life. She had promised to tell Oliver which way, his or Philip's, seemed to her the best, and no decision had come to her as yet. The thought of Philip brought with it a crowd of scenes and faces she had succeeded in forgetting till now. They rose up with vivid distinctness in the silence of the hour, and seemed to look at her reproachfully. 'He showed you something of life's anguish and dismay,' they seemed to say to her, 'and you have put out no hand to lighten our load; you have shut your eyes and gone by on the other side.'

This mute reproach that she seemed to read in the eyes of the poor and the miserable whom Philip had made known to her, stirred some vague uneasiness. To quiet it she rose softly and crossed to her aunt's escritoire; she should write to Philip and show him that she had not entirely passed beyond his interests.

There was dainty crested and scented paper in abundance; she looked in vain for a plainer sheet. It was a foolish fancy, but the very appliances about her seemed to stamp the difference that lay between her lot and his. She did not wish the distinction to be so broadly marked.

Lighting a shaded lamp, she carried it to a corner of the room where the flame would not disturb the sleeper, and began her letter. It was not easy to write, but she wrote it, asking him many questions about his friends and neighbours, and ending with a request that he would send her the books he was studying for the little lectures on physiology she knew he was giving. To be even thus remotely sharing his work seemed to her at the moment a good thing. The only part of her intention she found it impossible to carry out was the offer of money she had proposed to make. Mrs. Ashe was generous, and Belle's purse was never needed on her own account; but to give it because of this to Philip was a step she felt she could not take.

She was folding and sealing her letter when a sudden strain of music, reaching them through an open door, woke her aunt. Belle left the table and went over to her.

'Do you feel better?' she asked gently.

again.'

'No, dear, I am better.'

'Let me wet that cloth

Mrs. Ashe clasped the cool hand affectionately in her own. 'I want nothing more. Were you playing just now? I heard music.'

'It is Mr. Harley, I think; it was too bad of him to wake you.' No, no, I like them to be happy. Go back, dear child; they will grumble if you shut yourself up here with me.'

'I have not been down this evening,' Belle answered smiling; I have been writing beside you. They have not missed me, you see.' Oliver would miss you.'

The mother looked at her with anxious eyes; she wanted Belle to feel the importance of this fact.

'I like best to be with you,' Belle answered gently. Don't send

me away. They are quite happy alone; and you will like me to read to you or chat with you, won't you?'

I should like to keep you always,' said Mrs. Ashe eagerly. 'I want to have you for my very own daughter.'

She looked at the girl standing beside her as if she must understand all her hopes and wishes. It was no longer possible for her to maintain the prudent course she had determined on.

Belle, dear Belle,' she said beseechingly, 'you will do what Oliver wishes? You will listen to him?'

It was impossible not to understand. She was not one of those girls who go about the world seeing in every man they meet a possible lover. Her imagination had not gone out in this way; she had thought, on the contrary, of love as of some sacred mystery as yet unfathomed by her. But though her aunt's eagerness troubled her she could not mistake the cause.

'Don't let us think about troublesome things just now,' she said softly; that won't cure your headache.'

She did not want to choose or to decide; it was easiest to put the whole matter aside. But Mrs. Ashe would not let it be thus easily swept from her mind.

'I should not have spoken if I did not feel sure—if Oliver had not told me,' she said wistfully; 'but I don't want my boy to be disappointed. Belle, you will be kind to him?'

Belle looked down gravely for a moment into the mother's pleading face.

I must go back to Aunt Burnside,' she broke out, hardly knowing why she said it, yet feeling it must be said. 'I have been writing to Philip; I have told him I will come back.'

All at once she understood that she could not do this thing that was asked of her. It was cruel to wound the mother's anxious love, and yet it was kind. She could not accept anything at Oliver's hand because was it because she had already had a glimpse of something higher? She did not know; her imagination would not carry her any further.

'Oh, don't look so sorry,' she said with sudden contrition, laying her cheek softly against the faded cheek on the pillow. Don't look so sorry; indeed, I am not worth it!'

(To be continued.)

CAMEOS FROM ENGLISH HISTORY.

САМЕО ССІ.

1603-1612.

THE ARMINIAN PERSECUTION.

THE term Arminian is so often supposed to mean a species of heretic, and to mark as such some of our greatest and best Churchmen, that we must go into its history, although it came from a foreign soil.

Calvin had laid great stress on those passages of the Epistle to the Romans which speak of the foreknowledge of God as to the ultimate fate of each individual. Thence he deduced the doctrine of predestination, which denied that the lot of human beings depended on themselves, and declared that they had no real free will, but were from the first destined either to mercy or to wrath, and moved like puppets under their doom. This teaching, of course, led, on the one hand to careless assurance, on the other to reckless despair, though happily there were many loving and faithful souls between these two extremes who never realised the full import of their creed. While the struggle was for life and death between Rome and the Reformation, the details of teaching were not examined into, but in the peace of European weapons the theological war began.

The doctrine of predestination was the most fully expressed in what was called the Heidelberg Catechism; and a synod of the pastors of Holland had decreed that this must be signed by all their preachers, and be to them what the Thirty-nine Articles are to the English Church and the Confession of Augsburg to the Lutherans. Many preachers hesitated to pledge themselves to doctrines that they did not think Scriptural nor according to primitive faith, and still more, not accordant with the eternal mercy of God. Of these Jacob Hermann, a minister of Amsterdam, or as he Latinised his name, Arminius, was the foremost, and under his influence a number of clergy refused their signature.

The University of Leyden in 1603 chose Arminius as their Professor of Theology. The opposite party, in great wrath, insisted on holding a synod, and the States-General gave permission, but at first only on condition that there should be a revision of the confession of faith and catechism. The ministers refused, but the States-General insisted, led by John Barneveldt, then Advocate and Keeper of the Seals, who declared in their name that as 'foster fathers and protectors of the churches to them every right belonged.' It was an Erastian sentiment, but this opinion was held by all reformed governments,

including the English, and Barneveldt spoke in the hope of mitigating Calvinistic violence. The Advocate of the States-General was in fact their mouthpiece. They might vote, but no one expressed their decisions at home or abroad save the Advocate; and Barneveldt, both from position and character, was thus the chief manager of civil affairs, and an equal if not a superior power to Maurice of Nassau, the Stadtholder and commander-in-chief, and recently, by the death of his elder brother, Prince of Orange. The question had even been mooted of giving him the sovereignty, but to this Barneveldt was strongly averse.

Maurice knew very little about the argument, and his real feelings were Arminian, though jealousy of Barneveldt made him favour the opposite party, whose chief champion was Jacob Gomer, or Gomerus as he called himself. King James, though really holding with the Arminians, disliked Barneveldt, and therefore threw all the weight of England into the scale against them. Arguments were held before Maurice and before the university, in which three champions on the one side were pitted against three on the other, but nothing came of them but a good deal of audacious profanity, till Arminius, in ministering to the sick during a visitation of the plague at Amsterdam, caught the disease and died. He was so much respected that the University of Leyden pensioned his widow. They chose a young Genevese, named Conrad Voorst or Vorstius, as his successor.

Voorst had written two books, one on the nature of God, Tractatus Theologicus de Deo, and the other, Exegesis Apologetica, in which (by Fuller's account) there was a considerable amount of materialism, and likewise what amounted to a denial of the Divine Omniscience, being no doubt a reaction from extreme Calvinism. King James met with the book, and was horrified at its statements. He conceived himself bound to interfere both as protector to the States-which he said had been cemented with English blood-and because the University of Leyden was much frequented by the youth of England and Scotland, who often completed their legal studies there. He ordered Sir Ralf Winwood, his ambassador at the Hague, to deliver a sharp remonstrance to the States, and to read them a catalogue of the dangerous and blasphemous errors that he had detected, recommending the States to protest against the appointment, and burn the books.

Barneveldt was much distressed, and uncertain whether James really was speaking out of zeal for orthodoxy, or to have an excuse for a quarrel. Letters and arguments passed without number. Vorstius defended himself in a speech three or four hours' long, and wrote numerous answers, which did not satisfy the king. Leyden supported the professor it had invited, and, together with Barneveldt, felt that to expel a man whom they had chosen, at the bidding of a foreign sovereign, was almost accepting a yoke like that of the Inquisition. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that Vorstius was really heretical in

doctrine, but that James had no right to meddle in the affairs of a foreign university, and thus he enlisted on behalf of the object of his enmity men who would not have espoused the cause of heresy, but who were fain to resist unauthorised interference. Maurice, on the other hand, was glad to set the English King against Barneveldt, and to represent that support of the foes of strict Calvinism meant treachery to the Republic and a betrayal to Spain. Winwood, on the King's part, insisted on Vorstius's dismissal and banishment.

Barneveldt said that even if the man ceased to be a professor, he believed the magistrates of Leyden would retain him in the place. Winwood said if they dared to do so his master could make them ask pardon on their knees.

'I was born in liberty,' said Barneveldt. 'I cannot digest such language. The King of Spain himself durst not speak in such a style.'

"The King of England is peer to the King of Spain,' returned Sir Ralf, and his motto is "Nemo me impune lacessit."

They parted in anger, and James had the obnoxious works burnt at S. Paul's Cross, while his remonstrance prevented the States from permitting the professor to take possession of his chair. He never lectured, but lived privately at Gouda, waiting for a final decision of his case.

This was, however, aside from the great controversy on predestination. Its chief effect was to sow distrust of Barneveldt and lead James to dislike the party which he supported, and which was unjustly confounded with that of Vorstius.

Maurice's own preacher, Uytenbogen, wrote a remonstrance on behalf of the Arminians, who were therefore sometimes termed Remonstrants, while the Gomerists, from their answer, were called Counter-Remonstrants Unfortunately, political jealousy of Barneveldt on the part of Maurice caused the influence of Uytenbogen to decline. Most of the preachers and of the populace held to the Counter-Remonstrants and their old-fashioned Calvinism, most of the nobles and magistrates were Remonstrants. The question began to branch into a second, namely, whether the state had power to control the faith of all its subjects, and whether when it convoked a synod it could control its decisions, or was bound to enforce them absolutely and without question. A printer pertinently asked, on a strip of paper thrust into the lottery, 'In the name of the Prince of Orange, I ask once and again, what difference lies between the Inquisition of Rotterdam and Spain?' The effusion was traced home to him, and he not only lost his prize in the lottery, but had a fortnight's imprisonment, and was fed on bread and water.

There was an absolute schism. Whichever party was predominant in a place turned the other out of church. Appeals were made to the Stadtholder, and he became angry. The States-General at large, with