bility of mine." Or of morals, “Let the clergy look out for that; it is no responsibility of mine.”

If we reach the point where nobody is interested in civic life but politicians, none interested in sanitation but doctors, none responsible for civic beauty but architects, none responsible for education but teachers, none responsible for morals but clergymen, then we come to the time when the large cooperation of effort, which alone makes progress possible, is sought in vain.

Anyone who knows this community could pick out two men who typify two classes— one who recognizes no responsibility but that which in his own narrow sphere he chooses; the other who recognizes that the larger responsibilities are those which he does not choose. One benefits by every advance which others bring about, and exerts no effort of his own. The other is devoted not only to his own calling, but has that quality which we call public spirit, ever impelling him to recognize greater responsibilities, and so largely wielding his single task that his work constitutes a service to the entire community.

It is quite striking to find how well the

men of the community are known by their fellows in respect of their attitude toward responsibility. Mention one man's name, and you will be told instantly that it is useless to go to him for any public service, or civic duty, or in the interest of any improvement or development of the community. Mention another name, and all is changed. "Yes, there is your man. If the cause is good, he will devote to it his time, and energy, and means. He is always in favor of anything for the public good.'

Nor are such judgments of men superficial. In a community where individuals are well known, these estimates are, when put to the test, found to be accurate. The measure of men is known in the community. It is known in the street. It is known in the Church. It is known in the home. God knows it, and is judging the man by the measure of responsibility which he accepts. Nay, the final judgment of men is founded upon their acceptance of responsibilities which they have not chosen.

XIV.

THE VENTURE OF HOPE.

And it came to pass, that, as they went, they were cleansed.-S. LUKE xvii, 14.

TEN lepers stood afar off, and cried out to Christ for mercy. Doubtless you have never seen a leper. You do not at all realize the power of this Gospel scene, the pitifulness of this abandoned group of outcasts, and the profound emotion of the Son of Man as He looked upon them. The physical ravages of disease which the ten displayed are too repulsive to be described. The portrayal of their condition would bring before the mind's eye a clinic fit only for the study of those whose duty it is to battle with disease.

Let it suffice to say that leprosy was a slow, foul, living death. It meant banishment from the abodes of men, because it was regarded as highly contagious and usually hereditary. It meant ostracism from all social intercourse, because it was believed to be the mark of sin and of the curse of God. Lepers the law compelled to go about, as it

were marked and labelled. They might not presume to enter a city nearer than its gates. They were obliged to keep a distance of one hundred paces between themselves and healthful men. It was compulsory that they should advertise themselves by wearing the garments of them that mourn. They moved with the solemnity of a funeral procession. Like those who followed the dead to the grave, their garments were torn, their hair disheveled, the lips and lower part of the face covered with a veil. And as they went they gave warning of their dreadful state with the constant cry, "Unclean! Unclean!"

Among the ten lepers described in the chapter from which the text is taken it is significant that one was a Samaritan. Common misery had so swept away the distinctions of caste, that leper Jews had admitted as a boon companion a member of the race against which a long feud existed; they consorted with a man who would have been kicked from the door of any Jewish domicile. The only alleviation from the wretchedness of leprosy was found in the friendly intimacy of lepers with other lepers.

Sad as their case was, you would not have

found them always mourning for themselves. Nothing so strikingly testifies to certain indomitable qualities in human nature, nothing so astonishes the observer, as the occasional exuberancy of joyousness and mirth which is to be found in company of men and women exiled because of hopeless or possibly incurable maladies.

Go today to the encampments of the Adirondacks and of the highlands of the Western States, whither multitudes have been driven to seek recovery from the great white plague, and you will find more laughter there than tears. To be sure, if you view them merely in passing, as they lie stretched, ghost-like, in the open air, you will long be haunted by the vision of emaciated figures, and hollow eyes, and resigned despair. But when you enter into their lives, other things are discoverable. You will learn what fellowship in suffering really means. It is a

marvelous brotherhood. It breaks down all the barriers that the world has built up between man and man. It makes sympathy a genuine power. Among these cut off from all they love, knowing not whether they may ever be again as other men, the quick laughter springs from the lips, and jests fly fast,