POPULAR MISCELLANY. 



857 



would come with a better grace from the 

 fact that I have just published what will 

 probably be considered a somewhat severe 

 criticism of Herbert Spencer's Political Eth- 

 ics. But I am not unmindful of the aston- 

 ishing power that he has become in the 

 thought of the world, which renders any 

 utterance of his wherein he is wrong so 

 potent for evil. I recently asked a student 

 of Oxford, here for a few days on his winter 

 vacation, how Spencer was regarded at Ox- 

 ford, and he told me that although his name 

 was rarely spoken and then only in a whis- 

 per, as if, on Pope's theory of vice in gen- 

 eral, its very utterance might lead to closer 

 acquaintance, nevertheless Spencer was the 

 unseen but overshadowing presence that 

 surrounded the university and which it was 

 considered necessary perpetually to guard 

 against and drive back. I am not finding 

 fault with the widespread opposition to 

 Spencer. Nothing could be worse than to 

 set up a high priest of opinion and bow 

 down to authority. But I have often been 

 amused to see how simple a matter it is 

 supposed to be to refute his doctrines and 

 overthrow his system. And I am disposed 

 to attribute the solidity of his system, and 

 the wonderful resistance which it offers to 

 this perpetual bombardment, to the high 

 degree in which it rests upon the firm foun- 

 dations of truth. I am myself disposed to 

 follow him with little deviation all the way 

 until he reaches deductive sociology and 

 ethics, and I leave him here only because I 

 believe that, owing to unfortunate early po- 

 litical preconceptions, he has himself left 

 the clear path which his entire system logic- 

 ally requires him to follow. But I did not 

 rise either to approve or disapprove Spen- 

 cer's philosophy, but simply to draw atten- 

 tion to the kind of man the world has to 

 deal with when it ventures to antagonize his 

 achievements. He fills no chair in any great 

 university, he bears no title from the Eng- 

 lish crown, he holds no high post of public 

 honor, he boasts no classical scholarship, he 

 speaks no language but his mother tongue, 

 and yet, by a complete mastery of that 

 tongue, and by the sheer power of vigorous 

 and organized thought applied to an ' en- 

 cyclopedic ' acquaintance with all that is 

 worth knowing in the world, he has forced 

 his way into every department of human 



thought and action. He has invaded sci- 

 ence, art, philosophy, literature, morals, and 

 religion in a way and with an authority 

 that have commanded respect and attention, 

 until to-day the eyes of the whole thinking 

 world are centered upon him. I did not 

 know but that Americans were alone in ren- 

 dering him this unintended homage, but I 

 have learned to-day that it is also the habit 

 of his own countrymen." 



The Land of Kashmir. Giving an ac- 

 count of his Karakorum expedition, Mr. W. M. 

 Conway said that the actual Kashmir was 

 widely different from the land full of all ma- 

 terial delights and scenes of idyllic beauty 

 which poets had described. It might, in 

 truth, be described as a " crumpled Sahara," 

 with rocks and precipitous slopes, stony, 

 naked, devoid of moisture or of shade, a 

 gi-illing, hopeless, impassable wilderness. The 

 only relief to its absolute desert were the 

 patches of artificial irrigation. In this in- 

 hospitable region there were great masses of 

 mountains covered with snow, from which 

 sometimes streams issued which created oases 

 here and there of singular fertility. In them 

 alone was any population to be found. The 

 starting point of the expedition was Gilgit 

 now an important military outpost, but a few 

 years ago unknown to British travelers. 

 Gilgit is about five thousand feet above sea 

 level and affords an exaggerated example of 

 the climate of these regions. It was almost 

 rainless during the months of May and June 

 and the earlier part of July. He had just 

 received a letter from a British officer sta- 

 tioned at Gilgit who gave him a vivid account 

 of a terrible flood which occurred on July 7th 

 and in the course of five days wrought a posi- 

 tive geological revolution. All the bridges 

 and piers were destroyed, and the engineers 

 had to extemporize a bridge with a span of 

 three hundred and forty-six feet. From this 

 cheerless region he emerged into a land of 

 glaciers and traversed the great Hispar, Bal- 

 toro, and Biafro glaciers. These great snow- 

 fields resembled though planned on a much 

 vaster scale those of the Alps. Besides the 

 snowfields there were great areas of moraine 

 inhospitable deserts covered with large masses 

 of broken stone. There sprang up from them 

 mountain peaks ranging from twenty thou- 

 sand to twenty-eight thousand feet. In the 



