to well over 4,000 people."

Between the lines of this detailed description one may read many suggestions of the change that had come in the thirty years since the Dakota tribes had waged bitter warfare against each other and the white intruders. The yearly spectacle is a theme for poetry no less than prose, and in a memorial poem, "William Hobart Hare," by Mrs. Charles A. Eastman (Elaine Goodale), published in The Outlook a few months after Bishop Hare's death, the scene is presented with imaginative vision:

At the church door the pious pageant forms--
The grave procession of the white-robed priests,
The solemn joy of chanting acolytes
With equal step advancing, pacing slow;
The circle closes round them thankfully.
Lo, in the midst appears a reverend form
Upright beneath its weight of years and griefs;
A face deep-carven, clear as cameo,
Enhaloed with its crown of silvern locks--
A stern, strong, fine, humane, uplifted face
That draws our eyes to heaven; and now a voice
Like sad cathedral bells tolls in our ears
Rebuke and solace, pleading and command--
As angel's voice, severe, compassionate!

Now in the crystal twilight of the west
Vaster horizons open, and the heavens
Above us bloom and blush like giant flowers.
Deep peace enfolds the kneeling multitudes
Of Ishmael's sons and daughters worshipful,
While the last rays from yonder painted dome
Gleam redly on the Bishop's sleeves of lawn--
On the white hands--the brooding, dove-like hands
Outstretched in benediction.

Darkness falls.
For him the Psalmist's meted days are done;
The soul released through purifying pangs,
The mortal puts on immortality.
To him the crown of well-spent days ... to us
The farewell blessing of those outstretched hands!

Besides such fruits of his labors as Bishop Hare could see in the Indian Convocations, there came to him from without in later years many recognitions of the value of the work he had done. The Indian Rights Association, the Mohonk Conference--of which in 1883, he was one of the originators, and where as late as 1907 he made a memorable address on Indian missions--turned to him as a friend and counselor; the Indian schools at Carlisle and Hampton found him the most sympathetic and helpful of visitors. Hobart College, named for his grandfather, made him in 1893-4 its Honorary Chancellor. In 1893 his friends attempted to make him Bishop of Massachusetts; but, as in the two earlier occasions of the same nature, the choice of another man brought him no disappointment. "No word or intimation has escaped me," he wrote to his fellow-workers, "which could lead even my bosom friends to suppose that I have had any wish except to end my days here in South Dakota, nor has any other wish found a place in the secrets of my heart."

The chief honor of these later years came to him in 1898, when both houses of the General Convention, assembled in Washington paid him an unprecedented compliment in recognizing formally the completion of twenty-five years of episcopal service, in passing a resolution of thanks and love, and, through Bishop Potter, presenting him with a loving cup. It is worth while to recall a portion of Bishop Potter's speech in so doing. He told of Bishop Hare's effective faith in a disgraced clergyman, and proceeded:

"I put beside that, Mr. Chairman, an incident which happened during the Lambeth Conference, when my brother, the Bishop of South Dakota, in a foreign land, found himself next to a very charming woman at an entertainment, on the other side of whom was an Anglican Bishop who has passed to appropriate obscurity. This lady, who had found in the Bishop of South Dakota what any lady would find in him, turning to the Anglican Bishop for information, said: 'Who is this gentleman on my right?' The answer, which the Bishop of South Dakota overheard, was, 'Only a Missionary Bishop.' I confess, said Bishop Potter, when I heard that story there flashed into my memory that incomparable and dramatic story by Thackeray of Jonathan Swift, where he spoke of his having found a folded sheet of paper and on it the word 'Stella,' and then, underneath, describing the contents of that sheet of paper, 'only a lock of hair.' And then, Thackeray, with great pathos, repeats the words: 'Only a lock of hair; only devotion; only consistency; only infinite patience; only the largest love; only the sweetest sacrifice.' [In this report of Bishop Potter's speech it will be found that the spirit and not the letter of the passage from Thackeray's essay on Dean Swift is reproduced.] And so I say, 'Only a Missionary Bishop; only heroism; only the most patient and devoted service; only the most constant compassion; only the most splendid and gracious illustration which our Missionary service has given us of devotion to the cause of Christ and those who are forgotten of their fellowmen.' "

Bishop Hare's characteristic response must also be remembered:

"What means this noble act of confidence--this merciful auto-da-fe in which the fires of fatherly and brotherly love are consuming me, their happy victim? What means it but this, that a tender appreciation of long-tried servants pervades the Church just as the air is charged with moisture, and that, as an electric shock will sometimes make moisture distil in a refreshing shower, so an anniversary in my life has made the pervasive love of the Church coalesce and take outward shape in this distinct and gracious act.

"I feel that for the time being my individuality is lost and that in me just now are summarized and capitulated all those servants of the Church who, like me, have labored for her during many years; and so I would summon to my side as I stand here Bishop Williams who has labored for more than twenty-five years in Japan; Archdeacon Thomson who has labored for more than twenty-five years in China; Bishop Holly who has labored for more than twenty-five years in Haiti; Bishop Ferguson who has labored for more than twenty-five years in Africa; Bishop Morris who has labored for more than twenty-five years in Oregon; and with them I would include all those dear men and women who have given long service under me in South Dakota--for service in that country for ten, fifteen and twenty-five years is no rare thing--dear fellow-workers who have helped me in my hours of despondency to believe in myself--sometimes a very important thing--because I found that they believed in me. It is their faithful work which has lifted me up and made me conspicuous here like the dome of some great building, and I would remember that not the dome but the substructure which supports it is the more important and of the greater practical use.

"I may not detain you with many words. In our hours of deepest emotion--I am sure you all feel this--we turn to our Prayer-Book version of the Psalms to find words for the best expression of our feelings and there are there some verses which express the experience of my past twenty-five years, at once the pains of my body, the sorrows of my heart and as well its thanks to my brethren and its gratitude to Almighty God:--'Oh, what great troubles and adversities hast Thou showed me! and yet didst Thou turn again and refresh me; yea, and broughtest me from the deep of the earth again. Thou hast brought me to great honor and comforted me on every side; therefore, will I praise Thee, and Thy faithfulness, O God.'"

Another recognition of the entire Church came in 1904 when the General Convention assembled in Boston, divided the country into eight judicial districts, each with a Court of Review to which a clergyman convicted in a trial court might take an appeal. Bishop Hare was chosen presiding officer of the Sixth Department, consisting originally of Minnesota, North and South Dakota, Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, Missouri and Kansas. Of this distinction Bishop Hare wrote--perhaps recalling the days of trial when he had reason to fear that his wisdom was doubted--"I consider this election as Presiding Judge one of the greatest honors of my life."

Bishop Hare's response to the moving words of Bishop Potter was highly characteristic of him--not only in the genuine humility of its substance, but also in its form. The concluding quotation from the Psalter was typical of his constant drawing upon the Bible and the Prayer Book for ultimate expression of the thought he would bring home to his hearers. Indeed, throughout his writing the influence of the Bible upon his style is frequently manifest. Perhaps its admirable clearness and vigor need no other explanation. The greater portion of what he wrote was written to be spoken or read. In his sermons he frequently spoke without recourse to manuscript, and ex tempore speech was often required of him; but what he liked best to do was carefully to set on paper what he had to say, and then to disregard the written word and utter his message fresh alike from heart and lips. As with nearly every successful speaker, his presence contributed greatly to the weight of his words. Though not of commanding stature, he had a dignity and nobility of head and face which told his hearers at once that here was a man they must heed. When the utterance came in that agreeable but incisive speech and voice of the Philadelphian who has been much away from Philadelphia, there stood before the people, whether at an Indian chapel in South Dakota, or, as in 1888, at Westminster Abbey, a public speaker of rare effectiveness.

A good instance of the tact which contributed to his effectiveness as a speaker to the Indians is found in the letter of a lady who accompanied him on a missionary journey in 1898:

"At the next stop, St. Peter's Chapel, a bell inscribed in Dakota, 'Come, worship the Lord,'" she wrote, "called the people together. For some reason they seemed reluctant to come. The cause for their hesitation appeared when the Bishop began to address them. A spirit of dissension had taken possession of the congregation. At one time it divided the people on the question of the retention or dismissal of their catechist; at another time, on the management of the women's guild, and so on. The Bishop approached the delicate matter somewhat cautiously. He first commended many things in the life and conduct of the congregation and then drew out the monthly report of the missionary, which gives the attendance for each Sunday, saying that he had now some things to say which, perhaps, they would not like to hear. The attendance at service had been very small, he noticed. With a pleasant irony, he asked had they heen having very bad Sundays lately? Had the wind been very high on such a Sunday? Had it rained on such another Sunday, or was there some other cause for the small attendance on those Sundays? At this point the Bishop abruptly resorted to an illustration, 'A harness,' he said, 'is a good thing. When you put it on a horse it looks well and it helps the horse to do his work. But sometimes a horse gets tangled up in his harness.' The Bishop then graphically described a horse running and falling down, with the lines and bridle about his legs, the description being evidently fully appreciated by the Indians because of their familiarity with horses. The Bishop added: 'Now there are things about a congregation which are like a harness. The catechist, the organ, the one who plays the organ, the women's society, the men's society, are all parts of a church's harness. A church can live without a harness; but the harness is a good thing. It helps the church to do its work. But, alas, sometimes a church, like a horse, gets tangled up in its harness. This happens in the white man's country, it happens in the Indian country. Sometimes the people get in a tangle about their catechist; sometimes about what tunes shall be sung; sometimes about who shall be president of the women's guild; sometimes about who shall have the next supper. That is, in some way the church gets tangled up in its harness. You, my dear friends, have got tangled up in your harness. And what is the remedy? The first thing a man does when his horse gets tangled up in his harness and falls down is to run to his head and try to quiet him, until he can straighten out the harness. That is what I am here for. I have come to quiet you, and get in order your affairs.' The Bishop had drawn so vivid a parallel between their condition and that of horses struggling in a tangled harness that the Rev. Mr. Burt began to chuckle as he interpreted; then the Bishop, and one by one the stony faces in the congregation began to soften hi confiding wonder at their Bishop's humor, then they relaxed into kindly smiles. This episode, followed by some grave, earnest words, untangled the congregation that both factions were able to come together at the Lord's table, and after service to sit down harmoniously in the open air at a common lunch."

His native humor often stood him in good stead. Sometimes it told him when it was best to keep silence. Writing to his sister at the time of the General Convention in Boston in 1877, he said: "I didn't speak at the great missionary meeting after all. My predecessors effectually scrouged me off. The first spoke forty minutes, the second over fifty, the third twenty. I was relieved rather than otherwise, and the people were so gratified when I refused to speak that I was for the moment the most popular man." Again in Boston, in 1896, the hour was late when his turn came to speak at a dinner of the Episcopalian Club. He was brevity itself, and declared that he believed fervently in the witty Frenchman's discovery that man's head had been given him for just the same reason that a pin's was, to keep him from going too far. Then sitting down, neither the president's urgency nor the company's applause could bring him to his feet again. Like many another who has dealt best with audiences and individuals,

"Still with parable and with myth
Seasoning truth, like Them of old,"

he appreciated the value of apt anecdote and illustration. A Sioux Falls physician is quoted in the newspapers as saying that Bishop Hare used, very reasonably, to impute much skepticism to misunderstanding. A Philadelphia business man of skeptical tendencies, he said, once remarked to him: "My dear Mr. Hare, I do not refuse to believe in the story of the ark. I can accept its enormous size, its odd shape, and the vast number of animals it contained. But when I am asked to believe that the children of Israel carried the unwieldy thing for forty years in the wilderness--well, there, I'm bound to say, my faith breaks down."

Of the traits which presented themselves clearly to one who worked in close association with him for twenty-three years, Miss Mary B. Peabody, his secretary, has given a valuable summary: "One [trait] was his rare teachableness. He was ready to learn of any one,--a child, a plumber, a doctor,--whoever was expert in the particular subject about which he wished information, and he gave to his teacher the same deference which undoubtedly he gave to his teachers as a schoolboy or a student in college. The range of things in which he was interested was great and did not contract as the years went by, even when pain made it hard for him to talk much.

"Another was his gentleness and readiness to acknowledge what he considered a fault. . . . Another characteristic I have never met anywhere else: he never asked advice except when he meant to take it, and, so far as I know, it was his rule to act upon the advice given. That tended to make one very careful in giving, of course.

"Another was his power of concentration which made it possible for him to lay entirely aside some thing on which he was at work and give his undivided thought to another totally different thing, then to go back and take up the first task where he left off. Often when he was interrupted while in the midst of dictation, perhaps by a caller, he came back and took up the sentence just where he had left it. The same power made it possible for him to close a painful transaction and not to brood over it. If there was a very hard letter to write, sometimes he paced the floor while he was dictating,--this happened only three or four tunes in my memory,--and when the last word was said, he sat down calmly and went on with other things quite as if all had been easy.

"While capable of righteous indignation, he was remarkably free from resentment when an injury or slight was done himself. I never saw him in the least ruffled by anything of that sort. At the same time he was strict with those with whom he had to deal, and never accepted work which was not according to contract. I do not mean that he was exacting, only that his way tended to keep people up to their best."

It was of course in connection with important questions of local and general interest that his ripened powers of thought and expression displayed themselves most clearly. Of these fruits of experience the best evidence lies in the written record, and the remainder of this chapter may well be given to passages from some of his later writings. In his annual Convocation Addresses, in his baccalaureate sermons at All Saints School, in public utterances outside of South Dakota, there is much that one would preserve, but a few characteristic deliverances must be taken as typical of many.

In the Convocation address of 1899 there is the following presentation of the subject of Biblical knowledge and criticism:

"And now, some words about the Holy Scriptures. They are chief among the sacred treasures which the Church holds in trust for her members and for the world. They are the Church's authoritative records of God's dealings with His people, and of the gifts which He has vouchsafed them in the teachings of his Prophets, Psalmists and other spokesmen, in the lives of His saints, and especially in the incarnation of His eternal Son. In these Scriptures the creed of the universal Church finds its most certain warrant. So important does the Church consider the knowledge of these Scriptures to he to her people generally, that she sets forth in her Prayer Book an order in which they are to be read in public worship in what are called, in language full of practical suggestiveness, the first and second lessons.

"These Scriptures we have tested. We find that they search our hearts, reproach us for our shortcomings, and prompt us to try to be our best. We have rested our hearts upon them in dire trouble and have found them the consolation and rejoicing of our hearts. Not only the word, but the book that conveys it to us, are dear--nay, the precise words of our English translation and the very place upon the page occupied by some precious text in a well-read Bible--are dear to us. The book is like a mother to us. The reputation of the book is like a mother's reputation. And so it comes to pass that our language regarding the Bible and every word of it is apt to be intense, unmeasured and sweeping, for love cannot bear qualifications. Strong feeling is impatient of nice calculations of less and more. The Bible could never survive if it did not command this fervent allegiance, for its work is always a contest, a contest with aggressive foes, the world, the flesh and the devil; and, however valuable the calculating judicial spirit may be in contriving and directing the campaign, the fighting must be done by enthusiasts, especially where, as in this case, compulsory service cannot be resorted to.

"But valuable as unmeasured devotion and the language which it inspires are, there is a certain danger in them. 'Incredible praises unto men,' wrote the judicious Hooker long ago, 'do often abate and impair the credit of their deserved commendation; so we must take great heed, lest, in attributing to Scripture more than it can have, the incredibility of that do cause even those things which it hath most abundantly to be less reverently esteemed.' There is another danger in indiscriminate devotion, and this becomes very apparent when we pass from the sphere of devotion and of the actual fight to the sphere of those to whom it belongs to contrive and direct the campaign. Here careful investigation of the field, exact knowledge of the importance of its various parts and a right estimate of what is not worth fighting for are of the first importance.

"These investigations are sure, however, to cause at least temporary disturbance and not a little pain. For one, however, I must avow that I think they should go on. Complacent ignorance as to the true character of Scripture is out of date. All men now know enough to make intelligent men wish for more. It is well known, for example, that inspired men were themselves deeply moved by the truths which they were commissioned to convey to others; that inspiration has come to us affected by their mental acts or states, that in the act of communicating to others their mental acts or states they resorted to all the methods of composition and expression which mark ordinary literary productions. They pick up gems from other writers and make all sorts of quotations. Parable, allegory and legend; hyperbole, sarcasm and irony, are not beneath their use; the dramatic style, the tragic, the poetic, as well as the prosaic, all are laid under contribution. This being so, it is certainly within the proper province of the Biblical scholar to ask, as the case may suggest, such questions as these: How far does the writer commit himself to all the statements contained in his quotation? Is this a simple matter-of-fact statement, or is this an allegory, or a legend? Does the author say what he means, or, is this a case of irony in which the author says what he does not mean?

"It is also well known that not infrequently compositions of several authors have been, for one reason or another, grouped together in one book which has been called popularly by the name of some one author, an author who, for one reason or another, has perhaps come to be peculiarly connected with such writings. For example, the Psalms are frequently called the Psalms of David, though it is well known that the Psalms are the work of many different authors and were produced at many different dates. It is certainly within the proper province of the Biblical student to dissect these composite books, and to assign, as far as he can, the several parts to their respective authors.

"It is well known that the Scriptures were chiefly used in early days (as was intended) for devotional and practical purposes, and not with the intellectual restrictions of system makers or the mathematical precision of workers in mosaic, and that for this reason, as well as others, passages from one writer were frequently copied into the manuscripts of others if thereby the thought were elucidated, enriched, or confirmed. It is certainly within the proper province of the Biblical scholar to analyze any book and to show just what was the work of its author.

"Some would require that this work of investigation should be carried on by the Church officially and as a whole, and that it should not be left to individual effort. But this would never do, for much of this work must be for many years to come purely provisional, and subject to correction. The Church as a whole and officially cannot commit herself to that which is provisional and subject to correction. Only when individual learning has done its work and won the consent of scholars generally can the Church express herself. Meanwhile, this work of Biblical analysis will inevitably be carried on by many men, of many minds, of many tastes, of many manners, and if any one of them deal with the sacred records in their present form in a manner which seems to us rude or heartless or unfilial and yet protests that he holds 'the faith once delivered to the saints' as expressed in the Creeds, and that he loves and lives on God's written Word and delights in the inspiration which distinguishes it from all other books, and that he does not mean to be rude, or unfilial, however much he may seem to us to be so, I think we must take him at his word (for what man knoweth the spirit of a man, save the spirit of a man that is in him?) and accept his good heart, however much we may lament his bad manners.

"Meanwhile, let us pursue our Christian course in confidence and peace. The Church's Bible is the Word of God--His Word not in the sense that its words, whether in our English translation or in the Hebrew or the Greek of the original were literally uttered by God, but in the sense in which the translators of our commonly received version interpreted the phrase, Word of God. In their address to the reader, often printed as an introduction to our Bibles, they say: 'We affirm and avow that the very meanest translation of the Bible into English--containeth the Word of God, nay, is the Word of God: as the King's speech which he uttered in Parliament, being translated into French, Dutch, Italian and Latin, is still the King's speech, though it be not interpreted by every translator with the like grace, nor peradventure so fitly for phrase, nor so expressly for sense, everywhere.' The Bible is the King's Word, the Word of God. As such it will abide forever. Many facts tend to reassure us of this.

"The efforts of scholars have, during the last thirty or forty years, translated into the languages of Europe all those sacred books of the East which some persons once thought would prove to contain treasures of religious teaching which would vie with the Scriptures of the Christian Church. Research has now brought to light all that the mind of man all the world over seeking after God has been able to imagine or discover. A Christian heart should not decry any good thing wherever found, and, for myself, I can from my heart take up the words of one of our own poets:

"'I gather up the scattered rays
Of wisdom in the early days,
Faint gleams and broken, like the light
Of meteors in a northern night,
Revealing to the darkling earth
The unseen sun which gave them birth.'

"But precious as these gems are, the result of the comparison of the writings of the non-Christian world with the Scriptures of the Christian Church is distinctly this verdict, namely, that these Scriptures deserve a place by themselves. They have a moral and spiritual dignity unapproached. They are unique. We may safely reiterate to-day the assertion of the old Psalmist, 'He gave His word unto Jacob; His statutes and ordinances unto Israel. He hath not dealt so with any nation, neither have the heathen knowledge of His laws.'

"True, these are days of scorn and scoffing. But this is no new thing. All the ages down some men have superciliously declared, 'The days of religion are numbered.' But her sacred books outlast the critics. Resting her hand upon the Bible, the Church can say, 'Here is an anvil that has worn out many a hammer.'

"In these Scriptures are some things hard to be understood, as St. Peter testified, and some wrest them to the vexation of their brethren and their own hurt; but the well-meaning have always found in them, will always find in them, a discerner of the thoughts and intents of their hearts, a light for their feet along this world's dark road, and the saving knowledge of the only true God and Jesus Christ Whom He hath sent. By a heaven-taught instinct they almost unconsciously pass by what they cannot understand or assimilate, and feed on that which is proper to their need. To use an illustration, they eat the oyster, and do not break their teeth upon its shell.

"There are honest doubters. The Bible contains difficulties which, for the time, may turn some of the best of men against it. But most of the opponents of the Bible are conscious in their heart of hearts that not the Bible but their own hearts and lives are in the wrong. Here is the deep secret of hostility. 'The only objection to this book,' said a dying unbeliever, 'is a bad life.'

"The present day is marked by much gay unconcern about the Bible. When all goes merry as a marriage bell men find amusement and satisfaction in visiting all sorts of shrines, but momentous junctures come to all men, crises in which all that they relied upon--their health, their wealth, their learning, their pride, their choicest books vanish, and they are ready to say, with Sir Walter Scott in the day of his departing, 'There is only one book now.'"

In the year 1890, the question of prohibition and temperance led to intemperate divisions in South Dakota. A prohibition bill of the most sweeping nature, threatening even the legality of using wine in the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, was before the Legislature. Bishop Hare protested against its passage, in a letter to the Legislature, urging, "that the proposed bill should be so amended by the addition, as occasion may require, of the word 'sacramental,' and be otherwise so amended that it will not create a conflict of duties." This course called down upon him the bitterest denunciation of the violent prohibitionists. In a letter prepared for the public press, withheld, and then given to a limited circle in his diocesan paper, The Church News, he answered his assailants in part as follows:

"Two remarks in conclusion; one as to the gist of my petition to the Legislature, and the other as to the essential character of the Prohibition bill.

"It will be noticed that the point of my petition was that the proposed Prohibition bill, unless modified, would violate the solemn convictions and sacred rights of a large body of intelligent, sober and useful members of the community. Now, how is this respectful and serious remonstrance met? Is the truth of my statement denied? Not at all. On the contrary the existence of such a class of persons is admitted, though somewhat scornfully, and then the altogether irrelevant fact is brought triumphantly forward that a certain other class of people, namely, Elder B------ and his class, hold another opinion. And what then? That each class shall be left free to follow their own convictions? Not at all; but, forsooth, that a law shall be passed by which those who do not agree with Elder B------ and his friends shall be persecuted and driven to the wall. I thank him for exposing so plainly the bigotry and intolerance of the proposed legislation. Translated into plain English the proposal is: 'You and others think so and so in religion; I and my class do not think so and so; and because you differ from us we intend to make you smart for your temerity by calling in the secular power and passing a law which will make you pay for the exercise of your religious convictions by fine and imprisonment.' Our excellent brethren have surely for a moment forgotten themselves. In their zeal they have made a slip. All of us sometimes make them. Then let the consciousness of our common infirmity increase our sense of brotherhood and our desire for mutual toleration.

"Now a remark as to the bill itself. I earnestly believe that the evils resulting from the abuse of wines and liquors have reached appalling proportions and call for the most strenuous efforts to check them in the family, in the school, on the platform, in the pulpit, and in the halls of legislation; and though I do not myself believe in Prohibition, but prefer high license, I took no steps to oppose the proposed law, as the majority seemed to be strongly in favor of it and I did not wish to create division. Had any reasonable prohibitory bill been proposed I should have acquiesced in it. But in my opinion the bill in question is unworthy of free, manly, straightforward people. It is essentially levitical and non-Christian. It is 'apron string' legislation. It undertakes to treat all persons as though they were children. It is besides inquisitorial and pharisaically minute and particular. It legislates regarding an article which in one shape or another for one reason and another, men will have, and its stringent provisions will drive them to get it by equivocation and by tricks and evasions. Under its operation subterfuges will abound. There will be no other way of protecting one's self against a powerful and intolerant majority than equivocation and circumvention; intended to make men sober, this law will tend to make them liars. Drunkards are loathsome, but more hateful still are a people who, deprived of their liberty, have become cowardly, secretive and false."

An illuminating sequel to this passage is found in the next number of The Church News (March, 1890), which copied from a Sioux Falls newspaper a brief notice of a meeting called to consider the organization of an enforcement league in Sioux Falls. "Bishop Hare said he had come to the meeting to add what he could by his presence. He did not agree with everybody present on the prohibition question, but he was as much opposed as any to the open saloon and drink habit. They were a hideous wen on the body politic. He should prefer to go at the wen with a surgeon's knife instead of with a dirk, as the prohibitory law did. But the people of the state had decided in favor of the latter, and so he said with all good citizens, go at the wen with a dirk."

In the Annual Convocation Address of 1903, there is an extended treatment of the proposal to change the name of the Protestant Episcopal Church so as to include the word "Catholic." The passage is too long to quote in its entirety, but the following extracts from it will speak with sufficient fulness for Bishop Hare's clarity of thought and word. After speaking of a request from a committee of the General Convention for an individual expression of opinion from the Bishops, he proceeds:

"I have answered that I do not desire a change in the name of our Church at this time. And yet I am willing to confess that there is something in this proposal to change the name of the Church which is not wholly foreign to my modes of thought and feeling. There is in many hearts, I think, a groping after something better than the endless divisions which have so seriously taken away from the moral dignity and authority of the Church, weakened its power to be a unifying and sanctifying influence upon its own members and upon mankind in general, and impaired its power to protect and use the sacred truths committed to its care. They feel that present conditions in the Christian and in the heathen world demand that we should get clearer conceptions of that institution which is called 'The Catholic Church'; that we should give more importance in our thought and action to the fact that a great river of truth and grace, a river of life, issued forth from our Lord Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God, when He created and endowed His Church; that this river is flowing full and rich to-day; and that the truth which it carries with it exists distinct from the Biblical record of it. At first sight it seems that this movement to change the name of the Church gives promise of meeting this want and giving the relief which some are groping for.

"I cannot think, however, that this hope will prove well grounded. Let me lay before you as calmly as I can a statement of the case just as it stands, premising that it is not a little affected by the fact that the proposal was brought before the General Convention, and has been most conspicuously pressed, by those who favor the introduction of the word 'Catholic' into the name of the Church.

"On the general subject of The Holy Catholic Church our position is well known and unequivocal. We have always stood up before God and man and made in the Apostles' Creed our great confession, 'I believe in the Holy Catholic Church.' No one can be admitted within our fold by baptism without an avowal, in person or by sponsors, of that article of the Faith; no one can be received to confirmation or the Holy Communion without a reiteration of that avowal, and in daily public prayers and especially in our greatest act of public worship, the Holy Communion, our people do, and must, again and again repeat that avowal. And notice that our avowal is not merely that there is a Holy Catholic Church; but that we believe in it. It is to us a supernatural creation. It is the body of Christ. We believe that it holds the faith once delivered to the saints; that it is the sphere of the special action of the Holy Spirit; that it has a right to our allegiance; and that in it we shall find, through the power of its Head, if we are faithful, 'the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins and life everlasting.'

"Thus avowing constantly and before all the world our faith in the Holy Catholic Church, it is a necessary conclusion that, belonging as we do to that particular religious body which is called 'Protestant Episcopal,' we virtually declare our faith that that 'Protestant Episcopal' Church is a true, living, particular branch of The Holy Catholic Church.

"This is our creed. We have acted accordingly. In practice we have preserved unbroken the continuity of our Church life and protected its transmission from any possibility of taint or vitiation. We have always unequivocally declared, too, that we have never broken with, and could not be guilty of breaking with, The Holy Catholic Church. We have never baptized into any sect nor into any other name than that of Father, Son and Holy Ghost; nor have we imposed sectarian conditions of Church membership. This position we inherited from our mother Church of England and maintained when we became independent and when we took to ourselves the name 'Protestant Episcopal.' Our being in name 'Protestant Episcopal' has in no way interfered with this grand avowal of the Creed. The name may have intimated that we did not claim to be the whole of The Holy Catholic Church. It may have drawn attention, too, to the contests and trials through which The Holy Catholic Church has passed in its history, to the fact that these contests have sorely divided the Catholic Church, that the Church called 'Protestant Epis-copal' is only one of the fragments, and also to the fact that in the great division which took place in the sixteenth century our Church put it-self on the Protestant and not on the Roman side of the great line of cleavage; but the name has no way belied our grand avowal: 'I believe in The Holy Catholic Church.'

"For one I am not prepared even to seem to admit, whether by a change of name or by any other act, that we have but just waked up and found that we are Catholic.

"This great avowal is made, you observe, in our creed and not in our name. And this is well; for our creed we ourselves can determine; but names grow up and attach themselves to persons and to institutions one can hardly say how. Some are misled by supposing that a name is a misnomer unless it be a definition. A creed defines; names rarely do. Definitions are exact and exhaustive. Names are generally rather descriptive of some striking or interesting particulars in a thing. Call ourselves on paper what we will, people will call us by the name which seems to fit.

"We shall find it an endless task if changing names on some theory comes to be the fashion. Surely the people whose names are 'Black' and 'Brown' and 'Wolf and 'Hare,' and so on forever, will be protesting that such names are inadequate and misleading.

"But while the change of the name of our Church does not seem to me wise, what would have been opportune and very useful would have been a movement judiciously and quietly to enlarge and intensify our people's conception of just what they mean when they stand up and say, 'I believe in The Holy Catholic Church/ and an effort to correct the prevalent and very misleading habit of applying the word 'Catholic' without a qualifying adjective, like the adjective Roman, to the Church of Rome or any other one branch of the Church of God; a movement to make Christians generally know and feel that the Church is a sacred organism, that as such it may not be tampered with by individual willfulness, but should be honored and deferred to; an organism in which no part (whether calling itself Protestant or Catholic, or Broad, or High, or Low, or Roman, or Greek) may safely say to another part, 'I have no need of you,' an organism which, because it is the body of Christ, is divinely endowed and can communicate to proper persons in sacraments and other means of grace divine gifts. To dwell upon truths like these is work vital and fruitful and peaceable. Merely to attach the word 'Catholic' to our name is like applying a piece of court plaster.

"To propose to introduce the word Protestant de novo would be one thing, to propose to expunge it is another. For one I am by no means prepared, considering what the popular understanding of the words 'Protestant' and 'Catholic' is, to give up that word 'Protestant' and supplant it by the word 'Catholic.' Protest has ever been a note of Christian truth. The Lord Jesus Christ witnessing His good confession before the High Priest saying, 'If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?' was protesting. St. Paul withstanding St. Peter to his face and saying, 'If thou, being a Jew, livest after the manner of Gentiles, and not as do the Jews, why compellest thou the Gentiles to live as do the Jews?' Gregory the Great of Old Rome protested when John, the Bishop of New Rome, had assumed the title of Universal Bishop. 'I confidently affirm,' Gregory wrote, 'that whosoever calls himself Universal Priest is in his pride going before anti-Christ.'"

After an historical consideration of the term "Protestantism" Bishop Hare goes on:

"To turn now to a very practical view of the question. We desire, of course, so to commend the claims of our Church to that part of the Christian world in which our lot is cast that there will be a 'gathering of the people' to it. How many shall we draw to us by the proposal to drop the word 'Protestant'? Our best way of judging the future is by the past. Is it not safe to say that for one person who has been drawn to our Church because it was, as he thought, what is popularly understood by Catholic, there have been ten drawn because it was not that, but something distinctly different, viz., what is generally understood by 'Protestant,' and while the one was probably a worn-out person, worn-out by over-refinement, or misfortune, the ten probably belonged to the vigorous, fresh class who practically control the destiny of this land?

"Now let me ask, which are the peoples to whom Protestantism in its general principles and drift has commended itself?

"A well-known historian (Swinton) has written:

"'Allowing for considerable exception, the nations of Teutonic stock embraced the new doctrines, while most of the Latin race adhered to the faith of Rome.'

"Is the work of our Church likely to be with peoples of the Teutonic or of the Latin stock--with English, Germans, Scandinavians, etc., or with Italians, French and Spaniards? What is the masterful influence in the world just now? Is it that of English, Germans, Scandinavians, etc., or of Italians, French and Spaniards? If we would as a Church exert a masterful influence, with whose mental movements shall we throw in our lot--with the English, Germans, Scandinavians or with Italians, French and Spaniards?

"If we were just establishing our Church in this country then the discussion of a suitable name might be opportune. But our Church took up an independent life in this country long years ago. It then deliberately and explicitly took to itself the name 'Protestant Episcopal.' It has been conclusively shown in the course of the discussion which has been going on that this action was not taken by accident or inadvertence. The name 'Protestant Episcopal' we put on the title page of our Prayer Book. It is part and parcel of the Ratification of the Book of Common Prayer by the bishops, clergy and laity. It is inwrought into our Constitution and Canons.

"True, the name is inadequate--all names are, because, as I have said, names are not definitions. But, while inadequate, it has a certain graphic fitness. It tells fairly well just what we are. The meaning of this name has been well understood by the general public. Our Church is well known to bear a 'double witness'---that has been a favorite phrase--the 'witness' being double, because we witness against the excesses of Protestantism on the one hand, and, on the other hand, we bear our witness against the excesses of Rome. The word 'Protestant' in our name is qualified by the word 'Episcopal'--that is, our name suggests that our protestation is of that kind which is kept from aberration by the historic Episcopate; the word 'Episcopal' in our name is qualified by the word 'Protestant'; which fact suggests that our Episcopacy is not that kind which is autocratic, or Roman, but that which is constitutional and fraternal, that which is in sympathy with the people, and that which is, to use the language of the Lambeth Quadrilateral, 'locally adapted in the methods of its administration to the varying needs of the nations and peoples called of God into the unity of His Church.' We shall seek far before we shall find what is, on the whole and all things considered, a better name.

"Now, as to the word 'Catholic.' We must stand by that word in the Creed; for there it was put in primitive days by the Universal Church. There it stands in a carefully prepared statement--such as becomes a formulary. There its meaning can be accurately defined. But transfer it to the people, and what do the people understand by it? How do they find it used in most histories, whether secular or ecclesiastical, in encyclopaedias, in newspapers and in common conversation? Vainly we protest that it should not be used so, but in general literature and in common parlance it is used as meaning Roman Catholic. And within our own fold and within the English Church is it not the fact that 'Catholic' is the banner word under which many gather who would huddle together in the dark, shut off" from modern thought, cherishing dear but exploded theories and legends, reviving antiquated customs, and seeking to impose them as laws upon others, thus binding living men of to-day in the cerements of the dead past? Each word, 'Protestant' and 'Catholic,' has been a cover for doctrines and practices which we do not like one whit. I should be afraid of the name 'Protestant' unless 'Catholic' were in our creed. I should be afraid of the word 'Catholic,' as things are at present in the Christian world, were 'Protestant' stricken from our name.

"The whole movement to change the name of the Church seems to me to be open to the charge of being pretentious, and to be away from the people, who like acts and not words; real success and not assertion that one has a right to it. It is a case where, as often, confidence in a cause has run on into what is a very different thing, namely, self-conceit. Always it is true that by eelf-forgetfulness and real effective work, not by self-consciousness and pretentious assertions, general confidence is won and lasting good results are achieved. I fear that we are 'puffed up' because of our ecclesiastical lineage and 'have not rather mourned' because of our practical shortcomings. Our supreme danger is self-satisfaction; the danger of looking upon our own things and not upon the things of others. Seen by themselves, our own things seem to have a worth which, if seen in relation to the things of another, they would not have. In missionary spirit, in the size of our foreign force, in our achievements in heathen lands, in our power to reach men here in America, in our Sunday-school work, there are several bodies which far excel us.

"One of the thoughtful and broad-minded English divines has written:

"'How many religious orders and societies have lived upon the reputation of the past, and appeared to fancy that the achievements of their founders--the "merits of the fathers"--would justify the apathy and carelessness of those who had inherited an honorable name? Indeed, to whatever we are elect, whether national or ecclesiastical, or personal privileges, the temptation dogs us to rest on our inherited merits and to have no open ear to the guiding voice of God, as it calls us to fresh ventures and renewed sacrifices, like those which laid the basis of the position of which we now make our empty and insolent boast. But thus to evade the uncomfortable requirements of the present by an appeal to the achievements of the past, whether it is the past of the Catholic tradition or the Reformation settlement, is to expose ourselves inevitably to divine condemnation.'

"In a word, has not the proposal to change the name of the Church got us quite off the track? What we need to give heed to is not our name, but warm conviction of simple and fundamental truth, personal character and official competency. Those ministers who have these qualifications will always have a hearing and a following. These are the qualifications which the American people supremely value and in this they have the mind of God. The best way to gain a better name is to possess and show more of the spirit and more of the work which will entitle us to be called by a better name. Then it will come to us without our seeking for or seizing it. Call ourselves what we will, a large part of what constitutes catholicity will be lacking until our richly-endowed fellow-Christians, clerical and lay, who are now separated from us and living their lives and doing! their work in other Christian bodies, unite their personalities and their lives and their work with ours. For myself I deeply regret that the question of change in the name of our branch of the Church was ever brought up. Just as there were some signs of a growing tolerance of difference of opinion and of union in practical work and of a growing appreciation of our ecclesiastical position on the part of other Christian bodies, this proposition appears and will result, I fear, in no good. Provoking Christians on both sides of us, we may find ourselves ground between the upper and nether millstone. According to a Greek myth, at the marriage of Thetis and Peleus, when all the gods and goddesses were gathered together, Discord threw on the table a golden apple for the Fairest.' Of course there were several claimants. No decision could please all. The golden apple became a cause of envy and contention and out of the strife sprang eventually the Trojan War and the destruction of Troy. I cannot but fear that the word 'Catholic' and the proposal to change the name of the Church will prove our 'Apple of Discord.' The successful claimant for the prize will find out that it has only led to envy and contention--envy from those without, contention among those within the Church.

"The following table [with the Protestant Episcopal Church holding the ninth place in figures which need not be reprinted here] shows the twelve largest religious bodies and their gains, according to the last census. Who of us can peruse it and think of the millions who are outside of our branch of the Church and yet revere that holy name whereby we are called, and not resolve, 'I shall go softly all my years'?"

The question of true Catholicism came up again near the very end of Bishop Hare's life. In the last of all his Convocation Addresses (1908), he dealt as follows with the much-discussed "Canon 19":

"An old canon provides as is printed below in Roman letters. The General Convention of 1907 added to this old canon the part printed in italics:

"'No minister in charge of any congregation of this Church, or in case of vacancy or absence, no church-wardens, vestrymen, or trustees of the congregation, shall permit any person to officiate therein, without sufficient evidence of his being duly licensed or ordained to minister in this Church; provided that nothing herein shall be so construed as to forbid communicants of the Church to act as Lay Readers; or to prevent the Bishop of any Diocese or Missionary District from giving permission to Christian Men, who are not Ministers of this Church, to make addresses in the Church, on special occasions.'

"Apparently nothing could be more harmless than this amendment; but some of our clergy, so far as I have learned about sixteen out of our 5,000, have made the addition to Canon 19 the occasion of a secession to the Roman Branch of the Church.

"The question arises, had they not, long before Canon 19 was amended, turned face about from the direction taken at the Reformation by our branch of the Catholic Church, as much so as if in our national life they had resolved to bring about re-submission to the British Crown? Had they not lost to such a degree sympathy with the .general spirit and movement of the Prayer Book that withdrawal from our ministry had come to be their only honorable course? Were they not prepared for an exodus? The passage of Canon 19 simply said, 'Ready, one, two, three,' and off they went. Such secessions are the penalty our Church pays for a broad and generous spirit.

"It professes to be, and tries to be, a part of the Holy Catholic Church and not a sect. It has not broken away from the universal Church in order to follow some particular leader. The road followed by any one man is not sufficiently wide for it; consequently its ranges of thought and feeling cover a large expanse. It results inevitably that some of its parts must be very distant from the centre and that it must have a long line of edges. It is at these edges that other systems nibble. It is from these edges that pieces break off.

"The practical lesson is, 'Keep away from the edges. Let us all draw together toward the centre.' Let us fear above all things a split in the middle. It will be remembered that the decision of the Court of Appeal in a case which arose in the Diocese of Western New York some years ago, gave rise then to some defection on the part of brethren who occupied one extreme of theological opinion. Now, the amendment to Canon 19 has given rise to defection on the part of some brethren who were at the other extreme. Alas, one cannot sacrifice our generosity. Considering the provocation which has sometimes in the past been given to division; considering the ungenerous and intolerant spirit of the age when most of our divisions took their rise, is it not our sacred duty now to try to be reasonable, considerate and generous towards all Christian people? Green in his history of the English people, says of the spirit which at one time ruled the Church, 'The two parties in the Church, the Church party on the one hand and the Nonconformist party on the other, each threw the blame on their opponents; the one reprobated the schismatic temper of the Nonconformists, the other declaimed against the perjury and tyranny of the hierarchy, but neither confessed their own offenses.' Shall we go on forever repeating this folly? Shall we be puffed up and not rather mourn?"

In October, 1903, there was held in Washington a missionary conference of the Bishops of the Church of England in Canada and of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States. Here Bishop Hare made two notable addresses, one on Methods of Dealing with the Indian Races, the other on The Cares and Responsibilities of the Bishop as a Missionary Leader. In each he spoke from the sad and joyful depths of personal experience. Two passages from the first address will suffice: "Let me say that Indian Missions call for the hardest .kind of work and the hardest kind of sense. It will not be done by people who think that every Indian girl is a Pocahontas. The work must be thoroughly human and sympathetic; it must make allowances; it must be appreciative of any good in the Indians: but the Indian must not be seen as in a mirage--though mirages be common in the desert which he frequents--nor uplifted from the ordinary run of things and 'floating vague in the ether.' I am, perhaps, not as confident in my opinions regarding the Indians as I was as a novice thirty years ago, but this I am sure of, the work calls for hard work and hard sense. I have seen nothing to lead me to think [here he reverts almost to the very words of an early opinion] that there is anything in the Indian problem to drive us to mere sentimentality, to quackery, or to despair. It will find its solution, under the favor of God, in the faithful execution of the powers committed by God to the civil government, and in a common-sense ministration of the offices and the gracious gifts deposited with His Church. . . . Now, speaking more broadly, let all methods be inspired and pervaded by a generous human spirit. In other words, let there be identification with the subjects of our effort. This is an essential of Christian work always, everywhere, and among all classes. The fundamental of our Christian faith is the identification of the Son of God with the subjects of His interest. 'He took manhood into God,' and if He did this in His person He did it also in His life. He put Himself on a level with the woman of Samaria, identified Himself with her by asking a favor, 'Give me to drink,' before He undertook to touch the sore place in her heart. It was this Christ living in him that made St. Paul identify himself with the people of Lycaonia and say, 'He gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.' Our religion is a ladder whose top, to be sure, reaches unto heaven; but only as we enable men to see it set up on earth right alongside them, as God placed the ladder alongside Jacob in his vision, will men realize that our religion is for each one the gate of heaven. A well-meaning tract distributer once told me of his discomfiture by reason of failure to practice identification. As he passed along through the market he handed a butcher a tract. The butcher called after him, 'Say, mister, have you read it yourself?' And as he had not read it he beat a quick retreat.

"So far as my observation goes, nothing has more marred and vitiated missionary enterprise both at home and abroad than lack of just this fellow-feeling with the subjects of missionary efforts--lack of ability to appreciate and ready power to do whatever is required by circumstances. This is the special infirmity of our Anglo-Saxon stock. There is a certain obtusenesa which makes us fail to feel the situation. There is a proud unwillingness to put ourselves in the other man's place and to see with his eyes, yea, a haughty denial that any sentiment can be sacred unless it be our sentiment; that anything can be a real conviction and have any power with another unless it be our conviction and have power with us. The undertaking to open a man's eyes to the fact that he and all whom he loves and reverences most have been in error, to turn a man from modes of thought and habits of action which are dear to him, must always be a delicate task. It is hard to save it from being an exasperating process. The personality of the missionary is often unattractive to a man of different race. The foreigner, though an expert linguist, rarely appreciates the delicate turns of expression and other rhetorical processes by which speech is saved from rudeness, and given the form of delicate suggestiveness and not of absolute assertion. And yet we are disposed to stand off as their critics from the people whom we are called to serve, and to discuss their racial and natural and personal peculiarities in letters to newspapers and magazines. Even our petitions for them in intercessory prayer sometimes take on a condescending and patronizing air, which is particularly offensive when it is applied to the rulers of the foreign land where the missionaries are in a certain sense guests, lowering the rulers before their own people by praying publicly for them that they may be turned from darkness unto light and from the power of Satan unto God. Lecky, in his book, The Map of Life, has shown that the event which he terms 'the awful mutiny' in India, which for a time shook the English power there to its very foundation, took its rise in just this defect. 'It was simply a glaring instance of indifference, ignorance, and incapacity too often shown by British administrators in dealing with beliefs and types of character wholly unlike their own.'

"Cow's fat and lard were used in the lubricating mixture with which the cartridges issued to the Sepoy soldiers were smeared, 'one of these ingredients being utterly impure in the eyes of the Hindoo, and the other in the eyes of the Mussulman. To bite these cartridges would destroy the caste of the Hindoo, and carry with it the loss of everything that was most dear and most sacred to him both in this world and in the next. In the eyes of both Moslem and Hindoo it was the gravest and most irreparable of crimes, destroying all hopes in a future world, and yet this crime, in their belief, was imposed upon them as a matter of military duty by their officers.' What had seemed to be the unalterable devotion of the Sepoy regiments gave way under this strain, and they retaliated in the most horrible excesses.

"In missionary annals the story is famous of Gorman, the first missionary Bishop sent to the Northumbrian English. Harsh and unsympathetic, he met with no success, and returned in disappointment to his monastery and reported the English as stubborn and barbarous. 'Hard with hard makes no wall,' says Fuller quaintly, quoting the old proverb, 'and no wonder if the spiritual building went on no better, wherein the austerity and harshness of the pastor met the ignorance and sturdiness of the people.' He was succeeded by Aiden, a man of very sympathetic spirit. He had the art of condescending to babes and feeding them with milk. He threw himself in with the people. He hated display and generally traveled on foot and gave himself to house-to-house visitation. A humble church of split oak, thatched with coarse grass, satisfied his ambition at first. He gathered the boys of the English about him that he might train them to be evangelists to their own people. No wonder he is said to have possessed a 'singular charm of manner and address, which first won his hearers and then incited them to an imitation of his own virtues/

"For every reason the missionary should drive himself to identify himself with the people to whom he is sent, and avoid presenting his particular, perhaps crude, views to the heathen in such a way that they seem to them as 'the cow's fat and lard' seemed to the Mussulman and Sepoy.

"As part of his identification with his people the missionary should be their confidant on any subject pertaining to their personal or material welfare, to their relation to each other, or their relation to the authorities, so far as any of the people may choose to call him to their confidence--being very careful, however, that he is not so ready to receive confidences as to come to be regarded as a sort of common sewer into which any one may dump his filth, nor so ready to give credence to complaints and communicate them to others as to make himself a nuisance. At the same time, missionaries should confine themselves as much as possible to their own calling and their own sphere of work, and not consider themselves inspectors of government officials among the Indians, any more than a good citizen, occupying the office of a clergyman among the whites, should consider himself a universal censor morum and a judge of civil officials there. He should bear in mind that honor and obedience are due to government officials because of their office, and that he can do no more injurious work than to breed a spirit of discontent and sedition; and remember also this fact, that any one who stands off and thinks how a work should be done will always be a mere critic and a hypercritic. We always think that we can do another man's work better than he does it. There is a deal of wisdom in the sarcasm, 'Old maids' children are always well brought up.' "

In sending a printed copy of the second address to Dr. Lloyd, General Secretary of the Board of Missions, Bishop Hare wrote, "My address on 'The Cares and Responsibilities,' etc., was my last word on that general subject. Beneath the humor and irony and sarcasm of my words was the cry of a wounded heart--a cry that our Church does not produce men to do the work which needs to be done." Near the beginning of the address he declared, "The Bishop should be no recluse, much less a seeker of his ease and a slave of home comforts; he should be well known in the weak places and in the high places of the field; but it is a mistake to suppose that the missionary battle is not going on unless the Bishop is seen always nervously hurrying from mission to mission. At the crisis of one of the great battles of the Franco-Prussian War, the king of Prussia's anxiety reached such a height that Bismarck left him and went to the hilltop where Von Moltke stood, to inquire. He found the great general carefully selecting a cigar from a box. Bismarck returned and said, 'Your Majesty, I think all is going on well. He picks his cigars.' Even when so doing, however, Von Moltke was the leader." Bishop Hare goes on to consider such questions as those of investments, of "competing bodies," of Church schools and other institutions, and of raising money. Nearly all of the second half of the address is given to the vital question of workers in the missionary field, and it may well stand as the parting utterance of Bishop Hare on the subject of missions in general:

"But I have left to the last 'the care and responsibility' which is by all odds the first and greatest, viz., the care and responsibility of finding proper field officers, i. e., Missionaries. Ask any Bishop of his chiefest need and he will answer, men. I should suggest as a proper emblem for a Bishop's seal, an etching of Diogenes, walking in broad daylight with a lantern and explaining in sarcastic tone that he is looking for a man. If I speak with too much warmth on this part of my subject ascribe it to personal feeling. I am so happy in the missionaries whom I have in South Dakota that I am vexed that I cannot get more like-minded. And if I make some severe strictures on the ministry I would not forget that never in all the years in which I have known the missionary work of the Church, have the numbers, the character, and the ability of our missionary force been so creditable as they are to-day. Let me also say in mere justice to the clergy that theirs is often a hard lot. This results from the nature of the field. Whether we look at the vast heathen world, or at the multitude of blacks in our own land, or at the millions of white people scattered in tens of thousands of towns and villages which dot the newer parts of our national domain, our field is a missionary field; that is, a field which is not so much inviting as needy; a field which does not offer comfortable rectories, nor parish buildings up-to-date, nor strong congregations which will carry their clergyman on their shoulders. Why in the name of common sense should it be supposed, as it so often is, that the first product of a newly opened country is a cozy parish? Or that new settlers are all athirst for God and His Gospel? Why should it be expected that the people in our new settlements will build a church, stir up their hearts to seek after God, and then send their messengers out to seek for some minister who will be willing to preside over the work which they have done? Beyond all question the requirements are exacting. A new town is made up of very heterogeneous people, odds and ends, thrown together from different parts of the country without any common bond. Do what you will, people sometimes will not be pleased. They are sometimes fault-finding, unsympathetic, and exacting. They expect their clergyman to fill their church, and yet they themselves do what they can to keep it empty by habitually staying away from church, or attending only when they please. They demand of him that he shall be alert, while they themselves are apathetic. They fail to pay their church dues and so create a deficit, and yet they are vexed that the cry of a deficit should be raised so often. They wait to see whether all will like the new minister, while they know very well they do not at all like one another. To add to the difficulties it sometimes happens that the missionary must be required to hold to his post just because the moneyed people of the place will not support him, or because some influential people do not want him--the divorce traffic or the rum traffic, the dominating self-will of a certain person may wish to get rid of him that they may get religion in their own control. There, of course, the Church should bravely witness for Christ. There the reign of righteousness must be maintained, and upon the clergyman must come the brunt of the battle. Oh, how my heart goes out to the clergy in the trials and hardships which their calling often brings upon them. Let me say to these dear brethren, whatever be the cares and responsibilities of the missionary in whichsoever order--diaconate, presbyterate, episcopate--whatever be the meagerness of earthly reward, however lowly, however surly, however unreasonable be the people whom we are called to serve; however forbidding the skies and the climate, let us stand in our lot and try always to learn to say: 'None of these things move me. Neither count I my life dear unto myself; if only I may finish my course with joy and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus.'

"Such is the nature of a large part of the Church's field. And it must have become manifest as I have proceeded that the missionary field calls for the service of the sons of the Church not because it is, in a worldly point of view, an attractive field, not because it promises large and appreciative congregations, nor even because the work in the missionary field is necessarily more important than any other; but, first, because it offers work that needs to be done, that is, work that somebody must do--there are human beings in it, good, careless, wicked, stricken, who must respectively be encouraged, awakened, converted, comforted. Secondly, because in the missionary fields things are in their beginning and presumably formative. Influence for good at such a period is basal and far reaching. Thirdly, because the eyes of many in the missionary field have not yet had a chance to salute the Day-spring on high, who gives light to them that sit in darkness and guides the feet into the path of peace.

"Now what kind of field officers, i. e., missionaries, does the missionary field demand?

"Manifestly men who realize that the work of the ministry is not to wait to be sought, but to seek for Christ's sheep that are dispersed abroad, and for His children who are swallowed up in this wicked world; ministers who are ready, if need be, to do all the work at first themselves, and to stand, to speak figuratively, at their church doors on Sunday morning proclaiming, 'My oxen and my fatlings are killed and all things are ready. Come unto the marriage.'

"Next, the Church manifestly needs for a large part of her work men who are free--men who are free to be much away from home holding services in all sorts of towns and villages and in all sorts of places; men who are free to go where they are needed; men who are free to live where they are needed; men who are free, too, to say what is needed. These are days when unpalatable truths need to be spoken to several different classes--to men and women who flout the moral law under cover of religion; and to capitalists on the one hand and employés on the other who fret under the restraints of right and of duty to each other.

"Next, the conditions demand supple men. I mean men who have manifoldness, flexibility and adjustableness. A man of only one gift and only one power is out of place in the new missionary field. Division of labor cannot be accomplished to any great extent there, and hence those who work for Christ will, of course, be called upon to perform not only one, but many functions of the body of Christ. A man who is only a preacher, or only a pastor, or only a church builder, or only a student, cannot meet the need. And who should be flexible and adjustable if not the ministers of Christ, that is, ministers of the Anointed One? We ministers have not only received the holy oil of confirmation, which should make us, as oil makes leather, supple and flexible; but we have been especially trained for Holy Orders, and have received at our ordination at least the promise and the earnest of all gifts which we can possibly need in our manifold work.

"Lastly, men are needed who have acute spiritual ears; men who can say, 'Mine ears hast Thou opened;' men who scorn the common notion that our Lord, though He is the same yesterday, to-day and forever, said only for once and for one man, 'Sell all that thou hast and come and follow Me'; men who hear that same command repeated now and repeated with all the discriminating, penetrating power of a sharp, two-edged sword.

"We have seen the character of our missionary field, we have seen the kind of laborer needed, and we must ask now, What about the supply? I would by no means depreciate parish work and all that settled home life which is connected with it. The Church would have little stability without them, little edification, little reserve force. Parishes are the Church's dynamos. But, considering the character of our field and the kind of leaders needed, does not the stream of clerical life run too much one way, too much towards married life, parish life and rectories? The process makes one recall scenes in the iron regions where molten iron is seen running into the molds from a smelting furnace and all of it taking there fixed hard shape, the shape called pig iron. Once rectors of well-to-do parishes our young ministers never can be anything else. At least they think so. But, oh, the folly of young ministers expecting that all may be rectors of well-to-do parishes! The number of well-to-do parishes (to use the word in a worldly sense), stands to the number of seekers for them as one stands to five. And oh, the disappointment and unhappiness which the expectation of getting a well-to-do parish brings! If five men try each to get a bite of one cherry, four at least are sure to be disappointed. And what is the condition of things in other callings? Does every young doctor count upon an office on 5th Avenue in New York? Or every young lawyer an office within a few blocks of Wall Street? Life for most men is hard. It is so hard that if only one side of it were looked at, who would be a father or a mother, a husband or a wife? Nay, who would ever have chosen to be born? Why should the clergy expect easy places? Is it ease that makes men useful or happy? Let me point out to young ministers on the contrary the unspeakably miserable results of expectation that it does. You will so habituate yourselves to the conveniences of life, to external appliances and contrivances such as rectories, parish houses, etc., that you will be, to use the Apostle's phrase, 'entangled with the affairs of this life.' You will be slaves to your surroundings and possessions and therefore exceedingly limited in the sphere of work which you will feel you can accept. Result 1: you will find yourself out of employment. Result 2: you will become mere driftwood. Result 3: worse than that, you will become driftwood which has ceased to drift and is beached and dried and rotting. Spiritual vigor, you will have none--enthusiasm, none--love for your work, none--accent of conviction when you preach, none--you will be a weariness to the laity and a mortification to your clerical brethren.

"Have I spoken too plainly? I am sure I have said many unpalatable words, but I trust none which are uncharitable or uncalled for. Self-love would lead us not to acknowledge any of our defects. Apathy would lead us to ignore them. Pride would lead us to prevent their being known. 'Tell it not in Gath, mention it not in the streets of Askelon.' Nevertheless, I have described as faithfully as I know how the existing state of things. Why not go to work and try to raise up men who can and will face it and meet it?

"Of course a new point of view and a new spirit are our chiefest need; but it would greatly ease the painful situation if the Church had what might be called a clearing-house. Banks have their clearing-house where any bank which has a check drawn on another bank may arrange for its reaching its proper destination and being honored, and so would it not be well if Bishops had something like a clearing-house where clergymen who are not fitly placed in a diocese may find their proper place elsewhere? Indeed, why should not each Bishop himself be a clearinghouse? We seem to have nothing of the kind. I have more than once sent out to a number of my brother Bishops a circular stating my need of a particular kind of man and saying that it occurred to me that the exact kind of man needed by me might not be needed where he was, and I have asked that they read my statement of my want and return it to me, not troubling themselves further unless they found they could help me. I can only add that I do not remember that my efforts of this kind have met with much success. In default of a clearing-house among the Bishops, one would think that we would have in connection with our General Missionary Society a central place or agency for information regarding clergymen eligible for the missionary field; but, so far as the domestic part of the field is concerned, we have nothing of the kind.

"Alas, you sigh, as I bring my jeremiad to a close, the Church does not bring forth the kind of children needed for her work. No, she does not--but such a personifying of the Christian society as a mother may be misleading. It may tend to divert attention from the responsibilities of each one of us as those who make up the Church and determine her character and determine the character of her offspring. The Church planted in the world at the second creation is like the seed planted in the earth at the first creation. It brings forth fruit after its kind. The Church's kind or character is determined by the kind of its individual members and that kind, I fear, is not the kind which brings forth missionary sons. It is we individuals who are responsible. It is I, and you, and you, and you, and you, endlessly, who each is lacking in life and in life power, and it is these single individual lacks aggregating and coalescing that lower the Church's general vitality. Captain Mahan most truly wrote: 'A thoroughly healthy, thoroughly vitalized body politic produces spontaneously the leaders it needs; popular impulse finds expression inevitably in individuals, competent and numerous enough to effect the objects toward which it tends.'

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