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Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. III, July 1883
Author: Literary, The Chautauquan, Circle, Scientific
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Chautauquan, Vol. III, July 1883" ***

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[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and
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    VOL. III.       JULY, 1883.       NO. 10.

Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

_President_, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.

_Superintendent of Instruction_, J. H. Vincent, D. D., Plainfield, N. J.

_General Secretary_, Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.

_Office Secretary_, Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.

_Counselors_, Lyman Abbott, D. D.; J. M. Gibson, D. D.; Bishop H. W.
Warren, D. D.; W. C. Wilkinson, D. D.

Transcriber's Note: This table of contents of this periodical was
created for the HTML version to aid the reader.


    A Tour Round the World                     551
    The Daffodil                               556
    Portrait Collections                       556
    Beyond                                     557
    Sonnet of Petrocchi                        557
    Results of the Discovery of America        558
    Songs in Winter                            561
    Joys of High Companionship                 561
    Egypt for the Egyptians                    562
    Rev Charles Haddon Spurgeon                565
    How To Regulate the Fashions               566
    The History and Philosophy of Education
        VII. Rome                              567
    Renunciation                               569
    Old Paintings                              570
    The Employments of Heaven                  570
    Counsel                                    573
    The Bible and Nature                       573
    John Richard Green                         575
    A Tropical River in Florida                576
    The Influence of Wholesome Drink           577
    The Paris Workman                          581
    A Prophecy                                 582
    Tales From Shakspere
        The Two Gentlemen of Verona            583
    Constant Change in Words                   586
    Archery in Scotland                        587
    Tennyson and Mrs Carlyle                   588
    Geographical Distribution of Animals       588
    C. L. S. C. Readings For 1883-84           589
    C. L. S. C. Work                           590
    C. L. S. C. Songs                          590
    Memorial Days at Canton, Pa.               591
    C. L. S. C. Reunion at Cincinnati          591
    Two German Circles                         592
    Local Circles                              592
    C. L. S. C. Round-Table
        Lecture by Bishop Warren on Astronomy  596
    Pacific Coast C. L. S. C. Assembly         597
    Rambles in Dakota and Montana              598
    Coming Chautauqua Days                     600
    The Circle of the Sciences                 601
    The Chautauqua School of Theology          602
    Editor’s Outlook                           603
    Editor’s Note-Book                         605
    Editor’s Table                             607
    Talk About Books                           608




The two weeks’ voyage from Galle to Hong Kong is pleasantly broken by
visits to Penang and Singapore. On the fourth day out, mountainous
islands appear above the smooth stretch of sea, and late in the
afternoon we anchor in the harbor of Penang at the head of the Straits
of Malacca. Penang is an island fifteen miles long by eight in width,
on which a mountain towers nearly 2,800 feet high. The native town
lies on the flat strip of land adjoining the sea, but the bungalows of
the European residents nestle on the hill slopes. We go on shore in a
Sampan boat, and find the almond-eyed Celestials here in full force,
not the gliding, apologetic creatures we see in San Francisco, but a
sturdy, independent, self-assertive people, with the industries of
the town in their hands. There are some grandees among them, for we
see Chinese gentlemen lolling back in luxurious carriages, with Hindu
coachmen and footmen. The joss houses are numerous, the roofs of which
resemble immense ornate canoes, with sea-monsters at either end, as
their forms are outlined against the evening sky. We have only time
for a drive through the principal streets. The lights are gleaming out
along the shore, and the twilight is fading as we float over the waves
to our sea-home, the “Gwalior.” The next day we are in the Straits
of Malacca, with picturesque views of Malay villages and tropical
vegetation. The temperature, which has been in the nineties, dropped a
few degrees as we approached the outlet into the open sea, and, going
on deck on the second morning after leaving Penang, the air was still
further cooled and freshened by a tropical downpour of rain just as we
were passing the wooded islands which lead to the beautiful harbor of
Singapore. These clouds, the rain, the temperature, and the deciduous
trees make us think of home, and especially as this land-locked harbor
might be a Scottish or American lake instead of the outlet of the
Straits of Malacca, seventy-nine miles above the equator.

The P. & O. steamers stop for coal at a wharf some three miles from
the town, but we had the satisfaction of walking from the steamer to
the land without the usual intervention of a small, wave-tossed boat.
We engaged a comfortable looking carriage attached to an absurdly
diminutive pony, but the driver insisted that it was “good horse,
good horse,” and we found that there was a wonderful amount of speed
and endurance in the creature. Beautiful specimens of the traveler’s
palm outline their huge, fan-like semicircle of leaves against the
sky. This growth belongs to the plantain rather than the palm family,
and is called the traveler’s palm because it contains a reservoir of
water which runs down the grooves of the long stems and is retained
at the base, where the incision is made, and the precious fluid, cool
and refreshing, flows out. We saw again the _acacia flamboyante_, that
splendid tree with its crown of scarlet blossoms, whose acquaintance we
first made in the gardens of the Taj, and which came originally from
Rangoon and Sumatra. Here, as in Penang, the Chinese are the chief
factors in all the industrial pursuits. The temperature ranges from
80° to 90° the year round, and we were assured by European residents
that the eye wearies of constant greenness and longs for the changing
seasons of the temperate zone. The evening on our quiet steamer, which
is anchored here for the night, reminds us of Lake George. The wooded
heights and islands dream under the light of a full moon, while the
constellation of the Southern Cross hangs over against Ursa Major.
Early the next morning the Malay boys appear on the scene. They are
equal to the Somalis for diving, but the charm of novelty is gone,
and they do not seem such merry, audacious creatures as those who
entertained us at Aden. Boat loads of coral and beautiful shells
followed us for some distance, but we soon lost sight of them as we
steamed away past the green and sunlit islands into the open sea.

After six days of debilitating moist heat in the China Sea, we were
met on our approach to Hong Kong by a sudden change of temperature—a
strong, fresh breeze following a heavy shower accompanied by thunder
and lightning. Our ship scarcely moved during the night previous to our
reaching the coast of China, for it was very dark, and we were entering
upon a network of rocky islands. When we went on deck in the morning
what a change in all our surroundings! Purple and blue mountains,
reminding one in their general form of Scottish heights, yet with that
peculiar shade of green which belongs to the hills of Wales, rose out
of the sea on every hand—giant peaks of vast, submarine ranges. For
twenty-five miles or more before reaching the superb, land-locked
harbor of Hong Kong, we threaded our way among these mountainous
islands, beautiful in form and color, and lighted up now and then with
a sudden sunburst.

Hong Kong is built on an island and belongs to the British. The town
extends for some distance along the shore and creeps up the slope of
Victoria Peak, which rises to a height of 1,800 feet. The European
houses, nestling among the trees, present a very attractive appearance
with their double-storied, arched verandas. The magnificent bay
resembles one of our inland lakes with mountains rising on all sides,
from a few hundred to nearly 2,000 feet high. Here are ships of war,
ocean steamers from all ports, trading junks of every shape and color,
floating, thatched-roofed homes, where in one boat three generations
are often found, and in which birth and death and all the round of
human life occurs. Stalwart, sturdy women, with babies strapped on
their backs, use as much strength and skill in the management of the
boats as the men, and it would be hard to distinguish the sex if it
were not for the added burden imposed on the woman. The streets are so
steep in Hong Kong that horses are very little used and the vehicles
employed are sedan chairs, attached to long bamboo poles, and carried
on the shoulders of two, three or four coolies. This open, airy
vehicle is an immense improvement over the heavy, funereal palanquin
of Calcutta. John Chinaman, with his inevitable pig-tail and fan,
his blue, loose garments and immaculate hose was everywhere present,
and the odors of sandal wood and dried fish were all pervasive. We
went to the curio shops which line the arcades of Queen’s Road and
saw lacquered wood and ivory carving to our heart’s content. The
Chinese shop-keeper holds himself aloof from the purchaser with true
Celestial indifference. You enter his shop and examine his wares. No
one accompanies you in your round. If you want to know the price of an
article you must seek out the proprietor or clerk and inquire. You feel
that the price is “fixed,” and even after three months’ demoralization
in India you have not the presumption to ask this lordly Chinaman to
take less. A pathetic proof of the chronic home-sickness which seems
to possess European residents in the East, and which we ourselves
appreciate, is the text engraven on the stone arch of the post-office
doorway: “As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far

The morning after our arrival in Hong Kong we leave the “Gwalior” which
has been a most comfortable, agreeable home to us for the past two
weeks, in order to visit Canton. It is a sail of some eight hours up
the Pearl River to Canton, and we found ourselves on an American-built
steamer not unlike our river boats at home, although not so luxuriously
furnished as our floating palaces on the Hudson. However it gave us
quite a home-like feeling, which was still further enhanced by the
captain being a fellow-countryman and the breakfast bill of fare
including waffles, griddle cakes and ice water. Although we are at
the antipodes of Boston, we have a strange sense of being nearer home
than at any time since leaving England. Sitting at the breakfast
table the captain pointed eastward toward the open sea and said, “In
that direction you can travel 6,000 miles before reaching land, and
the nearest shores are those of America.” Knowing the reputation the
Chinese have for being a peaceable race we were somewhat surprised to
see that the wheel house was quite an armory of weapons, and that the
companion-ways were closed and guarded. Inquiring into the meaning of
these war-like demonstrations, we were told that not many years ago the
Chinese passengers on one of these river steamers conspired together
and, when the captain and the few Europeans were at lunch, they rose,
seized the weapons, murdered the whites and took possession of the
boat. Since that time unknown passengers, of whom there were on this
trip about one thousand, are kept carefully guarded. The scenery was
very pretty as we steamed up Pearl River, the banks being visible on
either side. The chief characteristics of the view were low rice lands,
or paddy fields as they are called here; distant blue mountains, the
last spurs of the Himalayas; terraced pagodas of five, seven, or nine
stories high, with trees and shrubs growing from the top and sides;
bamboos, plantains and deciduous trees, and at one point in our journey
was a knoll of pine trees with a carpet of brown sheddings, which
reminded us of the spot at Concord where Hawthorne is buried. The most
prominent building in Canton and the one which first attracts the
attention of a stranger, is the stately, granite Catholic cathedral.
It was a hopeful sign to see this imposing Christian edifice with its
twin towers looming up above the low-roofed houses and temples of this
distinctively Chinese and heathen city. Another noticeable feature
among the buildings was eight or ten huge, gray, square towers, which
we were told were pawn houses.

We had heard of the boat population of Canton, and here we saw
swarming crowds in their floating homes as we neared the wharf.
Families not only live in these boats, but they carry on quite a
trade in ferrying passengers from one point to another. They are
a race by themselves, and are looked down upon with suspicion and
unkindness by their brethren of the terra firma. They are considered as
aliens of contemptible origin, and are prohibited from intermarrying
with landspeople. Before we left the steamer we were met by a
decently-dressed Chinese woman who had come on board as a “drummer” for
one of the hotels. But a gentlemanly looking Chinese guide who could
speak English had already been recommended to us by the captain, and
we put ourselves in his hands, to be taken first to the missionary
headquarters. We left the densely crowded wharves in sedan chairs,
each of us with three bearers, and proceeded through narrow streets,
where nearly every one is on foot, apparently with some definite
object in view, for they move along, these blue-costumed Celestials,
silently and swiftly. Most of those we see belong to the middle or
lower classes. Many of them are carrying heavy burdens suspended on
a bamboo stick which is slung across the shoulders. The bamboo is as
important a growth in China as the palm in India. Almost every article
of furniture in a Chinese habitation is made from the bamboo—chairs,
tables, screens, bedsteads, bedding, paper, and various kitchen
utensils. It is also employed on boats for masts, poles, sails, cables,
rigging and caulking. It is used for aqueducts and bridges, and it
can be made into a swimming apparatus or life preserver, without
which no Chinese merchant will undertake a voyage. The leaves are
generally placed around the tea exported from China to Europe. It is
also used as an instrument of torture in the bastinado, which is the
punishment most frequently inflicted in every part of China, and for
almost every species of offence, the number of blows being regulated
by the magnitude of the crime. The criminal is held down by one or
more coolies, while the chief actor, furnished with a half-bamboo six
feet in length and about two inches broad, strikes him on the back
part of the thighs. In this degrading punishment the rich and the
poor, the prince and the peasant are included. The Emperor Kien Long
ordered two of his sons to be bambooed long after they had reached the
age of maturity. The Presbyterian Mission occupies pleasant grounds
which slope down to the Canton River. There are three substantial
brick houses, one of them being occupied by the medical missionary,
Dr. Ker, the other by the preacher, Rev. B. F. Henry, and the third by
the ladies who have charge of the school, Misses Noyes and Butler. We
were received most cordially by Mrs. Henry, who urged us, with such
unmistakable earnestness, to stop with them during our twenty-four
hours in the city, that we promised to return after making a tour of
inspection with our Chinese guide. The chief place of interest shown
us was the Temple of the Five Hundred Genii, a collection of sitting,
life-size statues rudely painted and gilded, hideous or grotesque in
expression, and sometimes with bright blue hair and beard! In one of
the outer corridors leading to this temple was a group of Chinese youth
playing shuttle-cock, their feet taking the place of the battledore.
At a Buddhist temple near by we saw several priests going through their
genuflexions and prostrations, which reminded us of the ceremonies at
Rome. Our guide seemed chiefly anxious to show us the best quarters of
the city, and to induce us to buy something at the shops, whereby he
himself would doubtless have had a certain commission at our expense.

The next morning we began our peregrinations by visiting Dr. Ker’s
hospital before breakfast. This institution is for the benefit of
the natives and is undenominational, being supported by the foreign
residents of Canton, who number less than an hundred among the million
of the Chinese. In contrast with the large, airy wards and the
convenient appointments of the hospitals of Europe and America this
seemed pitifully mean and poor, but it was neat, and much valuable work
has been done here. Many more patients apply than can be accommodated,
as it is the only institution of the kind in this great city. Directly
after breakfast we found Miss Noyes waiting to take us over the
boarding-school for girls and women. This building was planned by Miss
Noyes, and its recitation-rooms and dormitories, with accommodations
for one hundred boarders, are admirably well arranged. It seemed
strange, remembering the Hindu school-girls, with their salaams and
musical “Nâmâska, Mem Sahib,” to be received in perfect silence by
these Chinese maidens, who all rose to their feet, however, as we
entered, and then came forward two by two, paused in front of us, made
a deep curtsey, and, instead of shaking hands with us, each clasped
her own hand and raised it to her forehead. This operation, repeated
in solemn silence, became rather embarrassing to us and we begged the
teacher to present our general greeting to the school and to excuse us
from these special obeisances.

Coming from the school we found Mr. Henry waiting with three sedan
chairs and their bearers in attendance to show us the sights of the
city. The Merchants’ Guild consists of a series of buildings fitted up
with much elegance and taste and combining a council hall, temple and
theater. The rooms have no luxurious upholstery, but the black-wood
furniture is highly polished and elaborately carved. The screens are
embroidered and painted in the highest style of Chinese art, and there
are numerous mirrors which, in the East, is always a sign of wealth.
Among the various temples we visited the one which most impressed
itself upon us, and where we saw the greatest number of worshipers, was
called, very appropriately, the Temple of Horrors. It was a Dante’s
“Inferno” put into a hideously realistic form. It is the Chinese
conception of the future torments of the wicked, and those who have
been guilty of the crimes whose punishment is here portrayed come to
expiate their guilt by bribes. The gods these poor heathen worship
never inspire in them love, but fear and a dread of impending wrath.
The court leading to this temple was filled with vociferous hawkers,
and the greatest confusion prevailed. A dentist’s stand was festooned
with the teeth of his victims!

From this revolting heathen temple we went to the daily noon service
in the Presbyterian chapel. The doors were thrown open on one of the
busiest streets of this packed city, and soon a crowd came drifting in
out of curiosity. Mr. Henry read and explained passages of scripture
for nearly half an hour with great earnestness, and succeeded in
attracting the attention of those who at first were simply gazing
at us, the visitors, with a stupid stare. The crowd was orderly and
quiet. One man was smoking. An open-mouthed boy on the front bench soon
fell asleep. There was no deep earnestness in the faces, but we were
told that at almost every gathering of this kind, two or three are
sufficiently interested to remain after the service and ask questions.
One of the chief difficulties in making any religious impression upon
the Chinaman comes from his sublime self-complacency. Even the meanest
of the people, our chair bearers for instance, look down upon us as
“white devils,” and according to their doctrine of transmigration,
they believe that we are the re-appearance of those who in a former
state of existence were bad Chinamen. No wonder that regarding us
with such contempt it is hard for them to accept our religion. The
Examination Hall interested us greatly, for here is the real entrance
to the aristocracy of China, which has its recruits not from the ranks
of the high born and wealthy, but from all classes who have attained
excellence and thoroughness in scholarship. Once in three years
thousands come here to compete for the second literary degree. They are
locked in a great enclosure containing ten thousand cells resembling
horse stalls in a country church yard. These cells are six feet long
by four feet wide, perfectly bare with a ground floor. Every candidate
is expected to write an essay, an original poem, and a portion of the
Chinese classics. The strictest watch is kept over the students so
that they may not communicate with each other. The same subjects are
given to all at daylight and the essays must be handed in the following
morning. Out of the 8,000 who competed at the last examination, only
130 passed, and these are booked for promotion in civil offices. They
are also required to go to Pekin to compete for the third degree. The
streets and the people are, after all, the most entertaining sights
in Canton. The dimly-lighted narrow streets make a gay picture, the
business signs of long lacquered or gilt boards with the Chinese
characters in red or black being hung perpendicularly before the shops.
These open shops, with their tempting display of embroideries and ivory
carvings, gay lanterns and fans, we gaze into as we pass along in our
sedan chairs. Many of the streets have high-sounding names, such as
Longevity Lane, Ascending Dragon Street, Great Peace, and Heavenly
Peace streets. The names on the signs are not infallible guides to the
true character of the proprietor; for instance a most unscrupulously
sharp dealer had modestly advertised his abode as “The Home of the
Guileless Heart.”

We were to take the afternoon boat to Hong Kong in order to catch the
next P. & O. steamer for Yokohama. A dozen or more of our friends came
to see us off. It was a pathetic and yet an inspiriting picture to look
back upon this little company of our countrymen and women as they stood
on the wharf waving their farewells, for they seemed such a feeble folk
as compared with the teeming million of this crowded Chinese city,
and yet they were there in obedience to that divine command, which
Wellington has so aptly called the “marching orders of the church.”

What a rest it was after the excitement and rush of our busy
twenty-four hours in Canton to glide with quiet, easy motion, down
the Pearl River as the sun was setting. The wooded islands glassed
themselves in the still waters. Our stately steamer had as little
motion or noise as a phantom ship. We passed native junks on which the
bull’s-eye was prominent on either side the bow. The Chinese consider
these indispensable to the safety of a ship; their argument being: “No
got eye, how can see,” and with these guardians the easy-going mariners
give themselves liberty to sleep on watch while the craft is on the
_qui vive_ for danger!

Reaching again the harbor of Hong Kong we exchange our roomy, river
steamer for more contracted quarters on board the “Sunda,” which is to
bear us to Yokohama. Five days tossing on the rough China Sea, which
reminds us more of the North Atlantic than anything we have experienced
since crossing that turbulent ocean, and we rejoice to hear on the
sixth morning out that we are nearing the shores of Japan. Through the
courtesy of the first officer we are invited on the bridge, and from
this favorable place of outlook we watch our tortuous course through
the network of islands which are clothed in all the fresh beauty
of spring. Rocky islets and hills, covered with pine forests, and
low-growing shrubs lift their green heads out of the sparkling blue
waters. Clusters of houses are scattered along the hill slopes, and
they harmonize with the landscape in a way that would delight John
Burroughs. There may be much Japanese history and legend connected with
these heights, but we are ignorant of it all, and to us they rear their
heads unsung.

Nagasaki harbor is not unlike Hong Kong, but the town itself does not
make so much of an appearance. The Japanese boats resemble somewhat the
Venetian gondolas, painted white instead of black. We went on shore
in one of these row-boats, and each of us took a _jinrikisha_, which
resembles a Bath chair, or a magnified baby carriage, and is drawn by
one or two men, according to the avoirdupois of the occupant. One can
best understand Japanese art here in its native surroundings, as one
can only thoroughly appreciate Dickens’s characters in London. These
Japanese ladies, with their glossy black hair and head ornaments,
their almond-shaped eyes, full, pouting lips, and the peculiar contour
of the tightly-draped figure, how familiar they look! Yet where have
I seen them before? Only on pictured screens and painted fans and
embroidered hangings, but here they are, these same quaint creatures
in veritable presence. Through many narrow streets, and around sharp
corners, and over bridges, and in sight of stony water-courses, and
the sun-deluged tender green of the mountain sides, our _jinrikisha_
men rattle us along on our way to the photographer’s, where we find
unexpected good fortune in the shape of beautifully colored views. At
the chief tortoise-shell emporium of the town we are received as guests
rather than purchasers. Our European bow seems an impertinent nod
compared with the profound salaams which are bestowed upon us. We are
invited to take seats at a large centre-table in a cheerful apartment,
which is a combination of parlor and show-room. Straw-colored tea
in dainty cups of exquisite porcelain is brought to us. Medals from
various exhibitions are shown, but there is no undue eagerness to sell
their wares, and when at last we make our selection and offer silver
rupees in payment we are blandly informed that they can not accept
foreign coin. Although we assure them that the rupee has been weighed
in Canton, and they can take it at its exact metal value, yet they are
politely inexorable, and we meekly walk away feeling like impostors as
well as boors. At three o’clock in the afternoon we are moving out of
the harbor, and it is a cheerful omen as we watch the receding shores
to be told that the most prominent building on the hill-slope, a large,
new structure, is a school-house for Japanese girls, under the auspices
of Methodists from our own country.

Soon after sunrise the next morning we enter the straits of
Shimonoseki, the narrow entrance to the Inland Sea. We remember that
this newly risen sun which is shedding its golden glory on these
thousand islands, has just tinged with its farewell rays the elms of
New Haven and the encircling heights of Lake George. A member of our
party once said to some young Japanese visitors in Boston, “Do you want
to see the sun rise on Japan?” and in response to their bewildered
acquiescence he took them to a west window and pointed to the sun
sinking, with gorgeous pageantry of color, behind the Milton hills. All
day long we glide through placid waters, the scene varying with every
turn of the wheel. Islands of most fantastic shape rise everywhere.
Sometimes an abundant vegetation clothes them from head to foot; again
they are not only destitute of clothing but of flesh, and show only
a bony framework of jagged rock pierced by grottoes and caves. Along
the shores, indented with bays, is a fringe of fishermen’s huts. Range
after range of mountains rise back of each other in beautiful outlines
varying in color from green to softest blue and faintest grey until
the most distant heights melt into the horizon. We pass curious fishing
junks with square, puckered sails. In the midst of these foreign
looking boats we are surprised to see now and then a trim little
schooner, exactly like those we are familiar with at home. We pass one
American man-of-war with the national flag flying. It seems a pity that
half of our passage through this marvelous Inland Sea must be made in
the night, although we have the anticipation of seeing in the morning
Fuji-yama, the Peerless Mountain, worshiped by the Japanese as divine.
A note from our attentive first officer breaks up our morning nap with
the announcement that Fuji is visible and we hasten on deck to see the
snowy cone of this youngest mountain in the world lift itself above
the clouds into the blue sky. It has the shape of an inverted fan, and
from the sea you can trace its outline from base to summit to a height
of 14,000 feet. According to Keith Johnston, it was thrown up by some
tremendous convulsion, for which this volcanic region is famous, about
300 B. C.

Late in the afternoon our ship dropped anchor off Yokohama, which
thirty years ago was an insignificant fishing village. When Commodore
Perry appeared with his fleet in this bay, in 1853, the rude
inhabitants were filled with wonder at their first sight of a steamer,
and when they saw the spark-spangled smoke rising from the stacks at
night they were seized with superstitious awe of the foreigners, who
they thought had imprisoned volcanoes on their ships! Tokio is the
literary center of this part of Japan while Yokohama is commercial,
and has not only a modern, but really an American appearance, and in
the hotel as well as in the shops we detect the atmosphere of our
native land, especially of San Francisco. The English give the tone to
society here, as everywhere throughout the East, and class distinctions
are more rigorously observed than in the mother island itself. At
Yokohama we seemed to meet the blessed spring-time of the temperate
zone. The day after our arrival we took _jinrikishas_ and went out
into the country-like suburbs of the city. We walked a part of the way
through rustling wheat fields, with the Peerless Mountain in sight and
the broad blue bay, dotted with ocean steamships from all ports, and
white-sailed native junks. It was like a perfect June day at home, and
after nearly a month on shipboard the touch of the brown solid earth
under our feet was enough to make us shout for joy. The blue violet,
the wild strawberry, and even the common dandelion, were here to greet
us like old familiar friends. Birds flew past us with happy chirp, but
no song. Some critic has said that “Japan is a country of birds without
song, flowers without perfume, and poetry without music.” But what were
these strange, weird, unearthly, mysterious melodies that came floating
down to us from the azure? We stopped our _jinrikishas_ to listen and
look. There, above our heads, were half a dozen immense kites, made of
bamboo, in the shape of winged dragons and bats, and it was an Æolian
attachment that sent down to us this music. The Greek boy sends up
his kite at night with a light attached so that it gleams like a star
through the darkness, and our patriotic member is somewhat chagrined
that the American boy should be surpassed, even in such a juvenility
as the kite, by the Greek and Japanese! A pleasant reception by the
American residents, especially those engaged in mission work; visits
to the temples and native quarters; observation of educational and
evangelical work, carried on here by our countrymen and women, filled
our week in Yokohama. At the end of that time we took train for Tokio,
which is only one hour distant by rail.

Distances are magnificent in this modern, imperial city of Japan.
Thirty-six square miles is supposed to be the extent of Tokio, but
only sixteen miles of this space are covered with houses, while the
rest is given up to parks, gardens, and rice fields. The population
is variously estimated from 800,000 to 1,500,000. One of the most
interesting places to visit in Tokio is Shiba with its tombs of the
Shoguns and Buddhist temples. There we went the morning after our
arrival. The approach to the mortuary temples of the Shoguns is by
a wide stone-paved avenue bordered on either side by stone lanterns
not more than six feet apart and of graceful shape. We have left the
bustle, noise and busy life of the streets, and find here a restful
stillness broken only by the chirp of the sparrow and the sighing of
the wind through grand, old red cedars, called cryptomeria, which have
been growing here since the seventeenth century. Leaving our shoes
at the threshold of the temples we walked over the highly polished,
lacquered floors in our stocking feet. Here before the shrines were
gifts of the daimios, bronzes and gold lacquer of priceless value,
and we, outside barbarians, were admitted into the holy of holies and
allowed to gaze on all this splendor and decoration without a word of
remonstrance from the young Buddhist priest in attendance, although
previous to the rebellion of 1868, only the reigning Shogun was allowed
to enter. The tomb of the Second Shogun is in an octagonal hall richly
gilt, eight pillars covered with gilt copper plate supporting the roof.
The lion and the tree peony often appear in the carvings, the one
representing the king of beasts, the other the king of flowers. The
tomb itself stands in the center of the hall and is one of the most
magnificent specimens of gold lacquer to be seen in Japan. The stone
pedestal takes the form of the lotus, the Buddhistic emblem of purity.

Oh! but how delightful it was to get out under the great blue dome
of the sky, and climb the green, sunny slopes under the gigantic,
gnarled cedars to the level plateau, where we could look abroad over
sea and land and crowded city. The ever present tea house was close
at hand, and two Japanese maidens quickly appeared with the pale,
fragrant fluid innocent of sugar or milk, served in tiny cups with a
cherry blossom floating on the surface. We preferred the tea without
the æsthetic accompaniment, and so, with profound bows, this tray was
removed to be speedily followed by another. While we were sipping
this beverage, which was too insipid to either cheer or inebriate, an
old woman, with a quavering voice, sang to us, accompanying herself
with a Japanese guitar called the samisen. On our way home we peeped
into a Buddhist temple where there was a funeral service in progress.
Just within the door was a square pine box with a pole at the top so
that it could be carried by the four coolies, who sat outside eating
rice cakes, drinking tea, smoking and talking. There was no mourner
present, and indeed no person in the temple but the young priest who
was going through his perfunctory mumblement. In our ignorance of
Japanese customs we thought this small box must contain the remains of
a child, but we were told that in this country the dead are arranged
in a sitting posture, the head bent between the knees, and therefore
the square box takes the place of the long narrow coffin. This box
contained the body of a young woman, twenty years of age, whose friends
lived too far away to be present at the funeral, so that in this case
the body was to be burned and the ashes sent to them, although usually
the Japanese bury their dead.

As we rode slowly through the native quarter, looking into the
bazaars, we noticed before many of the shops and houses bamboo poles
erected, and at the top of the poles were floating out in the breeze
inflated paper fishes from two to six feet in length. This is the
beginning of the Feast of Flags, which comes on the fifth day of the
fifth month, and is the greatest day of all the year for boys. It is
really a national celebration of the birthday of all the boys in the
kingdom, while the third day of the third month is devoted to the
girls, and is called the Feast of Dolls. The fish represented is the
carp or salmon, which is able to swim swiftly against the current and
to leap over waterfalls, and is supposed to be typical of the youth
mounting over all difficulties to success and prosperity. We stopped
at a Shinto temple, which was covered by a roof, but it was destitute
of all decoration and symbolism, except the round mirror, which has
various meanings, one of them being that it is a revealer of the inner
character. A man came up to worship while we stood there. He threw a
small coin on the mat within the railing, clapped his hands twice,
stood for a moment with closed eyes as though in prayer, clapped his
hands again, and it was all over.

At the normal school for girls, of which the empress is patroness, the
tuition is free, and pupils are here from all parts of Japan. They are
supposed to prepare themselves for teachers, although they are not
absolutely required to pursue this vocation. The object of the school
is probably quite as much to furnish educated wives for the ambitious
young men of new Japan. Prof. Mason’s system of music is taught here,
and the piano is superceding the Japanese instruments. Drawing is also
taught after the western methods. Instruction in needlework is given,
both in plain sewing and embroidery. Every girl is taught to cut and
make her own garments. There are no patterns used, but it is all done
according to mathematical rules, and the cloth is so used that there
is no waste in cutting. We saw a little girl not more than ten years
old draw an exact diagram on the blackboard of the way a piece of cloth
could be cut to make an outer garment. The pupils are also taught how
to arrange flowers artistically. Here, as in the nobles’ school, there
is a teacher of etiquette, and these maidens, some of them from the
interior of the country and from poor homes, are instructed in the
manners of polite society. An interesting department of this school is
the kindergarten, where both sexes are admitted, and we saw more than a
hundred little creatures gathered here with grave faces and long robes,
and neither from the dress nor the arrangement of the hair could we
tell the boys from the girls. Some twenty of the children, belonging
to families of wealth and position, were accompanied by their nurses,
who sat at one side. Nearly every child had a wooden tag attached to
the belt, on which were written the name and address of the parents.
There was one handsome little fellow, whom we called the Prince, with
his head as smoothly shaven as a Buddhist priest’s. He wore gorgeous
silk robes, and moved through his calisthenic exercises with a very
complacent air. The children who were dressed in European fashion were
most absurd looking creatures, and we much preferred to see them in
their own costume. The Japanese are such a tiny people that, unless
they have been abroad long enough to adopt our dress and wear it with
ease, they look much better in their own flowing robes, which give
grace and dignity to the figure. We heard an amusing story of the
costume in which a native Christian appeared before the Presbytery
to be ordained as an elder. He was a private citizen, but he wore on
this occasion a blue coat with brass buttons, a buff waistcoat, knee
breeches, and high top cavalry boots with spurs, looking as though he
was about to engage in some other warfare than spiritual.

The largest and most popular temple of Tokio, Asakusa, is to that city
what St. Paul’s is to London, or Notre Dame to Paris. The avenue which
leads to the temple is lined on either side with booths, and there
are gardens adjoining in which are a variety of shows, waxworks and
trained birds, theaters and tea-houses, with swarms of disreputable
characters. The Japanese mix up the sacred and secular in a way that is
very shocking to our ideas. At one of the side shrines in the temple
is a wooden image, contact with which is said to cure disease, and it
is pathetic to see how the features have been obliterated and the body
worn as smooth as St. Peter’s toe at Rome by the rubbing of thousands
of palms of poor human sufferers who have hoped to find healing power
in this senseless mass of wood.

Near the temple is a revolving library containing a complete edition
of the Buddhist scriptures. The library looks like a huge red lacquer
lantern, some twelve feet high, on a black lacquer base and stone
lotus-shaped pedestal. The whole structure revolves on a pivot. A
ticket over the door explains the use of this peculiar book-case,
and reads as follows: “Owing to the voluminousness of the Buddhist
scriptures—6,771 volumes—it is impossible for any single individual
to read them through; but a degree of merit equal to that accruing to
him who should have perused the entire canon will be obtained by those
who will cause this library to revolve three times on its axis, and,
moreover, long life, prosperity and the avoidance of all misfortunes
shall be their reward.” For a small fee the custodian allows you to
gain all this merit.

An overland journey to Kioto, Osaka and Kobe, returning by steamer to
Yokohama, and from thence a trip to Nikko, and the Chautauquans are
ready to embark on the _City of Tokio_, which is to take them on the
long and monotonous voyage across the Pacific. Taking the northerly
route we enter at once a belt of penetrating fog, chilling winds and
occasional showers, which make the luxurious deck life, which we found
so agreeable on the southern seas, quite impracticable. Finding a good
collection of books in the ship’s library we still linger in the land
of the Rising Sun by reading Griffis and Satow, Miss Bird and Sir
Edward Reed. There are only twenty-six saloon passengers, but more than
a thousand Chinese are packed away in the steerage, and they swarm on
the forward deck during the day, smoking and playing games, but more
quiet and peaceable than a quarter of that number of Irishmen would be
under similar circumstances. Nineteen days without sight of sail or
land and we rejoice to know that the shores of America will soon be
visible. San Francisco once reached, the Chautauquans will have put the
girdle round the world, for they visited the western coast of America
on the famous Sabbath-school excursion, headed by Dr. Vincent, in 1879.
By the aid of the captain’s glass and our own opera glasses about four
o’clock on a bright, breezy afternoon, we discern in the far eastern
horizon a white, rocky island, crowned with a light-house. Soon after
another dim hint of land appears to the north, and a little later the
main land becomes visible. Just after a glorious sunset we enter the
Golden Gate, a crescent moon hanging above the narrow pass. Familiar
objects appear—the Cliff House, the Fort—and before we retire the great
engines cease their throbbing, the ship drops anchor, and the gleaming
lights of San Francisco welcome us home again.

    [The end.]



    Brave xanthic bloom! Thou springst ’neath leaden skies,
    Midst chilly airs and sheeted rains that fall;
    E’er yet the robin to his mate doth call,
    Thy fearless bloom mocks at Spring’s vagaries.
    A prophecy thou art—lifting thy head
    With its bright crown—to light forsaken ways.
    The sight of thee recalls long vanished days,
    When glad I plucked thee from the barren mead.
    I pluck thee now, bright one—thinking the while,
    Of that far time—when sweet Persephone,
    Upon the plains of sunny Sicily
    Reflected thine own brightness in her smile.
    Thou’rt so allied, fair flow’r, with her sad strait,
    I can but chide thee for her darksome fate.



Were it not that some few other animals seem, in a small degree, to
have somewhat of the same faculty, man might be defined a scraping or
collecting animal, for there is scarcely an individual of the genus but
manifests this peculiarity; some in scraping or collecting for their
own subsistence or that of their offspring; many for the gratification
of their senses or intellect, irrespective of physical wants of
increase or preservation.

I was shown the other day a neat little cabinet, belonging to a great
traveler and naturalist, in which were labelled and described nearly
four hundred different species or varieties of bugs! George the Fourth
collected saddles. The Princess Charlotte, and many besides, collected
shells, of which some of the ugliest, being fortunately the rarest,
are very valuable. For a very rare one, Rumfius, a collector of old,
though stone blind, is said to have given £1000. Tulips were once a
favorite subject with collectors, especially in Holland, where the
sums given for new or rare roots were enormous. One root once sold for
4600 florins (about £370) together with a new carriage, a pair of grey
horses, and a set of harness. Other flowers have since become favorites
in succession, as auriculas, picotees, dahlias, and now, roses.

Of collections of pictures of a general character a long list might be
made, and there are in England several fine collections of statues,
ancient and modern. I don’t know, however, that we have any such
enthusiasts, as antiquaries, as a gentleman mentioned by Evelyn, who,
being at Rome in 1644, went “to the house of Hippolite Vitellesco
(afterwards Bibliothecary of ye Vatican Library) who show’d us one of
the best collections of statues in Rome, to which he frequently talks
as if they were living, pronouncing now and then orations, sentences,
and verses, sometimes kissing and embracing them. He has a head of
Brutus, scarred in the face by order of the Senate for killing Julius;
this is much esteemed.” Special collections of portraits do not however
seem to have met with much favor. One of the earliest collectors in
England was William, Earl of Pembroke, of the time of James the First,
who was quite famous as a physiognomist, and who formed a special
collection of portraits at Wilton. General Fairfax is said to have
collected portraits of warriors; and a few others might be named as
having added to their own family portraits those of their friends,
or of persons whose position or talents rendered them celebrated.
But it was reserved for Lord Chancellor Clarendon to form the first
important collection of English worthies. When he built his grand house
in Piccadilly, he appears to have arranged a gallery of portraits on
a well-considered plan. They were limited to those of eminent men of
his own country, but not restricted to any particular class. This
collection of portraits was already very extensive when Clarendon went
into exile, and he was then getting a long list from Evelyn in order
to add to it. In a letter to Pepys, and in his “Numismata,” Evelyn
enumerates, from memory, nearly a hundred illustrious Englishmen whose
portraits he had seen at Clarendon House, and which were afterwards
removed to Cornbury in Oxfordshire.

Next to a gallery of portraits in oil, must be reckoned a cabinet
of miniatures, and indeed if these are by masters like Oliver and
Cooper and Petitôt, they are of equal value, both as portraits and
pictures, with the larger works. But now, nearly all the works of these
celebrated artists are gathered into collections such as that of the
Duke of Buccleugh, whence no collector can hope to charm them, charm he
never so wisely. The first large collection of miniatures formed was
that of Walpole. Until recently few persons sought for more than family
portraits, or those of friends, and Walpole was enabled therefore to
form his matchless collection of miniatures with comparative ease
and at a comparatively moderate expense. At that time, he says, they
were “superior to any other collection whatever,” and particularly as
regards the works of Peter and Isaac Oliver, “the best extant, and as
perfect as when they came from the hand of the painter.”

To collect all the portraits that have ever been engraved is of
course a hopeless task, and there would necessarily be so many
important hiatuses, that no one probably now-a-days will enter on the
undertaking. Yet it was attempted, and it must have been an exciting
occupation, too serious for an amusement or recreation, for the
several collectors, who then all ran for the same goal, to outdo and
outbid each other in forming their collections. It is astonishing how
interesting a collection may be made of portraits of a more limited
range. Walpole’s Royal and Noble Authors, or Lodge’s Memoirs, are more
readable than the Biographia Britannica, or Bayle’s Dictionary; and two
or three folios of portraits of a particular class, or of a particular
era, well arranged and annotated may be made much more amusing,
recreative, and interesting than dozens of cabinets filled with a
miscellaneous assemblage of portraits of people of all sorts who have
lived “everywhen” and everywhere. The collector may himself make a book
by collecting some series of portraits, as of statesmen, poets, actors,
etc., etc., of some particular period, and placing opposite to each a
few salient biographical paragraphs. A few dates should be given, as
of birth, death, etc., but no attempt need be made to furnish a full
biography. It should be endeavored rather to heighten our interest
in the portrait by recalling or recording a few anecdotes, than to
attempt to vie with a biographical dictionary. Just as in passing along
a gallery of portraits, or noticing those in a great house, we pause
not only to criticise the figure, or the complexion and expression of
the face, but to remark such and such an event in the life of him or
her who is before us. What is wanted in these inscriptions is not a
serious biography of the individual, but, besides a few special facts
and dates, some short characteristic anecdotes not generally met with
in biographies, but to be picked up in “_Memoires pour servir_”—and
similar ana.

Almost the first great or systematic collectors of engraved portraits
in England were Evelyn and Pepys; the former having the start. It was
not till about 1668 that Pepys began collecting portraits, getting many
of Nanteuil, etc., from France, and being helped with the advice of
Evelyn, as well as with specimens from his collection. In 1669 he went
to France, and doubtless collected there many things (which are now in
the Pepysian Library) on the recommendation of his friend, who says in
one of his letters at this time, printed by Lord Braybrooke, “They will
greatly refresh you in your study, and by your fireside, when you are
many years returned.”

Yes, they will indeed refresh you! This is one of the great charms
of such reminiscences of travel, that when you come home you are
constantly traveling again in looking over sketches, pictures, and
books. You see an engraving of the Madonna della Sedia, and away you
are at once, quicker than the telegraph, to Florence the Fair, and
to that sunny day, when crossing the Arno by the Ponte Vecchio, you
first came to the Palazzo Pitti, and, passing by wonders and wonders
of art, you stopped at last by _the_ Raffaelle and forgot the world,
absorbed by that which is indeed “a joy forever.” In the same way you
turn over a folio of portraits. Here are Elizabeth, Leicester, Raleigh,
Shakspere, Melville, and Mary of Scots—and you walk about London and
Greenwich, and visit the world of three hundred years ago! Or you
take up a folio of a later period, where are Charles the Second,
Buckingham, Rochester, Grammont, Sedley, Killigrew, York, Clarendon,
Dryden, Lely, Castlemaine, Stewart, Nelly, and the Queen—and you are
dining at one o’clock with the learned Mr. Evelyn and the wondrous
Pepys, talking and telling anecdotes (with a good deal of relish) of
the bad goings on of those times, A. D. 1666. Or, whisking out another
folio, you rush off to Sir Joshua Reynolds’s and laugh and criticise,
mourn and moralize with Goldsmith, Johnson, Burke, and Garrick,
and think of Hogarth “over the way,” and of Chesterfield, Walpole,
the Gunnings, Kitty Clive, Nelly O’Brien, and many more who have,
unconsciously to themselves and to us, moved the world a step forward.
These are among the charms, the pleasures and advantages of collections
of portraits.



    Oh! depths unknown,
    Oh! wide unfathomed seas,
    That circle round His throne,
    Who dwellest high and lone,
    Where noise and tumult cease,
    In the eternal peace.

    Insatiate, unrepressed,
    Our longings still arise,
    Our weariness confessed,
    Far reaching after rest,
    Where the full ocean lies
    Beyond the veiling skies.

    How scant the store
    Of knowledge gathered here;
    Small pebbles on the shore,
    The soul cries out for more.
    Doth God bend down his ear,
    Our longing cry to hear?

    Nearer to thee,
    Great source of life and light,
    The child upon our knee,
    From pride and doubting free,
    Than man, from boasted height
    Of intellectual might.


Translated by STRONG.

     I ask’d of Time, to whom arose this high
     Majestic pile, here mouldering in decay?
     He answered not, but swifter sped his way
     With ceaseless pinions winnowing the sky.
     To Fame I turn’d: “Speak thou, whose sons defy
     The waste of years, and deathless works essay.”
     She heaved a sigh, as one to grief a prey
     And silent, downward cast her tearful eye.
     Onward I pass’d, but sad and thoughtful grown,
     When, stern in aspect o’er the ruin’d shrine
     I saw Oblivion stalk from stone to stone.
    “Dread power,” I cried, “Tell me whose vast design.”
     He check’d my further speech, in sullen tone:
    “Whose once it was, I care not; now ’tis mine.”



The _material_ consequences of the discovery of America were brilliant
and important. They first stimulated the passion for further
explorations, and among all the maritime nations of Europe. Hence
the voyages of Ojeda, of Nino, of Puiza, of Balboa, of Vespucci, of
Cabot, of Raleigh, and various other men of enterprise. They did
not rest until they had explored the coasts and rivers of the whole
American continent, north and south. The Spaniards took the lead, and,
following in their steps, the Portuguese doubled the Cape of Good
Hope, and established their factories in the islands of the Indian
Ocean. The Dutch and English were animated by the same zeal, until
the East and West Indies were known to travelers and merchants. The
French missionaries explored the wilds of the North, and sailed down
the Mississippi and the St. Lawrence. In a few years the grand outlines
of North and South America were known to geographical scholars. A
new world was opened to the enterprise of Europeans. Then followed
the conquest of such parts of America as stimulated the ambition and
avarice of the Europeans, especially of Spain, who claimed the quarter
part of the American continent. These conquests were atrocious, from
the cruelties inflicted on the unsuspecting natives, to whom the
country belonged. The discovery of the precious metals in Brazil, Peru,
and Mexico, and the repute of their abundance, was the cause of these

At last followed colonization, not so much with a view of permanent
settlement or agricultural improvements, as the desire and hope of
getting rich in the mines. Colonization had no dignity until the
English settled in Virginia and in New England. Gold was the first
stimulus, a fertile country the second, and religious liberty the
third. The views of those who colonized Virginia were different from
those who landed on Plymouth Rock. But all the colonists doubtless
sought to improve their condition; and for two hundred years and more
the stream of emigration has flowed toward the West. The poor, the
miserable, as well as the intelligent and enterprising in all parts of
Europe, have regarded America as a refuge and a home.

We next notice an amazing stimulus to commerce, and the enrichment of
Spain by the possession of the new mines of silver and gold. Wealth
flowed in a steady stream to Spain, and that country became the richest
and most powerful in Europe. The Spanish navy became the greatest in
the world, and Spain prospered beyond all precedent.

Another interesting inquiry arises, how far the nations of Europe
were really enriched by the rapid accumulation of gold and silver.
The search for the precious metals may have stimulated commercial
enterprise, but it is not so clear that they added to the substantial
wealth of Europe, except so far as they promoted industry. Gold is not
wealth; it is the exponent of wealth. Real wealth is in farms, and
shops, and ships—in the various channels of industry, in the results of
human labor.

So far as the precious metals enter into useful manufactures, or into
articles of beauty and taste, they are indeed inherently valuable.
Mirrors, plate, jewelry, watches, gilded furniture, the adornments
of the person, in an important sense constitute wealth, since all
nations value them and will pay for them as they do for corn and oil.
So far as they are connected with art, they are valuable in the same
sense as statues and pictures on which labor has been expended. There
is something useful and even necessary besides food and raiment and
houses. The gold which ornamented Solomon’s temple, or the Minerva
of Phidias, or the garments of Leo X., had a value. The ring which is
a present to brides is a part of a marriage ceremony. The gold watch,
which never tarnishes, is more valuable inherently than a pewter one,
because it remains beautiful. Then when gold enters into ornaments,
deemed indispensable, or into manufactures which are needed, it has
an inherent value. It is wealth. But when it is a mere medium of
exchange—its chief use—then it has only a conventional value. I mean
it does not make a nation rich or poor, since the rarer it is the
more it will purchase of the necessities of life. A pound weight of
gold in ancient Greece, or in mediæval Europe, would purchase as much
wheat as twenty pounds weight would purchase to-day. If the mines of
Mexico, or Peru, or California had never been worked, the gold in the
civilized world three hundred years ago would have been as valuable
for banking purposes, or as an exchange for agricultural products,
as twenty times its present quantity, since it would have bought as
much as twenty times the quantity would buy to-day. Make diamonds
as plenty as crystals, they would be worth no more than crystals,
if they were not harder and more beautiful than crystals. Make gold
as plenty as silver, it would be worth no more than silver, except
for manufacturing purposes. It would be worth no more than silver to
bankers and merchants. The vast increase in the production of the
precious metals simply increased the value of the commodities for which
they were exchanged. A laborer can purchase no more bread with a dollar
to-day than he could with five cents three hundred years ago. Five
cents were really as much wealth three hundred years ago as a dollar is
to-day. Wherein, then, has the increase in the precious metals added
to the wealth of the world, if a twentieth part of the gold and silver
now in circulation would buy as much land, or furniture, or wheat, or
oil, three hundred years ago, as twenty times the quantity of gold and
silver would buy to-day? Had no gold or silver mines been discovered
in America, the gold and silver would have appreciated in value in
proportion to the wear of them. In other words, the scarcer the gold
and silver the more the same will purchase of the fruits of human
industry. So industry is the wealth, not the gold. It is the cultivated
farms and the manufactures, and the buildings, and the internal
improvements of a country, which constitute its real wealth, since they
represent its industry—the labor of men.

Mines indeed employ the labor of men, but they do not furnish food
for the body, or raiment to wear, or houses to live in, or fuel for
cooking, or for any purpose whatever of human comfort or necessity—only
material for ornament, which I grant is wealth so far as ornament is
for the welfare of man. The marbles of ancient Greece are very valuable
for the labor expended on them either for architecture or ornament.

Gold and silver were early selected as a useful and convenient article
of exchange, like bank notes, and so have inherent value as they
supply that necessity, but if a quarter part of the gold and silver
in existence would supply that necessity, the remaining three-fourths
would be as inherently valueless as the paper on which bank notes are
engraved. Value consists in what they represent of the labors and
industries of men.

Now Spain ultimately became poor, in spite of the influx of gold
and silver from the American mines, because industries of all kinds
declined. People were diverted from useful callings by the mighty
delusion which gold discoveries created. These discoveries had the same
effect on industry, which is the wealth of nations, as the support of
standing armies in our day. They diverted men from legitimate callings.
The miners had to be supported like soldiers, and the sudden influx of
gold and silver, intoxicated men and stimulated speculation. An army of
speculators does not enrich a nation, since they rob each other. They
earn money to change hands. They do not stimulate industry. They do not
create wealth, they simply make it flow from one person to another.

But speculations sometimes create activity in enterprise. They inflame
desire for wealth and cause people to make greater exertions. In that
sense, the discovery of American mines gave a stimulus to commerce
and travel and energy. People rushed to America for gold. Those
people had to be fed and clothed. Then farmers and manufacturers
followed the gold-hunters. They tilled the soil to feed the mines. The
new farms which dotted the region of the gold diggers added to the
wealth of the country in which the mines were located. Colonization
followed gold-digging. But it was America that became enriched, not
the old countries from which the miners came, except so far as the old
countries furnished tools and ships and fabrics. Doubtless commerce
and manufactures were stimulated. So far the wealth of the world
increased. But the men who returned to riot in luxury and idleness did
not stimulate enterprise. They made others idle also. The necessity of
labor was lost sight of.

And yet if one country became idle, another country may have become
industrious. There can be but little question that the discovery of
American mines gave commerce and manufactures and agriculture, on the
whole, a stimulus. This was particularly seen in England. England grew
rich from industry and enterprise, as Spain became poor from idleness
and luxury. The silver and gold, diffused through Europe, ultimately
found their way into the pockets of Englishmen who made a market of
their manufactures. It was not the precious metals which enriched
England, but those articles of industry for which the rest of the world
parted with their gold and silver. What has made France rich since the
revolution? Those innumerable articles of taste and elegance, fabrics
for which all Europe parted with its specie, not war, not conquest,
not mines. Why, till recently, was Germany so poor?—because it had
so little to sell to other nations—because industry was cramped by
standing armies and despotic government.

One thing is certain, that the discovery of America opened a new field
for industry and enterprise to all the discontented and impoverished
and oppressed Europeans who emigrated. At first they emigrated to
dig silver and gold. The opening of mines required labor, and miners
were obliged to part with their gold for the necessities of life.
Thus California, in our day, has become peopled with farmers and
merchants and manufacturers as well as miners. Many came to America
expecting to find gold and were disappointed and were obliged to turn
agriculturists, as in Virginia. Many came to New England from political
and religious motives. But all came to better their fortunes. Gradually
the United States and Canada became populated from east to west, and
from north to south. The surplus population of Europe poured itself
into the wilds of America. Generally the emigrants were farmers.
With the growth of agricultural industry was developed commerce and
manufactures. Thus, materially, the world was immensely benefited.
A new continent was opened for industry. No matter what the form of
government may be—I might almost say no matter what the morals and
religion of the people may be—so long as there is land to occupy, and
to be sold cheap, the continent will fill up, and will be as densely
populated as Europe or Asia, because the natural advantages are good.
The rivers and the lakes will be navigated. The products of the country
will be exchanged for European and Asiatic products. Wealth will
certainly increase, and increase indefinitely.

There is no calculating the future greatness and wealth of the new
world, especially in the United States. There are no bounds to
commerce, manufactures, and agricultural products. We can predict with
certainty the rise of new cities, villas, palaces, material splendor
limited only to the increasing resources and population of the country.
Who can tell the number of miles of new railroads yet to be made, the
new inventions to abridge human labor? What great empires are destined
to rise! What unknown forms of luxury will be found out! What new
and magnificent trophies of art and science will gradually be seen!
What mechanisms, what material glories are sure to come! This is not
speculation. Nothing can retard the growth of America in material
wealth and glory. The tower of the new Babel will rise to the clouds,
and be seen in all its glory throughout the earth and sea. No Fourth
of July orator ever exaggerated the future destinies of America in a
material point of view. No “spread eagle” politician ever conceived
what is sure to come.

And what then? Grant the most indefinite expansion—the growth of
empires whose splendor and wealth and power shall utterly eclipse
the glories of the old world. All this is probable. But when we have
dwelt on the future material expansion—when we have given wings to
imagination, and feel that even imagination can not reach the probable
realities, in a material aspect, then our predictions and calculations
stop. Beyond material glories we can not count with certainty.

The world has witnessed many powerful empires which have passed away,
“leaving scarcely a wreck behind.” What remains of the antediluvian
world? Not even a spike of Noah’s Ark, larger and stronger than
any modern ship. What remains of Babylon, of Thebes, of Tyre, of
Carthage—those great cities of wealth and power? What remains of Roman
greatness, even, except in laws and literature, and renovated statues?
Remember, there is an undeviating uniformity in the past history of
nations. What is the simple story of all the ages?—industry, wealth,
corruption, decay and ruin. What conservative power has been strong
enough to arrest the ruin of the nations of antiquity? Have not
material forces and glories been developed and exhibited, whatever
the religion and morals of the fallen nations? Can not a country grow
materially to a point under the most adverse influence in a religious
and moral point of view? Yet for lack of religion and morals the
nations perished, and their Babel towers were buried in the dust. They
perished for lack of true conservative forces—at least that is the
judgment of historians. Nobody doubts the splendor of the material
glories of the ancient nations. The ruins of Baalbec, of Palmyra, of
Athens, prove this, to say nothing of history. The material glories of
the ancient nations may be surpassed by our modern wonders, but yet all
the material glories of the ancient nations passed away.

Now, if this is to be the destiny of America—an unbounded material
growth, followed by corruption and ruin, then Columbus has simply
extended the realm for men to try material experiments. Make New York a
second Carthage, and Boston a second Athens, and Philadelphia a second
Antioch, and Washington a second Rome, and we simply repeat the old
experiment. Did not the Romans have nearly all we have, materially,
except our modern scientific inventions? But has America no higher
destiny than to repeat the old experiments, and improve upon them and
become rich and powerful? Has she no higher and nobler mission? Can she
lay hold of forces that the old world never had, such as will prevent
the uniform doom of nations? I maintain that there is no reason that
can be urged, based on history and experience, why she should escape
the fate of the nations of antiquity, unless new forces arise on this
continent, different from what the world has known, and which have
a conservative influence. If America has a great mission to declare
and to fulfill, she must put forth altogether new forces, and they
not material. That alone will save her, and save the world. It is
mournful to contemplate even the future material glories of America,
if they are not to be preserved—if these are to share the fate of
ancient wonders. It is obvious that the real glory of America is to be
something entirely different from that of which the ancients boasted.
And this is to be to the moral and spiritual, that which the ancients
lacked. And this leads me to speak of the moral consequences of the
discovery of America—infinitely grander than any material wonders, of
which the world has been full, of which nearly every form of paganism
has boasted, and which must necessarily perish, everywhere, without new
forces to preserve them. In a moral point of view scarcely anything
good resulted, at least to Europe, by the discovery of America.
It excited the wildest spirit of adventure, the most unscrupulous
cupidity, the most demoralizing speculations. It created jealousies
and wars. The cruelties and injustices inflicted on the Indians were
revolting. Nothing in the annals of the world exceeded the wickednesses
of the Spaniards in the conquest of Peru and Mexico. That conquest is
the most dismal and least glorious in human history. We see no poetry
or heroism or necessity. We read of nothing but crimes. The Jesuits,
in their missionary zeal, partly redeemed the cruelties, but they
soon imposed a despotic yoke and made their religion pay. Monopolies
scandalously increased, and the New World was regarded only as spoil.
The tone of moral feeling was lowered everywhere, for the natives were
crazed with the hope of sudden accumulation. Spain became enervated and

On America itself the demoralization was even more marked. There never
was such a state of moral degradation in any Christian country as in
South America. Three centuries have passed, and the low state of morals
continues. Contrast Mexico and Peru with the United States, morally and
intellectually. What seeds of vice did not the Spaniards plant! How the
old natives melted away!

And then, to add to the moral evils attending colonization, is the
introduction of African slaves, especially in the West Indies and the
Southern States. Christendom seems to have lost the seed of morality.
Slavery more than counterbalances all other advantages together. It
was the stain of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Not merely
slavery but the slave trade increases the horror of the frightful
picture. America became associated, in the minds of Europeans, with
gold hunting, slavery, and cruelty to Indians. Better that the country
remained undiscovered than the introduction of such vices and miseries
in the most fertile part of the New World.

I can not see that civilization gained anything, morally, by the
discovery of America, until the new settlers were animated by other
motives than a desire of sudden wealth. When the country became
colonized by men who sought liberty to worship God, men of lofty
purposes, willing to undergo sufferings and danger in order to plant
the seeds of a higher civilization, then there arose new forms of
social and political life. Such men were those who colonized New
England. And say what you will, in spite of all the disagreeable side
of the Puritan character, it was the Puritans who gave a new impulse to
civilization in its higher sense. They founded schools and colleges and
churches. They introduced a new form of political life by their town
meetings, in which liberty was nurtured, and all social improvements
were regulated; it was the autonomy of towns on which the political
structure rested. In them was born that true representative government
which has gradually spread toward the West. The colonies were embryo
states, states afterward to be bound together by a stronger tie than
that of a league.

The New England States, since the War of Independence, were the
defenders and advocates of a central power. An entirely new political
organization gradually was formed, resting equally on such pillars as
independent townships and independent states, and these represented by
delegates in a national center.

So we believe America was discovered not so much to furnish a field
for indefinite material expansion, with European arts and fashions,
which would simply assimilate America with the old world, with all its
dangers and vices and follies, as to introduce new forms of government,
new social institutions, new customs and manners, new experiments
in liberty, new religious organizations, new modes to ameliorate
the necessary evils of life. It was discovered that men might labor
and employ the fruits of industry in a new mode, unfettered by the
slaveries which the institutions of Europe imposed. America was a new
field to try experiments in government and social life, which could not
be tried in other nations without sweeping and dangerous revolutions.
And new institutions have arisen which are our pride and boast, and
which are the wonder and admiration of Europe. America is the only
country under the sun in which there is self-government—a government
which purely represents the wisdom of the people, where universal
suffrage is not a mockery—and if America has a destiny to fulfill for
other nations, she must give them something more valuable than reaping
machines, palace cars and horse railroads. She must give, not machinery
to abridge labor, but institutions and ideas to expand the mind and
elevate the soul—something by which the poor can rise and assert their
rights. Unless something is developed here which can not be developed
in other countries in the way of new spiritual and intellectual forces
which have a conservative influence, then I can not see how America can
long continue to be the home and refuge of the poor and miserable of
other lands. A new and better spirit must vivify schools and colleges
and philanthropic enterprises than that which has prevailed in older
nations. Unless something new is born here which has a peculiar power
to save, wherein will America ultimately differ from other parts of
Christendom? We must have schools in which the heart as well as the
brain is educated, and newspapers which aspire to something higher
than to fan prejudices and appeal to perverted tastes. Our hope is
not in books which treat infidelity under the name of science; not in
pulpits which can not be sustained without sensational oratory; not in
journals which trade on the religious sentiments of the people; nor
Sabbath-school books which are an insult to the human understanding;
nor colleges which fit youth merely for making money; nor schools of
technology to give an impulse to material interests; nor legislatures
controlled by monopolists; nor judges elected by demagogues; nor
philanthropic societies to ventilate impractical theories. These will
neither renovate nor conserve what is most precious in life. Unless a
nation grows morally as well as materially, there is something wrong at
the core of society. As I have said, no material expansion will avail
if society becomes rotten at the core. America is a glorious boon to
civilization, but only as she fulfills a new mission in history—not
to become more potent in material forces, but in those spiritual
agencies which prevent corruption and decay. An infidel professor
calling himself a _savant_, may tell you that there is nothing certain
or great but in the direction of science to utilities, even as he may
boast in a philosophy which ignores a creator and takes cognizance
only of a creation. As I survey the growing and enormous moral evils
which degrade society here as everywhere, in spite of Bunker Hills
and Plymouth Rocks, and all the advance in useful mechanisms, I am
sometimes tempted to propound inquiries which suggest the old mournful
story of the decline and ruin of states and empires. I ask myself
“Why will America be an exception to the uniform fate of nations,
as history has demonstrated? why should not good institutions be
presented here as in all other countries and ages of the world?” When
has civilization shown any striking triumph except in inventions to
abridge the labor of mankind and make men comfortable and rich? Is
there nothing before us then but the triumph of material life, to end
as mournfully as the materialism of antiquity? If so, then Christianity
is a most dismal failure, is a defeated power, like all other forms
of religion which failed to save. But is it a failure? Are we really
swinging back to paganism? Is the time to be hailed when all religions
will be considered by the philosopher as equally false and equally
useful? Is there nothing more cheerful for us to contemplate than what
the old pagan philosophy holds out,—man destined to live like brutes
or butterflies, and pass away into the infinity of time and space,
like inert matter, decomposed, absorbed, and entering into new and
everlasting combination? Is America to become like Europe and Asia
in all essential elements of life? Has she no other mission than to
add to perishable glories? Is she to teach the world nothing new in
education, and philanthropy, and government? Are all her struggles in
behalf of liberty in vain? Is Christianity to move round her in circles
of milliners and upholsterers, and fanaticisms, and dogmatisms, and

We all know that Christianity is the only hope of the world. The
question is whether America is, or is not, more favorable for its
healthy development and application than the other countries of
Christendom. We believe that it is. If it is not, then America is
only a new field for the spread and triumph of material forces. If
it is, we may look forward to such improvements in education, in
political institutions, in social life, in religious organizations, in
philanthropical enterprise, that the country will be sought by the poor
and enslaved classes of Europe, more for its moral and intellectual
advantages, than for mines or farms, and the objects of the Puritan
settlers will be gained.

    “What sought they then afar?
      Bright jewels of the mines?
     The wealth of seas? the spoils of war?
      They sought for faith’s pure shrine.

    “Yes, call it holy ground,
      Which first their brave feet trod,
     They left unstained what there they found,
      Freedom to worship God.”



    [During a gloomy November the singing of a bird was
    heard daily in Regent’s Park, London; beginning before
    daylight and continuing until sunset.]

    Welcome and glad, this dim November morning,
      The lone bird singing from a leafless tree,
    Cheering the chilly world ere earliest dawning;—
      Nor is its cheery message missed by me.

    The bird’s sweet song is but the Father’s teaching;
      Gladness and joy He sends for every hour—
    Sends both, in answer to true heart’s beseeching,
      Whether the sun is bright or tempests lower.

    Dark night hath stars; dark cloud its “silver lining;”
      Something of sunshine lightens darkest days;
    Happy the heart in trust and faith divining
      God’s light and leading through life’s dreariest ways.

    So would I sing, and sing like thee, till silence
      Shall tell that we have passed beyond the flood—
    Thou, to sing on in some isle far-distant hence,
      I, farther still, at home, in heaven, with God.



The joys, not merely of high companionship, but of any companionship
that is tolerably pleasant, are so great, that a man with whom all
other things go ill, can not be classed as an unhappy man, if he has
throughout his life much of this pleasant companionship.

The desire for companionship is absolutely universal. Even misanthropy
is but the desire for companionship, turned sour. This desire extends
throughout creation. It is very noticeable in domestic animals; and
could we fathom the causes of their sociability, we should probably
have arrived at a solution of several important questions relating to
them and to ourselves.

The most fascinating people in the world have, I believe, been simply
good companions. Shakspere, as he knew most things, knew this, and has
shown that he knew it, in what he has indicated to us of the loves of
Brutus and Portia, of Antony and Cleopatra, and of Rosalind and Orlando.

I think it must be admitted that one of the main objects of life is
good companionship. “What,” says Emerson, “is the end of all this
apparatus of living—what but to get a number of persons who shall be
happy in each other’s society, and be seated at the same table?”

The first thing for companionship is, that there should be a good
relation between the persons who are to become good companions to each
other. It is not well to use a foreign phrase if it can be avoided,
but there are foreign phrases which are supremely significant, and
utterly untranslatable. I therefore say that those people I have spoken
of should be _en rapport_ with one another. This _rapport_ may have
its existence in various ways. The relationship of mother and son, of
father and daughter, will give it; the love that some people have for
children will give it with children; similar bringing up at school or
at college may give it; similarity of present pursuits may give it. But
before all and above all, that incomprehensible, unfathomable thing
called personal liking—that which you feel (or the contrary of which
you feel), frequently at first sight—will be sure to give it. We use
the phrase “falling in love:” we might perhaps use the phrase “falling
in liking” to describe a similar unavoidable precipitancy.

The beginning once made, the basis once laid for this companionship,
what are the qualities which tend to make it continuously pleasant?

The first thing is confidence. Now, in using the word confidence, it
is not meant to imply that there is an absolute necessity for much
confidingness in small things. Wilhelm von Humboldt has expressed an
opinion which is worth noting in reference to this subject. “Friendship
and love,” he says, “require the deepest and most genuine confidence,
but lofty souls do not require the trivial confidences of familiarity.”

The kind of confidence that Humboldt means, and which is required
for companionship as well as for friendship and love, puts aside all
querulous questions as to whether the companions like one another as
much to-day as they did yesterday. Steadfastness is to be assumed.
And, also a certain unchangeableness. “He is a wonderfully agreeable
person,” said a neighbor of one of the best talkers of the day; “but I
have to renew my acquaintance with him every morning.” That good talker
can not be held to be a good companion in a high sense of the word.
Again, this steadfastness makes allowance for all variations of humor,
temperament, and fortune. It prevents one companion from attributing
any change that there may be in the other, of manner, of bearing, or of
vivacity, to a change in the real relation between the companions. He
does not make any of these things personal towards himself. Silence is
not supposed to be offence. Hence there is no occasion to make talk, a
thing which is fatal to companionship. One reason why some of us enjoy
so much the society of animals, is because we need not talk to them if
we do not like. And, indeed, with a thoroughly good human companion,
you ought to be able to feel as if you were quite alone.

Difference of temperament is no hindrance whatever to companionship.
Indeed, the world has generally recognized that fact. We all know that
the ardent and the timid, the hopeful and the despondent, the eager and
the apathetic, get on very well together. What may not always have been
as clearly perceived is, that there are certain diversities of nature,
chiefly relating to habits, which produce, not agreeable contrasts, but
downright fatal discords. And, in such cases, companionship of a high
kind is hopeless.

Let us suppose that the principal requisites for companionship have
been attained; first, the basis for it created by personal liking,
early association, similarity of pursuits, and the like; secondly, the
means of continuing it, such as this confidence that has been spoken
of, the absence of contravening tastes, the absence of unreasonable
expectation, and the like. Now, for what remain to be considered as the
essential requisites for high companionship, we must enter into what is
almost purely intellectual. For this high companionship there must be
an interest in many things, at least on one side, and on the other a
great power of receptivity. It is almost impossible to exaggerate the
needfulness of these elements. Look at results. Consider the nature of
those men and women whom you have found, if I may use the phrase, to be
splendid companions. It is not exactly their knowledge that has made
them so; it is their almost universal interest in everything that comes
before them. This quality will make even ignorant people extremely
good companions to the most instructed persons. It is not, however,
the relation of tutor to pupil that is contemplated here. That is
certainly not the highest form of companionship. The kind of ignorant
person that I mean, if he or she should be one of the companions, is
to be intensely receptive and appreciative, and his or her remarks are
very dear and very pleasant to the most instructed person. Is not the
most valuable part of all knowledge very explicable, and do you not
find that you can make your best thoughts intelligible, if you have any
clearness of expression, to persons not exactly of your own order, if
you will only take the pains to do so?

       *       *       *       *       *

RUSKIN AND WHISTLER.—A good deal of amusement was created by an account
that on one occasion a picture of Mr. Whistler’s was publicly produced,
and neither judge nor jury could tell which was the top and which the
bottom. Whether the legend is true or not we are in no position to say;
but it is certainly as true as the coincidence is curious that at the
Winter Exhibition of the Society of Painters in Water-Colors, 1873-74,
a lovely and elaborate architectural drawing by Mr. Ruskin was placed
upside down. Thus it remained for a time, until some sharp-sighted
visitor discovered the fact. The work was No. 105, “Study of the Colors
of Marble in the Apse of the Duomo of Pisa,” and exhibited with “Study
of the Colors of Marble in the Base of the Church of St. Anastasia
at Verona,” No. 97. There is a third story to a similar effect. When
John Martin had finished his well-known “Zadok in Search of the Waters
of Oblivion,” which was more than once engraved, he sent for the
framemaker’s men to frame it, and having occasion to remain in a room
adjoining his studio while they were in the latter room, he was edified
by a loud dispute between the men as to which was the top, which the
bottom of his picture.



“Egypt for the Egyptians!” was the motto of the national party in
their attempted revolution. What is Egypt, and who are the Egyptians?
Let history answer. Modern investigations and the translation of
hieroglyphics and inscriptions found in tombs carry back the evidences
of its existence as a nation at least a thousand years prior to the
period fixed by the translators of the Mosaic record for the creation
of man. During all these cycles of ages these wonderful people have
maintained their existence along the narrow region watered and enriched
by the Nile. Neither pestilence nor famine, invasion and subjugation
by other peoples, nor internal discord, has supplanted them by other
or different races; nor have they been allured to abandon the homes
of their ancestors for more fruitful lands or mineral wealth, or
commercial advantages. Although in turn they have been conquerors,
and held in subjection other lands and other peoples, and have been
themselves the conquered and compelled to bear the yoke of people
more powerful than themselves, they have remained the same simple
agricultural people, among whom have always existed types of squalid
poverty and luxurious wealth, self-sacrificing devotion to a religion,
and the most wanton lasciviousness: the most deplorable ignorance and
the most exalted scientific knowledge and mechanical skill.

Over this interesting country and people Mohammedanism has for several
centuries spread its baleful influence, keeping out the light of
Christianity and western civilization. During most of the time since
1517 it has been under the dominion of Turkey. In the early part of the
eighteenth century the Mamelukes, who constituted the military under
Ali Bey, threw off the Turkish yoke and maintained their independence
until the invasion by Napoleon in 1798, who conquered it for the French
and held it until 1801, when Mehemet Ali became Pasha. After restoring
tranquility by a treacherous assassination of five hundred Mamelukes,
and the expulsion of the remainder from the country, he turned his
arms against Turkey, conquered Syria and a great part of Asia Minor,
and was in a fair way to capture Constantinople when the European
powers, England, France, Russia, Prussia, and Austria, interfered and
compelled him to make peace with the sultan. This was in 1833. In 1839
the sultan sent an army of 80,000 men and a large fleet to retake Ali’s
conquests. This army was defeated and the fleet surrendered to Ali and
was brought to Alexandria. The powers of Europe again interfered to
prevent the overthrow and destruction of the Turkish Empire, England,
Russia, Austria, and Prussia, taking sides with Turkey, while France,
under Thiers, favored Ali. England, however, sent a fleet, blockaded
Alexandria, bombarded and captured Beyrut and Acre, and compelled Ali
to accept peace, dictated by the allies, and to accept the pashalic of
Egypt, guaranteed to him and his descendants on condition of his paying
one-fourth of his clear revenues to the sultan.

This short history is necessary to understand the relation of Egypt
to Turkey, and how the European powers have come to take part in the
affairs of Egypt. Mehemet Ali became ruler of Egypt in 1805, under the
title of pasha. Finding his ambition to conquer Turkey frustrated by
the European powers, he attempted to introduce into the administration
of his government European systems and the institutions of western
civilization. He was succeeded by his eldest son, Ibrahim, who lived
but two months, and was followed by his nephew, Abbas, and after
six years reign of Abbas by Saïd, the fourth son of Ali, who had a
prosperous reign of nine years and was succeeded in January, 1863, by
Ismaïl Pasha, the son of Ibrahim. The policy of modernizing Egypt,
inaugurated by Mehemet Ali, was followed by Saïd, although wholly
neglected during the unsatisfactory rule of Abbas.

Ismaïl was educated in France, and had imbibed as thoroughly as
his grandfather, Mehemet, western ideas, and as fully appreciated
the superiority of European civilization over eastern opulence and
luxury. His ambition was to accomplish what Mehemet had been prevented
from accomplishing by the interference of the European powers—to be
independent of Turkey. He seems to have had the idea that he could
at once lift Egypt from its condition of semi-barbarism into the
civilization of the nineteenth century. The public works which he
constructed must have appeared to his simple agricultural people more
wonderful than a realization of the stories of the Arabian Nights.
He built railroads and telegraphs, constructed harbors and wharfs
for the largest vessels, and opened Alexandria to the commerce of
the world. He lighted his cities with gas, and supplied them with
water by means of aqueducts, constructed canals for irrigation, built
bridges, established military schools, and increased his army until
it excited the jealousy of Turkey. In addition to all these he paid
nearly one-half the cost of constructing the Suez Canal, from which
there is scarcely a maritime nation in the world that does not reap
greater benefit than Egypt. The expenditures for these improvements
not only absorbed his revenues, but involved him in enormous debts.
Soon he was unable to pay interest, and at once European capitalists
refused to make additional loans, and demanded payment. In his extreme
need of money he sold his shares of stock in the Suez Canal, 177,000
shares, to the English government for £4,000,000. Every dollar that
could be raised by taxation was taken from the property owners and
the poor fellahs; and when he could get no more he resorted to the
“Muskabala” policy, which consisted in giving immunity for all time
from land taxes on the payment by the owner of an agreed assessment;
one of the most short sighted pieces of statesmanship ever devised,
to sell immunity to the rich at the expense of the poor. The finances
fell into a state of inextricable confusion. Ismaïl had no definite
knowledge of his indebtedness or of his resources. In this dilemma
he applied to the English government, which sent him two eminent
financiers, who investigated his financial condition, and reported the
public debt to be £91,000,000, or nearly $500,000,000, and recommended
a consolidated loan on bonds at reduced interest. This project was
opposed by the other European powers, and it failed. An arrangement was
finally agreed upon which satisfied all parties. A comptroller-general
of the revenue and a comptroller-general of the debt and audit were to
be appointed, one by the English and one by the French governments, who
should have entire control of the public revenue, its collection and
application to the payment of the expenses of the government and the
interest and principal of the public debt. The personal creditors of
the khedive also demanded an investigation of his personal indebtedness
and resources, and the adoption of measures which should bring his
expenditures within his resources, and provide for the payment of
his debts. A commission was appointed, of which M. De Lesseps was
president, consisting of representatives of France, England, Germany,
Austria and Italy.

This commission reported the khedive’s personal indebtedness to be
£6,744,000, and that his resources were wholly insufficient to pay his
current expenses and the interest, and recommended that he surrender
all his private estates to the government, and that it assume his
liabilities, and pay him and the members of his family a fixed stipend
for their support. This proposition was accepted by Ismaïl in a
speech which shows that, with all his faults, he has noble traits of
character. As an evidence of his good faith he conveyed all his estates
to the government, and received in return an annual allowance for the
support of himself and his family. Although Ismaïl was controlled
by European influence his administration of public affairs was to
some extent influenced by native ministers, the principal and most
influential of whom were Nubar, Chérif, Riaz, and Ismaïl Sadyk, Pashas.
Messrs. Rivers Wilson, and De Bligniers, as representatives of the
English and French governments held portfolios in the ministry, having
virtually control of finances.

In the latter part of 1878 the crisis was approaching. All the debts
could not be paid in full, and the commissioners decided that the
sacrifices should be borne equally by all.

On February 18, 1879, a council of ministers was held at Cairo. As
Minister Nubar Pasha and Mr. Rivers Wilson were leaving in a carriage,
they were stopped by a crowd of army officers, clamoring for payment of
arrears of their salaries. The ministers were grossly insulted, their
coachman wounded, and they pursued to Nubar’s private apartments, where
they were held prisoners until the khedive came with a regiment of
soldiers and dispersed the mob. This affair created intense excitement
in London and Paris, where it was believed that the attack on Nubar
and Mr. Rivers Wilson was instigated by the khedive as a means to get
rid of Nubar as prime minister, for whom he entertained a profound
aversion. It will be remembered that he was a Christian, and had the
confidence of the European powers, and was appointed at the dictation
of the foreign bondholders. He immediately resigned and an apology
was made to Mr. Wilson, which he accepted. On the 7th of April, 1879,
the culmination of the crisis was precipitated by the khedive and the
Egyptians themselves. It seemed to be a last struggle of Egyptians
for independence, and was the first real effort to save Egypt for the
Egyptians. Ismaïl dismissed his ministry, which had been practically
forced upon him by the European powers, and appointed a new one,
composed wholly of Egyptians, with Chérif Pasha as prime minister.
Wilson and De Bligniers were dismissed, but they refused to surrender
their offices and appealed to their governments. It was a rebellion of
Egypt against the western powers, and the khedive was supported by all
the political and religious influences of the country.

The pashas, the harems, the ulemans, the priests, and the principal
land owners combined to support him in his effort to regain his lost
power. The last straw was laid on the camel’s back when the new
ministry issued a decree on April 22, 1879, virtually suspending
payment of all foreign debts. This was followed by a demand from the
English and French governments for the abdication of Ismaïl, and on the
25th of June, 1879, he received an order from the Porte to abdicate
in favor of his son, Mehemet Tewfik, which he obeyed, and Tewfik was
immediately proclaimed khedive, as Tewfik I. Liberal provision was made
for Ismaïl and his family in a style commensurate with the dignity of
an oriental viceroyalty.

Tewfik formed three successive ministries within four months, the last
on September 21, 1879, in which Osman Pasha was made Minister of War.
On demand of England Messrs. Baring and De Bligniers were appointed
comptrollers-general of finance with unrestricted authority, and an
order issued that all subjects of the khedive should be treated alike,
the pashas and other officials being required to pay taxes, and in
failure to do so their rents were to be seized and their produce sold.
The condition of Egypt was now most deplorable. It was at war with
Abyssinia and a most disastrous famine prevailed. It is authoritatively
reported that in September, October, November and December, 1879,
700,000 people in Egypt were in a starving condition, and that 10,000
actually died from that cause. When we consider that this state of
things was brought about by forced collections of taxes to pay interest
to European bondholders, and through methods forced upon them for
that purpose, we need not be surprised that antipathy should arise to
European interference, and that some efforts should be made to relieve
this people of those oppressive burdens.

For the purpose of consolidating the public debt, and to form a plan
for its liquidation, a commission was established of representatives
of the English, French, Italian, Austrian and Egyptian governments.
A plan was prepared by this commission and a law drafted to carry
it into effect, which was adopted by the ministry, and at once put
into operation. It consolidated all debts created before 1880, and
provided for the issuing of bonds for the principal, and coupons for
the interest, and that no suit could be brought on such debts except
as the coupons and bonds should mature, and for an equitable division
and appropriation of the income so that current expenses should be paid
and the surplus applied to the interest and principal of the debt, and
the collection of taxes was fixed to correspond with the ripening of
the crops. This was the first step toward bringing order out of chaos.
The result surpassed the most sanguine hopes of the government. The
fellahs were able to pay their taxes out of their crops and have a
surplus. Instead of forced collections the people came voluntarily to
the collectors, anxious and able to pay their taxes. Land rose in the
market, and the future looked prosperous for Egypt.

The very success which attended the efforts of the foreign
commissioners in extricating the country from the quicksands into which
it had fallen—creating confidence and bringing in capital from abroad,
only hastened the time when the religious national prejudices would be
aroused. It was irksome to them to see all the important public offices
in the hands of foreigners. The better the new system worked, the more
impatient they were to get rid of foreign domination. Add to this the
fact that the salaries paid these foreign officials were greater than
are paid for like services in any civilized country in the world,
and were unheard of in Egypt, and you can see the real cause of the
discontent of the people, out of which grew the National party. Their
motto became “Egypt for the Egyptians.”

On the 2d of February, 1881, a mutiny broke out in the army. Osman
Reski Pasha, minister of war, had become obnoxious to the officers of
the army, of whom a great number were unemployed. Osman was accused of
promoting Turkish subjects to positions in the army to the exclusion
of natives, and of treating the latter with contempt. The colonels
of the bodyguard and two other regiments drew up and presented to
the khedive a petition for his removal. It came into the hands of
Osman, who arrested and placed them in confinement in the citadel. The
soldiers of the guard stormed the citadel and released the colonels,
who marched with them to the palace and demanded an audience of the
khedive. He ordered the insubordinate colonels under arrest, but they
refused to obey him. On consultation with his ministers, he finally
yielded to their demands, and dismissed Osman. Ahmed Arabi Bey was the
leader of this movement, and the most popular of the three colonels.
Some years before he had been dismissed from his position by Ismaïl
without any good reason, and from that time he determined to devote
himself to the work of securing for army officers a fair trial, and of
protecting the fellaheen from the tyranny and oppression of government
officials. He and his fellow-officers at that time contemplated a
rising in favor of popular rights, but were deterred by the belief that
they would be overpowered. Arabi was chosen leader, and seven days
after the last occurrence he presented a demand for the dismissal of
the entire ministry, the formation of a constitution and an increase
of the army, and gave notice that the troops would appear before the
palace at four o’clock of that day, and wait until the demand was
complied with. At the hour appointed, four thousand troops and eighteen
pieces of artillery were drawn up before the palace under the command
of Arabi. The khedive again yielded, formed a new ministry, and ordered
an assembly of notables to be elected by the people to inaugurate a
representative system of government. The independence and enthusiasm
with which the fellaheen voted for these representatives revealed to
the world the fact that liberal political ideas and the nationalistic
principles of the popular party had taken deep root in the minds of
this ancient race, “which once bore the torch of civilization, but
since has tilled the fertile valley of the Nile under the whip of many

The Chamber of Notables resolved that in the new organization they
would control the ministry and the financial affairs and every other
department of the government. This was a declaration of war on the
policy of foreign supervision, and created consternation among all who
were interested in Egyptian securities. Arabi come to the front as
Minister of War, and was made a pasha. When the session closed on March
24, 1882, he and his friends were masters of the situation. His next
step was to dispose of the Turkish and Circassian officers who stood
in the way of his plans. They were charged with conspiracy, tried by a
secret court, and sentenced to confinement for life. At this juncture
Admiral Seymour, with an English fleet, was sent to Alexandria with
the avowed purpose of supporting the khedive. England and France now
demanded that Arabi should be dismissed from the ministry and sent out
of Egypt, as he was thought to be the principal disturbing element. He
however refused to obey the khedive’s order to that effect, and became
practically the ruler of Egypt. The army was the willing instrument of
his ambition.

The next act in the drama came without warning, and startled the
world by its atrocity. On June 11, 1882, a bloody riot occurred in
Alexandria, in which about three hundred and eighty Europeans were
killed, with a species of brutality known only to the fanatical
followers of Mahomet in northern Egypt, and discounted the ferocity of
the North American Indians. Arabi was accused of complicity in it, and
the fact that he was in Alexandria, near the scene of the massacre,
at the head of 6,000 troops, and made no effort to stop the slaughter
of women and children which was going on, renders it probable that
the accusation is true. However, after five hours delay, he took
what appeared to be vigorous measures to stop the slaughter. It was
evidently the outburst of the race hatred of Moslem against Christian,
and Arabs against Europeans. It was the harvest of blood from the seed
sown broadcast by Arabi and the National party in carrying on their
plans to secure Egypt for the Egyptians. This massacre was followed
by the flight from Egypt of all Europeans and Americans who could get
away, as it was apparent it was the beginning of more serious trouble.

It was discovered that Arabi, anticipating interference by England and
France, was vigorously building and equipping fortifications about
Alexandria, and threatened the destruction of all foreigners, and of
the Suez Canal, if interference was attempted. Admiral Seymour ordered
him to cease operations on the fortifications. The work proceeded. He
thereupon demanded the surrender of the forts within twelve hours or he
would open fire.

This bombardment was the first step. The burning of the finest portions
of Alexandria, the horrible murders there, the concentration of
English forces in Egypt against Arabi, his final defeat and surrender,
constitute the story of a war remarkable principally for the great
perturbation it caused among the powers of Europe, for the small force
on the one side, and on the other for the power, pomp and parade, and
the vast stores of material and men. On the part of Arabi and his
army, for the justness of their cause in the ostensible purposes of
the National party, and on the part of England for the flimsy pretext
of acting under authority of the khedive, when the only real excuse
was the fact that the Suez Canal is of vital importance for connection
with its East Indian possessions, and control of Egypt is necessary
for the protection of the canal. Especially is it remarkable in view
of the show of force and preparation, for the weakness of the Egyptian
army and the feebleness and unskillfulness on the part of Arabi and
his generals. We can, however, account for the consternation it
created in Europe, when we consider that Mahommedanism covers a larger
extent of territory and includes more peoples than all the rest of
the world. The religious prejudices of the followers of the prophet
have only tolerated the presence of Christians when they could be kept
under subjection and in servility. Some point was given to the idea
that a religious war was imminent by the fact that the False Prophet
was advancing into Soudan toward Southern Egypt. What the outcome of
such a war would be was difficult to foresee. It would involve more
than three-fourths of the population of the world. And while Western
civilization would have the advantage of modern improvements in the art
of war, it was not certain it could compete with the Moslem hordes that
would swarm from Asia and Africa. It would not only check and greatly
set back civilization, but would threaten to overthrow and destroy it.
It is not surprising, then, that the powers of Europe hesitated. And
from the standpoint of Western civilization England can not be too
highly commended for her energy in crushing out in its inception what
might have ripened into a war involving such tremendous consequences.

The weakness and unskillfulness exhibited by the leaders of the
National party, and their indifference to the fate of their
subordinates, show that any sentimentality spent upon them is
unmerited, and the collapse of the rebellion upon the first serious
disaster, which, from the Egyptian standpoint, was a struggle for
life and liberty, shows to what state of servility the descendants of
the Pharaohs have been reduced, and how utterly incapable they are of

The last act in the drama was performed at Cairo on the 25th of
December, 1882. The leaders were nominally turned over to the
government of the khedive for trial and punishment, charged with the
massacre and incendiarism of June 11th, and with rebellion. Nothing
awaited them but death by assassination or public execution. In reality
the turning them over to the khedive was only a form to keep up the
pretext of acting under his authority. In fact the trial was suppressed
because of the complications which would have arisen from making public
the evidences in the hands of Arabi of the complicity of Turkey in the
rebellion. Under the dictation of England a plea of guilty of rebellion
only was accepted, and sentence of death in form pronounced upon the
seven principal leaders, Arabi, Toulba, Abdelal, Mahmoud Sami, Ali
Fehni, Yacoob Sami, and Mahmoud Fehni. At the same time a commutation,
by the khedive, was announced to degradation and exile for life, and
the place of exile has been fixed in the English colony of Ceylon. The
ceremony of degradation was performed at Cairo on Christmas day, and
consisted in reading the decree of degradation to the prisoners in the
presence of the army, public officers, and a crowd of native Egyptians.
Immediately thereafter they were sent to Suez and thence to Ceylon
under guard. A liberal provision is made for their support in view of
the fact that they are state prisoners. About $10,000 each per year is
allowed for their support, so that life in exile is not altogether an
unmitigated hardship.

       *       *       *       *       *

MEN show their character in nothing more clearly than by what they
think laughable.—_Goethe._



It is often said in these days that the power of the pulpit has
declined from what it was in the time of our fathers. The press has
stolen a march upon the preacher. The lyceum draws better than the
meeting-house. The stump speaker has more hearers than the minister.
The advocate for reform makes more stir than the Sunday-going parson.
The newspaper has got to be the American Bible. The magazine has more
readers than the Gospel of Mark, and the Epistle to the Romans.

But this croaking overlooks the fact that our civilization is wider
and broader than it used to be fifty or one hundred years ago. It
comprehends more interests, strikes the key to more subjects, sweeps
into its ever-widening circumference a greater variety of pursuits and
influences. The pulpit may be as important as ever and as potent, but
relatively other factors have in these latter days come into play,—art,
science, philosophy, reform, politics, sociology, and thus have
seemingly encroached upon the once almost absolute domain of religious
worship and instruction. But it is more in seeming than in reality.
Because other powerful auxiliaries have come up alongside of the
pulpit to challenge the attention of mankind, and assist in the great
enterprise of the upbuilding of humanity, it by no means follows that
the peculiar office which the pulpit and the preacher fulfill may not
be more needful and more demanded than ever to save the souls of men,
and bring the kingdom of God on earth.

It almost however goes without the saying that facts disprove the
dismal theory that our civilization is running away from the public
administration of religion. We have as mighty preachers in the field
to-day on both sides of the water as ever lifted up their voices in
Christendom. I need only mention Spurgeon, Beecher, Philips Brooks,
Moody, Pere Hyacinth, Bishop Simpson, Prof. Swing, Robert Collyer. And
they draw great audiences, produce great effects, convert sinners,
edify saints, “hurl back the floods of tyrant wrong” and sin, and bring
in the kingdom, as effectually as was ever done by the Chrysostums and
Ambroses, the Robert Halls and John Wesleys of the past. God hath not
left, and never will leave himself without witness. The eloquence of
the spoken word is not yet dead or buried. We have placed at the head
of our article one of these great and glorious names, Charles Haddon
Spurgeon, Baptist preacher in London. He was born in Helvedon, Essex,
near London, June 9, 1834. He is now therefore in the forty-eighth year
of his age, but how solidly he has packed those years with services
to God and man! His origin was in the Congregational body of England.
He is a self-taught man, and contrary to what was said of another
distinguished self-taught man, that he had a very poor teacher, Mr.
Spurgeon had a very good and wise teacher. He became a schoolmaster
of others at sixteen, and at eighteen the pastor of a church at
Waterbeach. He soon rose to such popularity that he was called to
London, where ordinary churches could not contain the crowds that came
to hear him. He occupied successively the Baptist Chapel in Southwark,
Exeter Hall, Surry Music Hall, and now he preaches in a cathedral-like
edifice, called the “Tabernacle,” built for him, where he has an
audience of five or six thousand. But like Wesley he is not only a
great preacher, but a great organizer and also an affluent writer. On
an average he preaches a sermon every day. Ten or more volumes of his
sermons have been published in England and reprinted in this country.
He has edited the works of some of the old religious classics. He
has published lectures to divinity students, tracts for the people,
as “John Ploughman’s Pictures,” and “John Ploughman’s Talks with the
People.” He is a Calvinist, but not a close communion Baptist. In
popularity and wide influence among the masses he stands at the head
of the English dissenting pulpit. He has thirty preaching stations in
London. He carries on a divinity school, and has educated between three
and four hundred young men for the ministry. The expenses of his school
are $25,000 a year which he raises himself. He has, according to the
testimony of his stewards, appropriated no part of the income of his
church to himself for the last three years. He meets the wants of the
great middle class of English society. His administration drives at the
practical, direct, and pungent application of Christianity to the sins,
crimes, and woes of the great capital of the world, and in that world
of Great Britain he is a mighty power for good.

The secret of his influence is not far or hard to seek. In the first
place, Mr. Spurgeon is built on a large scale in personality and
natural endowment. He is John Bull _in maximo_, a stocky frame, big
head, vigorous constitution, a good digester, a deep breather, a
massive face, a strong round-about man every way. It is not native to
his constitution to be sick, and if he is so it is because of the load,
which, like Atlas, he bears on his broad shoulders, of care and duty
and preaching, and divinity school, and writing and publishing, and
travel, and the superintendence of his thousand and one enterprises
to carry forward the cause. He knows how to work himself, and another
secret equally important, he knows how to make others work.

Some years ago I heard him preach in his throne of power. It was
a sight to behold and never to be forgotten. Thousands of people
gathered to hear one man speak. His subject was from Corinthians: “We
are ambassadors for Christ.” His tone was kindly, no overbearing, no
intellectual pretense or insolence, such as we sometimes see in great
men, while his appeal was persuasive and rational. There was a deep and
tender tone of sympathy and good will, an evident desire to bring over
to his own happy state of trust and love those far from God and Christ,
wandering in darkness, in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity.
A deep stream of piety and devotional ardor flowed through all the
services. His language was plain Anglo-Saxon speech, few “dictionary”
words, as they are called, and easy to be understood by the common

But next to his piety and zealous faith, should be given as instruments
of his power, great affluence of illustration. He tips his sentences
not unfrequently with a bit of poetic fire. He levies on the Bible
imagery largely. He uses, as Jesus did, the common every day’s events
and scenes about him to wing his arrows and point his spears. He has no
subtleties, mysticisms, speculations, to clog the minds of his hearers.
“Jesus and him crucified” is his paramount theme, as it was that of
Paul. He is the John Bunyan of the nineteenth century, and long may he
guide the “Pilgrims” in their “Progress to the eternal city.”

The same day we heard Spurgeon in the great Tabernacle we heard Dean
Stanley in Westminster Abbey. Both had great audiences. Both gathered
many strangers from beyond the sea to hear the most distinguished
pulpit orators of Great Britain. Dean Stanley gave his eulogy on the
Bishop of Winchester, who had been instantly killed by a fall from
his horse. It was a memorable occasion, attended by what was most
brilliant in rank, in culture, in power and wealth in England, the
lords and ladies of the empire. The music transported you to the
seventh heaven. The Dean spoke to the learned, refined and powerful,
Spurgeon to the common people, “not heard of a mile from home.” The
Dean had more learning, culture, taste, and swept a broader circle
of thought; Spurgeon more power, bored deeper into the heart and
conscience. Stanley was more a literary man and author; Spurgeon a
minister and converter of souls. Stanley is a broad churchman, and
aims at the progress of Christianity in the dialect of the nineteenth
century; Spurgeon lays about him like Talus, with his tremendous
flail, to warn people and drive them from the wrath to come, and to
administer the average orthodox doctrines without note or comment, or
nice speculations. Both are great men, each good for his sphere. Both
refute the notion that the Christian pulpit of this age can not match
that of any previous age in the power, influence and following of the
noted preachers. There were giants of old, and there are giants now.


From the French of M. AUGUSTIN CHALLAMEL.

When we speak of past fashions, we must always mention sumptuary
laws at the same time; that is to say, remedial measures against the
excesses of caprice and luxury. As if wisdom could be decreed by law!
We know their unsuccessful results. But even at the present day, when
difference of rank is no longer marked by difference of dress, we
sometimes meet with persons who are indignant with a working woman if
she ventures to wear a silk gown or a velvet cape on Sunday.

“No, I can not understand the government not interfering!” exclaimed a
charming “great lady” the other day. “Only a week ago I was elbowed by
a girl with a gown identically like my own! It is really disgraceful!
The rest of the costume did not harmonize with the gown, and the effect
was wretched; besides, extravagance and equality in dress are the ruin
of scores of working girls. There ought to be a law against it.”

The laws regulating the quality and cost of dress have been tried
extensively in the past, and had the lady known the history of past
fashions, she would hardly have wished as she did. Far back in the
twelfth century sovereigns began to issue sumptuary laws in order to
restore respect for the inequality of rank, and to prevent one woman
from wearing garments exclusively reserved for another. Philip Augustus
raised his voice against fur. Philip the Fair issued prohibitions the
wording of which enlightens us considerably in regard to the manners
and customs of those times. “No citizen may possess a chariot, nor
wear grey fur, nor ermine, nor gold, nor jewels, nor belts, nor
pearls. Dukes, counts, and barons, with six thousand livres a year,
may have four pair of gowns a year, and no more, and their wives
may have as many. No citizen, nor esquire, nor clerk shall burn wax
lights.” Baron’s wives, howsoever great, could not wear a gown that
cost more than twenty-five cents by the Paris yard; the wives of a lord
were restricted to eighteen cents, and of a citizen to sixteen cents
and a half. These regulations proceeded probably from the following
circumstance: On the occasion of the solemn entrance of the queen into
Bruges in 1301, she saw so many women of the middle ranks so gorgeously
appareled that she exclaimed, “I thought I was queen, but I see there
are hundreds.” Philip evidently thought it time to restrain the license
that allowed women of any rank to equal his queen.

Notwithstanding legislative prohibitions, the desire of attracting
attention led all women to dress alike. From this resulted a
confusion of ranks absolutely incompatible with mediæval ideas. Saint
Louis forbade that certain women should wear mantles or gowns with
turned-down collars, or with trains or gold belts. But fashion bid
defiance to law. The great ladies were not yet protected. More than an
hundred years later, in the reign of Francis I., we find the fashion of
wearing three gowns, one over the other, resorted to to preserve the
distinction in dress. Says a writer of the times: “For one coat that
the wife of a citizen wears, the great lady puts on three, one over the
other; and letting them all be seen equally, she makes herself known
for more than a bourgeoise.”

Even the quality and color of stuffs have been restricted. Henry
II. allowed no woman, not a princess, to wear a costume entirely of
crimson. The wives of gentlemen might have one part only of their
under dress of that color. Maids of honor might wear velvet of any
color except crimson. The wealthy classes longed to wear the forbidden
material, but the law only allowed them velvet when made into petticoat
and sleeves. Working-women were forbidden to wear silk. The complaints
became so loud that at last the law-giver was moved with compassion,
and allowed bands of gold to be worn on the head, gave permission to
the working-women to trim their gowns with borders or linings of silk,
and allowed them to wear sleeves of silk—a whole dress of such material
was denied. These restrictions were rigorously enforced, and Rousard
the poet exclaims:

    “Velvet grown too common in France
     Resumes, beneath your sway, its former honor;
     So that your remonstrance
     Has made us see the difference
     Between the servant and his lord,
     And the coxcomb, silk-bedecked,
     Who equalled your princes,
     And rich in cloth of silk went glittering
     On his way showing off the bravery of his attire.
     I have far more indulgence for our fair women,
     Who in dresses far too precious
     Usurp the rank of the nobles,
     But now the long-despised wool
     Resumes its former station.”

It did not hold its station, however. Before the century was out
Charles IX. resumed the war against fashion and extravagance. He
sent out this edict: “We forbid our subjects, whether men, women, or
children, to use on their clothes, whether silken or not, any bands of
embroidery, stitching, or pipings of silk, gimp, etc., excepting only a
border of velvet or silk of the width of a finger, or at the uttermost
two borderings, chain-stitchings or back stitchings at the edge of
their garments. Nor shall women of any rank wear gold on their heads,
except during the first year of her marriage,” etc.

Such a king would find much cause for prohibitory edicts at the present
day. And it was not long before kings and courtiers realized that
fashion was the most absolute of all sovereigns. In 1680 some one
laments that “No longer are our ladies to be distinguished from the
women of the people.” Sumptuary laws never filled the demand, nor are
they the proper weapons by which to overcome extravagance and folly in

Montaigne writes in 1603 of these attempts to regulate expenses: “The
way seems to be quite contrary to the end designed. The true way would
be to beget in men a contempt of silks and gold, as vain and frivolous,
and useless; whereas, we augment to them the value, and enhance the
honors of such things, which is a very absurd mode of creating a
disgust. For to enact that none but princes shall eat turbot, shall
wear velvet or gold lace, and to interdict these things to the people,
what is it but to bring them into greater esteem, and to set every
man more agog to eat and wear them? Let kings leave off these ensigns
of grandeur, they have enough others besides; these excesses are more
excusable in any other than a prince. ’Tis strange how suddenly and
with how much ease custom in these different things establishes itself
and becomes authority. We had scarce worn cloth a year at court for
the mourning of Henry II., but that silks were already grown into such
contempt that a man so clad was despised. Let kings but take the lead
and begin to leave off this expense, and in a month the business will
be done throughout the kingdom without edict or ordinance. We shall all




In these chapters, as I have before stated, my attempt is not so much
to show what the schools accomplished in the ancient nations herein
discussed, as to show their educative influence upon the world. Each
nation has a mission given it to perform. Divine Providence gives
to each a special work that is useful to all mankind. The national
development is first an education of itself and secondly an education
of mankind. This is true, in an especial sense, of the Jews, the
Greeks and the Romans. All modern civilization grows from a three-fold
root—Roman law, Greek science and art, Hebrew spirituality. Of course
I restrict the word “civilization” in the above statement to Christian
and Mohammedan nations—Mohammedan nations have more Hebrew and Greek
and less Roman in their civilization.

We have given some consideration, already, to the Jewish and Greek
educations, and it remains for us here to study the Roman character and

Let us place before ourselves the conclusion that thoughtful writers
on the subject have long since reached: The Roman principle is that
of compromise or mutual concession for the sake of the highest good
and the safety of the state. A more attractive rendering of this
principle would run somewhat as follows: The Roman people learned to
distinguish between individual wishes and desires, and the duty owed
to the state or political whole, and they were the first to define
with great precision the spheres of private and public rights and
duties. Then they conquered the world and disciplined all peoples into
this recognition of private and public spheres, and destroyed all
local patriotism and all local religions. This destruction of local
patriotism and religion prepared the way for the coming of Christianity.

According to the general tradition, the origin of Rome was in the
collection of a band of outlaws on one of the Seven Hills. The
historian, Livy, calls them a _colluvies_, to express their coming
together from different surrounding nations. Here was the border land
of the Sabines, Latins, and Etruscans. The robbers must stand by each
other as they have a common cause against all surrounding states. Here
in the very beginning we have the most important element of the Roman
principle. We see a union of different national stocks, different
personal habits, different dialects, different social prejudices, and
especially different religious ideas. All was difference except the
common cause against avenging justice that pursued them. This however
was a cause that involved life and death. They band together like
robbers and make the safety of the community the chief object, and do
not interfere with whatever private customs and usages the members of
the league may have.

Here we see at the beginning the principle of toleration of a private
or personal sphere for each citizen as contrasted with the sphere
of public duty. The citizen is protected in the exercise of his own
pleasure in his personal affairs where they are different to the public
world, but on the other hand he must unhesitatingly sacrifice all when
Rome’s interest demands it. His home and religion are matters that the
state does not regulate nor allow neighbors to interfere with. The
public concern of all is the safety of Rome. The citizen is in constant
training to preserve his two-fold attitude of private and public life.
He is always on the watch to control himself from stepping beyond the
prescribed boundary and trespassing on the province of others, and he
is always jealously defending his own domain from trespass. He is
cultivating a consciousness of legality, a consciousness of statutes
and regulations which are not in conformity with his own inclination,
but necessary for Rome.

Each citizen learns to subordinate his caprice and inclination to the
command of the state. This seems so much a matter of course with us
that we do not at first see anything strange in the attitude of the
Roman citizen. We forget that we have inherited this from Rome, and
that it began with Rome and had no existence in other nations. With
other people the religious principle and the state were homogeneous.
Where the one penetrated the other penetrated. The individual lived
in harmony with the state because the political life was all of one
piece with the manners, customs, and habits of private life. The
religion extended over both public and private spheres of life. Hence
there was unity of religion and political duty, without any feeling of
distinction existing between the public and private spheres of life.

But the Roman life was the beginning of a much deeper spiritual
life. After the individual learns to distinguish and unite these two
phases of his life—the public and private—he is a much deeper and
stronger man, and is capable of exercising and improving greater
personal freedom. He can realize within himself a far deeper spiritual
experience and attain to a higher and purer idea of God and the divine
life. In fact, after he has been through the Roman national education,
he is fitted for a faith in the divine-human nature of God.

When the Roman makes treaties with the surrounding nations he bows to
a common will, the will that unites his own national will with the
opposing national will of another people. A treaty is a sort of higher
public will uniting two national public wills. As opposed to the public
will expressed in the treaty, the public will of either nation is a
relatively private will. Thus the Romans who are famous for making
treaties seem to be occupied with making distinctions between higher
and lower will-powers, and realizing the difference between public and
private wills at every step and in every degree.

When the treaty is broken, the Roman conceives it necessary to conquer
the nation that breaks its faith and compel the vanquished people to
submit and pass under the yoke of Roman law. Thus the Roman becomes a
conqueror of the world. There being no higher power that can act as
umpire between Rome and the nations with whom it makes a treaty, each
nation acts as its own judge and is very apt to accuse the other one
of broken faith. An appeal to arms results in the justification of the
strongest. The vanquished must yield his convictions and submit.

Curtius defines the spirit of the Roman as that of the destruction
of national peculiarities. Rome conquers the world and educates all
nations into the same state of mind as its own people. The people in
Spain and Gaul and Britain, in Egypt, Asia Minor, Syria, as well as in
Greece, all become like the people of Italy in this respect, and grow
to be very considerate of the boundary line between public and private

Out of this isolation of the private life grows the great respect
for property and ownership which we find in connection with Roman
institutions. The public is not one with the private, but distinguished
from it by the Roman idea. But the law defines the limits of each and
so they do not conflict.

In private property the citizen finds a sphere wherein he can realize
his personal freedom. By means of property man satisfies his wants
of food, clothing, and shelter. He is able, by means of property, to
gratify a higher spiritual want of amusement and culture. He may avail
himself of the observation and reflection of his fellow-men and profit
by learning their experience. What our fellow-men have learned by
error and suffering, as well as by observation and reflection, go to
make up the wisdom of the race, which may be collected, preserved and
distributed by means of the institution of private property.

Property is thus something that connects the particular individual
with the social whole or the human race. In the sphere of ownership
the individual is free and self-determined; he makes and unmakes
at pleasure. With property he extends the sphere of his private
personality and enters into free alliance with other personalities.
By bargain and sale of chattels he exercises his own private freedom,
not by limiting the freedom of others, but by and through the equal
exercise of freedom on the part of those others. Thus by the invention
of the institution of property the private freedom of each individual
interpenetrates the sphere of the freedom of others without conflicting
with it, but in fact reinforcing it, so that each man is freer through
the freedom of others. Such is the wonderful significance of this Roman
invention of private right of property.

What we see among other nations in Europe and Asia, before the Roman
law came in vogue, is not the completed realization of the idea of
private property but only the crude first appearance of it. Property
under the Romans is as different from property in Persia, or even
in Sparta, as commerce is different from piracy. It is the Roman
who eliminates the element of external violence by freeing private
rights from absorption in public rights. Then the freedom of one
individual comes to reinforce that of another instead of limiting and
circumscribing it.

It is one thing to be able to see the universal law in the particular
facts and phenomena. It is quite another thing to see the universal
forms of the will, rules that all individuals may conform their actions
to, and by so doing avoid all conflict and collision of wills. These
general forms of actions and deeds, when defined in words, become civil
laws. The civil laws define the limits and boundaries within which each
and all individuals may act without mutual conflict. If these laws are
not obeyed one individual act will neutralize another and both will
reduce to zero.

The Roman is able to formulate the general will, and he compiles the
code of laws that descends to modern nations as one of the three most
precious heir-looms. These laws define the forms in which men may act
without contradicting each other, the forms by which the individual may
accumulate property and realize his personality, and at the same time
help, and not hinder, the personal freedom of all others. The Roman
invented the forms by which a city, a town, a state may be governed and
justice rendered to all, the forms in which a corporation may exist for
the accomplishment of undertakings too great or too long continued for
the single individual.

Religion in Rome had the two fold character of public and private.
The family had its household gods, its Lares and Penates. The city
had its tutelary deities, under various forms and names, but all
amounting to the same thing, to wit: the expression of the abstract
power of the state. The state was the highest divinity that the Roman
knew. The gods Jupiter, Quirinus, Janus, etc., all meant the might of
Rome. The deification of abstractions was carried out to a degree of
superstitious whimsicality that astonishes us. There was conceived a
god or goddess for every process of growth and decay and for every
instrumentality of the natural or of the spiritual, and there was a
divinity that made the bones grow in the child, and a divinity that
assisted the flow of the sewers.

The Roman conception of the divine defined it as some invisible power
that could be made useful to the individual or the state by some
sacrifice or service performed toward it. The Roman therefore made
vows to a particular deity when he found himself in an emergency. If
the deity gave him success he fulfilled his vow with the greatest
punctiliousness, offering a sacrifice, or founding a temple, or
establishing some worship, in return for the service obtained. Thus the
principle of contract entered the Roman idea of religion.

Contract is the essential legal basis for the transfer of property
in such a manner as to secure joint freedom of individuals. Contract
in religion as the relation of the individual to God seems the most
terrible of all impiety. But the Roman in effect made contracts with
his gods, showing the all-powerful hold of the idea of property and
legality over the mind of this nation.

In the family there prevailed a form of ancestor worship almost as
primitive as we found among the Chinese. All other nations, according
to De Coulanges, had ancestor-worship at one time. It would seem that
a more spiritual faith superseded it in other nations quite early. The
special circumstances of Rome and China encouraged the preservation of
family traditions. In China the entire state government is patriarchal,
and thus wholly conservative of the principle of the family. In Rome on
the other hand the state separates, as public affair, from the family,
as a private affair, and carefully defines the limits between itself
and the family so as to preserve the latter in the primitive form. Each
family worshiped with stated ceremony the male ancestors of the family,
the oldest son acting as the priest after the death of his father.

This principle of non-interference with the family customs and a
careful guarding of the sacred privacy of the family developed a
very noble type of woman. The Roman matrons were sublime examples of
heroism, dignity and purity. The mother had much more influence in the
education of the Roman youth, than in the education of youth in any
other of the ancient nations. On the ninth day the Roman child was
enrolled on the citizen’s register. But up to his fifteenth year his
education was chiefly at home under the supervision of the mother. He
studied reading, writing, and arithmetic, much the same as the boy of
other nations. But he committed to memory the laws of the Twelve Tables
as carefully as the Hebrew child learned the Ten Commandments. The
Roman child was educated to be a soldier, to fight for Rome and to be a
supporter of the laws. In his sixteenth year he studied Roman law with
some jurist. One may read in Plutarch, or in Shakspere’s _Coriolanus_,
how powerful was the influence of the mother over her son, and how
devoted was the mother to Rome. Roman education prepared the world for
Christianity, by breaking down national idiosyncrasies and leading up
to the idea of the human race—_genus humanum_.

The system practiced by the Romans after the conquest of a country
was to conscript the young men into the army and send their legions
to a distant frontier. The young men from Britain might be sent to
Spain or Egypt, and those from Illyria and the Danube, to Britain. In
the presence of a hostile people, speaking a foreign tongue, the raw
conscript found his only safe course to be a faithful adherence to the
Roman eagles. He could not revolt with any hope of success. In a few
years he had become attached to the Roman cause and cherished it as his
second nature; while his relatives and countrymen afar away had also
been obliged to obey Roman laws until their customs and usages had also
changed to Roman. Thus each conquered nation became a means in turn of
subduing every other nation and converting them into Romans.

The Persians had conquered nations and held them in subjection, but
they had not attempted to mould the character and institutions of the
conquered people, but had left them untrammeled, only requiring them
to acknowledge supremacy and pay tribute. After a people recovered
independence from Persia, little evidence remained of Persian
influence. The Roman institutions, on the other hand, became so
firmly rooted among a conquered people that they remained ever after
substantially Roman in character.

The Greeks, we saw, were a cheerful people. They made games a religious
ceremonial, celebrating the physical beauty of the gods by becoming
beautiful themselves. Beautiful bodies and graceful movements seemed
to them divine. The gods and goddesses fell in love with beautiful
mortals. The Romans on the contrary, were sober and serious, and would
not exercise for the sake of developing personal beauty, but only to
become good soldiers for Rome. It was shameful in the estimation of
the Roman to expose the naked body. Even within the family the utmost
care was taken to develop and foster the sense of shame and of decency
in the care of the person. The Roman was a haughty spectator at the
games, but would not himself condescend to appear as a contestant. He
bought slaves or forced his prisoners taken in battle to exhibit their
skill in the arena. He delighted in spectacles where death-contests
of beasts and men took place, because he felt its symbolic expression
of the struggle within his own character, and his sacrifice of self
for the state, and of his arbitrary will for the general abstract law.
The Roman was sober and thoughtful because his life was occupied in
self-restraint. He perpetually watched himself lest he should go beyond
the limits fixed between the private and the public spheres of duty.

The result of mingling all nations in the Roman armies brought about a
feeling of brotherhood among the soldiers and then among the people.
There arose conviction that peculiarities of nation and even of race
are accidents that do not affect the substance of a common humanity.
The objects of affection for the individual—his native land, his
country’s gods, his ties of kindred and friendship, were all ruthlessly
broken by the irresistible might of the Roman empire, and for these
objects of the heart were substituted only the abstract devotion to the
state and devotion to the private right of property. There resulted
a deep heart-hunger for a spiritual faith that would give to all an
object commensurate with this new idea of the _human race_. This want
was supplied by Christianity.


By A. C. M.

    “Nevertheless I die daily.”

     Like the voice of the storm, like the sound of the sea,
     Is this tempest of longing for what can not be.
     If wishes could waken the joys of the past,
     If prayers could deaden the sorrows that last,
                      Now and for ever,—

     A cry for the souls of a thousand in pain—
    “Give us death or forgetting, or Heaven again.”
     And the dead on the winds of Eternity sigh—
    “Silence and peace. It is Heaven to die,
                      Now and for ever.”

       *       *       *       *       *

GROSS ignorance produces a dogmatic spirit. He who knows nothing,
thinks that he can teach others what he has himself just been learning:
he who knows much, scarcely believes that what he is saying can be
unknown to others, and consequently speaks with more hesitation.—_La

       *       *       *       *       *

THE fate of no man, not even the happiest, is free from struggles
and privation; for true happiness is only then attained, when by the
government of the feelings we become independent of all the chances of
life.—_Von Humboldt._



The oldest picture, known at present, painted in oil colors on
wood, is preserved in the Imperial Gallery at Vienna. According to
Beckmann’s “History of Inventions,” it was executed in the year 1297
by a painter named Thomas de Mutuia, or de Muttersdorf, in Bohemia.
Two other paintings, in the same gallery, are of the year 1357; one is
by Nicholas Wursnser, of Strasburg, the other by Thierry of Prague.
It appears, therefore, that painting in oil was known long before
the epoch at which that invention is generally fixed; and that it is
erroneously ascribed to Hubert Van Eyck and his brother and pupil John
Van Eyck, otherwise called John of Bruges, who lived about the end of
the fourteenth century, and not the beginning of the fifteenth century,
as is commonly supposed. It is pointed out, however, that there is
evidence in the books of the Painters’ Company, under the date of the
eleventh year of the reign of Edward I. (1283), that oil painting was
in use at that time. _Vide_ a communication from Sir Francis Palgrave,
in Carter’s “Ancient Sculpture and Paintings in England.” It may
be added that the art of wood engraving seems to be older than the
invention of printing, to which, perhaps, it gave rise. The names of
the first engravers on wood are, however, not known. In the _Athenæum_
for 1845, page 965, is given a fac-simile of a wood engraving bearing
date 1418, which was discovered at Malines in 1844, and is now
preserved in the public library at Brussels.

Old paintings naturally lead to inquiries about old art schools, one
of the most venerable and interesting of which is to be found in the
quaint old Devonshire borough of Plympton, England. Here the greatest
of English painters, Sir Joshua Reynolds, learnt the first principles
of drawing. Here, too, Northcote, his clever and eccentric pupil,
acquired his education. This was also the first school of Sir Charles
L. Eastlake, P.R.A., and the _alma mater_ of poor Benjamin Haydon.
A few months before his tragic death Haydon visited the old grammar
school, and wrote his name in pencil on the wall, where it may still be

        “B. R. Haydon,
    Historical Painter, London,
       Educated here 1801,
    Rev. W. Haines (Master)
        Head boy then.”

Nor must it be forgotten that Plympton had the honor of being
represented in Parliament by the greatest of English architects, Sir
Christopher Wren, who was elected in May, 1685, and was the first
architect ever returned to the House of Commons. To return to Reynolds.
He was born in the Master’s house adjoining the school, and some rough
sketches drawn by him in his youth on the walls of the bed-room in
which he first saw the light were to be seen when Haydon and Wilkie
visited the house in 1809, but have since been obliterated by some
barbarous whitewasher. In 1772 Sir Joshua was elected to the aldermanic
gown of his native town, and in the following year he was chosen mayor
of the borough. To show his appreciation of what he deemed a high
honor, Reynolds presented to the town his own portrait, painted, as it
seems, expressly to commemorate his mayoralty. It was placed in the
corporation dining-room, but the common council had the effrontery to
sell the picture for £150 when Plympton was disfranchised in 1832.

It need hardly be added that Sir Joshua Reynolds’s tomb (adorned by one
of Flaxman’s best works) is almost close to that of Sir Christopher
Wren in the crypt of St. Paul’s, both in life connected with the little
Devonshire town, though by different ties and at different periods of
its history, and both resting from their labors in the great temple
which Wren built, and which Reynolds sought to adorn with his matchless



The subject for this evening, “The Employments of Heaven,” is in
some respects very difficult and, I fear that, to some of you, the
discussion will be less satisfactory. The science and philosophy of
this subject are chiefly by implication and suggestion. We have,
therefore, to depend almost entirely upon written revelation. I am not
unmindful of the fact that there are not a few people who say: “Why
talk of what the Bible says on this subject? We are not believers in
the Bible, and to us there is no more authority in it upon this subject
than there is in the Odyssey of Homer, or the Shastas of India.” Yes, I
understand you, but, all the same, let us study the book because of the
limited light we have upon this subject from other sources, and because
it has very much to say respecting this topic, and because such a man
as Sir Walter Scott has said: “There is but one book—the Bible.” May
we not wisely investigate what the Bible says upon the subject of the
hereafter? In discussing this subject, let us guard against the charge
of mistaken statement concerning things not revealed, and let us, on
the other hand, dwell with a fair degree of fullness upon those points
which, through the teaching of the sacred scriptures, have been made
known to us.

There is one thought that I would like to mention, because sometimes
it is a relief to that skeptical doubt which is common to the human
heart. It is this: That the world in which we now live, and the fact
that we are alive and in this world, and are conscious, active agents
here, are of all others the chief surprises and the chief wonders.
And, therefore, the fact of the future world, and of our personal joy
and activity in it, should not seem unreasonable. Think of it! Is any
greater wonder possible than that we are! Is the wonder greater that we
are to be conscious after we are dead, and that we are to be in a place
called heaven, than that we are now conscious and here now in a place
called this world! How came we first in possession of this personal,
wonderful consciousness? This is the thing which is incredible, if
anything is incredible. When a human being can say, “I now am,” or as
some one admirably put it, “I am here anyhow,” all further wonder ends.
To exist at all is a greater mystery than to exist forever.

In unfolding the subject before us, we begin with the revelation
variously and repeatedly set forth that, in the future life, there are
to be what may not be improperly termed entertainments, and among them
will be royal banquets. Feasts it is true, though spiritualized, seem
contrary to our ordinary notions of a heavenly life, and seem quite
contrary to other biblical revelation. These things seem to involve
litter, clatter, rubbish. Still we have to confess that the Bible is
quite full and quite clear on this subject. Note, for instance, the
following passages: “For I say unto you I will not drink henceforth
of the fruit of the vine until I drink it new with you in my father’s
kingdom.” Elsewhere he has said: “And I appoint unto a kingdom, as my
father hath appointed unto me: that ye may eat and drink at my table in
my kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”
Saith John in Revelation: “He that hath an ear let him hear what the
spirit saith unto the churches: To him that overcometh will I give
to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in
the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth, saving he that
receiveth it.”

We may modify these passages by one other, namely: “They shall hunger
no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them,
or any heat.” It is, therefore, feasting without hunger, and drinking
without thirst. But, says some one, “This is all figurative.” Perhaps
so, we have not said that it is not figurative; but, if figurative,
figurative of what? is a fair question. A figure implies something
represented by the figure. If not, there is no figure. Without pressing
any one for an immediate answer, we may be allowed to remark that
it is not always what one eats that constitutes a feast, not the
appetite only, but the soul enjoys the richest festal occasion. This
introduction of the kitchen and of kitchen service and utensils into
the kingdom of heaven is repugnant to our best thought. Between the
spiritual and the carnal, we must, therefore, carefully distinguish.
The latest deduction of both physiology and psychology is that smell
and taste are the senses most employed, especially that of taste; but
as yet there has been made no discovery of what it is that gives us the
sense of smell or taste. It is, certainly, not the objects themselves.
Here is a rose. I don’t smell the rose but I smell something which
comes from that rose through the atmosphere, called the odor or aroma.
Science tells us that it is an extra organic substance that we smell.
Here is a lump of sugar which I place in my mouth. I do not taste that
sugar, but it is an extra organic substance that I taste, and not the
sugar itself. The most, therefore, that can be said is not that the
rose is sweet, nor that sugar is sweet, but what we call the aroma of
the rose and the flavor of the sugar are sweet, and of this aroma and
flavor science is as ignorant as a child. Indeed, experiments show
that electricity if delicately applied to certain nerves may variously
produce the various sensations of taste and smell. Now, take into
account this extra organic substance, recognized in every department of
modern science, especially when the human organism is spiritualized,
then you may lift the spirituality of Heaven as high as you please.
You may make it as immaterial as a dream, still there will be abundant
opportunity to eat and drink at the Lord’s Table in the kingdom of the
Father Infinite and without any kitchen service required. The kitchen
is dispensed with, the table spread by hands of angels, spread with
this extra organic fruit and food, which are imperishable, which are
not literally eaten, but which none the less awaken every pleasureable
sensation and emotion of the soul. It is, then, that the spiritual can
say to the carnal, “I have meat to eat of which ye know not of.” It
will be the fullness of joy with no earthly inconvenience, its very
privilege, to wait the fulfillment of Christ’s words. “But I say unto
you I will drink no more the fruit of the vine until the day that I
drink it new with you in the kingdom of God.”

The teaching seems to be, then, that without anything that is gross,
without meat or drinks that are perishable, without fragments, yet in
company with friends and companions, in company with royal souls, and
in company with the Master, there will be fields of spiritual enjoyment
that resemble in some respects the most royal and festive occasions
of this earth. In other words, royal festival occasions on earth are
typical of the royal festal occasions of the kingdom of heaven.

But there is another kind of employment. It is reasonable, as well as
scriptural, to suppose that investigations into the various realms
of truth will invite our active and restless minds. One of the most
prominent characteristics of mankind is its unchangeable curiosity. How
intensely interested it is to learn the history of the ruder and early
times! How interested in every scrap of intelligence which reaches us
from the old dead world! How interested, too, in any light thrown upon
the civilization which preceded ours! What would not a man give for an
hour with Socrates or Plato! What would he not give to have pictured
out vividly before him some incident in the life of Christ! How
entrancing it will be in company with our dearest friends to explore
the secrets of eternity, the secret of God’s purpose, the divine
methods, with ample time, with an all power of intellect, with the
doors of knowledge flying wide open. We look, we enter, we contemplate,
until the soul is full, and the heart now almost leaps to bathe itself
in this infinite ocean of wisdom and knowledge.

Another thought growing out of our general subject, is that of regal
service and employment.

It is often represented in the Bible that redeemed men in the kingdom
of heaven will be a race of kings. Administration is natural to the
best types of humanity. The redeemed, too, by the discipline of life,
will be qualified for regal affairs.

“He that believeth in me, the works that I do shall he do also; and
greater works than these shall he do.” “And I appoint unto you a
kingdom as my father has appointed unto me.” “And I saw thrones and the
saints of God sat upon them, and judgment was given unto them.” “Know
ye not that the saints shall judge the world? and if the world shall be
judged by you, are ye unworthy to judge the smallest matters?”

It is clear, therefore, according to biblical theology, that God is
to share chief glories, not with angels nor archangels. They are only
ministering spirits. It is manhood and nothing else that has the
grandest coat of arms worn in God’s great empire. Just how, just where,
we may not understand, but the fact is clearly revealed that, as the
ages go on, the administration of universal affairs will be committed
to redeemed men.

But, in addition to princely entertainments, search for truth and
royal service, it is clearly revealed that friendly intercourse and
association are to be found in the future life. Man, the king, will
have kingly associates. Said Socrates, as reported by Plato: “Who would
not part with a great deal to purchase a meeting with Xenophon and

Charles Lamb wonderingly asks: “Shall I enjoy friendships in heaven, or
do all these things go out with my human life?”

No, we cannot believe upon scientific grounds that it is possible for
these associations to go out. And upon Bible grounds we are assured
that they will be continued and range through the intermediate ages,
and then on through the eternal ages of the kingdom of heaven.

“Neither marriage nor giving in marriage, but as the angels of heaven”
are words that show that the carnal and the transitory depart, but
the heart is none the less tender toward the heart which associates
with it: “I shall go to him,” says David, speaking of his dead boy.
And Christ says: “Father I will that they also whom thou has given me
be with me, where I am, that they may behold my glory which thou hast
given me.”

So, I think, we may say with perfect confidence that the association
of old time friends, of mutual rejoicings and congratulations among
old acquaintances, and the pursuit of truth in the same fields and
pathways side by side with those whom we have known and loved on earth,
are as well assured as any other doctrine in philosophy which has any
bearing upon the future life. Those words of the apostle that “We are
already surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses,” are a kind of mighty
assurance that those whom we love are already in watching to clasp our
hands in their own.

Once more among the clearly revealed entertainments of the kingdom
of heaven are those of the service of music. There will be songs and
singers in heaven. Indeed, we are informed definitely as to some of the
words which are to be employed. Three hymns, at least, are named which
are to be sung—“And they sing the song of Moses, the servant of God,
and the song of the Lamb, saying, Great and marvelous are thy works
Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways thou King of Saints.”

“And they sang a new song, saying: Thou art worthy to take the book and
to open the seals thereof; for thou wast slain and hast redeemed us to
God by thy blood out of every kindred and tongue and people and nation.”

Such are the Scripture representations, and are they not reasonable?
Are they not philosophical? Music on earth is wonderful is it not?
“Wonderful!” is your common exclamation when listening to some
extraordinary singer or player. Yes, music is wonderful; the harmony
of sound, the blending of human voices, the chimes of various
instruments, are all marvelous pieces of human combination and art,
and are thrilling and enchanting when brought near perfection. When,
therefore, in this present life, we find ourselves thrilled by music if
well rendered, can we doubt what are God’s thoughts respecting it and
respecting its use in the universe, for are we not made in his image?
Or when the giant winds draw their bows up and down the rough mountain
sides, when we hear æolian harps in every tree, and when we hear the
little woodland sparrow with throat no bigger than a pipe stem, yet
with song enough in it to be heard miles away, when we listen to the
many voices and sounds of nature, can we doubt that God thinks of music
something as we do? And when a passage is faultlessly rendered by
his children can we doubt that he says “well done?” Is not music too
wonderful, too full of charm, too soothing to the weary, not to have
one of the first places on the platform of our heavenly and eternal
entertainment? Allow me in this connection to call attention to another
fact, namely, that no class of artists is more willing to recognize the
spiritual source of their productions than eminent musical composers.
Before their most successful efforts, they confess to have heard
their own music, and to have listened, and then given the world what
they heard. Every note was old before it was committed to paper, and
it seemed to those eminent masters that the notes were heard by the
contact of the soul with something invisible. That is, the “Elijah”
of Mendelssohn, the “Creation” of Haydn, the “Messiah” of Handel, and
the like compositions, came of their own accord, or came as the music
comes from the æolian harps, when touched by the unseen fingers of the
wind. The slave who was asked “Where did your colored people get those
sweet and beautiful melodies?” replied, “God gave them to us,” and,
seemingly, that is the only way of accounting for those refrains which
have melted the hearts of peasants and of kings. I will not state these
matters dogmatically, but our present relation to the invisible world
may account for some of those inspirations. Therefore, every good and
perfect musical note as well as every good and perfect gift, cometh
down from the Father of Light, with whom there is no variableness or
shadow of turning. We have divine inspirations and we have divine
impressions oftener, no doubt, than we give credit for. I do not know
but these musical geniuses have God-given intellects so far reaching,
intuitions so acute, that they catch the notes of the rehearsals of
paradise when they are celebrating the return of some prodigal whom
they see here upon this earth, or the triumphant movements of the
Lord Jesus Christ with his retinue. They have certainly heard eternal
harmony, and harmony is harmony, be it on earth or in paradise, in time
or in eternity. Beethoven, whom some think the greatest and sweetest of
all modern musical masters, heard the wild melodies and harmonies of
the universe; imitated the hum of insects, the song of birds and the
trickling of water rills, long after being afflicted by an impenetrable
deafness which prevented the slightest sounds from entering the portals
of his ear.

You need not be surprised, therefore, at hearing in the eternal ages
notes with which you are perfectly familiar. The sweetest and the most
inspiring chords that are now heard are those that will be made there,
for the ideal is divine and the divine is eternal, and the eternal must
find repeated expression. That marvelous production, “The Messiah”
of Handel, which pervades all modern Christian song, is in some of
its parts, we may be very confident, the same that will chant the
Redeemer’s praise forever. “Old Hundred” and “Coronation” can hardly
be dispensed with. I verily believe that very soon after we enter the
portals of the heavenly world we shall sing “Praise God, from whom all
blessings flow,” and “All hail the power of Jesus’s name.”

But Revelations still further assures us that the music in the kingdom
of heaven is to have remarkable accompaniments. There is the mention
of harps, and the mention of trumpets, and the rumble of thunder, all
wrought into the music of that world.

At first thought these revelations are bewildering, but, perhaps, the
peace jubilee of Boston will illustrate what can be done with ponderous
agencies and appliances. The anvil chorus, as you remember, was
extremely popular, where the music was played on blacksmith’s anvils
with solid hammers, and the artillery accompaniment was even more
popular, where music fell from the blazing lips of cannon. The child
was awe-struck yet delighted, the man of years was thrilled and said,
“Is the kingdom of heaven upon us?” It is a remarkable fact that gas
jets and electricity have been utilized, and are now made to play the
most beautiful arrangements and harmonies.

Now, such, according to the Bible, are the accompaniments which are to
sustain the redeemed when their hearts are almost bursting with the
song: “Blessing and honor and glory and power be unto him that sitteth
upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever and ever.” We are repeatedly
assured that the good and pure of the universe from all lands, east
and west, north and south, shall be gathered together, and that the
voice of a great multitude as the voice of many waters and as the voice
of mighty thunderings shall be heard pouring forth their melody with
the precision, delicacy and electric touch of a single voice, saying:
“Hallelujah, for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.”

Where, of all places on this earth, is music the most enchanting? You
have listened to it in halls and in churches, you have heard it in city
squares and in congregations, and at the evening hour you have heard it
on some beautiful sheet of water. My question is doubtless answered.
Your ideal is right, for nowhere else is music quite so sweet as by the
water side; and it is remarkable that the inspired writer tells us that
the golden harps are to stand upon the broad and beautiful, the eternal
and delightful sea which extends before the throne of God, and whose
surface resembles sparkling and transparent crystals.

The metropolis of heaven, in which and before which, as John tells
us, the grand musical entertainments are to be given, is a beautiful
and wonderful city. The measurements as given in Revelation make it
to be a city of fifteen hundred miles square, a city, therefore, in
extent as great as would be one extending from Boston, Massachusetts,
to Omaha, Nebraska; from Omaha to Monterey, Mexico; from Monterey to
Havana, Cuba, and from Havana back to Boston—a city larger than all the
dead cities of the past, and of all the living cities of the present
combined; and a city large enough to hold, without any crowding, all
the people who ever lived upon this earth; whose atmosphere is so
telephonic that the slightest touch upon the most delicate wire of the
harp will be perfectly heard in the most distant palace.

Now, who that has any music in his soul (and who has not?) but desires
that the service of song shall constitute a part of these heavenly
entertainments. After our introduction to that new world, after the
reunions, after the formation of new companionships, when we realize
that we are safe, and when we realize that we are to sin no more, it
seems to me the hearts of God’s children would almost burst, could they
not upon the shores of that crystal sea shout and sing the triumphs of

I will just add the thought that all these entertainments, this
kingship, this study, this companionship, this service of song, are to
be endless and without weariness. What charms and attractions betimes
hover about this idea of the future endless possession and existence!
What joy, and, again, what perplexity! Are we to live on, and on, and
on, as conscious beings, forever, with no thought of death, or of
sickness, or of separation from those we love? This must be confessed,
that, according to revelation, it is a duration without shore, without
measure, without bound, without a falling leaf, without a setting sun,
that is to greet us on the shores of another world. Speak to us, thou
endless existence filled with songs, filled with entertainments, filled
with friendships, filled with joys,—speak to us, that we may somehow
comprehend thee! And there comes back to us a solemn response, saying,
“O, mortal, you must experience before you can fully comprehend the
magnitude of a future existence.” But, through his infinite mercy, it
will be our privilege to sing his praise, to feast at the table of
royalty, to enjoy the choicest companionships, to explore the sublime
realms of truth, and to hold the sceptre of dominion forever. All this
belongs to our privilege, and yet we may imperil our privilege.



    Strive not to fill an angel’s part
      Without an angel’s wing:
    But, as it is, thy human heart
      To God, thy Maker, bring.
    His patience never doth abate
      Howe’er we sin and fall;
    Be patient with thyself, and wait
      Till patience conquers all.

    Grieve never that thy daily task
      A homely outline shows;
    For bulbs unsightly oft may mask
      The sweetest flower that blows.
    The work so light-esteemed may gain
      A place, and claim a power
    That works far grander seek in vain,
      Though unto heaven they tower.

    Look not without for blame or praise,
      Look upward and within:
    And, through the swift-revolving days,
      With each, thy task begin.
    And lo! as grows the kingly tree,
      By force of inward might,
    Thy life, to those around shall be
      Majestic, strong and bright.

    With patience work—with gladness, love,
      Nor seek results to scan:
    Who works, but will not wait, must prove
      A discord in God’s plan.
    Let body, mind, and soul, and will
      To labor be addressed—
    Press thou with courage onward still
      And leave to him the rest.



There is noticeable similarity between nature and the Bible, the work
and the word. There are countless evidences indicating that they have
the same author. No case resting on evidence was ever clearer. You can
always detect a master’s style in his creations; certain peculiarities
are sure to appear. You can recognize a Rubens in the old galleries
by the blonde hair, the pinkish tint of the flesh, and the luxurious
stoutness of the physique. So the brush of Murillo and Guido, and every
great artist carries its own mark. So one mark is on nature and the
Bible. They are done in the same style. In Raphael, the reality of
the earthly, and the gracefulness of the heavenly, never fail to be
blended in wonderful harmony, apparent always to the practiced eye. His
figures are pyramids of strength, transfused with celestial beauty.
Nature confirms some of the most important doctrines of the Bible—some
that men would rule out, or quietly ignore; but nature comes to their
support, as another attraction of the same God, to the same truth. In
nature, when spring comes, it is by silent and imperceptible approach,
like the dawn of the morning. First, a bluebird’s note on the bare tree
tops (no one saw her come), then the song of the robin. It is first the
crocus, lifting up her head, and then the tulip and the hyacinth, while
a tint, a shade softer, comes in the sky. One by one other birds and
flowers appear, and at last, the full tide sets in, and beauty mounts
the earth, and balm fills the air. The glory of the seasons is upon us,
and the heart is entranced with the wonders of loveliness in the midst
of which it moves.

So the Bible: First, the simple promise to Eve, far back in the moral
winter of man’s estate, “The seed of the woman shall bruise the
serpent’s head.” This was the lone note of the bluebird, sounding out
in the midst of the desolations of a fallen world. It was the first
soft tint in the cold sky. By-and-by the promise to Abraham, “In thy
seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed.” This was the
trailing arbutus. At last the definite announcement of a coming Savior
to Isaiah, “Behold a virgin shall conceive and bring forth a son, and
his name shall be called Immanuel [God with us], for he shall save
his people from their sins.” This was the blossom of the fig tree
which showed that summer was nigh. Thus did revelation come slowly,
through ages of delay, till at last in the fulness of time God unsealed
his wonders, the star, the wise men, the angelic host, the watching
shepherds, the “_gloria in excelsis_,” the earth breaking forth into
singing, the desert places blooming as the rose, and fragrance of
spices in all the air. Verily the God of nature and of the Bible is
one God, the method of God in nature testifying that it is the same
God in the Bible. In nature everything is in the concrete. We have the
raw material in bulk there: the gold must be mined and melted; the
timber must be cut, and squared with saw and ax; the stones fashioned
with hammer and chisel; the land cleared and plowed and dressed. So
different is this from the art of man, who puts everything in rows and
squares, and introduces order everywhere. Similarly, revelation gives
ideas, not forms. It scatters germs of thought, not finished creeds. It
throws out great truths, doctrines, principles, not definite rules and
completed systems. Everything as in nature must be carefully searched
out, reduced and put in order. A casual observer would have no idea of
the riches in the Bible, any more than in nature. Here is a doctrine
mixed with a duty; there is a precept bound up with a paragraph of
history. In one place is a miracle, where you looked for a promise;
in another is prophecy, where you had expected law, and so on through.
Strange, you say, so many curious things in the Bible, so much that is
irreverent, so little system, so wanting in arrangement. But it is just
like nature. There is a complete and definite order, a general organic
unity runs from the first page to the last. Written by sixty-six
different authors, and sixteen hundred years in the composition, it
is still one book, one plan. All the parts combine to make the great
whole. It must be studied out. Like nature, the Bible is planned to tax
the higher faculties of man, to put them to search, and develop and
enlarge them by thoughts and endeavors. Little study makes little men.
What is lightly acquired is carelessly held. Easy lessons make barren
lives. Out of the depths by toil come the great riches of head and
heart. Down from the heights after profound thought the larger wisdom
is brought. It is the glory of kings to search out a matter, and men
become kings only as God puts them to kingly effort and service. This
method of God in nature makes princes in science, as men learn to think
God’s thoughts after him. This method in the Bible makes strong men.
Verily the God of nature is also God of the Bible, and they will stand
together, the Word as enduring as the world.

In nature there is no withholding of mysteries, no avoidance of
difficulties, because they may disturb some weak faith, trouble
somebody. The great God of the universe lets out his power and displays
his wisdom, and builds up to his own level, whether anyone can
understand or not. Out of nothing, nothing comes. Out of the infinite
comes infinite greatness and wisdom, beyond the scope of man. There
is a startling boldness in God’s works. In nature contradictions are
piled mountains high, no matter whether man can reconcile them or
not. Paradoxes abound without regard to how they will strike men; no
explanations are vouchsafed; men are not followed up and told why this
is, and why that. They have to take it as it comes. In nature, man is
placed in the midst of untold wonders and marvels, without a word, and
he is left there to grapple with the highest problems, and think them
out. God does not “baby” his children, in these things. This is the
highest kind of teaching. Man never finds his littleness, and begins to
learn, and climb, till he is put on such a stretch. In this is God’s
wisdom, as well as his greatness. Just this is God’s method, also, in
the Bible. It is the most bold and fearless of books: mysteries utterly
inexplicable it sets before you; difficulties the most irreconcilable
it plants on every page, with no attempt at solution. God is master
and in command; God governs, and not the skeptics or theologians.
Prophecies are uttered, miracles are performed upon God’s plans, as is
easy for him. Man may believe, or let it alone. As in nature, God can
not be less than himself. There is much in nature and in the Bible that
man never can think out, but nature is not the less to man because it
is so much above him. The very fact helps to lift him; man needs Alps
on Alps above him. If the Bible were more easy, contained fewer hard
sayings and knotty doctrines, it would show a less wonderful God, it
would be a less powerful stimulant and helper to men. Is not the God of
nature and the Bible one God—the work confirming the book? In nature
there is loveliness and peace, terror and death; what more calm and
delightful than a quiet sunset? What more terrible than tornado and
tempest? You have seen the fire of lightning, and heard death riding
on the blast in the black darkness. There are peaceful vales of earth
filled with the song of birds, the hum of bees, and the gentle lullaby
of brooks. But are there not cyclones and whirlwinds, lightnings and
thunders, that rend and wreck, and devastate—earthquakes that swallow
up whole cities—volcanoes which belch liquid fires? In the midst of
beauty and loveliness men starve, and burn, and drown, and rot with
loathsome disease, and die.

Now there is no question in the world’s best thought, but that God
is good, wonderfully good, notwithstanding all these sufferings and
sorrows. Turn to the Bible, what love is there! what goodness and
patience! what mercy and grace, for every son of man abundantly
bestowed! God is not willing that any should perish. He would rather
that all should turn and live. But suffering for sin is there, and
punishment for guilt. What forked lightnings play against wickedness!
what thunders roll for transgression! There is the worm that never
dies, the fire that is never quenched, the outer darkness where there
is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Heaven is there, with all
its bliss, for those who love and obey God, and hell is there with all
its bale and blight for those who die unforgiven and unreconciled to
God. Because of these things, many throw away the Bible and reproach
God, and seek after an easier way; but they can not throw away nature,
and the same law and method of government inhere in the very core of
nature, and are stamped in all its structure. Where this truth is not
read out of God’s word, it is still read every day in nature.

In nature there is a majestic order which is gone through, and then
nature has no more to give. There is seed time, and a harvest.
Both have their place and office, and if they are improved, well,
unspeakably well; if disregarded, bad, unspeakably bad. The Bible
offers to man a seed time and a harvest. The sowing neglected there
is nothing to take its place. This is the only seed time of the soul;
swiftly the summer ends, and the harvest is the end of the world. As
nature treats man, so does the Bible; without faith and works, the
Bible gives nothing; without ploughing and sowing all the pastures
of the prairies would fail to give man anything; nature cuts off a
sluggard with a straw; without sowing, man reaches the harvest time and
brings in no sheaf. Nature deals squarely: without the seed committed
to her, there are weeds in the autumn; nothing but leaves. So with the
Bible: it demands our confidence, and asks our service; we must heed
its call. Nature is so made as to reward man increasingly, as he rises
in intelligence and his wants multiply. When wood was gone for fuel,
coal came. When the whale oil gave out, petroleum was at hand. After
the paddle came the sail, then the steamship. When the mail carrier
was too slow, the rail car appeared, followed by the lightning of the
telegraph. Nature has her supplies in waiting, and reveals them more
and more through the growing needs of the ages. So of the Bible. Many
said the Bible would do for the stiff-necked Jews in Palestine, but
it would never suit the practical sense of the Romans and the subtle
intellectual taste of the Greeks. It did both. Then it was claimed it
would not avail for the barbarians of northern Europe. It was adopted
by every European nation. Still it was held that the Bible would not
reclaim cannibals and the savages of Africa. It has done for all,
lifted all of every class which it has touched, and it has power to
carry the race higher and wider till the end of time.

An oriental prince brought a tent to his father in a walnut shell,
so runs the legend. The king took it out and began to unfold it. It
covered the king and his counselors. It covered the royal household. It
covered his generals and the army. It covered the kingdom. It covered
the whole world. It was Christianity. God was the father, and the
prince was Jesus Christ, the Messiah. The kingdoms of this world shall
become the kingdom of our Lord. The God of nature and of the Bible is
one God.

       *       *       *       *       *

Resist as much as thou wilt; Heaven’s ways are Heaven’s



Before the publication of Mr. Green’s “Short History,” 86,000 copies of
which have been sold in England alone, Mr. Green, although a voluminous
essayist in the _Saturday Review_, was absolutely unknown by name
to the general public. It is not true, as was asserted in a leading
journal, that the success of his book surprised his friends. In 1863,
the clergyman whom he followed at Holy Trinity, Hoxton, said to me, “I
think we have a giant among us in Johnny Green.” “I made up my mind
about that,” I replied, “the very first night I saw and spoke to him.”
Mr. Freeman, Prof. Stubbs, Dr. Stanley, and, I may say, Archbishop
Tait, all knew of his powers before he became famous at a leap, and I
venture to say not one of them was surprised at his success. I think he
was more surprised himself.

He was filled with a great love of historical study, but was generally
diffident about his own work. “I read it over,” he said to me in the
old days, when I was favored with copious extracts; “and I write and
re-write, and wonder after all whether it is worth much—whether any one
else will read it!”

His own standard was so high, his knowledge so great, and his critical
friends, Freeman, Stubbs, Brewer, etc., so accomplished, that he
was inclined to be generally very modest about his own rank as an
historian, and at times even wavered in his general design.

When I first knew Mr. Green, he was revolving a work which should deal,
I believe, with the Plantagenet period, illustrate the story of the
Great Charter, and the making of the English political constitution.
The first fragment he put into my hand in type was Stephen’s Ride to

At the instance of Mr. Macmillan, the publisher, he abandoned the
_magnum opus_ for a season, and taking, in one wide sweep, the whole
of English history, produced that unique and popular narrative which
raised him immediately into the very first rank of historians.

I remember his anxiety to bring the book within the reach of the
masses, to make it a cheap book, his battle with the publisher on that
ground, and his final victory.

    “They will not see,” he said, “that by this horror of
    _dead stock_ and constant issue of dear books, which
    means small profits and quick returns to them, they
    miss the bulk of the middle classes, who are the real
    readers—the upper classes and the very poor don’t
    read—and you make your new books so dear, that your
    middle class, who do, can’t buy. Look at America; you
    ought to bring literature to people’s doors. If I were
    a publisher, I would have a vast hawking-system, and
    send round my travelers with cheap books to every alley
    and suburban district within ten miles of London.”

This intense sympathy with the people, no doubt, had to do with those
innate democratic and republican tendencies in Mr. Green which so
alarmed the _Quarterly Review_, but they were immensely quickened by
his many-sided experiences in the East-end of London.

In those Hoxton and Stepney districts, where he was my fellow curate,
and my constant friend and companion for two years, he was learning to
know the English people. He had read about them in books. In Stepney he
rubbed elbows with them. He had a student’s acquaintance with popular
movements; but the people are their own best interpreter; and if you
want to understand their ways in the past, you can not do better
than study our present poor-law guardian, navvy, artisan, East-end
weaver, parish Bumble, clerk, publican, and city tradesmen, in the
nineteenth-century flesh.

Mr. Green never worked more vigorously at his history than when he
was busy reading its turbulent popular movements, and mixed social
influences, secular and religious, in the light of mechanics’
institutes, poor-law difficulties, parochial squabbles, and dissenting
jealousies. The postponement of his history until the harvest of this
precious experience had been fully reaped, gave him that insight into
the secret springs of popular enthusiasm, suffering, and achievement
which makes his history alive with the heart-beats of our common
humanity, instead of mouldy with the smell of moth-eaten MSS. and dead
men’s bones.

That slight nervous figure, below the medium height; that tall
forehead, with the head prematurely bald; the quick but small eyes,
rather close together; the thin mouth, with lips seldom at rest, but
often closed tightly as though the teeth were clenched with an odd
kind of latent energy beneath them; the slight, almost feminine hands;
the little stoop; the quick, alert step; the flashing exuberance of
spirits; the sunny smile; the torrent of quick invective, scorn, or
badinage, exchanged in a moment for a burst of sympathy or a delightful
and prolonged flow of narrative—all this comes back to me, vividly! And
what narrative, what anecdote, what glancing wit! What a talker! A man
who shrank from society, and yet was so fitted to adorn and instruct
every company he approached, from a parochial assembly to a statesman’s

But how enchanting were my walks with him in the Victoria Park, that
one outlet of Stepney and Bethnal Green! I never in my life so lost
count of time with any one before or since.

Green would live through a period. Two hours on the Venetian Republic,
with every conceivable branch of allied history, literature, and
politics thrown in, yet willing to listen and gather up at any moment;
infinite speculations at other times on theology, philosophy; schemes
for the regeneration of mankind; minute plans for the management of our
East-end districts; anecdotes of the poor; rarer veins of sentiment and
personal criticism.

I have sometimes, after spending the evening with him at my lodgings,
walked back to St. Philip’s Parsonage, Stepney, toward midnight,
talking; then he has walked back with me in the summer night, talking;
and when the dawn broke it has found us belated somewhere in the lonely
Mile-end Road, still unexhausted, and still talking.

At such times we have neither of us undressed all night—that was so
especially in the cholera times—but I would go back to St. Philip’s and
sleep on a sofa till breakfast-time.

In those days we were both feeling our way, through similar
experiences, to conclusions of a somewhat different nature; but the
memory of many precious hours of soul-communion remains with me, as
something sacred and beautiful beyond words. I think at such times we
grow in mind and develop in character in days and nights, more than in
months and years of slower vitality and lessened intensity.

In 1866 the cholera broke out in the East-end of London. Mr. Green was
then Incumbent of St. Philip’s, Stepney, and I had just removed to a
curacy at the West-end; but his position at this time was very lonely,
and I was glad to go out to be with him whenever I could. I am sorry
to say that in the general cholera panic a good many who ought to have
remained at their posts forsook them, and this made the work very heavy
for people of any means and influence who still felt bound to reside in
the affected districts.

Although Mr. Green’s parish did not suffer as heavily as some, yet in
some streets the mortality was very great. The dead could hardly be got
away quickly enough. The neighbors often refused to touch them. I have
known Mr. Green take an active part in sending off the cholera beds for
burning, and getting the corpses out of the houses. The only people who
seemed willing to help him were the lowest women of the town. These
poor girls rallied round the active and public-spirited clergyman;
and it was no uncommon thing to see Mr. Green going down the lowest
back streets in Stepney, on his way to some infected house, between
two women of the town, who had volunteered with him on such sad and
perilous service to the dead and dying, as was daily to be done, and
was daily being left undone, in those dismal times.—_The Contemporary


By S. J. M. EATON, D.D.

This State reaches down toward the tropics. The twenty-ninth parallel
of latitude marks the frost line. Below this is the land of perennial
flowers and ever ripening fruits. Even before you reach the favored
line there are scenes and surroundings that remind you that the winter
is past, that the time of the singing of birds is perpetual, and that
nature is most prodigal of her gifts in lands nearest the pathway of
the sun. In recalling the history of Ponce de Leon, one can not fail
of sympathizing with him in his search for the fountain of perpetual
youth. That search was not only characteristic of the age in which he
lived, but in sympathy with the secret wants and wishes of all the
lands and all the ages. Moreover in such a quest as this, Florida of
all places seems fittest and best. It was rightly named at the first
“The land of flowers.” They bloom in wondrous fragrance on the orange
and lemon trees; they expand in gigantic proportions on the banana
tree; they break forth in lavish magnificence on the magnolia. And
along the rivers and other water courses strange trees and gorgeous
shrubs greet the eye, and tell how prodigal nature is in the display
of her resources, and with what wonderful magnificence she can clothe
the face of the landscape in regions remote from wintry blasts. Even
in central Florida, where frosts sometimes come, there is a wealth of
trees and flowers and fruits that transforms the whole country into
fairy land almost, as the summer sun with its genial heats kisses it
into life, beauty, and fragrance.

The Ocklawaha River is one of the delightful features of central
Florida. It is wild and weird and novel in all its aspects. One of its
branches is the Silver Spring, that is really an anomaly in nature.
This branch of the river has its origin in the celebrated fountain
known as the “Silver Spring,” and that as a fountain might, from its
beauty and purity and liquid clearness, well be mistaken for the fabled
one that was the object of the quest of Ponce de Leon. Whether it was
ever visited by this romantic knight or not, it is worthy to be the
shrine of many a pilgrim in search of the beautiful and the romantic.
This wonderful spring gushes forth from the bosom of the earth in
volume sufficient to form at once a small river. The steamboats run
up and float in the bosom of the spring, which is large enough to
float four or five at once without jostling. The water is clear and
sparkling, and although seventy-five feet in depth, yet as you gaze
down into its recesses every pebble and shell can be seen as plainly as
though in the bottom of a small vase. And as the boat rests upon its
bosom noiselessly and quietly, you think of the simile of the swan,
“floating double—swan and shadow.” This immense volume of water comes
up noiselessly, causing scarcely a ripple upon the face of the spring,
and floats away as silently amid the shadows, to join the main body of
the Ocklawaha. Whence comes this immense reservoir of water? Where is
the hidden source that furnishes its mighty volume? Were it not for
its crystal purity and sweetness we might imagine it held mysterious
communion with the ocean, and drew its vast supply from the bosom of
the great deep. The outflow maintains its purity until it joins the
main branch of the river, when its association with it causes it to
partake of the same character, becoming somewhat muddy, and bearing
the dark shadows of the overhanging trees, and thickly strewn with the
leaves of aquatic plants that grow luxuriantly along its margin. From
the Silver Spring down into the Ocklawaha, and on to its junction with
the St. John’s, the channel is narrow and tortuous, running toward
every point of the compass, spreading itself out to great widths in
some places, in others confined within its narrow channel, but always
surrounded with wild and strange scenery. Although in the general the
banks are utterly indefinable, as the water runs back to an indefinite
distance, yet there is no appearance of aught that would cause malaria.
Every here and there a slight avenue opens through which a skiff or
canoe might be pushed far out into the forest. The channel itself is
so narrow and tortuous that the steamer threads its way with great
difficulty. In many places the branches overreach the stream and seem
to bar the further progress of the little craft, and render futile all
efforts to proceed. In some of the narrow turns a stout boatman is
stationed in the bow with a pole to assist in turning the boat when
almost a right angle prevents the ordinary working of the machinery in
its navigation.

All along this wonderful stream nature reveals her most luxuriant
growth of vegetation. Here is the palm, with its strangely contorted
trunk and corrugated bark. By its side is the palmetto with fantastic
branches, and wide-spreading leaves. Many of the trees send up their
gnarled roots in high arches underneath which the water runs at will.
Great trailing masses of vines cling to the trees, and weigh down
their branches almost to the water, often reaching from one tree to
another, making a dense grove, and shutting out the sunlight from the
water beneath. Lower down, and clinging to the banks on either side,
are all manner of aquatic plants, beautiful in leaf and luxuriant in
flower, gleaming often like bright jewels in the soft sunshine. Lilies
of various varieties rest in the water, their bright green leaves
surrounding their flowers of waxy white and yellow gold as they recline
in their cool bath. By their side are plants with arrow-shaped leaves,
with white blooms lined with pistils and stamens yellow as virgin gold,
and others with flowers of blue, around which gorgeous little humming
birds, reflecting the sunlight, and flashing like living jewels, buzz
and coquet with the flowers as they extract their luscious sweets for a
moment, and then dart off with a flash and disappear. Animated nature
is busy adding variety to the scene, from beauty all the way to the
beast. Golden beetles, blue-bottle flies, and gilded butterflies in
velvet and spangles, float to and fro; water-bugs with varnished wings
dart over the surface of the water. Birds of gorgeous plumage arise in
the distance and sail up the stream. The oriole with its magnificent
feathers of orange and black; the blue jay with its livery of blue and
white, and its sharp cutting note, and the great red flamingo, with
awkward, ungainly form, its long spindling legs and small snake-like
neck, and plumage of red, like an Egyptian sunset, are seen; the
former two darting quickly from tree to tree; the latter standing in
the water in some sequestered spot, idly dreaming the time away, and
apparently indifferent as to whether the earth turns upon its axis or
not. Near the bank a water serpent might be seen urging his way with
arrowy motion through the water, defiantly thrusting out his tongue
with a malice born in Eden, perhaps, or lying in the warm sun on a
fragment of bark, not considering it important to move, yet pushing
out the same scornful challenge. At times a magnificent specimen of
the alligator is seen in the distance sunning himself on a log, but
rolling incontinently into the water at the approach of the boat, or
the slightest alarm from any cause. The poor saurian who has arrived
at years of discretion, has learned from bitter experience that the
human sportsman carrying firearms is not to be trusted, in this age of
Spencer rifles. He therefore retires in good order at their approach.
But nearer at hand the infant alligator has less fear. He can be seen
creeping up the bank, careening upon the waves that are thrown up by
the motion of the boat, sporting in the shallow water with youthful
indifference to danger, and with great stupid eyes and shockingly open
countenance, gazing up at the passing visitors. And so the boat glides
and twists and forces its way down the current, the branches on either
side sweeping its sides and even its upper decks. The entire scene is
one of kaleidoscopic beauty and variety, until the mighty St. John’s is
reached, and the craft that has done you such good service is safely
moored at the wharf at Palatka.



Coffee is the berry of an evergreen tree, which grows to a height of
about twenty feet, and which is largely cultivated in Arabia, Ceylon,
Jamaica, and the Brazils. The berry is plucked when sufficiently ripe,
and carefully stored away. It is principally composed of a sort of hard
paste or meal, similar to that of the almond or bean, which is destined
by nature to form the earliest nourishment of the young germ contained
in the seed. When this meal is exposed to strong heat, it is partly
turned into the fragrant flavor, which is familiar to all drinkers of
coffee. Hence coffee is always roasted before it is employed in the
preparation of beverage. The process is best accomplished by placing
the berries in a hollow cylinder of iron, kept turning rapidly round
over a clear fire until they put on a light chestnut color, when they
require to be cooled quickly by tossing them up into the air. Roasted
coffee contains, besides its fragrance, the white nerve food already
alluded to in speaking of tea, a remnant of the nutritious meal,
unaltered by the roasting, and a slightly astringent matter. Its nature
is, therefore, singularly like to that of tea, and its action on the
living frame is precisely the same. When drunk in moderation, coffee
supports and refreshes the body, and makes the food consumed with it
go further than it otherwise would. Coffee is, upon the whole, less
astringent than tea; it also contains only half the quantity that tea
has, weight for weight, of the active nerve food. Hence it can be taken
stronger than tea, and so has more of the other nourishing ingredients
in any given bulk. A cup of strong coffee generally holds about the
same quantity of the active nerve food as a weak cup of tea.

As with tea, so with coffee; it requires to be prepared differently,
accordingly as the object is, to get from it the finest flavor or the
greatest amount of nourishment. The most delicious coffee may be made
by using a tin vessel, called a percolator, having a false bottom at
mid-height, drilled full of fine holes, and a spout coming off from
beneath the false bottom. Finely-ground coffee is to be pressed and
beaten down firmly upon the false bottom, and then boiling water is to
be poured over it through a kind of coarse cullender, so arranged as
to break its descent into a boiling shower. The hot water thus gently
rained down on the coffee then drains gradually through it, carrying
all the finer parts and flavors with it into the vessel beneath, but
leaving behind the coarser matters. For the convenience of consumers,
coffee is now commonly removed from the roaster at once into a mill
driven by steam, and is there ground while still hot. It is then
pressed out from the mill directly into tin cases prepared to receive
it, these being immediately closed very carefully. By these means
the coffee is sent out, ready for use, with all its most excellent
qualities clinging about it. Three drachms of ground coffee of this
quality are abundantly sufficient to furnish two small cups of a most
delicious beverage.

When quantity of nourishment, rather than fineness of flavor, is the
thing desired, the ground coffee should be placed in a clean dry pot
standing over the fire, and be kept there until thoroughly hot, being
stirred constantly, so that it may not burn. About five grains of
carbonate of soda should then be added for each ounce of coffee, and
boiling water be poured on, the whole being closely covered up and
allowed to stand near the fire, without simmering, for some time. When
about to be used, it should either be gently poured off into cups,
without shaking it, or it should be strained through a linen cloth into
another pot. An ounce of coffee employed in this way is sufficient for
the preparation of two pints of strong nutritious drink.

A small evergreen tree grows in the West Indies, Mexico, and Peru,
which bears a large fruit something like a melon. In this fruit there
are a great number of seeds resembling beans. When the fruit is ripe,
it is plucked from the tree and split open, and the seeds are picked
out and dried in the sun. After these beans have been roasted in an
iron cylinder, in the same manner as coffee, they, too, become bitter
and fragrant, and are turned into what is known as cocoa. To form cocoa
nibs, the husk of the roasted bean is stripped off, and the rest is
broken up into coarse fragments. In the preparation of chocolate, the
cocoa nibs are ground up and turned into a sort of paste, by admixture
with sugar and spices. The unhusked bean is also crushed between heavy
rollers, and made into a coarser kind of paste, with starch and sugar,
and is then sold in cakes.

Cocoa contains about the same quantity of the nerve-food ingredient as
tea, and besides this it also contains a nutritious meal. More than
half its weight is, however, made up of a rich oily substance, nearly
resembling butter in nature. When cocoa is prepared by stirring the
paste up in boiling water, all these several ingredients are present
in the drink. It is then as nourishing as the very strongest kind of
vegetable food, and scarcely inferior to milk itself. It indeed is
richer than milk in one particular; it contains twice as much fuel
substance, or butter, and if the nerve-food ingredient be taken into
the reckoning, it is scarcely inferior in supporting power. On account
of its richness it often disagrees with persons of weak digestion,
unless it be prepared in a lighter way, that is, by simply boiling the
cocoa nibs in water, and mixing the beverage produced with enough milk
to reduce its great excess of oily principle. Cocoa serves at once as
an agreeable and refreshing beverage, and as a highly nutritious food
for healthy and hard-working people. It has in itself the excellence of
milk and tea combined.

The beverages which are also prepared by soaking the seeds of
vegetables in hot water, but which are not then drunk until a further
change of the nature of partial decay has been produced in them, are
of a very unlike character to those which have been hitherto under
consideration. Although there are several different kinds of this
class, they all stand together under the family name of beer. Now this
much must at once be said for these beverages. There is in all of them
both flesh-making substance and fuel-substance. The first gives to the
liquor its body, and the second confers its sweetness. The barley-corn
contains the same kinds of ingredients as the wheat-grain, and by the
operation of malting the starch is chiefly turned into sugar. If a
gallon of strong ale be boiled over a fire, until all the more watery
parts are steamed away, there will be found at the bottom of the
vessel rather more than a quarter of a pound of dry remainder. This is
flesh-making substance, and sugar, which were originally taken out of
the malt. If a gallon of milk were treated in the same way, there would
be found nearly a pound of similar dry substance. Strong beer therefore
contains about one-third part as much nourishment as an equal quantity
of milk. When beer is drunk, its watery parts are at once sucked from
the digesting-bag into the supply-pipes, to be poured through the
body with the blood; this is how beer quenches the thirst. The thicker
portions are pushed on through the sluice-gate of the stomach in a
digesting state, and are, in fact, treated in every respect as ordinary

Mixed with the thinner parts of beer, which are thus sucked into
the supply-pipes, there is, however, an ingredient which is not
as unquestionably nourishing as the thicker principles, and which
certainly is not as good a thirst-quencher and dissolver as water.
Flesh-making substance and fuel-substance, either in the state of
starch or sugar, may be kept unchanged any long period of time if
thoroughly dry, and shut up from the air. When they are moist and
exposed to the air, they directly begin to spoil and decay. In beer,
these substances are mixed with a large quantity of water, and are
exposed to the air, at least during the brewing. Hence, in beer,
both are found in a spoiled and decaying state. In this case, the
process of decay is called fermentation, or “puffing up,” because
the vapors produced by the decay, froth the sticky liquid in which
they are set free. The yeast which rises to the surface of fermenting
beer, is decaying and spoiling flesh-making substance. The spoiled
fuel-substance (sugar) froths and bubbles away into the air as vapor.

But the fuel-substance (sugar) does not, as it decays, bubble away into
vapor all at one leap. It makes a halt for a little while in a half
decayed state, and in this half decayed state it has a very spiteful
and fiery nature. In that fiery and half-decayed condition it forms
what is known as ardent, or burning spirit. Beer always has some, as
yet, undecayed and unchanged sugar remaining in it, when it is drunk,
but it also always has some half decayed sugar or spirit, and bubbling
vapors formed by the progress of decay. It is these ingredients of
the beer which give it the fresh and warm qualities for which, as a
beverage, it is chiefly esteemed.

The spirituous ingredient of fermented liquors is directly sucked with
the water out of the stomach into the supply-pipes of the body, and
poured everywhere through them. There is no doubt concerning that fact.
Animals have been killed and examined a few minutes after fermented
liquor had been placed in their digesting bags, and the ardent spirit
has been found in great quantity in their supply-pipes, their hearts,
and their nerve-marrows and brains.

But some doubt does yet remain as to what the exact nature of the
influence is which the ardent spirit exerts, when it has been
introduced into these inner recesses of the living body in small
quantity, and as much diluted by admixture with water as it is in
most beers. Some persons, whose opinions can not be held to be
without weight, believe that diluted spirit is capable of aiding the
nourishment of the body—of acting as a sort of food. Others of equal
authority are convinced that it can do nothing of the kind.

But however the matter may appear regarding the power of ardent spirit
to nourish, no doubt can be entertained of the fact, that it certainly
is not a necessary food. There is actually nothing of a material kind
in the bodies of human creatures, which is not also present in the
frames of the irrational animals. The same kind of structures have to
be nourished, and the same kind of bodily powers to be supported in
oxen and sheep as in men. But oxen and sheep fatten, and grow strong,
and are maintained in health without ever touching so much as a single
drop of ardent spirit. There are hundreds of men, too, who preserve
their vigor and health up to great ages, without even tasting fermented

It must also be admitted that there are great numbers of people who
use fermented liquors in moderation every day, of whom the same can
be said. But it is to be feared that those who are safely moderate in
their employment of these treacherous agents, are a really small band
compared with those who allow themselves to be continually within the
reach of unquestionable danger. In the United Kingdoms of Great Britain
and Ireland, with a population amounting to rather less than thirty
millions of individuals, when the numbers were lately reckoned, there
were yearly sixty-one millions of gallons of ardent spirit consumed as
beer; thirty millions of gallons as spirits; and nearly two millions of
gallons as wine.

There is, yet again, another very important point of view from which
the habitual moderate use of fermented liquors must be contemplated.
A pint of strong beer is in itself no very great thing. Many people
swallow it almost at a single draught, and in less than a minute. The
trifling act, however, entails one serious consequence when it is
performed day by day. A pint of strong beer cannot be bought at a less
cost than threepence. Threepence a day, at the end of a year, amounts
to £4 11s. 3d. If it be only laid by and made no use of, at the end
of sixty years, it amounts, under the same circumstances, to £273. If
employed, instead of being laid by, it might be improved at the end of
sixty years into a large fortune. Hundreds of men have made thousands
of pounds with smaller means.

Money, of course, is of no great value in itself; it is only of value
when applied to good service. But herein lies the gist of the matter.
Money always can be made good use of. If a young man at the age of
eighteen begin to lay by threepence every day, instead of buying a pint
of beer with it, and continue to do the same thing for two years, he
may purchase with the saving an allowance of £10 a year, to commence
at the age of sixty-five years, and to be continued as long as he may
thereafter happen to live. If he laid by threepence a day for five
years, he could purchase with his savings, at the end of that time, an
allowance of ten shillings a week, to commence at the age of sixty-five
years. If a young man at eighteen begin to lay by threepence a day,
and continue to do the same thing from year to year, he may at once
purchase the certainty of being able to leave behind him a little
fortune of £300 for his wife or children, or any other relatives who
may be dear to and dependent upon him, whenever death puts an end to
his earthly labors! Surely no rational and prudent man would ever think
even 22,000 pints of profitless beer an equivalent for such a result of
his industrious labor. It is by no means too strong an expression to
speak of the beer as profitless, for this reason: A gallon of strong
beer contains a quarter of a pound of nourishment, bought at the cost
of a couple of shillings. Two shillings would purchase more than three
pounds of meat and bread! The direct money value of ardent spirits,
swallowed every year by the inhabitants of the British isles, exceeds
ninety millions of pounds sterling.

Although there may be question and doubt as to the character of the
influence this fiery substance exerts, when poured out to the living
human frame through the supply pipes, in moderate quantity, and
weakened by mixture with a large proportion of water, all question
and doubt disappear when its action in greater strength and in larger
quantity comes to be considered. An inquiring physician, Dr. Percy,
once poured strong ardent spirit into the stomachs of some dogs, to
see what would happen to them. The poor animals fell down insensible
upon the ground directly, and within a few minutes their breathing had
ceased, their hearts had stopped beating, and they were dead. Some of
the dogs were opened immediately, and it was then found that their
stomachs were quite empty. All the ardent spirit had been sucked out
of them in a few short minutes. But where was it gone to? It was gone
into the blood, and heart, and brain, and there it was discovered
in abundance. It had destroyed life by its deadly power over those
delicate inner parts.

Human beings are instantly killed when they swallow large quantities
of strong ardent spirit, exactly in the same way as Dr. Percy’s dogs.
A few years ago two French soldiers made a bet as to who could drink
the largest quantity of brandy. Each of them swallowed seven pints in a
few minutes. Both dropped down insensible on the ground; one was dead
before he could be picked up, the other died while they were carrying
him to the hospital. A man in London soon after this undertook to drink
a quart of gin, also for a wager. He won his bet, but never had an
opportunity to receive his winnings. He fell down insensible, and was
carried to the hospital, and was a dead body when he was taken in.

There can be no doubt, therefore, what strong ardent spirit, in large
quantities, does for the living body. It kills in a moment, as by a
stroke. It is a virulent poison, as deadly as prussic acid, and more
deadly than arsenic. Even when it is not taken in sufficient abundance
to destroy in the most sudden way, it often leads to a slower death.
Striking illustrations of this truth are presented continually in every
corner of even this civilized land. It has been fully ascertained that
not less than one thousand persons die from the direct influence of
ardent spirit, in the British isles, every year.

When people do not die directly upon swallowing large quantities of
ardent spirit, it is because they take it so gradually that nature
has the opportunity of washing the greater portion of it away through
the waste-pipes, before any sufficient amount of it has gathered in
delicate internal parts for the actual destruction of life. Nature has
such a thorough dislike to ardent spirit in the interior of living
bodies, that the instant it is introduced into their supply-pipes and
chambers, she goes hard to work to drive out the unwelcome intruder.
When men have been drinking much fermented liquor, the fumes of ardent
spirit are kept pouring out through the waste-pipes that issue by the
mouth, the skin, and the kidneys; the fumes can commonly be smelt under
such circumstances in the breath.

When fermented liquors are drunk in a gradual way, but yet in such
quantity that the ardent spirit collects more rapidly in the blood than
it can be got rid of through the waste-pipes, the fiery liquid produces
step by step a series of remarkable effects, growing continually more
and more grave.

In order that all the actions of the living human body may be
properly carried on, three nerve overseers have been appointed to
dwell constantly in the frame and look after different departments
of its business. One of these has its residence in the brain; that
nerve-overseer has charge of the reason, and all that belongs to it.
Another resides under the brain, just at the back of the face; that
nerve-overseer looks after all that relates to feeling or sense. The
third lives in the nerve-marrow of the backbone; that has to see
that the breathing and the pumping of the heart go on steadily and
constantly. Of these three superintendents the brain-overseer and the
sense-overseer are allowed certain hours of repose at night; they are
both permitted to take their naps at proper times, because the reason
and the sense can alike be dispensed with for short intervals when
the creature is put safely to bed, or otherwise out of harm’s way.
Not so, however, with the breathing and blood-pumping overseer. The
breathing and the blood-movement require to be kept going constantly;
they must never cease, even for a short interval, or the creature
would die. Hence the nerve-marrow overseer is a watchman as well as an
overseer. No sleep is allowed him. He must not even nap at his post.
If he do, his neglect and delinquency are immediately discovered by a
dreadful consequence. The breathing and blood-flowing, which are his
charge, stop, and the living being, served by the breathing and the
blood-streams, chokes and faints.

These three nerve-overseers have been fitted to perform their
momentous tasks in the entire absence of ardent spirit, and they are
so constituted that they cannot perform those tasks when ardent spirit
is present in any great amount. Ardent spirit puts them all to sleep.
The reason-overseer is overcome the most easily; he is the most given
to napping by nature, so he goes to sleep first. If more spirit be then
introduced into the blood, the sense-overseer begins to doze also. And
if yet more be introduced, the nerve-marrow watchman ceases to be a
watchman, and at length sleeps heavily with his companions.

Now, suppose that you, my attentive reader, were in an unlucky moment
of weakness to turn aside from your usual course of temperance and
sobriety, and to drink fermented liquor until its fiery spirit gathered
in your brain, and put your reason-overseer to sleep, what think you
would be the consequence? This would be the consequence—you would for
the time cease to be a reasonable being. You would probably still
walk about the streets, and go hither and thither, and do all sorts
of things. But all this you would accomplish, not with a proper and
rational knowledge of your actions. Your reason and understanding
being fast asleep while you were walking about, you would properly
be living in a sort of brutal existence, instead of a human and
reasonable one. You would have laid aside the guide who was intended
to be your director in your responsible human life, and you would be
rashly trusting yourself in a crowd of the most fearful dangers, all
your responsibility still upon your shoulders, without the inestimable
advantage of the advice and assistance of this experienced director.
Like the brutes, you would then find yourself to be easily roused
to the fiercest anger, and set upon the worst courses of mischief;
you would find yourself readily filled with the most uncontrollable
feelings of passion and violence, and liable to be run away with by
them at any moment, and caused to do things that a rational creature
could not contemplate without the deepest anguish and shame.

There is no lack of proof that human beings do the most brutish things
when their reasons and understandings are put to sleep by strong
drink, while their sense-overseers and their animal powers still
remain active. Every place and every day afford such in wretched
abundance. One impressive instance, however, may perhaps be related
with advantage. On the night of the 28th of June, 1856, two drunken
men, whose names were James and Andrew Bracken, rushed brawling out
from a beer shop in one of the suburbs of Manchester. They ran against
two inoffensive passengers, and in their blind and brutish rage began
beating them; one was knocked down and kicked about the head when on
the ground. He was picked up thence a few minutes afterward and carried
to the hospital, where it was found his skull had been broken. The poor
fellow died in the course of the night.

In the next assize court, at Liverpool, James and Andrew Bracken stood
in the dock to be tried for their brutal act. The counsel who defended
them said that it was only a drunken row, and there was no murder in
the case, because neither of them knew what he was doing. The judge and
the jury, on the other hand, decided that this was no excuse, because
they _ought_ to have known what they were doing. They had laid aside
their reason and become brutal by their own voluntary act, and were
therefore responsible for any deed they might perform while in the
brutal state. The jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against
Andrew Bracken, and the judge passed sentence of death upon him,
coupling the sentence with these words: “You did an act, the ordinary
consequences of which must have been to kill. It was a cruel and a
brutal act, and you did it, wholly reckless of consequences. You have
therefore very properly been convicted of wilful murder.” The wretched
man was removed from the dock shrieking for mercy, with upraised hands,
and exclaiming in heartrending tones, “Oh! mother, mother, that I
should be hanged!” No doubt he was very much surprised to find himself
a condemned convict and a murderer, and had never intended to be so. He
had no spite against his victim, and had probably never even exchanged
a word with him. No drunkard, therefore, when about to put his reason
to sleep by intoxicating liquor, should ever overlook the fact that
he will for the time cease to have control over his actions, and that
when that reason awakes, he may find himself like Andrew Bracken, a
prisoner and a murderer. Whether he do so or not will depend on no will
or determination of his own, but upon the mere series of accidents that
will surround him while in his self-inflicted, helpless, and brutal

The case of Andrew Bracken, sad and striking as it is, by no means
stands alone in the annals of crime. At the assize, held at Lancaster
in March, 1854, it was shown that in that single court 380 cases of
grave crime had been detected and punished within a very short period,
and that of the 380 cases 250, including nine murders, were to be
directly traced to the influence of drunkenness.

But if having ceased to be sober, my strong-bodied reader, you did not
happen to commit murder, or do any other act of gross violence while in
the brutal stage of drunkenness, yet nevertheless went on swallowing
more and more of the intoxicating liquid until your sense-overseer
was put to sleep as well as your reason-overseer, what do you think
would chance to you then? Why, you would have ceased to be dangerous
to your neighbors, and have become in a like degree dangerous to
yourself. You would no longer have power to commit murder, or to do
any other act of cruelty, because you would sink down on the ground a
senseless and motionless lump of flesh. You would be what the world
calls dead-drunk. But you would not in reality be dead, because the
nerve-marrow watchman still continued at his post, and awake. The lump
of prostrate flesh would still breathe heavily, and blood would be made
to stream sluggishly from its beating heart. In this insensible stage
of drunkenness, however, you would have ceased to be able to exercise
any care over yourself. In it the drunkard is sunk as much lower than
brutal life as the brutes are beneath reasoning life, inasmuch as
he ceases to be able to exert the power which all brutes possess of
perceiving the threatening danger, and turning aside from its approach.

But yet again, rational reader, let us suppose that when you became
for the time a lump of insensible flesh, you had already swallowed so
much stupefying spirit, that there was enough to put the nerve-marrow
watchman to sleep, as well as the reason- and sense-overseers, before
any fair quantity could be cleared away out of the waste-pipes of
the body. Under such circumstances breathing would cease, and all
heart-beating would stop. You would then be dead-drunk in the full
sense of the fearful term. Senseless drunkenness is dangerous to the
drunkard himself, not only because he could not get out of the way if
danger were to come where he is lying, but also because he of necessity
is placed in an insensible state upon the brink of a precipice, from
the depth beneath which there could be no return if he once rolled
over. Whether he will ever again awaken from his insensibility, or
whether his earthly frame shall have already commenced its endless
sleep, is a question which will be determined by the accident of a
drop or two more, or a drop or two less, of the stupefying spirit
having been mixed in with the coursing life-streams. The man who kills
a fellow-creature in a fit of drunken violence, commits an act of
murder; the man who dies in a fit of drunken insensibility, is guilty
of self-slaughter. In its first degree, drunkenness is brutality; in
its second degree, it is senseless stupidity, of a lower kind than
brutes ever know; in its third degree, it is suicidal death. It will
be felt that it is important this matter should be looked fairly in the
face, when the statement is made that there are not less than seventy
thousand confirmed drunkards known to be living at the present time in
England and Wales.

It is now a well-proved and unquestionable fact, that a young man of
fair strength and health, who takes to hard drinking at the age of
twenty, can only look forward to fifteen years more of life; while a
temperate young man, of the same age, may reasonably expect forty-five
years more! The habitual drunkard must therefore understand that,
amongst other things, he has to pay the heavy penalty of thirty of the
best years of existence, for the very questionable indulgence that he
buys. The doctor also has a sad account to give of aches, and pains,
and fevers, and weakness that have to be borne by the intemperate
during the few years’ life they can claim. Whatever may be the true
state of the case with the moderate use of fermented liquors, their
intemperate use is a fertile source whence men draw disease and
suffering. Intemperance is another of the influences whereby men cause
sickness and decay to take the place of health and strength. The doctor
has likewise, it must be remarked, a tale of his own to tell concerning
the beneficial power of fermented liquors, when employed as medicines
in certain weakened and already diseased states of the body.

There is one earnest word which has yet to be addressed to those
who have satisfied their consciences that they may with propriety
indulge their inclination to use fermented liquors in moderation
habitually. Have they also satisfied themselves that they can keep to
the moderation their consciences allow? Have they taken fairly and
sufficiently into consideration their own powers to resist urgent
allurements? Have they well weighed the possible influence, in their
own case, of the enticements which agreeable flavors and pleasurable
exhilaration necessarily bring into operation? Have they sufficiently
pondered upon the admitted truth that there scarcely ever yet was a
confirmed drunkard who did not begin his vicious career by a very
moderate employment of the seductive liquors? If they have done this,
then let them still nevertheless go one step further and carefully
determine also for their own case, what moderation is, and while doing
this, let them never forget that when the thirsty man drinks a pint of
table beer, he pours a teaspoonful of ardent spirit into his blood;
when he drinks a pint of strong ale he pours two tablespoonfuls of
ardent spirit into his blood; when he drinks four glasses of strong
wine, he pours one glass of ardent spirit into his blood; when he
drinks two glasses of rum, brandy, or gin, he pours from three-quarters
of a glass to a glass of ardent spirit into the channels of his

The habitual drinker of port wine has a more or less strong fancy that
his favorite and so-called “generous” beverage fills him with “spirit”
and “fire.” This fancy is indeed not without some ground. Government
has recently caused a very careful examination to be made of the
strength of the port wines that are furnished to the English markets,
and the investigation has disclosed the startling and unexpected
fact that the weakest of these wines contains 26 per cent.; ordinary
specimens of them from 30 to 36 per cent.; choice specimens 40 per
cent.; and what are called the finest wines as much as 56 per cent. of
proof ardent spirit. The port wine drinker therefore actually receives
even more “spirit” and “fire” with his ruby drink than he is himself
aware he has bargained for. There are rich flavor and delicious odor,
no doubt, in his wine, and so much the greater is his danger. These
serve only to conceal a wily enemy who is lurking beneath. A bottle of
ruby port wine in the stomach commonly means half a bottle of poisonous
fiery spirit in the blood, and heart, and brain.



Like all the inhabitants of Paris, the workmen dwell in houses of five
or six stories high. The ground floor is let out in shops, between
which the principal staircase is entered by a narrow passage. At the
back there is a small court-yard, skirted on one side by a wing from
the main building, of from two to three stories high. Each flat of the
main building and of its wing is occupied by several tenants, so that
such buildings contain on an average 50 different tenants, with as many
as from 120 to 150 inhabitants. In one that I have visited there were
47 tenants, the total number of persons in the building at night being

Workmen inhabit all quarters of Paris, the better sort preferring to
live at some distance from their work. The northeast of Paris is,
however, peculiarly their quarter; the suburb of St. Antoine and that
of St. Martin, with the districts known as La Villette and Belleville,
are almost entirely inhabited by workmen, and the tradespeople who
supply their wants. The neighborhood of the Canal Saint Martin is
altogether a different Paris to that usually seen by the visitor. It
has more of the cheerless look of our own manufacturing districts;
however, the bright sun of Paris, the rows of trees, and the fountains
prevent it from looking gloomy or sad.

In this neighborhood lodging is not so dear as in the older parts of
the city. In very miserable and dirty streets in the Latin quarter, the
workman has to pay as much as thirty dollars a year for a single room;
two rooms cost him fifty-six dollars a year; and two rooms and a little
place, which he can use as a kitchen, seventy-two dollars a year. This
is enormous, and amounts to about twenty per cent. of his income,
supposing him to work full time, and not to belong to one of the more
skilled trades.

The question of rent is one of the greatest grievances of which Paris
workmen have to complain. It keeps them in poverty and anxiety, and,
it is alleged, often drives the whole family to moral ruin; the wife
selling her honor to obtain means, and the husband giving himself up in
despair to drink.

How impossible it is to settle questions which affect the tenderest
feelings of humanity by an assertion of the rights of property, the
following story strikingly illustrates:

During the siege of Paris the people universally fell into poverty. On
its termination a certain landlord, unable to get his rents, determined
to eject all the defaulters. He sent an order to his agent to turn
them out and sell their goods. One was a widow with two children.
Her husband had died of a cold caught in the trenches. In her grief
the poor woman had vowed she would never be married again, and as a
sort of testimony of the truth of her intention she had had their
walnut bedstead sawn in half. When the time came for the expulsion the
proprietor arrived, and seeing the best piece of furniture spoiled,
upbraided her with ruining his goods.

She found hospitality elsewhere, but the loss of the old home and the
household gods turned her brain. The insurrection of the Commune broke
out. She was one of the first to rush to the scene and to join the
insurgents. She and her children were seen wherever there was peril.
She mounted the barricade, and planted the flag of the Commune in the
teeth of the besiegers. In one of the last days of the defence her
eldest son was separated from her in the struggle, and the youngest
was killed at her feet. Frantic, she seized the body of the child, and
springing up a barricade, hurled it upon the bayonets of the soldiers,
then tearing open her dress she cried wildly, “Kill me! kill me!” She
fell over the stones, but was not dead. “Finish her!” cried the young
officer in charge.

A workman’s rooms are generally poorly furnished, but clean; the custom
being to spend a disproportionate amount of income on food and clothing.

Living does not seem so costly in Paris as in London, yet it is
generally thought dear. Nevertheless the workman can not be said to
fare badly.

There are various modes and hours of taking meals in Paris, depending
chiefly on the nationality; for it must never be forgotten that Paris
is a cosmopolitan city, and contains large numbers of workmen of
German, Belgian, and Italian origin.

The French mode is for the workman to leave home fasting, taking his
first two meals at a restaurant or cabaret near the place where he is
working. The second meal is eaten about ten or eleven o’clock in the
morning, and consists of a plate of meat and vegetables and half a
bottle of wine. Any one walking about Paris at this hour of the day
must have observed workmen seated alone or in groups at the little
tables outside the restaurants, eating their breakfast.

The variety offered and the prices may be judged from the following
bill of fare, exposed in a street peculiarly frequented by workmen:

    Radishes, sardines, butter      3
    Soup                            3
    Common wine                     7
    Beef                            6
    Mutton stew                     7
    Leg of mutton                   8
    Stewed rabbit                  12
    Chops                           8
    Goose and veal                 12
    Potato stew                     3
    Salads and fruits               3
    Cheese and sweetmeats           3
    Coffee                          4

The workman’s wife has, with her children, an early meal of milked
coffee or soup, the children taking with them to school sandwiches of
bread and cheese, or something from the previous day’s dinner. The
mother takes a similar breakfast in the middle of the day, the whole
family looking forward to the third meal, indiscriminately called
dinner or supper, as the principal one of the day. This consists of
soup, meat, vegetables or salad, cheese or prunes, and fresh fruit
according to the season.

Two or three times a week the kettle is put on, and rich soup and
boiled beef obtained. Thin soup is made from the water in which the
vegetables have been boiled, or with onions, of which the Paris workman
is fond. Wine is generally drunk at supper, but when it is very dear a
home-made wine is obtained from raisins, or the wife and children drink
water in which liquorice root has been steeped.

Nearly every district in Paris has excellent markets, at which all
kinds of meat and poultry, vegetables and dairy produce, can be bought
at reasonable prices. There are special days in which it is known
certain articles will be fresh and abundant.

In addition to the ordinary butchers’ shops, which in Paris are always
peculiarly clean and well arranged, there are special shops for the
sale of the flesh of horses, asses, and mules. These shops are called
horseflesh shops. There is nothing in the least revolting in their
appearance, the joints looking like ordinary meat, only a little
darker. It strikes the eye at first as strange to see, “Ass, best
quality,” but it is a matter of habit.

The economical wife knows all the various pieces of meat which are
nourishing, some of which are little heard of in England, such as
beef’s stomach, veal’s mouth, sheep’s foot.

Vegetables are always plentiful in Paris, owing to the quantity of
market-garden land round the city, and for the same reason there is a
constant supply of salads all the year round, but then the Parisians
will make a salad of the leaves of the lamb’s lettuce and the dandelion.

Another help in the domestic economy of the workman’s home is the
existence of the co-operative stores for the sale of provisions. In
1870 there were three or four hundred such societies in Paris.

The clothing and linen in a workman’s home are said to equal in value
his furniture. His own clothing costs him about $24 a year; washing
and mending raising the cost by $12; the clothing of his wife and two
children would be about $44 more.

The workman’s wife is extremely industrious, rising early and always
assiduously engaged in domestic duties, or in some work by which she
adds to the income.

Many workmen with small families are able to save sufficient to set
their wives up in business as washerwomen, or in a fruit or newspaper
stall. Often she undertakes the duties of a housekeeper, _i. e._,
acting as general servant for the first few hours of the day in some
family of the middle class. When she thus works she has to send her
children to the crib or to the asylum; but this is not frequent, as the
families of workmen in Paris are usually very small.

Those who have the largest are generally of German origin, coming from
Alsace, Belgium, and countries bordering on the Rhine. That very large
families sometimes are found among workmen in Paris is proved by one
case where a day laborer, a native of the department of the Haut-Rhin,
received a prize of $600 for bringing up a family of fifteen children
respectably on a wage of fifty cents a day. In the end he was assisted
by his son, who was able to earn as a skilled workman more than his

As a rule the workman leaves the management of the children and the
spending of the money entirely to his wife. He gives her all the wages
on pay-day, and she doles out to him every morning the sum necessary
for his meals.

Sometimes she finds a great deficit when this time comes. Then
she weeps and upbraids him, while he, confessing his fault, says
reproachfully of himself, “One must not deceive when one has five or
six children.”

It does not appear to be easy to outwit a French woman. Occasionally
a drinking husband will try to hide a piece of money in some out of
the way place, as, for instance, the peak of his hat. But his wife
ransacks his clothes while he is asleep and finds the missing coin.
This position of affairs being well known, the workman who will not
be entrapped into drinking, or who, being one of a social gathering,
insists on going home early, is chaffed as a man who buttons up his
coat with pins.

It is certainly a fact that feminine influence is very powerful in
Paris, and that what the mother is the home becomes. Thus while Paris
workmen almost universally absent themselves from the churches, and
throw all their influence politically against the priests, their
children go in crowds to make their first communion, and to this end
are placed under the priests for religious instruction.

To see the street in front of a Paris church on Whit Sunday, no one
would believe religion was a matter not only of indifference, but of
contempt, to the Paris workman. The road seen from a balcony is like
an immense field of snow-drops. Hundreds of white-robed children float
about among crowds of smiling parents and friends. And yet there is
hardly anything in it beyond a domestic rite, something which it is
respectable to go through at a certain age.

“I will sell my clothes, but my child shall not be different from
others,” says a mother, who, no more than her husband, considers the
spiritual aspect of the ceremony.

The domestic affections of the workman, where he has not been
demoralized by licentiousness or vice, are strong, and his sense of
duty to his relatives unusual. Thus it would seem not at all uncommon
for a workman to support his wife’s mother, even when she lives far
away. A workman who had done this for some time fell, through the state
of public affairs, into such distress as to be obliged to earn his
bread by selling journals in the street. After a time he recovered his
position; but all through his period of poverty, the mother-in-law was
allowed to believe that no change had taken place in his circumstances.
Another workman, who had originally been in business as a butcher,
partly ruined himself by undertaking the charge of his wife’s family.
However, he never forsook the mother-in-law, but when he had a numerous
family and only the small and precarious wages of a day laborer, she
remained as much part of his family as the children.

The workman is careful of his children. He will fetch his daughter,
apprenticed to dressmaking, from her work in the evening, and likes to
have his son follow the same business as himself. He respects his own
art, and has no desire to see his boy made into a clerk. If his wife is
foolish enough to express such a wish he rates her soundly. “Does she
want to make a skip-kennel (errand boy) of him because one gets dirty
in factory work?”

“Thou knowest,” he concludes, “I always consider what thou sayest,
but candidly, thou art unreasonable—wouldst thou then have him die of
hunger when he is grown up? To slave at a desk is a miserable business;
one ought to have a manual trade, with that a man always has his living
at his fingers’ ends. Why! thou hast never said I was too dirty for
thee; ah! I should like to see him a clerk. And to think that there are
people who pretend that the woman has as much judgment as the man. Yes,
yes, thou art a very good sort of a woman, but at bottom thou knowest
nothing. Henri shall be a mechanic; the devil may burn me if ever he
becomes a scribbling puppet.”—_Good Words._



    O, happy, happy, happy boy!
    Let me tell you all your joy;
    Let me whisper in your ear
    All the secret of the seer.
    Let me tell your fortune fair
    To the wide and wandering air,
    To the gentle, genial air;
    Let me share my rapture rare
    With the social, songful air;
    Whatsoe’er the world may say,
    You shall have the right of way.
    You shall laugh, and you shall play,
    And, in merry roundelay,
    Dance with jolly faun and fay.
    You shall have the wealth of May
    For your dowry every day.
    Nature, from her frailest spar,
    To her oldest, utmost star,
    All her miracles shall bring
    For your blissful wondering;
    You shall be her priest and king.
    Knowing what was never known,
    Reaping what was never sown,
    You shall feel the world your own,
    On your universal throne.
    And, in holy place apart,
    (Blessed are the pure in heart!)
    In a halo of delight,
    Jubilant with glorious might,
    You shall walk with God in white.
    This is all was shown to me
    Of the child’s futurity.
    What the youth and man will be,
    Sealéd is in mystery.
    Scarcely can his angel see,
    Face to face with deity,
    Farther into certainty.
    _God exceed the prophecy!_
    God be better to the boy
    Than the poet’s dream of joy.




There lived in the city of Verona two young gentlemen, whose names
were Valentine and Protheus, between whom a firm and uninterrupted
friendship had long subsisted. They pursued their studies together,
and their hours of leisure were always passed in each other’s company,
except when Protheus visited a lady he was in love with; and these
visits, and this passion of Protheus for the fair Julia, were the only
topics on which these two friends disagreed: for Valentine, not being
himself a lover, was sometimes a little weary of hearing his friend
forever talking of his Julia, and then he would laugh at Protheus, and
in pleasant terms ridicule the passion of love, and declare that no
such idle fancies should ever enter his head, greatly preferring (as he
said) the free and happy life he lead, to the anxious hopes and fears
of the lover Protheus.

One morning Valentine came to Protheus, to tell him that they must
for a time be separated, for that he was going to Milan. Protheus,
unwilling to part with his friend, used many arguments to prevail upon
Valentine not to leave him; but Valentine said, “Cease to persuade me,
my loving Protheus, I will not, like a sluggard, wear out my youth in
idleness at home. Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits. If your
affection were not chained to the sweet glances of your honored Julia,
I would entreat you to accompany me, to see the wonders of the world
abroad; but since you are a lover, love on still, and may your love
be prosperous!” They parted with mutual expressions of unalterable
friendship. “Sweet Valentine, adieu!” said Protheus; “think on me, when
you see some rare object worthy of notice in your travels, and wish me
partaker of your happiness.”

Valentine began his journey that same day towards Milan; and when his
friend had left him, Protheus sat down to write a letter to Julia,
which he gave to her maid Lucetta to deliver to her mistress. Julia
loved Protheus as well as he did her, but she was a lady of a noble
spirit, and she thought it did not become her maiden dignity too easily
to be won; therefore she affected to be insensible of his passion,
and gave him much uneasiness in the prosecution of his suit. And when
Lucetta offered the letter to Julia, she would not receive it, and chid
her maid for taking letters from Protheus, and ordered her to leave the
room. But she so much wished to see what was written in the letter,
that she soon called in her maid again, and when Lucetta returned, she
said, “What o’clock is it?” Lucetta, who knew her mistress more desired
to see the letter than to know the time of day, without answering her
question, again offered the rejected letter. Julia, angry that her maid
should thus take the liberty of seeming to know what she really wanted,
tore the letter in pieces, and threw it on the floor, ordering her maid
once more out of the room. As Lucetta was retiring, she stopped to pick
up the fragments of the torn letter; but Julia, who meant not so to
part with them, said, in pretended anger, “Go, get you gone, and let
the papers lie; you would be fingering them to anger me.”

Julia then began to piece together as well as she could the torn
fragments. She first made out these words, “Love-wounded Protheus;” and
lamenting over these and such-like loving words, which she made out
though they were all torn asunder, or she said, wounded (the expression
“Love-wounded Protheus,” giving her that idea), she talked to these
kind words, telling them she would lodge them in her bosom as in a bed,
till their wounds were healed, and that she would kiss each several
piece, to make amends. In this manner she went on talking with a pretty
lady-like childishness, till finding herself unable to make out the
whole, and vexed at her own ingratitude in destroying such sweet and
loving words, as she called them, she wrote a much kinder letter to
Protheus than she had ever done before.

Protheus was greatly delighted at receiving this favorable answer
to his letter; and while he was reading it, he exclaimed, “Sweet
love, sweet lines, sweet life!” In the midst of his raptures he was
interrupted by his father. “How now!” said the old gentleman, “what
letter are you reading there?” “My lord,” replied Protheus, “it is
a letter from my friend Valentine, at Milan.” “Lend me the letter,”
said his father; “let me see what news.” “There are no news, my lord,”
said Protheus, greatly alarmed, “but that he writes how well beloved
he is of the Duke of Milan, who daily graces him with favors; and how
he wishes me with him, the partner of his fortune.” “And how stand
you affected to his wish?” asked the father. “As one relying on your
lordship’s will, and not depending on his friendly wish,” said Protheus.

Now it had happened that Protheus’s father had just been talking with
a friend on this very subject: his friend had said, he wondered his
lordship suffered his son to spend his youth at home, whilst most men
were sending their sons to seek preferment abroad; “some,” said he, “to
the wars, to try their fortunes there, and some to discover islands
far away, and some to study in foreign universities; and there is his
companion Valentine, he is gone to the Duke of Milan’s court. Your son
is fit for any of these things, and it will be a great disadvantage to
him in his riper age, not to have traveled in his youth.”

Protheus’s father thought the advice of his friend was very good,
and upon Protheus telling him that Valentine “wished him with him,
the partner of his fortune,” he at once determined to send his son
to Milan; and without giving Protheus any reason for this sudden
resolution, it being the usual habit of this positive old gentleman to
command his son, not reason with him, he said, “My will is the same as
Valentine’s wish:” and seeing his son look astonished, he added, “Look
not amazed, that I so suddenly resolve you shall spend some time in the
Duke of Milan’s court; for what I will I will, and there is an end.
To-morrow be in readiness to go. Make no excuses, for I am peremptory.”
Protheus knew it was of no use to make objections to his father, who
never suffered him to dispute his will; and he blamed himself for
telling his father an untruth about Julia’s letter, which had brought
upon him the sad necessity of leaving her.

Now that Julia found she was going to lose Protheus for so long a
time, she no longer pretended indifference; and they bade each other a
mournful farewell with many vows of love and constancy. Protheus and
Julia exchanged rings, which they both promised to keep forever in
remembrance of each other; and thus, taking a sorrowful leave, Protheus
set out on his journey to Milan, the abode of his friend Valentine.

Valentine was in reality what Protheus had feigned to his father, in
high favor with the duke of Milan; and another event had happened to
him, of which Protheus did not even dream, for Valentine had given
up the freedom of which he used so much to boast, and was become as
passionate a lover as Protheus. She who had wrought this wondrous
change in Valentine, was the lady Silvia, daughter of the duke of
Milan, and she also loved him; but they concealed their love from
the duke, because although he showed much kindness to Valentine, and
invited him every day to his palace, yet he designed to marry his
daughter to a young courtier whose name was Thurio. Silvia despised
this Thurio, for he had none of the fine sense and excellent qualities
of Valentine.

These two rivals, Thurio and Valentine, were one day on a visit to
Silvia, and Valentine was entertaining Silvia with turning everything
Thurio said into ridicule, when the duke himself entered the room,
and told Valentine the welcome news of his friend Protheus’s arrival.
Valentine said, “If I had wished a thing, it would have been to have
seen him here!” and then he highly praised Protheus to the duke,
saying, “My lord, though I have been a truant of my time, yet hath my
friend made use and fair advantage of his days, and is complete in
person and in mind, in all good grace to grace a gentleman.” “Welcome
him then according to his worth,” said the duke; “Silvia, I speak to
you, and you, sir Thurio; for Valentine, I need not bid him do so.”
They were here interrupted by the entrance of Protheus, and Valentine
introduced him to Silvia, saying, “Sweet lady, entertain him to be my
fellow servant to your ladyship.”

When Valentine and Protheus had ended their visit, and were alone
together, Valentine said, “Now tell me how all does from whence
you came? How does your lady, and how thrives your love?” Protheus
replied, “My tales of love used to weary you, I know you joy not in a
love-discourse.” “Ay, Protheus,” returned Valentine, “but that life is
altered now. I have done penance for condemning love. For in revenge of
my contempt of Love, Love has chased sleep from my enthralled eyes. O
gentle Protheus, Love is a mighty lord, and hath so humbled me, that I
confess there is no woe like his correction, and no such joy on earth
as in his service. I now like no discourse except it be of love. Now I
can break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, upon the very name of love.”

This acknowledgment of the change which love had made in the
disposition of Valentine was a great triumph to his friend Protheus.
But “friend” Protheus must be called no longer, for the same
all-powerful deity, Love, of whom they were speaking, (yea even while
they were talking of the change he had made in Valentine) was working
in the heart of Protheus; and he, who had till this time been a pattern
of true love and perfect friendship, was now, in one short interview
with Silvia, become a false friend and a faithless lover; for at the
first sight of Silvia, all his love for Julia vanished away like
a dream, nor did his long friendship for Valentine deter him from
endeavoring to supplant him in her affections; and although, as it will
always be, when people of dispositions naturally good become unjust, he
had many scruples, before he determined to forsake Julia, and become
the rival of Valentine, yet he at length overcame his sense of duty,
and yielded himself up, almost without remorse, to his new unhappy

Valentine imparted to him in confidence the whole history of his love,
and how carefully they had concealed it from the duke her father, and
told him, that despairing of ever being able to obtain his consent,
he had prevailed upon Silvia to leave her father’s palace that night,
and go with him to Mantua; then he showed Protheus a ladder of ropes,
by help of which he meant to assist Silvia to get out of one of the
windows of the palace, after it was dark.

Upon hearing this faithful recital of his friend’s dearest secrets,
it is hardly possible to be believed, but so it was, that Protheus
resolved to go to the duke and disclose the whole to him. This false
friend began his tale with many artful speeches to the duke, such as
that by the laws of friendship he ought to conceal what he was going
to reveal, but that the gracious favor the duke had shown him, and
the duty he owed his grace, urged him to tell that, which else no
worldly good should draw from him; he then told all he had heard from
Valentine, not omitting the ladder of ropes, and the manner in which
Valentine meant to conceal them under a long cloak.

The duke thought Protheus quite a miracle of integrity, in that he
preferred telling his friend’s intention rather than he would conceal
an unjust action, highly commended him, and promised him not to let
Valentine know from whom he had learned this intelligence, but by some
artifice to make Valentine betray the secret himself. For this purpose
the duke awaited the coming of Valentine in the evening, whom he soon
saw hurrying toward the palace, and he perceived somewhat was wrapped
within his cloak, which he concluded was the rope ladder.

The duke upon this stopped him, saying, “Whither away so fast,
Valentine?” “May it please your grace,” said Valentine, “there is
a messenger, that stays to bear my letters to my friends, and I am
going to deliver them.” Now this falsehood of Valentine’s had no
better success in the event than the untruth Protheus told his father.
“Be they of much import,” said the duke. “No more, my lord,” said
Valentine, “than to tell my father I am well and happy at your grace’s
court.” “Nay, then,” said the duke, “no matter; stay with me awhile. I
wish your counsel about some affairs that concern me nearly.” He then
told Valentine an artful story, as a prelude to draw his secret from
him, saying, that Valentine knew he wished to match his daughter with
Thurio, but that she was stubborn and disobedient to his commands,
“neither regarding,” said he “that she is my child, nor fearing me as
if I were her father. And I may say to thee, that this pride of hers
has drawn my love from her. I had thought my age should have been
cherished by her child-like duty. I am now resolved to take a wife,
and turn her out to whomsoever will take her in. Let her beauty be her
wedding-dower, for me and my possessions she esteems not.”

Valentine, wondering where all this would end, made answer. “And what
would your grace have me do in all this?” “Why,” said the duke, “the
lady I would wish to marry is nice and coy, and does not much esteem my
aged eloquence. Besides, the fashion of courtship is much changed since
I was young; now I would willingly have you to be my tutor to instruct
me how I am to woo.” Valentine gave him a general idea of the modes of
courtship then practiced by young men, when they wished to win a fair
lady’s love, such as presents, frequent visits, and the like. The duke
replied to this, that the lady did not refuse a present which he sent
her, and that she was so strictly kept by her father, that no man might
have access to her by day. “Why then,” said Valentine, “you must visit
her by night.” “By night,” said the artful duke, who was now coming to
the drift of his discourse, “her doors are fast locked.”

Valentine then unfortunately proposed that the duke should get into
the lady’s chamber at night, by means of a ladder of ropes, saying, he
would procure him one fitting for that purpose; and, in conclusion,
advised him to conceal this ladder of ropes under such a cloak as that
which he now wore. “Lend me your cloak,” said the duke, who had feigned
this long story on purpose to have a pretence to get off the cloak;
so, upon saying these words, he caught hold of Valentine’s cloak, and
throwing it back, he discovered not only the ladder of ropes, but also
a letter of Silvia’s which he instantly opened and read; and this
letter contained a full account of their intended elopement. The duke,
after upbraiding Valentine for his ingratitude in thus returning the
favor he had shown him, by endeavoring to steal away his daughter,
banished him from the court and city of Milan forever; and Valentine
was forced to depart that night, without even seeing Silvia.

While Protheus at Milan was thus injuring Valentine, Julia at Verona
was regretting the absence of Protheus, and her regard for him at
last so far overcame her sense of propriety, that she resolved to
leave Verona, and seek her lover at Milan; and to secure herself from
danger on the road, she dressed her maid Lucetta and herself in men’s
clothes, and they set out in this disguise, and arrived at Milan soon
after Valentine was banished from that city, through the treachery of

Julia entered Milan about noon, and she took up her abode at an inn;
and her thoughts being all on her dear Protheus, she entered into
conversation with the inn-keeper, or host, as he was called, thinking
by that means to learn some news of Protheus. The host was greatly
pleased that this handsome young gentleman (as he took her to be), who
from his appearance he concluded was of high rank, spoke so familiarly
to him; and being a good-natured man, he was sorry to see him look so
melancholy; and to amuse his young guest he offered to take him to hear
some fine music, with which, he said, a gentleman that evening was
going to serenade his mistress.

The reason Julia looked so very melancholy was, that she did not well
know what Protheus would think of the imprudent step she had taken; for
she knew that he had loved her for her noble maiden pride and dignity
of character, and she feared she should lower herself in his esteem;
and this it was that made her wear a sad and thoughtful countenance.

She gladly accepted the offer of the host to go with him, and hear the
music; for she secretly hoped she might meet Protheus by the way. But
when she came to the palace whither the host conducted her, a very
different effect was produced to what the kind host intended; for
there, to her heart’s sorrow, she beheld her lover, the inconstant
Protheus, serenading the lady Silvia with music, and addressing
discourse of love and admiration to her. And Julia overheard Silvia
from a window talk with Protheus, and reproach him for forsaking his
own true lady, and for his ingratitude to his friend Valentine; and
then Silvia left the window, not choosing to listen to his music
and his fine speeches; for she was a faithful lady to her banished
Valentine, and abhorred the ungenerous conduct of his false friend

Though Julia was in despair at what she had just witnessed, yet did she
still love the truant Protheus; and hearing that he had lately parted
with a servant, she contrived, with the assistance of her host, the
innkeeper, to hire herself to Protheus as a page; and Protheus knew not
she was Julia, and he sent her with letters and presents to her rival
Silvia, and he even sent by her the very ring she gave him as a parting
gift at Verona.

When she went to that lady with the ring, she was most glad to find
that Silvia utterly rejected the suit of Protheus; and Julia, or the
page Sebastian, as she was called, entered into conversation with
Silvia about Protheus’s first love, the forsaken lady Julia. She
putting in (as one may say) a good word for herself, said she knew
Julia; as well she might, being herself the Julia of whom she spoke:
telling how fondly Julia loved her master Protheus, and how his unkind
neglect would grieve her. And then she, with a pretty equivocation,
went on: “Julia is about my height, and of my complexion, the color of
her eyes and hair the same as mine;” and indeed Julia looked a most
beautiful youth in her boy’s attire. Silvia was moved to pity this
lovely lady, who was so sadly forsaken by the man she loved; and when
Julia offered the ring which Protheus had sent, refused it, saying,
“The more shame for him that he sends me that ring; I will not take it,
for I have often heard him say his Julia gave it to him. I love thee,
gentle youth, for pitying her, poor lady! Here is a purse; I give it
you for Julia’s sake.” These comfortable words coming from her kind
rival’s tongue cheered the drooping heart of the disguised lady.

But to return to the banished Valentine, who scarce knew which way
to bend his course, being unwilling to return home to his father a
disgraced and banished man. As he was wandering over a lonely forest,
not far distant from Milan, where he had left his heart’s dear
treasure, the lady Silvia, he was set upon by robbers, who demanded his
money. Valentine told them he was a man crossed by adversity, that he
was going into banishment, and that he had no money, the clothes he had
on being all his riches. The robbers, hearing that he was a distressed
man, and being struck with his noble air and manly behavior, told him,
if he would live with them and be their chief, or captain, they would
put themselves under his command, but if he refused to accept their
offer they would kill him. Valentine, who cared little what became of
himself, said he would consent to live with them and be their captain,
provided they did no outrage on women or poor passengers. Thus the
noble Valentine became, like Robin Hood, of whom we read in ballads, a
captain of robbers and outlawed banditti; and in this situation he was
found by Silvia, and in this manner it came to pass:

Silvia, to avoid a marriage with Thurio, whom her father insisted upon
her no longer refusing, came at last to the resolution of following
Valentine to Mantua, at which place she had heard her lover had taken
refuge; but in this account she was misinformed, for he still lived in
the forest among the robbers, bearing the name of their captain, but
taking no part in their depredations, and using the authority which
they had imposed upon him in no other way than to show compassion to
the travelers they robbed. Silvia contrived to effect her escape from
her father’s palace in company with a worthy old gentleman, whose name
was Eglamour, whom she took along with her for protection on the road.
She had to pass through the forest where Valentine and the banditti
dwelt; and one of the robbers seized on Silvia, and would also have
taken Eglamour, but he escaped.

The robber who had taken Silvia, seeing the terror she was in, bid her
not to be alarmed, for that he was only going to carry her to a cave
where his captain lived, and that she need not be afraid, for their
captain had an honorable mind, and always showed humanity to women.
Silvia found little comfort in hearing she was going to be carried as
a prisoner before the captain of a lawless banditti. “O Valentine,”
she cried, “this I endure for thee!” But as the robber was conveying
her to the cave of his captain, he was stopped by Protheus, who, still
attended by Julia in the disguise of a page, having heard of the flight
of Silvia, had traced her steps to this forest. Protheus now rescued
her from the hands of the robber, but scarce had she time to thank him
for the service he had done her, before he began to distress her afresh
with his love suit; and while he was rudely pressing her to consent to
marry him, and his page (the forlorn Julia) was standing beside them in
great anxiety of mind, fearing lest the great service which Protheus
had just done to Silvia should win her to show him some favor, they
were all strangely surprised with the sudden appearance of Valentine,
who having heard his robbers had taken a lady prisoner, came to console
and relieve her.

Protheus was courting Silvia, and he was so much ashamed of being
caught by his friend, that he was all at once seized with penitence and
remorse; and he expressed such a lively sorrow for the injuries he had
done to Valentine, that Valentine, whose nature was noble and generous,
even to a romantic degree, not only forgave and restored him to his
former place in his friendship, but in a sudden flight of heroism he
said, “I freely do forgive you; and all the interest I have in Silvia,
I give it up to you.” Julia, who was standing behind her master as a
page, hearing this strange offer, and fearing Protheus would not be
able with this new found virtue to refuse Silvia, fainted, and they
were all employed in recovering her; else would Silvia have been
offended at being thus made over to Protheus, though she could scarcely
think that Valentine would long persevere in this over-strained and too
generous act of friendship. When Julia recovered from the fainting fit,
she said, “I had forgotten, my master ordered me to deliver this ring
to Silvia.” Protheus, looking upon the ring, saw that it was the one
he gave to Julia, in return for that which he received from her, and
which he had sent by the supposed page to Silvia. “How is this?” said
he, “this is Julia’s ring; how came you by it, boy?” Julia answered,
“Julia herself did give it me, and Julia herself hath brought it

Protheus, now looking earnestly upon her, plainly perceived that the
page Sebastian was no other than the lady Julia herself; and the proof
she had given of her constancy and true love so wrought in him, that
his love for her returned into his heart, and he took again his own
dear lady, and joyfully resigned all pretensions to the lady Silvia to
Valentine, who had so well deserved her.

Protheus and Valentine were expressing their happiness in their
reconciliation, and in the love of their faithful ladies, when they
were surprised with the sight of the Duke of Milan and Thurio, who came
there in pursuit of Silvia. Thurio first approached, and attempted to
seize Silvia, saying, “Silvia is mine.” Upon this Valentine said to him
in a very spirited manner, “Thurio, keep back; if once again you say
that Silvia is yours, you shall embrace your death. Here she stands;
take but possession of her with a touch! I dare you but to breathe upon
my love.” Hearing this threat, Thurio, who was a great coward, drew
back, and said he cared not for her, and that none but a fool would
fight for a girl who loved him not.

The duke, who was a very brave man himself, said now in great anger,
“The more base and degenerate in you to take such means for her as you
have done, and leave her on such slight conditions.” Then turning to
Valentine, he said, “I do applaud your spirit, Valentine, and think
you worthy of an empress’s love. You shall have Silvia, for you have
well deserved her.” Valentine then with great humility kissed the
duke’s hand, and accepted the noble present which he had made him of
his daughter with becoming thankfulness; taking occasion of this joyful
minute to entreat the good-humored duke to pardon the thieves with whom
he had associated in the forest, assuring him that when reformed and
restored to society, there would be found among them many good, and
fit for great employment, for the most of them had been banished, like
Valentine, for state offences, rather than for any black crimes they
had been guilty of. To this the ready duke consented; and now nothing
remained but that Protheus, the false friend, was ordained, by way of
penance for his love-prompted faults, to be present at the recital of
the whole story of his loves and falsehoods before the duke. And the
shame of the recital to his awakened conscience was judged sufficient
punishment; which being done, the lovers, all four, returned back to
Milan, and their nuptials were solemnized in presence of the duke, with
high triumphs and feasting.

       *       *       *       *       *

A SCOTCH PRAYER.—The following prayer was written about 1804, at a time
when Britain was threatened with a French invasion, Napoleon having
assumed full authority:

“God bless this house, and all that’s in this house, and all within
twa miles ilka side this house. O bless the cow, and the meal, and the
kail-yard, and the muckle town o’ Dumbarton.

“O God! bless the Scotch Greys that are lien’ in Hamilton Barracks.
They are brae chiels—they are not like the English whalps, that dash
their foot against a stone, and damn the saul of the stone—as if a
stone had a saul to be saved.

“O build a strong deak [dyke] between us and the muckle French, but a
far stranger one between us and the wild Irish.

“O Lord! preserve us frae a’ witches and warlocks, and a’ lang-nebbed
beasties that gang threw the heather.

“O Lord! put a pair o’ branks about the king o’ France’s neck—gie me
the helter in my ain hand, that I may lead him about when I like: for
thy name’s sake. Amen.”



Words are subject to an incessant change. Substantives, for example,
are the names of things actually existing, or of qualities of those
things. When I say an oak, I mean an oak and not a beech; goodness
is not badness; and if these things don’t change, how can the names
which express them change without causing utter confusion? Perhaps
variations so violent as these are not very common, and yet both these
changes have occurred in language. The very same word which to the
Greeks meant an oak, to the Romans meant a beech, though an oak never
yet changed into a beech. _Schlecht_ in German first of all meant
“straight.” Now the “straightness” of a visible object, such as a
line, is the most obvious metaphor by which to express the moral idea
of “straightforwardness” and simplicity of heart and purpose, just
as our common word _right_ means originally that which is straight,
the Latin _rectus_. But then simpleness may shade into the folly of
the simpleton; and lastly the fool in worldly wisdom may give his
name to the fool of whom Solomon spoke; and by some such process as
this _schlecht_ in modern German means “bad” only. After seeing this
change of nouns, can we wonder that verbs can vary their meaning by
imperceptible degrees so much that the first sense would be altogether
unrecognizable unless we had the history of the word recorded by its
use in successive writers?

Great changes of language are sometimes due to great convulsions in
history; as when the Roman civilization was destroyed by nations
comparatively uncivilized and the language of the Romans remained
modified in different ways in the countries of which they were the
lords no longer. Such great changes do not often take place; yet just
as surely, though more slowly, a gradual change goes on in the most
peaceful times, of which you cannot have a better example than in
your own English. “Well,” you say, “surely English has not changed
much in the last three hundred years. We can read Shakspere without
any difficulty.” That is saying a little too much; we are so familiar
with the best parts of Shakspere that perhaps we are hardly conscious
of the difference; the words have a well-known sound, and if we are
not students of language we may not examine them very carefully. But
open your Shakspere almost at random and you will soon find out, if
you really consider, how much is now obsolete, how many words have
passed out of use or are used in a different sense. I have opened on
“Macbeth,” Act. i. Sec. 7, and there I find in Lady Macbeth’s speech:—

              “His two chamberlains
    Will I with wine and wassail so convince
    That memory, the warder of the brain,
    Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
    A limbec only.”

Now look at a few of the words here. (1) “Chamberlain,” as we all know,
etymologically a man of the chamber; it comes from _camera_, a chamber,
originally a vault; the root of this is _cam_—to be bent or crooked,
which is supposed to be the origin of the name of our most crooked
river. The old sense of “chamberlain” has not quite died out of our
recollection; yet when we speak of the Lord Chamberlain—the only person
to whom the title is now applied—we don’t think of a man whose business
it is to guard his king’s sleep when on a journey, or, generally, of a
bed-room attendant, but of one whose best known duty is the censorship
of plays. (2) “Wassail” is a word which we should expect to find in a
historical novel, but not to hear in every-day talk. We feel pretty
sure that it has something to do with good cheer, but we may not
know that it was originally a drinking of health; that _was_ was the
imperative of the verb _was_ “to be,” which we have turned into an
auxiliary verb to mark past time; and the last syllable is our word
_hale_—healthy, which we have pretty well restricted to the description
of an elderly man, whom we call “hale for his years;” though we are
familiar with the word in corrupted form _whole_, which we have in
the Bible, “I have made a man every whit whole on the Sabbath day.”
(3) “Convince” has wavered much in sense; we use it now simply for
persuading a person, but the primary meaning was “to overpower,” which
it has here; in the Bible phrase “Which of you _convinceth_ me of
sin?” we have the same special sense of overcoming by testimony, which
_convincere_ had in Latin.

So again (4) “Warder,” like “wassail” is a word with which we are
familiar from books, but which we should not ourselves use without
the appearance of affectation; we should use the equivalent “guard.”
We have here a couple of words identical in meaning, just as we have
_wise_ and _guise_, _warrant_ and _guarantee_, _wager_ and _gaze_, and
others which explain the riddle, such as _war_ and French _guerre_,
_warren_ and French _garenne_. It is well known that in all these
the _w_ marks the Teutonic word introduced alike into England by
the Anglo-Saxons and into France by the Franks, which the earlier
inhabitants of France were unable to pronounce without letting a _g_
escape before it; and so they produced the second form beginning with
_gu_. Some of these second forms were brought into England by the
Normans, and existed there by the side of the English word brought long
before; but as there was no distinction in sense, one form generally
fell into disuse, only to be revived for a special purpose, as by Sir
Walter Scott, to give a mediæval look to his poems.

(5) “Fume” meant smoke or steam. Shakspere used it metaphorically, just
as we might speak of a man’s reason being clouded. Such a use of the
word may have been familiar at his time, but no such idea would now
attach to it; if we use it at all, we do so in the old simple sense, as
the “fumes of tobacco,” the same sense which the word bore at Rome and
in the far-away India more than twenty centuries ago; while the Greeks
turned it, by a different metaphor, to express the steam of passion,
and Plato in his famous analysis distinguished the “thumoeides,” the
spirited part of the soul, from that part which reasons, and from that
part which desires. (6) “Receipt” seems to be used of a place, that
place where reason is found, just as we hear of Matthew in the Bible
“sitting at the receipt of custom.” (7) “Limbec” has probably died
out altogether. It is only the student of the history of the English
language who can guess that the word is equivalent to _alembic_, which
meant a still or retort, and so is used here by Shakspere merely in the
sense of an empty vessel, that into which anything may be poured. The
word is Arabic; it was brought into England with chemical study like
_alchemy_ itself, _algebra_, and many others. Then by degrees people
fancied that the _a_ at the beginning of the word was our article,
though really the first syllable _al_ is the Arabic article; and thus
_lembic_ or _limbic_ was left. The article has often been a thief in
England. It has two forms _an_ and _a_, and meant _one_, as you may see
in the old Scotch form, “ane high and michty lord.” The shortened form
_a_ was naturally used before a consonant, but when the word began with
_n_, people did not always see where to divide rightly. Thus _a nadder_
turned into _an adder_, _a napron_ has become _an apron_, etc.; on the
other hand the _eft_ (ewt) seems to have robbed the article in its turn
and become _a newt_.

Thus we have examined one passage, and have found in its four lines
seven words which are either not used now at all or are used in a
different sense. Yet, as we said, the passage as a whole sounds simple
enough when we read it or hear it on the stage. We must admit then that
the English of to-day differs much from Shakspere’s English in the
meaning of its words.



Though it has often been hastily assumed that the annals of the bow
in the northern kingdom would require no more space in the writing
than did Olaus Magnus’s famous chapter on the snakes of Iceland, yet
this is only true of archery in battle; and it is a curious fact
that, though the Scots could never be induced to take to the bow as a
military weapon, they became very fond of archery as a pastime, when
firearms took the place of bows and arrows as “artilyere,” and there
was no further need of statutes forcing the bow into their hands, and
forbidding all outdoor amusements that interfered with its practice. It
is a curious problem why, in two races so akin as the English and the
Lowland Scots, national bent should in this respect take such opposite
directions. While the southern yeoman delighted in his long-bow and the
sheaf of shafts—“the twelve Scots’ lives” he bore under his girdle—his
kinsman foe across the Tweed could never be compelled either by
experience or a long series of penal statutes to take to the weapon
whose power in skilful hands he had felt on many a bloody field. “Few
of thaim was sekyr of archarie,” laments Blind Harry, the minstrel,
of Wallace’s followers; and not only was this true of all succeeding
Scottish soldiers, but it may be that the same national prejudice can
be traced back for centuries before the Blind Minstrel’s time, to the
days of the sculptured stones that stud the northeastern districts of
Scotland. While on them are many delineations of the hunter aiming his
arrow at deer or wild boar, there is only one instance, in all their
many scenes of war, in which fighting men are armed with the bow.

When the first James of Scotland returned to his northern kingdom with
his “fairest English flower,” Lady Jane Beaufort, he brought back
with him from his long captivity a deep impression of the value of
the bow. Under the careful instruction of the constable of Pevensey,
James had become a fine marksman, and he tried by every means in his
power to popularize the exercise at home. He forbade football and other
“unprofitable sports;” he ordered every man to shoot at the bow marks
near his parish church every Sunday; he chose a bodyguard for himself
from among the most skilful archers at the periodical “Wappinshaws;”
and in his poem of “Christ’s Kirk on the Green” he published a scathing
satire on the clumsiness and inefficiency of his peasantry in archery.
What the most energetic of the Stuart kings set his mind to he
generally succeeded in; and possibly, if the dagger of “that mischant
traitor, Robert Grahame,” had spared his life at Perth, James might
have done what so many Scottish kings failed to do; as it was, we see
signs of improvement among his people.

The bodyguard that the author of the “King’s Quhair” embodied for
himself was the origin of the famous “Royal Company of Archers” that
still flourishes vigorously in Edinburgh. So say the present “Bodyguard
for Scotland,” though their oldest extant records stop short two
centuries and a half of King James’s time.

With James’s assassination at Perth, the new-born zeal for archery
seems to have died away; and it is not till we come to the time of
James V. that any noteworthy traces of its practice can be found. If
we may judge from a story told in Lindsay of Pitscottie’s quaint old
chronicle of Scotland, the Commons’ king had some fine archers in his
kingdom; for Lindsay tells us how the Scottish marksmen were victorious
in what must surely have been the earliest friendly shooting-match
between England and Scotland. The occasion of this international match
was Henry VIII. sending an embassy with the garter to his nephew, the
young King of Scots, in 1534. “In this year,” says Pitscottie, whose
spelling we modernize, “came an English ambassador out of England,
called Lord William Howard: a bishop and other gentlemen, to the number
of three score horse: who were all able wailled [picked] gentlemen for
all kinds of pastimes, as shooting, leaping, wrestling, running, and
casting of the stone. But they were well essayed in all these before
they went home, and that by their own provocation, and they almost
ever tint [lost]: while at the last the king’s mother favored the
Englishmen, because she was the king of England’s sister; and therefore
she took a wager of archery upon the Englishmen’s hands, contrary
to the king her son, and any half dozen Scotsmen, either noblemen,
gentlemen, or yeomen, that so many Englishmen should shoot against
them at ‘rovers,’ ‘butts,’ or ‘prick-bonnet.’ The king hearing of this
bonspiel [sporting match] of his mother was well content. So there was
laid a hundred crowns, and a tun of wine pandit [staked] on each side.
The ground was chosen in St. Andrews. The Scottish archers were three
landed gentlemen and three yeomen, to wit: David Wemyss of that ilk,
David Arnott of that ilk, and Mr. John Wedderburn, vicar of Dundee.
The yeomen were John Thomson in Leith, Steven Tabroner, and Alexander
Baillie, who was a piper. [The Scottish archers] shot wondrous near,
and won the wager from the Englishmen; and thereafter went into the
town, and made a banquet to the queen and the English ambassador, with
the whole two hundred crowns and the two tuns of wine.”

Archery from this time became an established pastime in Scotland,
amicably sharing men’s leisure with its old enemies golf and football,
while with the ladies it took rank as their chief, if not only, outdoor
pastime. Queen Margaret herself might possibly have taken her place
with credit beside the six Englishmen she backed in this match against
her son; for we are told by Leland and others that Henry’s sister was
no mean shot, while her unfortunate grandchild, Mary Queen of Scots,
was as fond of archery as was her cousin Elizabeth of England and many
another lady of that time.


Mrs. Carlyle wrote in 1843: “Pickwick, Bulwer Lytton and Alfred
Tennyson—the last is the greatest genius, though the vulgar public have
not as yet recognized him as such. He is a very handsome man, and a
noble-hearted one, with something of the gipsy in his appearance which,
for me, is perfectly charming. One night at private theatricals in
being escorted through a long dim passage to a private box, I came on
a tall man leant to the wall, with his head touching the ceiling, to
all appearance asleep, or resolutely trying it under most unfavorable
circumstances. ‘Alfred Tennyson!’ I exclaimed in joyful surprise.
‘Well,’ said he, taking the hand I held out to him, and forgetting to
let it go again. ‘I did not know you were in town,’ said I. ‘I should
like to know who you are,’ said he; ‘I know that I know you, but I can
not tell your name.’ And I had actually to name myself to him. Then
he woke up in good earnest, and said he had been meaning to come to
Chelsea. ‘But Carlyle is in Scotland,’ I told him with due humility.
‘So I heard from Spedding already, but I asked Spedding, would he go
with me to see Mrs. Carlyle? and he said he would.’ Last Sunday I was
lying on the sofa, headachey, when a cab drove up. Mr. Strachey? No.
Alfred Tennyson alone! Actually, by a superhuman effort of volition he
had put himself into a cab, nay, brought himself away from a dinner
party, and was there to smoke and talk with me!—by myself—me!”

       *       *       *       *       *

How dear is fatherland to all noble hearts.—_Voltaire._



Some facts as to the geographical distribution—whether of plants
or animals—have, it is true, been long known, indeed they present
themselves on the slightest inquiry. Every one is aware that elephants
and tigers do not roam in our woods now-a-days, whatever may have been
the case aforetime. Many persons have read that horses were unknown
in the New World at the time of its discovery by Europeans, and were
subsequently introduced by its Spanish conquerors. Some may even know
that humming-birds are not to be found in the Old World, and that (as
has been already said) the so-called “marsupial” animals are at the
present time, with a few exceptions, confined to Australia, as well as
that in that country nothing like vultures or woodpeckers are to be

The assemblage of animals which inhabit any portion of the earth’s
surface, whether it be land or water, is called its “fauna,” in the
same way that the plants of a country are called its “flora.” To
be entitled to the former term it is unnecessary that the animals
composing the assemblage should not be found anywhere else; it is
enough that they occur there and impress upon the district, be it
large or small, certain more or less well-marked peculiarities. Nor
does it follow because certain kinds of animals are found to inhabit
two districts that these two have the same fauna. We have to take
the whole assemblage as a whole, and abide by the verdict which the
majority of kinds affords us. Now by collecting such facts as those
stated in the preceding paragraph, and such facts can be collected by
the hundred or the thousand, we are able to get hold of a general idea
of the geographical distribution of animals, and when the results of
all the knowledge on this subject which we can acquire are brought
together, it will appear that the earth may be partitioned into several
great zoölogical regions—each separable in subregions, provinces,
subprovinces and so on.

America is divided into two regions—the “Nearctic” and the
“Neotropical,” which meet in Mexico at about the 22d parallel of north

(1) The Nearctic Region (that is the Northern part of the New World)
includes the Aleutian Islands, besides Greenland and the Bermudas with
all of what is generally called North America.

(2) The Neotropical Region (that is the tropical part of the New World)
comprises the West India Islands, the Galapagos, and the whole of South
and Central America.

Passing to the Old World, it is separable, as may be seen, into four

(3) The Palæarctic Region (or Northern part of the Old World) including
that portion of Africa which lies to the northward of the Great Desert,
the Atlantic Islands (Madeiras, Canaries, and Azores), the whole of
Europe from Iceland to Greece, besides Asia Minor, Palestine, Persia,
probably Afghanistan, the whole of Northern, Central and Eastern Asia,
lying to the northward of the Himalaya Mountains and of China proper,
as well as Japan.

(4) The Ethiopian Region consists of Africa, excepting Morocco and
Algeria (which, as already stated, belong to the preceding region), as
well as of Arabia and of course the adjacent islands from those off the
Cape Verd to Madagascar and Socotra.

(5) The Indian Region includes possibly Beloochistan, all British
India, Burmah, China proper (that is, without Chinese Tartary), Cochin
China, the Malay Peninsula, Sumatra, Java, Bali, Borneo, and the
Philippine Islands.

(6) The Australian Region is very trenchantly divided from the Indian
at the Straits of Macassar, and, beginning with the islands of Celebes
and Lombok, comprises all the groups between them and Papua or New
Guinea, as well as Australia, Tasmania, New Zealand, and, generally,
all the islands of the Pacific Ocean, except those already otherwise
appropriated—as Japan, the Aleutian Islands and the Galapagos.

It may be added that though the preceding outlines of geographical
distribution were first laid down with reference to the most vagrant
class of animals in creation—namely birds—their truth has since been in
the main confirmed by nearly all those zoölogists who have studied the
subject in reference to particular classes in the knowledge of which
they themselves stand preëminent.

Yet it may not be unreasonably expected of these six zoögeographical
regions, that they are not all equally distinct, and it is quite
possible that future researches may show that their boundaries require
some rectification.

The study of the geographical distribution of animals furnishes us with
facts of much importance in the history of the earth. For example: It
has been stated, and that on the very best authority, that the marine
faunas of the two coasts of the Isthmus of Panama, which joins the
two continents of North and South America, have but thirty per cent.
of species in common. Now what does this show? No doubt the very
considerable antiquity of the barrier which exists between the Atlantic
and the Pacific Oceans—for if, in anything like recent times, there
had been a break in this barrier, within the tropics where the sea is
warm, then assuredly we should have had a very much larger interchange
of the species which inhabit its two sides, or perhaps we should even
find precisely the same fishes, the same shells, the same crabs and the
same corals in the harbor of Colon on the one side and that of Panama
on the other. As it is we have corals on the Atlantic coast of the
isthmus and on the Pacific none whatever, while, as before said, of the
rest of the marine fauna (the fishes especially) not more than thirty
per cent. are common to both. It is moreover particularly to be noted
that there seems to be no other reason than the one here assigned for
this difference. Very many sorts of fishes and of shells which occur on
one side so much resemble those found on the other that the distinction
between them is only such as can be recognized by expert zoölogists,
yet this distinction is constantly to be observed—they form what are
called “Representative Species,” that is, one kind of fish or shell on
one side is exactly represented by another kind of fish or shell on the

But this difference between the marine faunas of the two coasts of the
Isthmus of Panama not only proves its long duration as a barrier of dry
land, but some other deductions follow naturally enough. It is also
tolerably clear that the Gulf Stream must have been running pretty much
the same course that it runs now so long as the barrier presented by
the Isthmus of Panama has existed. If it were not for that barrier the
current would have continued its westerly flow onward to the Pacific
Ocean. Now we have seen that the difference between the marine faunas
of the two sides of the isthmus proves its long duration. Hence we may
fairly conclude that for so long has the Gulf stream been flowing and
helping to soften what would otherwise have been the rigorous climate
of Ireland and Scotland, thereby materially affecting their fauna.

Everyone knows the old legend of St. Patrick, and how he is said to
have banished all noxious reptiles from his favorite island. As a
matter of fact only one kind of reptile proper is found in Ireland.
This is the viviparous lizard, a harmless little animal which also
occurs in Great Britain and generally throughout the continent of
Europe. But in England we have besides a second kind of lizard,
commonly known as the sand-lizard, and this also is spread over the
Continent, where they have in addition, even in Northern France, a
third kind, the green lizard, which does not inhabit any part of Great
Britain or much less of Ireland. It is therefore a not very unlikely
deduction from these facts that the viviparous lizard had made its
appearance in this part of the world at an epoch when Ireland was
joined to England by dry land, and England was in like manner connected
with France, and that that epoch was earlier than the time when the
sand-lizard appeared, for if the latter had then occurred it would
in all likelihood have spread to Ireland. But if we suppose, and
geologists tell us we may do so, St. George’s Channel to have been
formed before the English Channel was, then it is plain that a reptile
extending its range from the middle of Europe would have been able to
get into England, but not into Ireland; and this supposition would
account for the limited distribution of the sand-lizard. While again a
third reptile, like the green lizard, coming at a subsequent period,
after the straits of Dover were formed, would find them before him and
be unable to set his foot off the continent.

Thus in whatever way we regard them, the not unreasonable deductions
afforded by the facts which a study of the geographical distribution
of animals makes known to us are of very great importance. We may of
course be wrong in some of our inferences, we very likely shall err,
as some of our predecessors have done, but the facts remain whatever
construction we put upon them, and, as they go on accumulating, we may
be sure that errors by degrees will be swept away, and perhaps the
genius of man by this means alone may explain one of the mysteries of

C. L. S. C. READINGS FOR 1883-84.


Readings in Roman, French, German, and American history in THE

History of Greece, by Timayenis, volume two, parts seventh, eighth,
tenth, eleventh. (Students of the Class of 1887, not having read volume
one of Timayenis’ History of Greece, will not be required to read
volume two, but will take “Chapters from Greek History,” instead of
volumes one and two of Timayenis.)

Stories in English History, by the great historians, edited by C. E.
Bishop, Esq.

Chautauqua Text-books, No. 16, “Roman History:” No. 21, “American


Preparatory Latin Course in English, by Dr. Wilkinson.

“English Literature,” Chautauqua Text-book, No. 22, by Prof. J. H.

Primer of American Literature, by Richardson.


How to Get Strong, and How to Stay So, by W. Blaikie.

Readings in Botany, by Dr. J. H. Wythe.

Chautauqua Text-book, No. 22, “Biology.”

Readings in Physical Science, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.


Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation, by Rev. J. B. Walker.

Sunday Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selected by Dr. Vincent.

Chautauqua Text-books, No. 18, “Christian Evidences;” No. 39,
“Sunday-school Normal Class Work.”


Biographical Stories, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Price, 15c. Published by
Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN about the Arts, Artists, and their
Master-pieces; about Commercial Law and Political Economy.

C. L. S. C. WORK.


Before the July CHAUTAUQUAN reaches members of the C. L. S. C., the
envelopes containing memoranda, etc., will have been mailed from the
Plainfield office. Any members who do not receive them by that time
should write to the office of the C. L. S. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

Members of the Class of 1883 will notice on the second page of
Memoranda 16, over the questions in regard to the White Seal Course,
the words, “not for graduates.” This refers to graduates of the Class
of 1882 _only_—_not_ to those who expect to graduate with the Class of
1883. We make this explanation so there may be no misunderstanding, as
the reading of the books there mentioned entitles all members of the
Class of 1883 to the white seal for their fourth year, 1882-3.

       *       *       *       *       *

Sunday, July 8, is a Memorial Day. Appointed reading: I Cor., xiii.

       *       *       *       *       *

Let our students understand that there is no additional fee required
for the pure white seal.

       *       *       *       *       *

One of the lonely ones, cut off from the privileges of local circles,
writes us: “I have met with many discouragements since my connection
with the C. L. S. C., sickness and pressure of business leaving me
barely time to accomplish the work, which I am sure is very poorly
done—quite different from what I supposed at the beginning. I have
studied alone, with only such help as the books of the course and a few
old school books have afforded—with no one interested in the books to
talk them over with, and help me fix the events in my memory. I have
only one satisfaction: of doing my best under the circumstances.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The Chautauqua Text-book on English Literature, by Prof. J. H. Gilmore,
to be used in 1883-84, is No. 23, instead of No. 22.

       *       *       *       *       *

July 13 is the C. L. S. C. Commencement Day at Monterey, California.
Salutations from thirty-five thousand members to the glorious band on
the Pacific Coast!

       *       *       *       *       *

A cultured lady of Connecticut writes: “I don’t know as excuses are
required in the People’s College; however, I think this will be in
order: Owing to sickness lasting four months of last year, I have not
been able to complete the reading and memoranda until now. I am happy
to say that I’ve accomplished this without neglecting the reading
of the present year, so I expect to be ready on time with my next
memoranda. I am delighted with the course of study, and should feel
lost without it now.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“Where could I purchase a telescope to assist me in the study of
astronomy?” Answer: James W. Queen & Co., 924 Chestnut Street,
Philadelphia, are practical and scientific opticians. They manufacture
telescopes. The mention of Bishop Henry W. Warren’s name and that of
the C. L. S. C. will insure attention and low prices.

C. L. S. C. SONGS.


[Illustration: Music]

    MARY A. LATHBURY.      (CHAUTAUQUA, 1875.)      _German Air._

    1 The flush of morn—the setting suns
      Have told their glories o’er and o’er;
    One rounded year, since, heart to heart,
      We stood with Jesus by the door.

    2 We heard his wond’rous voice; we touched
      His garment’s hem with reverent hand;
    Then at his word went forth to preach
      His coming kingdom in the land.

    3 And following him, some willing feet
      The way to Emmaus have trod;
    And some stand on the Orient plains;
      And some upon the mount of God!

    4 While over all, and under all,
      The Master’s eye, the Master’s arm,
    Have led in paths we have not known,
      Yet kept us from the touch of harm.

    5 One year of golden days and deeds
      Of gracious growth, of service sweet;
    And now, beside the shore again,
      We gather at the Master’s feet.

    6 “Blest be the tie that binds,” we sing;
      Yet to the bending blue above
    We look, beyond the face of friends,
      To mark the coming of the Dove.

    7 Descend upon us as we wait
      With open heart—with open word
    Breathe on us, mystic Paraclete!
      Breathe on us, Spirit of the Lord!

Copyright by J. H. Vincent.


[Illustration: Music]

  MARY A. LATHBURY.   (STUDY SONG.)   WM. F. SHERWIN, 1877, by per.

    1 Break Thou the bread of life, dear Lord,
         to me,
    As Thou didst break the loaves beside the sea.
    Beyond the sacred page I seek Thee, Lord;
        My spirit pants for Thee, O living Word!

    2 Bless Thou the truth, dear Lord,
        To me, to me,
    As Thou didst bless the bread by Galilee;
    Then shall all bondage cease,
        All fetters fall,
    An I shall find my peace,
        My All in All!

Copyright, 1877, by J. H. Vincent.

       *       *       *       *       *

A member of the Circle suggests that local circles should occasionally
hold an evening of song, making use of the “Chautauqua Songs” which
have been sent to all members. By doing this in advance of the several
Assembly meetings the coming season, they would be prepared to enjoy a
general service of song on the C. L. S. C. days.

       *       *       *       *       *

A lady holding a lucrative position in a Boston printing room writes:
“All that the C. L. S. C. has done for me it is impossible to tell.
It has helped me to become better acquainted with my Maker and his
wonderful works; the history of nations and individuals; created a
greater love for solid, instructive reading; better fitted me for
teaching in the Sunday-school, and opened avenues for thought, study,
and usefulness which, I trust, will make life more successful and

       *       *       *       *       *

“Will you please advise me through the columns of THE CHAUTAUQUAN what
book to procure to learn at home how to speak and write the English
language grammatically?” An excellent practical teacher gives the
following answer to the above question: “There is no book warranted
to turn out good writers and speakers of the English Language. If
the person desiring the information is a foreigner—a Frenchman or a
German—we could better answer the question. If he is English, with
what knowledge does he begin? If with little knowledge, he should use
some elementary book, such as Swinton’s ‘Language Lessons,’ or better,
Whitney’s ‘How to Speak and Write Correctly.’ If somewhat advanced,
some one standard text-book of the English language, some grammar like
Brown’s, would be helpful. But better would be the advice to read some
masters of English. Read carefully and critically, and try to reproduce
such essays as Irving’s, Hawthorne’s, and Longfellow’s. Johnson said,
‘Give days and nights to the study of Addison if you would attain a
style familiar but not coarse, elegant but not ostentatious.’ Bunyan is
said to have become master of English from the study of the Bible.”


On Friday evening, April 28, occurred the memorial exercises of the
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, in honor of Shakspere,
Bryant, Milton, Addison and Longfellow. We have about twenty-five
members in our circle, and a limited number of invitations to persons
not members were issued, the greater part of whom attended.

The ladies labored hard all day in arranging the rooms, and, as if by
magic, changed the appearance from a prayer-meeting room to one of the
cosiest and most inviting places you have ever seen. The floors were
handsomely carpeted, the walls hung with paintings, and the chairs and
round tables grouped about the room in such manner as to give an air of
informality that was truly delightful.

The program, as might be expected, was a choice one. Careful
preparation, a familiarity with the subject, deep interest in the work,
can be truthfully said of the efforts of each, and to write a detailed
criticism would be supererogation. It is necessary to state, however,
that in responding to the roll-call each member gave a quotation from
one of the poets. The entire program was as follows:


    Singing                  “Join, O Friends, in a memory Song”
    Essay                                 “Our Memorial Authors”
                    Adelaide F. Sheldon.
    Reading—“The Flood of Years.”                         Bryant
                     Mrs. J. W. Stone.
    Reading                                       From Shakspere
                 Mrs. Davison and Eva Tyler.
    Singing                                       Addison’s Hymn
    Reading                                          From Milton
                          Eva Tyler.
    Reading                                      From Longfellow
                        Mrs. Guernsey.
    Parody on Marc Antony’s Oration                   A. W. Cook
    Recitation                                      “Sandalphon”
                       Ettie Little.
    Song—“The Day is Done”                           Longfellow
                        Mary Krise.

Then followed exercises in which the guests were invited to join, and
for which no special course of study was required. We refer to the
refreshments. After all had been served, several toasts were announced
and responded to in an able and happy manner.


    “The Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.”
    Response by B. S. Dartt, our first president. “Our
    Memorial Authors” (Shakspere, Longfellow, Milton,
    Addison and Bryant)—Rev. Alexander McGowan. “The
    Chautauqua Work and its Workers Elsewhere”—Rev. A.
    S. Morrison. “Higher Culture, Viewed from the Social
    Standpoint”—George A. Guernsey.

Rev. S. P. Gates then spoke on the harmony of science and religion,
asserting that there is no gulf that separates religion and science,
nor any conflict where they stand together.

The chairman then announced that the balance of the evening would be
given to social enjoyment, soon after which the members and guests

    “The lights are fled,
     The garlands dead,
     The banquet hall deserted.”


One of the most delightful of evenings was spent by about two hundred
of the C. L. S. C.’s of Cincinnati and vicinity, on Tuesday evening,
May 8. The occasion bringing so many of the members together in gala
attire was their fourth annual reunion. On the chancel railing were
large and beautiful bouquets of fragrant flowers, and the motto, “Never
be Discouraged,” hung in graceful curves across the front of the room.

But the event of the evening was the unexpected visit from Dr. Vincent,
who came to see the members of the circle, while passing through the
city from the South en route to New York.

When Dr. Vincent appeared on the platform a vigorous Chautauqua salute
and expressions of admiration and surprise showed the high esteem and
regard in which the Cincinnati circles hold Chautauqua’s chief.

He congratulated the circle upon its good work in the past, and
encouraged those present to redouble their efforts for the future. He
said he had been traveling for some time, had just left Louisville
in the afternoon, and had arrived in Cincinnati only a short time
before, and added: “I am really too weary to talk, for I have delivered
ten addresses in six days, and am worn out, but the sight of this
prosperous association revives me sufficiently to at least leave a
suggestion for your reflection after I am gone. One thing I wish to
impress upon your minds is the importance of giving expression to your
thoughts, either by talking or writing.”

“Americans are great talkers—always making speeches. But is it to any
purpose or improvement? Is it not full of verbiage, and too often
frivolous? Usually when reunions of ladies take place, does not their
conversation drift to commonplace subjects, and do they say anything
beneficial or worth remembering or generally proceed much further than
the weather and the fashions. But the C. L. S. C.’s propose remedying
this, and are succeeding admirably, and when they can not suggest an
ennobling topic they keep silent.”

He then told them of some of the treasures Chautauqua had in store for
its visitors of ’83, and closed his address wishing the Cincinnati
circles every prosperity, and invoking a blessing full of earnestness
and affection.

The following is the program of the evening:


    1. Prayer                               Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D.
    2. Recitation—“Jane Conquest”                   Miss Anna Kumler
    3. Piano Solo                               Miss Ella Kattenhorn
    4. Address                                     Dr. J. H. Vincent
    5. Soprano Solo—“The Charmer”                  Miss Clara Looker
    6. “Three Themes for Reflection”                 Mrs. M. J. Pyle
    7. Recitation—“Barbara Fritchie”            Col. John A. Johnson
    8. Vocal Solo—“The Day is Done”              Miss Mamie Standish
    9. Essay—“Concerning Popular Sayings”          Mrs. A. E. McAvoy
    10. Reading—“John Jenkins’s Sermon”            Mr. Stanley Olive
    11. Duet—“On Mossy Bank”    Misses Nellie Allan and Jennie White

It was uniformly well rendered, each of the participants being a
representative of some one of the local circles. While refreshments
were being served the ’82’s held one of their stated meetings, and
decided to give a reception to the members of ’83 of Cincinnati and
vicinity in September, during the time of the Cincinnati exposition,
when the members from a distance will have a favorable time to come
and meet other members of the Alumni Association. The ’82’s were
distinguished by their badges, and though their meeting was not large
in numbers, it was very enthusiastic, ten of those present having
passed through the bronze gateway and under the arches on Commencement
Day, last August; and many pleasant memories were revived of their
class work and Chautauqua.

At the close of their meeting they disbanded and mingled with their
friends in the other classes, and all partook of the refreshments which
were dispensed most bountifully.


In connection with our Chautauqua Circle here, Corning, N. Y., we
have two German classes in a flourishing condition; both classes were
organized and are now being instructed by Miss S. K. Payne, one of the
Chautauqua (1882) graduates. The classes in reality form one of Prof.
Worman’s German Circles, and are in a measure under his direction, but
Miss Payne is our leader, and she fills that position with gratifying
success. She leads us not only in our efforts to acquire the language,
but she devises so many little plans calculated to stimulate the
endeavors of her scholars and invest the meetings with more than usual
interest. We meet once a week at her home for recitation and German
conversation, and much of the dry, hard rind of the German grammar is
smoothed away by the pleasant nature of our meetings. We intersperse
our work occasionally with delightful little entertainments at which
nothing but German speech or German songs are tolerated. Quite
recently we had a German picnic or tea-party, and still more recently
we celebrated the Emperor William’s birthday, not because we were
particularly fond of the Emperor William, but because he furnished such
a purely German topic. We were favored with a German speech from our
teacher, we had German recitations and essays, German songs and German
toasts, and when we adjourned to the dining-room, we were invited to a
repast not so strictly German, but one which the German king himself
might have relished. The entertainment which these little tea-parties
afford is as instructive as it is amusing, and if other German circles
have not already inaugurated similar affairs, we advise them to take
steps in this direction at once. Such occasions promote new ideas,
teach new words, and give one confidence to express his or her thoughts
in German. We subjoin the program of our last entertainment:


    1. Ein Lied—“Heil dir im Siegerkranz.”
    2. Anrede                                          Fraulein Payne
    3. Ein Lied—“Der Tannenbaum.”
    4. Gedicht—“Er ist da!”                         Fraulein Saunders
    5. Ein Solo—“Des Mädchens Klage”                 Fraulein Tinslar
    6. Aufsatz—“Kaiser Wilhelm als Jüngling”      Fraulein Ferenbaugh
    7. Duett—“Freut euch des Lebens”   Die Fraulein Payne und Tinslar
    8. Gedicht—“Unserer Sieben”                        Fraulein Patch
    9. Lorelei—Ein Lied.
    10. Aufsatz—“Kaiser Wilhelm als ein Mann”        Fraulein Tinslar
    11. Ein Lied—“Treue Liebe.”
    12. Aufsatz—“Kaiser Wilhelm als ein Soldat”             Herr Marx
    13. Ein Lied—“Die Wacht am Rhein.”
    14. Gedicht—“Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland”    Fraulein Schmidt
    15. Ein Lied—“Kriegers’ Morgenlied.”
    16. Auslesung—“Georg Washington und sein kleines Handbeil”
       auch “eine Erzählung seiner Tugend”            Herr Hungerford
    17. Ein Lied—“Lebe wohl.”

       *       *       *       *       *

THOSE who, without being thoroughly acquainted with our real character,
think ill of us, do us no wrong; it is not we whom they attack, but the
phantom of their own imagination.—_La Bruyère._


    [We request the president or secretary of every local
    circle to send us reports of your work, or ask the
    circle to elect a member to write up your method
    of conducting the circle, together with reports of
    lectures, concerts, entertainments, etc.—Editor THE
    CHAUTAUQUAN, Meadville, Pa.]

=Maine (Lewiston).=—The Scott C. L. S. C. was organized last October,
under the leadership of Rev. W. S. McIntire, for whom we named our
circle. We number twelve. We have taken the course as prescribed in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN. We had the benefit of a course of lectures on astronomy
this winter, made most interesting by the beautiful views shown us,
especially some of the sun spots, which were remarkably fine. One
evening our circle visited the observatory at Bates College. There, by
the use of the telescope we explored the heavens. We saw the craters on
the moon, the belts of Jupiter and his beautiful satellites, and faint
stars or nebulæ changed into double or multiple stars of great size and
brilliancy. We observed Shakspere’s Day in the usual manner. During the
study of “Evangeline” we are beginning our meetings with quotations
from Longfellow. The C. L S. C. idea having once taken possession of
a person, keeps him spellbound until he finishes the course, and then
will not let him go, but draws him into more and more interesting
studies, until he would fain spend his life under its beneficent

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts (Plymouth).=—A local circle, called the Pilgrim Rock
Circle, was organized here last October, with a membership of ten; we
now number thirty. Our meetings, which are fortnightly, are instructive
and interesting. We have had one lecture, and an entertainment on the
night of Shakspere’s day.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts (Boston).=—A Chautauqua Circle has been formed by some
of the young men of the Warren street M. E. Church. There are thirteen
members at present. We have only taken up a part of the studies this
winter, but intend to unite with the Central Circle at Chautauqua next
fall, and take all the studies of the C. L. S. C. course. We have
named our circle the “Highland Inner Circle of the Chautauqua Literary
and Scientific Circle,” and mean to take advantage of this excellent
opportunity for improving our minds.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts (Rockland).=—We organized a Local Circle last October;
have a president, secretary, and committee of three to arrange programs
for our meetings which are held twice a month at the homes of members.
We have Chautauqua games, readings from THE CHAUTAUQUAN, and usually
recite fifty of the questions. We have also had many abstracts on
characters in Greek history, and on the lines and houses of English
history. We have kept memorial days, had sketches of their characters,
and carefully prepared readings from Longfellow and Shakspere on their
memorial days.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts (Cambridgeport).=—Our circle was organized last October,
with thirteen members, four gentlemen and nine ladies. We meet on the
fourth Wednesday of the month, at the houses of the various members.
All have been greatly interested and instructed with the studies of
the past year, and most of us have been particularly interested in
astronomy. A short time since we spent an evening in practical work
with the telescope; we had a good glass, the night was bright and
clear, and we were able to get fine views of the Moon, Saturn, Neptune,
the nebulæ in Orion, the Bee Hive, and several double stars. I suppose
this to be the proper place to make suggestions as to improvements in
our circle. One difficulty that we find is the fact that we have no
means of knowing who in our community are members of the C. L. S. C.
unless they come forward and make themselves known. Our local circle
has been looking this matter up, and we find quite a number of members
not connected with any local circle, and so unknown to the other
members in the city. If every member would connect himself with a local
circle, or at least give his name to a circle, would it not serve to
bind us together more closely?

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts (Newbury).=—We have a local circle of forty members,
twenty of whom do the whole or a part of the reading. Charles J. Rolfe,
an earnest member of the class of 1884, did much to interest the
community in the C. L. S. C. course. Our first meeting was held on the
7th of October; Mr. Rolfe was unanimously chosen president. Besides the
regular studies we try to make the meetings entertaining by means of
music, reading, spelling matches, etc.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Connecticut (Thompsonville).=—The Thompsonville C. L. S. C. was
organized in October last under the direction of Rev. F. S. Barnum,
and started with fifteen members. The original members have continued
zealous students, and nearly every meeting witnessed accessions
until the number has reached more than forty, all of whom testify to
the great value as well as interest to them of the winter’s work. A
“public” was held at the close of the first two months’ studies, and
also a second “public” at the end of studies for January. Essays and
addresses made up delightful evenings for the audiences assembled. On
the second occasion astronomy alone was the subject, and topics were
assigned to ten members of the circle. The ladies read essays, and the
gentlemen delivered brief lectures illustrated by diagrams, essays
and addresses confined to six minutes. Instrumental and vocal music
increased the pleasure of the exercises. Nine members of the local
circle have joined the main circle, and others propose to do so. The
next year a much larger number propose uniting in the work.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New York (Springville).=—The circle in this place was organized in
January, 1883, and consists of fifteen members. Our officers are a
president and a secretary. We hold our meetings once in two weeks,
occasionally oftener, at the homes of the members. We have no regular
plan for conducting the meetings, but decide at each meeting the
reading to be done before the next, and then we try to review as nearly
as possible the work that has been done. Our president also prepares
questions on the subjects we are studying, and a portion of each
evening is very profitably spent with the questions. We have spent much
more than the appointed time on astronomy, but have enjoyed the study
so much that we did not wish to lay it aside. We have observed several
of the memorial days. We realize more and more the value of the local
circle, and find that we take much more interest in the reading than
would be possible if each were reading alone.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New York (Naples).=—A small circle of six ladies, in the above named
place, commenced the course of study last October. We have held
meetings every week; each one takes a subject and questions upon it,
making us all teachers and all pupils. We have been through “Greek
History,” “English History,” and “Astronomy” _twice_; also took an
extra, “Smith’s Illustrated Astronomy,” which we are thoroughly
memorizing. The father of one of our circle having made astronomy a
life study, has kindly given us much valuable aid. We hope to have many
more in our circle another year, feeling the profit and happiness we
have obtained has been great.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New Jersey (Jersey City).=—Through the efforts of Rev. A. P. Foster,
pastor of the First Congregational Church, a circle was organized here
last December. The meetings of the circle were held every alternate
Tuesday, and were varied to harmonize with the prescribed course of
study. Altogether the winter has been made profitable to all concerned,
and we hope to make our future meetings still more so. We now number
thirty and expect another year to increase materially.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Pennsylvania (New Alexandria).=—About the last of November our local
circle began its meetings. Although so far behind in our studies, by
doing double work we were ready on the first of February to begin the
regular course for the month. Our circle is composed of six members,
and we were quite pleased to see that Dr. Vincent thinks that is the
best number for a local circle. We meet once every two weeks, and our
plan is for one of the members to ask the questions published in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN, and others to ask questions they have previously prepared
on the other branches of study. We read the “Sunday Readings” together.
We are greatly interested in this great intellectual movement, and
believe that while its present magnitude is very wonderful, the results
in the future will be even more so.

       *       *       *       *       *

=District of Columbia (Washington).=—Another local circle has been
formed in this city, called the “Ideal Circle.” We have eight members
in all, and meet once in two weeks, at the houses of the members. We
did not commence the course until March, so we have been busily engaged
in “reading up,” and have devoted all the time at our meetings to a
review of the matter gone over. Our president conducts the review. We
hope to begin the next year’s work with all good Chautauquans at the
proper time, and so to have opportunity to engage in wider reading and
greater research in the subjects furnished by the C. L. S. C. We are
enjoying the course, and find it very profitable to know just what to
read when we have but a few minutes to spend in reading, and so improve
instead of waste the odd moments.

       *       *       *       *       *

=West Virginia (Charleston).=—Last September the Charleston local
circle was organized with a membership of nine, which soon increased
to twenty-five, among whom we number two D.D.’s, the president of the
school board, superintendent of city schools, professional men, etc.,
and a full quota of interesting ladies. Commencing late, we did not
get under good headway for several weeks, when we followed the course
as laid down in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. At first the program was filled by
volunteers, but the necessity of more system was so apparent that we
divided ourselves into four classes, each one in its turn providing the
entertainment for the evening, thus giving to each class the program
once in four weeks. The Chautauqua course has been a source of much
pleasure and profit to its members here. Though belonging to the class
known locally as literary people, the readings of our circle heretofore
had been desultory and unprofitable. Now we have a systematic course
of good reading, and feel obligated by a sense of pleasure and duty to
do the work we have undertaken. At the future capital of West Virginia
ours is the only literary organization. May the C. L. S. C. increase
and multiply as the fishes of the Kanawha!

       *       *       *       *       *

=Alabama (Eufaula).=—The Eufaula local circle was organized September
7, 1882, and now numbers twenty-seven members. Meetings are held on the
first Monday night in each month at the homes of different members,
and officers are elected quarterly. It is the first year’s reading in
the C. L. S. C. course for all the members except one. Preparatory
to our reading “Evangeline” in May, we had a “Longfellow” program
at our last meeting, May 7. Of that meeting the _Daily Times_ says:
“The Eufaula local circle of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific
Circle is in a most flourishing condition. The most interesting and
successful meeting that has yet been had was held at Mayor Comer’s on
Monday night. An excellent program was carried out and was a pleasant
departure from the usual exercises. The members of the circle were
quite enthusiastic yesterday; a good sign. A community takes a long
step forward when it organizes such a club as this, and we are glad
that the Eufaula branch of that greatest of all universities, ‘The
Chautauqua University,’ is growing in strength and interest.”

       *       *       *       *       *

=Ohio (Ravenna).=—Because we have been silent all the year is no
sign that Ravenna does not possess a C. L. S. C. Long ago the grand
“Chautauqua Idea” struck us, and our pleasant town already boasts a
number of graduates of the class of ’82. Ravenna has four circles,
the Methodist C. L. S. C. being organized late in November, 1882,
with six members, this number rapidly increasing, and now we have a
flourishing circle of eighteen regular members, with six locals. THE
CHAUTAUQUAN is the valuable organ of our society, and the many choice
gems of reading form a very important part of our program. Besides
the regular work, we celebrate all memorial days, Milton’s Day having
been observed with select readings, music and biographical sketch.
Besides the social enjoyments of these occasions, we derive very
much benefit intellectually, and always welcome a memorial day. One
remarkably pleasant instance this season was the lecture given here by
Rev. J. H. Vincent, upon “That Boy.” After the lecture, upon the very
kind invitation of Judge Reed, a brilliant reception was given at his
spacious residence, and all Chautauquans were heartily welcomed. To
hear the encouraging words of Dr. Vincent and feel the friendly grasp
of his hand, gave a new impetus to our work, and to be a Chautauquan
had a more powerful significance. Long may the C. L. S. C. flourish.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Ohio (Springfield).=—The following is a copy of the program for
“Shakspere’s Day,” as followed by our circle:



    Introduction                                           President
    “Shakspere Day,” 1882                                  Secretary
    Select Reading from “Julius Cæsar”           Miss Lyda Ellsworth
    The Story of “Much Ado About Nothing”        Miss Elissa Houston
    Recitation from “Hamlet”                     Mrs. O. B. Williams
    “Bacon’s Claims to Shakspere’s Plays”     Mrs. R. A. Worthington
                               Chautauqua Supper.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Ohio (Bethel).=—There are ten in our circle, of whom seven are
regular and three local members. Our meetings are held semi-monthly,
at the homes of the members. The program consists in reviews, general
questions, and half the questions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. We are not only
interested in the reading, but delighted with it. We find that it just
meets our wants, and we are thankful that the means of culture are thus
placed within our reach.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Indiana (Orland).=—Our circle was organized in the fall of 1880. Some
members have moved out, and others have been added, so the membership
continues about the same—ten—all women, and none are behind in this
year’s reading. We meet in the afternoon every week, and have a session
of three hours. We make our meetings conversational, each member being
expected to ask a question on each paragraph of the lesson under
consideration. Number one asks a question, and any in the class who
have anything bearing on the subject have liberty to speak of it. Then
number two asks _her_ question, providing it has not been asked before,
and so on around the class. At the close of each month we have had
a special day for review of the month’s work. We had the geological
charts, and enjoyed them very much, but our time was limited, so we
expect to take it up again during the summer vacation. We have all
enjoyed the English history, while some of us know a little of Russian
history; and we are sure Dr. Vincent would be very happy could he see
the facility with which we forget the dates.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Indiana (Union City).=—In October last we organized a circle of about
twenty-five members. Probably more than thirty have read the course.
Our meetings have generally been at the homes of the members and very
pleasant times have we had. Rarely has the attendance fallen below
fifteen, and often it has exceeded thirty. Besides the exercises usual
to such occasions, we purchased three “Geological Charts” and also had
the use for several evenings of an excellent telescope which, though
small, enabled us to see distinctly the moons of Jupiter and the rings
of Saturn, etc. It is agreed by all that the scheme is not only a grand
success, but a godsend to those who are glad to read, yet need to have
their reading directed. We hope, another year, not only to retain our
present membership, but also to enlarge it greatly.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Illinois (Peoria).=—The first Chautauqua circle in Peoria, Illinois,
was organized by the Rev. C. O. McCulloch, September 20, 1882, and
is known as the “Hale Chapel Circle.” It numbers at present eighteen
regular and two local members. A growing enthusiasm has pervaded the
class, a result largely due to the faithful, earnest spirit manifested
by its instructor. In connection with the reading, some very excellent,
carefully prepared essays have been presented by members of the class.
We will close the year’s work, glad that we have had the privilege of
taking so profitable a course of reading.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Illinois (Farmer City).=—We organized a local circle last year with
a membership of seven. We now number fourteen members, with a local
circle in the country, a branch of this, with which we anticipate
much pleasure in the exchange of visits. We appoint a class conductor
for each evening. We are now quite fairly started in the work of the
present year, and esteem it of much value to us as a means of culture
and information.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Illinois (Monticello).=—Our circle numbers ten. We have determined
upon doing the work thoroughly, and have so far done a great deal of
reference work, particularly in the Greek history. We meet Thursday
evening of each week, and have regular class exercise, usually
conducted by the president.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Illinois (Astoria).=—Our local circle is small in numbers, there
being only a dozen of us, but we are not lacking in enthusiasm. We
organized late last fall and began two months behind time, but have
almost made up the lost time. The oldest member of our circle is
nearly an octogenarian. We have a variety of methods for conducting
our meetings—nothing stereotyped. Recently one program was somewhat
as follows: Each member responded at roll-call with a brief poem
(selected) on the stars; seventy-five questions were asked on
“Preparatory Greek Course,” and twenty-five on “Astronomy;” a paper
was read on “Plato and his Philosophy,” and last came a “pronouncing
contest;” fifty words having been selected by the leader, they were
lettered and given to the members in turn to be pronounced. We have a
“Chautauqua missionary,” in the shape of Pansy’s “Hall in the Grove,”
which we are sending into different homes to awaken enthusiasm, and the
result is likely to be a doubling of our numbers next year.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Wisconsin (Whitewater).=—We organized our club in October, 1882,
shortly after a visit from Rev. A. H. Gillet. We now number twenty-one
members, and hold our meetings once in two weeks. A program committee
assigns parts to different members, and each topic for study is
presented either by means of questions or a paper. We are enjoying the
work very much, and feel that we are greatly benefited by it.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Wisconsin (Mauston).=—The Delphian class of the C. L. S. C. was
organized last January with a membership of thirteen, but the number
has since increased to twenty. Shakspere’s day was pleasantly observed
by the class. The program consisted of readings, recitations, vocal
and instrumental music. The guests, numbering about forty, seemed well
pleased with our efforts.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Wisconsin (Milwaukee).=—Our circle is the fourth formed in Milwaukee,
hence, named “Delta Circle.” We have ten regular and several local
members. We meet once a week at the house of one of the members, so
that ours is a “parlor” circle. We generally have a leader appointed
two weeks ahead, who takes charge of the literary exercises of the
evening, topics for special study being generally given out by the
leader a week ahead. Questions and informal discussion form a large
part of our exercises, and we find our circle to be an inspiration to
higher work, and a great mutual help.

The following notice of the celebration of Shakspere’s birthday by
this circle is taken from a Milwaukee paper: “The recent gathering
at 146 Fifth Street, in response to the invitations sent out by the
Delta Circle, C. L. S. C., was a very unique and pleasing affair. The
company met to celebrate the 319th anniversary of the birth of William
Shakspere. The parlors were appropriately and tastefully decorated
with evergreen flowers and smilax. Upon a banner over the large bust
of Shakspere was seen “1564-1883.” Each of the fifty persons present
was provided with a program printed on satin, the Chautauquan badge,
a green leaf and the symbols representative of the society’s name,
being hand-painted. The literary exercises consisted of roll-call,
to which the members responded with quotations from Shakspere,
readings, recitations, and a discussion upon the question, ‘Did Bacon
write Shakspere?’ The debaters were very persuasive. The lady on the
affirmative, at the close of her argument, veiled Shakspere, and at the
close of the negative, the veil, touched by an unseen hand, fell, and
Shakspere stood vindicated. The music was very fine, being Shaksperean
in character. After the literary program, the company partaking of
refreshments, was made merry by the passing of a handsomely decorated
birthday cake, containing a small coin, which the happy finder was to
invest in Shaksperean literature. The guests departed, wishing many
happy returns of the day of immortal Shakspere.”

       *       *       *       *       *

=Michigan (Lisbon).=—This is our first year. We commenced with seven
members. Our books did not reach us until late, but by increased labor
we caught up by the first of January. We now hope to finish the year’s
work according to the plan marked out in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. We have one
member who lives six miles away, and who rarely fails to meet us at the
monthly meetings. Two worthy M.D.’s, who have little time to spare,
have taken up the course, and are very enthusiastic. The one the class
most “delighteth to honor” is a lady who has nearly rounded her sixty
years. She is our questioner. We trust that our Heavenly Father may
spare her these many years, that she may be able to finish the course,
and to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Another of our members is a
mother with poor health. She receives the Chautauqua Idea as a godsend
to help her keep pace with the five active, restless minds that are
beginning to pour their questions in upon her. It has been a year of
profit to each one, and one that we have all enjoyed.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Iowa (Council Bluffs).=—The circle is well attended, and has many
animated seekers after true culture, and more spirit is manifested
in its meetings now than when we first started. We meet every Monday
evening, at the pastor’s home. One of our professors here gave a
brilliant lecture recently on the subject of “Astronomy,” and Hon. W.
J. Armstrong, another eloquent orator, was secured to speak on “London

       *       *       *       *       *

=Iowa (Clinton).=—The Clinton branch of the C. L. S. C. was organized
October 16, 1882, with a membership of twenty-five, three being
graduates of 1882. Our circle meets every alternate Monday evening,
at the homes of members. Our president, Rev. S. H. Weller, D.D., of
the Presbyterian Church, conducts the meetings in a very interesting
manner. Papers on the lesson have been prepared and read by different
members, occupying the time for about half an hour, and followed
by a general talk on the same subject. One evening while studying
geology all were requested to bring in at the next meeting geological
specimens, and tell what they could about them. Several evenings each
brought two or three questions on the lesson written on slips of paper,
which, after being shook up in a hat, were drawn and answered by the
members. The plan we enjoy most is to pass round the circle, each
member in turn stating a fact concerning the lesson, until all the
principal points are brought out, this being followed by a “round-table
talk.” During the first week in April, while we were still studying
astronomy, an excursion party, in charge of Dr. Weller, went to Chicago
for the purpose of studying the stars by the aid of the large telescope
at the observatory there.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Iowa (Panora).=—We organized a circle last October with a membership
of eleven. We meet every Monday evening, review the lesson as outlined,
or in other words talk over the work, every member expressing his
views, asking questions, etc. At our last meeting Mrs. Haden treated
the circle to lemonade made from lemons grown in her home by the
fireside. The discussion that evening was “Lemon Culture in Iowa.”

=Iowa (Manchester).=—In this modest county seat of less than three
thousand people, there is the largest C. L. S. Circle in Iowa.
There were seven graduates last summer from here. Some of these are
prosecuting the White Seal Course. All of them have been active in
one of the three local circles which together number in all some
forty-eight, besides a history class which is composed of young people,
and is an outgrowth of the C. L. S. C., and the Young People’s Lyceum
of the M. E. Church, which may be said to have received its inspiration
from the same. We meet in three different classes and all come
together on “Memorial Days.” We have tried various plans, but we find
a good leader who has the tact to draw the different members out in a
conversational style is the most satisfactory and beneficial, and as we
have two or three in our class who are happily possessed of this tact,
we utilize it to the fullest extent, always to our profit and pleasure.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Missouri (Kansas City).=—We have just celebrated Shakspere’s birthday.
Kind friends of the circle gave us the benefit of their excellent
musical talent, “and all went merry as a marriage bell.” We can not
measure the benefit we already have derived from our connection with
the “People’s College.” Next year we think our membership will be
doubled, making it over one hundred. The possibilities for good that
lie within the compass of the C. L. S. C. seem infinite.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Utah (Salt Lake City).=—Our circle was organized February 3, the
present year. Rather late to take up the course with the class of
1886, but we are working hard and hope that by continuing our studies
through the summer months we may be ready to commence with the class
next October. We have thirteen regular members. Our meetings are held
weekly in the parlor of the M. E. church. They are quite informal.
Each member is appointed a committee of one to bring to the circle as
much of interest as possible in the way of notes, references, bright
thoughts, criticisms, etc., in connection with our studies.

       *       *       *       *       *

=California (San Jose).=—Our little city contains about seventy-five
Chautauquans. They are divided up into several neighborhood circles,
which meet either weekly or semi-monthly. All are in a thrifty
condition, and in some there is much enthusiasm. One is called “the
University Circle,” not because it aspires to take a full university
course, but because it is so fortunate as to have for its meeting place
the parlors of the University of the Pacific, an admirable college
under the vigorous care of President Stratton, who is also president
of our Pacific Coast C. L. S. C. This circle has about twenty members,
who have met regularly, read all the required reading, and had the
great advantage of being often instructed by various members of the
university faculty. Two or three of the members of this circle will be
among our graduates at Monterey. All the San Jose circles combine for a
monthly meeting, and have enjoyed a series of delightful lectures and
papers which ripe scholars might listen to with profit and pleasure. We
are all now on the _qui vive_ for Monterey, and expect to have the most
enthusiastic meeting that Pacific Grove has yet seen.



What pleasures you have in astronomy, what a constant delight! You
are reading the poems of the old Greeks written in the skies. They
had thoughts about manhood so broad, so heroic, so full of glorious
sympathies, that there were no books on earth fit to record them in,
no marbles enduring enough to celebrate the remarkable and interesting
deeds. So they took the page of the clear heavens, and put one hero
there, and some suffering one near by, and the hero marching on to the
deliverance of the suffering. The poetry, the pathos, the great deeds,
the special sacrifices, all that they could think of, was written in
the skies, and they read it nightly and taught it to their children
in the open air. They read it as they sailed on the round sea. They
kept in their minds the glory and heroism of the race, as it was there
portrayed before them.

But the thoughts of the Greeks were mean and poor and small, compared
with the thoughts that come to the astronomer of to-day. Then the stars
were only little points in the heavens, and now they are greater worlds
than we can think. We use them as the machinery of the gymnasium upon
which to stretch our minds and invigorate our thought, not only in
regard to material distance and greatness and glory, and years without
count, but after a little they will become significant of the infinite
power and godhead of our father who made all these things. Paul puts it
just right, that these things that are seen tell of the eternal power
and Godhead, so that people that see these things, and do not believe
in him, are even without excuse. Then comes the teachings of the Elder
Brother and the infinite Savior teaching something more than his power
and Godhead, even of his Fatherhood and loving care for his children.

Do you know the pleasure of reading these heavens, of all the bright
eyes signify, perchance, to you, in their nightly gaze upon you?
Whenever I look into the heavens above there are friendly faces,
there are bright eyes, there are, I may almost say, individuals that
I well know, that I can not only call their names, but tell the very
substances of which they are made, and rejoice that they look down upon
me with a friendly eye. Under the oak at Hebron I hear God’s voice
saying to me, as it did to Abraham, “Lift up thine eyes now unto the
heavens.” When God wants to make a man great enough to found a nation,
to have a special influence on the earth, he takes him out under
the open heavens. By the infinite stars Abraham got his faith in an
infinite God enlarged enough to trust him in all things.

I think any one who has not known the heavens might complain like
Carlyle in his old age, “Why didn’t somebody teach me when I was young
the names of the stars and the groupings of the constellations, which I
do not half know now, and thereby have lost pleasure for a lifetime?”
You can easily teach these things to those about you, to younger
brothers and sisters, to children committed to your care as teachers.
They will receive such teaching with delight. First teach them the
North Star and the Pointers as always directing the gaze toward it.
Tell them some stories about the Greek mythology of Theseus. Then tell
them a little about finding some of the constellations. Teach them to
know where to look for them at various seasons of the year. Then come
to the planets. The planet that happens to be plainest in your sky
at present is Venus. Tell them how far east it will come among the
stars. You can get, in any ordinary almanac, her greatest elongation,
the date, the time, and the star to which it goes. Tell one of these
children that this star in the sky will journey so far toward the
east, and then begin to go back among the stars toward the west. What
a thing it will be for you to have a reputation for having the gift of
prophecy, and what a thing it will be for you and your reputation when
it comes true. Then tell them it will go west and come so close to the
sun that by and by you can scarcely see it for the glory and brightness
of the setting sun. Meanwhile, perhaps, Mercury will come in sight, and
on some favorable night, on rare occasions, you can tell them, “There,
you see that star; perhaps you will never see it again in your lives.”
Thus you will give them acquaintance with a few stars and get them
in the habit of looking up, a blessed thing for individuals in this
world to do. They will interest father and mother about it, and that
will interest all the rest of them, and it will be an exceeding great
delight. Tell them of the few stars in the east just before sunrise, of
Jupiter in the east at present. Tell them of the great changes that are
going forward in that planet at present. You saw an account of that in
the newspapers. But tell them that Jupiter has been so hot and covered
with clouds so long that probably we have never seen its surface at
all until a few months since, and now that a great floating island of
scoria has come up to the surface, and it has been seen there now for
nearly two years, and when it came near the sun men were anxious to
know if the spot would be seen when it came up on the other side of the
sun. They looked for it eagerly, and when they discovered that spot
again, it had floated a long way in longitude.

These stars seem to be almost alive, and the thought that great
activities are going on in them will exceedingly interest those with
whom you have to do.

Then, how easily you can teach your circles the idea of distance.
Just draw them in your school rooms where you “schoolma’ams”—the most
honorable name in the world except that of mother—are permitted to
teach. Draw them, and by this means you will be able to teach these
little ones a few fundamental facts, and enlarge yourselves as you
strive to grasp these distances. Bring the idea to them how long it
would take a locomotive to go from the earth to the sun, three hundred
and twenty years, running all the time; how long it would take to go
elsewhere. Just stretch these little ones, for minds never give way,
however much they may stretch or enlarge, stretch them up to understand
these things that God has put before us.

I will represent the size of the sun by this table, and then represent
Mercury and Venus with the head of a pin; represent the earth by a
small-sized pea, very small, the smallest that grows at the end of
the pod; represent Mars with another, and Jupiter with an orange. In
an astronomy which I first taught, and the first one I ever studied,
too, and it was studied and taught at the same time, there used to be
an illustration that I have often used with great profit. Go out on
your croquet ground, put down a two-bushel basket, for instance, to
represent the sun, then draw at suitable distances the orbits of the
different bodies. If you have some little children about the school
house, put the liveliest little fellow you have to represent Mercury;
then the liveliest girl to represent Venus; you know who will represent
the earth; put some little fiery fighter to represent Mars, and explain
it; then you can get some least sized brothers to represent the
asteroids; some big old grandfather that will go slowly to represent
Jupiter, etc. Try to start them. Let Mercury go his round swiftly as
possible; let Venus go with queenly dignity, and the earth more slowly.
You will get into confusion at first, and you will have a good laugh,
but you will give to those young minds some illustration of how the
earth revolves around the sun.

Don’t try to teach too much. Begin slowly with a single idea. You know
how these lectures were represented with an apple swinging around the
sun, sometimes with an elastic string to represent how near the moon
came down to it. There are a thousand ways of making this interesting,
plain and profitable. As you begin to study these, you find your own
mind develops and unfolds in this direction.

I just looked into a book of poetry before coming up here, and almost
to my surprise on a single page I found more than a dozen allusions to
the stars. Astronomy is making itself felt in literature, is coming to
be one of the largest means of expression. We are always lacking means
of expressing our thoughts; for our words you philologists know have
been mostly taken from material things, and then raised up one degree
to represent mental ideas. For instance, we say “hard” of a table,
then complain that it is a “hard” thing to bear, bringing it up into
the region of mind; and we give words one more uplift for spiritual
significance. So that our language is all the time one, two or three
degrees below the full significance of that which is in our spiritual
perception. Now, astronomy with its vastness, with its might and glory,
is coming more and more into literature, so that you want an idea of
it, and want to know what is to be understood by the words used. And
especially when you come to that highest thought, when the Infinitely
Wise condescends to speak in the language of men, and men’s words
tremble and break down and can not bear his great thought, then you
want to say, “High as the heavens are above the earth, so high are his
thoughts and ways above ours.”

How much shall we grasp of his thoughts? As much as we grasp of his
symbols. He has filled the Bible all full of his symbols, with the
Divine Word full of the things of heaven, that we may know of the
greatness and glory and power expressed in some of his great thoughts
for the children of men. And we want to rise, grasping them, more and
more of them, until “a primrose by the river’s brim, a yellow primrose,
is to” us, and something more, and the meanest flower that blows brings
thoughts that lie too deep for tears. What shall the heavens mean when
we are used to utter God’s thought?

By reason of this I want you to spread the knowledge of the heavens
above you just as freely as you possibly can. In Pennsylvania, in a
quiet inland town that was supposed to be almost dead, some one with a
little enthusiasm proposed to form a star club. It was a club for the
study of the stars, and no man was to be admitted thereto except on
certain conditions. He could be put on the course of study, he could
have his preparatory course, he could gradually come along up, but
the excellence of the real membership could not be obtained until he
passed this test, until he could go out under the open heavens and call
a hundred stars by name. How many here are eligible? A little pains
would make it, a little pains along in the early evenings of a month,
and then along in the later evenings of a month or two; a few minutes
only would give you the ability of calling a hundred stars by name. It
makes you feel a little like God, for “He calls all the stars by their
names,” in the greatness of his power. And it is good for me to know
some of the names that have trembled into the air from divine power and
out of divine wisdom; it is good to call over the works of God.

Now, with a little enthusiasm here and there and elsewhere, you can
get individuals to know the names of the stars very easily. I see here
before me what I do not hesitate to advertise, simply because I have
not been requested to do it, the outgrowth of one of our ideas in the
“Recreations in Astronomy.” You will remember that there are some dark
plates with bright spots, with directions to cut them out, stick them
in a box, and put them before a candle. It is a little crude, but that
thought has been taken up by Prof. Bailey, and a lantern constructed
that is the most perfect invention in this department ever made. [Shows
the lantern.]

This round disk is a representation of the northern heavens. It is an
exact representation of all the stars in the northern sky. It gives
their names, makes them revolve around the heavens, sets them to any
hour or minute of the night of any month, in the exact position that
they are at that very minute or month in the sky. Here on these other
sides are the other portions of the heavens, north and south. It is
beyond question the greatest invention in this line that has ever been
made. It has the approval of such astronomers as Proctor, Asaph Hall,
the men of distinction in the United States, and of such names as
carry weight and authority anywhere. This is a Chautauqua invention.
(Applause.) It has done more for the study of the heavens and the
understanding of uranography than any other invention that has been


Members on the Pacific Coast who expect to attend the Monterey Assembly
should at once notify J. O. Johnson, Pacific Grove, of the time of
their coming and the length of their intended stay, also the kind of
accommodations wished by them, whether tents or cottages.

The additional books which have been spoken of in THE CHAUTAUQUAN as
reading for the class of ’83, “The Hall in the Grove, etc.,” are _not
required reading_ for the Pacific Coast students.

The Monterey Assembly opens July 5, and not June 27, as stated in the
circular of last fall.

       *       *       *       *       *

WE seldom repent of speaking little, very often of speaking too much;
a vulgar and trite maxim, which all the world knows, but which all the
world does not practice.—_La Bruyère._



But few people in the East have a correct idea of the Red River Valley.
For hundreds of miles the land is as level as a floor; for thirty miles
on either side of the river there is not even the roll of the prairie,
and scarcely a tree or shrub in sight. The railroads shoot from village
to village as straight as the flight of an arrow. You would see neither
grade nor cut during forty-eight hours of travel.

The choice lands of the valley seem to be on the west side of the
river, north from Grafton to the Dominion, and west to the Pembina
Mountains, the land growing richer as you approach the mountains.
There is but little government land to be obtained near the railroad.
Although it has been in the market less than a year, nearly every
section is taken, and prices range, according to the locality, from
$200 to $4,500 for 160 acres of entirely unimproved land. In some
counties many sections are apparently in the hands of speculators
and railroad companies, who do nothing toward improving either roads
or farms. The surpassing fertility of the soil has given Dakota
its reputation. Its richness has never been exaggerated; it is as
productive as the valley of the Nile, and it owes its fertility to the
same cause. The annual overflow of the Red River, for centuries, has
left a deposit that is unrivaled in wheat-producing qualities.

In discussing the future prosperity of the Red River Valley all admit
that the control of these floods, by some system of levees, and
drainage, is a vital question. The excess of water not only delays
seeding but sometimes the harvesting, and it must seriously affect the
healthfulness of that section. Water can not stand till it becomes
stagnant without producing malaria. Nearly every one will tell you how
healthy the people are; yet a prominent physician admitted that there
was a great deal of fever, and that he feared there would be more as
the country became more populous.

These low lands moreover send out during the hot summer days great
swarms of immense mosquitos.

There is no gravel with which to make roads, hence in the spring
they are something wonderful to behold; at certain seasons they are
impassable. “I have just driven five miles,” said a gentleman, “and
every foot of the way the wagon wheels sank to the hubs. There have
been no drays in the streets of this city for three weeks. All carting
has been done with hand-carts.”

And yet there is no doubt that this is a country with grand
possibilities, able to support an immense population, rich in its soil,
and worth all it is costing to make it habitable. Pioneer life is not
one-half as hard here as it was in the days when New York State was
reclaimed from a wilderness; but let no one come here thinking there is
nothing to be done but to select a quarter section of land, and in a
few months become rich. There is wealth here for those who seek it, but
they must seek it with all their hearts.

The most prosperous section of the country, as it appears to a
stranger, is on the line of the North Pacific road between Fargo
and Bismarck. The foot hills begin at the James River and the grade
ascends steadily until a point is reached at least five hundred feet
above the valley. From Huron, in the south, to the Turtle Mountains,
in the north, and west to the Missouri River, are what may be called
the high-lands of Dakota, embracing as fine a rolling prairie land as
can be found in the West. There are, however, poor sections; the soil
is not so rich and deep as lower down in the valley; yet here 14,000
bushels of oats are said to have been raised from 180 acres, and 400
bushels of potatoes per acre. In the north, at Fort Totten, on Devil’s
Lake, small fruits are grown in abundance, all kinds of vegetables and
an inferior kind of corn. Yet in Russia apples and cherries are raised
in abundance, three hundred miles farther north than Winnipeg. Toward
the south, between Huron and the North Pacific Railroad, it is much
warmer, and a larger variety of crops can be raised. This whole section
has good air, is not flooded every spring, has a fair amount of rain,
and produces well under proper cultivation. As a rule the water is
poor, alkaline and brackish. At Steele, a bright and thriving county
seat, on the Northern Pacific, half-way between Jamestown and Bismarck,
soft water has been found.

There are some things about the Devil’s Lake country that seem very
odd. As far as the eye can reach there is scarcely a tree or shrub. You
may ride across the prairie for a hundred miles and not cross a stream,
large or small; the surface is a rolling prairie, and in almost every
hollow there is a pond of water; some of these ponds are half a mile
across and remain throughout the year; probably the ground is frozen so
deep that it can not absorb the water from the melting snow. The same
cause prevents the forming of streams as the frozen hollows hold the
water. A proper system of drainage, connecting all the ponds, would
fill the country with brooks.

It is almost the country of the “midnight sun.” One can see to read
without lamp-light till nearly ten o’clock, and again as early as three
in the morning. It is said that in summer the evening and morning
twilight can be seen at the same time.

The “shacks,” or houses, are strange dwellings for human beings to
live in; being merely a board shanty, one story high, often only
ten by twelve, with perhaps one small window and a door, the whole
cabin covered with black tar-paper, and batten strips nailed over the
cracks. Sometimes the home is nothing but a hole dug into the side of
a hill, with a door and no window. Some of the houses, and many of the
barns, are made of sod cut and laid one upon another, just as we lay
brick; occasionally the walls are thicker at the base than at the top,
and curve in at the center with graceful lines; in fact some of the
sod houses are very pretty, and must be quite warm. We fancied them
covered with green grass in summer, and sprinkled with violets and blue

Fort Totten and the Indian Reservation are here, and the government is
experimenting with an industrial school, trying to Christianize and
educate the Indians. It is a success. In answer to questions Major
Crampton said, “You can educate and civilize them as well as you can
the whites, but you must have patience, and begin with the children. We
have a school for girls, and the Sisters of Charity teach them how to
sew, cook, and do housework, and we teach the boys how to farm and do
general work; then when they want to marry we give them their own home
and land in severalty, and you have no idea how happy and prosperous
they are. You couldn’t get a civilized girl to go back to the old life,
and even the heathen want civilized wives. I make and unmake chiefs.
The best men are appointed to all the offices. Old men with two wives
are permitted to live with them, but young men are put in prison if
they attempt polygamy. We forbid immoral dances.”

Devil’s Lake is sixty miles long and six miles wide; there is no outlet
or inlet, and the water is brackish; it abounds with fish. The name of
the lake seems to be a misnomer, as there are no evidences of heat in
any part of the country, not even enough for comfort. In May it was
covered with ice four feet thick. A little warmth would have done no
harm. The owners of property in that section are anxious to make it a
summer resort, and propose to give hearty assistance to any Chautauqua
workers who will open a Sunday-school assembly there.

There is beauty here for the artist. Over there is the white line of
the beach, with a forest background, a green slope between. To the
left are dim wreaths of smoke, curling cloudward: they come from the
“council fires” of the Sioux braves, as they camp on the reservation;
they seem to ascend from fires lighted by invisible hands, and around
them seem to be gathered the spirits of departed warriors, shadows,
hidden from unanointed eyes. To the west the sun is a ball of fire
dropping into a sea of ice: sapphire, flame and pearl are mixed with
the blue and golden light, and arch toward heaven, tinging forest and
hill with celestial splendor. As the orb of day sinks behind the hills,
it seems like the path to glory, and but a step—

    “Over the sunset bar
     Right into heaven.”

Montana is entered at the Little Missouri, one hundred miles west
of Bismarck. The road to this point runs through an upland prairie,
or valley. From Bismarck to Livingston, the gateway to the Park, a
distance of six hundred miles, the rain-fall is light, insufficient
for general farming. In the summer the grasses dry or cure, and it is
claimed they are very nutritious, and much relished by herds. At Miles
City, and Billings, canals twenty and thirty miles long are being dug
which, when completed, will be used to irrigate the valley. This can
never be a great agricultural country without irrigation. Large crops
are not raised except on farms that have a natural overflow from some
stream or in some exceptionally wet season. But with a water supply
under control, there is no reason why this wide, rich valley, may not
supply the land with its productions. Let none come here to engage in
farming unless they are prepared to supply their crops with abundance
of water; there are plenty of streams, or an artesian well can be
sunk, which, with an engine or wind-mill, and force-pump, would enable
any one to make a fortune. But none need fear to come and engage in
herding. Fabulous stories are told of the fortunes made from flocks and
herds. The ranches are in the valleys, being used in the winter for
the herds, and for the horses in the summer. They are located on the
streams, and join the mountain lands in the rear, where the herds and
flocks range at large, and fatten without even being fed or cared for.

Sunday is not observed as a holy day. Trains run; building and all
kinds of labor continue, and if there is any difference, there is more
bustle on the Sabbath than on any other day. At Billings, saloons are
open, hurdy-gurdies playing, negroes singing, and drunken dances going
on in rooms on the main street of the village.

We visited here the Crow Reservation, and saw among the Indians one of
the finest specimens of physical manhood in the world. A Crow warrior,
with a physique that Hercules might have envied—straight as an arrow,
colored nut-brown; with an eye like that of an eagle, and with the
bearing of a Cæsar; one could easily fancy that a second King Philip
stood before him. The Crows have a singular burial custom: they wind,
with sheets, the bodies of the dead, practising a primitive kind of
embalming, and then place them on elevated platforms, or fasten them to
the limbs of a tree. At one of their burial places we saw the body of
their old chieftain, Blackbow. The table upon which it lay was falling
into decay, but the body remained undisturbed. For many a year it had
kept a silent watch over the happy hunting-ground of his people.

Here, also, the experiment of industrial schools is being tried. Said
the Crow agent, “We are teaching them how to work. I believe one plow
is as good as two spelling-books, with these people. We must teach them
how to labor, and the dignity of it.” It was through this valley that
Custer marched to his death, and many places are named for him.

The whole surface of the country, for hundreds of miles, is covered
with petrified trees, snakes, and shells. We saw hundreds of petrified
stumps, some of them six feet across.

Citadel Rocks and Pyramid Park, are on the line of the Pacific road,
and are wonderful freaks of nature. The latter seems to have been
produced by the burning of the coal that underlies the whole country;
in fact, in some places, the fires still burning can be seen from the
car windows—one fire being near enough to be felt inside the cars.

All along the line antelope are feeding on the hillsides, and in many
places those natural communists, the hawk and prairie-dog, can be seen
sitting together beside their common home.

The Upper Yellowstone is as lovely a valley as the eye of man ever saw.
For one hundred miles east of Livingston the scenery is of wondrous
beauty. The slopes of the hills and the mountains turn in graceful
curves, mountain against mountain, peak above peak, valley beyond
valley, flooding the air and sky with lines of beauty. Some of the
mountains are ribbed horizontally, others from base to peak, and all
are covered with green verdure, mixed with the brown of last year’s
grasses; the fir tree dots the whole with patches of brilliant green,
and the beautiful Yellowstone dashes through the valley. Nestled in
secluded places are the cabins; grazing on the hillsides are herds of
cattle, and here and there the reckless “cow-boy” can be seen dashing
across the plains.

At Billings we passed through a heavy snow storm, but as we journeyed
westward we felt the warm touch of the Chennock, as it swept down the
valley, bringing life and beauty in its gentle touch. Every hilltop is
rounded and covered with grasses, and it does not seem possible that
on all this round globe there is another valley with such a wealth of
graceful curves and delicate colors.

Enthroned at the head of the valley, Livingston sits a very queen; in
her right hand the Yellowstone Park, in her left the Bozeman Pass over
the Rockies, Emigrant, Crazy, and Baldhead mountains, seemingly but a
mile away, though in reality more than fifty, lift their hoary heads
fourteen thousand feet toward the heavens, and sparkle in the sunlight
like jewels in her crown.

Northern Dakota and Manitoba are very cold countries. In the rural
districts the inhabitants do not pretend to have schools in the winter,
it is so cold they would not dare to let the children attend. Sometimes
during storms men fear to leave their stores at night, and remain in
them rather than risk their lives in going home; farmers tie a rope
around their bodies, fastening one end to their cabins, when they go
out to feed their cattle, and no one leaves home that can avoid it.

But with proper preparation colonies will make no mistake in locating
in Dakota or Montana, and the same may be said of individuals. For lack
of correct information parties are sometimes deceived. A story is told
of a party of German emigrants, who came this spring from across the
sea. They had been induced to come by some foreign agent, who had given
them a picture of Gladstone, a beautiful little village, and had agreed
to locate them there on government lands. Instead of fulfilling his
promise he located them several miles away, where there was not a cabin
in sight. Said an eye-witness: “It was laughable and sad to see them.
Each man had a cut of Gladstone in his hand, and they were all looking
for the houses.”

There are rare opportunities to make fortunes; the soil is exceedingly
fertile, especially so in Dakota; the cereals grow abundantly, even
with the poor farming practiced. Farms and city lots, properly located
in thriving towns, are steadily increasing in value, and there are
plenty of government lands yet unoccupied, in excellent localities.
The Northern Pacific Railroad has any quantity of its very best lands,
between Jamestown and Bismarck, yet unsold. One can scarcely make a
mistake in settling there, because the land is high and not subject to
inundation. There are splendid opportunities in all the country around
Bismarck and north, even to the far-famed Turtle Mountains. In all the
above-mentioned section success is assured to the patient, hard-working
settler. He will have to endure privations; the severe cold of an
almost arctic winter; a rude cabin for a dwelling-place; loss of
opportunities for education; few churches or Sunday-schools, and a
promiscuous population. There are many men and women of culture among
the people, but there are also a great many adventurers, as in every
new country. But in time all this will change, roads will be worked,
schools and churches will be built, cabins will be changed into elegant
farm-houses, and society will crystallize as it has done in eastern
centers. All this will come after the struggle for existence, which is
now going on, is over.


Quite a scientific season will this of ’83 be, recalling the
distinguished programs when Prof. Doremus illuminated them. Now, in
addition to the graphic Prof. Edwards, who reappears, there is to be
the brilliant course of Prof. W. C. Richards, the bare reading of which
is like a _menu_ to a famished intellect. Dr. Newell, of Chicago, and
Prof. Young, of Princeton College, also lecture on scientific topics.
It is to be a revival in physics.

The lessons in cookery, by Miss Ewing, are a recognition of the growing
interest in higher culinary art, an accomplishment considered by some
to be the highest of all arts, as it certainly is the most important to
mankind. Chautauqua proposes to contribute its share to make this art
universal, until it can no longer be said that the _chef_ of a hotel
can command a higher salary than the president of a college.

And there will be Prince Bolly presiding either at hotel or
spelling-match with equal grace. General Lewis offers the prizes for
the best spellers; would it not be a fair return for the best spellers
to offer a prize for the best hotel keeper, with the secret certainty,
of course, that Mr. Lewis would win it, and so get his reward for
services in behalf of correct orthography and good living at Chautauqua?

People at Chautauqua always live high—1,400 feet above the sea. The
place is pure atmospherically, aquatically, morally, and intellectually
they live in a rarified and quickening medium. The whole effect is
elevating, though we never saw a person on the grounds who had “got

Wallace Bruce, the man of Scotch name and lineage, but of all-world
culture, will be there and personify the _literati_ of all times and
nations. To know Bruce is a liberal education in _belles-lettres_.

A wit of his time proposed as an epitaph on Congreve, the projector of
the rocket (in a double sense) this wicked sentence. “He has gone to
the only place where his fireworks can be excelled.” That place might
be Chautauqua instead of a worse place, if Congreve had lived till now.
The world of Chautauqua will be delighted with pyrotechnics both by day
and by night this year. The famous Japanese day fireworks, which have
proved such an attraction at Manhattan Beach, Long Branch, and other
resorts, will be the sensation at Chautauqua beach. We imagine we can
hear the “ohs!” from the “windy suspirations of forced breath” of tens
of thousands of spectators.

The program this year fairly glitters with great names, as, Joseph
Cook, Talmage, Judge Tourgée, Hon. Will Cumback, and the long list of
D.D.’s, collegians and specialists.

The Teachers’ Retreat advances, not retrogrades. Read the program;
wonder and admire. The experimental classes of Miss Read should be
worth the price of the course to any teacher.

Music is to have another rise in the scale this year. Such a list
of soloists and instructors was never before offered at any summer
institute of music, and then the grand organ and other accessories!

Froebel is again to be commemorated. It is hoped that some one will be
prepared to give a succinct résumé of Froebelism. The question, “What
_is_ kindergarten?” is one of the unanswered conundrums of the day.

Prepare to smile—Frank Beard is coming again.

Some one once said he preferred to go sleigh-riding in the summer, when
he could enjoy the excursion without freezing to death. Now one can go
on a sea voyage without being sea sick, and see the sights of a trip
abroad without the cost, expense, and fatigue of foreign travel. It was
a brilliant conception, that “Ideal Summer Trip Beyond the Sea.” If it
does not prove one of the hits of this season of hits by the Hittites,
we do not hit the mark in our guess.

The Museum has proved one of the great attractions at Chautauqua
ever since its inception, and the public will be glad to read of the
remarkable attractions now to be added to it. Miller _fecit_, as usual.

“The morning hour” of metaphysics is to be abolished and something more
understandable taken up—Hebrew.

But the great day of all, the day of intellectual and spiritual
uplifting, is to be the “Commencement Day” of the C. L. S. C. The joy
and glory of the last one has not yet ceased to echo “in the chambers
of the soul.” It will be a red, white and blue event—a red letter day,
at a white heat of fervor, and the blue sky over all. “Oh, who that
feels them ever will forget the emotions of those spirit-stirring

Chautauqua has sent its special reporter through all the nations of
the world and he will render this year his account. Our voyager and
explorer, Cook, was not eaten by the savages like the earlier one;
rather, he comes to spread a civilized and civilizing symposium.

Returning Chautauquans will find the grounds much improved. Besides
the beautification and edification by private enterprise and taste,
visitors will find great changes for the better wrought by the
association. The most notable of the many features of this work is to
be seen on the lake-front of the Athenæum Hotel. The avenue has been
moved down to the lake shore and made a most romantic drive on the
beach, and all the additional space is devoted to a sloping lawn. All
the disfiguring relics have been removed from the vicinage, and this
part of the grounds is as prim and proper as a miss in her new summer

Chautauqua continues to be the cheapest summer resort and summer
school in the world. For four dollars the resort is open forty-three
days—about nine cents a day. A dollar a week secures the privilege
of the lectures, concerts, and all the “pride, pomp and circumstance
of glorious” Chautauqua after the Assembly proper begins. Is there
anything anywhere like that for cheapness? The highest-priced thing
at Chautauqua gives much more and better than can be gotten elsewhere
for the same sum. But after all, there is here, what can not be gotten
elsewhere for any price, that is the most priceless of all, “The
Chautauqua Idea,” its inspiration, uplift, expansion, liberalizing.

Phonography is one of the most remunerative and surest avocations now
open to women, and a good opportunity to acquire a knowledge of it from
a master is open at Chautauqua under Prof. Bridge.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE fruit derived from labor is the sweetest of all


Prof. J. T. Edwards, of Chamberlain Institute, N. Y., is to deliver
a course of eight lectures before the C. T. R. at Chautauqua this
summer. “Physical Science” is to be the subject of these lectures, the
design being to show how all the sciences, botany, zoölogy, etc., are
but sectors of one great circle, that one plan underlies all natural
phenomena. The lectures will be brilliantly illustrated and will be of
peculiar value to teachers. Prof. Edwards has sent us the following
outline of his work, which shows that though his theme is extended, yet
it is so systematized as to be very simple:


Nature is a unit. _E pluribus unum_ might be taken for its motto; the
circle is its emblem; ten thousand radii touch its circumference; every
atom bears a relation to its center; everything is connected with
everything. It was not a mere fancy that when the Creator made even
the little snow-drop, he adjusted it to the gravities of all worlds.
Humboldt chose “Cosmos” as the title of his immortal work, and he
defined it, “The doctrine of the universe, the system of law, harmony
and truth combined within the universe.”

Glance at the copious index. What diversity in the subjects discussed.
We wonder how he will be able to fit into beautiful mosaic all these

A large look at nature sees it one. The spectroscope now tells us that
all worlds are but “parts of one stupendous whole.” Matter is ever
changing, but never lost. Force is indestructible; a thousand floods
ten thousand years ago prepared the earth for habitation. Feeble
insects laid the foundations of Paris and London perhaps millions of
years before the Romans drove piles into the Thames. Our stove and coal
bins are ninety millions of miles away. Nature is full of beautiful
dependencies. The animal feeds upon the vegetable, and the latter
lives upon the mineral kingdom. The mere physical forces of light,
heat and electricity are doubtless directly connected with the noblest
activities of organized beings.

Now, one object of this course of lectures is to show things in their
connections. Bird’s-eye views are very essential in the study of large
landscapes. The poet is not the only “maker.” Most minds prefer the
concrete to the abstract—synthesis to analysis. The gem is never so
beautiful as in its appropriate setting. The springing bow alone shows
us the splendor of each color.

_Astronomy_, “Mother of the Sciences,” will “teach us our place”
among the worlds; will tell of the time when the “morning stars were
singing.” Some of the greatest and some of the most devout minds of
every age have delighted in this study. Its votaries now, however,
are no longer alone on the watch-towers. Observers stand with them,
eager to gaze upon the stars, although with less trained vision.
Bishop Warren’s delightful book shows us the possibility of being both
accurate and interesting. He just supplements “the look” that was given
at “The Point” in the days “lang syne,” with a longer and steadier gaze
into the heavens.

As Astronomy will show us the infinitely large, _Chemistry_ will
bring to us the infinitely small. Here we are in Nature’s laboratory.
Listen! We can almost hear the myriad atoms, like unseen battalions in
the night, quietly falling into line. It is as if we had penetrated
the arcana of Nature. See! Here she mingles her dyes. Hence come the
odors, the flavors, the forms of all substances. No wonder the old
alchemist hung over his crucible (_crux_, across—the mark upon the
vessel to guard against the _geests_, ghosts—_our gas_—which threatened
him) until the divining rod fell from his palsied hand. There is a
rare fascination in the study. It so closely concerns human welfare.
The useful as well as the fine arts, agriculture, manufacturing, and
all our domestic life are intimately concerned in its discoveries and
progress, and when we have learned how wonderful a thing is a molecule
we are prepared to learn of masses of minerals. _Mineralogy_ is less
understood than some other of the natural sciences; for a few years
past, however, it has pushed forward rapidly. The impetus given to
mining, the formation of cabinets, of great mineralogical displays,
such as that at Denver the past year, and the mineral treasures
of Australia, California, and Colorado have awakened much popular
interest. Gold was mentioned in the first chapter of Genesis, and the
enumeration of precious stones in various parts of the Old Testament,
and in Revelation, shows that the ancients were not unacquainted with
the more beautiful forms of minerals. It remained, however for our time
to show that even the clod beneath our feet, the rock of the mountain,
and the ice of the glacier are built with the precision of a marble
palace. There is a beautiful simplicity in these combinations. They
can all be reduced to six primary forms. This science and the closely
allied branch of Crystalography fortunately can be made very pleasing
to the eye by means of the helps which we can summon. Thus we are led
by gradual steps to consider _Geology_, or the study of the earth, as
to its great features. And what a theme it is! Ocean making! continent
building! mountain raising! making of worlds! The story is written in
strata by fossils, or in the markings left by some great force in the
earth’s crust.

No science has more interest for the artist, the architect, the civil
engineer. But perhaps a deeper and more solemn interest attaches to it
because of its relations to the all-important truths of Revelation.
Fortunately this branch of human knowledge has not been forced to
depend upon individual enterprise or love of truth. It has knocked at
the halls of legislation; it has been welcomed to the palaces of kings.
For lo! it came promising greater riches than were ever dreamed of
by Spanish free-booters, and many a State has found through it an El
Dorado within its own limits.

_Physics_, or Natural Philosophy, will next explain to us more fully by
illustration and apparatus, the characteristics of those forces which
join together the molecules, not less than hold the worlds in harmony.
It is an old science, but has clothed itself in new garments. In some
directions, as in acoustics and light, it has made very wonderful
progress within the memory of the school-boy of to-day. The “Arabian
Nights” has few things to tell us so startling as that a man can sit in
his office in New York and hold converse with a friend in Chicago.

Never before did man give such good promise of really entering upon his
heritage as master in this world, in the spirit of the high destiny
that was promised him at his creation.

_Botany_ comes next. It has been quite the fashion to look upon this
study as unworthy the attention of the vigorous masculine mind—“a
girl’s study, about posy-beds, the language of flowers, and, at best,
fit only for the decoration of a poet’s verse!” And yet it concerns one
whole wide realm of nature. It has received little attention in our
colleges, scarcely finding a place in the curriculum of study.

It really embraces a number of separate sciences—economic,
agricultural, horticultural, medical and fossil botany. Of late a new
interest has been awakened in some of these. The climatic relations
of forests have become matter of legislative inquiry. Great forestry
conventions have been held, and an able report upon the subject has
been made by the Commissioner of Agriculture. A gentleman in New York
has just made an appropriation of twenty-five thousand dollars for the
best collection of woods in the world. Aside from these utilitarian
views of the matter it is enough for us to know that the Great Teacher
said: “Consider the lilies,” and often upon Olivet or “by cool Siloam’s
shady rill,” seemed to take pleasure in the trees and flowers which his
own hand had made.

_Zoölogy_ will show us a comparative view of the animal creation. A
whole literature upon this subject has sprung up within a few years.
Darwin and Huxley have added many close and admirable observations
upon the habits of animals. Numerous books have appeared upon “Mind
in Animals,” “Higher Life in Animals,” and kindred topics, until one
almost trembles for his rank in the scale of being. Indeed, when
royalty weeps over the departure of Jumbo, and lap-dogs and canaries
win the first place in the hearts of fair ladies, we may well review
our claims as “lords of creation.”

The study of the Creator’s last great work—man, _Physiology_, comes
next in the order of our series. “Fearfully and wonderfully made,”
said the sacred writer, and every discovery of the microscope, every
analysis of the scalpel, every astute and learned study of eye, ear,
heart or brain, but repeats the declaration, “Know thyself,” urged by
one of old as a duty, but it is also a high privilege. A knowledge of
physiology and hygiene lies at the very foundation of the science of
human welfare. We are now claiming it as a mighty missionary agency in
the conversion of the heathen. Ah! it is a rare power to know one’s own
make-up and limitations, to the end that the free spirit may do its
best. Then again, every one must some day stand where this knowledge
will be useful to others; and what higher aim have we than to enrich
others with our own knowledge? One can be miserly with his ideas as
with his money. Helping with useful knowledge is of that giving which
does not impoverish.

Doubtless to cover so wide a field we shall have to study carefully the
fine “art of leaving out.” Some other things we must surely remember.
For example:

1. To pursue the Golconda miner’s method—save the diamonds.

2. Adopt the motto of the great dailies, “condense.”

3. Popularize—if possible strip off the technicalities, and present
truth in such a way that busy men and women may readily secure it.

4. Be accurate as far as we go, and help minds to go farther.

5. Encourage to self-help, to observe nature, to study, to experiment.
Why be thirsty with the Amazon flowing around us?

6. To use all helps appropriate to each subject, by which ideas may be
borne to the mind through that sense best calculated to convey them.

       *       *       *       *       *

IT is a profound mistake to think everything has been discovered;
it is the same as to consider the horizon to be the boundary of the



Nearly two hundred persons, some in foreign lands, are enrolled as
students in the Chautauqua School of Theology. Their distribution in
the departments shows that ninety-nine have elected to take practical
theology, eighty-nine Greek, and twenty-five Hebrew. The other
departments have each a smaller number. Many are taking the studies in
two or more departments, and one student is already prepared for his

The undertaking is constantly receiving hearty endorsement in
educational and literary centers, where recognition has eminent value
and influence.

Leading educators and clergymen are becoming better acquainted both
with the needs which have called the Chautauqua School of Theology into
being, its grand purposes, its undenominationalism, its evangelical
catholicity, and with the remarkable feasibility of its methods.

Doubters have already been forced to admit that the curriculum of
the Chautauqua School of Theology affords the untrained preacher who
by circumstances was crowded past the doors of college and seminary
into the pulpit, his best, if not his _only_ privilege to supply

The qualities of seriousness, earnestness, and conscientious
faithfulness, which are inseparable from the true theological student,
characterize without exception the students of the Chautauqua School of
Theology. It is indeed one special merit of the School that its members
come to its curriculum only after ascertaining their _real wants_,
their personal adaptation to technical training, or their special
needs; or, it may be, their peculiar disqualifications for the work
of the ministry. Hence they possess a clearness of aim and a vigor of
purpose which are certain to command success. Necessarily, therefore,
the atmosphere of the School work is tonic and healthful.

The eminent theologians, associated with the president, Rev. John H.
Vincent, S.T.D., as deans of departments, everywhere inspire confidence
in the quality of the training furnished. They have entered upon
their peculiarly difficult labors with enthusiasm born of confidence
in the possibilities of usefulness preëminently afforded them in the
Chautauqua School of Theology.

By a recent arrangement Dr. L. T. Townsend, D.D., who from the
beginning has borne like a Hercules the school work, places the
burdens of the deanship upon the general secretary, retaining the two
departments which he conducts with such distinguished success. His
absence in Europe will not interfere with the work in his several

The officers, departments, and deans of the School are as follows:
President, Rev. John H. Vincent, S.T.D.; Dean and General Secretary,
Rev. Alfred A. Wright, A.M.


I. Hebrew: Rev. William R. Harper, Ph.D., Chicago, Ill.

II. Greek: Rev. Alfred A. Wright, A.M., Boston, Mass.

III. Doctrinal Theology: Rev. Alfred A. Wright, A.M.

IV. Practical Theology: Rev. Luther T. Townsend, D.D., Boston, Mass.

V. Christian Science and Philosophy: Rev. Luther T. Townsend, D.D.

VI. Historical Theology: Rev. Philip Schaff, D.D., New York.

VII. Human Nature: Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D., New York.

VIII. Literature and Art: Rev. W. Cleaver Wilkinson, D.D., Tarrytown,
N. Y.


I. The Relations Between Body and Soul: Prof. James S. Jewell, M.D.,
Chicago, Ill.

II. Elocution: Prof. John W. Churchill, A.M., Andover, Mass.

III. Industrial Economy and Trade: Rev. John H. Vincent, S.T.D.

IV. Jurisprudence: Judge Edmund H. Bennett, LL.D., Boston, Mass.

For the school curriculum, or for special information, address Rev.
John H. Vincent, S.T.D., drawer 75, New Haven, Conn., or Rev. Alfred A.
Wright, Boston, Mass.

After June 1, 1883, all moneys from any source due the Chautauqua
School of Theology for books, tuition, or on postage account, are to be
paid to the general secretary.



This is the Chautauqua decennial year. Is it possible that it is ten
years? So rapid has been the growth, so many and varied the ideas and
features added from year to year, that we have not noted the flight
of time. Not in the space of a single editorial can be cited the
results of the first decade of Chautauqua history. It seems strange to
remember that only ten years ago Chautauqua and Chautauqua Lake were
comparatively unknown. Of the thousands who now, from north and south,
east and west, annually flock hither, few had then even heard of its
existence. It is not egotism, but only just to say that the lake owes
its now national fame to the present Chautauqua of the lake.

The visitor of ten or even five years ago is struck with the changes in
the physical aspect of the local Chautauqua. Then a few rude cottages
and tents in the woods with undressed and unkept grounds, now a large
village of beautiful summer homes. The unsightly tent has yielded to
the one graceful and attractive, and tents and cottages are all ranged
in comely streets. Ruts and gullies have been replaced with grades
and lawns. Even the old Auditorium which was thought in former days
to be without a rival of its kind, though still standing there in
honor, has been compelled to yield precedence to the amphitheater of
vaster proportions and better appointments. But the list is too long
for recital. There is the grand Hotel Athenæum, said to rival any
wood structure in the State, and equally superlative in every quality
as a home for its guests; there too is the Oriental House, Model of
Jerusalem, Hall of Philosophy, Children’s Temple, Tabernacle, and, if
you listen a moment, there is sound of hammer and saw as the work of
building and improving goes on rapidly as ever.

But if all this is of the local Chautauqua, what of the Chautauqua
which is national—nay, more than national? Ten years ago from a very
few of the neighboring States was gathered the first Sunday-school
Assembly. To-day the methods and ideas of that and subsequent
assemblies are being employed and taught by thousands of Sunday-school
teachers throughout the Union. Then, the able and eloquent speakers
that stood on the platform were heard only within the range of their
vocal power, but now the pages of the _Assembly Daily Herald_ catch
their thoughts and send them to distances of hundreds and thousands of
miles in all directions. The _personnel_ of the Chautauqua platform,
excellent as it was in the beginning, has been enhanced each year by
others of the most distinguished thinkers, scholars and orators of this
country and from beyond the waters.

We do not know how many dreamers there may have been, nor what their
dreams, but certainly none of the thousands of enthusiastic visitors
to Chautauqua in those days dreamed of the C. L. S. C. with tens of
thousands of earnest students, of the School of Languages, Teachers’
Retreat, and School of Theology, with all their characteristics of
power and inspiration.

Ten years of Chautauqua! Prolific mother, not alone of the above
offspring, but of children resembling herself, and doing similar work
at Lakeside, Lake Bluff, South Framingham, at Monterey, on the Pacific
slope, at Monteagle, Tenn., and elsewhere. Only ten years! and yet the
“Chautauqua Idea” has taken root, and is yielding its fruit of popular
education in all the States and in the Territories. Ten years, and
the meridian is not yet reached. Ten years are but a beginning in any
work so far reaching, so broad in its scope as the work of Chautauqua.
What has been done is but the starting point to what will be done. The
years to follow have much to reveal in the maturity of the plans and
principles now in operation, and of new ones yet to be inaugurated.


The C. L. S. C. is becoming a great social power. From the first it has
recognized that one of the great needs of the majority of the people is
healthy, active companionship; that for such companionship people will
undertake tasks for which they have otherwise little taste, and under
its stimulus will do much good work. It has recognized that if the
social life be kept clean and invigorating, there is no danger of any
one sinking into idleness or vice. Its power for good lies in the fact
that its method of work contains the very elements which are necessary
for a pure, wholesome social life. In the first place it calls people
together regularly and insures their intimate acquaintance. One of the
great hindrances to cordial social intercourse is that people do not
meet frequently and informally, so that they know each other well. We
are prone to invest those with whom we have but a passing acquaintance
with a dignity or knowledge so superior to our own that we are actually
afraid of them. The local circle breaks this up. We learn to know
our associates. No less important is it that the members of society
take their rank according to merit. No other standard will be used in
local circles. The ability to lead is the only quality which will give
a member the leadership. The C. L. S. C. is veritably the People’s
College, leveling all ranks.

_The_ reason, we may say, for the flatness of social life in the
ordinary town, is that the members have, or find, so little to think
about. People will not gossip, nor be recklessly extravagant, nor
indulge in insipid flirtations if they have wholesome subjects for
thought. The course of reading furnishes topics of vigor and interest.
The mind is kept active. The tone of the society is changed, because
the members are thinking and are experiencing the pleasure of an
interchange of ideas and knowledge. Their society life becomes a
recreation, instead, as is so often the case, dissipation.

There is, besides, a hearty good fellowship animating the circles
generally, which is one of their most promising features. The true
college spirit seems to inspire everyone with its life, energy, and

To what results have these elements led? Thousands of circles have
been formed all over the country, meeting for intellectual culture,
but bound together by strong friendship and sociability. In themselves
these circles are very powerful, but there are numberless offshoots
which are intended to develop cordial feeling among the members.
Among these are the large reunions, calling together the different
classes and circles. Invariably the reports of these affairs show that
all the appointments are in taste, and even elegance. Memorial days
furnish frequent opportunities for entertainments as pleasant as the
reunions. Large numbers of guests are frequently invited, the hall,
church, or parlor is decorated, bountiful refreshments are served,
and a carefully prepared and spicy program carried out. Numbers of
programs, some of them exquisite in design and finish, are sent to us,
giving the exercises of various memorial celebrations, and almost every
circle reports some charming novelty in entertainments. Nor are these
large and ambitious gatherings all. Informal “socials” sometimes take
the place of the usual work. The regular study hour is followed by a
merry half-hour devoted to games, music, spelling-matches, pronouncing
contests, or “visiting.”

All these pleasant features are combined to develop a strong social
feeling in every circle. New and better views of our social relations
are opened up, and we learn, perhaps for the first time, what good
fellowship means. The good which is done is inestimable. Indeed, we
do not hesitate to say that the opportunities of the C. L. S. C. for
social culture are excelled only by the opportunities it affords for
mental culture.


The slab of black marble in the crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral, London,
which marks the last resting place of the English architect, Sir
Christopher Wren, bears the inscription, in Latin, “If you would have
his monument, look about you.” In the great Brooklyn bridge, recently
opened for travel, people will see for ages the noble monument of
those two men of genius—father and son—John Augustus and Washington A.
Roebling. The men whose names are inseparably linked with such a work—a
work, not for an age, but for the ages—have secured a fame to satisfy
any human ambition. In the case of these great engineers we see again
the old law illustrated: the world’s good comes from sacrifice. The one
sacrificed life, the other health, to the work whose future benefits to
mankind are so incalculable.

The elder Roebling was born in Mühlhausen, Prussia, June 12, 1806,
and was educated at the polytechnic school in Berlin. He came to this
country at the age of twenty-five, and settled near Pittsburgh. He
worked for some time as an engineer on certain Pennsylvania canals,
and was then engaged for three years in surveying the route of the
Pennsylvania Central Railroad through the Alleghenies. In the city of
Pittsburgh he established works for the manufacture of wire ropes—which
manufacture he introduced into America. The works were afterward
removed to Trenton, N. J. It was his aim to bring about the use of wire
ropes in the construction of bridges, and in time he was successful.
He was the father of suspension bridges in this country. His first
work was the suspended aqueduct of the Pennsylvania Canal across the
Allegheny River, which was completed in 1845. Soon after this he built
the Monongahela suspension bridge at Pittsburgh, and some suspension
aqueducts on the Delaware and Hudson Canal. A much greater work than
any of these was the Niagara suspension bridge, the building of which
he undertook in 1851, and carried to a successful completion. But
this was surpassed by the bridge across the Ohio at Cincinnati, which
he completed in 1867. The length of the Niagara bridge is 821 feet,
while that at Cincinnati has a clear span of 1,057 feet. It was in the
winter of 1853, when, at one time, Mr. Roebling, his wife and son,
were detained for several hours, while crossing East River, by the
floating ice, that the idea, which certain others had entertained,
of a bridge from New York to Brooklyn first took possession of his
mind; but it was not until 1865 that steps were taken looking to the
practical realization of the idea. Then this engineer prepared plans
and estimates for the work, and in time the great structure was under
way, whose history is now known and read of all men, and which stands
as one of the latest marvels of the nineteenth century. The work was
hardly commenced when the life of its author was cut short. In July,
1869, his foot was crushed by a ferry-boat, as he was standing on the
pier at Fulton Ferry in Brooklyn, and his death followed in two weeks.

The younger Roebling was born at Saxonburg, Butler County, Pa., May
26, 1837. He graduated from the Polytechnic Institute at Troy, in
1857. He early became his father’s assistant in engineering, and came
in time to be fully the equal, if not the superior, of his father in
his peculiar line of work. He enlisted as a private in the Union Army
at the breaking out of the rebellion, and had an honorable career
as a soldier, rising to the rank of colonel. After the close of the
war he spent some time in Europe, studying the more important works
of engineering there. The death of his father left him the work of
building the great bridge, of executing his father’s plans. Those
plans were greatly modified by himself, and the completed bridge is
by no means but the embodiment of the elder Roebling’s conception. In
1872 Colonel Roebling became the victim of the “caisson disease,” so
called, and since that time has been an invalid. He is probably an
invalid for life. But he continued at the head of the great enterprise,
and from his sick-room has directed the work until at length it has
been brought to a glorious consummation. He has had in his wife a
most faithful and efficient coadjutor in all his work. Mention of her
name should not be omitted in the laudations paid to the builders of
Brooklyn bridge.


After long delay and months of seclusion from his subjects, Alexander
III. has been crowned Czar of all the Russias. The coronation
ceremonies took place at Moscow, in the Church of the Assumption,
in the Kremlin, within whose walls all the Romanoffs have been
crowned. Vast concourses of people thronged the streets and crowded
the thoroughfares of the city, the Kremlin was packed with a dense
mass of humanity, intent on witnessing the imposing ceremonies of the
coronation. Princes of every rank and government officials of all
degrees were present from all parts of his broad domains to do homage
to their master. The crowned heads of Europe sent their representatives
to grace the august occasion and to convey their greetings and good
wishes to the new-made monarch.

The pageant of the coronation is said to have been the most magnificent
spectacle witnessed in Europe in modern times. It is estimated that not
less than ten millions of dollars were expended in its preparation.
The czar was everywhere received by his subjects with the greatest
enthusiasm, seeming to betoken the utmost loyalty and reverence toward
their rightful monarch. Nothing occurred to mar the pomp and splendor
of the occasion. No bombs were thrown, no mines were exploded, no
hostile demonstrations of any kind were made; everything seemed to
indicate the return of an era of peace and security in the lately
perturbed realm of Russia.

The crown with which the czar was invested is said to be worth not less
than three millions of roubles, but it is as heavily ladened with cares
as with jewels. No other ruler in Europe to-day has so unenviable a
throne or rests under such heavy burdens and responsibilities. His vast
domains have no bond of integral unity, save the military power, while
in whole provinces the inhabitants are but one remove from barbarism.
In addition to this the Nihilistic organization, which pervades all
Europe, is strongly intrenched in his kingdom, and may, like a sleeping
volcano, burst out in the future, as it has in the recent past,
with terrible fury and disastrous results. Its representatives are
everywhere; in the towns, cities and country; in the army and palace;
among peasants and princes of the realm. Their threats of violence
forced the czar into involuntary seclusion, and were the cause of his
long delay in assuming the crown.

While the deeds of violence which have characterized the Nihilistic
movement can not but be deprecated, they find some palliation in the
fact that Russia has been the worst governed country in all Europe. Its
czar is an absolute despot, and inasmuch as princes are not usually
slow to use all the power placed at their disposal, Russian subjects
have for centuries experienced all the ills coincident with an absolute
despotism. It is true that serfdom has been abolished, but the tardy
justice which accomplished this great work but whetted the appetite of
the Russian people for larger liberty, and for the rightful privileges
conceded by other European governments to their subjects. Their demands
in this direction have been hitherto sternly denied. Every effort for
their attainment has been met with the most determined opposition
on the part of the government. For even slight political offenses,
men are seized, and, with a mere apology of a trial, are condemned,
and sentenced to penal servitude in the mines of Siberia. They are
compelled to labor there from twelve to eighteen hours per day, at the
hardest kind of toil and under the surveillance of brutal overseers.
They are furnished but a meager supply of food, and that of an inferior
kind. They are exposed to the stern severities of the Siberian winters,
with but a scant supply of clothing and little shelter. Within five or
six years death usually kindly puts a terminus to the sufferings of the
miserable exiles.

It is barbarities like these on the part of the government that has put
the sword and the bomb in the hand of the Russian Nihilist. Goaded by
opposition and aggravated by the denial of the rights of citizenship,
its subjects have resorted to the worst of revolutionary measures to
secure the redress of their wrongs and the possession of the rights
conceded to the subjects of other European states. It is to be hoped
that the new czar may learn from the lessons of the past that the
days of despots and autocrats are numbered, and that the nineteenth
century of the Christian era is an age when the rights of subjects can
not be disregarded, even by crowned heads, with impunity. The only
possible way in which Alexander III. can secure the prolonged peace
and perpetuity of his kingdom is to adopt a liberal policy toward his
subjects, institute measures to redress their many and grievous wrongs,
and surrender to the people or their representatives a portion of
the power now lodged in his hands, which is by far too great for any
monarch to possess, and which renders him alike dangerous to the state
and to his subjects.


On the evening of the 9th of June, the well-known Secretary of the
Chautauqua Assembly, Mr. A. K. Warren, died at his home in Mayville,
N. Y., after an illness of several weeks. Mr. Warren was in the
fifty-ninth year of his age, and, since the close of the third
Assembly, in 1876, he has had charge of the business at Chautauqua,
under the leadership and direction of Mr. Lewis Miller and the Board
of Trustees. He grew in favor with the Chautauqua management and the
general public from the time he first assumed the duties of his office.
It was Mr. Warren that effected the purchase of the one hundred acres
of land to add to the original Chautauqua grounds, and with taste and
untiring zeal laid out pleasant walks and public parks, continually
increasing the convenience and the beauty of the grounds.

Several of the most valued public buildings were erected during these
years of his connection with the Assembly—the Children’s Temple and
Hall of Philosophy, the Amphitheater and the commodious Hotel Athenæum.
He has shown himself to be wise and skillful in executing the plans of
President Miller and the Board. His loss will be keenly felt and the
position he occupied difficult to fill. In addition to the office he
occupied at Chautauqua Mr. Warren has served as sheriff of Chautauqua
County, and at one time was manager of the Buffalo, Pittsburgh &
Western Railroad. In every position he proved himself to be a man of
superior executive ability, born to be a leader of men and a manager
of great movements. He leaves a widow and one daughter, well provided
for by certain property which he owned and by an insurance of seven
thousand dollars.

The funeral services were held in Mayville, June 13, at his late
residence, being conducted by the Rev. Milton Smith, of Mayville. The
Scriptures were read by the Rev. Dr. Flood, and the prayer offered and
remarks made by the Rev. Dr. Vincent. Although not a member of the
Church, Mr. Warren was a believer in the Christian religion. Were we
permitted to break the confidence of the private correspondence which
passed between Dr. Vincent and Mr. Warren just before his death, much
would be revealed that would be comforting to the friends of the
deceased and inspiring to all believers in Christianity.

His death brought together a large number of people, among them many
of the Executive Board, who were obliged to call a meeting at once at
Mayville in order to reorganize the working forces of the Assembly and
supply the place left vacant by Mr. Warren’s death.

Notwithstanding the great loss sustained, it is expected that under the
direction of President Miller and the Board, the work of improvement
and building will be carried on as usual. The management is so complete
that no work will be neglected nor any department be slighted. The
grounds are in excellent condition as are also the streets, walks and
public buildings, and improvement will constantly go on.


The _Chautauqua Assembly Daily Herald_ will contain full reports of the
July and August meetings. The first number will be issued on Saturday,
August 4. There will be nineteen numbers in the volume. Price, $1.00;
in clubs of five or more, 90 cents. See our combination offer on
another page of this magazine.

       *       *       *       *       *

Some railroad managers are employing the machinery of the Young
Men’s Christian Association among their men with good results. Mr.
Vanderbilt employs a religious worker on a regular salary to keep open
a room and conduct religious services for the benefit of his men in
New York. The N. Y., P. & O. R. R., a trunk line to the west, running
past Chautauqua, has adopted the same plan in Meadville, Cleveland,
and other cities. Railroad men are absent from home a good portion of
their time when on duty, and, as strangers in strange places, they are
greatly benefited by the religious homes provided by the corporations.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Rev. Dr. J. H. Vincent will deliver the Fourth of July oration at
Ocean Grove, and lecture before the Ohio State Teachers’ Association
the fifth of July at Chautauqua.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Hon. James G. Blaine seems to have retired from political life.
A Washington correspondent, who evidently has studied his habits,
says in a New York paper: “It is with his venture into literature
that Mr. Blaine has mostly occupied his mind this spring. He seems
suddenly to have discovered the charms of the library and the study,
and as he has a literary workshop that is as suggestive and delightful
as money can make it, he is drinking the newly-discovered cup to
the dregs. His library is on the second floor. Here, after he has
breakfasted, he repairs and plunges into his work. Occasional visits
to the Congressional Library furnish him with much of the data that he
requires for his work, and this is supplemented by correspondence, by
his own letters and private records, and, more than all, by a memory
that seems to be able to recall all the events of his twenty years
of public life as though they were all crowded into yesterday. It is
not Mr. Blaine’s intention to make the work in any sense a series of
personal reminiscences, but briefly to describe, as a historian, the
important public events of the past twenty years. There is a good deal
of curiosity already to get hints of how he is doing it; but he keeps
his own counsel, and asks advice and hints of no one. He spends five or
six hours daily on this work, only quitting his desk in time to take
his afternoon drive. He expects to finish the work early in the winter.”

       *       *       *       *       *

A beautiful satin program of the exercises of Shakspere’s Day, has
been sent us by the “Greek Letter Circle,” of Milwaukee. Evidently the
artistic as well as the “Literary and Scientific” is being cultivated

       *       *       *       *       *

The dean of the Chautauqua School of Theology, the Rev. A. A. Wright,
of Boston, Mass., is noticed by Dr. Daniel S. Steele, in _Zion’s
Herald_, thus: “It was the boast of Tyndale, before he translated the
New Testament into English, that he would enable the very plow-boys
to know more about the New Testament than the bishops themselves. The
attempt of Bro. Wright is more audacious. He has undertaken to make the
plow-boys and kitchen-maids know more of the original New Testament
Greek than the professionals themselves, who acquired their knowledge
in the slipshod and unscientific methods in vogue only forty years ago.
In carrying out his scheme he is constructing a serial lexicon on a
novel principle. He selects the most important word and groups under
it all its derivatives and compounds in Greek and English, requiring
a memorizing of these seed-words. Thus the student’s mind becomes a
nursery in which a whole forest of Greek is sprouting.”

       *       *       *       *       *

In the political arena, young men are coming into position. Governor
Pattison, of Pennsylvania, is thirty-three years old, and the
Republican candidate for governor of Ohio, Mr. Foraker, is thirty-seven.

       *       *       *       *       *

On Thursday, August 30, the C. L. S. C. alumni in New England will hold
a reunion at South Framingham, Mass. This will be during the session of
the Framingham Assembly. Preparations are being made by the officers
and committees to insure an interesting and profitable gathering. Mr.
A. W. Pike is president and Mrs. M. A. F. Adams is secretary of the
alumni association. The C. L. S. C. has more than doubled its numbers
in New England during the past year, and the history of New England
people is that they don’t give up a good institution when they have
once taken it to their hearts.

       *       *       *       *       *

John B. Gough says: “The lecture business is declining, because the
people are inclining to music and theatricals.” We presume this is true
where the people have nothing but _lectures_ and _lectures_; under
such circumstances it is not a cause for wonder, but if any person
will take the pains to read the reports of “Local Circles” published
in THE CHAUTAUQUAN the past ten months they will observe how lectures
on a wide range of subjects, scientific and historical, philosophical
and practical, have been made popular, intermingled as they have
been with concerts, reunions, banquets, social life and a variety of
entertainments by enterprising organizations.

       *       *       *       *       *

    =C=hautauqua’s waters, clear and bright!
    =L=isten, thence there comes to-night
    =S=ongs so sweet my heart they win.
    =C=harmèd Circle, take me in.
                                  —E. O. P.

       *       *       *       *       *

The symposium on the “Moral Influence of the Drama,” in the June number
of the _North American Review_, is an able discussion of the subject.
Dr. Buckley wields a keen lance, but there is a time for all things.
The editorial management that brings on this discussion in the summer
time, when the theaters are mostly closed, is not likely to do so much
toward correcting existing evils as if it had brought on the debate
when the theaters are opened in the fall time. The adaptation of truth
to an end is wisdom, but the adaptation in this case is to the end of
the season, when the evil is done, _vapor and effervescence_.

       *       *       *       *       *

We have some sympathy with the idea expressed by a correspondent in a
western State, that we should have degrees conferred on the graduates
of the C. L. S. C., under certain limitations, and in recognition of
certain attainments in literature, history, etc. The degree of the
Ph.D. is now conferred by some universities and colleges after the
applicant has passed required examinations, though he has never been
within the walls of the institution.

       *       *       *       *       *

Postmaster General Gresham has introduced practical civil service
reform into his department. In a recent order he has issued to
postmasters, of the second and third classes, he says that the
postmaster must be in his office and attend to the business in
person; absence from his post, without permission from the Postoffice
Department, will be considered sufficient reason for dismissal from the
service. This is a wise and timely order, and General Gresham deserves
the thanks of the people of the country for inaugurating this reform.

       *       *       *       *       *

Alaska is sadly in need of a civil government. The lectures of the
Presbyterian missionary, Dr. Sheldon Jackson, on the condition of
the people of Alaska, delivered at Chautauqua and published in the
ASSEMBLY HERALD and THE CHAUTAUQUAN, created quite a sensation and
attracted the attention of thinking Christian people in all parts of
the country. There is great need of interposition by the government at
Washington. The Presbyterian General Assembly, at a recent session in
Saratoga, appointed a committee, with Dr. Howard Crosby as chairman, to
visit President Arthur relative to giving the people of Alaska a civil
government. Let missionary societies and Christian assemblies petition
the powers that be until Alaska is redeemed from her present state,
which is little better in some places than barbarism.

       *       *       *       *       *

The reasons for divorces are only equalled by the devices which parties
adopt to secure them. Major Nickerson, of the United States army,
sent his wife and daughter to Europe in 1880. The major promised to
follow them soon, providing he could secure leave of absence. His wife
waited but he did not come. He continued to write her and send money,
until about a year ago he began to send his letters and remittances
to his daughter. His wife asked an explanation, but he gave her no
satisfaction. At last she learned through her mother that he had
obtained a divorce and was married again, and that the ground on which
the divorce was obtained was desertion. The bare statement of the facts
in such a case teach us that our laws, as to granting divorces, are
lax and unscriptural, and should be reconstructed in the interests
of justice and the safety of the family as an institution against
designing men.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Argentine Republic is doing a great deal of quiet work in
education, which might even be an example to us who look upon that
far-away land as out of the world. They have in their national college
a greater proportion of students than either England or Germany. To
obtain the most advanced methods, the government has just obtained
eight young women from the normal schools at Winona, Minn., to take
charge of the normal schools in the republic.

       *       *       *       *       *

We learn that Prof. F. H. Bailey, the inventor of the astral lantern,
so highly commended by Bishop Warren and others, is now located at
Northville, Mich., and that orders for lanterns, or correspondence,
should be addressed to him, or to the Michigan School Furnishing
Company, at that place. We heartily wish that scores of our local
circles might procure one of these invaluable helps to the study of the

       *       *       *       *       *

The present number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN closes the third volume. In
October will be published the first number of the fourth volume. Its
place will be supplied during the summer by the _Assembly Herald_,
published during August as a daily. Price, $1.00.

       *       *       *       *       *

The article in the present number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN by John Lord,
LL.D., is an extract from a lecture delivered at Chautauqua.

       *       *       *       *       *

The faculty of the Summer Assembly at Pacific Grove, Cal., have
determined to make natural history a specialty. The opportunities are
unrivaled, for all the wonders of the sea-shore are at their command.
In order to obtain specimens of the flora and fauna of the entire
coast, they have solicited members to send or bring collections of
dried plants, zoölogical specimens, etc.

       *       *       *       *       *

Curiosity and lack of coolness were the causes of the terrible disaster
which marred Decoration Day of 1883, and threw a shadow over the glory
of the Brooklyn bridge. To rush to see what is the cause of a crowd, a
sudden noise or confusion, is a childish act, and yet there is hardly
one in a hundred but will do it. To keep still and cool when the crowd
becomes a stampede is almost unknown. How to prevent a panic and how
to act in a panic, are questions worthy the study of all intelligent
people, and it might not be amiss to teach the principles of coolness
and self-restraint to the young.

       *       *       *       *       *

This month Mrs. Cook brings her party of Chautauquans back to America.
They have finished their “Tour Around the World,” and will spend their
vacation at home until it is time to start on their “Ideal Summer Trip
Beyond the Sea.” We only hope that all those who have enjoyed so much
their travels with Mrs. Dickinson and Mrs. Cook, will be able to take
the latter trip.

       *       *       *       *       *

The new cover has been well received by both our subscribers and the
press. An exchange says of us: “THE CHAUTAUQUAN, the organ of the
Chautauqua Assembly, Chautauqua University, the Chautauqua Literary
and Scientific Circle, and other Chautauqua institutions, has made its
appearance in a very elegant new dress. It is not only handsome but
it contains more really solid, instructive, interesting and valuable
matter than any periodical known to us.” A lady from Illinois in
expressing her thanks for the improvement, writes: “I like the new
dress of THE CHAUTAUQUAN. It is artistic, and is a reminder of what
Chautauqua has been, and is, and what she still offers to the world.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Macnabb’s photographic studio of art, at 813 Broadway, N. Y., is
sending out some very finely finished work. They offer special
inducements to clubs. The studio is certainly worthy the attention of
persons visiting the city and wishing pictures.


Q. Where can an edition of the New Testament containing the authorized
version and new version in parallel columns, be obtained?

A. From Porter & Coates, Philadelphia.

Q. From what book can a thorough knowledge of the New Testament
Apocrypha be obtained?

A. Any work on the canon will contain more or less on the Apocrypha.
Probably the best work is in French, Michael Nicolas’ “_Etudes sur les
Evangiles Apocryphes_.”

Q. Is the sentence, “There is no world under our feet, no radiant
clouds, no blazing sun, no silver moon, nor twinkling stars,” correct.

A. “Nor” is correlative to “neither” or “not.” Either the sentence
should retain “not” before “stars,” or “neither” should be introduced
into the first clause as a negative instead of “no,” so as to
correspond with “nor.”

Q. Who is the author of the quotation, “Whom the gods wish to destroy
they first make mad?”

A. Euripides.

Q. Is the aërolite illustrated on page 122 of “Warren’s Astronomy,” the
one which fell at Santa Rosa, California, a few years ago?

A. It is.

Q. On page 114 of the “Geology,” does the author intend to class snakes
with mammals?

A. He does not.

Q. Was Alexander of Macedon, who, before the battle of Platæa, informed
the Greeks of the intention of Mardonius to attack them, their ally?

A. He was not, though secretly friendly to their cause. He had been
compelled to submit to the Persians and had accompanied Xerxes to
Greece in 480 B. C.

Q. What was the reason that the Almæonidæ were considered sacrilegious
by the Greeks?

A. In consequence of the way in which Megacles, one of the family,
treated the insurgents under Cylon in 612 B. C., they brought upon
themselves the guilt of sacrilege and were banished.

Q. What is the pronunciation of “applique,” as used in embroidery?

A. Ap-pli-kā´.

Q. What poet was born the same year as Napoleon Bonaparte?

A. There were three. Ernest Arndt, a German; Charles de Chenedolle,
French; John Frere, an English diplomatist and poet.

Q. What authority is there for spelling the name “Shakespeare,”

A. Many of the best authorities consider this spelling preferable.

Q. Who is the author of the line, “It flies and swims a flower in
liquid air!” referring to the butterfly?

A. P. Commire, a writer of Latin verse.

Q. What is the meaning of the Roman initials S. P. Q. R.?

A. _Senatus Populusque Romanus_ (The Senate and the Roman people).

Q. Who fixed the date of the birth of Christ?

A. About the middle of the sixth century Dionysius Exigius, a Roman
abbot, introduced the method of dating from the birth of Christ. It
is conceded that he placed the date four years too late, a fact of no
importance in chronology, as all that is necessary is to place the
Savior’s birth 4 B. C.

Q. What event in English history is connected with the “Royal Oak?”

A. After the battle of Worcester in 1651, in which Charles II. was
defeated by Cromwell, the former was obliged to conceal himself in an
oak at Boscobel, to avoid capture.

Q. What was the faith of George Henry Lewis?

A. He was a positivist.

Q. What was his nationality?

A. English.

Q. What is the Chautauqua salute?

A. The waving of white handkerchiefs.

Q. Explain the expression, “balance of power.”

A. The division of land and wealth among nations, which prevents any
one being sufficiently stronger than the others to interfere with their

Q. What is the difference between the majority and the plurality of

A. When a candidate receives more than any other candidate, he has a
_plurality_ of votes. When more than all others, a _majority_.

Q. Are the Goths, Scandinavians and Norsemen, the same people?

A. They are not. Scandinavians or Norsemen were the names given to the
inhabitants of Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Iceland. The Goths lived
south of the Scandinavians. Although probably of the same origin, they
are a distinct people.


The first essential in a popular work of any kind is clearness.
A glance at the contents of Prof. Welsh’s new history of English
literature[E] shows that the work is so systematically arranged that
one can not fail to understand it. The life of the nation which shaped
the literature of each period is graphically and simply described.
Each political, national, and social law which helped to form the
thoughts and customs of the people, is noticed. The leading writers
are discussed under the different heads of biography, writing, style,
rank, character, and influence. This tabular method has, by no means,
degraded the book into simply a school text-book. It has made it
suitable for that and more valuable to the general reader. The style
is fresh, never tiresome. The illustrations are so woven into the
narrative that an idea of the plan of the book is readily seen, and
besides the quotations are admirably chosen. The work has been wrought
enthusiastically and conscientiously by a man thoroughly interested in
what he was doing. Its reception has been his reward.

The Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle,[F] have completed Mr.
Froude’s task of reminiscence editing, and given the curious public
ample information about the private life and character of Thomas
Carlyle. The task has not been a pleasant one for Mr. Froude, but it
has been faithfully and modestly performed. These letters are curiously
interesting for many reasons. They are vivacious and sparkling, full of
lively character sketches, and reveal the private life of one of the
most discussed men of the age. Better than all of these, they introduce
us to a woman to whom Arthur Helps once candidly said: “Well, really,
you are a model wife,” to whom poor Mazzini could go whenever “in a
state of crisis” (as he put it); whom Mills, Jeffrey, Tennyson, and
many others, honored for her wit and womanliness. She was a clever
woman, and a brave one. None but a clever woman could have written
these charming letters, none but a brave one could have endured a
husband like Carlyle. She was too loyal to cease loving him, too strong
to complain, though many a letter shows her sense of his weakness.
Jane Welsh Carlyle will find a permanent place among the famous women
of the century for wifely devotion, as well as for being a brilliant

The book is chiefly valuable for its wide range of happily-told
anecdotes, and its spicy comments. Here is a picture of Lord
Jeffrey and Count D’Orsay, who were calling on her together: “What
a difference! The prince of critics and the prince of dandies! How
washed out the beautiful dandiacal face looked beside that little
clever old man’s! The large blue dandiacal eyes you would say had never
contemplated anything more interesting than the reflection of the
handsome personage they pertained to in a looking-glass, while the dark
penetrating ones of the other had taken notes of most things in God’s
universe, even seeing a good way into millstones.” She makes wise and
true as well as pointed comments on the wide range of men and society
that came under her notice.

Undoubtedly Robert Browning’s “Jocoseria”[G] has been the most read
and most thoroughly noticed of any book of poems of the season. It is
a simple little volume of but ten poems. The best of them all is the
unpretending one beginning:

    “Never the time and the place
       And the loved one all together!
     This path—how soft to pace!
       This May—what magic weather!
     Where is the loved one’s face?”

The most influential book of the present day is undoubtedly the novel.
They constitute four-fifths of all the books read. The philosophy
of its development has become not only a question of great literary
interest, but one of educational and moral interest. Mr. Sydney
Lanier, in 1881, delivered a course of twelve lectures before the
students of John Hopkins University, on this subject, and they have
recently been published in book form,[H] forming a highly interesting
and philosophical discussion. His object is to show that the growth
in sentiment since the days of the Greeks has been so great that the
old forms of literature and art have been inadequate to express
our ideas, hence in the last two centuries three things have been
developed—Science, Music, and the Novel. He gives most copious
illustrations from modern novels to uphold his principles.

Lovers of American poetry and poets will be glad to welcome the recent
“Life of William Cullen Bryant.”[I] Soon after Mr. Bryant’s death in
1878 his papers, containing useful materials for a biography of his
life, were sent to Mr. Parke Godwin, a gentleman of long connection
with the press, in order that he might prepare a memoir of the poet.
Mr. Godwin has collected most of Mr. Bryant’s letters, his editorial
writings, and the newspaper articles concerning him, until he has been
able to lay before his readers a very complete and exact biography.
Necessarily the work contains little of intense interest. Bryant’s life
was a quiet, laborious one. Fifty years of it were spent in editorial
work in which, as the author well says, “the labors consist of a series
of incessant blows, of the real influence of which it is hard to
judge.” But his career as editor and poet are well treated in a simple,
pleasant narrative, which leave one with a profound respect for the
upright, just and noble father of American poetry.

In September, 1881, the Presbyterian Church lost one of its most
honored ministers by the death of the Rev. Cyrus Dickson, D.D., the
Secretary of the Board of Foreign Missions. The Presbytery of Baltimore
at once arranged to prepare a memorial. The work was committed to the
Rev. S. J. M. Eaton, D.D.[J] The biography which Dr. Eaton has produced
is a simple story of a devout, self-sacrificing Christian. Such books
never fail in their purpose. The story of a life is, after all, the
most influential of stories.

One of the best of the many sets of school readers, is the “Globe
Readings.”[K] Beginning with the simple primers of two grades there are
six readers in which the selections are very carefully graded, followed
by a “Book of Golden Deeds,” by Charlotte Yonge; Lamb’s “Tales from
Shakspere;” Scott’s “Marmion;” “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” and “Lady of
the Lake;” Cowper’s “Task,” and Goldsmith’s “Vicar of Wakefield.” The
series has been carefully edited, and the notes give just the amount of
help necessary to young readers.

The “Home College Series”[L] has reached the number of thirty-two.
They cover a great range of subjects. History, science, biography,
art, house-keeping, penmanship, wise-sayings, political economy and
religion, and will be valuable reading for spare moments.

The last issues of the charming “Riverside Literature Series,”[M] are
“Biographical Stories” and “True Stories from New England History.”


Absolutely Pure.

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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.

       *       *       *       *       *


[A] A lecture delivered at Chautauqua, August 17, 1882.

[B] Extract from a sermon delivered at Chautauqua, 1882.

[C] Eighth Round-Table held at the Hall of Philosophy, August 15, 1883.

[D] For Prof. Bailey’s address see Editor’s Note-Book.

[E] Development of English Literature and Language. By Alfred H. Welsh,
M. A. S. C. Griggs & Co., Chicago.

[F] Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle. Edited by James A.
Froude. Charles Scribner’s Sons.

[G] Jocoseria. By Robert Browning. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston.

[H] The English Novel. By Sydney Lanier. Charles Scribner’s Sons, New

[I] A biography of William Cullen Bryant, with extracts from his
private correspondence. By Parke Godwin. D. Appleton & Co., New York.

[J] Memorials of the Life and Labors of the Rev. Cyrus Dickson, D.D.,
late Secretary of the Board of Home Missions. By Rev. S. J. M. Eaton,
D.D. Robert Carter & Brothers, New York.

[K] Globe Readings from Standard Authors. London: Macmillan & Co., 1883.

[L] Home College Series. New York: Phillips & Hunt, 1883.

[M] Numbers 7, 8, 9 and 10, of Riverside Literature Series. Houghton,
Mifflin & Co., Boston, 1883.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. The more usual Fräulein is spelled
Fraulein in this text.

Page 566, “Calvanist” changed to “Calvinist” (is a Calvinist, but not)

Page 579, “dose” changed to “doze” (sense-overseer begins to doze)

Page 587, “exsited” changed to “existed” (Normans, and existed)

Page 587, “yoeman” changed to “yeoman” (southern yeoman delighted)

Page 595, “our” changed to “our” (generally given out)

Page 595, “person” changed to “persons” (the fifty persons present)

Page 602, “langguage” changed to “language” (about posy-beds, the

Page 602, “inqury” changed to “inquiry” (inquiry. Great forestry)

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