into an empty formalism, at least in England, amidst the cor apting alliance of Church and State. It was the aim of Wesley to withdraw religion from the control of the great and the powerful, of statesmen or of bishops, to make it the light and the solace of the worship and the cottage, the almshouse and the jail; to diffuse its sacred teachings among the people, and preach, with saintly earnestness, the gospel of the poor.

As contrasted with all other successful teachers of a faith, whether true or false, it is a striking trait of Wesley's triumph that he was never aided by the civil power; that his disciples have never wielded the sword of persecution, nor gained any victories but those of peace. History, indeed, has no record of any other great religious movement, except the founding of Christianity, that was not perfected in violence, and sealed with the blood of its opponents. The Greek Church was planted in Russia by the civil power; the Romish Church won its supremacy by bitter wars and endless cruelties. Bernard and Dominic enforced their teachings by the sword; Luther and Calvin were often sustained by the arms of their adherents; the dark and treacherous brotherhood of Loyola obtained its ascendency by arousing in every land the fiercest flames of religious persecution. But of the millions of devout believers who have lived and died in the simple faith of Wesley, not one has yielded to any sterner influence than the power of Divine love. As the vast wave of reform has swelled from the poor cottage at Epworth over England and America, over the Pacific and the Indian seas, it has never needed a Constantine or a royal protector; has been governed in its holy victories by no human hand.

It is said that the domestic life of the noble reformer was anything but that foretaste of heaven which wedded bliss is supposed to be. At about the age of fifty he married a lady whose beauty of face and form, rather than of mind, attracted him, and she proved to be a shrew and a vixen, and poor Wesley learned to his sorrow that he had caught a Tartar. Her terrible temper embit

tered and destroyed the peace of his remaining years.

He died March 2, 1791, in the eighty-eighth year of his age, and in the sixty-fifth year of his Christian ministry.

GEN PHILIP H. SHERIDAN.

F the boyhood of General P. H. Sheridan little is known. He has not been handed down to posterity by the precocious wit of infantile prattle, or by wonderful exploits in his baby boyhood, and has not yet, to our knowledge, been spoken of or made famous by any doting biographers as the "curly-headed little boy who never told a lie." In years to come, when he has passed away, and there is no one living who can, from personal recollection, contradict it, even this honor may be lavished upon his memory, in addition to those which belong to it in reality.

General Sheridan was born in Perry county, Ohio. His parents were plain, unpretending Irish people, and their boy was early set at such employment as would enable him to do something towards his own support. At seventeen he drove a watering cart through the streets of Zanesville, the genius, howeve. that was in him attracted the attention of a member of Congress, who secured him a cadetship for West Point. The next five years, we fancy, were a curious compound of good and evil, and often his progress was like climbing a slippery hill, where the pedestrian takes "two steps forward and one back," until by this slow manner he reaches the top-for "Phil." did reach the top at last. He was quick tempered, proud and rash, as full of frolic as it was possible for human nature to be, and as fond of fight as frolic. Indeed, it is said, that "black marks" counted up so fearfully fast against him that it was almost impossible for him to remain in the academy; and sometimes the matter of turning away the troublesome but brilliant boy was seriously considered. At last, however, less through fear of the disgrace than from a desire to succeed, he managed, by the exercise of a vast amount of self-control, to keep his temper in check, and his mind on the rules; and he won the sympathy of his teachers, who knew how strong was the effort this required. They were

afterwards indulgently blind to his little slips. Yet with all the favoritism that could be shown him, he just nearly failed to gradHe got through somehow, though, as he expressed it, "with the skin of his teeth."

His first exploits were in Texas, where, among the savage tribes on the frontier, he grew more bold and reckless than heretofore, and his quick, but impulsive Irish nature found abundant food to mature upon; if, indeed, there were need for circumstances to develop it. In 1856 he was put in command of the forces at Yokima reservation, and here his treatment of the Indians was so kind, and his negotiations so judicious as to win him compliments from General Scott. At the breaking out of the war of 1861 he was ordered east, and received the rank of first lieutenant. Soon after he was promoted to captain in the Fifteenth and sent to Jefferson Barracks. He does not seem to have been ambitious for promotion, or to have craved glory so much for himself, as to desire, with something like jealousy, that full justice should be done his men. Refusing, at one time, to forage on the enemy's country to the extent that some of the commanders seemed to think the fortunes of war allowed, he wrote a letter to General Curtis in which he expressed his opinion on the subject in terms more remarkable for honesty and force, than for elegance or respectfulness, and was ordered to be placed under arrest for "contempt of his superior officer." It is said that when the charge was read, Sheridan's only answer was a significant smile, and a slowly drawled out "very likely." The pressing need of good cavalry officers, however, was so great that he was not long kept in "durance vile," but was released and sent as captain of the Second Michigan Cavalry, to Corinth. After his brilliant exploit at Booneville he was made brigadier general. At the battle of Murfreesboro-we wish we could give you all the story, it cripples it so to speak of it in fragmentary sketches, as our space compels us to, but there he won laurels that will never die, and saved the reputation of Rosecrans, as he himself admitted in the dispatch in which he praised in the highest terms-not too extravagant— they could not be the bravery of the men. His division was literally butchered under his eyes, as he held them firm in the martyrdom which they willingly suffered, for their sacrifice saved the army. Negley was pushed forward at last to cover their retreat,

when their ammunition was exhausted and the bayonet could not be used, and they left the field in sullen silence, with firm step— that little handful—and shouldered arms, like men who were going out to victory. In his dispatch he said: "I knew before I reached the thicket that hell was in there; but I knew it better when I got there and saw the men fall right and left, while Sheridan rode bareheaded, sword in hand, through the fire and smoke, begrimed with powder, stained with dust and blood, lightning leaping from his eyes and curses from his tongue-he did indeed seem the incarnate Spirit of Darkness."

After the battle of South Mountain he was made Brigadier General in the place of General McPherson, that noble chief, who went down in the early morning of his life. In the battle of Middleton, whose glory is of so terrible a brightness that the pen of the historian pauses while his mind gropes blindly for words that will paint its colors, and whose appalling gloom chills the blood in its haste to the heart, and whose victory was tempered by the sad, sad loss it costs us, Sheridan performed the feat which will be remembered so long as time lasts. Of this, Thomas Buchanan Reed wrote his masterpiece, the poem called "Sheridan's Ride." No poet could do it justice; only the gratitude of the country can do that.

In person, Sheridan is not one's ideal of a military commander. He is short, broad, well-knit, compact, and though not exactly meriting that title, is known among his soldiers as "Little Phil." His face is a pleasant one-rather handsome it looks to partial eyes,—with eyes that are always either dancing with fun or flashing with feeling. In private intercourse he is frank, genial, social and a general favorite. As a military commander, he ranks with our first officers, and well deserves the fame he has won.