the words of the last two verses of the book, the prophet had no more to say. The book does not end with Jehovah's argument for showing mercy; really it ends, I think and would so end if arranged in dialogue style with a long dash, representing the prophet's speechlessness! There was no answer to such a question as the Lord asked. Here was something which Jonah had not pondered, the compassion as well as the justice of the Lord.

"There's a wideness in God's mercy

Like the wideness of the sea;
There's a kindness in His justice
Which is more than liberty."

Universalism. There is no limit to the compassion and love of God, save as self-will erects barriers to keep it out. "The Lord rejoiceth in His works, and His kingdom ruleth over all." It is He who has made the round world, and all men that dwell therein. Hence all men are His children, potentially if not in actual fact. All men share somewhat of the Divine nature-that "seed of the Word" which is planted in every human soul.

Such doctrine seems quite natural, to us, after twenty centuries of Christianity and of civilization. But it was a remarkable doctrine to be preached in ancient Jewry, with its gates fast barred against foreign influences, foreign commerce, foreign ideas, foreign culture, foreign religion. The Jew looked upon himself as the chosen of God; salvation was of the Jews; no heathen could hope to know God save by becoming a member of the Jewish state. The heathen as such were despised.

The author's belief in the universality of God's love is seen not only in the choice of Nineveh as the field for the prophet's labors, though that is the great outstanding

feature of the book: Nineveh, the wicked, the cruel, the ravager of its neighbors, the bloody city, whose victims all the peoples of the west of Asia had been, at one time or another! But it is seen also in the lighter touches and details of the story. For instance, it is a striking contrast which is suggested, in the first chapter, between the pious sailors in the storm, and the disobedient, sleeping prophet. It is a heathen ship-master who wakens the prophet and tells him to pray. The good-natured kindliness of heart seen in the sailors, who try to save Jonah by rowing to land, even after the lot has fallen upon him, proving his guilt, even after he has confessed his sin, is sharply in contrast with his willingness that God should sacrifice Nineveh to make good a prophet's word.

What a contrast, too, is to be seen in the story of Abraham praying for the wicked cities of the plain, told in Genesis! Not all of Judaism was so exclusive and intolerant as that which predominated from the time of Ezra to the late Middle Ages. We can well believe that there was always a minority which represented tolerance and charitableness, even in the darkest days of Jewish bigotry and fanaticism. And it was in the midst of this minority that Jesus of Nazareth appeared, and to which He appealed in His teaching.

It was a wonderful doctrine for the days in which the book appeared-about three hundred years before Christ. We find traces of it elsewhere in the Old Testament, scattered traces, to be sure: in some of the Psalms, in II Isaiah, in some of the Apocryphal books. But it is not till the New Testament that we find it in its fulness. "Many shall come from the east and from the west, and shall sit down with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the Kingdom of God" (Matthew viii, 11). "For there is no distinction

between Jew and Greek: for the same Lord is Lord of all, and is rich unto all that call upon Him" (Romans x, 12).

It is in the Book of Jonah that we catch the first gleam of this new light of the Gospel, the first faint tokens of the dawn of a new day, when "all the ends of the earth shall remember and turn unto the Lord; and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before Him" (Ps. xxii, 27).

I

Silence in the Clergy House

AN AMERICAN PRIEST.

BELIEVE Savonarola made the ironical statement that the Saints of his day were so busy talking to God that they could not hearken to Him; and one might say the same words today when there is so much talk and stir and too little thought and quietness. No one will doubt that those who have proved most useful and efficient in any walk of life, and above all in the spiritual life, have received their stimulus and vision from quiet and receptive hours of silence and solitude. "Speak Lord, for thy servant heareth." "I was left alone and saw this great vision." To a mystic such times are the happiest moments of his life and we must all become mystics in a greater or lesser degree before our religion can be called real. Christian mysticism simply means a conscious and personal communion with God. It means that God's presence is felt, known, and is therefore real. Hence silence to a mystic is an opportunity when he can enter more closely into this communion with his God.

Of course, silence and solitude is necessary for any pursuit which involves thought and care. "No one," says

Goethe, "can produce anything unless he isolates himself." Did not Sir Walter Scott say, "that if he had to choose between perpetual conversation and perpetual solitude by all means he would choose the latter"? I think most of us would agree. It is only those who have a poverty of experience, shallowness of character, and a lack of self-training in prayer and meditation, who grow restless and impatient under protracted silence. It is only too sad to see the number of priests who fail in this respect, and especially at diocesan retreats and otherwise.

But so much has been written by spiritual masters as to the practice of silence from a spiritual standpoint as a means of deepening the spiritual life and drawing nearer to God and developing friendship with Him, that one has very little to say beyond the ordinary platitudes on the subject. Yet there is much to be said upon a certain practical side of the subject which has especially to do with common life of those priests living in Clergy Houses. I feel confident that many who have lived in Clergy Houses and Associate Missions will agree that the rule of silence at meals and during parts of the day would solve a serious problem. One can safely say, I think, that the reason for a large amount of harshness, bitterness and enmity in the Clergy Houses is due largely to the failure to practice silence at meals. Why Clergy Houses are not always what what we would like them to be is due somewhat to their unwillingness to investigate and test and discipline themselves to the rule and power of silence.

Of course, there is the objection usually made that silence with reading at meals makes for a bad digestion. But this argument is usually made by those who have never tried the practice of reading at meals. The objection breaks down in actual experience. If one has lived

the Religious life for any definite period of time, as the writer has, I doubt whether he would hear them complaining of bad digestions. After all it is only a matter of getting used to it.

If one has read A. C. Benson's very entertaining and helpful book "The School-Master," he will recall in one of its chapters a helpful contribution on this power of silence and it is a strong witness as it comes from an unexpected source. He writes thus: "It is hardly to be hoped that men, possibly irritable and probably tired, should meet day after day at meals without engendering a certain amount of friction; and possibly the institution of silent meals, as in monastic life, might be useful if feasible. In a close society all sorts of little things get on sensitive nerves. The tones of certain voices, the familiar turns of remarks, ancient stories, methods of dealing with food, small personal characteristics, are apt to grate on perceptions stimulated by irritability. I am sure that it is a good thing that masters should be, if possible, in separate lodgings, and that they should not meet more than once in the day, if it can be so arranged without undue expense. But if they must meet, nothing but the exercise of resolute, careful tact, can possibly minimize the evil. If masters can breakfast alone, and can take a midday meal with the boys, they ought to be able to meet once a day without undue friction; and the occasional presence of the headmaster at these gatherings doubtless would tend to preserve harmony. At the same time it is probable that there will be some masterful, prejudiced man of quick speech who will inevitably give a good deal of pain to his colleagues. A stubborn insistence on opinions, the expression of contempt for other people's views, are difficult to avoid in such societies.”