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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c097dc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55134 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55134) diff --git a/old/55134-0.txt b/old/55134-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 73d9f81..0000000 --- a/old/55134-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8952 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, April 1884, No. 7, by -The Chautauquan Literary and Scientific Circle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, April 1884, No. 7 - -Author: The Chautauquan Literary and Scientific Circle - -Editor: Theodore L. Flood - -Release Date: July 17, 2017 [EBook #55134] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHAUTAUQUAN, VOL. 04 *** - - - - -Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - - THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - - _A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE. - ORGAN OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE._ - - VOL. IV. APRIL, 1884. No. 7. - - - - -Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle. - - -_President_—Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio. - -_Superintendent of Instruction_—Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven, Conn. - -_Counselors_—Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.; Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.; Bishop H. -W. Warren, D.D.; Prof. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D. - -_Office Secretary_—Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J. - -_General Secretary_—Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa. - - - - -Contents - -Transcriber’s Note: This table of contents of this periodical was created -for the HTML version to aid the reader. - - REQUIRED READING - Readings from French History - IX.—Louis XVI. 377 - X.—The Great French Revolution (1792-1796) 380 - XI.—Napoleon I. (1796-1814) 381 - Commercial Law - III.—Agency 382 - Readings in Art - I.—Italian Painters and Paintings 384 - Sunday Readings - [_April 6_] 388 - [_April 13_] 389 - [_April 20_] 390 - [_April 27_] 391 - Selections from American Literature - Thomas Wentworth Higginson 392 - Henry James, Jr. 393 - William Dean Howells 394 - Charles Dudley Warner 394 - United States History 395 - Light at Eventide 397 - The Cooper Institute 398 - Green Sun and Strange Sunsets 400 - Anthony Trollope’s Autobiography 400 - Sabbath Chimes 402 - Eight Centuries with Walter Scott 403 - Geography of the Heavens for April 405 - Edgar Allen Poe 407 - British and American English 410 - Still Young 412 - The Gospels Considered as a Drama 412 - Prohibition in Maine 415 - The Industrial Schools of Boston 417 - Echoes from a Chautauqua Winter 419 - C. L. S. C. Work 421 - Outline of C. L. S. C. Readings 422 - Local Circles 422 - Questions and Answers 425 - Chautauqua Normal Course 426 - Editor’s Outlook 428 - Editor’s Note-Book 430 - C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for April 432 - Notes on Required Readings in “The Chautauquan” 434 - Talk About Books 436 - - - - -REQUIRED READING - -FOR THE - -_Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1883-4_. - -APRIL. - - - - -READINGS FROM FRENCH HISTORY. - -By REV. J. H. VINCENT, D.D. - - -IX.—LOUIS XVI. - -About twenty years of age, amiable, irresolute, of simple tastes and -earnest piety, Louis XVI. succeeded to the throne at a time when these -qualities of gentleness could avail but little against the crowning evils -of the age, and when the supreme genius and iron will of a Cromwell or a -Napoleon could alone have averted the destruction by which the state was -menaced. Signs of dissolution and prophecies of woe were already abroad. -Long wars and the lavish expenditure of the last century and a half, had -reduced the finances of the kingdom to a deplorable condition. The public -credit was at its lowest ebb. The treasury presented a deficit of forty -millions. The people, over-taxed, restless, half-savage, and dangerously -intelligent, abandoned agriculture and sought a precarious subsistence by -smuggling and spoliation. A spirit of political and religious infidelity -pervaded the middle and lower classes. The throne had too long been -degraded by excess, and tarnished by scandal, to command the affection -of the multitude. The nobles were scorned rather than reverenced, and -not even the ancient stronghold of terror remained. The clergy, by their -cruelties, their ignorance, and their debaucheries had alienated the -great body of the people, and brought down upon themselves the satire -and indignation of the enlightened. In Voltaire, Rousseau, Montesquieu, -and D’Alembert, the new opinions had found their chief advocates and -leaders. Before their sweeping censures Christianity, loyalty, tradition -had trembled, and sunk away. They were speedily reinforced by all the -intelligence of the age. A host of distinguished men hastened to their -support, and the innovators carried all before them—leveling good as -well as evil, trampling upon much that was pure in their reckless hatred -of that which was foul, and sapping the foundations of truth, mercy -and chivalry, while compassing the necessary destruction of falsehood, -despotism, imposition and vice. - -To the government of this crumbling edifice and this murmuring people -came Louis, with his good heart, his boyish timidity, and his woful -inexperience. His queen, Marie Antoinette, was a daughter of Maria -Theresa, fair, generous and impetuous. Surrounded by eager courtiers, and -saluted for the first time as king and queen, they fell upon their knees, -and cried, weeping, “Oh God, guide us! Protect us! We are too young to -reign!” - -The king’s first act was to reëstablish the parliament, and place the -financial department in the hands of the impartial and provident Turgot. -Unfortunately for himself and the country, Louis suffered his mind to -be prejudiced against this able minister, and, dismissing him in 1776, -gave his office to M. Necker, a less efficient but a less unpopular -politician. A war with England was now proposed by the king’s ambitious -statesmen, who beheld at this juncture an opportunity of wresting from -their ancient rival a large proportion of her foreign commerce. England -and her American colonies were at variance. Not much more than a year -had elapsed since the great battles of Lexington and Bunker’s Hill, -and the American independence was but just declared. It now became the -obvious policy of France to foment this war, to support the rebellious -colonists, and to transfer to the navies of Louis XVI. that maritime -superiority which had so long been the bulwark of the English liberties. -The king, from motives of forbearance, was unwilling to commence this -war; but, being overruled by his ministry, signed a treaty of alliance -with the United States in the commencement of the year 1778. This treaty -was equivalent to a declaration of war, and the first important action -took place by sea off the isle of Ushant on the 27th of July. The fleets -numbered thirty sail each; not a ship was captured or sunk on either -side; and the fortune of the day was indecisive. In the following year, -an alliance with Spain doubled the naval strength of Louis XVI. The -French and Spanish admirals united their fleets, and hovered about -the coasts of England without making any descent; whilst the Count -d’Estaings, with twelve ships of the line, took the islands of Granada -and St. Vincent, and made an unsuccessful attack upon St. Lucia, which -had been lately conquered by the English. On the 16th of January, 1780, -Admiral Rodney, then on his way to the relief of Gibraltar, encountered -and defeated a Spanish fleet commanded by Don Juan de Langara. He then -sailed on, unopposed, to Gibraltar, and next proceeded to the West -Indies. While there he thrice engaged with the Count de Guichen, who -had succeeded to the command of the French fleet. None of these actions -were productive of important results. The Count de Guichen was replaced -in 1781 by the Count de Grasse, a man of great skill and courage, who -defeated the English admiral, Hood, on the 28th of April, and added -Tobago to the conquests of France. In this year another enemy rose -against England. The Dutch declared war, and George III. was involved -at one time, by sea and land, in four great contests, namely, with -France, Spain, America and Holland. In the month of October, however, -the surrender of Yorktown by Lord Cornwallis virtually ended the contest -between England and the United States; and the four European powers -alone carried on hostilities. The month of April, 1782, was signalized by -a hard-fought and sanguinary engagement between the Count de Grasse and -Admiral Rodney. They met on the 12th, off the island of Dominique, with -nearly equal forces, and the French were disastrously defeated with a -loss of eight ships, a terrible sacrifice of life, and the captivity of -the Count de Grasse. England was not, however, destined to profit much by -the victory; for, as Admiral Rodney was sailing back with his well-won -captures, a fearful storm arose, and most of the prizes were lost. Among -these was the _Ville de Paris_, a fine ship of 110 guns, lately presented -to the king by the citizens of Paris. On the 13th of October, in the -same year, the fortress of Gibraltar was made the scene of a formidable -assault, which failed utterly. The besiegers were commanded by the Duke -de Crillon, an officer in the Spanish service; the Count d’Artois, -brother to Louis; and the Duke de Bourbon. Negotiations for peace were -now commenced, and her late successes by sea enabled England to treat -at a less disadvantage than might have been expected, considering the -circumstances of the war. The preliminaries were signed at Versailles on -the 20th of January, 1783. France restored to England all her conquests, -with the exception of St. Lucia, Tobago, the establishments on the river -Senegal, and some trifling possessions in Africa and the East Indies. -England relinquished all that she had captured. Spain acquired the island -of Minorca. - -More embarrassed than ever by the cost of the late war, the finances of -France had now fallen into a worse state than before. The public debt -was increased. The people exasperated by a system of taxation which -spared the wealthy and oppressed the poor, and imbued, moreover, with -those democratic principles which had found their way from America to -France, became still louder in the expression of their discontent. M. De -Calonne had by this time succeeded M. Necker. He was brilliant, fluent, -ready with expedients. Dreading the recriminations and plain-speaking -that must have attended a meeting of the States-general, this minister -proposed to convene the Notables—that is to say, an assemblage of -persons gathered from all parts of the kingdom, and chiefly from the -higher ranks of society. This measure had been taken by Henry IV. and -by Louis XIII.; it was not, therefore, without precedent, and much was -hoped by the nation. They met, to the number of 137, in February, 1787. -M. De Calonne laid before them the condition of the exchequer, and -proposed to submit to taxation all the landed property of the kingdom, -including that of the privileged classes. But he addressed an assembly -composed almost exclusively of the privileged classes, and they would -not hear his arguments. On the 9th of April, finding his position -untenable, he resigned his office, and was succeeded by M. De Brienne. -Still the notables refused to abate their ancient immunities, and were -in consequence dissolved on the 25th of May. The absolute necessity -of procuring money now compelled the king arbitrarily to register a -royal edict, which met with strong opposition from the parliament. This -body was then banished to Troyes, but again recalled in the month of -September. In 1788, M. de Brienne, weary of combating the difficulties -of his office, resigned in favor of M. Necker. This gentleman, as the -first act of his second ministry, proposed to convoke the states-general, -and on the 5th of May, 1789, that august assembly filled the Hall de -Menus in the Palace of Versailles. The king, in a brief speech, spoke -hopefully of the present and the future, trusted that his reign might be -commemorated henceforth by the happiness and prosperity of his people, -and welcomed the states-general to his palace. Unforeseeing and placid, -he beheld in this meeting nothing but the promise of amelioration, -nor guessed how little prepared for usefulness or decision were its -twelve hundred. It soon became evident that the real strength of the -states-general lay in the commons. They formed the third estate, and -numbered as many members as the clergy and noblesse together. They took -upon themselves to decide whether the deliberations of the Assembly -should be carried on in three chambers or one—they covered their heads in -presence of the king—they constituted themselves the “National Assembly,” -and invited the clergy and aristocracy to join them. The timid sovereign -sanctioned these innovations, and the Assembly proceeded to exercise its -self-conferred functions. Supplies were voted for the army; the public -debt was consolidated; a provisional collection of taxes was decreed; and -the inviolability of the members proclaimed. In the meantime the nobles, -headed by the king’s second brother, the Count d’Artois, were collecting -in the neighborhood of the court and capital such troops as they could -muster from every quarter of the kingdom. Necker was exiled, and it -became evident that the king’s imprudent advisers had counselled him to -have recourse to violence. Paris, long prepared for insurrection, rose -_en masse_. Necker alone had possessed the confidence of the citizens, -and his dismissal gave the signal for arms. Camille Desmoulins, a young -and enthusiastic patriot, harangued the populace at the Palais Royal. - -The guards, when called out to disperse the mobs, refused to fire. The -citizens formed themselves into a national guard. The foodless multitude -attacked and pillaged in various quarters. The barriers were fired; and -on the 14th of July, this wild army appeared before the walls of the -Bastile. Stanch in his principles of military honor, the aged Marquis -de Launay, then governor of the prison, refused to surrender, raised -the drawbridge, and fired upon the multitude. His feeble garrison, -consisting of eighty-two invalids and thirty-two Swiss, was menaced by -thousands. The siege lasted four hours. The besiegers were joined by the -French guards—cannon were brought—De Launay capitulated—the drawbridge -was lowered, and the Bastile taken. Taken by a lawless sea of raging -rebels, who forthwith massacred the governor, his lieutenant, and some -of the aged invalids—set fire to the building, and razed it to the -ground—freed the few prisoners found in the cells—garnished their pikes -with the evidences of murder, and so paraded Paris. From this moment the -people were supreme. The troops were dismissed from Versailles—Necker was -recalled—the king visited Paris, and was invested at the Hotel de Ville -with the tri-colored emblem of democracy. - -Then began the first emigration. The Count d’Artois, the Prince of Condé, -the Polignacs, and other noble and royal families, deserted in the -moment of peril, and from beyond the frontiers witnessed the revolution -in ignoble safety. The king and his family remained at Versailles, sad -at heart amid their presence-chambers and garden-groves, just four -leagues from volcanic Paris. Hither, from time to time, during the few -days that intervened between the 14th of July and the 4th of August, -came strange tidings of a revolution which was no longer Parisian, but -national—tidings of provincial gatherings—of burning chateaux—of sudden -vengeances done upon unpopular officials, intendants, tax-gatherers, and -the like. It was plain that the First Estate must bow its proud head -before the five-and-twenty savage millions, make restitution, speak well, -smile fairly—or die. The memorable 4th of August came, when the nobles -did this, making an ample confession of their weakness. The Viscount de -Noailles proposed to reform the taxation by subjecting to it every order -and rank; by regulating it according to the fortune of the individual; -and by abolishing personal servitude, and every remaining vestige of -the feudal system. An enthusiasm, which was half fear and half reckless -excitement, spread throughout the Assembly. The aristocrats rose in their -places and publicly renounced their seignorial dues, privileges, and -immunities. The clergy abolished tithes and tributes. The representative -bodies resigned their municipal rights. All this availed but little; -and should have been done many months before to have weighed with the -impatient commons. The people scorned a generosity which relinquished -only that which was untenable, and cared little for the recognition -of a political equality that had already been established with the -pike. The Assembly was at this time divided into three parties—that -of the aristocracy, composed of the greater part of the noblesse and -clergy; that of the moderate party, headed by M. Necker; and that of the -republicans, among whom the most conspicuous were Lafayette, Sièyes, -Robespierre, and the great, the impetuous, the profligate Mirabeau. But -theirs was not the only deliberative body. A minor assembly, consisting -of one hundred and eighty electors; a mass of special assemblies of -mechanics, tradesmen, servants, and others; and a huge incongruous mob -at the Palais Royal, met daily and nightly for purposes of discussion. -These demonstrations, and the extreme opinions to which they hourly -gave rise, alarmed the little court yet lingering around the king. They -persuaded him that he must have military assistance, and the troops were, -unhappily, recalled to Versailles. - -The regiment of Flanders and a body of dragoons came, and on the 1st of -October the newly-arrived officers were invited to a grand banquet by -their comrades of the royal body-guard. After the dinner was removed -and the wine had begun to circulate, the queen presented herself -with the Dauphin in her arms, and her husband at her side. Cries of -loyalty and enthusiasm burst forth—their healths were drunk with drawn -swords—the tri-colored cockades were trampled under foot, and white ones, -emblematic of Bourbon, were distributed by the maids of honor. The news -of this fatal evening flew to Paris. Exasperated by the arrival of the -soldiery—by the insult offered to the tri-color—by the fear of famine -and civil war—the mob rose in fury, and with cries of “Bread! bread!” -poured out of Paris and took the road to Versailles. Here, sending -messages, threats, and deputations to the king and to the Assembly, the -angry thousands encamped for the night, in inclement weather, round -about the palace. Toward morning a grate leading into the grand court -was found to be unfastened, and the mob rushed in. On they went, across -the marble court and up the grand staircase. The body-guards defended -themselves valiantly and raised the alarm—the queen fled, half-dressed, -to the king’s chamber—the “living deluge” poured through galleries and -reception-rooms, making straight for the queen’s apartments. On this -terrible day, Marie Antoinette was, above all, the object of popular -hatred. Separated now from the revolutionists by the hall of the -Œil-de-Bœuf, where the faithful remnant of body-guards had assembled -to defend them to the last, the royal family listened tremblingly to -the battering of the axes on the yet unbroken doors. At this moment of -peril came Lafayette, with the national guard of Paris, and succeeded -in clearing the palace, in pacifying the multitude, and in rescuing, -for the time, the hapless group in the king’s apartments. The mob, now -driven outside, demanded that Louis should show himself, and go to Paris -with his family. Refusal and remonstrance were alike useless. The royal -carriage was brought out, the king and his family took their places, the -mob thronged round, and so, with the defeated body-guards in the midst, -and some bloody trophies of the struggle carried forward upon pikes, the -mournful procession went from Versailles to Paris. Lodged thenceforth in -the Tuileries, treated with personal disrespect, and subjected to all the -restrictions of imprisonment, Louis and his queen supported indignities -with dignity, and insult with resignation. - -On the 4th of September, M. Necker relinquished his office. He had been -so courageous as to oppose the decree of the 16th of June, by which all -distinctions of titles, armorial bearings, and other hereditary honors -were abolished. From having been the idol of the republicans he now -found himself dangerously unpopular, and so retired in safety to Geneva. -During all this time the emigration of the noblesse went on. Assembling -upon the German frontier toward the spring-time of the year 1791, they -formed themselves into an army under the command of the Prince of -Condé, and adopted for their motto, “Conquer or die.” Fearful, however, -of endangering the king’s personal safety, they took no measures to -stay the tide of rebellion, but hovered by the Rhine, watchful and -threatening. Soon the king and queen, their two children, and the -Princess Elizabeth, sister to the king, were the only members of the -royal family left in Paris. Flight had long been talked of and frequently -delayed; but at last everything was arranged, and Monday night, June 20, -1791, was fixed for the attempt. Eluding the vigilance of the guards, -they stole out of the palace in disguise, and after numerous delays and -misapprehensions, during which the queen lost her way in the Rue de Bac, -they entered a hackney-coach driven by the Count de Fersen, and exchanged -it, at the gate St. Martin, for a carriage and four. Thus, never pausing, -they passed Chalons, and arrived at St. Menehould. Here they were to -have been met by some cavalry, commanded by the Marquis de Bouillé; but -the time fixed for their arrival was so long gone by that the escort, -weary of waiting, had given them up, and gone on to Varennes. Stopping to -change horses at St. Menehould, the king was recognized; and at Varennes, -within reach of Bouillé’s soldiers, he was stopped and questioned. The -national guard flew to arms—an aid-de-camp came up in breathless haste, -seeking the fugitives and bearing the decree of arrest—the horses’ heads -were turned toward Paris, and the last chance for life and liberty was -past! After a return-journey of eight days, the king and his family -reëntered the capital, and were received in profound silence by an -immense concourse. More closely guarded, more mistrusted than ever, he -was now suspended by the National Assembly from those sovereign functions -which he had so long ceased to exercise or possess. In the meantime the -articles of a new Constitution had been drawn up, and were publicly -ratified by the royal oath and signature on the 14th of September. The -National Assembly, having completed this work, dissolved itself on the -30th, and the members of the new, or legislative assembly, took their -seats on the 1st of October, 1791. - -And now the violences of late committed, and the anarchy existing not -only in Paris, but in all districts of France, had roused the indignation -of Europe. Francis II., Emperor of Austria, entered into an alliance -with the king of Prussia, hostilities were threatened, and the Assembly -declared for war, on the 20th of April, 1792. An invasion of the Austrian -Netherlands was attempted; but the French soldiers fled upon the first -sight of the Prussian columns, and General Rochambeau laid down his -command. On the 25th of July, the Duke of Brunswick, who commanded the -allies, issued a violent and imprudent manifesto, declaring himself -authorized to support the royal authority in France; to destroy the city -of Paris; and to pursue with the extremity of military law all those who -were disposed to resist the policy of Europe. He at the same time put -his immense army in motion, and advanced over the frontier with 70,000 -Prussians and 68,000 Austrians and emigrant French. Perhaps no effort -on the part of his most eager enemy could have so injured the cause and -periled the safety of Louis XVI. The Assembly replied by fitting out an -army of 20,000 national volunteers, and giving the command to General -Dumouriez. Brunswick took Verdun and Longwy, and advanced toward the -capital, confident of victory; but, being met by the active and sagacious -Dumouriez, was forced to retreat. Verdun was won back again on the 12th, -and Longwy on the 18th of October. An Austrian army, engaged in the siege -of Lille, was compelled to abandon the attempt; and Custine on the Rhine -took possession of Trèves Spires, and Mayence. War having also been -declared against the King of Sardinia, Savoy was taken; and the great -victory of Jemappes, won by General Dumouriez, on the 6th of November, -subjected the whole of the Austrian Netherlands, with the exception -of Luxembourg, to the power of France. On all sides the national -troops repelled the invaders, resumed the offensive, and asserted the -independence of a victorious revolution. - -In the meantime, enraged at this interference of the foreign powers, -and fluctuating (according to the reports from the scene of war) between -apprehension and exultation, the Parisian mob and the extreme republican -party came to regard the king with increased enmity. He was named in the -Assembly with violent opprobrium; the mob, incited to fury by Robespierre -and his associates, demanded the abolition of the royal authority; and on -the 10th of August the palace of the Tuileries was attacked. The national -guards, who had been appointed to the defence of the courtyards, went -over to the insurgents, and pointed their cannon against the chateau. -Only the gallant Swiss were left, and they, overpowered by numbers and -fighting gallantly to the last, were literally cut to pieces. The king -and his family escaped to the National Assembly, and on the 14th were -removed to the old Temple prison. From this time the reign of terror may -properly be said to have begun. The chronicles of September are written -in blood. Supreme in power as in crime, the party of the Fédérés, or Red -Republicans, secured the barriers, sounded the tocsin, and proceeded to -clear the prisons by an indiscriminate massacre. Nobles and priests, aged -men and delicate women, all who were guilty of good birth, loyalty, or -religion, were slain without distinction. The inmates of the Abbaye, the -Conciergerie, the Carmes, La Force, and the Bicêtre were all murdered, -after a hideous mockery of trial, at which neither innocence nor evidence -availed. The head of the beautiful and hapless Princess de Lamballe was -paraded about Paris on a pike, and displayed before the eyes of the -wretched prisoners in the Temple, whose confidential friend and companion -she had been. Mademoiselle de Sombreuil only saved her father’s life by -drinking a goblet of blood. Mademoiselle Cazotte flung herself between -her father and the murderers. Instances of the sublimest resignation, of -the loftiest courage, are abundant amid the records of this appalling -period. Thirteen thousand souls are said to have been sacrificed in Paris -alone, and similar massacres were perpetrated at Orleans, at Rheims, at -Lyons, and at Meaux. On the 21st of September, the legislative assembly, -having presided for the allotted space of one year, was succeeded by a -new body of representatives, chiefly consisting of the extreme republican -party, and known by the name of the National Convention. To abolish the -statutes of the kings, to leave the offices of government open to men of -every condition, to persecute the members of the more moderate faction, -and to impeach the king before the bar of the convention, were among the -first acts of the new government. - -On the 11th of December, 1792, Louis, still placid and dignified, -appeared before the tribunal of his enemies. He was accused of plots -against the sovereignty of the people—of intrigues with the European -powers—of tampering with Mirabeau, since dead—in short, of everything -that might be construed into an effort for life, liberty, or prerogative. -His trial lasted for more than a month, and during that time he was -separated from his family. Hitherto Louis and his wife had at least -shared their sorrows, and, by employing themselves in the education -of the Dauphin, had beguiled somewhat of the tedious melancholy of -prison life. Now it was over, and they were to meet but once again—to -bid farewell. On Christmas day the king drew up his will, and on the -following morning was summoned to the Convention for the purpose of -making his defense. This paper was read by his counsel, and, at its -conclusion, Louis spoke a few simple words relative to his own innocence -and the affection which he had always felt toward his people. He was -then conducted back to the Temple, and the discussions went on till the -15th of January, 1793, when it was resolved to put to the vote the three -great questions of culpability, of the expediency of an appeal to the -people, and of the nature of the punishment to be inflicted. On Tuesday, -the 15th, the first two questions were put, and the replies recorded. -By all the king was voted guilty, and by a majority of two to one the -appeal to the people was negatived. On Wednesday, the 16th, the question -of punishment was in like manner propounded. The agitation of Paris was -something terrible to witness. A savage mob gathered about the doors -of the Assembly, heaping threats upon all who dared to be merciful. -Even those who most desired to save the king became intimidated, and -some who had spoken bravely in his favor the day before now decreed his -death. From Wednesday to Sunday morning this strange scene lasted. Seven -hundred and twenty-one members, in slow succession, with trembling, with -confidence, with apologetic speech, or fierce enforcement, mounted the -tribune one by one, gave in their “Fate-word,” and went down to hear the -judgment of their successors. Paine, the English democrat, entered his -name on the side of mercy. Louis Égalité, Duke of Orleans, and father -to the late Louis Philippe, had the unparalleled infamy to vote for -death. Even the brave President Vergniaud, who had pleaded for Louis -with passionate earnestness only a day or two before, wavered in his -allegiance at the last, and spoke the fatal word. At length, when all -had voted, death was found to be decreed by a majority of twenty-six -voices. The king’s counsel appealed against the sentence; but the appeal -was rejected, and the Assembly recommenced voting, to fix the time of -execution. Death without delay—death within four-and-twenty hours, was -the result. On Sunday morning, January the 20th, the messengers of the -Convention told Louis he must die. A priest, a delay of three days, and -an interview with his family, was all that he asked. They granted him -the first and last request; but the delay was refused. In the evening -he was permitted to see his wife, sister and children. They met in a -chamber with glass doors, through which the municipal guards watched -all the cruel scene. Falling into each other’s arms, they were for -some time speechless with sorrow, and the conversation that ensued was -interrupted by cries and sobs. Then the king rose, promising to see -them again on the morrow, and so ended this agony of two hours. About -midnight, having recovered his serenity, and prayed with his confessor, -the Abbé Edgeworth, he went to bed and slept soundly. Waking at five, he -heard mass and received the sacrament. At eight the municipals summoned -him to execution, and, willing to spare the feelings of those whom he -loved, he left without a second farewell. There was a silence of death -upon all the city. Silent were the lines of soldiers—silent the gazing -multitudes—silent the eighty thousand armed men who guarded with cannon -the space around the scaffold. Through all these rolled the solitary -carriage, and to these the king, advancing suddenly as the last moment -came, said in an agitated voice, “Frenchmen, I die innocent. I pardon -my enemies, and I hope that France.…” At this moment he was seized by -the executioners, the drums beat and drowned his voice, and in a few -seconds he was no more. All at once the strange silence was broken—the -executioner upheld the severed head—the shouts of the wild populace -filled the air—and then they gradually cleared off, and the business of -the day went on in Paris as if no unusual thing had been done. Such was -the end of Louis XVI., a virtuous and well-intentioned sovereign, on the -21st of January, 1793.—_Edwards._ - - -X.—THE GREAT FRENCH REVOLUTION (1792-1796). - -The government, after the king (Louis XVI.) was deposed, was placed -in the hands of the National Assembly—or Convention, as it now called -itself—of deputies chosen by the people. - -There is nothing but what is sad and terrible to be told of France for -the next four or five years, and the whole account of what happened would -be too hard for you to understand, and some part is too dreadful to dwell -upon. - -The short account of it is that, for years and years before, the kings, -the nobles, and some of the clergy too, had cared for little but -their own pride and pleasure, and had done nothing to help on their -people—teach, train, or lead them. So now these people were wild with -despair, and when the hold on them was a little loosened, they threw it -off, and turned in furious rage upon their masters. Hatred grew, and all -those who had once been respected were looked on as a brood of wolves, -who must be done away with, even the young and innocent. The king, queen, -his children, and sister (Madame Elizabeth), were shut up in a castle -called the Temple, because it had once belonged to the Knights Templar, -and there they were very roughly and unkindly treated. A national guard -continually watched them, and these men were often shockingly rude and -insulting to them, though they were as patient as possible. Great numbers -of the nobles and clergy were shut up in the other prisons; and when news -came that an army of Germans and emigrant nobles was marching to rescue -the king, a set of ruffians was sent to murder them all, cutting them -down like sheep for the slaughter, men and women all alike. The family in -the Temple were spared for the time, but the emigrant army was beaten at -Jemappes; and the brave nobles and peasants who had risen in the district -of La Vendée, in hopes of saving them, could not make head against the -regular French army, all of which had joined in the Revolution, being -angered because no one not of noble birth could be an officer. All his -friends did for the king only served to make his enemies hate him trebly; -and three men had obtained the leadership who seemed to have had a -regular thirst for blood, and to have thought that the only way to make -a fresh beginning was to kill every one who had inherited any of the -rights that had been so oppressive. Their names were Marat, Danton, and -Robespierre; and they had a power over the minds of the Convention and -the mob which no one dared resist, so that this time was called the Reign -of Terror. A doctor named Guillotin had invented a machine for cutting -off heads quickly and painlessly, which was called by his name; and this -horrible instrument was set up in Paris to do this work of cutting off -the old race. The king—whom they called Louis Capet, after Hugh, the -first king of his line—was tried before the Assembly, and sentenced to -die. He forgave his murderers, and charged the Irish clergyman, named -Edgeworth, who was allowed to attend him in his last moments, to take -care that, if his family were ever restored, there should be no attempt -to avenge his death. The last words of the priest to him were: “Son of -St. Louis, ascend to the skies.” - -The queen and her children remained in the Temple, cheered by the piety -and kindness of Madame Elizabeth until the poor little prince—a gentle, -but spirited boy of eight—was taken from them, and shut up in the lower -rooms, under the charge of a brutal wretch (a shoemaker) named Simon, who -was told that the boy was not to be killed or guillotined, but to be “got -rid of”—namely, tormented to death by bad air, bad living, blows and rude -usage. Not long after, Marie Antoinette was taken to a dismal chamber -in the Conciergerie prison, and there watched day and night by national -guards, until she too was brought to trial, and sentenced to die, eight -months after her husband. Gentle Madame Elizabeth was likewise put to -death, and only the two children remained, shut up in separate rooms; but -the girl was better off than her brother, in that she was alone, with her -little dog, and had no one who made a point of torturing her. - -Meanwhile the guillotine was every day in use. Cart-loads were carried -from the prisons—nobles, priests, ladies, young girls, lawyers, servants, -shopkeepers—everybody whom the savage men who were called the Committee -of Public Safety chose to condemn. There were guillotines in almost every -town; but at Nantes the victims were drowned, and at Lyons they were -placed in a square and shot down with grape shot. - -Moreover, all churches were taken from the faithful. A wicked woman was -called the Goddess of Reason, and carried in a car to the great cathedral -of Notre Dame, where she was enthroned. Sundays were abolished, and -every tenth day was kept instead, and Christianity was called folly -and superstition; in short, the whole nation was given up to the most -horrible frenzy against God and man. - -In the midst, Marat was stabbed to the heart by a girl named Charlotte -Corday, who hoped thus to end these horrors; but the other two continued -their work of blood, till Robespierre grew jealous of Danton, and had -him guillotined; but at last the more humane of the National Convention -plucked up courage to rise against him, and he and his inferior -associates were carried to prison. He tried to commit suicide with -a pistol, but only shattered his jaw, and in this condition he was -guillotined, when the Reign of Terror had lasted about two years. - -There was much rejoicing at his fall; prisons were opened, and people -began to breathe freely once more. The National Convention governed more -mildly and reasonably; but they had a great deal on their hands, for -France had gone to war with all the countries round; and the soldiers -were so delighted at the freedom they had obtained, that it seemed as -if no one could beat them, so that the invaders were everywhere driven -back. And thus was brought to light the wonderful powers of a young -Corsican officer, Napoleon Bonaparte, who had been educated, at a -military school in France, as an engineer. When there was an attempt of -the mob to rise and bring back the horrible days of the Reign of Terror, -Colonel Bonaparte came with his grape shot, and showed that there was a -government again that must be obeyed, so that some quiet and good order -was restored. - -Some pity had at last been felt for the poor children in the Temple. -It came too late to save the life of the boy, Louis XVII., as he is -reckoned, who had for the whole ninth year of his life lain alone in -a filthy room, afraid to call any one lest he should be ill-used, and -without spirit enough to wash himself, so that he was one mass of sores -and dirt; and he only lingered till the 8th of June, 1795, when he died, -thinking he heard lovely music, with his mother’s voice among the rest. -In the end of the same year his sister was released, and went to Russia -to join her uncle, who had fled at the beginning of the Revolution, and -was now owned by the loyal among the French as Louis XVIII. - -In the meantime the French army had beaten the Germans on the frontier, -and had decided on attacking their power in the north of Italy. Bonaparte -made a most wonderful passage of the Alps, where there were scarcely any -roads but bridle-paths, and he gained amazing victories. His plan was to -get all the strength of his army up into one point, as it were, and with -that to fall upon the center of the enemy; and as the old German generals -did not understand this way of fighting, and were not ready, he beat them -everywhere, and won all Lombardy, which he persuaded to set up for a -republic, under the protection of the French. - -All this time, the French were under so many different varieties of -government, that you would not understand them at all; but that which -lasted longest was called the Directory. People were beginning to feel -safe at last; the emigrants were coming home again, and matters were -settling down a little more.—_Yonge._ - - -XI.—NAPOLEON I. (1796-1814.) - -When Bonaparte had come back from Italy, he persuaded the Directory to -send him with an army to Egypt to try to gain the East, and drive the -English out of India. He landed in Egypt, and near Grand Cairo gained -the battle of the Pyramids, and tried to recommend himself to the people -of Egypt by showing great admiration for Mahomet and the Koran. But his -ships, which he had left on the coast, were attacked by the English -fleet, under Sir Horatio Nelson, and every one of them taken or sunk -except two, which carried the tidings home. This was the battle of the -Nile. - -The Sultan of Turkey, to whom Egypt belonged, fitted out an army against -the French, and Bonaparte marched to meet it half way in the Holy Land. -There he took Jaffa, cruelly massacred the Turkish garrison, and beat -the Sultan’s army at Tabor: but Acre was so bravely and well defended, -under the management of a brave English sailor, Sir Sidney Smith, that -he was obliged to turn back without taking it. He led his troops back, -suffering sadly from hunger and sickness, to Egypt, and there defeated -another Turkish army in the battle of Aboukir. However, he there heard -news from home which showed him that he was needed. The French had, -indeed, gone on to stir up a revolution both in Rome and Naples. The pope -was a prisoner in France, and the king of Naples had fled to Sicily; but -the Russians had come to the help of the other nations, and the French -had nearly been driven out of Lombardy. Beside, the Directory was not -able to keep the unruly people in order; and Napoleon felt himself so -much wanted, that, finding there were two ships in the port, he embarked -in one of them and came home, leaving his Egyptian army to shift for -themselves. - -However, he was received at home like a conqueror; and the people of -France were so proud of him, that he soon persuaded them to change the -Directory for a government of three consuls, of whom he was the first. -He lived in the Tuileries, and began to keep something very like the old -court; and his wife, Josephine, was a beautiful, graceful, kind lady, -whom every one loved, and who helped very much in gaining people over to -his cause. Indeed, he gave the French rest at home, and victories abroad, -and that was all they desired. He won back all that had been lost in -Italy; and the battle of Marengo, on the 14th of June, 1800, when the -Austrians were totally routed, was a splendid victory. Austria made peace -again, and nobody was at war with France but England, which conquered -everywhere by sea, as France did by land. The last remnant of the French -army in Egypt was beaten in Alexandria, and obliged to let the English -ships transport them to France; and after this there was a short peace -called the peace of Amiens, but it did not last long; and as soon as -Bonaparte had decided on war, he pounced without notice on every English -traveler in his dominions, and kept them prisoners till the end of the -war. - -He had made up his mind to be Emperor of the French, and before declaring -this, he wanted to alarm the old royalists; so he sent a party to seize -the Duke d’Enghien (heir of the princes of Condé), who was living at -Baden, and conduct him to Vincennes, where, at midnight, he was tried -by a sham court-martial, and at six in the morning brought down to the -courtyard, and shot, beside his own grave. - -After this every one was afraid to utter a whisper against Bonaparte -becoming emperor, and on the second of December, 1804, he was crowned -in Notre Dame, with great splendor. The pope was present, but Bonaparte -placed the crown on his own head—a golden wreath of laurel leaves; and -he gave his soldiers eagle standards, in memory of the old Roman Empire. -He drew up an excellent code of laws, which have been used ever since -in France, and are known by his name; and his wonderful talent did much -to bring the shattered nation into order. Still, England would not -acknowledge his unlawful power, and his hatred to her was very great. He -had an army ready to invade England, but the English fleet never allowed -him to cross the Channel; and his fleet was entirely destroyed by Lord -Nelson, at the great battle of Trafalgar, on the 21st of October, 1805. - -But Napoleon was winning another splendid victory at Ulm, over the -Austrians; and not long after, he beat the Prussians as entirely at Jena, -and had all Germany at his feet. He was exceedingly harsh and savage -to the good and gentle queen Louisa, when she came with her husband to -try to make better terms for her country, thus sowing seeds of bitter -resentment, which were to bear fruit long after. The Russians advanced -to the aid of Germany, but the battles of Eylau and Friedland made them -also anxious for peace. There never, indeed, was a much abler man than -Napoleon; but he had no honor, honesty or generosity, and had very -little heart amid all his seeming greatness. He made his family kings -of conquered countries. His brother Louis was King of Holland; Jerome, -of Westphalia, and the eldest brother, Joseph, King of Naples; but in -1808, he contrived to cheat the King of Spain of his crown, and keep -him and his son prisoners in France, while Joseph was sent to reign in -Spain, and General Murat, the husband of his sister Caroline, was made -King of Naples. The Portuguese royal family were obliged to flee away to -Brazil; but the Spaniards and Portuguese would not submit to the French -yoke, and called the English to help them. So year after year the Duke -of Wellington was beating Napoleon’s generals, and wearing away his -strength; but he still went on with his German wars, and in 1809, after -two terrible battles at Aspern and Wagram, entered Vienna itself. Again -there was a peace; and Napoleon, who was grieved to have no child to -leave his empire to, had the wickedness and cruelty to decide on setting -aside his good, loving Josephine, and making the Emperor Francis, of -Austria, give him his young daughter, Marie Louise. In 1810, the deed was -done; and it was said that from that time all his good fortune left him, -though he had one little son born to him, whom he called King of Rome. - -He set out with what he named the Grand Army, to conquer Russia; and -after winning the battle of Borodino, he entered Moscow; but no sooner -was he there than the whole town was on fire, and it burnt on, so that it -was not possible to stay there. Winter was just coming on, the Russian -army was watching everywhere, and he could only retreat; and the unhappy -Grand Army, struggling in the snow, with nothing to eat, and beset by the -enemy everywhere, suffered the most frightful misery. Napoleon left it -in the midst, and hurried home; but no sooner had this blow been given -him, than the Germans—the Prussians especially, to whom he had been -so harsh—rose up and banded together against him. France was worn out -with the long wars; and though Napoleon still showed wonderful skill, -especially at the battle of Leipsic, he was driven back, inch by inch, -as it were, across Germany, and into France, by the Emperors of Austria -and Russia and King of Prussia; for though each battle of his was a -victory, force of numbers was too much for him. He went to the palace of -Fontainebleau, and tried to give up his crown to his little son, but the -Allies would not accept this; and at last, in the spring of 1814, he was -forced to yield entirely, and put himself into the hands of the English, -Prussian, Russian, and Austrian sovereigns. They decided on sending him -to a little isle called Elba, in the Mediterranean Sea, where he was -still to be treated as a prince. His deserted wife, Josephine, loved him -so much that she died of grief for his fall; but Marie Louise returned to -her father, and did nothing to help him.—_Yonge._ - - - - -COMMERCIAL LAW. - -By EDWARD C. REYNOLDS, ESQ. - - -III.—AGENCY. - -Agency is one of the most common relations of individual to individual. -It is a delegation of power that few can avoid, in a greater or less -degree of importance. The wife who purchases goods for household purposes -in her husband’s name, is acting purely as his agent; and the clerk who -sells the articles to her acts, in the transaction, as agent for the -merchant in whose employment he is. - -The legal maxim, _Qui facit per alium, facit per se_, which we will make -read here, “What one does by another he does himself,” is the essential -idea of agency; that is, it places on sure foundation the question of -responsibility, at least, as to where it belongs. This is the whole -doctrine so far as responsibility or liability is concerned. - -That it is particularly necessary in business life to have this -delegation of power, and this centralization of responsibility, needs -no explanation. The publisher of this magazine could be a publisher only -in imagination without it, for he would have no influence in his own -sanctum, except with himself; and we should feel no security in dealing -with a company with no recognized and responsible manager. - -We have to deal with a fixed fact. Agency exists. The owners of -magnificent stores, the stockholders in the railroad and steamship lines -are all indebted to an army of agents whose active brains and eager -efforts keep cars and steamers in motion, purchase and sell goods, and -keep the accounts of the business world in proper balance. - -How is an agency established? Our readers probably could answer this -question in part; try it and see if we are not right. - -We must answer by remarking that it depends somewhat upon what is wanted -of an agent. Thus, if one be possessed of real estate, situated in some -distant place, and is desirous of making a sale, and of selecting and -commissioning some one to represent him in such a transfer of property, -the appointment would be by a power of attorney, executed as described in -our later article on real estate, “to which reference is hereby made.” - -To represent another in ordinary business transactions one may act by -virtue of a written or verbal agreement. Thus, if A places goods in B’s -hands for the purpose of selling through B, this will be sufficient to -constitute an agency, and for the purposes of this business B is A’s -agent, and all would be protected in dealing with him in such capacity. -A bookkeeper in the counting room of his employer is fairly presumed to -have authority to receipt bills, to pay bills, render accounts, and in -some cases to make purchases, particularly if such part by him done has -been sanctioned by the merchant in the past. But he has no authority -to sign his employer’s name to notes, bills or checks unless specially -authorized. - -A minor, though not capable of being a party to a contract himself, -may do so for an employer, and thus be an agent, and his principal is -responsible for his acts in such capacity, unless they be _tortious_, or -wrongs in themselves. There would obviously be no security for innocent -parties in fixing upon any other solution of the question of liability, -because if A permits B, though a minor, to act for him and thereby takes -advantage of his services in that capacity when they are favorable to his -interests, it would be inequitable for him to shift the responsibility -when it becomes onerous. - -While the principal is responsible for the acts of his agent, when not -beyond the authority given, it is the duty of the agent to obey the -instructions of his principal. This he is always to do unless some -unforeseen situation presents itself, which requires the exercise of a -discretionary power and immediate action. And then, an agent would be -justified in acting contrary to instructions, or without instructions -only when reasonable foresight and experience would approve of the -course pursued by him. This for legitimate pursuits, our readers always -remembering that an agent is not justified in doing an illegal or immoral -act, and that, even though specially instructed so to do. The agency must -be apparent and known to exist, that third parties may know themselves -to be dealing with one in such capacity, and that agents may not be -made to assume responsibilities which do not belong to them. This may -be accomplished by advertising in and transacting all business in the -principal’s name; or where the name of the principal is not necessarily -made use of in the course of the business, the fact of the agent’s -business employment being known as such would doubtless be sufficient. - -A clerk having occasion, in the course of business, to sign his -employer’s name to letters, in receipting bills and such routine -business, does it in this manner: - - E. E. EMMONS, - _Per S._ - -Where special authority is given to sign checks, notes and accept bills -in his principal’s or employer’s name, the agent will add his own name, -with the word “Attorney.” - -It must be remembered that an agency, so far as an agency transaction -is concerned, must stand by itself, and not be associated with agent’s -private business; that principal’s and agent’s property should be kept -entirely distinct. - -A commission merchant, although an agent so far as his dealings with his -principal or consignor, is not such in relation to other parties, since -he does business in his own name, and is recognized as a merchant and not -an agent, although his business may be largely a commission business. -He is bound to obey instructions of his principal or consignor, whom he -charges a percentage for the handling of the goods consigned, incidental -expenses, and, in cases where he assumes the indebtedness resulting from -the sales, an extra commission. - -Since mention has been made of commission merchants, we must -individualize once more, and mention brokers. A broker simply effects -a sale or purchase, as of merchandise or stocks. Unlike commission -merchants they neither have, for the purpose of effecting the one, nor -acquire by the accomplishment of the other, absolute possession of the -chattels bought or sold. - -In whatever capacity as special agent for another, one is acting, he is -ever bound to keep and render proper account of the business entrusted to -his care; to keep his principal properly informed regarding it; to use -due diligence in business; to treat the property of his principal with -same care and handle with same prudence, as a man of ordinary carefulness -and forethought would his own. All this means only, that he should act -with ordinary skill, and should render to his principal fair and honest -service. - -What terminates the agency? Death or insanity of either party; -completion of work undertaken; expiration of time agreed upon; by -express declaration of either party at pleasure, the other having due -notification, and by such action acquiring a valid claim for whatever -damages result on account thereof. - - -Partnership. - -It is of constant occurrence that persons deem it advisable to unite -themselves together for the prosecution of some general or particular -business, paying their respects, by such act, to the old saw, “In union -there is strength.” They agree by such an association to undertake -the business, which induced them to unite their efforts with the hope -of attaining to better results. The partners may or may not equally -participate in the activities of the business to be undertaken, and may -or may not stand on equal footing so far as relates to the sharing of -the gains and losses. All of this is governed by their agreements at the -outset, and its subsequent mutually agreed upon changes. - -Like other species of contracts, the conditions of partnerships may be -agreed upon verbally, may be in writing, and may result by implication. -Of the three, which? Regarding this and all other engagements, establish -a rule to which adhere rigidly. The rule: Have a thorough understanding -with all parties with whom you contract; reduce it to writing, and -have all interested parties sign. In this way the difficulties of -misunderstandings and convenient forgetfulness will be less troublesome. -It is worth all it costs to bear this precaution in mind. - -Partners assume different relations and responsibilities as regards the -partnership and the business world. There are the ostensible partners -who boldly advertise themselves as such, and as such assuming the -hazards incident to commercial enterprises; then the nominal partner who -seeks to help a partnership by lending it his name, and thereby holding -himself out as a member of it and making himself liable to creditors for -partnership debts, providing credit was given, because of his supposed -connection with the firm, as a regular partner; secret partners, who keep -their names from the public, seeking by this means to avoid liability, -but at same time sharing with the other partners the profits arising from -the business. If such partnership becomes known to creditors, they may -enforce collection of claims due from the partnership, as against the -property of the secret partner; and the special partner, recognized by -the laws of some of the states, which limit his liability to the amount -of his investment, on condition that he gives public notice of such -partnership agreement in a manner prescribed. - -The partnership is organized, the partners assuming such relation to -the partnership as they mutually agree upon, bearing in mind the above -description of liabilities. - -The element agency becomes quite conspicuous here, for each partner -is an agent of the partnership and invested with plenary power to -bind the other partners by his acts, when within the business sphere -of the firm. It will be observed that we say in the line of the -copartnership business, because otherwise it would not be sanctioned. -As an illustration: A member of a partnership engaged in the flour -trade would not have authority to bind his partners, if he attempted to -involve them in stock speculations, unless previous similar enterprises -by him had been approved by them, in which case there might be a fair -presumption that such authority existed. This leads us to the question of -liability; and liable they are, each and every partner, unless by virtue -of exception previously mentioned, exempted. Their individual property, -in the event of there being insufficient partnership assets to liquidate -the indebtedness of the firm, must respond to the creditors’ call. - -Now, since the acts of a partner may result in a manner disastrous to all -associated with him, it is his duty to act with all fidelity and perfect -good faith; to give his attention carefully to the business, acting as -his best judgment may advise for the benefit of all. While, however, a -breach of these obligations creates a liability for such misfeasance or -wrong act as a partner may be guilty of, it does in no way affect outside -parties, unless cognizant of and participating in same. - -Gains and losses how shared? The object of our partnership is the hope of -gain; its effect may be the realization of loss. - -This question of division ought to be solved by reference to the articles -of agreement, which should have expressed the whole partnership contract, -and have been signed by all the partners. This not done? Well then, we -say, all should share in equal proportions the gains or losses, first -making unequal investments equal by an allowance of interest on net -investments, and equalizing individual ability and experience by allowing -each partner that salary to which, measuring his services by comparison -with those rendered by other partners, he seems to be fairly entitled. -Where capital and skill are equal, an equal sharing in the gains or -losses is equitable. - - -Dissolution. - -The following conditions serve to dissolve a partnership: - -The expiration of the time for which the partnership was organized; -ordinarily the completion of the business for the purpose of -accomplishing which the partnership was formed; - -The misfeasance of a partner; whenever a partner fails to act in harmony -with his associates, or disposes of his interest in the partnership -affairs; - -By the death of any one of the partners; - -By decree of the court ordering the same; - -By the consent of all the partners at any time. - -After the dissolution, a partner acts no longer for his former copartners -to the extent of entering into or incurring new obligations. Each partner -however has full power to collect debts due the firm, signing the firm -name to receipts, and also to liquidate outstanding obligations of the -firm, unless by special agreement these powers are conferred on one -partner alone. This is an arrangement which affects the partners only, -third persons being protected in a settlement with any member of a late -partnership dissolved. - -After the business is wholly settled, all liabilities being paid, and not -till then, is a partner entitled to his share of the partnership funds. - -Notice of the dissolution of a partnership should be publicly given, it -being necessary in the case of one or more retiring from the firm, in -order to secure them from future liability. Individually this notice -is given by mail to all with whom the firm has been dealing. This, in -addition to ordinary publication of notice in newspaper, is sufficient. - - -SALES—Personal Property. - -A sale is the transfer of certain property from one to another for a -certain sum paid or to be paid, those being parties to it, to make it -valid, who are competent to enter into a contract. - -A sale effected entitles the purchaser to possession of the goods on -payment of price agreed upon; or, if purchaser be given credit, at once, -unless there be some special agreement to the contrary. - -In the case of goods shipped to a purchaser who becomes insolvent before -they have been delivered, the vendor may order the carrier to hold them -subject to his (vendor’s) order, thereby exercising a privilege given him -by law, and called the right of stoppage _in transitu_. - -All sales are not made with an actual knowledge on the part of the vendee -of the quality of his purchase, some being by sample. Sales in this -manner give credence to the inference that the samples constitute a part -of the goods sold, and therefore the goods must be of same quality as -the samples, else the vendor does not comply with the conditions of the -contract to which he is a party, and the purchaser may refuse to complete -the sale by acceptance of the goods. - -The quality of goods sold must be as represented by the vendor, if he -warrants them by such representation, in order to secure a sale. In sales -each one is supposed to be on his guard. “Let the purchaser beware,” is -the maxim. And if, without actual fraud, concealment or misrepresentation -on the part of the vendor, the vendee is deceived in a purchase because -of poor judgment, he alone must suffer the consequences and take the -loss. A warranty of an article puts the vendor under the necessity of -making compensation to vendee, if the article is defective wherein -warranted. - -A purchase of stolen property gives to the purchaser no title as against -the true owner, or the one from whom the property was stolen, even though -the purchase be made in good faith, and for a full consideration. “Let -the purchaser beware.” - -There is but one species of personal property to which this will not -apply, and that negotiable commercial paper. - -Some contracts regarding sales must be in writing, and signed by the -party to be charged, or his agent. What are they? See article on -contracts. - - - - -READINGS IN ART. - - -I.—ITALIAN PAINTERS AND PAINTINGS. - -The present paper has been abridged from “Italian Paintings,” by Edward -J. Poynter, R. A., and Percy R. Head. - -Italian painting is divided into a number of schools, each of which has -some illustrious artist as its founder, and a train of skillful and exact -workmen following his methods. To study the style and methods of the -master is to study the school. The most famous of these artists have been -selected to represent the Art of Italy, the first of whom, the father of -Italian painting, is - - -GIOTTO. - -Giotto was born near Florence, in 1266. Employed as a boy in watching -sheep, he is said to have been one day discovered by the artist Cimabue, -as he was sketching one of his flock upon a stone. The painter, surprised -at the promise shown by the boy, who was not more than ten years old, -took him to Florence, and made him his pupil. Giotto’s earliest works -were executed at Florence, and at the age of thirty he had already -attained such fame that he was invited to Rome by Pope Boniface VIII., -to take part in the decoration of the ancient Basilica of Saint Peter. -The _Navicella_ mosaic which he there executed, representing the -Disciples in the Storm, is preserved in the vestibule of the present -Saint Peter’s. The famous story of “Giotto’s O” belongs to this episode -in his career. When the envoy sent by the pope to engage his services -begged for some drawing or design which might be shown to his holiness in -proof of the artist’s talent, Giotto, taking an ordinary brush full of -color, and steadying his arm against his side, described a perfect circle -on an upright panel with a sweep of the wrist, and offered this manual -feat as sufficient evidence of his powers. The story shows the importance -attached by a great artist to mere precision in workmanship, and teaches -the useful lesson that genius, unsupported by the skill only to be -acquired by discipline and labor, is wanting in the first condition which -makes great achievements possible. This visit to Rome took place about -1298; soon afterward we find Giotto engaged on his frescoes in the church -of Saint Francis at Assisi, a series of allegorical designs illustrating -the saint’s spiritual life and character. In 1306 he was working at the -fine series of frescoes in the Arena Chapel at Padua, which represent -thirty-eight scenes from the lives of the Virgin and of Christ. We here -see Giotto in the fulness of his powers; the incidents are treated with -a charming simplicity and sentiment for nature, and he rises to great -solemnity of style in the more important scenes. Important works by -Giotto are found in many other places beside those mentioned above, -including especially Naples, Ravenna, Milan, Pisa and Lucca. Perhaps -the finest are those which have been discovered of late years in the -Church of Santa Croce at Florence under coats of whitewash which happily -had preserved them almost intact; the “Last Supper,” in the refectory -of the convent attached to the church, is in remarkable preservation, -and is a magnificent example of the style of the time. The twenty-six -panels which he painted for the presses in the sacristry of the same -church are good illustrations of his method of treatment; natural and -dignified with the interest concentrated on the figures; the background -and accessories being treated in the simplest possible manner, and hardly -more than symbols expressing the locality in which the scene is enacted. -Giotto was the first of the moderns who attempted portrait-painting with -any success, and some most interesting monuments of his skill in that -branch of art have been preserved to us. In 1840, discovery was made, -in the chapel of the Podestà’s palace at Florence, of some paintings by -Giotto, containing a number of portraits, among them one of his friend, -the poet Dante; the portraits being introduced, as was usual among the -early painters, and indeed frequent at all periods, as subordinate actors -in the scene represented. Giotto was not only a painter; as a sculptor -and architect he was also distinguished. Giotto died at Florence in -January, 1337, and was buried with public solemnities in the cathedral. -His style, though marked by the hardness and quaintness of a time when -chiaro-scuro and perspective were very imperfectly understood, displays -the originality of his genius in its thoughtful and vigorous design, and -shows how resolutely the artist relied, not on traditions, but on keen -and patient observation of nature. - - -FRA ANGELICO. - -The earliest of the great fifteenth-century painters belongs in the -character of his works rather to the preceding century. The monk Guido -di Pietro of Fiesole, commonly called Fra Angelico from the holiness and -purity which were as conspicuous in his life as in his works, was born -in 1387 at Vicchio, in the province of Mugello. At the age of twenty he -entered the order of the Predicants at Fiesole, and took the name of -Giovanni, by which he was afterward known. His first art work was the -illumination of manuscripts. Quitting the monastery in 1409, he practiced -as a fresco-painter in various places until 1418, when he returned to -Fiesole, and continued to reside there for the next eighteen years. In -1436 he again quitted his retreat, to paint a series of frescoes on the -history of the Passion for the convent of San Marco in Florence. This -work occupied nine years, and on its completion Angelico was invited to -Rome. The chief work which he undertook there was the decoration of a -chapel in the Vatican for Pope Nicholas V. In 1447 he went to Orvieto to -undertake a similar task, but returned in the same year, having done only -three compartments of the ceiling, and leaving the rest to be afterward -completed by Luca Signorelli. He then continued to reside in Rome, where -he died and was buried in 1455. The most striking characteristics of -Angelico’s art spring from the temper of religious fervor with which he -practiced it. He worked without payment; he prayed before beginning any -work for the Divine guidance in its conception; and believing himself -to be so assisted, he regarded each picture as a revelation, and could -never be persuaded to alter any part of it. His works on panel are very -numerous, and are to be found in many public and private galleries; -of the finest of these are, a “Last Judgment,” belonging to the Earl -of Dudley, and the “Coronation of the Virgin” in the gallery of the -Louvre. After his death he was “beatified” by the church he had served -so devotedly—a solemnity which ranks next to canonization; and Il Beato -Angelico is the name by which Fra Giovanni was and is most fondly and -reverently remembered. His style survived only in one pupil who assisted -him at Orvieto. - - -LEONARDO DA VINCI. - -Leonardo da Vinci belonged to the Florentine school, the fifteenth -century, of which he was the first great example. Leonardo was the son -of a notary of Vinci, near Florence, and was born at that place in the -year 1452. He became the pupil of Andrea Verrocchio, the Florentine -sculptor and painter, and progressed so rapidly that he soon surpassed -his master, who is said to have thereupon given up painting in despair. -Leonardo’s studies at this time ranged over the whole field of science -and art; beside being a painter and a sculptor, he was a practiced -architect, engineer, and mechanician; profoundly versed in mathematics -and the physical sciences; and an accomplished poet and musician. The -famous letter in which he applied to the Duke of Milan for employment, -enumerates only a few of his acquirements; he represents himself as -skilled in military and naval engineering, offensive and defensive, and -the construction of artillery, and as possessing secrets in these matters -hitherto unknown; he can make designs for buildings, and undertake any -work in sculpture, in marble, in bronze, or in terra-cotta; and “in -painting,” he says, “I can do what can be done as well as any man, be -he who he may.” He concludes by offering to submit his own account of -himself to the test of experiment, at his excellency’s pleasure. He -entered the Duke’s service about the year 1482, receiving a yearly salary -of 500 scudi. Under his auspices an academy of arts was established in -Milan in 1485, and he drew round him a numerous school of painters. Of -the many works executed by Leonardo during his residence at Milan, the -greatest was the world renowned picture of the “Last Supper,” painted in -oil upon the wall of the refectory of the convent of Santa Maria delle -Grazie. Whether it was the fault of the wall or the medium used by the -painter, the great picture rapidly faded, and by the end of fifty years -had virtually perished. It is still shown, but decay and restoration have -left little of the original work of Leonardo. The best idea of it is to -be got from the old copies, taken while the picture was yet perfect; of -these the most valuable is the one executed in 1510 by Marco d’Oggione, -now in the possession of the Royal Academy of London. His other important -achievement, while at Milan, was a work of sculpture, which unfortunately -perished within a few years of its completion. It seems to have occupied -him at intervals for eleven years, for the completed model was first -exhibited to the public in 1493. All that we now know of it is from the -numerous sketches in the Royal Collection at Windsor. The model was -still in existence in 1501, after which nothing more is recorded of it. -He also at this time made a model for the cupola of Milan Cathedral, -which was never carried out. In 1499 Leonardo left Milan and returned to -Florence. He received a commission in 1503 to paint the wall at one end -of the Council Hall of the Palazzo Vecchio, the decoration of the other -end being at the same time entrusted to Michelangelo. Leonardo’s picture -was never completed, and Michelangelo’s apparently never begun; but the -cartoons for their two compositions, known respectively as the “Battle of -the Standard” and the “Cartoon of Pisa,” excited the greatest admiration, -and were termed by Benvenuto Cellini “the school of the world;” both -have been lost or destroyed; all that we know of Leonardo’s composition -is gained from a drawing of it by Rubens in black and red chalk in the -gallery of the Louvre, to which, though spirited enough, he contrived -to impart the coarse Flemish character with which all his work is -disfigured. In 1514 Leonardo visited Rome, and was to have executed some -work in the Vatican, had not an affront put upon him by the pope given -him offence and caused him to leave Rome. He went to the King of France, -Francis I., who was then at Pavia, took service with him, and accompanied -him to France, in the early part of 1516. He was, however, weakened by -age and in bad health, and did little or no new work in France. In a -little more than three years’ time, in May 1519, he died, at Cloux, near -Amboise, at the age of sixty-seven. - -Those pictures of Leonardo, which we may regard with confidence as the -work of his own hand, fully justify the exceptional admiration with which -he has always been regarded. He was excessively fastidious in his work, -“his soul being full of the sublimity of art,” and spent years over the -execution of some of his works. The painting of the portrait of Madonna -Lisa is said to have extended over four years, and to have been then -left incomplete. His mind also was at times equally bent on scientific -matters, and for long periods he was entirely absorbed in the study of -mathematics. For these reasons he produced but few pictures; if, however, -he had left none, his drawings, which fortunately exist in large numbers, -would suffice to account for the enthusiasm which his work has always -excited. It is certain that we do not see his pictures in the state in -which they left his easel; from some causes, unnecessary to discuss, they -have blackened in the shadows, and the colors have faded. Vasari praises -beyond measure the carnations of the Mona Lisa, which, he says, “do not -appear to be painted, but truly flesh and blood;” but no trace of these -delicate tints now remains. - -Leonardo was the author of many treatises, some of which only have been -published. The most celebrated is the “Trattato della Pittura,” still a -book of high authority among writings on art. - - -MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI - -Was born at Castel Caprese, near Arezzo, in 1475. In 1488 he entered -the school of Ghirlandaio, the master giving a small payment for the -boy’s services. His precocious abilities soon attracted the notice -of Lorenzo de’ Medici, and until the death of that prince in 1492, -Michelangelo worked under his especial patronage. His earliest drawings -show a spontaneous power which made Fuseli say that “as an artist he -had no infancy;” but for many years he confined himself almost entirely -to sculpture; and some of his greatest achievements in that kind of art -were executed before he undertook his first considerable work with the -pencil. This was the “Cartoon of Pisa,” finished in 1505, and intended as -a design for a mural picture to face that of Leonardo in the Council Hall -at Florence. This cartoon is lost, but a copy in monochrome, containing -probably the whole of the composition, exists in England. During its -progress he had broken off to visit Rome, and execute some sculptural -work for the pope; and in 1508 he went to Rome again to begin the -great achievement of his life, the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel. The -paintings of the ceiling illustrate the Creation and the Fall of Man, -together with other scenes and figures typical of the Redemption. The -middle part of the ceiling is divided into nine compartments, containing -the “Creation of Eve” (placed in the center, as symbolizing the woman -of whom the Messiah was born), the “Creation of Adam,” the “Temptation, -Fall and Expulsion” in one composition, the “Separation of Light from -Darkness,” the “Gathering of the Waters,” the “Creation of the Sun and -Moon,” the “Deluge,” the “Thanksgiving of Noah,” and the “Drunkenness -of Noah.” At the corners of the ceiling are four designs of the great -deliverances of the children of Israel, the Brazen Serpent, David and -Goliath, Judith with the head of Holofernes, and the punishment of -Haman. There are six windows on each side of the chapel; the lunettes -which surround them, and the spaces above them, are occupied by groups -of the ancestors of Christ. Between the windows, at the springing of -the vault, are colossal seated figures of the Prophets and Sibyls who -foretold the coming of the Savior. They are arranged alternately as -follows:—Jeremiah, Persian Sibyl, Ezekiel, Erythræan Sibyl, Joel, Delphic -Sibyl, Isaiah, Cumæan Sibyl, Daniel, Libyan Sibyl; Jonah and Zachariah -are placed one at each end of the chapel, between the historical -compositions at the angles of the ceiling. These single figures are -the most striking features of the design, and calculated skilfully to -help the architectural effect. The side walls of the chapel, below the -springing of the vault, had already been decorated with frescoes executed -by Sandro Botticelli, Cosimo Rosselli, Ghirlandaio, Luca Signorelli, and -Perugino. Michelangelo’s frescoes were finished toward the end of the -year 1512. Vasari’s statement that he painted them all in twenty months -without any assistance is undoubtedly exaggerated; it possibly refers to -the completion of the first half of the ceiling. - -For the next twenty years Michelangelo did little or nothing in painting; -but in 1533, at the age of fifty-nine, he began the cartoons for the -fresco of the “Last Judgment” on the wall behind the altar in the Sistine -Chapel. This celebrated composition is entirely of nude figures, no -accessories being introduced to add to the terror of the scene. Each -figure throughout this vast composition has its appropriate meaning, -and the power of design and mastery of execution are unsurpassed and -unsurpassable. The picture was finished in 1541. Two frescoes in the -neighboring Pauline Chapel, the “Conversion of Saint Paul,” and the -“Crucifixion of Saint Peter,” which were finished in 1549, were his last -paintings. He had accepted, in 1547, the position of architect of Saint -Peter’s, stipulating that his services should be gratuitous. He continued -to carry the building forward, altering materially the original design of -Bramante, until his death, which took place in February, 1564. His body -was taken to Florence, and buried in Santa Croce. - -Although the genius of Michelangelo has exercised a vast and widely -diffused influence over all subsequent art, yet this master, unlike -Raphael, formed no school of his own immediate followers. It must be -admitted that Raphael owes him much, for he never found his full strength -until he had seen Michelangelo’s works at Rome, when his style underwent -immediate improvement. None of those who worked under Michelangelo dared -to walk directly in his steps; there is in his style, as there was in -the character of the man himself, a certain stern individuality which -gives the impression of solitary and unapproachable greatness. Of his -assistants, the most eminent was Sebastiano del Piombo. - - -RAFFAELLO SANZIO, - -Always called Raphael, was born at Urbino in 1483. His father died -when he was eleven years old, and the boy was placed by his uncles, -who became his guardians, with Perugino. His handiwork at this time -is no doubt to be traced in many of Perugino’s pictures and frescoes; -and, as may be seen, he was an important coadjutor with Pinturicchio -at Siena. The earliest picture known to be painted entirely by himself -is a “Crucifixion,” in the collection of Lord Dudley, done at the age -of seventeen, which closely resembles the style of Perugino. In 1504 -he first visited Florence, where he enjoyed the friendship of Francia -and Fra Bartholommeo, and made acquaintance with the works of Leonardo -and Michelangelo—new influences which considerably affected his style. -With the exception of short visits to Perugia, Bologna, and Urbino, he -was resident in Florence until 1508. In that year he went to Rome at -the invitation of Pope Julius II., and was for the rest of his life -continually in the employment of that pontiff and his successor, Leo -X. Raphael died on his birthday, the 6th of April, 1520, aged exactly -thirty-seven years. - -Raphael’s manner as a painter is divided into three styles, corresponding -with the broad divisions of his life’s history. Unlike Michelangelo, -whose genius and individuality is stamped on the earliest works from -his hand, Raphael gained, as his experience of what had been done by -his contemporaries was enlarged, a deeper and further insight into his -own powers. His first, or Peruginesque style, characterizes those works -which he produced while still the companion of his master, before his -first visit to Florence; of these pictures the most important are the -“Sposalizio” (or “Marriage of the Virgin,”) at Milan, and the “Coronation -of the Virgin,” in the Vatican. His second, or Florentine, style covers -the four years from his arrival in Florence in 1504, to his departure for -Rome in 1508; here the manner of Fra Bartholommeo had great influence -upon him; to this period belong the “Madonna del Cardellino” (“of the -Goldfinch,”) in the Uffizi, “La Belle Jardinière,” of the Louvre, the -“Madonna del Baldacchino,” in the Pitti (which was left incomplete by -Raphael, and finished by another hand), and the “Entombment” in the -Borghese Gallery, at Rome, his first attempt at a great historical -composition. It is in his third, or Roman, style that Raphael fully -asserts that sovereignty in art which has earned him the name of Prince -of painters, and appears as the head of his own school, which, generally -called the Roman School, might perhaps, as he collected round him -followers from all parts of Italy, more fitly be termed the Raphaelesque. -This third period includes all his great frescoes in the Vatican, with a -host of easel pictures; for, short as Raphael’s life was, his works are -wondrously numerous, and our space permits mention of only a few of even -the most celebrated. - -It has been questioned whether Raphael’s art gained by what he learnt -from Michelangelo, some critics affirming that his earlier style is -his best. This, however, must be considered to be entirely a matter of -taste. Most painters—unless, like Fra Angelico, so entirely absorbed in -the mystical side of their art as never to change their style—as they -gain in power of expression, lose something of their youthful emotional -fervor; and it is possible to assert that in the magnificent design of -the “Incendio del Borgo” the dramatic element is more in evidence than -in the “Disputa.” But what is lost on the emotional and religious side -is compensated for by the gain in power of representation; and it is -difficult to stand before the cartoon of “The Miraculous Draught of -Fishes,” and not to confess that Giotto himself could not have imparted -a more implicit trustfulness and childlike belief in the power of the -Redeemer to the look and gesture of St. Peter; and while the magnificent -simplicity of the youths drawing the net is conceived in an equal spirit -of truthfulness to nature, the grandeur of style and the knowledge -displayed in the drawing is so much pure gain on his earlier manner. - -The Loggie, or open corridors of the Vatican, were also adorned by -Raphael’s scholars with a series of fifty-two paintings of Biblical -subjects from his designs; the whole series was known as “Raphael’s -Bible.” - -In 1515 he was commissioned to design tapestries for the Sistine Chapel; -of the ten cartoons (distemper paintings on paper) for these tapestries -three have been lost; the other seven after many dangers and vicissitudes -came into the possession of Charles I. of England. They are perhaps the -most remarkable art treasures belonging to England, and are at present -exhibited, by permission of Her Majesty, in the South Kensington Museum. - -Among the greatest oil pictures of Raphael’s third period may be -enumerated the “Madonna di Foligno” in the Vatican; the “Madonna della -Sedia” in the Pitti Palace at Florence; the “Saint Cecilia” at Bologna; -the “Madonna of the Fish,” and the picture of “Christ Bearing His Cross,” -known as the “Spasimo,” in the splendid collection at Madrid; the -“Madonna di San Sisto” at Dresden, which obtained for the artist the name -of “the Divine;” and finally the “Transfiguration” at the Vatican, the -sublime picture on which his last working hours were spent, and which was -carried at his funeral before its colors were dry. - - -TIZIANO VECELLIO, - -Commonly called by the anglicised form of his Christian name, Titian, was -born at Cadore, near Venice, in 1477. His studies in art began at the age -of ten, under a painter named Zuccato, from whose studio he passed to -Gentile Bellini’s, and from his again to that of his brother Giovanni. -Space forbids us to do more than indicate the chief landmarks in Titian’s -long, eventful, and illustrious life. When his reputation as a great -artist was new, before he was thirty years old, he visited the court of -Ferrara, and executed for the duke two of his earliest masterpieces, the -“Tribute Money,” now at Dresden, and the “Bacchus and Ariadne,” in the -National Gallery of London. In 1516 he painted his great altarpiece, the -“Assumption,” now removed from its church to the Accademia at Venice, -and was at once placed by this incomparable work in the highest rank of -painters. The “Entombment” of the Louvre was painted about 1523; and in -1528 he executed another magnificent altarpiece, the “Death of St. Peter -Martyr,” in the church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, which was destroyed in -the fire of 1867. In 1530 Titian was invited to Bologna, to paint the -portrait of the Emperor Charles V.; and he is supposed by some writers -to have accompanied the emperor shortly afterward to Spain. Owing to the -patronage which Charles V. and his son Philip II. liberally conferred on -the artist, Madrid possesses a collection of his works second in number -and importance only to the treasures of Venice. The “Presentation in -the Temple,” in the Accademia at Venice, dates from about 1539, and the -“Christ at Emmaus,” in the Louvre, from about 1546. In 1545 he painted at -Rome the celebrated portrait of “Pope Paul III.,” in the Naples Museum. -Titian continued active in his art even up to the time of his death, -which occurred in 1576, at the great age of ninety-nine. His style, as -is to be expected, changed considerably in the course of his long life, -and the pictures painted in his last years, though full of color, are -infirm in drawing and execution; in the full vigor of his powers he was -a draughtsman second to none, though never aiming at the select beauty -of form attained by the Florentine school, and by Raphael. It was this -that led Michelangelo to say that, with a better mode of study, “This man -might have been as eminent in design as he is true to nature and masterly -in counterfeiting the life, and then, nothing could be desired better -or more perfect;” adding, “for he has an exquisite perception, and a -delightful spirit and manner.” - -The splendid artistic power of Titian may perhaps be better discerned -in his portraits than in the more ambitious works of sacred art. He -stands unquestionably at the head of portrait painters of all ages and -of all schools; not even Velasquez equaling him at his best. Beside -religious pictures and portraits he painted a great number of subjects -from classical mythology. Among the most famous, beside the “Bacchus -and Ariadne,” mentioned above—the pride of the English collection—may -be named the “Bacchanals” of Madrid, the two of “Venus” in the Uffizi, -at Florence, the “Danae,” at Naples, and the often repeated “Venus and -Adonis,” and “Diana and Callisto.” He is seen at his very best in the -“Venus” of the Tribune, at Florence, perhaps the only work of his which -has escaped retouching, and in the exquisite allegory called “Sacred and -Profane Love,” at the Borghese Palace, at Rome. As a landscape painter, -he possessed a sentiment for nature in all its forms which had never -before been seen, and his backgrounds have never been equaled since. -The mountains in the neighborhood of his native town, Cadore, of which, -as well as of other landscape scenes, numerous pen and ink drawings by -his hand are in existence, inspired him, doubtless, with that solemn -treatment of effects of cloud and light and shade and blue distance for -which his pictures are conspicuous. - -It is unnecessary to deal with the school of painting which exists in -Italy at the present day. It would be paying it too high a compliment -to regard it as the legitimate successor of the art of those great -epochs whose course we have tried to sketch. The modern Italian school -is little more than an echo of the modern French. And seeing that -there is no principle clearer or more certain than this, that a great -national school of art can flourish only when it springs from a sane and -vigorous national existence, it is not to be wondered at if a country -so convulsed by the political passions and so vulgarized by the social -triviality and meanness of modern times, should be in this respect cast -down further than her more fortunate neighbors by the same causes which -have soiled even the best art of the nineteenth century with something of -dilettantism and affectation. - - - - -SUNDAY READINGS. - -SELECTED BY THE REV. J. H. VINCENT, D.D. - - -[_April 6._] - -THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION. - - Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If - any man love the world the love of the Father is not in him.—I. - John, ii:15. - -There are two ways in which a practical moralist may attempt to displace -from the human heart its love of the world—either by a demonstration -of the world’s vanity, so that the heart will be prevailed upon simply -to withdraw its regards from an object that is not worthy of it, or by -setting forth another object, even God, as more worthy of its attachment, -so as that the heart shall be prevailed upon not to resign an old -affection, which shall have nothing to succeed it, but to exchange -an old affection for a new one. My purpose is to show that from the -constitution of our nature, the former method is altogether incompetent -and ineffectual, and that the latter method will alone suffice for the -rescue and recovery of the heart from the wrong affection that sometimes -domineers over it. After having accomplished this purpose, I shall -attempt a few practical observations. - -Love may be regarded in two different conditions. The first is when the -object is at a distance, and then it becomes love in a state of desire. -The second is when its object is in possession, and then it becomes love -in a state of indulgence. Under the impulse of desire, man feels himself -urged onward in some path or pursuit of activity for its gratification. -The faculties of his mind are put into busy exercise. In the steady -direction of one great and engrossing interest, his attention is recalled -from the many reveries into which it might otherwise have wandered; and -the powers of his body are forced away from an indolence in which it else -might have languished; and that time is crowded with occupation, which -but for some object of keen and devoted ambition, might have driveled -along in successive hours of weariness and distaste, and though hope does -not enliven, and success does not always crown this career of exertion, -yet in the midst of this very variety, and with the alternations of -occasional disappointment, is the machinery of the whole man kept in a -sort of congenial play, and upholden in that tone and temper which are -most agreeable to it. Insomuch, that if through the extirpation of that -desire which forms the originating principle of all this movement, the -machinery were to stop, and to receive no impulse from another desire -substituted in its place, the man would be left with all his propensities -to action in a state of most painful and unnatural abandonment. - -A sensitive person suffers, and is in violence, if, after having -thoroughly rested from his fatigue, or been relieved from his pain, he -continues in possession of powers without any excitement to these powers; -if he possess a capacity of desire without having an object of desire; -or if he have a spare energy upon his person, without a counterpart, -and without a stimulus to call it into operation. The misery of such -a condition is often realized by him who is retired from business, or -who is retired from law, or who is even retired from the occupations -of the chase and of the gaming table. Such is the demand of our nature -for an object in pursuit, that no accumulation of previous success can -extinguish it, and thus it is that the most prosperous merchant, and -the most victorious general, and the most fortunate gamester, when the -labor of their respective vocations has come to a close, are often -found to languish in the midst of all their acquisitions, as if out of -their kindred and rejoicing element. It is quite in vain with such a -constitutional appetite for employment in man, to attempt cutting away -from him the spring or the principle of one employment, without providing -him with another. The whole heart and habit will rise in resistance -against such an undertaking. The else unoccupied female, who spends the -hours of every evening at some play of hazard, knows as well as you, that -the pecuniary gain, or the honorable triumph of a successful contest, are -altogether paltry. It is not such a demonstration of vanity as this that -will force her away from her dear and delightful occupation. The habit -can not so be displaced as to leave nothing but a negative and cheerless -vacancy behind it—though it may be so supplanted as to be followed up by -another habit of employment to which the power of some new affection has -constrained her. It is willingly suspended, for example, on any single -evening, should the time that was wont to be allotted to gaming require -to be spent on the preparation of an approaching assembly. - -The ascendant power of a second affection will do what no exposition, -however forcible, of the folly and worthlessness of the first, ever -could effectuate. And it is the same in the great world. You never will -be able to arrest any of its leading pursuits, by a naked demonstration -of their vanity. It is quite in vain to think of stopping one of these -pursuits in any way else, but by stimulating to another. In attempting -to bring a worldly man, intent and busied with the prosecution of his -objects, to a dead stand, you have not merely to encounter the charm -which he annexes to these objects, but you have to encounter the pleasure -which he feels in the very prosecution of them. It is not enough, then, -that you dissipate the charm by your moral, and eloquent, and affecting -exposure of its illusiveness. You must address to the eye of his mind -another object, with a charm powerful enough to dispossess the first of -its influence, and to engage him in some other prosecution as full of -interest, and hope, and congenial activity, as the former. It is this -which stamps an impotency on all moral and pathetic declamation of the -insignificance of the world. A man will no more consent to the misery of -being without an object, because that object is a trifle, or of being -without a pursuit, because that pursuit terminates in some frivolous -or fugitive acquirement, than he will voluntarily submit himself to -the torture because that torture is to be of short duration. If to be -without desire and without exertion altogether, is a state of violence -and discomfort, then the present desire, with its correspondent train of -exertion, is not to be got rid of simply by destroying it. It must be -by substituting another desire, or another line of habit or exertion in -its place, and the most effectual way of withdrawing the mind from one -object, is not by turning it away upon desolate and unpeopled vacancy, -but by presenting to its regards another object still more alluring. - -These remarks apply not merely to love considered in the state of desire -for an object not yet attained. They apply also to love considered -in its state of indulgence, or placid gratification, with an object -already in possession. It is seldom that any of our tastes are made -to disappear by a process of natural extinction. At least, it is very -seldom that this is done by the instrumentality of reasoning. It may be -done by excessive pampering, but it is almost never done by the mere -force of mental determination. But what can not be thus destroyed may -be dispossessed, and one taste may be made to give way to another, and -to lose its power entirely as the reigning affection of the mind. It is -thus that the boy ceases, at length, to be the slave of his appetite, -but it is because a manlier taste has now brought it into subordination, -and that the youth ceases to idolize pleasure, but it is because the -idol of wealth has become the stronger, and gotten the ascendency—and -that even the love of money ceases to have the mastery over the heart of -many a thriving citizen, but it is because drawn into the whirl of city -politics, another affection has been wrought into his moral system, and -he is now lorded over by the love of power. There is not one of these -transformations in which the heart is left without an object. Its desire -for one particular object may be conquered; but as to its desire for -having some one object, or other, this is unconquerable. Its adhesion -to that on which it has fastened the preference of its regards, can not -willingly be overcome by the rending away of a single separation. It can -be done only by the application of something else, to which it may feel -the adhesion of a still stronger and more powerful preference. Such is -the grasping tendency of the human heart, that it must have something -to lay hold of—and which, if wrested away, without the substitution -of another something in its place, would leave a void and a vacancy -as painful to the mind as hunger is to the natural system. It may be -dispossessed of one object or of any, but it can not be desolated of all. -Let there be a breathing and a sensitive heart, but without a liking and -without affinity to any of the things that are around it, and in a state -of cheerless abandonment, it would be alive to nothing but the burden -of its own consciousness, and feel it to be intolerable. It would make -no difference to its owner, whether he dwelt in the midst of a gay and -goodly world, or placed afar beyond the outskirts of creation, he dwelt -a solitary unit in dark and unpeopled nothingness. The heart must have -something to cling to—and never, by its own voluntary consent, will it -so denude itself of all its attachments that there shall not be one -remaining object that can draw or solicit it. - - -[_April 13._] - -The misery of a heart thus bereft of all relish for that which is wont -to minister to its enjoyment, is strikingly exemplified in those who, -satiated with indulgence, have been so belabored, as it were, with -the variety and the poignancy of the pleasurable sensations that they -have experienced, that they are at length fatigued out of all capacity -for sensation whatever. The disease of ennui is more frequent in the -French metropolis, where amusement is more exclusively the occupation -of higher classes, than it is in the British metropolis, where the -longings of the heart are more diversified by the resources of business -and politics. There are the votaries of fashion, who, in this way, have -at length become the victims of fashionable excess, in whom the very -multitude of their enjoyments has at last extinguished their power of -enjoyment—who, plied with the delights of sense and of splendor even to -weariness, and incapable of higher delights, have come to the end of all -their perfection, and, like Solomon of old, found it to be vanity and -vexation. The man whose heart has thus been turned into a desert can -vouch for the insupportable languor which must ensue, when one affection -is thus plucked away from the bosom, without another to replace it. -It is not necessary that a man receive pain from anything in order to -become miserable. It is barely enough that he looks with distaste at -everything—and in that asylum which is the repository of minds out of -joint, and where the organ of feeling as well as the organ of intellect, -has been impaired, it is not in the cell of loud and frantic outcries -where you will meet with the acme of mental suffering. But that is the -individual who outpeers in wretchedness all his fellows, who throughout -the whole expanse of nature and society, meets not an object that has at -all the power to detain or interest him; who neither in earth beneath, -nor in heaven above, knows of a single charm to which his heart can -send forth one desirous or responding movement; to whom the world, in -his eye a vast and empty desolation, has left him nothing but his own -consciousness to feed upon—dead to all that is without him, and alive to -nothing but to the load of his own torpid and useless existence. - - * * * * * - -We hope that by this time you understand the impotency of a mere -demonstration of this world’s insignificance. Its sole practical effect, -if it had any, would be to leave the heart in a state which to every -heart is insupportable, and that is a mere state of nakedness and -negation. You may remember the fond and unbroken tenacity with which -your heart has often recurred to pursuits, over the utter frivolity -of which it sighed and wept but yesterday. The arithmetic of your -short-lived days, may on Sabbath make the clearest impression upon -your understanding, and from his fancied bed of death may the preacher -cause a voice to descend in rebuke and mockery on all the pursuits of -earthliness, and as he pictures before you the fleeting generations of -men, with the absorbing grave, whither all the joys and interests of -the world hasten to their sure and speedy oblivion, may you, touched -and solemnized by his argument, feel for a moment as if on the eve of a -practical and permanent emancipation from a scene of so much vanity. - -But the morrow comes, and the business of the world, and the objects of -the world, and the moving forces of the world, come along with it, and -the machinery of the heart, in virtue of which it must have something -to grasp, or something to adhere to, brings it under a kind of moral -necessity to be actuated just as before, and in utter repulsion toward -a state so unkindly as that of being frozen out both of delight and -of desire, does it feel all the warmth and the urgency of its wonted -solicitations, nor in the habit and history of the whole man can we -detect so much as one symptom of the new creature, so that the church, -instead of being to him a school of obedience, has been a mere sauntering -place for the luxury of a passing and theatrical emotion; and the -preaching which is mighty to compel the attendance of multitudes, and -which is mighty to still and to solemnize the hearers into a kind of -tragic sensibility, and which is mighty in the play of variety and vigor -that it can keep up around the imagination, is not mighty to the pulling -down of strongholds. - -The love of the world can not be expunged by a mere demonstration of the -world’s worthlessness. But may it not be supplanted by the love of that -which is more worthy than itself? The heart can not be prevailed upon -to part with the world by a single act of resignation. But may not the -heart be prevailed upon to admit into its preference another, who shall -subordinate the world, and bring it down from its wonted ascendancy? If -the throne which is placed there must have an occupier, and the tyrant -that now reigns has occupied it wrongfully, he may not leave a bosom -which would rather detain him than be left in desolation. But may he not -give way to the lawful sovereign, appearing with every charm that can -secure his willing admittance, and taking unto himself his great power -to subdue the moral nature of man, and to reign over it? In a word, if -the way to disengage the heart from the positive love of one great and -ascendant object, is to fasten it in positive love to another, then it is -not by exposing the worthlessness of the former, but by addressing to the -mental eye the worth and excellence of the latter, that all things are to -be done away, and all things are become new. - -To obliterate all our present affections by simply expunging them, -so as to leave the seat of them unoccupied, would be to destroy the -old character, and to substitute no new character in its place. But -when they take their departure upon the ingress of others, when they -resign their sway to the power and the predominance of new affections, -when, abandoning the heart to solitude, they merely give place to a -successor who turns it into as busy a residence of desire, and interest, -and expectation as before—there is nothing in all this to thwart or -to overthrow any of the laws of our sentient nature—and we see how, -in fullest accordance with the mechanism of the heart, a great moral -revolution may be made to take place upon it. - -This, we trust, will explain the operation of that charm which -accompanies the effectual preaching of the gospel. The love of God, and -the love of the world, are two affections, not merely in a state of -rivalship, but in a state of enmity—and that so irreconcilable that they -can not dwell together in the same bosom. We have already affirmed how -impossible it were for the heart, by any innate elasticity of its own, to -cast the world away from it, and thus reduce itself to a wilderness. The -heart is not so constituted, and the only way to dispossess it of an old -affection is by the expulsive power of a new one. Nothing can exceed the -magnitude of the required change in a man’s character, when bidden, as he -is in the New Testament, not to love the world; no, nor any of the things -that are in the world, for this so comprehends all that is dear to him in -existence as to be equivalent to a command of self-annihilation. But the -same revelation which dictates so mighty an obedience, places within our -reach as mighty an instrument of obedience. - -It brings for admittance, to the very door of our heart, an affection -which, once seated upon its throne, will either subordinate every -previous inmate, or bid it away. Beside the world, it places before the -eye of the mind Him who made the world, and with this peculiarity, which -is all its own—that in the gospel do we so behold God, as that we may -love God. It is there, and there only, where God stands revealed as an -object of confidence to sinners—and where our desire after Him is not -chilled into apathy by that barrier of human guilt which intercepts every -approach that is not made to Him through the appointed Mediator. It is -the bringing in of this better hope whereby we draw nigh unto God—and to -live without hope is to live without God, and if the heart be without -God, the world will then have the ascendancy. It is God apprehended -by the believer as God in Christ, who alone can disport it from this -ascendancy. It is when He stands dismantled of the terrors which belong -to Him as an offended lawgiver, and when we are enabled by faith, which -is his own gift, to see His glory in the face of Jesus Christ, and to -hear His beseeching voice, as it protests good will to men, and entreats -the return of all who will, to a full pardon and a gracious acceptance—it -is then that a love paramount to the love of the world, and at length -expulsive of it, first arises in the regenerating bosom. It is when -released from the spirit of bondage, with which love can not dwell, and -when to the number of God’s children, through the faith that is in Christ -Jesus, the spirit of adoption is found upon us; it is then that the -heart, brought under the mastery of one great and predominant affection, -is delivered from the tyranny of its former desires, and in the only way -in which deliverance is possible. And that faith which is revealed to us -from heaven, as indispensable to a sinner’s justification in the sight of -God, is also the instrument of the greatest of all moral and spiritual -achievements on a nature dead to the influence, and beyond the reach of -every other application. - - -[_April 20._] - -Thus may we come to perceive what it is that makes the most effective -kind of preaching. It is not enough to hold out to the world’s eye the -mirror of its own imperfections. It is not enough to come forth with a -demonstration, however pathetic, of the evanescent character of all -its enjoyments. It is not enough to travel the walk of experience along -with you, and speak to your own conscience and your own recollection of -the deceitfulness of the heart, and the deceitfulness of all that the -heart is set upon. There is many a bearer of the gospel message who has -not shrewdness of natural discernment enough, and who has not power of -characteristic description enough, and who has not the talent of moral -delineation enough, to present you with a vivid and faithful sketch -of the existing follies of society. But that very corruption which he -has not the faculty of representing in its visible details, he may -practically be the instrument of eradicating in its principle. Let him be -but a faithful expounder of the gospel testimony; unable as he may be to -apply a descriptive hand to the character of the present world, let him -but report with accuracy the matter which revelation has brought to him -from a distant world, unskilled as he is in the work of so anatomizing -the heart, as with the power of a novelist to create a graphical or -impressive exhibition of the worthlessness of its many affections—let -him only deal in those mysteries of peculiar doctrine, on which the best -of novelists have thrown the wantonness of their derision. He may not be -able, with the eye of shrewd and satirical observation, to expose to the -ready recognition of his hearers the desires of worldliness—but with the -tidings of the gospel in commission, he may wield the only engine that -can extirpate them. He can not do what some might have done, when, as if -by the hand of a magician they have brought out to view, from the hidden -recesses of our nature, the foibles and lurking appetites which belong to -it. But he has a truth in the possession, which, into whatever heart it -enters, will, like the rod of Aaron, swallow up them all—and unqualified -as he may be, to describe the old man in all the nicer shading of -his natural and constitutional varieties, with him is deposited that -ascendant influence under which the leading tastes and tendencies of the -old man are destroyed, and he becomes a new creature in Jesus Christ our -Lord. - -Let us not cease, then, to ply the only instrument of powerful and -positive operation, to do away from you the love of the world. Let us try -every legitimate method of finding access to your hearts for the love of -Him who is greater than the world. For this purpose, if possible, clear -away that shroud of unbelief which so hides and darkens the face of the -Deity. Let us insist on His claims to your affection, and whether in -the shape of gratitude or in the shape of esteem, let us never cease to -affirm that in the whole of that wondrous economy, the purpose of which -is to reclaim a sinful world unto Himself, He, the God of love, so sets -Himself forth in characters of endearment, that naught but faith, and -naught but understanding are wanting, on your part, to call forth the -love of your hearts back again. - -And here let me advert to the incredulity of a worldly man; when he -brings his own sound and secular experience to bear upon the high -doctrines of Christianity, when he looks upon regeneration as a thing -impossible, when feeling as he does the obstinacies of his own heart, -on the side of things present, and casting an intelligent eye, much -exercised, perhaps, in the observations of human life, on the equal -obstinacies of all who are around him, he pronounces this whole matter -about the crucifixion of the old man, and the resurrection of a new man -in his place, to be in downright opposition to all that is known and -witnessed of the real nature of humanity. We think that we have seen such -men, who, firmly trenched in their own vigorous and homebred sagacity, -and shrewdly regardful of all that passes before them through the week, -and upon the scenes of ordinary business, look on that transition of -the heart by which it gradually dies unto time, and awakens in all the -life of a new felt and ever growing desire toward God, as a mere Sabbath -speculation; and who thus, with all their attention engrossed upon the -concerns of earthliness, continue unmoved to the end of their days, -amongst the feelings and the appetites, and the pursuits of earthliness. - -If the thought of death, and another state of being after it, comes -across them at all, it is not with a change so radical as that of -being born again, that they ever connect the idea of preparation. -They have some vague conception of its being quite enough that they -acquit themselves in some decent and tolerable way of their relative -obligations; and that upon the strength of some such social and domestic -moralities as are often realized by him in whose heart the love of God -has never entered, they will be transplanted in safety from this world, -where God is the Being with whom it may almost be said that they have -had nothing to do, to that world where God is the Being with whom they -will have mainly and immediately to do throughout all eternity. They -admit all that is said of the utter vanity of time, when taken up with -as a resting place. But they resist every application made upon the -heart of man, with the view of so shifting its tendencies that it shall -not henceforth find in the interests of time, all its rest and all its -refreshment. They in fact regard such an attempt as an enterprise that -is altogether aerial, and with a tone of secular wisdom caught from the -familiarities of every-day experience, do they see a visionary character -in all that is said of setting our affections on the things that are -above, and of walking by faith, and of keeping our hearts in such a love -of God as shall shut out from them the love of the world, and of having -no confidence in the flesh, and of so renouncing earthly things as to -have our conversation in heaven. - -Now, it is altogether worthy of being remarked of those men who thus -disrelish spiritual Christianity, and, in fact, deem it an impracticable -acquirement, how much of a piece their incredulities about the doctrines -of Christianity are with each other. No wonder that they feel the work -of the New Testament to be beyond their strength, so long as they hold -the words of the New Testament to be beneath their attention. Neither -they nor any one else can dispossess the heart of an old affection, but -by the impulsive power of a new one, and, if that new affection be the -love of God, neither they nor any one else can be made to entertain it, -but on such a representation of the Deity as shall draw the heart of the -sinner toward Him. Now, it is just their unbelief which screens from the -discernment of their minds this representation. They do not see the love -of God in sending His Son into the world. They do not see the expression -of his tenderness to men, in sparing him not, but giving him up unto -the death for us all. They do not see the sufficiency of the atonement, -or of the sufferings that were endured by him who bore the burden that -sinners should have borne. They do not see the blended holiness and -compassion of the Godhead, in that He passed by the transgressions of -His creatures, yet could not pass them by without an expiation. It is -a mystery to them how a man should pass to a state of godliness from a -state of nature—but had they only a believing view of God manifest in the -flesh, this would resolve for them the whole mystery of godliness. As it -is, they can not get quit of their old affections, because they are out -of sight from all those truths which have influence to raise a new one. -They are like the children of Israel in the land of Egypt, when required -to make bricks without straw—they can not love God, while they want -the only food which can aliment this affection in a sinner’s bosom—and -however great their errors may be, both in resisting the demands of the -gospel as impracticable, and in rejecting the doctrines of the gospel as -inadmissible, yet there is not a spiritual man (and it is the prerogative -of Him who is spiritual to judge all men) who will not perceive that -there is a consistency in these errors. - - -[_April 27._] - -But if there be a consistency in the errors, in like manner is there -a consistency in the truths which are opposite to them. The man who -believes in the peculiar doctrines will readily bow to the peculiar -demands of Christianity. When he is told to love God supremely, this -may startle him to whom God has been revealed in grace, and in pardon, -and in all the freeness of an offered reconciliation. When told he -should shut out the world from the heart, this may be impossible with -him who has nothing to replace it—but not impossible with him who has -found in God a sure and a satisfying portion. When told to withdraw his -affections from the things that are beneath, this was laying an order of -self-extinction upon the man who knows not another quarter in the whole -sphere of his contemplation, to which he could transfer them—but it were -not grievous to him whose view has been opened up to the loveliness and -glory of the things that are above, and can there find, for every feeling -of his soul, a most ample and delighted occupation. When told to look -not at the things that are seen and temporal, this were blotting out the -light of all that is visible from the prospect of him in whose eye there -is a wall of partition between guilty nature and the joys of eternity—but -he who believes that Christ has broken down this wall, finds a gathering -radiance upon his soul, as he looks onward in faith to the things that -are unseen and eternal. Tell a man to be holy—and how can he compass such -a performance, when his alone fellowship with holiness is a fellowship of -despair? It is the atonement of the cross, reconciling the holiness of -the lawgiver with the safety of the offender, that hath opened the way -for a sanctifying influence into the sinner’s heart, and he can take a -kindred impression from the character of God now brought nigh, and now at -peace with him. - -Separate the demand from the doctrine, and you have either a system of -righteousness that is impracticable, or a barren orthodoxy. Bring the -demand and the doctrine together, and the true disciple of Christ is able -to do the one through the other strengthening him. The motive is adequate -to the movement, and the bidden obedience of the gospel is not beyond -the measure of his strength, just because the doctrine of the gospel is -not beyond the measure of his acceptance. The shield of faith, and the -hope of salvation, and the Word of God, and the girdle of truth—these -are the armor that he has put on; and with these the battle is won, and -the eminence is reached, and the man stands on the vantage ground of -a new field and a new prospect. The effect is great, but the cause is -equal to it—and stupendous as this moral resurrection to the precepts of -Christianity undoubtedly is, there is an element of strength enough to -give it being and continuance in the principles of Christianity. - -The object of the gospel is both to pacify the sinner’s conscience, and -to purify his heart; and it is of importance to observe that what mars -one of these objects, mars the other also. The best way of casting out -an impure affection is to admit a pure one; and by the love of what is -good, to expel the love of what is evil. Thus it is, that the freer the -gospel, the more sanctifying the gospel; and the more it is received as -a doctrine of grace, the more will it be felt as a doctrine according to -godliness. This is one of the secrets of the Christian life, that the -more a man holds of God as a pensioner, the greater is the payment of -service that he renders back again. On the tenure of “Do this and live,” -a spirit of fearfulness is sure to enter; and the jealousies of a legal -bargain chase away all confidence from the intercourse between God and -man; and the creature striving to be square and even with his Creator, -is, in fact, pursuing all the while his own selfishness instead of God’s -glory, and with all the conformities which he labors to accomplish, the -soul of obedience is not there, the mind is not subject to the law of -God, nor indeed under such an economy ever can be. It is only when, as -in the gospel, acceptance is bestowed as a present, without money and -without price, that the security which man feels in God is placed beyond -the reach of disturbance, or that he can repose in him, as one friend -reposes in another, or that any liberal and generous understanding can -be established betwixt them—one party rejoicing over the other to do him -good—the other finding that the truest gladness of his heart lies in the -impulse of a gratitude, by which it is awakened to the charms of a new -moral existence. Salvation by grace—salvation on such a footing is not -more indispensable to the deliverance of our persons from the hand of -justice, than it is to the deliverance of our hearts from the chill and -the weight of ungodliness. - -Retain a single shred or fragment of legality with the gospel, and you -raise a topic of distrust between man and God. You take away from the -power of the gospel to melt and to conciliate. For this purpose, the -freer it is, the better it is. That very peculiarity which so many dread -as the germ of Antinomianism, is in fact the germ of a new spirit, and a -new inclination against it. Along with the light of a free gospel, does -there enter the love of the gospel, which in proportion as you impair -the freeness, you are sure to chase away. And never does the sinner find -within himself so mighty a moral transformation, as when under the belief -that he is saved by grace, he feels constrained thereby to offer his -heart a devoted thing, and to deny ungodliness. - -To do any work in the best manner, you would make use of the fittest -tools for it. And we trust that what has been said may serve in some -degree for the practical guidance of those who would like to reach the -great moral achievement of our text—but feel that the tendencies and -desires of nature are too strong for them. We know of no other way by -which to keep the love of the world out of our heart, than to keep in -our heart the love of God—and no other way by which to keep our hearts -in the love of God, than building ourselves up on our most holy faith. -That denial of the world which is not possible to him that dissents from -the gospel testimony, is possible, even as all things are possible to him -that believeth. To try this without faith, is to work without the right -tool or the right instrument. But faith worketh by love; and the way of -expelling from the heart the love that transgresseth the law, is to admit -into its receptacles the love which fulfilleth the law. - -Conceive a man to be standing on the margin of this green world; and -that, when he looked toward it, he saw abundance smiling upon every -field, and all the blessings which earth can afford scattered in -profusion throughout every family, and the light of the sun sweetly -resting upon all the pleasant habitations, and the joys of human -companionship brightening many a happy circle of society—conceive of -this as being the general character of the scene upon one side of his -contemplation; and that on the other, beyond the verge of the goodly -planet on which he was situated, he could descry nothing but a dark and -fathomless unknown. Think you that he would bid a voluntary adieu to all -the brightness and all the beauty that were before him on earth, and -commit himself to the frightful solitude away from it? Would he leave -its peopled dwelling places, and become a solitary wanderer through the -fields of nonentity? If space offered him nothing but a wilderness, would -he abandon the homebred scenes of life and of cheerfulness that lay so -near, and exerted such a power of urgency to detain him? Would not he -cling to the regions of sense, and of life, and of society?—and shrinking -away from the desolation that was beyond it, would not he be glad to keep -his firm footing on the territory of this world, and to take shelter -under the silver canopy that was stretched over it? - -But if, during the time of his contemplation, some happy island of the -blest had floated by; and there had burst upon his senses the light -of its surpassing glories, and its sounds of sweeter melody; and he -clearly saw that there a purer beauty rested upon every field, and a more -heartfelt joy spread itself among all the families; and he could discern -there a peace, and a piety, and a benevolence, which put a moral gladness -into every bosom, and united the whole society in one rejoicing sympathy -with each other, and with the beneficent Father of them all. Could he -further see that pain and mortality were there unknown, and above all, -that signals of welcome were hung out, and an avenue of communication was -made for him, perceive you not, that what was before the wilderness, -would become the land of invitation; and that now the world would be -the wilderness? What unpeopled space could not do, can be done by space -teeming with beatific scenes and beatific society. And let the existing -tendencies of the heart be what they may to the scene that is near and -visible around us, still, if another stood revealed to the prospect of -man, either through the channel of faith, or through the channel of his -senses—then, without violence done to the constitution of his moral -nature, may he die unto the present world, and live to the lovelier world -that stands in the distance, away from it. - - - - -SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. - - -THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON. - - Quiet and fair in tone; condensed to the last point, and still - perfectly clear; written in such pure English that the youngest - reader can understand, yet free from an affectation of baby talk, - which is often considered indispensable in children’s books—the - “Young Folks’ History of the United States” makes a refreshing - contrast to the kind of school book with which Abbott and Loomis, - and men of their stamp have inundated the country. Not that these - latter, in spite of bombast and dryness, may not have served a - purpose in their day and generation, no better men having come - forward heretofore, but that a more thoughtful and scientific age - demands better work.—_Scribner’s Monthly._ - - -Criticism on “Back-Log Studies.” - -In “Back-Log Studies” there are, no doubt, some essentially inartistic -things—some long episodes; for example, such as the “New Vision of Sin” -and the “Uncle in India,” which are clearly inferior in texture to the -rest, and not quite worth the space they occupy; but, as a whole, the -book is certainly a most agreeable contribution to the literature of the -Meditative school. And it is saying a great deal to say this. To make -such an attempt successful there must be a lightness of touch sustained -through everything; there must be a predominant sweetness of flavor, -and that air of joyous ease which is often the final triumph of labor. -There must also be a power of analysis, always subtle, never prolonged; -there must be description, minute enough to be graphic, yet never carried -to the borders of fatigue; there must also be glimpses of restrained -passion, and of earnestness kept in reserve. All these are essential, -and all these the “Back-Log Studies” show. If other resources were -added—as depth of thought, or powerful imagination, or wide learning, or -constructive power—they would only carry the book beyond the proper ranks -of the Meditative school, and place it in that higher grade of literature -to which Holmes’ “Autocrat of the Breakfast Table” belongs. Yet it may be -better not to insist on this distinction, for it is Mr. Warner himself -who wisely reminds us that “the most unprofitable and unsatisfactory -criticism is that of comparison.” - -It is as true in literature as in painting that “it is in the perfection -and precision of the instantaneous line that the claim to immortality -is made.” The first and simplest test of good writing is in the fresh -and incisive phrases it yields; and in this respect “Back-Log Studies” -is strong. The author has not only the courage of his opinions, but he -has the courage of his phrases, which is quite as essential. What an -admirable touch, for instance, is that where Mr. Warner says that a -great wood-fire in a wide kitchen chimney, with all the pots and kettles -boiling and bubbling, and a roasting spit turning in front of it, “makes -a person as hungry as one of Scott’s novels!” Fancy the bewilderment of -some slow and well-meaning man upon encountering that stroke of fancy; -his going over it slowly from beginning to end, and then again backward -from end to beginning, studying it with microscopic eye, to find where -the resemblance comes in, until at last it occurs to him that possibly -there may be a typographical error somewhere, and that, with a little -revision, the sentence might become intelligible! He does not know that -in literature, as in life, nothing venture, nothing have; and that it -often requires precisely such an audacious stroke as this to capture the -most telling analogies. - -There occurs just after this, in “Back-Log Studies,” a sentence which -has long since found its way to the universal heart, and which is worth -citing, as an example of the delicate rhetorical art of under-statement. -To construct a climax is within the reach of every one; there is not a -Fourth-of-July orator who can not erect for himself a heaven-scaling -ladder of that description, climb its successive steps, and then tumble -from the top. But to let your climax swell beneath you like a wave of the -sea, and then let it subside under you so gently that your hearer shall -find himself more stirred by your moderation than by your impulse; this -is a triumph of style. Thus our author paints a day of winter storm; for -instance, the wild snow-drifts beating against the cottage window, and -the boy in the chimney-corner reading about General Burgoyne and the -Indian wars. “I should like to know what heroism a boy in an old New -England farm-house, rough-nursed by nature, and fed on the traditions -of the old wars, did not aspire to—‘John,’ says the mother, ‘you’ll -burn your head to a crisp in that heat.’ But John does not hear; he is -storming the Plains of Abraham just now. ‘Johnny, dear, bring in a stick -of wood.’ How can Johnny bring in wood when he is in that defile with -Braddock, and the Indians are popping at him from behind every tree? -There is something about a boy that I like, after all.” - -I defy any one who has a heart for children to resist that last sentence. -Considered critically, it is the very triumph of under-statement—of -delicious, provoking, perfectly unexpected, moderation. It is a -refreshing dash of cool water just as we were beginning to grow heated. -Like that, it calls our latent heat to the surface by a kindly reaction; -the writer surprises us by claiming so little that we concede everything; -we at once compensate by our own enthusiasm for this inexplicable -lowering of the demand. Like him! of course we like him—that curly-pated, -rosy-cheeked boy, with his story books and his Indians! But if we had -been called upon to adore him, it is very doubtful whether we should -have liked him at all. And this preference for effects secured by quiet -methods—for producing emphasis without the use of italics, and arresting -attention without resorting to exclamation points—is the crowning merit -of the later style of Mr. Warner. - - -HENRY JAMES, Jr. - - Mr. Henry James, Jr., inherits from his father a diction so rich - and pure, so fluent and copious, so finely shaded, yet capable - of such varied service, that it is, in itself, a form of genius. - Few men have ever been so brilliantly equipped for literary - performance. Carefully trained taste, large acquirements of - knowledge, experience of lands and races, and association with - the best minds have combined to supply him with all the purely - intellectual requisites which an author could desire.—_Bayard - Taylor._ - - As a story-teller, we know of no one who is entitled to rank - higher, since Poe and Hawthorne are gone, than Mr. James. - His style is pure and finished, and marked by the nicety of - expression which is so noticeable among the best French writers - of fiction.—_Louisville Courier-Journal._ - - The “Portrait of a Lady” is a very clever book, and a book of - very great interest. We do not know a living English novelist who - could have written it.—_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - -Carlyle’s Letters to Emerson. - -Carlyle takes his place among the first of English, among the very first -of all letter-writers. All his great merits come out in this form of -expression; and his defects are not felt as defects, but only as striking -characteristics and as tones in the picture. Originality, nature, humor, -imagination, freedom, the disposition to talk, the play of mood, the -touch of confidence—these qualities, of which the letters are full, will -with the aid of an inimitable use of language—a style which glances at -nothing that it does not render grotesque—preserve their life for readers -even further removed from the occasion than ourselves, and for whom -possibly the vogue of Carlyle’s published writings in his day will be to -a certain degree a subject of wonder. - -Carlyle is here in intercourse with a friend for whom, almost alone among -the persons with whom he had dealings, he appears to have entertained a -sentiment of respect—a constancy of affection untinged by that humorous -contempt in which (in most cases) he indulges when he wishes to be kind, -and which was the best refuge open to him from his other alternative of -absolutely savage mockery. - -It is singular, indeed, that throughout his intercourse with Emerson he -never appears to have known the satiric fury which he directed at so -many other objects, accepting his friend _en bloc_, once for all, with -reservations and protests so light that, as addressed to Emerson’s own -character, they are only a finer form of consideration.… Other persons -have enjoyed life as little as Carlyle; other men have been pessimists -and cynics; but few men have rioted so in their disenchantments, or -thumped so perpetually upon the hollowness of things with the idea of -making it resound. Pessimism, cynicism, usually imply a certain amount of -indifference and resignation; but in Carlyle these forces were nothing if -not querulous and vocal. It must be remembered that he had an imagination -which made acquiescence difficult—an imagination haunted with theological -and apocalyptic visions. We have no occasion here to attempt to estimate -his position in literature, but we may be permitted to say that it is -mainly to this splendid imagination that he owes it. Both the moral and -the physical world were full of pictures for him, and it would seem to be -by his great pictorial energy that he will live. - - -Anthony Trollope. - -His great, his inestimable merit was a complete appreciation of reality. -This gift is not rare in the annals of English fiction; it would -naturally be found in a walk of literature in which the feminine mind has -labored so fruitfully. Women are delicate and patient observers; they -hold their noses close, as it were, to the texture of life. They feel -and perceive the real (as well as the desirable), and their observations -are recorded in a thousand delightful volumes. Trollope therefore, with -his eyes comfortably fixed on the familiar, the actual, was far from -having invented a _genre_, as the French say; his great distinction is -that, in resting there, his vision took in so much of the field. And then -he _felt_ all common, human things as well as saw them; felt them in a -simple, direct, salubrious way, with their sadness, their gladness, their -charm, their comicality, all their obvious and measurable meanings. - - -Du Maurier. - -He is predominantly a painter of social, as distinguished from popular -life, and when the other day he collected some of his drawings into a -volume, he found it natural to give them the title of “English Society -at Home.” He looks at the “accomplished” classes more than at the -people, though he by no means ignores the humors of humble life. His -consideration of the peculiarities of costermongers and “cadgers” is -comparatively perfunctory, as he is too fond of civilization and of the -higher refinements of the grotesque. His colleague, the frank and as the -metaphysicians say, objective, Keene, has a more natural familiarity with -the British populace. There is a whole side of English life, at which du -Maurier scarcely glances—the great sporting element, which supplies half -of their gayety and all their conversation to millions of her Majesty’s -subjects. He is shy of the turf and of the cricket field; he only touches -here and there upon the river. But he has made “society” completely his -own—he has sounded its depths, explored its mysteries, discovered and -divulged its secrets. His observation of these things is extraordinarily -acute, and his illustrations, taken together, form a complete comedy of -manners, in which the same personages constantly re-appear, so that we -have the sense, indispensable to keenness of interest, of tracing their -adventures to a climax. So many of the conditions of English life are -picturesque (and, to American eyes, even romantic), that du Maurier has -never been at a loss for subjects. We mean that he is never at a loss for -pictures. English society makes pictures all round him, and he has only -to look to see the most charming things, which at the same time have the -merit that you can always take the satirical view of them. - - -WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. - - He is equal as an artist to the best French writers. His books - are not only artistically fine, but morally wholesome.—_Magazin - für die Literatur des Auslandes._ - - The great body of the cultivated public has an instinctive - delight in original genius, whether it be refined or sensational. - Mr. Howells’s is eminently refined. His humor, however vivid in - form, is subtle and elusive in its essence. He depends, perhaps, - somewhat too much on the feelings of humor in his readers to - appreciate his own. He has the true Addisonian touch; hits his - mark in the white, and instead of provoking uproarious laughter, - strives to evoke that satisfied smile which testifies to the - quiet enjoyment of the reader. His humor is the humor of a - poet.—_E. P. Whipple._ - - Mr. Howells has been compared to Washington Irving for the - exquisite purity of his style, and to Hawthorne for a certain - subtle recognition of a hidden meaning in familiar things. A more - thoroughly genial writer, certainly, we have not, nor one more - conscientious in the practice of his art.—_Scribner’s Monthly._ - - -The Young Editor, from “A Modern Instance.” - -“Hullo!” he cried, with a suddenness that startled the boy, who had -finished his meditation upon Bartley’s trowsers, and was now deeply -dwelling on his boots. “Do you like ’em? See what sort of a shine you can -give ’em for Sunday-go-to-meeting-to-morrow-morning.” He put out his hand -and laid hold of the boy’s head, passing his fingers through the thick -red hair. “Sorrel-top!” he said with a grin of agreeable reminiscence. -“They emptied all the freckles they had left into your face—didn’t they, -Andy?” - -This free, joking way of Bartley’s was one of the things that made him -popular; he passed the time of day, and would give and take right along, -as his admirers expressed it from the first, in a community where his -smartness had that honor which gives us more smart men to the square -mile than any other country in the world. The fact of his smartness had -been affirmed and established in the strongest manner by the authorities -of the college at which he was graduated, in answer to the reference -he made to them when negotiating with the committee in charge for the -place he now held as editor of the Equity _Free Press_.… They perhaps -had their misgivings when the young man, in his well-blacked boots, his -grey trowsers neatly fitting over them, and his diagonal coat buttoned -high with one button, stood before them with his thumbs in his waistcoat -pockets, and looked down over his mustache at the floor, with sentiments -concerning their wisdom which they could not explore; they must have -resented the fashionable keeping of everything about him, for Bartley -wore his one suit as if it were but one of many; but when they understood -that he had come by everything through his own unaided smartness, they -could no longer hesitate. One, indeed, still felt it a duty to call -attention to the fact that the college authorities said nothing of the -young man’s moral characteristics in a letter dwelling so largely upon -his intellectual qualifications. The others referred this point by a -silent look to ’Squire Gaylord. “I don’t know,” said the ’Squire, “as -I ever heard that a great deal of morality was required by a newspaper -editor.” The rest laughed at the joke, and the ’Squire continued: “But -I guess if he worked his own way through college, as they say, that he -hain’t had time to be up to a great deal of mischief. You know it’s for -idle hands that the devil provides, doctor.” - -“That’s true, as far as it goes,” said the doctor. “But it isn’t the -whole truth. The devil provides for some busy hands, too.” - -“There’s a good deal of sense in that,” the ’Squire admitted. “The worst -scamps I ever knew were active fellows. Still, industry is in a man’s -favor. If the faculty knew anything against this young man they would -have given us a hint of it. I guess we had better take him; we shan’t do -better. Is it a vote?” - - -CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. - - Humor he has, and of the very highest order. It is as delicate - as Washington Irving’s, and quite as spontaneous. But humor is - hardly his predominant quality. He has all the wit of Holmes, - and all the tenderness of Ik Marvel. He is often charmingly - thoughtful, earnest and suggestive.—_San Francisco Bulletin._ - - There is only one other pair of microscopic eyes like his owned - by an American, and they belong to W. D. Howells. These two men - will ferret out fun from arid sands and naked rocks, and in one - trip of a league, less or more, over a barren waste, see and hear - more that is amusing and entertaining than the rest of the world - will discover in crossing a continent. Such men should do our - traveling for us.—_Chicago Tribune._ - - -From “Back-Log Studies.” - -The fire on the hearth has almost gone out in New England; the hearth has -gone out; the family has lost its center; age ceases to be respected; -sex is only distinguished by the difference between millinery bills and -tailors’ bills; there is no more toast-and-cider; the young are not -allowed to eat mince pies at ten o’clock at night; half a cheese is no -longer set to toast before the fire; you scarcely ever see in front of -the coals a row of roasting apples, which a bright little girl, with many -a dive and start, shielding her sunny face from the fire with one hand, -turns from time to time; scarce are the grey-haired sires who strop their -razors on the family Bible, and doze in the chimney corner. A good many -things have gone out with the fire on the hearth. - -I do not mean to say that public and private morality have vanished -with the hearth. A good degree of purity and considerable happiness are -possible with grates and blowers; it is a day of trial, when we are all -passing through a fiery furnace, and very likely we shall be purified -as we are dried up and wasted away. Of course the family is gone as an -institution, though there still are attempts to bring up a family round -a “register.” But you might just as well try to bring it up by hand as -without the rallying-point of a hearth-stone. Are there any homesteads -now-a-days? Do people hesitate to change houses any more than they do -to change their clothes? People hire houses as they would a masquerade -costume, liking, sometimes, to appear for a year in a little fictitious -stone-front splendor above their means. Thus it happens that so many -people live in houses that do not fit them. I should almost as soon -think of wearing another person’s clothes as his house; unless I could -let it out and take it in until it fitted, and somehow expressed my own -character and taste. - - -From “Being a Boy.” - -It is a wonder that every New England boy does not turn out a poet, or a -missionary or a peddler. Most of them used to. There is something in the -heart of the New England hills to feed the imagination of the boy and -excite his longing for strange countries. I scarcely know what the subtle -influence is that forms him and attracts him in the most fascinating and -aromatic of all lands, and yet urges him away from all the sweet delights -of his home to become roamer in literature and in the world a poet and a -wanderer. There is something in the soil and in the pure air, I suspect, -that promises more romance than is forthcoming, and that excites the -imagination without satisfying it, and begets the desire of adventure. - - * * * * * - -What John said was, that he didn’t care much for pumpkin pie; but that -was after he had eaten a whole one. It seemed to him then that mince -would be better. The feeling of a boy toward pumpkin pie has never been -properly considered.… His elders say that the boy is always hungry; but -that is a very coarse way of putting it. He has only recently come into -a world that is full of good things to eat, and there is on the whole -a very short time in which to eat them; at least he is told, among the -first information he receives, that life is brief. Life being brief, and -pie and the like fleeting, he very soon decides on an active campaign. -It may be an old story to people who have been eating for forty or fifty -years; but it is different with a beginner. He takes the thick and thin -as it comes—as to pie, for instance. Some people do make them very thin. - - - - -UNITED STATES HISTORY. - - -SETTLEMENT OF NEW YORK. - -The most favorably situated, and, for its extent, the most valuable -region of the country was first settled by the Dutch, Hollanders and -Swedes. - -For some ten years there had been a trading post and small village on -Manhattan Island; and, in 1623 the “Dutch West India Co.,” with a charter -covering the whole coast from the Strait of Magellan to Hudson’s Bay, -landed a colony of thirty families at New Amsterdam. - -The first colonists were mostly Protestant refugees from Belgium, who -came to America to escape the persecutions endured in their own country. -A part of the colonists took up their abode at New Amsterdam; others went -down the New Jersey coast, and landed on the eastern shore of the Bay -of Delaware. The same year a colony of 18 families ascended the Hudson, -and located at or near Albany. This was the most northern post, and was -called Fort Orange. - -A civil government was established for New Netherlands, in 1624, -Cornelius May being the first governor. - -In 1626 Peter Minuit was appointed governor, and during his -administration he purchased of the native inhabitants the whole of -Manhattan Island, containing more than 20,000 acres, for forty dollars. - -Some settlements were also made on Long Island. The Dutch of New -Amsterdam and the Pilgrims of New England were early friends, and helped -each other. Both enjoyed a good degree of prosperity, and the population -steadily increased. - -For more than ten years the Indians, with few exceptions, received the -strangers who came among them kindly and in good faith. When injured -and wronged their resentment was kindled, and terribly did they avenge -themselves on their enemies. The first notable instance was at Lewistown, -on Delaware Bay, where Hosset, a governor of violent temper and little -sagacity, seized and put to death a chief, who in some way offended him. -The tribe was aroused, and assailed the place with such violence that -not a man was left alive. When the next ship-load of colonists arrived, -instead of a thrifty town, and friends eagerly waiting to receive them, -they found but the bones of the slain, and the ashes of the homes that -had sheltered them. Afterward there was not, for many years, the same -sense of security; and in 1640 New Netherlands became involved in a -general war with the Indians of Long Island and New Jersey, a war that, -on both sides, was far from honorable, and marked with treachery, -cruelty, and murders most revolting. If the whites were surprised and -massacred by the Indians, there were as terrible massacres of Indians by -the whites, who were, too often, the aggressors. An impartial historian -says: “Nearly all the bloodshed and sorrow of those five years of war may -be charged to Governor Kief. He was a revengeful, cruel man, whose idea -of government was to destroy whatever opposed him.” For his headstrong -course and cruelty he lost his position, and, to the great relief of the -colonists, who had suffered much on his account, sailed for England. But -the ship was wrecked on the coast of Wales, and the guilty governor found -a grave in the sea. He was succeeded by Peter Stuyvesant, a resolute -man, of more ability than most who preceded him. He, for seventeen -years, managed the affairs of the colonists successfully. He conciliated -the savages, settled the boundaries of his territory, and enforced the -surrender of New Sweden, which became a part of his dominion. There was -afterward some difficulty with the Indians, but more from a quarter -whence no danger was expected. Lord Baltimore, of Maryland, claimed, -under his charter, all the territory between the Chesapeake and Delaware -Bay. Berkley claimed New Sweden, while Connecticut and Massachusetts were -equally aggressive on the territories adjacent to their lines. - -In 1664 the unscrupulous king of England, Charles II., issued patents -to his brother, the Duke of York, covering the territory called New -Netherlands, and more beside. It was in utter disregard of the rights -of Holland, and of the West India Co., who had settled the country. No -time was given for protest against the outrage. An English squadron soon -appeared before New Amsterdam, and demanded the immediate surrender of -the country, and the acknowledgment of the sovereignty of England. No -effectual resistance could be made, and the indignant old governor, -his council ordering it, had to sign the capitulation; and, on the 8th -of September, 1664, the English flag was hoisted over the fort and -town. The Swedish and Dutch settlements likewise capitulated, and the -conquest was complete. From Maine to Georgia, in every settlement near -the coast, the British flag was unfurled. This high-handed injustice, -which robbed a sister state of her well earned colonial possessions, was -but slightly mitigated by the fact that the armament was insufficient to -enforce submission without the shedding of blood. The capitulation was -on favorable terms, and with fair promises, that were never fulfilled. -The government was despotic, and the people were sorely oppressed. The -policy of the tyrannical governor was to tax the people till they could -do nothing but think how possibly to pay the amount assessed. - -In 1673, England and Holland being at war, the latter sent a small -squadron to recover the possessions wrested from her in America. When -the little fleet appeared before New York, the governor was absent, and -his deputy, either from cowardice, or, knowing the people preferred to -have it so, at once surrendered the city, and the whole province yielded -without a struggle. - -But the re-conquest of New York by the Dutch, gave them no permanent -possession, as the war was soon closed by a treaty of peace, in which all -the rights of Holland in America were surrendered. - -The Dutch and Swedes again became subject to English authority. Popular -government was overthrown, and the officers appointed by the crown, -directly or otherwise, with few exceptions, were unjust and tyrannical. -Their oppressive measures were met with resistance, and, so intense -was the hatred excited, that obstructions were thrown in the way of -everything that was attempted. The people, when not repelling the attacks -of the French and the Indians, or carrying the war into the territory -of the invaders—campaigns in which much was sacrificed and nothing -gained—were in a constant struggle with the royal governors, intent on -collecting the revenues and enriching themselves, but careless of the -best interests of the people. - - -PENNSYLVANIA. - -In 1681 William Penn, a man of convictions, who, with other Quakers, had -suffered persecution on account of his religious convictions, obtained a -charter with proprietary rights, for a large tract of American territory. -Geographically its position was nearly central as regards the original -colonies, but at first somewhat indefinitely bounded. In the final -adjustment of colonial limits it was made a regular parallelogram, a -small addition being made to give access to Lake Erie, and a good harbor. -The average length is 310 miles; the width, 160 miles. In naming his -territory the proprietor modestly omitted any allusion to himself. He -suggested Sylvania, because of the extensive and almost unbroken forest. -The clerk prefixed “Penn.” From this he appealed to the king, who decided -the prefix should be retained; but, as a relief to the wounded modesty of -the Quaker, said it would be in honor of the Admiral, his friend, and the -deceased father of William. For whomever the compliment was intended, the -citizens of the commonwealth have always liked the name. - -The liberal plan for the government of West New Jersey, previously -drawn up by Penn, was adopted, and the colonists encouraged to govern -themselves. The powers conferred on him personally were never used in -selfishness, or to advance his personal interests, but only to further -the complete establishment of freedom, justice, and the best interests of -the people. - -To the Swedes and others who had settled within his territory before -he took possession, he introduced himself in a way so conciliatory and -assuring that their friendship was at once won. His first message as -governor was an admirable document—plain, honest, sensible in its every -utterance. Its brevity allows it to be printed in full. “My friends, I -wish you all happiness here and hereafter. These words are to let you -know that it hath pleased God, in his providence, to cast you in my lot -and care. It is a business that though I never undertook before, yet God -hath given me an understanding of my duty, and an honest heart to do it -uprightly. I hope you will not be troubled at your change and the king’s -choice; for you are now fixed at the mercy of no governor that comes to -make his fortune great. You shall be governed by laws of your own making, -and live a free, and if you will, a sober, industrious people.…” - -Before the proprietor’s arrival, with three shiploads of Quaker -colonists, his deputy, as instructed, had respected the rights of all -the settlers, of whatever nationality or religious faith, and had been -specially careful to cultivate friendly relations, and form treaties -with the Indian tribes located in or near the territory. The offers -of friendship, honestly made, were received in the same kindly spirit -that prompted them, and neither fraud nor violence was feared. Not long -after Penn came, a general council was called of the chiefs and sachems, -anxious to see him of whom they had heard, and whose promises, reported -to them, they had believed. He met them, with a few friends, unarmed as -they all were, and spoke kind words by an interpreter. - -It was not his object to purchase lands, or to lay down rules to govern -them in trading, but honestly to assure the untutored children of the -forest of his friendly purposes and brotherly affection. - -The covenant then made, not written with ink, nor confirmed by any oath, -was sacredly kept. No deed of violence or injustice ever marred the peace -or interrupted the friendly relations of the parties. For more than -seventy years, during which time the province remained under the control -of the Friends, the peace was unbroken. Not a war-whoop was heard, nor -any hostile demonstration witnessed in Pennsylvania. - -In December, 1682, a convention was held of three days’ continuance, and -all needful provision made for territorial legislation. - -The generous concessions of the proprietor harmonized the views of the -assembly, and the results of the convention were eminently satisfactory. - -After a month’s absence, during which there was a visit to the -Chesapeake, and an amicable conference with Lord Baltimore, about the -boundaries of their respective provinces, Penn returned, and busied -himself in locating and making a plot of his proposed capital. The -beautiful neck between the Schuylkill and Delaware was wisely chosen; the -land purchased of the Swedes, who had begun a settlement there, and map -of the city provided. Three or four cabins were the only dwellings on the -site, and the lines of the streets were indicated by marks on the trees. -Thus in the woods was founded Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love. - -From the inception of his American enterprise, Penn showed himself -a true philanthropist, not seeking his own aggrandizement, but the -good of others. The oppressed and persecuted trusted him and were -not disappointed. He promised them freedom, the love of which was a -master passion with him, and the charter of their liberties dated at -Philadelphia, and adopted by the first General Assembly, was even more -generous than they expected. He conceded all the rights of legislation -to the representatives of the people, reserving for himself only the -right to veto any hasty and objectionable enactments of the council. -His administration as executive met with much favor, and the tide of -prosperity was for years unabated. Such was the condition of affairs -in Pennsylvania when King James II. abdicated his throne. Penn, being -a friend of the Stuarts, and having received his liberal charter from -Charles II., sympathized with the fallen monarch, and, though loyal, -had less confidence in William and Mary. For his sympathy and supposed -adherence to the cause of the exiled king, he was persecuted, several -times arrested and cast into prison. But investigations showed the -suspicions of disloyalty unfounded; and his rights, so unjustly and to -the great grief of his colonists, wrested from him, were fully restored. -The new sovereign was a Catholic, and his fellow-communicants, like -other dissenters from the Establishment, had suffered much. His anxiety -to restore to them all the immunities of citizenship disposed him to -listen to the logic and eloquence of the accomplished Quaker, who boldly -contended for the toleration of all creeds, and the unlimited freedom of -conscience. His influence during these years, in keeping up the tide of -immigration to America, and especially to Pennsylvania, was something -wonderful. - -In 1699 he again visited his American colony, now grown into a state—the -increase in population and all the resources of a prosperous community -far exceeding his expectations. - -In 1701, having carefully and satisfactorily arranged all his affairs -in America, Penn bade a final adieu to his many friends, and returned -to England. He left them, largely through the influence of his teaching -and example and spirit, at peace among themselves and with all their -neighbors. - -About this time a measure was proposed in England that, if passed, would -seriously affect the colonists in all parts of the country. The ministers -formed the design of abolishing all the proprietary estates, with the -view of establishing royal governments in their stead. The presence of -Penn was greatly needed in England to prevent the success of this scheme, -and not without much effort was the purpose defeated. It required a man -of power and influence in the king’s court to do it. From this time -the government, though still in Penn’s right, was administered by his -deputies, some of whom disappointed him. John Evans, an ambitious man, -and not true to the peace principles of the Friends, greatly troubled the -province by purchasing military equipments, and attempting to organize -a regiment of militia. The council and citizens protested so strongly -against his proceedings as irreconcilable with the policy of Penn, that -Evans was removed from the office, and another appointed. His charge to -the deputies appointed had been, “You are come to a quiet land; rule -for him under whom the princes of this world will one day esteem it an -honor to govern in their places.” Those who heeded the charge had peace -and prosperity in their borders. As proprietor of his vast possessions -in America, Penn was not faultless; but his mistakes bore an amiable -character. Conscious of his own integrity and freedom from cupidity, -he placed too much confidence in the untried virtue of others, and -exposed inferior men in the way of temptation to dishonesty that they -were not able to resist. The rascality of his agent, Ford, whose false -accounts involved the honest proprietor in debt to a large amount, well -nigh accomplished his financial ruin. He was imprisoned, and after weary -months of confinement was released by influential friends, who compounded -with the creditors in whose power the crafty agent had placed him. - -The simplicity of his Quaker habits and enthusiasm for religion seemed -inconsistent with his great influence in the corrupt court of the king, -and he was suspected of acting a double part—was thrice arrested, charged -with treasonable intentions, and as often acquitted. But the strain -was too great. His natural force abated, and the infirmities of age -came on him rapidly. His acquittal, and the complete vindication of his -character cast a bright light on the clouds, and its radiance gave a kind -relief for the six years of feebleness and suffering that remained after -life’s mission seemed mostly accomplished. The attacks of enemies and -contemporary rivals are more readily condoned. But the abortive attempt -of Lord Macaulay to asperse the character of the deceased governor, whose -enterprise in the New World eclipsed all others, reflects little honor on -the name of the great historian. Certainly the great Quaker’s record on -this side of the Atlantic can never be tarnished, and his principles of -liberty and equality are better understood and appreciated by American -freemen. - -The colonial possessions of Penn were bequeathed to his three sons, by -whom, and their deputies, the government was administered until the -American Revolution. Afterward, in 1779, the entire claim of the Penn -family to the soil and jurisdiction of the state, was purchased by the -legislature for a hundred and thirty thousand pounds sterling. The early -history of the Keystone state is one of special interest and pleasure. -The reader lingers over it because it recounts bloodless victories, and -the triumph of kindness and right over violence and wrong. - -When nations grow mercenary and grasping, the strong justifying their -aggressions and conquests by the false plea that success, and the -probable hereafter of the conquered races justify their assaults, the -early annals of Penn’s state will stand a perpetual protest against -fraud and violence, however successful for a time. Might does not make -right, even when the highest civilization confronts the lowest barbarism. -Even savages had rights that the most cultured Englishmen were bound to -respect. - -The brotherhood of man includes those of lowest estate. So thought the -founder of the great state that bears his name. With his charter in -hand he fearlessly plunged into the vast wilderness, saying, “I will -here found a free colony for all mankind.” The words had the true ring, -and the asylum was opened for men of every nation who loved liberty and -hated the oppressor’s wrongs. And it was a most fitting thing that the -“bells of his capital should ring out the first glad notes of American -independence.” - - -GEORGIA. - -Every philanthropist must take satisfaction in the founding of the -colony in Georgia; for, perhaps beyond any other, it had its origin -in the spirit of pure benevolence. The unfortunate debtor in England -was by the laws liable to imprisonment; and thousands were, for this -cause alone, languishing in prisons. The miserable condition of debtors -and their desolate families, was at length thrust on the attention of -Parliament. In 1728 a commission was appointed to inquire into the state -of the poor, and report measures of relief. The work was accomplished, -the jails thrown open, and the prisoners returned to their families. -But, though liberated, they and their friends were in no condition -to maintain themselves respectably in the land of their birth. There -was a land beyond the sea where debt was not a crime, and poverty not -necessarily a disgrace. To provide somewhere a refuge for the poor -of England, and the distressed Protestants of other countries, the -commission appealed to George II. for the privilege of planting a colony -of such persons in America. A charter was issued giving the desired -territory to a corporation, for twenty-one years, _to be held in trust -for the poor_. In honor of the king the new province was named Georgia. -The high-souled philanthropist who initiated and went steadily forward -in this enterprise was James Oglethorpe. Born a loyalist, educated at -Oxford, a high churchman, a soldier, a member of Parliament, benevolent, -generous, full of sympathy, and far-sighted in comprehending the results -of his enterprise, he sacrificed much, giving the best position of a life -so full of energy and promise to the noble charity of providing homes -for the poor, under such conditions that the largest benefit could be -received by them without any sense of degradation. Ridpath says: “The -magnanimity of the enterprise was heightened by the fact that he did -not believe in the equality of men, but only in the duty of the strong -to protect the weak, and sympathize with the lowly. Oglethorpe was the -principal member of the corporation, and to him the personal leadership -of the first colony planted on the banks of the Savannah was naturally -intrusted. His associations were with cultured people, and his refined -tastes would be subjected to some crucial tests by the rude scenes in the -wilderness, and his association with unlettered men. But he was not a man -to shirk responsibility, and promptly determined to share the privations, -hardships, and dangers of his colony. - -“With one hundred and twenty emigrants, in January, 1735, he safely -reached the coast, proceeded up the river, and selected, for the site -of his first settlement, the high bluff on which Savannah was built. -There, amidst the pines, was soon seen a village of tents and rude -dwellings, the nucleus of the fine city, intended for the capital of a -new commonwealth, in which there would be freedom of conscience and no -imprisonment for debt.” - - [End of Required Reading for April.] - - - - -LIGHT AT EVENTIDE. - -By E. G. CHARLESWORTH. - - - I met an old man in my way; - For many years the light of day - Had been to him but memory; - Poor, blind, half-deaf, and lame was he: - My heart was bent to sympathize, - I looked toward the dead closed eyes, - Hopeful, by some apt words, a light - To bring to mingle with his night. - - A falling tide was on the sand. - Slowly, that he might understand, - I said, - “The ebbing tide, and then the flood; - The darkest hour, then the dawn; - Death, then——” - Some inner sun’s streaks in his face - Shone on this image of his case, - And twice, with Faith and Hope’s sunshine, - He brightly filled my shortened line— - _Death, then the morn—Death, then the morn!_ - - * * * * * - -For though you might not be able to break or bend the power of genius—the -deeper the sea, the more precipitous the coast—yet in the most important -initiatory decade of life, in the first, at the opening dawn of all -feelings, you might surround and overlay the slumbering lion-energies -with all the tender habits of a gentle heart, and all the bands of -love.—_Richter._ - - - - -THE COOPER INSTITUTE. - -By the REV. J. M. BUCKLEY, D.D. - - -Among the monuments and illustrations of the spirit of philanthropy—the -noblest distinction between ancient and modern civilization—the Cooper -Institute has stood for a quarter of a century, an object of interest -proportionate to the intellectual and moral elevation of those who behold -it. - -The early struggles, great success and marked mental progress of its -founder, no less than a liberality as beautiful as it was then rare, -invest his life with a peculiar charm. Nor did he retain his possessions -until death loosened his grasp, employing in beneficence only that which -he could no longer retain. Thus he became the ancestor of many who are -their own executors. “May their tribe increase!” To these qualities was -added a simplicity which made it impossible not to feel that Peter Cooper -was a kind of universal “Uncle.” It pleased Almighty God in a providence, -which was no strain upon faith, as it seemed preëminently in harmony with -the sense of fitness, to allow him to live until he had seen the desire -of his heart, and could not doubt either the perpetuity, the wisdom or -the success of his plans for promoting the welfare of the people. To -comparatively few philanthropists on so large a scale, has this privilege -been vouchsafed; for most of them are old before their accumulations -justify large responsibilities. - -The death of Peter Cooper gave to New York the opportunity, which was -itself a blessing, of showing by spontaneous tributes whose reflex -influence strengthens every spring of virtue, counteracting the -barbarizing tendencies of the struggle for bread or riches or honors, and -the weakening effects of mere idleness and the prevailing distrust of -human goodness, its estimate of disinterestedness. The opportunity was -improved, for never within the memory of the oldest inhabitant has the -death of a private citizen evoked more tender exhibitions of respect and -affection than that of the patriarchal Peter Cooper. - -It is my purpose to describe this institution; to tell all about it, so -that those who read and have not seen may know what those who have seen -are pleased to recall. - -On the 29th of April, 1859, Peter Cooper executed a deed in fee simple of -the property known as the Cooper Institute without any reservation, to -six trustees, upon the conditions specified in the act of the legislature -authorizing the gift to be made, “that the above mentioned and desirable -premises, together with the appurtenances and the rents, issues, income, -and profits thereof shall be forever devoted to the instruction and -improvement of the inhabitants of the United States in practical science -and art.” - -The location of the property and its dimensions are thus described by the -founder in his letter to the trustees accompanying the trust deed: - - “GENTLEMEN:—It is to me a source of inexpressible pleasure, after - so many years of continued effort, to place in your hands the - title of all that piece and parcel of land bounded on the west - by Fourth Avenue, and on the north by Astor Place, on the east - by Third Avenue, and on the south by Seventh Street, with all - the furniture, rents and income of every name and nature, to be - forever devoted to the advancement of science and art in their - application to the varied and useful purposes of life.” - -That the spirit of Peter Cooper and the purposes which he had in this -munificent gift may be the more fully understood, and the reader may -judge how near the trustees have come to fulfilling the same, I shall -quote some salient passages from that unique letter. “The great object I -desire to accomplish by the establishment of an institution devoted to -the advancement of science and art is to open the volume of nature by -the light of truth—so unveiling the laws and methods of Deity that the -young may see the beauties of creation, enjoy its blessings, and learn -to love the Being ‘from whom cometh every good and perfect gift.’ My -heart’s desire is, that the rising generation may become so thoroughly -acquainted with the laws of nature _and the great mystery of their -own being that they may see, feel, understand and know that there are -immutable laws designed in infinite wisdom, constantly operating for our -good—so governing the destiny of worlds and men that it is our highest -wisdom to live in strict conformity to these laws_.” - -The italics are his. Mr. Cooper felt a special interest in the -advancement of women; nor did this interest take a mere sentimental, much -less an unpractical, form. It did not effervesce in honeyed compliments -or futile denunciation of the existing state. It was thus expressed: “To -manifest the deep interest and sympathy I feel in all that can advance -the happiness and better the condition of the female portion of the -community, and especially of those who are dependent upon honest labor -for support, I desire the trustees to appropriate two hundred and fifty -dollars yearly to assist such pupils of the Female School of Design as -shall, in their careful judgment, by their efforts and sacrifices in the -performance of duty to parents, or to those that Providence has made -dependent on them for support, merit and require such aid. My reason for -this requirement is, not so much to reward, as to encourage the exercise -of heroic virtues that often shine in the midst of the greatest suffering -and obscurity, without so much as being noticed by the passing throng.” - -In prescribing rules for the practice of debate, and the facilities -for the hearing of lectures, he says: “To aid the speakers, and those -that hear, to profit by these lectures and debates, I hereby direct to -have placed in the lecture room, in a suitable position, full-length -likenesses of Washington, Franklin and Lafayette, with an expression of -my sincere and anxious desire that all that behold them may remember that -notwithstanding they are dead they yet speak the language of truth and -soberness.” - -Here follows a provision far in advance of his time, but now becoming -common, if not popular: “Desiring as I do that the students of this -institution may become preëminent examples in the practice of all the -virtues, I have determined to give them an opportunity to distinguish -themselves for their good judgment by annually recommending to the -trustees for their adoption such rules and regulations as they, on mature -reflection, shall believe to be necessary and proper to preserve good -morals and good order throughout their connection with this institution.” - -The letter contains an account of the religious opinions which had taken -an “irresistible possession” of his mind. These—which may be inferred -from the extracts made—and the offer of ten thousand dollars additional, -to the board of trustees, for which they were to draw at their pleasure, -as fast as the same could “be wisely used to advance the interests of the -institution,” conclude this remarkable letter. - -Mr. Cooper continued to assist the Institute in every possible way until -his death. In his will he bequeathed to it $100,000. Soon after his death -his children notified the trustees that “in accordance with what they -understood to be Mr. Cooper’s final wishes, they would in a few months -contribute the sum of $100,000 in addition to the bequest of $100,000 -contained in his will.” - -The trustees—of whom not one has died in the long period of their -service, the only death being that of the President, Peter Cooper—give -the following succinct statement of the principles upon which they -proceeded in the execution of so weighty a trust. They say that they -laid down as the fundamental basis of their operations the following -principles: - -First, that the details of the institution in all the departments should -be arranged with especial reference to the intellectual wants and -improvement of the working classes. And, second, that as far as might be -consistent with the first principle, all interference with the plans or -objects of other existing institutions in the city should be avoided. -Guided by these principles the trustees arrived at the following broad -scheme, as best calculated to instruct, elevate, and improve the working -classes of the city: - -1. Instruction in the branches of knowledge which are practically applied -in their daily occupations, by which they support themselves and their -families. - -2. Instruction in the laws by which health is preserved and the sanitary -condition of families improved; in other words, in personal hygiene. - -3. Instruction in social and political science, by virtue of which -communities maintain themselves, and nations progress in virtue, wealth -and power. - -4. Instruction addressed to the eye, the ear, and the imagination, with -a view to furnish a reasonable and healthy recreation to the working -classes after the labors of the day. - -In pursuance of these objects and in harmony with the above comprehensive -principles the following departments are maintained at the present time -in most effective operation: - -1. Free Reading Room and Library. Here between 430 and 440 periodicals -are kept on file, and upward of 17,000 volumes are upon the shelves. In -1883 the number of books used was 194,963, the number of patent office -reports examined 8,324, and the number of visitors to the patent office -room 1,487. In all 559,707 persons visited the Free Reading Room and -Library during 1883. - -2. Free Art School for Women. There were no less than 1,450 applications -for admission during the year, a number far in excess of the -accommodations; 275 were admitted to the morning classes, of whom 202 -remained at the close of the term, and 160 received certificates. There -are also a “pay class” for pottery painting in this department, and a pay -class for drawing in the afternoon; 43 were in the pottery class, and 221 -in the drawing class. - -3. Free School for Women in Wood Engraving. Thirty-two students were -received during the year 1882, of whom 28 continued to the close of the -term. - -4. Free School of Telegraphy for Women. The number of applicants was 160, -of whom 55 were admitted. - -5. Free Night School of Science. In this important department are classes -in algebra, geometry, trigonometry, analytical geometry, descriptive -geometry, differential and integral calculus, elementary mechanics, -natural philosophy, engineering, astronomy, elementary chemistry, -analytical chemistry, geology, mechanical drawing, oratory and debate. -One thousand one hundred and sixty-nine were admitted into the School -of Science, 705 remained till the close of the year, and 405 obtained -certificates. - -6. The Free Night School of Art. Here is taught perspective drawing, -mechanical drawing, architectural drawing, drawing from cast, form -drawing, industrial drawing, ornamental free hand, rudimental free hand, -modeling in clay. In this school were 1,797 pupils. - -In addition to these departments a course of ten free lectures is given -in the great hall on successive Saturday evenings for ten weeks. The -lecturers are men of considerable eminence and generally specialists. -Probably the most interesting ever delivered was the course by the -famous naturalist, the Rev. J. G. Wood, of London, England. This course -crowded the hall, and was concluded January 19th of the present year by a -lecture, with illustrations, on “The Ant.” - -The term begins in the free Night Schools for Science and Art on the 1st -of October, and closes term work in April. Applications for admission -must be made during the month of September on Tuesday, Wednesday, -Thursday, and Friday evenings, and on Thursday evenings afterward. -Each applicant must be at least fifteen years old, and bring a letter -of recommendation from his employer. Ladies are admitted to any of the -classes in the School of Science for which they are fitted, but not to -the School of Art. The regular course of study requires five terms, and -to those who successfully complete it the Cooper medal and diploma are -awarded. - -The annual term in the Woman’s Art School begins October 1st and ends May -30th. Ladies desiring admission must apply in person or writing, and give -a written responsible reference as to character, fitness, and inability -to pay for instruction. The ages are from sixteen to thirty-five years. -Pupils who do not exhibit proficiency after two months’ trial will be -dropped. The morning classes are reserved for those who do not pay. -But to meet the wants of those who wish to study as an accomplishment, -“paying classes” are organized for the afternoon. Lessons are given -in elementary drawing from objects, cast drawing, life drawing, oil -painting, engraving. Lessons of two hours in length are given three times -a week. Terms, $15 for thirty lessons. - -The rules of admission to the Free School in Telegraphy for Women are -that the candidates shall present themselves for examination on the first -Tuesday in October. They will be examined in reading poor manuscript, -writing from dictation, penmanship and spelling. They must be at least -sixteen years old, and _positively_ not over _twenty-four_. - -In the report for 1882, published in May, 1883, Mrs. Carter the Principal -of the Woman’s Art School, says: “One hundred and twenty-six present -pupils are learning. Of these fifty-four are in the photograph classes, -and eighteen in the engraving class. Twenty-six now in the school are -teaching drawing, and three of these are in nineteen public schools in -this city. One young woman who left the art school in the winter teaches -twenty-five hours a week in eight public schools here at two dollars an -hour.” - -The form of application to the Cooper Union includes name of applicant, -residence, age, occupation, name of employer, place of business. -Parents or guardians, in the case of minors, fill out the blanks, but -applications must be made in person. It only remains to say that the -applications are in advance of the capacity of the Institute, but that -the democratic principle of “first come first served” is rigorously -applied. Applications do not hold over from one year to another, but must -be renewed. It is possible for persons from any part of the country to -avail themselves of the facilities here afforded. Board for gentlemen can -be obtained at very reasonable rates, not far from the Union. Two rooming -together and lunching at restaurants can live well at a low rate. Ladies -also can procure board in Brooklyn, or in the suburban towns, or even in -the city itself, at a rate far below what is generally supposed possible. - -Passing the Cooper Institute, as the writer does nearly every day, he -looks with undiminished interest upon the young men and young women who -go in and out of the building; while to attend one of the lectures is a -pleasure far greater than that of merely listening. If it were possible -to assemble in one place all who have been helped upward and onward here, -among them would be found men and women now in the most influential -positions, and the intelligence visible in the countenances of those who, -though still earning their bread by the sweat of the brow, are filled -with elevating thoughts, and are consciously members of the aristocracy -of intellect, would be an ample reward to founder, trustees and teachers, -for all their work and labor of love. Nor is this all; these pupils will -transmit influences through their posterity to the end of time. Peter -Cooper, like Washington, Lafayette, and Franklin, still speaks “words -of truth and soberness.” He shakes hands with every aspiring young man, -saying: “My son, I will help you;” with every young woman who cherishes -a high ambition: “My daughter, I have a deep sympathy with you.” It is -useless to say, “Long may his memory endure!” It can not die. - -In concluding this paper the writer must be permitted to express his -satisfaction that the sketch is to appear in a magazine called into being -by an institution which on another principle, equally efficient and -much more widely diffused in the sphere of its influence, promotes the -advancement of Science and Art by bringing them within the reach of all -aspirants, without distinction of race, sex, age, or previous condition -of servitude. - - - - -GREEN SUN AND STRANGE SUNSETS. - - -During the first half of September, the sun in Ceylon and India, and also -in the West Indies, presented at rising and setting the appearance of a -green or greenish-blue disc. Even when at his highest the sun appeared -pale blue in Ceylon (from the other places no account of the sun’s aspect -at high noon has reached me). On September 2, at Trinidad, the sun looked -like a blue globe after five in the evening, “and after dark,” says -the report, “we thought there was a fire in the town, from the bright -redness of the heavens.” At Ongole, as the sun approached the horizon, -his disc passed from a bluish tinge to green, which became tinged with -yellow as he approached the horizon. “After he had set, light yellow and -orange appeared in the west, a very deep red remaining for more than an -hour after sunset; whereas, under ordinary conditions, all traces of -color leave the sky in this latitude,” says the narrator, “within half -an hour after the sun disappears.” These accounts, from both the eastern -and western hemispheres, seem clearly to associate the green sun which -attracted so much attention in the tropics early in September, with the -remarkable sunsets seen in Arabia, in Africa (North and South), and -throughout Europe during October and November. For we see that whatever -may have been the explanation of the green sun, the phenomenon must have -been produced by some cause capable of producing after sunset a brilliant -red and orange glow, for a time much exceeding the usual duration of -the twilight afterglow. The occurrence of the afterglow, with the same -remarkable tints and similar exceptional duration elsewhere—though some -weeks later—shows that a similar cause was at work. - -Two points are clear. First, the cause alike of the greenness of the -sun and the ruddy afterglow was in the air, not outside; and, secondly, -the matter, whatever it was, which made the sun look green when he was -seen through it, and which under his rays looked red, was high above the -surface of the earth. It can readily be shown, so far as this last point -is concerned, that matter at a lower level than sixteen miles could not -have caught the sun’s rays so long after sunset as the glow was seen. On -the other point it suffices, of course, to note that if some cause in the -sun himself had been at work, the whole earth would have seen the green -sun, while the afterglow would have found no explanation at all. - -As to the actual cause to which both phenomena are to be ascribed, we -must, I think, exculpate Krakatoa from all part or share in producing -these strange effects. The appearance of a blue sun at Trinidad, followed -two or three days later by a green sun in the East Indies, can not -possibly be associated with the occurrence of an earthquake on the Javan -shore a few days earlier. Beside, it must be remembered that we should -have to explain two incongruous circumstances; first, how the exceedingly -fine matter ejected from Krakatoa could have so quickly reached the -enormous height at which the matter actually producing the afterglow -certainly was; and, secondly, how having been able to traverse still air -so readily one way, that matter failed to return as readily earthward -under the attraction of gravity. Again the explanation, which at first -seems a most probable one, that unusually high strata of moist air, with -accompanying multitudes of ice particles, caused the phenomena alike -of absorption and of reflection, seems negatived—first, by the entire -absence of any other evidence of extraordinary meteorological conditions -in September, October and November last; and, secondly, by the entire -absence of any of the optical phenomena which necessarily accompany the -transmission of sunlight through strata of air strewn with many ice -particles. - -We seem obliged then to adopt a theory, first advanced, I believe, by Mr. -A. C. Ranyard, that the phenomena were caused by a cloud of meteoric -dust encountered by the earth, and received into the upper regions of -the air, thence to penetrate slowly (mayhap not till many months have -passed) to the surface of the earth. Mr. Ranyard calls attention to -the circumstance that probably the early snows of the winter 1883-’84 -would bring down the advanced guard of such meteoric dust; and even as I -write I learn that Mr. W. Mathieu Williams has followed the suggestion. -He carefully collected the snow which fell in his garden, eighty yards -from his chimneys and half a mile from any to windward. Slicing off a -top film of the snow with a piece of glass he thawed it, and found a -sediment of fine brownish-black powder. Ferrocyanide of potassium added -to the snow-water produced no change of color, showing the absence of -iron in solution, nor was there any visible reaction on the black dust -till he added some hydrochloric acid. Then the blue compound indicating -iron was abundantly formed all round the granules, and presently, as -their solution was effected, a bluish-green deposit was formed, and the -whole liquid deeply tinged with the same color. “It was not,” says Mr. -Williams, “the true Prussian-blue reaction of iron alone, but just the -color that would be produced by mixing small quantities of the cyanide of -nickel (yellowish green) and the cyanide of cobalt (brownish white) with -a preponderating amount of Prussian blue.” - -If this explanation of the green sun and the extraordinary sunsets should -be confirmed, it appears to me that a most interesting result will have -been achieved. Of course, it is no new thing that as the earth rushes -onward through space she encounters yearly many millions of meteoric -bodies, large and small; nor ought it to be regarded as strange that -beside these separate bodies, millions of millions in the form of fine -cosmical dust should be encountered; but the actual evidence, derived -from the behavior of sunlight (the red and yellow rays reflected and -relative superabundance of green and blue rays therefore transmitted), -would be an interesting and important addition to our knowledge of -matters meteoric.—_The Contemporary Review._ - - - - -ANTHONY TROLLOPE’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - -By W. W. GIST. - - -A peep into a literary workshop is always interesting. There is -always some curiosity to know how a man of letters does his work. -This fascinating autobiography gives us a clear insight into Anthony -Trollope’s manner of study, and states many other facts that are -intensely interesting. - -Anthony Trollope’s parents were both of a literary turn of mind. His -father had no business capacity, and everything he attempted went wrong. -His mother and brother came to America and opened a bazar at Cincinnati, -hoping to amass a fortune. This proved a failure, and upon returning to -England, Mrs. Trollope wrote a book on America, which brought a fair -compensation. For years she supported the family by her pen. There is -indeed something heroic in her watching by the bedside of her dying -husband and son, and writing her books during the intervals that the sick -did not demand her attention. Her first book was written when she was -fifty years of age. She wrote in all one hundred and fourteen volumes. - -Anthony Trollope’s school advantages were poor, and the trials of his -childhood were greater than those of the average youth. In 1834, at the -age of nineteen, he entered the postal service and continued in it for -thirty-three years, effecting many valuable reforms and proving himself -an efficient government officer. - -His literary work was done in such a manner as not to interfere in the -least with his duties as inspector of postoffices. Few men have the power -of will to hold themselves to the rigid, exacting plan of study that he -imposed upon himself. He hired a man to call him at 5:30 each morning, -and his literary work was done between that hour and 8:30, before he -dressed for breakfast. He did not, however, spend the whole of the three -hours in writing. During the first half hour he read aloud what he had -written the day before, so that his ear could detect any lack of harmony -in expression, and that he might catch the spirit of his last day’s work. -Can anything be more systematic than his method of writing a book, as -told in his own language: - -“When I commenced a new book I always prepared a diary, divided into -weeks, and carried it on for the period which I allowed myself for the -completion of the work. In this I have entered, day by day, the number -of pages I have written, so that if at any time I have slipped into -idleness for a day or two, the record of that idleness has been there -staring me in the face and demanding of me increased labor, so that the -deficiency might be supplied.… I have allotted myself so many pages a -week. The average number has been about forty. It has been placed as low -as twenty, and has risen to one hundred and twelve. And as a page is an -ambiguous term, my page has been made to contain two hundred and fifty -words; and as words, if not watched, will have a tendency to straggle, I -have had every word counted as I went. In the bargains I have made with -publishers, I have—not, of course, with their knowledge, but in my own -mind—undertaken always to supply them with so many words, and I have -never put a book out of hand short of the number by a single word. I may -also say that the excess has been very small. I have prided myself on -completing my work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have -prided myself especially in completing it within the proposed time—and I -have always done so. There has ever been the record before me, and a week -passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a blister to my eye, -and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow to my heart.” - -He was not satisfied to hold himself rigidly to specified hours. Much -of the time he wrote with his watch open before him, and his task was -to complete a page every fifteen minutes. “I have found that the two -hundred and fifty words have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch -went.” He seems to feel that the one only who has acquired a facile -style can expect to produce a given quantity in a given time. “His -language must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of the -great performer’s fingers; as words come from the mouth of the indignant -orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained compositor; as the -syllables tinkled out by little bells form themselves to the ear of the -telegrapher.” - -In comparing himself with the authors who follow no systematic method of -work, he says: “They have failed to write their best because they have -seldom written at ease. I have done double their work—though burdened -with another profession—and have done it almost without an effort. I have -not once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger of -being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to copy.” - -In another connection he speaks of having three unpublished novels in -his desk, and adds: “One of these has been six years finished, and has -never seen the light since it was first tied up in the wrapper which now -contains it. I look forward with some grim pleasantry to its publication -after another period of six years, and to the declaration of the critics -that it has been the work of a period of life at which the power of -writing novels had passed from me.” - -His method in writing enabled him to produce books quite rapidly, and -this accounts in part for the unpublished works on hand. Only once did he -permit a story to appear as a serial. In all other cases the story was -completed before the printer saw any part of it. - -He defends his habit of work as follows: “I have been told that such -appliances are beneath the notice of a man of genius. I have never -fancied myself to be a man of genius, but had I been so I think I might -well have subjected myself to these trammels. Nothing, surely, is so -potent as a law that may not be disobeyed. It has the force of the -water-drop that hollows the stone. A small daily task, if it be really -daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules.” - -His duties as a government officer required him to travel a great -deal, and he soon learned to do much of his literary work while on his -journeys. He wrote on a tablet while riding in the cars; one story was -written while traveling on three different continents; “Lady Anna” was -written while making a voyage from Liverpool to Australia. - -Anthony Trollope had very positive views on the subject of criticism. -Early in his literary career he reached this conclusion: “I made up my -mind then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, I would have -no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would neither ask for nor -deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a critic for praise, or quarrel -with him, even in my heart, for censure.” A critic of the _Times_ once -commended his books very highly. The critic afterward ventured to inform -Mr. Trollope that he was the author of the criticism. The blunt reply -was to the effect that he was under no obligations for the complimentary -notice. - -He once censured a professional critic for accepting a handsome present -from an author whose works the critic had commended. His idea was that -the man who has received a present for praising a book will not feel free -to criticise adversely the next book by the same author. He states his -views at length on this point: “I think it may be laid down as a golden -rule in literature that there should be no intercourse at all between an -author and his critic. The critic, as critic, should not know his author, -nor the author, as author, his critic.… Praise let the author try to -obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if possible, by care -and industry. But when they come, let him take them as coming from some -source which he cannot influence, and with which he should not meddle.” - -He once made an earnest plea that the critic’s name should be appended to -his article, believing that this would make the writer more careful both -of his censure and praise, and that the reader could determine the value -of the criticism. On the subject of critical dishonesty he says: “If the -writer will tell us what he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely -vague and useless, we can forgive him; but when he tells us what he does -not think, actuated either by friendship or animosity, then there should -be no pardon for him. This is the sin in modern English criticism of -which there is most reason to complain.” - -Anthony Trollope thinks that it is wrong that a literary name should -carry so much favor with it. He says: “I, indeed, had never reached a -height to which praise was awarded as a matter of course; but there were -others who sat on higher seats, to whom the critics brought unmeasured -incense and adulation, even when they wrote, as they sometimes did write, -trash which from a beginner would not have been thought worthy of the -slightest notice. I hope no one will think that in saying this I am -actuated by jealousy of others. Though I never reached that height, still -I had so far progressed that that which I wrote was received with too -much favor. The injustice which struck me did not consist in that which -was withheld from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt that -aspirants coming up below me might do work as good as mine, and probably -much better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated.” - -Mr. Trollope is undoubtedly right in his general statement. While as a -rule literary productions stand on their merits, the name of Tennyson -or some other writer of equal fame will insure the sale of an article -which, if written by an unknown writer, would be promptly rejected. Young -writers need not complain of this. Distinguished names render articles -marketable, and give them a commercial value that publishers can not -ignore. To test the correctness of his theory, Mr. Trollope wrote two -novels anonymously, which were not received with favor. - -Mr. Trollope’s success in a pecuniary point of view was very slow. -During the first ten years of his literary career he did not receive -compensation enough to buy the pens, ink and paper he used. Twelve years -passed before he received any appreciable increase of salary from his -books. From that time his compensation was good. His books brought him in -all something like $350,000. - -The chapter that he devotes to the English novelists of his day is very -interesting. He places Thackeray first, George Eliot second, and Dickens -third. Most readers would perhaps reverse this order. Of Thackeray’s -great work he says: “I myself regard ‘Esmond’ as the greatest novel in -the English language, basing that judgment upon the excellence of its -language, on the clear individuality of the characters, on the truth -of its delineations in regard to the time selected, and on its great -pathos.” He pays a high tribute to Charlotte Bronte, and then adds: -“‘Jane Eyre’ and ‘Esmond,’ and ‘Adam Bede,’ will be in the hands of -our grandchildren, when ‘Pickwick’ and ‘Pelham’ and ‘Harry Lorrequer’ -are forgotten; because the men and women depicted are human in their -aspirations, human in their sympathies, and human in their actions.” He -commends Wilkie Collins and Charles Reade quite highly, but thinks the -latter has no clear conception of literary honesty. - -Mr. Trollope relates an amusing incident concerning one of his favorite -characters. He was seated in a club room, when two clergymen entered -and commenced to criticise his works. “The gravamen of their complaint -lay in the fact that I introduced the same characters so often. ‘Here,’ -said one, ‘is the archdeacon whom we have had in every novel he has -ever written.’ ‘And here,’ said the other, ‘is the old duke whom he -has talked about till everybody is tired of him. If I could not invent -new characters, I would not write novels at all.’ Then one of them -fell foul of Mrs. Proudie. It was impossible for me not to hear their -words, and almost impossible to hear them and be quiet. I got up, and -standing between them, I acknowledged myself to be the culprit. ‘As to -Mrs. Proudie,’ I said, ‘I will go home and kill her before the week is -over.’ And so I did. The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, and one -of them begged me to forget his frivolous observations. I have sometimes -regretted the deed, so great was my delight in writing about Mrs. -Proudie, … and I still live much in company with her ghost.” - -Mr. Trollope made a number of visits to the United States, and was in -Washington at the time of the Mason and Slidell controversy. Mr. Sumner -was opposed to giving up the men. Mr. Seward’s counsel prevailed with -President Lincoln, and the men were released. He says that this “was the -severest danger that the Northern cause encountered during the war.” He -describes a visit to Brigham Young as follows: - -“I called upon him, sending to him my card, apologizing for doing so -without an introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not -like to pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had -heard so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to enter, and -inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him that I was not a -miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I told him I did. ‘I guess -you’re a miner,’ said he. I again assured him that I was not. ‘Then how -do you earn your bread?’ I told him that I did so by writing books. ‘I’m -sure you’re a miner,’ said he. Then he turned upon his heel, went back -into the house, and closed the door. I was properly punished, as I was -vain enough to conceive that he would have heard my name.” - -This autobiography is a delightful book. The candor with which the writer -speaks of his own books, pointing out their defects and calling attention -to their merits, the freedom with which he speaks of his early struggles, -his method of work, and his success, the spirit of fairness with which he -criticises his contemporaries—all these reveal a mind healthy in tone, -and call forth our hearty admiration. - - - - -SABBATH CHIMES. - -By PHEBE A. HOLDER. - - - O’er the city’s restless surges, - Heaving like the ocean tide, - Steals the night with hush of silence, - And the waves of toil subside. - Noiseless drops the soft, dark curtain, - While the mighty throbbings cease, - Starry eyes watch o’er the city - Sleeping in the depths of peace. - - Comes the morning fair and radiant, - Bathed in sunshine—breathing balm, - Heaven’s blue dome a benediction, - With its pure, unspotted calm, - Like Jerusalem, the golden, - Coming down to earth from heaven, - Clad in robes of bridal beauty - Seems this morn the Lord has given. - - As I tread the streets, still peaceful, - Turning to the house of God, - Drinking in this wondrous beauty, - And this glory of the Lord, - Through the crystal air of morning - Ring the bells with mellow chime, - In a strain of sweetest music, - Hallowed as the Sabbath time. - - Like the songs I heard in childhood, - Or a sainted mother’s psalm, - Fell those chimes upon my spirit - With a holy, restful calm. - Like the tones of angel voices, - Sounding from seraphic choir, - Seemed this call our God to worship - In this holy house of prayer. - - Still entranced I paused to listen - To the chiming, silvery, clear— - When the thrilling strain had ended - Yet I waited—fixed to hear; - While upon my listening spirit - Came a sense unfelt before, - Of our Lord’s most precious blessing - In the Sabbath’s holy power. - - Coming like a guest from heaven - To our earthly, toil-worn lives, - A sweet influence, pure, uplifting, - To our struggling souls it gives. - Pointing with prophetic finger - To the perfect Sabbath rest - In the fair, Celestial City - Of the sainted and the blest,— - - As with angel voice it calls us, - Now to seek that home of light - Where the gates of pearl shall open - To the pure with garments white. - Day beloved! thy blessed service - In the temple of our God, - Draws us nearer—ever nearer, - To our glorious, risen Lord. - - Still that soft and mellow cadence - Lingers like a sacred charm, - Resting on my waiting spirit - With a touch of heavenly calm. - Like a sweet-toned voice still calling - From our home that is to be, - While from out its unseen glory - Floats celestial harmony. - - - - -EIGHT CENTURIES WITH WALTER SCOTT. - -By WALLACE BRUCE. - - -Queen Elizabeth died March 24, 1602. James the Sixth, of Scotland, became -James the First of the United Kingdoms. According to ancient prophecy -the Scottish kings were to follow the Stone of Scone, which, it will be -remembered, was removed to London by Edward the First. The prophecy was -three hundred years in being fulfilled. The same strange Nemesis of fate, -which, in the last generation, placed the grandson of Josephine upon the -throne of France, handed the scepter of the haughty Elizabeth to the son -of her unfortunate rival, Mary, Queen of Scots. But the good fortune -of James only emphasizes the general misfortune of the Stuart family. -His ancestral record was not a cheerful retrospect. James the First of -Scotland was murdered. James the Second was killed by the bursting of a -cannon. James the Third was privately slain. James the Fourth fell on the -disastrous field of Flodden. James the Fifth died of a broken heart. Mary -was beheaded. His father Darnley was murdered. - -Could he have foreseen the history of the next three generations—the -execution of his son, Charles the First; the debauched reign of his -grandson, Charles the Third, after his return from exile; and the -banishment of James the Second, he would have found the outlook even more -sad than the retrospect. The lines of the Stuart family did not fall in -pleasant places. Some writer has observed that they suffered for the -crimes of the Tudors. It may be that England had piled up a century of -wrong which demanded atonement, but, without prejudice, the proverb was -emphatically true, “Sufficient unto each reign was the evil thereof.” -It must also be remembered that all Europe was in a ferment. The -celebrated Thirty Years’ War was raging in Germany. Religious enthusiasm -was asserting its power in Britain. The English and Scotch people were -jealous of their political rights. The reign of a Scottish-born king, -after so many centuries of bitter hate, could not be entirely acceptable -to the English race. Both sides accused the king of partiality. Needy -lords and nobles poured down from the north, and London resembled our own -National Capital at the inauguration of a new president. The king was -supplicated in Court, in the street, on horseback, at every doorway; ay, -the very plate that contained his food was adorned with urgent request -from some impatient relative of fifteenth or twentieth cousinship. As the -Court had removed from Edinburgh and Scotland it seemed that Edinburgh -and Scotland had removed to the Court. The ancient prejudice between Scot -and English broke out in street, palace and inn. These are the historic -events which preface the “Fortunes of Nigel,” and the fray between the -Scottish servant and the ’prentice boys of London, at the opening of the -volume, strikes the keynote of universal discord. - -It was a constitutional defect of James the First to be without money. -As Nigel, the Scottish lord, happened to need the loan which his father -had made to the king, he presented himself with the old fashioned -assurance of a man justly demanding his rights, although at the hands of -a monarch. The king was incensed, but the young lord fortunately falls in -with George Heriot, the wealthy Scotch jeweler “to His Majesty,” whose -princely bequests still adorn the city of Edinburgh; but, unmindful of -good counsel, he gradually lapses from duty, becomes a murderer in what -he considers a matter of honor, is compelled to find refuge in Alsatia or -Whitefriars, a sort of privileged den of iniquity. The portrayal of his -experience in this nest of outlaws is true to the London of 1620. - -It is this blending of Scott’s dramatic and descriptive power which -gives even to his minor works an enduring value. We have, as it were, a -photograph of the great city as it appeared two hundred and sixty years -ago. We see the Strand, a quiet street, unlike the noisy thoroughfare -of to-day, lined on the river-side with palaces and pleasure grounds -reaching to the Thames. We see Whitehall, with its rich gates designed -by Holbein, and stately court planned by Inigo Jones. We walk in the -park with the courtly Duke of Buckingham, talk face to face with the -king in the palace, on the chase, in the parlor of the wealthy Londoner; -and at the close of the volume we feel that Scott has justly summed -up his character in this striking paragraph of the fifth chapter: “He -was deeply learned, without possessing useful knowledge; sagacious in -many individual cases, without having real wisdom; fond of his power, -yet willing to resign the direction of that, and himself, to the most -unworthy favorites; a big and bold asserter of his rights and words, yet -one who tamely saw them trampled on in deeds; a lover of negotiations, -in which he was always outwitted; and one who feared war, where -conquest might have been easy. He was fond of his dignity, while he was -perpetually degrading it by undue familiarity; capable of much public -labor, yet often neglecting it for the meanest amusement; a wit, though -a pedant; and a scholar, though fond of the conversation of the ignorant -and uneducated. Even his timidity of temper was not uniform; and there -were moments of his life, and those critical, in which he showed the -spirit of his ancestors. He was laborious in trifles, and a trifler where -serious labor was required; devout in his sentiments, and yet too often -profane in his language; just and beneficent by nature, he yet gave way -to the iniquities and oppressions of others.” - -“Rokeby,” a poem, comes next in historic order. The scene is laid at -Rokeby, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, and the date is immediately -subsequent to the great battle of Marston Moor, July 3, 1644. It was here -that the bold cavaliers learned a lesson never to be forgotten, at the -hand of Puritan and Roundhead. The poem abounds with notable and vigorous -passages. It throws light on the stormy years of the great Civil War; but -so many of Scott’s novels are related to this period that we must dismiss -the poem with a single quotation—a tribute to the genius of Chaucer: - - “O for that pencil, erst profuse - Of Chivalry’s emblazoned hues, - That traced of old in Woodstock bower - The pageant of the Leaf and Flower, - And bodied forth the tourney high, - Held for the hand of Emily! - Then might I paint the tumult broad, - That to the crowned abbey flowed; - Paint the dejected cavalier, - Doubtful, disarmed and sad of cheer; - And his proud foe, whose formal eye - Claimed conquest now and mastery; - And the brute crowd, whose envious zeal - Huzzas each turn of Fortune’s wheel.” - -“The Legend of Montrose” takes us once more into the Highlands of -Scotland, where the same deadly feuds divide the clans which we witnessed -in reading the “Fair Maid of Perth.” The Northern Highlanders, under the -leadership of Montrose, espouse the side of King Charles. The Western -Highlanders, under Argyle, rally on the side of Parliament. The picture -of these two leaders is admirably drawn, as well as the character of -their bold followers, who seemed unconscious of hardship; who were -not only willing “to make their couch in the snow, but considered it -effeminate luxury to use a snow-ball for a pillow.” - -The principal character of the book is Captain Dalgetty. A critic in -the Edinburgh _Review_ complained that there was perhaps too much of -Dalgetty; that he engrossed too great a proportion of the work. But -in the very next line he says that “the author has nowhere shown more -affinity to that matchless spirit, who could bring out his Falstaffs and -his Pistols, in act after act, and play after play, and exercise them -every time with scenes of unbounded loquacity, without exhausting their -humor, or varying a note from its characteristic tone, than in his large -and reiterated specimens of the eloquence of the redoubted Dalgetty.” -Like many of the Scottish soldiers the captain had served under Gustavus -Adolphus, king of Sweden, and never lost his enthusiasm for the Lion -of the North, the bulwark of the Protestant faith. Dalgetty is a rare -specimen of Scotch “canniness,” willing to hire out to the side that -paid the most, but true to his contract when made. To him war was a sort -of drama, and he merely engaged himself as one of the “star actors.” -We dismiss the captain with reluctance, and we imagine the reader will -likewise when he closes the volume. - -In one of the last chapters Scott treats us to a specimen of the lofty -eloquence and undying hate of an old highland chief in his last words -to his grandson: “In the thicket of the wilderness, and in the mist of -the mountain, keep thou unsoiled the freedom which I leave thee as a -birthright. Barter it neither for the rich garment, nor for the stone -roof, nor for the covered board, nor for the couch of down—on the rock or -in the valley, in abundance or in famine—in the leafy summer, and in the -days of the iron winter—son of the mist! be free as thy forefathers. Own -no lord—receive no law—take no hire—give no stipend—build no hut—enclose -no pasture—sow no grain; let the deer of the mountains be thy flocks and -herds—if these fail thee, prey upon the goods of our oppressors—of the -Saxon and of such Gael as are Saxon in their souls. Remember those who -have done kindness to our race, and pay their services with thy blood, -should the hour require it. Farewell, beloved! and mayst thou die like -thy forefathers, ere infirmity, disease, or age shall break thy spirit.” - -Robert Aytoun in his poem on the “Execution of Montrose,” which occurred -a few years subsequent to our story, caught the true spirit of the Gael, -in the Highlander’s address to Evan Cameron: - - “’Twas I that led the Highland host - Through wild Lochaber’s snows, - What time the plaided clans came down - To battle with Montrose. - I’ve told thee how the Southrons fell - Beneath the broad claymore, - And how we smote the Campbell clan - By Inverlochy’s shore. - I’ve told thee how we swept Dundee, - And tamed the Lindsey’s pride; - But never have I told thee yet - How the great Marquis died. - - A traitor sold him to his foes;— - O deed of deathless shame! - I charge thee, boy, if e’er thou meet - With one of Assynt’s name— - Be it upon the mountain side, - Or yet within the glen: - Stand he in martial gear alone, - Or backed by armed men— - Face him, as thou wouldst face the man - Who wronged thy sire’s renown; - Remember of what blood thou art, - And strike the caitiff down!” - -Between the “Legend of Montrose” and “Woodstock” stands a scaffold: a -window is opened in the Palace of Whitehall; a brave but fickle king, who -never lost his dignity, and rarely kept a promise, walks forth attended -by two executioners: he speaks but one word to his attendant, places his -head upon the block, and by the bravery of his death half atones for the -crimes and mistakes of his life. As to his private character historians, -for the most part, regard Charles the First as a brave, virtuous and -religious man; but he entertained “extravagant ideas of the royal power, -unsuitable to the time in which he lived.” His attempt to establish a -National Church, to force upon the Presbyterians of Scotland the Common -Prayer, and introduce a Liturgy similar to that used in England produced -its logical result. The Star Chamber with its arbitrary arrests and -punishments, and his idea of kingly prerogative, were not suited to -the temper of his people; and finally he alienated his best friends by -disregarding his word and most solemn contracts. The House of Commons, -led by bold and determined men, asserted the supreme doctrine of liberty, -so grandly emphasized one hundred years later in our Declaration of -Independence, that “The power of the king, like any other power in the -Constitution, was limited by the laws; and was liable to be legally -resisted when it trespassed beyond them.” - -It must also be remembered, before we read the story of “Woodstock,” that -the party which controlled the Parliament of England and finally brought -the king to the scaffold, was divided into two factions: Presbyterians -and Independents. Among the Independents were Sir Harry Vane, John Milton -and Oliver Cromwell. So much for the introduction to “Woodstock,” which -opens with a picture showing the cavaliers crushed under the iron heel -of Cromwell. The time of the tale is 1652; and the story begins with -a rather discordant service in the church or chapel of St. John. The -defaced walls and broken windows reveal the fanaticism or spite which too -often attends the spirit of liberty. We are presented with a rude scuffle -between a Presbyterian and Independent preacher in a pulpit formerly -belonging to the Established Church, in which the Independent preacher -wins the victory; and the chapter is symbolic of the great struggle, not -only in the religious, but also in the political condition of Britain. -The incident is a fitting preface to the book, in which Independent, -Presbyterian and Royalist are shaken together as in a kaleidoscope. - -The story humorously gives us the old-time belief that Woodstock was -a haunted spot; and Scott refers in his preface to a book, printed in -London in the year 1660, bearing the sombre title of “The Just Devil of -Woodstock; or a true narrative of the several apparitions, the fights -and punishments inflicted upon the rumpish commissioners sent thither to -survey the manors and houses belonging to his Magestie.” The sad story of -the fair Rosamond, murdered here by Queen Eleanor, was well calculated to -make the ghostly apparitions more real; at least, the place was tragic -enough to impress the superstitious of that generation. But the great -value of this novel, apart from the picture of the times, consists in -the portrayal of a living, breathing Cromwell; such a Cromwell as no -history gives, but _the_ Cromwell who appears as the resultant of them -all; a man of deep emotion, wary in council and unwavering in execution, -a man without a single grace of oratory, who, by the force of character, -assumed and kept the leadership of the House of Commons; in whose -presence the bravest men stood lost in fear and wonder. Or, as Scott -beautifully puts it: “So true it is, that as greater lights swallow up -and extinguish the display of those which are less, so men of great, -capacious, and overruling minds, bear aside and subdue, in their climax -of passion, the more feeble wills and passions of others; as, when a -river joins a brook, the fiercer torrent shoulders aside the smaller -stream.” - -There is one other sketch which claims our attention—that of the -disguised wanderer, Charles the Second, revered by Royalist, and pursued -by the ruling party as an outcast. “No person on earth,” Scott says, -“could better understand the society in which he moved; exile had made -him acquainted with life in all its shades and varieties—his spirits, if -not uniform, were elastic—he had that species of Epicurean philosophy -which, even in the most extreme difficulties and dangers, can in an -interval of ease, however brief, avail itself of the enjoyments of the -moment—he was, in short, in youth and misfortune, as afterward in his -regal condition, a good-humored but hard-hearted voluptuary, wise, save -where his passions intervened, beneficent, save where prodigality -had deprived him of the means, or prejudice of the wish to confer -benefits—his faults such as might have often drawn down hatred, but that -they were mingled with so much urbanity, that the injured person felt it -impossible to retain the full sense of his wrongs.” - -During his wandering he was entertained for a time at the home of the old -knight, Sir Henry Lee, proprietor of Woodstock. The attachment formed for -the old knight and his family affords Scott material for one of those -dramatic descriptions in which he always so much delighted. - -It was the 29th of May. All England sang. “The king enjoys his own -again.” “He made his progress from Rochester to London, with a reception -on the part of his subjects so unanimously cordial, as made him say -gaily, it must have been his own fault to stay so long away from a -country where his arrival gave so much joy. On horseback, betwixt his two -brothers, the dukes of York and Gloucester, the restored monarch trode -slowly over roads strewn with flowers—by conduits running wine, under -triumphal arches, and through streets hung with tapestry. There were -citizens in various bands, some arrayed in coats of black velvet, with -gold chains, some in military suits of cloth of gold, or cloth of silver, -followed by all those craftsmen, who, having hooted the father from -Whitehall, had now come to shout the son into possession of his ancestral -palace. On his passage through Blackheath he passed that army, which, so -long formidable to England herself, as well as to Europe, had been the -means of restoring the monarchy which their own hands had destroyed. As -the king passed the last files of this formidable host he came to an open -part of the heath, where many persons of quality, with others of inferior -rank, had stationed themselves to gratulate him as he passed toward the -capital. - -“There was one group, however, which attracted particular attention -from those around, on account of the respect shown to the party by the -soldiers who kept the ground, and who, whether Cavaliers or Roundheads, -seemed to contest emulously which should contribute most to their -accommodation; for both the elder and younger of the party had been -distinguished in the Civil War. - -“It was a family group, of which the principal figure was an old man -seated in a chair, having a complacent smile on his face, and a tear -swelling to his eye, as he saw the banners wave on in interminable -succession, and heard the multitude shouting the long-silenced -acclamation, ‘God save King Charles!’ His cheek was ashy pale, and his -long beard bleached like the thistle down; his blue eye was cloudless, -yet it was obvious that his vision was failing. His motions were -feeble, and he spoke little, except when he answered the prattle of his -grandchildren or asked a question of his daughter, who sat beside him, -matured in matronly beauty. A gigantic dog, which bore the signs of being -at the extremity of canine life, with eyes dim, and head slouched down, -exhibiting only the ruin of his former appearance, formed a remarkable -figure in the group. - -“And now the distant clarions announced the royal presence. Onward came -pursuivant and trumpet—onward came plumes and cloth of gold, and waving -standards displayed, and swords gleaming to the sun; and, at length, -heading a group of the noblest in England, supported by his royal -brothers on either side, onward came King Charles. The monarch gazed an -instant on the party, sprung from his horse, and walked instantly up to -the old knight, amid thundering acclamations of the people, when they saw -Charles with his own hand oppose the feeble attempts of the old man to -rise to do him homage. Gently placing him on his seat—‘Bless,’ he said, -‘father—bless your son, who has returned in safety, as you blessed him -when he departed in danger.’ - -“‘Excuse me for having made you wait, my lords,’ said the king as he -mounted his horse. ‘Indeed, had it not been for these good folks, you -might have waited for me long enough to little purpose. Move on, sirs.’ -The array moved on accordingly; the sound of trumpet and drum again rose -amid the acclamations; but the knight had relapsed into earthly paleness; -his eyes were closed and opened not again. They ran to his assistance, -but it was too late. The light that burned so low in the socket had -leaped up and expired, in one exhilarating flash.” - - - - -GEOGRAPHY OF THE HEAVENS FOR APRIL. - -By PROF. M. B. GOFF. - - -THE SUN. - -The sun’s light “exceeds in intensity any that can be produced by -artificial means, the electric light between charcoal points being the -only one that does not look absolutely black against the unclouded sun.” -“The heat thrown out from every square yard of the sun’s surface is -greater than that which would be produced by burning six tons of coal -on it each hour. Now, we may take the surface of the sun roughly at -2,284,000,000,000 square miles, and there are 3,097,600 square yards in -each square mile.” A little calculation will show how many tons of coal -must be burnt in an hour to represent the sun’s heat. - -There comes also from the sun chemical force, which separates carbon -from oxygen, and turns the gas, which, were it to accumulate, would kill -all men and animals, into the life of plants, thus preserving the animal -and building up the vegetable world. Whether it can keep up this amount -of light and heat throughout the “endless ages,” we have no means of -knowing. We have, however, no evidence even during centuries of any loss -of either, so that we may safely say that there will be an abundance of -both for all the time in which we are interested. - -On the 25th of this month there will be a partial eclipse, beginning at -1:00 p. m., Washington mean time, in longitude 82° 3.5′ west, latitude -59° 12.3′ south. The greatest obscuration (about .75) will occur at -2:46.4 p. m. in longitude 4° 26.7′ east, latitude 70° 48.2′ south; will -end at 4:32.4 p. m. in longitude 12° 20.6′ east, latitude 33° 6.7′ south. -As it will be visible only in the extreme southern part of the western -continent and in the south Atlantic Ocean, no importance is attached to -its occurrence. - -The most careless must have observed the increase in the amount of -daylight in the northern hemisphere since the 21st of last December. On -the first of the present month the sun rises at 5:43 a. m. and sets at -6:25 p. m.; on the 30th it rises at 4:59 a. m. and sets at 6:55 p. m., -so that the increase in “day’s length,” as we are accustomed to call it, -will be one hour and seven minutes. To set our time pieces, we must, -when the sun is on the meridian, on the 1st, make them indicate 12:37 p. -m.; on the 15th, 11:59.8 a. m.; on the 30th, 11:57 a. m. On the 1st day -breaks at 4:04; on the 30th at 3:09. In latitude 41° 30′ north the sun -will, on the 30th, reach an altitude of 63° 33′ above the horizon, the -highest for the month. - - -THE MOON’S - -Phases for the month occur in the following order and time (Washington -mean time): First quarter on the 2d at 4:09 p. m.; full moon on the 10th -at 6:36 a. m.; last quarter on the 18th at 10:46 a. m.; new moon on the -25th at 9:49 a. m. It is also on the meridian on the 1st, 15th and 30th, -at 5:18 p. m., 3:38 a. m., 5:03 p. m. respectively. On the 2d it sets at -12:41 a. m.; on the 15th rises at 11:23 p. m.; and on the 29th sets at -11:28 p. m. It is farthest from the earth on the 13th at 1:30 p. m.; and -nearest to the earth on the 26th at 3:42 a. m. In latitude 41° 30′ north, -its least elevation above the horizon is on the 15th, and its greatest -on the 28th; on the former date being 29° 48½′, and on the latter 67° -12½′. There will also be a total eclipse, beginning on the 10th at 4:44 -a. m., and ending at 8:33 a. m. The beginning of the part called “total” -continues from 5:52 to 7:25 a. m., or one hour and thirty-three minutes. -Magnitude nearly 1.5. As the moon sets in the neighborhood of Washington -at about 5:30 a. m., only the first part and none of the “totality” will -be there visible. Our neighbor, the moon, has one peculiar trait, which -we could wish belonged to all our friends. It never “turns its back on -you.” Cold it may be, and is often so called, but in darkest hours, and -under all circumstances, it presents its face to the earth. It may be -only politeness or etiquette, that causes it thus to act; but the fact -remains. It may move a trifle, so that we can sometimes see more of it -than at others, but four-sevenths is the limit of its surface as seen by -man. What may be on the other side has never been revealed. For aught we -know, there may be - - “Sweet fields arrayed in living green, - And rivers of delight.” - -But the probabilities are strongly on the other side. So far as we can -discover, no atmosphere is there to catch and hold the rays from the -burning sun, and hence it seems that all must be cold and bleak and -barren. “Distance lends enchantment to the view,” and it were perhaps -better that we should thus enjoy its mild light and gentle influence, -than cultivate a closer acquaintance. - - -MERCURY. - -The planet enjoying the distinction of being the nearest to the center of -our system is too near the “dazzling brightness” to permit our finding -out much about its physical constitution. We suppose, but do not know, -that it revolves on its axis. We guess that it has satellites, but no -one is certain that he ever saw one of them. We used to think it must be -a very warm planet; but now we think it might perhaps be a moderately -comfortable place for a mortal to reside. The fact is, what we do not -know about it is much more than what we do know; and what we know about -it for this month is nearly as follows: On the 1st, 15th, 25th and 30th -it will rise after the sun, and will not be visible to the unaided eye; -but on the same dates it will set at 6:32, 7:03, 8:37 and 8:35 p. m., -respectively, and can therefore be easily seen after sunset from the 20th -to the end of the month by anybody who will take the pains to look for -it—that is, within the latitude in which most of our readers live. It -reaches its most easterly limit (20° 32′) at 9:00 p. m. on the evening -of the 25th, and approaches so much nearer to us during the month as to -cause its diameter to appear nearly twice as large—that is, to increase -from 5″ to 9″. On the 21st at 2:00 a. m. it will be 4° 20′ north of -Neptune, and on the 26th at 5:55 p. m., 5° 47′ north of the moon. - - -VENUS, - -The most friendly of our planets, who comes so close at times as to seem -to be within “hailing distance” (only twenty-five millions of miles), is -still our delight. She grows brighter and more beautiful as time moves -on. Her motion for the month is direct and amounts to 34° 16′ 3″. Her -diameter shows an increase of 5.4″. From our present acquaintance we -learn that she sometimes shines so brightly as to be visible in daylight -to the naked eye, and at night, in the absence of the moon, to cast a -shadow. When viewed through a telescope, she presents phases like the -moon; and in some respects she is very much like our earth. For example, -her size is not more than 4 per cent. less, and her density and force of -gravity must be nearly the same. Her days are supposed to be a little -shorter than ours, and her years are known to be equal to 224⅔ of our -days. On the 1st, 15th and 30th she will rise at 7:32, 7:25 and 7:26 a. -m., and set at 10:04, 10:31 and 10:48 p. m., respectively. On the 2d, at -11:00 p. m., she will be nearest the sun; on the 25th, at 11:00 p. m., -4° 13′ north of Saturn; on the 28th, at 2:41 p. m., 7° 53′ north of the -moon. - - -MARS. - -Of this planet we have little to report. He continues his direct motion, -which amounts to 9° 30′ 34″. As he and the earth are getting farther -apart, his diameter (apparently) diminishes from 10″ to 8″. He rises on -the 1st, 15th and 30th at 12:27 p. m., 11:54 a. m., and 11:24 a. m., -and sets on the 2d, 16th, and May 1st at 3:09, 2:22, and 1:38 a. m., -respectively. On the 4th, at 10:26 a. m., his position is 8° 10′ north of -the moon, and on the 1st a little northeast of the nebula _Præsepe_ in -_Cancer_. - - -JUPITER - -Continues to be evening star, coming to the meridian on the 1st, 15th and -30th, at 7:04, 6:13 and 5:20 p. m., and setting on the 2d, 16th, and May -1st at 2:24, 1:32 and 12:38 a. m. His motion, which is direct, amounts -during the month to 4° 27′ 33″. His diameter diminishes from 37.8″ to -34.6″, an indication that our distance from him is increasing. On the 3d, -at 1:52 p. m., he is 6° north of the moon; and on the 14th, at 7:00 p. -m., 90° west of the sun. - - -SATURN - -Continues his position not far from the bright star _Aldebaran_, in the -constellation Taurus, on the 1st being about 2° 53′ west and 3° 32′ -north, while on the 30th he will be about 30′ east and 4° 7½′ north -of this star. His motion is direct and amounts to 3° 24′. Diameter -diminishes from 16.2″ on the 1st to 15.8″ on the 30th. Setting at 10:47, -9:59 and 9:09 p. m. on the 1st, 15th and 30th he will be evening star -throughout the month. On the 12th, at 11:00 p. m., is 4° 13′ south of -Venus, and on the 27th, at 1:56 p. m., 2° 19′ north of the moon. - - -URANUS, - -Formerly and still sometimes called Herschel, from the name of its -discoverer, Dr. Herschel, has made but about one and one-fifth -revolutions about the sun, since its discovery in 1781, more than a -century ago. It is now near the star _Beta Virginis_, and making a -retrograde motion of about 56′ 30″ in 30 days. Its diameter is 3.8″. It -rises at 4:53 p. m., 3:55 p. m. and 2:54 p. m. on the 1st, 15th and 30th, -and sets at 5:09 a. m., 4:13 a. m. and 3:13 a. m. on the 2d, 16th, and -May 1st. On the 6th, at 6:27 a. m., it is 3° 27′ north of the moon. Is -evening star during the month. - - -NEPTUNE - -Is evening star, setting at 9:24, 8:32 and 7:28 p. m. on the 1st, 15th -and 30th, respectively. Its motion, 1° 2′ 37″, is direct. Diameter, 2.6″. -On the 21st, at 2:00 a. m., 4° 20′ south of Mercury, and on the same day -will set about fifteen minutes later than said planet. On the 26th, at -8:27 a. m., 44′ north of moon. - - * * * * * - -EARNESTNESS.—Without earnestness there is nothing to be done in life; yet -even among the people whom we call men of culture, but little earnestness -is often to be found; in labors and employments, in arts, nay, even in -recreations, they plant themselves, if I may say so, in an attitude of -self-defense; they live, as they read a heap of newspapers, only to be -done with them. They remind one of that young Englishman at Rome, who -told, with a contented air, one evening in some company, that “to-day -he had despatched six churches and two galleries.” They wish to know -and learn a multitude of things, and not seldom exactly those things -with which they have the least concern; and they never see that hunger -is not appeased by snapping at the air. When I become acquainted with a -man my first inquiry is: With what does he occupy himself, and how, and -with what degree of perseverance? The answer regulates the interest I -take in that man for life.… I reverence the individual who understands -distinctly what he wishes; who unweariedly advances, who knows the means -conducive to his object, and can seize and use them. How far his object -may be great or little, may merit praise or censure, is a secondary -consideration with me.—_Goethe._ - - - - -EDGAR ALLAN POE. - -THE LITERARY ISHMAEL. - -By C. E. BISHOP. - - -Less is known while more is written and disputed about Edgar Allan Poe, -than about any other character in American literature. In the narrative -of his life there are gaps of months and years in which nothing can be -told of his whereabouts or acts; and as if to atone for this lack he is -at other times credited with feats of ubiquity. There are also stories -of a quixotic mission to fight for Greek independence, _a la_ Byron; of -his escapades in St. Petersburg; of enlistment in and desertion from -the United States army; of phenomenally protracted debauches, during -which he threw off the most wonderful productions of his pen—most of -which stories, so far as can be shown now, were evolved from the inner -consciousness of those writers who, upon his death, “woke to ecstacy, the -living liars,” to blacken his name. - -A general reason for this paucity of particulars may be found, perhaps, -in Poe’s enforced seclusion from the public by the exigencies of poverty -during much of his life, and the low rank of authors in the general -estimation of the times; a special reason may be that Poe’s literary -executor and biographer, Dr. Griswold, to whom in his lifetime he had -entrusted all the material he ever furnished any one, suppressed the -facts and substituted inventions, in order to assassinate the character -of the dead poet. For twenty-six years Poe’s body rested in an unmarked -grave, and his character was buried under a living heap of obloquy. When -at last, in 1875, a few devoted women of Baltimore sought to redeem both -tombs, nearly all the contemporary witnesses to his acts were dead. It -was not until twenty-six years after the event that Dr. Moran, who had -attended Poe’s last illness, broke silence and put to rest the story that -he died in the midst of a drunken debauch in the streets of Baltimore. -“There was no smell of liquor upon his person or breath, and no delirium -or tremor,” says this tardy vindicator. It was 1878 (twenty-nine years -late) when Mrs. Weiss, of Richmond, told the story of his last visit to -that city, and contradicted Griswold’s story of his engagement with Mrs. -Stalton, and his prolonged inebriety there. It was later still, when -the posthumous letter of Mrs. Whitman, of Providence, was published, -silencing the long-accepted tale of Poe’s engagement to her, and his -disreputable conduct and intemperance the evening before they were to -have been married. Many chivalrous pens now—alas! too late—essayed his -defense; but his true history has not yet been written, and it probably -never will be. Dr. Johnson’s summary of Butler’s life almost literally -applies to Poe’s: “The date of his birth is doubtful, the mode and place -of his education unknown, the events of his life are variously related, -and all that can be told with certainty is that he was poor.” - -“The persistent and palpably malignant efforts to damn him with some -drops of faint praise and some oceans of strong abuse,”[A] have, indeed, -produced a reactionary tendency toward panegyric, since the angels rolled -the stone away from his tomb. The best any one can now do is to pity -the man and admire his works, and weigh probabilities. A careful view -as well of his time as of his character and environment is necessary. -Premising that I am not so presumptuous as to expect to add much to the -general fund of misinterpretation of his acts and misunderstanding of -his character, a brief summary of the less controverted features of this -history is submitted. - -In “that stray child of Poetry and Passion” concentered hot Celtic -and Southern blood, stimulated upon his father’s side by drink, upon -his mother’s by the artificial surroundings of an actress’s life, -and in both intensified by a runaway marriage, followed by a joint -“barn-storming” life. Himself an inter-act, his nursery was the green -room, his necessary nourishment narcotics. It is a sad thing to say, but -probably one of the few fortunate circumstances of his life was that -his parents died in his infancy—one of his many misfortunes was to have -been adopted and raised by a wealthy family (Mr. Allan’s of Baltimore). -He was born in 1809, or 1811, in either Boston, Baltimore or Richmond, -through all of which he, living, “begged his bread,” _a la_ Homer. The -Allans assiduously spoiled the child with unlimited money, indulgence -and praise. It was easy, for he was rarely beautiful, affectionate, -and precocious; he recited with marvelous childish effect, spun webs -of imaginative stories, and composed rhymes. “He lisped in numbers, -for the numbers came,” and when he was nine or ten years old his proud -foster-father seriously contemplated issuing a volume of his baby-verse, -but was dissuaded by the boy’s tutor, who said he had conceit enough -already, and such additional celebrity would probably ruin his prospects. - -Edgar was schooled in England, at the University of Virginia, and -at West Point, but he must have picked up independently of schools -and school masters the varied culture which shows in his versatile -writings—especially his acquaintance with science, psychology and -literature. At these schools he was distinguished alike for fast learning -and fast living—his easy absorption of the branches he liked, his utter -revulsion against those he did not like (mathematics, notably), for his -literary and critical tastes, athletic exercises, and the lavishness with -which he scattered his guardian’s money. These characteristics won him -the jealousy of his plodding classmates, distinction at the university, -expulsion from West Point, and quarrels with his foster-father. -Over-indulgence by parents produced the usual result of disrespect and -ingratitude in the youth; and the marriage of Mr. Allan to a second wife, -and the birth of heirs to his estates brought about a final separation -and a disinheritance of the adopted son, and so Edgar, at about his -majority age, was thrown on his own resources. He chose literature as his -profession, and doomed himself to poverty, anguish, professional jealousy -(especially strong among authors), triumphs, defeats, ruin and insanity. - -Poe’s real début in letters was in 1833, when (ætat 24) he won a prize of -a hundred dollars offered by the proprietor of _The Saturday Visitor_, -Baltimore, for the best story. Better than the money, the contest brought -him the friendship of the judges, and about a year later the editorship -of _The Southern Literary Messenger_, Richmond, at ten dollars a week. -The intervening year is one of the blanks. - -The Richmond editorship marks a turning point in Poe’s career. He made -the fortune of the _Messenger_; married (’35) his cousin, Virginia -Clem; and first began that line of work which is, in my opinion, its -distinctive feature, as it certainly proved to be decisive of his -destiny—to-wit: criticism. He published in some issues as much as thirty -or forty pages of book reviews. They created a tempest; for, rare as is -his imagery and wonderful as is his imagination, Poe’s distinguishing -mental characteristic is analysis. He is more logician than poet, more -metaphysician than romancer. - -Poe subsequently (’37-’38) edited the _Gentlemen’s Magazine_, and then -_Graham’s Magazine_, both in Philadelphia, and in ’44 we find him in -New York, employed on the _Mirror_, the journal of the poets N. P. -Willis and George P. Morris. In Philadelphia he did the best work of -his life in romance and criticism. Here, too, he made the acquaintance -of his evil genius, Dr. Griswold. Poe believed that Griswold supplanted -him from the editorship of _Graham’s_; G.’s subsequent enmity, while -professing friendship, was of the unforgiving nature that often comes of -the consciousness of having inflicted a secret wrong on another. The only -other causes of disagreement between them alleged are that Poe criticised -Griswold’s book in a lecture, and that Griswold attempted to buy a -favorable criticism from Poe’s pen. But they were outwardly friendly, -after a reconciliation, till Poe’s voice and pen were beyond the power -of response. The work of detraction had preceded Poe to New York, for Mr. -Willis writes of this engagement: - - “With the highest admiration for his genius, and a willingness - to let it alone for more than ordinary irregularity, we were led - by common report to expect a very capricious attention to his - duties, and occasionally a scene of violence and difficulty. Time - went on, however, and he was invariably punctual and industrious. - To our occasional request that he would not probe too deep in a - criticism, or that he would erase a passage colored too highly - with his resentments against society and mankind, he readily and - courteously assented—far more yielding than most men, we thought, - on points so excusably sensitive. Through all this considerable - period we had seen but one presentment of the man—a quiet, - patient, industrious, and most gentlemanly person, commanding the - utmost respect and good feeling by his unvarying deportment and - ability.” - -In 1845 appeared the work on which Poe’s poetic fame most depends, that -poem in which he wedded Despair to Harmony, “The Raven.” It marks the -acme of his life, also; his star declined rapidly thereafter. His wife, -who bore the hereditary taint of consumption, was in a decline; care and -anxiety on that account, and his own ill health, took away his ability -to write and he was without means of support. He was driven to ask loans -from one or two friends, and by a fatality such as he sometimes made to -drive his fictitious characters upon their worst expedients, he chose Dr. -Griswold as one of them. “Can you not send me five dollars?” he pleaded -with G.; “I am ill and Virginia is almost gone.” This and one or two -other such letters Griswold published, in connection with his slanders -on Poe’s character, to give his attack the cover of friendly sincerity. -Something was published in New York papers regarding the distress of the -Poes, and a lady friend (Mrs. Shew) visited them at Fordham. The worst -was confirmed. - - “There was no clothing on the bed—which was only straw—but a - snow-white spread and sheets. The weather was cold, and the sick - lady had the dreadful chills that accompany the hectic fever of - consumption. She lay on the straw bed, wrapped in her husband’s - great coat, with a large tortoise-shell cat in her bosom. The - wonderful cat seemed conscious of her great usefulness. The coat - and the cat were the sufferer’s only means of warmth, except as - her husband held her hands and her mother her feet.” - -Mrs. Poe died January 30, 1847. Captain Mayne Reid, the novelist, who -visited often at her house, thus describes her: - -“No one who remembers that dark-eyed, dark-haired daughter of the South; -her face so exquisitely lovely; her gentle, graceful demeanor; no one who -has ever spent an hour in her society but will endorse what I have said -of this lady, who was the most delicate realization of the poet’s ideal.” - -Another said: “She had large, black eyes, and a pearly whiteness of -complexion which was a perfect pallor. Her pale face, her brilliant eyes, -and her raven hair gave her an unearthly look. One felt that she was -almost a disrobed spirit.” - -After this Poe’s decline was rapid. He was ill for a long time, and -never quite recovered his mental balance. In the autumn of this year he -visited Mrs. Shew, his benefactress. She says that at this time, under -the combined influence of her gentle urgency, a cup of tea and the sound -of neighboring church bells, he wrote the first draft of “The Bells.” She -adds: - - “My brother took Poe to his own room, where he slept twelve - hours and could hardly recall the evening’s work. This showed - his mind was injured—nearly gone out for want of food and from - disappointment. He had not been drinking and had only been a - few hours from home. Evidently his vitality was low, and he was - nearly insane. I called in Dr. Francis (the old man was odd but - very skilful), who was one of our neighbors. His words were, ‘He - has heart disease and will die early in life.’ We did not waken - him, but let him sleep.” - -Since I began writing this paper I have heard recited in a company of -literary people an account of Poe’s staggering into a stranger’s house at -midnight, calling for a pen and dashing off “The Bells;” then falling -into a drunken stupor on the library table. It was evidently believed -by the narrator, despite Mrs. Shew’s circumstantial and more rational -account. - -During these dark days, as indeed during all Poe’s adult life, Mrs. Clem -was his guardian angel. The poet Willis touchingly draws this picture of -devotion: - - “It was a hard fate that she was watching over. Mr. Poe wrote - with fastidious difficulty, and in a style too much above the - popular level to be well paid. He was always in pecuniary - difficulty and, with his sick wife, frequently in want of the - merest necessaries of life. Winter after winter, for years, - the most touching sight to us in this whole city has been that - tireless minister to genius, thinly and insufficiently clad, - going from office to office with a poem or an article on some - literary subject to sell—sometimes simply pleading in a broken - voice that ‘he was ill,’ whatever might be the reason for his - writing nothing—and never, amid all her tears and recitals of - distress, suffering one syllable to escape her lips that would - convey a doubt of him, or a complaint, or a lessening of pride - in his genius and good intentions. Her daughter died a year and - a half since, but she did not desert him. She continued his - ministering angel, living with him, caring for him, guarding him - against exposure, and when he was carried away by temptation, - amid grief and the loneliness of feeling unreplied to, and - awoke from his self-abandonment prostrated in destitution and - suffering, begging for him still. If woman’s devotion, born with - a first love and fed with human passion, hallows its object, as - it is allowed to do, what does not a devotion like this—pure, - disinterested and holy as the watch of an invisible spirit—say - for him who inspired it.” - -By this test, Poe’s was always a pure nature, for he inspired respect, -pity and regard in every woman he came in contact with. It was a reflex -sentiment, for Poe revered woman, and there is not in all his writings an -impure suggestion or an indelicate word. - -The rest of the history is one of occasional indulgence in intoxicants -and rarely intermitting mental aberration. It is to him during these last -months of his unhappy career that the least charity has been extended. -He conducted a courtship of three ladies at once, making to each like -frantic protestations of love, the same despairing appeals to each to -become his savior from some dreadful impending fate. In June, ’49, he -departed for Richmond, for what purpose is unknown. In Philadelphia -he appeared the subject of a hallucination that he was pursued by -conspirators, and had his mustache taken off for the sake of disguise. -In Richmond he remained until the latter part of September, writing some -and renewing old acquaintances. During these three or four months he was -twice known to be overcome and in danger of his life from drink; he was -credited with having been almost continuously “in a state of beastly -intoxication” during the whole time. Mrs. Weiss thinks that this was one -of the brightest and happiest seasons of his life; if so, it was light at -its eventide. The return voyage is shrouded—that is the fit word—shrouded -in mystery and controversy. - -This seems to be true—that he was taken up unconscious in Baltimore at -daybreak, taken to a hospital, and died there at midnight of the same day -(October 7, 1849). It is also known that he left Richmond by boat on the -evening of the 4th, he then being sober and cheerful. In proper course -he must have arrived in Baltimore the night of the 5th or morning of the -6th; he was himself then, for he removed his trunk to a hotel. There was -thus left less than twenty-four hours in which for him to travel to Havre -de Grace and back, miss the New York connection, vote eleven times in the -Baltimore city election, go through the “prolonged debauch,” fall into -the delirium, and lapse into the comatose state in which he was found—as -described in most of his biographies; and he immediately thereafter is -found to have no smell of liquor about him, no tremor, and is conversing -rationally when roused to consciousness. - -The event was announced by Griswold in the _Tribune_ with this brutal -bluntness: - -“Edgar Allan Poe is dead. This announcement will startle many, but few -will be grieved by it. He had few or no friends.” But the _Southern -Literary Messenger_ said: “Now that he is gone, the vast multitude of -blockheads may breathe again.” Griswold simply elected himself mouthpiece -of that host. - -On Poe’s supersensitive organization stimulants told with fearful effect. -Mrs. Clem said “A single cup of coffee would intoxicate him.” N. P. -Willis explained the vagaries and sins of Poe by supposing him to be -possessed of two antagonistic spirits, a devil and an angel, each having -complete mastery of him by turns. But, says Willis, “With a single glass -of wine his whole nature was reversed, the demon became uppermost and, -though none of the usual signs of intoxication were visible, his will was -palpably insane. He easily seemed personating only another phase of his -natural character, and was accused accordingly of insulting arrogance and -bad heartedness. It was a sad infirmity of physical constitution which -puts it upon very nearly the ground of temporary and almost irresponsible -insanity.” - -That these lapses were infrequent, instead of almost continuous, we -have plenty of testimony from those who were much with him as business -associates and inmates of the same house. “I have never seen him -otherwise than gentle, generous, well-bred and particularly refined,” is -a certificate of one who was intimate in the family, which was confirmed -by many witnesses of different periods and places. The poet Swinburne was -probably right in declaring that Poe’s inebriety was “the _effect_ of a -terrible evil, rather than its _cause_.” That evil lay not alone, perhaps -not chiefly, in his inherited and educated predisposition to indulgence -and his morbidness of mentality; but in the character and consequences of -his chiefest literary work. - -It is a hard enough lot, under the best circumstances and in the best -times, to live by the pen. The characteristics as well of Poe’s genius -as of his times made that lot a doom for him. The rewards of authorship -were on an eleemosynary scale (Poe received only $10 for “The Raven,” and -$10 a week as editor-in-chief of a magazine: the _North American Review_ -then paid only $2 a page for matter); literary taste was unformed and, -worst of all, the market was drugged and cheapened and the best public -appreciation perverted by a silly school of writer who had arisen—similar -to the “Della Crusca School” which a few years before had infested -literature in England. Their lucubrations were both barren of ideas -and bad in style. It was the lollipop stage of our literature. Now Poe -possessed in high degree two parts which, when addressed to criticism, -would most offend these callow writers, to-wit: The musical sense of -language, and marvelous analytical powers. The most obvious quality of -his poetic style is its rhythm. The musical ear led him to adopt refrains -and euphonious syllables, like “Never more,” “Lenore,” “bells,” and to -dwell on their cadence; it made a bad composition distract him as a -discord does a sensitive musician. For him divine harmonies lay in the -relation of words to each other, as if they had been notes. - -Coupled with this, to him, uncomfortable sensitiveness to verbal -sounds, was his almost superhuman power of dissecting thought—extremely -uncomfortable to others, even to the best of writers. Thus gifted with a -mental touch equally for the substance of language and the substance of -thought which language struggles to give birth to; possessed of the power -of an eager and a nipping sarcasm and an infernal courage, fortified -with extensive reading and a retentive memory, Poe became a scourge to -mediocrity, imitation, sham and pretense. There could not have been a -more critical time for such a man to attempt a livelihood at letters; -there could not have been a man better fitted to work havoc among the -essayists and poetasters of the day, to compel literary reform and to -bring misfortunes on himself. “He elected himself chief justice of the -court of criticism and head hangman of dunces,” says Stoddard. “He hated -a bad book as a misdemeanor.” Burton, proprietor of the _Gentleman’s -Magazine_, remonstrated with Poe against the severity of some of his book -reviews. “You say,” said he to Poe, “that the people love havoc; I think -they love justice.” One adds, “Poe thought literary justice meant havoc -with such mediocrity as then flourished.” To the cause of pure literature -he thus devoted his life with example, with precept and with destructive -force. He was the Wendell Phillips of American literature. He did a work -that was necessary to be done in behalf of American literature. He pulled -down upon his own head and theirs, the sham temple which the little -scribbling Philistines had erected. - -So it is not to be wondered at that “he contrived to attach to himself -animosities of the most enduring kind,” as the _Messenger_ declared. It -became Poe against the whole literary world of America in a very short -time—for he had unstinted praise for no one. It is doubtless due to -the influence of this army of foes that he lost in succession all his -editorial situations and was impoverished. There were other enemies as -unscrupulous as Griswold. One of these put in successful circulation the -theory that Poe, by cruelty, deliberately caused the death of his wife in -order to get the inspiration for “The Raven,” and the story may still be -met on its rounds, notwithstanding the fact that the poem was written two -years before she died. (Amiable human nature delights in contemplation -of human monsters.) She declared on her death-bed that her life had been -shortened by anonymous letters slandering and threatening her husband. -Perhaps it was to meet this story that he wrote that curious analysis -(“The Philosophy of Composition”) of the mechanical and prosaic methods -by which he constructed “The Raven.” - -The critical instinct, coupled with an impulsive temperament, high ideals -of perfect performance and a powerful pen, is a fatal gift to any man. -The path of such a one will be strewn with the tombs of friendships -which he has stabbed, many and many a time unconsciously; his life will -be haunted with vain regrets for words gone past recall, carrying with -them consequences he did not reckon upon, hurting those he loves, missing -those he aimed at. His way leads steadily through bitter animosities, -bitterer remorse and, bitterest of all, isolation from his fellows, who -shall clothe him with a character foreign, antagonistic and repulsive to -his better nature. If he be not possessed of an o’ermastering will, a -thick skin and a healthy, cheerful temper it leads to morbidness, gloom -and despair. - -Poe was not of that will and temper. He was affectionate, sociable and -supersensitive to coolness of manner in others. A rebuff was a stab to -him, hatred a calamity. It is said his early life was clouded by the -stigma put on him by his parents’ theatrical associations and his own -dependence on charity; and that when a lad he wept many wild nights -at the grave of a lady who had spoken kindly to him and become the -confidante of his boyish sorrows and hopes. So with this nature and with -his devastating pen in hand he traced that descent into the living tomb. -If from its gloom he sometimes sought “respite and nepenthe” in drink -it is not to be wondered at; he was often tempted to suicide. He once -solemnly protested: “I have no pleasure in stimulants. It [indulgence -in drink] has been in the _desperate attempt to escape from torturing -memories—memories of wrong, and injustice and imputed dishonor_—from a -_sense of insupportable loneliness_ and a dread of some strange impending -gloom.” - -I fancy he tried to typify this unhappy mission that had come to blast -his life in that poem in which he “wedded despair to harmony.” “The -Raven” was a “grim, ghastly, ominous messenger from the night’s Plutonian -shore” that settled on the bust of Pallas, goddess of wisdom, even as -that critical impulse had settled upon his genius. His soul never was -lifted from the shadow. He was himself, of that fell work, the - - —“Unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster - Followed fast and followed faster.” - -And why did he not stop the war on the literati and pseudo-authors? -Who can tell? He “wasn’t practical.” He lacked some of Falstaff’s -“instinct.” He was not good and sweet. He wasn’t well-balanced; he was -an Eccentric. Pity the Eccentric—the man who knows himself called and -chosen to a cause, whether by the necessities of his own nature or -by divine impulse—if, indeed, this and that be not the same. Whether -that cause be warring upon high injustice, exposing hypocrisy in high -places, reforming an art, lifting up the lowly—anything that sets a man -apart to a purpose other than self-seeking, brings him ingratitude, -misinterpretation, isolation and many sorrows. Hamlet called to set right -the out-of-joint times would rather, if he had dared, have taken his -quietus with a bare bodkin than face this life of heart-ache, oppressors’ -wrongs, law’s delays to correct the wrongs, and the spurns that patient -merit of the unworthy takes. The greatest of Eccentrics became a stranger -unto his brethren, was despised and rejected of man, a man of sorrows and -acquainted with grief; even His chosen disciples when He tried to purify -the holy places from the profanation of greed misunderstood him; “the -zeal of his house hath eaten him up,” sneered they. - -Edgar A. Poe’s personal appearance matched his genius. Let those who saw -him tell it: “He was the best realization of a poet in features, air -and manner that I have ever seen, and the unusual paleness of his face -added to its aspect of melancholy interest.” “Slight but erect of figure, -of middle height, his head finely modeled, with a forehead and temples -large and not unlike those of Bonaparte; his hands as fair as a woman’s; -even in the garb of poverty ‘with gentleman written all over him.’ The -handsome, intellectual face, the dark and clustering hair, the clear and -sad gray-violet eyes—large, lustrous, glowing with expression.” “A man -who never smiles.” “Those awful eyes,” exclaimed one woman. “The face -tells of battling, of conquering external enemies, of many a defeat when -the man was at war with his meaner self.” He was both much sinned against -and much sinning. But he was not a monster, nor an ogre. He was only a -poet and an Eccentric. - - No farther seek his merits to disclose, - Nor draw his frailties from their dread abode. - -[A] Davidson. - - - - -BRITISH AND AMERICAN ENGLISH. - -By R. A. PROCTOR. - - -There are many points in which English and American speakers and writers -of culture differ from each other as to the use of certain words and as -to certain modes of expression. - -In America the word “clever” is commonly understood to mean pleasant and -of good disposition, not (as in England) ingenious and skilful. Thus, -though an American may speak of a person as a clever workman, using the -word as we do, yet when he speaks of another as a clever man, he means, -in nine cases out of ten, that the man is good company and well-natured. -Sometimes, I am told, the word is used to signify generous or liberal. I -can not recall any passages from early English literature in which the -word is thus used, but I should not be surprised to learn that the usage -is an old one. In like manner, the words “cunning” and “cute” are often -used in America for “pretty” (German _niedlich_). As I write, an American -lady, who has just played a very sweet passage from one of Mozart’s -symphonies, turns from the piano to ask “whether that passage is not -cute,” meaning pretty. - -The word “mad” in America seems nearly always to mean “angry;” at least, -I have seldom heard it used in our English sense. For “mad,” as we -use the word, the Americans say “crazy.” Herein they have manifestly -impaired the language. The words “mad” and “crazy” are quite distinct in -their significance as used in England, and both meanings require to be -expressed in ordinary parlance. It is obviously a mistake to make one -word do duty for both, and to use the word “mad” to imply what is already -expressed by other and more appropriate words. - -I have just used the word “ordinary” in the English sense. In America -the word is commonly used to imply inferiority. An “ordinary actor,” -for instance, is a bad actor; a “very ordinary man” is a man very much -below par. There is no authority for this usage in any English writer -of repute, and the usage is manifestly inconsistent with the derivation -of the word. On the other hand, the use of the word “homely” to imply -ugliness, as is usual in America, is familiar at this day in parts of -England, and could be justified by passages in some of the older English -writers. That the word in Shakspere’s time implied inferiority is shown -by the line— - - Home keeping youths have ever homely wits. - -In like manner, some authority may be found for the American use of the -word “ugly” to signify bad-tempered. - -Words are used in America which have ceased to be commonly used in -England, and are, indeed, no longer regarded as admissible. Thus, the -word “unbeknown” which no educated Englishman ever uses, either in -speaking or in writing, is still used in America in common speech and by -writers of repute. - -Occasionally, writers from whom one would expect at least correct grammar -make mistakes which in England would be regarded as very bad—mistakes -which are not, indeed, passed over in America, but still attract less -notice there than in England. Thus, Mr. Wilkie, who is so severe on -English English in “Sketches beyond the Seas,” describes himself as -saying (in reply to the question whether Chicago policemen have to use -their pistols much), “I don’t know _as_ they have to as a matter of -law or necessity, but I know they do as a matter of fact;” and I have -repeatedly heard this incorrect use of “as” for “that” in American -conversation. I have also noted in works by educated Americans the use of -the word “that” as an adverb, “that excitable,” “that head-strong,” and -so forth. So the use of “lay” for “lie” seems to me to be much commoner -in America than in England, though it is too frequently heard here also. -In a well-written novelette called “The Man who was not a Colonel,” the -words—“You was” and “Was you?” are repeatedly used, apparently without -any idea that they are ungrammatical. They are much more frequently heard -in America than in England (I refer, of course, to the conversation of -the middle and better classes, not of the uneducated). In this respect it -is noteworthy that the writers of the last century resemble Americans of -to-day; for we often meet in their works the incorrect usage in question. - -And here it may be well to consider the American expression “I guess,” -which is often made the subject of ridicule by Englishmen, unaware of -the fact that the expression is good old English. It is found in a few -works written during the last century, and in many written during the -seventeenth century. So careful a writer as Locke used the expression -more than once in his treatise “On the Human Understanding.” In fact, -the disuse of the expression in later times seems to have been due to -a change in the meaning of the word “guess.” An Englishman who should -say “I guess” now, would not mean what Locke did when he used the -expression in former times, or what an American means when he uses it in -our own day. We say, “I guess that riddle,” or “I guess what you mean,” -signifying that we think the answer to the riddle, or the meaning of what -we have heard, may be such and such. But when an American says, “I guess -so,” he does not mean “I think it may be so,” but more nearly “I know -it to be so.” The expression is closely akin to the old English saying, -“I wis.” Indeed, the words “guess” and “wis” are simply different forms -of the same word. Just as we have “guard” and “ward,” “guardian” and -“warden,” “Guillaume” and “William,” “guichet” and “wicket,” etc., so we -have the verbs to “guess” and to “wis.” (In the Bible we have not “I -wis,” but we have “he wist.”) “I wis” means nearly the same as “I know,” -and that this is the root-meaning of the word is shown by such words as -“wit,” “witness,” “wisdom,” the legal phrase “to-wit,” and so forth. -“Guess” was originally used in the same sense; and Americans retain -that meaning, whereas in our modern English the word has changed in -significance. - -It may be added, that in many parts of America we find the expression “I -guess” replaced by “I reckon,” and “I calculate” (the “I cal’late” of -the _Biglow Papers_). In the South, “I reckon” is generally used, and -in parts of New England “I calculate,” though (I am told) less commonly -than of yore. It is obvious from the use of such words as “reckon” and -“calculate” as equivalents for “guess,” that the expression “I guess” -is not, as many seem to imagine, equivalent to the English “I suppose” -and “I fancy.” An American friend of mine, in response to the question -by an Englishman (an exceedingly positive and dogmatic person, as it -chanced), “Why do Englishmen never say ‘I guess?’” replied (more wittily -than justly), “Because they are always so positive about everything.” But -it is noteworthy that whereas the American says frequently, “I guess,” -meaning “I know,” the Englishman as freely lards his discourse with the -expression, “You know,” which is, perhaps, more modest. Yet, on the other -side, it may be noted, that the “down east” American often uses the -expression “I want to know,” in the same sense as our English expression -of attentive interest, “Indeed?” - -Among other familiar Americanisms may be mentioned the following:— - -An American who is interested in a narrative or statement will say, “Is -that so?” or simply “So!” The expression “Possible!” is sometimes, but -not often, heard. Dickens misunderstood this exclamation as equivalent -to “It is possible, but does not concern me;” whereas, in reality, it is -equivalent to the expression, “Is it possible?” I have occasionally heard -the exclamation “Do tell!” but it is less frequently heard now than of -yore. - -The word “right” is more frequently used than in England, and is used -also in senses different from those understood in our English usage of -the word. Thus, the American will say “right here” and “right there,” -where an Englishman would say “just here” or “just there,” or simply, -“here” or “there.” Americans say “right away,” where we say “directly.” -On the other hand, I am inclined to think that the English expression -“right well,” for “very well,” is not commonly used in America. - -Americans say “yes, sir,” and “no, sir,” with a sense different from that -with which the words are used in England; but they mark the difference -of sense by a difference of intonation. Thus, if a question is asked to -which the reply in England would be simply “yes” or “no” (or, according -to the rank or station of the querist, “yes, sir,” or “no, sir,”), the -American reply would be “yes, sir,” or “no, sir,” intonated as with us in -England. But if the reply is intended to be emphatic, then the intonation -is such as to throw the emphasis on the word “sir”—the reply is “yes, -_sir_” or “no, _sir_.” In passing, I may note that I have never heard an -American waiter reply “yessir,” as our English waiters often do. - -The American use of the word “quit” is peculiar. They do not limit the -word, as we do, to the signification “take leave”—in fact, I have never -heard an American use the word in that sense. They generally use it as -equivalent to “leave off” or “stop.” (In passing, one may notice as -rather strange the circumstance that the word “quit,” which properly -means “to go away from,” and the word “stop,” which means to “stay,” -should both have come to be used as signifying to “leave off.”) Thus, -Americans say “quit fooling” for “leave off playing the fool,” “quit -singing,” “quit laughing,” and so forth. - -To English ears an American use of the word “some” sounds strange—viz., -as an adverb. An American will say, “I think some of buying a new house,” -or the like, for “I have some idea of buying,” etc. I have indeed heard -the usage defended as perfectly correct, though assuredly there is not an -instance in all the wide range of English literature which will justify -it. - -So also, many Americans defend as good English the use of the word “good” -in such phrases as the following:—“I have written that note good,” for -“well;” “it will make you feel good,” for “it will do you good;” and in -other ways, all equally incorrect. Of course, there are instances in -which adjectives are allowed by custom to be used as adverbs, as, for -instance, “right” for “rightly,” etc.; but there can be no reason for -substituting the adjective “good” in place of the adverb “well,” which -is as short a word, and at least equally euphonious. The use of “real” -for “really,” as “real angry,” “real nice,” is, of course, grammatically -indefensible. - -The word “sure” is often used for “surely” in a somewhat singular way, as -in the following sentence from “Sketches beyond the Sea,” in which Mr. -Wilkie is supposed to be quoting a remark made by an English policeman: -“If policemen went to shooting in this country, there would be some -hanging, sure; and not wholly among the classes that would be shot at, -either.” (In passing, note that the word “either” is never pronounced -_eyether_ in America, but always _eether_, whereas in England we seem to -use either pronunciation indifferently.) - -An American seldom uses the word “stout” to signify “fat,” saying -generally “fleshy.” Again, for our English word “hearty,” signifying -“in very good health,” an American will sometimes employ the singularly -inappropriate word “rugged.” (It corresponds pretty nearly with our word -“rude”—equally inappropriate—in the expression “rude health.”) - -The use of the word “elegant” for “fine” strikes English ears as strange. -For instance, if you say to an American, “This is a fine morning,” he is -likely to reply, “It _is_; an elegant morning,” or perhaps oftener by -using simply the word “elegant.” It is not a pleasing use of the word. - -There are some Americanisms which seem more than defensible—in fact, -grammatically more correct than our English usage. Thus, we seldom hear -in America the redundant word “got” in such expressions as “I have -got,” etc., etc. Where the word would not be redundant, it is generally -replaced by the more euphonious word “gotten,” now scarcely ever heard in -England. Yet again, we often hear in America such expressions as “I shall -get me a new book,” “I have gotten me a dress,” “I must buy me that,” and -the like. This use of “me” for “myself” is good old English, at any rate. - -I have been struck by the circumstance that neither the conventional, -but generally very absurd, American of our English novelists, nor the -conventional, but at least equally absurd, Englishman of American -novelists, is made to employ the more delicate Americanisms or -Anglicisms. We generally find the American “guessing” or “calculating,” -if not even more coarsely Yankee, like Reade’s Joshua Fullalove; while -the Englishman of American novels is almost always very coarsely -British, even if he is not represented as using what Americans persist -in regarding as the true “Henglish haccent.” Where an American is less -coarsely drawn, as Trollope’s “American Senator,” he uses expressions -which no American ever uses, and none of those Americanisms which, while -more delicate, are in reality more characteristic, because they are -common, all Americans using them. And in like manner, when an American -writer introduces an Englishman of the more natural sort, he never makes -him speak as an Englishman would speak; before half a dozen sentences -have been uttered, he uses some expression which is purely American. -Thus, no Englishman ever uses, and an American may be recognized at once -by using, such expressions as “I know it,” or “That’s so,” for “It is -true;” by saying “Why, certainly,” for “Certainly;” and so forth. There -are many of these slight but characteristic peculiarities of American and -English English.—_“Knowledge” Library._ - - - - -STILL YOUNG. - -By ELLEN O. PECK. - - - The fleeting years, the changing scenes, - The light and shade that intervenes - ’Twixt now and youth’s rejoicing teens - Have come and gone so silently. - Tho’ much from out my life is drawn - Of love and trust I leaned upon - I never thought my youth was gone, - But laughed at time defiantly,— - - Until I met with those I knew - When life’s first romance burst to view, - Whom long ago I bade adieu, - And scanned their faces eagerly; - Alas! I read the fatal truth - That time indeed with little ruth - Had claimed the beauty of their youth, - And dealt with them most meagerly. - - Amid the brown locks shone the gray, - And lines of care on foreheads lay, - And so, I read my fate to-day, - From their faces cheerlessly— - What I’d not read upon my own, - That youth, with time, had surely flown, - And I with them had older grown; - The truth—I take it fearlessly. - - And with a sigh o’er vanished years, - (I have no time to give to tears) - I near life’s noontide without fears, - Bearing its burdens silently; - No happy song I leave unsung, - A deeper life within has sprung, - And so my heart forever young, - Still laughs at time defiantly. - - - - -THE GOSPELS CONSIDERED AS A DRAMA. - -Lecture by David H. Wheeler, LL.D., President of Allegheny College, -delivered in the Amphitheater, Chautauqua, N. Y., August 23d, at 2 p. m. - - -Let me begin by saying that my subject is not theological, and it will -save us trouble if we remember it. Let me say in the second place that -my subject is not the stage, but a book. I shall not discuss the drama -as it is related to the stage, but the drama as a form of literature. -The theologian may find some comfort in the reflection that if God makes -a book it must be the best book. By the drama we mean simply the best -telling of a story. The gospels as God’s book may therefore be regarded -as necessarily the best told story in the world. But a few things may be -profitably said with regard to the relations of the drama with the stage. -First, this general one, that the stage was a contrivance for ages and -times when men could not read; and that ever since men learned to read, -the stage has been passing into shadow. An illustration of that may be -found in the fact that in the sixteenth century, the age of Shakspere, -there were probably one thousand men who went to the theater to one man -who could read a book; whereas, in our time, there are a hundred thousand -men who read books to one man who frequents the theater. The stage, in -other words, is an effete institution. It is therefore an institution -whose death does not carry with it the death of the drama; for, along -with the death of the stage, there has come an enlargement of the scope -of the drama. No important story was ever put upon the stage, or could -be. The stage is too narrow for a great theme; therefore all the themes -of all the plays are necessarily narrow themes—a few incidents grouped -about a character, or grouped about a single characteristic of human -nature. We have need in the world to tell stories that are larger, -that require an ampler stage for their development; that deal not only -with single principles, and single men, but with many principles and -vast masses of men—that concern not for a moment, or an hour, and a -single epoch of human life, but concern vast reaches of time and vaster -interests of humanity. And so it has come to pass that in our modern -times, our poetry—our epic poetry and our dramatic poetry—the two highest -forms of literary art, have undergone a great transformation. The poem -has become a novel. The epic has passed into this form; and the drama has -become history. Carlyle says that it is the business of the poet to write -history. - -We make distinction between prose and poetry, but we ought to remember -that with regard to epic poetry, and dramatic poetry, both are to -be expressed either in verse or prose, and that versification is an -accident. There may be epic poems in prose; and, as the freest form, -prose has become the prevailing form, and poetry is, more and more, as -the world grows older, confined to the lyric jingle. Poetry, in the -old sense, soon will pass, and the drama has passed into unversified -poetry. Milton made a great change by adopting blank verse, and Shakspere -had started us on the same road. In our age the great works of poetic -language may be expected to be produced in what is technically prose. The -epic poem may also be dramatically constructed, so that we may have the -prose epic under form of the drama. - -Let me call attention to the fact that we are fortunate in speaking a -tongue, the imperial language, in which Shakspere practically killed the -old Aristotelian unities. He wanted a dramatic form in which to tell the -story of the fall of Julius Cæsar, and the story of English history. He -had to discard the old unities of time and place. The only Aristotelian -unity that remains in our English literature is that of subject. The -subject of a dramatic action, or an epic story, must have unity. There -must be one action having a beginning, a middle, and an end; and there -must be a constant, regular, orderly, striking, impressive advance from -the beginning to the end. - -Now we come to consider whether the gospels ought to be regarded as a -drama. In the first place, we are familiar with the custom of commenting -on and praising the literary merits of the gospel. We say how sweet -and fluent and intelligible is the language in which it is written. -We understand that portions of it reach the heights of sublimity, -particularly the seventeenth chapter of John. We are familiar with the -fact that its English is so beautiful that there are men among us to rise -and complain if we interfere with a word in it. We are familiar with the -idea that the gospels have literary merits of a very high order. But we -have been accustomed, as a rule, to regard these things in detail rather -than as a whole. Now, when I say that they may be regarded as dramatic, -I mean the highest literary merit crowns them as a whole. Their story is -told in a dramatic form. No story ever told under the sun was so well -told as is this story of the life, death, resurrection and ascension of -the Lord Jesus Christ. I must treat this topic illustratingly, for my -sole purpose is to get an idea before you. Look, then, at the idea of -dramatizing history. It is said that Lord Marlborough read only Shakspere -for English history. He found that the dramatist had put his conceptions -of the actions and characteristics of leading men in English history in -such an effective way, that, whether he was right or wrong, he had fixed -the national estimate of these characters—had typed them forever. What -Shakspere says a man was, the English people will go on thinking him to -have been. These characters give us, on a small scale, the purpose and -effect of the dramatization of history. When Shakspere did his work, -little historical study had been done. English critical history dates -from after his time. But without the help of critics he conceived and -typed groups of characters, and he had such power of placing himself in -the center of things and working out the characteristics, that he really -constructed English history by the dramatic method. He had pitifully few -materials, but historians who have come after him have found his types -very faithful, and have been content to work out the details, accepting -the pictures Shakspere had hung up before the eyes of the nation. -Shaksperean English characters can not be much changed by ever so much -study. This is only an illustration of the triumph which the dramatic -form may win. Another most important distinction is the one between the -theatrical and the dramatic. We can best understand it by looking at -the common significance of the words. By “theatrical” we mean something -false, fictitious, showy, with no reality behind it. - -When a human action is theatrical it is insincere and false to the facts. -On the other hand, when you use the word “dramatic,” you mean something -entirely different. You mean to praise the thing and not condemn it. -When the two Senators from New York suddenly resigned their position in -1881—you remember it—the friends of these men spoke of their action as -dramatic, and their enemies characterized their action as theatrical; -one to praise, the other to blame. An incident like that draws the line -better than a definition. The word “drama” has won a place outside of -the stage—and it more and more separates itself from the stage, and -becomes a word descriptive of the best told story. In such a story there -must be reality. It must be a story so put together that the meaning -leaps out as the story goes on, and the mind takes hold of the meaning -easily and fully—so that the whole meaning flashes on the understanding. -You all know the power of a good story teller. You all know that every -neighborhood has some man who can grasp an incident and tell it so that -it comes strikingly before the mind. This power of narrative is at once -epic and dramatic. This village story teller is a miniature Milton and -Shakspere. The arrangement of a drama is systematic; and moves to a -climax with full force. In order to a dramatic arrangement it is not -necessary that the characters should be combined, as in the form of a -play; it is only necessary that the story should be told in the most -effective way, so that its meaning will flash clear and strong on the -understanding. The gospels are told in this way; and it is the only -possible way in which their story could reach the understanding. If we -consider the gospels from this point of view, there are several things -to attract our attention. One of them is the universality of the human -nature which is brought out in the gospel. If you take up a picture book, -or a fashion book of a hundred years ago, you are interested in a certain -way in studying the characters, and discovering that the people dressed -in a way very different from the present mode. You study the strange -dresses with interest, but at the same time with a kind of feeling that -these people were not just like yourself. Your point of observation in -the fashion-plate presents you with nothing but unlikeness to yourself -and your contemporaries. It is a strange world to you. - -Now, what the fashion-plate is, a great part of literature is. It is -something which gets old, out of fashion, outworn, when it is a hundred -years old. People live largely upon a contemporaneous literary diet. The -most of the literature for each generation is produced by itself, and -therefore the human nature of it, like the dresses of the fashion-plate, -is in a little while out of date, and seems old. I am not as old as I -look to be, but I have seen several kinds of literary fashions come and -go. I have known men to be famous, producing a book nearly every month, -whose name would now be strange, and there are few here who have thought -of them for a long time. Other books have taken their places. They were -novels, stories, histories, and even poems, but they have gone out of -date, because the human nature they dealt with was a temporary and -passing human nature—that of a fashion-plate. And the same effect must -attend most of the novels being written in our day, because there is a -passion upon us for this sort of living detail, this sort of temporary -book. - -There is so little of permanent universal human nature in an ordinary -novel of the period, that when you are done with it you have learned -but very little about man. The great defect with this class of books is -that they do not deal with universal human nature, and it is the power -of Shakspere that he deals largely with universal human nature. And -here we discover the likeness that reigns there. We recognize ourselves -and our neighbors. We have struck one of the old lines of humanity, -and are acquainted with the people we meet. They wear togas, we wear -trousers; but we know each other for brothers. The defect of Shaksperean -human nature very soon appears when you lay it down along side of the -gospels. You have a little universal human nature in Shakspere, in the -gospels you have almost nothing else but universal human nature. If you -ask yourselves why we are interested in certain incidents that occurred -nearly two thousand years ago, in a foreign land, that occurred in -connection with a people for whom we have nothing but antipathy, what -will be the answer? Why are we interested in this old history lying back -there in a world that had almost nothing like our world except men, -and the eternal rocks, and the ever flowing streams? Why, belting the -green earth, should we find men everywhere singing about this passage -in human history? What is the charm of it that reaches human nature so -widely? Undoubtedly there is much charm in the delightful truth which it -contains; more in the delightful power behind it, but much also in the -fact that when we open these gospels we find ourselves in the presence of -men and women like ourselves, in the presence of human nature, undying, -eternally the same. In any of these passages you find yourself suddenly -reminded of yourself. You feel in every throb of a human heart in the -gospels something which allies the old heart with yourself. - -Another proof of the dramatic quality of the gospels lies in the fact -that the details all work out into one picture, and each trait resembles -the whole. What I mean here I shall try to make clear. The Righi is a -mountain made up of pudding stones. It is a great egg-shaped mass that -leaps up out of the plain, rising thousands of feet in the air, and is -composed altogether of these pudding stones. At different points up its -rugged sides, masses have been broken off by the action of the ice, -and if you examine them you will find that the fragments resemble the -whole. Break up one of them into the finest pieces, and each bit will -still resemble the whole. In any fragment of the vast mass you have a -picture of the whole mountain. Now this is true of the highest dramatic -production, that every piece and every incident is a picture of the -whole. This highest dramatic perfection is found only in the gospels. -You find hints of it elsewhere. Many of you have read the story of -“Middlemarch,” the most perfect piece of art produced in the way of a -modern novel. The art lies first in the dramatic conception, for it has -a theme, and the theme runs clear through, and the climax leaps out of -the theme. This theme is worked out through a principal character. In -her history the general lesson is impressively taught. But the art does -not end there, each one of the characters is a picture of the heroine in -little. The same story is repeated over and over again, in the different -characters. It is a story of human failure, of the way in which a great -human purpose, and high aspirations, growing in a youthful mind, may be -dispersed and destroyed as human life goes on to its conclusion. It is a -lesson of failure, and the failure of the principal character is repeated -in the subordinate characters. - -Take another illustration from Shakspere: “Julius Cæsar” is his best -drama, not the best play, for it does not act well on the stage, as it -lacks singleness and simplicity; nevertheless it is, I think, Shakspere’s -most complete play, his most dramatic piece, and the reason is this: His -subject is large and is developed on the principle I am laying down. The -play is narrow, both in “Macbeth” and “Othello.” In “Julius Cæsar” it is -large. The subject may be named the weaknesses of great men. The play -is constructed so as to develop the weaknesses of Julius Cæsar, and of -all the rest of the characters grouped about him. The story told in the -death of Julius Cæsar is told also in the death of all the parties in -the terrible failure of them all. But you must mark that in this case -we have an extremely narrow purpose as compared with the gospels. In -the gospels you can begin anywhere, and preach the whole gospel from -any incident. Take the case of the Prodigal Son, and you have the whole -story of the gospel in that short compass. Take up the case of the man -described as the “father of the child,” crying, “I believe,” and you have -it over again. It is over and over again, from the beginning to the end, -the pieces all conspiring to the grand result. It is achieved not by -ordinary art. The story teller has seen or heard or conceived something, -and he goes through a mass of details. The gospels have nothing of that -sort. They tell you in a few words what they have to say of the woman -of Samaria, or the maniac of Gadara, or of her who loved much and was -forgiven much. Names are dispensed with, details, places of residence, -all the tricks by which the ordinary story teller succeeds. This story -succeeds by pure force of an infinite truth behind it. - -Another characteristic of drama is a kind of consistency between the -beginning and the end, a kind of logical order in which it moves, and -this is illustrated in the gospels by the fact which must always be -borne in mind, that the task is one of supreme difficulty. The author -of the gospels has to tell the story of the Incarnation of God’s son. A -story in which there are human and divine actors, in which there is both -nature and the supernatural. It requires vast dramatic power. I have -suggested, yet I may more definitely repeat it, that the human earth on -which you tread is not that of old Palestine, or Galilee, or Jerusalem. -It is a real universal, a human earth. There is not a bit of purer -realism than the gospels. Take up this story, walk with these men. Down -by the lake you find the Gadarene crying among the tombs. You see the -stranger landing and healing him. You stand down by the boat and hear the -poor man begging Jesus to allow him to go with him. You see these human -figures. Look into it a little, and there the man stands where he has -stood almost two thousand years, listening to the words of the Master -compelling him to go away. The meaning of it you understand, for the case -is before you. On this solid human earth, this real human nature, this -realistic character which makes you feel the heart beat, and smell the -real earth, all is combined with something else, with the supernatural. -There have been writers who have carried us into wonderland. We were -glad to be there, and we traveled along delighted with the scenery and -with the companions created by the imagination. The gospels do not do -this. This solid earth beneath your feet is not more real than the -heavens that bend over it. Human reality is combined with heavenly, and -you are continually going to and fro between the earth and the sky. The -natural and the supernatural are so run together that you feel no shock -in passing from one to the other. You have men and angels, divine power -and human power, associated together. The warp of earth is woven into the -woof of heaven until it is one piece of cloth of gold. The gold of the -skies is braided into the earthly so perfectly I defy any man to take -them apart with consistency or success. This is the beauty and perfection -of dramatic success. The divine and the human are blended in Christ so -that you are puzzled to tell whether it is a man or a God who speaks and -works. The blending of the human about him, in him, through him, all this -is an effect utterly beyond human art. The story goes straight home to -the human heart. The time will never come when it will not be a dear and -sweet old story to the souls that hear it. Edward Eggleston once told me -that when he was lecturing in some strange corner of the earth, where -culture in the pulpit was comparatively rare, after the lecture one of -the men said, “I wish you would come here and preach for us. Our minister -preaches the funeral of Jesus Christ twice a Sunday, fifty-two Sundays -in the year.” The case seemed to me to be an exceedingly sad one until I -began to ask myself, of what man that ever lived could it be said they -preached his funeral sermon twice a Sabbath for fifty-two Sundays in -the year, and the story still had such freshness that the people would -come out and hear it? What other thing was ever so well done that a fool -might talk about it, and still a certain amount of interest attach to it -despite the poor telling? Here lies one of the uses of the dramatic power -of the gospel. When a man of humble attainments has it to tell, he has -only to follow the book to make it an interesting story. The moment he -strikes a real point of interest, the attentive soul feels that that is -what it came for, and, what is better, that it is said to him. In short, -the enduring power of this story lies in great part in this fact. The -consistency between the beginning and the end and the logical order of -things, comes out in a thousand powerful ways. For instance, the peculiar -truth that reappears in the words which are sculptured on Shakspere’s -tomb. - -Take the same thought as it reappears—the same thought slightly turned -over—as it is repeated in “Middlemarch,” or in that best human version of -all, that of Watts: - - “Princes, this clay must be your bed, - In spite of all your towers; - The tall, the wise, the reverend head, - Must lie as low as ours.” - -You will find the thought, in good and bad versions, everywhere. Do you -wish to take this thought fresh from the fountain? Come to the temple, -where the disciples, accustomed to nothing great in art, fresh from -Galilee, stand gazing in admiration at the glory of the great edifice and -one of them cries out: “Master, behold these stones; and what manner of -a building is this?” And listen to the Master as he says: “There shall -not remain one stone upon another,” and you have the fountain head of all -these streams running down into our poetry. - -Mark the wonderful consistency, and the wonderful movement of this -story—consider it as a drama. You may regard the gospels as beginning at -that moment when suddenly there was with the angel a great company of the -heavenly hosts, appearing to the shepherds as they watched their flocks -by night. It practically ends when the disciples, after the ascension, -returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple -singing the song which began in angel mouths and ends in human mouths. -The purpose of the story was to sing that angelic music into the human -heart. - -In conclusion: What inferences may be drawn from the statements I have -made? Certainly not that the gospels have attained their success because -they are a drama. They had to have the truth to succeed. They have the -truth, and that has given them success. It behooved that Christ should -suffer and rise from the dead the third day. And this behooving lies in -something very deep in our nature. We believe that these gospels are -inspired; that the authors were moved by the Holy Ghost; and it seems to -me to be a necessary inference that the story should be well told; and -well told means dramatically told. If it be true that the gospels sweep -a larger circle and involve a greater work than was ever attempted by a -human brain, if it be true that you can put a million of Shaksperes into -their compass and still have an abyss of art unfilled, then you have an -inference, an argument, in the line of the evidences of Christianity -that has never been attempted. And that is that the best told, most -dramatically told story, the story of the visit of God’s son to the -earth, of his life, death, resurrection and ascension, must have been -told by God himself. No human pen can be eloquent enough, no heart wide -enough, no intellect could penetrate into the human heart deeply enough, -to produce these gospels. In the literary perfection of the gospel there -lies an evidence of the truth, of the divine authorship of the gospels, -which in time to come, when all men read and think, will weigh perhaps -more than any other kind of argument that has been drawn upon to this -hour. - - - - -PROHIBITION IN MAINE. - -By the HON. NEAL DOW. - - -The policy of license to the liquor traffic had been the uniform practice -of the civilized world since the reign of Edward VI., of England, when -it was first established. Since that time, in England, there have been -more than four hundred and fifty separate acts relating to the traffic, -each of them being a vain attempt to improve upon all that had gone -before, in the hope, if not in the expectation, of diminishing in some -degree the tremendous evils coming from it. For the last twenty years -there has been no session of Parliament, I think, at which there have not -been several separate bills introduced, relating to that matter; at some -of them, these bills have been in number, from eight to ten, sometimes -even twelve. When our fathers first came over the waters to this western -world, they brought with them the policy of license, because at that time -no other had been attempted or thought of. - -In 1820 Maine was separated from Massachusetts and set up housekeeping -for herself, bringing with her, as a part of her outfit, the policy of -license, which had been brought over in the “Mayflower” by the Pilgrim -Fathers, and established in Plymouth colony in the first years of its -existence. By the peculiar industries of Maine the people were led into -the habit of the excessive use of strong drink. All our people living -a little way back from the sea coast were engaged in the lumbering -business. We had vast forests of invaluable pine, whence Maine was and -is called the “Pine Tree State.” The people through all the winter -season were living in camps in the woods, engaged in felling the trees -and transporting them to the water courses, by which they would be taken -to the innumerable saw mills which crowded the falls on almost all our -streams. In the camps, away from home influences and home restraints, -the “lumbermen” indulged freely in strong drink, which was a large and -indispensable part of their rations. - -On the breaking up of the streams in the spring, these men were engaged -in “driving river,” as it was called, i. e., following the “drives” of -logs, many, many miles down all the water courses to the “booms,” whence -they were impounded and secured ready for the saw mills which were kept -in operation through the year, often running night and day. On these -drives many of the men were often in the icy water more or less all day, -dislodging the logs from rocks or shallows, by which they were stopped -in their course down stream. In all this laborious and trying work, the -men used rum freely and largely, as the universal custom was in those -days. In those old times I have seen our great rivers covered for miles, -from shore to shore, with innumerable logs, so closely packed as almost -to hide the water from view. Many “river drivers” were following along -on either shore to prevent the logs from “lodging,” and to “start” all -that had been “grounded.” At night I have seen these men in great numbers -around their camp fires, wild and boisterous, under the influence of -liquor, like so many Comanche savages just home from the war path, with -many scalps hanging at their belts. On many of these drives the men -would be engaged for weeks, with rum as the most important part of their -ration. On the return of these men to civilized life a large part of them -would spend in a week, in a drunken carouse, all the wages paid them for -their winter’s work, without regard to wife and children at home. - -The saw mills in Maine were on a very large scale, and were in great -numbers. There were great masses of men engaged in them, all using rum -freely and in immense quantities. I have heard it said that two quarts -a day to each man was the regular allowance. While all these men—in -whatever department working—earned large wages, they were not at all -benefited by that, because they spent all in rum, except a miserable -pittance doled out to the wretched wife and children. - -The transportation of this “lumber” to the West Indies—the principal -market for it—was a very great industry; it was called the “West India -Trade.” Great numbers of vessels were engaged in it, running from all -our principal ports which had direct communication with the vast system -of saw mills on all our streams. The returns for this lumber were mostly -West India rum and molasses, to be converted into New England rum, at -our numerous distilleries. All along our sea coast great numbers of our -people were engaged in the mackerel and cod fisheries; there were a -great many vessels employed in that industry, the products of which were -mostly sent to the West Indies in the lumber ships, the returns for which -were also “rum and molasses!” I have heard men say who were owners of -timber lands and of saw mills—“operators” on a large scale, and owners -of West India traders—that Maine was never a dollar the richer for all -these great industries. The returns were mostly in rum, and in molasses -converted into rum, so that our boundless forests of invaluable timber -were literally poured down the throats of our people in the form of rum. -The result of all this was that Maine was the poorest state in the Union, -consuming the entire value of all its property of every kind in rum, in -every period of less than twenty years. - -I have run hastily over this account of the condition of Maine in the old -rum time to show that our people, according to the general opinion on -this subject, were most unlikely to adopt a policy of prohibition to the -liquor traffic, which was spread everywhere all over the state, and was -intimately interwoven into all the habits and customs of the time. All -over the state there was a general appearance of neglect and dilapidation -in houses, barns, school houses, farms, churches. By their habits of -drinking a great many of our people were disinclined to work, and many -of them were unfitted for it. It used to be said that three-fourths of -the farms were mortgaged to the town, village and country traders, all of -whom kept in stock liquors of all sorts as the most important and most -profitable part of their supplies. - -A few men in Maine resolved to change all that by changing the law by -which the liquor traffic was licensed, and by substituting for it the -policy of prohibition. This was supposed to be a great undertaking, -as in fact it was. An indispensable preparatory step was to change -public opinion, on which all law is supposed to be founded. To do this -meetings were held all over the state—not only in the larger towns, -but in villages and in all the rural districts. There was hardly a -little country church or town house or roadside school house where we -did not lay out before the people the fact that the liquor traffic was -inconsistent with the general good; that it was in deadly hostility to -every interest of nation, state and people. In our missionary work about -the state, traveling in our own carriages in summer, and in our own -sleighs in winter, we took with us large supplies of tracts relating to -the liquor traffic and its results. These were prepared for the purpose, -and were distributed freely at all our meetings, and we threw them out to -the people as we passed their houses, and as we met them on our way; and -to the children as we passed the country school houses. In this way, by -persistent work, we changed the public opinion upon the matter and fired -the hearts of the people with a burning indignation against the liquor -traffic, by which they were made poor and kept poor. - -This work was continued for several years without intermission; we had a -definite object in view, and that was to overthrow the liquor traffic, to -outlaw it, to put it under the ban, and to drive it out as a pestilent -thing, the whole influence of which was to spread poverty, pauperism, -suffering, wretchedness and crime broadcast among the people, at the same -time that no possible good came from it. In due time we made earnest -application to the legislature for a law of prohibition, but our prayers -were not heeded. We were regarded as having no rights which politicians -were bound to respect, and we were treated with small courtesy. We soon -took in the situation, and addressed ourselves at once to the only -instrumentality through which we could possibly succeed—that is, the -ballot box. We sent in great numbers of petitions to the legislature, but -we were beaten by more than two to one. At the next election we swept the -State House clear of almost every man who had voted against us; we did -this irrespective of all party ties and affiliations. - -To the legislature thus elected we sent no petitions; we went there in -person, with a bill all prepared, and offered it as one that would be -acceptable to temperance men. It was on Friday, the 30th of May, 1851, -that we did this. We had a public hearing in the Representative Hall on -the afternoon of that day. Saturday, the 31st of May, was to be the last -day of the session. The committee voted unanimously to accept the bill as -it was, with no change whatever. It was printed on Friday night and laid -upon the desks of the members the next morning. Immediately after the -morning hour it was taken up for consideration. - -Now this was the situation on that Saturday morning. The liquor traffic -was a lawful trade in Maine, as it was throughout the civilized world. -There were liquor shops, wholesale and retail, all over the state, with -large stocks of liquor for sale, as there are now in all our states, -where the traffic is yet prosecuted by authority of law, and under its -protection. The bill lying upon the members’ desks proposed to change -all that; it forbade the trade absolutely; it declared that there was -no property in intoxicating liquors kept for unlawful sale; that such -liquors so kept, or supposed to be so kept, should be seized on complaint -and warrant, or on sight, without warrant, and should be confiscated and -destroyed, unless the claimant could show to the satisfaction of the -court that they were not intended for sale. They might be seized wherever -seen; on railway cars, on steamboats, or in transitu by any other mode -of transportation; they might be hunted like wild and dangerous beasts, -and like them, if resistance was offered, they might be destroyed upon -the spot. If it be decided that the liquors are kept for unlawful sale, -the party is sentenced, in addition to the loss of the liquor, to a fine -of one hundred dollars and costs, and on the second conviction, to the -same fine and to imprisonment at hard labor for six months. And it was -expressly provided that no action should be had or maintained in any -court in the state for the recovery of intoxicating liquors nor for the -value thereof. The liquor traffic was put by that bill outside the law, -beyond its protection, and was denounced as an enemy to the state and -people—utterly inconsistent with the public welfare. - -On that Saturday this extraordinary measure, such as had never been heard -of in the world before, with no change whatever, was passed through all -its stages to be enacted, and on Monday, at nine o’clock in the morning, -it was approved by the Governor, and from that moment it was the law, -because the act provided that it should take effect when signed by the -executive. All the stocks of liquors in the state were then liable to -be seized and destroyed, but the local authorities allowed the parties -having them in possession a reasonable time in which to “send them away -to other states and countries where they could be lawfully sold;” and -this was done. There was a hasty departure of these liquors from all -parts of the state. It was not an appeal to the legislature by petitions -that accomplished this wonderful overturn in the status of the liquor -traffic in Maine, it was simply and only because the people put their -will in relation to it into the ballot box. There is no other way in -which it can be done in any other states, or in the nation. This movement -against the liquor traffic is now, as it was then, a far more important -political question than any other, more important than all others -combined, to every interest of the nation, state, and people. What has -been the result of this legislation? - -“In some places liquor is sold secretly in violation of law, as many -other offences are committed against the statutes, but in large -districts of the state, the liquor traffic is nearly or quite unknown, -where formerly it was carried on like any other trade. - - “SIDNEY PERHAM, - “Governor of Maine.” - -“I can and do, from my own personal observation, unhesitatingly affirm -that the consumption of intoxicating liquors in Maine is not to-day -one-fourth so great as it was twenty years ago; in the country portions -of the state the sale and use have almost entirely ceased. In my opinion -our remarkable temperance reform of to-day is the legitimate child of the -law. - - “WM. P. FRYE, - “M. C. of Maine, and ex-Att’y Gen’l of the State.” - -“I have the honor unhesitatingly to concur in the opinions expressed in -the foregoing by my colleague, Hon. Wm. Frye. - - “LOT M. MORRILL, - “U. S. Senate.” - -“I concur in the foregoing statements; and on the point of the relative -amount of liquors sold at present in Maine and in those states where a -system of license prevails, I am very sure from personal knowledge and -observation that the sales are immeasurably less in Maine. - - “J. G. BLAINE, - “Speaker U. S. House of Representatives.” - -“I concur in the statements made by Mr. Frye. Of the great good produced -by the Prohibitory Liquor Law of Maine, no man can doubt who has seen its -result. It has been of immense value. - - “H. HAMLIN, - “U. S. Senate.” - -“We are satisfied that there is much less intemperance in Maine than -formerly, and that the result is largely produced by what is termed -prohibitory legislation. - - “JOHN A. PETERS, M. C of Maine. - “EUGENE HALE, M. C. of Maine.” - -“I fully concur in the statement of my colleague, Mr. Frye, in regard to -the effect of the enforcement of the liquor law in the state of Maine. - - “JOHN LYNCH, M. C. of Maine.” - -These certificates are from both Senators and all the Representatives of -Maine in Congress. - -These statements are indorsed by many mayors and ex-mayors of cities, and -many other officials in every part of the state; by General Chamberlaine, -ex-Governor and President of Bowdoin College, and by many clergymen in -every county in the state. - -The convention of Good Templars resolved, “That by the operation of -the Maine law in this state, the traffic in intoxicating liquors has -been greatly diminished, and that the happy effects of this change are -everywhere apparent, and that the quantity of liquors now sold in this -state can not be one-tenth as much as it was formerly.” - -The State Conventions of the Republican party of Maine have always -adopted resolves relating to this matter. I have some of them before me -now. - -Republican State Convention of 1878: “Temperance among the people may -be greatly promoted by wise prohibitory legislation, as well as by all -those moral agencies which have secured us beneficent results; and it -is a source of congratulation that the principle of prohibition, which -has always been upheld by Republicans, is now concurred in by so large -a majority of the people that it is no longer a party question, the -Democrats having for several years declined to contest and dispute -it.” 1879: “We recognize temperance as a cause which has conferred -the greatest benefits on the state, and we sustain the principle of -prohibition which in its operation has so largely suppressed liquor -selling, and added incalculably to the sum of virtue and prosperity among -the people.” 1880: “Experience has demonstrated the wisdom of the policy -of prohibition as an auxiliary of temperance, and as contributing to the -material wealth, happiness and prosperity of the state; and we refer with -confidence and pride to an undeviating support of the same as one of the -cardinal principles of the Republican party of Maine.” - -There was no election in 1881, and no convention, but the resolve of 1882 -is: - - “We refer with confidence and pride to the general result of - the Republican party in support of the policy of prohibiting - the traffic in intoxicating liquors, the wisdom and efficiency - of which legislation in promoting the moral and material - interests of Maine have been demonstrated through the practical - annihilation of that traffic in a large portion of the state; - and we favor such legislation and such enforcement of law as - will secure to every portion of our territory freedom from that - traffic. We further recommend the submission to the people of a - prohibitory Constitutional amendment.” - -Such is the latest authoritative and comprehensive testimony to the -actual results of prohibition in Maine. Similar testimonies could easily -be obtained from the most influential sources in every part of the state. -Every brewery and distillery has been suppressed. Molasses, which is yet -imported into the state in large quantities, is no longer converted into -rum, but is used exclusively for domestic purposes, while a large part of -it is converted into sugar by improved processes. The share of Maine of -the national drink bill would be about $13,000,000, but I am far within -the truth in saying that one million will cover the cost of all liquors -smuggled into the state in violation of law. From the poorest state in -the Union, Maine has become one of the most prosperous, and it has gained -immeasurably in many other ways from the policy of prohibition. - - - - -THE INDUSTRIAL SCHOOLS OF BOSTON. - -By E. E. HALE. - - -I. - -It was the morning after the funeral. Aunt Fanny had tried to make the -breakfast seem cheerful to the children, or at least tolerable. She had -herself gone into the kitchen to send up some trifle a little out of the -way for the family meal. She talked to the children of the West, of the -ways in which her life in Wisconsin differed from their lives in Boston. -And Aunt Fanny succeeded so far that George passed his plate for oatmeal -a second time, and little Sibyl did not ask leave to go before her aunt -had poured out her second cup of coffee. - -Aunt Fanny made the breakfast as long as she could. Then she folded her -napkin slowly, and led the children into the other room for morning -prayer. They read the last chapter of Proverbs, and then all knelt down -and said the Lord’s Prayer. Then Aunt Fanny took Nahum’s hand and took -little Sibyl on her lap, and she said to all four of the children, “It is -very hard for us all, dear children, but I must tell you all about what -the plans are. I have a letter from Uncle Cephas, and you know I had a -long talk with Mr. Alfred after he came here yesterday. We will not break -up here yet.” - -“Oh, I am so glad of that,” said poor, sturdy Belle, who generally said -so little. - -“No, we will not break up here yet. In the spring we will all go to -Wisconsin, and you shall learn to like my home at Harris as much as you -like Roxbury.” So spoke Aunt Fanny, as cheerfully as she could. And not -daring to wait a reply, she hurried on: “See here, Uncle George writes -that I may stay till late in March, or early in April, if I think best, -but that then we must all be ready to go on.” - -You must know that the four children were orphans. Their father had died -in April, and now, in the middle of December, their mother had died. Aunt -Fanny had been with them for the last month. But she knew, and they knew, -that their pleasant home was to be broken up forever. - -“And now,” she said, “we must all see what we have to do this winter, to -be ready for Wisconsin. Belle and Sibyl, you may come up stairs with me, -and we will look through your clothes and the boys’. I must not be lazy -this winter, and I will have it for my morning work to put everything in -order.” - -And when they came up stairs, and this business like, energetic Belle -took their frocks and underclothes from the drawers, Aunt Fanny was -indeed surprised. The girl was grave beyond her years; so long had her -poor mother been ill, and so much of the care of the family had fallen -on her. “I should think you were an old housekeeper,” said Aunt Fanny, -in admiration, as Belle explained how she had mended this, and, on the -whole, determined to retain that. And when Belle took her into the little -room which she called the “sewing room,” and showed her drawers, and even -shirts for the boys, which she had under way, Aunt Fanny squarely told -her that she was quite her own equal in such management. - -“How did ever come to be such a thorough seamstress?” said she. “Dear -Mary has been sick so long that I had somehow imagined that such things -as these must slip by.” - -“Oh! of course mamma told us everything. But you know we learn this at -school.” - -“I do not know any such thing,” confessed Aunt Fanny, promptly. - -“Oh, yes,” said Belle, “we learn more or we learn less. But so soon as I -found I could help mamma about it I went into the advanced class. There -we learned to cut shirts and to make them. I can make a shirt now as -well as anybody,” said the girl, laughing. “But of course I do not in -practice.” - -“Why of course?” persisted Aunt Fanny. - -Belle opened her eyes as much as to say, “How little these people in -Wisconsin know.” But she did not say so in words, she only said: “Oh, -I can buy my collars and wristbands and fronts ready made a great deal -cheaper than I can make them, if my time is worth anything. And you must -not laugh, Aunt Fanny, but papa said my time is worth a good deal.” - -Aunt Fanny did not laugh. She smiled very kindly, and drew Belle to her -and kissed her. - -“You see, the boys run the machine for me, and Sibyl can do perfectly -well any plain sewing we need. We do not think a set of shirts such -a very heavy job,” said the little matron, quite unconscious of the -amusement she was giving Aunt Fanny. - -“Do you mean that every girl in Boston learns to do this?” - -“Why yes, if she goes to a public school. She learns it, or she may. I -think perhaps she might shirk a good deal. But if the teacher sees you -are interested, and you do as well as you can, she helps you on. I know -a great many girls who have made dresses for their friends. And I know -there are girls who went directly to dress-makers from schools, and -earned good wages at once. Some girls, you know, have a gift for cutting -and fitting.” - - -II. - -It must be confessed that Aunt Fanny went down stairs a little relieved -in mind after this talk with Belle. Here was one, at least, of her little -charges, who would be worth her weight in the new home to which they -were to be transferred. As the boys came in from school, she had another -such lesson. She asked Nahum who would be a good man to whom to send her -trunk, which needed some repair. The boy gave her his views, and then -asked what she wanted to have done. Aunt Fanny explained that in coming -on she had, wisely or not, left the dress tray of her trunk at home. In -going back she was sure she would need a tray, and she must have a new -one made. - -“Is that all?” said Nahum. “I should never send to Sage’s for that.” - -“What would you do?” asked Aunt Fanny. - -“I should make the tray myself,” said Nahum, quite unconsciously. “When -Belle made her famous visit to Swampscott, she found that that trunk -she has now would not take in some dandy-jack hat she wanted to carry. -And I made a new tray for her.” So he brought his aunt to the “trunk -closet,” dragged out Belle’s trunk, and showed her a neat tray, made of -white-wood, and very perfectly fitted. “Is that good enough?” asked the -boy. - -Of course it was good enough, and Aunt Fanny explained that she had not -known that Nahum was fond of tools. - -“Oh, I might have been as fond of tools as of candy,” said Nahum. “But -that would not have come out for much. I learned to handle tools at -school.” - -“School!” said Aunt Fanny. - -“Yes, they wanted to try it at the Dwight, where I was. So they got some -benches put into the Ward Room, which is in their building, and is only -used by the voters twice a year. They had a first rate teacher, Mr. -Batchelder. We had one lesson a week. They would not let us go on unless -we kept up in the regular school lessons. So it made the fellows spur up, -I tell you, because we all liked the shop, though that was extra.” - -“How many lessons have you had?” said Aunt Fanny. - -“Oh, I was in the first class, and so I had only one year’s course. It -was eighteen lessons. The first day we tried to strike square blows with -the hammer. Some of us did not strike very square, I tell you. All the -beginning with nails came the first day. The last lesson was ‘planing and -squaring, marking, making tenon, making mortise, and fastening mortise -and tenon.’ I wrote a letter to another fellow, and I copied it from the -school regulations.” - -So Nahum went out to his own work shop in the shed, which, as it -happened, Aunt Fanny had never seen before, because Nahum kept it under -his own key. In the afternoon the tray was made. - -“This will make you no end of comfort in Wisconsin, Nahum.” - -“But if I am to do carpenter work, really,” said the boy, “I ought to go -to the Technology.” - -He meant to the Institute of Technology. - -“Would you like to go there?” - -“Of course I would. Why, if I went there I could make the frame of my own -house, and raise it, if the neighbors would help.” - -Nor was the boy wrong. And his Aunt Fanny and Uncle Asaph determined he -should go, and go he did. He spent three months of that winter there, -four days of every week; and worked steadily eight hours a day. Still it -was different from what it would have been had he gone to a carpenter as -an apprentice. For then he would have had to do whatever the carpenter -was doing; and he would have had to take his chance for instruction. But -at the Technology he had regular teachers and regular practical lessons. -Of course he needed practice, and in the long run, it is only practice -which makes a first rate workman. But at the end, he had seen every -important part of a good carpenter’s work done, he knew why it was done, -and had had a hand in the doing of it. - -The Institute of Technology is not a public school as the Dwight School -is, where Nahum had picked up his elementary instruction; and for his -lessons here they had to pay thirty dollars. But when, the next summer, -all the barns on his uncle’s farm in Harris were carried fourteen miles -by a tornado, and Nahum found himself directing the framing of a new -barn, and doing half the work, he and his aunt thought that those thirty -dollars had been well invested. - -She took very good care that George should go into the carpenter’s class -at the Dwight School while they staid in Boston. He would not have been -obliged to go. No scholar took this course, excepting as an extra, but -_he_ took it because he wanted to. And, as Nahum had said, they were -obliged to keep in good standing in their other studies. - -As for little Sibyl, Aunt Fanny judged, after full consultation with -her confidential adviser, Belle, that Sibyl had better stay where she -was—at the Grammar School. Aunt Fanny went down and made a state call on -Miss Throckmorton, the teacher of the school, and also saw Miss Bell, -the sewing teacher. She explained to them that while she did not want -to break any school rules, she should be well pleased to have as much -attention as possible given to Sibyl’s sewing. Miss Bell was really -pleased with the attention. She said a good many parents did not seem to -care anything about it. But if Sibyl would really give her mind to it, -she would see that she was able, before she left them in the spring, to -cut and fit a frock for Aunt Fanny or for her sister. And before they -went to Wisconsin, it proved that Miss Bell was as good as her word to -her little friend, and Sibyl made a very pretty dress for Aunt Fanny, -before she left school. - - -III. - -As Aunt Fanny herself made her inquiries into these practical matters, -she resolved to try an experiment, which she would have laughed at when -she left Wisconsin. She was asked to a lunch party of ladies one day, and -was a little amused and a little amazed at first, when she observed how -much they said about what they had to eat. Aunt Fanny had been trained -to a little of the western ridicule of Boston, and had supposed that a -bubble rechauffée or a fried rainbow was the most material article that -anybody would discuss. And here these ladies were volubly telling of the -merits of oysters in batter and oysters in crumbs—of one and another way -to serve celery—in a detail which Aunt Fanny found quite puzzling, and, -indeed, quite out of place in the manners to which she had been bred, -which had taught her never to criticise what was on the table. - -Perhaps her silence showed her surprise. This is certain, that all of a -sudden a very pretty and gay Mrs. Fréchette turned round and said, “Here -is Mrs. Turnbull, horrified because we talk so much of what we eat. Dear -Mrs. Turnbull, it is not what we eat, it is the cooking we care for. -You must know we have all been to the Cooking Schools—all who are not -managers.” - -Aunt Fanny confessed that she had been puzzled a little, and Mrs. -Fréchette and Mrs. Champernom, her hostess, explained. In point of fact -this very lunch had been cooked, “From egg to apple,” as the Romans would -say, by Mrs. Champernom and her two daughters. It may be worth while, -therefore, to give the bill of fare: - - Raw Oysters on the shell. - Bouillon in cups. - Scalloped Lobster in its own shell. - Quails on Toast, with White Sauce. - Sweet Breads, with Green Peas. - Capons, with Salad. - Ice Creams. Frozen Pudding. Jelly. - Fruit. Coffee. - -How good cooks the mother and daughters had been before, they did not -explain. But these particular results were due to their training at the -Cooking School. They had made the rolls as well. - -“I came out of it so well,” said Mrs. Champernom, laughing, “and Mary -Flannegan approved the results so well, that when I told her and Ellen -Flynn, my waiter girl, that if they liked to go to the cooks’ class, -which is a class for special instruction to servant girls, I would pay -half, they both consented to go; Mary Flannegan to keep Ellen Flynn -company, and to see that she was not taught wrong. The cooks’ class is -twelve lessons, and costs three dollars each. I shall pay a dollar and -a half for each of them, and as Ellen Flynn is a bright girl, I shall -have four good cooks in the house instead of three. For really,” she -said, “there is nothing that Hester and Maria can not do. They went down -to the beach with their father and the boys, and for a week they cooked -everything that was eaten. They made the boys wash the dishes.” - -This started Aunt Fanny herself. She found there were four classes she -could attend: - -1. The Cooks’ Class, for people who had some experience. Twelve lessons -would have cost three dollars. - -2. The Beginners’ Class of twenty lessons, for which she must pay eight -dollars. Here she would be trained to make bread, and to prepare the -ordinary dishes for family use at breakfast and dinner and supper. - -3. The Second Class, also of twenty lessons, but more advanced. Here -she must pay twelve dollars. But here more elegant dishes, what Mrs. -Fréchette called “company dishes,” were part of the program. - -4. What Mrs. Fréchette called “The Swell Course.” Here every lady paid -fifteen dollars for her twenty lessons. _Per contra_, they had what they -cooked, and very jolly parties they seemed to make, when they dared ask -their friends to their entertainments. - -Aunt Fanny was a good housekeeper, but she thought she should like to -astonish her friends at Harris with some of the best seaboard elegancies, -so she and Belle entered the “second class.” And pleasant and profitable -they found it. - - -IV. - -“Sibyl, my dear,” said Aunt Fanny one morning, “I have only just found -out that you and Belle make my bed. You need not do it again; I always -make it at home, and I should have done it here, but you have been too -quick for me.” - -“We shall not give you a chance, Aunt Fanny; we shall not let you.” - -“But when do you do it, you little witches; you are always at breakfast -and at prayers; and when I go up into my room, it is all in order. I -supposed Delia did it while we were at breakfast.” - -Then, with much joking, it was made clear that every day, while Aunt -Fanny saw George and Nahum off, and spoke to the butcher in the kitchen, -Sibyl and Belle slipped up stairs, and “did” her room. - -“That is a piece of your dear mother’s training,” said Aunt Fanny, as she -patted Sibyl’s head. - -“As it happens, it is, Aunt Fanny,” said Belle. “But dear mamma said even -she got points from Miss Homans, and I am sure Sibyl and I both learned -the reasons of some things at the Kindergarten that we did not know -before.” - -“Reasons for making a bed,” said Aunt Fanny. “Why, you do not tell me -that you learn to make beds at school.” - -“We did not, because mamma had taught us. But the kitchen Kindergarten -was such fun that we liked to go; and if you like to see it, we will take -you.” So Aunt Fanny was taken to see that very pretty sight. And she -understood at once, how even very little children can be taught housework -thoroughly, and taught to like it too. Each child had a doll’s bed to -make, and to unmake; and each child, in unison with thirty or forty -others, made it and unmade it, singing little songs and going through -other such exercise as made the thing amusing, while it was methodical. -In the same way each child set a baby house table with the most perfect -precision, and swept a floor, and dusted a room. It was play to them, but -they learned what they never forgot, as Aunt Fanny had occasion to see -every day in the neat order of her dear brother’s orphaned household. - -Thus was it that it happened that when Aunt Fanny took home in April her -little flock of orphans, she did not bring to their wholly new life four -mere cumberers of the ground. - - NOTE.—In preparing this little sketch of “Industrial Education in - Boston,” at Dr. Flood’s request, I have selected what seem to me, - on the whole, the most important branches of such education for - illustration. It has not seemed advisable to introduce too much - detail. - - 1. The instruction in sewing is given in all public schools to - all girls. - - 2. The instruction in carpenter work has been attempted only in - two public schools. A central school is now to be established, - where classes of volunteers from the different grammar schools - will be received. The full course described, of eight hours a - day, for four days a week, of thirteen weeks, is one of the - Technology courses, and there is a fee for instruction. - - 3. The Cooking Schools are under the direction of a society for - that purpose. It also maintains Normal Classes for teachers of - cooking. Different churches and charitable societies maintain - free cooking classes, and free carpenter classes. - - 4. Drawing is taught in all public schools. - - 5. Schools of design and of carving are maintained by different - societies. - - I have confined myself to instruction which is to a certain - extent training in handiwork, and in this I have not included - musical or other artistic performance. - - - - -ECHOES FROM A CHAUTAUQUA WINTER. - -By REV. H. H. MOORE. - - -Now that winter is gone and the time for the singing of birds is near, -the readers of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, especially those who have spent a summer -at this place, will inquire: “How does Chautauqua appear in autumn, with -flowers withered, trees naked, and not a robin or thrush to be seen or -heard? What a contrast must be the sudden change from a summer world to -the wild desolations of a semi-Arctic winter!” and perhaps it seems to -them that the place was dead and buried beneath a monument of snow and -ice. A feeling of chilliness comes over them, and possibly they half -resolve never to visit these groves again. Pity, and possibly a prayer -are indulged for the poor unfortunates resident here. Lonesome things, -shut up in the woods, how can they stand it? With all respect and due -thanks for good intentions, we will excuse the pity, that it may be -bestowed where it is more needed, and will be better appreciated. If -contentment, good cheer, and the elements of good society can be found -anywhere, it is at Chautauqua. - -Let man’s environments, duties and responsibilities be what they may, -if his mind and heart are in harmony and sympathy with them, he is -satisfied, and at rest. - -If Chautauqua is stirring and rosy and beautiful in summer to all people, -to a nature that can appreciate it it is gorgeous, savage, grand and -thoughtful in winter. At the one season we float carelessly along in -the midst of scenes of sunshine, loveliness and gaiety; at the other -we are more, alone with God, we commune with the stars, and become -familiar with the sterner aspects of life. The change from one season -to another is simply turning over a leaf in the book of nature, and -receiving additional instruction, but of equal value. To our astronomers, -the heavens, whenever they could be seen, have presented an aspect of -surpassing beauty. Just after sunset in the west, Venus, from beyond -the sun has been seen climbing toward the zenith, and is now rapidly -approaching the earth, dropping down between it and the sun; we have -swept by fiery Mars, which has been nearly over our heads during the -winter; further to the east, Jupiter and Saturn have held high court; -over the southern heavens has swept Sirius, the brightest star to be -seen; to the north and northwest, Vega, the largest of the stars yet -measured, has been steadily looking down upon us, and to crown all, -Orion, the most magnificent of the constellations has illumined the -southern sky. - -January was a month of storms, and often did we contrast its desolations -with the excitement of a summer Assembly, but such was our satisfaction -with the present that we were in no haste for a change. The wild, weird -elements of the season interested us; the opportunity afforded for -reading, rest and recuperation was what was needed, and we felt that -these things could not be too long continued. What, have the beautiful -lake ice-locked for months, and used as a public highway? Listen day and -night to the moaning and howling of the winds as they swept through -the branches of the naked trees, often threatening to tear them up by -the roots? Live weeks together without sight of the sun by day, or of -a star by night? Yes, for all these things accorded with each other, -and with the general aspect of nature. The music was of a _class_, and -each note was in harmony with the general movement of the grand anthem. -When nature had savagely arrayed itself in frost and snow and cloud and -tempest, hiding the earth and filling the heavens, had the sun put in an -appearance what a ghastly display would it have made! But in the midst -of this desolation the snow-birds appeared, and they were beautiful, -for they were the flowers of the season. We realized that the power of -harmony could be heard in a tempest as well as in a seraph’s song. It is -the extreme of folly to waste a winter watching for the coming of spring. -The soul that is free from shams and is a pure part of nature itself, is -attuned to the real and the true, and accepts the nature that is as the -best, and would resolutely resist a change. - -Our snow storm continued about twenty-eight days, and its coming was -heralded by the play of lightning and the music of thunder. It never -ceased to be a pleasure to watch the falling of the snow; to see the -curiously wrought crystals drift out of the sky down among the branches -of the trees, filling the air till it seemed mantled in white—a new -creation. As an aid to the expression of our feelings we read the poem of -Emerson. We quote a few lines: - - “Come see the north wind’s masonry, - Out of an unseen quarry evermore - Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer - Curves his white bastions with projected roof. - Round every windward stake, or tree, or door, - Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work - So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he - For number or proportion. Mockingly - On coop, or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths. - A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn, - Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall - Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and at the gate - A tapering turret overtops the work, - And when his hours are numbered, and the world - Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, - Leaves when the sun appears, astonished Art - To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone - Built in an age, the mad wind’s night work - The frolic architecture of the snow.” - -Had the storm completed its work in a day, the snow at Chautauqua would -have been from six to ten feet deep; but as it extended over the most of -a month, changing occasionally into rain, it became so packed that at no -time was it more than three feet deep. On some of the buildings, where -two roofs met at right-angles it was six or eight feet deep at the angle. -But we suffered no inconvenience from the long storm. Our stalwart young -men, with heavy teams and strong-built snow-plows, kept the streets open -to all parts of the grounds. For a short time, as our greatest trouble, -in common with other places, we were a little vexed because of the -irregularities of the mail. - -But in our safe retreat we could but think of the time when this immense -mass of snow would melt away, perhaps attended by falling rain, and of -the suffering which the floods would cause in the valleys below. Our -gravest apprehensions have since been more than realized. As the snows -disappeared the waters of the lake began to rise, and the low lands about -Ashville, the Narrows, Griffiths, and other places were flooded, and the -area of the lake was sensibly enlarged. The upper dock at Chautauqua -stood out at least two rods in the lake, and in the baggage room, by -actual measurement, the water stood fourteen inches deep. As the stage of -water was unprecedented, we intend to sink a stone at high water mark as -a monument of the phenomenal flood of the year 1884. - -Up to the 15th of January the game laws permit our fishermen to take -with spear pickerel from the lake, through the ice, and the time was -well improved, but with poor success. An almost air-tight house, about -four feet square, is placed on the ice where the water is from twelve to -fifteen feet deep. Brush and snow are packed about the base of the house, -and not a ray of light is allowed to enter; then the fisherman, closely -shut inside, can see into the clear water, but the fish cannot catch a -glimpse of anything in the house. Having thus taken all the advantages -to himself, he keeps a decoy chub moving about in the water, and as the -pickerel comes in sight to seize its prey, it is saluted with the deadly -spear. One year ago tons of pickerel were taken from the lake, and many -of them were shipped to distant cities as rare luxuries; but this has -been a very unfavorable season, for which all Chautauquans should be -thankful. During the legal fishing season, the wind was in the north, -and at such times, the fishermen say, the fish keep in deep water, and -will not “run.” However, some were taken, and those left we may troll for -during the August Assembly. - -When the ice in the lake was at its best, the Assembly ice house and many -individual houses were filled, and in that respect we are prepared for a -long, hot summer, and for supplying the wants of the thousands of people -who may visit the place in July and August. - -Late last autumn, quite a company of old Chautauquans repaired to Florida -to spend the winter; but fifty-nine families remained, and some that left -us have returned, so that the place is blest with the elements of good -society. The Sabbath services are largely attended; a choir of excellent -singers adds much to the interest of the occasion. The average attendance -at the Sunday-school was about ninety-six during the winter. It is -thoroughly manned and well supplied with lesson helps. The assistant -superintendent, A. P. Wilder, deserves much credit for the prosperity -of the school. The social and devotional exercises of the church are -spiritual, and special attention is given by competent teachers to the -religious education of the children. Thus an intelligent and Christian -class of people are keeping watch and ward of Chautauqua interests in the -absence of the Assembly authorities. - -The local C. L. S. C. is under the direction of Mrs. Sarah Stephens, a -lady graduate, who brings to her duties, ability, culture, and the ardor -of woman’s heart. She follows closely the prescribed course of study, and -by the general circulation of written questions, endeavors to reach and -interest the entire community. The meetings are held Tuesday evenings, in -the chapel, and are largely attended by enthusiastic students. Most of -the people here live at their leisure, and much of their time is given to -reading and study. I have noticed that subjects discussed at the C. L. S. -C. meetings often come up for further examination in shops, stores, on -the street, and in the family, and these discussions I judge go far to -fix in the mind the subjects discussed. At any rate they are a splendid -substitute for the empty or slanderous gossip which is bred in minds that -have nothing else to do. - -The Good Templars hold their meetings on Friday night and occasionally -favor the public with a lecture. Sometime in the winter, under the -auspices of the order, an oyster festival was given which brought -together a large crowd. The evening was devoted to feasting, music, -gossip and addresses. It was really an enjoyable occasion, without any -discount. The addresses were so well received as to elicit, in miniature, -the “Chautauqua salute.” - -To accommodate the little folks who were not able to go outside the gates -to the public school, Miss Carrie Leslie has kept a private school, and -given entire satisfaction. - -Not much has been done during the winter in the way of building and -improvements. Late in autumn, A. Norton, Esq., commenced the erection of -a fine cottage, at the corner of Vincent and Terrace Avenues, which is -now nearing completion. He is building a private cottage for a permanent -home, and will expend upon house and lot from $2,500 to $3,000. The Rev. -Frank Russell, D. D., of Mansfield, Ohio, has under way a unique cottage, -a little back of the Amphitheater, which, when completed, will present a -fine appearance. The prospect from his upper verandas will be the widest -and best on the grounds, away from the lake. - -The Sixby store, embracing dry goods, groceries, drugs, and hardware, -under the management of the gentlemanly and accommodating Mr. Herrick, -has been open during the winter, and has done a good business. - -We have had some sickness and one death since the Assembly. Mr. -Crossgrove, a very good man, came here some two years ago, the victim of -consumption, and passed away in September last, leaving a widow and other -friends to mourn their loss. - -The first notes of preparation for the next Assembly have been heard. The -appointment of Mr. W. A. Duncan as superintendent of grounds gives entire -satisfaction. A modification of policy in some respects is anticipated, -which will reduce expenses and work general improvement. - -We feel that we are nearing the time when a large group of boys will -be on the ground, receiving an education according to the _enlarged_ -Chautauqua Idea. - -I am here interrupted by the tolling of our bell, reminding us of -Longfellow, and one of our Memorial Days. - -Chautauquans everywhere should know that the Chautauqua Vesper Service -is read every Sunday eve, and that all these Chautauqua interests and -peculiarities are cared for from one Assembly to another. Chautauqua -is not a six weeks summer affair, but in spirit, and to some extent in -form, it lives through all the months of the year, and twelve months are -none too many for the full development of all its interests. Again am I -interrupted, this time to attend a wedding at the parsonage, and here -shall close this survey of Chautauqua in the winter season. - - - - -C. L. S. C. WORK. - -By REV. J. H. VINCENT, D.D., SUPERINTENDENT OF INSTRUCTION. - - -Will local circles please report to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. -J., as well as to THE CHAUTAUQUAN? Please attend to this. - - * * * * * - -Persons desiring graduates’ badges in the C. L. S. C. should address Mrs. -Rosie M. Baketel, Methuen, Mass., as she has now entire charge of Mrs. -Burroughs’ business. - - * * * * * - -The _Saturday Union_, published in Lynn, Mass., contains a C. L. S. C. -column. The number for February 2 has an original Chautauqua song, and -a column and a half of questions and answers in Political Economy. The -questions are by Rev. R. H. Howard, A.M. This is an advance movement, and -will undoubtedly help our cause. - - * * * * * - -Will all members take notice not to send letters, postals or papers to me -at Hartford, Connecticut? My personal postoffice address is Drawer 75, -New Haven, Conn.; Miss Kimball’s address is Plainfield, N. J. Letters -addressed to me at Plainfield are forwarded. - - * * * * * - -The _Alma Mater_, the new bi-monthly to be sent to all recorded members -of the C. L. S. C. at Plainfield, N. J., will contain original answers -by Dr. William M. Taylor, of the Broadway Tabernacle, New York City; -Dr. John Hall, Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York City; John -Wanamaker, Esq., of Philadelphia; Dr. R. M. Hatfield, of Chicago, Ill.; -Dr. Joseph T. Duryea, of Boston, and Prof. J. W. Dickinson, of Boston, -written expressly for this number of the _Alma Mater_, to the following -question: “What advice do you give to a person who has had but little -school opportunity since he or she was fifteen years of age—a person -busy in mechanical, commercial or domestic duties much of the time, who -complains of a very poor memory, and desires to improve it—how may such -person improve the memory?” - - * * * * * - -The Rev. Dr. A. M. Fairbairn, principal of Airedale College, Bradford, -England, who was announced to give a course of lectures on the “History -of Philosophy” at Chautauqua last summer, but who was detained at home -by business connected with the college, writes to Dr. Vincent under date -of January 29, 1884, as follows: “I intend, all well, to be with you in -August; the latter part of the month will be most convenient for me. The -subjects the same as before stated. Sincerely yours, A. M. Fairbairn.” - - * * * * * - -Persons desiring copies of the Chautauqua Songs or of the Sunday Vesper -Service may procure them of Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J., at the -rate of $2.00 per 100 copies each, postage paid. - - * * * * * - -There are some members of the class of 1887 who have not yet returned -the blank form of application. Such blank should be filled at once and -forwarded to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J. - - * * * * * - -The badge of the C. L. S. C. furnished by Mr. Henry Hart is not in any -sense an official badge, nor does the C. L. S. C. receive any percentage -from the sale of the same. This has been offered, but not accepted. The -badges furnished by Mr. Hart are very beautiful. This is all that the -officers of the C. L. S. C. can say. - - * * * * * - -_Alma Mater_ is the name of our new bi-monthly communication to be sent -from the C. L. S. C. office at Plainfield to all members of the Circle -whose annual fees are paid. The first number will contain some valuable -hints on “Memory,” “The Laws of Memory,” etc., by prominent educators. -The second number of _Alma Mater_ will contain a very ingenious study -in English—a series entitled “Where the every-day words come from.” -Communications to the members of the Circle which have heretofore been -printed separately, as well as the memoranda, will be published in the -_Alma Mater_. All members whose names are recorded at Plainfield, and -whose annual fees are paid, will receive _Alma Mater_. - - * * * * * - -To all recorded members whose annual fees are paid will be forwarded -in March an envelope containing a _petite_ calendar for ’84, a most -humorous, brilliant and effective tract on evolution entitled “Saw-mill -Science,” a copy of the “Sunday Vesper Service,” specimens of the new and -brilliant C. L. S. C. envelopes, and a copy of the little tract entitled -“Memorial Days.” - - * * * * * - -_Our Alma Mater._—The contributions to this magazine are copyrighted, and -are not designed for publication anywhere else than through this medium. - - * * * * * - -A correspondent kindly criticises a statement in the “Outlines of Roman -History,” on page 68, in which it speaks of Polycarp as being in Rome -in 240. Assuming that this is 240 A. D., he says: “Now what Polycarp do -you mean? Not the disciple of John, who was afterward Bishop of Smyrna, -for, according to Prof. R. W. Hitchcock, the church historian, and other -excellent authorities, Polycarp suffered martyrdom between the years -166 and 167 A. D.” We referred the question of our critic to an expert -in such matters, and this is the reply: “In all the authorities I find -mention of but one Polycarp, the Disciple of John and Bishop of Smyrna, -and his death is given as either 168 or 169, but they add that it is -uncertain. As to the Polycarp mentioned by your critic, I feel sure that -there is a mistake, and Polycarp of Smyrna is meant, who did visit Rome -during the controversy about the celebration of Easter, probably about -140 A. D. With dates it is easy to make a slip of a century, and probably -this was the trouble in this case; certainly there is no mention of a -Polycarp in Rome as late as 240.” - - * * * * * - -The Chautauqua University is gradually developing its courses of study. -The preparatory and college courses in German, French, Latin, Greek and -English are already announced. A practical department has also been -recognized, and a corresponding class in connection with a technical -school for draftsmen and mechanics is now in full working order. The -lesson papers prepared by Profs. Gribbon and Houghton are divided into -eight series of about twelve lessons each, treating upon the following -topics: First series, free-hand drawing; second, mechanical drafting; -third, fourth and fifth, geometry applied to carriage construction; -sixth, miscellaneous problems in carriage construction; seventh, review -tables useful in carriage construction; eighth, miscellaneous lessons. -Young men, apprentices, journeymen, and others desiring to take this -course, should correspond at once with George W. Houghton, Esq. - - * * * * * - -There are many persons who are taking up the Chautauqua Spare-minute -Course, which is a course of readings, short, practical, simple, -attractive, in biography, history, literature, science, and art. This -course is printed in twenty-one Home College Series and in two numbers -of the Chautauqua Text-Book Series. They cost in one package $1.00, sent -by mail. The reading in this course can be carried along steadily, and, -after a while, one who has prosecuted the course will find himself well -along in the C. L. S. C. - - * * * * * - -The following pleasant little domestic picture comes from New Hampshire: -“I can not thank you enough for what the C. L. S. C. has done for us all. -You should see us some evening now. We sit around the table, every one -interested in some C. L. S. C. books. Even my little boy of seven years -will tease me to read aloud to him, and nearly every evening this month -gets his dumb-bells, and wants to go through gymnastics with me.” - - * * * * * - -Members must not return memoranda to the Plainfield office until all the -reading for the year has been completed. - - * * * * * - -A White Seal will be given all graduates of ’84 who read the following: -“The Hall in the Grove,” “Hints for Home Reading,” and the following -numbers of the “Home College Series” (price 5 cents each): No. 1, Thomas -Carlyle; 2, Wm. Wordsworth; 4, Longfellow; 8, Washington Irving; 13, -George Herbert; 17, Joseph Addison; 18, Edmund Spenser; 21, Prescott; 23, -Wm. Shakspere; 26, John Milton. Address Phillips & Hunt. - - - - -OUTLINE OF C. L. S. C. READINGS. - -APRIL, 1884. - - -The Required Readings for April include the second half of Prof. W. C. -Wilkinson’s “Preparatory Latin Course in English,” Chautauqua Text-Book -No. 16—Roman History and the Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - - * * * * * - -_First Week_ (ending April 8).—1. “Preparatory Latin Course” from “Fifth -Book,” page 167 to the first paragraph on page 202. - -2. Readings in French History in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - -3. Sunday Readings for April 6 in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - - * * * * * - -_Second Week_ (ending April 15).—1. “Preparatory Latin Course” from the -first paragraph on page 202 to the “Georgics” on page 236. - -2. Readings in Art in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - -3. Sunday Readings for April 13 in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - - * * * * * - -_Third Week_ (ending April 22).—1. “Preparatory Latin Course” from the -“Georgics,” page 236 to the middle of page 272. - -2. Readings in Commercial Law and American Literature in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - -3. Sunday Readings for April 20 in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - - * * * * * - -_Fourth Week_ (ending April 30).—1. “Preparatory Latin Course,” from the -middle of page 272 to the end of the volume. - -2. Readings in United States History in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - -3. Sunday Readings for April 27 in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. - - - - -LOCAL CIRCLES. - - -Now that Longfellow’s Day is gone, we have no Memorial Day until April -23rd. So many and so delightful are the ways of celebrating Shakspere’s, -that it is to be hoped that every circle will do something extra. To -read from Shakspere, to have an essay on his life, another on his -characteristic as a writer, and a scene from a play, all followed by an -elaborate supper, is the usual order. Do something new this time. Try -Shaksperean tableaux—an evening of them, with music, is delightful. If -the expense of the “properties” needed for successful tableaux is too -heavy, dispense with the supper, and let the cost of butter, sugar, eggs, -the meats and fruits, be contributed for buying an apparatus which, once -owned, will always be ready for use. Get Mr. George W. Bartlett’s little -book on parlor plays, published by Dick & Fitzgerald, New York, and with -little expense you will be able to prepare an excellent arrangement for -the tableaux which in Shakspere are “as thickly strewn as leaves in -Vallambrosa.” Or, if you wish to be strictly literary, take one character -as Hermione, or Portia, or Cornelius, and read everything that has been -said on it. Study one character thoroughly. Try a Shaksperean carnival. -Do something fresh. Do not fall into the danger of wearing out the -pleasure of Memorial Days by monotony of program. There are an infinite -variety of means for brightening and freshening, not only special -occasions, but the ordinary ones as well. One of the most entertaining -devices we have had comes in a breezy letter from =Titusville, Pa.=, a -place about fifty miles from Chautauqua, where there is an excellent -circle of fourteen members. Our friend writes: “We make it a point to -commit our text-books to memory and recite from them; but aim to bring -in all the outside information possible, and to present and draw out -ideas suggested by our books, rather than simply to recite over what we -have been reading in them. In Greek history we found Adams’s Historical -chart very useful. By close study of various authorities we extemporized -a model of Athens, on a round table with green spread. My writing desk -served as the Acropolis, and paper bunched up under the cloth, as Mars’ -Hill, the Pnyx, etc. Out of the children’s blocks we erected the various -buildings, while Noah’s wife, clad in gilt paper, and mounted on a -spool, rose in calm majesty from behind the Propylea. A slate frame, -with pasteboard porch on one side, decorated with paintings, represented -the Agora and Stoa Poecilé, and in the street of the Tripods a cologne -bottle received great admiration as the choragic monument of Lysicrates. -Wavy strips of paper suggested the rippling Ilyssus and Céphisus, while -a wall of brown paper encircled the whole. Outside the city limits, -under the shadow of Lycabettus (brown paper with clay coating on the -summit,) on one side, and about a mile out on the other, flower pots with -drooping vines brought to mind the classic groves of Aristotle and Plato; -while the street leading through the Ceramicus to the Academic shades -of the latter, was lined on either side with chalk pencil monuments -to the illustrious dead! This attempt met with so much favor that I -was prevailed upon to repeat it, substituting for the blocks cardboard -models quite characteristic of the Parthenon, Erechtheum, etc., while the -Theater of Dionysius, the Odeum of Jupiter, Cave of Pan, steps to the -Propylea, and the Bema of the Pnyx, were done in clay. The hard names, -in this way, soon became familiar, and each object served as a sort of -peg upon which to hang a good amount of Grecian history and mythology. -After reading, as a sort of finish, Mark Twain’s account of his midnight -visit to Athens, we were quite possessed with the fancy that we, too, had -been actual sight-seers in that wonderful city.” Everybody that reads -this will undoubtedly feel as we do, that we would like to go back and -read Greek history over again, for the sake of building up Athens; but -why can we not utilize the idea when we read the voyage of Æneas this -month in the “Preparatory Latin Course”? And when we come to English -history why not build a London? Plans like the above for interesting -circles must be supplemented by plans for keeping the members at work, a -matter especially difficult in large circles. In a late issue we called -attention to the program plan used at =Union City, Ind.= The secretary -has kindly sent us an outline of their method, which we are sure will -be useful: “We prepare and have printed a neat program for four months, -giving the places and times of holding meetings, specifying the different -exercises, with those who are to carry them out. These programs cost each -of us about fifteen cents each, and enable us to have about five apiece. -Each person knowing his duty, prepares for it from the beginning and no -excuse for non-performance of duty is left except unavoidable absence, -etc. Our experience for this year renders it certain that the circle can -no longer get on well without our printed programs.” - -Along with the plans and suggestions come cheery reports of how the -circles everywhere are growing and spreading. Mrs. Fields, the secretary -of the Pacific coast C. L. S. C., writes us: “It has been quite negligent -in the secretary of this branch not to have reported long ere this the -growing interest and increased numbers of Chautauquans on this coast, -and especially in California. Perhaps one reason of this remissness has -been the very fact that every mail has brought to the aforesaid secretary -letters of inquiry concerning C. L. S. C., which must be answered -sometimes quite at length; or applications for membership, which must -be acknowledged, registered and forwarded to headquarters; or letters -from faithful old members with words of cheer and renewal of fees, all -of which certainly should be replied to in the secretary’s most cordial -style. We have five hundred and forty new members this year and two -hundred old members have renewed their allegiance. If, as is generally -the case, the old members continue to renew to the very end of the year, -we may hope for a list of nearly a thousand names before next July, as -the record of this year’s students.” - -The circle at =Knoxville, Tenn.=, Monteagle Assembly, in which we all -became so interested by their rousing letter in THE CHAUTAUQUAN of -November last, has written us a characteristic bit of experience, which -we quote: “The dark, rainy nights of January are rather discouraging, but -we keep at work. One rainy night, on our arrival at the parlors we found -no light, and out of a membership of thirty-three but three were present. -We had one visitor, whose words I quote: ‘I had no idea they would hold -a meeting, but they were not at all disconcerted. The whole program, -prayer, minutes, lesson and music, was carried out as though the number -present was fifty instead of three.’ The result? The _visitor_ became a -_member_, saying, ‘that’s the kind of society I wish to join.’ I wish to -state, however, that so small an attendance is quite exceptional.” - -Another circle whose history offers us some wise suggestions is that -of =Syracuse, N. Y.=, the home of the new secretary of the Chautauqua -Assembly, Mr. W. A. Duncan. Indeed, Mr. Duncan has the honor of having -founded this circle, which dates back to the inauguration of the C. -L. S. C. The city has fine public schools and its university is well -known for its able professors and superior apparatus; the circle has -been wise enough to use the material within its reach. It secured Prof. -Rollins, of the high school, as its first leader; for three years he -conducted a circle of fifty. His successor, the Rev. Mr. Mundy, brought -to them a large knowledge of art, gained by travel and study. When -they came to science, again they chose a leader particularly fitted by -taste and profession to lead them through geology and astronomy. This -plan of selecting leaders who are skilled in certain studies is very -advantageous. The enthusiasm and knowledge of a specialist in a branch -must always remain superior to that of the one who has only given a -little attention to the subject. In spite of excellent leaders and -earnest members, their numbers did fall off a little last year. A class -graduated and they did not secure new members to supply the deficiency. -The plan they followed for a re-awakening was excellent. Returning from -Chautauqua last summer they held a public meeting and explained the plan -of the C. L. S. C. and its benefits. That night brought them several -new names. Then they secured Dr. Vincent for the next week to give -them a sketch of the aims and methods of the organization. At the next -regular meeting the secretary received the names of forty-two members -of the class of ’87. The circle is certainly to be congratulated for -its proximity to so much local talent and still more for its enterprise -in utilizing it so diligently. The neighboring circle of =Troy, N. Y.=, -continues to maintain its enviable standing under the leadership of Rev. -H. C. Farrar. His indomitable energy and perseverance are felt along all -the lines. The plan of presenting subjects in three minute essays is -being tried with interest and profit at their monthly meetings. - -All of the old circles show a steady growth. At =Claremont, N. H.=, -“Minerva Circle,” organized a year ago with a membership of ten, has -grown to twenty; the “Atlantis,” of =Lynn, Mass.=, commenced its second -year in October last with a membership of eighteen, an increase of ten; -the year-old circle of =Pittsfield, Mass.=, has gained thirty members -since its organization in February of 1883. - -Since 1881 a little “Pentagon” of ladies has been meeting in =Greenwich, -Ct.= A member writes of their circle: “Although composed of particularly -busy people, we have the conviction that we have been patient over our -hindrances, punctual in attendance and persevering in the work. We have -run the scale of questions and answers, topics, essays and memorial -readings, but prefer, on the whole, the conversational plan as being best -adapted to bring out individual thought.” - -=Cambridgeboro, Pa.=, has an interested circle of twelve members, and -=Blairsville=, of the same state, reports twenty, with a prospect of an -increase. - -=New London, Ohio=, claims that their circle, organized one year ago last -September, and now numbering twenty, might with propriety be called the -incomparable. - -At =Hennepin, Ill.=, there is a circle of fourteen ladies now reading the -second year of the course. - -A lady writes from =Marion, Ind.=: “We have great reason to congratulate -ourselves upon the deep and constantly growing interest felt in our -circle, and which is plainly manifested not only by our own members, -but by those who do not belong, away off here in the very center of -Hoosierdom.” This “deep and growing interest” is the unfailing result of -earnest work in the C. L. S. C., and how can it be otherwise when the -idea continually develops new phases? The experience of the circle at -=Little Prairie Ronde, Mich.=, that “each year the C. L. S. C. unfolds -new beauties, awakens new incentives for more earnest action, calls -to the foremost the very best of kindliness and cheer, and incites to -diligence, research and thought,” is universal. - -The “Centenary Circle,” of =Minneapolis, Minn.=, has long been a leading -one. It is by no means lagging—a late letter reports them as fifty -strong—their graduates reading the seal courses, the Memorial Days all -celebrated, and a big delegation contemplating a visit this summer to -Chautauqua. That, has a genuine ring, particularly the reading for seals -by graduates. Hold on to your reading habits. - -The first and only circle to report an observance of College Day was -the “Alden,” of =Marshalltown, Ia.=, where it was recognized by a -large gathering of Chautauquans and their friends. Marshalltown has -been faithful in reporting all their meetings. They have the western -enterprise, but we believe =Sioux Falls, Dak.=, ranks first in that -quality. The following explains why: “We have an interesting circle -here. We hold meetings weekly, and they are interesting and profitable. -We purpose to double or treble our circle next year. We have sent you -reports of our circle for THE CHAUTAUQUAN, but you have failed to notice -us. We have decided to _Flood_ you with letters till you notice the C. -L. S. C. in the largest and most beautiful city in southeastern Dakota.” -We shall only be too glad to receive such stirring letters. - -A few circles have reported lectures. From =Seward, Neb.=, where there is -a circle of sixteen, the secretary writes that they have had a lecture -on Emerson, a reading by Prof. Cumnock, Chautauqua’s favorite of last -year, and that they are expecting others. =Salt Lake City, Utah=, had the -pleasure of hearing Bishop Warren last fall in his lecture on “The Forces -of the Sunbeam.” The circle in this city numbers thirty-seven, and is -composed of ministers, teachers, business men and housekeepers; that they -have caught the spirit of our work is very evident, for they write us -that many of their number have in joyful anticipation the time when the -long distance that separates them from home and friends shall be paved -over, and they shall be permitted to join the number of those who pass -beneath the Arches of Chautauqua. - -We have received this month (February) reports of thirty new local -circles. =Salem Depot, N. H.=, has organized a circle of fifteen members; -=West Medway, Mass.=, one with a membership of a dozen; =Somerville, -Mass.=, has a class of thirty-five reading the course, fifteen of -them have joined the C. L. S. C. as members of the class of ’87; two -villages of Massachusetts, =Amesbury= and =Salisbury=, have united their -members in one organization. Their membership at present is twenty-one, -consisting mostly of beginners of 1887, a few of 1885 and 1886, and of -local members. At =Madison, Conn.=, there is a circle which traces its -organization to the interest of a lady who had taken up the reading -alone. She writes: “January last I began the work of the C L. S. C. and -finished the year alone, but decided that another year should find a -circle in our village, if my powers of persuasion were worth anything. I -had no difficulty in forming a small circle, some members of which have -since basely upbraided me for not telling them of it before.” They have -named their circle after the pleasant and capable office secretary of the -C. L. S. C., the “K. F. K. Circle,” and true to their allegiance, suggest -that the local circles ought to see to it that she and her aids have a -building which could have C. L. S. C. suitably inscribed on _any_ part of -its front, instead of meekly abiding in a hired house. Some day we may -expect this. - -=New Haven, Conn.=, the home of Dr. Vincent, organized, in October -last, “The Woolsey Circle,” so called in honor of their eminent fellow -townsman, ex-President Woolsey, of Yale College. - -A new circle called “Washington Heights” is reported from =New York City=. - -At =Bethel, N. Y.=, they started off last October with thirty members, -while from =Buffalo=, same state, a friend writes: “We have a wide awake -circle here, the membership of which has increased from six to twenty -since October 1st, when the circle was organized.” This circle has found -“review evenings” of great service to them. After finishing a subject -they devote one evening to a review, securing a leader competent to -answer all their questions and settle their disputes; thus for the review -of Biology they secured Dr. Kellicott, of the Buffalo Normal School, -who kindly answered all questions, and with the aid of his microscopes, -explained much that before had been obscure. - -From =Lisle, N. Y.=, we have word of a circle of nine. - -=North East, Pa.=, has a newly organized circle, among whom are several -yearly visitors at Chautauqua; =Newville=, of the same state, reports a -flourishing circle of nine members; from the class of ’87 in =Allegheny, -Pa.=, we have received the program of the services held by them on -February 10, special Sunday. It is particularly good. This circle is -following one plan which deserves more attention from all circles. They -are giving a good deal of attention to singing the Chautauqua songs, -devoting a portion of each evening to practice. - -=Plainfield, N. J.=, the place which enjoys the honor of being “the -headquarters of the C. L. S. C.,” was without a local circle for several -years, though many individual readers have pursued the course. Last fall -the Rev. Dr. J. L. Hurlbut invited those who wished to form a local -circle to meet at his residence. The result was a houseful of people, -and a circle which has met fortnightly since, and now numbers forty-five -members. A friend writes us from there: “We allow no ‘associate members’ -(persons not connected with the general C. L. S. C.) and none who will -not attend regularly and take active part. For every meeting Dr. Hurlbut -prepares a program of fifteen topics selected from the fortnight’s -reading, and assigned to the various members. The program is printed by -the ‘hectographic process,’ and distributed to all the members at the -meeting in advance of its date. We take a recess in the middle of the -evening’s exercises for social enjoyment and conversation, and afterward -generally listen to a vocal or instrumental solo, and a reading from one -of the members. At the close of the evening the critic dispenses his -delicate attentions, his motto being ‘with malice toward all, and charity -toward none.’ On Sunday evening, February 10, we held the Chautauqua -Vesper Service in one of the largest churches, filled with an audience -which participated in the responses. We regard our relation to the C. L. -S. C. as among the most pleasant, and our circle as one of the best in -the land.” - -=Camden, N. J.=, has also recently formed the “Bradway Circle” of -thirty-two members. This circle has a novel way of managing its session, -which may furnish a suggestion to some one wanting a new idea. After -their general exercises and transaction of business they separate into -two classes for the study of some subject selected at the previous -meeting by the members of the class. After devoting about half an hour -to the separate classes, they again unite into one general class for the -discussion of some topic. - -We are very glad to welcome into our midst two new circles from the -South, one at =Salem, N. C.=, of thirty-eight members, and another at -=Atlanta, Ga.= At the January meeting of the Salem circle the exercises -were on “Germany,” and as most of the members understand the language -of that country, part of the exercises were in German. A very pleasant -feature of their program was an account of the customs, traits and people -of the country as they appeared to one of the members who had lately -traveled through that land. - -Our space forbids our giving long accounts of the new circles in the -West. In =Illinois= there is a new class of thirteen at =Janesville=, -and another at =Jacksonville=, a place famous among its neighbors as -“the Athens of the West.” It contains no less than five excellent -institutions of learning, and yet they find a place for the C. L. S. -C. At =Litchfield, Mich.=, is another new circle, and from the college -town of =Appleton, Wis.=, the president writes: “It was considered -impracticable at first, in view of college and other literary societies -in the town, to start a C. L. S. C. These objections soon vanished. We -have a most enthusiastic circle of thirty-eight members, including two -college professors and wives, a physician, a clergyman and wife, and -several graduates of this and other colleges.” =Iowa= reports three -new circles. From =Fairchild= the secretary writes: “We have a most -enthusiastic circle of twenty-five members. At our opening in October we -thought one meeting a month sufficient, but as we warmed up we multiplied -them by two, and last week we doubled them again, so that now we meet -each week. You see this interest compounds more rapidly than that on most -other investments.” If one still imagines that the C. L. S. C. is in any -sense denominational in its tendency, let him read the experience of one -of the members of the new class at =Grundy Center, Ia.=: “I had a little -prejudice once against the course, as I thought that it would naturally -run into Methodist channels; but I have outgrown that. As a matter of -fact, of our fifteen enrolled members eight are Presbyterians and four -Congregationalists; but as members of the C. L. S. C. we are entirely -unconscious that we belong to any denomination.” At =Belle Plaine, -Ia.=, there is a circle of fifteen ladies; at =Clarksville, Mo.=, one -numbering fourteen. Kansas reports two new circles, one at =Wyandotte=, -where in a month they increased from four members to twenty-one; and -another of twenty members at =Sabetha=, including the professor of the -high school, and the teachers in the community. =York, Neb.=, has lately -organized a circle of fifteen members. - - - - -QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. - -FIFTY QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON PREPARATORY LATIN COURSE IN ENGLISH—FROM -PAGE 167 TO END OF BOOK. - -By A. M. MARTIN, GENERAL SECRETARY C. L. S. C. - - -1. Q. Of what is the Fifth Book of “Cæsar’s Commentaries” mainly one -unbroken record? A. Of disasters to Cæsar’s armies, barely retrieved from -being irreparable. - -2. Q. With what episode does this book begin? A. The last expedition, on -Cæsar’s part, to Great Britain. - -3. Q. After Cæsar’s return to Gaul, what did the poor harvests compel him -to do with his legions for the winter? A. To distribute them to different -points. - -4. Q. What chance did this seem to offer to the natives? A. To fall on -the Roman camps simultaneously and overpower them one by one. - -5. Q. By whom was one legion commanded that was destroyed by the Gauls -under Ambiorix? A. By Titurius Sabinus. - -6. Q. What lieutenant of Cæsar again encounters the Nervii, and is with -difficulty rescued by Cæsar? A. Cicero, a brother of the great orator. - -7. Q. With what account is the Sixth Book largely occupied? A. With an -account of the ineffectual efforts of Cæsar to capture Ambiorix. - -8. Q. In the narrative of the Seventh Book, who becomes the head of -the last and greatest confederate revolt of Gaul against Rome? A. -Vercingetorix. - -9. Q. After the final defeat and surrender of Vercingetorix, what was his -fate? A. He was taken to Rome and there beheaded. - -10. Q. By whom was the Eighth Book of the “Commentaries” written? A. By -Aulus Hirtius, one of Cæsar’s lieutenants. - -11. Q. What does this book relate? A. The incidents of the last Gallic -campaign. - -12. Q. How did Cæsar raise his legions and wage war? A. On his own -responsibility. His wars were mostly personal wars, and had no sanction -of government. - -13. Q. What do Cicero’s writings form? A. What has been finely called a -library of reason and eloquence. - -14. Q. What is the amount of reading in “Cicero’s Orations” required for -entrance at most colleges? A. The four orations against Catiline, and two -or three others variously chosen. - -15. Q. From what oration of Cicero does our author first give an extract? -A. His oration for Marcus Marcellus. - -16. Q. What was the occasion of this oration? A. The pardon by Cæsar of -Marcellus, who had fought for Pompey against Cæsar in the civil war, and -was now living in exile. - -17. Q. What gave rise to Cicero’s orations against Catiline? A. The -Catiline conspiracy, which contemplated the firing of Rome and the death -of the Senate, as well as the personal and political enemies of the -conspirators. - -18. Q. How many are there of these orations against Catiline? A. Four. - -19. Q. Where were the first and last delivered? A. In the Senate. - -20. Q. Where were the second and third delivered? A. In the Forum, to the -popular assembly of citizens. - -21. Q. What English clergyman and author has written a tragedy entitled -“Catiline”? A. George Croly. - -22. Q. What is the subject of the fourth speech delivered in the Senate? -A. The disposal of the conspirators then in custody. - -23. Q. By what name are fourteen of Cicero’s other orations known? A. The -“Philipics.” - -24. Q. Against whom were the “Philipics” directed? A. Mark Antony. - -25. Q. What was the fate of Cicero? A. He was assassinated by the command -of Antony. - -26. Q. Next to the “Iliad” of Homer, and hardly second to that, what is -the most famous of poems? A. The “Æneid” of Virgil. - -27. Q. When and where was Virgil born? A. In 70 B. C., at Andes, near -Mantau, northern Italy. - -28. Q. What is the first of the three classes of poems of which Virgil’s -works consist? A. Bucolics or Eclogues—pastoral poems. - -29. Q. What is the most celebrated of these minor poems? A. Pollio, -supposed to have been the poet’s friend in need. - -30. Q. What famous imitation of the Pollio did Pope write in English? A. -“Messiah,” a sacred Eclogue. - -31. Q. What is the second class of Virgil’s poems? A. Georgics, or poems -on farming. - -32. Q. Whom does our author consider in many important respects the best -of all of Virgil’s English metrical translators? A. The late Professor -John Conington, of Oxford, England. - -33. Q. Name two other English translators of the “Æneid”? A. John Dryden -and William Morris. - -34. Q. Name two American translators of the “Æneid”? A. C. P. Cranch and -John D. Long. - -35. Q. Of what set deliberate purpose is the “Æneid”? A. A Roman national -epic in the strictest sense. - -36. Q. Who was Æneas? A. The son of Venus by the Trojan shepherd Anchises. - -37. Q. Seven years after the fall of Troy for what purpose did Æneas and -his companions embark from Sicily? A. To found a new Troy in the west. - -38. Q. In the first book of the “Æneid,” where was the fleet conveying -Æneas and his companions driven? A. To the coast of Carthage. - -39. Q. By whom were the Trojans received with generous hospitality? A. -Dido, the Carthaginian queen. - -40. Q. With what are the third and fourth books of the “Æneid” -principally occupied? A. With the relation by Æneas to Queen Dido of his -previous adventures and wanderings, including an account of the siege and -fall of Troy. - -41. Q. To what is the fourth book devoted? A. To the sad tale of Dido and -her fatal passion for her guest. - -42. Q. What is the course of Æneas in this affair? A. He ruins Dido, and -under the cover of night deserts Carthage with his ships. - -43. Q. What is the fate of Dido? A. She commits suicide, ending her -sorrow on the funeral pyre. - -44. Q. With what is the fifth book largely occupied? A. With an elaborate -account of games celebrated by the Trojans on the hospitable shores of -Sicily, in honor of the anniversary of the death of Anchises, the father -of Æneas. - -45. Q. What is the principal matter of the sixth book? A. An account of -Æneas’s descent into Hades. - -46. Q. By whom is Æneas accompanied as guide on his visit to the lower -world? A. By the Sibyl at Cumæ. - -47. Q. What does Anchises, the father of Æneas, relate to his son in -Elysium? A. The name and quality of the illustrious descendants who -should prolong and decorate the Trojan line. - -48. Q. How many books of the Æneid are usually read by students in -preparation for college? A. Six. - -49. Q. Of what is an account given in the remaining six books? A. The -journey of Æneas from Cumæ to Latium, and his adventures there. - -50. Q. With what episode does the poem close? A. The death of Turnus, a -rival chief, in single combat with Æneas. - - - - -CHAUTAUQUA NORMAL COURSE. - -Season of 1884. - - -LESSON VII.—BIBLE SECTION. - -_The History of The Bible._ - -By REV. J. L. HURLBUT, D.D., AND R. S. HOLMES, A.M. - -_I. General Periods._—Bible history, according to the common chronology, -which we accept, but do not indorse as correct, embraces the events of -4100 years. This may be divided into six general periods, as follows: - -_1. The Period of the Human Race_, from the creation of man B. C. 4004 to -the call of Abraham, B. C. 1921. During this period the whole race comes -under consideration. - -_2. The Period of the Chosen Family_, from the call of Abraham B. C. 1921 -to the exodus from Egypt, B. C. 1491. During this period the family of -Abraham forms the only subject of the history; hence it might be called -the period of the Patriarchs. - -_3. The Period of the Israelite People_, from the exodus 1491 to the -coronation of Saul, B. C. 1095; the period of the Theocracy. - -_4. The Period of the Israelite Kingdom_, from the coronation of Saul, -B. C. 1095, to the captivity at Babylon, B. C. 587; the period of the -Monarch. - -_5. The Period of the Jewish Province_, from the captivity at Babylon, B. -C. 587, to the birth of Christ, B. C. 4; a period of foreign rule during -most of the time. - -_6. The Period of the Christian Church_, from the birth of Christ, B. C. -4, to the destruction of Jerusalem, A. D. 70. - -_II. Subdivisions._—The general periods may be subdivided as follows: - -1. The Human Race into—(1) the early race 4004 B. C. to the dispersion B. -C. 2234; (2) the dispersed race, 2234 to 1921. - -2. The Chosen Family into—(1) The journeyings of the Patriarchs 1921, to -the descent into Egypt, 1706; (2) the sojourn in Egypt, 1706-1491. - -3. The Israelite people into—(1) The wandering in the wilderness, from -the exodus, 1491, to the crossing of the Jordan, 1451; (2) the settlement -in Canaan, from 1451 to the death of Joshua, 1426; (3) the rule of the -Judges, from 1426 to 1095. - -4. The Israelite kingdom into—(1) The age of unity, from 1095 to the -division, 975; (2) the age of division, from 975 to the fall of Samaria, -721; (3) the age of decay, from 721 to the captivity, 587. - -5. The Jewish Province into—(1) Chaldean rule, from 587 to the return -from captivity, 536; (2) Persian rule, from 536 to Alexander’s conquest, -330; (3) Greek rule, 330 to the revolt of Mattathias, 168 B. C.; (4) -Maccabean rule, the period of Jewish independence, from 168 to 37 B. C.; -(5) Roman rule, 37 B. C. to 4 B. C. - -6. The Christian Church into—(1) The preparation, from the birth of -Christ, B. C. 4, to the baptism of Christ, A. D. 26; (2) The ministry of -Jesus, from A. D. 26 to the ascension A. D. 30; (3) Jewish Christianity, -from the ascension to the conversion of Paul, A. D. 37; (4) Transition, -from Jewish to Gentile, from A. D. 37 to the council at Jerusalem, A. -D. 50; (5) Gentile Christianity, from A. D. 50 to the destruction of -Jerusalem A. D. 70. - -III. We notice next a few of the great events in the periods, beside -those already named at their beginning and ending: - -1. In the period of the human race—(1) The Fall; (2) The Translation of -Enoch; (3) The Deluge. - -2. In the period of the chosen family—(1) The Covenant with Abraham; (2) -The Selling of Joseph; (3) The Enslavement of the Israelites. - -3. In the period of the Israelite people—(1) The Giving of the Law; (2) -The Conquest of Canaan; (3) Gideon’s Victory. - -4. In the period of the Israelite kingdom—(1) The Building of the Temple; -(2) Elijah’s Victory on Carmel; (3) The Destruction of the Assyrian Host -at Jerusalem. - -5. In the period of the Jewish Province—(1) The Fiery Furnace; (2) -Esther’s Deliverance; (3) Ezra’s Reformation. - -6. In the period of the Christian Church—(1) The Preaching of John the -Baptist; (2) The Transfiguration; (3) The Crucifixion; (4) The Death of -Stephen; (5) The Journeys of Paul. - -IV. We connect with each period, the names of its most important -_persons_: - -1. With the first period, Adam, Enoch, Noah. - -2. With the second period, Abraham, Jacob, Joseph. - -3. With the third period, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Samuel. - -4. With the fourth period, David, Elijah, Hezekiah. - -5. With the fifth period, Daniel, Ezra, Simon the Just, Judas Maccabeus, -Herod the Great. - -6. With the sixth, John the Baptist, JESUS CHRIST, Peter, Paul. - - -LESSON VIII.—THE GOLDEN AGE OF BIBLE HISTORY. - -This lesson deals with Israel at the time of the Empire. Lack of space -forbids more than a general outline. Israel’s history is familiar to -every reader of the Bible. Egypt, the Desert, and Canaan; Slavery, -Training and War; these words give their geography and history till -Joshua’s death. The Theocracy follows; then the kingdom under Saul and -David, and then the Empire, or the Golden Age under Solomon the peaceful. -We call it the Golden Age because: - -_I. It was the time of their widest dominion._—(_a_) For centuries the -Israel of possession was not the Israel of promise. Read Deuteronomy -11th chapter, verse 24, for the promise, and the first chapter of Judges -for the possession. (_b_) The people were bound by no national feeling. -“Every man went to his own inheritance.” The last verse of Judges is a -vivid picture of disunion. Under such a condition there could be no such -thing as wide and powerful dominion. (_c_) Under David and Solomon the -promised boundaries were reached. See 1st Kings, 4:21. Let the student -find the extreme northern and southern limits of the Empire of Solomon. -(_d_) Immediately after Solomon came disruption, and the loss of portions -of the Empire, which were never regained. Read the history of Jeroboam -and Rehoboam and their successors. - -_II. It was the time of their greatest national wealth, and individual -welfare._—(_a_) Read 1st Kings, 10:14-23. (_b_) Read 1st Kings, 4:20 -and 25. Brief as is the record in each of these references, there can -be no doubt as to the fact recorded. There is no such picture suggested -elsewhere, either before or after this period. - -_III. It was the time of the production of the finest portion of their -literature._—The second book of Samuel, which we have, Ruth, and a large -portion of the Psalms, and all the wonderful writings of Solomon belong -to this period. This last and greatest king of all Israel seems to have -made very large additions to the literature of the people. See 1st Kings, -5:32-33. - -Let us note some of the causes of this power and prosperity: - -_I. The growth of the people._—The people are said, in Solomon’s reign, -to have numbered five millions, or five hundred to every square mile. -Compare with our present population. The army was of vast numbers. See -Joab’s report, 2d Samuel, 24:9. - -_II. The character of the king._—He was (_a_) a statesman; he ignored -tribal lines; he recognized the value of extended commercial relations; -he opened intercourse with foreign nations, 1st Kings, 4:34; he made a -powerful foreign alliance, 1st Kings, 9:16; he built a navy, 1st Kings, -9:26; he attended personally to the affairs of his kingdom, 2d Chron., -8:17; he fortified his outposts, 1st Kings, 9:17-19; he centralized -the religious worship by building the magnificent temple at Jerusalem; -he built permanent buildings for the seat of the nation’s capital. -(_b_) _A lover of Liberal Arts._—He was a poet himself, 1st Kings 4:32. -Literature affords nothing more gorgeous in imagery than the Song -of Songs; he was famed for his conversational powers; he engaged in -conversational controversies with the most noted of his time—see his -riddles as preserved in Proverbs 6:6, and 30:15-16-18; he was a lover of -architecture—witness his building; he was a lover of music, inherited -from his father, and the musical service of the temple was one of its -most attractive features. - -_III. The character of his court._—All his counselors were men of note. -Let the student see what he can find from the Bible as to the worth of -his high priest, Zadok; his nearest friend, Zabud; his chief priest, -Azariah, son of Zadok; his captain of the guard, Azariah, son of Nathan; -his general in chief, Benaiah; his historian, Jehoshaphat; and his grand -vizier, Ahishar. - -_IV. David’s work._—This was (_a_) a widely extended kingdom; (_b_) a -centralized government; (_c_) peace with all the world. His son’s name, -_Solomon_, _Shelomoh_, _Peace_. - -_V. The country’s external relations._—(_a_) By Ezion-Geber a water route -was opened to the far east. Traces of this commerce with India can be -found in their language. See Stanley, “Jewish Church,” Vol. I. - -(_b_) By Damascus, a land route to the far interior highlands. - -(_c_) By the Mediterranean traffic with Spain—in ships of Tarshish. - -(_d_) By Tyre, commerce with Phœnicia. - - -SUNDAY-SCHOOL SECTION. - -LESSON VII.—THE TEACHING PROCESS.—ADAPTATION. - -There are certain heresies of common speech. One is, that a man can be -only what he is born to be. Apply it to the teacher’s art and it is a -heresy. The majority of men and women can become teachers if only they -will be at pains to become familiar with the secrets of the science, -study with care the best models in books, and as often as may be come -into contact with the best living teachers. There is such a thing as -_the teaching process_. We outline some needful steps in that process. -_The first is adaptation._ By it we do not mean the adaptation of the -lesson to the pupil; that belongs to the teacher’s preparation. We -mean _adaptation of the teacher to the pupil_; such a coming together -of teacher and pupil as shall cause them to agree, be in harmony, _fit -to_—that is, be adapted to each other. This adaptation must be, - -1. _In the matter of knowledge._ The teacher knows much more than the -pupil. His knowledge is his treasury. From it he draws in his work as a -teacher. That which he draws must be fitted to his pupil’s want, else -it is valueless. He must therefore learn what the pupil knows, and -work along the line of that knowledge. In such a process they become -companions, and the teacher can lead the pupil almost at will. With -adaptation of knowledge—progress: without it—nothing. - -2. _In the matter of personality._ The teacher and pupil who meet but -once each week, must meet on the plane of a common personality, or -their meeting will be vain. This is something finer than adaptation of -knowledge to knowledge. It is adaptation of heart to heart. It makes -teacher and pupil for the time of their intercourse in class absolutely -one. Teacher and pupil forget that either one or the other, no matter -which, is either rich or poor, well or ill dressed, old or young, -graceful or awkward, wise or ignorant, clever or stupid, and remember -only that each is the other’s hearty friend. This is one of the highest -possible acquirements of the teacher’s art, and the one who possesses it -has the gift of soul-winning. - -3. _In the matter of thought._ As the former is the secret of -soul-winning, this is the secret of soul-feeding. The average scholar is -a poor thinker. He thinks that he thinks, but his is not his teacher’s -thinking. It is the ploughing of the ancients. It only scratches the -surface of the soil: and the human heart is too hard and barren to be -made productive of divine fruit by any such process. This essential goes -deeper than the other two. Its burden is to answer how shall the pupil -be brought to think on Bible themes as the teacher thinks. This is the -teacher’s most difficult problem. Its solution is possible through -community of thought, or an adaptation of the teacher’s way of thinking -to the pupil’s way of thinking. - -The three essentials enumerated are possible, - -1. Through a close and intimate acquaintance with the pupil. (_a_) -_Socially_; (_b_) _religiously_; (_c_) _literarily_; (_d_) _in business -relations_; (_e_) _Biblically_. Let the student give a reason why -knowledge in these particulars would bring teacher and pupil together. - -2. Through personal sympathy with the pupil in (_a_) cares; (_b_) hopes; -(_c_) fears; (_d_) temptations; (_e_) joys; (_f_) pursuits. Let the -student give an illustration showing how adaptation of person to person -could be produced by such sympathies. - -3. Through occasional study with the pupil of the appointed Bible -lesson—to show how (_a_) to select the most available part for study; -(_b_) to arrange it harmoniously; (_c_) to outline it; (_d_) to show its -relations to other scriptures; (_e_) to trace its historic connections; -(_f_) to understand its obscure allusions or phrases. Let the student -show that adaptation of thought to thought or mutuality of thought would -result from such study. - - -LESSON VIII.—THE TEACHING PROCESS—APPROACH. - -A second needful step in the teaching process is _approach_: not the -approach of teacher to pupil simply, _but of the teacher to the lesson_ -in the act of teaching. This can therefore be no part of the teacher’s -preparation. For this step there is no uniform law. Each teacher’s -approach must be his own. What is successful with one will not be -with another. An exact copying of methods will be of no avail unless -circumstances are exactly alike. - -Approach may occupy a large or small portion of the time allotted for -teaching. A teacher may be twenty-nine minutes of his half hour making -his approach, and in the remaining one minute flash the lesson straight -into the center of the pupil’s soul. A teacher may reach his lesson in -one minute and spend the whole remaining time in pressing it home to his -pupil’s hearts. - -Imagine a Sunday-school hour. Picture: A new teacher for the first time -with a class. Boys—six; age, fourteen years; unconverted; one dull, one -stubborn, one restless, the rest mischievous. Opening exercises finished; -lesson read; superintendent announces “Thirty minutes for the lesson.” -The teacher alone with the class; four things press on that teacher with -a mighty force: - -1. _Self I._ Untaught in teaching, and the center for a circumference of -eyes. - -2. _Need._ The power of the word _must_ was never felt before so fully. -Here is a lesson to be taught, and the thoughts in the teacher’s mind can -only shape themselves into these two words: “_I must_.” - -3. _Immediateness._ _Now._ Minutes become small eternities, while the -cordon of eyes draws closer. “_I must now, at once, teach_ this lesson,” -but - -4. _How?_ After all it becomes a mere question of knowledge. There are -three elements which enter in to make the answer— - -1. How to prepare for the lesson work, making necessary a study of the -(_a_) necessity, (_b_) nature, and (_c_) methods of preparation. - -2. How to plan the conduct of the lesson, a step which costs (_a_) -earnest thought, (_b_) fixed purpose, (_c_) persistent effort, and (_d_) -patient prayer. - -3. How to perform. This makes necessary a fertile brain and a ready tact. -The actual step-taking on the line of a well-prepared plan consists -in (_a_) using good illustrations; (_b_) in attracting attention to -noticeable things in the text; (_c_) in exciting curiosity to find things -not on the surface; (_d_) in asking right questions; (_e_) in using -elliptical readings; (_f_) in working out topical outlines; (_g_) in -concert responses, and (_h_) in map drawing. - -All these are steps toward the real lesson which the teacher would bring -to his class. - - - - -EDITOR’S OUTLOOK. - - -FOUNDER’S DAY. - -We have received the following document, which will, we have no doubt, -meet a hearty response among members of the C. L. S. C. everywhere: -“The Counselors of the C. L. S. C., acting in this instance without the -knowledge of the Superintendent of Instruction, but in consultation -with President Miller and Secretary Martin, propose that, in honor of -JOHN H. VINCENT, the 23rd of February, the anniversary of his birth, be -designated ‘Founder’s Day,’ and as such be entered on the calendar of -the organization for future observance by the members, as one of their -Memorial Days. Signed by Counselors J. M. Gibson, William C. Wilkinson, -Lyman Abbott, Henry W. Warren, and approved by President Lewis Miller -and Secretary A. M. Martin.” With this came a letter stating that at -the banquet of the New England graduates of the C. L. S. C., held in -Boston on Saturday, February 23, it was announced that the Counselors had -decided unanimously to adopt the resolution. We believe we are not wrong -in saying that members of the C. L. S. C. everywhere will be heartily -pleased with this honor conferred on Dr. Vincent. Indeed, we predict that -there will be a universal lament because the Counselors did not adopt the -measure long enough before February 23rd to have made it possible for the -circles to have celebrated this year instead of being obliged to wait -until February 1885. - -There are many reasons why this measure is peculiarly acceptable to the -members of the C. L. S. C. The majority of our readers feel that in this -course of reading they are personally indebted to Dr. Vincent for a plan -which has been of infinite service to them. They know, too, that he is -their friend, thoughtful of their interests, mindful of their trials and -hindrances. They will heartily rejoice in the new Memorial Day as that of -a personal friend and benefactor, and will celebrate it with the peculiar -delight and enthusiasm with which we love to honor our friends. There -are more powerful reasons for observing the day than this feeling of -love and gratitude. The days we do celebrate are in memory of men whose -written thoughts are leavening the world. We delight to honor them for -their thoughts. We honor Dr. Vincent for the strong thoughts which he has -wrought into acts. There are many minds capable of brilliant ideas, of -philanthropic plans; but there are few capable of carrying them out, of -making them active agencies in society. It is this ability to make a plan -a reality, to prove it, which is a distinguishing characteristic of Dr. -Vincent’s mind. He has that rare gift, first-class organizing ability. -A course of reading planned for those who wanted to read, but did not -know what to undertake, had been often tried, on a small scale, before -the C. L. S. C. was organized, but to extend such a course to the world -at large was a new idea, and to most minds one entirely impracticable. -The magnitude of such an undertaking would have staggered any man but -one of the broadest sympathies and largest organizing powers. As Dr. -Vincent had both of these qualities, he did not hesitate to undertake the -organization, especially since he had the prestige of Chautauqua, with -its wonderful history, behind him, and Lewis Miller, Esq., his friend and -co-laborer, to lend a helping hand in the great work. A purely unselfish -enterprise is always treated skeptically by the world at large. The flaws -in the C. L. S. C. have been persistently pointed out. Steady sustained -enthusiasm in the face of such difficulties is the quality of a hero, and -it has been with this unfailing faith and interest that Dr. Vincent has -met every doubt or complaint. Very much of the success of the C. L. S. -C. is due to this one characteristic in its founder. His warm sympathies -and broad humanity, joined to his mental ability and enthusiasm, make -him a typical nineteenth century hero; a man whom the world delights to -honor, and whom the readers of the C. L. S. C. will be glad to remember -by celebrating Founder’s Day. - - -POLITICAL METHODS. - -With quite sufficient reason, the public mind has long been disturbed by -our political tendencies. This dissatisfaction does not arise from the -fact that in matters of principle and public policy, intelligent people -think we are on dangerous roads. In what are called questions, such as -those of banks, tariffs, coinage of silver, payment of the national debt, -etc., etc., it may be that the majority would prefer changes of policy; -but there is a conviction abroad that we are as a people free to change -in these matters if we really and earnestly desire new policies which -we are able to define. Our feeling of apprehension springs from the -knowledge that our political methods are bad, undemocratic and dangerous, -and from a fear that the fountains of public life are being defiled by -the wicked spirit of “practical politics.” It is not easy to corrupt the -moral sense of such a people as ours. The level of intelligence is high, -and patriotic impulses are strong in us. And yet we have gone down some -steps. At the end of the war, men physically wrecked refused to take -pensions; they would not take pay for a religious self-sacrifice. Now, -men who came out of the army without a scratch and are still sound in -health swear falsely to obtain pensions. These greedy seekers of pensions -did not dream fifteen years ago that they could sink so low. Any one of -them would then have said: “What, is thy servant a dog, that he should -do this thing?” Their fall is directly traceable to the corruption of -the civil service, to the fact that in the theory of our public life, -bounties should be given to men who handle political organizations -successfully. Salaries for civil service are bounties to be had by -scrambling for them, or by earning them in the service of Party. - -The theory of “practical politics” converts the salaries paid for -public service into a pool which parties are organized to secure for -distribution among the sergeants, corporals, lieutenants, captains, -colonels and generals of the order. “What are we here for,” cried a -delegate in the Republican National Convention of 1880, “if we are not -after the offices?” That indignant question expressed the very heart -of the practical politicians. A party, in his view, is an organization -to get offices. And as much of its work is, in the same view, secret, -dirty and wicked work, he believes that the party should be under the -strict control of “bosses.” Each town should have its leader, all the -town leaders should be under the control of the county leader, and county -leaders should obey the state “boss”—and the edifice should be crowned -with a national committee of “bosses.” This committee the politicians -struggled to create by the famous theory of “the courtesy of the Senate.” -That theory made the President the clerk of the party’s Senators in each -state. It gave Senator Conkling the vast Federal “patronage” of New York -to distribute at his will. The edifice was not crowned; the Senatorial -“boss” system went down in the terrible struggle of the spring of 1881. -Our readers know that history. We do not recall it to reproach anybody. -Senator Conkling was the victim of a theory that he ought, under the rule -of “the courtesy of the Senate,” to be President within the state of New -York. The theory is silent now; it will rise again if the people do not -disestablish political machines in towns, cities, counties and states. - -Turning to a more gloomy side of the subject, we observe that there has -been a vast increase in the amount of money spent in politics. Thousands -of persons are, while we pen these lines, living on the patrons who hire -them and send them forth to “mould public opinion”—or in the choicer -phrase of the men themselves, “to set things up.” It is the business -of this perambulating political machine to invent and distribute lies, -to purchase useful sub-agents, to promise funds for the election day -bribery. The floating vote increases each year, and four-fifths of this -vote is a corrupt vote—the voters stand about the market place waiting -until some man shall hire them. We tolerate and smile at all this -business—except the concealed bribery—and this tolerance of ours is the -sign that the malarious atmosphere of “practical politics” is beginning -to weaken our moral sense. If we are still in full vigor, this year will -probably afford us a large number of opportunities to wreck the local -political machine—without distinction of party. Reform will have to begin -by disestablishing local machines and bruising with conscience votes the -men who corrupt the popular verdict with money. - - -WENDELL PHILLIPS. - -We are glad, though at a late hour, to pay, with many others, our tribute -to the ability and worth of Wendell Phillips, and to review his life -and work. Glad to do this, for his life was clean and clear, the kind -men love to honor; his work was that of the philanthropist and patriot. -He had entered his seventy-third year, having been born November 29, -1811, in a house which is still standing on the lower corner of Beacon -and Walnut streets, Boston. He came from one of Boston’s aristocratic -families; for several generations the Phillipses were well known, rich -and influential. His father, John Phillips, was chosen first mayor -of Boston in 1822, in a triangular contest, with Harrison Gray Otis -and Josiah Quincy as rival candidates. Young Phillips had the best of -educational advantages. He prepared for college at the famous Boston -Latin School; entered Harvard in his sixteenth, and graduated in his -twentieth year. One of his classmates was the historian Motley, a man, -like Phillips, of handsome person, of courtly manners, and high social -position. From college Phillips passed to the Cambridge Law School, from -which he graduated in 1833, and the following year he was admitted to the -bar. But he was not long to follow the law. - -The public career of this man whose name is known in every land, dates -from a certain illustrious meeting held in Faneuil Hall, Boston, in 1837. -It was an era of great excitement. In Congress, John Quincy Adams, the -undaunted, was presenting petitions for the abolition of slavery, in the -midst of the howls and execrations of the friends of the institution. -Elijah I. Lovejoy had been murdered by a pro-slavery mob at Alton, -Illinois, while defending his printing press. Two years before, Boston -had witnessed the mobbing of Garrison. Phillips himself was a witness of -the spectacle, and the following year he joined the American Anti-Slavery -Society. A meeting was called in Faneuil Hall by Dr. Channing and other -friends of freedom to express indignation over Lovejoy’s murder. That -meeting will long live in history. Jonathan Phillips, a second cousin -of Wendell, presided. Dr. Channing and others spoke. At length, the -Attorney-General of the State, James T. Austin, took the platform and -delivered a speech in direct opposition to the sentiments which had been -expressed. It was not without effect. The people cheered as the speaker -declared that Lovejoy died as the fool dieth, and placed his murderers -by the side of the men who destroyed the tea in Boston Harbor. The -meeting, designed to be one of indignation for the murder of Lovejoy, -bid fair to turn into a meeting of approbation. But Wendell Phillips was -the next speaker, and he had not spoken long before the tide was again -reversed. This, his first public plea for free speech, human freedom and -equal rights, was wonderfully effective. It carried the audience and -established at once the speaker’s fame as the foremost orator of the -anti-slavery cause. - -From this time on, until in those years of blood the shackles were struck -from the slaves of America, Phillips was a man of one work. He lived for -the cause of abolition. His motto might have been: “One thing I do.” By -the side of Garrison he stood, in full sympathy with his ideas. His name -has long been the synonym of extreme radicalism. He held, with Garrison, -that the constitution was “a league with hell,” and would not vote, or -take an oath to support the iniquitous document. In the years before the -war of the rebellion, he freely advocated a dissolution of the Union; but -when the war came, he was found a stanch defender of the Union cause. In -that band of once execrated, but now honored abolitionists, who “prepared -the way of the Lord,” there may have been others who did as effective -work as Wendell Phillips; but he was the incomparable orator, gifted with -eloquent speech to a degree unapproachable. Stories of his power over -an audience will long be told. Delightedly the people have listened to -his silver tongue and chaste diction when he spoke upon purely literary -themes; the lyceum in our land had no more popular lecturer. But he -will live in our history as the matchless abolitionist orator. Since -the death of slavery he has been a prominent worker in different reform -movements, and the advocate—as it seems to us—of certain vagaries, but -his fame is inseparably connected with the colored race, of whose rights -he was the devoted, unselfish, and fearless champion. His private life -was singularly simple, sweet and beautiful. His wife, an invalid of -many years, his devotion to whom was beautiful indeed, survives him; -and an adopted daughter, Mrs. Smalley, wife of the well known newspaper -correspondent, is also left to mourn his loss. - - -FLOODS. - -In this country and in England the ravages of high waters have become -a matter of much seriousness and alarm. Nor have we failed to observe -that in recent years the floods have been far greater and more numerous -than they were a generation ago. This is due, we are told, to the -clearing away of the forests, allowing the water to rush, unhindered by -the undergrowth and fallen leafage, into the rivers, thus causing their -sudden swell and overflow. - -The serious and practical question is how to avert, in some degree at -least, the frequent wholesale destruction of life and property, as has -been experienced in the exposed districts during the last few years. It -is mere nonsense to talk as some have done of condemning the flooded -districts as dangerous and unfit for human habitation. Any one acquainted -with the human family knows how little it is restrained by the motives -of fear or danger in choosing its dwelling-place. Men will build their -houses where the ashes of muttering volcanoes fall on their roofs, -and with the knowledge that underneath their foundations lie their -predecessors buried by former eruptions. How absurd, then, to talk of -abandoning as places of human dwelling those great valleys, the most -fertile, and in many other ways the most highly favored on the continent. -For fertility of soil and beauty of situation, the valleys of the Ohio -and Mississippi may safely challenge the world. - -Neither will it do to say that by heeding the warnings given by the -Signal Service Department much of these calamities can be averted. The -Service published its warnings to the people of the Ohio valley a week -in advance of the recent floods, but no attention was paid to them. And -though the time is coming when the statements of meteorological science -will command general confidence, still it will not suffice to avert the -great loss of life and property. Men are not easily warned, and besides -there is the impossibility in many cases, of providing against danger and -loss, even though warning has been received. - -Since it is now too late in the Ohio and Mississippi valleys for the -method at present being discussed, with reference to the waters of the -Hudson, viz.: To spare the Adirondacks, there is nothing left but to -refer this important subject to the State and National Committees on -“Levees and other Improvements against Destructive Floods.” Nor do we -have to look long for encouraging examples of this mode of prevention. -A large part of Louisiana is habitable and cultivable only through the -protection afforded by hundreds of miles of levees. For six centuries -Holland has shown to the world what can be done by this method of -protection. Her whole North sea coast and a hundred miles of the Zuyder -Zee is provided with dikes, her constant safeguard from inundation. -Before the dikes were built in the thirteenth century, a single flood -destroyed 80,000 lives. At an annual expense of $2,000,000, those rich -lands yielding their luxuriant pastures and crops of hemp and flax, are -defended from the waters. - -We are persuaded that this is the only solution of the flood problem in -this country. Whether partial or entire, it should be attempted without -delay. In the light of recent experience government can not begin its -work too soon. The vast amount of property swept away during the last -decade would have gone no little way in defraying the expense of dikes -as solid and sufficient as those of Holland. Add the amount given by -Congress for the relief of the suffering districts, together with the -amount given in benevolence and sympathy for the same purpose, and the -sum is much increased. By procrastination we may expend in the above -painful manner treasure equal to the whole cost of the needed protection -before the work is begun. Let us hope that the year will not pass without -decisive action by the government. - - - - -EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK. - - -A party is reported in Ohio claiming to organize C. L. S. C. local -circles, taking collections, etc. Now be it known that no agents for such -purposes are appointed by the Chautauqua authorities. Such self-appointed -agents are likely to be swindlers. Our workers render their services -voluntarily. We appoint no agents. - - * * * * * - -General Gordon’s proclamation of freedom for slave-holding and -slave-dealing in the Soudan has created a great surprise. It is even -suggested that his religious enthusiasm has toppled over into insanity. -Perhaps we can not hope to understand the case. But we need not -misunderstand the facts. Slavery was never practically abolished in that -country. Even in Egypt it continues to exist. General Gordon has not -reëstablished slavery. Starting from that fact, we may easily reach the -inference that the heroic and simple-minded Gordon has merely done away -with one of the pretexts by means of which corrupt Egyptian officials -plundered the natives. Slavery can not be abolished by slave-traders, and -their ways of enforcing any law which naturally renders it odious and -despicable. - - * * * * * - -John Ruskin is not always exactly level with common sense, but perhaps -he is nearly right in saying “Never buy a copy of a picture. It is -never a true copy.” It would probably be much wiser in people who pay -considerable sums for copies of old paintings if they spent their money -upon inferior original works by living artists. We have come to a place -where the tide should turn in favor of our own young artists; and we -believe the turn in the tide is not far ahead. - - * * * * * - -The weather prophets have let us alone this winter. But on the Pacific -coast a sidewalk philosopher has tried to explain the cold weather of -the sunset slope. He says that an earthquake off the coast of Japan -has filled up the Straits of Sunda, and so diverted the warm current -that should flow to the coast of Oregon. This is an improvement upon -the last prophet, who regulated the weather astrologically—by studying -the positions of the stars. The new man comes back to the earth and -is chiefly at fault in his facts. We welcome him in the room of the -astrologer of last year. - - * * * * * - -“Ruined by speculation.” They have to keep that “head” standing in the -newspaper offices. The last case which has fallen under eye is that of a -bank in Philadelphia, whose manager speculated in tin. When a bank fails, -or a trustee betrays a trust, we always ask: “What did he speculate in?” -The story is trite. We know of nothing better to write than the laconic -advice of General Clinton B. Fisk: “DON’T!” - - * * * * * - -Sir James Caird was part of a commission to study the causes of the -great famine in India in 1876-7, and has written a book on the subject. -The trouble of course is that the farmers are poor, their methods bad, -and that population keeps ahead of the food supply. One mode of relief -is emigration. This reminds us that Charles Kingsley, who studied the -Hindoo laborers in the West Indies, wrote very enthusiastically of their -qualities. Will the Hindoos come into our own South, and what will come -of it? In the West Indies, Kingsley says that negro and Hindoo lived and -worked together peacefully. We may not like it, but that side of the -world is top-heavy with humanity, and steam will go on distributing the -people among the less crowded nations. - - * * * * * - -What is money worth in this country? The discussions at Washington, and -the prices of government bonds, seem to show that it is worth between -two and three per cent., and there is not much doubt that a hundred-year -government bond bearing only two per cent. would sell at par. An incident -in New York City confirms this opinion. A recent call for bids on city -bonds bearing three per cent. interest, and payable in five years or -thirty, at the will of the city, was answered by bids for six times the -amount required at from par up to 103⅓. If short New York threes are at -a premium, a long government two would be worth par. Why, then, it will -be asked, do _we_ pay from six to ten per cent. in different parts of the -country? The answer is that _risk_ and superintendence of _short loans_ -makes the difference. The real value of money is found by taking for a -measure long loans, in which there is absolutely no risk. The _Times_ of -New York expresses the opinion that thirty-year threes of that city would -sell at 115. - - * * * * * - -A correspondent of the New York _Evening Post_ furnishes some interesting -incidents in the life of Joel Barlow, the father of American epic -poetry. Redding, Conn., was the early home of Barlow, and the visitor -is shown the house in which the poet constructed his commencement poem -in 1778. It is said that Barlow’s one romance was a common one among -college students. He fell in love with a sweet girl whom he privately -married soon after graduation. He served as a chaplain in the Continental -army, but at Redding he is best remembered as the promoter of several -industrial enterprises designed to promote the welfare of the town. -Barlow was not a great father of our epic, but his sons have, perhaps, -not greatly surpassed him. - - * * * * * - -The enthusiasm of science, in alliance with the passion of boys for -killing birds, is making trouble in Massachusetts. The taxidermists -want birds to stuff, and average boys want to slay birds. The law is -loose, and any boy can get a license to kill birds in the service of -science. The dead birds are oftener eaten than stuffed. The song birds -and insectivorous birds are rapidly diminishing. Of course the boys rob -the nests of the birds and kill the young in the nests. There is a period -in a boy’s life when he loves such work. Maine has abolished the system -of licensing taxidermists, in consequence of the wholesale slaughter of -birds that went on under that system. - - * * * * * - -There is no doubt that the tobacco habit, or any other bad habit, can -be more easily overcome with the aid of prayer than without it. But -there are two objections to a common way of stating the case. The first -is that many tobacco users have ceased using it without the aid of -prayer. The second objection is that there is danger of teaching that -men cannot reform bad habits without _special_ divine help. The word -we spell c-a-n-t has two meanings, and both are present in the plea of -helplessness. It is understood, of course, that God helps men who help -themselves; that is the reason why a wicked farmer can raise good crops -by being a good agriculturist, though he is a bad sinner. - - * * * * * - -Congress is struggling with a foreign copyright bill. The bill is a -bungling one and really opens the American market to free trade in -books. This _may_ be desirable, but it is well to keep distinct measures -in different baskets. The free book question belongs in the tariff -bill. International copyright means putting a foreign author on a level -with the home author. We ought to do it without delay, but we need not -confer any favors on foreign publishers in a copyright bill. We have -international patent-right, but we did not think it necessary when we -protected the foreign inventor to put the foreign maker of the inventor’s -machines under shelter of the “Free List.” - - * * * * * - -John Bright is still the most vigorous handler of a rhetorical club in -all England. In the course of the great debate, last month, in the House -of Commons, the Tories of high birth were badly represented by two or -three orators of their rank. Mr. Bright crushed them fine by saying that -“the brothers and sons of dukes use language more virulent, more coarse, -more offensive and more ungentlemanly than is heard from a lower rank of -speakers.” We suspect that the sentence is the reporter’s, not Bright’s; -but the rebuke which he administered made a sensation which reminded -Englishmen of the days when he described the political “Cave of Adullam” -and its inhabitants. - - * * * * * - -The Prussian Chamber of Deputies recently debated the question of -dueling, especially in the universities. A critical member began it -by complaining of the idleness, drinking, gaming and dueling of the -students. The curiosity which the debate brought to light is the fact -that though dueling is forbidden by law, it has powerful friends in the -Chamber and the government. Germany has forbidden the barbaric custom; -but young Germans grow up in the belief that dueling is manly, and their -seniors remember that they had the same disease in the universities. The -German people are very sensitive to foreign criticism on this point; -and probably the other civilized nations will by and by ridicule German -dueling out of existence. - - * * * * * - -Curiosities of speech are always interesting, and it is a delightful -business for grammatical people to scold their neighbors. The New York -_Tribune_ has had a bout with a few score correspondents on the duties -of the neuter verb between subject and predicate; which must it agree -with? The _Tribune_ says with the real subject; the other folks say there -are two subjects, and that the verb must agree with the last. All the -malcontents quote “The wages of sin is death.” The _Tribune_ has three or -four answers; its best is that _death_ is the true subject; its second -best is that wages used to be singular. In “The Contributors’ Club” of -the _Atlantic Monthly_, another class of errors is discussed, such as the -dropping of _h_ in _which_ and _when_, a common thing in and around New -York, and the suppression of _r_ in many words. The English say _lud_, we -say _lawd_. While just touching this interesting topic we call attention -to a Meadville eccentricity. It is the rising inflection at the end of -questions, such as, “Is he _sick_?” Can any reader tell us whether this -locution (or rather inflection) is a localism only? - - * * * * * - -There is a lamentably large number of illiterates in the United States. -Let us reduce the number as fast as possible. But let us stop assuming -that the spelling book will rub the Decalogue into the conscience. Our -immediate troubles and dangers come from literates who are as bright as -lightning, and almost as destructive. We shall not get moral education by -way of the spelling book. The statistical proof that we do is defective. -We may count up the illiterate rogues in prison with much satisfaction, -if we forget that the literate rogues are too smart to be caught and -caged. Moral character does not result from intellectual training. Thirty -years ago we had this straight, and taught that an educated bad man was a -much more dangerous beast than an uneducated bad man. - - * * * * * - -A few kind-hearted people have for several years conducted a crusade -against horse-shoes. They claim that the horse-shoe is a piece of -unprofitable cruelty. They furnish examples and drive their own horses -unshod. Among their examples is this: “In Africa, a horse working in -a post-cart does, barefoot, over hard ground, twenty-four miles in -two hours.” One view is that our horse-shoeing bill would pay off the -national debt in a few generations. It is rather remarkable that these -reformers do not receive more attention. We hope they will soon get the -general ear; hence this note. - - * * * * * - -President Eliot, of Harvard, in a recent address, makes a suggestion -which is likely to arrest attention. The clergy are likely to have -a monopoly of classical education, perhaps of liberal education, if -present tendencies are not overcome. One of these tendencies is to give -candidates for the ministry a monopoly of Greek study in colleges. -President Eliot thinks that increased and more thorough study of English -may help in resisting the tendency toward purely mechanical education. -English study of a thorough sort requires and promotes classical -study. We add our thought that real liberal education is a fruit of -study _after_ the school-boy discipline, and that a classical revival -and an English literature revival are both clear possibilities of the -Chautauquan organization and methods. The most thorough study, with the -best helps, is within the plan of our university. - - * * * * * - -Salmi Morse was last year at this time struggling to exhibit his “Passion -Play” in New York. The religious feeling of the country won a conspicuous -victory in defeating the purpose of Mr. Morse. Near the end of last month -the dramatist drowned himself in the East river, and an actress whose -relations to him were questionable, is trying to gain notoriety by a -theory that a rejected suitor of hers murdered Mr. Morse. There are a -dozen good morals in the story. - - * * * * * - -Frederick Douglas having at 70 married a white wife, the public has -had to listen to a great many homilies on the general subject of -inter-marriage among races. We are not about to add another to the long -list of sociological essays. We suggest two things: First, it is best to -leave the whole matter to individuals. Therefore, the laws which forbid -marriage between whites and blacks should be repealed. Second, the real -evil—if there be one—is scarcely touched by the prohibitive laws. As -Mr. Douglas puts it: It is permitted to white men to beget children by -dark-skinned mothers, provided they do not marry these mothers of their -copper-colored children. The nobler of two ignoble white men—the one who -marries the black mother of his children—should be left in peace until we -can invent some means of punishing the ignoble wretch who does not marry -her. The former is a very rare man; the growing lights in the African -face show us that the other men are numerous. - - * * * * * - -Everybody has heard of the “Great Eastern” steamship, an eighth of a mile -long and thirty feet under water. The great ship was a failure, and after -an unsuccessful pursuit of genteel occupations for many years, she has -gone to Gibraltar to be used as a coal hulk. If any sailor ever loved -this leviathan, he will feel “the pity of it” in this unromantic end; -and most of us feel a touch of sadness in reading the story. - - * * * * * - -The honors paid to the dead Arctic explorers in New York, on Washington’s -birthday, lost none of their significance by the association. The flags -were at the peak in honor of the father of his country, in the morning; -in the afternoon they dropped to half-mast in memorial mourning for the -heroes of the ill-fated “Jeannette.” To young eyes seeing both memorial -honors, the spectacle must have been inspiring—as showing that the paths -to glory are still open to heroic souls. The booming guns, the wistful -and reverent throngs, the military tramping along the streets, all had -the same cheering lesson. We do not measure men or honor them by success; -for utter failure heroically faced we have the funeral pageant and the -historic record. We are not at all interested in the North Pole. We -soberly think the Arctic exploration business a foolhardy one. But we -forget our indifference, and our sober judgment, when we meet the cold -corpses of those who have vainly fought the cruel North—and say, “Well -done; like heroes you died; like heroes you shall be buried.” - - * * * * * - -In the graduating list published in the February CHAUTAUQUAN, the name -“J. Van Alstyne,” from New Jersey, should be Wm. L. Van Alstyne, Jr.; -also the name Emily Hancock, which appears under New York, should be -under Indiana, and “Mrs. John Romeo,” of New York, should read Mrs. John -Romer. - - * * * * * - -A correspondent kindly calls our attention to two errors in THE -CHAUTAUQUAN for February. We “stand corrected.” Whittier’s birthday comes -on December seventeenth, instead of the sixteenth, as stated on page 302, -and there are thirty-eight states in the Union, not thirty-nine. - - - - -C. L. S. C. NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS FOR APRIL. - - -PREPARATORY LATIN COURSE. - -P. 174.—“Havelock.” (1795-1857.) A British soldier who in 1823 was -sent to India. He served in the Burmese war, in the Ava campaign, in -two invasions of Afghanistan, and in 1856 in a war with Persia. On his -return to Bombay he was sent to Calcutta to aid the British in the -Sepoy rebellion. After raising the siege of Cawnpore, he started toward -Lucknow, where the garrison was closely beset. Havelock was two months in -fighting his way to the city, and when there, the relievers and garrison -had to stand a siege until the arrival of Campbell with forces. Havelock, -however, lived only a few days after succor came, being worn out by -sickness and hardships. The arrival of Campbell has been celebrated in a -touching and popular poem—“The Relief of Lucknow.” - -P. 177.—“Ardennes.” See “Notes” on page 185 of THE CHAUTAUQUAN for -December. - -P. 180.—“Hector.” The chief hero of the Trojans in the war with the -Greeks, the eldest son of Priam, king of Troy. Having slain Patroclus, -the friend of Achilles, the latter was aroused to revenge, and came out -to fight. Hector remained bravely without the walls until he saw his -enemy, when he took to flight, but he was finally pierced with Achilles’ -spear, and his body dragged into the camp of the Greeks. Hector was the -stay of the Trojans. He is represented by Homer as a man of all virtues, -and is claimed to be the noblest conception of the “Iliad.” - -P. 184.—“Boll of grain.” The Scotch formerly used a measure called the -bōll, or _bole_. Its capacity varied with the article measured. A boll of -wheat or beans held four bushels; of oats or potatoes, six bushels. - -“Cevennes,” sā-venˈ. A mountain range of France, separating the valleys -of the Garonne and the Loire from those of the Saone and the Rhone. - -P. 187.—“Santa Scala,” or the holy staircase, called also Pilate’s -staircase, is a flight of twenty-eight marble steps in a little chapel of -Rome. They are said to be the steps which Christ passed up and down in -going before Pilate, and that, like the Holy House at Loreto, they were -transported by angels to their present position. Multitudes of pilgrims -crawl up this staircase, kissing each step as they go. It is related -of Luther that wishing to obtain the indulgence promised by the pope -for this devout act, he was slowly ascending the steps when he suddenly -heard a voice exclaiming, “The just shall live by faith alone.” He was so -terrified by his superstitious folly that he at once fled from the place. - -P. 190.—“Aulus,” auˈlus hirˈti-us. - -P. 194.—“Protagonist,” pro-tăgˈo-nĭst. The first or leading actor in a -drama. - -P. 196.—“Obsolescence,” ŏb-so-lĕsˈcence. The going out of style, becoming -old, obsolete. - -P. 202.—“Lucius Catilina,” lūˈci-ŭs catˈi-liˌna. - -P. 205.—“Spurius Mælius,” spuˈri-us mæˈli-us. A rich plebeian who in the -famine at Rome in B. C. 440 bought up corn to distribute to the poor. -His liberality won him the favor of the plebeians, but the hatred of -the patricians. In the following year he was accused of a conspiracy -against the government. Having refused to appear before the tribunal when -summoned, Ahala, the master of the horse, rushed out with an armed band -and slew him. - -“Opimius.” A patrician, the leader of his party in the proceedings -against Caius Gracchus in 120 B. C. Through his violence some three -hundred people were slain after the death of Gracchus. - -“Saturnius.” A demagogue who in B. C. 102 was elected tribune of the -plebs. He allied himself with Marius and his party and won much favor by -his popular measures. He was twice reëlected, but the third time it was -feared that his colleague, Glaucia, who had held office during each of -his tribunates, would be defeated. The friends had the rival candidate -murdered. This act caused a reaction against Saturnius, and the senate -ordered that he and his associates should be slain. Marius endeavored -to save his friend, but the mob pulled the tiles from the senate house, -where the parties were concealed, and pelted them to death. - -P. 220.—“Minucian Colonnade.” A portico built about 100 B. C. by the -consul Minucius, in memory of the triumph which he received after waging -a successful war against the Thracians. - -“Pan.” In Grecian mythology, a god who watched over flocks and herds; was -the patron of hunters, bee-keepers and fishermen, and the inventor of a -shepherd’s flute. He is represented with horns, goat’s beard, feet and -tail, and often as playing on the flute. The Romans worshiped him under -the name of Faunus. - -P. 221.—“Lupercalia,” lūˈper-cä-li-a. Lupercus was a name applied to -Pan, and a feast given in honor of the god by the Romans was called -_Lupercalia_. - -“Tarquinius,” tar-quinˈi-us. Surnamed _Superbus_, was the last of the -Roman kings. Though he was cruel and tyrannical, he is said to have -greatly increased the power of the city. Brutus, his nephew, was aroused -against the royal family because of an outrage committed upon his wife -by Tarquin’s son. He stirred up popular feeling against the king, -and succeeded in driving him from Rome. Consular government was then -substituted for the monarchy. - -“Spurius Cassius,” spuˈri-us casˈsi-us. A famous Roman of the fifth -century. He was three times consul. In his last consulship he passed a -law which provided that the patricians should receive only a portion -of the public lands, and that the rest should be divided among the -plebeians. The next year he was accused of aiming at regal power and was -put to death. - -“Manlius.” Consul in 392 B. C. In 395 he defended the plebeians against -the higher classes, but was accused of aiming at kingly power, and -was thrown into prison. The plebs showed such indignation at this that -Manlius was liberated. He only became bolder in his support of the -people, and in the following year was accused of treason, condemned, and -thrown from the Tarpeian rock. - -P. 228.—“Dante,” dănˈte. (1265-1321.) - -“Inferno,” in-ferˈno; “Purgatorio,” pur-gä-toˈre-o; “Divina Commedia,” -dee-veéˈnä com-meˈdee-ä. - -P. 230.—“Mincius,” minˈci-us. A river of northern Italy emptying into the -Po, a little below Mantua, which is situated on an island in the middle -of a lagoon formed by the river. - -P. 232.—“Bucolic,” bu-cŏlˈic; “Eclogues,” ĕkˈlogs. - -“Dactylic hexameter,” dac-tylˈic hex-ămˈe-ter. A verse of poetry -consisting of six feet, parts, or measures (hexameter means of six -measures), the first four of which may be dactyls, that is feet of three -syllables, one long and two short; or spondees, feet of two syllables, -one long and one short: the fifth must be a dactyl, and the sixth a -spondee. - -“Theocritus,” the-ŏkˈrĭ-tus. Was born in Syracuse about 250 B. C. He is -known as the creator of pastoral poetry. About thirty poems by him are -still extant, and several epigrams. - -P. 234.—“Sibyl,” sĭbˈyl. A name given by the Greeks and Romans to several -women who were supposed to have been able to foretell, to avert trouble, -and to appease the gods. Some writers mention four Sibyls, others ten. -The most famous of all was this Cumæan Sibyl, and to her the Romans -traced the origin of the “oracles.” It is fabled that she offered to sell -to one of the Tarquins nine books, but the king refused. Going away she -burnt three, and then offered the six at the same price. Being refused -again she destroyed a second three, and at her first price the king -finally took those remaining. These were carefully preserved, but burnt -in B. C. 83. A new compilation was made by consulting the various oracles -of the world. The “Sibyline oracles” mentioned here are in eight books, -and were collected after the second century; they consist of a mixture of -heathen, Christian and Jewish poems. - -P. 235.—“Lucina,” lu-ciˈna. The goddess who was supposed to preside over -the birth of children. - -“Tiphys,” tiˈphys. The pilot of the “Argo.” He died before the ship -reached Colchis. For the story of the “Argo” see Grecian history. - -P. 236.—“Fates,” or Parcæ, were mythological beings who cared for human -life. - -“Linus.” The personification of the dirge. - -“Calliope.” The muse of epic poetry. She usually appears with a stylus -and a wax tablet. - -P. 237.—“Hesiod,” heˈsĭ-od. Greek epic poet; 800 B. C. - -“Iambic pentameter.” A verse of five feet (pentameter), or ten syllables. -Each foot is an iambus; that is, is composed of one short and one long -syllable. - -“Alexandrine,” ălˌex-ănˈdrĭne. A verse composed of twelve syllables, -named from a French poem on Alexander. - -P. 238.—“Ceres.” The Demeter of the Romans, the goddess who presided over -grain and the harvest. - -“Fauns.” The rural divinities of the Romans. They were supposed to have -introduced the worship of the gods and agriculture. They are represented -as possessed of horns, and having the figure of a goat below the waist. - -“Courser’s birth.” The reference is to the creation of the horse by -Neptune. It is said that Neptune and Minerva (Athene) contested for the -honor of naming Attica. The gods decided that it should be the one who -should give the most useful gift to man. Neptune struck the ground with -his trident and the horse appeared. Athene created the olive tree; the -latter received the honor. - -“Pallas.” A name frequently given to Athene. - -“Cypress.” The cypress was sacred to Pluto, the god of the lower world. - -P. 239—“Thule.” The land which in the time of Alexander the Great was -believed to be the northernmost part of Europe. - -“Fasces,” făsˈsēz. An emblem of authority among the Romans. It was an ax -tied up in a bundle of rods. - -“Balance.” The constellation Libra, or the Scales. It lies in the Zodiac -between the Virgin and the Scorpion. - -“Elysium,” e-lĭzˈĭ-um. A dwelling place for the good after death. - -“Proserpine,” pro-serˈpine. The daughter of Ceres, who was carried off by -Pluto, to Hades. Her mother, discovering that Jupiter had given consent -to the abduction, withdrew from Olympus, and did not allow the earth to -bring forth fruit. Jupiter tried to dissuade her, but failing, sent for -Proserpine. She returned, but as she had eaten in the lower world could -not remain all the time on earth, but was obliged to spend one-third of -the year with Pluto. - -P. 254.—“Æolus,” æˈo-lus. The god of the winds. - -“Sarpedon,” sar-peˈdon. A son of Jupiter and a prince of Lycia. He was an -ally of the Trojans in the Trojan war, but was slain by Patroclus, the -friend of Achilles. - -“Simois.” One of the prominent rivers in the country of Troy. - -P. 255.—“Orontes,” o-ronˈtes. A Lycian leader and ally of the Trojans; -“Aletes,” a-lēˈ-tes; “Abas,” aˈbas; “Achates,” a-chaˈtes. - -P. 258.—“Harpalyce,” har-palˈy-ce. A Thracian princess whose mother died -in her infancy. She was trained to outdoor exercise and sports, and on -the death of her father she turned robber. She lived in the woods and was -so fleet that not even horses could overtake her. - -P. 262.—“Amaracus,” a-marˈa-cus. The sweet marjoram or feverfew. - -P. 263.—“Acidalian.” Venus was sometimes called _Acidalia_, from a well, -Acidalius, in Greece, where she used to bathe with the Graces. - -P. 264.—“Demodocus.” In Ulysses’s wanderings, after the fall of Troy, he -was thrown on the island of Scheria, where the king of the people, the -Phæacians, honored him with feasts, at which Demodocus, a minstrel, sang -of the fall of Troy. - -P. 266.—“Danaan,” danˈa-an. Danaus, the name from which this word is -derived, was a former king of Argos. - -P. 270.—“Thessander,” thes-sanˈder. - -“Sthenelus,” sthenˈe-lus. The friend of Diomede, under whom he commanded -the Argives in the Trojan war. - -“Acamas,” aˈca-mas. A son of Theseus. - -“Pelides,” pe-liˈdes. A name given to Achilles, whose father’s name -was Peleus. The “youthful heir” here spoken of was Neoptolemus, son of -Achilles. - -“Machaon,” ma-chaˈon. The surgeon of the Greeks in the Trojan war. He was -the son of Æsculapius, the god of the medical art. Machaon was a warrior -as well as a doctor, and with his brother led thirty ships to Troy. - -“Menelaus,” men-e-laˈus. The king of Lacedæmon, and husband of Helen. - -“Epeus,” e-peˈus. - -P. 288.—“Dis.” A contraction of Dives, a name given sometimes to Pluto, -and hence to the lower world. - -P. 289.—“Phlegethon,” phlegˈe-thon. A river of liquid fire flowing -through Hades. - -“Orcus.” Another name for Hades, or for Pluto. - -“Tartarus,” tarˈta-rus. Like Orcus and Dis, Tartarus is sometimes used -synonymously with Hades. - -“Acheron,” aˈcher-on. The name of a river of the lower world, flowing, -according to Virgil, into the Co-cyˈtus. - -P. 290.—“Charon,” chaˈron. - -“Treen.” An obsolete plural of tree. - -P. 291.—“Palinurus,” pa-li-nuˈrus. He had been the pilot of Æneas’s ship, -but fell into the sea and was murdered on the coast of Lucania, by the -natives. - -“Cerberus,” cerˈbe-rus. The dog that guarded the entrance to Hades. - -P. 293.—“Marpesian,” mar-peˈsi-an. Derived from Marpessa, a mountain in -Paros, from which the Parian marble was taken. - -P. 294.—“Hecate,” heˈca-te. An ancient divinity, the only Titan which -Jupiter allowed to retain power. She was thought to rule in heaven, earth -and hell; this three-fold power led to her being sometimes represented -with three heads. - -“Gnosian,” gnoˈsi-an. From Gnosus, or Cnosus, an ancient city of Crete. -The adjective is used here as equivalent to Cretan. - -“Rhadamanthus,” rha-da-manˈthus. The brother of King Minos, of Crete. His -justice through life led to his being made a judge in the lower world. - -“Tisiphone,” ti-siphˈo-ne. One of the Fates. - -P. 295.—“Hydra,” hyˈdra. A monster which formerly lived in a marsh in -the Peloponnesus. It had many heads, one of which being cut off was -immediately succeeded by two new ones. It was slain by Hercules. - -“Aloeus,” a-loˈe-us. The son of Neptune; the sons here referred to were -of enormous size and strength. When but nine years of age they threatened -the Olympian gods with war. Apollo destroyed them before they reached -manhood. “Salmoneus,” sal-moˈne-us. - -“Levin,” lĕvˈin. An obsolete word for lightning. - -P. 296.—“Lapith.” A race living in Thessaly. - -“Pirithous,” pi-rithˈo-us. The King of the Lapithæ. He descended to the -nether world in order to carry off Persephone, but was seized by Pluto -and fastened to a rock with Theseus, who had accompanied him. Theseus was -afterward released by Hercules, but Pirithous remained. - -“Ixion,” ix-iˈon. The father of the above. Having committed a murder on -earth for which he was never purified, Jupiter took pity on him, purified -him, and took him to heaven, where he tried to win the love of Juno. -For his ingratitude he was sent to Hades, and fastened to a perpetually -rolling wheel. - -P. 297.—“Teucer,” teuˈcer. The first king of Troy. - -“Ilus.” The grandfather of Priam, and the founder of Ilion or Troy. - -“Assaracus,” as-sarˈa-cus. The great-grandfather of Æneas. - -“Dardany,” or Dardania, was a region adjacent to Ilium, lying along the -Hellespont. It was named from Dardanus, the son-in-law of Teucer. - -P. 298.—“Eridanus,” e-ridˈa-nus. A river god. - -“Musæus,” mu-sæˈus. A mythological character, the author of various -poetical compositions and of certain famous _oracles_. - -P. 300.—“Procas.” One of the fabulous kings of Alba Longa. - -“Numitor,” nuˈmi-tor. The grandfather of Romulus and Remus. - -“Capys.” “Silvius.” Mythical kings of Alba Longa. - -“Gabii,” gaˈbi-i. In early times a powerful Latin city near Rome. - -“Nomentum,” no-menˈtum. A Latin town, about fourteen miles from Rome. - -“Collatia,” col-laˈti-a. A Sabine town. “Cora.” An ancient town in -Latium. “Bola.” A town of the Æqui. “Inuus.” Usually written Inui -Castrum. A town on the coast of Latium. - -P. 301.—“Ind.” The country of the Indus. - -“Garamant,” garˈa-mant. The most southernly of the known people of Africa. - -“Alcides,” al-ciˈdes. A name given to Hercules. - -“Erymanthus,” e-ry-manˈthus. A lofty mountain of Arcadia, the haunt of -the boar which Hercules killed. - -“Lerna.” A marsh and river not far from Argos, where Hercules killed the -Hydra. - -P. 302.—“Decii,” deˈci-i. “Drusus,” druˈsus. “Torquatus,” tor-quaˈtus. -Famous Roman leaders in the early days of the Republic. - -“Æacides,” æ-acˈi-des. A name given to the descendants of Æacus, among -whom were Peleus, Achilles and Pyrrhus. - -P. 303.—“Feretrian,” fer-reˈtri-an. A name given sometimes to Jove. It -is probably derived from the verb to strike, as persons taking an oath -called on Jove to strike them if they swore falsely. - - - - -NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS IN “THE CHAUTAUQUAN.” - - -FRENCH HISTORY. - -P. 377, c. 1.—“Voltaire,” vol-têrˈ. (1694-1778.) French author. - -“Rousseau,” Jean Jacques, rooˌsōˈ. (1712-1778.) French philosopher and -writer. - -“Montesquieu,” mŏnˈtĕs-kūˌ. (1689-1755.) French jurist and philosopher. - -“D’Alembert,” däˈlŏnˌbêrˌ. (1717-1783.) French mathematician. - -P. 377, c. 2.—“Maria Theresa,” ma-rīˈa te-reeˈsä. (1717-1780.) Empress of -Germany and Queen of Hungary and Bohemia. - -“Turgot,” türˌgoˈ. (1727-1781.) At the time of his appointment to the -control of finance, Turgot had won a fine reputation by his papers on -political economy, tolerance in governing, and like subjects. He at once -undertook to carry out his views, abolishing all taxes save those on -land, doing away with compulsory labor for the state, the privileges of -trading corporations and the like; this made him very unpopular among the -favored classes, and Louis was forced to dismiss him. - -“Necker,” nĕkˈer. (1732-1804.) Necker’s policy was to restore order and -confidence. He restrained the prodigality of the court, cut down the -expenses of the government, regulated taxes, and laid the foundation -of the Bank of France. After his final withdrawal from France, Necker -lived in Geneva, where he wrote several essays. It is said that on the -accession of Bonaparte to power he attempted to obtain the position of -minister of finance, but was rejected. - -“Ushant,” ushˈant. The largest of the Ouessant Isles, off the coast of -the department of Finisterre in France. - -“D’Estaings,” dĕsˌtănˈ. (1729-1794.) He was brought up to military -service, was twice taken prisoner by the English but released, and in -1763 was appointed lieutenant-general of the navy. D’Estaings was sent -to the United States in 1778, where he planned attacks on New York and -Newport, but was unsuccessful in both. After the campaign in the West -Indies he coöperated with the Americans in an attack upon Savannah, but -was wounded. - -“Granada,” “St. Lucia,” “St. Vincent.” Three islands of the Windward -group of the West Indies. - -“Langara,” läˈgä-rä. (1730-1800.) - -“De Guichen,” deh-gēˈshonˌ. (1712-1790.) A French naval officer, made -lieutenant-general in 1779. The next year after the victory here given he -was defeated by the English. - -“De Grasse,” deh gräs. (1723-1788.) Count de Grasse served in the -American war, and in 1781 aided Washington and Lafayette in the capture -of Cornwallis. - -“Hood.” (1724-1816.) He entered the navy at sixteen. In 1780 he was -made second in command in the West Indies. The year after his defeat he -defeated De Grasse and was made a baron. In 1793 he commanded the English -in the Mediterranean against the French, and in 1796 was made a viscount. - -“Tobago,” to-bāˈgo. An island of the Windward group of the West Indies. - -P. 378, c. 1.—“Ville de Paris.” The city of Paris. - -“Crillon,” kreˈyonˌ. (1718-1796.) A lieutenant-general in the Seven -Years’ War, and afterward captain-general of Spain. - -“Senegal,” senˈe-gawlˌ. A river of western Africa. - -“Calonne,” kăˌlonˈ. (1734-1802.) Calonne had been a law student and a -courtier, when appointed to succeed Necker. After his dismissal he went -to London, where he wrote many able political and financial tracts. - -“Brienne,” breˌënˈ. (1727-1794.) Brienne was an archbishop and a member -of the academy when he succeeded Calonne. - -P. 378, c. 2.—“En Masse.” In a body. - -“Desmoulins,” dāˌmooˌlănˈ. (1762-1794.) A schoolmate of Robespierre, and -a partisan of the Revolution. He was called the “Attorney-General of the -lamp post,” for his share in street mobs. - -“Launay,” lōˈna. He was massacred immediately after the capture of the -place. - -“Condé,” kŏnˈdāˌ (1736-1818); “Polignac,” poˈlēnˌyäkˌ; “Noailles,” noˈäl; -“Seignioral,” seenˈyur-al. Lordly, kingly; belonging to a seignior. - -P. 379, c. 1.—“Sièyes,” se-yāsˈ. (1748-1836.) At the beginning of the -Revolution Sièyes wrote a pamphlet which placed him at the head of the -publicists. He was a member of the Assembly, of the Convention, and in -1799 of the Directory. When the new régime began he was one of the three -consuls, but soon after lost his influence, which he never regained. - -“Robespierre,” roˈbes-peer. (1758-1794.) He was educated for the law, and -practicing, when in 1789 he was sent to the States-General. His radical -democratic views gained him a prominent place. He afterward was a member -of the Assembly, and in 1792 was elected to the Convention. He became the -leader of one party there, and was instrumental in bringing on the Reign -of Terror, of which he was the acknowledged head. His cruelty at last -turned the people against him, and he was guillotined in 1794. - -“Mirabeau,” mĭrˈa-bō. (1749-1791.) He was descended from a family of high -rank, but was passionate and uncontrolled. Until 1788 his life was spent -in all sorts of employments and intrigues. At that time he made up his -mind to enter French politics, and succeeded in getting himself elected -to the States-General of 1789. In 1791 he was elected president of the -National Assembly, but died soon after, a victim to excess. - -“Œil-de-Bœuf,” eel-deh-bŭf. - -P. 379, c. 2.—“Chalons,” shäˌlōnˈ; “Menehould,” māˌnāˈhō. - -“Bouillé,” booˈyā. (1739-1800.) - -“Varennes,” väˈrenˌ. - -“Rochambeau,” roˈshŏnˌbō. (1725-1807.) A French marshal. In early life -he fought in several minor campaigns. In 1780 he was sent to the United -States with 6,000 men, and the next year fought at Yorktown. - -“Dumouriez,” düˌmooˈre-ā. (1739-1823.) After the battle of Jemappes, the -convention being jealous of Dumouriez’s loyalty to the Bourbons, summoned -him to their bar. He refused to go, and was obliged to spend the rest of -his life in exile. - -“Verdun,” vĕrˈdun; “Longwy,” lōngˌveˈ. - -“Custine,” küsˌtēnˈ. (1740-1793.) - -“Jemappes,” zhem-map. - -P. 380, c. 1.—“Fédérés,” fāˈdāˌrāˌ; “Abbaye,” ă-bāˈ; “Conciergerie,” -konˌcerˈjaˌreˌ; “Carmes,” kärm; “Bicêtre,” beˈcātrˌ. The names of famous -French prisons. - -“Lamballe,” lŏnˌbälˈ. (1749-1792.) - -“Sombreuil,” sŏnˌbrulˈ. The sister of an officer prominent in support of -the Royalists. - -“Cazotte,” käˈzotˌ. Jacques Cazotte, her father, was a French poet. - -P. 380, c. 2.—“Égalité,” ā-găˈle-tā. - -“Vergniaud,” verˌyne-ōˈ. (1759-1793.) - -P. 381, c. 1.—“Marat,” mäˈrä. (1744-1793.) Before the Revolution Marat -had practiced medicine. In 1789 he gained great popularity among the -Revolutionists by his journal, _The Friend of the People_. After his -election in 1792 to the Convention and the formation of the triumvirate -with Danton and Robespierre, he wielded great power by his decisive -opinions. - -“Danton,” dänˌtonˈ. (1759-1794.) He was a lawyer by profession. At the -beginning of the Revolution he became a popular leader and orator. When -the supreme power fell into the hands of the triumvirate Danton was -elected minister of justice, thus having chief control of the city. -Afterward he was elected to the Convention, where he became a prominent -leader, but excited the jealousy of Robespierre. The latter triumphed in -the contest for the first rank, and Danton was guillotined. Lamartine -says of him: “Nothing was wanting to make Danton a great man, except -virtue.” - -P. 381, c. 2.—“Corday,” korˌdaˈ. (1768-1793.) - -P. 382, c. 1.—“Aboukir,” ä-boo-keerˈ. - -“Tuileries,” tü-eel-rē. A royal palace of Paris. - -“D’Enghien,” dŏnˌ-gănˈ. (1772-1804.) “Eylau,” īˈlou; “Friedland,” -frēdˈland. - - -COMMERCIAL LAW. - -P. 384, c. 1.—“Misfeasance,” mis-fēˈzans. A wrong act. - -P. 384, c. 2. “In transitu.” On the passage. - - -READINGS IN ART. - -P. 384, c. 2.—“Cimabue,” che-mä-booˈā. (1240?-1302?) Called “the father -of modern painting.” - -P. 385, c. 1.—“Navicella,” năv-i-celˈla. The name of the mosaic, meaning -the little ship. - -“Assisi,” as-seeˈsee. A picturesque town of central Italy, chiefly noted -as the birthplace of St. Francis, who founded the Franciscan order of -monks. - -“Podestà,” po-des-tāˈ. In 1207 the chief executive power of Florence was -put into the hands of a single officer called the _podesta_; hence the -reference is to the chief magistrate’s palace. - -“Chiaro-scuro,” chi-äˌro-ŏs-cuˈro. The effective distribution of lights -and shades in a picture. - -“Guido di Pietro,” gweeˈdo de pe-aˈtrō. - -“Fiesole,” fyesˈo-lā. A town of Italy, near Florence. - -“Vicchio,” vekˈkee-o; “Mugello,” mu-gelˈlō. - -P. 385, c. 2.—“Orvieto,” or-ve-āˈto. A town of central Italy, not far -from Perugia. - -“Luca Signorelli,” luˈca sēn-yo-relˈlee. (1439-1521.) An Italian painter, -a nephew of Vasari. His frescoes are his most noteworthy pieces. - -“Scudi,” skōoˈdee. The plural of scudo, an Italian coin used in Italy and -Sicily, and worth about 96 cents. - -“Santa Maria delle Grazie,” sänˈtä mä-reeˈä delˈlā grätˈse-ā. - -“Marco d’Oggione,” marˈco dōd-goˈnā. (1470-1530.) A pupil of Leonardo. He -made two copies of “The Last Supper”—his most important works. - -P. 386, c. 1.—“Cloux,” clou; “Amboise,” almost ŏnbˈwīzˌ. A town on the -Loire, in western central France. - -“Vasari,” vä-säˈree. (1512-1574.) A pupil of Michaelangelo, and a -successful painter. His fame rests on his “Lives of the most excellent -Painters, Architects and Sculptors,” one of the most valuable books ever -written on the subject. - -“Trattato,” etc. Treatise on painting. - -“Castel Caprese.” käs-telˈ kä-presˈā; “Arezzo,” ä-retˈso. - -“Ghirlandaio,” gĕr-län-däˈyo. (1451-1495.) A painter famous for his -invention. His chief works, “The Massacre of the Infants” and “The Death -of St. Francis” are still preserved in the Sistine chapel. - -“Fuseli,” fūˈseh-le. (1742-1825.) A celebrated historical painter. - -“Monochrome,” mŏnˈo-chrōme. A painting with a single color. - -P. 386, c. 2.—“Sandro Botticelli,” bot-te-chelˈlee. (1440-1515.) An -eminent Italian painter. His frescoes in the chapel of the Vatican are -his most powerful works. - -“Cosimo Rosselli,” ro-selˈlee. (1439-1506.) - -“Perugino,” pā-roo-jeeˈnō. (1446-1524.) The master of Raphael. He -received his name, “The Perugian,” from the work which he did at Perugia, -where there still exist some of his best frescoes. - -“Raffaello Sanzio,” rä-fä-ĕˈlō sänˈze-o; “Pinturicchio,” -pēn-too-rēkˈke-o. (1454-1513.) - -P. 387, c. 1.—“Francia,” fränˈchä. (1450-1533?) A celebrated Italian -painter. - -“Fra Bartholommeo,” barˈto-lo-māˌō. - - * * * * * - -For help in pronouncing the Italian names which are so numerous in this -paper, we give a set of simple rules for Italian vowels and consonants. - -_A_ like _a_ in father. - -_E_ like _e_ in met, more prolonged and open at the close of a syllable. - -_I_ like _ee_ in feet. - -_O._ Pronounce _roll_ and stop on the middle of the word, and it is -precisely the Italian _o_. - -_U_ like _oo_ in root. - -_C_ or _g_ followed by _a_, _o_ or _u_, as in English, but followed by -_e_ or _i_, _c_ has the sound of _ch_ as in cherry, and _g_ is like _g_ -in gem. - -_Gn_ is like _ni_ in poniard. - -_Gl_ as in English, except before _i_, when it has the sound of _ll_ in -brilliant. - -_S_ at the beginning of a word has the hissing sound, as between two -vowels, or followed by _b_, _d_, _r_ or _v_, is pronounced like _z_. - -_Sc_, followed by _e_ or _i_, like _sh_. - -_Z_ like _dz_ in words which have _z_ in the English word; like _tz_ when -preceded by _l_ or _r_, or followed by two vowels, and in nouns ending in -_zzo_. - -Single consonants are generally soft; double consonants are pronounced in -one sound, but stronger and more marked than when single. - - -SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. - -P. 393, c. 2.—“En bloc.” In a lump. - -“Genre.” A style; a peculiar kind or species. - -“Du Maurier,” dü mōˈre-a. An English caricaturist who for over twenty -years has been connected with _Punch_. - - - - -TALK ABOUT BOOKS. - -Most indefinite ideas exist among even very well informed people -concerning the Soudan and its tribes. What is the Soudan? Who people it? -What does England want of it? Such questions are worrying many heads, -and there has been a general search for information. A very timely book -to those interested, is “The Wild Tribes of the Soudan.”[B] The author, -so late as December, 1881, started on a trip of exploration and sport -through the Basé country—a small part, it is true, of the Soudan, but the -people, customs and country serve as reliable examples. The experiences -of this company of sportsmen with the people, their adventures and -dangers, furnish us with much useful information about a people in whom -we are all just now interested. The book is furnished with excellent maps. - -The erudition embraced in Dr. Winchell’s digest[C] of Cosmical Science -exhausts the contributions of the French, German and English languages, -and is simply enormous. As the author _con amore_ has made this subject -the study of an average lifetime, his personal contributions of -original thought constitute a large part of the book. It is written in -a calm, judicial spirit and incisive style, and increases in strength -and interest to the close. The universe of matter is the field of -observation, and starting with the principles which are worked out before -our eyes on this planet, the mechanism of the solar system is subjected -to analysis in regard to the order of its structure and final destiny. -He then passes into the stellar universe, and finds evidence that the -same kinds of substances are there, subject to the same laws, and tending -to the same results. The speculative reasoning of the volume of course -covers much space, but the trustworthy information obtained is all that -could be expected; in fact, all that is known to science. We know of no -other book which gives to the mind so clear a view of the incomparable -vastness of the universe, and the _rationale_ of its existing as does -this. The conclusion reached is, that the surface of our moon is made up -mostly of the craters, cinders, and lava-beds of spent volcanoes. All -the other planets, the sun included, are tending in the same direction -and destiny. In the stellar world other systems of sun and planets have -reached this goal of desolation; others are on the way, and new systems, -originating in nebulæ, are taking on form and order. When a cycle is once -completed by a system its career is ended forever and ever. On the whole, -this is one of the most instructive and fascinating volumes we have read -for a long time. - -“Oregon”[D] is one of a series of volumes entitled “American -Commonwealths,” edited by H. E. Scudder. The monograph was furnished -by W. Barrows, D.D., and is both well written and carefully edited. -The subject of the narrative and the sources from which the materials -were drawn may have somewhat affected the style of the writing, which -is exuberant and picturesque. Suppository details are suggested with -a freedom that shows a desire to make the account impressive without -lessening its historical value. The most valuable part is given to the -question of national right, and the long struggle of England and America -for possession. Americans who found fault with the Ashburton-Webster -treaty as conceding too much, while Oregon was left out, should read this -book. - -“Arius The Libyan”[E] is a historical romance, and one of the very best -of the class. It deals vigorously with early ecclesiastical matters, and -draws, with consummate skill, some well known prominent characters of the -third and fourth centuries. Its literary merits are of a high order, and -whether we do or do not accept the doctrines as true, and the estimates -of the characters introduced as just, all will confess the story is well -planned, and told with great power. Constantine is sketched as a very -able, far-seeing, but intensely selfish and unscrupulous politician, a -man evilly ambitious, and the lust of power his ruling passion. He and -the bishops he influenced completely secularized the Church, left the -common primitive Christianity, and established a politico-ecclesiastical -institution intended to conserve the interests of the empire. The book -is thoroughly self-consistent, and all the characters, good and bad, are -well sustained. - -There are few women in the country who do not know something of Mary A. -Livermore, who directly or indirectly have not been influenced by her -earnest pleas for strong, self-reliant, womanly living among women. When -she began her lectures several years ago, she was ahead of her time, but -public sentiment has made rapid strides, and is fast gaining pace with -her. The need of physical culture, of higher education, of practical -training for women is acknowledged on every side, and has never been more -clearly shown than by Mrs. Livermore in her lectures. The hope that these -lectures might have a wider influence by publication has led to their -being put into book form, under the title of “What Shall we Do With our -Daughters?”[F] - -“Mexico and the Mexicans”[G] is a very readable book; not specially -fascinating in style, but of substantial value. It is modest in -pretentions, as real worth usually is. Promising only a narrative of -personal observations and experiences, the writer has managed to collect -from reliable sources much information concerning the country, its -people and institutions, that will be of interest to American freemen -and philanthropists. We like it as a clever, matter-of-fact book, whose -author, fitted for the work assumed, does not attempt fine writing, or -the role of delineator. Not much attention is given to the religious -phase of society. In a single paragraph of ten lines, respectful mention -is made of the fact that the American Board has a station at Monterey, -and that the Baptists have some zealous missionaries in the same region. -In the capital, Roman Catholic institutions alone seemed worthy of -notice. A longer stay and closer observation would have discovered -Protestantism established there also. - -“Great Events of History”[H] is a well written, readable book from the -pen of W. F. Collier, LL.D. It presents important facts succinctly, yet -with sufficient fullness, and so clearly that the memory can easily -retain them. It presents the great events from the commencement of -the Christian era to the present century in _eight periods_, without -confusion, and so clearly as to give assured possession of the facts, -while much is done to lessen the labor of the learner, and sweeten the -toil that to many is irksome. The geographical appendix will prove very -useful, as the kindred studies of history and geography are pursued with -best advantage when taken in connection. - -[B] The Wild Tribes of the Soudan. An account of Travel and Sport, -chiefly in the Basé country. By F. L. James, M.A., F.R.G.S. New York: -Dodd, Mead & Co. - -[C] World-Life, or Comparative Geology. By Alexander Winchell, LL.D., of -the University of Michigan. S. C. Gregg & Co., Chicago. 1883. - -[D] Oregon, the Struggle for Possession. By William Barrows. Boston: -Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1884. - -[E] Arius, The Libyan. An Idyl of the Primitive Church. New York: D. -Appleton & Co. 1884. - -[F] What Shall we Do with our Daughters? Superfluous Women, and other -lectures. By Mary A. Livermore. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1883. - -[G] Mexico and the Mexicans; or Notes of Travel in the Winter and Spring -of 1883. By Howard Conkling. With illustrations. New York: Taintor -Brothers, Merrell & Co. 1883. - -[H] Great Events of History. By W. W. Collier, LL.D. New York: Nelson & -Sons. - - * * * * * - - [Illustration: ROYAL BAKING POWDER - - Absolutely Pure.] - - This powder never varies. A marvel of purity, strength and - wholesomeness. More economical than the ordinary kinds, and can - not be sold in competition with the multitude of low test, short - weight, alum or phosphate powders. _Sold only in cans._ ROYAL - BAKING POWDER CO., 106 Wall Street, New York. - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Accents corrected and made -consistent. - -Page 387, “Bartolommeo” changed to “Bartholommeo” (Fra Bartholommeo had -great influence) - -Page 399, “earning” changed to “learning” (pupils are learning) - -Page 414, “somthing” changed to “something” (combined with something else) - -Page 417, “Sybil” changed to “Sibyl” (and Sibyl can do perfectly well) - -Page 424, “In” changed to “It” (It contains no less than five) - -Page 427, “wel” changed to “well” (a well-prepared plan) - -Page 430, “governnent” changed to “government” (the prices of government -bonds) - -Page 431, “socialogical” changed to “sociological” (the long list of -sociological essays) - -Page 432, “hired” changed to “had” (had the rival candidate murdered) - -Page 435, “prisoners” changed to “prisons” (The names of famous French -prisons) - -Page 435, “poinard” changed to “poniard” (like _ni_ in poniard) - -Page 436, “of” added (The subject of the narrative) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, April 1884, -No. 7, by The Chautauquan Literary and Scientific Circle - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHAUTAUQUAN, VOL. 04 *** - -***** This file should be named 55134-0.txt or 55134-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/3/55134/ - -Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, April 1884, No. 7 - -Author: The Chautauquan Literary and Scientific Circle - -Editor: Theodore L. Flood - -Release Date: July 17, 2017 [EBook #55134] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHAUTAUQUAN, VOL. 04 *** - - - - -Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<h1 class="faux">The Chautauquan, April 1884</h1> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 522px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="522" height="800" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - -<div class="tnote"> -<div class="center"><small><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b> This cover has been -created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</small></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span></p> - -<div class="maintitle"><span class="smcap">The Chautauquan.</span></div> - -<p class="center"><i>A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE. ORGAN OF -THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE.</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Vol. IV.</span> <span class="spacer">APRIL, 1884.</span> No. 7.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2>Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.</h2> - -<p><i>President</i>—Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.</p> - -<p><i>Superintendent of Instruction</i>—Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven, -Conn.</p> - -<p><i>Counselors</i>—Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.; Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.; -Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.; Prof. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D.</p> - -<p><i>Office Secretary</i>—Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.</p> - -<p><i>General Secretary</i>—Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.</p> - -<hr class="double" /> - -<h2>Contents</h2> - -<div class="tnote"><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b> This table of contents -of this periodical was created for the HTML version to aid the reader.</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center"><a href="#REQUIRED_READING">REQUIRED READING</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Readings from French History</span></td> - <td class="tdr"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">IX.—Louis XVI.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#FRENCH_IX">377</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">X.—The Great French Revolution (1792-1796)</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#FRENCH_X">380</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">XI.—Napoleon I. (1796-1814)</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#FRENCH_XI">381</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Commercial Law</span></td> - <td class="tdr"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">III.—Agency</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#COMMERCIAL_LAW">382</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Readings in Art</span></td> - <td class="tdr"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">I.—Italian Painters and Paintings</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#READINGS_IN_ART">384</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Sunday Readings</span></td> - <td class="tdr"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">[<i>April 6</i>]</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#APR6">388</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">[<i>April 13</i>]</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#APR13">389</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">[<i>April 20</i>]</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#APR20">390</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">[<i>April 27</i>]</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#APR27">391</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Selections from American Literature</span></td> - <td class="tdr"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">Thomas Wentworth Higginson</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#HIGGINSON">392</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">Henry James, Jr.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#JAMES">393</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">William Dean Howells</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#HOWELLS">394</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="indent2">Charles Dudley Warner</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#WARNER">394</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">United States History</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#UNITED_STATES_HISTORY">395</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Light at Eventide</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#LIGHT_AT_EVENTIDE">397</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Cooper Institute</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_COOPER_INSTITUTE">398</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Green Sun and Strange Sunsets</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#GREEN_SUN_AND_STRANGE">400</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Anthony Trollope’s Autobiography</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#ANTHONY_TROLLOPES_AUTOBIOGRAPHY">400</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Sabbath Chimes</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#SABBATH_CHIMES">402</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Eight Centuries with Walter Scott</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#EIGHT_CENTURIES_WITH_WALTER">403</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Geography of the Heavens for April</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#GEOGRAPHY_OF_THE_HEAVENS">405</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Edgar Allen Poe</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#EDGAR_ALLAN_POE">407</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">British and American English</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#BRITISH_AND_AMERICAN_ENGLISH">410</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Still Young</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#STILL_YOUNG">412</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Gospels Considered as a Drama</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_GOSPELS_CONSIDERED_AS_A">412</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Prohibition in Maine</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#PROHIBITION_IN_MAINE">415</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Industrial Schools of Boston</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_INDUSTRIAL_SCHOOLS_OF">417</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Echoes from a Chautauqua Winter</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#ECHOES_FROM_A_CHAUTAUQUA">419</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">C. L. S. C. Work</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#C_L_S_C_WORK">421</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Outline of C. L. S. C. Readings</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#OUTLINE_OF_C_L_S_C_READINGS">422</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Local Circles</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#LOCAL_CIRCLES">422</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Questions and Answers</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#QUESTIONS_AND_ANSWERS">425</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Chautauqua Normal Course</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAUTAUQUA_NORMAL_COURSE">426</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Editor’s Outlook</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#EDITORS_OUTLOOK">428</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Editor’s Note-Book</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#EDITORS_NOTE-BOOK">430</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for April</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#C_L_S_C_NOTES_ON_REQUIRED_READINGS_FOR_APRIL">432</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Notes on Required Readings in “The Chautauquan”</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#NOTES_ON_REQUIRED_READINGS_IN_THE_CHAUTAUQUAN">434</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Talk About Books</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#TALK_ABOUT_BOOKS">436</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="REQUIRED_READING">REQUIRED READING<br /> -<span class="smaller">FOR THE<br /> -<i>Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1883-4</i>.<br /> -APRIL.</span></h2> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="READINGS_FROM_FRENCH">READINGS FROM FRENCH HISTORY.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Rev. J. H. VINCENT, D.D.</span></p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="FRENCH_IX">IX.—LOUIS XVI.</h3> - -<p>About twenty years of age, amiable, irresolute, of simple -tastes and earnest piety, Louis XVI. succeeded to the throne -at a time when these qualities of gentleness could avail but -little against the crowning evils of the age, and when the -supreme genius and iron will of a Cromwell or a Napoleon -could alone have averted the destruction by which the state -was menaced. Signs of dissolution and prophecies of woe -were already abroad. Long wars and the lavish expenditure -of the last century and a half, had reduced the finances of the -kingdom to a deplorable condition. The public credit was at -its lowest ebb. The treasury presented a deficit of forty millions. -The people, over-taxed, restless, half-savage, and dangerously -intelligent, abandoned agriculture and sought a -precarious subsistence by smuggling and spoliation. A spirit -of political and religious infidelity pervaded the middle and -lower classes. The throne had too long been degraded by -excess, and tarnished by scandal, to command the affection of -the multitude. The nobles were scorned rather than reverenced, -and not even the ancient stronghold of terror remained. -The clergy, by their cruelties, their ignorance, and their debaucheries -had alienated the great body of the people, and -brought down upon themselves the satire and indignation of -the enlightened. In Voltaire, Rousseau, Montesquieu, and -D’Alembert, the new opinions had found their chief advocates -and leaders. Before their sweeping censures Christianity, -loyalty, tradition had trembled, and sunk away. They were -speedily reinforced by all the intelligence of the age. A host -of distinguished men hastened to their support, and the innovators -carried all before them—leveling good as well as evil, -trampling upon much that was pure in their reckless hatred of -that which was foul, and sapping the foundations of truth, -mercy and chivalry, while compassing the necessary destruction -of falsehood, despotism, imposition and vice.</p> - -<p>To the government of this crumbling edifice and this murmuring -people came Louis, with his good heart, his boyish -timidity, and his woful inexperience. His queen, Marie Antoinette, -was a daughter of Maria Theresa, fair, generous and -impetuous. Surrounded by eager courtiers, and saluted for -the first time as king and queen, they fell upon their knees, -and cried, weeping, “Oh God, guide us! Protect us! We are -too young to reign!”</p> - -<p>The king’s first act was to reëstablish the parliament, and -place the financial department in the hands of the impartial -and provident Turgot. Unfortunately for himself and the -country, Louis suffered his mind to be prejudiced against this -able minister, and, dismissing him in 1776, gave his office to -M. Necker, a less efficient but a less unpopular politician. A -war with England was now proposed by the king’s ambitious -statesmen, who beheld at this juncture an opportunity of wresting -from their ancient rival a large proportion of her foreign -commerce. England and her American colonies were at variance. -Not much more than a year had elapsed since the great -battles of Lexington and Bunker’s Hill, and the American independence -was but just declared. It now became the obvious -policy of France to foment this war, to support the rebellious -colonists, and to transfer to the navies of Louis XVI. that -maritime superiority which had so long been the bulwark of -the English liberties. The king, from motives of forbearance, -was unwilling to commence this war; but, being overruled by -his ministry, signed a treaty of alliance with the United States -in the commencement of the year 1778. This treaty was -equivalent to a declaration of war, and the first important action -took place by sea off the isle of Ushant on the 27th of -July. The fleets numbered thirty sail each; not a ship was -captured or sunk on either side; and the fortune of the day -was indecisive. In the following year, an alliance with Spain -doubled the naval strength of Louis XVI. The French and -Spanish admirals united their fleets, and hovered about the -coasts of England without making any descent; whilst the -Count d’Estaings, with twelve ships of the line, took the islands -of Granada and St. Vincent, and made an unsuccessful attack -upon St. Lucia, which had been lately conquered by the English. -On the 16th of January, 1780, Admiral Rodney, then on -his way to the relief of Gibraltar, encountered and defeated a -Spanish fleet commanded by Don Juan de Langara. He then -sailed on, unopposed, to Gibraltar, and next proceeded to the -West Indies. While there he thrice engaged with the Count -de Guichen, who had succeeded to the command of the French -fleet. None of these actions were productive of important results. -The Count de Guichen was replaced in 1781 by the -Count de Grasse, a man of great skill and courage, who defeated -the English admiral, Hood, on the 28th of April, and -added Tobago to the conquests of France. In this year another -enemy rose against England. The Dutch declared war, -and George III. was involved at one time, by sea and land, in -four great contests, namely, with France, Spain, America and -Holland. In the month of October, however, the surrender of -Yorktown by Lord Cornwallis virtually ended the contest between -England and the United States; and the four European<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span> -powers alone carried on hostilities. The month of April, 1782, -was signalized by a hard-fought and sanguinary engagement -between the Count de Grasse and Admiral Rodney. They -met on the 12th, off the island of Dominique, with nearly equal -forces, and the French were disastrously defeated with a loss -of eight ships, a terrible sacrifice of life, and the captivity of -the Count de Grasse. England was not, however, destined to -profit much by the victory; for, as Admiral Rodney was sailing -back with his well-won captures, a fearful storm arose, and -most of the prizes were lost. Among these was the <i>Ville de -Paris</i>, a fine ship of 110 guns, lately presented to the king by -the citizens of Paris. On the 13th of October, in the same -year, the fortress of Gibraltar was made the scene of a formidable -assault, which failed utterly. The besiegers were commanded -by the Duke de Crillon, an officer in the Spanish service; -the Count d’Artois, brother to Louis; and the Duke de -Bourbon. Negotiations for peace were now commenced, and -her late successes by sea enabled England to treat at a less -disadvantage than might have been expected, considering the -circumstances of the war. The preliminaries were signed at -Versailles on the 20th of January, 1783. France restored to -England all her conquests, with the exception of St. Lucia, -Tobago, the establishments on the river Senegal, and some -trifling possessions in Africa and the East Indies. England -relinquished all that she had captured. Spain acquired the -island of Minorca.</p> - -<p>More embarrassed than ever by the cost of the late war, the -finances of France had now fallen into a worse state than before. -The public debt was increased. The people exasperated -by a system of taxation which spared the wealthy and -oppressed the poor, and imbued, moreover, with those democratic -principles which had found their way from America to -France, became still louder in the expression of their discontent. -M. De Calonne had by this time succeeded M. Necker. -He was brilliant, fluent, ready with expedients. Dreading the -recriminations and plain-speaking that must have attended a -meeting of the States-general, this minister proposed to convene -the Notables—that is to say, an assemblage of persons -gathered from all parts of the kingdom, and chiefly from the -higher ranks of society. This measure had been taken by -Henry IV. and by Louis XIII.; it was not, therefore, without -precedent, and much was hoped by the nation. They met, to -the number of 137, in February, 1787. M. De Calonne laid -before them the condition of the exchequer, and proposed to -submit to taxation all the landed property of the kingdom, including -that of the privileged classes. But he addressed an -assembly composed almost exclusively of the privileged classes, -and they would not hear his arguments. On the 9th of April, -finding his position untenable, he resigned his office, and was -succeeded by M. De Brienne. Still the notables refused to -abate their ancient immunities, and were in consequence dissolved -on the 25th of May. The absolute necessity of procuring -money now compelled the king arbitrarily to register a -royal edict, which met with strong opposition from the parliament. -This body was then banished to Troyes, but again -recalled in the month of September. In 1788, M. de Brienne, -weary of combating the difficulties of his office, resigned in -favor of M. Necker. This gentleman, as the first act of his -second ministry, proposed to convoke the states-general, and -on the 5th of May, 1789, that august assembly filled the Hall -de Menus in the Palace of Versailles. The king, in a brief -speech, spoke hopefully of the present and the future, trusted -that his reign might be commemorated henceforth by the happiness -and prosperity of his people, and welcomed the states-general -to his palace. Unforeseeing and placid, he beheld in -this meeting nothing but the promise of amelioration, nor -guessed how little prepared for usefulness or decision were its -twelve hundred. It soon became evident that the real strength -of the states-general lay in the commons. They formed the -third estate, and numbered as many members as the clergy -and noblesse together. They took upon themselves to decide -whether the deliberations of the Assembly should be carried -on in three chambers or one—they covered their heads in -presence of the king—they constituted themselves the “National -Assembly,” and invited the clergy and aristocracy to -join them. The timid sovereign sanctioned these innovations, -and the Assembly proceeded to exercise its self-conferred -functions. Supplies were voted for the army; the public debt -was consolidated; a provisional collection of taxes was decreed; -and the inviolability of the members proclaimed. In -the meantime the nobles, headed by the king’s second -brother, the Count d’Artois, were collecting in the neighborhood -of the court and capital such troops as they could muster -from every quarter of the kingdom. Necker was exiled, and -it became evident that the king’s imprudent advisers had -counselled him to have recourse to violence. Paris, long prepared -for insurrection, rose <i>en masse</i>. Necker alone had possessed -the confidence of the citizens, and his dismissal gave -the signal for arms. Camille Desmoulins, a young and enthusiastic -patriot, harangued the populace at the Palais Royal.</p> - -<p>The guards, when called out to disperse the mobs, refused to -fire. The citizens formed themselves into a national guard. -The foodless multitude attacked and pillaged in various quarters. -The barriers were fired; and on the 14th of July, this -wild army appeared before the walls of the Bastile. Stanch -in his principles of military honor, the aged Marquis de -Launay, then governor of the prison, refused to surrender, -raised the drawbridge, and fired upon the multitude. His feeble -garrison, consisting of eighty-two invalids and thirty-two -Swiss, was menaced by thousands. The siege lasted four -hours. The besiegers were joined by the French guards—cannon -were brought—De Launay capitulated—the drawbridge -was lowered, and the Bastile taken. Taken by a lawless sea -of raging rebels, who forthwith massacred the governor, his -lieutenant, and some of the aged invalids—set fire to the building, -and razed it to the ground—freed the few prisoners found -in the cells—garnished their pikes with the evidences of murder, -and so paraded Paris. From this moment the people were -supreme. The troops were dismissed from Versailles—Necker -was recalled—the king visited Paris, and was invested at the -Hotel de Ville with the tri-colored emblem of democracy.</p> - -<p>Then began the first emigration. The Count d’Artois, the -Prince of Condé, the Polignacs, and other noble and royal -families, deserted in the moment of peril, and from beyond the -frontiers witnessed the revolution in ignoble safety. The king -and his family remained at Versailles, sad at heart amid their -presence-chambers and garden-groves, just four leagues from -volcanic Paris. Hither, from time to time, during the few days -that intervened between the 14th of July and the 4th of August, -came strange tidings of a revolution which was no longer -Parisian, but national—tidings of provincial gatherings—of -burning chateaux—of sudden vengeances done upon unpopular -officials, intendants, tax-gatherers, and the like. It was -plain that the First Estate must bow its proud head before the -five-and-twenty savage millions, make restitution, speak well, -smile fairly—or die. The memorable 4th of August came, -when the nobles did this, making an ample confession of their -weakness. The Viscount de Noailles proposed to reform the -taxation by subjecting to it every order and rank; by regulating -it according to the fortune of the individual; and by abolishing -personal servitude, and every remaining vestige of the -feudal system. An enthusiasm, which was half fear and half -reckless excitement, spread throughout the Assembly. The -aristocrats rose in their places and publicly renounced their -seignorial dues, privileges, and immunities. The clergy abolished -tithes and tributes. The representative bodies resigned -their municipal rights. All this availed but little; and should -have been done many months before to have weighed with the -impatient commons. The people scorned a generosity which -relinquished only that which was untenable, and cared little for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span> -the recognition of a political equality that had already been -established with the pike. The Assembly was at this time divided -into three parties—that of the aristocracy, composed of -the greater part of the noblesse and clergy; that of the moderate -party, headed by M. Necker; and that of the republicans, -among whom the most conspicuous were Lafayette, Sièyes, -Robespierre, and the great, the impetuous, the profligate Mirabeau. -But theirs was not the only deliberative body. A minor -assembly, consisting of one hundred and eighty electors; a -mass of special assemblies of mechanics, tradesmen, servants, -and others; and a huge incongruous mob at the Palais Royal, -met daily and nightly for purposes of discussion. These -demonstrations, and the extreme opinions to which they hourly -gave rise, alarmed the little court yet lingering around the -king. They persuaded him that he must have military assistance, -and the troops were, unhappily, recalled to Versailles.</p> - -<p>The regiment of Flanders and a body of dragoons came, and -on the 1st of October the newly-arrived officers were invited to -a grand banquet by their comrades of the royal body-guard. -After the dinner was removed and the wine had begun to circulate, -the queen presented herself with the Dauphin in her -arms, and her husband at her side. Cries of loyalty and enthusiasm -burst forth—their healths were drunk with drawn -swords—the tri-colored cockades were trampled under foot, -and white ones, emblematic of Bourbon, were distributed by -the maids of honor. The news of this fatal evening flew to -Paris. Exasperated by the arrival of the soldiery—by the insult -offered to the tri-color—by the fear of famine and civil war—the -mob rose in fury, and with cries of “Bread! bread!” -poured out of Paris and took the road to Versailles. Here, -sending messages, threats, and deputations to the king and to -the Assembly, the angry thousands encamped for the night, in -inclement weather, round about the palace. Toward morning -a grate leading into the grand court was found to be unfastened, -and the mob rushed in. On they went, across the marble -court and up the grand staircase. The body-guards defended -themselves valiantly and raised the alarm—the queen fled, -half-dressed, to the king’s chamber—the “living deluge” -poured through galleries and reception-rooms, making straight -for the queen’s apartments. On this terrible day, Marie Antoinette -was, above all, the object of popular hatred. Separated -now from the revolutionists by the hall of the Œil-de-Bœuf, -where the faithful remnant of body-guards had assembled -to defend them to the last, the royal family listened tremblingly -to the battering of the axes on the yet unbroken doors. At -this moment of peril came Lafayette, with the national guard -of Paris, and succeeded in clearing the palace, in pacifying the -multitude, and in rescuing, for the time, the hapless group in -the king’s apartments. The mob, now driven outside, demanded -that Louis should show himself, and go to Paris with -his family. Refusal and remonstrance were alike useless. -The royal carriage was brought out, the king and his family -took their places, the mob thronged round, and so, with the -defeated body-guards in the midst, and some bloody trophies -of the struggle carried forward upon pikes, the mournful procession -went from Versailles to Paris. Lodged thenceforth in -the Tuileries, treated with personal disrespect, and subjected -to all the restrictions of imprisonment, Louis and his queen -supported indignities with dignity, and insult with resignation.</p> - -<p>On the 4th of September, M. Necker relinquished his office. -He had been so courageous as to oppose the decree of the 16th -of June, by which all distinctions of titles, armorial bearings, -and other hereditary honors were abolished. From having -been the idol of the republicans he now found himself dangerously -unpopular, and so retired in safety to Geneva. During -all this time the emigration of the noblesse went on. Assembling -upon the German frontier toward the spring-time of the -year 1791, they formed themselves into an army under the -command of the Prince of Condé, and adopted for their motto, -“Conquer or die.” Fearful, however, of endangering the -king’s personal safety, they took no measures to stay the tide -of rebellion, but hovered by the Rhine, watchful and threatening. -Soon the king and queen, their two children, and the -Princess Elizabeth, sister to the king, were the only members -of the royal family left in Paris. Flight had long been talked -of and frequently delayed; but at last everything was arranged, -and Monday night, June 20, 1791, was fixed for the -attempt. Eluding the vigilance of the guards, they stole out -of the palace in disguise, and after numerous delays and misapprehensions, -during which the queen lost her way in the -Rue de Bac, they entered a hackney-coach driven by the -Count de Fersen, and exchanged it, at the gate St. Martin, for a -carriage and four. Thus, never pausing, they passed Chalons, -and arrived at St. Menehould. Here they were to have been -met by some cavalry, commanded by the Marquis de Bouillé; -but the time fixed for their arrival was so long gone by that -the escort, weary of waiting, had given them up, and gone on -to Varennes. Stopping to change horses at St. Menehould, -the king was recognized; and at Varennes, within reach of -Bouillé’s soldiers, he was stopped and questioned. The national -guard flew to arms—an aid-de-camp came up in breathless -haste, seeking the fugitives and bearing the decree of arrest—the -horses’ heads were turned toward Paris, and the last -chance for life and liberty was past! After a return-journey of -eight days, the king and his family reëntered the capital, and -were received in profound silence by an immense concourse. -More closely guarded, more mistrusted than ever, he was now -suspended by the National Assembly from those sovereign -functions which he had so long ceased to exercise or possess. -In the meantime the articles of a new Constitution had been -drawn up, and were publicly ratified by the royal oath and -signature on the 14th of September. The National Assembly, -having completed this work, dissolved itself on the 30th, and -the members of the new, or legislative assembly, took their -seats on the 1st of October, 1791.</p> - -<p>And now the violences of late committed, and the anarchy -existing not only in Paris, but in all districts of France, had -roused the indignation of Europe. Francis II., Emperor of -Austria, entered into an alliance with the king of Prussia, hostilities -were threatened, and the Assembly declared for war, on -the 20th of April, 1792. An invasion of the Austrian Netherlands -was attempted; but the French soldiers fled upon the -first sight of the Prussian columns, and General Rochambeau -laid down his command. On the 25th of July, the Duke of -Brunswick, who commanded the allies, issued a violent and -imprudent manifesto, declaring himself authorized to support -the royal authority in France; to destroy the city of Paris; and -to pursue with the extremity of military law all those who were -disposed to resist the policy of Europe. He at the same time -put his immense army in motion, and advanced over the -frontier with 70,000 Prussians and 68,000 Austrians and emigrant -French. Perhaps no effort on the part of his most eager -enemy could have so injured the cause and periled the safety -of Louis XVI. The Assembly replied by fitting out an army of -20,000 national volunteers, and giving the command to General -Dumouriez. Brunswick took Verdun and Longwy, and advanced -toward the capital, confident of victory; but, being -met by the active and sagacious Dumouriez, was forced to retreat. -Verdun was won back again on the 12th, and Longwy -on the 18th of October. An Austrian army, engaged in the -siege of Lille, was compelled to abandon the attempt; and -Custine on the Rhine took possession of Trèves Spires, and -Mayence. War having also been declared against the King -of Sardinia, Savoy was taken; and the great victory of Jemappes, -won by General Dumouriez, on the 6th of November, -subjected the whole of the Austrian Netherlands, with the exception -of Luxembourg, to the power of France. On all sides -the national troops repelled the invaders, resumed the offensive, -and asserted the independence of a victorious revolution.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, enraged at this interference of the foreign<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span> -powers, and fluctuating (according to the reports from the -scene of war) between apprehension and exultation, the Parisian -mob and the extreme republican party came to regard -the king with increased enmity. He was named in the Assembly -with violent opprobrium; the mob, incited to fury by -Robespierre and his associates, demanded the abolition of the -royal authority; and on the 10th of August the palace of the -Tuileries was attacked. The national guards, who had been -appointed to the defence of the courtyards, went over to the -insurgents, and pointed their cannon against the chateau. -Only the gallant Swiss were left, and they, overpowered by -numbers and fighting gallantly to the last, were literally cut to -pieces. The king and his family escaped to the National -Assembly, and on the 14th were removed to the old Temple -prison. From this time the reign of terror may properly be -said to have begun. The chronicles of September are written -in blood. Supreme in power as in crime, the party of the -Fédérés, or Red Republicans, secured the barriers, sounded -the tocsin, and proceeded to clear the prisons by an indiscriminate -massacre. Nobles and priests, aged men and delicate -women, all who were guilty of good birth, loyalty, or religion, -were slain without distinction. The inmates of the Abbaye, -the Conciergerie, the Carmes, La Force, and the Bicêtre were -all murdered, after a hideous mockery of trial, at which neither -innocence nor evidence availed. The head of the beautiful -and hapless Princess de Lamballe was paraded about Paris on -a pike, and displayed before the eyes of the wretched prisoners -in the Temple, whose confidential friend and companion she -had been. Mademoiselle de Sombreuil only saved her father’s -life by drinking a goblet of blood. Mademoiselle Cazotte flung -herself between her father and the murderers. Instances of -the sublimest resignation, of the loftiest courage, are abundant -amid the records of this appalling period. Thirteen thousand -souls are said to have been sacrificed in Paris alone, and -similar massacres were perpetrated at Orleans, at Rheims, at -Lyons, and at Meaux. On the 21st of September, the legislative -assembly, having presided for the allotted space of one -year, was succeeded by a new body of representatives, chiefly -consisting of the extreme republican party, and known by the -name of the National Convention. To abolish the statutes of -the kings, to leave the offices of government open to men of -every condition, to persecute the members of the more moderate -faction, and to impeach the king before the bar of the convention, -were among the first acts of the new government.</p> - -<p>On the 11th of December, 1792, Louis, still placid and dignified, -appeared before the tribunal of his enemies. He was accused -of plots against the sovereignty of the people—of intrigues with -the European powers—of tampering with Mirabeau, since dead—in -short, of everything that might be construed into an effort -for life, liberty, or prerogative. His trial lasted for more than -a month, and during that time he was separated from his family. -Hitherto Louis and his wife had at least shared their sorrows, -and, by employing themselves in the education of the Dauphin, -had beguiled somewhat of the tedious melancholy of prison -life. Now it was over, and they were to meet but once again—to -bid farewell. On Christmas day the king drew up his -will, and on the following morning was summoned to the Convention -for the purpose of making his defense. This paper -was read by his counsel, and, at its conclusion, Louis spoke a -few simple words relative to his own innocence and the affection -which he had always felt toward his people. He was then -conducted back to the Temple, and the discussions went on till -the 15th of January, 1793, when it was resolved to put to the -vote the three great questions of culpability, of the expediency -of an appeal to the people, and of the nature of the punishment -to be inflicted. On Tuesday, the 15th, the first two questions -were put, and the replies recorded. By all the king was voted -guilty, and by a majority of two to one the appeal to the people -was negatived. On Wednesday, the 16th, the question of -punishment was in like manner propounded. The agitation -of Paris was something terrible to witness. A savage mob -gathered about the doors of the Assembly, heaping threats -upon all who dared to be merciful. Even those who most desired -to save the king became intimidated, and some who had -spoken bravely in his favor the day before now decreed his -death. From Wednesday to Sunday morning this strange -scene lasted. Seven hundred and twenty-one members, in -slow succession, with trembling, with confidence, with apologetic -speech, or fierce enforcement, mounted the tribune one -by one, gave in their “Fate-word,” and went down to hear the -judgment of their successors. Paine, the English democrat, -entered his name on the side of mercy. Louis Égalité, Duke -of Orleans, and father to the late Louis Philippe, had the unparalleled -infamy to vote for death. Even the brave President -Vergniaud, who had pleaded for Louis with passionate earnestness -only a day or two before, wavered in his allegiance at the -last, and spoke the fatal word. At length, when all had voted, -death was found to be decreed by a majority of twenty-six -voices. The king’s counsel appealed against the sentence; -but the appeal was rejected, and the Assembly recommenced -voting, to fix the time of execution. Death without delay—death -within four-and-twenty hours, was the result. On Sunday -morning, January the 20th, the messengers of the Convention -told Louis he must die. A priest, a delay of three days, -and an interview with his family, was all that he asked. They -granted him the first and last request; but the delay was refused. -In the evening he was permitted to see his wife, sister -and children. They met in a chamber with glass doors, -through which the municipal guards watched all the cruel -scene. Falling into each other’s arms, they were for some -time speechless with sorrow, and the conversation that ensued -was interrupted by cries and sobs. Then the king rose, promising -to see them again on the morrow, and so ended this -agony of two hours. About midnight, having recovered his -serenity, and prayed with his confessor, the Abbé Edgeworth, -he went to bed and slept soundly. Waking at five, he heard -mass and received the sacrament. At eight the municipals -summoned him to execution, and, willing to spare the feelings -of those whom he loved, he left without a second farewell. -There was a silence of death upon all the city. Silent were -the lines of soldiers—silent the gazing multitudes—silent the -eighty thousand armed men who guarded with cannon the space -around the scaffold. Through all these rolled the solitary -carriage, and to these the king, advancing suddenly as the -last moment came, said in an agitated voice, “Frenchmen, I -die innocent. I pardon my enemies, and I hope that France.…” -At this moment he was seized by the executioners, the -drums beat and drowned his voice, and in a few seconds he -was no more. All at once the strange silence was broken—the -executioner upheld the severed head—the shouts of the wild -populace filled the air—and then they gradually cleared off, -and the business of the day went on in Paris as if no unusual -thing had been done. Such was the end of Louis XVI., a -virtuous and well-intentioned sovereign, on the 21st of January, -1793.—<i>Edwards.</i></p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="FRENCH_X">X.—THE GREAT FRENCH REVOLUTION (1792-1796).</h3> - -<p>The government, after the king (Louis XVI.) was deposed, -was placed in the hands of the National Assembly—or Convention, -as it now called itself—of deputies chosen by the people.</p> - -<p>There is nothing but what is sad and terrible to be told of -France for the next four or five years, and the whole account -of what happened would be too hard for you to understand, -and some part is too dreadful to dwell upon.</p> - -<p>The short account of it is that, for years and years before, -the kings, the nobles, and some of the clergy too, had cared -for little but their own pride and pleasure, and had done nothing -to help on their people—teach, train, or lead them. -So now these people were wild with despair, and when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span> -hold on them was a little loosened, they threw it off, and -turned in furious rage upon their masters. Hatred grew, -and all those who had once been respected were looked on as -a brood of wolves, who must be done away with, even the -young and innocent. The king, queen, his children, and sister -(Madame Elizabeth), were shut up in a castle called the -Temple, because it had once belonged to the Knights Templar, -and there they were very roughly and unkindly treated. -A national guard continually watched them, and these men -were often shockingly rude and insulting to them, though they -were as patient as possible. Great numbers of the nobles and -clergy were shut up in the other prisons; and when news came -that an army of Germans and emigrant nobles was marching -to rescue the king, a set of ruffians was sent to murder them -all, cutting them down like sheep for the slaughter, men and -women all alike. The family in the Temple were spared for -the time, but the emigrant army was beaten at Jemappes; and -the brave nobles and peasants who had risen in the district of -La Vendée, in hopes of saving them, could not make head -against the regular French army, all of which had joined in -the Revolution, being angered because no one not of noble -birth could be an officer. All his friends did for the king only -served to make his enemies hate him trebly; and three men -had obtained the leadership who seemed to have had a regular -thirst for blood, and to have thought that the only way to make -a fresh beginning was to kill every one who had inherited any -of the rights that had been so oppressive. Their names were -Marat, Danton, and Robespierre; and they had a power over -the minds of the Convention and the mob which no one dared -resist, so that this time was called the Reign of Terror. A -doctor named Guillotin had invented a machine for cutting off -heads quickly and painlessly, which was called by his name; -and this horrible instrument was set up in Paris to do this work -of cutting off the old race. The king—whom they called Louis -Capet, after Hugh, the first king of his line—was tried before the -Assembly, and sentenced to die. He forgave his murderers, -and charged the Irish clergyman, named Edgeworth, who was -allowed to attend him in his last moments, to take care that, -if his family were ever restored, there should be no attempt to -avenge his death. The last words of the priest to him were: -“Son of St. Louis, ascend to the skies.”</p> - -<p>The queen and her children remained in the Temple, cheered -by the piety and kindness of Madame Elizabeth until the poor -little prince—a gentle, but spirited boy of eight—was taken -from them, and shut up in the lower rooms, under the charge -of a brutal wretch (a shoemaker) named Simon, who was told -that the boy was not to be killed or guillotined, but to be “got -rid of”—namely, tormented to death by bad air, bad living, -blows and rude usage. Not long after, Marie Antoinette was -taken to a dismal chamber in the Conciergerie prison, and -there watched day and night by national guards, until she too -was brought to trial, and sentenced to die, eight months after -her husband. Gentle Madame Elizabeth was likewise put to -death, and only the two children remained, shut up in separate -rooms; but the girl was better off than her brother, in that she -was alone, with her little dog, and had no one who made a -point of torturing her.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the guillotine was every day in use. Cart-loads -were carried from the prisons—nobles, priests, ladies, young -girls, lawyers, servants, shopkeepers—everybody whom the -savage men who were called the Committee of Public Safety -chose to condemn. There were guillotines in almost every -town; but at Nantes the victims were drowned, and at Lyons -they were placed in a square and shot down with grape -shot.</p> - -<p>Moreover, all churches were taken from the faithful. A -wicked woman was called the Goddess of Reason, and carried -in a car to the great cathedral of Notre Dame, where she was -enthroned. Sundays were abolished, and every tenth day was -kept instead, and Christianity was called folly and superstition; -in short, the whole nation was given up to the most horrible -frenzy against God and man.</p> - -<p>In the midst, Marat was stabbed to the heart by a girl named -Charlotte Corday, who hoped thus to end these horrors; but -the other two continued their work of blood, till Robespierre -grew jealous of Danton, and had him guillotined; but at last -the more humane of the National Convention plucked up courage -to rise against him, and he and his inferior associates were -carried to prison. He tried to commit suicide with a pistol, but -only shattered his jaw, and in this condition he was guillotined, -when the Reign of Terror had lasted about two years.</p> - -<p>There was much rejoicing at his fall; prisons were opened, -and people began to breathe freely once more. The National -Convention governed more mildly and reasonably; but they -had a great deal on their hands, for France had gone to war -with all the countries round; and the soldiers were so delighted -at the freedom they had obtained, that it seemed as if no one -could beat them, so that the invaders were everywhere driven -back. And thus was brought to light the wonderful powers of -a young Corsican officer, Napoleon Bonaparte, who had been -educated, at a military school in France, as an engineer. When -there was an attempt of the mob to rise and bring back the -horrible days of the Reign of Terror, Colonel Bonaparte came -with his grape shot, and showed that there was a government -again that must be obeyed, so that some quiet and good order -was restored.</p> - -<p>Some pity had at last been felt for the poor children in the -Temple. It came too late to save the life of the boy, Louis -XVII., as he is reckoned, who had for the whole ninth year of -his life lain alone in a filthy room, afraid to call any one lest -he should be ill-used, and without spirit enough to wash himself, -so that he was one mass of sores and dirt; and he only -lingered till the 8th of June, 1795, when he died, thinking he -heard lovely music, with his mother’s voice among the rest. -In the end of the same year his sister was released, and went -to Russia to join her uncle, who had fled at the beginning of -the Revolution, and was now owned by the loyal among the -French as Louis XVIII.</p> - -<p>In the meantime the French army had beaten the Germans -on the frontier, and had decided on attacking their power in -the north of Italy. Bonaparte made a most wonderful passage -of the Alps, where there were scarcely any roads but bridle-paths, -and he gained amazing victories. His plan was to get -all the strength of his army up into one point, as it were, and -with that to fall upon the center of the enemy; and as the old -German generals did not understand this way of fighting, and -were not ready, he beat them everywhere, and won all Lombardy, -which he persuaded to set up for a republic, under the -protection of the French.</p> - -<p>All this time, the French were under so many different varieties -of government, that you would not understand them at -all; but that which lasted longest was called the Directory. -People were beginning to feel safe at last; the emigrants were -coming home again, and matters were settling down a little -more.—<i>Yonge.</i></p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="FRENCH_XI">XI.—NAPOLEON I. (1796-1814.)</h3> - -<p>When Bonaparte had come back from Italy, he persuaded -the Directory to send him with an army to Egypt to try to gain -the East, and drive the English out of India. He landed in -Egypt, and near Grand Cairo gained the battle of the Pyramids, -and tried to recommend himself to the people of Egypt -by showing great admiration for Mahomet and the Koran. But -his ships, which he had left on the coast, were attacked by the -English fleet, under Sir Horatio Nelson, and every one of them -taken or sunk except two, which carried the tidings home. -This was the battle of the Nile.</p> - -<p>The Sultan of Turkey, to whom Egypt belonged, fitted out -an army against the French, and Bonaparte marched to meet -it half way in the Holy Land. There he took Jaffa, cruelly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span> -massacred the Turkish garrison, and beat the Sultan’s army at -Tabor: but Acre was so bravely and well defended, under the -management of a brave English sailor, Sir Sidney Smith, that -he was obliged to turn back without taking it. He led his -troops back, suffering sadly from hunger and sickness, to -Egypt, and there defeated another Turkish army in the battle -of Aboukir. However, he there heard news from home which -showed him that he was needed. The French had, indeed, -gone on to stir up a revolution both in Rome and Naples. -The pope was a prisoner in France, and the king of Naples -had fled to Sicily; but the Russians had come to the help of -the other nations, and the French had nearly been driven out -of Lombardy. Beside, the Directory was not able to keep -the unruly people in order; and Napoleon felt himself so much -wanted, that, finding there were two ships in the port, he embarked -in one of them and came home, leaving his Egyptian -army to shift for themselves.</p> - -<p>However, he was received at home like a conqueror; and the -people of France were so proud of him, that he soon persuaded -them to change the Directory for a government of three consuls, -of whom he was the first. He lived in the Tuileries, and -began to keep something very like the old court; and his wife, -Josephine, was a beautiful, graceful, kind lady, whom every -one loved, and who helped very much in gaining people over -to his cause. Indeed, he gave the French rest at home, and -victories abroad, and that was all they desired. He won back -all that had been lost in Italy; and the battle of Marengo, on -the 14th of June, 1800, when the Austrians were totally routed, -was a splendid victory. Austria made peace again, and nobody -was at war with France but England, which conquered everywhere -by sea, as France did by land. The last remnant of -the French army in Egypt was beaten in Alexandria, and -obliged to let the English ships transport them to France; and -after this there was a short peace called the peace of Amiens, -but it did not last long; and as soon as Bonaparte had decided -on war, he pounced without notice on every English traveler -in his dominions, and kept them prisoners till the end of the -war.</p> - -<p>He had made up his mind to be Emperor of the French, and -before declaring this, he wanted to alarm the old royalists; so -he sent a party to seize the Duke d’Enghien (heir of the princes -of Condé), who was living at Baden, and conduct him to Vincennes, -where, at midnight, he was tried by a sham court-martial, -and at six in the morning brought down to the courtyard, -and shot, beside his own grave.</p> - -<p>After this every one was afraid to utter a whisper against -Bonaparte becoming emperor, and on the second of December, -1804, he was crowned in Notre Dame, with great splendor. -The pope was present, but Bonaparte placed the crown on his -own head—a golden wreath of laurel leaves; and he gave his -soldiers eagle standards, in memory of the old Roman Empire. -He drew up an excellent code of laws, which have been used -ever since in France, and are known by his name; and his -wonderful talent did much to bring the shattered nation into -order. Still, England would not acknowledge his unlawful -power, and his hatred to her was very great. He had an army -ready to invade England, but the English fleet never allowed -him to cross the Channel; and his fleet was entirely destroyed -by Lord Nelson, at the great battle of Trafalgar, on the 21st of -October, 1805.</p> - -<p>But Napoleon was winning another splendid victory at Ulm, -over the Austrians; and not long after, he beat the Prussians -as entirely at Jena, and had all Germany at his feet. He was -exceedingly harsh and savage to the good and gentle queen -Louisa, when she came with her husband to try to make better -terms for her country, thus sowing seeds of bitter resentment, -which were to bear fruit long after. The Russians advanced to -the aid of Germany, but the battles of Eylau and Friedland -made them also anxious for peace. There never, indeed, was -a much abler man than Napoleon; but he had no honor, honesty -or generosity, and had very little heart amid all his seeming -greatness. He made his family kings of conquered countries. -His brother Louis was King of Holland; Jerome, of Westphalia, -and the eldest brother, Joseph, King of Naples; but in -1808, he contrived to cheat the King of Spain of his crown, and -keep him and his son prisoners in France, while Joseph was -sent to reign in Spain, and General Murat, the husband of his -sister Caroline, was made King of Naples. The Portuguese -royal family were obliged to flee away to Brazil; but the Spaniards -and Portuguese would not submit to the French yoke, and -called the English to help them. So year after year the Duke -of Wellington was beating Napoleon’s generals, and wearing -away his strength; but he still went on with his German wars, -and in 1809, after two terrible battles at Aspern and Wagram, -entered Vienna itself. Again there was a peace; and Napoleon, -who was grieved to have no child to leave his empire to, -had the wickedness and cruelty to decide on setting aside his -good, loving Josephine, and making the Emperor Francis, of -Austria, give him his young daughter, Marie Louise. In -1810, the deed was done; and it was said that from that time -all his good fortune left him, though he had one little son born -to him, whom he called King of Rome.</p> - -<p>He set out with what he named the Grand Army, to conquer -Russia; and after winning the battle of Borodino, he entered -Moscow; but no sooner was he there than the whole town was -on fire, and it burnt on, so that it was not possible to stay there. -Winter was just coming on, the Russian army was watching -everywhere, and he could only retreat; and the unhappy Grand -Army, struggling in the snow, with nothing to eat, and beset -by the enemy everywhere, suffered the most frightful misery. -Napoleon left it in the midst, and hurried home; but no sooner -had this blow been given him, than the Germans—the Prussians -especially, to whom he had been so harsh—rose up and -banded together against him. France was worn out with the -long wars; and though Napoleon still showed wonderful skill, -especially at the battle of Leipsic, he was driven back, inch by -inch, as it were, across Germany, and into France, by the -Emperors of Austria and Russia and King of Prussia; for -though each battle of his was a victory, force of numbers was -too much for him. He went to the palace of Fontainebleau, -and tried to give up his crown to his little son, but the Allies -would not accept this; and at last, in the spring of 1814, he was -forced to yield entirely, and put himself into the hands of the -English, Prussian, Russian, and Austrian sovereigns. They -decided on sending him to a little isle called Elba, in the Mediterranean -Sea, where he was still to be treated as a prince. His -deserted wife, Josephine, loved him so much that she died of -grief for his fall; but Marie Louise returned to her father, and -did nothing to help him.—<i>Yonge.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="COMMERCIAL_LAW">COMMERCIAL LAW.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By EDWARD C. REYNOLDS, ESQ.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>III.—AGENCY.</h3> - -<p>Agency is one of the most common relations of individual -to individual. It is a delegation of power that few can avoid, -in a greater or less degree of importance. The wife who purchases -goods for household purposes in her husband’s name, -is acting purely as his agent; and the clerk who sells the articles -to her acts, in the transaction, as agent for the merchant -in whose employment he is.</p> - -<p>The legal maxim, <i>Qui facit per alium, facit per se</i>, which -we will make read here, “What one does by another he does -himself,” is the essential idea of agency; that is, it places on -sure foundation the question of responsibility, at least, as to -where it belongs. This is the whole doctrine so far as responsibility -or liability is concerned.</p> - -<p>That it is particularly necessary in business life to have this -delegation of power, and this centralization of responsibility,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span> -needs no explanation. The publisher of this magazine could -be a publisher only in imagination without it, for he would have -no influence in his own sanctum, except with himself; and we -should feel no security in dealing with a company with no -recognized and responsible manager.</p> - -<p>We have to deal with a fixed fact. Agency exists. The -owners of magnificent stores, the stockholders in the railroad -and steamship lines are all indebted to an army of agents -whose active brains and eager efforts keep cars and steamers -in motion, purchase and sell goods, and keep the accounts of -the business world in proper balance.</p> - -<p>How is an agency established? Our readers probably could -answer this question in part; try it and see if we are not -right.</p> - -<p>We must answer by remarking that it depends somewhat -upon what is wanted of an agent. Thus, if one be possessed -of real estate, situated in some distant place, and is desirous of -making a sale, and of selecting and commissioning some one -to represent him in such a transfer of property, the appointment -would be by a power of attorney, executed as described -in our later article on real estate, “to which reference is hereby -made.”</p> - -<p>To represent another in ordinary business transactions one -may act by virtue of a written or verbal agreement. Thus, if -A places goods in B’s hands for the purpose of selling through -B, this will be sufficient to constitute an agency, and for the -purposes of this business B is A’s agent, and all would be protected -in dealing with him in such capacity. A bookkeeper -in the counting room of his employer is fairly presumed to have -authority to receipt bills, to pay bills, render accounts, and in -some cases to make purchases, particularly if such part by him -done has been sanctioned by the merchant in the past. But -he has no authority to sign his employer’s name to notes, bills -or checks unless specially authorized.</p> - -<p>A minor, though not capable of being a party to a contract -himself, may do so for an employer, and thus be an agent, and -his principal is responsible for his acts in such capacity, unless -they be <i>tortious</i>, or wrongs in themselves. There would obviously -be no security for innocent parties in fixing upon any -other solution of the question of liability, because if A permits -B, though a minor, to act for him and thereby takes advantage -of his services in that capacity when they are favorable to his -interests, it would be inequitable for him to shift the responsibility -when it becomes onerous.</p> - -<p>While the principal is responsible for the acts of his agent, -when not beyond the authority given, it is the duty of the agent -to obey the instructions of his principal. This he is always to -do unless some unforeseen situation presents itself, which requires -the exercise of a discretionary power and immediate -action. And then, an agent would be justified in acting contrary -to instructions, or without instructions only when reasonable -foresight and experience would approve of the course pursued -by him. This for legitimate pursuits, our readers always -remembering that an agent is not justified in doing an illegal -or immoral act, and that, even though specially instructed so to -do. The agency must be apparent and known to exist, that -third parties may know themselves to be dealing with one in -such capacity, and that agents may not be made to assume -responsibilities which do not belong to them. This may be -accomplished by advertising in and transacting all business in -the principal’s name; or where the name of the principal is -not necessarily made use of in the course of the business, the -fact of the agent’s business employment being known as such -would doubtless be sufficient.</p> - -<p>A clerk having occasion, in the course of business, to sign -his employer’s name to letters, in receipting bills and such -routine business, does it in this manner:</p> - -<p class="sig"><span class="smcap">E. E. Emmons</span>,<br /> -<i>Per S.</i></p> - -<p>Where special authority is given to sign checks, notes and -accept bills in his principal’s or employer’s name, the agent -will add his own name, with the word “Attorney.”</p> - -<p>It must be remembered that an agency, so far as an agency -transaction is concerned, must stand by itself, and not be associated -with agent’s private business; that principal’s and -agent’s property should be kept entirely distinct.</p> - -<p>A commission merchant, although an agent so far as his -dealings with his principal or consignor, is not such in relation -to other parties, since he does business in his own name, and is -recognized as a merchant and not an agent, although his business -may be largely a commission business. He is bound to -obey instructions of his principal or consignor, whom he -charges a percentage for the handling of the goods consigned, -incidental expenses, and, in cases where he assumes the indebtedness -resulting from the sales, an extra commission.</p> - -<p>Since mention has been made of commission merchants, we -must individualize once more, and mention brokers. A broker -simply effects a sale or purchase, as of merchandise or stocks. -Unlike commission merchants they neither have, for the purpose -of effecting the one, nor acquire by the accomplishment of -the other, absolute possession of the chattels bought or sold.</p> - -<p>In whatever capacity as special agent for another, one is -acting, he is ever bound to keep and render proper account of -the business entrusted to his care; to keep his principal properly -informed regarding it; to use due diligence in business; -to treat the property of his principal with same care and handle -with same prudence, as a man of ordinary carefulness and -forethought would his own. All this means only, that he -should act with ordinary skill, and should render to his principal -fair and honest service.</p> - -<p>What terminates the agency? Death or insanity of either -party; completion of work undertaken; expiration of time -agreed upon; by express declaration of either party at pleasure, -the other having due notification, and by such action acquiring -a valid claim for whatever damages result on account -thereof.</p> - -<h4>Partnership.</h4> - -<p>It is of constant occurrence that persons deem it advisable -to unite themselves together for the prosecution of some general -or particular business, paying their respects, by such act, -to the old saw, “In union there is strength.” They agree by -such an association to undertake the business, which induced -them to unite their efforts with the hope of attaining to better -results. The partners may or may not equally participate in -the activities of the business to be undertaken, and may or -may not stand on equal footing so far as relates to the sharing -of the gains and losses. All of this is governed by their agreements -at the outset, and its subsequent mutually agreed upon -changes.</p> - -<p>Like other species of contracts, the conditions of partnerships -may be agreed upon verbally, may be in writing, and may result -by implication. Of the three, which? Regarding this and -all other engagements, establish a rule to which adhere rigidly. -The rule: Have a thorough understanding with all parties with -whom you contract; reduce it to writing, and have all interested -parties sign. In this way the difficulties of misunderstandings -and convenient forgetfulness will be less troublesome. -It is worth all it costs to bear this precaution in mind.</p> - -<p>Partners assume different relations and responsibilities as -regards the partnership and the business world. There are the -ostensible partners who boldly advertise themselves as such, -and as such assuming the hazards incident to commercial enterprises; -then the nominal partner who seeks to help a partnership -by lending it his name, and thereby holding himself -out as a member of it and making himself liable to creditors -for partnership debts, providing credit was given, because of -his supposed connection with the firm, as a regular partner; -secret partners, who keep their names from the public, seeking -by this means to avoid liability, but at same time sharing with -the other partners the profits arising from the business. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span> -such partnership becomes known to creditors, they may enforce -collection of claims due from the partnership, as against the -property of the secret partner; and the special partner, recognized -by the laws of some of the states, which limit his liability -to the amount of his investment, on condition that he gives -public notice of such partnership agreement in a manner prescribed.</p> - -<p>The partnership is organized, the partners assuming such -relation to the partnership as they mutually agree upon, bearing -in mind the above description of liabilities.</p> - -<p>The element agency becomes quite conspicuous here, for -each partner is an agent of the partnership and invested with -plenary power to bind the other partners by his acts, when -within the business sphere of the firm. It will be observed -that we say in the line of the copartnership business, because -otherwise it would not be sanctioned. As an illustration: A member -of a partnership engaged in the flour trade would not have -authority to bind his partners, if he attempted to involve them -in stock speculations, unless previous similar enterprises by -him had been approved by them, in which case there might be -a fair presumption that such authority existed. This leads us -to the question of liability; and liable they are, each and every -partner, unless by virtue of exception previously mentioned, -exempted. Their individual property, in the event of there -being insufficient partnership assets to liquidate the indebtedness -of the firm, must respond to the creditors’ call.</p> - -<p>Now, since the acts of a partner may result in a manner disastrous -to all associated with him, it is his duty to act with all -fidelity and perfect good faith; to give his attention carefully -to the business, acting as his best judgment may advise for the -benefit of all. While, however, a breach of these obligations -creates a liability for such misfeasance or wrong act as a -partner may be guilty of, it does in no way affect outside parties, -unless cognizant of and participating in same.</p> - -<p>Gains and losses how shared? The object of our partnership -is the hope of gain; its effect may be the realization of loss.</p> - -<p>This question of division ought to be solved by reference to -the articles of agreement, which should have expressed the -whole partnership contract, and have been signed by all the -partners. This not done? Well then, we say, all should share -in equal proportions the gains or losses, first making unequal -investments equal by an allowance of interest on net investments, -and equalizing individual ability and experience by allowing -each partner that salary to which, measuring his services -by comparison with those rendered by other partners, he -seems to be fairly entitled. Where capital and skill are equal, -an equal sharing in the gains or losses is equitable.</p> - -<h4>Dissolution.</h4> - -<p>The following conditions serve to dissolve a partnership:</p> - -<p>The expiration of the time for which the partnership was -organized; ordinarily the completion of the business for the -purpose of accomplishing which the partnership was formed;</p> - -<p>The misfeasance of a partner; whenever a partner fails to -act in harmony with his associates, or disposes of his interest -in the partnership affairs;</p> - -<p>By the death of any one of the partners;</p> - -<p>By decree of the court ordering the same;</p> - -<p>By the consent of all the partners at any time.</p> - -<p>After the dissolution, a partner acts no longer for his former -copartners to the extent of entering into or incurring new obligations. -Each partner however has full power to collect -debts due the firm, signing the firm name to receipts, and also -to liquidate outstanding obligations of the firm, unless by special -agreement these powers are conferred on one partner -alone. This is an arrangement which affects the partners only, -third persons being protected in a settlement with any member -of a late partnership dissolved.</p> - -<p>After the business is wholly settled, all liabilities being paid, -and not till then, is a partner entitled to his share of the partnership -funds.</p> - -<p>Notice of the dissolution of a partnership should be publicly -given, it being necessary in the case of one or more retiring -from the firm, in order to secure them from future liability. -Individually this notice is given by mail to all with whom the -firm has been dealing. This, in addition to ordinary publication -of notice in newspaper, is sufficient.</p> - -<h4>SALES—Personal Property.</h4> - -<p>A sale is the transfer of certain property from one to another -for a certain sum paid or to be paid, those being parties to it, to -make it valid, who are competent to enter into a contract.</p> - -<p>A sale effected entitles the purchaser to possession of the -goods on payment of price agreed upon; or, if purchaser be -given credit, at once, unless there be some special agreement -to the contrary.</p> - -<p>In the case of goods shipped to a purchaser who becomes -insolvent before they have been delivered, the vendor may order -the carrier to hold them subject to his (vendor’s) order, -thereby exercising a privilege given him by law, and called the -right of stoppage <i>in transitu</i>.</p> - -<p>All sales are not made with an actual knowledge on the part -of the vendee of the quality of his purchase, some being by -sample. Sales in this manner give credence to the inference -that the samples constitute a part of the goods sold, and therefore -the goods must be of same quality as the samples, else the -vendor does not comply with the conditions of the contract to -which he is a party, and the purchaser may refuse to complete -the sale by acceptance of the goods.</p> - -<p>The quality of goods sold must be as represented by the -vendor, if he warrants them by such representation, in order -to secure a sale. In sales each one is supposed to be on his -guard. “Let the purchaser beware,” is the maxim. And if, -without actual fraud, concealment or misrepresentation on the -part of the vendor, the vendee is deceived in a purchase because -of poor judgment, he alone must suffer the consequences -and take the loss. A warranty of an article puts the vendor -under the necessity of making compensation to vendee, if the -article is defective wherein warranted.</p> - -<p>A purchase of stolen property gives to the purchaser no title -as against the true owner, or the one from whom the property -was stolen, even though the purchase be made in good faith, -and for a full consideration. “Let the purchaser beware.”</p> - -<p>There is but one species of personal property to which this -will not apply, and that negotiable commercial paper.</p> - -<p>Some contracts regarding sales must be in writing, and -signed by the party to be charged, or his agent. What are -they? See article on contracts.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="READINGS_IN_ART">READINGS IN ART.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>I.—ITALIAN PAINTERS AND PAINTINGS.</h3> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">The present paper has been abridged from “Italian Paintings,” by Edward J. -Poynter, R. A., and Percy R. Head.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Italian painting is divided into a number of schools, each of -which has some illustrious artist as its founder, and a train of -skillful and exact workmen following his methods. To study -the style and methods of the master is to study the school. -The most famous of these artists have been selected to represent -the Art of Italy, the first of whom, the father of Italian -painting, is</p> - -<h4>GIOTTO.</h4> - -<p>Giotto was born near Florence, in 1266. Employed as a boy -in watching sheep, he is said to have been one day discovered -by the artist Cimabue, as he was sketching one of his flock -upon a stone. The painter, surprised at the promise shown by -the boy, who was not more than ten years old, took him to -Florence, and made him his pupil. Giotto’s earliest works -were executed at Florence, and at the age of thirty he had already -attained such fame that he was invited to Rome by Pope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span> -Boniface VIII., to take part in the decoration of the ancient -Basilica of Saint Peter. The <i>Navicella</i> mosaic which he there -executed, representing the Disciples in the Storm, is preserved -in the vestibule of the present Saint Peter’s. The famous story -of “Giotto’s O” belongs to this episode in his career. When -the envoy sent by the pope to engage his services begged for -some drawing or design which might be shown to his holiness -in proof of the artist’s talent, Giotto, taking an ordinary brush -full of color, and steadying his arm against his side, described -a perfect circle on an upright panel with a sweep of the wrist, -and offered this manual feat as sufficient evidence of his powers. -The story shows the importance attached by a great artist -to mere precision in workmanship, and teaches the useful -lesson that genius, unsupported by the skill only to be acquired -by discipline and labor, is wanting in the first condition -which makes great achievements possible. This visit to Rome -took place about 1298; soon afterward we find Giotto engaged -on his frescoes in the church of Saint Francis at Assisi, a series -of allegorical designs illustrating the saint’s spiritual life and -character. In 1306 he was working at the fine series of frescoes -in the Arena Chapel at Padua, which represent thirty-eight -scenes from the lives of the Virgin and of Christ. We -here see Giotto in the fulness of his powers; the incidents are -treated with a charming simplicity and sentiment for nature, -and he rises to great solemnity of style in the more important -scenes. Important works by Giotto are found in many other -places beside those mentioned above, including especially -Naples, Ravenna, Milan, Pisa and Lucca. Perhaps the finest -are those which have been discovered of late years in the -Church of Santa Croce at Florence under coats of whitewash -which happily had preserved them almost intact; the “Last -Supper,” in the refectory of the convent attached to the church, -is in remarkable preservation, and is a magnificent example of -the style of the time. The twenty-six panels which he painted -for the presses in the sacristry of the same church are good -illustrations of his method of treatment; natural and dignified -with the interest concentrated on the figures; the background -and accessories being treated in the simplest possible manner, -and hardly more than symbols expressing the locality in which -the scene is enacted. Giotto was the first of the moderns who -attempted portrait-painting with any success, and some most -interesting monuments of his skill in that branch of art have -been preserved to us. In 1840, discovery was made, in the -chapel of the Podestà’s palace at Florence, of some paintings -by Giotto, containing a number of portraits, among them one -of his friend, the poet Dante; the portraits being introduced, -as was usual among the early painters, and indeed frequent at -all periods, as subordinate actors in the scene represented. -Giotto was not only a painter; as a sculptor and architect he was -also distinguished. Giotto died at Florence in January, 1337, -and was buried with public solemnities in the cathedral. His -style, though marked by the hardness and quaintness of a -time when chiaro-scuro and perspective were very imperfectly -understood, displays the originality of his genius in its thoughtful -and vigorous design, and shows how resolutely the artist -relied, not on traditions, but on keen and patient observation -of nature.</p> - -<h4>FRA ANGELICO.</h4> - -<p>The earliest of the great fifteenth-century painters belongs -in the character of his works rather to the preceding century. -The monk Guido di Pietro of Fiesole, commonly called Fra -Angelico from the holiness and purity which were as conspicuous -in his life as in his works, was born in 1387 at Vicchio, -in the province of Mugello. At the age of twenty he entered -the order of the Predicants at Fiesole, and took the name of -Giovanni, by which he was afterward known. His first art -work was the illumination of manuscripts. Quitting the monastery -in 1409, he practiced as a fresco-painter in various places -until 1418, when he returned to Fiesole, and continued to reside -there for the next eighteen years. In 1436 he again quitted -his retreat, to paint a series of frescoes on the history of the -Passion for the convent of San Marco in Florence. This work -occupied nine years, and on its completion Angelico was invited -to Rome. The chief work which he undertook there was -the decoration of a chapel in the Vatican for Pope Nicholas -V. In 1447 he went to Orvieto to undertake a similar task, but -returned in the same year, having done only three compartments -of the ceiling, and leaving the rest to be afterward completed -by Luca Signorelli. He then continued to reside in -Rome, where he died and was buried in 1455. The most striking -characteristics of Angelico’s art spring from the temper of -religious fervor with which he practiced it. He worked without -payment; he prayed before beginning any work for the -Divine guidance in its conception; and believing himself to -be so assisted, he regarded each picture as a revelation, and -could never be persuaded to alter any part of it. His works -on panel are very numerous, and are to be found in many -public and private galleries; of the finest of these are, a “Last -Judgment,” belonging to the Earl of Dudley, and the “Coronation -of the Virgin” in the gallery of the Louvre. After his death -he was “beatified” by the church he had served so devotedly—a -solemnity which ranks next to canonization; and Il Beato -Angelico is the name by which Fra Giovanni was and is most -fondly and reverently remembered. His style survived only -in one pupil who assisted him at Orvieto.</p> - -<h4>LEONARDO DA VINCI.</h4> - -<p>Leonardo da Vinci belonged to the Florentine school, the -fifteenth century, of which he was the first great example. -Leonardo was the son of a notary of Vinci, near Florence, -and was born at that place in the year 1452. He became the -pupil of Andrea Verrocchio, the Florentine sculptor and -painter, and progressed so rapidly that he soon surpassed his -master, who is said to have thereupon given up painting in despair. -Leonardo’s studies at this time ranged over the whole -field of science and art; beside being a painter and a sculptor, -he was a practiced architect, engineer, and mechanician; profoundly -versed in mathematics and the physical sciences; and -an accomplished poet and musician. The famous letter in -which he applied to the Duke of Milan for employment, enumerates -only a few of his acquirements; he represents himself -as skilled in military and naval engineering, offensive and -defensive, and the construction of artillery, and as possessing -secrets in these matters hitherto unknown; he can make designs -for buildings, and undertake any work in sculpture, in -marble, in bronze, or in terra-cotta; and “in painting,” he -says, “I can do what can be done as well as any man, be he -who he may.” He concludes by offering to submit his own -account of himself to the test of experiment, at his excellency’s -pleasure. He entered the Duke’s service about the year 1482, -receiving a yearly salary of 500 scudi. Under his auspices an -academy of arts was established in Milan in 1485, and he drew -round him a numerous school of painters. Of the many works -executed by Leonardo during his residence at Milan, the -greatest was the world renowned picture of the “Last Supper,” -painted in oil upon the wall of the refectory of the convent of -Santa Maria delle Grazie. Whether it was the fault of the wall -or the medium used by the painter, the great picture rapidly -faded, and by the end of fifty years had virtually perished. It -is still shown, but decay and restoration have left little of the -original work of Leonardo. The best idea of it is to be got -from the old copies, taken while the picture was yet perfect; -of these the most valuable is the one executed in 1510 by -Marco d’Oggione, now in the possession of the Royal Academy -of London. His other important achievement, while at -Milan, was a work of sculpture, which unfortunately perished -within a few years of its completion. It seems to have occupied -him at intervals for eleven years, for the completed model -was first exhibited to the public in 1493. All that we now -know of it is from the numerous sketches in the Royal Collection -at Windsor. The model was still in existence in 1501,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> -after which nothing more is recorded of it. He also at this -time made a model for the cupola of Milan Cathedral, which -was never carried out. In 1499 Leonardo left Milan and returned -to Florence. He received a commission in 1503 to -paint the wall at one end of the Council Hall of the Palazzo -Vecchio, the decoration of the other end being at the same -time entrusted to Michelangelo. Leonardo’s picture was never -completed, and Michelangelo’s apparently never begun; but -the cartoons for their two compositions, known respectively as -the “Battle of the Standard” and the “Cartoon of Pisa,” excited -the greatest admiration, and were termed by Benvenuto Cellini -“the school of the world;” both have been lost or destroyed; -all that we know of Leonardo’s composition is gained from a -drawing of it by Rubens in black and red chalk in the gallery -of the Louvre, to which, though spirited enough, he contrived -to impart the coarse Flemish character with which all his work -is disfigured. In 1514 Leonardo visited Rome, and was to -have executed some work in the Vatican, had not an affront -put upon him by the pope given him offence and caused him -to leave Rome. He went to the King of France, Francis I., -who was then at Pavia, took service with him, and accompanied -him to France, in the early part of 1516. He was, however, -weakened by age and in bad health, and did little or no -new work in France. In a little more than three years’ time, -in May 1519, he died, at Cloux, near Amboise, at the age of -sixty-seven.</p> - -<p>Those pictures of Leonardo, which we may regard with confidence -as the work of his own hand, fully justify the exceptional -admiration with which he has always been regarded. -He was excessively fastidious in his work, “his soul being full -of the sublimity of art,” and spent years over the execution of -some of his works. The painting of the portrait of Madonna -Lisa is said to have extended over four years, and to have -been then left incomplete. His mind also was at times equally -bent on scientific matters, and for long periods he was entirely -absorbed in the study of mathematics. For these reasons he -produced but few pictures; if, however, he had left none, his -drawings, which fortunately exist in large numbers, would suffice -to account for the enthusiasm which his work has always -excited. It is certain that we do not see his pictures in the -state in which they left his easel; from some causes, unnecessary -to discuss, they have blackened in the shadows, and the -colors have faded. Vasari praises beyond measure the carnations -of the Mona Lisa, which, he says, “do not appear to be -painted, but truly flesh and blood;” but no trace of these delicate -tints now remains.</p> - -<p>Leonardo was the author of many treatises, some of which -only have been published. The most celebrated is the “Trattato -della Pittura,” still a book of high authority among writings -on art.</p> - -<h4>MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI</h4> - -<p>Was born at Castel Caprese, near Arezzo, in 1475. In 1488 he -entered the school of Ghirlandaio, the master giving a small -payment for the boy’s services. His precocious abilities soon -attracted the notice of Lorenzo de’ Medici, and until the death -of that prince in 1492, Michelangelo worked under his especial -patronage. His earliest drawings show a spontaneous power -which made Fuseli say that “as an artist he had no infancy;” -but for many years he confined himself almost entirely to -sculpture; and some of his greatest achievements in that kind -of art were executed before he undertook his first considerable -work with the pencil. This was the “Cartoon of Pisa,” finished -in 1505, and intended as a design for a mural picture to face -that of Leonardo in the Council Hall at Florence. This cartoon -is lost, but a copy in monochrome, containing probably -the whole of the composition, exists in England. During its -progress he had broken off to visit Rome, and execute some -sculptural work for the pope; and in 1508 he went to Rome -again to begin the great achievement of his life, the frescoes -of the Sistine Chapel. The paintings of the ceiling illustrate -the Creation and the Fall of Man, together with other scenes -and figures typical of the Redemption. The middle part of the -ceiling is divided into nine compartments, containing the -“Creation of Eve” (placed in the center, as symbolizing the -woman of whom the Messiah was born), the “Creation of -Adam,” the “Temptation, Fall and Expulsion” in one composition, -the “Separation of Light from Darkness,” the “Gathering -of the Waters,” the “Creation of the Sun and Moon,” the -“Deluge,” the “Thanksgiving of Noah,” and the “Drunkenness -of Noah.” At the corners of the ceiling are four designs of -the great deliverances of the children of Israel, the Brazen -Serpent, David and Goliath, Judith with the head of Holofernes, -and the punishment of Haman. There are six windows -on each side of the chapel; the lunettes which surround them, -and the spaces above them, are occupied by groups of the -ancestors of Christ. Between the windows, at the springing of -the vault, are colossal seated figures of the Prophets and -Sibyls who foretold the coming of the Savior. They are arranged -alternately as follows:—Jeremiah, Persian Sibyl, Ezekiel, -Erythræan Sibyl, Joel, Delphic Sibyl, Isaiah, Cumæan -Sibyl, Daniel, Libyan Sibyl; Jonah and Zachariah are placed -one at each end of the chapel, between the historical compositions -at the angles of the ceiling. These single figures are the -most striking features of the design, and calculated skilfully to -help the architectural effect. The side walls of the chapel, -below the springing of the vault, had already been decorated -with frescoes executed by Sandro Botticelli, Cosimo Rosselli, -Ghirlandaio, Luca Signorelli, and Perugino. Michelangelo’s -frescoes were finished toward the end of the year 1512. Vasari’s -statement that he painted them all in twenty months without -any assistance is undoubtedly exaggerated; it possibly refers -to the completion of the first half of the ceiling.</p> - -<p>For the next twenty years Michelangelo did little or nothing -in painting; but in 1533, at the age of fifty-nine, he began -the cartoons for the fresco of the “Last Judgment” on the wall -behind the altar in the Sistine Chapel. This celebrated composition -is entirely of nude figures, no accessories being introduced -to add to the terror of the scene. Each figure throughout -this vast composition has its appropriate meaning, and the -power of design and mastery of execution are unsurpassed and -unsurpassable. The picture was finished in 1541. Two frescoes -in the neighboring Pauline Chapel, the “Conversion of -Saint Paul,” and the “Crucifixion of Saint Peter,” which were -finished in 1549, were his last paintings. He had accepted, in -1547, the position of architect of Saint Peter’s, stipulating that -his services should be gratuitous. He continued to carry the -building forward, altering materially the original design of -Bramante, until his death, which took place in February, 1564. -His body was taken to Florence, and buried in Santa Croce.</p> - -<p>Although the genius of Michelangelo has exercised a vast -and widely diffused influence over all subsequent art, yet this -master, unlike Raphael, formed no school of his own immediate -followers. It must be admitted that Raphael owes him -much, for he never found his full strength until he had seen -Michelangelo’s works at Rome, when his style underwent immediate -improvement. None of those who worked under -Michelangelo dared to walk directly in his steps; there is in -his style, as there was in the character of the man himself, a -certain stern individuality which gives the impression of solitary -and unapproachable greatness. Of his assistants, the -most eminent was Sebastiano del Piombo.</p> - -<h4>RAFFAELLO SANZIO,</h4> - -<p>Always called Raphael, was born at Urbino in 1483. His father -died when he was eleven years old, and the boy was placed by -his uncles, who became his guardians, with Perugino. His -handiwork at this time is no doubt to be traced in many of -Perugino’s pictures and frescoes; and, as may be seen, he -was an important coadjutor with Pinturicchio at Siena. The -earliest picture known to be painted entirely by himself is -a “Crucifixion,” in the collection of Lord Dudley, done at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span> -age of seventeen, which closely resembles the style of Perugino. -In 1504 he first visited Florence, where he enjoyed the friendship -of Francia and Fra Bartholommeo, and made acquaintance -with the works of Leonardo and Michelangelo—new influences -which considerably affected his style. With the exception of -short visits to Perugia, Bologna, and Urbino, he was resident -in Florence until 1508. In that year he went to Rome at the -invitation of Pope Julius II., and was for the rest of his life continually -in the employment of that pontiff and his successor, -Leo X. Raphael died on his birthday, the 6th of April, 1520, -aged exactly thirty-seven years.</p> - -<p>Raphael’s manner as a painter is divided into three styles, -corresponding with the broad divisions of his life’s history. -Unlike Michelangelo, whose genius and individuality is -stamped on the earliest works from his hand, Raphael gained, -as his experience of what had been done by his contemporaries -was enlarged, a deeper and further insight into his own -powers. His first, or Peruginesque style, characterizes those -works which he produced while still the companion of his master, -before his first visit to Florence; of these pictures the most -important are the “Sposalizio” (or “Marriage of the Virgin,”) -at Milan, and the “Coronation of the Virgin,” in the Vatican. -His second, or Florentine, style covers the four years from his -arrival in Florence in 1504, to his departure for Rome in 1508; -here the manner of Fra Bartholommeo had great influence upon -him; to this period belong the “Madonna del Cardellino” -(“of the Goldfinch,”) in the Uffizi, “La Belle Jardinière,” of -the Louvre, the “Madonna del Baldacchino,” in the Pitti -(which was left incomplete by Raphael, and finished by another -hand), and the “Entombment” in the Borghese Gallery, -at Rome, his first attempt at a great historical composition. It -is in his third, or Roman, style that Raphael fully asserts that -sovereignty in art which has earned him the name of Prince of -painters, and appears as the head of his own school, which, -generally called the Roman School, might perhaps, as he collected -round him followers from all parts of Italy, more fitly be -termed the Raphaelesque. This third period includes all his -great frescoes in the Vatican, with a host of easel pictures; for, -short as Raphael’s life was, his works are wondrously numerous, -and our space permits mention of only a few of even the -most celebrated.</p> - -<p>It has been questioned whether Raphael’s art gained by -what he learnt from Michelangelo, some critics affirming that -his earlier style is his best. This, however, must be considered -to be entirely a matter of taste. Most painters—unless, -like Fra Angelico, so entirely absorbed in the mystical side of -their art as never to change their style—as they gain in power -of expression, lose something of their youthful emotional fervor; -and it is possible to assert that in the magnificent design -of the “Incendio del Borgo” the dramatic element is more in -evidence than in the “Disputa.” But what is lost on the emotional -and religious side is compensated for by the gain in -power of representation; and it is difficult to stand before the -cartoon of “The Miraculous Draught of Fishes,” and not to -confess that Giotto himself could not have imparted a more -implicit trustfulness and childlike belief in the power of the -Redeemer to the look and gesture of St. Peter; and while the -magnificent simplicity of the youths drawing the net is conceived -in an equal spirit of truthfulness to nature, the grandeur -of style and the knowledge displayed in the drawing is so much -pure gain on his earlier manner.</p> - -<p>The Loggie, or open corridors of the Vatican, were also -adorned by Raphael’s scholars with a series of fifty-two paintings -of Biblical subjects from his designs; the whole series was -known as “Raphael’s Bible.”</p> - -<p>In 1515 he was commissioned to design tapestries for the Sistine -Chapel; of the ten cartoons (distemper paintings on paper) -for these tapestries three have been lost; the other seven after -many dangers and vicissitudes came into the possession of -Charles I. of England. They are perhaps the most remarkable -art treasures belonging to England, and are at present exhibited, -by permission of Her Majesty, in the South Kensington -Museum.</p> - -<p>Among the greatest oil pictures of Raphael’s third period -may be enumerated the “Madonna di Foligno” in the Vatican; -the “Madonna della Sedia” in the Pitti Palace at Florence; -the “Saint Cecilia” at Bologna; the “Madonna of the -Fish,” and the picture of “Christ Bearing His Cross,” known -as the “Spasimo,” in the splendid collection at Madrid; the -“Madonna di San Sisto” at Dresden, which obtained for the -artist the name of “the Divine;” and finally the “Transfiguration” -at the Vatican, the sublime picture on which his last -working hours were spent, and which was carried at his funeral -before its colors were dry.</p> - -<h4>TIZIANO VECELLIO,</h4> - -<p>Commonly called by the anglicised form of his Christian -name, Titian, was born at Cadore, near Venice, in 1477. His -studies in art began at the age of ten, under a painter named -Zuccato, from whose studio he passed to Gentile Bellini’s, and -from his again to that of his brother Giovanni. Space forbids -us to do more than indicate the chief landmarks in Titian’s -long, eventful, and illustrious life. When his reputation as a -great artist was new, before he was thirty years old, he visited -the court of Ferrara, and executed for the duke two of his -earliest masterpieces, the “Tribute Money,” now at Dresden, -and the “Bacchus and Ariadne,” in the National Gallery of London. -In 1516 he painted his great altarpiece, the “Assumption,” -now removed from its church to the Accademia at Venice, and -was at once placed by this incomparable work in the highest rank -of painters. The “Entombment” of the Louvre was painted -about 1523; and in 1528 he executed another magnificent altarpiece, -the “Death of St. Peter Martyr,” in the church of SS. Giovanni -e Paolo, which was destroyed in the fire of 1867. In -1530 Titian was invited to Bologna, to paint the portrait of the -Emperor Charles V.; and he is supposed by some writers to -have accompanied the emperor shortly afterward to Spain. -Owing to the patronage which Charles V. and his son Philip -II. liberally conferred on the artist, Madrid possesses a collection -of his works second in number and importance only to the -treasures of Venice. The “Presentation in the Temple,” in the -Accademia at Venice, dates from about 1539, and the “Christ at -Emmaus,” in the Louvre, from about 1546. In 1545 he painted -at Rome the celebrated portrait of “Pope Paul III.,” in the Naples -Museum. Titian continued active in his art even up to -the time of his death, which occurred in 1576, at the great age -of ninety-nine. His style, as is to be expected, changed considerably -in the course of his long life, and the pictures painted -in his last years, though full of color, are infirm in drawing -and execution; in the full vigor of his powers he was a -draughtsman second to none, though never aiming at the select -beauty of form attained by the Florentine school, and by Raphael. -It was this that led Michelangelo to say that, with a -better mode of study, “This man might have been as eminent -in design as he is true to nature and masterly in counterfeiting -the life, and then, nothing could be desired better or more perfect;” -adding, “for he has an exquisite perception, and a delightful -spirit and manner.”</p> - -<p>The splendid artistic power of Titian may perhaps be better -discerned in his portraits than in the more ambitious works of -sacred art. He stands unquestionably at the head of portrait -painters of all ages and of all schools; not even Velasquez -equaling him at his best. Beside religious pictures and portraits -he painted a great number of subjects from classical -mythology. Among the most famous, beside the “Bacchus -and Ariadne,” mentioned above—the pride of the English -collection—may be named the “Bacchanals” of Madrid, the two -of “Venus” in the Uffizi, at Florence, the “Danae,” at Naples, -and the often repeated “Venus and Adonis,” and “Diana -and Callisto.” He is seen at his very best in the “Venus” of -the Tribune, at Florence, perhaps the only work of his which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> -has escaped retouching, and in the exquisite allegory called -“Sacred and Profane Love,” at the Borghese Palace, at Rome. -As a landscape painter, he possessed a sentiment for nature in -all its forms which had never before been seen, and his backgrounds -have never been equaled since. The mountains in -the neighborhood of his native town, Cadore, of which, as well -as of other landscape scenes, numerous pen and ink drawings -by his hand are in existence, inspired him, doubtless, with that -solemn treatment of effects of cloud and light and shade and -blue distance for which his pictures are conspicuous.</p> - -<p>It is unnecessary to deal with the school of painting which -exists in Italy at the present day. It would be paying it too -high a compliment to regard it as the legitimate successor of -the art of those great epochs whose course we have tried to -sketch. The modern Italian school is little more than an echo -of the modern French. And seeing that there is no principle -clearer or more certain than this, that a great national school -of art can flourish only when it springs from a sane and vigorous -national existence, it is not to be wondered at if a country -so convulsed by the political passions and so vulgarized by -the social triviality and meanness of modern times, should be -in this respect cast down further than her more fortunate neighbors -by the same causes which have soiled even the best art of -the nineteenth century with something of dilettantism and -affectation.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="SUNDAY_READINGS">SUNDAY READINGS.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">SELECTED BY THE REV. J. H. VINCENT, D.D.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="APR6">[<i>April 6.</i>]<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION.</span></h3> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any -man love the world the love of the Father is not in him.—I. John, ii:15.</p> - -</div> - -<p>There are two ways in which a practical moralist may attempt -to displace from the human heart its love of the world—either -by a demonstration of the world’s vanity, so that the heart -will be prevailed upon simply to withdraw its regards from an -object that is not worthy of it, or by setting forth another object, -even God, as more worthy of its attachment, so as that -the heart shall be prevailed upon not to resign an old affection, -which shall have nothing to succeed it, but to exchange an old -affection for a new one. My purpose is to show that from the constitution -of our nature, the former method is altogether incompetent -and ineffectual, and that the latter method will alone -suffice for the rescue and recovery of the heart from the wrong -affection that sometimes domineers over it. After having -accomplished this purpose, I shall attempt a few practical -observations.</p> - -<p>Love may be regarded in two different conditions. The first -is when the object is at a distance, and then it becomes love in -a state of desire. The second is when its object is in possession, -and then it becomes love in a state of indulgence. Under -the impulse of desire, man feels himself urged onward in -some path or pursuit of activity for its gratification. The faculties -of his mind are put into busy exercise. In the steady -direction of one great and engrossing interest, his attention is -recalled from the many reveries into which it might otherwise -have wandered; and the powers of his body are forced away -from an indolence in which it else might have languished; and -that time is crowded with occupation, which but for some -object of keen and devoted ambition, might have driveled -along in successive hours of weariness and distaste, and though -hope does not enliven, and success does not always crown this -career of exertion, yet in the midst of this very variety, and -with the alternations of occasional disappointment, is the machinery -of the whole man kept in a sort of congenial play, -and upholden in that tone and temper which are most agreeable -to it. Insomuch, that if through the extirpation of that -desire which forms the originating principle of all this movement, -the machinery were to stop, and to receive no impulse -from another desire substituted in its place, the man would be -left with all his propensities to action in a state of most painful -and unnatural abandonment.</p> - -<p>A sensitive person suffers, and is in violence, if, after having -thoroughly rested from his fatigue, or been relieved from his -pain, he continues in possession of powers without any excitement -to these powers; if he possess a capacity of desire without -having an object of desire; or if he have a spare energy -upon his person, without a counterpart, and without a stimulus -to call it into operation. The misery of such a condition is -often realized by him who is retired from business, or who is -retired from law, or who is even retired from the occupations of -the chase and of the gaming table. Such is the demand of our -nature for an object in pursuit, that no accumulation of previous -success can extinguish it, and thus it is that the most prosperous -merchant, and the most victorious general, and the most -fortunate gamester, when the labor of their respective vocations -has come to a close, are often found to languish in the -midst of all their acquisitions, as if out of their kindred and -rejoicing element. It is quite in vain with such a constitutional -appetite for employment in man, to attempt cutting away from -him the spring or the principle of one employment, without -providing him with another. The whole heart and habit will -rise in resistance against such an undertaking. The else unoccupied -female, who spends the hours of every evening at -some play of hazard, knows as well as you, that the pecuniary -gain, or the honorable triumph of a successful contest, are altogether -paltry. It is not such a demonstration of vanity as this -that will force her away from her dear and delightful occupation. -The habit can not so be displaced as to leave nothing -but a negative and cheerless vacancy behind it—though it -may be so supplanted as to be followed up by another habit of -employment to which the power of some new affection has constrained -her. It is willingly suspended, for example, on any -single evening, should the time that was wont to be allotted to -gaming require to be spent on the preparation of an approaching -assembly.</p> - -<p>The ascendant power of a second affection will do what no -exposition, however forcible, of the folly and worthlessness of -the first, ever could effectuate. And it is the same in the great -world. You never will be able to arrest any of its leading pursuits, -by a naked demonstration of their vanity. It is quite in vain to -think of stopping one of these pursuits in any way else, but by -stimulating to another. In attempting to bring a worldly man, -intent and busied with the prosecution of his objects, to a dead -stand, you have not merely to encounter the charm which he -annexes to these objects, but you have to encounter the -pleasure which he feels in the very prosecution of them. It is -not enough, then, that you dissipate the charm by your moral, -and eloquent, and affecting exposure of its illusiveness. You -must address to the eye of his mind another object, with a -charm powerful enough to dispossess the first of its influence, -and to engage him in some other prosecution as full of interest, -and hope, and congenial activity, as the former. It is this -which stamps an impotency on all moral and pathetic declamation -of the insignificance of the world. A man will no more -consent to the misery of being without an object, because that -object is a trifle, or of being without a pursuit, because that -pursuit terminates in some frivolous or fugitive acquirement, -than he will voluntarily submit himself to the torture because -that torture is to be of short duration. If to be without desire -and without exertion altogether, is a state of violence and discomfort, -then the present desire, with its correspondent train of -exertion, is not to be got rid of simply by destroying it. It -must be by substituting another desire, or another line of habit -or exertion in its place, and the most effectual way of withdrawing -the mind from one object, is not by turning it away -upon desolate and unpeopled vacancy, but by presenting to -its regards another object still more alluring.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span></p> - -<p>These remarks apply not merely to love considered in the -state of desire for an object not yet attained. They apply also -to love considered in its state of indulgence, or placid gratification, -with an object already in possession. It is seldom that -any of our tastes are made to disappear by a process of natural -extinction. At least, it is very seldom that this is done by the -instrumentality of reasoning. It may be done by excessive -pampering, but it is almost never done by the mere force of -mental determination. But what can not be thus destroyed -may be dispossessed, and one taste may be made to give way -to another, and to lose its power entirely as the reigning affection -of the mind. It is thus that the boy ceases, at length, to -be the slave of his appetite, but it is because a manlier taste -has now brought it into subordination, and that the youth -ceases to idolize pleasure, but it is because the idol of wealth -has become the stronger, and gotten the ascendency—and that -even the love of money ceases to have the mastery over the -heart of many a thriving citizen, but it is because drawn into -the whirl of city politics, another affection has been wrought -into his moral system, and he is now lorded over by the love -of power. There is not one of these transformations in which -the heart is left without an object. Its desire for one particular -object may be conquered; but as to its desire for having some -one object, or other, this is unconquerable. Its adhesion to -that on which it has fastened the preference of its regards, can -not willingly be overcome by the rending away of a single separation. -It can be done only by the application of something -else, to which it may feel the adhesion of a still stronger and -more powerful preference. Such is the grasping tendency of -the human heart, that it must have something to lay hold of—and -which, if wrested away, without the substitution of another -something in its place, would leave a void and a vacancy as -painful to the mind as hunger is to the natural system. It may -be dispossessed of one object or of any, but it can not be desolated -of all. Let there be a breathing and a sensitive heart, -but without a liking and without affinity to any of the things -that are around it, and in a state of cheerless abandonment, it -would be alive to nothing but the burden of its own consciousness, -and feel it to be intolerable. It would make no difference to its -owner, whether he dwelt in the midst of a gay and goodly world, -or placed afar beyond the outskirts of creation, he dwelt a solitary -unit in dark and unpeopled nothingness. The heart must -have something to cling to—and never, by its own voluntary -consent, will it so denude itself of all its attachments that there -shall not be one remaining object that can draw or solicit it.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="APR13">[<i>April 13.</i>]</h3> - -<p>The misery of a heart thus bereft of all relish for that which is -wont to minister to its enjoyment, is strikingly exemplified in -those who, satiated with indulgence, have been so belabored, -as it were, with the variety and the poignancy of the pleasurable -sensations that they have experienced, that they are at -length fatigued out of all capacity for sensation whatever. The -disease of ennui is more frequent in the French metropolis, -where amusement is more exclusively the occupation of higher -classes, than it is in the British metropolis, where the longings -of the heart are more diversified by the resources of business -and politics. There are the votaries of fashion, who, in this -way, have at length become the victims of fashionable excess, -in whom the very multitude of their enjoyments has at last -extinguished their power of enjoyment—who, plied with the -delights of sense and of splendor even to weariness, and incapable -of higher delights, have come to the end of all their perfection, -and, like Solomon of old, found it to be vanity and -vexation. The man whose heart has thus been turned into a -desert can vouch for the insupportable languor which must -ensue, when one affection is thus plucked away from the bosom, -without another to replace it. It is not necessary that a man -receive pain from anything in order to become miserable. It -is barely enough that he looks with distaste at everything—and -in that asylum which is the repository of minds out of joint, -and where the organ of feeling as well as the organ of intellect, -has been impaired, it is not in the cell of loud and frantic outcries -where you will meet with the acme of mental suffering. -But that is the individual who outpeers in wretchedness all his -fellows, who throughout the whole expanse of nature and society, -meets not an object that has at all the power to detain or -interest him; who neither in earth beneath, nor in heaven -above, knows of a single charm to which his heart can send -forth one desirous or responding movement; to whom the world, -in his eye a vast and empty desolation, has left him nothing -but his own consciousness to feed upon—dead to all that is -without him, and alive to nothing but to the load of his own -torpid and useless existence.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We hope that by this time you understand the impotency of -a mere demonstration of this world’s insignificance. Its sole -practical effect, if it had any, would be to leave the heart in a -state which to every heart is insupportable, and that is a mere -state of nakedness and negation. You may remember the -fond and unbroken tenacity with which your heart has often -recurred to pursuits, over the utter frivolity of which it sighed -and wept but yesterday. The arithmetic of your short-lived -days, may on Sabbath make the clearest impression upon your -understanding, and from his fancied bed of death may the -preacher cause a voice to descend in rebuke and mockery on -all the pursuits of earthliness, and as he pictures before you the -fleeting generations of men, with the absorbing grave, whither -all the joys and interests of the world hasten to their sure and -speedy oblivion, may you, touched and solemnized by his argument, -feel for a moment as if on the eve of a practical and permanent -emancipation from a scene of so much vanity.</p> - -<p>But the morrow comes, and the business of the world, and the -objects of the world, and the moving forces of the world, come -along with it, and the machinery of the heart, in virtue of which -it must have something to grasp, or something to adhere to, -brings it under a kind of moral necessity to be actuated just as -before, and in utter repulsion toward a state so unkindly as -that of being frozen out both of delight and of desire, does it -feel all the warmth and the urgency of its wonted solicitations, -nor in the habit and history of the whole man can we detect -so much as one symptom of the new creature, so that the -church, instead of being to him a school of obedience, has -been a mere sauntering place for the luxury of a passing and -theatrical emotion; and the preaching which is mighty to compel -the attendance of multitudes, and which is mighty to still -and to solemnize the hearers into a kind of tragic sensibility, -and which is mighty in the play of variety and vigor that it can -keep up around the imagination, is not mighty to the pulling -down of strongholds.</p> - -<p>The love of the world can not be expunged by a mere demonstration -of the world’s worthlessness. But may it not be -supplanted by the love of that which is more worthy than -itself? The heart can not be prevailed upon to part with the -world by a single act of resignation. But may not the heart -be prevailed upon to admit into its preference another, who -shall subordinate the world, and bring it down from its wonted -ascendancy? If the throne which is placed there must have -an occupier, and the tyrant that now reigns has occupied it -wrongfully, he may not leave a bosom which would rather detain -him than be left in desolation. But may he not give way -to the lawful sovereign, appearing with every charm that can -secure his willing admittance, and taking unto himself his -great power to subdue the moral nature of man, and to reign -over it? In a word, if the way to disengage the heart from the -positive love of one great and ascendant object, is to fasten -it in positive love to another, then it is not by exposing the -worthlessness of the former, but by addressing to the mental -eye the worth and excellence of the latter, that all things are -to be done away, and all things are become new.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span></p> - -<p>To obliterate all our present affections by simply expunging -them, so as to leave the seat of them unoccupied, would be to -destroy the old character, and to substitute no new character -in its place. But when they take their departure upon the -ingress of others, when they resign their sway to the power -and the predominance of new affections, when, abandoning -the heart to solitude, they merely give place to a successor who -turns it into as busy a residence of desire, and interest, and -expectation as before—there is nothing in all this to thwart or -to overthrow any of the laws of our sentient nature—and we -see how, in fullest accordance with the mechanism of the heart, -a great moral revolution may be made to take place upon it.</p> - -<p>This, we trust, will explain the operation of that charm which -accompanies the effectual preaching of the gospel. The love -of God, and the love of the world, are two affections, not -merely in a state of rivalship, but in a state of enmity—and -that so irreconcilable that they can not dwell together in the -same bosom. We have already affirmed how impossible it -were for the heart, by any innate elasticity of its own, to cast -the world away from it, and thus reduce itself to a wilderness. -The heart is not so constituted, and the only way to dispossess -it of an old affection is by the expulsive power of a new one. -Nothing can exceed the magnitude of the required change in a -man’s character, when bidden, as he is in the New Testament, -not to love the world; no, nor any of the things that are in the -world, for this so comprehends all that is dear to him in existence -as to be equivalent to a command of self-annihilation. -But the same revelation which dictates so mighty an obedience, -places within our reach as mighty an instrument of obedience.</p> - -<p>It brings for admittance, to the very door of our heart, an -affection which, once seated upon its throne, will either subordinate -every previous inmate, or bid it away. Beside the world, -it places before the eye of the mind Him who made the world, -and with this peculiarity, which is all its own—that in the gospel -do we so behold God, as that we may love God. It is there, -and there only, where God stands revealed as an object of -confidence to sinners—and where our desire after Him is not -chilled into apathy by that barrier of human guilt which intercepts -every approach that is not made to Him through the appointed -Mediator. It is the bringing in of this better hope -whereby we draw nigh unto God—and to live without hope is -to live without God, and if the heart be without God, the world -will then have the ascendancy. It is God apprehended by the -believer as God in Christ, who alone can disport it from this -ascendancy. It is when He stands dismantled of the terrors -which belong to Him as an offended lawgiver, and when we -are enabled by faith, which is his own gift, to see His glory in -the face of Jesus Christ, and to hear His beseeching voice, as -it protests good will to men, and entreats the return of all who -will, to a full pardon and a gracious acceptance—it is then -that a love paramount to the love of the world, and at length -expulsive of it, first arises in the regenerating bosom. It is -when released from the spirit of bondage, with which love can -not dwell, and when to the number of God’s children, through -the faith that is in Christ Jesus, the spirit of adoption is found -upon us; it is then that the heart, brought under the mastery -of one great and predominant affection, is delivered from the -tyranny of its former desires, and in the only way in which -deliverance is possible. And that faith which is revealed to -us from heaven, as indispensable to a sinner’s justification in -the sight of God, is also the instrument of the greatest of all -moral and spiritual achievements on a nature dead to the influence, -and beyond the reach of every other application.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="APR20">[<i>April 20.</i>]</h3> - -<p>Thus may we come to perceive what it is that makes the most -effective kind of preaching. It is not enough to hold out to the -world’s eye the mirror of its own imperfections. It is not -enough to come forth with a demonstration, however pathetic, -of the evanescent character of all its enjoyments. It is not -enough to travel the walk of experience along with you, and -speak to your own conscience and your own recollection of the -deceitfulness of the heart, and the deceitfulness of all that the -heart is set upon. There is many a bearer of the gospel message -who has not shrewdness of natural discernment enough, -and who has not power of characteristic description enough, and -who has not the talent of moral delineation enough, to present -you with a vivid and faithful sketch of the existing follies of -society. But that very corruption which he has not the faculty -of representing in its visible details, he may practically be the -instrument of eradicating in its principle. Let him be but a -faithful expounder of the gospel testimony; unable as he may -be to apply a descriptive hand to the character of the present -world, let him but report with accuracy the matter which revelation -has brought to him from a distant world, unskilled as he -is in the work of so anatomizing the heart, as with the power -of a novelist to create a graphical or impressive exhibition of the -worthlessness of its many affections—let him only deal in those -mysteries of peculiar doctrine, on which the best of novelists -have thrown the wantonness of their derision. He may not be -able, with the eye of shrewd and satirical observation, to expose -to the ready recognition of his hearers the desires of -worldliness—but with the tidings of the gospel in commission, -he may wield the only engine that can extirpate them. He can -not do what some might have done, when, as if by the hand -of a magician they have brought out to view, from the hidden -recesses of our nature, the foibles and lurking appetites which -belong to it. But he has a truth in the possession, which, into -whatever heart it enters, will, like the rod of Aaron, swallow -up them all—and unqualified as he may be, to describe the old -man in all the nicer shading of his natural and constitutional -varieties, with him is deposited that ascendant influence under -which the leading tastes and tendencies of the old man are destroyed, -and he becomes a new creature in Jesus Christ our Lord.</p> - -<p>Let us not cease, then, to ply the only instrument of powerful -and positive operation, to do away from you the love of the -world. Let us try every legitimate method of finding access to -your hearts for the love of Him who is greater than the world. -For this purpose, if possible, clear away that shroud of unbelief -which so hides and darkens the face of the Deity. Let us -insist on His claims to your affection, and whether in the shape -of gratitude or in the shape of esteem, let us never cease to -affirm that in the whole of that wondrous economy, the purpose -of which is to reclaim a sinful world unto Himself, He, -the God of love, so sets Himself forth in characters of endearment, -that naught but faith, and naught but understanding are -wanting, on your part, to call forth the love of your hearts -back again.</p> - -<p>And here let me advert to the incredulity of a worldly man; -when he brings his own sound and secular experience to bear -upon the high doctrines of Christianity, when he looks upon -regeneration as a thing impossible, when feeling as he does -the obstinacies of his own heart, on the side of things present, -and casting an intelligent eye, much exercised, perhaps, in the -observations of human life, on the equal obstinacies of all who -are around him, he pronounces this whole matter about the -crucifixion of the old man, and the resurrection of a new man -in his place, to be in downright opposition to all that is known -and witnessed of the real nature of humanity. We think that -we have seen such men, who, firmly trenched in their own vigorous -and homebred sagacity, and shrewdly regardful of all -that passes before them through the week, and upon the scenes -of ordinary business, look on that transition of the heart by -which it gradually dies unto time, and awakens in all the life -of a new felt and ever growing desire toward God, as a mere -Sabbath speculation; and who thus, with all their attention -engrossed upon the concerns of earthliness, continue unmoved -to the end of their days, amongst the feelings and the appetites, -and the pursuits of earthliness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span></p> - -<p>If the thought of death, and another state of being after it, -comes across them at all, it is not with a change so radical as -that of being born again, that they ever connect the idea of -preparation. They have some vague conception of its being quite -enough that they acquit themselves in some decent and tolerable -way of their relative obligations; and that upon the strength -of some such social and domestic moralities as are often realized -by him in whose heart the love of God has never entered, -they will be transplanted in safety from this world, where God -is the Being with whom it may almost be said that they have -had nothing to do, to that world where God is the Being with -whom they will have mainly and immediately to do throughout -all eternity. They admit all that is said of the utter vanity of -time, when taken up with as a resting place. But they resist -every application made upon the heart of man, with the view -of so shifting its tendencies that it shall not henceforth find in -the interests of time, all its rest and all its refreshment. They -in fact regard such an attempt as an enterprise that is altogether -aerial, and with a tone of secular wisdom caught from -the familiarities of every-day experience, do they see a visionary -character in all that is said of setting our affections on the -things that are above, and of walking by faith, and of keeping -our hearts in such a love of God as shall shut out from -them the love of the world, and of having no confidence in -the flesh, and of so renouncing earthly things as to have our -conversation in heaven.</p> - -<p>Now, it is altogether worthy of being remarked of those men -who thus disrelish spiritual Christianity, and, in fact, deem it -an impracticable acquirement, how much of a piece their -incredulities about the doctrines of Christianity are with each -other. No wonder that they feel the work of the New Testament -to be beyond their strength, so long as they hold the -words of the New Testament to be beneath their attention. -Neither they nor any one else can dispossess the heart of an -old affection, but by the impulsive power of a new one, and, if -that new affection be the love of God, neither they nor any -one else can be made to entertain it, but on such a representation -of the Deity as shall draw the heart of the sinner toward -Him. Now, it is just their unbelief which screens from the -discernment of their minds this representation. They do not -see the love of God in sending His Son into the world. They -do not see the expression of his tenderness to men, in sparing -him not, but giving him up unto the death for us all. They do -not see the sufficiency of the atonement, or of the sufferings -that were endured by him who bore the burden that sinners -should have borne. They do not see the blended holiness and -compassion of the Godhead, in that He passed by the transgressions -of His creatures, yet could not pass them by without -an expiation. It is a mystery to them how a man should pass -to a state of godliness from a state of nature—but had they -only a believing view of God manifest in the flesh, this would -resolve for them the whole mystery of godliness. As it is, they -can not get quit of their old affections, because they are out of -sight from all those truths which have influence to raise a new -one. They are like the children of Israel in the land of Egypt, -when required to make bricks without straw—they can not -love God, while they want the only food which can aliment -this affection in a sinner’s bosom—and however great their -errors may be, both in resisting the demands of the gospel as -impracticable, and in rejecting the doctrines of the gospel as -inadmissible, yet there is not a spiritual man (and it is the prerogative -of Him who is spiritual to judge all men) who will not -perceive that there is a consistency in these errors.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="APR27">[<i>April 27.</i>]</h3> - -<p>But if there be a consistency in the errors, in like manner is -there a consistency in the truths which are opposite to them. -The man who believes in the peculiar doctrines will readily -bow to the peculiar demands of Christianity. When he is told -to love God supremely, this may startle him to whom God has -been revealed in grace, and in pardon, and in all the freeness -of an offered reconciliation. When told he should shut out -the world from the heart, this may be impossible with him who -has nothing to replace it—but not impossible with him who has -found in God a sure and a satisfying portion. When told to -withdraw his affections from the things that are beneath, this -was laying an order of self-extinction upon the man who knows -not another quarter in the whole sphere of his contemplation, -to which he could transfer them—but it were not grievous to -him whose view has been opened up to the loveliness and -glory of the things that are above, and can there find, for -every feeling of his soul, a most ample and delighted occupation. -When told to look not at the things that are seen and -temporal, this were blotting out the light of all that is visible -from the prospect of him in whose eye there is a wall of partition -between guilty nature and the joys of eternity—but he -who believes that Christ has broken down this wall, finds a -gathering radiance upon his soul, as he looks onward in faith -to the things that are unseen and eternal. Tell a man to be -holy—and how can he compass such a performance, when his -alone fellowship with holiness is a fellowship of despair? It -is the atonement of the cross, reconciling the holiness of the -lawgiver with the safety of the offender, that hath opened the -way for a sanctifying influence into the sinner’s heart, and he -can take a kindred impression from the character of God now -brought nigh, and now at peace with him.</p> - -<p>Separate the demand from the doctrine, and you have either -a system of righteousness that is impracticable, or a barren -orthodoxy. Bring the demand and the doctrine together, and -the true disciple of Christ is able to do the one through the -other strengthening him. The motive is adequate to the movement, -and the bidden obedience of the gospel is not beyond -the measure of his strength, just because the doctrine of the -gospel is not beyond the measure of his acceptance. The -shield of faith, and the hope of salvation, and the Word of -God, and the girdle of truth—these are the armor that he has -put on; and with these the battle is won, and the eminence is -reached, and the man stands on the vantage ground of a new -field and a new prospect. The effect is great, but the cause is -equal to it—and stupendous as this moral resurrection to the -precepts of Christianity undoubtedly is, there is an element of -strength enough to give it being and continuance in the principles -of Christianity.</p> - -<p>The object of the gospel is both to pacify the sinner’s conscience, -and to purify his heart; and it is of importance to -observe that what mars one of these objects, mars the other -also. The best way of casting out an impure affection is to -admit a pure one; and by the love of what is good, to expel -the love of what is evil. Thus it is, that the freer the gospel, -the more sanctifying the gospel; and the more it is received as -a doctrine of grace, the more will it be felt as a doctrine according -to godliness. This is one of the secrets of the Christian -life, that the more a man holds of God as a pensioner, the -greater is the payment of service that he renders back again. -On the tenure of “Do this and live,” a spirit of fearfulness is -sure to enter; and the jealousies of a legal bargain chase away -all confidence from the intercourse between God and man; -and the creature striving to be square and even with his Creator, -is, in fact, pursuing all the while his own selfishness instead -of God’s glory, and with all the conformities which he labors -to accomplish, the soul of obedience is not there, the mind is -not subject to the law of God, nor indeed under such an economy -ever can be. It is only when, as in the gospel, acceptance -is bestowed as a present, without money and without -price, that the security which man feels in God is placed beyond -the reach of disturbance, or that he can repose in him, -as one friend reposes in another, or that any liberal and generous -understanding can be established betwixt them—one -party rejoicing over the other to do him good—the other finding -that the truest gladness of his heart lies in the impulse of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span> -gratitude, by which it is awakened to the charms of a new moral -existence. Salvation by grace—salvation on such a footing is -not more indispensable to the deliverance of our persons from -the hand of justice, than it is to the deliverance of our hearts -from the chill and the weight of ungodliness.</p> - -<p>Retain a single shred or fragment of legality with the gospel, -and you raise a topic of distrust between man and God. You -take away from the power of the gospel to melt and to conciliate. -For this purpose, the freer it is, the better it is. That -very peculiarity which so many dread as the germ of Antinomianism, -is in fact the germ of a new spirit, and a new inclination -against it. Along with the light of a free gospel, does there -enter the love of the gospel, which in proportion as you impair -the freeness, you are sure to chase away. And never does -the sinner find within himself so mighty a moral transformation, -as when under the belief that he is saved by grace, he -feels constrained thereby to offer his heart a devoted thing, -and to deny ungodliness.</p> - -<p>To do any work in the best manner, you would make use of -the fittest tools for it. And we trust that what has been said -may serve in some degree for the practical guidance of those -who would like to reach the great moral achievement of our -text—but feel that the tendencies and desires of nature are too -strong for them. We know of no other way by which to keep -the love of the world out of our heart, than to keep in our -heart the love of God—and no other way by which to keep our -hearts in the love of God, than building ourselves up on our -most holy faith. That denial of the world which is not possible -to him that dissents from the gospel testimony, is possible, -even as all things are possible to him that believeth. To try -this without faith, is to work without the right tool or the right -instrument. But faith worketh by love; and the way of expelling -from the heart the love that transgresseth the law, is to -admit into its receptacles the love which fulfilleth the law.</p> - -<p>Conceive a man to be standing on the margin of this green -world; and that, when he looked toward it, he saw abundance -smiling upon every field, and all the blessings which earth can -afford scattered in profusion throughout every family, and the -light of the sun sweetly resting upon all the pleasant habitations, -and the joys of human companionship brightening many -a happy circle of society—conceive of this as being the general -character of the scene upon one side of his contemplation; -and that on the other, beyond the verge of the goodly planet -on which he was situated, he could descry nothing but a dark -and fathomless unknown. Think you that he would bid a voluntary -adieu to all the brightness and all the beauty that were -before him on earth, and commit himself to the frightful solitude -away from it? Would he leave its peopled dwelling -places, and become a solitary wanderer through the fields of -nonentity? If space offered him nothing but a wilderness, -would he abandon the homebred scenes of life and of cheerfulness -that lay so near, and exerted such a power of urgency -to detain him? Would not he cling to the regions of sense, -and of life, and of society?—and shrinking away from the desolation -that was beyond it, would not he be glad to keep his firm -footing on the territory of this world, and to take shelter under -the silver canopy that was stretched over it?</p> - -<p>But if, during the time of his contemplation, some happy -island of the blest had floated by; and there had burst upon -his senses the light of its surpassing glories, and its sounds of -sweeter melody; and he clearly saw that there a purer beauty -rested upon every field, and a more heartfelt joy spread itself -among all the families; and he could discern there a peace, -and a piety, and a benevolence, which put a moral gladness -into every bosom, and united the whole society in one rejoicing -sympathy with each other, and with the beneficent Father -of them all. Could he further see that pain and mortality -were there unknown, and above all, that signals of welcome -were hung out, and an avenue of communication was made -for him, perceive you not, that what was before the wilderness, -would become the land of invitation; and that now the world -would be the wilderness? What unpeopled space could not do, -can be done by space teeming with beatific scenes and beatific -society. And let the existing tendencies of the heart be what -they may to the scene that is near and visible around us, still, if -another stood revealed to the prospect of man, either through -the channel of faith, or through the channel of his senses—then, -without violence done to the constitution of his moral -nature, may he die unto the present world, and live to the lovelier -world that stands in the distance, away from it.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="SELECTIONS_FROM_AMERICAN">SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="HIGGINSON">THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON.</h3> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Quiet and fair in tone; condensed to the last point, and still perfectly -clear; written in such pure English that the youngest reader can understand, -yet free from an affectation of baby talk, which is often considered -indispensable in children’s books—the “Young Folks’ History -of the United States” makes a refreshing contrast to the kind of school -book with which Abbott and Loomis, and men of their stamp have inundated -the country. Not that these latter, in spite of bombast and -dryness, may not have served a purpose in their day and generation, no -better men having come forward heretofore, but that a more thoughtful -and scientific age demands better work.—<i>Scribner’s Monthly.</i></p> - -</div> - -<h4>Criticism on “Back-Log Studies.”</h4> - -<p>In “Back-Log Studies” there are, no doubt, some essentially -inartistic things—some long episodes; for example, such as -the “New Vision of Sin” and the “Uncle in India,” which are -clearly inferior in texture to the rest, and not quite worth the -space they occupy; but, as a whole, the book is certainly a -most agreeable contribution to the literature of the Meditative -school. And it is saying a great deal to say this. To make -such an attempt successful there must be a lightness of touch -sustained through everything; there must be a predominant -sweetness of flavor, and that air of joyous ease which is often -the final triumph of labor. There must also be a power of -analysis, always subtle, never prolonged; there must be description, -minute enough to be graphic, yet never carried to -the borders of fatigue; there must also be glimpses of restrained -passion, and of earnestness kept in reserve. All these -are essential, and all these the “Back-Log Studies” show. If -other resources were added—as depth of thought, or powerful -imagination, or wide learning, or constructive power—they -would only carry the book beyond the proper ranks of the -Meditative school, and place it in that higher grade of literature -to which Holmes’ “Autocrat of the Breakfast Table” belongs. -Yet it may be better not to insist on this distinction, for it is -Mr. Warner himself who wisely reminds us that “the most unprofitable -and unsatisfactory criticism is that of comparison.”</p> - -<p>It is as true in literature as in painting that “it is in the perfection -and precision of the instantaneous line that the claim -to immortality is made.” The first and simplest test of good -writing is in the fresh and incisive phrases it yields; and in -this respect “Back-Log Studies” is strong. The author has not -only the courage of his opinions, but he has the courage of his -phrases, which is quite as essential. What an admirable touch, -for instance, is that where Mr. Warner says that a great wood-fire -in a wide kitchen chimney, with all the pots and kettles -boiling and bubbling, and a roasting spit turning in front of it, -“makes a person as hungry as one of Scott’s novels!” Fancy -the bewilderment of some slow and well-meaning man upon -encountering that stroke of fancy; his going over it slowly -from beginning to end, and then again backward from end to -beginning, studying it with microscopic eye, to find where the -resemblance comes in, until at last it occurs to him that possibly -there may be a typographical error somewhere, and that, -with a little revision, the sentence might become intelligible! -He does not know that in literature, as in life, nothing venture,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span> -nothing have; and that it often requires precisely such an -audacious stroke as this to capture the most telling analogies.</p> - -<p>There occurs just after this, in “Back-Log Studies,” a sentence -which has long since found its way to the universal heart, and -which is worth citing, as an example of the delicate rhetorical -art of under-statement. To construct a climax is within the -reach of every one; there is not a Fourth-of-July orator who -can not erect for himself a heaven-scaling ladder of that description, -climb its successive steps, and then tumble from the -top. But to let your climax swell beneath you like a wave of -the sea, and then let it subside under you so gently that your -hearer shall find himself more stirred by your moderation than -by your impulse; this is a triumph of style. Thus our author -paints a day of winter storm; for instance, the wild snow-drifts -beating against the cottage window, and the boy in the -chimney-corner reading about General Burgoyne and the -Indian wars. “I should like to know what heroism a boy in -an old New England farm-house, rough-nursed by nature, and -fed on the traditions of the old wars, did not aspire to—‘John,’ -says the mother, ‘you’ll burn your head to a crisp in -that heat.’ But John does not hear; he is storming the Plains -of Abraham just now. ‘Johnny, dear, bring in a stick of -wood.’ How can Johnny bring in wood when he is in that -defile with Braddock, and the Indians are popping at him from -behind every tree? There is something about a boy that I -like, after all.”</p> - -<p>I defy any one who has a heart for children to resist that -last sentence. Considered critically, it is the very triumph of -under-statement—of delicious, provoking, perfectly unexpected, -moderation. It is a refreshing dash of cool water just as we -were beginning to grow heated. Like that, it calls our latent -heat to the surface by a kindly reaction; the writer surprises -us by claiming so little that we concede everything; we at -once compensate by our own enthusiasm for this inexplicable -lowering of the demand. Like him! of course we like him—that -curly-pated, rosy-cheeked boy, with his story books and -his Indians! But if we had been called upon to adore him, it -is very doubtful whether we should have liked him at all. -And this preference for effects secured by quiet methods—for -producing emphasis without the use of italics, and arresting -attention without resorting to exclamation points—is the -crowning merit of the later style of Mr. Warner.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="JAMES">HENRY JAMES, Jr.</h3> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Mr. Henry James, Jr., inherits from his father a diction so rich and -pure, so fluent and copious, so finely shaded, yet capable of such varied -service, that it is, in itself, a form of genius. Few men have ever been -so brilliantly equipped for literary performance. Carefully trained taste, -large acquirements of knowledge, experience of lands and races, and -association with the best minds have combined to supply him with all -the purely intellectual requisites which an author could desire.—<i>Bayard -Taylor.</i></p> - -<p>As a story-teller, we know of no one who is entitled to rank higher, -since Poe and Hawthorne are gone, than Mr. James. His style is pure -and finished, and marked by the nicety of expression which is so noticeable -among the best French writers of fiction.—<i>Louisville Courier-Journal.</i></p> - -<p>The “Portrait of a Lady” is a very clever book, and a book of very -great interest. We do not know a living English novelist who could -have written it.—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> - -</div> - -<h4>Carlyle’s Letters to Emerson.</h4> - -<p>Carlyle takes his place among the first of English, among -the very first of all letter-writers. All his great merits come -out in this form of expression; and his defects are not felt as -defects, but only as striking characteristics and as tones in the -picture. Originality, nature, humor, imagination, freedom, -the disposition to talk, the play of mood, the touch of confidence—these -qualities, of which the letters are full, will with -the aid of an inimitable use of language—a style which glances -at nothing that it does not render grotesque—preserve their -life for readers even further removed from the occasion than -ourselves, and for whom possibly the vogue of Carlyle’s published -writings in his day will be to a certain degree a subject -of wonder.</p> - -<p>Carlyle is here in intercourse with a friend for whom, almost -alone among the persons with whom he had dealings, he appears -to have entertained a sentiment of respect—a constancy -of affection untinged by that humorous contempt in which (in -most cases) he indulges when he wishes to be kind, and which -was the best refuge open to him from his other alternative of -absolutely savage mockery.</p> - -<p>It is singular, indeed, that throughout his intercourse with -Emerson he never appears to have known the satiric fury -which he directed at so many other objects, accepting his -friend <i>en bloc</i>, once for all, with reservations and protests so -light that, as addressed to Emerson’s own character, they are -only a finer form of consideration.… Other persons have -enjoyed life as little as Carlyle; other men have been pessimists -and cynics; but few men have rioted so in their disenchantments, -or thumped so perpetually upon the hollowness of -things with the idea of making it resound. Pessimism, cynicism, -usually imply a certain amount of indifference and resignation; -but in Carlyle these forces were nothing if not querulous -and vocal. It must be remembered that he had an -imagination which made acquiescence difficult—an imagination -haunted with theological and apocalyptic visions. We -have no occasion here to attempt to estimate his position in -literature, but we may be permitted to say that it is mainly to -this splendid imagination that he owes it. Both the moral and -the physical world were full of pictures for him, and it would -seem to be by his great pictorial energy that he will live.</p> - -<h4>Anthony Trollope.</h4> - -<p>His great, his inestimable merit was a complete appreciation -of reality. This gift is not rare in the annals of English fiction; -it would naturally be found in a walk of literature in -which the feminine mind has labored so fruitfully. Women -are delicate and patient observers; they hold their noses close, -as it were, to the texture of life. They feel and perceive the -real (as well as the desirable), and their observations are -recorded in a thousand delightful volumes. Trollope therefore, -with his eyes comfortably fixed on the familiar, the actual, -was far from having invented a <i>genre</i>, as the French say; his -great distinction is that, in resting there, his vision took in so -much of the field. And then he <i>felt</i> all common, human -things as well as saw them; felt them in a simple, direct, salubrious -way, with their sadness, their gladness, their charm, -their comicality, all their obvious and measurable meanings.</p> - -<h4>Du Maurier.</h4> - -<p>He is predominantly a painter of social, as distinguished -from popular life, and when the other day he collected some -of his drawings into a volume, he found it natural to give them -the title of “English Society at Home.” He looks at the -“accomplished” classes more than at the people, though he -by no means ignores the humors of humble life. His consideration -of the peculiarities of costermongers and “cadgers” is -comparatively perfunctory, as he is too fond of civilization and -of the higher refinements of the grotesque. His colleague, the -frank and as the metaphysicians say, objective, Keene, has a -more natural familiarity with the British populace. There is a -whole side of English life, at which du Maurier scarcely glances—the -great sporting element, which supplies half of their -gayety and all their conversation to millions of her Majesty’s -subjects. He is shy of the turf and of the cricket field; he -only touches here and there upon the river. But he has made -“society” completely his own—he has sounded its depths, -explored its mysteries, discovered and divulged its secrets. -His observation of these things is extraordinarily acute, and -his illustrations, taken together, form a complete comedy of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span> -manners, in which the same personages constantly re-appear, -so that we have the sense, indispensable to keenness of interest, -of tracing their adventures to a climax. So many of the -conditions of English life are picturesque (and, to American -eyes, even romantic), that du Maurier has never been at a loss -for subjects. We mean that he is never at a loss for pictures. -English society makes pictures all round him, and he has only -to look to see the most charming things, which at the same -time have the merit that you can always take the satirical view -of them.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="HOWELLS">WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS.</h3> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>He is equal as an artist to the best French writers. His books are -not only artistically fine, but morally wholesome.—<i>Magazin für die -Literatur des Auslandes.</i></p> - -<p>The great body of the cultivated public has an instinctive delight in -original genius, whether it be refined or sensational. Mr. Howells’s is -eminently refined. His humor, however vivid in form, is subtle and -elusive in its essence. He depends, perhaps, somewhat too much on -the feelings of humor in his readers to appreciate his own. He has the -true Addisonian touch; hits his mark in the white, and instead of provoking -uproarious laughter, strives to evoke that satisfied smile which -testifies to the quiet enjoyment of the reader. His humor is the humor -of a poet.—<i>E. P. Whipple.</i></p> - -<p>Mr. Howells has been compared to Washington Irving for the exquisite -purity of his style, and to Hawthorne for a certain subtle recognition -of a hidden meaning in familiar things. A more thoroughly genial -writer, certainly, we have not, nor one more conscientious in the practice -of his art.—<i>Scribner’s Monthly.</i></p> - -</div> - -<h4>The Young Editor, from “A Modern Instance.”</h4> - -<p>“Hullo!” he cried, with a suddenness that startled the boy, -who had finished his meditation upon Bartley’s trowsers, and -was now deeply dwelling on his boots. “Do you like ’em? -See what sort of a shine you can give ’em for Sunday-go-to-meeting-to-morrow-morning.” -He put out his hand and laid -hold of the boy’s head, passing his fingers through the thick -red hair. “Sorrel-top!” he said with a grin of agreeable reminiscence. -“They emptied all the freckles they had left -into your face—didn’t they, Andy?”</p> - -<p>This free, joking way of Bartley’s was one of the things that -made him popular; he passed the time of day, and would give -and take right along, as his admirers expressed it from the -first, in a community where his smartness had that honor -which gives us more smart men to the square mile than any -other country in the world. The fact of his smartness had -been affirmed and established in the strongest manner by the -authorities of the college at which he was graduated, in answer -to the reference he made to them when negotiating with the -committee in charge for the place he now held as editor of the -Equity <i>Free Press</i>.… They perhaps had their misgivings -when the young man, in his well-blacked boots, his -grey trowsers neatly fitting over them, and his diagonal coat -buttoned high with one button, stood before them with his -thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and looked down over his -mustache at the floor, with sentiments concerning their wisdom -which they could not explore; they must have resented the -fashionable keeping of everything about him, for Bartley wore -his one suit as if it were but one of many; but when they understood -that he had come by everything through his own -unaided smartness, they could no longer hesitate. One, indeed, -still felt it a duty to call attention to the fact that the college -authorities said nothing of the young man’s moral characteristics -in a letter dwelling so largely upon his intellectual -qualifications. The others referred this point by a silent look to -’Squire Gaylord. “I don’t know,” said the ’Squire, “as I ever -heard that a great deal of morality was required by a newspaper -editor.” The rest laughed at the joke, and the ’Squire continued: -“But I guess if he worked his own way through college, -as they say, that he hain’t had time to be up to a great -deal of mischief. You know it’s for idle hands that the devil -provides, doctor.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true, as far as it goes,” said the doctor. “But it -isn’t the whole truth. The devil provides for some busy hands, -too.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a good deal of sense in that,” the ’Squire admitted. -“The worst scamps I ever knew were active fellows. Still, -industry is in a man’s favor. If the faculty knew anything -against this young man they would have given us a hint of it. I -guess we had better take him; we shan’t do better. Is it a vote?”</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3 id="WARNER">CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER.</h3> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Humor he has, and of the very highest order. It is as delicate as -Washington Irving’s, and quite as spontaneous. But humor is hardly -his predominant quality. He has all the wit of Holmes, and all the -tenderness of Ik Marvel. He is often charmingly thoughtful, earnest -and suggestive.—<i>San Francisco Bulletin.</i></p> - -<p>There is only one other pair of microscopic eyes like his owned by -an American, and they belong to W. D. Howells. These two men will -ferret out fun from arid sands and naked rocks, and in one trip of a -league, less or more, over a barren waste, see and hear more that is -amusing and entertaining than the rest of the world will discover in -crossing a continent. Such men should do our traveling for us.—<i>Chicago -Tribune.</i></p> - -</div> - -<h4>From “Back-Log Studies.”</h4> - -<p>The fire on the hearth has almost gone out in New England; -the hearth has gone out; the family has lost its center; age -ceases to be respected; sex is only distinguished by the difference -between millinery bills and tailors’ bills; there is no more -toast-and-cider; the young are not allowed to eat mince pies -at ten o’clock at night; half a cheese is no longer set to toast -before the fire; you scarcely ever see in front of the coals a -row of roasting apples, which a bright little girl, with many a -dive and start, shielding her sunny face from the fire with one -hand, turns from time to time; scarce are the grey-haired sires -who strop their razors on the family Bible, and doze in the -chimney corner. A good many things have gone out with the -fire on the hearth.</p> - -<p>I do not mean to say that public and private morality have -vanished with the hearth. A good degree of purity and considerable -happiness are possible with grates and blowers; it is -a day of trial, when we are all passing through a fiery furnace, -and very likely we shall be purified as we are dried up and -wasted away. Of course the family is gone as an institution, -though there still are attempts to bring up a family round a -“register.” But you might just as well try to bring it up by -hand as without the rallying-point of a hearth-stone. Are there -any homesteads now-a-days? Do people hesitate to change -houses any more than they do to change their clothes? People -hire houses as they would a masquerade costume, liking, sometimes, -to appear for a year in a little fictitious stone-front -splendor above their means. Thus it happens that so many -people live in houses that do not fit them. I should almost as -soon think of wearing another person’s clothes as his house; -unless I could let it out and take it in until it fitted, and somehow -expressed my own character and taste.</p> - -<h4>From “Being a Boy.”</h4> - -<p>It is a wonder that every New England boy does not turn -out a poet, or a missionary or a peddler. Most of them used -to. There is something in the heart of the New England hills -to feed the imagination of the boy and excite his longing for -strange countries. I scarcely know what the subtle influence -is that forms him and attracts him in the most fascinating and -aromatic of all lands, and yet urges him away from all the -sweet delights of his home to become roamer in literature and -in the world a poet and a wanderer. There is something in -the soil and in the pure air, I suspect, that promises more romance -than is forthcoming, and that excites the imagination -without satisfying it, and begets the desire of adventure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p>What John said was, that he didn’t care much for pumpkin -pie; but that was after he had eaten a whole one. It seemed -to him then that mince would be better. The feeling of a boy -toward pumpkin pie has never been properly considered.… -His elders say that the boy is always hungry; but that -is a very coarse way of putting it. He has only recently come -into a world that is full of good things to eat, and there is on -the whole a very short time in which to eat them; at least he -is told, among the first information he receives, that life is -brief. Life being brief, and pie and the like fleeting, he very -soon decides on an active campaign. It may be an old story -to people who have been eating for forty or fifty years; but it -is different with a beginner. He takes the thick and thin as it -comes—as to pie, for instance. Some people do make them -very thin.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="UNITED_STATES_HISTORY">UNITED STATES HISTORY.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>SETTLEMENT OF NEW YORK.</h3> - -<p>The most favorably situated, and, for its extent, the most -valuable region of the country was first settled by the Dutch, -Hollanders and Swedes.</p> - -<p>For some ten years there had been a trading post and small -village on Manhattan Island; and, in 1623 the “Dutch West -India Co.,” with a charter covering the whole coast from the -Strait of Magellan to Hudson’s Bay, landed a colony of thirty -families at New Amsterdam.</p> - -<p>The first colonists were mostly Protestant refugees from Belgium, -who came to America to escape the persecutions endured -in their own country. A part of the colonists took up their -abode at New Amsterdam; others went down the New Jersey -coast, and landed on the eastern shore of the Bay of Delaware. -The same year a colony of 18 families ascended the Hudson, -and located at or near Albany. This was the most northern -post, and was called Fort Orange.</p> - -<p>A civil government was established for New Netherlands, in -1624, Cornelius May being the first governor.</p> - -<p>In 1626 Peter Minuit was appointed governor, and during his -administration he purchased of the native inhabitants the whole -of Manhattan Island, containing more than 20,000 acres, for -forty dollars.</p> - -<p>Some settlements were also made on Long Island. The -Dutch of New Amsterdam and the Pilgrims of New England -were early friends, and helped each other. Both enjoyed a -good degree of prosperity, and the population steadily -increased.</p> - -<p>For more than ten years the Indians, with few exceptions, -received the strangers who came among them kindly and in -good faith. When injured and wronged their resentment was -kindled, and terribly did they avenge themselves on their enemies. -The first notable instance was at Lewistown, on Delaware -Bay, where Hosset, a governor of violent temper and little -sagacity, seized and put to death a chief, who in some way -offended him. The tribe was aroused, and assailed the place -with such violence that not a man was left alive. When the -next ship-load of colonists arrived, instead of a thrifty town, -and friends eagerly waiting to receive them, they found but the -bones of the slain, and the ashes of the homes that had sheltered -them. Afterward there was not, for many years, the -same sense of security; and in 1640 New Netherlands became -involved in a general war with the Indians of Long Island and -New Jersey, a war that, on both sides, was far from honorable, -and marked with treachery, cruelty, and murders most revolting. -If the whites were surprised and massacred by the Indians, -there were as terrible massacres of Indians by the whites, who -were, too often, the aggressors. An impartial historian says: -“Nearly all the bloodshed and sorrow of those five years of -war may be charged to Governor Kief. He was a revengeful, -cruel man, whose idea of government was to destroy whatever -opposed him.” For his headstrong course and cruelty he lost -his position, and, to the great relief of the colonists, who had -suffered much on his account, sailed for England. But the -ship was wrecked on the coast of Wales, and the guilty governor -found a grave in the sea. He was succeeded by Peter -Stuyvesant, a resolute man, of more ability than most who preceded -him. He, for seventeen years, managed the affairs of -the colonists successfully. He conciliated the savages, settled -the boundaries of his territory, and enforced the surrender of -New Sweden, which became a part of his dominion. There -was afterward some difficulty with the Indians, but more from -a quarter whence no danger was expected. Lord Baltimore, -of Maryland, claimed, under his charter, all the territory between -the Chesapeake and Delaware Bay. Berkley claimed -New Sweden, while Connecticut and Massachusetts were -equally aggressive on the territories adjacent to their lines.</p> - -<p>In 1664 the unscrupulous king of England, Charles II., issued -patents to his brother, the Duke of York, covering the territory -called New Netherlands, and more beside. It was in utter -disregard of the rights of Holland, and of the West India Co., -who had settled the country. No time was given for protest -against the outrage. An English squadron soon appeared before -New Amsterdam, and demanded the immediate surrender -of the country, and the acknowledgment of the sovereignty of -England. No effectual resistance could be made, and the -indignant old governor, his council ordering it, had to sign the -capitulation; and, on the 8th of September, 1664, the English -flag was hoisted over the fort and town. The Swedish and -Dutch settlements likewise capitulated, and the conquest was -complete. From Maine to Georgia, in every settlement near -the coast, the British flag was unfurled. This high-handed -injustice, which robbed a sister state of her well earned colonial -possessions, was but slightly mitigated by the fact that the -armament was insufficient to enforce submission without the -shedding of blood. The capitulation was on favorable terms, -and with fair promises, that were never fulfilled. The government -was despotic, and the people were sorely oppressed. The -policy of the tyrannical governor was to tax the people till they -could do nothing but think how possibly to pay the amount -assessed.</p> - -<p>In 1673, England and Holland being at war, the latter sent a -small squadron to recover the possessions wrested from her in -America. When the little fleet appeared before New York, the -governor was absent, and his deputy, either from cowardice, or, -knowing the people preferred to have it so, at once surrendered -the city, and the whole province yielded without a struggle.</p> - -<p>But the re-conquest of New York by the Dutch, gave them -no permanent possession, as the war was soon closed by a -treaty of peace, in which all the rights of Holland in America -were surrendered.</p> - -<p>The Dutch and Swedes again became subject to English -authority. Popular government was overthrown, and the officers -appointed by the crown, directly or otherwise, with few exceptions, -were unjust and tyrannical. Their oppressive measures -were met with resistance, and, so intense was the hatred -excited, that obstructions were thrown in the way of everything -that was attempted. The people, when not repelling the attacks -of the French and the Indians, or carrying the war into the -territory of the invaders—campaigns in which much was sacrificed -and nothing gained—were in a constant struggle with -the royal governors, intent on collecting the revenues and -enriching themselves, but careless of the best interests of the -people.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>PENNSYLVANIA.</h3> - -<p>In 1681 William Penn, a man of convictions, who, with other -Quakers, had suffered persecution on account of his religious -convictions, obtained a charter with proprietary rights, for a -large tract of American territory. Geographically its position -was nearly central as regards the original colonies, but at first -somewhat indefinitely bounded. In the final adjustment of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span> -colonial limits it was made a regular parallelogram, a small -addition being made to give access to Lake Erie, and a good -harbor. The average length is 310 miles; the width, 160 -miles. In naming his territory the proprietor modestly omitted -any allusion to himself. He suggested Sylvania, because of -the extensive and almost unbroken forest. The clerk prefixed -“Penn.” From this he appealed to the king, who decided the -prefix should be retained; but, as a relief to the wounded -modesty of the Quaker, said it would be in honor of the -Admiral, his friend, and the deceased father of William. For -whomever the compliment was intended, the citizens of the -commonwealth have always liked the name.</p> - -<p>The liberal plan for the government of West New Jersey, -previously drawn up by Penn, was adopted, and the colonists -encouraged to govern themselves. The powers conferred on -him personally were never used in selfishness, or to advance -his personal interests, but only to further the complete establishment -of freedom, justice, and the best interests of the -people.</p> - -<p>To the Swedes and others who had settled within his territory -before he took possession, he introduced himself in a way -so conciliatory and assuring that their friendship was at once -won. His first message as governor was an admirable document—plain, -honest, sensible in its every utterance. Its brevity -allows it to be printed in full. “My friends, I wish you all -happiness here and hereafter. These words are to let you -know that it hath pleased God, in his providence, to cast you -in my lot and care. It is a business that though I never undertook -before, yet God hath given me an understanding of -my duty, and an honest heart to do it uprightly. I hope you -will not be troubled at your change and the king’s choice; for -you are now fixed at the mercy of no governor that comes to -make his fortune great. You shall be governed by laws of -your own making, and live a free, and if you will, a sober, industrious -people.…”</p> - -<p>Before the proprietor’s arrival, with three shiploads of -Quaker colonists, his deputy, as instructed, had respected the -rights of all the settlers, of whatever nationality or religious -faith, and had been specially careful to cultivate friendly relations, -and form treaties with the Indian tribes located in or -near the territory. The offers of friendship, honestly made, -were received in the same kindly spirit that prompted them, -and neither fraud nor violence was feared. Not long after -Penn came, a general council was called of the chiefs and -sachems, anxious to see him of whom they had heard, and -whose promises, reported to them, they had believed. He met -them, with a few friends, unarmed as they all were, and spoke -kind words by an interpreter.</p> - -<p>It was not his object to purchase lands, or to lay down rules -to govern them in trading, but honestly to assure the untutored -children of the forest of his friendly purposes and brotherly -affection.</p> - -<p>The covenant then made, not written with ink, nor confirmed -by any oath, was sacredly kept. No deed of violence -or injustice ever marred the peace or interrupted the friendly -relations of the parties. For more than seventy years, during -which time the province remained under the control of the -Friends, the peace was unbroken. Not a war-whoop was -heard, nor any hostile demonstration witnessed in Pennsylvania.</p> - -<p>In December, 1682, a convention was held of three days’ -continuance, and all needful provision made for territorial -legislation.</p> - -<p>The generous concessions of the proprietor harmonized the -views of the assembly, and the results of the convention were -eminently satisfactory.</p> - -<p>After a month’s absence, during which there was a visit to -the Chesapeake, and an amicable conference with Lord Baltimore, -about the boundaries of their respective provinces, Penn -returned, and busied himself in locating and making a plot of -his proposed capital. The beautiful neck between the Schuylkill -and Delaware was wisely chosen; the land purchased of -the Swedes, who had begun a settlement there, and map of the -city provided. Three or four cabins were the only dwellings -on the site, and the lines of the streets were indicated by marks -on the trees. Thus in the woods was founded Philadelphia, -the City of Brotherly Love.</p> - -<p>From the inception of his American enterprise, Penn showed -himself a true philanthropist, not seeking his own aggrandizement, -but the good of others. The oppressed and persecuted -trusted him and were not disappointed. He promised them -freedom, the love of which was a master passion with him, and -the charter of their liberties dated at Philadelphia, and adopted -by the first General Assembly, was even more generous than -they expected. He conceded all the rights of legislation to the -representatives of the people, reserving for himself only the -right to veto any hasty and objectionable enactments of the -council. His administration as executive met with much favor, -and the tide of prosperity was for years unabated. Such -was the condition of affairs in Pennsylvania when King James -II. abdicated his throne. Penn, being a friend of the Stuarts, -and having received his liberal charter from Charles II., sympathized -with the fallen monarch, and, though loyal, had less -confidence in William and Mary. For his sympathy and supposed -adherence to the cause of the exiled king, he was persecuted, -several times arrested and cast into prison. But investigations -showed the suspicions of disloyalty unfounded; and -his rights, so unjustly and to the great grief of his colonists, -wrested from him, were fully restored. The new sovereign -was a Catholic, and his fellow-communicants, like other dissenters -from the Establishment, had suffered much. His -anxiety to restore to them all the immunities of citizenship disposed -him to listen to the logic and eloquence of the accomplished -Quaker, who boldly contended for the toleration of all -creeds, and the unlimited freedom of conscience. His influence -during these years, in keeping up the tide of immigration -to America, and especially to Pennsylvania, was something -wonderful.</p> - -<p>In 1699 he again visited his American colony, now grown -into a state—the increase in population and all the resources -of a prosperous community far exceeding his expectations.</p> - -<p>In 1701, having carefully and satisfactorily arranged all his -affairs in America, Penn bade a final adieu to his many friends, -and returned to England. He left them, largely through the -influence of his teaching and example and spirit, at peace -among themselves and with all their neighbors.</p> - -<p>About this time a measure was proposed in England that, if -passed, would seriously affect the colonists in all parts of the -country. The ministers formed the design of abolishing all -the proprietary estates, with the view of establishing royal -governments in their stead. The presence of Penn was -greatly needed in England to prevent the success of this -scheme, and not without much effort was the purpose defeated. -It required a man of power and influence in the king’s court -to do it. From this time the government, though still in -Penn’s right, was administered by his deputies, some of whom -disappointed him. John Evans, an ambitious man, and not -true to the peace principles of the Friends, greatly troubled the -province by purchasing military equipments, and attempting -to organize a regiment of militia. The council and citizens -protested so strongly against his proceedings as irreconcilable -with the policy of Penn, that Evans was removed from the -office, and another appointed. His charge to the deputies appointed -had been, “You are come to a quiet land; rule for him -under whom the princes of this world will one day esteem it -an honor to govern in their places.” Those who heeded the -charge had peace and prosperity in their borders. As proprietor -of his vast possessions in America, Penn was not faultless; -but his mistakes bore an amiable character. Conscious of his -own integrity and freedom from cupidity, he placed too much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span> -confidence in the untried virtue of others, and exposed inferior -men in the way of temptation to dishonesty that they were not -able to resist. The rascality of his agent, Ford, whose false -accounts involved the honest proprietor in debt to a large -amount, well nigh accomplished his financial ruin. He was -imprisoned, and after weary months of confinement was released -by influential friends, who compounded with the -creditors in whose power the crafty agent had placed him.</p> - -<p>The simplicity of his Quaker habits and enthusiasm for -religion seemed inconsistent with his great influence in the -corrupt court of the king, and he was suspected of acting a -double part—was thrice arrested, charged with treasonable -intentions, and as often acquitted. But the strain was too -great. His natural force abated, and the infirmities of age -came on him rapidly. His acquittal, and the complete vindication -of his character cast a bright light on the clouds, and its -radiance gave a kind relief for the six years of feebleness and -suffering that remained after life’s mission seemed mostly -accomplished. The attacks of enemies and contemporary rivals -are more readily condoned. But the abortive attempt of Lord -Macaulay to asperse the character of the deceased governor, -whose enterprise in the New World eclipsed all others, reflects -little honor on the name of the great historian. Certainly the -great Quaker’s record on this side of the Atlantic can never be -tarnished, and his principles of liberty and equality are better -understood and appreciated by American freemen.</p> - -<p>The colonial possessions of Penn were bequeathed to his -three sons, by whom, and their deputies, the government was -administered until the American Revolution. Afterward, in -1779, the entire claim of the Penn family to the soil and jurisdiction -of the state, was purchased by the legislature for a hundred -and thirty thousand pounds sterling. The early history -of the Keystone state is one of special interest and pleasure. -The reader lingers over it because it recounts bloodless victories, -and the triumph of kindness and right over violence and -wrong.</p> - -<p>When nations grow mercenary and grasping, the strong justifying -their aggressions and conquests by the false plea that -success, and the probable hereafter of the conquered races -justify their assaults, the early annals of Penn’s state will stand -a perpetual protest against fraud and violence, however successful -for a time. Might does not make right, even when the -highest civilization confronts the lowest barbarism. Even -savages had rights that the most cultured Englishmen were -bound to respect.</p> - -<p>The brotherhood of man includes those of lowest estate. So -thought the founder of the great state that bears his name. -With his charter in hand he fearlessly plunged into the vast -wilderness, saying, “I will here found a free colony for all -mankind.” The words had the true ring, and the asylum was -opened for men of every nation who loved liberty and hated -the oppressor’s wrongs. And it was a most fitting thing that -the “bells of his capital should ring out the first glad notes of -American independence.”</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>GEORGIA.</h3> - -<p>Every philanthropist must take satisfaction in the founding -of the colony in Georgia; for, perhaps beyond any other, it -had its origin in the spirit of pure benevolence. The unfortunate -debtor in England was by the laws liable to imprisonment; -and thousands were, for this cause alone, languishing in -prisons. The miserable condition of debtors and their desolate -families, was at length thrust on the attention of Parliament. -In 1728 a commission was appointed to inquire into the state of -the poor, and report measures of relief. The work was accomplished, -the jails thrown open, and the prisoners returned to -their families. But, though liberated, they and their friends -were in no condition to maintain themselves respectably in the -land of their birth. There was a land beyond the sea where -debt was not a crime, and poverty not necessarily a disgrace. -To provide somewhere a refuge for the poor of England, and -the distressed Protestants of other countries, the commission -appealed to George II. for the privilege of planting a colony of -such persons in America. A charter was issued giving the -desired territory to a corporation, for twenty-one years, <i>to be -held in trust for the poor</i>. In honor of the king the new province -was named Georgia. The high-souled philanthropist who -initiated and went steadily forward in this enterprise was -James Oglethorpe. Born a loyalist, educated at Oxford, a -high churchman, a soldier, a member of Parliament, benevolent, -generous, full of sympathy, and far-sighted in comprehending -the results of his enterprise, he sacrificed much, giving -the best position of a life so full of energy and promise to the -noble charity of providing homes for the poor, under such -conditions that the largest benefit could be received by them -without any sense of degradation. Ridpath says: “The -magnanimity of the enterprise was heightened by the fact that -he did not believe in the equality of men, but only in the duty -of the strong to protect the weak, and sympathize with the -lowly. Oglethorpe was the principal member of the corporation, -and to him the personal leadership of the first colony -planted on the banks of the Savannah was naturally intrusted. -His associations were with cultured people, and his refined -tastes would be subjected to some crucial tests by the rude -scenes in the wilderness, and his association with unlettered -men. But he was not a man to shirk responsibility, and -promptly determined to share the privations, hardships, and -dangers of his colony.</p> - -<p>“With one hundred and twenty emigrants, in January, 1735, -he safely reached the coast, proceeded up the river, and selected, -for the site of his first settlement, the high bluff on which -Savannah was built. There, amidst the pines, was soon seen -a village of tents and rude dwellings, the nucleus of the fine -city, intended for the capital of a new commonwealth, in which -there would be freedom of conscience and no imprisonment -for debt.”</p> - -<p class="center smaller">[End of Required Reading for April.]</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="LIGHT_AT_EVENTIDE">LIGHT AT EVENTIDE.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By E. G. CHARLESWORTH.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">I met an old man in my way;</div> -<div class="verse">For many years the light of day</div> -<div class="verse">Had been to him but memory;</div> -<div class="verse">Poor, blind, half-deaf, and lame was he:</div> -<div class="verse">My heart was bent to sympathize,</div> -<div class="verse">I looked toward the dead closed eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">Hopeful, by some apt words, a light</div> -<div class="verse">To bring to mingle with his night.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">A falling tide was on the sand.</div> -<div class="verse">Slowly, that he might understand,</div> -<div class="verse i2">I said,</div> -<div class="verse">“The ebbing tide, and then the flood;</div> -<div class="verse">The darkest hour, then the dawn;</div> -<div class="verse">Death, then——”</div> -<div class="verse">Some inner sun’s streaks in his face</div> -<div class="verse">Shone on this image of his case,</div> -<div class="verse">And twice, with Faith and Hope’s sunshine,</div> -<div class="verse">He brightly filled my shortened line—</div> -<div class="verse"><i>Death, then the morn—Death, then the morn!</i></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p>For though you might not be able to break or bend the -power of genius—the deeper the sea, the more precipitous the -coast—yet in the most important initiatory decade of life, in the -first, at the opening dawn of all feelings, you might surround -and overlay the slumbering lion-energies with all the tender -habits of a gentle heart, and all the bands of love.—<i>Richter.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="THE_COOPER_INSTITUTE">THE COOPER INSTITUTE.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By the <span class="smcap">Rev. J. M. BUCKLEY, D.D.</span></p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Among the monuments and illustrations of the spirit of philanthropy—the -noblest distinction between ancient and modern -civilization—the Cooper Institute has stood for a quarter of -a century, an object of interest proportionate to the intellectual -and moral elevation of those who behold it.</p> - -<p>The early struggles, great success and marked mental progress -of its founder, no less than a liberality as beautiful as it -was then rare, invest his life with a peculiar charm. Nor did -he retain his possessions until death loosened his grasp, employing -in beneficence only that which he could no longer -retain. Thus he became the ancestor of many who are their -own executors. “May their tribe increase!” To these qualities -was added a simplicity which made it impossible not to -feel that Peter Cooper was a kind of universal “Uncle.” It -pleased Almighty God in a providence, which was no strain -upon faith, as it seemed preëminently in harmony with the -sense of fitness, to allow him to live until he had seen the desire -of his heart, and could not doubt either the perpetuity, the -wisdom or the success of his plans for promoting the welfare of -the people. To comparatively few philanthropists on so large -a scale, has this privilege been vouchsafed; for most of them -are old before their accumulations justify large responsibilities.</p> - -<p>The death of Peter Cooper gave to New York the opportunity, -which was itself a blessing, of showing by spontaneous tributes -whose reflex influence strengthens every spring of virtue, -counteracting the barbarizing tendencies of the struggle for -bread or riches or honors, and the weakening effects of mere -idleness and the prevailing distrust of human goodness, its -estimate of disinterestedness. The opportunity was improved, -for never within the memory of the oldest inhabitant has the -death of a private citizen evoked more tender exhibitions of -respect and affection than that of the patriarchal Peter Cooper.</p> - -<p>It is my purpose to describe this institution; to tell all about -it, so that those who read and have not seen may know what -those who have seen are pleased to recall.</p> - -<p>On the 29th of April, 1859, Peter Cooper executed a deed in fee -simple of the property known as the Cooper Institute without any -reservation, to six trustees, upon the conditions specified in the -act of the legislature authorizing the gift to be made, “that the -above mentioned and desirable premises, together with the -appurtenances and the rents, issues, income, and profits thereof -shall be forever devoted to the instruction and improvement -of the inhabitants of the United States in practical science and -art.”</p> - -<p>The location of the property and its dimensions are thus -described by the founder in his letter to the trustees accompanying -the trust deed:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>:—It is to me a source of inexpressible pleasure, after -so many years of continued effort, to place in your hands the title of all -that piece and parcel of land bounded on the west by Fourth Avenue, and -on the north by Astor Place, on the east by Third Avenue, and on the south -by Seventh Street, with all the furniture, rents and income of every -name and nature, to be forever devoted to the advancement of science -and art in their application to the varied and useful purposes of life.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>That the spirit of Peter Cooper and the purposes which -he had in this munificent gift may be the more fully understood, -and the reader may judge how near the trustees have -come to fulfilling the same, I shall quote some salient passages -from that unique letter. “The great object I desire to accomplish -by the establishment of an institution devoted to the advancement -of science and art is to open the volume of nature -by the light of truth—so unveiling the laws and methods of -Deity that the young may see the beauties of creation, enjoy -its blessings, and learn to love the Being ‘from whom cometh -every good and perfect gift.’ My heart’s desire is, that the -rising generation may become so thoroughly acquainted with -the laws of nature <i>and the great mystery of their own being -that they may see, feel, understand and know that there are immutable -laws designed in infinite wisdom, constantly operating -for our good—so governing the destiny of worlds and men that -it is our highest wisdom to live in strict conformity to these laws</i>.”</p> - -<p>The italics are his. Mr. Cooper felt a special interest in the -advancement of women; nor did this interest take a mere sentimental, -much less an unpractical, form. It did not effervesce in -honeyed compliments or futile denunciation of the existing state. -It was thus expressed: “To manifest the deep interest and sympathy -I feel in all that can advance the happiness and better the -condition of the female portion of the community, and especially -of those who are dependent upon honest labor for support, I -desire the trustees to appropriate two hundred and fifty dollars -yearly to assist such pupils of the Female School of Design as -shall, in their careful judgment, by their efforts and sacrifices -in the performance of duty to parents, or to those that Providence -has made dependent on them for support, merit and -require such aid. My reason for this requirement is, not so -much to reward, as to encourage the exercise of heroic virtues -that often shine in the midst of the greatest suffering and obscurity, -without so much as being noticed by the passing -throng.”</p> - -<p>In prescribing rules for the practice of debate, and the -facilities for the hearing of lectures, he says: “To aid the -speakers, and those that hear, to profit by these lectures and -debates, I hereby direct to have placed in the lecture room, in -a suitable position, full-length likenesses of Washington, -Franklin and Lafayette, with an expression of my sincere and -anxious desire that all that behold them may remember that -notwithstanding they are dead they yet speak the language of -truth and soberness.”</p> - -<p>Here follows a provision far in advance of his time, but now -becoming common, if not popular: “Desiring as I do that the -students of this institution may become preëminent examples -in the practice of all the virtues, I have determined to give -them an opportunity to distinguish themselves for their good -judgment by annually recommending to the trustees for their -adoption such rules and regulations as they, on mature reflection, -shall believe to be necessary and proper to preserve -good morals and good order throughout their connection with -this institution.”</p> - -<p>The letter contains an account of the religious opinions -which had taken an “irresistible possession” of his mind. -These—which may be inferred from the extracts made—and -the offer of ten thousand dollars additional, to the board of -trustees, for which they were to draw at their pleasure, as fast -as the same could “be wisely used to advance the interests of -the institution,” conclude this remarkable letter.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cooper continued to assist the Institute in every possible -way until his death. In his will he bequeathed to it $100,000. -Soon after his death his children notified the trustees that “in -accordance with what they understood to be Mr. Cooper’s final -wishes, they would in a few months contribute the sum of -$100,000 in addition to the bequest of $100,000 contained in his -will.”</p> - -<p>The trustees—of whom not one has died in the long period -of their service, the only death being that of the President, -Peter Cooper—give the following succinct statement of the -principles upon which they proceeded in the execution of so -weighty a trust. They say that they laid down as the fundamental -basis of their operations the following principles:</p> - -<p>First, that the details of the institution in all the departments -should be arranged with especial reference to the intellectual -wants and improvement of the working classes. And, second, -that as far as might be consistent with the first principle, all -interference with the plans or objects of other existing institutions -in the city should be avoided. Guided by these principles -the trustees arrived at the following broad scheme, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span> -best calculated to instruct, elevate, and improve the working -classes of the city:</p> - -<p>1. Instruction in the branches of knowledge which are practically -applied in their daily occupations, by which they support -themselves and their families.</p> - -<p>2. Instruction in the laws by which health is preserved and -the sanitary condition of families improved; in other words, in -personal hygiene.</p> - -<p>3. Instruction in social and political science, by virtue of -which communities maintain themselves, and nations progress -in virtue, wealth and power.</p> - -<p>4. Instruction addressed to the eye, the ear, and the imagination, -with a view to furnish a reasonable and healthy recreation -to the working classes after the labors of the day.</p> - -<p>In pursuance of these objects and in harmony with the above -comprehensive principles the following departments are maintained -at the present time in most effective operation:</p> - -<p>1. Free Reading Room and Library. Here between 430 and -440 periodicals are kept on file, and upward of 17,000 volumes -are upon the shelves. In 1883 the number of books used was -194,963, the number of patent office reports examined 8,324, -and the number of visitors to the patent office room 1,487. In -all 559,707 persons visited the Free Reading Room and Library -during 1883.</p> - -<p>2. Free Art School for Women. There were no less than 1,450 -applications for admission during the year, a number far in excess -of the accommodations; 275 were admitted to the morning -classes, of whom 202 remained at the close of the term, and -160 received certificates. There are also a “pay class” for -pottery painting in this department, and a pay class for drawing -in the afternoon; 43 were in the pottery class, and 221 in -the drawing class.</p> - -<p>3. Free School for Women in Wood Engraving. Thirty-two -students were received during the year 1882, of whom 28 continued -to the close of the term.</p> - -<p>4. Free School of Telegraphy for Women. The number of -applicants was 160, of whom 55 were admitted.</p> - -<p>5. Free Night School of Science. In this important department -are classes in algebra, geometry, trigonometry, analytical -geometry, descriptive geometry, differential and integral -calculus, elementary mechanics, natural philosophy, engineering, -astronomy, elementary chemistry, analytical chemistry, -geology, mechanical drawing, oratory and debate. One thousand -one hundred and sixty-nine were admitted into the School -of Science, 705 remained till the close of the year, and 405 obtained -certificates.</p> - -<p>6. The Free Night School of Art. Here is taught perspective -drawing, mechanical drawing, architectural drawing, drawing -from cast, form drawing, industrial drawing, ornamental free -hand, rudimental free hand, modeling in clay. In this school -were 1,797 pupils.</p> - -<p>In addition to these departments a course of ten free lectures -is given in the great hall on successive Saturday evenings for -ten weeks. The lecturers are men of considerable eminence -and generally specialists. Probably the most interesting ever -delivered was the course by the famous naturalist, the Rev. J. -G. Wood, of London, England. This course crowded the hall, -and was concluded January 19th of the present year by a lecture, -with illustrations, on “The Ant.”</p> - -<p>The term begins in the free Night Schools for Science and -Art on the 1st of October, and closes term work in April. Applications -for admission must be made during the month of -September on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday -evenings, and on Thursday evenings afterward. Each applicant -must be at least fifteen years old, and bring a letter of recommendation -from his employer. Ladies are admitted to any -of the classes in the School of Science for which they are fitted, -but not to the School of Art. The regular course of study requires -five terms, and to those who successfully complete it the -Cooper medal and diploma are awarded.</p> - -<p>The annual term in the Woman’s Art School begins October -1st and ends May 30th. Ladies desiring admission must apply -in person or writing, and give a written responsible reference -as to character, fitness, and inability to pay for instruction. -The ages are from sixteen to thirty-five years. Pupils who do -not exhibit proficiency after two months’ trial will be dropped. -The morning classes are reserved for those who do not pay. -But to meet the wants of those who wish to study as an accomplishment, -“paying classes” are organized for the afternoon. -Lessons are given in elementary drawing from objects, cast -drawing, life drawing, oil painting, engraving. Lessons of two -hours in length are given three times a week. Terms, $15 for -thirty lessons.</p> - -<p>The rules of admission to the Free School in Telegraphy for -Women are that the candidates shall present themselves for -examination on the first Tuesday in October. They will be -examined in reading poor manuscript, writing from dictation, -penmanship and spelling. They must be at least sixteen years -old, and <i>positively</i> not over <i>twenty-four</i>.</p> - -<p>In the report for 1882, published in May, 1883, Mrs. Carter -the Principal of the Woman’s Art School, says: “One hundred -and twenty-six present pupils are learning. Of these fifty-four -are in the photograph classes, and eighteen in the engraving -class. Twenty-six now in the school are teaching drawing, and -three of these are in nineteen public schools in this city. One -young woman who left the art school in the winter teaches -twenty-five hours a week in eight public schools here at two -dollars an hour.”</p> - -<p>The form of application to the Cooper Union includes name -of applicant, residence, age, occupation, name of employer, -place of business. Parents or guardians, in the case of minors, -fill out the blanks, but applications must be made in person. -It only remains to say that the applications are in advance of -the capacity of the Institute, but that the democratic principle -of “first come first served” is rigorously applied. Applications -do not hold over from one year to another, but must -be renewed. It is possible for persons from any part of the -country to avail themselves of the facilities here afforded. -Board for gentlemen can be obtained at very reasonable rates, -not far from the Union. Two rooming together and lunching -at restaurants can live well at a low rate. Ladies also can procure -board in Brooklyn, or in the suburban towns, or even in the -city itself, at a rate far below what is generally supposed possible.</p> - -<p>Passing the Cooper Institute, as the writer does nearly every -day, he looks with undiminished interest upon the young men -and young women who go in and out of the building; while -to attend one of the lectures is a pleasure far greater than that -of merely listening. If it were possible to assemble in one -place all who have been helped upward and onward here, -among them would be found men and women now in the most -influential positions, and the intelligence visible in the countenances -of those who, though still earning their bread by the -sweat of the brow, are filled with elevating thoughts, and are -consciously members of the aristocracy of intellect, would be -an ample reward to founder, trustees and teachers, for all their -work and labor of love. Nor is this all; these pupils will transmit -influences through their posterity to the end of time. Peter -Cooper, like Washington, Lafayette, and Franklin, still speaks -“words of truth and soberness.” He shakes hands with every -aspiring young man, saying: “My son, I will help you;” with -every young woman who cherishes a high ambition: “My -daughter, I have a deep sympathy with you.” It is useless to -say, “Long may his memory endure!” It can not die.</p> - -<p>In concluding this paper the writer must be permitted to express -his satisfaction that the sketch is to appear in a magazine -called into being by an institution which on another principle, -equally efficient and much more widely diffused in the sphere -of its influence, promotes the advancement of Science and Art -by bringing them within the reach of all aspirants, without distinction -of race, sex, age, or previous condition of servitude.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="GREEN_SUN_AND_STRANGE">GREEN SUN AND STRANGE SUNSETS.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>During the first half of September, the sun in Ceylon and -India, and also in the West Indies, presented at rising and setting -the appearance of a green or greenish-blue disc. Even -when at his highest the sun appeared pale blue in Ceylon (from -the other places no account of the sun’s aspect at high noon -has reached me). On September 2, at Trinidad, the sun looked -like a blue globe after five in the evening, “and after dark,” -says the report, “we thought there was a fire in the town, from -the bright redness of the heavens.” At Ongole, as the sun -approached the horizon, his disc passed from a bluish tinge -to green, which became tinged with yellow as he approached -the horizon. “After he had set, light yellow and orange appeared -in the west, a very deep red remaining for more than -an hour after sunset; whereas, under ordinary conditions, all -traces of color leave the sky in this latitude,” says the narrator, -“within half an hour after the sun disappears.” These -accounts, from both the eastern and western hemispheres, seem -clearly to associate the green sun which attracted so much attention -in the tropics early in September, with the remarkable -sunsets seen in Arabia, in Africa (North and South), and -throughout Europe during October and November. For we -see that whatever may have been the explanation of the green -sun, the phenomenon must have been produced by some cause -capable of producing after sunset a brilliant red and orange -glow, for a time much exceeding the usual duration of the twilight -afterglow. The occurrence of the afterglow, with the -same remarkable tints and similar exceptional duration elsewhere—though -some weeks later—shows that a similar cause -was at work.</p> - -<p>Two points are clear. First, the cause alike of the greenness -of the sun and the ruddy afterglow was in the air, not outside; -and, secondly, the matter, whatever it was, which made the -sun look green when he was seen through it, and which under -his rays looked red, was high above the surface of the earth. -It can readily be shown, so far as this last point is concerned, -that matter at a lower level than sixteen miles could not have -caught the sun’s rays so long after sunset as the glow was seen. -On the other point it suffices, of course, to note that if some -cause in the sun himself had been at work, the whole earth -would have seen the green sun, while the afterglow would -have found no explanation at all.</p> - -<p>As to the actual cause to which both phenomena are to be -ascribed, we must, I think, exculpate Krakatoa from all part -or share in producing these strange effects. The appearance -of a blue sun at Trinidad, followed two or three days later by -a green sun in the East Indies, can not possibly be associated -with the occurrence of an earthquake on the Javan shore a few -days earlier. Beside, it must be remembered that we should -have to explain two incongruous circumstances; first, how the -exceedingly fine matter ejected from Krakatoa could have so -quickly reached the enormous height at which the matter actually -producing the afterglow certainly was; and, secondly, -how having been able to traverse still air so readily one way, -that matter failed to return as readily earthward under the attraction -of gravity. Again the explanation, which at first seems -a most probable one, that unusually high strata of moist air, -with accompanying multitudes of ice particles, caused the -phenomena alike of absorption and of reflection, seems negatived—first, -by the entire absence of any other evidence of -extraordinary meteorological conditions in September, October -and November last; and, secondly, by the entire absence of -any of the optical phenomena which necessarily accompany -the transmission of sunlight through strata of air strewn with -many ice particles.</p> - -<p>We seem obliged then to adopt a theory, first advanced, I -believe, by Mr. A. C. Ranyard, that the phenomena were -caused by a cloud of meteoric dust encountered by the earth, -and received into the upper regions of the air, thence to penetrate -slowly (mayhap not till many months have passed) to the -surface of the earth. Mr. Ranyard calls attention to the circumstance -that probably the early snows of the winter 1883-’84 -would bring down the advanced guard of such meteoric dust; -and even as I write I learn that Mr. W. Mathieu Williams has -followed the suggestion. He carefully collected the snow -which fell in his garden, eighty yards from his chimneys and -half a mile from any to windward. Slicing off a top film of the -snow with a piece of glass he thawed it, and found a sediment -of fine brownish-black powder. Ferrocyanide of potassium -added to the snow-water produced no change of color, showing -the absence of iron in solution, nor was there any visible reaction -on the black dust till he added some hydrochloric acid. -Then the blue compound indicating iron was abundantly -formed all round the granules, and presently, as their solution -was effected, a bluish-green deposit was formed, and the -whole liquid deeply tinged with the same color. “It was not,” -says Mr. Williams, “the true Prussian-blue reaction of iron -alone, but just the color that would be produced by mixing -small quantities of the cyanide of nickel (yellowish green) and -the cyanide of cobalt (brownish white) with a preponderating -amount of Prussian blue.”</p> - -<p>If this explanation of the green sun and the extraordinary -sunsets should be confirmed, it appears to me that a most interesting -result will have been achieved. Of course, it is no -new thing that as the earth rushes onward through space she -encounters yearly many millions of meteoric bodies, large and -small; nor ought it to be regarded as strange that beside these -separate bodies, millions of millions in the form of fine cosmical -dust should be encountered; but the actual evidence, -derived from the behavior of sunlight (the red and yellow rays -reflected and relative superabundance of green and blue rays -therefore transmitted), would be an interesting and important -addition to our knowledge of matters meteoric.—<i>The Contemporary -Review.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="ANTHONY_TROLLOPES_AUTOBIOGRAPHY">ANTHONY TROLLOPE’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By W. W. GIST.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>A peep into a literary workshop is always interesting. There -is always some curiosity to know how a man of letters does his -work. This fascinating autobiography gives us a clear insight -into Anthony Trollope’s manner of study, and states many -other facts that are intensely interesting.</p> - -<p>Anthony Trollope’s parents were both of a literary turn of -mind. His father had no business capacity, and everything -he attempted went wrong. His mother and brother came to -America and opened a bazar at Cincinnati, hoping to amass -a fortune. This proved a failure, and upon returning to England, -Mrs. Trollope wrote a book on America, which brought -a fair compensation. For years she supported the family by -her pen. There is indeed something heroic in her watching -by the bedside of her dying husband and son, and writing her -books during the intervals that the sick did not demand her -attention. Her first book was written when she was fifty years -of age. She wrote in all one hundred and fourteen volumes.</p> - -<p>Anthony Trollope’s school advantages were poor, and the -trials of his childhood were greater than those of the average -youth. In 1834, at the age of nineteen, he entered the postal -service and continued in it for thirty-three years, effecting -many valuable reforms and proving himself an efficient government -officer.</p> - -<p>His literary work was done in such a manner as not to interfere -in the least with his duties as inspector of postoffices. -Few men have the power of will to hold themselves to the -rigid, exacting plan of study that he imposed upon himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span> -He hired a man to call him at 5:30 each morning, and his literary -work was done between that hour and 8:30, before he -dressed for breakfast. He did not, however, spend the whole -of the three hours in writing. During the first half hour he -read aloud what he had written the day before, so that his ear -could detect any lack of harmony in expression, and that he -might catch the spirit of his last day’s work. Can anything -be more systematic than his method of writing a book, as told -in his own language:</p> - -<p>“When I commenced a new book I always prepared a -diary, divided into weeks, and carried it on for the period -which I allowed myself for the completion of the work. In this -I have entered, day by day, the number of pages I have written, -so that if at any time I have slipped into idleness for a day -or two, the record of that idleness has been there staring me in -the face and demanding of me increased labor, so that the deficiency -might be supplied.… I have allotted myself -so many pages a week. The average number has been about -forty. It has been placed as low as twenty, and has risen to -one hundred and twelve. And as a page is an ambiguous -term, my page has been made to contain two hundred and fifty -words; and as words, if not watched, will have a tendency to -straggle, I have had every word counted as I went. In the -bargains I have made with publishers, I have—not, of course, -with their knowledge, but in my own mind—undertaken always -to supply them with so many words, and I have never put a -book out of hand short of the number by a single word. I may -also say that the excess has been very small. I have prided -myself on completing my work exactly within the proposed dimensions. -But I have prided myself especially in completing -it within the proposed time—and I have always done so. -There has ever been the record before me, and a week passed -with an insufficient number of pages has been a blister to my -eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow to -my heart.”</p> - -<p>He was not satisfied to hold himself rigidly to specified hours. -Much of the time he wrote with his watch open before him, and -his task was to complete a page every fifteen minutes. “I have -found that the two hundred and fifty words have been forthcoming -as regularly as my watch went.” He seems to feel that -the one only who has acquired a facile style can expect to produce -a given quantity in a given time. “His language must -come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of the -great performer’s fingers; as words come from the mouth of -the indignant orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the -trained compositor; as the syllables tinkled out by little bells -form themselves to the ear of the telegrapher.”</p> - -<p>In comparing himself with the authors who follow no systematic -method of work, he says: “They have failed to write their -best because they have seldom written at ease. I have done -double their work—though burdened with another profession—and -have done it almost without an effort. I have not once, -through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger of -being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to -copy.”</p> - -<p>In another connection he speaks of having three unpublished -novels in his desk, and adds: “One of these has been six -years finished, and has never seen the light since it was first -tied up in the wrapper which now contains it. I look forward -with some grim pleasantry to its publication after another -period of six years, and to the declaration of the critics that it -has been the work of a period of life at which the power of -writing novels had passed from me.”</p> - -<p>His method in writing enabled him to produce books quite -rapidly, and this accounts in part for the unpublished works on -hand. Only once did he permit a story to appear as a serial. -In all other cases the story was completed before the printer -saw any part of it.</p> - -<p>He defends his habit of work as follows: “I have been told -that such appliances are beneath the notice of a man of genius. -I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, but had I -been so I think I might well have subjected myself to these -trammels. Nothing, surely, is so potent as a law that may not -be disobeyed. It has the force of the water-drop that hollows -the stone. A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the -labors of a spasmodic Hercules.”</p> - -<p>His duties as a government officer required him to travel a -great deal, and he soon learned to do much of his literary work -while on his journeys. He wrote on a tablet while riding in -the cars; one story was written while traveling on three different -continents; “Lady Anna” was written while making a voyage -from Liverpool to Australia.</p> - -<p>Anthony Trollope had very positive views on the subject of -criticism. Early in his literary career he reached this conclusion: -“I made up my mind then that, should I continue this -trade of authorship, I would have no dealings with any critic -on my own behalf. I would neither ask for nor deplore criticism, -nor would I ever thank a critic for praise, or quarrel with him, -even in my heart, for censure.” A critic of the <i>Times</i> once -commended his books very highly. The critic afterward ventured -to inform Mr. Trollope that he was the author of the criticism. -The blunt reply was to the effect that he was under no -obligations for the complimentary notice.</p> - -<p>He once censured a professional critic for accepting a handsome -present from an author whose works the critic had commended. -His idea was that the man who has received a present -for praising a book will not feel free to criticise adversely -the next book by the same author. He states his views at -length on this point: “I think it may be laid down as a golden -rule in literature that there should be no intercourse at all between -an author and his critic. The critic, as critic, should not -know his author, nor the author, as author, his critic.… -Praise let the author try to obtain by wholesome effort; censure -let him avoid, if possible, by care and industry. But when -they come, let him take them as coming from some source -which he cannot influence, and with which he should not meddle.”</p> - -<p>He once made an earnest plea that the critic’s name should -be appended to his article, believing that this would make the -writer more careful both of his censure and praise, and that -the reader could determine the value of the criticism. On the -subject of critical dishonesty he says: “If the writer will tell -us what he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely vague and -useless, we can forgive him; but when he tells us what he does -not think, actuated either by friendship or animosity, then there -should be no pardon for him. This is the sin in modern English -criticism of which there is most reason to complain.”</p> - -<p>Anthony Trollope thinks that it is wrong that a literary name -should carry so much favor with it. He says: “I, indeed, had -never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter -of course; but there were others who sat on higher seats, -to whom the critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, -even when they wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which -from a beginner would not have been thought worthy of the -slightest notice. I hope no one will think that in saying this I -am actuated by jealousy of others. Though I never reached -that height, still I had so far progressed that that which I wrote -was received with too much favor. The injustice which struck -me did not consist in that which was withheld from me, but in -that which was given to me. I felt that aspirants coming up -below me might do work as good as mine, and probably much -better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Trollope is undoubtedly right in his general statement. -While as a rule literary productions stand on their merits, the -name of Tennyson or some other writer of equal fame will -insure the sale of an article which, if written by an unknown -writer, would be promptly rejected. Young writers need not -complain of this. Distinguished names render articles marketable, -and give them a commercial value that publishers can not -ignore. To test the correctness of his theory, Mr. Trollope wrote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span> -two novels anonymously, which were not received with favor.</p> - -<p>Mr. Trollope’s success in a pecuniary point of view was very -slow. During the first ten years of his literary career he did -not receive compensation enough to buy the pens, ink and -paper he used. Twelve years passed before he received any -appreciable increase of salary from his books. From that time -his compensation was good. His books brought him in all -something like $350,000.</p> - -<p>The chapter that he devotes to the English novelists of his -day is very interesting. He places Thackeray first, George -Eliot second, and Dickens third. Most readers would perhaps -reverse this order. Of Thackeray’s great work he says: “I -myself regard ‘Esmond’ as the greatest novel in the English -language, basing that judgment upon the excellence of its -language, on the clear individuality of the characters, on the -truth of its delineations in regard to the time selected, and on -its great pathos.” He pays a high tribute to Charlotte Bronte, -and then adds: “‘Jane Eyre’ and ‘Esmond,’ and ‘Adam -Bede,’ will be in the hands of our grandchildren, when ‘Pickwick’ -and ‘Pelham’ and ‘Harry Lorrequer’ are forgotten; -because the men and women depicted are human in their aspirations, -human in their sympathies, and human in their actions.” -He commends Wilkie Collins and Charles Reade quite highly, -but thinks the latter has no clear conception of literary honesty.</p> - -<p>Mr. Trollope relates an amusing incident concerning one of -his favorite characters. He was seated in a club room, when -two clergymen entered and commenced to criticise his works. -“The gravamen of their complaint lay in the fact that I introduced -the same characters so often. ‘Here,’ said one, ‘is the -archdeacon whom we have had in every novel he has ever -written.’ ‘And here,’ said the other, ‘is the old duke whom -he has talked about till everybody is tired of him. If I could -not invent new characters, I would not write novels at all.’ -Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. Proudie. It was impossible -for me not to hear their words, and almost impossible to hear -them and be quiet. I got up, and standing between them, I -acknowledged myself to be the culprit. ‘As to Mrs. Proudie,’ -I said, ‘I will go home and kill her before the week is over.’ -And so I did. The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, -and one of them begged me to forget his frivolous observations. -I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight -in writing about Mrs. Proudie, … and I still live -much in company with her ghost.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Trollope made a number of visits to the United States, -and was in Washington at the time of the Mason and Slidell -controversy. Mr. Sumner was opposed to giving up the men. -Mr. Seward’s counsel prevailed with President Lincoln, and the -men were released. He says that this “was the severest danger -that the Northern cause encountered during the war.” He -describes a visit to Brigham Young as follows:</p> - -<p>“I called upon him, sending to him my card, apologizing for -doing so without an introduction, and excusing myself by saying -that I did not like to pass through the territory without seeing -a man of whom I had heard so much. He received me in -his doorway, not asking me to enter, and inquired whether I -were not a miner. When I told him that I was not a miner, he -asked me whether I earned my bread. I told him I did. ‘I -guess you’re a miner,’ said he. I again assured him that I -was not. ‘Then how do you earn your bread?’ I told him -that I did so by writing books. ‘I’m sure you’re a miner,’ said -he. Then he turned upon his heel, went back into the house, -and closed the door. I was properly punished, as I was vain -enough to conceive that he would have heard my name.”</p> - -<p>This autobiography is a delightful book. The candor with -which the writer speaks of his own books, pointing out their -defects and calling attention to their merits, the freedom with -which he speaks of his early struggles, his method of work, -and his success, the spirit of fairness with which he criticises -his contemporaries—all these reveal a mind healthy in tone, and -call forth our hearty admiration.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="SABBATH_CHIMES">SABBATH CHIMES.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By PHEBE A. HOLDER.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">O’er the city’s restless surges,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Heaving like the ocean tide,</div> -<div class="verse">Steals the night with hush of silence,</div> -<div class="verse i2">And the waves of toil subside.</div> -<div class="verse">Noiseless drops the soft, dark curtain,</div> -<div class="verse i2">While the mighty throbbings cease,</div> -<div class="verse">Starry eyes watch o’er the city</div> -<div class="verse i2">Sleeping in the depths of peace.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Comes the morning fair and radiant,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Bathed in sunshine—breathing balm,</div> -<div class="verse">Heaven’s blue dome a benediction,</div> -<div class="verse i2">With its pure, unspotted calm,</div> -<div class="verse">Like Jerusalem, the golden,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Coming down to earth from heaven,</div> -<div class="verse">Clad in robes of bridal beauty</div> -<div class="verse i2">Seems this morn the Lord has given.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">As I tread the streets, still peaceful,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Turning to the house of God,</div> -<div class="verse">Drinking in this wondrous beauty,</div> -<div class="verse i2">And this glory of the Lord,</div> -<div class="verse">Through the crystal air of morning</div> -<div class="verse i2">Ring the bells with mellow chime,</div> -<div class="verse">In a strain of sweetest music,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Hallowed as the Sabbath time.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Like the songs I heard in childhood,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Or a sainted mother’s psalm,</div> -<div class="verse">Fell those chimes upon my spirit</div> -<div class="verse i2">With a holy, restful calm.</div> -<div class="verse">Like the tones of angel voices,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Sounding from seraphic choir,</div> -<div class="verse">Seemed this call our God to worship</div> -<div class="verse i2">In this holy house of prayer.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Still entranced I paused to listen</div> -<div class="verse i2">To the chiming, silvery, clear—</div> -<div class="verse">When the thrilling strain had ended</div> -<div class="verse i2">Yet I waited—fixed to hear;</div> -<div class="verse">While upon my listening spirit</div> -<div class="verse i2">Came a sense unfelt before,</div> -<div class="verse">Of our Lord’s most precious blessing</div> -<div class="verse i2">In the Sabbath’s holy power.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Coming like a guest from heaven</div> -<div class="verse i2">To our earthly, toil-worn lives,</div> -<div class="verse">A sweet influence, pure, uplifting,</div> -<div class="verse i2">To our struggling souls it gives.</div> -<div class="verse">Pointing with prophetic finger</div> -<div class="verse i2">To the perfect Sabbath rest</div> -<div class="verse">In the fair, Celestial City</div> -<div class="verse i2">Of the sainted and the blest,—</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">As with angel voice it calls us,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Now to seek that home of light</div> -<div class="verse">Where the gates of pearl shall open</div> -<div class="verse i2">To the pure with garments white.</div> -<div class="verse">Day beloved! thy blessed service</div> -<div class="verse i2">In the temple of our God,</div> -<div class="verse">Draws us nearer—ever nearer,</div> -<div class="verse i2">To our glorious, risen Lord.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Still that soft and mellow cadence</div> -<div class="verse i2">Lingers like a sacred charm,</div> -<div class="verse">Resting on my waiting spirit</div> -<div class="verse i2">With a touch of heavenly calm.</div> -<div class="verse">Like a sweet-toned voice still calling</div> -<div class="verse i2">From our home that is to be,</div> -<div class="verse">While from out its unseen glory</div> -<div class="verse i2">Floats celestial harmony.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="EIGHT_CENTURIES_WITH_WALTER">EIGHT CENTURIES WITH WALTER SCOTT.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By WALLACE BRUCE.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Queen Elizabeth died March 24, 1602. James the Sixth, of -Scotland, became James the First of the United Kingdoms. -According to ancient prophecy the Scottish kings were to follow -the Stone of Scone, which, it will be remembered, was -removed to London by Edward the First. The prophecy was -three hundred years in being fulfilled. The same strange -Nemesis of fate, which, in the last generation, placed the grandson -of Josephine upon the throne of France, handed the scepter -of the haughty Elizabeth to the son of her unfortunate rival, -Mary, Queen of Scots. But the good fortune of James only -emphasizes the general misfortune of the Stuart family. His -ancestral record was not a cheerful retrospect. James the First -of Scotland was murdered. James the Second was killed by -the bursting of a cannon. James the Third was privately slain. -James the Fourth fell on the disastrous field of Flodden. -James the Fifth died of a broken heart. Mary was beheaded. -His father Darnley was murdered.</p> - -<p>Could he have foreseen the history of the next three generations—the -execution of his son, Charles the First; the debauched -reign of his grandson, Charles the Third, after his -return from exile; and the banishment of James the Second, -he would have found the outlook even more sad than the -retrospect. The lines of the Stuart family did not fall in pleasant -places. Some writer has observed that they suffered for -the crimes of the Tudors. It may be that England had piled -up a century of wrong which demanded atonement, but, without -prejudice, the proverb was emphatically true, “Sufficient -unto each reign was the evil thereof.” It must also be remembered -that all Europe was in a ferment. The celebrated Thirty -Years’ War was raging in Germany. Religious enthusiasm was -asserting its power in Britain. The English and Scotch people -were jealous of their political rights. The reign of a Scottish-born -king, after so many centuries of bitter hate, could not be -entirely acceptable to the English race. Both sides accused -the king of partiality. Needy lords and nobles poured down -from the north, and London resembled our own National -Capital at the inauguration of a new president. The king was -supplicated in Court, in the street, on horseback, at every -doorway; ay, the very plate that contained his food was -adorned with urgent request from some impatient relative of -fifteenth or twentieth cousinship. As the Court had removed -from Edinburgh and Scotland it seemed that Edinburgh and -Scotland had removed to the Court. The ancient prejudice between -Scot and English broke out in street, palace and inn. -These are the historic events which preface the “Fortunes of -Nigel,” and the fray between the Scottish servant and the -’prentice boys of London, at the opening of the volume, strikes -the keynote of universal discord.</p> - -<p>It was a constitutional defect of James the First to be without -money. As Nigel, the Scottish lord, happened to need the -loan which his father had made to the king, he presented himself -with the old fashioned assurance of a man justly demanding -his rights, although at the hands of a monarch. The king -was incensed, but the young lord fortunately falls in with -George Heriot, the wealthy Scotch jeweler “to His Majesty,” -whose princely bequests still adorn the city of Edinburgh; but, -unmindful of good counsel, he gradually lapses from duty, -becomes a murderer in what he considers a matter of honor, is -compelled to find refuge in Alsatia or Whitefriars, a sort of -privileged den of iniquity. The portrayal of his experience in -this nest of outlaws is true to the London of 1620.</p> - -<p>It is this blending of Scott’s dramatic and descriptive power -which gives even to his minor works an enduring value. We -have, as it were, a photograph of the great city as it appeared -two hundred and sixty years ago. We see the Strand, a quiet -street, unlike the noisy thoroughfare of to-day, lined on the -river-side with palaces and pleasure grounds reaching to the -Thames. We see Whitehall, with its rich gates designed by -Holbein, and stately court planned by Inigo Jones. We walk -in the park with the courtly Duke of Buckingham, talk face to -face with the king in the palace, on the chase, in the parlor of -the wealthy Londoner; and at the close of the volume we feel -that Scott has justly summed up his character in this striking -paragraph of the fifth chapter: “He was deeply learned, -without possessing useful knowledge; sagacious in many individual -cases, without having real wisdom; fond of his power, -yet willing to resign the direction of that, and himself, to the -most unworthy favorites; a big and bold asserter of his rights -and words, yet one who tamely saw them trampled on in deeds; -a lover of negotiations, in which he was always outwitted; and -one who feared war, where conquest might have been easy. -He was fond of his dignity, while he was perpetually degrading -it by undue familiarity; capable of much public labor, yet often -neglecting it for the meanest amusement; a wit, though a -pedant; and a scholar, though fond of the conversation of the -ignorant and uneducated. Even his timidity of temper was not -uniform; and there were moments of his life, and those critical, -in which he showed the spirit of his ancestors. He was laborious -in trifles, and a trifler where serious labor was required; devout -in his sentiments, and yet too often profane in his language; -just and beneficent by nature, he yet gave way to the iniquities -and oppressions of others.”</p> - -<p>“Rokeby,” a poem, comes next in historic order. The scene is -laid at Rokeby, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, and the date is -immediately subsequent to the great battle of Marston Moor, -July 3, 1644. It was here that the bold cavaliers learned a -lesson never to be forgotten, at the hand of Puritan and Roundhead. -The poem abounds with notable and vigorous passages. -It throws light on the stormy years of the great Civil War; but -so many of Scott’s novels are related to this period that we -must dismiss the poem with a single quotation—a tribute to -the genius of Chaucer:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“O for that pencil, erst profuse</div> -<div class="verse i1">Of Chivalry’s emblazoned hues,</div> -<div class="verse i1">That traced of old in Woodstock bower</div> -<div class="verse i1">The pageant of the Leaf and Flower,</div> -<div class="verse i1">And bodied forth the tourney high,</div> -<div class="verse i1">Held for the hand of Emily!</div> -<div class="verse i1">Then might I paint the tumult broad,</div> -<div class="verse i1">That to the crowned abbey flowed;</div> -<div class="verse i1">Paint the dejected cavalier,</div> -<div class="verse i1">Doubtful, disarmed and sad of cheer;</div> -<div class="verse i1">And his proud foe, whose formal eye</div> -<div class="verse i1">Claimed conquest now and mastery;</div> -<div class="verse i1">And the brute crowd, whose envious zeal</div> -<div class="verse i1">Huzzas each turn of Fortune’s wheel.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“The Legend of Montrose” takes us once more into the -Highlands of Scotland, where the same deadly feuds divide -the clans which we witnessed in reading the “Fair Maid of -Perth.” The Northern Highlanders, under the leadership of -Montrose, espouse the side of King Charles. The Western -Highlanders, under Argyle, rally on the side of Parliament. -The picture of these two leaders is admirably drawn, as well as -the character of their bold followers, who seemed unconscious -of hardship; who were not only willing “to make their couch -in the snow, but considered it effeminate luxury to use a snow-ball -for a pillow.”</p> - -<p>The principal character of the book is Captain Dalgetty. A -critic in the Edinburgh <i>Review</i> complained that there was perhaps -too much of Dalgetty; that he engrossed too great a proportion -of the work. But in the very next line he says that -“the author has nowhere shown more affinity to that matchless -spirit, who could bring out his Falstaffs and his Pistols, in act -after act, and play after play, and exercise them every time with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span> -scenes of unbounded loquacity, without exhausting their -humor, or varying a note from its characteristic tone, than in -his large and reiterated specimens of the eloquence of the redoubted -Dalgetty.” Like many of the Scottish soldiers the -captain had served under Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden, -and never lost his enthusiasm for the Lion of the North, the -bulwark of the Protestant faith. Dalgetty is a rare specimen -of Scotch “canniness,” willing to hire out to the side that -paid the most, but true to his contract when made. To him -war was a sort of drama, and he merely engaged himself as -one of the “star actors.” We dismiss the captain with reluctance, -and we imagine the reader will likewise when he -closes the volume.</p> - -<p>In one of the last chapters Scott treats us to a specimen of -the lofty eloquence and undying hate of an old highland chief -in his last words to his grandson: “In the thicket of the -wilderness, and in the mist of the mountain, keep thou unsoiled -the freedom which I leave thee as a birthright. Barter it neither -for the rich garment, nor for the stone roof, nor for the covered -board, nor for the couch of down—on the rock or in the valley, -in abundance or in famine—in the leafy summer, and in the -days of the iron winter—son of the mist! be free as thy forefathers. -Own no lord—receive no law—take no hire—give no -stipend—build no hut—enclose no pasture—sow no grain; let -the deer of the mountains be thy flocks and herds—if these fail -thee, prey upon the goods of our oppressors—of the Saxon and -of such Gael as are Saxon in their souls. Remember those -who have done kindness to our race, and pay their services -with thy blood, should the hour require it. Farewell, beloved! -and mayst thou die like thy forefathers, ere infirmity, disease, -or age shall break thy spirit.”</p> - -<p>Robert Aytoun in his poem on the “Execution of Montrose,” -which occurred a few years subsequent to our story, caught the -true spirit of the Gael, in the Highlander’s address to Evan -Cameron:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“’Twas I that led the Highland host</div> -<div class="verse i3">Through wild Lochaber’s snows,</div> -<div class="verse i1">What time the plaided clans came down</div> -<div class="verse i3">To battle with Montrose.</div> -<div class="verse i1">I’ve told thee how the Southrons fell</div> -<div class="verse i3">Beneath the broad claymore,</div> -<div class="verse i1">And how we smote the Campbell clan</div> -<div class="verse i3">By Inverlochy’s shore.</div> -<div class="verse i1">I’ve told thee how we swept Dundee,</div> -<div class="verse i3">And tamed the Lindsey’s pride;</div> -<div class="verse i1">But never have I told thee yet</div> -<div class="verse i3">How the great Marquis died.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse i1">A traitor sold him to his foes;—</div> -<div class="verse i3">O deed of deathless shame!</div> -<div class="verse i1">I charge thee, boy, if e’er thou meet</div> -<div class="verse i3">With one of Assynt’s name—</div> -<div class="verse i1">Be it upon the mountain side,</div> -<div class="verse i3">Or yet within the glen:</div> -<div class="verse i1">Stand he in martial gear alone,</div> -<div class="verse i3">Or backed by armed men—</div> -<div class="verse i1">Face him, as thou wouldst face the man</div> -<div class="verse i3">Who wronged thy sire’s renown;</div> -<div class="verse i1">Remember of what blood thou art,</div> -<div class="verse i3">And strike the caitiff down!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Between the “Legend of Montrose” and “Woodstock” stands -a scaffold: a window is opened in the Palace of Whitehall; a -brave but fickle king, who never lost his dignity, and rarely -kept a promise, walks forth attended by two executioners: he -speaks but one word to his attendant, places his head upon the -block, and by the bravery of his death half atones for the -crimes and mistakes of his life. As to his private character -historians, for the most part, regard Charles the First as a -brave, virtuous and religious man; but he entertained “extravagant -ideas of the royal power, unsuitable to the time in -which he lived.” His attempt to establish a National Church, -to force upon the Presbyterians of Scotland the Common -Prayer, and introduce a Liturgy similar to that used in England -produced its logical result. The Star Chamber with its arbitrary -arrests and punishments, and his idea of kingly prerogative, -were not suited to the temper of his people; and finally he -alienated his best friends by disregarding his word and most -solemn contracts. The House of Commons, led by bold and -determined men, asserted the supreme doctrine of liberty, so -grandly emphasized one hundred years later in our Declaration -of Independence, that “The power of the king, like any -other power in the Constitution, was limited by the laws; and -was liable to be legally resisted when it trespassed beyond -them.”</p> - -<p>It must also be remembered, before we read the story of -“Woodstock,” that the party which controlled the Parliament of -England and finally brought the king to the scaffold, was -divided into two factions: Presbyterians and Independents. -Among the Independents were Sir Harry Vane, John Milton -and Oliver Cromwell. So much for the introduction to “Woodstock,” -which opens with a picture showing the cavaliers -crushed under the iron heel of Cromwell. The time of the tale -is 1652; and the story begins with a rather discordant service -in the church or chapel of St. John. The defaced walls and -broken windows reveal the fanaticism or spite which too often -attends the spirit of liberty. We are presented with a rude -scuffle between a Presbyterian and Independent preacher in a -pulpit formerly belonging to the Established Church, in which -the Independent preacher wins the victory; and the chapter -is symbolic of the great struggle, not only in the religious, but -also in the political condition of Britain. The incident is a -fitting preface to the book, in which Independent, Presbyterian -and Royalist are shaken together as in a kaleidoscope.</p> - -<p>The story humorously gives us the old-time belief that Woodstock -was a haunted spot; and Scott refers in his preface to a -book, printed in London in the year 1660, bearing the sombre -title of “The Just Devil of Woodstock; or a true narrative of -the several apparitions, the fights and punishments inflicted -upon the rumpish commissioners sent thither to survey the -manors and houses belonging to his Magestie.” The sad story -of the fair Rosamond, murdered here by Queen Eleanor, was -well calculated to make the ghostly apparitions more real; at -least, the place was tragic enough to impress the superstitious of -that generation. But the great value of this novel, apart from -the picture of the times, consists in the portrayal of a living, -breathing Cromwell; such a Cromwell as no history gives, but -<i>the</i> Cromwell who appears as the resultant of them all; a man -of deep emotion, wary in council and unwavering in execution, -a man without a single grace of oratory, who, by the force of -character, assumed and kept the leadership of the House of -Commons; in whose presence the bravest men stood lost in -fear and wonder. Or, as Scott beautifully puts it: “So true -it is, that as greater lights swallow up and extinguish the display -of those which are less, so men of great, capacious, and -overruling minds, bear aside and subdue, in their climax of -passion, the more feeble wills and passions of others; as, when -a river joins a brook, the fiercer torrent shoulders aside the -smaller stream.”</p> - -<p>There is one other sketch which claims our attention—that -of the disguised wanderer, Charles the Second, revered by -Royalist, and pursued by the ruling party as an outcast. “No -person on earth,” Scott says, “could better understand the -society in which he moved; exile had made him acquainted -with life in all its shades and varieties—his spirits, if not uniform, -were elastic—he had that species of Epicurean philosophy -which, even in the most extreme difficulties and dangers, can -in an interval of ease, however brief, avail itself of the enjoyments -of the moment—he was, in short, in youth and misfortune, -as afterward in his regal condition, a good-humored but hard-hearted -voluptuary, wise, save where his passions intervened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span> -beneficent, save where prodigality had deprived him of the -means, or prejudice of the wish to confer benefits—his faults -such as might have often drawn down hatred, but that they -were mingled with so much urbanity, that the injured person -felt it impossible to retain the full sense of his wrongs.”</p> - -<p>During his wandering he was entertained for a time at the -home of the old knight, Sir Henry Lee, proprietor of Woodstock. -The attachment formed for the old knight and his -family affords Scott material for one of those dramatic descriptions -in which he always so much delighted.</p> - -<p>It was the 29th of May. All England sang. “The king enjoys -his own again.” “He made his progress from Rochester -to London, with a reception on the part of his subjects so -unanimously cordial, as made him say gaily, it must have been -his own fault to stay so long away from a country where his -arrival gave so much joy. On horseback, betwixt his two -brothers, the dukes of York and Gloucester, the restored -monarch trode slowly over roads strewn with flowers—by conduits -running wine, under triumphal arches, and through -streets hung with tapestry. There were citizens in various -bands, some arrayed in coats of black velvet, with gold chains, -some in military suits of cloth of gold, or cloth of silver, followed -by all those craftsmen, who, having hooted the father -from Whitehall, had now come to shout the son into possession -of his ancestral palace. On his passage through Blackheath -he passed that army, which, so long formidable to England -herself, as well as to Europe, had been the means of restoring -the monarchy which their own hands had destroyed. As the -king passed the last files of this formidable host he came to an -open part of the heath, where many persons of quality, with -others of inferior rank, had stationed themselves to gratulate -him as he passed toward the capital.</p> - -<p>“There was one group, however, which attracted particular -attention from those around, on account of the respect shown -to the party by the soldiers who kept the ground, and who, -whether Cavaliers or Roundheads, seemed to contest emulously -which should contribute most to their accommodation; for -both the elder and younger of the party had been distinguished -in the Civil War.</p> - -<p>“It was a family group, of which the principal figure was an -old man seated in a chair, having a complacent smile on his -face, and a tear swelling to his eye, as he saw the banners -wave on in interminable succession, and heard the multitude -shouting the long-silenced acclamation, ‘God save King -Charles!’ His cheek was ashy pale, and his long beard -bleached like the thistle down; his blue eye was cloudless, yet -it was obvious that his vision was failing. His motions were -feeble, and he spoke little, except when he answered the prattle -of his grandchildren or asked a question of his daughter, who -sat beside him, matured in matronly beauty. A gigantic dog, -which bore the signs of being at the extremity of canine life, -with eyes dim, and head slouched down, exhibiting only the -ruin of his former appearance, formed a remarkable figure in -the group.</p> - -<p>“And now the distant clarions announced the royal presence. -Onward came pursuivant and trumpet—onward came plumes -and cloth of gold, and waving standards displayed, and swords -gleaming to the sun; and, at length, heading a group of the -noblest in England, supported by his royal brothers on either -side, onward came King Charles. The monarch gazed an -instant on the party, sprung from his horse, and walked -instantly up to the old knight, amid thundering acclamations -of the people, when they saw Charles with his own hand oppose -the feeble attempts of the old man to rise to do him homage. -Gently placing him on his seat—‘Bless,’ he said, ‘father—bless -your son, who has returned in safety, as you blessed him -when he departed in danger.’</p> - -<p>“‘Excuse me for having made you wait, my lords,’ said the -king as he mounted his horse. ‘Indeed, had it not been for -these good folks, you might have waited for me long enough -to little purpose. Move on, sirs.’ The array moved on accordingly; -the sound of trumpet and drum again rose amid the -acclamations; but the knight had relapsed into earthly paleness; -his eyes were closed and opened not again. They ran -to his assistance, but it was too late. The light that burned so -low in the socket had leaped up and expired, in one exhilarating -flash.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="GEOGRAPHY_OF_THE_HEAVENS">GEOGRAPHY OF THE HEAVENS FOR APRIL.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Prof. M. B. GOFF</span>.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>THE SUN.</h3> - -<p>The sun’s light “exceeds in intensity any that can be produced -by artificial means, the electric light between charcoal -points being the only one that does not look absolutely black -against the unclouded sun.” “The heat thrown out from every -square yard of the sun’s surface is greater than that which -would be produced by burning six tons of coal on it each hour. -Now, we may take the surface of the sun roughly at 2,284,000,000,000 -square miles, and there are 3,097,600 square yards in -each square mile.” A little calculation will show how many -tons of coal must be burnt in an hour to represent the sun’s -heat.</p> - -<p>There comes also from the sun chemical force, which separates -carbon from oxygen, and turns the gas, which, were it -to accumulate, would kill all men and animals, into the life of -plants, thus preserving the animal and building up the vegetable -world. Whether it can keep up this amount of light and -heat throughout the “endless ages,” we have no means of knowing. -We have, however, no evidence even during centuries of -any loss of either, so that we may safely say that there will be -an abundance of both for all the time in which we are interested.</p> - -<p>On the 25th of this month there will be a partial eclipse, beginning -at 1:00 p. m., Washington mean time, in longitude -82° 3.5′ west, latitude 59° 12.3′ south. The greatest obscuration -(about .75) will occur at 2:46.4 p. m. in longitude 4° 26.7′ -east, latitude 70° 48.2′ south; will end at 4:32.4 p. m. in longitude -12° 20.6′ east, latitude 33° 6.7′ south. As it will be visible -only in the extreme southern part of the western continent and -in the south Atlantic Ocean, no importance is attached to its -occurrence.</p> - -<p>The most careless must have observed the increase in the -amount of daylight in the northern hemisphere since the 21st -of last December. On the first of the present month the sun -rises at 5:43 a. m. and sets at 6:25 p. m.; on the 30th it rises at -4:59 a. m. and sets at 6:55 p. m., so that the increase in “day’s -length,” as we are accustomed to call it, will be one hour and -seven minutes. To set our time pieces, we must, when the sun -is on the meridian, on the 1st, make them indicate 12:37 p. m.; -on the 15th, 11:59.8 a. m.; on the 30th, 11:57 a. m. On the 1st -day breaks at 4:04; on the 30th at 3:09. In latitude 41° 30′ -north the sun will, on the 30th, reach an altitude of 63° 33′ -above the horizon, the highest for the month.</p> - -<h3>THE MOON’S</h3> - -<p class="unindent">Phases for the month occur in the following order and time -(Washington mean time): First quarter on the 2d at 4:09 p. m.; -full moon on the 10th at 6:36 a. m.; last quarter on the 18th at -10:46 a. m.; new moon on the 25th at 9:49 a. m. It is also on -the meridian on the 1st, 15th and 30th, at 5:18 p. m., 3:38 a. m., -5:03 p. m. respectively. On the 2d it sets at 12:41 a. m.; on the -15th rises at 11:23 p. m.; and on the 29th sets at 11:28 p. m. -It is farthest from the earth on the 13th at 1:30 p. m.; and -nearest to the earth on the 26th at 3:42 a. m. In latitude 41° -30′ north, its least elevation above the horizon is on the 15th, -and its greatest on the 28th; on the former date being 29° 48½′, -and on the latter 67° 12½′. There will also be a total eclipse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span> -beginning on the 10th at 4:44 a. m., and ending at 8:33 a. m. -The beginning of the part called “total” continues from 5:52 -to 7:25 a. m., or one hour and thirty-three minutes. Magnitude -nearly 1.5. As the moon sets in the neighborhood of Washington -at about 5:30 a. m., only the first part and none of the -“totality” will be there visible. Our neighbor, the moon, has -one peculiar trait, which we could wish belonged to all our -friends. It never “turns its back on you.” Cold it may be, -and is often so called, but in darkest hours, and under all circumstances, -it presents its face to the earth. It may be only -politeness or etiquette, that causes it thus to act; but the fact -remains. It may move a trifle, so that we can sometimes see -more of it than at others, but four-sevenths is the limit of its -surface as seen by man. What may be on the other side has -never been revealed. For aught we know, there may be</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Sweet fields arrayed in living green,</div> -<div class="verse i1">And rivers of delight.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But the probabilities are strongly on the other side. So far as -we can discover, no atmosphere is there to catch and hold the -rays from the burning sun, and hence it seems that all must be -cold and bleak and barren. “Distance lends enchantment to -the view,” and it were perhaps better that we should thus enjoy -its mild light and gentle influence, than cultivate a closer -acquaintance.</p> - -<h3>MERCURY.</h3> - -<p>The planet enjoying the distinction of being the nearest to -the center of our system is too near the “dazzling brightness” -to permit our finding out much about its physical constitution. -We suppose, but do not know, that it revolves on its axis. We -guess that it has satellites, but no one is certain that he ever -saw one of them. We used to think it must be a very warm -planet; but now we think it might perhaps be a moderately -comfortable place for a mortal to reside. The fact is, what we -do not know about it is much more than what we do know; -and what we know about it for this month is nearly as follows: -On the 1st, 15th, 25th and 30th it will rise after the sun, and -will not be visible to the unaided eye; but on the same dates -it will set at 6:32, 7:03, 8:37 and 8:35 p. m., respectively, and -can therefore be easily seen after sunset from the 20th to the -end of the month by anybody who will take the pains to look -for it—that is, within the latitude in which most of our readers -live. It reaches its most easterly limit (20° 32′) at 9:00 p. m. -on the evening of the 25th, and approaches so much nearer to -us during the month as to cause its diameter to appear nearly -twice as large—that is, to increase from 5″ to 9″. On the 21st -at 2:00 a. m. it will be 4° 20′ north of Neptune, and on the 26th -at 5:55 p. m., 5° 47′ north of the moon.</p> - -<h3>VENUS,</h3> - -<p class="unindent">The most friendly of our planets, who comes so close at times -as to seem to be within “hailing distance” (only twenty-five -millions of miles), is still our delight. She grows brighter and -more beautiful as time moves on. Her motion for the month -is direct and amounts to 34° 16′ 3″. Her diameter shows an -increase of 5.4″. From our present acquaintance we learn -that she sometimes shines so brightly as to be visible in daylight -to the naked eye, and at night, in the absence of the -moon, to cast a shadow. When viewed through a telescope, -she presents phases like the moon; and in some respects she -is very much like our earth. For example, her size is not more -than 4 per cent. less, and her density and force of gravity must -be nearly the same. Her days are supposed to be a little -shorter than ours, and her years are known to be equal to 224⅔ of -our days. On the 1st, 15th and 30th she will rise at 7:32, 7:25 -and 7:26 a. m., and set at 10:04, 10:31 and 10:48 p. m., respectively. -On the 2d, at 11:00 p. m., she will be nearest the sun; -on the 25th, at 11:00 p. m., 4° 13′ north of Saturn; on the 28th, -at 2:41 p. m., 7° 53′ north of the moon.</p> - -<h3>MARS.</h3> - -<p>Of this planet we have little to report. He continues his -direct motion, which amounts to 9° 30′ 34″. As he and the -earth are getting farther apart, his diameter (apparently) diminishes -from 10″ to 8″. He rises on the 1st, 15th and 30th -at 12:27 p. m., 11:54 a. m., and 11:24 a. m., and sets on the -2d, 16th, and May 1st at 3:09, 2:22, and 1:38 a. m., respectively. -On the 4th, at 10:26 a. m., his position is 8° 10′ north of the -moon, and on the 1st a little northeast of the nebula <i>Præsepe</i> -in <i>Cancer</i>.</p> - -<h3>JUPITER</h3> - -<p class="unindent">Continues to be evening star, coming to the meridian on the -1st, 15th and 30th, at 7:04, 6:13 and 5:20 p. m., and setting on -the 2d, 16th, and May 1st at 2:24, 1:32 and 12:38 a. m. His -motion, which is direct, amounts during the month to 4° 27′ -33″. His diameter diminishes from 37.8″ to 34.6″, an indication -that our distance from him is increasing. On the 3d, at -1:52 p. m., he is 6° north of the moon; and on the 14th, at 7:00 -p. m., 90° west of the sun.</p> - -<h3>SATURN</h3> - -<p class="unindent">Continues his position not far from the bright star <i>Aldebaran</i>, -in the constellation Taurus, on the 1st being about 2° 53′ west -and 3° 32′ north, while on the 30th he will be about 30′ east -and 4° 7½′ north of this star. His motion is direct and -amounts to 3° 24′. Diameter diminishes from 16.2″ on the -1st to 15.8″ on the 30th. Setting at 10:47, 9:59 and 9:09 p. m. -on the 1st, 15th and 30th he will be evening star throughout -the month. On the 12th, at 11:00 p. m., is 4° 13′ south of Venus, -and on the 27th, at 1:56 p. m., 2° 19′ north of the moon.</p> - -<h3>URANUS,</h3> - -<p class="unindent">Formerly and still sometimes called Herschel, from the name -of its discoverer, Dr. Herschel, has made but about one and -one-fifth revolutions about the sun, since its discovery in 1781, -more than a century ago. It is now near the star <i>Beta Virginis</i>, -and making a retrograde motion of about 56′ 30″ in 30 -days. Its diameter is 3.8″. It rises at 4:53 p. m., 3:55 p. m. -and 2:54 p. m. on the 1st, 15th and 30th, and sets at 5:09 a. m., -4:13 a. m. and 3:13 a. m. on the 2d, 16th, and May 1st. On the -6th, at 6:27 a. m., it is 3° 27′ north of the moon. Is evening -star during the month.</p> - -<h3>NEPTUNE</h3> - -<p class="unindent">Is evening star, setting at 9:24, 8:32 and 7:28 p. m. on the 1st, -15th and 30th, respectively. Its motion, 1° 2′ 37″, is direct. -Diameter, 2.6″. On the 21st, at 2:00 a. m., 4° 20′ south of -Mercury, and on the same day will set about fifteen minutes -later than said planet. On the 26th, at 8:27 a. m., 44′ north of -moon.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Earnestness.</span>—Without earnestness there is nothing to be -done in life; yet even among the people whom we call men of -culture, but little earnestness is often to be found; in labors -and employments, in arts, nay, even in recreations, they plant -themselves, if I may say so, in an attitude of self-defense; they -live, as they read a heap of newspapers, only to be done with -them. They remind one of that young Englishman at Rome, -who told, with a contented air, one evening in some company, -that “to-day he had despatched six churches and two galleries.” -They wish to know and learn a multitude of things, and not -seldom exactly those things with which they have the least concern; -and they never see that hunger is not appeased by snapping -at the air. When I become acquainted with a man my -first inquiry is: With what does he occupy himself, and how, -and with what degree of perseverance? The answer regulates -the interest I take in that man for life.… I reverence -the individual who understands distinctly what he wishes; who -unweariedly advances, who knows the means conducive to his -object, and can seize and use them. How far his object may -be great or little, may merit praise or censure, is a secondary -consideration with me.—<i>Goethe.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="EDGAR_ALLAN_POE">EDGAR ALLAN POE.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE LITERARY ISHMAEL.</span></h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By C. E. BISHOP.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Less is known while more is written and disputed about Edgar -Allan Poe, than about any other character in American literature. -In the narrative of his life there are gaps of months and years -in which nothing can be told of his whereabouts or acts; and as -if to atone for this lack he is at other times credited with feats -of ubiquity. There are also stories of a quixotic mission to -fight for Greek independence, <i>a la</i> Byron; of his escapades in -St. Petersburg; of enlistment in and desertion from the United -States army; of phenomenally protracted debauches, during -which he threw off the most wonderful productions of his pen—most -of which stories, so far as can be shown now, were -evolved from the inner consciousness of those writers who, -upon his death, “woke to ecstacy, the living liars,” to blacken -his name.</p> - -<p>A general reason for this paucity of particulars may be found, -perhaps, in Poe’s enforced seclusion from the public by the exigencies -of poverty during much of his life, and the low rank -of authors in the general estimation of the times; a special -reason may be that Poe’s literary executor and biographer, Dr. -Griswold, to whom in his lifetime he had entrusted all the material -he ever furnished any one, suppressed the facts and substituted -inventions, in order to assassinate the character of the -dead poet. For twenty-six years Poe’s body rested in an unmarked -grave, and his character was buried under a living -heap of obloquy. When at last, in 1875, a few devoted women -of Baltimore sought to redeem both tombs, nearly all the -contemporary witnesses to his acts were dead. It was not until -twenty-six years after the event that Dr. Moran, who had -attended Poe’s last illness, broke silence and put to rest the story -that he died in the midst of a drunken debauch in the streets -of Baltimore. “There was no smell of liquor upon his person -or breath, and no delirium or tremor,” says this tardy vindicator. -It was 1878 (twenty-nine years late) when Mrs. Weiss, of -Richmond, told the story of his last visit to that city, and contradicted -Griswold’s story of his engagement with Mrs. Stalton, -and his prolonged inebriety there. It was later still, when the -posthumous letter of Mrs. Whitman, of Providence, was published, -silencing the long-accepted tale of Poe’s engagement to -her, and his disreputable conduct and intemperance the evening -before they were to have been married. Many chivalrous -pens now—alas! too late—essayed his defense; but his true -history has not yet been written, and it probably never will be. -Dr. Johnson’s summary of Butler’s life almost literally applies -to Poe’s: “The date of his birth is doubtful, the mode and -place of his education unknown, the events of his life are variously -related, and all that can be told with certainty is that -he was poor.”</p> - -<p>“The persistent and palpably malignant efforts to damn him -with some drops of faint praise and some oceans of strong -abuse,”<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> have, indeed, produced a reactionary tendency -toward panegyric, since the angels rolled the stone away from -his tomb. The best any one can now do is to pity the man and -admire his works, and weigh probabilities. A careful view as -well of his time as of his character and environment is necessary. -Premising that I am not so presumptuous as to expect to -add much to the general fund of misinterpretation of his acts -and misunderstanding of his character, a brief summary of the -less controverted features of this history is submitted.</p> - -<p>In “that stray child of Poetry and Passion” concentered hot -Celtic and Southern blood, stimulated upon his father’s side by -drink, upon his mother’s by the artificial surroundings of an actress’s -life, and in both intensified by a runaway marriage, followed -by a joint “barn-storming” life. Himself an inter-act, his -nursery was the green room, his necessary nourishment narcotics. -It is a sad thing to say, but probably one of the few fortunate -circumstances of his life was that his parents died in his -infancy—one of his many misfortunes was to have been adopted -and raised by a wealthy family (Mr. Allan’s of Baltimore). -He was born in 1809, or 1811, in either Boston, Baltimore or -Richmond, through all of which he, living, “begged his -bread,” <i>a la</i> Homer. The Allans assiduously spoiled the child -with unlimited money, indulgence and praise. It was easy, -for he was rarely beautiful, affectionate, and precocious; he -recited with marvelous childish effect, spun webs of imaginative -stories, and composed rhymes. “He lisped in numbers, -for the numbers came,” and when he was nine or ten years old -his proud foster-father seriously contemplated issuing a volume -of his baby-verse, but was dissuaded by the boy’s tutor, who -said he had conceit enough already, and such additional celebrity -would probably ruin his prospects.</p> - -<p>Edgar was schooled in England, at the University of Virginia, -and at West Point, but he must have picked up independently -of schools and school masters the varied culture -which shows in his versatile writings—especially his acquaintance -with science, psychology and literature. At these schools -he was distinguished alike for fast learning and fast living—his -easy absorption of the branches he liked, his utter revulsion -against those he did not like (mathematics, notably), for his -literary and critical tastes, athletic exercises, and the lavishness -with which he scattered his guardian’s money. These characteristics -won him the jealousy of his plodding classmates, distinction -at the university, expulsion from West Point, and quarrels -with his foster-father. Over-indulgence by parents produced -the usual result of disrespect and ingratitude in the youth; and -the marriage of Mr. Allan to a second wife, and the birth of -heirs to his estates brought about a final separation and a disinheritance -of the adopted son, and so Edgar, at about his majority -age, was thrown on his own resources. He chose literature -as his profession, and doomed himself to poverty, anguish, -professional jealousy (especially strong among authors), triumphs, -defeats, ruin and insanity.</p> - -<p>Poe’s real début in letters was in 1833, when (ætat 24) he won -a prize of a hundred dollars offered by the proprietor of <i>The -Saturday Visitor</i>, Baltimore, for the best story. Better than -the money, the contest brought him the friendship of the -judges, and about a year later the editorship of <i>The Southern -Literary Messenger</i>, Richmond, at ten dollars a week. The -intervening year is one of the blanks.</p> - -<p>The Richmond editorship marks a turning point in Poe’s career. -He made the fortune of the <i>Messenger</i>; married (’35) his -cousin, Virginia Clem; and first began that line of work which -is, in my opinion, its distinctive feature, as it certainly proved -to be decisive of his destiny—to-wit: criticism. He published -in some issues as much as thirty or forty pages of book reviews. -They created a tempest; for, rare as is his imagery and wonderful -as is his imagination, Poe’s distinguishing mental characteristic -is analysis. He is more logician than poet, more -metaphysician than romancer.</p> - -<p>Poe subsequently (’37-’38) edited the <i>Gentlemen’s Magazine</i>, -and then <i>Graham’s Magazine</i>, both in Philadelphia, and in ’44 -we find him in New York, employed on the <i>Mirror</i>, the journal -of the poets N. P. Willis and George P. Morris. In Philadelphia -he did the best work of his life in romance and criticism. -Here, too, he made the acquaintance of his evil genius, Dr. -Griswold. Poe believed that Griswold supplanted him from -the editorship of <i>Graham’s</i>; G.’s subsequent enmity, while -professing friendship, was of the unforgiving nature that often -comes of the consciousness of having inflicted a secret wrong -on another. The only other causes of disagreement between -them alleged are that Poe criticised Griswold’s book in a lecture, -and that Griswold attempted to buy a favorable criticism -from Poe’s pen. But they were outwardly friendly, after a -reconciliation, till Poe’s voice and pen were beyond the power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span> -of response. The work of detraction had preceded Poe to New -York, for Mr. Willis writes of this engagement:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“With the highest admiration for his genius, and a willingness to let -it alone for more than ordinary irregularity, we were led by common report -to expect a very capricious attention to his duties, and occasionally -a scene of violence and difficulty. Time went on, however, and he was -invariably punctual and industrious. To our occasional request that he -would not probe too deep in a criticism, or that he would erase a passage -colored too highly with his resentments against society and mankind, -he readily and courteously assented—far more yielding than most -men, we thought, on points so excusably sensitive. Through all this -considerable period we had seen but one presentment of the man—a -quiet, patient, industrious, and most gentlemanly person, commanding -the utmost respect and good feeling by his unvarying deportment and -ability.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In 1845 appeared the work on which Poe’s poetic fame most -depends, that poem in which he wedded Despair to Harmony, -“The Raven.” It marks the acme of his life, also; his star -declined rapidly thereafter. His wife, who bore the hereditary -taint of consumption, was in a decline; care and anxiety on -that account, and his own ill health, took away his ability to -write and he was without means of support. He was driven to -ask loans from one or two friends, and by a fatality such as he -sometimes made to drive his fictitious characters upon their -worst expedients, he chose Dr. Griswold as one of them. “Can -you not send me five dollars?” he pleaded with G.; “I am ill -and Virginia is almost gone.” This and one or two other such -letters Griswold published, in connection with his slanders on -Poe’s character, to give his attack the cover of friendly sincerity. -Something was published in New York papers regarding -the distress of the Poes, and a lady friend (Mrs. Shew) -visited them at Fordham. The worst was confirmed.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“There was no clothing on the bed—which was only straw—but a -snow-white spread and sheets. The weather was cold, and the sick lady -had the dreadful chills that accompany the hectic fever of consumption. -She lay on the straw bed, wrapped in her husband’s great coat, with a -large tortoise-shell cat in her bosom. The wonderful cat seemed conscious -of her great usefulness. The coat and the cat were the sufferer’s -only means of warmth, except as her husband held her hands and her -mother her feet.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mrs. Poe died January 30, 1847. Captain Mayne Reid, the -novelist, who visited often at her house, thus describes her:</p> - -<p>“No one who remembers that dark-eyed, dark-haired -daughter of the South; her face so exquisitely lovely; her gentle, -graceful demeanor; no one who has ever spent an hour in -her society but will endorse what I have said of this lady, who -was the most delicate realization of the poet’s ideal.”</p> - -<p>Another said: “She had large, black eyes, and a pearly -whiteness of complexion which was a perfect pallor. Her pale -face, her brilliant eyes, and her raven hair gave her an unearthly -look. One felt that she was almost a disrobed spirit.”</p> - -<p>After this Poe’s decline was rapid. He was ill for a long -time, and never quite recovered his mental balance. In the -autumn of this year he visited Mrs. Shew, his benefactress. -She says that at this time, under the combined influence of her -gentle urgency, a cup of tea and the sound of neighboring -church bells, he wrote the first draft of “The Bells.” She -adds:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“My brother took Poe to his own room, where he slept twelve hours -and could hardly recall the evening’s work. This showed his mind was -injured—nearly gone out for want of food and from disappointment. -He had not been drinking and had only been a few hours from home. -Evidently his vitality was low, and he was nearly insane. I called in -Dr. Francis (the old man was odd but very skilful), who was one of -our neighbors. His words were, ‘He has heart disease and will die -early in life.’ We did not waken him, but let him sleep.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Since I began writing this paper I have heard recited in a -company of literary people an account of Poe’s staggering into -a stranger’s house at midnight, calling for a pen and dashing -off “The Bells;” then falling into a drunken stupor on the -library table. It was evidently believed by the narrator, despite -Mrs. Shew’s circumstantial and more rational account.</p> - -<p>During these dark days, as indeed during all Poe’s adult life, -Mrs. Clem was his guardian angel. The poet Willis touchingly -draws this picture of devotion:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“It was a hard fate that she was watching over. Mr. Poe wrote with -fastidious difficulty, and in a style too much above the popular level to -be well paid. He was always in pecuniary difficulty and, with his sick -wife, frequently in want of the merest necessaries of life. Winter after -winter, for years, the most touching sight to us in this whole city has -been that tireless minister to genius, thinly and insufficiently clad, going -from office to office with a poem or an article on some literary subject to -sell—sometimes simply pleading in a broken voice that ‘he was ill,’ -whatever might be the reason for his writing nothing—and never, amid -all her tears and recitals of distress, suffering one syllable to escape her -lips that would convey a doubt of him, or a complaint, or a lessening of -pride in his genius and good intentions. Her daughter died a year and -a half since, but she did not desert him. She continued his ministering -angel, living with him, caring for him, guarding him against exposure, -and when he was carried away by temptation, amid grief and the loneliness -of feeling unreplied to, and awoke from his self-abandonment prostrated -in destitution and suffering, begging for him still. If woman’s -devotion, born with a first love and fed with human passion, hallows its -object, as it is allowed to do, what does not a devotion like this—pure, -disinterested and holy as the watch of an invisible spirit—say for him -who inspired it.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>By this test, Poe’s was always a pure nature, for he inspired -respect, pity and regard in every woman he came in contact -with. It was a reflex sentiment, for Poe revered woman, and -there is not in all his writings an impure suggestion or an indelicate -word.</p> - -<p>The rest of the history is one of occasional indulgence in intoxicants -and rarely intermitting mental aberration. It is to -him during these last months of his unhappy career that the -least charity has been extended. He conducted a courtship of -three ladies at once, making to each like frantic protestations -of love, the same despairing appeals to each to become his -savior from some dreadful impending fate. In June, ’49, he -departed for Richmond, for what purpose is unknown. In -Philadelphia he appeared the subject of a hallucination that he -was pursued by conspirators, and had his mustache taken off -for the sake of disguise. In Richmond he remained until the -latter part of September, writing some and renewing old acquaintances. -During these three or four months he was twice -known to be overcome and in danger of his life from drink; he -was credited with having been almost continuously “in a state -of beastly intoxication” during the whole time. Mrs. Weiss -thinks that this was one of the brightest and happiest seasons -of his life; if so, it was light at its eventide. The return voyage -is shrouded—that is the fit word—shrouded in mystery and -controversy.</p> - -<p>This seems to be true—that he was taken up unconscious in -Baltimore at daybreak, taken to a hospital, and died there at -midnight of the same day (October 7, 1849). It is also known -that he left Richmond by boat on the evening of the 4th, he -then being sober and cheerful. In proper course he must have -arrived in Baltimore the night of the 5th or morning of the -6th; he was himself then, for he removed his trunk to a hotel. -There was thus left less than twenty-four hours in which for -him to travel to Havre de Grace and back, miss the New York -connection, vote eleven times in the Baltimore city election, -go through the “prolonged debauch,” fall into the delirium, -and lapse into the comatose state in which he was found—as -described in most of his biographies; and he immediately -thereafter is found to have no smell of liquor about him, no -tremor, and is conversing rationally when roused to consciousness.</p> - -<p>The event was announced by Griswold in the <i>Tribune</i> with -this brutal bluntness:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Edgar Allan Poe is dead. This announcement will startle -many, but few will be grieved by it. He had few or no friends.” -But the <i>Southern Literary Messenger</i> said: “Now that he is -gone, the vast multitude of blockheads may breathe again.” -Griswold simply elected himself mouthpiece of that host.</p> - -<p>On Poe’s supersensitive organization stimulants told with -fearful effect. Mrs. Clem said “A single cup of coffee would -intoxicate him.” N. P. Willis explained the vagaries and sins -of Poe by supposing him to be possessed of two antagonistic -spirits, a devil and an angel, each having complete mastery of -him by turns. But, says Willis, “With a single glass of wine -his whole nature was reversed, the demon became uppermost -and, though none of the usual signs of intoxication were visible, -his will was palpably insane. He easily seemed personating -only another phase of his natural character, and was accused -accordingly of insulting arrogance and bad heartedness. It -was a sad infirmity of physical constitution which puts it upon -very nearly the ground of temporary and almost irresponsible -insanity.”</p> - -<p>That these lapses were infrequent, instead of almost continuous, -we have plenty of testimony from those who were -much with him as business associates and inmates of the same -house. “I have never seen him otherwise than gentle, generous, -well-bred and particularly refined,” is a certificate of one -who was intimate in the family, which was confirmed by many -witnesses of different periods and places. The poet Swinburne -was probably right in declaring that Poe’s inebriety was “the -<i>effect</i> of a terrible evil, rather than its <i>cause</i>.” That evil lay -not alone, perhaps not chiefly, in his inherited and educated -predisposition to indulgence and his morbidness of mentality; -but in the character and consequences of his chiefest literary -work.</p> - -<p>It is a hard enough lot, under the best circumstances and in -the best times, to live by the pen. The characteristics as well -of Poe’s genius as of his times made that lot a doom for him. -The rewards of authorship were on an eleemosynary scale -(Poe received only $10 for “The Raven,” and $10 a week as -editor-in-chief of a magazine: the <i>North American Review</i> -then paid only $2 a page for matter); literary taste was unformed -and, worst of all, the market was drugged and cheapened -and the best public appreciation perverted by a silly -school of writer who had arisen—similar to the “Della Crusca -School” which a few years before had infested literature in -England. Their lucubrations were both barren of ideas and -bad in style. It was the lollipop stage of our literature. Now -Poe possessed in high degree two parts which, when addressed -to criticism, would most offend these callow writers, to-wit: -The musical sense of language, and marvelous analytical -powers. The most obvious quality of his poetic style is its -rhythm. The musical ear led him to adopt refrains and -euphonious syllables, like “Never more,” “Lenore,” “bells,” -and to dwell on their cadence; it made a bad composition distract -him as a discord does a sensitive musician. For him -divine harmonies lay in the relation of words to each other, as -if they had been notes.</p> - -<p>Coupled with this, to him, uncomfortable sensitiveness to -verbal sounds, was his almost superhuman power of dissecting -thought—extremely uncomfortable to others, even to the best -of writers. Thus gifted with a mental touch equally for the -substance of language and the substance of thought which -language struggles to give birth to; possessed of the power of -an eager and a nipping sarcasm and an infernal courage, fortified -with extensive reading and a retentive memory, Poe became -a scourge to mediocrity, imitation, sham and pretense. -There could not have been a more critical time for such a man -to attempt a livelihood at letters; there could not have been a -man better fitted to work havoc among the essayists and poetasters -of the day, to compel literary reform and to bring misfortunes -on himself. “He elected himself chief justice of the -court of criticism and head hangman of dunces,” says Stoddard. -“He hated a bad book as a misdemeanor.” Burton, proprietor -of the <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, remonstrated with Poe -against the severity of some of his book reviews. “You say,” -said he to Poe, “that the people love havoc; I think they love -justice.” One adds, “Poe thought literary justice meant havoc -with such mediocrity as then flourished.” To the cause of pure -literature he thus devoted his life with example, with precept -and with destructive force. He was the Wendell Phillips of -American literature. He did a work that was necessary to -be done in behalf of American literature. He pulled down upon -his own head and theirs, the sham temple which the little scribbling -Philistines had erected.</p> - -<p>So it is not to be wondered at that “he contrived to attach -to himself animosities of the most enduring kind,” as the -<i>Messenger</i> declared. It became Poe against the whole literary -world of America in a very short time—for he had unstinted -praise for no one. It is doubtless due to the influence of this -army of foes that he lost in succession all his editorial situations -and was impoverished. There were other enemies as unscrupulous -as Griswold. One of these put in successful circulation -the theory that Poe, by cruelty, deliberately caused the -death of his wife in order to get the inspiration for “The -Raven,” and the story may still be met on its rounds, notwithstanding -the fact that the poem was written two years before -she died. (Amiable human nature delights in contemplation of -human monsters.) She declared on her death-bed that her life -had been shortened by anonymous letters slandering and -threatening her husband. Perhaps it was to meet this story -that he wrote that curious analysis (“The Philosophy of Composition”) -of the mechanical and prosaic methods by which he -constructed “The Raven.”</p> - -<p>The critical instinct, coupled with an impulsive temperament, -high ideals of perfect performance and a powerful pen, is a fatal -gift to any man. The path of such a one will be strewn with -the tombs of friendships which he has stabbed, many and -many a time unconsciously; his life will be haunted with vain -regrets for words gone past recall, carrying with them consequences -he did not reckon upon, hurting those he loves, missing -those he aimed at. His way leads steadily through bitter -animosities, bitterer remorse and, bitterest of all, isolation from -his fellows, who shall clothe him with a character foreign, antagonistic -and repulsive to his better nature. If he be not -possessed of an o’ermastering will, a thick skin and a healthy, -cheerful temper it leads to morbidness, gloom and despair.</p> - -<p>Poe was not of that will and temper. He was affectionate, -sociable and supersensitive to coolness of manner in others. -A rebuff was a stab to him, hatred a calamity. It is said his -early life was clouded by the stigma put on him by his parents’ -theatrical associations and his own dependence on charity; and -that when a lad he wept many wild nights at the grave of a -lady who had spoken kindly to him and become the confidante -of his boyish sorrows and hopes. So with this nature and with -his devastating pen in hand he traced that descent into the -living tomb. If from its gloom he sometimes sought “respite -and nepenthe” in drink it is not to be wondered at; he was often -tempted to suicide. He once solemnly protested: “I have no -pleasure in stimulants. It [indulgence in drink] has been in -the <i>desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories—memories -of wrong, and injustice and imputed dishonor</i>—from -a <i>sense of insupportable loneliness</i> and a dread of some strange -impending gloom.”</p> - -<p>I fancy he tried to typify this unhappy mission that had -come to blast his life in that poem in which he “wedded despair -to harmony.” “The Raven” was a “grim, ghastly, ominous -messenger from the night’s Plutonian shore” that settled on the -bust of Pallas, goddess of wisdom, even as that critical impulse -had settled upon his genius. His soul never was lifted from -the shadow. He was himself, of that fell work, the</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">—“Unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster</div> -<div class="verse">Followed fast and followed faster.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span></p> - -<p>And why did he not stop the war on the literati and pseudo-authors? -Who can tell? He “wasn’t practical.” He lacked -some of Falstaff’s “instinct.” He was not good and sweet. -He wasn’t well-balanced; he was an Eccentric. Pity the Eccentric—the -man who knows himself called and chosen to a -cause, whether by the necessities of his own nature or by divine -impulse—if, indeed, this and that be not the same. Whether -that cause be warring upon high injustice, exposing hypocrisy -in high places, reforming an art, lifting up the lowly—anything -that sets a man apart to a purpose other than self-seeking, brings -him ingratitude, misinterpretation, isolation and many sorrows. -Hamlet called to set right the out-of-joint times would rather, -if he had dared, have taken his quietus with a bare bodkin than -face this life of heart-ache, oppressors’ wrongs, law’s delays to -correct the wrongs, and the spurns that patient merit of the -unworthy takes. The greatest of Eccentrics became a stranger -unto his brethren, was despised and rejected of man, a man of -sorrows and acquainted with grief; even His chosen disciples -when He tried to purify the holy places from the profanation -of greed misunderstood him; “the zeal of his house hath -eaten him up,” sneered they.</p> - -<p>Edgar A. Poe’s personal appearance matched his genius. -Let those who saw him tell it: “He was the best realization -of a poet in features, air and manner that I have ever seen, and -the unusual paleness of his face added to its aspect of melancholy -interest.” “Slight but erect of figure, of middle height, -his head finely modeled, with a forehead and temples large and -not unlike those of Bonaparte; his hands as fair as a woman’s; -even in the garb of poverty ‘with gentleman written all over -him.’ The handsome, intellectual face, the dark and clustering -hair, the clear and sad gray-violet eyes—large, lustrous, -glowing with expression.” “A man who never smiles.” “Those -awful eyes,” exclaimed one woman. “The face tells of battling, -of conquering external enemies, of many a defeat when -the man was at war with his meaner self.” He was both much -sinned against and much sinning. But he was not a monster, -nor an ogre. He was only a poet and an Eccentric.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">No farther seek his merits to disclose,</div> -<div class="verse">Nor draw his frailties from their dread abode.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Davidson.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="BRITISH_AND_AMERICAN_ENGLISH">BRITISH AND AMERICAN ENGLISH.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By R. A. PROCTOR.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>There are many points in which English and American -speakers and writers of culture differ from each other as to the -use of certain words and as to certain modes of expression.</p> - -<p>In America the word “clever” is commonly understood to -mean pleasant and of good disposition, not (as in England) -ingenious and skilful. Thus, though an American may speak -of a person as a clever workman, using the word as we do, yet -when he speaks of another as a clever man, he means, in nine -cases out of ten, that the man is good company and well-natured. -Sometimes, I am told, the word is used to signify -generous or liberal. I can not recall any passages from early -English literature in which the word is thus used, but I should -not be surprised to learn that the usage is an old one. In like -manner, the words “cunning” and “cute” are often used in -America for “pretty” (German <i>niedlich</i>). As I write, an -American lady, who has just played a very sweet passage from -one of Mozart’s symphonies, turns from the piano to ask -“whether that passage is not cute,” meaning pretty.</p> - -<p>The word “mad” in America seems nearly always to mean -“angry;” at least, I have seldom heard it used in our English -sense. For “mad,” as we use the word, the Americans say -“crazy.” Herein they have manifestly impaired the language. -The words “mad” and “crazy” are quite distinct in -their significance as used in England, and both meanings require -to be expressed in ordinary parlance. It is obviously a -mistake to make one word do duty for both, and to use the -word “mad” to imply what is already expressed by other and -more appropriate words.</p> - -<p>I have just used the word “ordinary” in the English sense. -In America the word is commonly used to imply inferiority. -An “ordinary actor,” for instance, is a bad actor; a “very -ordinary man” is a man very much below par. There is no -authority for this usage in any English writer of repute, and the -usage is manifestly inconsistent with the derivation of the word. -On the other hand, the use of the word “homely” to imply -ugliness, as is usual in America, is familiar at this day in parts -of England, and could be justified by passages in some of the -older English writers. That the word in Shakspere’s time implied -inferiority is shown by the line—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Home keeping youths have ever homely wits.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In like manner, some authority may be found for the American -use of the word “ugly” to signify bad-tempered.</p> - -<p>Words are used in America which have ceased to be commonly -used in England, and are, indeed, no longer regarded -as admissible. Thus, the word “unbeknown” which no educated -Englishman ever uses, either in speaking or in writing, -is still used in America in common speech and by writers of -repute.</p> - -<p>Occasionally, writers from whom one would expect at least -correct grammar make mistakes which in England would be -regarded as very bad—mistakes which are not, indeed, passed -over in America, but still attract less notice there than in England. -Thus, Mr. Wilkie, who is so severe on English English -in “Sketches beyond the Seas,” describes himself as saying -(in reply to the question whether Chicago policemen have to -use their pistols much), “I don’t know <i>as</i> they have to as a -matter of law or necessity, but I know they do as a matter of -fact;” and I have repeatedly heard this incorrect use of “as” -for “that” in American conversation. I have also noted in -works by educated Americans the use of the word “that” as -an adverb, “that excitable,” “that head-strong,” and so forth. -So the use of “lay” for “lie” seems to me to be much commoner -in America than in England, though it is too frequently -heard here also. In a well-written novelette called “The Man -who was not a Colonel,” the words—“You was” and “Was -you?” are repeatedly used, apparently without any idea that -they are ungrammatical. They are much more frequently -heard in America than in England (I refer, of course, to the -conversation of the middle and better classes, not of the uneducated). -In this respect it is noteworthy that the writers of the -last century resemble Americans of to-day; for we often meet -in their works the incorrect usage in question.</p> - -<p>And here it may be well to consider the American expression -“I guess,” which is often made the subject of ridicule by Englishmen, -unaware of the fact that the expression is good old -English. It is found in a few works written during the last -century, and in many written during the seventeenth century. -So careful a writer as Locke used the expression more than -once in his treatise “On the Human Understanding.” In fact, -the disuse of the expression in later times seems to have been -due to a change in the meaning of the word “guess.” An -Englishman who should say “I guess” now, would not mean -what Locke did when he used the expression in former times, -or what an American means when he uses it in our own day. -We say, “I guess that riddle,” or “I guess what you mean,” -signifying that we think the answer to the riddle, or the meaning -of what we have heard, may be such and such. But when -an American says, “I guess so,” he does not mean “I think -it may be so,” but more nearly “I know it to be so.” The expression -is closely akin to the old English saying, “I wis.” -Indeed, the words “guess” and “wis” are simply different -forms of the same word. Just as we have “guard” and -“ward,” “guardian” and “warden,” “Guillaume” and -“William,” “guichet” and “wicket,” etc., so we have -the verbs to “guess” and to “wis.” (In the Bible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span> -we have not “I wis,” but we have “he wist.”) “I wis” -means nearly the same as “I know,” and that this is the root-meaning -of the word is shown by such words as “wit,” “witness,” -“wisdom,” the legal phrase “to-wit,” and so forth. -“Guess” was originally used in the same sense; and Americans -retain that meaning, whereas in our modern English the -word has changed in significance.</p> - -<p>It may be added, that in many parts of America we find the -expression “I guess” replaced by “I reckon,” and “I calculate” -(the “I cal’late” of the <i>Biglow Papers</i>). In the South, -“I reckon” is generally used, and in parts of New England -“I calculate,” though (I am told) less commonly than of yore. -It is obvious from the use of such words as “reckon” and “calculate” -as equivalents for “guess,” that the expression “I -guess” is not, as many seem to imagine, equivalent to the -English “I suppose” and “I fancy.” An American friend of -mine, in response to the question by an Englishman (an exceedingly -positive and dogmatic person, as it chanced), “Why -do Englishmen never say ‘I guess?’” replied (more wittily -than justly), “Because they are always so positive about everything.” -But it is noteworthy that whereas the American says -frequently, “I guess,” meaning “I know,” the Englishman as -freely lards his discourse with the expression, “You know,” -which is, perhaps, more modest. Yet, on the other side, it may -be noted, that the “down east” American often uses the expression -“I want to know,” in the same sense as our English -expression of attentive interest, “Indeed?”</p> - -<p>Among other familiar Americanisms may be mentioned the -following:—</p> - -<p>An American who is interested in a narrative or statement -will say, “Is that so?” or simply “So!” The expression -“Possible!” is sometimes, but not often, heard. Dickens misunderstood -this exclamation as equivalent to “It is possible, -but does not concern me;” whereas, in reality, it is equivalent -to the expression, “Is it possible?” I have occasionally heard -the exclamation “Do tell!” but it is less frequently heard now -than of yore.</p> - -<p>The word “right” is more frequently used than in England, -and is used also in senses different from those understood in -our English usage of the word. Thus, the American will say -“right here” and “right there,” where an Englishman would -say “just here” or “just there,” or simply, “here” or “there.” -Americans say “right away,” where we say “directly.” On -the other hand, I am inclined to think that the English expression -“right well,” for “very well,” is not commonly used in America.</p> - -<p>Americans say “yes, sir,” and “no, sir,” with a sense different -from that with which the words are used in England; but -they mark the difference of sense by a difference of intonation. -Thus, if a question is asked to which the reply in England -would be simply “yes” or “no” (or, according to the rank or -station of the querist, “yes, sir,” or “no, sir,”), the American -reply would be “yes, sir,” or “no, sir,” intonated as with us in -England. But if the reply is intended to be emphatic, then the -intonation is such as to throw the emphasis on the word “sir”—the -reply is “yes, <i>sir</i>” or “no, <i>sir</i>.” In passing, I may note -that I have never heard an American waiter reply “yessir,” as -our English waiters often do.</p> - -<p>The American use of the word “quit” is peculiar. They do -not limit the word, as we do, to the signification “take leave”—in -fact, I have never heard an American use the word in -that sense. They generally use it as equivalent to “leave off” -or “stop.” (In passing, one may notice as rather strange the -circumstance that the word “quit,” which properly means “to -go away from,” and the word “stop,” which means to “stay,” -should both have come to be used as signifying to “leave -off.”) Thus, Americans say “quit fooling” for “leave off playing -the fool,” “quit singing,” “quit laughing,” and so forth.</p> - -<p>To English ears an American use of the word “some” -sounds strange—viz., as an adverb. An American will say, -“I think some of buying a new house,” or the like, for “I have -some idea of buying,” etc. I have indeed heard the usage defended -as perfectly correct, though assuredly there is not an -instance in all the wide range of English literature which will -justify it.</p> - -<p>So also, many Americans defend as good English the use of -the word “good” in such phrases as the following:—“I have -written that note good,” for “well;” “it will make you feel -good,” for “it will do you good;” and in other ways, all equally -incorrect. Of course, there are instances in which adjectives -are allowed by custom to be used as adverbs, as, for instance, -“right” for “rightly,” etc.; but there can be no reason for -substituting the adjective “good” in place of the adverb -“well,” which is as short a word, and at least equally euphonious. -The use of “real” for “really,” as “real angry,” “real -nice,” is, of course, grammatically indefensible.</p> - -<p>The word “sure” is often used for “surely” in a somewhat -singular way, as in the following sentence from “Sketches beyond -the Sea,” in which Mr. Wilkie is supposed to be quoting -a remark made by an English policeman: “If policemen went -to shooting in this country, there would be some hanging, -sure; and not wholly among the classes that would be shot at, -either.” (In passing, note that the word “either” is never -pronounced <i>eyether</i> in America, but always <i>eether</i>, whereas in -England we seem to use either pronunciation indifferently.)</p> - -<p>An American seldom uses the word “stout” to signify “fat,” -saying generally “fleshy.” Again, for our English word -“hearty,” signifying “in very good health,” an American will -sometimes employ the singularly inappropriate word “rugged.” -(It corresponds pretty nearly with our word “rude”—equally -inappropriate—in the expression “rude health.”)</p> - -<p>The use of the word “elegant” for “fine” strikes English -ears as strange. For instance, if you say to an American, -“This is a fine morning,” he is likely to reply, “It <i>is</i>; an elegant -morning,” or perhaps oftener by using simply the word -“elegant.” It is not a pleasing use of the word.</p> - -<p>There are some Americanisms which seem more than defensible—in -fact, grammatically more correct than our English -usage. Thus, we seldom hear in America the redundant word -“got” in such expressions as “I have got,” etc., etc. Where -the word would not be redundant, it is generally replaced by -the more euphonious word “gotten,” now scarcely ever heard -in England. Yet again, we often hear in America such expressions -as “I shall get me a new book,” “I have gotten me -a dress,” “I must buy me that,” and the like. This use of -“me” for “myself” is good old English, at any rate.</p> - -<p>I have been struck by the circumstance that neither the conventional, -but generally very absurd, American of our English -novelists, nor the conventional, but at least equally absurd, -Englishman of American novelists, is made to employ the -more delicate Americanisms or Anglicisms. We generally find -the American “guessing” or “calculating,” if not even more -coarsely Yankee, like Reade’s Joshua Fullalove; while the -Englishman of American novels is almost always very -coarsely British, even if he is not represented as using what -Americans persist in regarding as the true “Henglish haccent.” -Where an American is less coarsely drawn, as Trollope’s -“American Senator,” he uses expressions which no American -ever uses, and none of those Americanisms which, while more -delicate, are in reality more characteristic, because they are -common, all Americans using them. And in like manner, -when an American writer introduces an Englishman of the -more natural sort, he never makes him speak as an Englishman -would speak; before half a dozen sentences have been -uttered, he uses some expression which is purely American. -Thus, no Englishman ever uses, and an American may be -recognized at once by using, such expressions as “I know it,” -or “That’s so,” for “It is true;” by saying “Why, certainly,” -for “Certainly;” and so forth. There are many of these -slight but characteristic peculiarities of American and English -English.—<i>“Knowledge” Library.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="STILL_YOUNG">STILL YOUNG.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By ELLEN O. PECK.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The fleeting years, the changing scenes,</div> -<div class="verse">The light and shade that intervenes</div> -<div class="verse">’Twixt now and youth’s rejoicing teens</div> -<div class="verse i2">Have come and gone so silently.</div> -<div class="verse">Tho’ much from out my life is drawn</div> -<div class="verse">Of love and trust I leaned upon</div> -<div class="verse">I never thought my youth was gone,</div> -<div class="verse i2">But laughed at time defiantly,—</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Until I met with those I knew</div> -<div class="verse">When life’s first romance burst to view,</div> -<div class="verse">Whom long ago I bade adieu,</div> -<div class="verse i2">And scanned their faces eagerly;</div> -<div class="verse">Alas! I read the fatal truth</div> -<div class="verse">That time indeed with little ruth</div> -<div class="verse">Had claimed the beauty of their youth,</div> -<div class="verse i2">And dealt with them most meagerly.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Amid the brown locks shone the gray,</div> -<div class="verse">And lines of care on foreheads lay,</div> -<div class="verse">And so, I read my fate to-day,</div> -<div class="verse i2">From their faces cheerlessly—</div> -<div class="verse">What I’d not read upon my own,</div> -<div class="verse">That youth, with time, had surely flown,</div> -<div class="verse">And I with them had older grown;</div> -<div class="verse i2">The truth—I take it fearlessly.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And with a sigh o’er vanished years,</div> -<div class="verse">(I have no time to give to tears)</div> -<div class="verse">I near life’s noontide without fears,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Bearing its burdens silently;</div> -<div class="verse">No happy song I leave unsung,</div> -<div class="verse">A deeper life within has sprung,</div> -<div class="verse">And so my heart forever young,</div> -<div class="verse i2">Still laughs at time defiantly.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="THE_GOSPELS_CONSIDERED_AS_A">THE GOSPELS CONSIDERED AS A DRAMA.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">Lecture by David H. Wheeler, LL.D., President of Allegheny College, delivered -in the Amphitheater, Chautauqua, N. Y., August 23d, at 2 p. m.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Let me begin by saying that my subject is not theological, -and it will save us trouble if we remember it. Let me say in -the second place that my subject is not the stage, but a book. -I shall not discuss the drama as it is related to the stage, but -the drama as a form of literature. The theologian may find -some comfort in the reflection that if God makes a book it -must be the best book. By the drama we mean simply the -best telling of a story. The gospels as God’s book may therefore -be regarded as necessarily the best told story in the world. -But a few things may be profitably said with regard to the relations -of the drama with the stage. First, this general one, that -the stage was a contrivance for ages and times when men -could not read; and that ever since men learned to read, the -stage has been passing into shadow. An illustration of that -may be found in the fact that in the sixteenth century, the age -of Shakspere, there were probably one thousand men who went -to the theater to one man who could read a book; whereas, in -our time, there are a hundred thousand men who read books -to one man who frequents the theater. The stage, in other -words, is an effete institution. It is therefore an institution -whose death does not carry with it the death of the drama; for, -along with the death of the stage, there has come an enlargement -of the scope of the drama. No important story was ever -put upon the stage, or could be. The stage is too narrow for a -great theme; therefore all the themes of all the plays are necessarily -narrow themes—a few incidents grouped about a character, -or grouped about a single characteristic of human nature. -We have need in the world to tell stories that are larger, -that require an ampler stage for their development; that deal -not only with single principles, and single men, but with many -principles and vast masses of men—that concern not for a moment, -or an hour, and a single epoch of human life, but concern -vast reaches of time and vaster interests of humanity. And -so it has come to pass that in our modern times, our poetry—our -epic poetry and our dramatic poetry—the two highest forms of -literary art, have undergone a great transformation. The poem -has become a novel. The epic has passed into this form; and -the drama has become history. Carlyle says that it is the business -of the poet to write history.</p> - -<p>We make distinction between prose and poetry, but we ought -to remember that with regard to epic poetry, and dramatic poetry, -both are to be expressed either in verse or prose, and that -versification is an accident. There may be epic poems in -prose; and, as the freest form, prose has become the prevailing -form, and poetry is, more and more, as the world grows -older, confined to the lyric jingle. Poetry, in the old sense, -soon will pass, and the drama has passed into unversified poetry. -Milton made a great change by adopting blank verse, -and Shakspere had started us on the same road. In our age -the great works of poetic language may be expected to be produced -in what is technically prose. The epic poem may also -be dramatically constructed, so that we may have the prose -epic under form of the drama.</p> - -<p>Let me call attention to the fact that we are fortunate in -speaking a tongue, the imperial language, in which Shakspere -practically killed the old Aristotelian unities. He wanted a dramatic -form in which to tell the story of the fall of Julius Cæsar, -and the story of English history. He had to discard the old -unities of time and place. The only Aristotelian unity that -remains in our English literature is that of subject. The subject -of a dramatic action, or an epic story, must have unity. -There must be one action having a beginning, a middle, and -an end; and there must be a constant, regular, orderly, striking, -impressive advance from the beginning to the end.</p> - -<p>Now we come to consider whether the gospels ought to be -regarded as a drama. In the first place, we are familiar with -the custom of commenting on and praising the literary merits -of the gospel. We say how sweet and fluent and intelligible -is the language in which it is written. We understand that -portions of it reach the heights of sublimity, particularly the -seventeenth chapter of John. We are familiar with the fact -that its English is so beautiful that there are men among us to -rise and complain if we interfere with a word in it. We are -familiar with the idea that the gospels have literary merits of a -very high order. But we have been accustomed, as a rule, to -regard these things in detail rather than as a whole. Now, -when I say that they may be regarded as dramatic, I mean the -highest literary merit crowns them as a whole. Their story is -told in a dramatic form. No story ever told under the sun was -so well told as is this story of the life, death, resurrection and -ascension of the Lord Jesus Christ. I must treat this topic -illustratingly, for my sole purpose is to get an idea before you. -Look, then, at the idea of dramatizing history. It is said that -Lord Marlborough read only Shakspere for English history. -He found that the dramatist had put his conceptions of the -actions and characteristics of leading men in English history -in such an effective way, that, whether he was right or wrong, -he had fixed the national estimate of these characters—had -typed them forever. What Shakspere says a man was, the -English people will go on thinking him to have been. These -characters give us, on a small scale, the purpose and effect of -the dramatization of history. When Shakspere did his work, -little historical study had been done. English critical history -dates from after his time. But without the help of critics he conceived -and typed groups of characters, and he had such power -of placing himself in the center of things and working out the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span> -characteristics, that he really constructed English history by -the dramatic method. He had pitifully few materials, but historians -who have come after him have found his types very -faithful, and have been content to work out the details, accepting -the pictures Shakspere had hung up before the eyes of the -nation. Shaksperean English characters can not be much -changed by ever so much study. This is only an illustration -of the triumph which the dramatic form may win. Another -most important distinction is the one between the theatrical and -the dramatic. We can best understand it by looking at the -common significance of the words. By “theatrical” we mean -something false, fictitious, showy, with no reality behind it.</p> - -<p>When a human action is theatrical it is insincere and false to -the facts. On the other hand, when you use the word “dramatic,” -you mean something entirely different. You mean to -praise the thing and not condemn it. When the two Senators -from New York suddenly resigned their position in 1881—you -remember it—the friends of these men spoke of their action as -dramatic, and their enemies characterized their action as theatrical; -one to praise, the other to blame. An incident like -that draws the line better than a definition. The word “drama” -has won a place outside of the stage—and it more and more -separates itself from the stage, and becomes a word descriptive -of the best told story. In such a story there must be reality. It -must be a story so put together that the meaning leaps out as the -story goes on, and the mind takes hold of the meaning easily and -fully—so that the whole meaning flashes on the understanding. -You all know the power of a good story teller. You all know that -every neighborhood has some man who can grasp an incident -and tell it so that it comes strikingly before the mind. This -power of narrative is at once epic and dramatic. This village -story teller is a miniature Milton and Shakspere. The -arrangement of a drama is systematic; and moves to a climax -with full force. In order to a dramatic arrangement it is not -necessary that the characters should be combined, as in the -form of a play; it is only necessary that the story should be -told in the most effective way, so that its meaning will flash -clear and strong on the understanding. The gospels are told -in this way; and it is the only possible way in which their story -could reach the understanding. If we consider the gospels -from this point of view, there are several things to attract our -attention. One of them is the universality of the human nature -which is brought out in the gospel. If you take up a picture -book, or a fashion book of a hundred years ago, you are -interested in a certain way in studying the characters, and discovering -that the people dressed in a way very different from -the present mode. You study the strange dresses with interest, -but at the same time with a kind of feeling that these people -were not just like yourself. Your point of observation in the -fashion-plate presents you with nothing but unlikeness to yourself -and your contemporaries. It is a strange world to you.</p> - -<p>Now, what the fashion-plate is, a great part of literature is. It is -something which gets old, out of fashion, outworn, when it is a -hundred years old. People live largely upon a contemporaneous -literary diet. The most of the literature for each generation is -produced by itself, and therefore the human nature of it, like -the dresses of the fashion-plate, is in a little while out of date, -and seems old. I am not as old as I look to be, but I have -seen several kinds of literary fashions come and go. I have -known men to be famous, producing a book nearly every -month, whose name would now be strange, and there are few -here who have thought of them for a long time. Other books -have taken their places. They were novels, stories, histories, -and even poems, but they have gone out of date, because the human -nature they dealt with was a temporary and passing human -nature—that of a fashion-plate. And the same effect must -attend most of the novels being written in our day, because -there is a passion upon us for this sort of living detail, this sort -of temporary book.</p> - -<p>There is so little of permanent universal human nature in an -ordinary novel of the period, that when you are done with it -you have learned but very little about man. The great defect -with this class of books is that they do not deal with universal -human nature, and it is the power of Shakspere that he deals -largely with universal human nature. And here we discover -the likeness that reigns there. We recognize ourselves and -our neighbors. We have struck one of the old lines of humanity, -and are acquainted with the people we meet. They wear -togas, we wear trousers; but we know each other for brothers. -The defect of Shaksperean human nature very soon appears -when you lay it down along side of the gospels. You have a -little universal human nature in Shakspere, in the gospels you -have almost nothing else but universal human nature. If you -ask yourselves why we are interested in certain incidents that -occurred nearly two thousand years ago, in a foreign land, that -occurred in connection with a people for whom we have nothing -but antipathy, what will be the answer? Why are we interested -in this old history lying back there in a world that had -almost nothing like our world except men, and the eternal -rocks, and the ever flowing streams? Why, belting the green -earth, should we find men everywhere singing about this passage -in human history? What is the charm of it that reaches -human nature so widely? Undoubtedly there is much charm -in the delightful truth which it contains; more in the delightful -power behind it, but much also in the fact that when we -open these gospels we find ourselves in the presence of men -and women like ourselves, in the presence of human nature, -undying, eternally the same. In any of these passages you -find yourself suddenly reminded of yourself. You feel in -every throb of a human heart in the gospels something which -allies the old heart with yourself.</p> - -<p>Another proof of the dramatic quality of the gospels lies in -the fact that the details all work out into one picture, and each -trait resembles the whole. What I mean here I shall try to -make clear. The Righi is a mountain made up of pudding -stones. It is a great egg-shaped mass that leaps up out of the -plain, rising thousands of feet in the air, and is composed altogether -of these pudding stones. At different points up its rugged -sides, masses have been broken off by the action of the ice, -and if you examine them you will find that the fragments -resemble the whole. Break up one of them into the finest -pieces, and each bit will still resemble the whole. In any fragment -of the vast mass you have a picture of the whole mountain. -Now this is true of the highest dramatic production, -that every piece and every incident is a picture of the whole. -This highest dramatic perfection is found only in the gospels. -You find hints of it elsewhere. Many of you have read the -story of “Middlemarch,” the most perfect piece of art produced -in the way of a modern novel. The art lies first in the dramatic -conception, for it has a theme, and the theme runs clear -through, and the climax leaps out of the theme. This theme -is worked out through a principal character. In her history the -general lesson is impressively taught. But the art does not -end there, each one of the characters is a picture of the heroine -in little. The same story is repeated over and over again, in the -different characters. It is a story of human failure, of the way in -which a great human purpose, and high aspirations, growing in a -youthful mind, may be dispersed and destroyed as human life -goes on to its conclusion. It is a lesson of failure, and the failure -of the principal character is repeated in the subordinate characters.</p> - -<p>Take another illustration from Shakspere: “Julius Cæsar” -is his best drama, not the best play, for it does not act well -on the stage, as it lacks singleness and simplicity; nevertheless -it is, I think, Shakspere’s most complete play, his most -dramatic piece, and the reason is this: His subject is large and -is developed on the principle I am laying down. The play is -narrow, both in “Macbeth” and “Othello.” In “Julius Cæsar” it -is large. The subject may be named the weaknesses of great -men. The play is constructed so as to develop the weaknesses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span> -of Julius Cæsar, and of all the rest of the characters grouped -about him. The story told in the death of Julius Cæsar is told -also in the death of all the parties in the terrible failure of them -all. But you must mark that in this case we have an extremely -narrow purpose as compared with the gospels. In the gospels -you can begin anywhere, and preach the whole gospel from -any incident. Take the case of the Prodigal Son, and you -have the whole story of the gospel in that short compass. -Take up the case of the man described as the “father of the -child,” crying, “I believe,” and you have it over again. -It is over and over again, from the beginning to the end, -the pieces all conspiring to the grand result. It is achieved -not by ordinary art. The story teller has seen or heard -or conceived something, and he goes through a mass of -details. The gospels have nothing of that sort. They tell you -in a few words what they have to say of the woman of Samaria, -or the maniac of Gadara, or of her who loved much and -was forgiven much. Names are dispensed with, details, places -of residence, all the tricks by which the ordinary story teller -succeeds. This story succeeds by pure force of an infinite -truth behind it.</p> - -<p>Another characteristic of drama is a kind of consistency -between the beginning and the end, a kind of logical order in -which it moves, and this is illustrated in the gospels by the fact -which must always be borne in mind, that the task is one of -supreme difficulty. The author of the gospels has to tell the -story of the Incarnation of God’s son. A story in which there -are human and divine actors, in which there is both nature and -the supernatural. It requires vast dramatic power. I have -suggested, yet I may more definitely repeat it, that the human -earth on which you tread is not that of old Palestine, or Galilee, -or Jerusalem. It is a real universal, a human earth. -There is not a bit of purer realism than the gospels. Take -up this story, walk with these men. Down by the lake you -find the Gadarene crying among the tombs. You see the stranger -landing and healing him. You stand down by the boat -and hear the poor man begging Jesus to allow him to go with -him. You see these human figures. Look into it a little, and -there the man stands where he has stood almost two thousand -years, listening to the words of the Master compelling him to -go away. The meaning of it you understand, for the case is -before you. On this solid human earth, this real human nature, -this realistic character which makes you feel the heart -beat, and smell the real earth, all is combined with something -else, with the supernatural. There have been writers who have -carried us into wonderland. We were glad to be there, and -we traveled along delighted with the scenery and with the companions -created by the imagination. The gospels do not do -this. This solid earth beneath your feet is not more real than -the heavens that bend over it. Human reality is combined -with heavenly, and you are continually going to and fro between -the earth and the sky. The natural and the supernatural -are so run together that you feel no shock in passing from one -to the other. You have men and angels, divine power and human -power, associated together. The warp of earth is woven -into the woof of heaven until it is one piece of cloth of gold. The -gold of the skies is braided into the earthly so perfectly I defy any -man to take them apart with consistency or success. This is -the beauty and perfection of dramatic success. The divine -and the human are blended in Christ so that you are puzzled -to tell whether it is a man or a God who speaks and works. -The blending of the human about him, in him, through him, -all this is an effect utterly beyond human art. The story goes -straight home to the human heart. The time will never come -when it will not be a dear and sweet old story to the souls that -hear it. Edward Eggleston once told me that when he was -lecturing in some strange corner of the earth, where culture in -the pulpit was comparatively rare, after the lecture one of -the men said, “I wish you would come here and preach for us. -Our minister preaches the funeral of Jesus Christ twice a Sunday, -fifty-two Sundays in the year.” The case seemed to me -to be an exceedingly sad one until I began to ask myself, of -what man that ever lived could it be said they preached his -funeral sermon twice a Sabbath for fifty-two Sundays in the -year, and the story still had such freshness that the people -would come out and hear it? What other thing was ever so -well done that a fool might talk about it, and still a certain -amount of interest attach to it despite the poor telling? Here -lies one of the uses of the dramatic power of the gospel. -When a man of humble attainments has it to tell, he has only -to follow the book to make it an interesting story. The moment -he strikes a real point of interest, the attentive soul feels -that that is what it came for, and, what is better, that it is said -to him. In short, the enduring power of this story lies in great -part in this fact. The consistency between the beginning and -the end and the logical order of things, comes out in a thousand -powerful ways. For instance, the peculiar truth that reappears -in the words which are sculptured on Shakspere’s tomb.</p> - -<p>Take the same thought as it reappears—the same thought -slightly turned over—as it is repeated in “Middlemarch,” or in -that best human version of all, that of Watts:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Princes, this clay must be your bed,</div> -<div class="verse i3">In spite of all your towers;</div> -<div class="verse">The tall, the wise, the reverend head,</div> -<div class="verse i3">Must lie as low as ours.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>You will find the thought, in good and bad versions, everywhere. -Do you wish to take this thought fresh from the fountain? -Come to the temple, where the disciples, accustomed to -nothing great in art, fresh from Galilee, stand gazing in admiration -at the glory of the great edifice and one of them cries -out: “Master, behold these stones; and what manner of a -building is this?” And listen to the Master as he says: “There -shall not remain one stone upon another,” and you have the -fountain head of all these streams running down into our poetry.</p> - -<p>Mark the wonderful consistency, and the wonderful movement -of this story—consider it as a drama. You may regard -the gospels as beginning at that moment when suddenly there -was with the angel a great company of the heavenly hosts, -appearing to the shepherds as they watched their flocks by -night. It practically ends when the disciples, after the ascension, -returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually -in the temple singing the song which began in angel mouths -and ends in human mouths. The purpose of the story was to -sing that angelic music into the human heart.</p> - -<p>In conclusion: What inferences may be drawn from the -statements I have made? Certainly not that the gospels have -attained their success because they are a drama. They had to -have the truth to succeed. They have the truth, and that has -given them success. It behooved that Christ should suffer and -rise from the dead the third day. And this behooving lies in -something very deep in our nature. We believe that these gospels -are inspired; that the authors were moved by the Holy -Ghost; and it seems to me to be a necessary inference that the -story should be well told; and well told means dramatically -told. If it be true that the gospels sweep a larger circle and -involve a greater work than was ever attempted by a human -brain, if it be true that you can put a million of Shaksperes -into their compass and still have an abyss of art unfilled, then -you have an inference, an argument, in the line of the evidences -of Christianity that has never been attempted. And -that is that the best told, most dramatically told story, the -story of the visit of God’s son to the earth, of his life, death, -resurrection and ascension, must have been told by God himself. -No human pen can be eloquent enough, no heart wide enough, -no intellect could penetrate into the human heart deeply enough, -to produce these gospels. In the literary perfection of the gospel -there lies an evidence of the truth, of the divine authorship of -the gospels, which in time to come, when all men read and -think, will weigh perhaps more than any other kind of argument -that has been drawn upon to this hour.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="PROHIBITION_IN_MAINE">PROHIBITION IN MAINE.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By the <span class="smcap">Hon. NEAL DOW</span>.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>The policy of license to the liquor traffic had been the uniform -practice of the civilized world since the reign of Edward -VI., of England, when it was first established. Since that time, -in England, there have been more than four hundred and fifty -separate acts relating to the traffic, each of them being a vain -attempt to improve upon all that had gone before, in the hope, -if not in the expectation, of diminishing in some degree the -tremendous evils coming from it. For the last twenty years -there has been no session of Parliament, I think, at which there -have not been several separate bills introduced, relating to -that matter; at some of them, these bills have been in number, -from eight to ten, sometimes even twelve. When our fathers -first came over the waters to this western world, they brought -with them the policy of license, because at that time no other -had been attempted or thought of.</p> - -<p>In 1820 Maine was separated from Massachusetts and set up -housekeeping for herself, bringing with her, as a part of her -outfit, the policy of license, which had been brought over in -the “Mayflower” by the Pilgrim Fathers, and established in -Plymouth colony in the first years of its existence. By the peculiar -industries of Maine the people were led into the habit of -the excessive use of strong drink. All our people living a little -way back from the sea coast were engaged in the lumbering -business. We had vast forests of invaluable pine, whence -Maine was and is called the “Pine Tree State.” The people -through all the winter season were living in camps in the -woods, engaged in felling the trees and transporting them to -the water courses, by which they would be taken to the innumerable -saw mills which crowded the falls on almost all our -streams. In the camps, away from home influences and home -restraints, the “lumbermen” indulged freely in strong drink, -which was a large and indispensable part of their rations.</p> - -<p>On the breaking up of the streams in the spring, these men -were engaged in “driving river,” as it was called, i. e., following -the “drives” of logs, many, many miles down all the water -courses to the “booms,” whence they were impounded and -secured ready for the saw mills which were kept in operation -through the year, often running night and day. On these -drives many of the men were often in the icy water more or -less all day, dislodging the logs from rocks or shallows, by -which they were stopped in their course down stream. In all -this laborious and trying work, the men used rum freely and -largely, as the universal custom was in those days. In those old -times I have seen our great rivers covered for miles, from shore -to shore, with innumerable logs, so closely packed as almost to -hide the water from view. Many “river drivers” were following -along on either shore to prevent the logs from “lodging,” -and to “start” all that had been “grounded.” At night I -have seen these men in great numbers around their camp fires, -wild and boisterous, under the influence of liquor, like so -many Comanche savages just home from the war path, with many -scalps hanging at their belts. On many of these drives the -men would be engaged for weeks, with rum as the most important -part of their ration. On the return of these men to -civilized life a large part of them would spend in a week, in a -drunken carouse, all the wages paid them for their winter’s -work, without regard to wife and children at home.</p> - -<p>The saw mills in Maine were on a very large scale, and were -in great numbers. There were great masses of men engaged -in them, all using rum freely and in immense quantities. I -have heard it said that two quarts a day to each man was the -regular allowance. While all these men—in whatever department -working—earned large wages, they were not at all benefited -by that, because they spent all in rum, except a miserable -pittance doled out to the wretched wife and children.</p> - -<p>The transportation of this “lumber” to the West Indies—the -principal market for it—was a very great industry; it was -called the “West India Trade.” Great numbers of vessels -were engaged in it, running from all our principal ports which -had direct communication with the vast system of saw mills on -all our streams. The returns for this lumber were mostly -West India rum and molasses, to be converted into New England -rum, at our numerous distilleries. All along our sea -coast great numbers of our people were engaged in the mackerel -and cod fisheries; there were a great many vessels employed -in that industry, the products of which were mostly sent -to the West Indies in the lumber ships, the returns for which -were also “rum and molasses!” I have heard men say who -were owners of timber lands and of saw mills—“operators” on -a large scale, and owners of West India traders—that Maine -was never a dollar the richer for all these great industries. -The returns were mostly in rum, and in molasses converted -into rum, so that our boundless forests of invaluable timber -were literally poured down the throats of our people in the form -of rum. The result of all this was that Maine was the poorest -state in the Union, consuming the entire value of all its property -of every kind in rum, in every period of less than twenty -years.</p> - -<p>I have run hastily over this account of the condition of Maine -in the old rum time to show that our people, according to the -general opinion on this subject, were most unlikely to adopt a -policy of prohibition to the liquor traffic, which was spread -everywhere all over the state, and was intimately interwoven -into all the habits and customs of the time. All over the state -there was a general appearance of neglect and dilapidation in -houses, barns, school houses, farms, churches. By their habits -of drinking a great many of our people were disinclined to -work, and many of them were unfitted for it. It used to be -said that three-fourths of the farms were mortgaged to the town, -village and country traders, all of whom kept in stock liquors -of all sorts as the most important and most profitable part of -their supplies.</p> - -<p>A few men in Maine resolved to change all that by changing -the law by which the liquor traffic was licensed, and by substituting -for it the policy of prohibition. This was supposed to be -a great undertaking, as in fact it was. An indispensable preparatory -step was to change public opinion, on which all law -is supposed to be founded. To do this meetings were held all -over the state—not only in the larger towns, but in villages and -in all the rural districts. There was hardly a little country -church or town house or roadside school house where we did -not lay out before the people the fact that the liquor traffic was -inconsistent with the general good; that it was in deadly hostility -to every interest of nation, state and people. In our -missionary work about the state, traveling in our own carriages -in summer, and in our own sleighs in winter, we took -with us large supplies of tracts relating to the liquor traffic and -its results. These were prepared for the purpose, and were -distributed freely at all our meetings, and we threw them out -to the people as we passed their houses, and as we met them -on our way; and to the children as we passed the country -school houses. In this way, by persistent work, we changed -the public opinion upon the matter and fired the hearts of the -people with a burning indignation against the liquor traffic, by -which they were made poor and kept poor.</p> - -<p>This work was continued for several years without intermission; -we had a definite object in view, and that was to overthrow -the liquor traffic, to outlaw it, to put it under the ban, -and to drive it out as a pestilent thing, the whole influence of -which was to spread poverty, pauperism, suffering, wretchedness -and crime broadcast among the people, at the same time -that no possible good came from it. In due time we made -earnest application to the legislature for a law of prohibition, -but our prayers were not heeded. We were regarded as having -no rights which politicians were bound to respect, and we -were treated with small courtesy. We soon took in the situation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span> -and addressed ourselves at once to the only instrumentality -through which we could possibly succeed—that is, the -ballot box. We sent in great numbers of petitions to the legislature, -but we were beaten by more than two to one. At the -next election we swept the State House clear of almost every -man who had voted against us; we did this irrespective of all -party ties and affiliations.</p> - -<p>To the legislature thus elected we sent no petitions; we went -there in person, with a bill all prepared, and offered it as one -that would be acceptable to temperance men. It was on Friday, -the 30th of May, 1851, that we did this. We had a public -hearing in the Representative Hall on the afternoon of that -day. Saturday, the 31st of May, was to be the last day of the -session. The committee voted unanimously to accept the bill -as it was, with no change whatever. It was printed on Friday -night and laid upon the desks of the members the next morning. -Immediately after the morning hour it was taken up for -consideration.</p> - -<p>Now this was the situation on that Saturday morning. The -liquor traffic was a lawful trade in Maine, as it was throughout -the civilized world. There were liquor shops, wholesale and -retail, all over the state, with large stocks of liquor for sale, as -there are now in all our states, where the traffic is yet prosecuted -by authority of law, and under its protection. The bill -lying upon the members’ desks proposed to change all that; it -forbade the trade absolutely; it declared that there was no -property in intoxicating liquors kept for unlawful sale; that -such liquors so kept, or supposed to be so kept, should be -seized on complaint and warrant, or on sight, without warrant, -and should be confiscated and destroyed, unless the claimant -could show to the satisfaction of the court that they were not -intended for sale. They might be seized wherever seen; on -railway cars, on steamboats, or in transitu by any other mode -of transportation; they might be hunted like wild and dangerous -beasts, and like them, if resistance was offered, they might -be destroyed upon the spot. If it be decided that the liquors -are kept for unlawful sale, the party is sentenced, in addition -to the loss of the liquor, to a fine of one hundred dollars and -costs, and on the second conviction, to the same fine and to -imprisonment at hard labor for six months. And it was expressly -provided that no action should be had or maintained -in any court in the state for the recovery of intoxicating liquors -nor for the value thereof. The liquor traffic was put by that -bill outside the law, beyond its protection, and was denounced -as an enemy to the state and people—utterly inconsistent with -the public welfare.</p> - -<p>On that Saturday this extraordinary measure, such as had -never been heard of in the world before, with no change whatever, -was passed through all its stages to be enacted, and on -Monday, at nine o’clock in the morning, it was approved by -the Governor, and from that moment it was the law, because -the act provided that it should take effect when signed by the -executive. All the stocks of liquors in the state were then -liable to be seized and destroyed, but the local authorities -allowed the parties having them in possession a reasonable -time in which to “send them away to other states and countries -where they could be lawfully sold;” and this was done. -There was a hasty departure of these liquors from all parts of -the state. It was not an appeal to the legislature by petitions -that accomplished this wonderful overturn in the status of the -liquor traffic in Maine, it was simply and only because the people -put their will in relation to it into the ballot box. There is -no other way in which it can be done in any other states, or in -the nation. This movement against the liquor traffic is now, -as it was then, a far more important political question than -any other, more important than all others combined, to every interest -of the nation, state, and people. What has been the result -of this legislation?</p> - -<p>“In some places liquor is sold secretly in violation of law, as -many other offences are committed against the statutes, but in -large districts of the state, the liquor traffic is nearly or quite -unknown, where formerly it was carried on like any other -trade.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">Sidney Perham</span>,<br /> -“Governor of Maine.”</p> - -<p>“I can and do, from my own personal observation, unhesitatingly -affirm that the consumption of intoxicating liquors in -Maine is not to-day one-fourth so great as it was twenty years -ago; in the country portions of the state the sale and use have -almost entirely ceased. In my opinion our remarkable temperance -reform of to-day is the legitimate child of the law.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">Wm. P. Frye</span>,<br /> -“M. C. of Maine, and ex-Att’y Gen’l of the State.”</p> - -<p>“I have the honor unhesitatingly to concur in the opinions -expressed in the foregoing by my colleague, Hon. Wm. Frye.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">Lot M. Morrill</span>,<br /> -“U. S. Senate.”</p> - -<p>“I concur in the foregoing statements; and on the point of -the relative amount of liquors sold at present in Maine and in -those states where a system of license prevails, I am very sure -from personal knowledge and observation that the sales are -immeasurably less in Maine.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">J. G. Blaine</span>,<br /> -“Speaker U. S. House of Representatives.”</p> - -<p>“I concur in the statements made by Mr. Frye. Of the great -good produced by the Prohibitory Liquor Law of Maine, no -man can doubt who has seen its result. It has been of immense -value.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">H. Hamlin</span>,<br /> -“U. S. Senate.”</p> - -<p>“We are satisfied that there is much less intemperance in -Maine than formerly, and that the result is largely produced -by what is termed prohibitory legislation.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">John A. Peters</span>, M. C of Maine.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">Eugene Hale</span>, M. C. of Maine.”</p> - -<p>“I fully concur in the statement of my colleague, Mr. Frye, -in regard to the effect of the enforcement of the liquor law in -the state of Maine.</p> - -<p class="sig">“<span class="smcap">John Lynch</span>, M. C. of Maine.”</p> - -<p>These certificates are from both Senators and all the Representatives -of Maine in Congress.</p> - -<p>These statements are indorsed by many mayors and ex-mayors -of cities, and many other officials in every part of the state; by -General Chamberlaine, ex-Governor and President of Bowdoin -College, and by many clergymen in every county in the state.</p> - -<p>The convention of Good Templars resolved, “That by the -operation of the Maine law in this state, the traffic in intoxicating -liquors has been greatly diminished, and that the happy -effects of this change are everywhere apparent, and that the -quantity of liquors now sold in this state can not be one-tenth -as much as it was formerly.”</p> - -<p>The State Conventions of the Republican party of Maine -have always adopted resolves relating to this matter. I have -some of them before me now.</p> - -<p>Republican State Convention of 1878: “Temperance among -the people may be greatly promoted by wise prohibitory legislation, -as well as by all those moral agencies which have -secured us beneficent results; and it is a source of congratulation -that the principle of prohibition, which has always been -upheld by Republicans, is now concurred in by so large a majority -of the people that it is no longer a party question, the Democrats -having for several years declined to contest and dispute -it.” 1879: “We recognize temperance as a cause which has -conferred the greatest benefits on the state, and we sustain the -principle of prohibition which in its operation has so largely -suppressed liquor selling, and added incalculably to the sum -of virtue and prosperity among the people.” 1880: “Experience -has demonstrated the wisdom of the policy of prohibition -as an auxiliary of temperance, and as contributing to the material -wealth, happiness and prosperity of the state; and we -refer with confidence and pride to an undeviating support of -the same as one of the cardinal principles of the Republican -party of Maine.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span></p> - -<p>There was no election in 1881, and no convention, but the -resolve of 1882 is:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“We refer with confidence and pride to the general result of the Republican -party in support of the policy of prohibiting the traffic in -intoxicating liquors, the wisdom and efficiency of which legislation in -promoting the moral and material interests of Maine have been demonstrated -through the practical annihilation of that traffic in a large portion -of the state; and we favor such legislation and such enforcement of -law as will secure to every portion of our territory freedom from that -traffic. We further recommend the submission to the people of a prohibitory -Constitutional amendment.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Such is the latest authoritative and comprehensive testimony -to the actual results of prohibition in Maine. Similar testimonies -could easily be obtained from the most influential sources -in every part of the state. Every brewery and distillery has -been suppressed. Molasses, which is yet imported into the -state in large quantities, is no longer converted into rum, but -is used exclusively for domestic purposes, while a large part of -it is converted into sugar by improved processes. The share of -Maine of the national drink bill would be about $13,000,000, but -I am far within the truth in saying that one million will cover -the cost of all liquors smuggled into the state in violation of -law. From the poorest state in the Union, Maine has become -one of the most prosperous, and it has gained immeasurably in -many other ways from the policy of prohibition.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="THE_INDUSTRIAL_SCHOOLS_OF">THE INDUSTRIAL SCHOOLS OF BOSTON.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By E. E. HALE.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p>It was the morning after the funeral. Aunt Fanny had tried -to make the breakfast seem cheerful to the children, or at least -tolerable. She had herself gone into the kitchen to send up -some trifle a little out of the way for the family meal. She -talked to the children of the West, of the ways in which her life -in Wisconsin differed from their lives in Boston. And Aunt -Fanny succeeded so far that George passed his plate for oatmeal -a second time, and little Sibyl did not ask leave to go -before her aunt had poured out her second cup of coffee.</p> - -<p>Aunt Fanny made the breakfast as long as she could. Then -she folded her napkin slowly, and led the children into the -other room for morning prayer. They read the last chapter of -Proverbs, and then all knelt down and said the Lord’s -Prayer. Then Aunt Fanny took Nahum’s hand and took little -Sibyl on her lap, and she said to all four of the children, “It -is very hard for us all, dear children, but I must tell you all -about what the plans are. I have a letter from Uncle Cephas, -and you know I had a long talk with Mr. Alfred after he came -here yesterday. We will not break up here yet.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am so glad of that,” said poor, sturdy Belle, who generally -said so little.</p> - -<p>“No, we will not break up here yet. In the spring we will -all go to Wisconsin, and you shall learn to like my home at -Harris as much as you like Roxbury.” So spoke Aunt Fanny, -as cheerfully as she could. And not daring to wait a reply, -she hurried on: “See here, Uncle George writes that I may -stay till late in March, or early in April, if I think best, but -that then we must all be ready to go on.”</p> - -<p>You must know that the four children were orphans. Their -father had died in April, and now, in the middle of December, -their mother had died. Aunt Fanny had been with them for -the last month. But she knew, and they knew, that their -pleasant home was to be broken up forever.</p> - -<p>“And now,” she said, “we must all see what we have to do -this winter, to be ready for Wisconsin. Belle and Sibyl, you -may come up stairs with me, and we will look through your -clothes and the boys’. I must not be lazy this winter, and I -will have it for my morning work to put everything in order.”</p> - -<p>And when they came up stairs, and this business like, energetic -Belle took their frocks and underclothes from the drawers, -Aunt Fanny was indeed surprised. The girl was grave beyond -her years; so long had her poor mother been ill, and so much -of the care of the family had fallen on her. “I should think you -were an old housekeeper,” said Aunt Fanny, in admiration, as -Belle explained how she had mended this, and, on the whole, determined -to retain that. And when Belle took her into the little -room which she called the “sewing room,” and showed her -drawers, and even shirts for the boys, which she had under -way, Aunt Fanny squarely told her that she was quite her own -equal in such management.</p> - -<p>“How did ever come to be such a thorough seamstress?” -said she. “Dear Mary has been sick so long that I had somehow -imagined that such things as these must slip by.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! of course mamma told us everything. But you know -we learn this at school.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know any such thing,” confessed Aunt Fanny, -promptly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Belle, “we learn more or we learn less. But -so soon as I found I could help mamma about it I went into -the advanced class. There we learned to cut shirts and to -make them. I can make a shirt now as well as anybody,” said -the girl, laughing. “But of course I do not in practice.”</p> - -<p>“Why of course?” persisted Aunt Fanny.</p> - -<p>Belle opened her eyes as much as to say, “How little these -people in Wisconsin know.” But she did not say so in words, -she only said: “Oh, I can buy my collars and wristbands and -fronts ready made a great deal cheaper than I can make them, -if my time is worth anything. And you must not laugh, Aunt -Fanny, but papa said my time is worth a good deal.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Fanny did not laugh. She smiled very kindly, and -drew Belle to her and kissed her.</p> - -<p>“You see, the boys run the machine for me, and Sibyl can -do perfectly well any plain sewing we need. We do not think -a set of shirts such a very heavy job,” said the little matron, -quite unconscious of the amusement she was giving Aunt -Fanny.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that every girl in Boston learns to do this?”</p> - -<p>“Why yes, if she goes to a public school. She learns it, or -she may. I think perhaps she might shirk a good deal. But -if the teacher sees you are interested, and you do as well as -you can, she helps you on. I know a great many girls who -have made dresses for their friends. And I know there are -girls who went directly to dress-makers from schools, and -earned good wages at once. Some girls, you know, have a -gift for cutting and fitting.”</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p>It must be confessed that Aunt Fanny went down stairs a -little relieved in mind after this talk with Belle. Here was one, -at least, of her little charges, who would be worth her weight -in the new home to which they were to be transferred. As the -boys came in from school, she had another such lesson. She -asked Nahum who would be a good man to whom to send her -trunk, which needed some repair. The boy gave her his -views, and then asked what she wanted to have done. Aunt -Fanny explained that in coming on she had, wisely or not, left -the dress tray of her trunk at home. In going back she was -sure she would need a tray, and she must have a new one -made.</p> - -<p>“Is that all?” said Nahum. “I should never send to Sage’s -for that.”</p> - -<p>“What would you do?” asked Aunt Fanny.</p> - -<p>“I should make the tray myself,” said Nahum, quite unconsciously. -“When Belle made her famous visit to Swampscott, -she found that that trunk she has now would not take in some -dandy-jack hat she wanted to carry. And I made a new tray for -her.” So he brought his aunt to the “trunk closet,” dragged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span> -out Belle’s trunk, and showed her a neat tray, made of white-wood, -and very perfectly fitted. “Is that good enough?” asked -the boy.</p> - -<p>Of course it was good enough, and Aunt Fanny explained -that she had not known that Nahum was fond of tools.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I might have been as fond of tools as of candy,” said -Nahum. “But that would not have come out for much. I -learned to handle tools at school.”</p> - -<p>“School!” said Aunt Fanny.</p> - -<p>“Yes, they wanted to try it at the Dwight, where I was. -So they got some benches put into the Ward Room, which is -in their building, and is only used by the voters twice a year. -They had a first rate teacher, Mr. Batchelder. We had one lesson -a week. They would not let us go on unless we kept up in -the regular school lessons. So it made the fellows spur up, I -tell you, because we all liked the shop, though that was extra.”</p> - -<p>“How many lessons have you had?” said Aunt Fanny.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was in the first class, and so I had only one year’s -course. It was eighteen lessons. The first day we tried to -strike square blows with the hammer. Some of us did not -strike very square, I tell you. All the beginning with nails -came the first day. The last lesson was ‘planing and squaring, -marking, making tenon, making mortise, and fastening -mortise and tenon.’ I wrote a letter to another fellow, and I -copied it from the school regulations.”</p> - -<p>So Nahum went out to his own work shop in the shed, which, -as it happened, Aunt Fanny had never seen before, because -Nahum kept it under his own key. In the afternoon the tray -was made.</p> - -<p>“This will make you no end of comfort in Wisconsin, -Nahum.”</p> - -<p>“But if I am to do carpenter work, really,” said the boy, “I -ought to go to the Technology.”</p> - -<p>He meant to the Institute of Technology.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to go there?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I would. Why, if I went there I could make the -frame of my own house, and raise it, if the neighbors would -help.”</p> - -<p>Nor was the boy wrong. And his Aunt Fanny and Uncle -Asaph determined he should go, and go he did. He spent -three months of that winter there, four days of every week; -and worked steadily eight hours a day. Still it was different -from what it would have been had he gone to a carpenter as -an apprentice. For then he would have had to do whatever -the carpenter was doing; and he would have had to take his -chance for instruction. But at the Technology he had regular -teachers and regular practical lessons. Of course he needed -practice, and in the long run, it is only practice which makes -a first rate workman. But at the end, he had seen every important -part of a good carpenter’s work done, he knew why it -was done, and had had a hand in the doing of it.</p> - -<p>The Institute of Technology is not a public school as the -Dwight School is, where Nahum had picked up his elementary -instruction; and for his lessons here they had to pay thirty -dollars. But when, the next summer, all the barns on his uncle’s -farm in Harris were carried fourteen miles by a tornado, -and Nahum found himself directing the framing of a new barn, -and doing half the work, he and his aunt thought that those -thirty dollars had been well invested.</p> - -<p>She took very good care that George should go into the carpenter’s -class at the Dwight School while they staid in Boston. -He would not have been obliged to go. No scholar took this -course, excepting as an extra, but <i>he</i> took it because he wanted -to. And, as Nahum had said, they were obliged to keep in -good standing in their other studies.</p> - -<p>As for little Sibyl, Aunt Fanny judged, after full consultation -with her confidential adviser, Belle, that Sibyl had better stay -where she was—at the Grammar School. Aunt Fanny went -down and made a state call on Miss Throckmorton, the teacher -of the school, and also saw Miss Bell, the sewing teacher. -She explained to them that while she did not want to break any -school rules, she should be well pleased to have as much attention -as possible given to Sibyl’s sewing. Miss Bell was -really pleased with the attention. She said a good many -parents did not seem to care anything about it. But if Sibyl -would really give her mind to it, she would see that she was -able, before she left them in the spring, to cut and fit a frock -for Aunt Fanny or for her sister. And before they went to -Wisconsin, it proved that Miss Bell was as good as her word -to her little friend, and Sibyl made a very pretty dress for Aunt -Fanny, before she left school.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p>As Aunt Fanny herself made her inquiries into these practical -matters, she resolved to try an experiment, which she -would have laughed at when she left Wisconsin. She was -asked to a lunch party of ladies one day, and was a little -amused and a little amazed at first, when she observed how -much they said about what they had to eat. Aunt Fanny had -been trained to a little of the western ridicule of Boston, and -had supposed that a bubble rechauffée or a fried rainbow was -the most material article that anybody would discuss. And -here these ladies were volubly telling of the merits of oysters -in batter and oysters in crumbs—of one and another way to serve -celery—in a detail which Aunt Fanny found quite puzzling, -and, indeed, quite out of place in the manners to which she -had been bred, which had taught her never to criticise what -was on the table.</p> - -<p>Perhaps her silence showed her surprise. This is certain, -that all of a sudden a very pretty and gay Mrs. Fréchette -turned round and said, “Here is Mrs. Turnbull, horrified because -we talk so much of what we eat. Dear Mrs. Turnbull, -it is not what we eat, it is the cooking we care for. You must -know we have all been to the Cooking Schools—all who are -not managers.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Fanny confessed that she had been puzzled a little, and -Mrs. Fréchette and Mrs. Champernom, her hostess, explained. -In point of fact this very lunch had been cooked, “From egg to -apple,” as the Romans would say, by Mrs. Champernom and -her two daughters. It may be worth while, therefore, to give -the bill of fare:</p> - -<p class="center">Raw Oysters on the shell.<br /> -Bouillon in cups.<br /> -Scalloped Lobster in its own shell.<br /> -Quails on Toast, with White Sauce.<br /> -Sweet Breads, with Green Peas.<br /> -Capons, with Salad.<br /> -Ice Creams. Frozen Pudding. Jelly.<br /> -Fruit. Coffee.</p> - -<p>How good cooks the mother and daughters had been before, -they did not explain. But these particular results were due to -their training at the Cooking School. They had made the rolls -as well.</p> - -<p>“I came out of it so well,” said Mrs. Champernom, laughing, -“and Mary Flannegan approved the results so well, that -when I told her and Ellen Flynn, my waiter girl, that if they -liked to go to the cooks’ class, which is a class for special instruction -to servant girls, I would pay half, they both consented -to go; Mary Flannegan to keep Ellen Flynn company, and -to see that she was not taught wrong. The cooks’ class is -twelve lessons, and costs three dollars each. I shall pay a -dollar and a half for each of them, and as Ellen Flynn is a -bright girl, I shall have four good cooks in the house instead -of three. For really,” she said, “there is nothing that Hester and -Maria can not do. They went down to the beach with their -father and the boys, and for a week they cooked everything -that was eaten. They made the boys wash the dishes.”</p> - -<p>This started Aunt Fanny herself. She found there were four -classes she could attend:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span></p> - -<p>1. The Cooks’ Class, for people who had some experience. -Twelve lessons would have cost three dollars.</p> - -<p>2. The Beginners’ Class of twenty lessons, for which she -must pay eight dollars. Here she would be trained to make -bread, and to prepare the ordinary dishes for family use at -breakfast and dinner and supper.</p> - -<p>3. The Second Class, also of twenty lessons, but more advanced. -Here she must pay twelve dollars. But here more -elegant dishes, what Mrs. Fréchette called “company dishes,” -were part of the program.</p> - -<p>4. What Mrs. Fréchette called “The Swell Course.” Here -every lady paid fifteen dollars for her twenty lessons. <i>Per -contra</i>, they had what they cooked, and very jolly parties they -seemed to make, when they dared ask their friends to their -entertainments.</p> - -<p>Aunt Fanny was a good housekeeper, but she thought she -should like to astonish her friends at Harris with some of the -best seaboard elegancies, so she and Belle entered the “second -class.” And pleasant and profitable they found it.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<p>“Sibyl, my dear,” said Aunt Fanny one morning, “I have -only just found out that you and Belle make my bed. You -need not do it again; I always make it at home, and I should -have done it here, but you have been too quick for me.”</p> - -<p>“We shall not give you a chance, Aunt Fanny; we shall not -let you.”</p> - -<p>“But when do you do it, you little witches; you are always -at breakfast and at prayers; and when I go up into my room, -it is all in order. I supposed Delia did it while we were at -breakfast.”</p> - -<p>Then, with much joking, it was made clear that every day, -while Aunt Fanny saw George and Nahum off, and spoke to -the butcher in the kitchen, Sibyl and Belle slipped up stairs, -and “did” her room.</p> - -<p>“That is a piece of your dear mother’s training,” said Aunt -Fanny, as she patted Sibyl’s head.</p> - -<p>“As it happens, it is, Aunt Fanny,” said Belle. “But dear -mamma said even she got points from Miss Homans, and I -am sure Sibyl and I both learned the reasons of some things -at the Kindergarten that we did not know before.”</p> - -<p>“Reasons for making a bed,” said Aunt Fanny. “Why, -you do not tell me that you learn to make beds at school.”</p> - -<p>“We did not, because mamma had taught us. But the -kitchen Kindergarten was such fun that we liked to go; and -if you like to see it, we will take you.” So Aunt Fanny was -taken to see that very pretty sight. And she understood at -once, how even very little children can be taught housework -thoroughly, and taught to like it too. Each child had a doll’s -bed to make, and to unmake; and each child, in unison with -thirty or forty others, made it and unmade it, singing little -songs and going through other such exercise as made the thing -amusing, while it was methodical. In the same way each -child set a baby house table with the most perfect precision, -and swept a floor, and dusted a room. It was play to them, -but they learned what they never forgot, as Aunt Fanny had -occasion to see every day in the neat order of her dear brother’s -orphaned household.</p> - -<p>Thus was it that it happened that when Aunt Fanny took -home in April her little flock of orphans, she did not bring to -their wholly new life four mere cumberers of the ground.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>—In preparing this little sketch of “Industrial Education in -Boston,” at Dr. Flood’s request, I have selected what seem to me, on -the whole, the most important branches of such education for illustration. -It has not seemed advisable to introduce too much detail.</p> - -<p>1. The instruction in sewing is given in all public schools to all -girls.</p> - -<p>2. The instruction in carpenter work has been attempted only in two -public schools. A central school is now to be established, where classes -of volunteers from the different grammar schools will be received. The full -course described, of eight hours a day, for four days a week, of thirteen -weeks, is one of the Technology courses, and there is a fee for instruction.</p> - -<p>3. The Cooking Schools are under the direction of a society for that -purpose. It also maintains Normal Classes for teachers of cooking. -Different churches and charitable societies maintain free cooking -classes, and free carpenter classes.</p> - -<p>4. Drawing is taught in all public schools.</p> - -<p>5. Schools of design and of carving are maintained by different -societies.</p> - -<p>I have confined myself to instruction which is to a certain extent -training in handiwork, and in this I have not included musical or other -artistic performance.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="ECHOES_FROM_A_CHAUTAUQUA">ECHOES FROM A CHAUTAUQUA WINTER.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Rev. H. H. MOORE.</span></p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Now that winter is gone and the time for the singing of birds -is near, the readers of <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>, especially those -who have spent a summer at this place, will inquire: “How -does Chautauqua appear in autumn, with flowers withered, -trees naked, and not a robin or thrush to be seen or heard? -What a contrast must be the sudden change from a summer -world to the wild desolations of a semi-Arctic winter!” and perhaps -it seems to them that the place was dead and buried beneath -a monument of snow and ice. A feeling of chilliness -comes over them, and possibly they half resolve never to visit -these groves again. Pity, and possibly a prayer are indulged -for the poor unfortunates resident here. Lonesome things, shut -up in the woods, how can they stand it? With all respect and -due thanks for good intentions, we will excuse the pity, that it -may be bestowed where it is more needed, and will be better -appreciated. If contentment, good cheer, and the elements of -good society can be found anywhere, it is at Chautauqua.</p> - -<p>Let man’s environments, duties and responsibilities be what -they may, if his mind and heart are in harmony and sympathy -with them, he is satisfied, and at rest.</p> - -<p>If Chautauqua is stirring and rosy and beautiful in summer -to all people, to a nature that can appreciate it it is gorgeous, -savage, grand and thoughtful in winter. At the one -season we float carelessly along in the midst of scenes of sunshine, -loveliness and gaiety; at the other we are more, alone -with God, we commune with the stars, and become familiar -with the sterner aspects of life. The change from one season -to another is simply turning over a leaf in the book of nature, -and receiving additional instruction, but of equal value. To -our astronomers, the heavens, whenever they could be seen, -have presented an aspect of surpassing beauty. Just after sunset -in the west, Venus, from beyond the sun has been seen -climbing toward the zenith, and is now rapidly approaching -the earth, dropping down between it and the sun; we have -swept by fiery Mars, which has been nearly over our heads during -the winter; further to the east, Jupiter and Saturn have -held high court; over the southern heavens has swept Sirius, -the brightest star to be seen; to the north and northwest, Vega, -the largest of the stars yet measured, has been steadily looking -down upon us, and to crown all, Orion, the most magnificent -of the constellations has illumined the southern sky.</p> - -<p>January was a month of storms, and often did we contrast -its desolations with the excitement of a summer Assembly, but -such was our satisfaction with the present that we were in no -haste for a change. The wild, weird elements of the season -interested us; the opportunity afforded for reading, rest and -recuperation was what was needed, and we felt that these -things could not be too long continued. What, have the beautiful -lake ice-locked for months, and used as a public highway? -Listen day and night to the moaning and howling of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span> -the winds as they swept through the branches of the naked -trees, often threatening to tear them up by the roots? Live -weeks together without sight of the sun by day, or of a star by -night? Yes, for all these things accorded with each other, and -with the general aspect of nature. The music was of a <i>class</i>, -and each note was in harmony with the general movement of -the grand anthem. When nature had savagely arrayed itself -in frost and snow and cloud and tempest, hiding the earth -and filling the heavens, had the sun put in an appearance -what a ghastly display would it have made! But in the midst -of this desolation the snow-birds appeared, and they were -beautiful, for they were the flowers of the season. We realized -that the power of harmony could be heard in a tempest as well -as in a seraph’s song. It is the extreme of folly to waste a winter -watching for the coming of spring. The soul that is free from -shams and is a pure part of nature itself, is attuned to the real -and the true, and accepts the nature that is as the best, and -would resolutely resist a change.</p> - -<p>Our snow storm continued about twenty-eight days, and its -coming was heralded by the play of lightning and the music -of thunder. It never ceased to be a pleasure to watch the falling -of the snow; to see the curiously wrought crystals drift out -of the sky down among the branches of the trees, filling the -air till it seemed mantled in white—a new creation. As an aid -to the expression of our feelings we read the poem of Emerson. -We quote a few lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Come see the north wind’s masonry,</div> -<div class="verse i1">Out of an unseen quarry evermore</div> -<div class="verse i1">Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer</div> -<div class="verse i1">Curves his white bastions with projected roof.</div> -<div class="verse i1">Round every windward stake, or tree, or door,</div> -<div class="verse i1">Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work</div> -<div class="verse i1">So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he</div> -<div class="verse i1">For number or proportion. Mockingly</div> -<div class="verse i1">On coop, or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths.</div> -<div class="verse i1">A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn,</div> -<div class="verse i1">Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall</div> -<div class="verse i1">Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and at the gate</div> -<div class="verse i1">A tapering turret overtops the work,</div> -<div class="verse i1">And when his hours are numbered, and the world</div> -<div class="verse i1">Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,</div> -<div class="verse i1">Leaves when the sun appears, astonished Art</div> -<div class="verse i1">To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone</div> -<div class="verse i1">Built in an age, the mad wind’s night work</div> -<div class="verse i1">The frolic architecture of the snow.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Had the storm completed its work in a day, the snow at -Chautauqua would have been from six to ten feet deep; but as -it extended over the most of a month, changing occasionally -into rain, it became so packed that at no time was it more than -three feet deep. On some of the buildings, where two roofs -met at right-angles it was six or eight feet deep at the angle. -But we suffered no inconvenience from the long storm. Our -stalwart young men, with heavy teams and strong-built snow-plows, -kept the streets open to all parts of the grounds. For a -short time, as our greatest trouble, in common with other places, -we were a little vexed because of the irregularities of the mail.</p> - -<p>But in our safe retreat we could but think of the time when this -immense mass of snow would melt away, perhaps attended by -falling rain, and of the suffering which the floods would cause in -the valleys below. Our gravest apprehensions have since been -more than realized. As the snows disappeared the waters of -the lake began to rise, and the low lands about Ashville, the -Narrows, Griffiths, and other places were flooded, and the area -of the lake was sensibly enlarged. The upper dock at Chautauqua -stood out at least two rods in the lake, and in the baggage -room, by actual measurement, the water stood fourteen -inches deep. As the stage of water was unprecedented, we intend -to sink a stone at high water mark as a monument of the -phenomenal flood of the year 1884.</p> - -<p>Up to the 15th of January the game laws permit our fishermen -to take with spear pickerel from the lake, through the ice, -and the time was well improved, but with poor success. An -almost air-tight house, about four feet square, is placed on the -ice where the water is from twelve to fifteen feet deep. Brush -and snow are packed about the base of the house, and not a ray -of light is allowed to enter; then the fisherman, closely shut inside, -can see into the clear water, but the fish cannot catch a -glimpse of anything in the house. Having thus taken all the -advantages to himself, he keeps a decoy chub moving about in -the water, and as the pickerel comes in sight to seize its prey, -it is saluted with the deadly spear. One year ago tons of pickerel -were taken from the lake, and many of them were shipped -to distant cities as rare luxuries; but this has been a very unfavorable -season, for which all Chautauquans should be thankful. -During the legal fishing season, the wind was in the north, -and at such times, the fishermen say, the fish keep in deep -water, and will not “run.” However, some were taken, and -those left we may troll for during the August Assembly.</p> - -<p>When the ice in the lake was at its best, the Assembly ice -house and many individual houses were filled, and in that respect -we are prepared for a long, hot summer, and for supplying -the wants of the thousands of people who may visit the -place in July and August.</p> - -<p>Late last autumn, quite a company of old Chautauquans repaired -to Florida to spend the winter; but fifty-nine families -remained, and some that left us have returned, so that the -place is blest with the elements of good society. The Sabbath -services are largely attended; a choir of excellent singers adds -much to the interest of the occasion. The average attendance -at the Sunday-school was about ninety-six during the -winter. It is thoroughly manned and well supplied with lesson -helps. The assistant superintendent, A. P. Wilder, deserves -much credit for the prosperity of the school. The social and -devotional exercises of the church are spiritual, and special -attention is given by competent teachers to the religious education -of the children. Thus an intelligent and Christian class -of people are keeping watch and ward of Chautauqua interests -in the absence of the Assembly authorities.</p> - -<p>The local C. L. S. C. is under the direction of Mrs. Sarah -Stephens, a lady graduate, who brings to her duties, ability, -culture, and the ardor of woman’s heart. She follows closely -the prescribed course of study, and by the general circulation -of written questions, endeavors to reach and interest the entire -community. The meetings are held Tuesday evenings, in the -chapel, and are largely attended by enthusiastic students. -Most of the people here live at their leisure, and much of their -time is given to reading and study. I have noticed that subjects -discussed at the C. L. S. C. meetings often come up for -further examination in shops, stores, on the street, and in the -family, and these discussions I judge go far to fix in the mind -the subjects discussed. At any rate they are a splendid substitute -for the empty or slanderous gossip which is bred in minds -that have nothing else to do.</p> - -<p>The Good Templars hold their meetings on Friday night -and occasionally favor the public with a lecture. Sometime in -the winter, under the auspices of the order, an oyster festival -was given which brought together a large crowd. The evening -was devoted to feasting, music, gossip and addresses. It -was really an enjoyable occasion, without any discount. The -addresses were so well received as to elicit, in miniature, the -“Chautauqua salute.”</p> - -<p>To accommodate the little folks who were not able to go outside -the gates to the public school, Miss Carrie Leslie has kept -a private school, and given entire satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Not much has been done during the winter in the way of -building and improvements. Late in autumn, A. Norton, -Esq., commenced the erection of a fine cottage, at the corner -of Vincent and Terrace Avenues, which is now nearing completion. -He is building a private cottage for a permanent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span> -home, and will expend upon house and lot from $2,500 to -$3,000. The Rev. Frank Russell, D. D., of Mansfield, Ohio, -has under way a unique cottage, a little back of the Amphitheater, -which, when completed, will present a fine appearance. -The prospect from his upper verandas will be the widest and -best on the grounds, away from the lake.</p> - -<p>The Sixby store, embracing dry goods, groceries, drugs, and -hardware, under the management of the gentlemanly and accommodating -Mr. Herrick, has been open during the winter, -and has done a good business.</p> - -<p>We have had some sickness and one death since the Assembly. -Mr. Crossgrove, a very good man, came here some two -years ago, the victim of consumption, and passed away in September -last, leaving a widow and other friends to mourn their -loss.</p> - -<p>The first notes of preparation for the next Assembly have -been heard. The appointment of Mr. W. A. Duncan as superintendent -of grounds gives entire satisfaction. A modification -of policy in some respects is anticipated, which will reduce expenses -and work general improvement.</p> - -<p>We feel that we are nearing the time when a large group of -boys will be on the ground, receiving an education according to -the <i>enlarged</i> Chautauqua Idea.</p> - -<p>I am here interrupted by the tolling of our bell, reminding -us of Longfellow, and one of our Memorial Days.</p> - -<p>Chautauquans everywhere should know that the Chautauqua -Vesper Service is read every Sunday eve, and that all these -Chautauqua interests and peculiarities are cared for from one -Assembly to another. Chautauqua is not a six weeks summer -affair, but in spirit, and to some extent in form, it lives through -all the months of the year, and twelve months are none too -many for the full development of all its interests. Again am -I interrupted, this time to attend a wedding at the parsonage, -and here shall close this survey of Chautauqua in the winter -season.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="C_L_S_C_WORK">C. L. S. C. WORK.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Rev. J. H. VINCENT, D.D., Superintendent of Instruction</span>.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Will local circles please report to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, -N. J., as well as to <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>? Please attend -to this.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Persons desiring graduates’ badges in the C. L. S. C. should -address Mrs. Rosie M. Baketel, Methuen, Mass., as she has -now entire charge of Mrs. Burroughs’ business.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The <i>Saturday Union</i>, published in Lynn, Mass., contains a -C. L. S. C. column. The number for February 2 has an original -Chautauqua song, and a column and a half of questions -and answers in Political Economy. The questions are by Rev. -R. H. Howard, A.M. This is an advance movement, and will -undoubtedly help our cause.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Will all members take notice not to send letters, postals or -papers to me at Hartford, Connecticut? My personal postoffice -address is Drawer 75, New Haven, Conn.; Miss Kimball’s address -is Plainfield, N. J. Letters addressed to me at Plainfield -are forwarded.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The <i>Alma Mater</i>, the new bi-monthly to be sent to all recorded -members of the C. L. S. C. at Plainfield, N. J., will -contain original answers by Dr. William M. Taylor, of the -Broadway Tabernacle, New York City; Dr. John Hall, Fifth -Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York City; John Wanamaker, -Esq., of Philadelphia; Dr. R. M. Hatfield, of Chicago, Ill.; -Dr. Joseph T. Duryea, of Boston, and Prof. J. W. Dickinson, -of Boston, written expressly for this number of the <i>Alma -Mater</i>, to the following question: “What advice do you give -to a person who has had but little school opportunity since he -or she was fifteen years of age—a person busy in mechanical, -commercial or domestic duties much of the time, who complains -of a very poor memory, and desires to improve it—how -may such person improve the memory?”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Rev. Dr. A. M. Fairbairn, principal of Airedale College, -Bradford, England, who was announced to give a course of -lectures on the “History of Philosophy” at Chautauqua last -summer, but who was detained at home by business connected -with the college, writes to Dr. Vincent under date of January -29, 1884, as follows: “I intend, all well, to be with you in -August; the latter part of the month will be most convenient -for me. The subjects the same as before stated. Sincerely -yours, A. M. Fairbairn.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Persons desiring copies of the Chautauqua Songs or of the -Sunday Vesper Service may procure them of Miss K. F. Kimball, -Plainfield, N. J., at the rate of $2.00 per 100 copies each, -postage paid.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There are some members of the class of 1887 who have not -yet returned the blank form of application. Such blank should -be filled at once and forwarded to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, -N. J.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The badge of the C. L. S. C. furnished by Mr. Henry Hart -is not in any sense an official badge, nor does the C. L. S. C. -receive any percentage from the sale of the same. This has -been offered, but not accepted. The badges furnished by Mr. -Hart are very beautiful. This is all that the officers of the C. -L. S. C. can say.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>Alma Mater</i> is the name of our new bi-monthly communication -to be sent from the C. L. S. C. office at Plainfield to all -members of the Circle whose annual fees are paid. The first -number will contain some valuable hints on “Memory,” “The -Laws of Memory,” etc., by prominent educators. The second -number of <i>Alma Mater</i> will contain a very ingenious study in -English—a series entitled “Where the every-day words come -from.” Communications to the members of the Circle which -have heretofore been printed separately, as well as the memoranda, -will be published in the <i>Alma Mater</i>. All members -whose names are recorded at Plainfield, and whose annual fees -are paid, will receive <i>Alma Mater</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To all recorded members whose annual fees are paid will be forwarded -in March an envelope containing a <i>petite</i> calendar for -’84, a most humorous, brilliant and effective tract on evolution -entitled “Saw-mill Science,” a copy of the “Sunday -Vesper Service,” specimens of the new and brilliant C. L. S. -C. envelopes, and a copy of the little tract entitled “Memorial -Days.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>Our Alma Mater.</i>—The contributions to this magazine are -copyrighted, and are not designed for publication anywhere -else than through this medium.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A correspondent kindly criticises a statement in the “Outlines -of Roman History,” on page 68, in which it speaks of -Polycarp as being in Rome in 240. Assuming that this is 240 -A. D., he says: “Now what Polycarp do you mean? Not the -disciple of John, who was afterward Bishop of Smyrna, for, -according to Prof. R. W. Hitchcock, the church historian, and -other excellent authorities, Polycarp suffered martyrdom between -the years 166 and 167 A. D.” We referred the question -of our critic to an expert in such matters, and this is the reply: -“In all the authorities I find mention of but one Polycarp, the -Disciple of John and Bishop of Smyrna, and his death is given -as either 168 or 169, but they add that it is uncertain. As to -the Polycarp mentioned by your critic, I feel sure that there is -a mistake, and Polycarp of Smyrna is meant, who did visit -Rome during the controversy about the celebration of Easter, -probably about 140 A. D. With dates it is easy to make a slip -of a century, and probably this was the trouble in this case; -certainly there is no mention of a Polycarp in Rome as late -as 240.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Chautauqua University is gradually developing its -courses of study. The preparatory and college courses in -German, French, Latin, Greek and English are already announced. -A practical department has also been recognized, -and a corresponding class in connection with a technical -school for draftsmen and mechanics is now in full working order. -The lesson papers prepared by Profs. Gribbon and -Houghton are divided into eight series of about twelve lessons -each, treating upon the following topics: First series, free-hand -drawing; second, mechanical drafting; third, fourth and fifth, -geometry applied to carriage construction; sixth, miscellaneous -problems in carriage construction; seventh, review tables -useful in carriage construction; eighth, miscellaneous lessons. -Young men, apprentices, journeymen, and others desiring to -take this course, should correspond at once with George W. -Houghton, Esq.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There are many persons who are taking up the Chautauqua -Spare-minute Course, which is a course of readings, short, -practical, simple, attractive, in biography, history, literature, -science, and art. This course is printed in twenty-one Home -College Series and in two numbers of the Chautauqua Text-Book -Series. They cost in one package $1.00, sent by mail. -The reading in this course can be carried along steadily, and, -after a while, one who has prosecuted the course will find himself -well along in the C. L. S. C.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The following pleasant little domestic picture comes from -New Hampshire: “I can not thank you enough for what the -C. L. S. C. has done for us all. You should see us some evening -now. We sit around the table, every one interested in -some C. L. S. C. books. Even my little boy of seven years -will tease me to read aloud to him, and nearly every evening -this month gets his dumb-bells, and wants to go through gymnastics -with me.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Members must not return memoranda to the Plainfield office -until all the reading for the year has been completed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A White Seal will be given all graduates of ’84 who read the -following: “The Hall in the Grove,” “Hints for Home Reading,” -and the following numbers of the “Home College Series” -(price 5 cents each): No. 1, Thomas Carlyle; 2, Wm. Wordsworth; -4, Longfellow; 8, Washington Irving; 13, George Herbert; -17, Joseph Addison; 18, Edmund Spenser; 21, Prescott; -23, Wm. Shakspere; 26, John Milton. Address Phillips & Hunt.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="OUTLINE_OF_C_L_S_C_READINGS">OUTLINE OF C. L. S. C. READINGS.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>APRIL, 1884.</h3> - -<p>The Required Readings for April include the second half of -Prof. W. C. Wilkinson’s “Preparatory Latin Course in English,” -Chautauqua Text-Book No. 16—Roman History and the -Required Readings in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>First Week</i> (ending April 8).—1. “Preparatory Latin -Course” from “Fifth Book,” page 167 to the first paragraph -on page 202.</p> - -<p>2. Readings in French History in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<p>3. Sunday Readings for April 6 in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>Second Week</i> (ending April 15).—1. “Preparatory Latin -Course” from the first paragraph on page 202 to the “Georgics” -on page 236.</p> - -<p>2. Readings in Art in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<p>3. Sunday Readings for April 13 in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>Third Week</i> (ending April 22).—1. “Preparatory Latin -Course” from the “Georgics,” page 236 to the middle of page 272.</p> - -<p>2. Readings in Commercial Law and American Literature in -<span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<p>3. Sunday Readings for April 20 in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>Fourth Week</i> (ending April 30).—1. “Preparatory Latin -Course,” from the middle of page 272 to the end of the volume.</p> - -<p>2. Readings in United States History in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<p>3. Sunday Readings for April 27 in <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="LOCAL_CIRCLES">LOCAL CIRCLES.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Now that Longfellow’s Day is gone, we have no Memorial -Day until April 23rd. So many and so delightful are the ways -of celebrating Shakspere’s, that it is to be hoped that every -circle will do something extra. To read from Shakspere, to -have an essay on his life, another on his characteristic as a -writer, and a scene from a play, all followed by an elaborate -supper, is the usual order. Do something new this time. Try -Shaksperean tableaux—an evening of them, with music, is delightful. -If the expense of the “properties” needed for successful -tableaux is too heavy, dispense with the supper, and let -the cost of butter, sugar, eggs, the meats and fruits, be contributed -for buying an apparatus which, once owned, will always be -ready for use. Get Mr. George W. Bartlett’s little book on parlor -plays, published by Dick & Fitzgerald, New York, and with -little expense you will be able to prepare an excellent arrangement -for the tableaux which in Shakspere are “as thickly -strewn as leaves in Vallambrosa.” Or, if you wish to be strictly -literary, take one character as Hermione, or Portia, or Cornelius, -and read everything that has been said on it. Study one -character thoroughly. Try a Shaksperean carnival. Do something -fresh. Do not fall into the danger of wearing out the -pleasure of Memorial Days by monotony of program. There -are an infinite variety of means for brightening and freshening, -not only special occasions, but the ordinary ones as well. One -of the most entertaining devices we have had comes in a breezy -letter from <b>Titusville, Pa.</b>, a place about fifty miles from Chautauqua, -where there is an excellent circle of fourteen members. -Our friend writes: “We make it a point to commit our text-books -to memory and recite from them; but aim to bring in all the outside -information possible, and to present and draw out ideas suggested -by our books, rather than simply to recite over what we -have been reading in them. In Greek history we found Adams’s -Historical chart very useful. By close study of various authorities -we extemporized a model of Athens, on a round table with green -spread. My writing desk served as the Acropolis, and paper -bunched up under the cloth, as Mars’ Hill, the Pnyx, etc. Out -of the children’s blocks we erected the various buildings, while -Noah’s wife, clad in gilt paper, and mounted on a spool, rose -in calm majesty from behind the Propylea. A slate frame, -with pasteboard porch on one side, decorated with paintings, -represented the Agora and Stoa Poecilé, and in the street of the -Tripods a cologne bottle received great admiration as the choragic -monument of Lysicrates. Wavy strips of paper suggested -the rippling Ilyssus and Céphisus, while a wall of brown -paper encircled the whole. Outside the city limits, under the -shadow of Lycabettus (brown paper with clay coating on -the summit,) on one side, and about a mile out on the -other, flower pots with drooping vines brought to mind the -classic groves of Aristotle and Plato; while the street leading -through the Ceramicus to the Academic shades of the latter, -was lined on either side with chalk pencil monuments to the -illustrious dead! This attempt met with so much favor that I -was prevailed upon to repeat it, substituting for the blocks -cardboard models quite characteristic of the Parthenon, Erechtheum, -etc., while the Theater of Dionysius, the Odeum of Jupiter, -Cave of Pan, steps to the Propylea, and the Bema of the -Pnyx, were done in clay. The hard names, in this way, soon -became familiar, and each object served as a sort of peg upon -which to hang a good amount of Grecian history and mythology. -After reading, as a sort of finish, Mark Twain’s account -of his midnight visit to Athens, we were quite possessed -with the fancy that we, too, had been actual sight-seers in -that wonderful city.” Everybody that reads this will undoubtedly -feel as we do, that we would like to go back and -read Greek history over again, for the sake of building up -Athens; but why can we not utilize the idea when we read the -voyage of Æneas this month in the “Preparatory Latin Course”? -And when we come to English history why not build a London?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span> -Plans like the above for interesting circles must be supplemented -by plans for keeping the members at work, a matter -especially difficult in large circles. In a late issue we -called attention to the program plan used at <b>Union City, Ind.</b> -The secretary has kindly sent us an outline of their method, -which we are sure will be useful: “We prepare and have -printed a neat program for four months, giving the places and -times of holding meetings, specifying the different exercises, -with those who are to carry them out. These programs cost -each of us about fifteen cents each, and enable us to have -about five apiece. Each person knowing his duty, prepares -for it from the beginning and no excuse for non-performance of -duty is left except unavoidable absence, etc. Our experience -for this year renders it certain that the circle can no longer get -on well without our printed programs.”</p> - -<p>Along with the plans and suggestions come cheery reports -of how the circles everywhere are growing and spreading. -Mrs. Fields, the secretary of the Pacific coast C. L. S. C., writes -us: “It has been quite negligent in the secretary of this -branch not to have reported long ere this the growing interest -and increased numbers of Chautauquans on this coast, and -especially in California. Perhaps one reason of this remissness -has been the very fact that every mail has brought to the aforesaid -secretary letters of inquiry concerning C. L. S. C., which -must be answered sometimes quite at length; or applications -for membership, which must be acknowledged, registered and -forwarded to headquarters; or letters from faithful old members -with words of cheer and renewal of fees, all of which certainly -should be replied to in the secretary’s most cordial style. We -have five hundred and forty new members this year and -two hundred old members have renewed their allegiance. -If, as is generally the case, the old members continue to renew -to the very end of the year, we may hope for a list of nearly a -thousand names before next July, as the record of this year’s -students.”</p> - -<p>The circle at <b>Knoxville, Tenn.</b>, Monteagle Assembly, in -which we all became so interested by their rousing letter in -<span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span> of November last, has written us a characteristic -bit of experience, which we quote: “The dark, rainy -nights of January are rather discouraging, but we keep at work. -One rainy night, on our arrival at the parlors we found no light, -and out of a membership of thirty-three but three were present. -We had one visitor, whose words I quote: ‘I had no idea -they would hold a meeting, but they were not at all disconcerted. -The whole program, prayer, minutes, lesson and -music, was carried out as though the number present was fifty -instead of three.’ The result? The <i>visitor</i> became a <i>member</i>, -saying, ‘that’s the kind of society I wish to join.’ I wish to -state, however, that so small an attendance is quite exceptional.”</p> - -<p>Another circle whose history offers us some wise suggestions -is that of <b>Syracuse, N. Y.</b>, the home of the new secretary of -the Chautauqua Assembly, Mr. W. A. Duncan. Indeed, Mr. -Duncan has the honor of having founded this circle, which -dates back to the inauguration of the C. L. S. C. The city has -fine public schools and its university is well known for its -able professors and superior apparatus; the circle has been -wise enough to use the material within its reach. It secured -Prof. Rollins, of the high school, as its first leader; for three -years he conducted a circle of fifty. His successor, the -Rev. Mr. Mundy, brought to them a large knowledge of art, -gained by travel and study. When they came to science, again -they chose a leader particularly fitted by taste and profession to -lead them through geology and astronomy. This plan of selecting -leaders who are skilled in certain studies is very advantageous. -The enthusiasm and knowledge of a specialist in a -branch must always remain superior to that of the one who has -only given a little attention to the subject. In spite of excellent -leaders and earnest members, their numbers did fall off a -little last year. A class graduated and they did not secure new -members to supply the deficiency. The plan they followed for -a re-awakening was excellent. Returning from Chautauqua last -summer they held a public meeting and explained the plan of -the C. L. S. C. and its benefits. That night brought them several -new names. Then they secured Dr. Vincent for the next -week to give them a sketch of the aims and methods of the organization. -At the next regular meeting the secretary received -the names of forty-two members of the class of ’87. The circle -is certainly to be congratulated for its proximity to so much -local talent and still more for its enterprise in utilizing it so diligently. -The neighboring circle of <b>Troy, N. Y.</b>, continues to -maintain its enviable standing under the leadership of Rev. H. -C. Farrar. His indomitable energy and perseverance are felt -along all the lines. The plan of presenting subjects in three -minute essays is being tried with interest and profit at their -monthly meetings.</p> - -<p>All of the old circles show a steady growth. At <b>Claremont, -N. H.</b>, “Minerva Circle,” organized a year ago with a membership -of ten, has grown to twenty; the “Atlantis,” of <b>Lynn, Mass.</b>, -commenced its second year in October last with a membership -of eighteen, an increase of ten; the year-old circle of <b>Pittsfield, -Mass.</b>, has gained thirty members since its organization -in February of 1883.</p> - -<p>Since 1881 a little “Pentagon” of ladies has been meeting in -<b>Greenwich, Ct.</b> A member writes of their circle: “Although -composed of particularly busy people, we have the conviction -that we have been patient over our hindrances, punctual in attendance -and persevering in the work. We have run the scale -of questions and answers, topics, essays and memorial readings, -but prefer, on the whole, the conversational plan as being -best adapted to bring out individual thought.”</p> - -<p><b>Cambridgeboro, Pa.</b>, has an interested circle of twelve members, -and <b>Blairsville</b>, of the same state, reports twenty, with a -prospect of an increase.</p> - -<p><b>New London, Ohio</b>, claims that their circle, organized one -year ago last September, and now numbering twenty, might -with propriety be called the incomparable.</p> - -<p>At <b>Hennepin, Ill.</b>, there is a circle of fourteen ladies now -reading the second year of the course.</p> - -<p>A lady writes from <b>Marion, Ind.</b>: “We have great reason -to congratulate ourselves upon the deep and constantly -growing interest felt in our circle, and which is plainly manifested -not only by our own members, but by those who do -not belong, away off here in the very center of Hoosierdom.” -This “deep and growing interest” is the unfailing result of earnest -work in the C. L. S. C., and how can it be otherwise when -the idea continually develops new phases? The experience -of the circle at <b>Little Prairie Ronde, Mich.</b>, that “each year the -C. L. S. C. unfolds new beauties, awakens new incentives for -more earnest action, calls to the foremost the very best of -kindliness and cheer, and incites to diligence, research and -thought,” is universal.</p> - -<p>The “Centenary Circle,” of <b>Minneapolis, Minn.</b>, has long -been a leading one. It is by no means lagging—a late letter -reports them as fifty strong—their graduates reading the seal -courses, the Memorial Days all celebrated, and a big delegation -contemplating a visit this summer to Chautauqua. That, -has a genuine ring, particularly the reading for seals by graduates. -Hold on to your reading habits.</p> - -<p>The first and only circle to report an observance of College -Day was the “Alden,” of <b>Marshalltown, Ia.</b>, where it was recognized -by a large gathering of Chautauquans and their -friends. Marshalltown has been faithful in reporting all their -meetings. They have the western enterprise, but we believe -<b>Sioux Falls, Dak.</b>, ranks first in that quality. The following -explains why: “We have an interesting circle here. We hold -meetings weekly, and they are interesting and profitable. We -purpose to double or treble our circle next year. We have sent -you reports of our circle for <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span>, but you have -failed to notice us. We have decided to <i>Flood</i> you with letters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span> -till you notice the C. L. S. C. in the largest and most beautiful -city in southeastern Dakota.” We shall only be too glad to -receive such stirring letters.</p> - -<p>A few circles have reported lectures. From <b>Seward, Neb.</b>, -where there is a circle of sixteen, the secretary writes that they -have had a lecture on Emerson, a reading by Prof. Cumnock, -Chautauqua’s favorite of last year, and that they are expecting -others. <b>Salt Lake City, Utah</b>, had the pleasure of hearing Bishop -Warren last fall in his lecture on “The Forces of the Sunbeam.” -The circle in this city numbers thirty-seven, and is composed -of ministers, teachers, business men and housekeepers; that -they have caught the spirit of our work is very evident, for they -write us that many of their number have in joyful anticipation -the time when the long distance that separates them from -home and friends shall be paved over, and they shall be permitted -to join the number of those who pass beneath the Arches -of Chautauqua.</p> - -<p>We have received this month (February) reports of thirty -new local circles. <b>Salem Depot, N. H.</b>, has organized a circle -of fifteen members; <b>West Medway, Mass.</b>, one with a membership -of a dozen; <b>Somerville, Mass.</b>, has a class of thirty-five -reading the course, fifteen of them have joined the C. L. S. C. -as members of the class of ’87; two villages of Massachusetts, -<b>Amesbury</b> and <b>Salisbury</b>, have united their members in one organization. -Their membership at present is twenty-one, consisting -mostly of beginners of 1887, a few of 1885 and 1886, and of -local members. At <b>Madison, Conn.</b>, there is a circle which traces -its organization to the interest of a lady who had taken up the -reading alone. She writes: “January last I began the work of the -C L. S. C. and finished the year alone, but decided that another -year should find a circle in our village, if my powers of persuasion -were worth anything. I had no difficulty in forming a -small circle, some members of which have since basely upbraided -me for not telling them of it before.” They have -named their circle after the pleasant and capable office secretary -of the C. L. S. C., the “K. F. K. Circle,” and true to their -allegiance, suggest that the local circles ought to see to it that -she and her aids have a building which could have C. L. S. C. -suitably inscribed on <i>any</i> part of its front, instead of meekly -abiding in a hired house. Some day we may expect this.</p> - -<p><b>New Haven, Conn.</b>, the home of Dr. Vincent, organized, in -October last, “The Woolsey Circle,” so called in honor of -their eminent fellow townsman, ex-President Woolsey, of Yale -College.</p> - -<p>A new circle called “Washington Heights” is reported from -<b>New York City</b>.</p> - -<p>At <b>Bethel, N. Y.</b>, they started off last October with thirty -members, while from <b>Buffalo</b>, same state, a friend writes: -“We have a wide awake circle here, the membership of which -has increased from six to twenty since October 1st, when the -circle was organized.” This circle has found “review evenings” -of great service to them. After finishing a subject they -devote one evening to a review, securing a leader competent -to answer all their questions and settle their disputes; thus for -the review of Biology they secured Dr. Kellicott, of the Buffalo -Normal School, who kindly answered all questions, and with -the aid of his microscopes, explained much that before had -been obscure.</p> - -<p>From <b>Lisle, N. Y.</b>, we have word of a circle of nine.</p> - -<p><b>North East, Pa.</b>, has a newly organized circle, among whom -are several yearly visitors at Chautauqua; <b>Newville</b>, of the -same state, reports a flourishing circle of nine members; from -the class of ’87 in <b>Allegheny, Pa.</b>, we have received the program -of the services held by them on February 10, special Sunday. -It is particularly good. This circle is following one plan which -deserves more attention from all circles. They are giving a -good deal of attention to singing the Chautauqua songs, devoting -a portion of each evening to practice.</p> - -<p><b>Plainfield, N. J.</b>, the place which enjoys the honor of being -“the headquarters of the C. L. S. C.,” was without a local circle -for several years, though many individual readers have pursued -the course. Last fall the Rev. Dr. J. L. Hurlbut invited those -who wished to form a local circle to meet at his residence. The -result was a houseful of people, and a circle which has met -fortnightly since, and now numbers forty-five members. A -friend writes us from there: “We allow no ‘associate members’ -(persons not connected with the general C. L. S. C.) -and none who will not attend regularly and take active part. -For every meeting Dr. Hurlbut prepares a program of fifteen -topics selected from the fortnight’s reading, and assigned to -the various members. The program is printed by the ‘hectographic -process,’ and distributed to all the members at the -meeting in advance of its date. We take a recess in the -middle of the evening’s exercises for social enjoyment and -conversation, and afterward generally listen to a vocal or instrumental -solo, and a reading from one of the members. At -the close of the evening the critic dispenses his delicate attentions, -his motto being ‘with malice toward all, and charity -toward none.’ On Sunday evening, February 10, we held the -Chautauqua Vesper Service in one of the largest churches, -filled with an audience which participated in the responses. -We regard our relation to the C. L. S. C. as among the most -pleasant, and our circle as one of the best in the land.”</p> - -<p><b>Camden, N. J.</b>, has also recently formed the “Bradway Circle” of -thirty-two members. This circle has a novel way of managing -its session, which may furnish a suggestion to some one wanting -a new idea. After their general exercises and transaction -of business they separate into two classes for the study of some -subject selected at the previous meeting by the members of the -class. After devoting about half an hour to the separate -classes, they again unite into one general class for the discussion -of some topic.</p> - -<p>We are very glad to welcome into our midst two new circles -from the South, one at <b>Salem, N. C.</b>, of thirty-eight members, -and another at <b>Atlanta, Ga.</b> At the January meeting of the -Salem circle the exercises were on “Germany,” and as most -of the members understand the language of that country, part -of the exercises were in German. A very pleasant feature of -their program was an account of the customs, traits and people -of the country as they appeared to one of the members who -had lately traveled through that land.</p> - -<p>Our space forbids our giving long accounts of the new circles -in the West. In <b>Illinois</b> there is a new class of thirteen at -<b>Janesville</b>, and another at <b>Jacksonville</b>, a place famous among -its neighbors as “the Athens of the West.” It contains no -less than five excellent institutions of learning, and yet they -find a place for the C. L. S. C. At <b>Litchfield, Mich.</b>, is another -new circle, and from the college town of <b>Appleton, Wis.</b>, the -president writes: “It was considered impracticable at first, in -view of college and other literary societies in the town, to start -a C. L. S. C. These objections soon vanished. We have a -most enthusiastic circle of thirty-eight members, including two -college professors and wives, a physician, a clergyman and -wife, and several graduates of this and other colleges.” <b>Iowa</b> -reports three new circles. From <b>Fairchild</b> the secretary writes: -“We have a most enthusiastic circle of twenty-five members. -At our opening in October we thought one meeting a month -sufficient, but as we warmed up we multiplied them by two, and -last week we doubled them again, so that now we meet each week. -You see this interest compounds more rapidly than that on -most other investments.” If one still imagines that the C. L. S. -C. is in any sense denominational in its tendency, let him read -the experience of one of the members of the new class at <b>Grundy -Center, Ia.</b>: “I had a little prejudice once against the course, as -I thought that it would naturally run into Methodist channels; -but I have outgrown that. As a matter of fact, of our fifteen -enrolled members eight are Presbyterians and four Congregationalists; -but as members of the C. L. S. C. we are entirely -unconscious that we belong to any denomination.” At <b>Belle -Plaine, Ia.</b>, there is a circle of fifteen ladies; at <b>Clarksville, Mo.</b>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span> -one numbering fourteen. Kansas reports two new circles, one -at <b>Wyandotte</b>, where in a month they increased from four members -to twenty-one; and another of twenty members at <b>Sabetha</b>, -including the professor of the high school, and the teachers -in the community. <b>York, Neb.</b>, has lately organized a circle -of fifteen members.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="QUESTIONS_AND_ANSWERS">QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="hanging">FIFTY QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON PREPARATORY LATIN -COURSE IN ENGLISH—FROM PAGE 167 TO END OF BOOK.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By A. M. MARTIN, <span class="smcap">General Secretary C. L. S. C.</span></p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>1. Q. Of what is the Fifth Book of “Cæsar’s Commentaries” -mainly one unbroken record? A. Of disasters to Cæsar’s -armies, barely retrieved from being irreparable.</p> - -<p>2. Q. With what episode does this book begin? A. The last -expedition, on Cæsar’s part, to Great Britain.</p> - -<p>3. Q. After Cæsar’s return to Gaul, what did the poor harvests -compel him to do with his legions for the winter? A. To -distribute them to different points.</p> - -<p>4. Q. What chance did this seem to offer to the natives? A. -To fall on the Roman camps simultaneously and overpower -them one by one.</p> - -<p>5. Q. By whom was one legion commanded that was destroyed -by the Gauls under Ambiorix? A. By Titurius Sabinus.</p> - -<p>6. Q. What lieutenant of Cæsar again encounters the Nervii, -and is with difficulty rescued by Cæsar? A. Cicero, a brother -of the great orator.</p> - -<p>7. Q. With what account is the Sixth Book largely occupied? -A. With an account of the ineffectual efforts of Cæsar to capture -Ambiorix.</p> - -<p>8. Q. In the narrative of the Seventh Book, who becomes -the head of the last and greatest confederate revolt of Gaul -against Rome? A. Vercingetorix.</p> - -<p>9. Q. After the final defeat and surrender of Vercingetorix, -what was his fate? A. He was taken to Rome and there beheaded.</p> - -<p>10. Q. By whom was the Eighth Book of the “Commentaries” -written? A. By Aulus Hirtius, one of Cæsar’s lieutenants.</p> - -<p>11. Q. What does this book relate? A. The incidents of -the last Gallic campaign.</p> - -<p>12. Q. How did Cæsar raise his legions and wage war? A. -On his own responsibility. His wars were mostly personal -wars, and had no sanction of government.</p> - -<p>13. Q. What do Cicero’s writings form? A. What has been -finely called a library of reason and eloquence.</p> - -<p>14. Q. What is the amount of reading in “Cicero’s Orations” -required for entrance at most colleges? A. The four orations -against Catiline, and two or three others variously chosen.</p> - -<p>15. Q. From what oration of Cicero does our author first give -an extract? A. His oration for Marcus Marcellus.</p> - -<p>16. Q. What was the occasion of this oration? A. The pardon -by Cæsar of Marcellus, who had fought for Pompey -against Cæsar in the civil war, and was now living in exile.</p> - -<p>17. Q. What gave rise to Cicero’s orations against Catiline? -A. The Catiline conspiracy, which contemplated the firing of -Rome and the death of the Senate, as well as the personal and -political enemies of the conspirators.</p> - -<p>18. Q. How many are there of these orations against Catiline? -A. Four.</p> - -<p>19. Q. Where were the first and last delivered? A. In the -Senate.</p> - -<p>20. Q. Where were the second and third delivered? A. In -the Forum, to the popular assembly of citizens.</p> - -<p>21. Q. What English clergyman and author has written a -tragedy entitled “Catiline”? A. George Croly.</p> - -<p>22. Q. What is the subject of the fourth speech delivered in -the Senate? A. The disposal of the conspirators then in -custody.</p> - -<p>23. Q. By what name are fourteen of Cicero’s other orations -known? A. The “Philipics.”</p> - -<p>24. Q. Against whom were the “Philipics” directed? A. Mark -Antony.</p> - -<p>25. Q. What was the fate of Cicero? A. He was assassinated -by the command of Antony.</p> - -<p>26. Q. Next to the “Iliad” of Homer, and hardly second to -that, what is the most famous of poems? A. The “Æneid” of -Virgil.</p> - -<p>27. Q. When and where was Virgil born? A. In 70 B. C., -at Andes, near Mantau, northern Italy.</p> - -<p>28. Q. What is the first of the three classes of poems of which -Virgil’s works consist? A. Bucolics or Eclogues—pastoral -poems.</p> - -<p>29. Q. What is the most celebrated of these minor poems? -A. Pollio, supposed to have been the poet’s friend in need.</p> - -<p>30. Q. What famous imitation of the Pollio did Pope write in -English? A. “Messiah,” a sacred Eclogue.</p> - -<p>31. Q. What is the second class of Virgil’s poems? A. -Georgics, or poems on farming.</p> - -<p>32. Q. Whom does our author consider in many important -respects the best of all of Virgil’s English metrical translators? -A. The late Professor John Conington, of Oxford, England.</p> - -<p>33. Q. Name two other English translators of the “Æneid”? -A. John Dryden and William Morris.</p> - -<p>34. Q. Name two American translators of the “Æneid”? A. -C. P. Cranch and John D. Long.</p> - -<p>35. Q. Of what set deliberate purpose is the “Æneid”? A. A -Roman national epic in the strictest sense.</p> - -<p>36. Q. Who was Æneas? A. The son of Venus by the Trojan -shepherd Anchises.</p> - -<p>37. Q. Seven years after the fall of Troy for what purpose -did Æneas and his companions embark from Sicily? A. To -found a new Troy in the west.</p> - -<p>38. Q. In the first book of the “Æneid,” where was the fleet -conveying Æneas and his companions driven? A. To the coast -of Carthage.</p> - -<p>39. Q. By whom were the Trojans received with generous -hospitality? A. Dido, the Carthaginian queen.</p> - -<p>40. Q. With what are the third and fourth books of the -“Æneid” principally occupied? A. With the relation by Æneas -to Queen Dido of his previous adventures and wanderings, including -an account of the siege and fall of Troy.</p> - -<p>41. Q. To what is the fourth book devoted? A. To the sad -tale of Dido and her fatal passion for her guest.</p> - -<p>42. Q. What is the course of Æneas in this affair? A. He -ruins Dido, and under the cover of night deserts Carthage with -his ships.</p> - -<p>43. Q. What is the fate of Dido? A. She commits suicide, -ending her sorrow on the funeral pyre.</p> - -<p>44. Q. With what is the fifth book largely occupied? A. -With an elaborate account of games celebrated by the Trojans -on the hospitable shores of Sicily, in honor of the anniversary of -the death of Anchises, the father of Æneas.</p> - -<p>45. Q. What is the principal matter of the sixth book? A. -An account of Æneas’s descent into Hades.</p> - -<p>46. Q. By whom is Æneas accompanied as guide on his visit -to the lower world? A. By the Sibyl at Cumæ.</p> - -<p>47. Q. What does Anchises, the father of Æneas, relate to -his son in Elysium? A. The name and quality of the illustrious -descendants who should prolong and decorate the Trojan -line.</p> - -<p>48. Q. How many books of the Æneid are usually read by -students in preparation for college? A. Six.</p> - -<p>49. Q. Of what is an account given in the remaining six -books? A. The journey of Æneas from Cumæ to Latium, and -his adventures there.</p> - -<p>50. Q. With what episode does the poem close? A. The -death of Turnus, a rival chief, in single combat with Æneas.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAUTAUQUA_NORMAL_COURSE">CHAUTAUQUA NORMAL COURSE.</h2> - -<p class="center smaller">Season of 1884.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>LESSON VII.—BIBLE SECTION.</h3> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h4><i>The History of The Bible.</i></h4> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Rev. J. L. HURLBUT, D.D., and R. S. HOLMES, A.M.</span></p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p><i>I. General Periods.</i>—Bible history, according to the common -chronology, which we accept, but do not indorse as correct, -embraces the events of 4100 years. This may be divided into -six general periods, as follows:</p> - -<p><i>1. The Period of the Human Race</i>, from the creation of man -B. C. 4004 to the call of Abraham, B. C. 1921. During this -period the whole race comes under consideration.</p> - -<p><i>2. The Period of the Chosen Family</i>, from the call of Abraham -B. C. 1921 to the exodus from Egypt, B. C. 1491. During -this period the family of Abraham forms the only subject of the -history; hence it might be called the period of the Patriarchs.</p> - -<p><i>3. The Period of the Israelite People</i>, from the exodus 1491 -to the coronation of Saul, B. C. 1095; the period of the Theocracy.</p> - -<p><i>4. The Period of the Israelite Kingdom</i>, from the coronation -of Saul, B. C. 1095, to the captivity at Babylon, B. C. 587; the -period of the Monarch.</p> - -<p><i>5. The Period of the Jewish Province</i>, from the captivity at -Babylon, B. C. 587, to the birth of Christ, B. C. 4; a period of -foreign rule during most of the time.</p> - -<p><i>6. The Period of the Christian Church</i>, from the birth of -Christ, B. C. 4, to the destruction of Jerusalem, A. D. 70.</p> - -<p><i>II. Subdivisions.</i>—The general periods may be subdivided -as follows:</p> - -<p>1. The Human Race into—(1) the early race 4004 B. C. to -the dispersion B. C. 2234; (2) the dispersed race, 2234 to 1921.</p> - -<p>2. The Chosen Family into—(1) The journeyings of the Patriarchs -1921, to the descent into Egypt, 1706; (2) the sojourn in -Egypt, 1706-1491.</p> - -<p>3. The Israelite people into—(1) The wandering in the wilderness, -from the exodus, 1491, to the crossing of the Jordan, -1451; (2) the settlement in Canaan, from 1451 to the death of -Joshua, 1426; (3) the rule of the Judges, from 1426 to 1095.</p> - -<p>4. The Israelite kingdom into—(1) The age of unity, from -1095 to the division, 975; (2) the age of division, from 975 to -the fall of Samaria, 721; (3) the age of decay, from 721 to the -captivity, 587.</p> - -<p>5. The Jewish Province into—(1) Chaldean rule, from 587 to -the return from captivity, 536; (2) Persian rule, from 536 to -Alexander’s conquest, 330; (3) Greek rule, 330 to the revolt of -Mattathias, 168 B. C.; (4) Maccabean rule, the period of Jewish -independence, from 168 to 37 B. C.; (5) Roman rule, 37 B. -C. to 4 B. C.</p> - -<p>6. The Christian Church into—(1) The preparation, from the -birth of Christ, B. C. 4, to the baptism of Christ, A. D. 26; (2) -The ministry of Jesus, from A. D. 26 to the ascension A. D. 30; -(3) Jewish Christianity, from the ascension to the conversion of -Paul, A. D. 37; (4) Transition, from Jewish to Gentile, from A. -D. 37 to the council at Jerusalem, A. D. 50; (5) Gentile Christianity, -from A. D. 50 to the destruction of Jerusalem A. D. 70.</p> - -<p>III. We notice next a few of the great events in the periods, -beside those already named at their beginning and ending:</p> - -<p>1. In the period of the human race—(1) The Fall; (2) The -Translation of Enoch; (3) The Deluge.</p> - -<p>2. In the period of the chosen family—(1) The Covenant with -Abraham; (2) The Selling of Joseph; (3) The Enslavement of -the Israelites.</p> - -<p>3. In the period of the Israelite people—(1) The Giving of -the Law; (2) The Conquest of Canaan; (3) Gideon’s Victory.</p> - -<p>4. In the period of the Israelite kingdom—(1) The Building -of the Temple; (2) Elijah’s Victory on Carmel; (3) The Destruction -of the Assyrian Host at Jerusalem.</p> - -<p>5. In the period of the Jewish Province—(1) The Fiery Furnace; -(2) Esther’s Deliverance; (3) Ezra’s Reformation.</p> - -<p>6. In the period of the Christian Church—(1) The Preaching -of John the Baptist; (2) The Transfiguration; (3) The Crucifixion; -(4) The Death of Stephen; (5) The Journeys of Paul.</p> - -<p>IV. We connect with each period, the names of its most important -<i>persons</i>:</p> - -<p>1. With the first period, Adam, Enoch, Noah.</p> - -<p>2. With the second period, Abraham, Jacob, Joseph.</p> - -<p>3. With the third period, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Samuel.</p> - -<p>4. With the fourth period, David, Elijah, Hezekiah.</p> - -<p>5. With the fifth period, Daniel, Ezra, Simon the Just, Judas -Maccabeus, Herod the Great.</p> - -<p>6. With the sixth, John the Baptist, <span class="smcap">Jesus Christ</span>, Peter, -Paul.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>LESSON VIII.—THE GOLDEN AGE OF BIBLE HISTORY.</h3> - -<p>This lesson deals with Israel at the time of the Empire. Lack -of space forbids more than a general outline. Israel’s history -is familiar to every reader of the Bible. Egypt, the Desert, and -Canaan; Slavery, Training and War; these words give their -geography and history till Joshua’s death. The Theocracy -follows; then the kingdom under Saul and David, and then -the Empire, or the Golden Age under Solomon the peaceful. -We call it the Golden Age because:</p> - -<p><i>I. It was the time of their widest dominion.</i>—(<i>a</i>) For centuries -the Israel of possession was not the Israel of promise. Read -Deuteronomy 11th chapter, verse 24, for the promise, and the -first chapter of Judges for the possession. (<i>b</i>) The people were -bound by no national feeling. “Every man went to his own -inheritance.” The last verse of Judges is a vivid picture of -disunion. Under such a condition there could be no such thing -as wide and powerful dominion. (<i>c</i>) Under David and Solomon -the promised boundaries were reached. See 1st Kings, 4:21. -Let the student find the extreme northern and southern limits -of the Empire of Solomon. (<i>d</i>) Immediately after Solomon -came disruption, and the loss of portions of the Empire, which -were never regained. Read the history of Jeroboam and Rehoboam -and their successors.</p> - -<p><i>II. It was the time of their greatest national wealth, and individual -welfare.</i>—(<i>a</i>) Read 1st Kings, 10:14-23. (<i>b</i>) Read 1st -Kings, 4:20 and 25. Brief as is the record in each of these -references, there can be no doubt as to the fact recorded. There -is no such picture suggested elsewhere, either before or after -this period.</p> - -<p><i>III. It was the time of the production of the finest portion of -their literature.</i>—The second book of Samuel, which we have, -Ruth, and a large portion of the Psalms, and all the wonderful -writings of Solomon belong to this period. This last and -greatest king of all Israel seems to have made very large additions -to the literature of the people. See 1st Kings, 5:32-33.</p> - -<p>Let us note some of the causes of this power and prosperity:</p> - -<p><i>I. The growth of the people.</i>—The people are said, in Solomon’s -reign, to have numbered five millions, or five hundred -to every square mile. Compare with our present population. -The army was of vast numbers. See Joab’s report, 2d Samuel, -24:9.</p> - -<p><i>II. The character of the king.</i>—He was (<i>a</i>) a statesman; he ignored -tribal lines; he recognized the value of extended commercial -relations; he opened intercourse with foreign nations, -1st Kings, 4:34; he made a powerful foreign alliance, 1st Kings, -9:16; he built a navy, 1st Kings, 9:26; he attended personally -to the affairs of his kingdom, 2d Chron., 8:17; he fortified his -outposts, 1st Kings, 9:17-19; he centralized the religious worship -by building the magnificent temple at Jerusalem; he built -permanent buildings for the seat of the nation’s capital. (<i>b</i>) -<i>A lover of Liberal Arts.</i>—He was a poet himself, 1st Kings -4:32. Literature affords nothing more gorgeous in imagery -than the Song of Songs; he was famed for his conversational -powers; he engaged in conversational controversies with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span> -the most noted of his time—see his riddles as preserved in -Proverbs 6:6, and 30:15-16-18; he was a lover of architecture—witness -his building; he was a lover of music, inherited from -his father, and the musical service of the temple was one of its -most attractive features.</p> - -<p><i>III. The character of his court.</i>—All his counselors were -men of note. Let the student see what he can find from the -Bible as to the worth of his high priest, Zadok; his nearest -friend, Zabud; his chief priest, Azariah, son of Zadok; his captain -of the guard, Azariah, son of Nathan; his general in chief, -Benaiah; his historian, Jehoshaphat; and his grand vizier, -Ahishar.</p> - -<p><i>IV. David’s work.</i>—This was (<i>a</i>) a widely extended kingdom; -(<i>b</i>) a centralized government; (<i>c</i>) peace with all the -world. His son’s name, <i>Solomon</i>, <i>Shelomoh</i>, <i>Peace</i>.</p> - -<p><i>V. The country’s external relations.</i>—(<i>a</i>) By Ezion-Geber a -water route was opened to the far east. Traces of this commerce -with India can be found in their language. See Stanley, -“Jewish Church,” Vol. I.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) By Damascus, a land route to the far interior highlands.</p> - -<p>(<i>c</i>) By the Mediterranean traffic with Spain—in ships of Tarshish.</p> - -<p>(<i>d</i>) By Tyre, commerce with Phœnicia.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>SUNDAY-SCHOOL SECTION.</h3> - -<h4>LESSON VII.—THE TEACHING PROCESS.—ADAPTATION.</h4> - -<p>There are certain heresies of common speech. One is, that -a man can be only what he is born to be. Apply it to the -teacher’s art and it is a heresy. The majority of men and -women can become teachers if only they will be at pains to become -familiar with the secrets of the science, study with care -the best models in books, and as often as may be come into -contact with the best living teachers. There is such a thing as -<i>the teaching process</i>. We outline some needful steps in that -process. <i>The first is adaptation.</i> By it we do not mean the -adaptation of the lesson to the pupil; that belongs to the teacher’s -preparation. We mean <i>adaptation of the teacher to the -pupil</i>; such a coming together of teacher and pupil as shall -cause them to agree, be in harmony, <i>fit to</i>—that is, be adapted -to each other. This adaptation must be,</p> - -<p>1. <i>In the matter of knowledge.</i> The teacher knows much -more than the pupil. His knowledge is his treasury. From it -he draws in his work as a teacher. That which he draws must -be fitted to his pupil’s want, else it is valueless. He must therefore -learn what the pupil knows, and work along the line of -that knowledge. In such a process they become companions, -and the teacher can lead the pupil almost at will. With adaptation -of knowledge—progress: without it—nothing.</p> - -<p>2. <i>In the matter of personality.</i> The teacher and pupil who -meet but once each week, must meet on the plane of a common -personality, or their meeting will be vain. This is something -finer than adaptation of knowledge to knowledge. It is -adaptation of heart to heart. It makes teacher and pupil for -the time of their intercourse in class absolutely one. Teacher -and pupil forget that either one or the other, no matter which, -is either rich or poor, well or ill dressed, old or young, graceful -or awkward, wise or ignorant, clever or stupid, and remember -only that each is the other’s hearty friend. This is one of the -highest possible acquirements of the teacher’s art, and the one -who possesses it has the gift of soul-winning.</p> - -<p>3. <i>In the matter of thought.</i> As the former is the secret of -soul-winning, this is the secret of soul-feeding. The average -scholar is a poor thinker. He thinks that he thinks, but his is -not his teacher’s thinking. It is the ploughing of the ancients. -It only scratches the surface of the soil: and the human heart is -too hard and barren to be made productive of divine fruit by -any such process. This essential goes deeper than the other -two. Its burden is to answer how shall the pupil be brought to -think on Bible themes as the teacher thinks. This is the teacher’s -most difficult problem. Its solution is possible through -community of thought, or an adaptation of the teacher’s way of -thinking to the pupil’s way of thinking.</p> - -<p>The three essentials enumerated are possible,</p> - -<p>1. Through a close and intimate acquaintance with the -pupil. (<i>a</i>) <i>Socially</i>; (<i>b</i>) <i>religiously</i>; (<i>c</i>) <i>literarily</i>; (<i>d</i>) <i>in business -relations</i>; (<i>e</i>) <i>Biblically</i>. Let the student give a reason -why knowledge in these particulars would bring teacher and -pupil together.</p> - -<p>2. Through personal sympathy with the pupil in (<i>a</i>) cares; -(<i>b</i>) hopes; (<i>c</i>) fears; (<i>d</i>) temptations; (<i>e</i>) joys; (<i>f</i>) pursuits. -Let the student give an illustration showing how adaptation of -person to person could be produced by such sympathies.</p> - -<p>3. Through occasional study with the pupil of the appointed -Bible lesson—to show how (<i>a</i>) to select the most available part -for study; (<i>b</i>) to arrange it harmoniously; (<i>c</i>) to outline it; (<i>d</i>) -to show its relations to other scriptures; (<i>e</i>) to trace its historic -connections; (<i>f</i>) to understand its obscure allusions or phrases. -Let the student show that adaptation of thought to thought or -mutuality of thought would result from such study.</p> - -<h4>LESSON VIII.—THE TEACHING PROCESS—APPROACH.</h4> - -<p>A second needful step in the teaching process is <i>approach</i>: -not the approach of teacher to pupil simply, <i>but of the teacher -to the lesson</i> in the act of teaching. This can therefore be no -part of the teacher’s preparation. For this step there is no uniform -law. Each teacher’s approach must be his own. What -is successful with one will not be with another. An exact -copying of methods will be of no avail unless circumstances -are exactly alike.</p> - -<p>Approach may occupy a large or small portion of the time -allotted for teaching. A teacher may be twenty-nine minutes -of his half hour making his approach, and in the remaining -one minute flash the lesson straight into the center of the -pupil’s soul. A teacher may reach his lesson in one minute -and spend the whole remaining time in pressing it home to his -pupil’s hearts.</p> - -<p>Imagine a Sunday-school hour. Picture: A new teacher -for the first time with a class. Boys—six; age, fourteen years; -unconverted; one dull, one stubborn, one restless, the rest -mischievous. Opening exercises finished; lesson read; superintendent -announces “Thirty minutes for the lesson.” The -teacher alone with the class; four things press on that teacher -with a mighty force:</p> - -<p>1. <i>Self I.</i> Untaught in teaching, and the center for a circumference -of eyes.</p> - -<p>2. <i>Need.</i> The power of the word <i>must</i> was never felt before -so fully. Here is a lesson to be taught, and the thoughts in the -teacher’s mind can only shape themselves into these two -words: “<i>I must</i>.”</p> - -<p>3. <i>Immediateness.</i> <i>Now.</i> Minutes become small eternities, -while the cordon of eyes draws closer. “<i>I must now, at -once, teach</i> this lesson,” but</p> - -<p>4. <i>How?</i> After all it becomes a mere question of knowledge. -There are three elements which enter in to make the answer—</p> - -<p>1. How to prepare for the lesson work, making necessary a -study of the (<i>a</i>) necessity, (<i>b</i>) nature, and (<i>c</i>) methods of preparation.</p> - -<p>2. How to plan the conduct of the lesson, a step which costs -(<i>a</i>) earnest thought, (<i>b</i>) fixed purpose, (<i>c</i>) persistent effort, and -(<i>d</i>) patient prayer.</p> - -<p>3. How to perform. This makes necessary a fertile brain -and a ready tact. The actual step-taking on the line of a well-prepared -plan consists in (<i>a</i>) using good illustrations; (<i>b</i>) in -attracting attention to noticeable things in the text; (<i>c</i>) in exciting -curiosity to find things not on the surface; (<i>d</i>) in asking -right questions; (<i>e</i>) in using elliptical readings; (<i>f</i>) in working -out topical outlines; (<i>g</i>) in concert responses, and (<i>h</i>) in map -drawing.</p> - -<p>All these are steps toward the real lesson which the teacher -would bring to his class.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="EDITORS_OUTLOOK">EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>FOUNDER’S DAY.</h3> - -<p>We have received the following document, which will, we -have no doubt, meet a hearty response among members of the -C. L. S. C. everywhere: “The Counselors of the C. L. S. C., -acting in this instance without the knowledge of the Superintendent -of Instruction, but in consultation with President Miller -and Secretary Martin, propose that, in honor of <span class="smcap">John H. -Vincent</span>, the 23rd of February, the anniversary of his birth, -be designated ‘Founder’s Day,’ and as such be entered on the -calendar of the organization for future observance by the members, -as one of their Memorial Days. Signed by Counselors -J. M. Gibson, William C. Wilkinson, Lyman Abbott, Henry W. -Warren, and approved by President Lewis Miller and Secretary -A. M. Martin.” With this came a letter stating that at the banquet -of the New England graduates of the C. L. S. C., held in -Boston on Saturday, February 23, it was announced that -the Counselors had decided unanimously to adopt the resolution. -We believe we are not wrong in saying that members of -the C. L. S. C. everywhere will be heartily pleased with this -honor conferred on Dr. Vincent. Indeed, we predict that there -will be a universal lament because the Counselors did not -adopt the measure long enough before February 23rd to have -made it possible for the circles to have celebrated this year -instead of being obliged to wait until February 1885.</p> - -<p>There are many reasons why this measure is peculiarly acceptable -to the members of the C. L. S. C. The majority of -our readers feel that in this course of reading they are personally -indebted to Dr. Vincent for a plan which has been of infinite -service to them. They know, too, that he is their friend, -thoughtful of their interests, mindful of their trials and hindrances. -They will heartily rejoice in the new Memorial Day as -that of a personal friend and benefactor, and will celebrate it -with the peculiar delight and enthusiasm with which we love to -honor our friends. There are more powerful reasons for observing -the day than this feeling of love and gratitude. The -days we do celebrate are in memory of men whose written -thoughts are leavening the world. We delight to honor them for -their thoughts. We honor Dr. Vincent for the strong thoughts -which he has wrought into acts. There are many minds capable -of brilliant ideas, of philanthropic plans; but there are few -capable of carrying them out, of making them active agencies -in society. It is this ability to make a plan a reality, to prove -it, which is a distinguishing characteristic of Dr. Vincent’s mind. -He has that rare gift, first-class organizing ability. A course of -reading planned for those who wanted to read, but did not know -what to undertake, had been often tried, on a small scale, before -the C. L. S. C. was organized, but to extend such a course to the -world at large was a new idea, and to most minds one entirely -impracticable. The magnitude of such an undertaking would -have staggered any man but one of the broadest sympathies -and largest organizing powers. As Dr. Vincent had both of -these qualities, he did not hesitate to undertake the organization, -especially since he had the prestige of Chautauqua, with -its wonderful history, behind him, and Lewis Miller, Esq., his -friend and co-laborer, to lend a helping hand in the great work. -A purely unselfish enterprise is always treated skeptically by -the world at large. The flaws in the C. L. S. C. have been -persistently pointed out. Steady sustained enthusiasm in the -face of such difficulties is the quality of a hero, and it has been -with this unfailing faith and interest that Dr. Vincent has met -every doubt or complaint. Very much of the success of the -C. L. S. C. is due to this one characteristic in its founder. His -warm sympathies and broad humanity, joined to his mental -ability and enthusiasm, make him a typical nineteenth century -hero; a man whom the world delights to honor, and whom the -readers of the C. L. S. C. will be glad to remember by celebrating -Founder’s Day.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>POLITICAL METHODS.</h3> - -<p>With quite sufficient reason, the public mind has long been -disturbed by our political tendencies. This dissatisfaction does -not arise from the fact that in matters of principle and public -policy, intelligent people think we are on dangerous roads. In -what are called questions, such as those of banks, tariffs, coinage -of silver, payment of the national debt, etc., etc., it may be -that the majority would prefer changes of policy; but there is -a conviction abroad that we are as a people free to change in -these matters if we really and earnestly desire new policies -which we are able to define. Our feeling of apprehension -springs from the knowledge that our political methods are bad, -undemocratic and dangerous, and from a fear that the fountains -of public life are being defiled by the wicked spirit of “practical -politics.” It is not easy to corrupt the moral sense of such -a people as ours. The level of intelligence is high, and patriotic -impulses are strong in us. And yet we have gone down -some steps. At the end of the war, men physically wrecked -refused to take pensions; they would not take pay for a religious -self-sacrifice. Now, men who came out of the army -without a scratch and are still sound in health swear falsely to -obtain pensions. These greedy seekers of pensions did not -dream fifteen years ago that they could sink so low. Any one -of them would then have said: “What, is thy servant a dog, -that he should do this thing?” Their fall is directly traceable -to the corruption of the civil service, to the fact that in the theory -of our public life, bounties should be given to men who -handle political organizations successfully. Salaries for civil -service are bounties to be had by scrambling for them, or by -earning them in the service of Party.</p> - -<p>The theory of “practical politics” converts the salaries paid -for public service into a pool which parties are organized to secure -for distribution among the sergeants, corporals, lieutenants, -captains, colonels and generals of the order. “What are -we here for,” cried a delegate in the Republican National Convention -of 1880, “if we are not after the offices?” That indignant -question expressed the very heart of the practical politicians. -A party, in his view, is an organization to get offices. -And as much of its work is, in the same view, secret, dirty and -wicked work, he believes that the party should be under the -strict control of “bosses.” Each town should have its leader, -all the town leaders should be under the control of the county -leader, and county leaders should obey the state “boss”—and -the edifice should be crowned with a national committee of -“bosses.” This committee the politicians struggled to create by -the famous theory of “the courtesy of the Senate.” That theory -made the President the clerk of the party’s Senators in each state. -It gave Senator Conkling the vast Federal “patronage” of New -York to distribute at his will. The edifice was not crowned; -the Senatorial “boss” system went down in the terrible struggle -of the spring of 1881. Our readers know that history. We -do not recall it to reproach anybody. Senator Conkling was -the victim of a theory that he ought, under the rule of “the -courtesy of the Senate,” to be President within the state of New -York. The theory is silent now; it will rise again if the people -do not disestablish political machines in towns, cities, counties -and states.</p> - -<p>Turning to a more gloomy side of the subject, we observe -that there has been a vast increase in the amount of money -spent in politics. Thousands of persons are, while we pen -these lines, living on the patrons who hire them and send them -forth to “mould public opinion”—or in the choicer phrase of -the men themselves, “to set things up.” It is the business of -this perambulating political machine to invent and distribute -lies, to purchase useful sub-agents, to promise funds for the -election day bribery. The floating vote increases each year, -and four-fifths of this vote is a corrupt vote—the voters stand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span> -about the market place waiting until some man shall hire them. -We tolerate and smile at all this business—except the concealed -bribery—and this tolerance of ours is the sign that the malarious -atmosphere of “practical politics” is beginning to weaken -our moral sense. If we are still in full vigor, this year will -probably afford us a large number of opportunities to wreck the -local political machine—without distinction of party. Reform -will have to begin by disestablishing local machines and bruising -with conscience votes the men who corrupt the popular -verdict with money.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>WENDELL PHILLIPS.</h3> - -<p>We are glad, though at a late hour, to pay, with many others, -our tribute to the ability and worth of Wendell Phillips, and to -review his life and work. Glad to do this, for his life was clean -and clear, the kind men love to honor; his work was that of the -philanthropist and patriot. He had entered his seventy-third -year, having been born November 29, 1811, in a house which -is still standing on the lower corner of Beacon and Walnut -streets, Boston. He came from one of Boston’s aristocratic -families; for several generations the Phillipses were well -known, rich and influential. His father, John Phillips, was -chosen first mayor of Boston in 1822, in a triangular contest, -with Harrison Gray Otis and Josiah Quincy as rival candidates. -Young Phillips had the best of educational advantages. He -prepared for college at the famous Boston Latin School; entered -Harvard in his sixteenth, and graduated in his twentieth -year. One of his classmates was the historian Motley, a man, -like Phillips, of handsome person, of courtly manners, and high -social position. From college Phillips passed to the Cambridge -Law School, from which he graduated in 1833, and the following -year he was admitted to the bar. But he was not long to -follow the law.</p> - -<p>The public career of this man whose name is known in every -land, dates from a certain illustrious meeting held in Faneuil -Hall, Boston, in 1837. It was an era of great excitement. In -Congress, John Quincy Adams, the undaunted, was presenting -petitions for the abolition of slavery, in the midst of the howls -and execrations of the friends of the institution. Elijah I. -Lovejoy had been murdered by a pro-slavery mob at Alton, -Illinois, while defending his printing press. Two years before, -Boston had witnessed the mobbing of Garrison. Phillips himself -was a witness of the spectacle, and the following year he -joined the American Anti-Slavery Society. A meeting was -called in Faneuil Hall by Dr. Channing and other friends of -freedom to express indignation over Lovejoy’s murder. That -meeting will long live in history. Jonathan Phillips, a second -cousin of Wendell, presided. Dr. Channing and others spoke. -At length, the Attorney-General of the State, James T. Austin, -took the platform and delivered a speech in direct opposition -to the sentiments which had been expressed. It was not without -effect. The people cheered as the speaker declared that -Lovejoy died as the fool dieth, and placed his murderers by the -side of the men who destroyed the tea in Boston Harbor. The -meeting, designed to be one of indignation for the murder of -Lovejoy, bid fair to turn into a meeting of approbation. But -Wendell Phillips was the next speaker, and he had not spoken -long before the tide was again reversed. This, his first public -plea for free speech, human freedom and equal rights, was -wonderfully effective. It carried the audience and established -at once the speaker’s fame as the foremost orator of the anti-slavery -cause.</p> - -<p>From this time on, until in those years of blood the shackles -were struck from the slaves of America, Phillips was a man of -one work. He lived for the cause of abolition. His motto -might have been: “One thing I do.” By the side of Garrison -he stood, in full sympathy with his ideas. His name has long -been the synonym of extreme radicalism. He held, with Garrison, -that the constitution was “a league with hell,” and would -not vote, or take an oath to support the iniquitous document. -In the years before the war of the rebellion, he freely advocated -a dissolution of the Union; but when the war came, he -was found a stanch defender of the Union cause. In that band -of once execrated, but now honored abolitionists, who “prepared -the way of the Lord,” there may have been others who -did as effective work as Wendell Phillips; but he was the incomparable -orator, gifted with eloquent speech to a degree unapproachable. -Stories of his power over an audience will long -be told. Delightedly the people have listened to his silver -tongue and chaste diction when he spoke upon purely literary -themes; the lyceum in our land had no more popular lecturer. -But he will live in our history as the matchless abolitionist orator. -Since the death of slavery he has been a prominent -worker in different reform movements, and the advocate—as it -seems to us—of certain vagaries, but his fame is inseparably -connected with the colored race, of whose rights he was the -devoted, unselfish, and fearless champion. His private life was -singularly simple, sweet and beautiful. His wife, an invalid of -many years, his devotion to whom was beautiful indeed, survives -him; and an adopted daughter, Mrs. Smalley, wife of the -well known newspaper correspondent, is also left to mourn -his loss.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>FLOODS.</h3> - -<p>In this country and in England the ravages of high waters -have become a matter of much seriousness and alarm. Nor -have we failed to observe that in recent years the floods have -been far greater and more numerous than they were a generation -ago. This is due, we are told, to the clearing away of the -forests, allowing the water to rush, unhindered by the undergrowth -and fallen leafage, into the rivers, thus causing their -sudden swell and overflow.</p> - -<p>The serious and practical question is how to avert, in some -degree at least, the frequent wholesale destruction of life and -property, as has been experienced in the exposed districts during -the last few years. It is mere nonsense to talk as some -have done of condemning the flooded districts as dangerous -and unfit for human habitation. Any one acquainted with the -human family knows how little it is restrained by the motives -of fear or danger in choosing its dwelling-place. Men will -build their houses where the ashes of muttering volcanoes fall -on their roofs, and with the knowledge that underneath their -foundations lie their predecessors buried by former eruptions. -How absurd, then, to talk of abandoning as places of human -dwelling those great valleys, the most fertile, and in many -other ways the most highly favored on the continent. For fertility -of soil and beauty of situation, the valleys of the Ohio and -Mississippi may safely challenge the world.</p> - -<p>Neither will it do to say that by heeding the warnings given -by the Signal Service Department much of these calamities can -be averted. The Service published its warnings to the people -of the Ohio valley a week in advance of the recent floods, but -no attention was paid to them. And though the time is coming -when the statements of meteorological science will command -general confidence, still it will not suffice to avert the great loss -of life and property. Men are not easily warned, and besides -there is the impossibility in many cases, of providing against -danger and loss, even though warning has been received.</p> - -<p>Since it is now too late in the Ohio and Mississippi valleys -for the method at present being discussed, with reference to -the waters of the Hudson, viz.: To spare the Adirondacks, -there is nothing left but to refer this important subject to the -State and National Committees on “Levees and other Improvements -against Destructive Floods.” Nor do we have to look -long for encouraging examples of this mode of prevention. A -large part of Louisiana is habitable and cultivable only through -the protection afforded by hundreds of miles of levees. For six -centuries Holland has shown to the world what can be done -by this method of protection. Her whole North sea coast and -a hundred miles of the Zuyder Zee is provided with dikes, her -constant safeguard from inundation. Before the dikes were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span> -built in the thirteenth century, a single flood destroyed 80,000 -lives. At an annual expense of $2,000,000, those rich lands -yielding their luxuriant pastures and crops of hemp and flax, -are defended from the waters.</p> - -<p>We are persuaded that this is the only solution of the flood -problem in this country. Whether partial or entire, it should -be attempted without delay. In the light of recent experience -government can not begin its work too soon. The vast amount -of property swept away during the last decade would have -gone no little way in defraying the expense of dikes as solid -and sufficient as those of Holland. Add the amount given by -Congress for the relief of the suffering districts, together with -the amount given in benevolence and sympathy for the same -purpose, and the sum is much increased. By procrastination -we may expend in the above painful manner treasure equal to -the whole cost of the needed protection before the work is begun. -Let us hope that the year will not pass without decisive -action by the government.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="EDITORS_NOTE-BOOK">EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>A party is reported in Ohio claiming to organize C. L. S. C. -local circles, taking collections, etc. Now be it known that no -agents for such purposes are appointed by the Chautauqua authorities. -Such self-appointed agents are likely to be swindlers. -Our workers render their services voluntarily. We appoint -no agents.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>General Gordon’s proclamation of freedom for slave-holding -and slave-dealing in the Soudan has created a great surprise. -It is even suggested that his religious enthusiasm has toppled -over into insanity. Perhaps we can not hope to understand -the case. But we need not misunderstand the facts. Slavery -was never practically abolished in that country. Even in Egypt -it continues to exist. General Gordon has not reëstablished -slavery. Starting from that fact, we may easily reach the inference -that the heroic and simple-minded Gordon has merely -done away with one of the pretexts by means of which corrupt -Egyptian officials plundered the natives. Slavery can not be -abolished by slave-traders, and their ways of enforcing any -law which naturally renders it odious and despicable.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>John Ruskin is not always exactly level with common sense, -but perhaps he is nearly right in saying “Never buy a copy of -a picture. It is never a true copy.” It would probably be -much wiser in people who pay considerable sums for copies of -old paintings if they spent their money upon inferior original -works by living artists. We have come to a place where -the tide should turn in favor of our own young artists; and we -believe the turn in the tide is not far ahead.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The weather prophets have let us alone this winter. But on -the Pacific coast a sidewalk philosopher has tried to explain -the cold weather of the sunset slope. He says that an earthquake -off the coast of Japan has filled up the Straits of Sunda, -and so diverted the warm current that should flow to the coast -of Oregon. This is an improvement upon the last prophet, -who regulated the weather astrologically—by studying the positions -of the stars. The new man comes back to the earth and -is chiefly at fault in his facts. We welcome him in the room of -the astrologer of last year.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Ruined by speculation.” They have to keep that “head” -standing in the newspaper offices. The last case which has -fallen under eye is that of a bank in Philadelphia, whose manager -speculated in tin. When a bank fails, or a trustee betrays -a trust, we always ask: “What did he speculate in?” The -story is trite. We know of nothing better to write than the laconic -advice of General Clinton B. Fisk: “<span class="smcap">Don’t!</span>”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Sir James Caird was part of a commission to study the -causes of the great famine in India in 1876-7, and has written -a book on the subject. The trouble of course is that the farmers -are poor, their methods bad, and that population keeps ahead -of the food supply. One mode of relief is emigration. This -reminds us that Charles Kingsley, who studied the Hindoo laborers -in the West Indies, wrote very enthusiastically of their -qualities. Will the Hindoos come into our own South, and -what will come of it? In the West Indies, Kingsley says that -negro and Hindoo lived and worked together peacefully. We -may not like it, but that side of the world is top-heavy with humanity, -and steam will go on distributing the people among -the less crowded nations.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>What is money worth in this country? The discussions at -Washington, and the prices of government bonds, seem to show -that it is worth between two and three per cent., and there is -not much doubt that a hundred-year government bond bearing -only two per cent. would sell at par. An incident in New York -City confirms this opinion. A recent call for bids on city bonds -bearing three per cent. interest, and payable in five years or -thirty, at the will of the city, was answered by bids for six -times the amount required at from par up to 103⅓. If short -New York threes are at a premium, a long government two -would be worth par. Why, then, it will be asked, do <i>we</i> pay -from six to ten per cent. in different parts of the country? The -answer is that <i>risk</i> and superintendence of <i>short loans</i> makes the -difference. The real value of money is found by taking for a -measure long loans, in which there is absolutely no risk. The -<i>Times</i> of New York expresses the opinion that thirty-year -threes of that city would sell at 115.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A correspondent of the New York <i>Evening Post</i> furnishes -some interesting incidents in the life of Joel Barlow, the father -of American epic poetry. Redding, Conn., was the early home -of Barlow, and the visitor is shown the house in which the poet -constructed his commencement poem in 1778. It is said that -Barlow’s one romance was a common one among college students. -He fell in love with a sweet girl whom he privately -married soon after graduation. He served as a chaplain in the -Continental army, but at Redding he is best remembered as -the promoter of several industrial enterprises designed to promote -the welfare of the town. Barlow was not a great father -of our epic, but his sons have, perhaps, not greatly surpassed -him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The enthusiasm of science, in alliance with the passion of -boys for killing birds, is making trouble in Massachusetts. The -taxidermists want birds to stuff, and average boys want to slay -birds. The law is loose, and any boy can get a license to kill birds -in the service of science. The dead birds are oftener eaten than -stuffed. The song birds and insectivorous birds are rapidly -diminishing. Of course the boys rob the nests of the birds -and kill the young in the nests. There is a period in a boy’s -life when he loves such work. Maine has abolished the system -of licensing taxidermists, in consequence of the wholesale -slaughter of birds that went on under that system.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There is no doubt that the tobacco habit, or any other bad -habit, can be more easily overcome with the aid of prayer than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span> -without it. But there are two objections to a common way of -stating the case. The first is that many tobacco users have -ceased using it without the aid of prayer. The second objection -is that there is danger of teaching that men cannot reform -bad habits without <i>special</i> divine help. The word we spell -c-a-n-t has two meanings, and both are present in the plea of -helplessness. It is understood, of course, that God helps men -who help themselves; that is the reason why a wicked farmer -can raise good crops by being a good agriculturist, though he -is a bad sinner.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Congress is struggling with a foreign copyright bill. The -bill is a bungling one and really opens the American market -to free trade in books. This <i>may</i> be desirable, but it is well to -keep distinct measures in different baskets. The free book -question belongs in the tariff bill. International copyright -means putting a foreign author on a level with the home author. -We ought to do it without delay, but we need not confer -any favors on foreign publishers in a copyright bill. We have -international patent-right, but we did not think it necessary -when we protected the foreign inventor to put the foreign -maker of the inventor’s machines under shelter of the “Free -List.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>John Bright is still the most vigorous handler of a rhetorical -club in all England. In the course of the great debate, last -month, in the House of Commons, the Tories of high birth -were badly represented by two or three orators of their rank. -Mr. Bright crushed them fine by saying that “the brothers -and sons of dukes use language more virulent, more coarse, -more offensive and more ungentlemanly than is heard from a -lower rank of speakers.” We suspect that the sentence is the -reporter’s, not Bright’s; but the rebuke which he administered -made a sensation which reminded Englishmen of the days -when he described the political “Cave of Adullam” and its -inhabitants.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Prussian Chamber of Deputies recently debated the -question of dueling, especially in the universities. A critical -member began it by complaining of the idleness, drinking, -gaming and dueling of the students. The curiosity which -the debate brought to light is the fact that though dueling is -forbidden by law, it has powerful friends in the Chamber and the -government. Germany has forbidden the barbaric custom; -but young Germans grow up in the belief that dueling is manly, -and their seniors remember that they had the same disease -in the universities. The German people are very sensitive to -foreign criticism on this point; and probably the other civilized -nations will by and by ridicule German dueling out of existence.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Curiosities of speech are always interesting, and it is a delightful -business for grammatical people to scold their neighbors. -The New York <i>Tribune</i> has had a bout with a few score correspondents -on the duties of the neuter verb between subject -and predicate; which must it agree with? The <i>Tribune</i> says -with the real subject; the other folks say there are two subjects, -and that the verb must agree with the last. All the malcontents -quote “The wages of sin is death.” The <i>Tribune</i> -has three or four answers; its best is that <i>death</i> is the true subject; -its second best is that wages used to be singular. In -“The Contributors’ Club” of the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, another -class of errors is discussed, such as the dropping of <i>h</i> in <i>which</i> -and <i>when</i>, a common thing in and around New York, and the -suppression of <i>r</i> in many words. The English say <i>lud</i>, we say -<i>lawd</i>. While just touching this interesting topic we call attention -to a Meadville eccentricity. It is the rising inflection at the -end of questions, such as, “Is he <i>sick</i>?” Can any reader -tell us whether this locution (or rather inflection) is a localism -only?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There is a lamentably large number of illiterates in the -United States. Let us reduce the number as fast as possible. -But let us stop assuming that the spelling book will rub the -Decalogue into the conscience. Our immediate troubles and -dangers come from literates who are as bright as lightning, and -almost as destructive. We shall not get moral education by -way of the spelling book. The statistical proof that we do is -defective. We may count up the illiterate rogues in prison -with much satisfaction, if we forget that the literate rogues are -too smart to be caught and caged. Moral character does not -result from intellectual training. Thirty years ago we had this -straight, and taught that an educated bad man was a much -more dangerous beast than an uneducated bad man.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A few kind-hearted people have for several years conducted -a crusade against horse-shoes. They claim that the horse-shoe -is a piece of unprofitable cruelty. They furnish examples and -drive their own horses unshod. Among their examples is this: -“In Africa, a horse working in a post-cart does, barefoot, -over hard ground, twenty-four miles in two hours.” One view -is that our horse-shoeing bill would pay off the national debt in -a few generations. It is rather remarkable that these reformers -do not receive more attention. We hope they will soon get the -general ear; hence this note.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>President Eliot, of Harvard, in a recent address, makes a -suggestion which is likely to arrest attention. The clergy are -likely to have a monopoly of classical education, perhaps of liberal -education, if present tendencies are not overcome. One -of these tendencies is to give candidates for the ministry a -monopoly of Greek study in colleges. President Eliot thinks -that increased and more thorough study of English may help -in resisting the tendency toward purely mechanical education. -English study of a thorough sort requires and promotes classical -study. We add our thought that real liberal education is -a fruit of study <i>after</i> the school-boy discipline, and that a classical -revival and an English literature revival are both clear -possibilities of the Chautauquan organization and methods. -The most thorough study, with the best helps, is within the -plan of our university.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Salmi Morse was last year at this time struggling to exhibit -his “Passion Play” in New York. The religious feeling of the -country won a conspicuous victory in defeating the purpose of -Mr. Morse. Near the end of last month the dramatist drowned -himself in the East river, and an actress whose relations to him -were questionable, is trying to gain notoriety by a theory that -a rejected suitor of hers murdered Mr. Morse. There are a -dozen good morals in the story.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Frederick Douglas having at 70 married a white wife, the -public has had to listen to a great many homilies on the general -subject of inter-marriage among races. We are not about to -add another to the long list of sociological essays. We suggest -two things: First, it is best to leave the whole matter to individuals. -Therefore, the laws which forbid marriage between -whites and blacks should be repealed. Second, the real evil—if -there be one—is scarcely touched by the prohibitive laws. -As Mr. Douglas puts it: It is permitted to white men to beget -children by dark-skinned mothers, provided they do not marry -these mothers of their copper-colored children. The nobler of -two ignoble white men—the one who marries the black mother -of his children—should be left in peace until we can invent -some means of punishing the ignoble wretch who does not -marry her. The former is a very rare man; the growing lights -in the African face show us that the other men are numerous.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Everybody has heard of the “Great Eastern” steamship, an -eighth of a mile long and thirty feet under water. The great -ship was a failure, and after an unsuccessful pursuit of genteel -occupations for many years, she has gone to Gibraltar to be -used as a coal hulk. If any sailor ever loved this leviathan, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span> -will feel “the pity of it” in this unromantic end; and most of -us feel a touch of sadness in reading the story.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The honors paid to the dead Arctic explorers in New York, -on Washington’s birthday, lost none of their significance by -the association. The flags were at the peak in honor of the -father of his country, in the morning; in the afternoon they -dropped to half-mast in memorial mourning for the heroes of -the ill-fated “Jeannette.” To young eyes seeing both memorial -honors, the spectacle must have been inspiring—as showing -that the paths to glory are still open to heroic souls. The -booming guns, the wistful and reverent throngs, the military -tramping along the streets, all had the same cheering lesson. -We do not measure men or honor them by success; for utter -failure heroically faced we have the funeral pageant and the -historic record. We are not at all interested in the North Pole. -We soberly think the Arctic exploration business a foolhardy -one. But we forget our indifference, and our sober judgment, -when we meet the cold corpses of those who have vainly fought -the cruel North—and say, “Well done; like heroes you died; -like heroes you shall be buried.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the graduating list published in the February <span class="smcap">Chautauquan</span>, -the name “J. Van Alstyne,” from New Jersey, should be -Wm. L. Van Alstyne, Jr.; also the name Emily Hancock, -which appears under New York, should be under Indiana, and -“Mrs. John Romeo,” of New York, should read Mrs. John -Romer.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A correspondent kindly calls our attention to two errors in -<span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span> for February. We “stand corrected.” -Whittier’s birthday comes on December seventeenth, instead -of the sixteenth, as stated on page 302, and there are thirty-eight -states in the Union, not thirty-nine.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="C_L_S_C_NOTES_ON_REQUIRED_READINGS_FOR_APRIL">C. L. S. C. NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS FOR APRIL.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>PREPARATORY LATIN COURSE.</h3> - -<p>P. 174.—“Havelock.” (1795-1857.) A British soldier who in 1823 -was sent to India. He served in the Burmese war, in the Ava campaign, -in two invasions of Afghanistan, and in 1856 in a war with Persia. -On his return to Bombay he was sent to Calcutta to aid the British -in the Sepoy rebellion. After raising the siege of Cawnpore, he started -toward Lucknow, where the garrison was closely beset. Havelock was -two months in fighting his way to the city, and when there, the relievers -and garrison had to stand a siege until the arrival of Campbell with -forces. Havelock, however, lived only a few days after succor came, -being worn out by sickness and hardships. The arrival of Campbell -has been celebrated in a touching and popular poem—“The Relief of -Lucknow.”</p> - -<p>P. 177.—“Ardennes.” See “Notes” on page 185 of <span class="smcap">The Chautauquan</span> -for December.</p> - -<p>P. 180.—“Hector.” The chief hero of the Trojans in the war with -the Greeks, the eldest son of Priam, king of Troy. Having slain Patroclus, -the friend of Achilles, the latter was aroused to revenge, and -came out to fight. Hector remained bravely without the walls until he -saw his enemy, when he took to flight, but he was finally pierced with -Achilles’ spear, and his body dragged into the camp of the Greeks. -Hector was the stay of the Trojans. He is represented by Homer as a man -of all virtues, and is claimed to be the noblest conception of the “Iliad.”</p> - -<p>P. 184.—“Boll of grain.” The Scotch formerly used a measure -called the bōll, or <i>bole</i>. Its capacity varied with the article measured. A -boll of wheat or beans held four bushels; of oats or potatoes, six bushels.</p> - -<p>“Cevennes,” sā-venˈ. A mountain range of France, separating the -valleys of the Garonne and the Loire from those of the Saone and the -Rhone.</p> - -<p>P. 187.—“Santa Scala,” or the holy staircase, called also Pilate’s -staircase, is a flight of twenty-eight marble steps in a little chapel of -Rome. They are said to be the steps which Christ passed up and down -in going before Pilate, and that, like the Holy House at Loreto, they -were transported by angels to their present position. Multitudes of -pilgrims crawl up this staircase, kissing each step as they go. It is related -of Luther that wishing to obtain the indulgence promised by the -pope for this devout act, he was slowly ascending the steps when he -suddenly heard a voice exclaiming, “The just shall live by faith alone.” -He was so terrified by his superstitious folly that he at once fled from -the place.</p> - -<p>P. 190.—“Aulus,” auˈlus hirˈti-us.</p> - -<p>P. 194.—“Protagonist,” pro-tăgˈo-nĭst. The first or leading actor -in a drama.</p> - -<p>P. 196.—“Obsolescence,” ŏb-so-lĕsˈcence. The going out of style, -becoming old, obsolete.</p> - -<p>P. 202.—“Lucius Catilina,” lūˈci-ŭs catˈi-liˌna.</p> - -<p>P. 205.—“Spurius Mælius,” spuˈri-us mæˈli-us. A rich plebeian -who in the famine at Rome in B. C. 440 bought up corn to distribute -to the poor. His liberality won him the favor of the plebeians, but the -hatred of the patricians. In the following year he was accused of a -conspiracy against the government. Having refused to appear before -the tribunal when summoned, Ahala, the master of the horse, rushed out -with an armed band and slew him.</p> - -<p>“Opimius.” A patrician, the leader of his party in the proceedings -against Caius Gracchus in 120 B. C. Through his violence some three -hundred people were slain after the death of Gracchus.</p> - -<p>“Saturnius.” A demagogue who in B. C. 102 was elected tribune -of the plebs. He allied himself with Marius and his party and won -much favor by his popular measures. He was twice reëlected, but the -third time it was feared that his colleague, Glaucia, who had held office -during each of his tribunates, would be defeated. The friends had -the rival candidate murdered. This act caused a reaction against -Saturnius, and the senate ordered that he and his associates should be -slain. Marius endeavored to save his friend, but the mob pulled the -tiles from the senate house, where the parties were concealed, and -pelted them to death.</p> - -<p>P. 220.—“Minucian Colonnade.” A portico built about 100 B. C. -by the consul Minucius, in memory of the triumph which he received -after waging a successful war against the Thracians.</p> - -<p>“Pan.” In Grecian mythology, a god who watched over flocks and -herds; was the patron of hunters, bee-keepers and fishermen, and the -inventor of a shepherd’s flute. He is represented with horns, goat’s beard, -feet and tail, and often as playing on the flute. The Romans worshiped -him under the name of Faunus.</p> - -<p>P. 221.—“Lupercalia,” lūˈper-cä-li-a. Lupercus was a name applied -to Pan, and a feast given in honor of the god by the Romans was -called <i>Lupercalia</i>.</p> - -<p>“Tarquinius,” tar-quinˈi-us. Surnamed <i>Superbus</i>, was the last of the -Roman kings. Though he was cruel and tyrannical, he is said to have -greatly increased the power of the city. Brutus, his nephew, was -aroused against the royal family because of an outrage committed upon -his wife by Tarquin’s son. He stirred up popular feeling against the -king, and succeeded in driving him from Rome. Consular government -was then substituted for the monarchy.</p> - -<p>“Spurius Cassius,” spuˈri-us casˈsi-us. A famous Roman of the fifth -century. He was three times consul. In his last consulship he passed -a law which provided that the patricians should receive only a portion -of the public lands, and that the rest should be divided among the plebeians. -The next year he was accused of aiming at regal power and was -put to death.</p> - -<p>“Manlius.” Consul in 392 B. C. In 395 he defended the plebeians -against the higher classes, but was accused of aiming at kingly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span> -power, and was thrown into prison. The plebs showed such indignation -at this that Manlius was liberated. He only became bolder in his -support of the people, and in the following year was accused of treason, -condemned, and thrown from the Tarpeian rock.</p> - -<p>P. 228.—“Dante,” dănˈte. (1265-1321.)</p> - -<p>“Inferno,” in-ferˈno; “Purgatorio,” pur-gä-toˈre-o; “Divina Commedia,” -dee-veéˈnä com-meˈdee-ä.</p> - -<p>P. 230.—“Mincius,” minˈci-us. A river of northern Italy emptying -into the Po, a little below Mantua, which is situated on an island in the -middle of a lagoon formed by the river.</p> - -<p>P. 232.—“Bucolic,” bu-cŏlˈic; “Eclogues,” ĕkˈlogs.</p> - -<p>“Dactylic hexameter,” dac-tylˈic hex-ămˈe-ter. A verse of poetry -consisting of six feet, parts, or measures (hexameter means of six -measures), the first four of which may be dactyls, that is feet of three -syllables, one long and two short; or spondees, feet of two syllables, one -long and one short: the fifth must be a dactyl, and the sixth a spondee.</p> - -<p>“Theocritus,” the-ŏkˈrĭ-tus. Was born in Syracuse about 250 B. C. -He is known as the creator of pastoral poetry. About thirty poems by -him are still extant, and several epigrams.</p> - -<p>P. 234.—“Sibyl,” sĭbˈyl. A name given by the Greeks and Romans -to several women who were supposed to have been able to foretell, to avert -trouble, and to appease the gods. Some writers mention four Sibyls, -others ten. The most famous of all was this Cumæan Sibyl, and to her -the Romans traced the origin of the “oracles.” It is fabled that she -offered to sell to one of the Tarquins nine books, but the king refused. -Going away she burnt three, and then offered the six at the same price. -Being refused again she destroyed a second three, and at her first price -the king finally took those remaining. These were carefully preserved, -but burnt in B. C. 83. A new compilation was made by consulting the -various oracles of the world. The “Sibyline oracles” mentioned here -are in eight books, and were collected after the second century; they -consist of a mixture of heathen, Christian and Jewish poems.</p> - -<p>P. 235.—“Lucina,” lu-ciˈna. The goddess who was supposed to -preside over the birth of children.</p> - -<p>“Tiphys,” tiˈphys. The pilot of the “Argo.” He died before -the ship reached Colchis. For the story of the “Argo” see Grecian history.</p> - -<p>P. 236.—“Fates,” or Parcæ, were mythological beings who cared for -human life.</p> - -<p>“Linus.” The personification of the dirge.</p> - -<p>“Calliope.” The muse of epic poetry. She usually appears with a -stylus and a wax tablet.</p> - -<p>P. 237.—“Hesiod,” heˈsĭ-od. Greek epic poet; 800 B. C.</p> - -<p>“Iambic pentameter.” A verse of five feet (pentameter), or ten -syllables. Each foot is an iambus; that is, is composed of one short -and one long syllable.</p> - -<p>“Alexandrine,” ălˌex-ănˈdrĭne. A verse composed of twelve syllables, -named from a French poem on Alexander.</p> - -<p>P. 238.—“Ceres.” The Demeter of the Romans, the goddess who -presided over grain and the harvest.</p> - -<p>“Fauns.” The rural divinities of the Romans. They were supposed -to have introduced the worship of the gods and agriculture. -They are represented as possessed of horns, and having the figure of a -goat below the waist.</p> - -<p>“Courser’s birth.” The reference is to the creation of the horse by -Neptune. It is said that Neptune and Minerva (Athene) contested for -the honor of naming Attica. The gods decided that it should be the -one who should give the most useful gift to man. Neptune struck the -ground with his trident and the horse appeared. Athene created the -olive tree; the latter received the honor.</p> - -<p>“Pallas.” A name frequently given to Athene.</p> - -<p>“Cypress.” The cypress was sacred to Pluto, the god of the lower -world.</p> - -<p>P. 239—“Thule.” The land which in the time of Alexander the -Great was believed to be the northernmost part of Europe.</p> - -<p>“Fasces,” făsˈsēz. An emblem of authority among the Romans. It -was an ax tied up in a bundle of rods.</p> - -<p>“Balance.” The constellation Libra, or the Scales. It lies in the -Zodiac between the Virgin and the Scorpion.</p> - -<p>“Elysium,” e-lĭzˈĭ-um. A dwelling place for the good after death.</p> - -<p>“Proserpine,” pro-serˈpine. The daughter of Ceres, who was carried -off by Pluto, to Hades. Her mother, discovering that Jupiter had -given consent to the abduction, withdrew from Olympus, and did not -allow the earth to bring forth fruit. Jupiter tried to dissuade her, but -failing, sent for Proserpine. She returned, but as she had eaten in the -lower world could not remain all the time on earth, but was obliged to -spend one-third of the year with Pluto.</p> - -<p>P. 254.—“Æolus,” æˈo-lus. The god of the winds.</p> - -<p>“Sarpedon,” sar-peˈdon. A son of Jupiter and a prince of Lycia. -He was an ally of the Trojans in the Trojan war, but was slain by -Patroclus, the friend of Achilles.</p> - -<p>“Simois.” One of the prominent rivers in the country of Troy.</p> - -<p>P. 255.—“Orontes,” o-ronˈtes. A Lycian leader and ally of the -Trojans; “Aletes,” a-lēˈ-tes; “Abas,” aˈbas; “Achates,” a-chaˈtes.</p> - -<p>P. 258.—“Harpalyce,” har-palˈy-ce. A Thracian princess whose -mother died in her infancy. She was trained to outdoor exercise and -sports, and on the death of her father she turned robber. She lived in -the woods and was so fleet that not even horses could overtake her.</p> - -<p>P. 262.—“Amaracus,” a-marˈa-cus. The sweet marjoram or feverfew.</p> - -<p>P. 263.—“Acidalian.” Venus was sometimes called <i>Acidalia</i>, from -a well, Acidalius, in Greece, where she used to bathe with the Graces.</p> - -<p>P. 264.—“Demodocus.” In Ulysses’s wanderings, after the fall of -Troy, he was thrown on the island of Scheria, where the king of the -people, the Phæacians, honored him with feasts, at which Demodocus, -a minstrel, sang of the fall of Troy.</p> - -<p>P. 266.—“Danaan,” danˈa-an. Danaus, the name from which this -word is derived, was a former king of Argos.</p> - -<p>P. 270.—“Thessander,” thes-sanˈder.</p> - -<p>“Sthenelus,” sthenˈe-lus. The friend of Diomede, under whom he -commanded the Argives in the Trojan war.</p> - -<p>“Acamas,” aˈca-mas. A son of Theseus.</p> - -<p>“Pelides,” pe-liˈdes. A name given to Achilles, whose father’s -name was Peleus. The “youthful heir” here spoken of was Neoptolemus, -son of Achilles.</p> - -<p>“Machaon,” ma-chaˈon. The surgeon of the Greeks in the Trojan -war. He was the son of Æsculapius, the god of the medical art. Machaon -was a warrior as well as a doctor, and with his brother led thirty -ships to Troy.</p> - -<p>“Menelaus,” men-e-laˈus. The king of Lacedæmon, and husband -of Helen.</p> - -<p>“Epeus,” e-peˈus.</p> - -<p>P. 288.—“Dis.” A contraction of Dives, a name given sometimes -to Pluto, and hence to the lower world.</p> - -<p>P. 289.—“Phlegethon,” phlegˈe-thon. A river of liquid fire flowing -through Hades.</p> - -<p>“Orcus.” Another name for Hades, or for Pluto.</p> - -<p>“Tartarus,” tarˈta-rus. Like Orcus and Dis, Tartarus is sometimes -used synonymously with Hades.</p> - -<p>“Acheron,” aˈcher-on. The name of a river of the lower world, -flowing, according to Virgil, into the Co-cyˈtus.</p> - -<p>P. 290.—“Charon,” chaˈron.</p> - -<p>“Treen.” An obsolete plural of tree.</p> - -<p>P. 291.—“Palinurus,” pa-li-nuˈrus. He had been the pilot of Æneas’s -ship, but fell into the sea and was murdered on the coast of Lucania, by -the natives.</p> - -<p>“Cerberus,” cerˈbe-rus. The dog that guarded the entrance to Hades.</p> - -<p>P. 293.—“Marpesian,” mar-peˈsi-an. Derived from Marpessa, a -mountain in Paros, from which the Parian marble was taken.</p> - -<p>P. 294.—“Hecate,” heˈca-te. An ancient divinity, the only Titan -which Jupiter allowed to retain power. She was thought to rule in -heaven, earth and hell; this three-fold power led to her being sometimes -represented with three heads.</p> - -<p>“Gnosian,” gnoˈsi-an. From Gnosus, or Cnosus, an ancient city of -Crete. The adjective is used here as equivalent to Cretan.</p> - -<p>“Rhadamanthus,” rha-da-manˈthus. The brother of King Minos, -of Crete. His justice through life led to his being made a judge in the -lower world.</p> - -<p>“Tisiphone,” ti-siphˈo-ne. One of the Fates.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span></p> - -<p>P. 295.—“Hydra,” hyˈdra. A monster which formerly lived in a -marsh in the Peloponnesus. It had many heads, one of which being -cut off was immediately succeeded by two new ones. It was slain by -Hercules.</p> - -<p>“Aloeus,” a-loˈe-us. The son of Neptune; the sons here referred -to were of enormous size and strength. When but nine years of age -they threatened the Olympian gods with war. Apollo destroyed them -before they reached manhood. “Salmoneus,” sal-moˈne-us.</p> - -<p>“Levin,” lĕvˈin. An obsolete word for lightning.</p> - -<p>P. 296.—“Lapith.” A race living in Thessaly.</p> - -<p>“Pirithous,” pi-rithˈo-us. The King of the Lapithæ. He descended -to the nether world in order to carry off Persephone, but was seized by -Pluto and fastened to a rock with Theseus, who had accompanied him. -Theseus was afterward released by Hercules, but Pirithous remained.</p> - -<p>“Ixion,” ix-iˈon. The father of the above. Having committed a -murder on earth for which he was never purified, Jupiter took pity on -him, purified him, and took him to heaven, where he tried to win the -love of Juno. For his ingratitude he was sent to Hades, and fastened to -a perpetually rolling wheel.</p> - -<p>P. 297.—“Teucer,” teuˈcer. The first king of Troy.</p> - -<p>“Ilus.” The grandfather of Priam, and the founder of Ilion or -Troy.</p> - -<p>“Assaracus,” as-sarˈa-cus. The great-grandfather of Æneas.</p> - -<p>“Dardany,” or Dardania, was a region adjacent to Ilium, lying along -the Hellespont. It was named from Dardanus, the son-in-law of Teucer.</p> - -<p>P. 298.—“Eridanus,” e-ridˈa-nus. A river god.</p> - -<p>“Musæus,” mu-sæˈus. A mythological character, the author of various -poetical compositions and of certain famous <i>oracles</i>.</p> - -<p>P. 300.—“Procas.” One of the fabulous kings of Alba Longa.</p> - -<p>“Numitor,” nuˈmi-tor. The grandfather of Romulus and Remus.</p> - -<p>“Capys.” “Silvius.” Mythical kings of Alba Longa.</p> - -<p>“Gabii,” gaˈbi-i. In early times a powerful Latin city near -Rome.</p> - -<p>“Nomentum,” no-menˈtum. A Latin town, about fourteen miles from -Rome.</p> - -<p>“Collatia,” col-laˈti-a. A Sabine town. “Cora.” An ancient town -in Latium. “Bola.” A town of the Æqui. “Inuus.” Usually written -Inui Castrum. A town on the coast of Latium.</p> - -<p>P. 301.—“Ind.” The country of the Indus.</p> - -<p>“Garamant,” garˈa-mant. The most southernly of the known people -of Africa.</p> - -<p>“Alcides,” al-ciˈdes. A name given to Hercules.</p> - -<p>“Erymanthus,” e-ry-manˈthus. A lofty mountain of Arcadia, the -haunt of the boar which Hercules killed.</p> - -<p>“Lerna.” A marsh and river not far from Argos, where Hercules -killed the Hydra.</p> - -<p>P. 302.—“Decii,” deˈci-i. “Drusus,” druˈsus. “Torquatus,” tor-quaˈtus. -Famous Roman leaders in the early days of the Republic.</p> - -<p>“Æacides,” æ-acˈi-des. A name given to the descendants of Æacus, -among whom were Peleus, Achilles and Pyrrhus.</p> - -<p>P. 303.—“Feretrian,” fer-reˈtri-an. A name given sometimes to -Jove. It is probably derived from the verb to strike, as persons taking -an oath called on Jove to strike them if they swore falsely.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="NOTES_ON_REQUIRED_READINGS_IN_THE_CHAUTAUQUAN">NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS IN “THE CHAUTAUQUAN.”</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>FRENCH HISTORY.</h3> - -<p>P. 377, c. 1.—“Voltaire,” vol-têrˈ. (1694-1778.) French author.</p> - -<p>“Rousseau,” Jean Jacques, rooˌsōˈ. (1712-1778.) French philosopher -and writer.</p> - -<p>“Montesquieu,” mŏnˈtĕs-kūˌ. (1689-1755.) French jurist and philosopher.</p> - -<p>“D’Alembert,” däˈlŏnˌbêrˌ. (1717-1783.) French mathematician.</p> - -<p>P. 377, c. 2.—“Maria Theresa,” ma-rīˈa te-reeˈsä. (1717-1780.) -Empress of Germany and Queen of Hungary and Bohemia.</p> - -<p>“Turgot,” türˌgoˈ. (1727-1781.) At the time of his appointment to -the control of finance, Turgot had won a fine reputation by his papers -on political economy, tolerance in governing, and like subjects. He at -once undertook to carry out his views, abolishing all taxes save those -on land, doing away with compulsory labor for the state, the privileges -of trading corporations and the like; this made him very unpopular -among the favored classes, and Louis was forced to dismiss him.</p> - -<p>“Necker,” nĕkˈer. (1732-1804.) Necker’s policy was to restore -order and confidence. He restrained the prodigality of the court, cut -down the expenses of the government, regulated taxes, and laid the -foundation of the Bank of France. After his final withdrawal from -France, Necker lived in Geneva, where he wrote several essays. It is -said that on the accession of Bonaparte to power he attempted to obtain -the position of minister of finance, but was rejected.</p> - -<p>“Ushant,” ushˈant. The largest of the Ouessant Isles, off the coast -of the department of Finisterre in France.</p> - -<p>“D’Estaings,” dĕsˌtănˈ. (1729-1794.) He was brought up to military -service, was twice taken prisoner by the English but released, and in -1763 was appointed lieutenant-general of the navy. D’Estaings was -sent to the United States in 1778, where he planned attacks on New -York and Newport, but was unsuccessful in both. After the campaign -in the West Indies he coöperated with the Americans in an attack upon -Savannah, but was wounded.</p> - -<p>“Granada,” “St. Lucia,” “St. Vincent.” Three islands of the Windward -group of the West Indies.</p> - -<p>“Langara,” läˈgä-rä. (1730-1800.)</p> - -<p>“De Guichen,” deh-gēˈshonˌ. (1712-1790.) A French naval officer, -made lieutenant-general in 1779. The next year after the victory here -given he was defeated by the English.</p> - -<p>“De Grasse,” deh gräs. (1723-1788.) Count de Grasse served in the -American war, and in 1781 aided Washington and Lafayette in the -capture of Cornwallis.</p> - -<p>“Hood.” (1724-1816.) He entered the navy at sixteen. In 1780 -he was made second in command in the West Indies. The year after -his defeat he defeated De Grasse and was made a baron. In 1793 he -commanded the English in the Mediterranean against the French, and -in 1796 was made a viscount.</p> - -<p>“Tobago,” to-bāˈgo. An island of the Windward group of the West -Indies.</p> - -<p>P. 378, c. 1.—“Ville de Paris.” The city of Paris.</p> - -<p>“Crillon,” kreˈyonˌ. (1718-1796.) A lieutenant-general in the Seven -Years’ War, and afterward captain-general of Spain.</p> - -<p>“Senegal,” senˈe-gawlˌ. A river of western Africa.</p> - -<p>“Calonne,” kăˌlonˈ. (1734-1802.) Calonne had been a law student -and a courtier, when appointed to succeed Necker. After his dismissal -he went to London, where he wrote many able political and financial -tracts.</p> - -<p>“Brienne,” breˌënˈ. (1727-1794.) Brienne was an archbishop and a -member of the academy when he succeeded Calonne.</p> - -<p>P. 378, c. 2.—“En Masse.” In a body.</p> - -<p>“Desmoulins,” dāˌmooˌlănˈ. (1762-1794.) A schoolmate of Robespierre, -and a partisan of the Revolution. He was called the “Attorney-General -of the lamp post,” for his share in street mobs.</p> - -<p>“Launay,” lōˈna. He was massacred immediately after the capture -of the place.</p> - -<p>“Condé,” kŏnˈdāˌ (1736-1818); “Polignac,” poˈlēnˌyäkˌ; “Noailles,” -noˈäl; “Seignioral,” seenˈyur-al. Lordly, kingly; belonging to a -seignior.</p> - -<p>P. 379, c. 1.—“Sièyes,” se-yāsˈ. (1748-1836.) At the beginning of -the Revolution Sièyes wrote a pamphlet which placed him at the head -of the publicists. He was a member of the Assembly, of the Convention, -and in 1799 of the Directory. When the new régime began he -was one of the three consuls, but soon after lost his influence, which he -never regained.</p> - -<p>“Robespierre,” roˈbes-peer. (1758-1794.) He was educated for the -law, and practicing, when in 1789 he was sent to the States-General. -His radical democratic views gained him a prominent place. He afterward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span> -was a member of the Assembly, and in 1792 was elected to the -Convention. He became the leader of one party there, and was instrumental -in bringing on the Reign of Terror, of which he was the acknowledged -head. His cruelty at last turned the people against him, -and he was guillotined in 1794.</p> - -<p>“Mirabeau,” mĭrˈa-bō. (1749-1791.) He was descended from a -family of high rank, but was passionate and uncontrolled. Until 1788 -his life was spent in all sorts of employments and intrigues. At that -time he made up his mind to enter French politics, and succeeded in -getting himself elected to the States-General of 1789. In 1791 he was -elected president of the National Assembly, but died soon after, a victim -to excess.</p> - -<p>“Œil-de-Bœuf,” eel-deh-bŭf.</p> - -<p>P. 379, c. 2.—“Chalons,” shäˌlōnˈ; “Menehould,” māˌnāˈhō.</p> - -<p>“Bouillé,” booˈyā. (1739-1800.)</p> - -<p>“Varennes,” väˈrenˌ.</p> - -<p>“Rochambeau,” roˈshŏnˌbō. (1725-1807.) A French marshal. In -early life he fought in several minor campaigns. In 1780 he was sent to -the United States with 6,000 men, and the next year fought at Yorktown.</p> - -<p>“Dumouriez,” düˌmooˈre-ā. (1739-1823.) After the battle of -Jemappes, the convention being jealous of Dumouriez’s loyalty to the -Bourbons, summoned him to their bar. He refused to go, and was -obliged to spend the rest of his life in exile.</p> - -<p>“Verdun,” vĕrˈdun; “Longwy,” lōngˌveˈ.</p> - -<p>“Custine,” küsˌtēnˈ. (1740-1793.)</p> - -<p>“Jemappes,” zhem-map.</p> - -<p>P. 380, c. 1.—“Fédérés,” fāˈdāˌrāˌ; “Abbaye,” ă-bāˈ; “Conciergerie,” -konˌcerˈjaˌreˌ; “Carmes,” kärm; “Bicêtre,” beˈcātrˌ. -The names of famous French prisons.</p> - -<p>“Lamballe,” lŏnˌbälˈ. (1749-1792.)</p> - -<p>“Sombreuil,” sŏnˌbrulˈ. The sister of an officer prominent in support -of the Royalists.</p> - -<p>“Cazotte,” käˈzotˌ. Jacques Cazotte, her father, was a French poet.</p> - -<p>P. 380, c. 2.—“Égalité,” ā-găˈle-tā.</p> - -<p>“Vergniaud,” verˌyne-ōˈ. (1759-1793.)</p> - -<p>P. 381, c. 1.—“Marat,” mäˈrä. (1744-1793.) Before the Revolution -Marat had practiced medicine. In 1789 he gained great popularity -among the Revolutionists by his journal, <i>The Friend of the People</i>. -After his election in 1792 to the Convention and the formation of the -triumvirate with Danton and Robespierre, he wielded great power by -his decisive opinions.</p> - -<p>“Danton,” dänˌtonˈ. (1759-1794.) He was a lawyer by profession. -At the beginning of the Revolution he became a popular leader and -orator. When the supreme power fell into the hands of the triumvirate -Danton was elected minister of justice, thus having chief control of the -city. Afterward he was elected to the Convention, where he became a -prominent leader, but excited the jealousy of Robespierre. The latter -triumphed in the contest for the first rank, and Danton was guillotined. -Lamartine says of him: “Nothing was wanting to make Danton a great -man, except virtue.”</p> - -<p>P. 381, c. 2.—“Corday,” korˌdaˈ. (1768-1793.)</p> - -<p>P. 382, c. 1.—“Aboukir,” ä-boo-keerˈ.</p> - -<p>“Tuileries,” tü-eel-rē. A royal palace of Paris.</p> - -<p>“D’Enghien,” dŏnˌ-gănˈ. (1772-1804.) “Eylau,” īˈlou; “Friedland,” -frēdˈland.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>COMMERCIAL LAW.</h3> - -<p>P. 384, c. 1.—“Misfeasance,” mis-fēˈzans. A wrong act.</p> - -<p>P. 384, c. 2. “In transitu.” On the passage.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>READINGS IN ART.</h3> - -<p>P. 384, c. 2.—“Cimabue,” che-mä-booˈā. (1240?-1302?) Called -“the father of modern painting.”</p> - -<p>P. 385, c. 1.—“Navicella,” năv-i-celˈla. The name of the mosaic, -meaning the little ship.</p> - -<p>“Assisi,” as-seeˈsee. A picturesque town of central Italy, chiefly -noted as the birthplace of St. Francis, who founded the Franciscan order -of monks.</p> - -<p>“Podestà,” po-des-tāˈ. In 1207 the chief executive power of Florence -was put into the hands of a single officer called the <i>podesta</i>; hence -the reference is to the chief magistrate’s palace.</p> - -<p>“Chiaro-scuro,” chi-äˌro-ŏs-cuˈro. The effective distribution of lights -and shades in a picture.</p> - -<p>“Guido di Pietro,” gweeˈdo de pe-aˈtrō.</p> - -<p>“Fiesole,” fyesˈo-lā. A town of Italy, near Florence.</p> - -<p>“Vicchio,” vekˈkee-o; “Mugello,” mu-gelˈlō.</p> - -<p>P. 385, c. 2.—“Orvieto,” or-ve-āˈto. A town of central Italy, not far -from Perugia.</p> - -<p>“Luca Signorelli,” luˈca sēn-yo-relˈlee. (1439-1521.) An Italian -painter, a nephew of Vasari. His frescoes are his most noteworthy -pieces.</p> - -<p>“Scudi,” skōoˈdee. The plural of scudo, an Italian coin used in -Italy and Sicily, and worth about 96 cents.</p> - -<p>“Santa Maria delle Grazie,” sänˈtä mä-reeˈä delˈlā grätˈse-ā.</p> - -<p>“Marco d’Oggione,” marˈco dōd-goˈnā. (1470-1530.) A pupil of -Leonardo. He made two copies of “The Last Supper”—his most important -works.</p> - -<p>P. 386, c. 1.—“Cloux,” clou; “Amboise,” almost ŏnbˈwīzˌ. A -town on the Loire, in western central France.</p> - -<p>“Vasari,” vä-säˈree. (1512-1574.) A pupil of Michaelangelo, and a -successful painter. His fame rests on his “Lives of the most excellent -Painters, Architects and Sculptors,” one of the most valuable books ever -written on the subject.</p> - -<p>“Trattato,” etc. Treatise on painting.</p> - -<p>“Castel Caprese.” käs-telˈ kä-presˈā; “Arezzo,” ä-retˈso.</p> - -<p>“Ghirlandaio,” gĕr-län-däˈyo. (1451-1495.) A painter famous for his -invention. His chief works, “The Massacre of the Infants” and “The -Death of St. Francis” are still preserved in the Sistine chapel.</p> - -<p>“Fuseli,” fūˈseh-le. (1742-1825.) A celebrated historical painter.</p> - -<p>“Monochrome,” mŏnˈo-chrōme. A painting with a single color.</p> - -<p>P. 386, c. 2.—“Sandro Botticelli,” bot-te-chelˈlee. (1440-1515.) An -eminent Italian painter. His frescoes in the chapel of the Vatican are -his most powerful works.</p> - -<p>“Cosimo Rosselli,” ro-selˈlee. (1439-1506.)</p> - -<p>“Perugino,” pā-roo-jeeˈnō. (1446-1524.) The master of Raphael. -He received his name, “The Perugian,” from the work which he did at -Perugia, where there still exist some of his best frescoes.</p> - -<p>“Raffaello Sanzio,” rä-fä-ĕˈlō sänˈze-o; “Pinturicchio,” pēn-too-rēkˈke-o. -(1454-1513.)</p> - -<p>P. 387, c. 1.—“Francia,” fränˈchä. (1450-1533?) A celebrated -Italian painter.</p> - -<p>“Fra Bartholommeo,” barˈto-lo-māˌō.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For help in pronouncing the Italian names which are so numerous in -this paper, we give a set of simple rules for Italian vowels and consonants.</p> - -<p><i>A</i> like <i>a</i> in father.</p> - -<p><i>E</i> like <i>e</i> in met, more prolonged and open at the close of a syllable.</p> - -<p><i>I</i> like <i>ee</i> in feet.</p> - -<p><i>O.</i> Pronounce <i>roll</i> and stop on the middle of the word, and it is precisely -the Italian <i>o</i>.</p> - -<p><i>U</i> like <i>oo</i> in root.</p> - -<p><i>C</i> or <i>g</i> followed by <i>a</i>, <i>o</i> or <i>u</i>, as in English, but followed by <i>e</i> or <i>i</i>, <i>c</i> has -the sound of <i>ch</i> as in cherry, and <i>g</i> is like <i>g</i> in gem.</p> - -<p><i>Gn</i> is like <i>ni</i> in poniard.</p> - -<p><i>Gl</i> as in English, except before <i>i</i>, when it has the sound of <i>ll</i> in -brilliant.</p> - -<p><i>S</i> at the beginning of a word has the hissing sound, as between two -vowels, or followed by <i>b</i>, <i>d</i>, <i>r</i> or <i>v</i>, is pronounced like <i>z</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Sc</i>, followed by <i>e</i> or <i>i</i>, like <i>sh</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Z</i> like <i>dz</i> in words which have <i>z</i> in the English word; like <i>tz</i> when -preceded by <i>l</i> or <i>r</i>, or followed by two vowels, and in nouns ending in -<i>zzo</i>.</p> - -<p>Single consonants are generally soft; double consonants are pronounced -in one sound, but stronger and more marked than when single.</p> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<h3>SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE.</h3> - -<p>P. 393, c. 2.—“En bloc.” In a lump.</p> - -<p>“Genre.” A style; a peculiar kind or species.</p> - -<p>“Du Maurier,” dü mōˈre-a. An English caricaturist who for over -twenty years has been connected with <i>Punch</i>.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="TALK_ABOUT_BOOKS">TALK ABOUT BOOKS.</h2> - -<hr class="shorter" /> - -<p>Most indefinite ideas exist among even very well informed people -concerning the Soudan and its tribes. What is the Soudan? Who people -it? What does England want of it? Such questions are worrying -many heads, and there has been a general search for information. A -very timely book to those interested, is “The Wild Tribes of the Soudan.”<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> -The author, so late as December, 1881, started on a trip of exploration -and sport through the Basé country—a small part, it is true, of -the Soudan, but the people, customs and country serve as reliable examples. -The experiences of this company of sportsmen with the people, -their adventures and dangers, furnish us with much useful information -about a people in whom we are all just now interested. The book is -furnished with excellent maps.</p> - -<p>The erudition embraced in Dr. Winchell’s digest<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> of Cosmical Science -exhausts the contributions of the French, German and English languages, -and is simply enormous. As the author <i>con amore</i> has made this -subject the study of an average lifetime, his personal contributions of -original thought constitute a large part of the book. It is written in a -calm, judicial spirit and incisive style, and increases in strength and interest -to the close. The universe of matter is the field of observation, -and starting with the principles which are worked out before our eyes -on this planet, the mechanism of the solar system is subjected to analysis -in regard to the order of its structure and final destiny. He then -passes into the stellar universe, and finds evidence that the same kinds of -substances are there, subject to the same laws, and tending to the same -results. The speculative reasoning of the volume of course covers much -space, but the trustworthy information obtained is all that could be expected; -in fact, all that is known to science. We know of no other -book which gives to the mind so clear a view of the incomparable vastness -of the universe, and the <i>rationale</i> of its existing as does this. The -conclusion reached is, that the surface of our moon is made up mostly of the -craters, cinders, and lava-beds of spent volcanoes. All the other planets, -the sun included, are tending in the same direction and destiny. In the -stellar world other systems of sun and planets have reached this goal of -desolation; others are on the way, and new systems, originating in nebulæ, -are taking on form and order. When a cycle is once completed by a system -its career is ended forever and ever. On the whole, this is one of -the most instructive and fascinating volumes we have read for a long -time.</p> - -<p>“Oregon”<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> is one of a series of volumes entitled “American Commonwealths,” -edited by H. E. Scudder. The monograph was furnished by W. -Barrows, D.D., and is both well written and carefully edited. The subject -of the narrative and the sources from which the materials were drawn may -have somewhat affected the style of the writing, which is exuberant and -picturesque. Suppository details are suggested with a freedom that shows -a desire to make the account impressive without lessening its historical -value. The most valuable part is given to the question of national right, -and the long struggle of England and America for possession. Americans -who found fault with the Ashburton-Webster treaty as conceding -too much, while Oregon was left out, should read this book.</p> - -<p>“Arius The Libyan”<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> is a historical romance, and one of the very best -of the class. It deals vigorously with early ecclesiastical matters, and -draws, with consummate skill, some well known prominent characters -of the third and fourth centuries. Its literary merits are of a high order, -and whether we do or do not accept the doctrines as true, and the -estimates of the characters introduced as just, all will confess the story -is well planned, and told with great power. Constantine is sketched as -a very able, far-seeing, but intensely selfish and unscrupulous politician, -a man evilly ambitious, and the lust of power his ruling passion. He -and the bishops he influenced completely secularized the Church, left -the common primitive Christianity, and established a politico-ecclesiastical -institution intended to conserve the interests of the empire. The -book is thoroughly self-consistent, and all the characters, good and bad, -are well sustained.</p> - -<p>There are few women in the country who do not know something of -Mary A. Livermore, who directly or indirectly have not been influenced -by her earnest pleas for strong, self-reliant, womanly living among -women. When she began her lectures several years ago, she was ahead -of her time, but public sentiment has made rapid strides, and is fast -gaining pace with her. The need of physical culture, of higher education, -of practical training for women is acknowledged on every side, -and has never been more clearly shown than by Mrs. Livermore in her -lectures. The hope that these lectures might have a wider influence by -publication has led to their being put into book form, under the title of -“What Shall we Do With our Daughters?”<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> - -<p>“Mexico and the Mexicans”<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> is a very readable book; not specially -fascinating in style, but of substantial value. It is modest in pretentions, -as real worth usually is. Promising only a narrative of personal -observations and experiences, the writer has managed to collect from -reliable sources much information concerning the country, its people -and institutions, that will be of interest to American freemen and philanthropists. -We like it as a clever, matter-of-fact book, whose author, -fitted for the work assumed, does not attempt fine writing, or the role of -delineator. Not much attention is given to the religious phase of society. -In a single paragraph of ten lines, respectful mention is made of -the fact that the American Board has a station at Monterey, and that the -Baptists have some zealous missionaries in the same region. In the -capital, Roman Catholic institutions alone seemed worthy of notice. A -longer stay and closer observation would have discovered Protestantism -established there also.</p> - -<p>“Great Events of History”<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> is a well written, readable book from the -pen of W. F. Collier, LL.D. It presents important facts succinctly, yet -with sufficient fullness, and so clearly that the memory can easily retain -them. It presents the great events from the commencement of the -Christian era to the present century in <i>eight periods</i>, without confusion, -and so clearly as to give assured possession of the facts, while much is -done to lessen the labor of the learner, and sweeten the toil that to many -is irksome. The geographical appendix will prove very useful, as the -kindred studies of history and geography are pursued with best advantage -when taken in connection.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> The Wild Tribes of the Soudan. An account of Travel and Sport, chiefly in the -Basé country. By F. L. James, M.A., F.R.G.S. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> World-Life, or Comparative Geology. By Alexander Winchell, LL.D., of the -University of Michigan. S. C. Gregg & Co., Chicago. 1883.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Oregon, the Struggle for Possession. By William Barrows. Boston: Houghton, -Mifflin & Co. 1884.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Arius, The Libyan. An Idyl of the Primitive Church. New York: D. Appleton -& Co. 1884.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> What Shall we Do with our Daughters? Superfluous Women, and other lectures. -By Mary A. Livermore. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1883.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Mexico and the Mexicans; or Notes of Travel in the Winter and Spring of 1883. -By Howard Conkling. With illustrations. New York: Taintor Brothers, Merrell & -Co. 1883.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Great Events of History. By W. W. Collier, LL.D. New York: Nelson & Sons.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 187px;"> -<img src="images/royalpowder.jpg" width="187" height="333" alt="Royal Baking Powder. Absoloutely Pure" /> -</div> - -<p>This powder never varies. A marvel of purity, strength and wholesomeness. -More economical than the ordinary kinds, and can not be -sold in competition with the multitude of low test, short weight, alum or -phosphate powders. <i>Sold only in cans.</i> <span class="smcap">Royal Baking Powder Co.</span>, -106 Wall Street, New York.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> -<img src="images/decoline1_arrowsbox.jpg" width="252" height="14" alt="decorative line" /> -</div> - -<div class="tnote"> - -<p class="center"><b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></p> - -<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Accents corrected and made -consistent.</p> - -<p>Page 387, “Bartolommeo” changed to “Bartholommeo” (Fra Bartholommeo had great influence)</p> - -<p>Page 399, “earning” changed to “learning” (pupils are learning)</p> - -<p>Page 414, “somthing” changed to “something” (combined with something else)</p> - -<p>Page 417, “Sybil” changed to “Sibyl” (and Sibyl can do perfectly well)</p> - -<p>Page 424, “In” changed to “It” (It contains no less than five)</p> - -<p>Page 427, “wel” changed to “well” (a well-prepared plan)</p> - -<p>Page 430, “governnent” changed to “government” (the prices of government bonds)</p> - -<p>Page 431, “socialogical” changed to “sociological” (the long list of sociological essays)</p> - -<p>Page 432, “hired” changed to “had” (had the rival candidate murdered)</p> - -<p>Page 435, “prisoners” changed to “prisons” (The names of famous French prisons)</p> - -<p>Page 435, “poinard” changed to “poniard” (like <i>ni</i> in poniard)</p> - -<p>Page 436, “of” added (The subject of the narrative)</p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, April 1884, -No. 7, by The Chautauquan Literary and Scientific Circle - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHAUTAUQUAN, VOL. 04 *** - -***** This file should be named 55134-h.htm or 55134-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/3/55134/ - -Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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