THE anemic society of to-day needs t so much the specializing genius - the artist who lives because of his works - as the all-around man, the vital personality whose works live because of him; the man to whom thing human is alien, whose experience circumscribes and transcends that of the common lot; the prodigious individual rather than the individual prodigy, the master rather than the marvel. Such an one is Augustine, once Bishop of Hippo, peerless controversialist, incomparable church father; and once. the dreaming, doubting, half-heathen youth and man, eager of brain, restless of heart, lover of pleasure more than lover of God. M. Nourisson introduces his study of the philosophy of Augustine with the following remark: If St. Augustine had left only the Confessions and The City of God it would have been easy from them alone to account for the respectful sympathy which environs his memory. How indeed can one fail, in The City of God, to admire the flights of genius, and in the Confessions the yet more precious effusions of a great soul? It must be confessed that these portrayals flaming with passion, these ardors of repentance, these wingings toward heavenly things, are what have made the name of the Bishop of Hippo popular. There exists heart, whatever be its native mediocrity, which is incapable of recognizing something of its own experience in these vacillations, these tempests, these holy transports of Augustine. Hence the prestige conquering centuries, which attaches to this ble figure. However, who does t kw him? To this question, which implies so widespread an acquaintance with Augustine, one can but reply, Who does kw him? How few are they who kw even his Confessions, when compared to those who kw them t! And still fewer they who kw even a small part of the vast City of God. It is certain, however, that he who kws the Confessions, t to add the City of God, has made acquaintance with Augustine. But the whole man is t there. There is always something, perhaps the main thing, to be learned about a person which the person himself cant tell. Just as power can the giftie gie us, to see ourselves as others see us, so to one is it given to completely describe himself. The sincerity of his desire to do so can contribute thing toward the success of his effort. The portrait which the Confessions hang before us is Dot that of the Soliloquies. The naif convert at Cassiacum had Dot the self-consciousness which pre-eminence as a church father forced upon the Bishop of Hippo. In the Soliloquies Augustine, - to use the significant slang completely gives himself away, while in the Confessions he deals himself out in painstaking instalments with conscientious purpose to give full measure, and yet, somehow, comes a littleshort. This is t to undervalue the incomparable Confessions, but only to te that the impressionist touch in a careless sketch oftendoes more for the likeness than a world of preraphaelite detail which may be better art.