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said that art, in itself, should have no moral. It has been further charged that cabal alz the tendencies of cabal alz some of Zola's works are hurtful. But, buy cabal alz in the books of this master, the aberrations of vice are nowhere made attractive, or insidiously nostale gold alluring. The shadow of expiation, remorse, punishment, retribution is ever flyff penya present, like a death's-head at a feast. The day of reckoning comes, and bitterly do the culprits realize flyff gold that the tortuous game of vice is not worth the candle. Casuistical theologians may attempt to explain away the notions of punishment in the life to come, of retribution beyond the grave. But the shallowest thinker will not deny the realities of remorse. To how many flyffpenya confessions, to how many suicides has it led? Of how many reformed lives has it been the mainspring? The great lecturer, John B. Gough, used to tell a story of a railway employee whose mind was overthrown by his disastrous error in misplacing a switch, and who spent his days in the mad-house repeating the phrase: "If I only had, if I only had." His was not an intentional or wilful dereliction. But in the hearts of how many repentant sinners does there not echo through life a similar mournful refrain. This lesson has been taught by Zola in more than one of his romances.