We are faced, I think, in spite of all hopes to the contrary, with a very long haul. From a moral point of view, good men are being required to grow the organs and resources needed to survive in the wilderness of the world.

I am convinced, in fact, that things are going to worsen unutterably before they grow perceptibly better. So the political import, in the deepest spiritual sense, of a thing like Catonsville, it seems to me, remains very much a matter of continuing debate, a debate which, I suppose and hope, would bo one of love and fraternity rather than one of suspicion or enmity.

I returned only recently from an eight-month round the-world trip which took me to large parts of Africa, some islands in the Indian Ocean, Australia and New Zealand, all of Southeast Asia, and the Far East. One can observe these parts of the world with an inexhausted curiosity, the more so if one has seen them several times in the past. While at first it is amply noticeable that many of these lands are still below the threshold of economic development, a second Or third visit also reveals hitherto unsuspected signs of social stability—acting, to be sure, as a brake on rapid progress, but also helping to maintain a kind of steadiness in people's attitudes and worldviews.

Writing in 1765 in the full swing ot the Enlightenment, an Oxford Don and Bachelor of Divinity Thomas Warton, began the Preface to his famous History of English Poetry (from the eleventh to the eighteenth centuries) with the following lines: