bony arm the mandate to proceed no further arid depart from the scene while all eyes gaze in astonishment amidst a breathless suspense. It reminds one of the classic lore of India where power on the physical plane stood strangely devitalised for wrong-doing in the presence of spiritual authority. A voice, a glance, a passing shadow of the latter has time and again arrested the descent of the blow that had been aimed by the mighty against the forlorn. Gladstone's voice against Turkish atrocities was not a political voice—nor was it a voice in the wilderness. But it fell upon a political people; and although it reverberated through two continents, it took a long time to be of avail on the plane of political happenings. That is the nearest approach of a parallel we can find from England where a political situation excited from one of her greatest men the wrath of a prophet. Many others might have felt as Gladstone, and many others might have found perhaps stronger words. But from him the words sounded like a doom. And why? Entirely because of the Man. Of course here, there have been no atrocities under British Rule as under the Turkish. There never were. But it is not atrocities alone that provoke
