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Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. IV, October 1883
Author: Literary, The Chautauquan, Circle, Scientific
Language: English
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    A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture.
    Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.


    FROM OCTOBER, 1883, TO JULY, 1884.

    THEODORE L. FLOOD, D.D., Editor.




    AGASSIZ. Prof. J. Tingley, Ph.D. 462.

    ALASKA—ITS MISSIONS. Rev. Wm. B. Lewis. 592.

    AMERICAN LITERATURE, Criticisms on. 503.

    AMERICAN LITERATURE, Selections From.
      Aldrich, Thomas Bailey. 446.
      Bancroft, George. 334.
      Bryant, William Cullen. 208.
      Bushnell, Dr. Horace. 145.
      Channing, William Ellery. 79.
      Dana, Richard Henry. 208.
      Edwards, Jonathan. 16.
      Franklin, Benjamin. 77.
      Halleck, Fitz Greene. 207.
      Higginson, Thomas Wentworth. 392.
      Holmes, Oliver Wendell. 265.
      Howells, William D. 394.
      Irving, Washington. 146.
      James, Jr., Henry. 393.
      Jefferson, Thomas. 79.
      Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. 210.
      Lowell, James Russell. 266.
      Mather, Cotton. 14.
      Motley, John Lothrop. 333.
      Paulding, James Kirke. 147.
      Porter, Dr. Noah. 146.
      Prescott, William H. 335.
      Sandys, George. 14.
      Taylor, Bayard. 446.
      Thaxter, Celia. 447.
      Warner, Charles Dudley. 394.
      Washington, George. 78.
      Whittier, John G. 264.

    AMERICANS, ECCENTRIC. C. E. Bishop. 43, 95, 211, 275, 348, 510, 584.

    AMUSEMENTS OF THE LONDON POOR. Walter Besant. 457.

    ARDENT SPIRITS. B. W. Richardson, M.D. 347.

    ARNOLD, MATTHEW. Prof. A. B. Hyde, D.D. 270.

    ART, Readings in. 11, 75, 142, 204, 262, 330, 384, 442, 500.

      December, 183.
      January, 218.
      February, 278.
      March, 346.
      April, 405.
      May, 455.
      June, 528.
      July, 569.
      August, 570.
      September, 571.


    BLUE LAWS. 156.

    BOOK KNOWLEDGE AND MANNERS. Lord Chesterfield. 161.

    BOOKS RECEIVED. 127, 187, 249, 314, 496, 556, 612.

    BOTANICAL NOTES. Prof. J. H. Montgomery. 227, 287.

    CALIFORNIA. Frances E. Willard, Pres. W. C. T. U. 222.

    CAÑONS OF THE COLORADO, The. Major G. W. Powell. 564.

    CHARACTER BUILDING. James Kerr. 153.

    CHARITY OF PARIS, A Private. 471.


    CHAUTAUQUA FOR 1884. 543.

    CHAUTAUQUA TO CALIFORNIA. Frances Willard, Pres. W. C. T. U. 81.

    CHAUTAUQUA WINTER, Echoes from a. Rev. H. H. Moore. 419.

    CLASS OF ’85, To the. 356.

    CLIMATE SEEKING IN AMERICA. Geo. A. Townsend. 516.

    C. L. S. C. COURSE FOR 1884-’85. 600.

    C. L. S. C. IN CANADA, The. 481.

    C. L. S. C. IN THE SOUTH. 292.

    C. L. S. C. IN TORONTO, The. 167.

      October, 57.
      November, 120.
      December, 183.
      January, 243.
      February, 304.
      March, 370.
      April, 432.
      May, 491.
      June, 551.

    C. L. S. C. REUNION. 104.

    C. L. S. C. TESTIMONY. 103, 606.

    C. L. S. C. WORK. J. H. Vincent, D.D. 44, 102, 165, 228, 287, 355,
          421, 477, 538, 600.

    C. L. S. C. ’84. 355.

    COMMENCEMENT, C. L. S. C. Class 1883. 20.

    COOPER INSTITUTE. J. M. Buckley, D.D. 398.

    COUNCIL OF NICE, The. 581.

    COURTS OF THREE PRESIDENTS—Thiers, MacMahon, Grévy. 566.

    DEAD-LETTER OFFICE, The. Pattie L. Collins. 460.

    DREAMY OLD TOWN, A. Edith Sessions Tupper. 520.


    EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK. 54, 117, 180, 241, 302, 368, 430, 488, 548, 610.

      C. L. S. C. an Educational Necessity, The. 53.
      C. L. S. C. Plan, The. 178.
      C. L. S. C. Course for 1884-5, The. 607.
      Chautauqua Outlook for 1884. 609.
      College Reform, A. 116.
      Complaint, An Unjust. 367.
      Day, an Extra. 180.
      Dress and Income. 300.
      Efficiency and Tenure. 547.
      Evangelists. 239.
      Floods. 429.
      Founder’s Day. 428.
      General Conference, Some Points on the. 608.
      Greece, History of. 116.
      Greeting, To the Class of 1884. 546.
      Headquarters of the C. L. S. C. 238.
      Idea, Dr. Newman’s New. 487.
      Ingenuity in Local Circles. 365.
      Is Crime Interesting? 366.
      Knowledge, Superfluous. 488.
      Lawlessness, Two Kinds of. 485.
      Letters of William Cullen Bryant. 367.
      Luther, Martin. 179.
      Negro, Dr. Haygood’s Battle for. 115.
      Père Hyacinthe. 241.
      Phillips, Wendell. 429.
      Political Methods. 428.
      Political Outlook, The. 115.
      Political Outlook, Present. 300.
      Rewards of Public Service. 486.
      Shakspere Controversy, The. 53.
      Social Life, A Drawback to. 366.
      Spanish Bull Fights. 301.
      Steam not an Aristocrat. 300.
      Temperance Question, The. 179.
      Tenth Assembly, The. 52.
      Time Standards, The New. 240.
      Wall Street Troubles, The. 608.
      Workman, The Decline of Our. 547.

    EDITOR’S TABLE. 56, 119.



    ENGLISH, British and American. R. A. Proctor. 410.

    ESTIVATION, or Summer Sleep. Rev. J. G. Wood, A.M. 273.

    ETIQUETTE. 99.

    EXPERIENCE, A C. L. S. C. 167.

    FAILINGS. J. Mortimer-Granville. 39.

    FLOWERS, Early. Francis George Heath. 225.

    FRANCE, Republican Prospects in. Joseph Reinach. 80.

    FRENCH HISTORY, Readings in. J. H. Vincent, D.D. 315, 377.



    GERMAN HISTORY. Rev. W. G. Williams. 1, 63, 129, 189, 251.


    GERMAN LITERATURE, Extracts From.
      Goethe, Johann Wolfgang. 194.
      Heine, Heinrich. 253.
      Humboldt, Alexander von. 253.
      Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim. 134.
      Luther, Martin. 134.
      Sachs, Hans. 133.
      Schiller, Friedrich von. 193.
      Schleiermacher, Friedrich. 254.
      Schopenhauer, Arthur. 255.
      Schlegel, Friedrich. 195.
      Walther von der Vogelweide. 132.
      Winckelman, Johann Joachim. 193.


    GOSPELS, THE, Considered as a Drama. D. H. Wheeler, D.D. 412.

    GRADUATES C. L. S. C. 310.

    GREAT ORGAN AT FRIBOURG, The. Edith Sessions Tupper. 94.

    HESITATION AND ERRORS IN SPEECH. J. Mortimer-Granville. 454.

    HIBERNATION. J. G. Wood, M.A. 150.

    HYACINTH BULBS. Grant Allen. 351.

    INEBRIATES, What to do with the. W. W. Godding. 514.



    LANDMARKS OF BOSTON. E. E. Hale. 572.


    LAW, Commercial. E. C. Reynolds, Esq. 260, 327, 382, 439.

    LIFE OF A PLANET, The. Richard Proctor. 157.

    LOCAL CIRCLE, How to Conduct a. 107.


    LOCAL CIRCLES. 105, 169, 230, 288, 356, 422, 478, 539, 601.

    LONDON, Disraeli’s. 157.

    LONDON PREACHERS, Some. 536.

    LOW SPIRITS. J. Mortimer-Granville. 85.

    MAN OF LEARNING, TELL ME SOMETHING. Margaret Meredith. 150.


    MIGRATIONS ON FOOT. Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A. 353.

    MISSIONS, Christian. 221.


    MONTEAGLE ASSEMBLY. Rev. J. H. Warren. 29.



    MYTHOLOGY, Slavonic. A. H. Cummings. 34.


    NAVAL FORCE, Our. Lieut. G. W. Mentz. 595.

    NAVY, The. Lieut. G. W. Mentz. 524.


    NEW ENGLAND BRANCH, Class of ’86. 103.

    NORMAL CLASS, Chautauqua Graduates (1883). 374.

    NORMAL CLASS, Chautauqua. J. L. Hurlbut, D.D., and R. S. Holmes,
          M.A., Instructors. 112, 176, 236, 297, 364, 426, 484, 545.

    NURSES, Trained. Lulie W. Winchester. 466.

    OCEAN MONARCH, An. G. Browne Goode. 582.

    OSTRICH HUNTING. Lady Florence Dixie. 220.

      October, 47.
      November, 112.
      December, 166.
      January, 228.
      February, 288.
      March, 355.
      April, 422.
      May, 478.
      June, 539.

    PEKING, The Imperial College of. G. W. Smyth. 587.

    PHILLIPS, Wendell. Edward Everett Hale. 451.

    PHYSICAL SCIENCE. 3, 67, 135, 196, 255.

    PLANT NUTRITION. Maxwell T. Masters, M.D. 164.

    POACHERS IN ENGLAND. Jas. Turves. 90.

    POE, Edgar Allen. C. E. Bishop. 407.

    POLITICAL ECONOMY. G. M. Steele, D.D. 9, 73, 140, 202.

    POPULAR EDUCATION, C. L. S. C. Announcement. 48, 175.

    PRISONERS AND PRISONS, Military. O. W. Longan. 475.

    PROHIBITION IN MAINE. Hon. Neal Dow. 415.

    QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. A. M. Martin. 49, 109, 172, 234, 294, 362,
          425, 482, 544.

    RECREATION. James Paget. 274.



    ROMAN HISTORY, Readings in. W. C. Wilkinson. 437, 497.

    ROUND-TABLE, C. L. S. C. 171, 233, 292.

    RUSSIAN NOVELIST, A. Gabriel Monod. 154.

    SCHOOLS OF BOSTON, Industrial. E. E. Hale. 417.

    SCOTT, WALTER, Eight Centuries with. Wallace Bruce. 91, 162, 216,
          284, 343, 403, 467, 533, 589.

    SEA AS AN AQUARIUM, The. C. L. Anderson, M.D. 279, 341.

    SKATING AND SKATERS. Robert MacGregor. 159.

    SOLDIERS’ HOME. O. W. Logan. 529.


    STATIONERY, C. L. S. C. 103.

    STEEL HORSE, Our. 523.



    SUNDAY READINGS. J. H. Vincent, D.D. 6, 70, 137, 198, 257, 328,
          388, 440, 499, 560.



    TALK ABOUT BOOKS. 126, 248, 314, 436, 495, 556, 612.

    TEMPERATURE. J. Mortimer Granville. 158.

    TENEMENT HOUSE LIFE IN NEW YORK. Geo. A. Townsend. 561.

    TRICKS OF CONJURORS. Thomas Frost. 125.


    UNITED STATES HISTORY. 267, 336, 395, 448, 506.

    UNIVERSITY, Chautauqua. 478.

    VANISHING TYPES. Rev. Edward Sprague. 577.

    VEGETABLE VILLAINS. R. Turner. 33, 86.

    WAVERLEY NOVELS. Wallace Bruce. 17.

    WHITE HOUSE, The. Mrs. Pattie L. Collins. 557.

    WINE AND WATER. Benj. W. Richardson, M.D. 283.

    WOMEN AS MISTRESSES OF HOUSEHOLDS, Duties of. F. P. Cobbe. 473.

    WOMEN, Work for. 219.

    WRECKAGE, Social. Ellice Hopkins. 40


    AT REST. Sarah Doudney. 42.
    AUTUMN SYMPATHY. E. G. Charlesworth. 80.
    BLOSSOMS, To. R. Herrick. 529.
    CHILLON, Sonnet on. Byron. 582.
    CRACKED FIDDLE, A lay of. Fred. Langbridge. 155.
    DIVINE SCULPTOR, The. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 451.
    FIR TREE, The. Luella Clark. 347.
    FLOTSOM (1492). J. Logie Robertson. 341.
    FLOWERY FIELDS, In. Mary Harrison. 38.
    GONE. E. G. Charlesworth. 40.
    GROWTH. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 561.
    HELEN’S TOWER. Chas. Blatherwick. 338.
    HIS COLD. Foliot S. Pierpoint. 269.
    HOW WE CAME TOGETHER. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D. 32.
    IVY, The. Henry Burton. 19.
    LIGHT AT EVENTIDE. E. G. Charlesworth. 397.
    LUTHER. Mrs. S. R. Graham Clark. 275.
    MY YEARS. Ada Iddings Gale. 343.
    NIGHT. Charles Grindrod. 510.
    NIGHT. A. St. J. A. 211.
    PRAYER OF SOCRATES, The. Stuart Blackie. 537.
    RETURNING. Mary Harrison. 148.
    RISE HIGHER. Helen G. Hawthorne. 571.
    SABBATH CHIMES. Phebe A. Holden. 402.
    SELF-DEPENDENCE. Matthew Arnold. 472.
    STILL YOUNG. Ellen O. Peck. 412.
    STORK, The. Translated from the Swedish. 214.
    SUMMER, A Remnant of. E. O. P. 156.
    TO MY BOOKS. Lady Sterling Maxwell. 83.
    UNDER THE AUTUMN SKIES. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 161.
    WHERE LIES THE MUSIC? Alice C. Jennings. 17.
    ZENOBIA. Ada Iddings Gale. 152.



    VOL. IV.      OCTOBER, 1883.     NO. 1.

Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

_President_—Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.

_Superintendent of Instruction_—Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven,

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

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

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



_Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1883-4_.





The student of history has need of divisions. By their aid alone can
he hope to have command of the facts and events with which history in
so large part deals. It is well therefore to begin the study of any
particular history by noting such changes, such epoch-making events as
may form partition walls of boxes in which may be placed our classified

The history of Germany has been variously divided into periods by the
different authors. That which we have adopted here has the sanction of
the majority and will be found exceedingly natural, and hence simple
and convenient. The student should memorize it thoroughly, being
assured that though a very _general_ history of itself, nevertheless it
is more than many of supposed information could tell of the history of
this wonderful people.


_First_—From the most ancient times to the conquests of the Franks,
under Clovis (A. D. 486).

_Second_—From conquests of Clovis to Charlemagne (511-768).

_Third_—Charlemagne to Henry I. (768-919).

_Fourth_—Henry I. to Rodolphus of Hapsburg. The Saxon, Swabian, and
Hohenstaufen houses (919-1273).

_Fifth_—Rodolphus I. of Hapsburg to Charles V. (1273-1520).

_Sixth_—Charles V. to Peace of Westphalia (1519-1648).

_Seventh_—Peace of Westphalia to French Revolution (1648-1789).

_Eighth_—French Revolution to Peace of Paris (1789-1815).

_Ninth_—Peace of Paris to Franco-Prussian War (1815-1870-1871).

_Tenth_—From Franco-Prussian War to present time.


“Germany, or Deutschland, occupies a large part of Central Europe.
Speaking roughly, it now reaches from the Alps to the Baltic and the
North Sea, and from the valleys of the Rhine and the Maes to the Danube
as far as the March and the Mur, and to the Prosna and the Lower
Niemen. The country is mountainous in the south, hilly in the center,
and flat in the north, where it forms part of the great plain which
takes in the whole of north-eastern Europe. The western part of this
plain takes in the country between the Teutoburg Wood and the North
Sea. As it passes eastward it widens till it reaches from the Erz and
Riesen Mountains to the Baltic. A part of South Germany slopes toward
the east, and is watered by the Danube; but the general slope of the
country is toward the north. Among the rivers flowing northward are the
Rhine, the Ems, the Weser, the Elbe, the Oder, and the Vistula.”—_Sime._

“Germany has varied very much in extent at different times. This is due
partly to the fact that it has no clearly-marked natural boundaries
on the east and west, but chiefly to the peculiarity of its position.
It is the central country of Europe. Being surrounded by most of the
leading nations of the Continent, the Germans have been involved, more
than any other people, in the general history of Europe. Of all their
neighbors, the Scandinavians are most nearly allied to the Germans.
Both are branches of the Teutonic race. But the Germans are also
connected, although not so closely, with the other surrounding peoples.
All, if we except the Magyars or Hungarians, who are Turanians, belong
to the great Aryan family.”—_Sime._

“Ancient authors mention several German tribes, as well as their
dwelling places, with greater or less precision. Several of them
also speak of the chief tribes, among which the single septs united
themselves. But their statements are not sufficiently unanimous or
precise to give us that clear view which we would so willingly obtain.
The origin of the Germanic nations, therefore, like that of all others,
is uncertain. To assign to them a distinct historical origin is to
make an assertion without evidence, though it is now indisputably
established that the Teutonic dialects belong to one great family with
the Latin, the Greek, the Sanscrit, and other European and Asiatic
tongues. All the positive knowledge that we have of the German nations,
previous to their contact with the Romans, is exceedingly vague and
mere conjecture.”—_Menzies._

“The Romans first heard the name ‘Germans’ from the Celtic Gauls, in
whose language it meant simply _neighbors_. The first notice of a
Germanic tribe was given to the world by the Greek navigator Pytheas,
who made a voyage to the Baltic in the year 330 B. C. Beyond the amber
coast, eastward of the mouth of the Vistula, he found the Goths, of
whom we hear nothing more until they appear, several centuries later,
on the northern shore of the Black Sea. For more than two hundred
years there is no further mention of the Germanic races; then, most
unexpectedly, the Romans were called upon to make their personal
acquaintance.”—_Bayard Taylor._

“At the time of their first contact with the Romans, these Germanic
tribes had lost even the tradition of their Asiatic origin. They
supposed themselves to have originated upon the soil where they dwelt,
sprung either from the earth or descended from the gods. According to
the most popular legend, the war-god Tuisko, or Tiu, had a son, Mannus
(whence the word _man_ is derived), who was the first human parent of
the German race. Many centuries must have elapsed since their first
settlement in Europe, or they could not have so completely changed the
forms of their religion and their traditional history.”—_Taylor._


“The early Germans were noted for their love of feasting, which was
carried to such excess that they would sometimes spend whole days and
nights at table, drinking and gaming, in consequence of which they
often quarreled and fought so that a convivial meeting frequently
terminated in bloodshed. They gambled with dice, as Tacitus, with
astonishment, informs us, in a sober state and as a serious occupation,
and with so much eagerness for gain, that when they had lost all they
hazarded their freedom, and even their very persons, upon the last
cast. The loser freely delivered himself up to slavery, although even
younger and stronger than his adversary, and patiently allowed himself
to be bound and sold as a slave; thus steadfastly did they keep their
word, even in a bad case. ‘They call this good faith,’ says the Roman
writer. There were various circumstances under which a German might
forfeit his liberty, such as marrying a bondwoman, or of not being able
to pay his debts; but the generality of the slaves were captives taken
in war.

“The Germans did not all sit down at the same table, but each man had
his own seat and board, which were of a very rough description, being
merely a wooden stool and table, furnished with drinking horns, wooden
bowls, spoons, and platters. Each person of rank had his servant behind
him to hold his shield and spear. He kept his sword by his side, for on
no occasion would a German part with his arms, which was a proof that
he expected to have frequent need of them.

“The wives and daughters of the Germans, we are told, shared in all
the public entertainments, for however rude and fierce these people
might be in other respects, they were distinguished, even in the most
barbarous ages, for their attention and respect to the female sex, whom
they consulted on the most important affairs, and by whose opinions
they were very often guided. The feasts of the Germans, like those of
the Gauls and Scandinavians, were always attended by a number of bards,
several of whom were attached to the family of every chief, and were
treated with the highest respect. They played on the harp and flute,
and when they sang of war, the company took part in the concert by
clashing their swords against their shields.

“The Germans, in very remote ages, were dressed in skins of wild
animals, and afterward in a coarse kind of linen, made by the women;
but as they intermixed more with the Gauls, they learned from them to
make a finer sort of linen, and woolen also, and as soon as they were
acquainted with these useful arts, spinning and weaving became the
principal occupations of German women, and a more civilized costume
was adopted than that which was made from the skins of the elk and
reindeer. These animals, in the time of Julius Cæsar, were very
numerous in the forests of Germany, from which, however, they have long
since disappeared.

“The Romans justly considered the German nation as an aboriginal, pure,
and unmixed race of people. They resembled themselves alone; and like
the specifically similar plants of the field, which, springing from a
pure seed, not raised in the hot-bed of a garden, but germinating in
the healthy, free, unsheltered soil, do not differ from each other by
varieties; so, also, among the thousands of the simple German race,
there was but one determined and equal form of body. Their chest was
wide and strong; their hair yellow, and with young children it was of a
dazzling white. Their skin was also white, their eyes blue, and their
glance bold and piercing. Their powerful gigantic bodies, which the
Romans and Gauls could not behold without fear, displayed the strength
that nature had given to this people; for, according to the testimony
of some of the ancient writers, their usual height was seven feet. From
their earliest youth upward they hardened their bodies by all devisable
means. New-born infants were dipped in cold water, and the cold bath
was continued during their whole lives as the strengthening renovator,
by both boys and girls, men and women. The children ran about almost
naked, and effeminate nations wondered how those of the Germans,
without cradles or swaddling bands, should grow up to the very fullest
bloom of health.

“Cæsar, Tacitus, and Suetonius, with many others, have pointed to one
and the same characteristic of the Germans, as the secret of their
power and prosperity. The Kelt had everywhere yielded to the eagles
of Rome, while the Teuton everywhere checked their flight. Amazed,
and even alarmed, at those tall fair-haired, blue-eyed enemies, who
had to be conquered with gold instead of steel, Tacitus examines the
reasons of their prowess, and finds it in the soberness of their
blood, in their reverence for women and for the laws of nature, in
their deference to parental authority and their marriages of maturity.
‘Chastity is a custom with them,’ says the ‘De Moribus Germanorum,’
and a passage to the same effect might be cited from Cæsar. Those
southern soldiers and statesmen saw, in truth, with a terrible sense
of overhanging fate, that race of hardy, chaste, home-loving, free and
fearless barbarians, of whom the Emperor Titus said, ‘Their bodies
are great, but their souls are greater.’ The tone of Tacitus is that
of a man who bitterly feels how much greater, after all, as a moral
being, the barbarian may be than the civilized man, when civilization
recognizes no higher aim than material splendor, and that utility which
subserves material wants. Other civilizations than that of the Empire
may read a lesson in those brief pages where the philosopher of a
worn-out world records his impression of the races from which the world
was hereafter to be reconstituted.”—_Menzies._

“The three principal vices of the Germans were indolence, drunkenness,
and love of gaming. Although always ready for the toils and dangers of
war, they disliked to work at home. The women ruled and regulated their
households with undisputed sway. They were considered the equals of the
men, and exhibited no less energy and courage. They were supposed to
possess the gift of prophecy, and always accompanied the men to battle,
where they took care of the wounded, and stimulated the warriors by
their shouts and songs. They honored the institution of marriage to an
extent beyond that exhibited by any other people of the ancient world.
Those who proved unfaithful to the marriage vow were punished with


“The worship of the ancient Germans coincided with their natural
character, and consequently was much more simple and elevated than that
of other peoples. Although uncultivated, they carried in their hearts
the sentiment of an infinite and eternal power, and they regarded it as
an affront to the divinity to enclose it within walls, or to represent
it under human form. They consecrated to it the woods and forests as
a spacious temple of which nature itself erected the pillars, and to
which the immensity of the heavens formed the roof.

“The ancient Germans adored, like the Persians, the sun and fire,
but they regarded Wodan as their supreme god. They called him also
Alvater, father of all things. Their most beneficent goddess was the
mother of the earth (Hertha). The Germans attached great importance to
divinations and prognostics. The crow and the owl signified misfortune;
the cuckoo announced long life. They discovered the future by means of
the branches of fruit trees (runes). Various signs were cut upon each
rod, and afterwards the rods were thrown upon a white cloth; then the
priest, or father of the family, offered up a prayer to the divinity,
and thrice chose from among the rods those which were to give the
divine revelations. The clairvoyants were held in high estimation, and
history has preserved some of the names of those to which the belief
of the people had given a great influence over the decision of public

“The people had their religious festivals at stated seasons, when
sacrifices—sometimes of human beings—were laid upon the altars of the
gods in the sacred groves. Even after they became Christians, in the
eighth century, they retained their habit of celebrating some of
these festivals, but changed them into the Christian anniversaries of
Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide.

“Thus, from all we can learn respecting them, we may say that the
Germans, during the first century before Christ, were fully prepared
by their habits, laws, and their moral development, for a higher
civilization. They were still restless, after so many centuries of
wandering; they were fierce and fond of war, as a natural consequence
of their struggles with the neighboring races; but they had already
acquired a love for the wild land where they dwelt, they had begun to
cultivate the soil, they had purified and hallowed the family relation,
which is the basis of all good government, and finally, although
slavery existed among them, they had established equal rights for free

“If the object of Rome had been civilization, instead of conquest and
plunder, the development of the Germans might have commenced much
earlier and produced very different results.”—_Taylor._

    [To be continued.]



When we begin to look attentively at the world around us, one of the
first things to set us thinking is the air. We do not see it, and yet
it is present wherever we may go. What is this air?

Although invisible, it is yet a real, material substance. When you
swing your arm rapidly up and down you feel the air offering a
resistance to the hand. The air is something which you can feel, though
you can not see it. You breathe it every moment. You can not get away
from it, for it completely surrounds the earth. To this outer envelope
of air, the name of _atmosphere_ is given.

The air is not a simple substance, but a mixture of two invisible
gases, called nitrogen and oxygen. But besides these chief ingredients,
it contains also small quantities of other substances; some of which
are visible, others invisible. If you close the shutters of a room, and
let the sunlight stream through only one chink or hole into the room,
you see some of the visible particles of the air. Hundreds of little
motes, or specks of dust, cross the beam of light which makes them
visible against the surrounding darkness, though they disappear in full
daylight. But it is the invisible parts of the air which are of chief
importance; and among them there are two which you must especially
remember—the vapor of water and carbonic acid gas. You will soon come
to see why it is needful for you to distinguish these.

Now what is this vapor of water? You will understand its nature if you
watch what takes place when a kettle boils. From the mouth of the spout
a stream of white cloud comes out into the air. It is in continual
motion; its outer parts somehow or other disappear, but as fast as they
do so they are supplied by fresh materials from the kettle. The water
in the kettle is all the while growing less, until at last, if you do
not replenish it, the whole will be boiled away, and the kettle left
quite dry. What has become of all the water? You have changed it into
vapor. It is not destroyed or lost in any way, it has only passed from
one state into another, from the liquid into the gaseous form, and is
now dissolved in the air.

Carbonic acid gas is also one of the invisible substances of the
atmosphere, of which, though it forms no more than four parts in
every ten thousand, yet it constitutes an important ingredient. You
will understand how important it is when you are told that, from this
carbonic acid in the air, all the plants which you see growing upon the
land extract nearly the whole of their solid substance. When a plant
dies and decays, the carbonic acid is restored to the air again. On the
other hand, plants are largely eaten by animals, and help to form the
framework of their bodies. Animals in breathing give out carbonic acid
gas; and when they die, and their bodies decay, the same substance is
again restored to the atmosphere. Hence the carbonic acid of the air is
used to build up the structure both of plants and animals, and is given
back again when these living things cease to live. There is a continual
coming and going of this material between the air and the animal and
vegetable kingdoms.

You know that though you can not see the air you can feel it when it
moves. A light breeze, or a strong gale, can be just as little seen by
the eye as still air; and yet we readily feel their motion. But even
when the air is still it can make itself sensible in another way, viz:
by its temperature. For air, like common visible things, can be warmed
and cooled.

This warming and cooling of the air is well illustrated by what
takes place in a dwelling-house. If you pass out of a warm room, on
a winter’s day, into the open air when there is no wind, you feel a
sensation of cold. Whence does this sensation come? Not from anything
you can see, for your feet, though resting on the frozen ground, are
protected by leather, and do not yet feel the cold. It is the air which
is cold, and which encircles you on all sides, and robs you of your
heat; while at the same time you are giving off or radiating heat from
your skin into the air. On the other hand, if, after standing a while
in the chilly winter air, you return into the room again, you feel a
sensation of pleasant warmth. Here, again, the feeling does not come
from any visible object, but from the invisible air which touches every
part of your skin, and is thus robbed of its heat by you.

Now, how is it that the atmosphere should sometimes be warm and
sometimes cold? Where does the heat come from? and how does the air
take it up?

Let us return again to the illustration of the house. In winter, when
the air is keen and frosty outside, it is warm and pleasant indoors,
because fires are there kept burning. The burning of coal and wood
produces heat, and the heat thus given out warms the air. Hence it is
by the giving off or radiation of the heat from some burning substance
that the air of our houses is made warmer than the air outside.

Now, it is really by radiation from a heated body that the air outside
gets its heat. In summer, this air is sometimes far hotter than is
usual in dwelling-houses in winter. All this heat comes from the sun,
which is an enormous hot mass, continually sending out heat in all

But, if the sun is always pouring down heat upon the earth, why is
the air ever cold? Place a screen between you and a bright fire, and
you will immediately feel that some of the heat from the fire place
has been cut off. When the sun is shining, expose your hand to its
beams for a time, and then hold a book between the hand and the sun.
At first, your skin is warmed; but the moment you put it in the shade,
it is cooled again. The book has cut off the heat which was passing
directly from the sun to your hand. When the atmosphere is felt to
be cold, something has come in the way to keep the sun’s heat from
directly reaching us.

Clouds cut off the direct heat of the sun. You must often have noticed
the change of temperature, when, after the sun has been shining for a
time, a cloud comes between it and the earth. Immediately a feeling of
chilliness is experienced, which passes off as soon as the cloud has
sailed on, and allowed the sun once more to come out.

The air itself absorbs some of the sun’s heat, and the greater the
thickness of air through which that heat has to make its way, the more
heat will be absorbed. Besides this, the more the rays of heat are
slanted the weaker do they become. At noon, for example, the sun stands
high in the sky. Its rays are then nearest to the vertical, and have
also the least thickness of air to pass through before they reach us.
As it descends in the afternoon, its rays get more and more slanted,
and must also make their way through a constantly increasing thickness
of air. Hence the middle of the day is much warmer than morning or

At night, when the sun no longer shines, its heat does not directly
warm the part of the earth in shadow. That part not only receives no
heat from it, but even radiates its heat out into the cold sky. Hence
night is much colder than day.

Then, again, in summer the sun at noon shines much higher in the sky
with us, or more directly overhead, than in winter. Its heat comes down
less obliquely and has less depth of air to pass through, and hence is
much more felt than in winter, when, as you know, the sun in our part
of the world never rises high even at mid-day.

If we were dependent for our warmth upon the direct heat of the sun
alone, we should be warm only when the sun shines. A cloudy day would
be an extremely cold one, and every night as intensely frosty as it
ever is in winter. Yet such is not the case. Cloudy days are often
quite warm; while we are all aware that the nights are by no means
always very cold. There must be some way in which the sun’s heat is
stored up, so that it can be felt even when he is not shining.

In summer the ground gets warmed; in some parts, indeed, becoming
even so hot at times that we can hardly keep the hand upon it. In hot
countries this is felt much more than in this country. Soil and stones
absorb heat steadily, that is to say, soon get heated, and they soon
cool again. When they have been warmed by the sun, the air gets warmed
by contact with them, and keeps its heat longer than they do; so that
even when at night the soil and stones have become ice-cold, the air a
little above is not so chilly. On the other hand, when the surface of
the ground is cold, it cools the air next it. The ground parts easily
with its heat, and a vast amount of heat is in this way radiated at
night from the earth outward into the cold starry space. Much more
heat, however, would be lost from this cause did not the abundant
aqueous vapor of the atmosphere absorb part of it, and act as a kind of
screen to retard the radiation. This is the reason why in hot climates,
where the air is very dry—that is, contains a small proportion of the
vapor of water—the nights are relatively colder than they are in other
countries where the air is moister. In like manner, clouds serve to
keep heat from escaping; and hence it is that cloudy nights are not so
cold as those which are clear and starry.

The atmosphere, then, is heated or cooled according as it lies upon a
warm or cold part of the earth’s surface; and, by means of its aqueous
vapor, it serves to store up and distribute this heat, keeping the
earth from such extremes of climate as would otherwise prevail.

The air lying next to a hot surface is heated; the air touching a cold
surface is cooled. And upon such differences of temperature in the air
the formation of winds depends.

Hot or warm air is lighter than cold air. You have learned how heat
expands bodies. It is this expansion of air, or the separation of its
particles further from each other which makes it less dense or heavy
than cold air, where the particles lie more closely together. As a
consequence of this difference of density, the light warm air rises,
and the heavy cold air sinks. You can easily satisfy yourselves of this
by experiment. Take a poker, and heat the end of it in the fire until
it is red-hot. Withdraw it, and gently bring some small bits of very
light paper, or some other light substance, a few inches above the
heated surface. The bits of paper will be at once carried up into the
air. This happens because the air, heated by the poker, immediately
rises, and its place is taken by colder air, which, on getting warmed,
likewise ascends. The upward currents of air grow feebler as the iron
cools, until, when it is of the same temperature as the air around,
they cease.

This is the principle on which our fire-places are constructed. The
fire is not kindled on the hearth, for, in that case, it would not get
a large enough draft of air underneath, and would be apt to go out. It
is placed some way above the floor, and a chimney is put over it. As
soon as the fire is lighted, the air next it gets warmed, and begins to
mount, and the air in the room is drawn in from below to take the place
of that which rises. All the air which lies above the burning coal gets
warmer and lighter; it therefore flows up the chimney, carrying with it
the smoke and gases. You will understand that though a bright blazing
fire is a pleasant sight in winter, we do not get all the heat which
it gives out. On the contrary, a great deal of the heat goes up the
chimney; and, except in so far as it warms the walls, passes away and
warms the outer air.

What happens in a small way in our houses takes place on a far grander
scale in nature. As already pointed out, the sun is the great source of
heat which warms and lightens our globe. While the heat of the sun is
passing through the air, it does very little in the way of warming it.
The heat goes through the air, and warms the surface of the earth. You
know that in summer the direct rays of the sun are hot enough to burn
your face, and yet, if you put even a thin sheet of paper over your
head, enough to cut off these rays, the sensation of burning heat at
once goes off, although the same air is playing about you all the time.

Both land and water are heated by the sun’s rays, and the same change
in the air then takes place which we find also at our firesides. The
layer of air next the warmed earth becomes itself warmed. As it thereby
grows lighter it ascends, and its place is taken by colder air, which
flows in from the neighborhood to take its place. This flowing in of
air is wind.

One of the most important ingredients in the air is the vapor of water.
Let us try to see, first of all, how it gets into and out of the air.
And in this case, as before, you will find that great questions in
science often admit of being simply and readily illustrated by the most
familiar things.

You may have noticed that on very cold nights the windows of
sitting-rooms, or crowded public halls, are apt to be found streaming
with water on the inside.

Now, in such cases, where does the moisture come from? Certainly not
out of the glass. It is derived from the vapor of water present in the
air. This word vapor is often used to describe some kind of visible
mist or fog. But these visible forms of moisture are not properly vapor
in the sense in which the term is used in science. The aqueous vapor of
the air is always invisible, even when the air is saturated with it,
and only when it passes back into the state of water do you actually
see anything.

When the invisible vapor dissolved in the air becomes visible, as in
mists, clouds, dew, or rain, it is said to be condensed, and this
process of liquefaction is called condensation.

The quantity of vapor which the air can contain varies according to
temperature, warm air being able to hold more than cold air.

As the air is cooled, its power of retaining vapor diminishes. When it
becomes colder than the temperature at which it is able to keep its
supply of vapor dissolved, the excess of vapor is condensed and becomes
visible. The temperature at which this takes place is the point of
saturation, or dew-point.

Perhaps you may ask how it is that the vapor so universally present
gets into the atmosphere, and where it comes from. If you pour a little
water into a plate, and set it down in the open air, you will note in
the course of a day or two, that the water has sensibly diminished. The
air has drunk up part of it, and will drink up the whole, if the water
is allowed to stand long enough. What takes place from a small quantity
of water goes on from every surface of water on the face of the earth,
from every brook and river and lake, and from the great sea itself.
Water is constantly passing off into vapor, which is received and
retained by the air. This process is called evaporation, and the water
which passes off into vapor is said to evaporate.

Since warm air can hold more vapor than cold air, evaporation must be
more vigorous in sunshine than at night, and during summer than during

On a dry, bracing day, evaporation goes on rapidly, because the air has
not nearly got all the quantity of vapor it can hold in solution. On a
damp day, however, when the air contains about as much vapor as it can
hold at that particular temperature, evaporation is quite feeble, or
ceases altogether. This varying capacity of the air for vapor is the
reason why laundresses find so much difference between days, in the
ease with which they can have their clothes dried.

After sunset, when the sky is clear, you know that the grass gets wet
with dew. In the morning you may see mists hanging over woods, and
streams, and hills, and gradually melting away as the sun mounts in
the sky. At all times of the year you may watch how clouds form and
dissolve, and form again, ever changing their size and shape as they
move through the air. Now these are all examples of the condensation of
vapor. Let us see how the process takes place.

Condensation, as we have seen, results from a cooling of the air. When
vapor is condensed, it does not at once take the form of running water.
The cold glass brought into the warm room has first a fine film of mist
formed upon it, and then by degrees the clear drops of water come. In
reality mist is made up of exceedingly minute particles of water, and
it is the running together of these which makes the larger drops. So
in nature on the great scale, when condensation occurs the vapor first
appears as a fine mist. This is always the result of cooling; so that,
whenever you see a mist or cloud forming, you may conclude that the air
in which it lies is being cooled.

Dew is the name given to the wetness which we notice appearing in the
evening, or at night, upon grass, leaves, or stones, or even sometimes
on our hair. In the morning you have, no doubt, often watched the
little dewdrops sparkling upon the foliage and the delicate threads of
gossamer. Now this wetness does not come out of the leaves or stones,
nor out of your hair. It is all derived from the air by condensation,
exactly as we see the film of mist form upon the cold tumbler in the
warm moist air of a room. In fact, that film of mist was really dew,
and all dew is formed in the same way, and from the same cause.

At night, when the sky is clear, the earth radiates heat rapidly; that
is to say, it gives off into cold space a great part of the heat which
it has received from the sun during the day. Its surface consequently
becomes cold, as you may have felt when you put your hand upon leaves
or stones after nightfall. The layer of air next the cooled ground is
chilled below its point of condensation, and the excess of vapor is
deposited as dew upon the grass, twigs, stones, and other objects.
Hence it is that the temperature at which this condensation begins to
take place is called the dew-point.

Another way in which a cold surface of the earth may produce
condensation is shown by what takes place among mountains. When a warm
moist wind blows upon a chill mountain top, the air is cooled, and its
vapor becomes visible in the form of a mist or cloud. You can often
see that the cloud is quite solitary, and even shapes itself to the
form of the ground, as if it were a sort of fleecy cap drawn down over
the mountain’s head. This is often well marked in the morning. As day
advances, the ground, warmed by the sun, no longer cools the air, and
hence the mist is gradually re-absorbed into the atmosphere. But by and
by, at the coming on of night, when the ground is once more cooled by
radiation, if there should be vapor enough in the air, the mist will
re-form, and the mountain put on his cap again.

Cold air, as well as cold ground, condenses the vapor of warmer air. If
you watch what goes on along the course of a river, you will often see
examples of this kind of condensation. The ground on either side of the
river parts with its heat after sundown sooner than the river itself
does, and consequently cools the air above it more than the air above
the river is cooled. So when this colder air from either side moves
over to take the place of the warmer damp air lying on and rising from
the river, condensation ensues in the form of the mist or river-fog,
which so commonly hangs at night and early morning over streams.

A cloud is merely a mist formed by the cooling of warm moist air, when
it loses its heat from any cause, such as expansion during ascent,
or contact with currents of cooler air. If you watch what goes on in
the sky, you may often see clouds in the act of forming. At first a
little flake of white appears. By degrees this grows larger, and other
cloudlets arise and flock together, until at last the sky is quite
overcast with heavy clouds, and rain begins to fall. The vapor which
is thus condensed in the air has all been obtained by the evaporation
of the water on the earth’s surface. It rises with the warm air, which
losing its heat as it ascends, and coming too in contact with colder
layers of the atmosphere, can not hold all its vapor, and is obliged to
get rid of the excess, which then condenses into cloud.

On a summer morning the sky is often free from cloud. As the day
advances, and the earth gets warmed, more vapor is raised; and as this
vapor, borne upward by the ascending air-currents, reaches the higher
and colder parts of the atmosphere, it is chilled into the white fleecy
clouds which you see forming about mid-day and in the afternoon. Toward
evening, when less evaporation takes place, the clouds cease to grow,
and gradually lessen in size until at night the sky is quite clear.
They have been dissolved again by descending and coming in contact with
the warm air nearest to the earth. Again, you have often noticed that
clouds move across the sky. They are driven along by upper currents of
air, and of course the stronger these currents are the faster do the
clouds travel. In this way the sky is sometimes completely overcast
with clouds which have come from a distance.

You are well aware that rain always comes from clouds in the sky. When
the sky is clear overhead, no rain falls. Only when it gets overcast
does the rain come. You can watch a dark rain-cloud gather itself
together and discharge a heavy shower upon the earth. When a cold
glass is brought into a warm room, you will remember that the film of
mist formed upon the glass is found by degrees to gather into drops,
and trickles down the cold surface. Now the mist on the glass and
the cloud in the sky are both formed of minute particles of water,
separated by air. It is the running together of these particles which
gives rise to these drops. In the one case, the drops run down the cold
glass. In the other case, they fall as drops of rain through the air.
Rain, therefore, is thus a further stage in the condensation of the
aqueous vapor of the atmosphere. The minute particles of the cloud, as
condensation proceeds, gather more moisture round them, until at last
they form drops of water, too heavy to hang any longer suspended in the
air. These then fall to the earth as rain-drops.

But there is another important form in which the moisture of the clouds
may descend to the surface of the earth. When the weather is cold
enough, there fall to the ground not drops of rain, but flakes of snow.

If you bring snow indoors, it soon melts into water. If you expose this
water for a time it evaporates. Snow, water, and aqueous vapor are
thus only different forms of the same substance. We say that water can
exist in three forms—the gaseous, the liquid, and the solid. Snow is an
example of the solid condition.

On a frosty night pools of water are covered with a hard, transparent
crust, of what is called ice. You may break this crust into pieces, but
if the cold continues, a new crust will soon be formed with bits of the
old one firmly cemented in it. And the greater the cold the thicker
will the crust be, until perhaps the whole of the water in the pools
may become solid. If you take a piece of this solid substance, you find
it to be cold, brittle, and transparent. Brought into a warm room it
soon melts into water, and you may drive off the water as before into
vapor. Ice is the general name given to water when it is in the solid
state, such forms as snow and hail being only different appearances
which ice puts on. Whenever water becomes colder than a certain
temperature it passes into ice, or freezes, and this temperature is
consequently known as the freezing-point.

The upper layers of the atmosphere are much colder than the
freezing-point of water. In the condensation which takes place
there, the clouds do not resolve themselves into rain. The vapor of
the up-streaming currents of warm air from the earth’s surface is
condensed and frozen in these high regions, and passes into little
crystals, which unite into flakes of snow. Even in summer the fine
white cloudlets which you see floating at great heights are probably
formed of snow. But in those countries, such as ours, where in winter
the air even at the surface is sometimes very cold, the snow falls to
the ground, and lies there as a white covering, until returning warmth
melts it away.

Besides rain and snow, the moisture of the air takes sometimes the form
of hail, which consists of little lumps of ice like frozen rain; and
of sleet, which is partially melted snow. But rain and snow are the
most important, and it is these two forms which we must follow a little

Before doing so, let us gather together the sum of what has been said
about the aqueous vapor of the air. We have learned that, as every
sheet of water on the face of the globe evaporates, the air is full
of vapor; that this vapor is condensed into visible form, and appears
as dew, mist, and cloud. We have learned further, that the vapor of
which clouds are formed is resolved into rain and snow, and, in one
or other of these forms, descends to the earth again. There is thus
a circulation of water between the solid earth beneath and the air
above. This circulation is as essential to the earth in making it a
fit habitation for living things, as the circulation of blood is in
keeping our bodies alive. It mixes and washes the air, clearing away
impurities, such as those which rise from the chimneys of a town. It
moistens and quickens the soil, which it renders capable of supporting
vegetation. It supplies springs, brooks, and rivers. In short, it is
the very mainspring of all the life of the globe. So important a part
of the machinery of the world deserves our careful consideration. Let
us next attend, therefore, to what becomes of the rain and the snow
after they have been discharged from the air upon the surface of the

    [To be continued.]



[_October 7._]



    “Let no one, upon a weak conceit of sobriety or an
    ill-applied moderation, think or maintain that a man
    can search too far, or be too well studied in the book
    of God’s word, or in the book of God’s works—divinity
    or philosophy—but rather let men endeavor an endless
    progress or proficiency in both; only let them
    beware that they apply both to charity and not to
    arrogance; to use, and not to ostentation; and again,
    that they do not mingle or confound these learnings

Many have lost their early faith in the Bible and are following its
guidance with faltering footstep. Between them and hitherto accepted
truths the sciences have been placing apparently insurmountable
obstacles. The trustful simplicity with which they once read the
sacred record has almost perished. Inferences by the man of science,
conflicting with the interpretations of scripture by the theologian,
have rudely shaken their most cherished convictions. They are not
infidels, they are not skeptics, for doubt is distasteful to them, they
long for more definite expositions and a firmer faith.

Such, possibly, may be some of you. In the midst of such discussions
as are at present in progress, perplexity is not unnatural. Your most
anxiously sustained investigations have hitherto only multiplied
difficulties, and a sense of responsibility alone constrains you
to linger over conclusions from which your judgment recoils. This
hesitancy of belief may be at the outset disheartening; yet it may be
inseparable from that clearness of insight and that force of character
which, in the end, commonly create the stablest convictions, and evoke
adequate proof to shield them. To shun or to denounce you because you
can not acquiesce in what we believe is inconsistent, not only with the
lessons of philosophy, but with his example to “bear witness to the

What is your duty, with the natural sciences on the one hand, appealing
so largely to your reason, and the scriptures on the other hand,
appealing so constantly to your faith? Obviously, to depreciate
neither, but to welcome both the sciences and the scriptures, to
ascertain their harmony, to note their differences, and to accept
all the treasures of truth which they may bring. Indifference is
inexcusable as is excessive zeal, and apathy as antagonism.

The Bible, free to us as are the fields of science, challenges the
severest scrutiny. It is the boldest of books, and demands the
application of every test. As it is the most comprehensive history
in the world, and gives amplest scope for research; as its earliest
records are the oldest in existence, and its latest prophecies shed
light far into the future; as it touches depths and reaches heights
which no other book can approach; as it brings into closest connection
the visible and invisible, natural law and supernatural force, the
condition of man and the character of God, it is exposed to assaults
which no other book can bear.

Systematic and persistent study is required at your hand, that you
may estimate aright not only the facts and arguments brought against
the Bible, but those also which are adduced in its favor. The task
may be arduous, but this price is not too great for the settlement of
questions so momentous; and if the solution of some of them may have
to be for a season postponed, yours will be the satisfaction which the
conscientious improvement of every opportunity invariably fosters.

Different lines of investigation may be profitably followed, but we may
suggest the following as exhaustive, or nearly exhaustive, of the most
prominent questions which modern research has raised.

As the Bible is confessedly related to the natural sciences,
archæology, history, and modern civilization, let it be placed
successively in the midst of their facts, and let us see to what extent
its statements can bear their light.

There are many questions which none of us can honestly avoid; and while
some may remain unsettled, the unbiased review of those solutions which
have been already offered, and which have been generally accepted, will
be found to confirm scripture instead of confuting it.

1. As to science. Have astronomy and geology given evidence for or
against the eternity of the visible universe? Has biology determined
the origin of life? Whence it is? Have comparative anatomy and
physiology, psychology and ethics, established more than one origin for
the human race? Are the incidental allusions in scripture contradicted
or confirmed in natural science?

2. As to archæology. Can the Bible confront prehistoric revelations?
Antiquity is pouring over the oldest records, increasing light. Ruins,
monuments, inscriptions, parchments, have been emitting their wondrous
testimonies, parallel with scripture histories. Assyria, Egypt,
Palestine, Greece, Rome, in their histories, revolutions, and domestic
episodes, have all been interwoven with the statements of scripture as
with those of no other book. To what purpose has historic criticism
dealt with the sacred page? Is the Bible yielding or is it growing
brighter in the crucible of archæology?

3. As to modern history and civilization. By its claim to uplift and
bless the human race, the Bible is separated from all other books. It
proposes to revolutionize man’s moral history here, and to prepare him
for a future whose course it in part delineates. Has it failed, or is
it failing? Has it been enfeebled by the lapse of ages? Has it become
effete amid changes which have given intellect new instruments and
reason new spheres? Has it lost its former hold of the human mind, and
is it sinking amid the tumult of bitterly conflicting opinions? Has
ever tribe been found which it could not raise and enlighten? Or has
ever civilization outshone, in any land, its intellectual and moral

4. As to the supernatural. If the Bible is the book which it professes
to be, and which we hold it is, the ordinary and the extraordinary,
the natural and the supernatural, must be associated in its character
and history. What is the warrant which men of science adduce for
repudiating the supernatural while they accept the natural? And by
what reason does the Christian apologist attempt to preserve their
connection? Is there no evidence around us in the contrasts of
barbarism and civilization, as well as in the histories of nations, in
their relation to prophecy? And are there no facts in the strangely
revolutionized lives of thousands in the Christian church, which
proclaim the singular moral force of the word of God?

[_October 14._]

Assuming that you are willing to follow such a course of study as
we have sketched, either to remove doubts which may be lingering in
your own mind, or to aid some brother in his struggle to win the
repose which you have gained, we shall, at the outset, offer some
suggestions as to the spirit and the method by which your work should
be characterized. It is of much importance to know, what is, and what
is not, within our reach.

1. Do not assume the possibility, in the present state of our
knowledge, of demonstrating a perfect agreement between science and
scripture, or rather between the inferences of the philosopher and
the interpretations of the theologian. Much remains to be ascertained
before that result can be realized. The natural sciences are
confessedly incomplete; some of them are only in their infancy, and
can teach us little. Many years may pass before they can be brought
into perfect accord with the Bible. As the facts of natural science
have not been all ascertained and classified, as its laws have not been
all recognized, and as the inferences of to-day may be modified by
the discoveries of to-morrow, it is absurd to be demanding immediate
evidence of a perfect agreement between science and scripture. Apparent
contradictions are, at the present stage unavoidable. There must first
be an exact and exhaustive examination of all those points at which the
scriptures and the sciences touch each other; for so long as a single
fact or a single law remains unknown, some important or essential
truth, intimately related to the Bible, may be concealed. While the
natural sciences continue incomplete, natural theology must necessarily
have an imperfect foundation. As confessedly dependent on what is
incomplete, natural theology can have neither the comprehensiveness
nor the definiteness which characterizes supernatural theology, as
dependent on what is now complete and unvarying. We can not force the
legitimate yet somewhat incoherent teachings of the one book—the works
of God—of which but a few leaves have been separated, scanned and
paged, into perfect harmony with the teachings of the other book, whose
revelation of truth has been finished, accredited, and closed.

2. Wait patiently, while you work persistently, for the solution of
difficulties which may be continuing to press upon you. The experience
of the past is an encouragement for the future. The sciences have
again and again become their own interpreter, and rejected erroneous
inferences. Many examples might be given, but one or two may in the
meantime suffice. Human skeletons were found in what seemed old
limestone, on the northeast coast of the mainland of Guadaloupe; and
after bold attacks on the Bible, which were met by some very weak and
irregular defenses, it was ascertained that the whole was a mistake,
that the limestone was of very recent formation, that the skeletons
were of well-known Indian tribes, and agitation ceased. A similar
commotion was raised when the supposed imprints of human feet on
limestone had been figured and described in the _American Journal of
Science_; and Christians met strange infidel hypotheses by feeble
assertions, until Dr. Dale Owen proved the imprints to have been
sculptured by an Indian tribe. Thereafter, for a season, the scientific
inquirer and the theological student prosecuted their respective
investigations in peace. There are important lessons for us in these,
and in many similar facts. Christian apologists have often egregiously
erred, not only in hastily accepting statements as to supposed facts,
but in admitting the validity of the reasoning which has been eagerly
founded on them, and in making a fruitless attempt to twist scripture
into harmony with what science itself has subsequently disowned. Facts
ill observed, and afterward misstated, have drawn many of our best
and most candid students into unnecessary collision with biblical
critics; and, after much heat in controversy, and the waste on both
sides of much intellectual energy, the obstacle lying between them has
unexpectedly vanished in the fuller light of science. The evil to be
deplored is, that after the errors have disappeared their influence
remains. The imprint often lingers after the counterfeit die has been

3. There is a constant tendency on the part of discoverers to invest
new facts with a fictitious interest, and those who are hostile to
the Bible eagerly parade them for the discomfiture of Christians.
Every fact is to be welcomed, but it is to be treasured up only that
it may be adjusted to other facts, and become in part the foundation
of a new truth. Isolated and unexplained facts have been too often
unceremoniously dragged in to give testimony against some scripture
statement, and have too easily been held sufficient to push aside
those accumulated evidences to its truth, which history, or science,
or both, had indisputably established. It is not, indeed, surprising
that the faith of many young men has failed, when they have observed
the too ready acquiescence of prominent Christian writers in theories
which necessitate the abandonment of some of the impregnable fortresses
which have been raised by exact scholarship around those portions of
scripture which had longest been exposed to the fiercest assaults. Were
this method common, no permanent foundation could be laid, and progress
in any science would be impossible. Is it not absurd to be displacing
cornerstones, and disowning, at random, first principles? No system
of philosophy, no science, not even mathematical, the exactest, and
in one sense the most permanent of all the sciences, could have any
weight or make the least progress if subjected to such changes in both
its principles and their applications, as have marked the history of
Bible assaults, concessions and defenses. When facts, which are utterly
inexplicable are presented, we should retain the fact in science and
also the relative statement in scripture, assured that in due time the
solution will come.

[_October 21._]

4. Neither accept nor offer apologies for the Bible. It has, of late,
become common on the part of those who are alarmed by the temporary
triumphs which scientific investigation has given to those who are
avowedly hostile to the Bible, to demand that its propositions be
altogether disassociated from both science and philosophy, on the plea
that the Bible was not given to teach either the one or the other.
The proposal is plausible, but it is really unnecessary, for although
not given to teach physical science, the Bible can not contradict
either its facts or its legitimate inferences. The word of God can not
be regarded as by any possibility contradicting the just lessons of
his works. Like every other book, the Bible must bear all the light
that can fall on its pages; and it must not only stand the tests of
criticism and history, but vindicate all its claims as the “more sure
word of prophecy.” Otherwise, appeals for leniency are profitless.
True, in its highest connections, the Bible is unapproachable by other
books; it is easily distinguishable from them all; yet in its human
relations it must submit to all the ordinary appliances of scholarship.
No apologies can justify a single error in either its science or its
history, and its propositions are obviously inadmissable if they
contradict human reason; they may be above, but they can not be opposed
to it.

5. Akin to an easy escape from difficulties, through apologies for the
Bible, is the tendency to glide into conclusions directly hostile.
The prevailing activity of the age is so unfavorable to leisurely
investigations as to facilitate the subtle advances of error. While
many writers of the present day are as preëminently gifted, and as
distinguished in the different departments of learning, as those of
any preceding age; and while their reasonings and their conclusions
are borne by the daily and the serial press to every man’s door,
multitudes think and decide by substitute. They want leisure, and trust
to others. Rapidity of locomotion, the chief physical feature of our
time, betokens also its intellectual tendencies. Men read cursorily and
decide rapidly. The daily newspaper is making book-study rarer than
hitherto. It is felt in ten thousand instances to be distasteful or
difficult. The subtle influence of the daily newspaper is telling on
our thoughtfulness. We really seem to be approaching the fulfillment
of Lamartine’s prediction, “Before this century shall have run out,
journalism will be the whole press, the whole of human thought. Thought
will not have had time to ripen, to accommodate itself into the form
of a book. The book will arrive too late; the only book possible soon,
will be a newspaper.”

As one result of this process, truth and error are often imperceptibly
mingled. So swift is the transition from one fact and inference to
another, that truth and error, like different colors blent into one
by rapid motion, become so much alike, that few can separate them.
Thus with every advance of truth, error is wafted forward. The seeds
of future tares and wheat are being profusely scattered. It can not
be denied, that while to almost every man’s door are daily wafted
accurate records of passing history, of the discoveries of science,
of the triumphs of art, and of the generalizations of philosophy, the
same messengers no less sedulously exhibit, now faintly and now in
the strongest light, every difficulty connected with the Bible, both
real and imaginary, the boldest objections of historic criticism,
the theories of speculative philosophy, the apparent contradictions
of science and scripture, and the saddening conflicts of professing
Christians. The constant diffusion of such influences does tell in the
long run, not only on less active minds, but on the most energetic, and
it renders easier of acceptance every erroneous conclusion.

But this incessant activity is a symptom of health. It augurs good.
Rightly directed, it may strengthen character while it develops mental
power, and gives a more exquisite appreciation of the just and true.
But remember that everything depends on this rightness of direction;
and to secure this, unfailing caution is required. The wind and tide
which, rightly used, would hasten the voyager to his harbor, may,
if unheeded, strand him on an unexpected shore; and those subtle
forces, and those under-currents, which should have aided in guiding
us to a satisfying intellectual and moral repose, may, through the
thoughtlessness or the indolence that at the outset disregarded
a slight divergence from the truth, almost but not altogether
imperceptible, destroy our happiness through the shipwreck and the
ultimate abandonment of our Christian faith.

6. Another common tendency in the wrong direction claims your
attention. It manifests itself in repugnance to controversy or
discussion in every form. Many shrink from it as unseemly, and
seek escape in either solitude or study. While peace is in itself
desirable, it is not always attainable. You cannot escape conflict
by letting go the Bible; nor can you traverse any fields of science
without entanglement in the intellectual struggles of disputants whose
reasonings have sometimes but little of the calmness of philosophy. Nor
is this to be regretted. The repose of meditation is not so bracing as
the discipline of occasional contest for the truth.

[_October 28._]

There are other advantages. The attrition of discussion often
reveals and beautifies truths which would otherwise have remained
unrecognized. Apathy or silence may shelter error without preserving
truth. Intellectual indolence, bad for the world, is still worse for
the Church. The highest life is demanded by the Bible, and, therefore,
also the greatest activity. From intellectual warfare, the sciences
and the scriptures have nothing to lose, but everything to gain.
On Christian or skeptic, on prophet true or false, the Bible never
enforces silence. It seals no thinker’s lip. “The prophet that hath a
dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath my word, let him speak
my word faithfully. What is the chaff to the wheat? saith the Lord.”
In the field of thought, nothing save the chaff perishes. Lost truths
spring up again; and, beneath their spreading branches, vitiated
reasoning, unsound criticism, and erroneous conclusions, ultimately
decay as briers beneath the spreading oak.

There are those also who deplore discussion only because it raises
questions hostile to the scriptures, and alarms the weak. This anxiety,
though laudable, is fruitless. Vital questions are already discussed on
all hands, and in every variety of aspect. There are disadvantages, but
they are generally inseparable from the progress of truth.

It will be admitted on both sides, that while the extension of exact
knowledge contracts the sphere of superstition, it enlarges at the same
time the sphere of skepticism. Superstition may be displaced without
Christianity becoming its substitute; there may be a high and an
attractive civilization, based on science and its applications, which,
in acknowledging the intellectual and moral supremacy of the Bible, and
nothing more, may for a season destroy credulity, only to give fuller
scope to no-belief, and to evoke ultimately an opposition to the Bible
hitherto repressed or unknown. For such results we must be prepared;
they are collateral, not essential or direct. They are, in fact, the
price which we pay for our intellectual freedom. We are neither to
falter nor hesitate because the increasing light, which is dissipating
ignorance and extending the boundaries of truth, is at the same time
indirectly opening to error a wider field for the distribution of her
forces, revealing new weapons for her armory, and enabling her to seize
and for a season to retain, positions hitherto unknown and unassailed.
In the history of the physical sciences, and of archæological
discovery, error has often rushed to the battlements of truth, and,
seizing some detached or imaginary facts, has wielded them against the
Bible, until the sciences have themselves expelled her, and repudiated
her reasoning. Such agitation is not to be deplored; it conducts to
stability, it evokes more good than evil, and not unfrequently has it
happened that the superstition which long benumbed the Church, and the
infidelity which aroused her, have yielded to the unexpected sway of
some Bible truth, when a more definite meaning has been given to some
natural law or Providential dispensation.

Those misunderstand the character of the Bible who suppose its safety
lies in keeping it as far as possible from the rigorous investigations
and the exact conclusions of science or philosophy. Such a method is
indispensable. To pursue truth in one department, implies, or should
imply, not only a love of truth in every department, but also a
resolute purpose to discover and dislodge every error. Which of the
sciences, as preserved from controversy, is entitled to cast the first
stone at the others, or their students? “Philosophy and literature,”
says Lord Kinloch, in an admirable work, “while professing to pursue
truth in the composure of unruffled seclusion, and to be desirous of
having it elicited by the healthy excitement of friendly debate, will
protest against the dishonor of soiling their hands, or disarranging
their robes in the turmoil of heated controversy; and least of all
will they consent to be defiled with the mire or exposed to the perils
of religious strife. This plea is false in fact, as it is futile
in philosophy. It is in fact false; for literary and philosophical
controversies have neither been few in number nor wanting in a keen
and rancorous spirit. And, admitting that religious contentions have
been still more rancorous and embittered, it is only what might be
reasonably expected, on account of the higher interests at stake.
The plea is, moreover, worthless on philosophical principles; for it
eviscerates the distinction between truth and error of all meaning
and value. Better not to admit the distinction at all, than, having
admitted it in one instance, deny it in another; or, what is worse,
depreciate its significance even to thought, and that too in the most
important of its applications. All argument and all effort are forever
at an end, unless truth,—yea, all truth,—be precious; so precious,
that in the legitimate pursuit of it we may and ought to put forth our
utmost strength; and in defense of it, when found, incur the utmost

Do not be discouraged by apparently insurmountable obstacles. The
boldest assertions and the most plausible reasonings need not disturb
you. Difficulties seemingly insuperable have, in the past, suddenly
evanished in the light of unexpected discoveries; and every science,
you may rest assured, will hereafter show strength enough and light
enough to purify its own temple and be its own interpreter. The past
may be held to be prophetic of future solutions; and the sciences will
be found not only correcting the mistakes and the arrogance of many of
their students, but rebuking the too hasty concessions of Christian
apologists, and either directly or indirectly revealing, at the same
time, the impressiveness and the majesty of scripture truth.





1. Social science comprises the statement and explanation of the
natural laws which govern men in their mutual relations. Political
economy is the application of that portion of those laws which pertain
to the production and distribution of wealth. Now we are not to be
discouraged by this term _wealth_, as though the subject were one which
concerns only rich men, and in which a poor man could have no interest.
The man who has a little property, worth only one or two hundred
dollars, is just as really a possessor of wealth as one who has one or
two millions; and to be able to acquire and rightly use these small
fortunes is, in the aggregate, of more importance than the acquisition
and management of the greater riches of the few.

2. But what is meant by _wealth_? For the present it is enough to
say that _it comprises all things which have value_. A more complete
definition will follow by and by. What, then, do we mean by _value_?
This, too, has many forms of definition, but they for the most part
have one element in common. The general notion concerning it is that
it has reference to the amount of one commodity that may be equitably
given in exchange for a designated amount of another; this is a correct
notion. Thus a bushel of wheat may be exchanged for two bushels of
oats, or a cord of wood for twenty yards of cloth. That is, the value
of a bushel of wheat is that of two bushels of oats, and the value of
twenty yards of cloth is the same as that of a cord of wood. It is thus
seen to be a _relative_ term, and not indicative of any quality of any
one thing considered by itself. But in all instances of relationship
there must be some ground of the relation. Let us try to determine
what it is in this case. A superficial thinker might decide that it is
_money_, from the fact that value is generally estimated in money. But
money is itself in the same relation to all other commodities in this
respect as they are to one another, and its value rests upon the same

3. The chief element in value, and that constitutes its original
standard, is the _cost of production_; and by _cost_ is meant the
amount of labor involved. _Labor is the voluntary effort put forth by
man to secure some desired object._ But when we say this, a little
caution is needed. We are not to infer that the present value of an
article is estimated by the amount of labor required at the time of its
production, especially if that was a long time ago. A hundred years
since, it required the labor of a man for days to produce a yard of
cotton cloth. A dozen yards of better cloth can now be produced by
the same amount of labor; of course the present value of the latter
is superior to the present value of the former, even if this were as
good as new. It is the labor that would be required to _reproduce_ or
replace an article which determines its value.

4. But there is another element which is essential to value; this is
_utility_. It comprises all those qualities in an object which make it
available to gratify any desire. It will readily be seen that there are
objects which have utility and at the same time are without value. They
are such objects as cost nothing; that is, such as involve no labor in
their acquisition. Thus air, and sunshine, and rain, have no value; but
they are of immeasurable utility. Value is often in the inverse ratio
of utility. Iron is a far more useful metal than gold, but gold is
vastly more valuable than iron. Still, though utility may exist where
there is no value, there can be no value where there is no utility;
because no one would put forth effort for that which could not gratify
any desire, and it is the ability to gratify desire that constitutes
utility. Sometimes utility becomes the paramount element in determining
value; but ordinarily it is subordinate to the cost of production. When
the article is one for which there is a very great demand, and of which
there is a great scarcity, the value may increase many times beyond the
cost. In such case the utility rather than cost rules. But where the
demand is readily and fully met by the supply, the cost controls.

5. But valuable things can not be produced very largely without tools,
implements, and various contrivances. These constitute _capital_.
_Capital is the result of previous labor reserved and employed in
further production._ This implies self-denial. A man can not consume
what he has secured by labor and at the same time preserve it to aid
in additional production. Hence he must restrain his desires if he
would save something for this purpose. This capital is sometimes called
pre-existent labor. The point to be observed is that its existence
is due, not to labor alone, but to _abstinence_ as well. The two
elements in the cost of production are labor and abstinence, and we
may combine these in the one term, _sacrifice_. Sacrifice and utility,
then, are the two essential conditions of value; and we may complete
our definition of value by saying that _value is man’s estimate of the
amount of sacrifice requisite to the attainment of a desired object_.

6. Hence, if wealth comprises all valuable objects, and if every
desirable object which involves sacrifice has value, it would be a
proper definition to say that _wealth consists of all those objects and
qualities useful to man, the attainment of which involves sacrifice_.
This includes not only material objects and qualities, but also all
those human powers acquired by sacrifice, which enable man to master
nature. This is not admitted by many writers. But Mr. Carey states,
in a broad way, that “Wealth is the power to command the always
gratuitous services of nature.” When man is at his weakest nature does
nothing for him. Every infant, if dependent on nature alone, would
inevitably perish. So in the infancy of society, it is only by the
most strenuous exertion that a precarious existence is secured. But
with every increment of power in man, nature multiplies her services.
They are not bought but freely given, and given as soon as man is
able to command them. In the most advanced civilization the forces of
nature have become so subservient to man that in thousands of cases
one can accomplish what a score, or sometimes even a hundred, could
not formerly have done. It is this increase of power more than that of
material commodities which constitutes the real wealth of the world.

7. From this it follows that the proper subject of political economy
is MAN. The laws pertaining to the underlying science are found in
the nature and character of man—in his tastes, his desires, in the
motives influencing him and in the limitations to which he is subject.
The results to be achieved are his prosperity and freedom, his mastery
over nature, and his happiness. Here, then, is the prime reason why
every person who aspires to any intelligence at all should have some
acquaintance with this subject. It has to do more than any other study
with his temporal welfare, and with the welfare of society, without the
prosperity of which his individual prosperity will suffer.

8. A second reason is implied in the meaning of the terms used. Economy
is from a Greek compound signifying _husbandry_. It has reference to
the prudent management by a householder of his means so as to secure
the largest measure of prosperity for his family. It does not mean
parsimony, nor even mere frugality; that is, it does not consist
in mere abstinence for the sake of saving. It is rather a wise use
of means and forces, so as to make them as effective as possible.
There is an old proverb which says, “There is more in calculation
than in hard work,” and though sometimes perverted in the interest
of human laziness, it is nevertheless full of philosophy. It is this
“calculation” which such a study greatly aids.

9. _Political_ economy, as the term implies, has reference to man
in society,—to “the body politic.” The social element in man is as
imperative as any part of his constitution. Man’s greatest need is
_association_. The solitary individual is only a minute constituent of
man in man’s relation to the main purposes of life. No man is complete
in himself. He must be supplemented by others, generally by many
others, and he must find a large part of his own completeness in this
association. Each has something that others lack, and we are designed
to be sources of mutual supply to our several wants.

Here emerges another vital fact. _Individuality_ is as indispensable as
association. A superficial thinker might regard these characteristics
as antagonistic. The fact is so far otherwise that each is really
dependent on the other. Men must _differ_ in order to be of any use to
one another. It is the difference that makes the individuality. Mutual
aid is the object of association. Hence the greater the difference,
the greater the individuality; and the greater the individuality, the
greater the association. No man would associate with another unless the
one had something which the other lacked. But for this there would be
no commerce. Two farmers producing nothing but wheat would have nothing
to exchange with each other. Two men of precisely the same mental
possessions, habits and aptitudes, would never be companions for each

On the other hand it is only by association that individuality becomes
the most highly developed. Only by such development do the differences
among men become great and numerous. In the lower grades of humanity
there is comparatively little difference between individuals, and there
is little association. It is only in advanced civilization that a
strongly marked individuality exists, and that we find those numerous
differences which make the mutual dependence the greatest. Here is
a potent reason for the study of this subject. It is impossible to
estimate the power of association in production alone. It is known
in a general way that the combination of men gives greatly increased
results as compared with those of men working separately. Yet it is not
nearly realized that a hundred men properly associated in an industrial
enterprise will often effect two or three hundred times as much as all
the very same men working separately.

10. Again, this subject intimately concerns man in his governmental
relations. For governments must furnish many of the conditions for the
best economical results. Then, too, the great moral enterprises of the
age, and of all ages, have to do with the principles here involved;
education, pauperism, vicious social usages, the dangerous classes,
have to be considered, and can only rightly be considered in the light
of these truths. It is wonderful how closely this study is connected
with all the great interests of humanity. Whole communities which have
been impoverished and demoralized by neglecting some of the obvious
principles of political economy, have revived and prospered under their
application. Portions of our own country are examples of both these
kinds of effects, and that, too, within the memory of men now living.

We shall follow the usual plan of the division of the subject under the
heads of _production, consumption, exchange and distribution_.


1. _Production is the creation of value by rendering the utilities of
nature available to man._ The creation, it will be noticed, is not of
matter but of value. There are two great agencies which must co-operate
in production—_nature_ and _man_. Man furnishes labor; nature furnishes
materials and forces. The former would be useless without the latter.
There must be soils, and mines, and trees, and animals, or no matter
how much labor there may be, there can be no grain, nor fruit, nor
metals, nor lumber; no houses and no meat, nor hides nor leather. So
also there may be all kinds of material, but without labor they are of
no available service to man.

2. But nature furnishes not only materials but also forces to aid man
in his productive efforts. The more obvious and palpable of these are
gravitation, especially in falling water, wind, the explosive property
of gunpowder and dynamite, the expansive power of steam, magnetism,
electricity, and the forces of vegetation. There are also numerous
passive powers, or properties of matter which, when adapted by man,
give him much advantage; such are the mechanical powers of the lever,
inclined plane, wheel and axle, pulley and wedge, and those qualities
of the metals which render them capable of taking an edge for cutting
purposes, as also malleability, ductility, elasticity, etc. It is a
beneficent fact of nature that she furnishes these materials and forces
gratuitously. She is not churlish nor parsimonious in this respect. The
more we avail ourselves of her help, the more ready she is to help us;
and the greater the advantage we obtain, the more lavishly she bestows
her gifts upon us.

It is thus seen that labor consists not in creating things but in
_moving_ them; that is, in effecting changes. It directs the natural
forces to the service of man, and it is in this that production
consists. It can move materials into position where these forces can
act upon them with the desired effect. Thus an agricultural laborer can
effect such changes in the soil as are requisite to the growth of corn;
he can place the seed in the ground, but he can not make the crop. It
is as impossible for him to create a kernel of grain as to create a
planet. Labor may move the fuel to the fire-place and properly dispose
it for kindling. It may move a match, which by a previous movement has
taken fire, to the prepared fuel; but all this would be useless but for
the conditions and forces which nature furnishes.

3. The application of labor to production is of two kinds, _direct_
and _indirect_. The direct changes effected by labor may be embraced
under the three heads of _transmutation_, _transformation_, and
_transportation_. The first comprises elementary changes, as when under
required conditions ingredients of the soil and of the atmosphere are
changed into grain and vegetables, and fruit. The second is where there
is simply a change in the form of the material, as when boards are
made into a table, or leather into shoes. The third implies merely a
change of place, as when coal in a mine, where it has no value, becomes
valuable by being brought within reach of those who desire it for fuel.

4. The greater part of labor is indirect; in some cases so much so
that its relation to the product is unseen. For instance, the man who
makes your shoes is not the only laborer concerned in that product.
Some previous labor produced the leather, and before that some labor
produced the hide from which the leather was made; some persons made
the tools, some the house or shop, and some provided sustenance for the
shoemaker. All these are conditions, without which no shoes can be
made, and all who provide them furnish a part of the labor on which the
product of the shoes depends.

Of this indirect labor there are several kinds. (1) Those who provide
the materials, and there may be many grades of these; (2) those
who furnish the implements and the machinery; (3) those who supply
the sustenance and shelter, and raiment for the laborers; (4) the
government agencies for protecting the workman; (5) organizers and
managers of business enterprises, without whom production would often
fall far short of what it now accomplishes; (6) the labor of raising
children who are subsequently to become laborers; (7) all those engaged
in the work of education, by which men are prepared for the most
efficient work—this includes not only teachers, but writers, clergymen,
etc.; (8) professional men, who devote themselves to matters essential
to the interests of the community and thus not only save the time of
the laborers, but often their property and their health, and their
lives; (9) inventors and discoverers, who ascertain new conditions of
more efficient production. These are the principal, though there are
also others.



All work cut out in a solid material, in imitation of natural objects,
is called sculpture. Thus carvings in wood, ivory-stone, marble, metal,
and works moulded from wax and clay, come under the head of sculpture.

But sculpture, as we are about to consider it, is to be distinguished
by the term _statuary_ from all carved work belonging to ornamental
art and glyptics. It must be borne in mind, however, that the sculptor
does not ordinarily carve his work directly out of the marble; he first
makes his statue, or bas relief, in clay or wax. This method enables
him to “sketch in clay” and perfect his work in this obedient material.
Michael Angelo, and many great masters could dispense with this and
carve at once the statue from the block. The modeling in clay is,
however, generally the primary work. The “model,” as it is called, is
afterward moulded, and by means of this mould a cast of the original
clay statue, or bas-relief, is taken by the use of liquid plaster. The
clay model is, therefore, like the original drawing of a painter—a
master work.

The model completed, most of the carving is done by a skilled laborer,
the sculptor taking it up to give the finish, which a master-hand
alone can bestow. The copying of the model into marble is accomplished
by means of a method of mechanical measurement, or “pointing.” The
model and the block of marble are both fastened to a base called a
“scale-stone,” to which a standard vertical rod can be attached at
corresponding centers, having at its upper end a sliding needle, so
adapted by a movable joint as to be set at any angle and fastened by
a screw when so set. The master sculptor having marked the governing
points with a pencil on the model the instrument is applied to these
and the measure taken. The standard being then transferred to the
block-base, the pointer, guided by his measure, cuts away the marble,
taking care to leave it rather larger than the model, so that the
general proportions are kept, and the more important work is then left
for the master hand.

The character of work is influenced by the nature of the material in
which the sculptor carves; the harder the stone the more difficult
to give it the pliant forms of life. It is remarkable that the most
ancient and perfect Egyptian statues should have been formed of very
hard stones; and, as the ancient Egyptians were not acquainted with
steel, they must have been dependent upon bronze, of various degrees of
hardness, for their cutting tools. These works are remarkable for their
excellence, both of form and proportion, and in the finish given to the
details of feature, the dress, and the ornaments.

Assyrian sculpture was in softer stones, limestones and alabaster;
only small objects, such as seals, being worked in hard stones.

Greek and Roman sculptors made many statues and bas-reliefs in hard
stones, such as basalt, granite, and porphyry. The extreme difficulty
of such work may be understood when it is seen that the ordinary method
of the chisel and mallet, in the most skillful hands, would be quite
unavailing in this hard material. The treadle-wheel, the drill, and the
file, are brought to aid the chisel, and even these require the use
of emery upon the wheel of the lapidary, in the manner in which the
hardest stones are cut.

Clay modeled and dried in the sun, or hardened by the fire, was
naturally one of the early forms in which sculpture was developed. At
once ready to hand, and easily modeled, it was adopted for the same
reasons that made clay convenient for the ordinary vessels of every-day
use. We find countless numbers of these baked, or sun-dried clay
figures. They have escaped destruction because of the little value of
the material and because they resist decay. The Egyptians and Assyrians
applied a vitreous glaze to terra-cotta objects, which made them more
decorative and more durable.

Terra-cotta was chosen by many sculptors to preserve the spirit and
freedom of the original. Although some shrinking under the action of
the fire must be allowed for, yet what is well baked is certain to
possess the excellence of the fresh clay. It escapes the chances of
over-finish, which too often befalls marble and bronze.

Another form of sculpture to be noticed is called _chryselephantine_,
on account of the combined use of gold and ivory; the nude parts of the
figure being of ivory, probably with color applied to the features and
the drapery of gold. The statue was substantially but roughly made in
marble, with wood, perhaps, upon it; the ivory being laid on in thick

Statues of wood, of various kinds, were made by the most ancient
sculptors. Many small figures in wood, the work of the Egyptian
carvers, are to be seen in the museums, and the mummy cases show the
practice of carving the head, while the trunk is left only partly
shaped out of the block.

Bronze was one of the most important forms of ancient statuary. It must
be remembered that bronze is an entirely different alloy from brass,
the former being an alloy of copper and tin, while brass is of copper
and zinc. Small proportions of gold, silver, lead, and iron, were mixed
with the bronze by ancient metal-workers to give various colors to
their work; thus a blush of shame was produced by allowing the iron
in the bronze to rust. Plutarch mentions a face which was pale, the
sculptor having mixed silver with the bronze.

The primitive bronze-workers, before they arrived at the knowledge of
casting, began by hammering solid metals into shapes. The _toreutic_
art, although not definitely known at present, was probably that
of hammering, punching, and chiseling plates of metal, either
separately or with a view of fixing them upon stone or wood. Both the
solid hammered work and the hollow-plate work is mentioned by the
authorities. The hollow statues were built up in pieces, fastened
together with nails, rivets, and dove-tails, and it is not improbable
that some system of welding was practiced.

The casting of metals in moulds must have followed the discovery that
they could be melted. As the sculptor improved in his art of modeling
he would be able to make better moulds. He would soon observe that the
solid statue was not only very costly, but so very heavy that the whole
figure would collapse from sheer weight.

This trouble was corrected by the discovery of a contrivance for
casting metals in a hollow mould. It was done pretty much as it is at
the present day, by fixing within the mould a _core_, which did not
touch the sides, except at certain small points necessary for support.
The space between this and the surface of the mould was to be filled by
the molten metal.

There is still another method, less common in modern times, but
employed by the ancients, for some of their smaller works. This is
when a wax model is encased in clay or plaster of Paris and the molten
metal then poured into it to melt the wax, and take the form of the
work precisely as it left the hand of the sculptor. The original model
is thus destroyed and the bronze takes its place. Some very large and
important works have recently been cast in this method, but with the
core. In bronze casting with a core, this contrivance must be made
with great care. The mould, which is obliged to be formed of pieces
fitted together, in order that the model may be taken out, is first
well soaked in oil, then melted wax is applied to the inner side of
the moulded parts in such thickness as may be required in the metal
of the completed statue. But as a hollow metal statue would not be
strong enough to support its own weight, a sort of skeleton of iron
bars is made to take the general form of the figure, and this strong
frame-work is firmly fixed within the mould. We have then the mould,
with its wax lining, enclosing the iron skeleton, or _armature_, as it
is called, with an opening left in the proper place to allow of pouring
in the liquid plaster of Paris mixed with pounded brick, which fills
the space about the armature. Therefore, if at this stage, the mould
were taken to pieces again, the sculptor would behold his statue as
one of apparently solid wax. Practically this is done in order that he
may satisfy himself of the success of his work, and correct it where
necessary. The model is then again placed in the mould preparatory to

_Galvano-plastique_, or the use of electricity, to deposit a thin layer
of metal in a pure state upon a model, is an important invention or
application of science to art.

Having described the various materials and methods employed in
sculptured art, we are ready to classify the different forms adopted
and arrange them under the proper terms.

Sculpture in relief is the first division. There are four varieties.
_Bas-relief_, or _basso-relievo_, is the term used when the work
projects from the plain surface, the forms being rounded as in
nature. If the work is very little raised, the forms being not so
projecting as in nature, it is called _flat-relief_, or _stiacciato_.
If more raised, but not free from the ground in any place, it is
_half-relief_ or _mezzo-relievo_. If the relief is still higher it
becomes _full-relief_, or _alto-relievo_, in which parts of the human
figure are entirely free from the ground of the slab. In _sunk-relief_,
or _cavo-relievo_, the work is recessed within an outline, but still
raised in flat relief, not projecting above the surface of the slab.
Much of the renaissance and modern sculpture combines the first-named
kinds of work on different planes in degrees of distance, with some
under-cutting. The beauty and character of bas-relief depend much upon
the representation of outline.

Statuary proper is sculpture in the round. The statue is therefore seen
on every side.

Statues are, (1) standing; (2) seated; (3) recumbent; (4) equestrian.

Statues are classed into five forms as to size: Colossal, above the
heroic standard; heroic, above six feet but under the colossal;
life-size; small life-size; statuettes, half the size of life and

To know the proper proportions of the figures is a matter of the utmost
value in all sculpture, even more so than in painting, as the statue
is measurable on every side and in every direction. It would have
been impossible for the ancient Egyptians to carve out of the living
rock their tremendous figures unless they had arrived at a rule of
proportion for their figure. Without this their colossi would have been
only rude monsters. Such a rule they had discovered and laid down in
a canon, as it is called, similar to that which was followed by the
Greek sculptors after them, and especially made known by Polycletus,
whose name it received. Though there is some doubt about the precise
terms of the canon, there can be no doubt that it had for its unit of
measurement some part of the human figure. The version of Vitruvius
Pollio is supposed to be the correct one. He says: “Nature has so
composed the human body that the face, from the chin to the top of the
forehead, and the roots of the hair, should be a tenth part; also the
palm of the hand from the wrist-joint to the tip of the middle finger;
the head from the chin to the highest point, an eighth; from the top of
the chest to the roots of the hair, a sixth.”

The rule of ten faces, or eight heads, derived from this, has remained
to the present time. Several sculptors of a later period, who have
given much attention to the subject of proportion, differ slightly from
the canon of Polycletus, though it is commonly accepted.

That strict rules of symmetrical proportion should be followed is
necessary in all statuary, but especially in that which serves as a
decoration for architecture. The knowledge of the figure acquired by
eminent sculptors inspired them with admiration for the beautiful,
and enabled them to express in the creation of their art an ideal of
grand beauty, which was guided by a taste and feeling which rarely
failed to direct them aright. It was the greatest sculptor of modern
times, Michael Angelo, who said that the sculptor should carry “his
compasses in his eye.” Some one comments on this that, “Sculptors, and
painters especially, dread the rule of geometry. They regard rule as a
fetter upon their invention, not dreaming that this great man (Michael
Angelo), before he expressed himself thus, had for so long a time had
the compasses in his hand.” This points to a profound truth in all
practical art, that no man can be a great artist unless he have the
power of drawing in the true proportions of the beautiful.

Having pointed out the leading points in the technic of sculpture, we
take up its history, beginning naturally with the earliest forms as
found in Egypt.

The Egyptians, inhabiting a flat, uniform country, of pure and
salubrious climate, working as sculptors before a written language
was invented, carved their colossal sphinx almost entirely out of the
living rock; an amazing example of symbolic sculptural representation,
combining the human with the brute form of the lion. The date of
this first great work is probably earlier than that of the earliest
pyramids—that built by Chofo, King of Memphis, the Cheops of Herodotus,
and the larger one by Nef Chofo, his son. M. Renan, speaking for M.
Mariette, states that a tablet was found by him recording that Nef
Chofo did certain repairs to the sphinx; so that since it required
repairs, it must already have existed for a considerable time. All
small barbaric or archaic work of the ancient Egyptians in sculpture
has perished in the vast lapse of time. But this one monument, raised
at least 4,000 years before the Christian era, stands to prove, with
its companion pyramids, the wonderful power of conception, the energy
and practical skill which characterized the early Egyptians. What they
lacked in ideas of beauty, they made up for by the simple grandeur in
the colossal size and perfection in execution.

The intention of producing a monument to last forever was shown in an
equally striking manner in the construction of the pyramids, and with
an exercise of science and skill even more remarkable.

Egyptian art, in the form of architecture, was, after the pyramids of
Ghizeh, further developed about 1650 B. C., under Osirtesen I., who
built the oldest of the temples at Thebes. Columns and obelisks were
then invented, and the _cavi relievi_ were largely used. Statuary,
however, did not advance until after the Phœnician Shepherd Kings—a
body of wandering Arabs, so called, who conquered Upper Egypt for a
time—were driven out by Amosis, King of Thebes, about 1450 B. C.

Passing over Amunothph I. and his successor Thothmosis I., of whom
there is a fine statue in the Turin Museum, we come to Thothmosis II.,
whose reign marks a period of vast development, as he married Nitocris,
the last Queen of Memphis, capital of Lower Egypt, and thus united the
two kingdoms, about 1340 B. C. The great avenue of sphinxes, leading
to the temple of Karnak, was made in her reign, and there is a statue
of Thothmosis II., a seated figure seven feet nine inches high, in good
proportions, of about seven heads high, the fingers and toes straight,
not showing the knuckles, and the legs sharply chiseled at the shins,
not showing the small bone on the outside of the leg, as in the statues
of the later time of Amunothph III. (about 1260 B. C.).

The famous colossus, called the musical Memnon, one of the two still
standing in the desert near Thebes, more than fifty feet high, is of
this period. These statues are not in good proportion, being too short
in the waist. The two fine lions, carved in red granite, belonging to
this time, which Lord Prudhoe brought over and presented to the British
Museum, are remarkable as examples of fine typical treatment of the
lion. They show much grandeur of feeling, and, compared with the modern
naturalistic sculpture of lions, they are superior as examples of
monumental art.

In 1170 B. C. reigned Ramses II., the greatest of the Egyptian kings,
under whom was invented all the wonderful adaptation of the lotus and
papyrus plant to the design of columns, as seen in the famous colonnade
of the hall of Karnak. His statue, in the Turin Museum, is in the
finest style of ancient Theban art; it is a seated figure carved out
of a block of black granite, and is not colossal, being only five feet
seven inches high. The point to be noticed in this statue is the effort
at action, which is not seen in earlier works. The right hand is raised
to the breast holding the short sort of crosier of the god Osiris;
the left hand resting on the knee, strongly clenched. The colossal
statue of Ramses, as Osiris, may be taken as examples, with that of
the Memnon, in the British Museum, of the sculpture of this time. The
large sphinx in the Louvre bears the name of Ramses II. The four-seated
colossi, carved out of the living rock at the entrance of the great
temple of Abou Simbel in Ethiopia, represent the same king. They are
between sixty and seventy feet high, and wonderfully well sculptured,
but the proportions are not so good as in some smaller statues, as
they are six heads only in height, and short in the waist and thick
in the limbs, showing no attempt at any close or correct imitation of
nature. They look straight before them with a calm smile of confident
power and contentment. These statues, and others which are to be seen
in the museums, are not equal to those of the time of Amunothph III.,
previously referred to; they are not so well carved, and the features
are heavy, with thick noses and lips, while the limbs are clumsy, and
without any attempt at accurate modeling.

It will be observed, therefore, that Egyptian sculpture may be classed
broadly into three styles. (1) the Egyptian proper, reaching its finest
period in the reign of Amunothph III.; (2) the Ethiopic Egyptian; (3)
the later Egyptian, leading to the decline of that style of sculpture.
Of the first it should be noticed that the general proportions of the
figure were more accurately considered than the relative proportions
of hands and feet to the limbs, which are generally incorrect. There
are, however, some examples of excellent proportion, as in a colossal
arm and fist in the British Museum. This arm belonged to a statue of
Thothmes III., and came from Memphis. It is about ten feet long. The
fist also came from Memphis, and measures four feet across. The heads
of statues of this period are of the pure Coptic type, with a nose
somewhat aquiline, and the lips comparatively thin. The eyes, however,
were always carved in full in profile representations; the feet, one
in advance of the other on the same plane. The details of form at the
knuckles and legs are well indicated.

In the Ethiopic-Egyptian statues, general proportion is lost sight of;
the figures become dumpy, being only six heads high; the limbs are
clumsy and wanting in modeling; the hands and feet stiff and not marked
by details at the joints; nor do they show the small bone of the leg.
The heads are more of the Negro type, with turned-up noses and thick

In the later Egyptian it is remarkable that with more attempt to
imitate nature in the modeling of the muscles, the forms of the
trunk and limbs become unnaturally puffed. More is added in symbolic
attributes; heads of the cat, the hawk, and the ape, are placed on the
human body; the dress is more elaborate, that of the head especially,
on which a disc for the sun was often placed, as on the god Osiris.
From the fall of Thebes, about 1000 B. C., to the conquest of Egypt by
the Persians, 523 B. C., sculpture became more and more degraded, and
soon lost its original style of simplicity and grandeur of form.

After some two centuries of rule, the Persians were conquered by
Alexander the Great, 332 B. C., but there are no statues of Greek style
of this date found in Egypt; under the Ptolemies, his successors for
300 years, new temples of inferior but still Egyptian style were built,
such as those at Phile, Edfou, and Denderah, and many statues were
made, but nearly all have been destroyed, and there is not one of any
king or queen of the Ptolemies.

After Egypt became a Roman province, in 38 B. C., Egyptian sculpture,
in a debased form, was still continued upon the decoration of the
temples, but the statues were then in the hands of Greek artists. Still
later, there is the well-known statue of Antinous as an Egyptian, the
work of a Greek sculptor of the time of the Emperor Hadrian (A. D.

Assyrian sculpture is a discovery of recent times, first made in 1842-3
by Botta, the French consul at Mosul on the banks of the Tigris, and
almost simultaneously by Mr. Layard, who though he had seen the ruins
of Nineveh in 1840 did not get permission to examine and excavate till
1845. The sculptures differ widely from any in Egypt in being nearly
all in bas-relief and high relief. There are very few statues, carved
in the round, that stand either with a support practically or on the
legs. There are no colossi nearly approaching in size the Egyptian and
Greek colossal statues, none being higher than eighteen feet, while
as we have seen sixty feet was a moderate height for an Egyptian or
Greek colossal figure, and some were higher. The colossal human-headed
bulls and lions with wings, at the portals of the king’s palace, are
in high relief on huge slabs, one on each side, facing outwards, and
one on each side on the wall, with the head turned to look to the
front. It does not appear that any principal figure was set up in an
interior, either of these compound animals, or of any deity or king.
No colossal seated figures like the Egyptian statues have been found.
The standing figures carved in relief differ entirely in the expression
of the countenance and motive of the figure from the Egyptian. They
have all some action; the king grasps a captured lion, or as chief
priest he walks with his staff which he holds firmly, while the left
hand rests on the hilt of his sword. It is true that the legs are
on one plane, and the feet in a position that could not support the
body; still the intention to show action and life is there. There
is none of the desire to express majestic, calm, eternal repose and
content which is so characteristic of Egyptian sculptured statues.
Throughout the great number of slabs in the British Museum and in the
Louvre there is a very vigorous descriptive power displayed in carving
figures of men, horses, chariots, battles, sieges of cities, hunting
scenes, processions, rivers with men swimming on inflated skins, with
fish and boats; implements, weapons, chairs, baskets, trees, birds,
buildings, with a close resemblance to the real objects that is very
distinctive of the Assyrian style. The quadrupeds and birds are much
better done than the human figures; the character of some of the mules
is faithfully given, and there is much feeling for nature in some of
the lions in the hunting-scenes. There is no doubt, also, that this
naturalistic realism was carried further by painting the sculptures.
In none of these painted reliefs, however, is there anything of
the careful carving and delicate delineation of the Egyptian _cavi
relievi_; they are all boldly done, and with a good deal of skill, but
by hands that would seem to have been self-taught, and at liberty
to represent as they pleased so that the conventional attributes and
symbolic objects were duly made clear. There is scarcely any regulated
use of typical forms; and in the proportions of the figures especially
there is no rule. The principal figures are about 6½ heads high, and
in others the heads are often larger, while the arms and legs are out
of all proportion gigantic, the muscles being exaggerated into masses
at the calf and knee, and the shin-bone absurdly prominent. All truth
seems to have been sacrificed for the sake of conveying a violent
look of immense strength. The battle scenes remind us of some of the
puerile representations by mediæval workmen of a poor style, or the
debased Roman work seen on sarcophaguses. The Assyrians, unlike the
Egyptians, were “mighty hunters,” consequently horses were favorites
with the Assyrian carvers, as they were with the Greek sculptors
afterwards; they seldom have more than one fore-leg and one hind one,
but their heads are carefully carved, and all the trappings show the
same intention to obtain exact resemblance as is displayed in the
dress and ornaments of the kings and other figures. It is important
to observe that these sculptures are very equal in merit; there is no
sign of improvement and little of falling off. As to the date of these
sculptures, they are much later than all the Egyptian work of the finer

It may be concluded that the Assyrian palaces, with their sculptured
walls, took a much shorter time to build than the Egyptian, as they
were built of sun-baked bricks, with ornamental slabs below, and wooden
beams and columns above, all which structures have perished leaving
only the stone slabs. The soft nature of the stone, which is a kind of
grey alabaster, extremely suited to carving in the manner employed,
afforded the facility that influenced the style and enabled the carvers
to indulge their inclination for realistic detail. They do not appear
to have sought for fine colored hard stones as the Egyptians did, nor
do they show the same desire to make their work monumental and enduring.

Assyrian sculpture was always archaic, though at the same time more
vigorous in what might be called graphic sculpture, and truer in
imitation of nature than Egyptian, which rarely attempted action in the
figure or facial expression. There is, however, no alliance between the
two styles, and there was never likely to be, as the Assyrians were not
a people of poetic and abstract ideas, but of facts, circumstances,
and action. They thought of the present glory, and did not trouble
themselves about the future. The same characteristics will partly
account for the absence of any kind of reference to a future state. The
tree of life with the priest ministering before it and holding fruit is
to be seen; but it is remarkable that no sepulchral monuments have been
found; no tomb or mark of regard in any shape for the welfare of the
dead hereafter has been discovered.

Bearing in mind that the Assyrians were never a statue-making people,
and never attempted to follow the example of the Egyptians—do we find
them influencing the sculptural art of any other people in work like
that of the Assyrians? This question is answered at once by the remains
found at Persepolis, where there are to be seen similar winged and
human-headed lions and bulls, and sculptured slabs, but no statues
either in the round or in alto-relievo.

The ruins of the palaces of Cambyses, Darius, and Xerxes, the date of
which is from 560 B. C. to the conquests of Alexander the Great (331 B.
C.), show only sculptural remains left, after all the soft brick walls
and the wooden beams and rafters have long perished. Persian sculptural
art since those days never advanced to the dignity of statuary, but
like its Assyrian predecessor stopped short where Greek art began
to develop. The same is to be observed of that ramification of the
Assyrian arts which is to be traced in the building of the temple of
Jerusalem under Solomon, which, however, was some five centuries before
the time of Cambyses, and about the same length of time after the
settling of the Israelites in the Delta of the Nile (1550 B. C.). The
law of Moses was sufficient to prevent any sculpture in the likeness of
living things; but the cherubim, with their wings, seem to have been
borrowed from the Assyrians. The temple was, no doubt, built of stone
and cedar-wood after the manner of the Assyrians, and with a profusion
of ornament in carving, of valuable marbles, wood, and embossed work in
precious metals.

The colossal sculptures in the rock-cut temples of India, whether taken
as derived from the Assyrian centre or not, may be classed with that
style as semi-barbaric and naturalistic, with a superadded symbolism
which only led to the most extravagant deformities of the human figure
to express the power and attributes of a deity. Statuary proper never
existed in any shape of beauty like the human form, throughout Persia,
India, and China, and there is no sign of any disposition amongst the
Asiatics to learn the art from their European conquerors; it is not in
their nature.




The parts I speak of are the most renowned countries and kingdoms;
once the seats of most glorious and triumphant empires; the theaters
of valor and heroical actions; the soils enriched with all earthly
felicities; the places where Nature hath produced her wonderful works;
where arts and sciences have been invented and perfected; where wisdom,
virtue, policy, and civility, have been planted, have flourished; and,
lastly, where God himself did place his own commonwealth, gave laws and
oracles, inspired his prophets, sent angels to converse with men; above
all, where the Son of God descended to become man; where he honored the
earth with his beautiful steps, wrought the works of our redemption,
triumphed over death, and ascended into glory; which countries, once
so glorious and famous for their happy estate, are now, through vice
and ingratitude, become the most deplored spectacles of extreme misery;
the wild beasts of mankind having broken in upon them, and rooted out
all civility, and the pride of a stern and barbarous tyrant possessing
the thrones of ancient and just dominion. Who, aiming only at the
height of greatness and sensuality, hath in tract of time reduced
so great and goodly a part of the world to that lamentable distress
and servitude, under which (to the astonishment of the understanding
beholders) it now faints and groaneth. Those rich lands at this present
remain waste and overgrown with bushes, receptacles of wild beasts,
of thieves, and murderers; large territories dispeopled or thinly
inhabited; goodly cities made desolate; sumptuous buildings become
ruins; glorious temples either subverted or prostituted to impiety;
true religion discountenanced and oppressed; all nobility extinguished;
no light of learning permitted, nor virtue cherished; violence and
rapine insulting over all, and leaving no security except to an abject
mind, and unlooked-on poverty; which calamities of theirs, so great and
deserved, are to the rest of the world as threatening instructions. For
assistance wherein, I have not only related what I saw of their present
condition, but, so far as convenience might permit, presented a brief
view of the former estates and first antiquities of those peoples and
countries; thence to draw a right image of the frailty of man, the
mutability of whatever is worldly, and assurance that, as there is
nothing unchangeable saving God, so nothing stable but by his grace and



There were more than a few attempts of the English to people, to settle
and improve the parts of New England which were to the northward of
New Plymouth, but the designs of those attempts being aimed no higher
than the advancement of some worldly interests, a constant series of
disasters confounded them, until there was a plantation erected on the
nobler designs of Christianity, and that plantation, though it has
had more adversaries, perhaps, than any one upon earth, yet, having
obtained help from God, it continues to this day. There have been
very fine settlements in the northeast regions, but what is become
of them? I have heard that one of our ministers, once preaching to a
congregation there, urged them to approve themselves a religious people
from this consideration: that otherwise they would contradict the main
object of planting this wilderness, whereupon a well-known person, then
in the assembly, cried out: “Sir, you are mistaken, you think you are
preaching to the people at the Bay; our main end was to catch fish.”
Truly ’twere to have been wished that something more excellent had been
the main end of the settlements in that brave country, which we have,
even long since the arrival of that more pious colony at the Bay, now
seen dreadfully unsettled, no less than twice, at least, by the sword
of the heathen, after they had been replenished by many hundreds of
people who had thriven to many thousands of pounds, and all the force
of the Bay, too, to assist them in maintaining their settlements. But
the same or like inauspicious things attended many other endeavors to
make plantations, on such a _main end_, in several other parts of the
country, before the arrival of the Massachusetts colony, which was
formed on more glorious aims.


(1) There are few towns to be now seen on our list but what were
existing in this land before the dreadful Indian war which befell us
twenty years ago; and there are few towns broken up within the then
Massachusetts line by that war but what have revived out of their
ashes. Nevertheless the many calamities which have ever since been
wasting the country have so nip the growth of it, that its later
progress hath held no proportion with what was from the beginning; but
yet with such variety, that while the trained companies of some towns
are no bigger than they were thirty or forty years ago, others are as
big again.

(2) The calamities that have carried off the inhabitants of our several
towns have not been all of one sort. Pestilential sicknesses have made
fearful havoc in divers places, where the sound have not perhaps been
enough to tend the sick, while others have not had one touch from the
Angel of Death, and the sword hath cut off scores in sundry places,
when others, it may be, have not lost a single man by that avenger.

(3) ’Tis no unusual, though no universal experiment, among us, that
while an excellent, laborious, illuminating ministry has been continued
in a town, the place has thriven to admiration; but ever since that
man’s time they have gone down the wind in all their interests.
The gospel has evidently been the making of all our towns, and the
blessings of the Upper have been accompanied with the blessings of the
Nether Springs. Memorable also is the remark of Slingsby Beibel, Esq.,
in his most judicious “Book of the Interests of Europe:” “Were not the
cold climate of New England supplied by good laws and discipline, the
barrenness of the country would never have brought people to it, nor
have advanced it in consideration and formidableness above the other
English plantations exceeding it much in fertility and other inviting

(4) Well may New England lay claim to the name it wears, and to a room
in the tenderest affections of its mother, the happy island. For as
there are few of our towns but what have their namesakes in England, so
the reason why most of our towns are called what they are, is because
the chief of the first inhabitants would thus bear up the names of the
particular places there from whence they came.

(5) I have heard an aged saint, near his death, thus cheerfully
express himself: “Well, I am going to heaven, and I will there tell
the faithful who are gone long since from New England thither, that
though they who gathered in our churches are all dead and gone, yet the
churches are still alive, with as numerous flocks of Christians as were
ever among them.” Concerning most of the churches in our catalogue,
the report thus carried unto heaven, I must now also send through the
earth; but if with “as numerous,” we could in every respect say as
gracious, what joy to all the saints, both in heaven and on earth,
might be from thence occasioned.—_Magnalia Christi Americana._



To take a poor child, especially an orphan left in poverty, and bestow
a liberal education on it, is an admirable charity, yea, it may draw
after it a long train of good, and may interest you in all the good
done by him whom you have educated. Hence, also, what is done for
schools, for colleges, and for hospitals is done for the general good.
The endowment and maintenance of these is at once to do good to many.

But alas, how much of the silver and the gold is buried in hands where
it is little better than if conveyed back to the mines whence it came.
How much of it is employed to as little purpose as what arrives at
Hindoostan, where a great part of it, after some circulation, is by the
Moguls lodged in subterraneous caves never to see the light again. The
Christian whose faith and hope are genuine, acts not thus.

Sometimes elaborate compositions may be prepared for the press, works
of great bulk, and of greater worth, by which the best interests of
knowledge and virtue might be considerably promoted, but they lie,
like the impotent man at the pool of Bethesda, in silent neglect, and
are likely to continue in that state, till God inspires some wealthy
persons nobly to subscribe to their publication, and by this generous
application of their property to bring them abroad. The names of
such noble benefactors to mankind ought to live as long as the works
themselves live; and when the works do any good, what these have done
towards the publishing of them, ought to be “told for a memorial of
them.” He urges gentlemen of leisure to seek “some honorable and
agreeable employments,” and says, “I will mention one: The Pythagoreans
forbade men’s eating their own brains, or keeping their good thoughts
to themselves.” The incomparable Boyle observes that as to religious
books in general, “those that have been written by laymen, and
especially by gentlemen, have (_cæteris paribus_) been better received
and more effectual than those published by clergymen.” Mr. Boyle’s
were certainly so. Men of quality have frequently attained such
accomplishments in languages and science that they become prodigies
of literature. Their libraries also have stupendous collections
approaching toward Vatican or Bodleian dimensions. It were much to be
wished that persons of wealth and station would qualify themselves for
the use of the pen, as well as of the sword, and deserve this eulogium:
“They have written excellent things.” An English person of quality in
his treatise entitled “A view of the soul,” has the following passage:
“It is certainly the highest dignity, if not the greatest happiness of
which human nature is capable in the vale below, to have the soul so
far enlightened as to become a mirror, conduit or conveyor of God’s
truth to others.” It is a bad motto for a man of capacity to say, “My
understanding is unfruitful.” Gentlemen, consider what subjects may
most properly and usefully fall under your cultivation. Your pens may
stab atheism and vice more effectually than other men’s can. If out of
your tribe there come those who handle the pen of the writer, they will
do uncommon execution. One of them has ingenuously said, “Though I know
of some _functions_, yet I know no _truths_ of religion that like the
shew-bread belong to the priests alone.” * * *

To do good is a sure and pleasant way effectually to bespeak God’s
blessings on ourselves. Who so likely to find blessings as the men who
are blessings? While we work for God, he certainly will work for us,
and ours—will do for us more than we have done for him; “more than we
can ask or think.” A good action is its own reward.

But what shall be done for the good man in the heavenly world? His part
and work in the city of God are at present incomprehensible to us, but
the kindness which his God will show him in the strong city will be
truly marvelous. The attempts which the Christian has made to fill this
world with righteous things, are so many tokens for good to him, that
he shall have a portion in that world wherein shall dwell nothing but
righteousness. He will be welcomed with “Well done, good and faithful

I will conclude with a declaration which I will boldly maintain. It
is this: Were a man able to write in seven languages, could he daily
converse with all the sweets of the liberal sciences to which the
most accomplished make pretensions; were he to entertain himself with
all ancient and modern history; and could he feast continually on the
curiosities which the different branches of learning may discover to
him, all this would not afford the ravishing satisfaction which he
might find in relieving the distresses of a poor, miserable neighbor,
nor would it bear any comparison with the heartfelt delight which he
might have by doing service to the kingdom of our great Savior in the



There is a kind of taste of the mind, whereby persons are guided
in their judgment of the natural beauty, gracefulness, propriety,
nobleness, and sublimity of speeches and action, whereby they judge,
as it were, by the glance of the eye, or by inward sensation, and the
first impression of the object; so there is likewise such a thing as
a divine taste, given and maintained by the Spirit of God, in the
hearts of the saints, whereby they are in like manner led and guided
in discerning and distinguishing the true spiritual and holy beauty of
actions; and that more easily, readily, and accurately, as they have
more or less of the Spirit of God dwelling in them. And thus “the sons
of God are led by the Spirit of God, in their behavior in the world.”

A holy disposition and spiritual taste, where grace is strong and
lively, will enable a soul to determine what actions are right and
becoming Christians, not only more speedily, but far more exactly,
than the greatest abilities without it. This may be illustrated by
the manner in which some habits of mind, and dispositions of heart,
of a nature inferior to true grace, will teach and guide a man in his
actions. As for instance, if a man be a very good natured man, his good
nature will teach him how to act benevolently amongst mankind, and will
direct him, on every occasion, to those speeches and actions which are
agreeable to rules of goodness, than the strongest reason will a man
of a morose temper. So if a man’s heart be under the influence of an
entire friendship, and most endeared affection to another, though he
be a man of an indifferent capacity, yet this habit of his mind will
direct him, far more readily and exactly, to a speech and deportment,
or manner of behavior, which shall in all respects be sweet and kind,
and agreeable to a benevolent disposition of heart, than the greatest
capacity without it. He has, as it were, a spirit within him, that
guides him; the habit of his mind is attended with a taste by which
he immediately relishes that air and mien which is benevolent, and
disrelishes the contrary, and causes him to distinguish between one
and the other in a moment, more precisely, than the most accurate
reasonings can find out in many hours. As the nature and inward
tendency of a stone, or other heavy body, that is let fall from aloft,
shows the way to the center of the earth more exactly in an instant
than the ablest mathematician, without it, could determine, by his most
accurate observations, in a whole day. Thus it is that a spiritual
disposition and taste teaches and guides a man in his behavior in the
world. So an eminently humble, or meek, or charitable disposition,
will direct a person of mean capacity to such a behavior, as is
agreeable to Christian rules of humility, meekness and charity, far
more readily and precisely than the most diligent study and elaborate
reasonings of a man of the strongest faculties, who has not a Christian
spirit within him. So also will a spirit of love to God, and holy fear
and reverence toward God, and filial confidence in God, and an heavenly
disposition, teach and guide a man in his behavior.

It is an exceedingly difficult thing for a wicked man, destitute of
Christian principles in his heart to guide him, to know how to demean
himself like a Christian, with the life and beauty, and heavenly
sweetness of a truly holy, humble, Christ-like behavior. He knows not
how to put on these garments; neither do they fit him.

The saints in thus judging of actions by a spiritual taste, have not
a particular recourse to express rules of God’s word, with respect
to every word and action that is before them, the good or evil of
which they thus judge: But yet their taste itself, in general, is
subject to the rule of God’s word, and must be tried by that, and a
right reasoning upon it. As a man of a rectified palate judges of
particular morsels by his taste; but yet his palate itself must be
judged of, whether it be right or no, by certain rules and reasons. But
a spiritual taste of soul mightily helps the soul in its reasonings
on the word of God, and in judging the true meaning of its rules:
As it removes the prejudices of a depraved appetite, and naturally
leads the thoughts in the right channel, casts a light on the word of
God, and causes the true meaning, most naturally, to come to mind,
through the harmony there is between the disposition and relish of
a sanctified soul, and the true meaning of the rules of God’s word.
Yea, this harmony tends to bring the texts themselves to mind, on
proper occasions; as the particular state of the stomach and palate
tends to bring particular meats and drinks to mind, as are agreeable
to that state. “Thus the children of God are led by the Spirit of
God” in judging of actions themselves, and in their meditations upon,
and judging of, and applying the rules of God’s holy word: And so God
“teaches them his statutes and causes them to understand the way of his
precepts;” which the Psalmist so often prays for.

But this leading of the spirit is a thing exceedingly diverse from
that which some call so; which consists not in teaching them God’s
statutes and precepts, that he has already given; but in giving them
new precepts by immediate inward speech or suggestion, and has in it
no tasting the true excellency of things, or judging or discerning the
nature of things at all. They do not determine what is the will of
God by any taste or relish, or any manner of judging of the nature of
things, but by an immediate dictate concerning the thing to be done;
there is no such thing as judgment or wisdom in the case. Whereas, in
that leading of the spirit which is peculiar to God’s children, is
imparted that true wisdom and holy discretion, so often spoken of in
the word of God; which is high above the other way, as the stars are
higher than a glow worm; and that which Balaam and Saul (who sometimes
were led by the spirit in that other way) never had, and no natural man
can have without a change of nature.

    [End of Required Reading for October, 1883.]

       *       *       *       *       *

    MAN is only a reed, the weakest plant of nature, but
    he is a thinking reed. It is not necessary that the
    whole universe should be in arms to crush him. A
    vapor, a drop of water is sufficient to put him out of
    existence. But even though the universe could crush him
    to atoms, man would still be more noble than that which
    kills him, because he is conscious that he is dying,
    and of the advantage which the universe has over him;
    the universe knows nothing.—_Pascal._

       *       *       *       *       *

    NOTHING is so dangerous as an ignorant friend; a wise
    enemy is worth much more.—_La Fontaine._



    [When Paganini once rose to amuse a crowded auditory
    with his music, he found that his violin had been
    removed, and a coarser instrument substituted for it.
    Explaining the trick, he said to the audience, “Now I
    will show you that the music is not in my violin, but
    in me.”—CHAUTAUQUAN _for December, 1882_.]

     An artist once, whose magic could command
       That sound its deepest secrets should unfold,
     Had found his instrument by evil hand
       Exchanged for one of meaner, coarser mould.

     Yet, like the clashing tongue of vibrant bells,
       The hindrance but a greater power revealed.
    “See, I will show thee that the music dwells
       In _me_, and not the instrument I wield.”

     He turns, and sweetly, grandly, at his call,
       The violin its richest music flings.
     The instrument is naught—the player all—
       The power is in the touch, and not the strings.

     A coarse, rude instrument, this world, at best:
       Its strings made tense by selfishness and pride;
     If by its discords music be expressed,
       The music in our fingers must reside.

     Remember this: in tune keep heart and hand,
       And to earth’s music thou shalt hold the key,
     And from its discords sweetest tones command,
       Unknown and unimagined, save by thee.



When Walter Scott, one morning before breakfast, while looking for
fishing-tackle, came upon his long neglected manuscript of Waverley,
and decided to publish it, he baited his hook, so to speak, with a
plump literary angle-worm, and carefully concealing himself, dropped it
cautiously into one of the quiet and almost stagnant pools which here
and there break the flow of the eighteenth century.

Not to carry the figure further he wakes up one morning to find the
“Author of Waverley” famous; but no one knew _who_ the “Author of
Waverley” was. Romances, relating alike to the history of Scotland,
England, France, Switzerland and Palestine, covering a wide range
of life and character, with a varied record of eight hundred years,
followed each other so rapidly that the reading world opened its eyes
in wonder, until the “great unknown” was finally regarded the “great
magician.” His books, as they came wet from the press, were literally
devoured by the story-loving people of England and Scotland; and
packages, shipped across the Atlantic, were regarded the most valuable
part of the cargo. I have heard elderly people of New England speak of
anxiously waiting for the next ship which was to bring to their hands
a new novel by the “Author of Waverley.” Never before had the pen of
any man awakened such responsive interest in his own generation. The
publication of Waverley marked a new era in romantic literature.

During the eighty years that have followed that publication mankind
has had its hopes, longings, ambitions and jealousies mirrored in
works of fiction. Hundreds, ay, thousands of novels—most of them
unworthy of their high lineage—have contended with each other for the
world’s approbation; writers without number have flooded the century
with romance; but through all these years Walter Scott stands the
acknowledged master, the purest-hearted, the noblest-minded of them
all; the man who could say upon his death-bed: “I have not written one
line which I would wish blotted.”

No words of re-invitation are necessary to those who have once read
the pages of Sir Walter, but it will be a “consummation devoutly to be
wished” if I can turn the coming generation of your readers away from
the sickly sentiment of the day to the works of him, whose influence,
like that of King Arthur of the Round Table, inspires the soul with

    “High thoughts and amiable words,
     And courtliness, and the desire of fame,
     And love of truth, and all that makes a man.”

Some years ago, while preparing a lecture on “The Landmarks of Scott,”
I found myself confronted with twenty-six novels and five well-known
poems, besides innumerable essays and histories, all demanding at
least a passing word. I saw that two minutes devoted to each would
more than fill my lecture hour, and leave no room for the frame-work,
viz: Loch Katrine, Loch Lomond, the Trosachs, Melrose, Edinboro, the
Yarrow, the Ettrick, the Tweed, and the Border Country, where the
Percy and the Douglas fought. It then occurred to me that Scott had
unconsciously prepared a panoramic history of Europe from the time of
the Crusades to the year 1812. Acting upon this suggestion I examined
the novels and poems and found to my great delight, that with here
and there an absent link of fifty or a hundred years the chain was
almost perfect. I condensed the prominent features of eight hundred
years, tracing their connection with Scott’s graphic pictures into a
pen-sketch of ten minutes, and I have been gratified to see that this
idea of chronological order has been recently followed by one of the
leading New York publishers. It is my object in a series of articles to
elaborate this historical sequence from the time of “Count Robert of
Paris” (1094) down to “St. Ronan’s Well” (1812), and to point out in
passing some of the beauties of the great author.

If the reader of these articles will follow with me the romances to
which I refer, I think he will say, at the close of the series, that
he has found in the Waverley Novels a vivid picture of the events
and customs of Europe, from the days of the crusades down to a time
within the memory of men still living. M. Augustin Thierry, one of the
most philosophical essayists of France, has eloquently said: “There
are scenes of such simplicity, of such living truth, to be found,
that notwithstanding the distance of the period in which the author
places himself, they can be realized without effort. It is because in
the midst of the world which no longer exists, Walter Scott always
places the world which does, and always will exist; that is to say,
human nature, of which he knows all the secrets. Everything peculiar
to the time and place, the exterior of men, and aspect of the country
and of the habitations, costumes and manners, are described with the
most minute truthfulness; and yet the immense erudition, which has
furnished so many details, is nowhere to be perceived. Walter Scott
seems to have for the past that second sight, which, in times of
ignorance, men attributed to themselves for the future. To say that
there is more real history in his novels on Scotland and England than
in the philosophically false compilations, which still possess that
great name, is not advancing anything strange in the eyes of those who
have read and understood “Old Mortality,” “Waverley,” “Rob Roy,” the
”Fortunes of Nigel,” and the “Heart of Mid Lothian.”

Allison says in his essay on Chateaubriand, published in _Blackwood’s
Magazine_, March, 1832: “We feel in Scott’s characters that it is not
romance, but real life which is represented. Every word that is said,
especially in the Scotch novels, is nature itself. Homer, Cervantes,
Shakspere, and Scott, alone have penetrated to the deep substratum of
character, which, however disguised by the varieties of climate and
government, is at bottom everywhere the same; and thence they have
found a responsive echo in every human heart. He has carried romance
out of the region of imagination and sensibility into the walks of
actual life. He has combined historical accuracy and romantic adventure
with the interest of tragic events; we live with the heroes, and
princes, and paladins of former times, as with our own contemporaries;
and acquire from the splendid coloring of his pencil such a vivid
conception of the manners and pomp of the feudal ages, that we confound
them, in our recollections, with the scenes which we ourselves have
witnessed. The splendor of their tournaments, the magnificence of
their dress, the glancing of their arms, their haughty manners, daring
courage, and knightly courtesy; the shock of their battle-steeds, the
splintering of their lances, the conflagration of their castles, are
brought before our eyes in such vivid colors, that we are at once
transported to the age of Richard and Saladin, of Charles the Bold and
Philip Augustus.”

The four novels, which deal with the history of the Crusades, are
“Count Robert of Paris,” “The Betrothed,” “The Talisman,” and
“Ivanhoe.” It is a singular fact that the one occupying the first
place in chronological order was written last, and hardly completed
by the author when he died. “Ivanhoe” is, without doubt, the great
favorite. I have often thought that “Ivanhoe” bears the same relation
to Scott’s novels that “The Merchant of Venice” does to the dramas of
Shakspere. “Old Mortality,” and “Hamlet,” may show deeper insight; but
neither Scott nor Shakspere ever surpassed the two I have associated in
dramatic interest. The three novels which precede “Ivanhoe” in point of
time will give us a complete knowledge of the times and manners of the
Crusades, and lead us, as it were, from one picture-gallery to another,
until we come to the master-piece of the great artist.

“Count Robert of Paris” opens with a description of the court of
Alexius Commenus—a wily monarch, who had ample need of all his strategy
in dealing with foes that menaced him from every side: the Franks
from the west, the Turks from the east, the Scythians from the north,
the Saracens from the south. The wealthy city on the Bosphorous,
enriched by the spoils of nations, whose golden gate symbolized the
wealth and magnificence of seven hundred years of prosperity, was on
the great highway of travel, where, so to speak, the “cross-roads”
of Europe met, and presented a tempting prize to the restless and
barbarous hordes from the shores of the Caspian to the German Ocean.
“The superb successor of the earth’s mistress,” decked in borrowed
splendor, gave early intimations of that speedy decay to which the
whole civilized world, then limited within the Roman Empire, was
internally and imperceptibly tending. Intrigue and corruption in the
palace had compelled the Greek sovereigns of Constantinople, for
many years, to procure foreign soldiers to quell insurrections and
defend any traitorous attempt on the imperial person. These were known
as Verangians—a word signifying barbarians—and formed a corps of
satellites more distinguished for valor than the famed Prætorian Bands
of Rome.

The second chapter of the book reveals the hatred and jealousy existing
between these foreign soldiers and the crafty civilians. The Verangian,
to whom the reader is introduced, is an Anglo-Saxon too proud to bow
his head to a Norman conqueror, a wanderer from his father-land,
a soldier in search of better fortune, soon to discover by lucky
chance among the crusaders the fair Bertha of his early love. Upon
this slender thread the novelist hangs the romantic elements of the
story. But Count Robert of Paris is in no sense a love drama; in fact
it can hardly be termed a romance. It is rather a historic sketch,
placing in sharp contrast the wild enthusiasm of western Europe, her
castles of rude masonry, her mud hovels, her rude simplicity, with
the over-refined manners and tapestried chambers of the eastern court
hastening to its decay. It is living Europe confronting the dead

The third chapter introduces us to a richly furnished drawing room,
where the Princess Anna Commena—the first lady historian—sits reading
to a sleepy group her prolix history of the glory of her father’s
reign. At this gathering Scott brings together with great art all the
leading actors of the drama; the Emperor Alexius and his wife Irene;
Nicepherous Briennius, the intriguing son-in-law, husband of the fair
historian; the crafty philosopher Agelastes; Achilles Tatius, master of
the guards, and the faithful Verangian. This is the real commencement
of the story, and to this gathering the news is announced of another
body of the great Crusade, consisting not of the ignorant or of the
fanatical like those led on by Peter the Hermit, but an army of lords
and nobles marshaled by kings and emperors. Against this mass of
steel-clad warriors the East had no power to oppose save the inherent
cunning and strategy of Commenus. Craft and wealth meet stupidity and
avarice. The more powerful chiefs of the Crusades are loaded with
presents, feasted by the emperor with the richest delicacies, and
their thirst slaked with iced wine; while their followers are left
at a distance in malarial districts, and intentionally supplied with
adulterated flour, tainted provisions, and bad water. Neglected by
friends and insulted by foes, they contracted diseases and died in
great numbers “without having once seen a foot of the Holy Land, for
the recovery of which they had abandoned their peace, their competence,
and their native country. Their misfortunes were imputed to their
own wilfulness, and their sickness to the vehemence of their own
appetites for raw fruits and unripened wines.” By promises of wealth
and long-practiced arts of diplomacy, the Emperor Commenus at last even
induces the leaders of the crusade individually to acknowledge him—the
Grecian Emperor—originally lord paramount of all these regions, as
their liege lord and suzerain.

Scott takes advantage of this historical fact to draw one of his
matchless pictures, which in color and incident rivals the best pages
of his more dramatic romances; and it is here that Count Robert, when
the emperor left his throne for a single moment, dismounted from his
horse, took the seat of royal purple, and indolently began to caress
a large wolf-hound, which had followed him, and which, feeling as
much at ease as his master, reposed its grim form on the carpets of
gold and silk damask which tapestried the imperial footstool. It was
a picture of modern liberty looking worn-out despotism in the face.
That sublime audacity revealed the mettle of the race which was to
make individual conscience supreme; and his haughty and fearless
speech was the prologue of Magna Charta, the Bill of Rights, and the
Declaration of Independence. We must pass over the meeting in the
garden of Agesilaus, the entertainment at the palace, the drugged cup,
the dungeon experience of the count, and his miraculous release, the
fortitude and virtue of his Countess Brenhilda, the meeting of the
Verangian with Bertha in the garden of the philosopher, the treachery
of Briennius, his imprisonment and death-decree, and many other
incidents of interest, for the remaining space of this article must
be given to a brief consideration of “The Betrothed;” but the reader
will be happy to know that, after the conquest of Jerusalem, Count
Robert of Paris returned to Constantinople _en route_ to his native
kingdom. Upon reaching Italy the marriage of the Verangian and Bertha
was celebrated in princely style; and on his return to England a large
district, adjacent to the New Forest, near the home of his ancestors,
was conferred upon him by William Rufus, where it is presumed they
spent their declining years in peace and happiness.

“The Betrothed” opens with the year 1187—the time of the Third
Crusade—when Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, preached the crusade
from castle to castle, from town to town, awaking the inmost valleys
of his native Cambria with the call to arms for the recovery of the
Holy Sepulcher. As a connecting link between the stories we will say
that the soldiers of the First Crusade, after years of hardship and
suffering, at last accomplished their vows. Antioch and Jerusalem
yielded to their arms, the Holy Sepulcher was redeemed from infidels.
Those who returned to their homes recounted their triumphs, and all
Europe was aglow with new zeal. Forty-five years later, in the year
1142, a Second Crusade was organized against the impending dangers
which threatened Palestine and Jerusalem. The warlike West was again
in arms; but this crusade was more unfortunate than the first. The
crusaders were again compelled to endure the outrages and perfidies of
the Greek. As in the First Crusade, the Christian armies dragged in
their train a great number of children, women, and old men, who could
do nothing toward victory but greatly augmented the disaster of defeat.
The piety and heroism of the First Crusade had degenerated into a love
of show and military splendor. “That which was still more injurious to
discipline,” to quote from the admirable “History of the Crusades,” by
J. F. Michaud, “was the depravity of manners in the Christian army,
which must be principally attributed to the great number of women
that had taken arms and mixed in the ranks of the soldiery. In this
crusade there was a troop of Amazons, commanded by a general, whose
dress was much more admired than her courage,” and whose gilded boots
procured her a name which we will not copy from the historian’s pages.
Forty years of struggle pass away in Palestine, and at the time of the
opening of our story Henry the Second of England, Richard the First,
and Philip of France, determine on renewing the Holy War. Moved by the
eloquence and enthusiasm of Baldwin, there is a general cessation of
hostilities between the Welsh princes and their warlike neighbors on
the Marches of England. But one castle, known as the Garde Doloureuse,
was not so fortunate. Its owner was Raymond Berenger. The hand of his
daughter was asked in marriage by one of the Welsh chieftains. The
compliment was declined. Raymond Berenger, in accordance with a rash
promise, gave battle upon the plain and was slain. The castle was
assaulted, but faithfully defended by an honest Fleming, inspired by
the heroism of the orphaned daughter. Before the battle, Scott gives
us a fine picture of the Welsh bards, and an admirable idea of life in
the mountain fastnesses of Wales. His description of the defense of
the castle is so graphic that we seem to walk the ramparts with the
soldiers, and listen to the counsel of its defenders. Hugo De Lacy,
Constable of Chester, arrives in time to raise the siege of the castle,
and at once lays siege to the heart of the fair Eveline, to whom it
seems she had been promised, when a child, by her father. From a sense
of duty, rather than love, she accepts his proposal. She visits her
Saxon aunt—a cruel and demented relic of the house of Baldringham; and
is compelled to sleep in a haunted chamber, known as the “Room of the
Red Finger.” The picture of Saxon life here presented is in strong
contrast with the life of the Norman nobles. The century that had
followed the Norman invasion of England had irritated wounded pride.
Overcome by superstition and terror, Eveline sees in her dreams the
spectre, and hears the fatal couplet, which gives name to the romance:

    “Widowed wife and married maid,
     Betrothed, betrayer, and betrayed.”

Eveline goes from her aunt’s to the abbess of a convent, a near
relative, and Hugo De Lacy, having signified his intention of going
to the Holy Land, asks a remission of his vow for two years; but the
rigid prelate Baldwin was inexorable: “The advancement of the crusade
was the chief business of Baldwin’s life, and the liberation of the
Holy Sepulcher from the infidels was the unfeigned object of all his
exertions. The successor of the celebrated Becket had neither the
extensive views, nor the aspiring spirit of that redoubted personage;
but on the other hand, saint as the latter had become, it may be
questioned whether, in his professions for the weal of christendom, he
was half so sincere as was the present archbishop.”

The interview between De Lacy and Baldwin shows the great power of the
Church in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. He was compelled to leave
Eveline before wedlock had united them indissolubly, and the first line
of the couplet: “Widowed wife and married maid,” seemed already in the
course of fulfillment. Hugo de Lacy sets sail for Palestine with these
good-by words: “If I appear not when three years are elapsed let the
Lady Eveline conclude that the grave holds De Lacy, and seek out for
her mate some happier man. She can not find one more grateful, though
there are many who better deserve her.”

Eveline returns to the castle of her father; the care of the country
against Welsh invasion is assigned to Damian de Lacy, who had already
by acts of bravery won the esteem of Eveline. The days and months of
indolent castle life wear slowly away, with the occasional visit of
a strolling harper, or a hawking expedition near the castle, which
Scott, with his love for out-door amusements, enters into with apparent
relish. On one of these excursions Eveline is made prisoner by a
party of Welsh soldiers, and she is led away blindfolded through the
recesses of the hills. She is rescued by Damian de Lacy, who however
is seriously wounded, and taken against the advice of friends to the
castle. Unfounded rumors poison the minds of the people, the castle is
attacked by the king’s forces, led on by a traitor of Hugo’s family.
Damian is taken prisoner and condemned to death. More than three years
had passed away, and now Hugo returns in poverty, and completely broken
in spirit. Damian is released, and Hugo waives his claim to the hand
of Eveline, and Damian wins one of the noblest women that Scott has
made immortal in the world. So much for the brief outline of the story,
which reveals the manner of life on the Welsh borders during the time
of the Third Crusade. The two novels which follow, “The Talisman” and
“Ivanhoe,” portray even in more vivid colors the sufferings of the
crusaders in Palestine, and the every day life of Merrie England.



    Pushing the clods of earth aside,
    Leaving the dark where foul things hide,
    Spreading its leaves to the summer sun,
    Bondage ended, freedom won;
        So, my soul, like the ivy be,
        Rise, for the sunshine calls for thee!

    Climbing up as the seasons go,
    Looking down upon things below,
    Twining itself in the branches high,
    As if the frail thing owned the sky;
        So, my soul, like the ivy be,
        Heaven, not earth, is the place for thee.

    Wrapping itself round the giant oak,
    Hiding itself from the tempest’s stroke;
    Strong and brave is the fragile thing,
    For it knows one secret, how to cling:
        So, my soul, there’s strength for thee,
        Hear the Mighty One, “Lean on me!”

    Green are its leaves when the world is white,
    For the ivy sings through the frosty night;
    Keeping the hearts of oak awake,
    Till the flowers shall bloom and the spring shall break;
        So, my soul, through the winter’s rain,
        Sing the sunshine back again.

    Opening its green and fluttering breast,
    Giving the timid birds a nest;
    Coming out from the winter wild,
    To make a wreath for the Holy Child;
        So let my life like the ivy be,
        A help to man and a wreath for Thee!
                               —_Good Words._


CLASS OF 1883.

A special dispensation of weather seemed to have been prepared for the
accommodation of the second graduating class of the Chautauqua Literary
and Scientific Circle on Saturday. A bright warm day was benevolently
shaded and cooled by nature’s great sunshade of cloud during all the
out-door exercises, and promptly upon the entry of the multitude under
the cover of the Amphitheater it began to rain to still further cool
the air. Everything was opportune, and the surroundings faultless.

The management terrestrial was equally good. There were four different
processions, in five divisions, moving from different rendezvous in
the grounds and converging and articulating with each other. Each of
them started on time “to a tick,” got to and dropped into place, and
everything moved with the smoothness and precision of a well-adjusted
machine. The program, as prepared, was carried out to the letter and

The attendance was as immense, the feeling as good as the day and
management. The unprecedented crowd of the night before was augmented
in the morning by boat-loads and train-loads, and when the signal-bells
for beginning the day’s movement sounded the avenues were thronged.

Punctually at the hour the “Guard of the Gate,” H. S. Field, J. J.
Covert, Miss E. E. Tuttle, W. H. Rogers, Charles B. Wood, S. J. M.
Eaton, Miss Myrtie Hudson, A. M. Martin, J. G. Allen, A. M. Mattison,
and the “Guard of the Grove,” Miss Annie E. Wilcox, A. Wilder, Miss M.
F. Wells, Miss E. Irvin, Miss Eleanor O’Connell, E. C. Norton, Mrs.
E. Howe, De Forest Temple, Mrs. Isaiah Golding, George Seebrick, in
charge of Marshal S. J. M. Eaton, formed at the cottage of Lewis Miller
(Auditorium), the right resting on Hedding Avenue.

The keys of the Golden Gate having been delivered by President Miller
to the Messenger, Rev. A. H. Gillet, the division marched up Hedding
Avenue to Clark, and out Clark to the Hall of Philosophy, and were
distributed to their proper positions in charge of the inclosure of St.
Paul’s Grove.

The second division, consisting of fifty-two little girls, the
youngest, Jennie Templeton, four years of age, heading the procession,
beautifully garlanded and bearing artistic baskets laden with flowers
to their very brim, conducted by Mrs. Frank Beard, superintendent,
assisted by Miss M. E. Bemis, Miss Minnie Barney, Messrs. Garret E.
Ryckman, and W. H. Burroughs, and Miss Blanche Shove, was formed at
the Children’s Temple, the right resting on Clark Avenue. The “Society
of the Hall in the Grove,” (the graduates of the class of 1882, C. L.
S. C.) were thus escorted by this beautiful company of prospective
Chautauquans through Clark Avenue to Hedding, down Hedding to Simpson,
through Simpson to Park Athenæum, through Park Athenæum to Lake Avenue,
to Dr. Vincent’s cottage.

The sixth division, consisting of the graduates of the class of 1883,
and the graduates of the class of 1882, who had not last year passed
through the Golden Gate, and under the Arches, met at the gate of
St. Paul’s Grove, on Merrill Avenue, each provided with a ticket, a
garnet badge, and a copy of the commencement service. A portion of
the Guard of the Grove stood within the gate, and a portion stood in
waiting without. The Messenger stood at the portal, holding the keys
of the gate. The Guard of the Gate took their places in order, near
the Messenger, while the leaders of the graduating class, Rev. H. C.
Farrar, chairman, and Rev. George C. Wilding, took their stations, one
on the right and the other on the left of the gateway, that at a given
signal the class might read responsively the form of service provided.
The classes were arranged in parallel columns stretching from the
portal itself to the middle of Miller Avenue, a block and a half.

At precisely 9:45 the Chautauqua Band, headed by Frank Wright, Marshal,
marching up Lake Avenue, reached the cottage of Dr. Vincent. Here the
banner of the C. L. S. C., with the “Guard of the Banner,” Mrs. M.
Bailey and Mrs. Delos Hatch, were escorted to their places in the line.
Four little children, Chippie Firestone, Edna McClellan, Nellie Mallory
and Bobbie Davenport were conducted to their places as “streamer
bearers,” while the beautiful fabric itself was borne by Mr. W. E. H.
Massey and Mr. Will Butler. The Superintendent of Instruction, Dr.
Vincent, took his place in the line.

The procession took its order of march, moving through Lake Avenue to
Haven Avenue, and up Haven to the Hall of Philosophy, which it entered,
and the band departed to escort thither “The Chautauqua Procession.”
(Division V.) This division formed at the Hotel Athenæum, Frank Wright,
Marshal, the right resting on the north main front of the hotel, in the
following order:


    Chautauqua Board of Trustees, led by Lewis Miller,
                  Esq., President.

    The Faculty and Students of the “Chautauqua School of
          Languages,” J. H. Worman, Marshal.

    The Normal Alumni, carrying their banners for the
     various years since 1874, Frank Beard, Marshal.

    The members of the classes of the C. L. S. C. for the
    years 1887, 1886, 1885, 1884, Mr. Copeland, Marshal.

    The guests of the Assembly, Rev. Frank Russell, Marshal.

The procession, thus constituted, moved at ten o’clock from the piazza
of the Hotel Athenæum, across the north side of the Park Athenæum, to
Lake Avenue, out Lake Avenue to Cookman Avenue, up Cookman to Clark,
halting on Cookman, the right resting on Clark, in open order, the Hall
of Philosophy being on its right flank.

At this time the entire neighborhood of the “Hall in the Grove” was
filled with interested crowds of spectators, whose eyes saw for the
second time the “Recognition Services” of the immense class in the
“People’s University.”

More than a hundred and fifty of the “Society of the Hall in the Grove”
(graduates of the preceding year), entered the Hall, and were seated in
its western side.

Precisely at ten o’clock, as the booming of the great bell at the Point
indicated the hour, the members of the Class of 1883, with such members
of the Class of 1882 as had not last year passed the Arches, standing
at the gate of St. Paul’s Grove, read responsively the devotional
services, Rev. George C. Wilding acting as precentor of the first
section, and Rev. H. C. Farrar as the precentor of the second section.

The “Messenger,” Rev. A. H. Gillet, in slow and solemn utterance gave
the announcement as follows:

    I come to inform all candidates for enrollment in
    the “Society of the Hall in the Grove” that the hour
    appointed for your reception has arrived; the Hall
    has been set in order; the Path through the Grove has
    been opened; the Arches under which you must pass have
    been erected; the Key which will open this Gate has
    been placed in my hands. And to you who, as members of
    completed the four years’ Course of Reading, and now
    hold in your hands a pledge of the same, I extend, in
    the name of the authorities, a welcome into St. Paul’s
    Grove, under the First Arch—and let the watchman guard
    carefully the Gate.

After the announcement by the Messenger, he turned and opened the gate.
The first to enter was Mr. Miner Curtis, an invalid, borne in a wheeled
carriage by the advance members of the class of ’83, and accompanied by
his wife and son, who were graduates of last year.

Having entered the Gate, and the Gate having been closed, the class
proceeded very slowly toward the Hall, passing the second and third
Arches. As they walked up the beautifully decorated way, the “Choir of
the Hall in the Grove” stationed at the fourth Arch, and led by Prof.
C. C. Case, sang “A Song of To-day:”

    “Sing peans over the Past!
     We bury the dead years tenderly.”

At the entrance to the Hall stood the Superintendent of Instruction to
welcome the coming class, and as they passed by the Arch nearest the
Hall, the fifty-two little girls standing in double columns, scattered
the way of the coming graduates with the beauteous flowers, emblematic
of the flower-strewn paths of intellectual light which they may hope to
tread in the coming years.

On entering the building the “Society of the Hall in the Grove”
received their brothers and sisters with the most marked tokens of good
cheer, waving their handkerchiefs and vocally expressing the kindly
feeling of the seniors of the year agone.

At precisely 10:20 the “C. L. S. C. Glee Club,” Prof. W. F. Sherwin,
conductor, led the classes (which filled the Hall to repletion), as
they sang

    “A sound is thrilling thro’ the trees
       And vibrant thro’ the air.”

After the reading of the responsive services came the “Recognition,” by
the Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. J. H. Vincent, as follows:

    _Fellow Students of the Chautauqua Literary and
    Scientific Circle of the Class of 1883_:

DEARLY BELOVED—You have finished the appointed and accepted course
of reading. You have been admitted to this sacred Grove. You have
passed the Arches dedicated to “Faith,” “Science,” “Literature” and
“Art.” You have entered in due form this Hall, the center of the
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle; and now, as Superintendent
of Instruction, in behalf of my associates, the counselors, who are
this day absent, I greet you, and hereby announce that you, and your
brothers and sisters absent from us this day, who have completed
with you the prescribed course of reading, are accepted and approved
graduates of the “Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle,” and that
you are entitled to membership in the “Society of the Hall in the
Grove.” The Lord bless and keep thee; the Lord make his face to shine
upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up his countenance
upon thee, and give thee peace.

I may say on behalf of the only counselor who is on the ground, Dr.
Lyman Abbott, that his indisposition renders it unsafe for him to be
here, but at my cottage he will join the procession, and go with you to
the Amphitheater. We will now unite in singing

    “Bright gleams again Chautauqua’s wave,
       And green her forest arches.”

During the singing of the ode, according to the direction of the
Superintendent of Instruction, the class of 1882, under the marshalship
of W. A. Duncan, quietly marched from the Hall in double column,
taking their position on Haven, Clark, and Cookman avenues, that the
graduating class might pass through their ranks at the close of the
service of recognition.

The Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. Vincent, Lewis Miller, the
Messenger, the Secretary of the C. L. S. C., preceded by the children
(flower bearers) and the Banner of the C. L. S. C., headed the
procession, which passed out of the south side of the Hall, around
Clark to Cookman Avenue, and passed down through the opened ranks of
the classes of the C. L. S. C., from whom they received constant marks
of recognition and affection, the classes in some cases waving their
Chautauqua salute to the Chief as he passed by.

When the head of the procession reached the cottage of Dr. Vincent, a
halt was made for a few moments, during which Dr. Lyman Abbott, one of
the counselors of the C. L. S. C., and the orator of the day, took his
place in the ranks.

As the procession marched up the long walk to the north door of the
Amphitheater, immense throngs filled all the available standing room
on the slopes of the ravine, and the “Blooming of the Lilies” (the
Chautauqua salute) was given by all the opened ranks of the classes as
the head of the procession passed through.

The Chautauqua Band, stationed at the entrance of the north gate,
discoursed sweet music during the passage of the long _cortege_.

All the officers, invited guests, members of the board of Chautauqua
trustees, officers and members of the Chautauqua School of Languages,
the Normal Alumni, and the various classes of the C. L. S. C., passed
into the great Amphitheater, when the ropes were dropped, and sooner
than we write it, all the remaining seating space was filled to

The platform was filled with distinguished Chautauquans and others; the
organ gave forth its sweet harmonies under the manipulation of Prof.
Andrews; the Chautauqua Banner of the C. L. S. C. was stationed in full
view of the vast throng; and after the devotional exercises Dr. Vincent
introduced Dr. Lyman Abbott, who delivered the Commencement oration, as


_Fellow Chautauquans_:—I see in some of your eyes triumph. You have
run in four years a race with uncertainty whether you could ever
reach the goal. You have carried on your work under difficulties and
discouragements, such as are never known to him who has perfect and
continual leisure for the pursuit of studies; but in the midst of
employments which were incessant and imperative in their demands upon
you; and your courage, your patience, your hope, have vanquished the
obstacles, and you are here to-day to receive the outward sign and
symbol of your inward victory. In other eyes I see expectation. You
have commenced a course and you are hopeful of achieving a result,
which has been made possible to you within the last few years, that
the fruits and results of study might be yours though you could not
give yourself to a life of study, still less to the persistent and
professional pursuit of scholarship. In other eyes I see desire dimmed
by fear and doubt; you do not know whether this great realm is open to
you or not; you wish that you could be assured that it is. Is this all
a mistake? Is your triumph a false one, your expectation a delusive
one, your hope and your desire one impossible of attainment? This is
so asserted. There are not a few in our times who are of the opinion
that learning is of necessity only for the few, or at all events if the
many can enter a little upon the realm, they must always live upon the
border and never can enter into the heart of the country.

I desire, if I may this morning, to meet and to answer this objection
of skepticism, and to show that learning is within the possible reach
to-day of the great body of industrious, hard-working, perplexed, and
driven people of America; that it is not the privilege of the few; that
it is the prerogative of the many. I desire to show you that we are
entering into an epoch which I may call the “Democracy of Learning.”
We have already entered into the epoch of democracy in religion. The
time has gone by, at least for all Protestant people, of believing that
religion is for the few, or that even the higher and larger privileges
of religious life are for the few. It has been established for all
those who believe in an open Bible and in the universal religion of
Jesus Christ that the innermost sanctuary of the temple is for every
one. The great wall that before separated the court of Israel from the
court of the priests has been broken down; there is but one court. The
great veil that hung between the holy of holies and the court of the
priests has been torn asunder, and every one of us is not only priest
but high-priest, free to enter into the very holy of holies. And we
have entered into the epoch of democracy in public affairs. The time
has gone by when political power belonged to the few, and political
intelligence was believed to be the prerogative of the few. We have
come into an epoch in which political power is lodged in the hands
of the great masses of the people; and it is lodged there because
we believe that, on the whole, political intelligence is lodged in
the hands of the great masses of the people. I desire to show you
this morning that we are entering upon an epoch of the Democracy of
Learning, in which the highest and best fruits of scholarship are also
the privilege and the prerogative of the many. When we have entered
upon that land, then we shall be ready to enter upon the last and
the completest phase of the triumphant democracy, the Democracy of
Industry. Then, when intelligence shall be universally diffused, and
when all men shall have the power at least of acquiring the largest and
the best and the ripest fruits of knowledge and of intelligence, we
shall come into that epoch in which no longer the few will control the
industries of the many, but in which industry will be the controlling
power, and wealth will be its servant.

I have a three-fold object this morning—I desire in the first place to
show you that the fruits of learning are fruits which hang on the lower
boughs of the tree where we may all pluck them; to show you not only
that, but that the ripest and the best fruits of learning hang there. I
desire to show you that it is not necessary that men should go through
a college course and should have four years of leisure and of quiet for
college study in order to reap the best fruits of a college education.
The _process_ of investigation must always be carried on by the few.
The _results_ of education may be, yea! are already becoming the
property of the many. Only a few explorers can bear the perils of the
Arctic Sea and investigate the mystery of the North Pole; but we can
all have the fruits of their investigation. Only a few men can labor
and toil in the great libraries searching out the course and progress
of history and its sacred events, but we can all have the garnered
fruits of their toil and their industry. Not only may we pluck a single
blossom, and here and there a single half-ripened fruit from this
tree; but the ripest, the best, that which has hung the longest in the
sun-light, that whose cheeks are painted the most rosy red, and whose
heart has in it the most saccharine juice, that is ready to-day to fall
into our open palm if we will but extend it.

In endeavoring to show you this, I shall also necessarily ask you to
consider with me what are the ripest and best fruits of learning. What
is the object of education? It is not an end, it is a means to an end.
It is a great pity that our colleges do not understand this better; for
if they did better comprehend that education is a means, and that the
end lies behind, fewer students would come out with empty diplomas when
the college course is ended.

And incidentally I shall hope also to answer one argument which is
sometimes used, and oftener, I think, lies secretly in the minds of
people, against a popular and universal education. Some satirist has
said that “Ignorance is the mother of devotion.” If that were true,
we might well doubt whether universal education is worth the price we
should have to pay for it. If it were true that God held out in one
hand devotion to us and in the other hand education, and said, “You
must choose between these two; if you become educated you must be
skeptical, if you would be devoted you must remain ignorant”—it would
be a difficult question for most of us to decide whether we would have
intelligence without piety or piety without intelligence. I shall show
you that it is not learning, but a little learning which is a dangerous
thing; and that if our work is thorough, the broader the culture, the
profounder the piety.

For our purpose this morning, learning may be divided into four
provinces: literature, history, science and philosophy, to which must
be added in any complete topography of the realm, pure mathematics. By
pure mathematics I mean arithmetic, algebra, geometry, logarithms, the
calculus and the like. But pure mathematics is simply an instrument
by which the scientific mind reaches certain results. I shall not
therefore consider this department at all; it is not necessary for our
purpose. Some one must look through the telescope, some one must know
how to use the spectroscope in order to tell us what is the size of
the sun and its constituent elements; but we do not need to examine
the telescope or the spectroscope. Some one must be skilled in pure
mathematics in order to tell us how many miles the sun is distant
from our own earth, but we may take the result without going through
the process. This instrument must always be left in the hand of the
specialist. I wish to show you that all that is best, highest and most
important in literature, history, science and philosophy lies within
the power of your acquisition. I wish to show you the spirit with which
you must study, and the purpose with which you must acquire it; and
I wish to show you that if you acquire in that spirit and with that
purpose you can not but gain in your religious nature.

I. In the first place, then, what is literature, and why do we study
it? Literature is the expression of human life, in its innermost
experiences, and in its outward forms. Sometimes it is the expression
of social life, sometimes of the intellectual life, sometimes of the
emotional life; but always and everywhere literature is a mirror held
up either before society or before the human heart; no, not a mirror,
but the sensitized plate in a photographic apparatus; and the picture,
now of society, now of the brain, now of the palpitating heart with
its fears, hopes, joys and experiences, is given upon the plate; and
literature is the picture brought out for us to examine. To study
literature is not to study language. Language is merely the instrument
which we use for the study of literature. To study literature is
to study life—life in its outward semblance or life in its inward
experiences. It is to study the life of the community and of society as
we study it in Thackeray; or it is to study the life of the brain and
the thought as we study it in Plato and Bacon; or it is to study the
life of the inward emotions as we study it in Tennyson or Wordsworth.
Now, in order to study life as it is portrayed in literature it is
not necessary to know the original language in which that life was
portrayed. Some one must have studied the Greek language in order to
bring Homer to our intelligence; some one must have studied Latin and
brought Horace within our horizon; some one must have studied French
and brought Molière within our knowledge; some one must have studied
Italian in order to introduce Dante to our acquaintance; but it is
not necessary for us to do so. Some one must have taken the negative
and printed the picture on the paper for us; but we need not all be
photographers in order to get the picture for our own enlightenment. I
hold a silver dollar in my hand. Some one must have gone to the mines
and dug out the ore with a pick; some one must have put it under the
great stampers and beaten it out in the stamping mill; some one must
have put it in the sieve and shaken it and shaken it until the grosser
dross was washed away; some one must have put it into the furnace and
heated it until the finer dross was eliminated; some one must have
carried it to the mint and put the stamp of the United States authority
upon it; but we need not all be miners digging in the mines; we need
not all be workers in the stamping mill; we need not all be toilers in
the furnace room; we need not all be masters or mechanics in the mint.
The money was coined by those who have wrought for us, and to whom our
gratitude is due, but the coin is ours; it is not merely for those who
worked in producing it.

I hold in my hand an extract from Taine which expresses that which I
desire to express better than I can perhaps express it myself. Let me
read it: “What is your first remark on turning over the great leaves
of a folio, the yellow sheets of a manuscript, a poem, a code of laws,
a confession of faith? This, you say, did not come into existence all
alone, it is but a mould like a fossil-shell, an imprint, like one of
the shapes embossed in stone by an animal which lived and perished.
Under the shell there was an animal; and behind the document there
was a man. Why do you study the shell, except to bring before you the
animal? So you study the document only to know the man. The shell and
the document are lifeless wrecks, valuable only as a clue to the entire
and living existence. We must get hold of this existence and endeavor
to re-create it. It is a mistake to study the document as if it were
isolated. This were to treat things as a simple scholar, to fall into
the error of the bibliomaniac.”

You do not need to have traversed the ocean beach or climbed the
mountain-top and gathered the shells; you may go into the museum where
they have already been gathered, and study their history there. You do
not need, with dictionary and grammar, to work out the secrets of the
language; you may take the products of those who have thus wrought, and
learn the man that lies behind the document.

Not only is it not necessary that a man should study language in order
to study literature; in innumerable cases the study of the language has
absolutely interfered with the study of the literature. In innumerable
cases, men at college have ground away, day after day, and month after
month, and year after year, over cases and nouns and parts of speech,
and rules of syntax and rules of grammar—working only at the grammar,
and utterly oblivious of the great light that lay behind it. Mr.
Adams, of Massachusetts, has recently told us how hard a man may study
Greek and how little he may know of it after he gets through with it,
for he assures us that he does not know the Greek alphabet to-day,
although he studied Greek six years, four years before college and
two in it. I confess I should not have thought it possible for a man
to have studied so much and yet know so little when he got through;
but I am very certain of this, that my own experience reflects the
experience of many college students. I learned more of Homer—of his
life, of his character, of the lessons he has to teach, of the man
himself—from reading in the “Ancient Classics for English Readers,”
the Iliad and the Odyssey, and from reading Bryant’s translation, than
I ever received from reading Homer himself in the original Greek in
my college class. That which is highest, and supremest, and best in
literature, you may obtain without a college education. You may learn
the life, you may learn the man, you may learn the sacred truth; and
you can not do that without broadening your sympathies and developing
your charity. When you have read Homer and Virgil and Horace; when you
have read Dante and Milton; when you have read Molière and Shakspere;
when you have read Wordsworth and Tennyson, and when, out of all this
reading, you have gathered their fruits, you will find this to be true,
that, though you have one picture of Greek life, one of Italian life,
one of French life, one of English life, one portraying the life of
four centuries before Christ, and one portraying the life of eighteen
centuries after; yet in all these languages, in all these epochs, in
all these civilizations the great heart of hope and joy and love and
fear and reverence and faith was one. And you will learn to know that
humanity, in all its nationalities, in all its epochs, in all its
civilizations,—aye, and under all the varied forms of its religions,
true and false—that humanity is one in all its brotherhood, and one in
its great Father in heaven.

II. What is the object of studying history? What is history? It is not
a mere record of dates, not the mere annals of actions, not merely
the account of what men have performed or what nations have wrought.
A man does not know history because he can recite glibly, beginning
with Alfred the Great and coming down to the present time, the dates
of the chief events and the chief epochs in English history. History
is the record of God’s dealing with the human race. History is the
account of the great laws under which this human race has been evolved
from its lowest condition to its highest condition. As the tree grows
from the seed planted in the ground—first the little bud peering above
the surface, then the stalk, and then the branches, and by and by the
completed oak; as the child grows from the babe in the cradle, taking
on one new faculty and one power after another till he comes into as
yet incompleted manhood—for the completion of manhood lies afar off in
the dim, distant and invisible future—so the nations of the earth, and
so the whole race of man has been developed from the seed to the oak
and from the babe in the cradle to manhood in its maturity; and to read
history is to read the process of this development.

What, for example, is English history? To know English history is to
know that in the Bible, way back years and years before the birth
of Christ—fourteen centuries before—were planted all the seeds of a
free representative government; to know that in the Mosaic statutes
is to be found the outline of a perfect political economy; to know
that the Mosaic commonwealth had in it all the elements of those
institutions which have made America a free nation; popular suffrage,
representative assemblies, political government divided into three
departments, executive, legislative, and judicial; a carefully framed
system of laws, with a carefully framed system of penalties, a
universal system of education, and a religion that was national. To
know history is to know that Alfred the Great was a devout believer
in the Bible as the word of God, that he studied it and found in this
Old Testament, fourteen centuries before the birth of Christ, these
seeds of a free government buried and forgotten. It is to know that
he gathered them out of this old book, as men have gathered wheat
seeds out of old mummies in the tombs of Egypt, and planted them in
the more fertile soil of an Anglo-Saxon community. It is to know how
the Anglo-Saxon Witenagemote grew to be an English Parliament; it is
to know how the people came to be represented in it under Simon de
Montfort; and how they came to be supreme in it under Charles the
First, and Cromwell. It is to know how the nation was at first a
congeries of conflicting tribes, partially brought together by Alfred
the Great, and consolidated together under one national sovereignty by
William the Conqueror, and growing thence into unity under successive
statesmen, until these latter days, when William Gladstone, the
greatest statesman of them all, is perfecting the Christian unity of
the empire by Christian justice and equity. It is to know how, in the
earlier history of this nation, the Pope of Rome assumed authority and
control over the nations. It is to know how, through the centuries,
the war went on between the Anglo-Saxon love of liberty and this claim
of the Church of Rome; how it was begun under Augustine, continued
under Thomas à Becket, brought to the beginning of the end under King
Henry the Eighth, until finally under Elizabeth the bonds that bound
England to Rome were severed forever, and England was made free from
every foreign prince and potentate. It is to know how this seed—the
sovereignty of the people in the nation, the sovereignty of the nation
against the anarchy of feudalism, and the liberty of the nation
against the Pope—grew into a tree, as yet but a young sapling; it is
to know how then God carefully dug this sapling up, and transported it
three thousand miles across the ocean and planted it in the yet more
fertile soil of America. It is to know that because of the battle and
bloodshed, and the long suffering endured on that soil, to-day there
floats over us the banner of liberty and justice. The seeds were there
in that old Bible, the culture was there in that English history; the
fruit we rejoice in here to-day.

One does not need to work in the Spanish libraries with Prescott, nor
in the Dutch libraries with Motley, nor among the old manuscripts of
the British museum with Froude, nor among the pamphlets of English
literature with Macaulay, in order to gather for himself these
highest and supremest fruits of historical learning. The processes
of historical research must always be carried on by the few; we must
always have in this country some men who have leisure to pursue
them. Alas for us, if the time ever comes when we grow careless or
indifferent respecting our colleges or universities, and the kind of
culture which they give; but they give culture that the cultured may
give us fruit. The few garner; the heaviest are for all.

Nor is it possible for one thus to study the history of the human race,
to see how, little by little, liberty has grown, education has grown,
humanity has grown, and not grow himself in faith in an overruling
Providence, and in hope in the Supreme God.

As the broad, comprehensive, interior study of literature will give
breadth of sympathy, so the broad, comprehensive, and large study of
history will give hope. When the fog covers the ocean, and the mariner
befogged knows not where he is, and can not tell whence his course
has been, nor where it shall be, he sometimes goes aloft and from the
top-mast, looking above the fog, discerns the coast in the distance and
the entrance into the harbor. In history we rise out of the fog that
environs all in the lower level; we look above the fog and over it, and
know then the courses we have traced, and see the harbor and the haven
not far before us.

III. What is science, and for what purpose do we study it? I use, of
course, the word science in its restricted sense, meaning natural
science. For two purposes. Nature is a vast and wonderful machine; its
mechanism may well arouse both our astonishment and our admiration. If
you have a watch that keeps time so that it does not vary more than two
or three minutes in a year you are proud of it, and if you should by
chance have a watch that did not vary more than one minute in a year
you would be a remarkably humble man if you did not boast of it to
your acquaintances. But in the heavens the sun and the planets round
it have been keeping time for the centuries, and as yet astronomy has
not detected an appreciable variation in its time. What a wonderful
mechanism is this! If an inventor should construct a furnace which
would keep us warm in winter and cool in summer, no manufacturer
would be able to supply the orders. But you have within you a furnace
such that although you may go from the land of the Esquimaux with
the thermometer 40° below zero, to the tropics with the thermometer
110° above zero, this furnace does not allow the habitation in which
you dwell to vary more than four or five degrees. What a wonderful
mechanism is this nature which we study! And we study this mechanism
partly that we may use it, that we may lay hold on these great forces
of nature and make them subservient to our will by understanding the
laws which regulate and govern them. But nature is more than a machine;
nature is also a book, and a wonderful book, written all over in
hieroglyphics that require study for their apprehension. It is more
than a mechanism. It is a revelation; and it reveals wondrous things to
him who knows how to read it aright. Edison and Morse, Copernicus and
Newton—they have interpreted nature on the one side; but Wordsworth,
and Longfellow, and Bryant—they have interpreted nature on the other,
and the one class of interpretations is as valuable as the other. We
study nature as a mechanism that we may know how to use it; we study
nature as a book that we may know how to read it.

Now, all that which is most valuable in nature, as a mechanism, we
lay hold of and use without going through the labor necessary in the
original examination by the first investigator. We do not need to
understand the laws of heat and steam to use them; some one has learned
the laws, and has brought fire and water together and has pronounced a
nuptial blessing over them, and a child has been born of the marriage,
and we take steam for our slave without knowing the ritual which
married the father and mother. Some one must have learned how to reach
his hand to the cloud, and bring down the electricity, make it run our
errands and serve the purpose of our illumination; but we do not need
to know the processes in order to sit under the light. Not only is it
true that the mechanical uses that come from natural sciences we get
without going through the processes, but the literary and spiritual we
get also. Others have been turning over the pages of this marvelous
book and have been reading it to us, and unconsciously, unknowingly,
almost without the sense that we have been learning anything, we have
learned great lessons in this book of nature. Scientists on the one
side and theologians on the other have put science and religion into
antagonism with one another. But they are sister teachers of the race;
science has received all its life from the late comprehended revelation
of the first chapter of Genesis that nature is man’s servant, not
his god; and theology has learned some of its profoundest lessons
from the book of nature which science has interpreted. Consider for
one moment what a fundamental religious lesson we have learned in the
school-room of science almost without knowing that she was our teacher.
The ancient Hebrews believed that Palestine was the world; all the
rest was a mere outlying district environing it, the back yard as it
were. The Mediterranean was the Great Sea, the little pond of Galilee
was the Sea of Galilee, the sun and moon and stars were torches for
man’s illumination—that was their conception of the universe. With that
conception it is not strange that they had an equally insignificant
and unworthy conception of the God of the world, a conception against
which the inspired writers were continually struggling, and from which
they were continually endeavoring to lift the people up. When the
Philistines fought against the Israelites and captured the ark of God
they were in triumph. “We have captured God,” they thought; and the
Israelites were almost equally in despair, for they also half thought
that Jehovah had been carried off a prisoner. Now, science, even more
than revelation, has been enlarging our conceptions of this universe.
The Holy Land, a province about as large as Vermont, is no longer the
earth; the Atlantic and the Pacific are the great seas; this globe on
which we live is but one of the smaller globes of the planetary system;
and the great planetary system itself is but a smaller one of the great
planetary systems which are circling around some vast and distant sun.
Science has taught us too that all this universe is linked together,
bound together by a common law, bound together by a common order of
phenomena. It has investigated the sun and the stars, it has analyzed
their light, it has shown us that the substances of these bodies are
identical with the substances of ours. It has taught us the unity of
nature, it has taught us the vastness of nature. There are stars in
the firmament which you can see with the naked eye, on which if a
man were standing with a telescope fine enough and powerful enough
to see what is transpiring on this globe, and should look through it
to-day, he would see not this congregation assembled under this roof,
but the first outbreaking of the revolution, so long does it take
light to traverse from our globe to the stars, light that takes but
eight minutes to travel from the sun to the earth. There are stars so
distant that he would see not Chautauqua gathered here to-night, but
the crucifixion of Christ taking place on the hill of Calvary; stars
so distant, that with a telescope powerful enough to carry the message
of this world to his sight, he would see Abraham coming out of the
land of his idolatry into the promised land; stars so distant that he
would see this earth first taking on its brightness in the birth-day
of its glory. So vast is our universe that the mind can not attempt
to comprehend its majestic distances. It is not theology, it is not
religion, it is not even the Bible that has unfolded this vastness; it
is science. It is impossible that men who have once learned anything
of this greatness of creation, or anything of this unity of creation,
should ever bow down again before idols of wood and stone. So long as
men thought that the laws of the material universe were antagonistic
and anarchic, that the universe was made up of warring tribes and
provinces, so long it was not strange that they should worship many
gods. So long as they thought that it was a little province on which
they lived, the boundaries of which they could themselves measure with
their tape-line, they might well worship before images they had formed
with their utterances or with their hands. But to-day you might burn
every Bible in the land, you might burn every church and Sunday-school
house, you might put all the priests and ministers in America on the
great bonfire, and consume them as well, and then you might erase
from every mind every lesson that had been learned from church or
Sunday-school, from priest or minister, and this nation could not go
back to idolatry, unless it went back to the utter barbarism of utter
ignorance. That which is highest and supremest in science you can
learn without becoming a scientist; and you can not learn it without
learning the large reverence that is the very foundation of religion.

IV. What is philosophy? The study of philosophy is the study of the
laws which govern the spiritual realm, as the study of natural science
is the study of the laws which govern the natural and the physical
realm. It is not studying Hegel, and Kant, and Schleiermacher; it is
not studying Hickock or Hopkins; it is not studying what philosophers
have thought—they are the mere translators, the mere “ponies.”
Philosophy is the law of humanity, either social or individual. The
study of philosophy is the study of the laws which God has ordained
for the binding of men together into a common organism, or for the
government of their individual lives. Men believed that the foundation
of the State was a compact, and that each citizen gave up something of
his rights for the common welfare; they believed that the foundation of
the Nation was a compact in which each State gave up something which it
had of right to secure the advantage of a commonwealth. So believing,
they concluded that any State might withdraw from its allegiance, and
they might have easily concluded that any individual might withdraw
from his allegiance. It is only as we learned that we are born into
the government and made a part of the State from the beginning by
the ordinance of God, that we have learned what is the bond that has
bound the nation together. Revolting from the Romish doctrine that
marriage is a sacrament, Protestantism has been teaching for years
that it is merely a civil contract. We are reaping the result of this
false teaching. To-day in Puritan Connecticut, the minister can not
tie the marriage bond much faster than the courts across the street
can dissolve it. We have yet to learn that marriage is more than a
civil contract, that it is an ordinance of God; that he who made man
and woman made them that these twain should become one flesh, and made
the home to be the first Church and the first State. When we have
learned that, we shall have learned the foundation of the home as we
have learned the foundation of the State. To study philosophy is to
study the laws which govern society in its organism. All text-books
are only instructions to teach us how to study life itself, which is
the great text-book. To study philosophy is also to study the laws
which govern the individual. It is to know that God has made you body,
soul and spirit; that he has given you a physical organism, wonderful,
but simply a mechanism in your hands; that he has given you a mental
power wonderful in its reasoning qualities, but with its partial
parallels in the animals about you; it is to know that far above the
body and the mind is the spirit—reverence, and love, and hope, and a
living faith—that makes you one with God, and that points you to your
eternal habitation. This it is to study mental and moral philosophy.
It is to know how to read the secrets of your own soul. It is to know
how to read the inner life of the souls of others. Books will help;
scholarship will help; but the great book is the human soul, and we
need not have scholarship to read that book. Burns and Shakspere were
not great scholars; but no scholar ever surpassed Burns and Shakspere
in the reading of the human soul.

No one ever exerted so profound an influence on the life of humanity as
Jesus of Nazareth. You may think that Jesus was simply a man; you will
not doubt that from the teachings of Jesus have gone forth an influence
greater by far than went forth from Plato, or Socrates, or Confucius,
or Buddha. You may think with me that he was the Son of God; you surely
will not doubt the potency of the influence that proceeded from the
incarnate Son of God. Jesus, the son of the carpenter, what did he
know of literature, of science, of philosophy? Rather, what knowledge
did he employ? He was thoroughly familiar with the literature of his
day—that is, the Bible; but he never displayed or employed any critical
or literary knowledge respecting it. He never discussed questions of
authorship, he never debated questions of origin or date, he did not
touch that which lay on the surface. He read the interior and spiritual
truth. He saw in that which to their mind was a mere annal, and a
mere law the beating heart of the inspired prophet telling of God. He
tore off the wrapping and made the world see it. He plucked from the
psalm of David this bud, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,”
and in his hand it blossomed into the parable of the Good Shepherd.
He plucked from the psalm of David this utterance, “Like as a father
pitieth his children,” and in his hand it blossomed into the parable of
the Prodigal Son. He knew the life back of literature. He invented no
machine, gave no hint of any, suggested no steam engine, no steam boat,
no electric light. What he _knew_ I say not. I may say what he used,
and knowledge of nature as a mechanism he never used; but he looked
into nature as a book, read her teachings, and interpreted them; in the
sower going forth to sow, in the fisher gathering his fish from his
net; in the bird’s song in the air he heard the sweet note of trust;
in the flowers blossoming from the ground he read the sweet promise of
God’s providing care. Things which men having eyes saw not and ears
heard not be brought to their vision and their hearing. He propounded
no scheme of political philosophy, none of psychology, or theology, but
he taught that “One is your father, even God in heaven, and ye all are
brethren;” and the great laws that are to bind together, rather the one
great law of order, the law of love, this law he expounded. The son of
the carpenter lived that he might teach, among the other lessons, this
lesson of the democracy of learning; that learning, in its higher and
more valued forms, is for the mechanic busy at his bench, for the smith
grimy with toil at his forge, for the mother busiest of all, with hands
and brain and heart filled with her children.

Kings of the earth have fought that they might hold the power in their
own hands, and the many might be subject to them. The people have
risen, and grown strong, until at last they have trampled the king
and the army under their feet, and have rushed into the citadel and
the palace and taken possession, and the citadel of oppression and
the palace of luxury have become the temple of liberty. The priests
have fought long that they might keep the people out of the temple and
hold the mysteries of religion an exclusive possession. But the people
have surged up against the priests and trampled them under foot, and
occupied the temple of religion. The temples of earning are open; the
kings of learning stand at the door, and with their scepters beckon
you to come and share their coronation and their crown. The priests
of learning bid you come, that they may open to you the mysteries of
literature. For in the republic of letters there is no aristocracy but
that of service. And they only are great who have learned how best to
serve their fellow-men.

The triumph that I read in your eyes is not a false triumph. You have
plucked the first fruits, and all the other brightest and best are
before you for your plucking. The expectation that I read in your eyes
is not a delusive expectation. The fruit is yours. The desire that
I read in your eyes is not a cheating desire. The aspiration that
burns within you for learning may have its gratification. You have no
money? Literature is cheap. You have no time? You have as much time as
Schliemann had, who stood in the long line before the postoffice and
studied his Greek while waiting for the letters. You have as much time
as Mary Somerville had, who wrote the volume which gave her a princely
reputation among astronomers, while tending with motherly care the
children in the nursery pulling at her skirts. The forces of nature
come out of the ground and offer themselves to you to do the drudgery
which aforetime was left to human hands, that you may have time to
learn the truth of God, and the works of God, and the will of God. We
stand to-day on the mountain height. We look just across the valley.
The Jordan is no longer overflowing its banks, but is a narrow and
shallow stream. The promised land lies there in all its richness and
brilliance, and God’s providence utters its promise to us Americans in
this nineteenth century: “Be strong and of good courage; be not afraid,
neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God has given thee this
land for a possession forever.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Another immense audience assembled in the Amphitheater at two o’clock
to listen to the addresses delivered to the graduating class by
President Lewis Miller, and Dr. J. H. Vincent.


_Chautauquans_:—In these days of popular education, it may be
profitable to examine the different sources of culture and development.
First among these are books—the treasures that lie hidden in them may
well awaken our inquiry and admiration, may well be worth the many
hours of toil spent in preparing the mind, so that it can converse
with the masters of the past and present. I do not wonder at hunger
after the hidden treasures of books, for in them are power, wealth and
pleasure. We need but watch the interested audiences that gather in
this Amphitheater, to realize the power there is in the rostrum, how
in all ages peoples have been confirmed or changed in their opinions
by that mere persuasive power of words. Your mind now runs over the
histories you have studied, and you recall the orators who, through the
power of speech alone, have revolutionized empires, advanced or checked
civilization. What pleasure to the mind and heart, to be able in our
leisure hours to sit with Herodotus, Macaulay, Motley, Bancroft, and
a host of others, and hear them tell their historic stories! or with
David, Homer, Shakspere, Whittier and Bryant, and let them fill our
minds with the beautiful and soothing words of poetry! Does not art, in
a still more condensed form, give us the history of the nations of the
past? Does it not give us a clearer idea of thought? What descriptive
words could give us so clear a view of the golden candlestick, around
which clusters so much of interest to the Bible student, as can be had
by a look at the plaster mould of the arch of Titus, in the Museum?
What more rapidly moulds, and more powerfully influences, the present
age than do the pictures on the walls, and the books in the libraries
of our homes?

May I venture to bring before your mind that other phase of art, known
as the mechanic art? That art, on which the educator has placed so
small an estimate that when an apparently dull boy is found in the
school or family, he is turned over to it, in the notion that stupidity
can here find subsistence and compensation.

Now, give this art the power to express itself in words and in the fine
arts, and I will bring back to you the days of Raphael and Michael
Angelo, in which thought was expressed in words and on canvas and
stone, in such purity that the student in the schools of to-day is
carried back to these times, to study the perfection and beauty of
expression. In the line of a better educated labor lies the settlement
of the great labor question. Will it be as Garfield suggests, for
Chautauqua to provide not only for the leisure, but secure the leisure
by some system of education that will make it possible?

If by any means the mental energies can be combined with the muscles,
the product of labor will be greatly increased, and the time producing
the same quantity lessened. Struggling labor hardly sees that in
the short space of about thirty years the time has been lessened
from thirteen and fourteen hours to ten hours per day, and the wages
enhanced from fifty and seventy-five cents per day to an average of two
dollars per day. In most of the prominent manufacturing establishments
throughout the North we are at a near approach to a reduction of
time to eight hours—_and may God speed the day_. Take the advance in
quantity of products for ten years only, and by the aid of machinery,
and more intelligent labor, we have gained more than two hours. Why
should not labor get its due proportion? We are fast turning the
drudgery of labor to pleasure. You need but visit the dish-washing and
laundry-rooms at the Hotel Athenæum to witness the truth of what I

Some years ago I made an estimate of the number of inhabitants it would
require to do by hard labor that which was done at that time by twelve
thousand inhabitants by the use of steam and water power. It reached
the enormous number of three hundred thousand inhabitants. From this we
may learn that it will not be a great hardship to give to labor more
leisure and more pay, not rashly as by strikes, but by prudent and
gradual measures.

Ah, the wealth of nations rests in this art! The power to subdue
forests and belt empires with railroads and telegraphs, and ignore
distance is in its hands.

This art sends forth its missionary in its manufactured products to all
quarters of the globe; every different product is a copy of a volume on
some subject, carrying with it some Christian’s impress and prayer. So
true is this that it needs no great expert to tell an article made by
Christian hands from that made by heathen.

This power of the individuality impresses with interest and wonder.
How readily thoughts in words are detected from others, even on the
same subject. Every workman of a manufactured article in some such
sense makes his individual impress on the work he performs, and it is
as readily told. The Christian, liberty-loving intelligence is pressed
into every article and sent forth on its mission of preaching the
gospel to every creature, even gaining entrance where the missionary
is refused. With this truth in mind, with what renewed pleasure must
the liberated laborer make still greater impress of his individual
mind. This thought can be carried into all that we do. Our walk, our
talk, and the expression of our faces all enter into our products of
whatever kind. How important that it should be imbued with the spirit
of intelligent Christianity.

Class of ’83, you have only opened the doors to wider range, to fields
of greater usefulness. All about you lie sleeping elements to be
quickened into activity. Have your accumulated mental development well
stored, and constantly add more. The purpose of the study was more to
create an appetite for knowledge than to give a thorough or finished

We are glad as officers of the C. L. S. C. to present you with diplomas
having places for many seals. May there be no laxity of effort until
the crowning seal will emblazon over the whole its rays.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Rev. Dr. Vincent said:

A large number of salutations from members of the C. L. S. C. have
been received, some of them breathing a simple prayer of benediction
on the Circle and its officers, others testifying to the value of the
Circle to them intellectually, socially, and spiritually; many are too
long to read at this time, but every line has been carefully read by
the Superintendent of Instruction, and a few of the sentences are here

From Sacramento, Cal.: “We long to be with you at the Assembly; but
since we can not be, be assured that as we read of Commencement Day our
hearts beat in sympathy with those of the C. L. S. C.”

From Washington, D. C.: “Hearty thanks for so splendid an opportunity
of living more abundantly, as I have enjoyed through the noble
conception and sensible management of the C. L. S. C. I hope to add
many of its seals to my diploma.”

From St. Paul, Minn.: “The day in which ’83 passes through the Golden
Gate you, who are present amidst the jubilee, will most likely forget
the distant ones; but I for one will put on my C. L. S. C. badge, take
out two faded maple leaves, kept in remembrance of last summer, and in
imagination march with the proud class under the Arches, while I will
pray the good Lord to bless Chautauqua.”

From Brooklyn, N. Y.: “The salutation, as recorded in Malachi iii:16,
‘Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the
Lord hearkened and heard it; and a book of remembrance was written
before him for them that feared the Lord and thought upon his name.’”

From San Francisco: A New Yorker writes: “I found THE CHAUTAUQUAN on
a planter’s table in the Sandwich Islands, and learned of a circle in

A member writes: “The royal road to learning is no _terra incognita_.
Our _route en roi_ is called _via_ Chautauqua.”

From Amsterdam, N. Y.: A poem closes:

    “I would like very much to Chautauqua to go;
       It would certainly give me great joy;
     But my duties are such that I linger at home:
       I’ve a year-old Chautauqua boy.”

From Elkhorn, Wis.: One who sees through the lenses of the C. L. S.
C., the Chautauqua University of the future, writes: “In 1904, A. D.,
I shall be fifty years old. At that time I hope to graduate at the
Chautauqua University. This will give me just twenty-five years from
the beginning of my course in 1876 to complete the work, and I intend
to work diligently every year.”

From Massachusetts: “Language would be left a beggar if I were to tell
you all that the C. L. S. C. has been to me. It has been a song and a
poem, when life was beginning to read like prose. It has been sunshine
on many a cloudy day. God bless our alma mater, and make her days long
in the land.”

From New York: “When the history of the successful men and women of
the next generation shall be written, may it be found that the members
of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle of 1883 are among the

From Santa Barbara, Cal., comes the greeting of Mrs. M. P. Austin, who
prays that “the C. L. S. C. may do as much for others as it has done
for me.”

From St. Paul, Minn., a graduate writes: “Although in middle life, I
have rejoiced like a child at the prospect of graduating. My studies
have been precious to me; and, although I have carried them on alone,
the enthusiasm has never grown less. May I boast of the dozen recruits
whom I have brought into the work, not for the name of it, but because
I want everybody to be benefited as I have been. Saturday will find me
in a white dress and blue ribbon, and I shall try to catch the spirit
which ascends to our Father, and have something of the blessings which
are invoked upon the graduates of that day. May his blessed spirit be
with you, and may he be precious not only to them who believe, but to
many who never before have called on his name.”

From Massachusetts a member writes: “I have heard this objection to
the C. L. S. C., that it leads to neglect of Bible study. My personal
experience has been that I never spent more time in Bible study or
loved it more than during the past four years.”

From Dakota a mother writes: “Although my boy is but eleven years old,
he has done the greater part of my reading this year, and dear little
Maggie, nine years of age, is greatly interested in what she calls
mamma’s course. She also often reads for me, patiently spelling out the
hard words.”

William C. Wilkinson, of Tarrytown, New York, writes:

    “I send greeting, congratulation and God-speed to the
    class of 1883. A persistence on your part of four years
    in a course of volunteer reading and study has not only
    created character in you, but also proved that you
    possessed character to begin with. It was not perfectly
    easy for you to do what you have done. There have been
    times, more than once, during these four years, when
    the temptation was strong to abandon your undertaking.
    But you did not abandon it, simply because you would
    not abandon it. Your will was strong enough to overcome
    the strong temptation. Now your will is stronger for
    having been strong. Go forward in this added strength
    to add strength again. The will conquers by conquering,
    until it becomes at length unconquerable. Conquer is a
    proud word. Let us change it and say something meeker
    and truer. Let us say, obey. We conquer only when we
    obey. You have obeyed your conscience in accomplishing
    your appointed course. That obedience is your victory.
    When the will is perfectly obedient to conscience,
    conscience being at the same time perfectly enlightened
    by the Word and by the Spirit of God, then we are
    omnipotent. We reign then with Christ. All things are
    ours. Go on, alumni of Chautauqua. Carry forward the
    banner. Let it float in your hands ever farther and
    higher. I do not say _plant_ it anywhere. I say _bear_
    it onward and upward. There is always, amid the Alps of
    our glorious endeavor and struggle, a peak above and
    beyond. Climb that, and then—forward still. The goal
    is never attained, but the race itself is better than
    would be rest at the goal. Remember the ranks that are
    behind you, year after year, in the future. Give them a
    generous lead. Remember the one pioneer rank in advance
    of you. Tread close on their heels. Follow, so that it
    will be hard for your leaders to lead. Lead, so that it
    will be hard for your followers to follow.

    “God bless and crown the Class of 1883!

                                     “W. C. WILKINSON.”

Bishop Henry W. Warren writes:

    “TOP OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS, August 1, 1883.

    “_Dear Chautauquans_:—Pausing to take a farewell
    look at the Atlantic slope before going down that
    of the Pacific, my mind passes over many a place of
    interest and rests on Chautauqua. There is no more
    interesting place on the continent. How many faces rise
    for recognition! But I can not indulge in personal
    greetings, for the friends are so many and so dear that
    time would fail me to speak of the institution that
    is the outcome of the inspiration and labor of all
    these friends. William Cullen Bryant said Chautauqua
    exemplified the spirit of mutual encouragement.
    President Garfield said that it taught what to do with
    the result of civilization’s first fight, leisure; and
    Bishop Wiley said it was a Christian center, able to
    save the gospel if there was nothing else left.

    “Unquestionably, Chautauqua is the grandest inspiration
    and quickening of mind in this century or any other. It
    is the consummate flavoring of our Christian republican
    principles. It offers all opportunities for growth to
    all men. It seems to present as good a chance to every
    man as comes to any man. This development of mind is
    our chief wealth. We turn auriferous quartz into coin,
    iron ore into a body for the soul of electricity,
    but mind had to be developed and refined first. Rome
    sought wealth by the robbery of other nations, but she
    never gained as much wealth in a decade as we develop
    from nature in a year. What we need as a nation is
    a perpetual push and effort of the masses of men to
    rise. They drag down none of the few that are already
    eminent, but, by surpassing them, incite to greater
    attainments. Let there be no fear that there will
    be too many great men, or men too great. These vast
    glittering snow-peaks about me find room enough, as
    well as the mole hills. ‘There is always room at the
    top,’ for the top is larger than the bottom, as these
    bending heavens are larger than the earth, and eternity
    longer than time.

    “Would that I could set one of these mountains near
    Chautauqua and let its grassy base, its wooded slopes,
    its masses of ore, its glittering crown of glorious
    light say to every beholder: Here is an object lesson
    worthy of God’s giving to his child, here is a symbol
    of the eternal power of the God-head of your Father,
    here are hints of what his child may be. All things are
    for all men; whosoever will, let him come and take.

    “Dear members of the C. L. S. C. of 1883, I commend you
    to the baccalaureate sermon of Dr. Vincent to-morrow
    for higher and grander utterances than these heights
    can give; to Dr. Abbott also for grander foundations
    than those of these mountains; even those of the
    Christian faith, for the mountains shall melt with
    fervent heat, but the word of God standeth forever.

    “Yours in Christian knowledge and faith,

                                “HENRY W. WARREN.”

Dr. Vincent then read the following:

     Let Framingham Chautauqua hail,
       The child the mother greet!
     O’er intervening hill and dale,
       Oh, courier, be fleet!

     Say, “Brothers, fellow-students, friends,
       Ne’er turn to look behind;
     For they whose pathway upward tends,
       The sun-crowned summits find.

    “The outlook broadens, even now,
       A vision rare and grand;
     Hope in each heart, light on each brow,
       Join welcome hand to hand!

    “And while the kindly grasp gives strength,
       Repeat along the line:
    ‘We’ll turn from earthly lore, at length
       Beloved, to things divine.

    “‘Bright with perennial health and youth,
       When that glad time shall be,
     Our guide the way, the life, the truth,
       Immortal pupils we!’”

After the reading of the congratulations and greetings, Dr. Vincent
and President Miller presented the members of class ’83, present at
Chautauqua, their well-earned diplomas. Out of this wonderful class of
graduates, numbering nearly 1,400, over 300 were present. The class has
representatives in all of the following States and Territories:

California, Maine, Virginia, Florida, Tennessee, Pennsylvania,
Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Minnesota, Maryland, Iowa, Illinois,
Georgia, Indiana, Michigan, Kansas, Rhode Island, Wisconsin, New
Jersey, Texas, Vermont, West Virginia, Connecticut, Missouri, District
of Columbia, New Hampshire, Colorado, Dakota, Kentucky.

Canada is also represented, and in far-away China there is one
graduate. Thirteen different denominations are represented, as follows:
Methodist, Presbyterian, Congregational, Episcopal, Baptist, Christian,
United Presbyterian, Reformed, Unitarian, Universalist, Friends, Roman
Catholics, Seventh-day Baptists.

The following occupations were represented: Teachers, housekeepers,
ministers, lawyers, clerks, students, mechanics, farmers, merchants,
dressmakers, milliners, music-teachers, and stenographers.

       *       *       *       *       *


At 4 o’clock p. m., the Society of the Hall in the Grove assembled
in the Hall for counsel in regard to its future work. It was clearly
seen by all that the prosperity of the organization, if not its
very existence, required accommodations for its meetings, such as
Chautauqua could not now supply. After considerable discussion of many
suggestions, the following committee was appointed to consider plans
for the erection of a building, or of a series of buildings, in the
near future for the use of the society: R. S. Holmes, of Auburn, N.
Y.; A. M. Martin, of Pittsburgh, Pa.; A. H. Gillet, Prof. Mattison,
and S. J. M. Eaton, D.D. A committee on constitution, aims and plans
of the organization was appointed, consisting of J. H. Vincent, D.D.;
J. R. Pepper, of Memphis, Tenn.; L. C. Peake, of Toronto, Canada; R.
S. Holmes and J. G. Allen. J. G. Allen and A. D. Wilder were appointed
additional members of the Guard of the Banner.

After the Society of the Hall in the Grove had completed the business,
a social followed, and song and chat ruled the hour.

About 9 o’clock, under the direction of A. M. Martin, the camp fires
were lighted. In the midst of a light which was nearly as bright
as day, R. S. Holmes, I. I. Covet, of Pittsburgh; J. H. Kellogg,
of Troy, N. Y.; Lewis C. Peake, of Toronto; Rev. J. H. Warren, of
Tennessee, and A. M. Martin, of Pittsburgh, made speeches, containing
reminiscences of the past, interspersed with song, and the great crowd
appeared to listen as attentively as if it had not heard a speech
during the day.

But the fires have burnt low, the people surround a bed of hot coals,
and the time for corn roasting has come. The boys are ready, and some
not boys in years are equally eager for the “green corn dance.” Without
coarseness or rudeness the fun commenced, and continued till the night
bells called to repose. Thus closed the graduating exercises of the C.
L. S. C. Class of 1883. From morning till night the tide of life ran
high, shared in by ten thousand people of all ages, from the tiny girl
to the veteran of many years.

       *       *       *       *       *


A meeting of the members of the Order of the White Seal was held on
Saturday evening at 7:30 o’clock in the Hall, Rev. Dr. Eaton in the
chair. In the absence of the secretary, the minutes of last meeting
were read by the chairman. On motion, the Rev. S. J. M. Eaton, D. D.,
Franklin, Pa., was elected president for the ensuing year, and Mr.
L. C. Peake, Toronto, Can., secretary. Rev. W. H. Rogers reported
on behalf of the Committee on Individual Effort, Mrs. E. F. Curtiss
for that on Local Circles, and Miss Carrie C. Ferrin for that on the
Round-Table. On motion these reports were accepted. Committees for the
ensuing year were appointed as follows: On Individual Effort, Rev. W.
H. Rogers, Sodus, Wayne County, N. Y.; Miss Emily Raymond, Toledo,
O., and Miss C. Dickey, Geneseo, N. Y. On Local Circles, Mrs. E. F.
Curtiss, Geneseo, N. Y.; Miss Fannie E. Roy, Atlanta, Ga., and Clarence
H. Bean, Varysburg, N. Y. On the Round-Table, Miss Carrie C. Ferrin,
Ellington, N. Y.; Mrs. A. W. Briggs, Elma, N. Y., and Miss M. C.
McGowan, Cincinnati, O.


[A] At Chautauqua, Saturday, August 18, 1883.


The Pacific Grove Assembly, held near Monterey, California, devoted
Friday, July 13, to the commencement exercises of the C. L. S. C. We
give a full report of the celebration:

Friday was a perfect Monterey day. The Chautauquans gathered according
to program in the large public parlor of the railroad building and
fell into line for a procession. The choir sang a cheerful Chautauqua
song, in which many others joined, and then “processed.” First came
the president and officers of the society, then the graduates, then
all members of the C. L. S. C.—then everybody. All members wore an oak
leaf, which is the regulation badge, but members of the graduating
class wore for a decoration a broad badge of dark garnet-colored
ribbon, fringed with bullion, and with the unfailing “C. L. S. C.” and
the figures “1883” printed upon it in gold. They marched toward the
Assembly Hall, passing under the motto-inscribed and garlanded arches,
and entering the building proceeded to the front seats, which had been
reserved. The hall, under the care of the decorative committee, had
broken out into fresh verdure and bloom, while the letters “C. L. S.
C.” and the class dates, “1879-1883,” had blossomed out in gold and
scarlet upon the white wall behind the speakers’ platform.

The hall was full to overflowing. Everybody on the grounds had been
invited to be present, and the greatest interest was manifested by all.
The exercises began with an inspiring Chautauqua song. An earnest and
appropriate prayer was offered by Rev. Dr. Heacock, of San Jose, and
then a beautiful letter of greeting from Dr. Vincent, the founder of
the society, was read. It was full of cordial friendliness, outlined
briefly the benefits which he trusted all had received from pursuing
the C. L. S. C. studies, and pointed out the catholicity and wide
helpfulness of the Chautauqua Idea. It closed with words of stimulus
and encouragement, as well as congratulation. Prof. Norton now made a
brief but admirable introductory address. He spoke of the Chautauqua
enthusiasm and interest as an intellectual revival. It is a work for
the masses, differing from that of the great universities of whose
benefits only a few favored ones can avail themselves. It goes to homes
of poverty, to workshops and kitchens as well as the libraries and
parlors. It is food for the hungry wherever they may be. It comes to
lives which have been arid and desolate through monotonous toil. He
spoke of the great increase of insanity among our farming population,
owing, no doubt, to the lack of healthful mental occupation. The C. L.
S. C. course of reading and plans for neighborhood circles may help
these lonely, overworked people to new and broader horizons of thought
and life. Prof. Norton closed with a pathetic and poetic comparison
between our real lives and our temporary sojourn by the great sea
which tosses and surges before us. Our footsteps on the shore here
are washed away by every incoming tide, so with our “footsteps on the
sands of time.” The great sea of eternity will soon efface all our
little earthly deeds. Let us live for eternal things. Let to-day be a
commencement indeed—a beginning of grander and better living, of deeds
which shall survive in the long years of God.

The quartet choir sang another beautiful song, and then three essays
were read from the graduates.

A delicate little prose-poem called “Childhood in Literature,” by Miss
Myrtie Hudson, of San Jose (a post-graduate of our society), was read
by Miss Lydia Bean. The diplomas were presented by Dr. Stratton, who
remarked when giving them that these diplomas do not confer degrees,
but something better than a degree, for they represent mature study,
habits of fixed thought and life-long intellectual growth.

There were more than forty C. L. S. C. graduates in our State this
year. The following were present: Mrs. Lydia A. French, Stockton;
Mrs. H. J. Gardener, Rio Vista; Miss E. A. Wood, Riverside; Mrs. A.
J. Bennett, San Jose; Mrs. M. E. McCowen, Ukiah; Mrs. E. M. Reynolds,
San Jose; Miss M. McBride, Dixon; Mrs. C. C. Minard, Evergreen; Mrs.
Estelle Greathead, San Jose; Mrs. Lucy N. Crane, San Lorenzo; Mrs.
S. E. Walton, Yuba City; Miss Cornelia Walker, San Jose; Mrs. S. F.
Gosbey, Santa Clara; Mrs. F. W. Pond, Los Angeles; Miss Alice M. Wells,
Dixon; Mrs. M. H. McKee, San Jose; Miss Henrietta Stone, Mrs. Mira E.
Miller, Santa Barbara; Dr. C. C. Stratton, San Jose.

After the commencement exercises the crowd dispersed, and the friends
of the graduates gathered around them to congratulate and exchange
friendly greetings. But it was late lunch-time, and the keen demands
of appetite were never keener than here at Pacific Grove. So, with the
understanding that all were to reassemble at 2 o’clock p. m., those
who had lingered hastened away. The hour for meeting soon arrived,
and the Chautauquans mustered in force at the beautiful cove near
Prospect Park. After a lively social time, President Stratton called
the meeting to order and pointed out a suggestive-looking traveling
photographer, armed with the usual camera and other implements, who had
been hovering about a neighboring cliff, and evidently had intentions
of immortalizing the C. L. S. C. Assembly. Everybody was requested to
assume a graceful attitude and a pleased expression, which they made
haste to do. The beach was covered with people, standing, sitting,
reclining. It was very hard work to be sober and proper, and look as
dignified as future ages will demand. Our president reclined upon the
sand, as befitted “the noblest Roman of us all;” the secretary sat
upright and faced the music; the modest vice-president tried to get
away, but was restrained by his numerous admiring friends; the small
boys in front were entreated to keep still; the photographer removed
the pall-like black cloth, and the deed was done. The result was quite
successful, and the picture may yet hang in the “Hall in the Grove,”
that eastern Chautauquans may see how their transcontinental comrades
look when disporting themselves by the sunset sea.

The photograph business being disposed of, the next thing in order was
the Round-Table. There was no table to speak of, but a great deal of
“round”—an informal all ’round talk in a pleasant, familiar fashion.
Everybody was seated upon the shining white sand, a soft gray sky
overhead, a mild, warm atmosphere enfolding all, and the illimitable
sea stretching out before us and breaking in soft murmurs at our feet.
Members from all over the State gave, in brief conversational style,
cheering reports of their various circles, and the utmost interest
was manifested by all in the common weal. The tone of the meeting was
decidedly inspiring, and all seemed ready to promise improvement and
renewed effort.

The next evening was the mussel-bake. A blazing fire had been built
upon the sand, but far from the assemblage, and much vigorous _muscle_
was displayed in stirring the embers and piling on driftwood and
resinous pine cones, but as to the _mussels_, perhaps the less said
about them the better. There were, indeed, mussels baked, and they were
passed around upon a board in the most approved style, but it must be
confessed the supply was not very abundant. The whole mussel-bake was a
little like Hamlet, with the part of Hamlet left out. The explanation
lay in the fact that mussels can only be gathered in certain places
and at very low tide, and there had been a little misunderstanding.
Nevertheless, brethren, we had a grand time, an unlimited supply of
apples and freshly-roasted peanuts, and we fully propose to have a
mussel-bake every year!

At a business meeting held during the assembly, Rev. Dr. Stratton was
re-elected to the presidency of the Pacific Coast C. L. S. C.; Dr. C.
L. Anderson, of Santa Cruz, was elected vice-president; Mrs. M. H.
Field, of San Jose, general secretary and treasurer; Miss Mary Bowman,
of San Jose, secretary of the Assembly, and Mrs. Eloise Dawson, of
San Jose, treasurer of the Assembly. Votes of thanks were given to
many benefactors and to retiring officers, especially to Miss M. E. B.
Norton, who has given our Branch the most faithful and untiring service.

Our newly elected executive committee consists of Rev. C. C. Stratton,
D.D., San Jose, president; C. L. Anderson, M.D., vice-president, Santa
Cruz; Mrs. M. H. Field, general secretary, San Jose; Mrs. Eloise
Dawson, San Jose, treasurer; Rev. J. H. Wythe, D.D., Oakland; Prof.
H. B. Norton, San Jose; Rev. I. H. Dwinelle, Sacramento; G. M. Ames,
Oakland; Miss Lucy Washburn, San Jose; Prof. Josiah Keep, Alameda; Mrs.
L. J. Nusbaum, Sacramento; Rev. C. D. Barrows, San Francisco; Mrs. S.
E. Walton, Yuba City; Mrs. Julia Leal, Los Angeles; Mrs. E. M. McCowen,
Ukiah; Clarke Whittier, M.D., Riverside; Mrs. E. A. Gibbs, Santa Rosa;
Miss M. E. B. Norton, San Jose.



Monteagle Assembly is located at Monteagle, Grundy County, Tenn., on
the top of Cumberland Mountain, fifteen miles from Cowan, between
Sewanee and Tracy City, immediately on the railroad owned and managed
by the Tennessee Coal, Iron and Railroad Company. Cowan is a small
village on the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad, eighty-four miles
from Nashville and sixty-four miles from Chattanooga. The ride up
the mountain from Cowan to the Assembly grounds is one of the most
picturesque in this country. The ascent for the first nine miles is
1,100 feet. The Assembly owns a hundred acres of land, which have
been laid out into parks, drives, avenues, and building lots. About
twenty-five acres have already been improved, and quite a number of
lots have been sold to individuals upon which to build cottages. An
amphitheater, capable of seating 2,000 persons, on the plan of the one
at Chautauqua, has been erected. Within a very short distance of the
Assembly grounds is some of the most magnificent mountain scenery to be
found in any country. The elevation is 2,140 feet above the sea level.
The Assembly is strictly undenominational. Each Christian denomination
is entitled to four members in the board of trustees, provided they
have as many members of the Assembly. The charter prohibits it from
being managed for the pecuniary interest of any person or persons.

The first annual meeting of the Assembly has closed. It was a success
beyond our most sanguine expectation. The Normal School and Teachers’
Retreat opened July 2, and closed August 4. These schools were all
well attended. More than one hundred and fifty teachers attended the
Normal alone. About fifty-two studied elocution. These teachers were
from several States, and a more intelligent class I have never seen
collected together anywhere.

The Assembly opened July 17, and closed August 6. At the opening
service there were 1,000 people present. The attendance was good during
the entire Assembly. At one time on the grounds there were twenty-one
States and nineteen Christian denominations represented.

In the program, two days were given to temperance, one day to Y. M. C.
A. work, two days to missions, foreign and domestic, and two days to
education. The meetings throughout were of great interest.

Out of the large number of speakers on the program only four or five
failed to attend.

The Sunday-school normal instruction, the children’s meetings, and Mr.
Van Lennep’s “Oriental and Biblical Museum” were interesting features
of the Assembly.

But I desire to call special attention to the work of the C. L. S. C.
at Monteagle. We recognize this as an institution in this country. It
is fast finding its way into many of our Southern homes, and bringing
sunshine and blessings to many hearts.

At our solicitation, Dr. J. H. Vincent was present two or three days of
the Assembly, and represented the C. L. S. C. His words of wisdom and
cheer were a joy to many hearts. There were twenty members of the C. L.
S. C. present to greet him. This number was increased to seventy before
the Assembly adjourned.

A permanent organization was perfected, with Miss Emma Brown, Memphis,
Tenn., president, and Miss Anna W. Thomas, Memphis, Tenn., secretary.
The idea is to have annual meetings at Monteagle.

Each member went away determined to organize local circles at their
homes, so that when we return next year, if permitted to do so, the
members will have swelled from fifty to five hundred. We hope Dr.
Vincent will favor us with his presence each year.

During the Assembly a number of C. L. S. C. Round-Tables were held,
which were profitable, socially and intellectually.

On the evening of July 21 was held the first C. L. S. C. camp-fire at
Monteagle, under the leadership of Dr. Vincent. The speeches and songs
were full of inspiration and good cheer. We only regret that hundreds
of our people in the South were not present to enjoy the meetings with
us, and take fresh courage and inspiration for the work of life.

Miss Thomas, our secretary, has been instructed to correspond with all
members of the C. L. S. C., who were at Monteagle, and all others whose
names and post-office addresses she can get. She would be glad to have
the names of all who are interested in this work. We desire to arrange
for some organized effort to push this work out into the many homes
of our country. Let every city, town, and village, and neighborhood,
organize a circle.

Those members of the C. L. S. C., who were at Monteagle, have
determined to erect a Hall of Philosophy, that we may have a place in
which to hold our meetings each year. This can be done very easily by a
little co-operative effort.

All things considered, the Assembly was quite a success. The outlook
is encouraging. Although located in the South, it is not a Southern
institution, it is for the public good. Let the people come from the
North, South, East, and West; all will be equally welcome. Life is too
short to harbor animosities. Let us enter the struggles and conflicts
of life like heroes and heroines. As a nation, we have a grand work
before us to elevate our people socially, morally, religiously, and
intellectually. Monteagle proposes to do her part. Will the good people
of this country stand by us in this noble work? If you will, success is
sure. There is no other enterprise of the kind in the South. The people
are united. Give us your prayers and co-operation. If you desire to do
good with your money, take hold of Monteagle Assembly.

To the sister assemblies over the land, we send words of greeting. To
all the members of the C. L. S. C. throughout this broad land we extend
the right hand of fellowship. For the unity, peace, and the uplifting
of our people, and the establishing of Christ’s kingdom, may we all be
united, heart and hand, in Christian love and sympathy.


No one can estimate the extent to which the C. L. S. C. is growing. One
State after another surrenders to its influence. During the past year
Wisconsin has taken hold of the work, and is now showing a wonderful
interest in the studies of the “home college.” The little text-books
have found their way into many a quiet family, and are beginning to
revolutionize society in every city, village, and country neighborhood.

This fact was shown very clearly at the Assembly held at Monona Lake,
near Madison, Wisconsin. Many local circles sent representatives to
this gathering to receive, through them, inspiration and strength
for the work of the coming year. The total attendance from various
localities was nearly two hundred. C. L. S. C. Day was the best of the
whole session. Although an entirely new feature, yet the people became
so enthused that about a thousand called for circulars of information,
and many joined the Circle before they left the grounds.

Rev. A. H. Gillet, the president of the Monona Lake Branch, delivered
the annual address, in which he explained most admirably the object and
aim of the Circle. Twelve persons, who had completed the four years’
course, were present to receive their diplomas, and notwithstanding the
absence of the “Golden Gate” and the “Hall of Philosophy,” everything
had the Chautauqua appearance, and the very atmosphere was filled with
classic odors.

The camp-fire in the evening was a feature that will never be forgotten
by those present. After the feast of solid food during the day, this
evening hour was filled with real enjoyment, and many humorous speeches
that were made as the flames ascended and the sparks disappeared in the
starry dome above, served to lighten every heart, and to close the day
with the feeling that it was indeed the best of the season.

The round-table conferences, conducted by Rev. A. H. Gillet, were full
of interest. Some very important questions were discussed, and the
members present prepared for successful work in their respective homes.
The Chautauqua Songs were sung at all of these meetings, and never did
“Day is Dying in the West” sound more sweetly than at Monona Lake.

But of all the exercises connected with the Circle, the Sunday evening
vesper services were the best. Here was shown the real secret of
Chautauqua success. Nearly every member, engaged during the week in
gathering knowledge of art, science and literature, was found in his
place on Sunday evening, lifting his heart to God, and showing thereby
that we “keep our Heavenly Father in our midst.”

The organization of Monona Lake Branch was perfected by the election of
Rev. A. H. Gillet as president, and Mrs. William Millard, of Milwaukee,
secretary. An executive committee was appointed to arrange the plans
for next year. We look forward to good reports from this daughter of
Chautauqua, and give her a hearty welcome.


Unusual interest was manifest this season at Island Park, near Rome
City, Indiana. The Assembly, conducted by Rev. A. H. Gillet, of
Cincinnati, Ohio, was a great success. The place is growing in favor
each year, and the fire kindled there will not only continue to burn,
but to spread, until every hamlet within a radius of many miles
shall receive the light and warming influences that come from such
gatherings. The attendance this year was larger than ever before, the
people were of a better class, and the program, as carried out, gave
universal satisfaction. The singing of the Wilberforce Concert Company
delighted everybody. Among the lecturers were Drs. O. H. Tiffany and
C. H. Fowler, of New York City; Dr. Justin D. Fulton, of Brooklyn, N.
Y.; Drs. Stocking and Alabaster, of Detroit, Michigan, and Dr. P. S.
Henson, of Chicago, Illinois. Dr. W. C. Richards, of Chicago, gave
several very interesting lectures on “Electricity.” The Island Park
Branch of the C. L. S. C. was regularly organized this year, with Rev.
A. H. Gillet as president, and J. L. Shearer, of Fort Wayne, Indiana,
secretary. There were over two hundred members in attendance. The
daily round-table conferences, conducted by Rev. Gillet and Dr. J. L.
Hurlbut, of Plainfield, N. J., were highly appreciated by the members
present, and many valuable suggestions given and received by these
mutual discussions. The circle is enlarging continually in Indiana and
Michigan, so that there is scarcely a town or village in which there
is not a local circle, or at least a few individual members. Many have
joined the class of ’87, and quite a large number, having completed the
four years’ course, were present to receive their diplomas. C. L. S. C.
day was the best of the session. Dr. C. H. Fowler, of New York City,
delivered the annual address. The camp-fire was the grandest ever seen
at Island Park.

Plans for the erection of a C. L. S. C. building are under
consideration, a reading-room for the benefit of the Circle, an Island
Park lecture association, and many other novel features are things of
the near future.

The Music College, under the direction of Prof. C. C. Case, of Akron,
Ohio, the school of languages, the department of elocution, the art
school, and the secular teachers’ normal were also well attended. It is
the intention of the managers to lengthen the time of these departments
next year, and to offer additional facilities to those who wish to
improve their vacation by carrying on some line of study. On the whole,
we can say that Island Park Assembly is a fixed fact, a thing that
has come to stay, and we are glad that the people are beginning to
appreciate and to value the educating and refining influences of these


A regular “C. L. S. C. Day” was provided for in the program at the
Lakeside, Ohio, Sunday-school encampment, and the “recognition of the
Class of ’83” arranged for. The absence of Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D.,
was an unexpected and greatly lamented interruption to our plans. But
the inspiration of the “Chautauqua Idea,” which Lakeside has caught and
thoroughly incorporated into its own fiber, did not allow a dampening
of ardor, and so the “day” went on as days will, and especially such
sunny days by Lake Erie as that was. Happily Lewis Miller, Esq.,
President of the C. L. S. C., was persuaded to remain a while and lend
his cheery face, his wise words and his authoritative presence to the

A large audience, filling the capacious Auditorium, assembled, the
members of the Class of ’83 took seats on the platform, and President
Miller occupied the chair. After opening exercises in the use of the
responsive services provided, copies of which were distributed among
the audience, addresses were delivered by Rev. Dr. Hartupee, Rev.
Dr. Worden, Prof. Frank Beard, and Rev. B. T. Vincent. After these
had concluded, President Miller called the members of the class to
their feet, and in a neat and appropriate address “recognized” them
thereby as graduates of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle,
as part of the great class of fourteen hundred for the current year.
A round-table was also held, conducted by Rev. B. T. Vincent, at
which the subject of C. L. S. C. work was taken up by those present,
and treated in a most practical manner. Representatives from several
local circles gave outlines of their plans of work, and questions from
interested students as to methods, etc., brought forth suggestive
answers, awakening new interest in the subject of study, and stirring
the uninitiated, of whom many were present, into an interest in the
work. A Sunday evening C. L. S. C. vesper service was also most
interesting. On the last evening of the encampment, Bishop Hurst, who
was present, applied the subject of general reading as represented
in the C. L. S. C. in its relation to a firmer religious texture
in Christian character, in a ringing address which did much toward
awakening new interest in this great work. The enthusiasm excited by
the meetings in this behalf was cordially felt by Lakeside people,
and it is determined to make the “recognition” of the class of the
current year, and also the round-table, features of the annual program

Surrounded as Lakeside is by an immense area filled with studious and
enterprising people who are taking hold of the C. L. S. C. readings,
and who are finding their special center of summer gathering there,
this provision will be a source of great gratification to them, and a
means of extending these benefits to many who only thus are brought
into contact with this agency of Christian intelligence and popular


The fifth annual session of this Assembly lasted ten days, August
7-17. Some will recall the fact that the institution was established
in the Cumberland Valley, Pennsylvania, and was held there for three
successive years. Last year the experiment was made of holding the
meeting in the Glades, at the new resort called Mountain Lake Park,
Maryland. The new field was so full of promise and hope that it was at
once determined to make it the center of the movement henceforth. The
place is unique in some of its features, situated in the midst of a
series of table-land glades, between the peaks of the Alleghenies, in
the vicinity of some most romantic and stirring scenery, and possessing
an atmosphere abounding in stimulation and vigor. Two years ago the
region was an uninhabited wilderness, with the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad resort, Deer Park, on one side three miles away, and Oakland,
the county seat of Garrett County, two miles to the west. Now it is a
summer settlement abounding in picturesque cottages, beautiful drives,
and linked to a Sunday-school Assembly and to “summer schools” of
various sorts for all time to come.

The lecture course of the session just past was of a high order.
It included three superb addresses from Dr. Lyman Abbott, full of
vigorous thought, religious ardor, and primed and charged with
suggestiveness—“Why I believe in God, in Christ, and in the Bible.”
Prof. Cumnock gave two magnificent entertainments in the shape of
readings and recitations. Prof. Young, of Princeton, delighted us with
three illustrated astronomical lectures; and the Rev. Jesse Bowman
Young gave three tours, illustrated also with the stereopticon: “The
Marvels of Colorado,” “London and Paris,” and “From Dan to Beersheba.”
Prof. Harris, on the “Wrong side of the Moon,” Dr. Huntley, on the
“Amen Corner,” Bishop Andrews, on “The Method of the New Testament
Law,” and Dr. Payne, with two lectures, all did their best work, and
earned and received high appreciation.

The normal classes were under the instruction of Rev. J. B. Young,
Rev. J. T. Judd, Rev. J. Vance, and Prof. Elliott of Baltimore. The
lessons were chosen in part from Dr. Vincent’s “Normal Outlines,” and
in part were prepared by Mr. Judd.

Rev. Mr. Young conducted two enthusiastic and interesting services
during the closing days of the Assembly, developing the “Chautauqua
Idea.” Drs. Frysinger, Van Meter, and Leech, Messrs. Judd, Vance,
Baldwin, Lindsey, and others, made capital addresses, bringing out as
phases of this “Idea” the following elements: home study, Bible study,
normal work, study of the classics, of literature, of the sciences.

On the last night of the Assembly at Mountain Lake Park the C. L. S. C.
was organized, with over fifty members, Rev. J. T. Judd, of Harrisburg,
Pa., being elected president, and Miss Jennie M. Jones, of the same
city, secretary.

Thus from the tip-top of the Alleghenies we send out greetings to other
Chautauquans, and join in the glorious work which is in marvelous
measure leavening the land.


The “Chautauqua Idea” is taking deep root in the soil of New England.
Four years ago the first Assembly was held on the grounds of the
Framingham Campmeeting Association. There was a fair attendance, and
considerable enthusiasm. Each year has been an improvement. The number
in attendance has been greater, and the interest has been on the
increase. This year has been the best of all. Almost from the first the
lodging accommodations were taxed to their utmost in providing for the
unexpectedly large numbers. The gentleman in charge of the dormitory
stated to the writer that he had a greater rush the first day of the
Assembly, this year, than he had the first week of last year. Thus it
continued during the ten days. It is therefore safe to conclude, that
in a financial way, the meeting was a success beyond its predecessors.

The work of the various departments was done efficiently by Dr.
Vincent, in charge, assisted by Dr. Hurlbut, and Prof. Holmes, at
the head of the normal classes; Prof. Sherwin at the front with a
magnificent chorus of nearly two hundred voices; Frank Beard with a
drawing class of one hundred and fifty; and the platform occupied by
such men as Prof. Richards, Dr. Lyman Abbott, Dr. Angell, Wallace
Bruce, Dr. Hull, Dr. J. B. Thomas, Dr. Tiffany, Prof. Young, A. O. Van
Lennep, and others. A feast of good things was to be expected, and we
were not disappointed.

One of the enjoyable features of the Assembly was Rev. O. S. Baketel’s
lecture on “Sights and Insights at Chautauqua,” illustrated with eighty
stereopticon views. They were shown with the calcium light, and an
audience of four thousand people sat for an hour and three quarters,
hearing and seeing. It created a great deal of interest, both with old
Chautauquans and the many who have never seen Chautauqua.

Prof. Sherwin had several very excellent soloists, and his chorus was
exceptionally fine.

One of the new buildings this year is the C. L. S. C. office. This is a
very neat structure, and greatly appreciated by those having in charge
the C. L. S. C. It was usually crowded during office hours. About five
hundred members of the Circle were present during the Assembly. One
hundred and sixty-five joined the Class of 1887. Thirty-eight members
of the graduating class were present and received their diplomas from
the hands of Dr. Vincent. The Class of 1884 are thoroughly organized,
and are looking forward to a grand time when next year’s bells shall
ring in their festal day.

As usual, Mrs. Rosie M. Baketel had charge of the C. L. S. C. office.
This is her third year in this position. She is one of the hardest
workers on the grounds.

The presence of Dr. Vincent is always an inspiration to a Framingham
audience. Though compelled to return to Chautauqua after the opening,
he gave us a grand “send-off,” and his presence and labors when he
returned again were greatly enjoyed.

    ONE OF 1882.


    [The following poem, from Counselor W. C. Wilkinson’s
    volume, recently published by Messrs. Charles
    Scribner’s Sons, tells the story of the author’s first
    meeting with a friend of his, who is also a friend
    of every reader of THE CHAUTAUQUAN—the Rev. John H.
    Vincent, D.D. The friendship thus formed, not less
    than twenty years ago, endures yet between the two as
    vivid as ever. It is bearing fruit not then anticipated
    in the associated labors which they perform for the
    Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.]

    Thorwaldsen’s Lion, gray and grim,
      Rock in his rocky lair,
    On who would rend his lily from him,
      Glowered out with dying glare.

    I mused awhile the sculptured stone,
      My pilgrim staff in hand;
    Then turned to hold my way alone,
      And lone, from land to land.

    But God had other hap in store:
      Even as I turned I met
    A manly eye ne’er seen before—
      I seem to see it yet!

    Vanish the changeful years between,
      Like morning-smitten rack;
    As, morning-like, that crescent scene
      Comes dawning swiftly back.

    Again, above, that mellow noon
      And soft Swiss heaven doth yearn;
    Frowns still on us in pilgrim shoon
      The Lion of Lucerne.

    Once more each other’s hands we take,
      The pass-words fly betwixt;
    Though slack the speed that speech may make,
      When heart with heart is mixed.

    I see the green Swiss lake asleep
      With Righi in her dream;
    We cross the lake, we climb the steep
      To watch the world agleam.

    The paths are many up the slope,
      And many of the mind,
    We catch the flying clue of hope,
      And wander where they wind.

    The paths are fresh, the pastures green,
      In walk or talk traversed;
    The Alpland meadow’s grassy sheen
      With many a streamlet nursed,

    And the fair meadows of the soul
      Forever fresh with streams
    From the long heights of youth that roll,
      The Righi-Culm of dreams.

    We speak of summits hard to gain,
      And, gained, still hard to keep;
    Of pleasure bought with glorious pain,
      Of tears ’twas heaven to weep;

    And of a blessed Heavenly Friend
      Who, struggling with us still,
    Would break the blows else like to bend
      The lonely human will;

    Or with some sudden vital touch,
      At pinch of sorest need,
    Would lift our little strength to much,
      And energize our deed.

    Our talk flows on, through strain or rest,
      As up the steep we go;
    Each untried track of thought seems best
      In hope’s prelusive glow.

    We loiter while the sun makes haste,
      But we shall yet sit down
    To watch the gleams of sunset chased
      From mountain crown to crown.

    Too long, too late—the splendor went
      Or e’er we reached the goal;
    But a splendor had dawned that will never be spent
      That day on either soul.




No paradise could be complete for us without a pervading freshness
of green in wood and field. In lazy moods and calm sunshiny weather
there are few men who will not condescend to stretch out their limbs
under a spreading beech, or at least to envy one who is taking life
easily for a time in the shade. We all know what a pleasant faint
rustle of leaves there is above, and what a flickering of mellowed
sunlight comes over the eyes, and how these steal into the heart
with a sense of soft content, till we are apt to become like little
children, enjoying without much thought, yielding ourselves up to the
delight of the mere living, letting our consciousness float along
lazily on the current of being. But if we can in such circumstances
nerve ourselves to reflect just a little, we shall—if we possess even
a very slight knowledge of the processes of nature—become conscious
that there are great silent energies and activities at work around us
in every blade of grass, and above us in the cool green foliage. The
leaves have myriads of invisible little mouths eagerly drinking in the
unseen air, and the minute grains that give the green color to these
leaves are all the while laying hold of the infinitesimal percentage of
carbonic acid impurity in that air, and, invigorated by the quickening
sunlight, are able to tear this gaseous impurity to pieces, to wrench
the two elements that form it asunder, making the one into nutriment
for themselves, and letting the other go free in its purity into the
wide atmosphere. What man—with all his sound and fury, his hammering
and clanking—has never achieved, is thus quietly done in summer days
by every green leaf in God’s world, and inorganic matter is forced
to live. While the sun shines these honest workers are striving with
all their might to lay hold of every atom of this gas that fouls the
atmosphere for animals, and thus, while finding food for themselves,
they are keeping the air sweet and pure for other living things. The
necessity is laid on them to maintain themselves by honest work; and
it is interesting to reflect how massive are the material results that
gather round their task. We are apt to forget that by far the greater
part of the solid matter of vegetation—of the giant trees of California
as well as of the tiniest grasses and green herbs—is thus gathered atom
by atom from the atmosphere. One eats his potato thankfully, usually
without bothering himself much as to how it came to be a potato; how
the green leaves labored away, seizing the scanty atoms of an invisible
gas and making them into starch; how this insoluble starch became a
soluble thing, and melting away into the sap flowed through the stem
to the tubers, there to form again into little grains and be laid up
for future use. The rest of the nourishment of such honest plants is
usually derived from the soil. The more stimulating food—within certain
limits—that crops, for instance, take up by the roots, the harder do
their green parts work in the sunlight, making starch and kindred
substances out of what they can snatch from the atmosphere. Hence
the value of manures; they are stimulants to increased endeavor. Such
honest, hard-working plants form by far the greater bulk of vegetation,
and of those that grow on land nearly all are conspicuously green.
Sometimes—but rarely—the green is disguised a little by another color
associated with it, or some tint that is but skin-deep. Take a leaf of
the copper beech, for instance, scratch the surface, and you will find
the honest green beneath. Even the despised field-weeds, that come up
wherever man digs or plows, and linger lovingly about his agriculture,
so be it that they are green, are honest in their way, and only take
hold of what earth they can find to root in, that they may participate
with their fellows in the blessings to be got and given by keeping the
atmosphere pure. Man wants to grow grain, or something of the kind,
where they prefer to grow, and so, as they foul his husbandry, he
ruthlessly roots them out, or tries at least. It is their misfortune
that man does not wish them there; but still, contemned creatures as
they are, they have honest ways about them, and every green grain in
their being is struggling hard to do something genuinely useful. It
is only an earnest striving to hold their own against man and brute,
that makes humble nettles clothe themselves with stings full of formic
acid and fury, and rude thistles bristle with a sharp _nemo me impune
lacessit_ at every prickle point. They are armed for defense, not
aggression. It is not of stuff such as this that vegetable villains are

Since there is so much honesty, however, in the plant world, rogues,
and thieves, and pilferers must abound. Consider the animal kingdom.
Where herds of deer roam in the wilds there beasts of prey are on the
prowl, or sportsmen stalk with murderous guns in hand. Where herrings
and pilchards crowd in shoals clouds of gulls and gannets hover, and
porpoises with rapacious maws tumble and roll about. Where earthworms
abound there moles with ravenous appetite are furiously driving mines,
or birds that have sharp, quick bills keep watch with keen eyes. And so
in this honest plant community, preying on it and pilfering from it,
live and flourish hosts of vegetable villains; some without a trace of
green in their whole being, living by theftuous practices alone; some
with just the faintest suspicion of green and the slightest indications
of a true nature; others with a good deal of the better color about
them, but still only indifferently honest. There is something of marvel
and mystery about these plant pilferers—of strange peculiarities in
their modes of life, and in their adaptations for plundering and
preying, which can hardly fail to interest intelligent minds, even when
brought before them in a sketch such as this, which does not profess to
take in more than the outermost fringe of a wide field. Without terms
and technicalities and a strange jargon of crabbed words that would
be dry as dust, and meaningless to most readers, little professing
to be thorough can be done; yet, after all, something more generally
comprehensive may ooze through in comparatively plain English.

With regard to their pilfering habits, such plants are usually
proportioned off into two great groups. They either attach themselves
to other beings and absorb their juices, in which case they form a
mighty host of plants of prey usually known as _parasites_; or they
seek their nurtriment, and find it, in dead and decaying organisms,
and are then known as _saprophytes_, a somewhat hard word to begin
with, for which I can not find a popular equivalent, but which merely
signifies plants that grow on decomposing matter. All land plants that
are not blessed with a true green color belong to one or other of these
groups, and are villains in their various degrees. They make no effort
to free the air from the gaseous impurity that haunts it, but, like
animals, they keep fouling it instead. With a very few exceptions, all
of them subsist on organic matter in some form, and this they usually
draw from the plants, living or dead, on which they grow, or from
decaying matter in the soil. But many of these vegetable villains run
into half-honest vagaries, and succeed in raising themselves slightly
above the common ruck. If they can not seize and break up carbonic
acid gas, they may do a little toward atmospheric purification of a
kind by laying fast hold on such organic particles as are floating in
the air or brought to them in falling moisture. Plants such as these
are sometimes found growing on barren sand, on hard gravel, on parapets
of bridges, on leaden cisterns, on plastered walls, on slag, and in
like inhospitable places, where they are compelled to turn mainly to
the atmosphere and trickling moisture for food. Some such haunt mines
like phosphorescent ghosts, others make themselves at home on places
like the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. In a mass two feet in length,
similar strange plants were one morning long ago found by a smith on a
piece of iron that he had taken, on the previous night, red-hot from
his fire, and laid on his water trough. Many similar vagaries they
run into that would in the telling sound almost incredible. Indeed,
the whole group of the saprophytes is not to be accounted so utterly
abandoned as that of the parasites. To these they are certainly nearly
related, but there is more of the useful scavenger about them than
of the useless thief. No sooner has death overtaken any plant than a
host of them set to work to clear away the now useless organism from
the world, breaking down herbaceousness into putrescence, timber into
touchwood, and all at last into vegetable mould. Their mission is to
seize upon decaying matter and endow it with life in a new form; and
thus out of rottenness often comes wholesomeness, decay moulding itself
into pleasant mushrooms, or into things unfit for human food perhaps,
but that may bring the blessings of abundance to many little living
creatures. If such as are edible are to be considered villains, then
people of delicate palate who smack their lips over some of them have a
right to insist that these should be specially classed as dainty little

Still this useful scavengering habit is nearly allied to the pilfering
one. Decay attacks part of a tree, for instance, and saprophytes set to
work at the dead branch, but they are apt to extend their operations
to the adjoining living tissues, which die, too, and decay, till in
the end the tree may be entirely destroyed. The scavenger, we can
thus understand, is apt on occasion to relapse into the thief and the
out-and-out villain.

To one or other of these two great groups, or occasionally to both,
belong, besides a few flowering plants, the whole extensive division
of the fungi, and it is to be noted that none of this curious class of
plants is ever blessed with leaf-green or starch in any part of its
substance. Whether minute even under powerful microscopes or measuring
several feet across; whether hard as wood or a mere mass of jelly;
whether horny, fleshy, or leathery; whether resisting the action of the
elements for years or hardly able to outlive a puff of wind; whether
beautiful, commonplace, or ugly; whether sweet-scented or otherwise, in
this they agree, that in all of them is wanting that greenness which
makes honest work possible, and those little grains of starch that come
from honest work done.—_Good Words._

       *       *       *       *       *

I AM afraid that a lightsome disposition and a relish for humor are not
so common in those whose benevolence takes an active turn as in people
of sentiment, who are always ready with their tears and abounding
in passionate expressions of sympathy. Working philanthropy is a
practical specialty, requiring not a mere impulse, but a talent, with
a peculiar sagacity for finding its objects, a tact for selecting its
agencies, an organizing and arranging faculty, a steady set of nerves,
and a constitution such as Sallust describes in Catiline, patient of
cold, of hunger, and of watching. Philanthropists are commonly grave,
occasionally grim, and not very rarely morose. Their expansive social
force is imprisoned as a working power, to show itself only through
its legitimate pistons and cranks. The tighter the boiler, the less it
whistles and sings at its work.—_Oliver Wendell Holmes._



The mythology of various tribes and races has of late attracted much
attention, while that of our own ancestors of the North has been
studied with the greatest care.

Little attention, however, has been devoted to the religious belief of
the ancient Slavonic race, and yet it is replete with interest for all
who yield to the fascination of ancient myth.

We unfortunately possess no Slavic Edda, or Veda, to throw illumination
upon the ancient creed of the tribes, but a few scattered facts have
come down to modern times—principally contained in popular songs—but
sufficient to enable us to observe the similarity between Slavonic
mythology and that of the other members of the Indo-European stock—all
pointing to that immensely ancient time when the ancestors of the
combined race could have been gathered within the circuit of the
same camp; when they passed the same lives and worshiped the same
divinities; wept when the “serpents of the night” strangled the god
appointed to preside over the day, and rejoiced together with an
exceeding great joy when the day-god, victorious over his foes, gilded
the hills again.

In Slavonic tradition Swarog is represented as the most ancient of
their gods, as the one who was originally—before Perkunas—the supreme
deity of those tribes, corresponding to Sanskrit Surya, like Helios in
Greece, the dweller in the orb of the sun. Swarog was the pervading,
irresistible luminary, the solar deity, _par excellence_, of the race,
and vague recollections of him still exist. In some places Swarog
seems to have yielded to another solar deity, Dazhbog, the god of
fruitfulness, represented as the son of Swarog.

The etymological signification of Dazhbog is the “day-god.” With
him, as a representative of the sun, was a god named Khors—probably,
however, but another name of the day-god.

Ogon, answering closely to Sanskrit Agni, Latin, _ignis_ (fire), was
the god of fire, brother of Dazhbog; his worship was principally
connected with the domestic hearth.

But the deity who stands out most prominently, who became the supreme
divinity of the race, though corresponding to the Scandinavian Thor,
was Perkunas, or Perun, whose name, yielding to certain laws of
phonetic change, may correspond to Greek Keraunos (thunder), but more
closely to Sanskrit Parjanya, called in the Rig-Veda, “The thunderer,
the showerer, the bountiful, who impregnates the plants with rain.”
This god was forgotten by the Hellenic Aryans, who exalted Dyaus (Zeus,
Jove) to the supreme position, but the Letto-Slavonic tribes bestowed
upon him the endearing appellation of the “All-Father,” a title which
they only conferred upon the creator of the lightnings. It is said that
the Russians still say, when the thunder rolls, “_Perkuna gromena_;” in
Lithuanian, “_Perkuns grumena_.”

The South-Slavic term for the rainbow is “Perunika,” “Perun’s flower,”
or “beauty.”

“White-Russian traditions,” says Afanasief,[C] “describe Perun as tall
and well shaped, with black hair and a long golden beard. He rides in a
flaming car, grasping in his left hand a quiver full of arrows, and in
his right a fiery bow.”

He is also represented as carrying a mace, answering to Thor’s hammer,

After the introduction of Christianity the prophet Elijah became
credited with many of the honors and functions of Perkunas. He was
termed, “Gromovit Ilija” (Thunder Elijah), and the origin of the
notion, and the strange metamorphosis of that sweet spirit into a
Boanerges, undoubtedly lie in his flight to heaven in a chariot of
fire, and in his power, when on earth, of calling down fire from
heaven, and of bringing the rain. Thus, II. Kings, i:10, he says, “If
I be a man of God, then shall fire come down from heaven and consume
thee and thy fifty.” Again, Kings, i., 18:41, “And Elijah said unto
Ahab: Get thee up; eat and drink, for there is a sound of abundance of

The Slavs considered that the thunder and lightning were given into
the prophet’s hands, and that he closed the gates of heaven, _i. e._,
the clouds, to sinful men, who thus might not share in his blessed
reign. There is evidence of the same belief among the Teutonic tribes,
and in the old High-German poem, “Muspilli,” a form of that saga which
prevailed throughout all the middle ages with regard to the appearance
of anti-Christ shortly before the end of the world. Elijah takes the
place which Thor assumes in Scandinavian myth at Ragnarok, and fights
the evil one:

    “Daz hôrtih rahhôn dia werol trehtwison,
     Daz sculi der anti-Christo mit Eliase pâgan.”

     I have heard the very learned say,
     That anti-Christ shall with Elijah fight.

The poem then proceeds to say that Elijah shall be wounded, and
recounts the many signs and wonders that shall occur before the
Muspell-doom, the Judgment Day.

Volos, or Veles, was another solar deity. It has been held that the
Greek Helios appears in this name, while others have identified him
with Odin, or Woden, pronounced with an epenthetic _l_, and with other
changes, but the etymology seems far-fetched.

He was the special protector of cattle. The name survives to Christian
times in St. Blasius. Mr. Ralston says: “In Christian times the honors
originally paid to Volos were transferred to his namesake, St. Vlas,
or Vlasy (Blasius), who was a shepherd by profession. To him the
peasants throughout Russia pray for the safety of their flocks and
herds, and on the day consecrated to him (February 11) they drive
their cows to church, and have them secured against misfortune by
prayer and the sprinkling of holy water.... Afanasief considers that
the name was originally one of the epithets of Perun, who, as the
cloud-compeller—the clouds being the cattle of the sky—was the guardian
of the heavenly herds, and that the epithet ultimately became regarded
as the name of a distinct deity.”

By the names of Volus and Perun the Russians used to swear and confirm
their sayings and treaties by oath.

Stribog was the wind-god. According to Russian ideas the four winds
are the sons of one mother, and in the Old-Russian Igor song the wind
is addressed as Sir. These winds are called Stribog’s grandsons. So
in India, the winds are regarded as sentient beings; thus in the

    “Thus adjured, a solemn witness, spake the winds from out the air.

           *       *       *       *       *

     Even as thus the wind was speaking, flowers fell showering all around,
     And the gods’ sweet music sounded on the zephyr light.”

Byelbog and Chernobog, the representatives of light and darkness, are
of antagonistic nature—the warring principles of good and evil. Byelbog
is the white, shining god, the bringer of the day, the benignant
Phœbus, while Chernobog, a black god, belongs to the diabolical order.

The goddess of spring and love was Lada—corresponding closely to Freya
in the Scandinavian traditions. Lovers and the newly married addressed
their prayers to her, praising her name in songs. Lado, the Slavonic
counterpart of Norse Freyr, has many of the same attributes as the
goddess Lada, to whom the same adoration and praise were offered. Mr.
Ralston says that “one Lithuanian song distinctly couples the name Lado
with that of the sun. A shepherd sings, ‘I fear thee not O wolf! The
god with the sunny curls will not let thee approach. Lado, O Sun-Lado!’
In one of the old chronicles Lado is mentioned as the god of marriage,
of mirth, of pleasure, and of general happiness, to whom those about to
marry offered sacrifices in order to secure a fortunate union.”

Kupàlo was the god of harvests, and before the harvest—on the 23d of
June—sacrifices were offered to him. Young people lighted fires and
danced around them in the evening, adorned with garlands of flowers,
singing harvest ditties to the god. This custom still survives in the
fires kindled on St. John’s eve, through which sometimes the people
jump and drive their cattle. The Poles and other Slavonians, especially
in remote districts, keep up many of their ancient heathen rites.

The 24th of December was sacred to the goddess Kolyada, a solar deity,
to whom songs were sung in celebration of the renewed life of the sun
after the winter solstice “when the gloom of the long winter nights
begins to give way to the lengthening day.” This festival became
blended with the Christmas celebration upon the advent of Christianity,
and songs are still to be heard at that time containing the name of the
goddess, as

    Kolyada! Kolyada!
    Kolyada has arrived
    On the eve of the Nativity.

These ditties are called Kolyadki.

Inferior deities were believed in and many supernatural beings were
supposed to haunt the woods and waters. The Russalkas, which are
naiads, though no more seen, are still believed in, and are of a
nature similar to the elves and fairies of western nations. “They are
generally represented under the form of beauteous maidens, with full
and snow-white bosoms, and with long and slender limbs. Their feet are
small, their eyes are wild, their faces are fair to see, but their
complexion is pale, their expression anxious. Their hair is long and
thick and wavy, and green as is the grass.” The Russians are very
superstitious in regard to them, fearing to offend them, while the
maidens go into the woods and throw garlands to them, asking for rich
husbands in return.

Then there are Mavkas, or Little-Russian fairies and water-nymphs, wood
demons, house spirits and numerous other minor spirits and powers which
teem in the folk songs of the peasants.

Among the eastern Slavs there seem to have been no temples or priests,
while the contrary was true of the west. They burned their dead
and greatly reverenced the spirits of the departed, in whose honor
festivals were held.

A form of Sutteeism undoubtedly prevailed, widows destroying themselves
in order to accompany their husbands to the spirit land, while slaves
were sometimes sacrificed upon the same occasions—a practice common to
most barbarous states of society.

Upon a general view of ancient Slavonic mythology we observe the same
characteristics as among all the other Indo-European tribes—the same
nature-worship and inclination to personify the powers of the air and
sky; to worship the beneficent sun, which brings to man prosperity,
light and happiness; to execrate the night, the enemy of the bright,
the beautiful god of day. Men in the childhood of the human race were
as simple as children ever have been. The same characteristics mark
them. When the mother leaves her child for a moment, the babe with
piteous cries calls on her to return. Why is this so? Because in the
mind of the child there is no connecting link between the ideas of her
going and returning; in other words, the child cannot reason enough
to consider it possible—not to say probable, _certain_—that she will

Thus in the simple pastoral days of extreme antiquity, when the
glorious sun, the light of men’s eyes, the joy of their hearts, sank
below the horizon, the idea of its return failed to suggest itself to
their minds. Each sun-setting was a grief, each rising of the blessed
orb a joy unspeakable.

And thus upon the plains of Iran, in the flowery meads of Asia Minor
and on the Russian steppes, when man beheld the sun, his joy appeared,
he fell on his face and thanked the regent of the sky for his light

Had the earth been nearer to the sun the face of Comparative Mythology
had been changed; the sun-myth would have had to seek a different
origin and home, and the history of that greatest of all studies—the
study of man—would have had a different course.

It is sincerely to be hoped that the future of the Slavonic tribes may
be such as God and nature have intended for them, and that their name
may be changed again from _slaves_ to _Slavs_—“men of glory”—is the
aspiration of all who have hopes for the race; in short, of all who
wish well to our common humanity.


[B] Extract from a lecture delivered at Pacific Grove Assembly, July,
1883, Monterey, California.

[C] Ralston, “Songs of the Russian People,” from whom much information
contained in this sketch is gained.


By the Author of “German-American Housekeeping,” etc.

We hesitated quite awhile before deciding to expend fifty thalers for
a trip from Berlin to Danzig, finally concluding that the historical
interest of Marienburg, through which we would pass on our return, and
the reputed picturesqueness of Danzig would compensate us for the time
and money. At an early hour one September morning we drove across the
busiest portion of Berlin (and most unknown to the traveler), to take
our train at the _ost bahn_. I had seen this portion of the large city
once before, when we started to visit the country of the Wends, the
original people in all the region by the Baltic.

The tedious stretch of sand (broken here and there by a peasant’s house
with red tile roof), was the same we had traversed so often in leaving
Berlin for a neighboring town or city, the inevitable “plains of Moab”
which discouraged Frederick the Great’s French gardeners. How such
a thriving, populous city as Berlin has ever asserted itself in the
sand, is a curious study. We passed Bismarck’s estate in Pomerania,
“Schönhausen,” and one of the party reflected upon the great statesman,
the largest factor in German political life; while the other remembered
the sad and dejected royal pair which was driven by Napoleon’s fury to
take this same route to Memel. The lovely Queen Louise and Frederick
William III. were there with their royal children, praying that the
tyrant’s hand might be stayed, and they brought back to their rightful
kingdom. Alas! death claimed the beautiful queen before the peace for
which she prayed was restored to Prussia. But in her son, the present
emperor, there has been perpetuated the spirit of his mother. Prussia’s
high position to-day has been secured not altogether by the might of
her great army, nor the tremendous genius of her great statesmen, nor
the ambition of her king, but by the growth of sentiment during the
reigns of Frederick William III. and IV., and by the precept Queen
Louise instilled into her sons during those dark and sorrowful days of
exile in Memel: “My sons, let the spirit of Frederick the Great animate
you,” etc.

Memel, Tilsit, and Königsberg were passed, and finally the blue Baltic
and Danzig were in sight. We had almost looked for amber-colored water,
so long had we associated the beautiful display of amber jewels in the
Berlin shop windows with the Baltic, from which it is taken. Even Homer
refers to the Baltic as the resting place of amber, its bed being laid
with the sunny stone.

A multitude of ship-masts rose from the coast, and from beyond the
pointed gables of the old city, lessening in altitude as the vista
lengthened. This first glimpse was a more fascinating picture than we
were afterward able to find. Yet the hotel helped the preconceived idea
that Danzig was really a second Nuremberg.

The broad stone steps, or stairway, which started from the
_portecochère_, were whitened by ashes, as one so often sees them in
Germany—a pretty state of things for a lady descending in a black
dress. The room we were to occupy was an immense ball-room, utilized
in quiet times for a bed-room. Two candles burned in their tall
candlesticks on the center-table, and by the light of the twilight we
could see across the street some beautiful and curious carvings in the
opposite gabled houses. The price paid for accommodations was large
enough to have enabled us to see castles in the air, and to have our
ball-room illuminated with gas until morning. We concluded they seldom
had guests in this hotel, and therefore made heavy profits when some
did come along.

That evening we wandered around the old crooked streets—paved in
cobble-stones, which wore our shoes almost in pieces—until we were glad
to pause in front of the great old red-brick cathedral. Its towers
cut the big yellow moon in two at every angle we could see them.
We stretched our heads to take in the tremendous dimensions of the
cathedral, and the ornamentations of some of the best houses, until
we suddenly remembered that it was nearing midnight, and that we had
been in actual service at sight-seeing and traveling since an early
hour that morning, so we returned to our ball-room and two candles. The
next morning, we imagined, we would have a great treat in hunting up
old carved furniture, for which Danzig, we had been told by our German
friends, was equal to Augsburg; but the antiquarians had left no place
unexplored. No trace of massive-legged table or curiously-carved chairs
was to be found, save in the Museum and the Rathhaus (Council Hall).
The stairway of the Council Hall remains indeed a monument to the
ingenious designer and skillful carver, and the judge’s chair is most

A fine old convent has been turned into a museum. Its _kreuz gänge_, or
cross-passages, give the place a most mysterious, sequestered air, and
they are gradually collecting some great pictures and treasures within
its walls. But the Rathhaus, in its architecture, surpasses everything
in Danzig, excepting, perhaps, its fine old gateways.

The most distinguished houses in Danzig have on either side of the
entrance, at a distance of five feet, immense stones hewn out of
solid rock. They are nine feet, probably, in circumference. A chain
is attached, which is given a graceful swing before being fastened
again to either side of the front door, about as high up as the brass
knocker. As these big round stones grow smaller in perspective, they
give a peculiar air to a street. They seem to be peculiar to Danzig,
unless one or two dwellings in Edinburgh have them. The big stones,
the large chains, the tremendous brass knockers, and the innumerable
windows in the six stories of the pointed gables, suggest aristocratic
dwellings, and surpass the houses in Nuremberg.

An important political meeting at Stettin defeated our intention of
seeing Marienburg on our return to Berlin. Marienburg is a place few
foreigners find out, but Lübke, in his “History of Art,” represents the
architecture of the palace occupied by the knights, or crusaders, for
two centuries, as one of the most exquisite ruins in all Germany. Thorn
and Königsburg were also homes for this order of knights.

The following day at noon it was rather refreshing to drive into so
modern and gay a place as Berlin, and forget that so many people must
exist in places like Danzig. Mediæval life seems still to enwrap them
there as in a garment. Their eyes are closed to any modern idea or

Berlin contains all that is new and progressive in Germany. That day
as we sat in the garden of the “Thiergarten Hotel,” eating delicious
salmon, the old emperor drove by in his open carriage, with his
faithful _jäger_. He was still a subject for curiosity, as it was
so soon after the attempt had been made to assassinate him, June 7,
1878. He was fired on as he drove by in this same open carriage with
this same faithful _jäger_. The sight of the old emperor recalled the
previous months which had been so full of political stir in Europe. The
session of the Berlin Congress, and the occupation of Bosnia by the
Austrians had taken place.

To describe Berlin to those who have not visited it, is simply telling,
generally, the size of palaces, the number of art collections, the
width of streets, the squares occupied by statues, the places of
amusement, etc., but even when these objects and interests are put in
writing they leave little impression until the place is seen. But there
is another aspect of the great Prussian capital. It is a wonderful
place just now, attracting so many foreign students to its university,
the best musical talent to its conservatories, and the first military
genius within its walls. No matter what branch of study one may choose,
the instruction and illustration is right at hand. To the student of
politics it is a most fruitful field, not only because distinguished
statesmen frequent its streets every day, but because grave problems
in political science are discussed in the Reichstag or taught in the
University. The student of physics or of natural science can work
under Helmholz and others; the student of music can secure Joachim
or Clara Schumann, or the student of art, Knaus, or Richter. Berlin
has no pulpit orator. The Dom is more frequented because of its tombs
than for any living influence it extends. It contains the coffins of
Frederick William the great elector, and Frederick I., king of Prussia.
The Mendelssohn choir chants its anthems, and the emperor and empress
bow at its communion table; but St. Hedwig’s Church is better attended.
The American Chapel, built by the efforts of Mr. Whright, our American
minister to the Prussian court, a devout Methodist, is still occupied
and attended by travelers of the American-English type.

The annual exhibition of pictures in the academy, the many fine
concerts, the treasures in the old museum, the Royal Library, the
palaces, and the lovely drives along “Unter den Linden,” are only
mentioned to show what Berlin does contain in the way of sights and
pleasures. This Unter den Linden, the street so well known, was planned
by Frederick William, in the seventeenth century, and is now worn by
many royal carriages and busy hurrying mortals. The street about the
opera house is crowded every morning by the eager buyers of tickets,
which must be secured in the morning.

Surely life in Berlin can be made very attractive, but after a long
residence there I am convinced that it has little religious life.
The climate is depressing, the expense of living great, two other
detractions. Potsdam, Sans Souci, Charlottenburg Tegel, and many other
places in the suburbs, are, historically and naturally, charming

It is more compensating in Europe to go from place to place with some
special work or subject in view than to go for mere sight-seeing.
Your special work brings you nearer the people. If your landlady asks
you what it is, and you take the trouble to tell her, she or some of
her friends will at once see that you know all their acquaintances
who are engaged in the same line of inquiry, and while the new
acquaintances may not be socially or intellectually your ideals, yet
their conversation will help you in the language and give you many

Dresden I only know through hard work in the galleries, as though all
its sights are familiar—the Schloss, Green Vaults with their immense
treasures, the Military Museum, Museum of Natural History, the Grand
Opera House, the Frauenkirche, Japanese Palace, cafés, coinages and
statues; yet the picture gallery, with its priceless “Madonna di San
Sisto” of Raphael is to me the starting point of interest and the
essence of Dresden life.

From eight o’clock in the morning until four o’clock in the afternoon
faithful copyists labor in the gallery. The price received for their
work scarcely keeps them from starving. To go in among them for a time
and work and feel as they do, enlarges one’s sympathies, and teaches
one to love the masterpieces of the great artists. To the uninitiated
in such matters it may be well to explain that before the permission
is given to copy a picture in any of the European galleries, a good
deal of red tape must be looked after, especially in Germany. The
director demands a specimen of the applicant’s work, which must be a
study from nature, either figure or landscape or still life. It is with
considerable trepidation that the office of the “Herr Director” is
entered. If the applicant is successful, he or she comes out with an
elaborate paper containing the agreement, the name of picture to be
copied, the number, room, etc., with the director’s name and the seal
attached. One of the _gallerie diener_, as they are called in Germany,
takes you under his care, arranges an easel, a piece of carpet, a
rest-stick and table. You are recognized among the copyists, and the
hat of every _gallerie diener_ is raised at your approach or departure.
When you have finished, the inspector is allowed to criticise your
work. You must pay the _diener_ who has waited upon you some _trink
geld_, or a fee, as we would express it. At noon you can eat your cold
lunch, in company with the other copyists, in front of a Raphael or
a Correggio, a Titian or a Rubens, scrutinize its merits or laugh at
its blunders, or speculate on the old master’s methods of using their
pigments, without being amenable to any court. An artist’s life is a
life of liberty—of thought, at least. Many of these copyists spend
their afternoons in sketching, thus establishing their originality and
emancipating themselves from servile observance of other men’s methods.
In company with these plodding, intelligent artists, I have spent many
delightful hours sketching in the “Alt Markt,” or the Zwinger, or at
Sans Souci or Charlottenburg.

I have often wondered if the little Greek church in the suburbs of
Dresden was as attractive to all travelers as to me. It is surrounded
on one side by golden wheat fields, with red poppies and dark blue corn
flowers growing among it. Its gilded dome, semi-domes, and minarets,
shine like blazing lights against the dark blue sky. The style is such
pure Byzantine and the inside so perfect in its appointments, and yet
so simple; the service conducted in so solemn and devout a spirit,
there seems to be much to impress the looker-on. There are no seats.
On one side stand the women and on the other side the men, and before
the altar the patriarch, or priest. The service is short, consisting
almost entirely of singing by the men and boys, without the aid of an
instrument. When the plate is passed for the collection it contains a
roll of bread, the meaning of which I have never discovered, although
James Freeman Clark may give it in the account of the Greek church in
his “Ten Great Religions.” Their belief that the Holy Ghost proceeds
from the Father, and not from the Father and Son, seems to be the most
essential difference in prayer between the English Church and the Greek.

A summer in the Harz Mountains, taking in Weimar and Eisenach, and the
“Wartburg,” is a charming experience. To find out that one can live in
this age in so interesting a retreat as Weimar, for twenty dollars a
month, gives back some of the simplicity to German life.

To a student of Goethe, Schiller, Wieland and Herder, no spot offers
more pleasure than the quiet, old streets and groves and houses of
Weimar. A mere drive through the park, passing Goethe’s summer house
and on out to “Tiefert,” where the Grand Duchess Amelia held her
little court, and the open air theater attracted a charming coterie to
listen to Goethe or Schiller in some representation, re-awakens the
genius of the times and arouses the appetite of the traveler for more
acquaintance with the place. The next drive or stroll through the park
will prove that every stone contains some rhyme, and every bench some
association with those great men. There is a line to Frau Von Stein in
the garden of Goethe’s country house, an elegy engraved on the stone
as one ascends to the Roman house in the park. The front approach to
this house is not so attractive, but the back is a fascinating place.
It contains on the first floor an open room with round table and
benches, where the Duke and his poets sat for hours, looking over the
old stone steps into the park. A short stroll from there brings one to
the large open space, in the middle of the park, which was laid out by
Goethe, and represents precisely the dimensions of St. Peter’s in Rome.
The immense ground plot of that church is here to be recognized more
definitely than when one stands under its dome.

The grand ducal palace at Weimar contains one unique room, while all
the others are handsome. The one which differs from similar palatial
apartments is frescoed with scenes from the works of Weimar’s great
poets. The halls are silent and one longs to see little fat Karl August
step out of a _saal_ or the Duchess Amelia greet Goethe or Schiller
on the stairway as in days of yore. Mr. Lewis, in his life of Goethe,
portrays such scenes with a graphic pen.

In 1832 the house in the Goethe-platz was left vacant by its great
occupant. Its art treasures, its library, its various collections,
showing how comprehensive Goethe’s mind was, and how many things he had
investigated, were abandoned, as all human efforts must be abandoned,
when the silent messenger calls the soul into the presence of its Great
Creator. If self-denial is required of those on earth who hope to enter
into his rest, then who can answer for Goethe? But surely the choir of
angels in “Faust” sing beautifully of it:

    “Christ is arisen,
       Praised be his name;
     His love shared our prison
       Of guilt and of shame;
     He hath borne the hard trial of self-denial,
       And triumphant ascends
     To the hills whence he came.”

This house still stands as he left it, and is shown every Friday
afternoon to visitors. It has been occupied by his grandson for years.

The church in which Lucas Cranach’s great picture is to be seen, and in
which Herder preached, is a cold, heartless structure to a stranger,
but its very stones and walls must respond to the prayers of the old
inhabitants. The _brunnen_, or town well, in front of Lucas Cranach’s
house, when surrounded by a crowd of peasants offers a _genre_ picture
for an artist. The picture gallery is new and good. A large fresco
representing Weimar celebrities is in the front entrance. Bettina Von
Arnim is the only woman in the group. Perhaps her correspondence, which
is by many considered spurious, will make the artist regret that he
has given her so important a position in this fresco. To take an early
breakfast in some lovely arbor, overlooking some historic grounds, then
spend the morning in the gallery and the afternoon in the park, and the
evening at the concert, is about the happiest program one can follow in
a small German town.

Eisenach, the capital of Saxe-Weimar, a town of 10,000 inhabitants,
will always remain associated with Martin Luther. It is the principal
town in the Thuringian forest. The old “Wartburg,” one and a half
miles south of the town, is famous for its architecture and history.
Martin Luther, the Elector of Saxony, who rescued him, and earlier
the saintly Elizabeth and her cruel husband, are only a few names
which are associated with it. Of course the story of the Elector of
Saxony rescuing Luther, after the Diet of Worms, is well known. Yet
who can resist dwelling upon this bold character at this period. After
the Pope’s excommunication Luther defies all threats and starts out
on his return journey, with the emperor’s promise of a safe-conduct;
the decree for arrest follows closely every step. What a picture! to
have these armed knights attack him and carry him prisoner to the old
Wartburg. Then to discover afterward that a friend’s hand, and not an
enemy’s, had done this thing. There he remained ten months, and there
still remain the traces on the wall of the ink he threw at the devil.
Perhaps the chapel, where he preached on Sundays, is a more becoming
and decorous place to associate him with than this little room, always
pointed out first.

The Wartburg has been so beautifully renovated of late at the expense
of the government, it is really worth a second visit to those who
may have seen it years ago. The banquet hall is certainly superb,
and the St. Elizabethangeng, with its beautiful frescoes and long
narrow proportions, almost enables one to see the good woman walking
up and down with her prayer-book, in deep meditation, before starting
out through the forest with her attendants, and her apron full of
provisions for the poor. It is told that once, when her liege-lord met
her, and inquired what she had in her apron (he had strictly forbidden
her taking things to the poor), she, with legendary faith, opened her
apron and forthwith the bread became roses.

Taking your faithful donkey which has brought you up the hill, and
your Wartburg album collection of photographs, you find yourself soon
wandering through the lovely and fantastic _Annenthal_, and finally
resting near the depot at Eisenach. There the untiring finger of your
old guide points to Fritz Reuter’s house, and at last to his own little
bill, which he has carefully prepared and which he expects you as
carefully to pay. Never goes money from your pocket more liberally!

The Harz Mountains, their legends and songs, have been so often written
of there is danger of stupid repetition if one goes over the ground.

A novel experience for an American is to have an attack of rheumatism
in the house of an old Polish major in midsummer, in Wernigerode, and
be attended by the physician of Count Von Stolberg. To inform those
who may be so unfortunate as to meet with a similar fate what will
become of them, I would simply remark that the subterfuge of every
German doctor, when he finds a case getting beyond his control, is
to recommend a water-cure. The one at Magdeburg being the nearest to
Wernigerode, is the one which Count Von Stolburg’s physician would
be best acquainted with, so off to the old city and farewell to the
Harz! What rheumatic patient cares for a view of a fine old cathedral
from a window, or to be informed that the city has existed since the
eighth century? Do these facts lessen the pain or quiet the nerves?
After the bath has restored the patient, and he or she can walk out and
examine the cathedral, and read of the sufferings of the people in the
sixteenth or seventeenth centuries, and again how the Austrian army was
resisted by Wallenstein for seven months, and how the French besieged
and took it in 1806, and again in 1813—thus there is diversion in
finding oneself on such historic grounds and picturesque surroundings.

    [To be continued.]



    Ye flowers in your wonderful silence,
      Ye birds with your wonderful sound,
    The love of my God are declaring;
      For ye are the language he found.

    Ye smile to the eye of my spirit,
      Ye sing to the ear of my soul;
    Ye waken soft echoes of anthems
      Which over God’s Paradise roll.

    Ye bloom as ye bloomed once in Eden,
      Make holy and sacred the sod;
    Ye sing as you sang when in rapture
      Man counted you angels of God.

    By you—common things of the desert—
      God’s love has this miracle wrought:
    Ye fill me with exquisite gladness,
      With worship which silences thought.
                 —_London Sunday Magazine._

       *       *       *       *       *

REPUBLICS where high birth gives no right to the government of the
state, are in that respect the most happy; for the people have less
reason to envy an authority which they confer on whom they will, and
which they can again take away when they choose.—_Montesquieu._



We all have our _failings_, and for the most part we regard them
tenderly. They do not count as offences; scarcely are they held to be
faults. It is always a probable conjecture that an error of omission
has been unintentional; not unfrequently it seems possible it was
unavoidable. A sentiment of pity for, and even sympathy with, weakness
overpowers the sense of grievance; the voice of the inward monitor is
silenced, and the self-excused conscience sleeps. Meanwhile failings
are the worst and most mischievous, the deadliest and least curable,
of the ills to which the moral nature of man is heir. They are the
sources of evil whence spring the blackest vices of human character,
the false roots that nourish and sustain its parasites, and steal the
sap of its inner life. A failing is not merely negative; its sinister
aspect is one of positive wrong-doing, wherein some behest of the will
is disobeyed, a measure of moral power wasted, a rebel habit formed or
fostered. To compassionate failings in others is to beg the question of
fact for the sake of politeness; to look with leniency on the errors
which self would fain palliate, by assuming that they are unavoidable,
is to play the traitor to Truth, and let the enemy into the citadel;
whereas conscience is set to guard the nature of man from treachery not
less carefully than to protect it against assault.

Failings may be moral, mental, or physical, as they show themselves
in the character, the intellect, or the bodily habit and powers. It
generally happens that what strikes the observer as a failing is
compounded of errors in feeling, thought, and action combined. The
practical question is how the overt evil came into existence; or, if
happily the failing should be detected in an earlier stage of growth,
before it has betrayed its presence by ugly consequences, we may ask:
what are the mischievous forces, where are they at work, how can they
be counteracted? Why has this person the “failing” of a tendency to
excessive indulgence in drink or the gratification of some unbridled
passion; and that individual a seeming inability to recognize and
pursue the right and honest course of conduct in the presence of any
so-called “temptation” or difficulty?

Some of the most regrettable and injurious failings which disfigure
and defame the character run through families, appearing in successive
generations and seeming to be inherited. This theory of their
perpetuation is well founded; and it has been adduced as conclusive
evidence of the truth of the hypothesis that mind, and, of course,
character, is the mere outcome of matter. The force of the argument
obviously rests on the assumption that nothing more than, or outside,
matter can be transmitted from parent to child; that a particular
constitution of brain and nerve centres, a special arrangement or
combination of the elements which compose the mind-organ, may be
reproduced, and, if it is, a similarity of character will be entailed;
but as for the independent existence of mind, or spirit, that is a
pure figment of the imagination, which science will sooner or later
drive beyond the pale of credulity, and to which, even now, only a few
thinkers avowedly cling!

Let us examine this proposition at close quarters. It may be stated
thus. All we know of mind is expressed, and understood, by physical
agencies and in the formulæ of material force. Speech communicates
thought, and we think in words. The faculty of forming and employing
words is a brain function. If a particular region of the brain be
injured or diseased, the power of using language, at least in speech,
is _generally_ lost. The materialist argues from this and many similar
facts that mind is the product of matter. He fails to perceive that the
only warrantable deduction from his own data is that mind or spirit,
call it what we will, _can only express itself_ through the brain as
an instrument. As well deny the skill or independent existence of a
musician because he can not play the full score of an opera on a flute,
as infer the non-existence of a soul from the fact that man cannot
perform intellectual work without the organ of thought—the brain!

The capacity of the instrument doubtless limits the expression, but
it supplies no measure of the power or skill of the performer, except
in so far as the use he makes of the instrument may be a bad one.
This exception is of great significance, and there will be something
more to say about it presently. Meantime it is evident that, while
the range of brain-power determines the _manifestation_ of mind, it
neither measures, nor affirms, nor disproves the independent existence
of mind. The anatomist, the physiologist, and the chemist declare their
inability to discover the traces of a soul in the physical organism.
That no more proves the non-existence of a soul than the failure to
recognize more than a certain number of planets at any stage in the
history of astronomy demonstrated that there was nothing further to

The appeal against materialism lies to the instinct of common sense.
If mind were the mere outcome of matter, science would long since have
discovered some tolerably constant relation between peculiarities of
physical development and manifestations of character; whereas every
step onward in the progress of research tends to disprove the existence
of any certain dependency or connection between morals and matter.
Even such links as compose the stock-in-trade of the physiognomist and
phrenologist are shown to be illusory, except in so far as they may be
the effects, rather than the causes, of character, and are produced by
culture—witness the effects of education on facial expression in the
case of criminals. The theory of a criminal conformation of cranium has
been abandoned like the silly affectation of being able to detect an
offender by his “hang-dog” or “murderous” look.

“Failings” must be studied in the light of the lessons these facts and
considerations combine to teach. The moral question involved is one of
responsibility for the use each individual may make of the brain-power
allotted to him. The neglect to employ gifts and capacities is as
grave an error, from an ethical point of view, as their application
to a bad purpose. The servant who buried his talent in the earth was
held accountable for the failure to use it, and thereby increase
its value. The parable sets forth a truth of the highest practical
interest. We are responsible for the development, by use, of the
faculties vouchsafed to us. If they are allowed to remain in abeyance,
or a rudimentary state, we are to blame for the deficiencies and the
failings to which this neglect gives rise, and are without excuse. The
obligation to act up to the level of known duty cannot be avoided. A
“failing” is an act of contempt for the law of development by use.
It is disobedience to an understood command. The fact that it is
recognized makes a failing an offence. There may be short-coming in the
performance of a good resolve. Few, if any, merely human efforts are
entirely successful; but the failure which occurs when an endeavor is
made in the energy of a resolute and well-aimed purpose is not so much
a fault as insufficiency. The rising tide reaches its highest level by
successive efforts. Self-improvement is effected in the same fashion.
The motive power of persistent good endeavor is accumulative—ever
advancing like the great tidal wave of the ocean—though the ground is
conquered by short and seemingly only half-successful advances.

Failings, however, as we are now regarding them, are excused faults in
the character which the individual makes no serious effort to repair.
Some defects, as we have seen, are inherited, and upon them it is the
custom to bestow great commiseration and little blame. Now, in truth,
these are the least pardonable, because, if they are known to have
been transmitted from parent to child, the latter has, generally, the
advantage of an example, ever present to memory, by which to correct
his personal deficiencies. If the “failing” be a vicious propensity,
he can recall its hideousness, and thus stimulate will and conscience
to aid him in eradicating the fault. If it be some form of deficiency,
as indolence, lack of perseverance, want of principle, or the like,
he can study, as in the pages of history, the evil consequences
entailed by the defect, and with diligence order his own conduct in
better courses. Inherited failings are the least excusable. Even the
materialist, who claims them as the fruit of physical peculiarities,
must concede that by special culture they can be remedied, the healthy
organism being susceptible of increased development in any particular
direction when the proper stimuli are intelligently applied with a
view to its improvement. The apologist for failings which have been
inherited can find no comfort in the philosophy of materialism.

Failings which are peculiar to the individual may be less easy to
detect, and the subject of these defects is, in a measure, dependent
upon experience and the monitions of those around him for the
information needed to correct them. This should keep the wise teachable
and apt to profit by the lessons life is ever reading for their
instruction. A self-reliant spirit is manly, and therefore commendable;
a self-sufficient spirit is unreasonable, and therefore despicable. It
is strange how few of us grow really wiser as we grow older. The work
of self-improvement is seldom commenced until forced upon the judgment
by some awakening experience, and this is rarely vouchsafed until the
ductile period of youth has gone by. Early in the adult age of man his
habits become rigidly formulated, and failings are then hard to mend. A
world of unhappiness and disappointment might be spared the later years
of life if the young would be warned to begin the business of training
the character before it is firmly set in the mould of circumstances,
with all the coarse elements—inherited and contracted—uneliminated, and
the errors of inconsistency and imperfect development uncorrected.

It is in the period of youth and adolescence that the mind may be most
hopefully cultivated and the moral character intelligently formed. No
greater mistake can be made by a young and vigorous mind than to treat
the faculty of reason and the instinct of moral judgment as parts of
the being which may be left to their own devices. The young man bestows
some thought on his muscular system—he trains his eye, cultivates his
ear, and takes credit for prudence when he strives to develop the
vigor and to foster the healthy growth of his body. Is it wise—nay,
is it not rather the worst of folly and shortsightedness—to neglect
the ordinary development of those higher powers which man possesses in
a more exalted degree than any of the lower animals? Taking care for
the body while the mind is neglected is the worst of failings—the most
calamitous and the least excusable.



    Alas! and have I lost thy voice,
      Lost the sweet face that in my youth
    Shone from my breast on things to be—
      Hope-making, changing hope to truth,
            Thy face, sweet love,
    That madest beautiful the plainest thing
            Below, above?

    No; like the priest in times of old,
      Who drew the temple’s sacred veil,
    Thou art gone into an inner fold;
      And now, thy face turned heaven’s way,
    A paler face, and yet not pale,
      Looks for the sunset in the west;
    Thy form appears with outspread wings,
      I hear thee from thine altar say,
    With angel-breath o’er former things,
            _How beautiful is rest!_
                     —_London Sunday Magazine._



Mr. Francis Peek has recently published a useful but saddening little
book, whose title I have attached to this article. Not that it tells
anything new to one who has studied deeply the pages of that terrible
book of modern life, with its gilded leaves, but its unutterably dark
contents; it only focuses the scattered knowledge into alarmingly
clear vision. Indeed, in reading it, it is difficult to resist the old
nightmare feeling, that after all this little planet may be the small
rotary Vaudeville theater of the universe, where we poor actors in
life’s scene are playing out a series of farces for the amusement of
the angels, or more probably of darker and more distant visitants. The
admirably logical social life that religiously shuts all the museums
and picture-galleries on the Lord’s Day, and opens all the gin-shops;
that is never tired of iterating that the proper sphere of woman is
home, and brings up its 20,000 female orphans in large pauper barracks,
from which the last touch of home-life has disappeared; that goes to
meetings and loudly preaches thrift to the people, and then gruffly
whispers in their ear by guardians of the poor, “Only be drunk and
spendthrift enough, and we will house you and provide for your old
age;” that goes to church and preaches that the body is the temple
of the Holy Ghost, and leaves the people to litter down like pigs at
night—men and women, girls and boys, together in tenements where no
rich man would think of stabling his horses; that goes to school and
teaches its children the three R’s, and leaves them in dens of infamy
to learn a fourth R, by every sight and sound of the day and night,
ruin of body and soul; that virtuously declaims against the harlot, yet
leaves its little girls to be brought up in brothels; that believes a
fatal disorder is undermining the national health, and shuts the doors
of its hospitals against it, and denies it the public means of cure;
that legally protects the heiress up to twenty-one, and refuses to
protect the poor man’s daughter, even at sixteen, from the trade of
vice; that holds that the man is the responsible head of the woman,
and throws the blame and disgrace on the woman—alas! alas! what a heap
of anomalies is here—what real cause to complain of the methods of our
moral life! No wonder that the poor Dissenting minister, much entangled
in our social difficulties, and led on all sides to contradictory
conclusions, threw in a deprecatory clause in his prayer, “Paradoxical
as it may seem to thee, O Lord, it is nevertheless true.”

And what are the results of such methods as these? What must be the

That we read that in the wealthiest nation in the world, one in every
thirty-one of our countrymen is a pauper; this, moreover, without
including any of that vast number of destitute persons who are
maintained in charitable institutions or by private benevolence.

That in the richest city in the world there were in one year 101 deaths
from actual starvation, in full sight of well-stocked shops.

That there are about 180,000 apprehensions each year for drunkenness,
and over 15,000 persons yearly charged with indictable crimes, and over
half a million convicted summarily before the magistrates, of which
latter nearly 100,000 are guilty of personal assaults, about 2,500
being aggravated assaults upon women and children.

That there are extensive districts in London, Liverpool, and all our
large towns, where our people are living in little more than half the
area of ground required for a corpse, and which they could claim if
they were dead, in tenements which are the graves of all decency and

That “in Liverpool alone, by a rough estimate, there are some
10,000 or more children who are neither properly fed, clothed nor
housed, and surrounded by such evil associations at home, or in the
low lodging-houses where they herd, that there is small chance of
their leading afterwards a useful life, and we can predict with
certainty that many of them will enter our prisons, penitentiaries and

Surely it must create an uneasy feeling in the most careless to realize
this mass of misery and sin on which the life of the well-to-do classes
in England is based—

    “This deep dark underworld of woe,
     That underlies life’s shining surfaces,
     Dim populous pain and multitudinous toil,
     Unheeded of the heedless world that treads
     Its piteous upturned faces underfoot,
     In the gay rout that rushes to its ends.”

It is impossible for me to deal adequately with the subject in the
narrow space of a short article, but let me touch on three of our
greatest problems—overcrowding, pauperism, and the care of the young.

First, as to overcrowding. This is a question that distinctly affects
the state, and with regard to which we have to “live in the whole,”
and to see that the welfare of the community is at stake, and that
the state must have an authoritative voice in it. Virtue, sobriety,
decency, are physically impossible in the conditions under which a
vast number of its citizens are living. The national health and morals
are in danger. All the arguments that justified the interference of
the state with the rights of the Irish landlord, apply equally to the
London landlords, and the artificial forcing up of rents, which has
resulted from the necessity many workmen are under of living near their
work. Yet this question has been the subject of permissive legislation!
The Artisans’ Dwellings Improvement Act, an honest attempt on the part
of Sir Richard Cross to deal with the problem, was rendered applicable
to all towns of 28,000 inhabitants or upward—that is to say, about
eighty towns—but it was entrusted to the municipalities to carry it
out, the town councils which we have left to be composed chiefly of
men of narrow education, largely swayed by self-interest, and probably
extensive owners of the very property to be demolished! It is exactly
as if the Irish Land Bill had been permissive, and entrusted to the
Irish landlords to put it into execution! Can we wonder that in about
sixty out of the eighty towns, it remains a dead letter? In eleven it
has led to discussion; in two or three it has led to the demolition of
buildings, but not to their erection. Is there not a want of ordinary
_seeing_ in our moral life? Could we hope to solve a single scientific
problem on the methods on which we are content to live?

“The commercial success,” as Mr. Peek observes, “that has been achieved
by several of the Artisans’ Dwellings Companies which, while providing
good houses, yet pay fair dividends, shows that the poorest pay rents
which give a fair interest on capital, so that the municipality will
not be compelled to embark in a ruinous undertaking, or one that will
not pay in the long run, to say nothing of the gain to the health and
morals of the nation.”

Secondly, let us take pauperism. First of all let us clearly recognize
that no system of paid officials, no mechanical workhouse will take the
place of human thought and human care. Nothing will do instead of love.
Indeed, there are already signs that we are working out a _reductio ad
absurdum_ with these portentous and ever-increasing warehouses of the
destitute and the vicious that are springing up, throwing the winter
support of whole dissolute families on hard-working rate-payers, and
systematically discouraging thrift. But the problem has been solved
satisfactorily on a small scale, and can be on a larger. The Elberfield
experiment, which in twelve years reduced the number of paupers from
4,800 to 1,800, notwithstanding that the population had increased from
50,000 to 64,000, and that great commercial depression existed, has
been too often described not to be familiar to all. But a remarkable
parallel movement among the Jews is scarcely so well known as it
deserves to be. When “Oliver Twist” was published, the leading Jews
were so mortally ashamed of the picture drawn by the popular novelist
of Fagan and the low Jewish quarters in London, that they formed
themselves at once into an organization to remedy so disgraceful a
state of things. The numbers to be dealt with amounted to those of a
populous town, with the additional difficulty afforded by immigrant
Jews arriving in large numbers from the Continent in a state of the
greatest destitution. The investigation of every case requiring relief
was undertaken by volunteer workers, assisted by skilled officers, and
was not in the steam pig-killing style, but patient and exhaustive
with true human brotherhood; in deserving cases the relief given was
sufficient to make a guardian’s hair stand on end, but was given with
the view to helping the man to a means of livelihood. Especially this
wise liberality was shown in the treatment of their widows. Whilst Mr.
Peek has no better suggestion to offer than that the widows’ children
should be removed to the pauper barrack-schools to herd with the
lowest children of casuals, a system which Mr. Peek himself strongly
condemns, the Jews recognized that the mother, if well conducted, was
the proper person to have the care of them, and that her place was at
home. They therefore either provided their widows with indoor work,
or, when that was impossible, relieved them on a sufficient scale to
enable them to look after their children at home; the consequence being
that instead of feeding the outcast class, as the neglected children
of our widows too often do, they grew up productive and well-conducted
members of the community. If, however, a family was found overcrowding,
all relief was steadily refused till they consented to live a human
life, assistance being given to move into a larger tenement. By these
wise and thoughtful methods in the course of a single generation the
Jews have worked up the people from a considerably lower level to one
decidedly above our own. To be sure the Jew does not drink. Give the
most destitute Jew five pounds down, and at the end of the year you
will find him a small capitalist, having considerably despoiled the
Egyptians meanwhile. But the intemperance of our people is largely
caused by overcrowding, and by their amusements and recreation-rooms
being in the hands of those who make their profit not by the
entertainment but by the drink traffic, and indefinite improvement may
be brought about by wiser regulations that have the good of the people,
and not the fattening of publicans and brewers at heart. Surely the
success of the Jewish and Elberfeld efforts prove that the problem
of the reduction of pauperism and the inducing of healthy habits of
thrift and self-helping in the people is soluble, and with that army of
devoted Christian workers in our midst, to whose untiring efforts we
owe it that social disaster has not already overtaken us, it must be
possible for us to carry on the same movement, if Birmingham or one of
our public-spirited towns would lead the way.

Lastly, we come to the vast, hopeful field, presented by greater care
for the young, and better methods of embodying it.

First, let the law protect the young of both sexes up to the legal age
of majority from all attempts to lead them into a dissolute life. In
most continental countries the corruption of minors is an indictable
offense. The English penal code recognizes this principle in property;
it is felony to abduct an heiress up to twenty-one, and a young man’s
debts, except for bare necessaries, are null and void till he is of
age; but, as usual, our English law leaves the infinitely more precious
moral personality unprotected. There is no practical protection at any
age for an English child from the trade of vice. An unruly child of
fifteen or sixteen, or even younger, quarrels with her mother or with
her employer, and runs off in a fit of temper. Even if she leaves her
parents’ roof, it can not be brought under the law against abduction.
No one abducts her; the child abducts herself. Yet the keeper of the
lowest den of infamy can harbor that child for an infamous purpose, and
he or she commits no indictable offence. It is no wonder, therefore,
that the open profligacy of the young forms the very gravest feature
of our large towns. Thankful as we are for the honest effort to deal
with this monstrous anomaly in English law, shown by Lord Rosebery’s
bill, we can not but regret the extreme inadequacy of its provisions,
or that the legislature should refuse to extend legal protection from
even the trade of vice, to the most dangerous age of a girl’s life, the
age of sixteen—the age when, as the medical faculty are agreed, a girl
is least morally responsible, and most liable to sexual extravagances,
and when we can statistically prove that the greatest number of those
who go wrong are led astray. The country will not rest till the legal
protection from the trade of vice is extended to twenty-one.

Secondly, let us recognize it as an axiom that parental rights do
not exist when wholly severed from parental duties; or, in other
words, that the child has its rights as well as the parent, and that
its indefeasible right is, in South’s strong words, “to be born and
not damned into the world.” Let it be recognized, then, that no
child of either sex is to be brought up in a den of infamy, and to
attend school from thence to the contamination of the children of the
respectable poor, the magistrates being no longer allowed to defeat
this beneficent provision of the Industrial Schools Act, and parental
responsibility being recognized by the parent being compelled to
pay toward the Christian and industrial training of the child; all
children living in, or frequenting, thieves’ dens and disorderly houses
to be at once removed. Let day industrial schools be formed for the
lowest class of children, so as to introduce some classification in
our board schools, the want of which is one of their gravest defects.
Let us adopt emigration to our colonies for our pauper and destitute
children, whenever possible. Any one who has gone into the question
can corroborate Mr. Samuel Smith’s statement in his able article in
the May number of the _Nineteenth Century_, that “£15 per head covers
all expenses, including a few months’ preparatory training, outfit,
passage, etc.” The average cost of each child in the metropolitan
district schools is nearly £25 per annum. About 11,000 pauper children
are brought up in these large establishments at a cost to the
ratepayers of London of £250,000 per annum. Probably each child is
kept, on the average, five years, costing, say, £120 in all. Truly Mr.
Smith may well add, “with a blindness that is incomprehensible, the
guardians have preferred herding them together at a vast expense, and
refused till quite lately to allow emigration to be tried.” And for
those children who through bad health, or any other disability, are
unable to emigrate, and can not be boarded out, as well as children
whose drunken and dissolute parents are bringing them up to crime, let
there be an order of teaching deaconesses instituted, and a state-aided
training college, where educated ladies may receive training in the
management of an industrial school, and from which the guardians can
supply themselves with mothers for cottage homes on the plan of the
Village Homes of Ilford, where the cost of a child is £14, instead of
£25. By this arrangement the children would come under higher influence
than the uneducated workhouse officials. Hundreds of ladies are wanting
remunerative employment, and would gladly undertake this, if they
could be put in the way of the work by a little preliminary training,
and freed from the necessity of “doing the washing” in the cottage
home. And, lastly, let it be a recognized theory that every Christian
household has one respectable but rough little girl to train under
its own upper class servants, to give her a good start in life, that
our houses, with all their culture and refinement, may no longer be
strongholds of _l’egoisme à plusieurs_, but centers for teaching good
work, high character, and fine manners—organs for the public good.

And those social atomists who raise their vehement cry about personal
rights and the liberty of the subject over all compulsory measures for
saving children, I would remind that the question is not of compulsion
or non-compulsion; but whether the natural guardians of a child shall
be compelled to pay toward its Christian and industrial training, or
whether they and I, as ratepayers, shall be compelled to pay for its
degradation in prisons, in infirmary beds, and workhouses. Compulsion
there is anyhow: but surely no reasonable mind can doubt which
compulsion is most in accordance with the true right and true liberty.

And how can I better close than with the impassioned words of Elizabeth
Barrett Browning, apostrophizing our material splendor, as shown in the
great Exhibition of 1851, by the side of our moral squalor:

    “O Magi of the East and of the West,
       Your incense, gold and myrrh are excellent!
     What gifts for Christ, then, bring ye with the rest?
       Your hands have worked well: is your courage spent
     In handiwork only? Have you nothing best
       Which generous souls may perfect and present
     And He shall thank the givers for? No light
       Of teaching, liberal nations, for the poor
     Who sit in darkness when it is not night?
       No cure for wicked children? Christ—no cure!
     No help for women sobbing out of sight
       Because men made the laws? No brothel lure
     Burnt out by popular lightnings? Hast thou found
     No remedy, my England, for such woes?

           *       *       *       *       *

     Alas! great nations have great shames, I say.

           *       *       *       *       *

     O gracious nations, give some ear to me!
       You all go to your fair, and I am one
     Who at the roadside of humanity
       Beseech your alms,—God’s justice to be done!”
                           —_The Contemporary Review._



    Ah, silent wheel, the noisy brook is dry,
          And quiet hours glide by
    In this deep vale, where once the merry stream
          Sang on through gloom and gleam;
    Only the dove in some leaf-shaded nest
                  Murmurs of rest.

    Ah, weary voyager, the closing day
          Shines on that tranquil bay,
    Where thy storm-beaten soul has longed to be;
          Wild blast and angry sea
    Touch not this favored shore, by summer blest,
                  A home of rest.

    Ah, fevered heart, the grass is green and deep
          Where thou art laid asleep;
    Kissed by soft winds, and washed by gentle showers,
          Thou hast thy crown of flowers;
    Poor heart, too long in this mad world oppressed,
                  Take now thy rest.

    I, too, perplex’d with strife of good and ill,
          Long to be safe and still;
    Evil is present with me while I pray
          That good may win the day;
    Great Giver, grant me thy last gift and best,
                  The gift of rest!

    —_Good Words._

       *       *       *       *       *

BUSINESS requires earnestness and strength of character, life
must be allowed more freedom; business calls for the strictest
sequence, whereas in the conduct of life inconsecutiveness is often
necessary—nay, is charming and graceful. If thou art strict in the
first, thou mayest allow thyself more freedom in the second; while if
thou mix them up, thou wilt find the free interfering and breaking in
upon the fixed.—_Goethe._




In mechanics, an eccentric is a wheel that can start all the rest of
the machinery with a jerk and a kick, and keep it going. It was the
little eccentrics that enabled ten thousand Chautauquans to scatter
to every part of the land in a few hours. The cam-motion in human
nature starts its machinery and scatters its thought. We ought to
thank God for the minds that wabble. Every originator has been counted
eccentric—many of them have been pronounced insane. The little Festuses
sitting in judgment are always crying to the inspired apostles of
truth, “Thou art beside thyself.”

It is finite mechanism and finite thought that invent geometry and
theology. Men hang, cunningly and truly, their long counter-shafts of
creed, of behavior, of thought, of dress, of consistency, of loyalty;
they bolt and key thereto immovably all human characters which are
round, “line them up” all true and uniform, lubricate with lucre,
put on the steam and away they all go beautifully and all alike.
Woe be to one who wabbles in this machine-shop of society! But God
uses no plumb-lines, right-angles, levels or true circles. “Nature’s
geometrician,” the bee, never made a true hexagon. The old planets
go “spinning through the grooves of change” in eccentrics, and never
collide. Erratic comets dash through and among them, and never crash.
I suppose the most eccentric character that ever walked this earth was
that strange boy from Nazareth who confounded the doctors with his
unprecedented outgivings. His teachings were indeed so strange that
after the world has been for one thousand nine hundred years trying
to work its standard up to them, a perfect Christian would to-day be
accounted _non compos mentis_ by the rest of Christendom.

So it is not a bad idea to study eccentric characters, especially if
they are strangely good and oddly useful. One such, at least, we have
at hand for the first study of this series—Rev. Edward T. Taylor,
“Father Taylor,” “The Sailor-Preacher,” of Boston and the world.

Born in Virginia, reared on the sea, and adopted by New England. Born
a religionist, he preached “play” sermons when a child; born again a
Christian, he preached the gospel in the Methodist Episcopal Church
until all humanity claimed him. Born a poet, for ten years he studied
nature in her tragic and her melting moods upon the sea; studied man
in the forecastle, in the prison, upon the farm, in the market. Nature
was his university; humanity his text-book; hard experience his tutor.
At the age of twenty he had traveled the world over, had sounded the
depths of human fortune, passion, misery, and sin; was profoundly
learned in his great text-book, and the most inspired interpreter
of its unuttered wants—and did not know the alphabet! He had become
celebrated throughout New England as a marvelous prodigy in the
despised sect of “shouting Methodists” years before he could read a
text or “line” a hymn. And to the day of his death his preaching knew
no method, his eloquence no logic, his conduct no consistency, and
his power no limit or restraint. To this day no one has succeeded in
analyzing his genius. He could not himself account for his power, nor
could he control it. He seemed to play upon his audiences at will as a
master plays upon the harp; yet some unseen, mysterious force played
upon him in turn. His brethren in the ministry, who accounted for his
strange power by attributing it to the Holy Spirit, were confounded by
the rudeness, jocoseness, and at times almost profanity of his speech
at its highest flights; and they who undertook to resolve his efforts
into the accepted elements of human power were astounded by the more
than human resources of a mind uncultured and a nature as wild, as
uncontrollable, as bright and as sad as the sea he loved. Surely, if
ever man was inspired, Father Taylor was.

His career, like his methods, answered to all the terms that can define
eccentricity. Deeply religious as the child was by nature, he ran away
to sea at the age of seven. His conversion was characteristic. Putting
into port at Boston, he strolled to a meeting-house where a revival
was in progress; instead of going in by the door, he listened outside,
and when stricken under conviction, with characteristic impulsiveness
he climbed in through the window. To use his own sailor words: “I was
dragged in through the ‘lubber hole,’ brought down by a broadside
from the seventy-four, Bishop Hedding, and fell into the arms of
Thomas W. Tucker.” This was at the age of nineteen. Then off to sea
as a privateersman in the war of 1812, he was captured and imprisoned
at Halifax, and here his preaching of the gospel strangely began. A
fellow-prisoner read texts to him till one flashed upon his conception
as the cue to his discourse. “Stop!” the boy would cry; “read that
again.” “That will do;” and he was ready to pour forth a fervid hour of
pathos, wit, brilliant imagery, all supported by perfect acting.

Out of prison at last, he returns to Boston, leaves his seafaring
forever, and takes to the road with a tin peddler’s cart: clad in a
sailor’s jacket and tarpaulin, talking “sea lingo,” religion and poetry
in equal proportions, he traveled over New England as attractive a
sight as Don Quixote would have been. He came across an old lady who
taught him to read (age 21), and he paid her by gratefully holding
meetings in her big kitchen, and exhorting wondering crowds of rustics
and weeping crowds of penitents. Next he undertook to learn shoemaking,
and then worked a farm for a living—all the time concentrating his
intense nature on his grand passion for playing upon the human heart;
earning little bread for himself, and breaking the bread of life
abundantly to farmers, shoemakers, fishermen; in farm houses, school
houses, barns, camp-meetings; over a circuit of his own organization.
“He was a youthful rustic Whitefield,” says Bishop Haven, “thrilling
rustic audiences with his winged words and fiery inspiration.” He
loved to preach from the text, “How knoweth this man letters, having
never learned?” Taylor did not know letters, and his speech was rude
and coarse, his blunders innumerable: if words failed him out of his
limited vocabulary, he manufactured them. Once, completely at fault
in his struggle to express the burning thoughts that crowded his
brain he cried, with a perplexed but irradiated face: “I have lost my
nominative case, but I am on my way to glory!” A few smiled; all wept.
His earnestness atoned for many defects; his imagery was even now
beautiful, and his magnetism irresistible.

Thus young Taylor preached, unlicensed, for five years. It was the
breaking-up and seed-time of New England Methodism. Between the
Puritans and Quakers, with their mutual antagonism, the shouting
Methodists were as corn between the millstones, a despised and
persecuted sect.

About the age of twenty-five occurred three notable events in his life.
He was licensed by the Methodist Conference to preach. He attended
school a short time and began his education. He married one of God’s
noble-women to complete his education. For ten years he continued the
life of a circuit preacher, growing in culture, power, spirit, and
fame, under that wise and gentle nurture. No one can say how far short
of its fullness Father Taylor’s life might have fallen without Deborah

All these seventeen years of his ministry he had, as far as possible,
kept near to the coast and the haunts of sailors; praying in the
forecastle and preaching on the decks of ships about to sail, wherever
he could reach them. The salt air was incense to him, and the music
of the surf seemed ever dwelling in the nautilus-chambers of his
heart. At last his life-work came in the direction of his longings.
At the age of thirty-fire he was called to preach to the sailors of
Boston. The meetings were a success from the first, and Mr. Taylor
went South and solicited the money ($2,100) to buy a house for their
Bethel. (More bread cast on the waters to return after many days to the
South.) The work grew, and soon an incorporated society was organized,
called the “Boston Port Society;” from the first nondenominational,
though a majority of its board were Methodists. The work still grew.
Soon the merchants of Boston assumed the burden of the work, and in
1833 “The Seamen’s Bethel” was completed at a cost of $24,000. Soon
a Seamen’s Savings Bank and then a Seamen’s Aid Society, a Seamen’s
Boarding-house, and then a Mariner’s Home (at a cost of $34,000), an
Industrial School for Seamen’s Children, and a Seamen’s Co-operative
Store, sprang up around this nucleus. These collateral enterprises
were largely the inspiration of Mother Taylor, but the burden of them
fell upon the Unitarians of Boston, who soon assumed entire control
of the noble charity and mission. Here Father Taylor fulfilled his
life-mission. “From 1829 to 1871 he trod this quarter-deck, its
master.” The fame of the Bethel and its chaplain, one and the same,
went to all quarters of the globe. Edward Everett styled him “The
Walking Bethel,” and Richard H. Dana in his “Two Years Before the
Mast,” said one of the first inquiries of sailors in foreign ports,
from him, was regarding the welfare of Father Taylor, the mariner’s
preacher in Boston. A sailor declared he had been in ports where the
United States had not been heard of, but never where Father Taylor
had not. Once, soliciting aid for Bethel before another audience than
his own, he glowingly promised: “Drop your gold into this ocean and
it will cast a wave on the shores of Europe which will strike back
to the islands of the Southern Sea, rebound on the Northwest coast,
and so make the circuit of the world and strike this port again.” The
realization of this prediction was more extravagant than the bold
imagery of it. At the dedication of the Bethel he cried: “America is
the center of the world, the center of America is Boston, and the
center of Boston is the Bethel.”

The first place of a returning sailor’s thoughts became the Bethel,
instead of the groggery. Two of them, seeking it for the first time,
spelled out the name on the flag floating above it: “B-E-T, beat,
H-E-L, hell; beat-hell! This is Father Taylor’s place,” and they cast
anchor. “There he is, Bill,” said an old tar to another, as they
entered the Bethel; “there’s the old man walking the deck. He’s got his
guns double-shotted and will give it to us right and left. See how fast
he travels—fifteen knots on a taut bowline. When he walks that way he’s
ready for action.”

There were strange scenes in that vast audience room. The body of
the church was reserved for sailors always, while the side slips and
galleries were for the general public. When the seats were all filled,
he would order the sailors forward like a sea captain, and crowd the
altar rail, the pulpit stairs, the pulpit, and the pulpit sofas with
the weather-beaten mariners, while the grandest in the land stood and
listened in the aisles. “Now,” he would say, with a beaming face,
“we have got the hold full and a deck load, and we’ll up anchor and
start.” Many of the best critics and reporters have tried to describe
and analyze a service after such a “start”—Dickens, Harriet Martineau,
Fredricka Bremer, Horace Mann, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and others—but all
fail to give us much comprehension of the method of the man; I suspect
because they were all so absorbed they forgot to take notes, mental
or otherwise. But they recall the _effects_ of the preaching vividly,
each in his own way. So much of the power of Father Taylor was in his
presence and action, that no report of one of his sermons has been made
and preserved. He said himself, “You might as well try to report chain
lightning.” Dr. Bellows said, twelve years ago, “Alas! nothing remains
of him but his memory and his influence. He will be an incredible myth
in another generation.” Why _need_ this be so? He has left a wealth of
original sayings behind him unequaled by the utterances of few save
Abraham Lincoln; and he may furnish the material for many rare studies
in character. We may be forgiven the presumption of attempting to help
rescue Father Taylor from vanishing into oblivion. What, then, were
the characteristics that lay at the foundations of this remarkable
character? I would classify them under four heads:

1. _Intensity._ This gave him concentration of thought, earnestness of
belief, courage and aggressiveness in action. He went into everything
with an irresistible impulse. His training on the sea and in the
circuit gave free growth to this trait. He was never placed where he
needed to be politic or conservative; and his combativeness always had
free play. He was the champion of his despised sect, but he fought
with the polished weapons of a wit, and the impressive presence of a
will which the foes of his cause more dreaded than force. And then his
spirit was so lovable that there is no instance on record of any one
ever having laid hands on him, fierce disputant as he was.

He was a man born to command. His will was imperious. The last
conscious act of his life was to shake his fist at his nurse, who
refused to let him rise from bed. Peter Cartwright said there were
two cataracts in this country—Niagara and Father Taylor. His brethren
called him “the breaking-up plow of the Church.” Miss Martineau
spoke of “the prodigious force which he carries in his magnificent
intellect and earnest heart.” Another English writer said, “He goes on
as energetically as any ‘Praise-God Barebones’ of the old Covenanter

I think one thing all his biographers lost sight of was the fact that
his belief became a vital part of him, the very breath of his nostrils.
There is a mighty difference between truly believing, and simply
accepting a belief second-hand, which latter passes for belief with
most people. It is the men who genuinely believe who make others accept
and adopt their belief. In the pulpit his action is tremendous. He
always comes down wet through with perspiration, and a complete change
of wardrobe is necessary with every effort.

2. _Imagination._ To this quality is to be referred his profound
religious nature, his poetry, dramatic power, eloquence, and (in
conjunction with his earnestness) even his faults. One called him a
poet; another, a born actor. James Freeman Clarke said he was the
only man he ever heard to whom the much-abused word, “eloquence,”
could be truly applied. But I think none of these terms so accurately
classify his genius as to call him a painter. His earnestness made
everything his quick imagination conjured up seem realistic to him;
and his dramatic power enabled him to make these images realistic to
his hearers. His thoughts were entities to him, and they always took
the form of objects real and visible. This differs from the _poetic_
imagination, the essence of which is unsubstantiality. The poet sees
visions, the artist creates forms. Taylor was an artist, with words for
his colors, action for his pencil. One who heard him said: “While he
preached the ocean rolled and sparkled, the ship spread her sails, the
tempest lowered, the forked lightnings blazed, the vessel struck, her
disjointed timbers floated upon the waves. It was all pictured to the
eye as positive reality. You could hardly believe afterward you had not
actually witnessed the scene.”

He describes a shipwreck, and at the climax, as the ship is slowly
settling in the water, and every face in the audience is livid with
fear, he roars, “Man the life boat!” and every sailor in the house
springs to his feet. Now sailors, under the influence of drink, have
killed their captain. He describes the deed. They start up before
the audience, creeping down the stairs and into the cabin; he raises
the imaginary knife, and half the men in the house jump forward to
arrest the blow, while women shriek in horror. Once, however, a
matter-of-fact, though possessed sailor, confused Father Taylor. He
had depicted the impenitent sinner, under the figure of a storm-tossed
ship, with her sails split, and driven by the gale toward the
rock-bound coast of Cape Ann. “Oh, how,” he exclaimed, in tones of
despair, “shall this poor sin-tossed sinner be saved?” “Put his helm
hard down, and _bear away for Squam_!” bellowed the old salt, springing
excitedly to his feet.

So he painted the Mosaic miracles, “till the brethren saw the snakes
squirm, heard the frogs croak, felt the lice bite, brushed the flies
out of their faces and saw the Israelites march out of Egypt.”

One of his last sermons, when he was old and feeble, ended thus: “My
work is almost done. Where are all my old shipmates—they who lay in
hammocks beside me and who have fought at the same guns? Gone, gone—all
gone! No, blessed be God! not _all_; there’s one left. [Here he made
the picture realistic by pointing to an old salt, gray, bent, and
knotty-faced.] Yes, there’s old Timberhead. He and I have weathered
many a storm together. It is only a little farther we have to sail.
Look, look ahead there! It is only to beat just around that point
yonder. Now—now! there is the peaceful, blessful haven and home full in
view.” By this time the audience was weeping, radiant with hope.

Even his isolated sentences are full of this imaginary realism.
“Sailors ignorant!” he cried indignantly when one depreciated them;
“sailors know everything; they grasp the world in their hand like an
orange!” The boldness of this language is wonderful. Of superannuated
ministers he said: “They are like camels bearing precious spices and
browsing on bitter herbs. They were moral giants. When God made them he
rolled his sleeves up to the arm-pits.”

It was the activity of his brain, the realism of his imagery and the
homely naturalness of his language that made some of his transitions
abrupt to grotesqueness and some of his speech border startlingly on
impropriety. He really thought aloud—which many a matter-of-fact, heavy
speaker would find it unsafe to do. Dissociated from their context and
from the earnestness and devout spirit of the man, they sound much
worse than when uttered.

It was the combination of these two qualities also which made him
extravagant in speech, erratic in sentiment, and inconsistent with
himself. He _was_ whatever he thought or imagined for the moment; his
genius possessed and controlled him. Thus he was a radical temperance
reformer, but he denounced prohibitory legislation and hurled ridicule
at those who proposed the use of an unfermented wine in the sacrament;
he called it “raisin water.” Of rum-sellers he said: “I wonder that the
angels in heaven do not tear up the golden pavements and throw them on
their heads;” but he conjured those who should succeed him to “Cast out
from this church, in my name, any man that comes up to the altar with
his glue-pot and dye-stuff.”

Dr. Jewett says: “I have heard him at times when I have been amazed
at the utter inconsistency of his views, not only with any standard
of doctrine recognized as sound by other men, but with his own public
utterances of perhaps the week previous. His imagination, once fairly
excited, could furnish in thirty minutes material for half-a-dozen
speeches of an hour each; and, unfortunately, it frequently happened
that different parts of the same speech could be used on opposite sides
of the same question.”

So he denounced the abolitionists and slavery in the same breath.
“Before I would assist one of those Southern devils to catch a nigger,”
he shouted, after reading “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” “I would see them all
in hell, and I would shout hallelujah on to the end of it!” “You talk
like a rabid abolitionist,” said his interlocutor. “No,” he cried, with
even more vengeance; “no, I despise them. They have cursed the land!”
He called Foster, the abolitionist orator, “a devil on the platform.”
His reverence for the church led him to consign summarily to a hotter
climate those who came out on the anti-slavery issue; and he was a
vehement advocate of church authority, and evangelical orthodoxy, yet
the most of his life he preached for Unitarians; and he openly defied
the mandate of the conference regarding Masonry, being a member of the
fraternity, and he submitted to church discipline for his contumacy,
but refused to withdraw from the order, and prayed in public for the
anti-Masons, “O, Lord, make their hearts as soft as their heads are.”
Plainly, there was no managing such a tempestuous soul, and he was
left to go his own way. Honor be to the church that had the magnanimity
and broad charity to let him do his own grand work in his own grand
way. It was herein as grand and eccentric as an organization as he was
among men.

His sarcasm, wit, terseness, and vigor of speech were the outcome of an
energetic and picturesque mind, struggling with a limited vocabulary
for its expression. His sentences were explosive. “This fast age,” he
said, “would be glad to put spurs to lightning, and blow a trumpet in
the ears of thunder.” Again, “Some people think they are saints. If
they could see themselves as the just in glory see them they wouldn’t
dare to look a decent devil in the face.” “If I owed the devil a
hypocrite, and he wouldn’t take that man for pay, I’d repudiate the
debt.” He called another minister, who had preceded him, and infringed
on his allotted time, “As selfish as a whale who takes in a ton of
herring before breakfast.” Again, “It is a great mistake to think of
converting the world without the help of sailors. You might as well
think of melting a mountain of ice with a moonbeam, or of heating an
oven with snow-balls.” He called morality, without religion, “Starting
a man to heaven with an icicle in his pocket.” “I am not two inches off
heaven!” he exclaimed, in a moment of religious exaltation. He said to
Channing, the Unitarian: “When you die angels will fight for the honor
of carrying you to heaven on their shoulders.” “Sailors’ hearts are
big as an ox’s; open like a sunflower, and they carry them in their
right hands ready to give them away.” One of his converts, gifted in
prayer, he always called “Salvation-set-to-music.” A colored brother,
speaking with the simple pathos of his race, drew from Father Taylor
the ejaculation, “There is rain in that cloud.”

But, whether homely or lofty, whether pathetic or witty, he always
talked in dead earnest out of his warm heart, out of his seething
brain, and everything was gilded by the magic touch of imagination.
“A man,” says Stevens, “who could scarcely speak three sentences,
in the pulpit or out of it, without presenting a striking poetic
image, a phrase of rare beauty, or a sententious sarcasm, whose
discourses presented the strangest, the most brilliant exhibition of
sense, epigrammatic thought, pathos, and humor, spangled over by an
exhaustless variety of the finest images and pervaded by a spiritual
earnestness that subdued all listeners.” “His splendid thoughts come
faster than he can speak them,” said Harriet Martineau, “and at times
he could be totally overwhelmed by them if a burst of tears, of which
he was wholly unconscious, did not aid in his relief.” “I have seen a
diamond shining,” said Dr. Bartol, “but he was a diamond on fire.”

3. _Sympathy._ Here was the secret of his power over men. His
emotional nature constantly overflowed all else. With a marvelous
intuition in reading character, a free-masonry with all phases of
human emotions, a magnetism that put him inside of every heart, he
became the better self, the ideal longing of each listener. It made
no difference how learned or stoical the man was; Father Taylor got
hold of him and stirred his heart from the bottom. A man of wit said,
“I am always afraid when I am laughing at Father Taylor’s wit, for
I know he will make me cry before he has done with me.” People cry
and laugh alternately, and sometimes both together. Laughter is the
best preparation for tears. “Man, thou pendulum betwixt a smile and
tear.” [Are we not all inconsistent, eccentric, at the bottom of our
natures, _i. e._, at our very best?] A New York comedian came to study
the method of one of whose acting he had heard much report; he was so
affected by the unlearned art of this master of the soul that he fairly
blubbered behind his handkerchief.

Dr. Wentworth, of another occasion said: “The immense audience swayed
in the wealth of his eloquence like a forest of willows. We laughed, we
wept, we shouted in turns; and finally, finding myself getting utterly
unmanned, and rapidly dissolving into tears and brine, I fled the
pulpit and hid myself out of earshot of this extraordinary scene.”

Dr. Wakely, of New York, describes the effects of a prayer by Father
Taylor, at the New York Conference: “The ministers wept all over
the house like little children. Dr. Capers and Dr. Pitman were in
the pulpit with me. Dr. Capers wept and trembled exceedingly; and
Dr. Pitman laughed and cried alternately—smiles and tears strangely

“His pathos is the most awful of his powers,” said Miss Martineau,
terrified at his control over her emotions; “I have seen a single
clause of a short sentence call up an instantaneous flush on hundreds
of hard faces.”

Many would not expose their hearts to hear him a second time; they
could not bear the overmastering power.

Dr. Bartol very finely said: “What was the secret but a sympathy,
raised to the highest power, so as to exceed all that we conceive under
that name, so that _he saw out of people as well as into them_! He put
on their eyes for his eyeglasses, looking at the world as they did,
and they found and felt him in them at the core and center.” “He was a
master of pathos,” said Dr. Bellows; “rough sailors and beautiful and
cultivated Boston girls, and men like Webster and Emerson, and shop
boys and Cambridge students, and Jenny Lind and Charles Dickens, and
Harriet Martineau, and everybody of taste or curiosity who visited
Boston were seen weeping together with Father Taylor. Ah, the human
heart, down at the bottom, is one.”

He loved all little children with all his Master’s passion. The baptism
of infants was always a baptism of joy and tears with him. He would
gather one to his breast and kiss and croon over it like a mother.
Taking a beautiful little girl in his arms, he raised her before the
whole audience, and said, with streaming eyes, “Look at the sweet lamb!
Her mother has brought her to Christ’s fold. A baptism of heaven be on
thee, my pretty dove.” All children recognized him at sight for one
of their guild. A ragged little girl walked into the church at his
funeral, laid a buttonhole bouquet on the coffin, and said timidly
and sweetly, “He was _my_ friend,” and so departed. Once when he had
been called to several children’s funerals in succession, he said to a
friend whom he met in the street, “There is something wrong somewhere.
There are storms brewing when so many doves are flying aloft.”

At funerals he was a refuge of consolation. He so entered into the
hearts bereaved that he felt their hurt. “Father, look upon us,” he
once implored, with mighty and tender supplication, “_we are a widow_!”
“It is no wonder to me,” said Harriet Martineau, “that the widow and
orphan are cherished by those who hear his prayers for them.”

Drunken sailors or abandoned women, none were left out of reach of his
infinite sympathy; and it reached the uttermost parts of the earth. A
sailor boy has died and been buried in South America, and he prays that
the Comforter may be near the bereaved father “when his aged heart goes
forth from his bosom to flutter around the far southern grave of his
boy!” Is Shakspere more dramatic, Shelly more imaginative, Longfellow
more pathetic than this?

Out of this fathomless love he preached his gospel of happiness and
purity and love; for it was doubtless true, as he declared, that “he
never knew the time when he did not love God.” Out of it came his
sweet charity and tolerance. His lovers were of all denominations and
of none—Catholics, Universalists, Unitarians—for he was “altogether
lovely.” When one at a camp-meeting excluded from salvation all these
sects, all men who used tobacco and all women who wore jewelry, Father
Taylor broke in indignantly, “If that’s true, Christ’s mission was a
failure. It’s a pity he came.” “How far apart are heaven and hell?” he
was asked. “I tell you,” said he, “they are so near that myriads of
souls to-day don’t know which they are in.” “Blessed Jesus,” he prayed,
“give us common sense, and let no man put blinkers on us, that we can
only see in a certain direction; for we want to look all around the
horizon—yea, to the highest heavens and to the lowest depths of the
ocean.” “When _Bigotry_ is buried I hope I shall be at the funeral,”
he said. His intimacy with the Unitarians, and his remarkable tribute
to Channing have been cited. Of Emerson he said: “He has the sweetest
soul God ever put into a man. If the devil gets him he will never know
what to do with him.” A theologian asked him what he was going to do
with the Unitarians; “I don’t know,” he said, confidentially; “if they
go to hell they’ll _change the atmosphere_.” “Is your son-in-law a
Christian?” asked a solicitous brother. “Not exactly,” replied Father
Taylor, “but he’s a very sweet sinner.”

4. _His humor._ This kept all cheerful, healthy and bright. He was a
“laughing Christian.” I do not think he ever used humor merely to make
people laugh, but always with an earnest purpose back of it. He was no
joker, and rarely thought his own keen thrusts subjects for merriment.

Of his manliness, his good sense, his improvidence, his sweet and
beautiful home life, space does not suffice to speak.

If to be an original character among men is to be eccentric, Father
Taylor was indeed odd. “He was in all things himself and not any
one else; in this generation there has been but one Father Taylor,”
said Dr. Waterstone; and Dr. Bartol declared that, “No American
citizen—Webster, Clay, Everett, Lincoln, Choate—has a reputation more
impressive and unique.” No one understood his singularity better than
himself. “I will not wear a straight-jacket or Chinese shoes,” he
declared. Having been invited to lecture, he said: “I can’t lecture; I
would not lecture if I could. Your lectures are all macadamized; they
are entertainments where those go who dare not visit the theater. I
must cross-plow your fine paths. I am no man’s model, no man’s copyist,
no man’s agent; go on my own hook; say what I please, and you may help

Like all greatly-eccentric souls, I presume, he felt his own isolation
and want of comprehension of himself by others. One who sat far into
the night in communion of soul with him, said: “You are a strange
mortal!” “Well,” said he, pathetically, “I have made up my mind there
never was but one E. T. Taylor and, so far as I have anything to do
with it, there never shall be another.”

When we think of his birth, training, and surroundings—the child of the
plantation and the graduate of the forecastle—and contrast this with
his peculiar powers, his strange career, and above all in rarity his
wonderful world-wide mission, it is not too much to say that Father
Taylor is without a parallel in American history. “An impulsive,
untrained, and erratic genius;” there was a fixed purpose and a
continuity of effort, such as is seen in few lives. If extravagant
in speech and inconsistent in views, his intensity, vividness, and
realism, make all sound like plain common-sense. Haughty and tender,
imperious and democratic, grand and simple, splendidly uncultured; a
strange, terrible power among men always used for leading, driving,
persuading to righteousness. He deserves a paraphrase of a higher
tribute than Phillips, the Irish barrister, gave to Napoleon. Such
a medley of contradictions and at the same time such individual
consistency for right were never before united in the same character.
In the solitude of his originality, he was always the same mysterious,
incomprehensible self—a man without a model and without a shadow.

“When I am dead,” he pleaded, “I do not want to be buried in dirt. But
bury me rather in the deep salt sea, where the coral rocks shall be my
pillow, and the seaweeds shall be my winding-sheet, and the waves shall
sing my requiem forever.”

And it was not done. Conventionality triumphed in death over the old
eccentric, who had defied it as long as he lived.

       *       *       *       *       *

OBSERVE, the fates of men are balanced with wonderfully nice
adjustments. The scale of this life, if it sinks, rises there,
while if it rises here, it will sink to the ground there. What was
here temporary affliction, will be there eternal triumph; what was
here temporary triumph, will be there eternal and ever-enduring

C. L. S. C. WORK.


May the new year work be promptly begun, faithfully prosecuted,
satisfactorily completed!

       *       *       *       *       *

October 1 is Memorial Day—the day of the beginning of our college year.
The bell at Chautauqua will ring at high noon. Listen for its echoes.

       *       *       *       *       *

One member has already nearly finished two of the books since the
meetings closed at Chautauqua. He read on the train; he read at the
station; he read at the hotel; he read during the odd minutes at home.
This is a good example.

       *       *       *       *       *

The readings for October are: History of Greece,[D] vol. 2, by Prof.
T. T. Timayenis, parts 7 and 8; Chautauqua Text-Books—No. 5, Greek
History, by Dr. J. H. Vincent; Primer of American Literature, by C. F.
Richardson; required readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

Let the members of the Class of ’83 who were not graduated in August,
now begin to read up the required books, and be ready for graduation in

       *       *       *       *       *

In the earliest announcement of the course of study for 1883-84, the
little Chautauqua Text-Book No. 22, on Biology, was given. Many members
suppose that this is the substitute for “Easy Lessons in Vegetable
Biology,” an altogether different book. The price of Chautauqua
Text-Book No. 22 is 10 cents; the price of “Easy Lessons in Vegetable
Biology” is (in the cheapest edition) 25 cents. If they will return to
Phillips & Hunt, 805 Broadway, New York, the Chautauqua Text-Book and
15 cents additional, they will forward the “Easy Lessons in Vegetable

       *       *       *       *       *

Students in the Class of 1887 should have Chautauqua Text-Books Nos. 4
and 5, English and Greek History. They have already been read by the
other classes. Price, 10 cents each.

       *       *       *       *       *

Members of the C. L. S. C. are earnestly urged to read Chautauqua
Text-Book No. 24, Canadian History. This should have been required in
the earlier lists.

       *       *       *       *       *

All members of the C. L. S. C. should examine carefully the “Popular
Education” circular which appears in this number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, to
ascertain if they have the complete list of books for the year.

       *       *       *       *       *

By the payment of one dollar, all graduates of the C. L. S. C. will be
entitled to all communications from the central office for four years,
the four white crystal seals, and any additional white seals which they
may gain. The one dollar does not, of course, pay for special seals.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Chautauqua Hand-Book No. 2—known as the “Green Book”—which contains
a full account of the C. L. S. C. work, is now ready. Send a two cent
stamp to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J., and you will receive a

       *       *       *       *       *

The Class of 1884 should send in their back reports as soon as
possible. It is so much better to get all ready in advance, and not
wait until the close of the year, when the general office is crowded,
the secretaries busy, and mistakes easily possible.


[D] Students of the new class (1887) to be organized this fall, not
having read volume 1 of Timayenis’s History of Greece, will not
be required to read volume 2, but, instead of volumes 1 and 2 of
Timayenis’s, will read “Brief History of Greece.” Price, paper, 60


The full accounts of the C. L. S. C. commencement exercises at the
summer Assemblies, which we publish this month, take the place of the
reports from the local circles. It is only for this month, however.
The department will continue to be a regular feature of the magazine.
These reports have been of great service to local circles everywhere,
and we earnestly request that full and exact accounts of work should
be forwarded us by the president or secretary of each local circle.
Let any new feature in the program be fully described; give us all the
new plans for social work, give everything that will be suggestive and
helpful. Several times last year we were asked how to work up a new
circle, or to revive a dying one. Where leaders have had experience in
building up these circles let them give testimony through the “Local
Circle” column. It may help others in similar circumstances. The new
and helpful features are what we want for this department. If the
members will co-operate, the local circle reports will be very useful.


OCTOBER, 1883.

The required readings for October are:

Parts 7 and 8 of the second volume of Timayenis’s “History of Greece”
for students having read the first volume, but for students of class
1887 the first ninety-one pages of “Brief History of Greece.”

Chautauqua Text-book, No. 5, “Greek History,” by Dr. J. H. Vincent.

“Primer of American Literature,” by C. F. Richardson.


The division is as follows:

    _First Week_ (ending October 8)—1. The first three
    chapters of part 7 of Timayenis’s “History of Greece;”
    or from page 1 to “Age of Pericles,” page 23, in “Brief
    History of Greece.”

    2. American Literature, the first two chapters.

    3. Readings in American Literature in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

    4. Sunday Readings, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selection for
    October 7.

    _Second Week_ (ending October 16)—1. Timayenis’s
    “History of Greece,” from chapter iv., part 7,
    to chapter ii., part 8, or in “Brief History of
    Greece,” from “The Age of Pericles,” page 23, to “The
    Civilization,” page 46.

    2. American Literature, from page 30 to page 55,

    3. Readings in Physical Science in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

    4. Sunday Readings, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selection for
    October 14.

    _Third Week_ (ending October 24)—1. “History of Greece”
    (Timayenis’s) from chapter ii., page 73, to chapter
    vi., page 115, or in “Brief History of Greece,” from
    page 46, “The Civilization,” to “Manners and Customs,”
    page 71.

    2. American Literature, from page 56, section 34, to
    page 81.

    3. Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN on German History and
    Political Economy.

    4. Sunday Readings, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selection for
    October 21.

    _Fourth Week_ (ending October 31)—1. “History of
    Greece.” Finish part eighth, or in “Brief History
    of Greece,” from page 71, “Manners and Customs,” to
    “Readings in Greek History,” page 91.

    2. American Literature, from section 34, page 81, to
    end of volume.

    3. Readings in Art, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

    4. Sunday Readings, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, for October 28.



_President_—Lewis Miller.

_Superintendent of Instruction_—J. H. Vincent, D.D.

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

_Office Secretary_—Miss Kate F. Kimball.

_General Secretary_—A. M. Martin.


This new organization aims to promote habits of reading and study
in nature, art, science, and in secular and sacred literature, in
connection with the routine of daily life (especially among those whose
educational advantages have been limited), so as to secure to them
the college student’s general outlook upon the world and life, and to
develop the habit of close, connected, persistent thinking.


It proposes to encourage individual study in lines and by text-books
which shall be indicated; by local circles for mutual help and
encouragement in such studies; by summer courses of lectures and
“students’ sessions” at Chautauqua, and by written reports and


The course of study prescribed by the C. L. S. C. shall cover a period
of four years.


_Each year’s Course of Study will be considered the “First Year” for
new pupils_ whether it be the first, second, third, or fourth of the
four years’ course. For example, “the class of 1887,” instead of
beginning October, 1883, with the same studies which were pursued in
1882-83 by “the class of 1886,” will fall in with “the class of ’86,”
and take for their first year the second year’s course of the ’86
class. The first year for “the class of 1886” will thus in due time
become the fourth year for “the class of 1887.”

5.—C. L. S. C. COURSE OF READING, 1883-84


    History of Greece.[E] By Prof. T. T. Timayenis. Vol. 2;
    parts 7, 8, 10 and 11. Price, $1.15.

    Stories in English History by the Great Historians.
    Edited by C. E. Bishop, Esq. Price, $1.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 16, Roman History; No. 24,
    Canadian History; No. 21, American History; No. 5,
    Greek History. Price, 10 cents each.

    Preparatory Latin Course in English. By Dr. W. C.
    Wilkinson. Price, $1.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 23, English Literature. By
    Prof. J. H. Gilmore. Price, 10 cents.

    Primer of American Literature. By C. F. Richardson.
    Price, 30 cents.

    Biographical Stories by Hawthorne. Price, 15 cents.

    How to Get Strong and How to Stay So. By W. Blaikie.
    Price, cloth, 80 cents; paper, 50 cents.

    Easy Lessons in Vegetable Biology. By Dr. J. H. Wythe.
    Price, cloth, 40 cents; paper, 25 cents.

    Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. By J. B. Walker.
    Price, cloth, $1; paper, 50 cts.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 18, Christian Evidences;
    No. 39, Sunday-School Normal Class Work; No. 43, Good
    Manners; No. 4, English History. Price, 10 cents each.

    THE CHAUTAUQUAN, price, $1.50, in which will be

    Sunday Readings. Selected by Dr. J. H. Vincent.
    Readings in Commercial Law. By Edwin C. Reynolds, Esq.
    Readings in Political Economy. By Prof. George M. Steele, D.D.
    Readings in French History and Literature. By Dr. J. H. Vincent.
    Studies in American History and Literature. By A. M. Martin, Esq.

    THE CHAUTAUQUAN will also contain, in the department of
    Required Readings, brief papers, as follows:

    Readings in German History and Literature.
    Readings in Roman History.
    Readings in American Literature.
    Readings about the Arts, Artists, and their Masterpieces.
    Readings in Physical Science.


    Hints for Home Reading. By Dr. Lyman Abbott. Price,
    cloth, $1; boards, 75 cts.

    The Hall in the Grove. By Mrs. Alden. (A Story of
    Chautauqua and the C. L. S. C.) Price, $1.50.

    Outline Study of Man. By Dr. Mark Hopkins. Price, $1.50.


Persons who pursue the “White Seal Course” of each year, in addition
to the regular course, will receive at the time of their graduation a
white seal for each year, to be attached to the regular diploma.

    History of Greece.[E] By Prof. T. T. Timayenis. Vol. 2.
    Completed. Price, $1.15.

    Chautauqua Library of English History and Literature.
    Vol. 2. Price, cloth, 50 cents; paper, 35 cents.

    Church History. By Dr. Blackburn. Price, $2.25.

    Bacon’s Essays. Price, $1.25.


For the benefit of graduates of the C. L. S. C. who, being members of
local circles, wish to continue in the same general line of reading
as undergraduate members, a White Crystal Seal Course is prepared.
This consists mainly of books belonging to the current year’s study,
but not previously read by the graduates. An additional white seal is
also offered to the graduates, the books for which are specified under
paragraph 4. Some of these books were in the first four year’s course,
and are therefore to be _re_-read. The payment of one dollar at one
time entitles a graduate to the White Crystal and White Seals for four
years. If only fifty cents is paid, it will be credited for but one

    THE CHAUTAUQUAN. Required Reading.

    History of Greece.[E] By Prof. T. T. Timayenis. Vol. 2.
    Completed. Price, $1.15.

    Preparatory Latin Course in English. By. Dr. W. C.
    Wilkinson. Price, $1.

    Credo. By Dr. L. T. Townsend. Price, $1.

    Bacon’s Essays. Price, $1.25.


    Brief History of Greece. By J. Dorman Steele. Price, 60

    Stories in English History by the Great Historians.
    Edited by C. E. Bishop. Price, $1.

    Easy Lessons in Vegetable Biology. By Dr. J. H. Wythe.
    Price, cloth, 40 cents; paper, 25 cents.

    Biographical Stories. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. Price, 15

    How to Get Strong and How to Stay So. By W. Blaikie.
    Price, cloth, 80 cents; paper, 50 cents.

    Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. By J. B. Walker.
    Price, cloth, $1; paper, 50 cts.

    Primer of American Literature. By C. F. Richardson.
    Price, 30 cents.

    Chautauqua Text-Books, Nos. 4, 5, 16, 18, 21, 23, 39
    and 43. Price, each, 10 cents. #/

The following is the distribution of the books and readings through the


    History of Greece.[E] Vol. 2. By Prof. T. T. Timayenis.
    Parts 7 and 8.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 5, Greek History. By Dr. J.
    H. Vincent.

    Primer of American Literature. By C. F. Richardson.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    History of Greece.[F] Vol. 2. By Prof. T. T. Timayenis.
    Parts 10 and 11.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 5, Greek History. By Dr. J.
    H. Vincent.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    Easy Lessons in Vegetable Biology. Dr. J. H. Wythe.

    Biographical Stories. By Nathaniel Hawthorne.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. By J. B. Walker.
    14 chapters.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 18, Christian Evidences. By
    Dr. J. H. Vincent.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 39, Sunday School Normal
    Class Work.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. By J. B. Walker.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 21, American History; No.
    24, Canadian History.

    How to Get Strong and How to Stay So. By W. Blaikie.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    Preparatory Latin Course in English. By Dr. W. C.
    Wilkinson. Half of book.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    Preparatory Latin Course in English. By Dr. W. C.
    Wilkinson. Completed.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 16, Roman History. By Dr. J.
    H. Vincent.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    Stories in English History by the Great Historians. By
    C. E. Bishop. Half of book.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 4, English History. By Dr.
    J. H. Vincent.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 23, English Literature. By
    Prof. J. H. Gilmore.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


    Stories in English History by the Great Historians.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 4, English History. By Dr.
    J. H. Vincent.

    Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 43, Good Manners. By J—— P——.

    Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN


Members of the C. L. S. C. may take, in addition to the regular course
above prescribed, one or more special courses, and pass an examination
upon them. Pupils will receive credit and testimonial seals to be
appended to the regular diploma, according to the merit of examinations
on these supplemental courses.


Persons who are too young, or not sufficiently advanced in their
studies to take the regular C. L. S. C. course, may adopt certain
_preparatory lessons_ for one or more years.

For circulars of the preparatory course, address Miss K. F. KIMBALL,
Plainfield, New Jersey.


To defray the expenses of correspondence, memoranda, etc., an annual
fee of fifty cents is required. This amount should be forwarded to
Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J., (by New York or Philadelphia
draft, Post-office order on Plainfield, N. J., or the new Postal Note,
to be ready about September 1.) Do not send postage-stamps if you can
possibly avoid it. _Three_-cent stamps will not be received.

N. B.—In sending your fee, be sure to state to which class you belong,
whether 1884, 1885, 1886, or 1887.


Persons desiring to unite with the C. L. S. C. should forward answers
to the following questions to MISS K. F. KIMBALL, PLAINFIELD, N. J. The
class graduating in 1887 should begin the study of the lessons required
October, 1883. They _may_ begin as late as January 1, 1884.

1. Give your name in full.

2. Your post-office address, with county and State.

3. Are you married or single?

4. What is your age? Are you between twenty and thirty, or thirty and
forty, or forty and fifty, or fifty and sixty, etc.?

5. If married, how many children living under the age of sixteen

6. What is your occupation?

7. With what religious denomination are you connected?

8. Do you, after mature deliberation, resolve, if able, to prosecute
the four years’ course of study presented by the C. L. S. C.?

9. Do you promise, if practicable, to give an average of four hours a
week to the reading and study required by this course?

10. How much more than the time specified do you hope to give to this
course of study?


An average of forty minutes’ reading each week-day will enable the
student in nine months to complete the books required for the year.
More time than this will probably be spent by many persons, and for
their accommodation a special course of reading on the same subjects
has been indicated. The habit of thinking steadily upon worthy themes
during one’s secular toil will lighten labor, brighten life, and
develop power.


The annual “examinations” will be held at the homes of the members, and
in writing. Duplicate Memoranda are forwarded, one copy being retained
by each student and the other filled out and forwarded to the office at
Plainfield, N. J.


Persons should be present to enjoy the annual meetings at Chautauqua,
but attendance there is not necessary to graduation in the C. L. S. C.
Persons who have never visited Chautauqua may enjoy the advantages,
diploma, and honors of the “Circle.”


For the history of the C. L. S. C., an explanation of the LOCAL
CIRCLES, the MEMORIAL DAYS to be observed by all true C. L. S. C.
members, ST. PAUL’S GROVE at Chautauqua, etc., etc., address (inclose
two-cent stamp) Miss K. F. KIMBALL, Plainfield, N. J., who will forward
the “Chautauqua Hand-Book, No. 2,” sixty-four pages. Blank forms,
containing the ten questions given in paragraph 9, will also be sent on


THE CHAUTAUQUAN, organ of the C. L. S. C.; 76 pages; ten numbers;
$1.50 per year. CHAUTAUQUA ASSEMBLY DAILY HERALD, organ of Chautauqua
meetings; 8 pages; 48 columns. Daily in August; 19 numbers. Contains
the lectures delivered at Chautauqua; $1 per volume. Both periodicals
one year, $2.50. Address Dr. Theodore L. Flood, Editor and Proprietor,
Meadville, Pa.

15.—BOOKS OF THE C. L. S. C.

For all the books address Phillips & Hunt, New York, or Walden & Stowe,
Cincinnati or Chicago.


[E] Students of the new class (1887) to be organized this fall, and
graduates of the classes of 1882 and 1883, not having read volume 1 of
Timayenis’s History of Greece, will not be required to read volume 2,
but instead of volume 2 of Timayenis’s, will read “Brief History of
Greece.” Price, paper, 60 cts.

[F] Students of the new class (1887) to be organized this fall, not
having read volume 1 of Timayenis’s History of Greece, will not be
required to read volume 2, but instead of volume 2, of Timayenis’s,
will read “Brief History of Greece.” Price, paper, 60 cts.

[G] We ask this question to ascertain the possible future intellectual
and moral influence of this “Circle” on your homes.

    [_Not required._]




1. Q. What was the character of the Thebans in the fifth and fourth
centuries before Christ? A. They were brave soldiers, and possessed
souls, if not always noble, yet ever resolute; bodies, if not
prepossessing, yet athletic and well prepared, by exercise and thorough
drill from early childhood, for every military duty.

2. Q. What two names are permanently associated with the rise of Theban
power? A. Epaminondas and Pelopidas.

3. Q. What was the training and what some of the striking
characteristics of Epaminondas? A. He was trained from early youth in
all the branches of gymnastics and military duty; was distinguished by
the diligent care he took of his intellectual education; was modest and
wholly devoid of a boasting spirit, and was indifferent to money.

4. Q. What did Epaminondas, with Pelopidas, organize that filled Hellas
with the fame of its achievements, and fell only when the autonomy of
Hellas disappeared? A. The famous lochos, or band, composed of three
hundred picked men, bound together by the closest ties of friendship,
and devoted to each other to the death.

5. Q. What was the effect upon the Spartans of the war against the
Thebans, the latter being assisted by the Athenians, during the first
part of the fourth century before Christ? A. The Spartans were daily
losing their prestige and becoming humbled.

6. Q. What was the most noted of the combats of the Thebans with the
Lacedæmonians in Bœotia at this time, which served as a sort of prelude
to that of Leuktra? A. The battle of Tegyra, in which the Thebans, led
by Pelopidas, achieved a splendid victory.

7. Q. What disastrous visitations heightened the despondency of the
Spartans in 372 B. C.? A. The terrible earthquakes and rains which
during that year occurred in the Peloponnesus, and which they regarded
as tokens of the wrath of the god Poseidon.

8. Q. What was the result of the Athenians having established their new
naval dominion on the Ionian Sea? A. They had no longer ground on which
to continue the war, and they therefore sent to Sparta for peace.

9. Q. What was the result of the congress of the Hellenic nation which
followed in the year 371 B. C.? A. Agesilaus, on behalf of Sparta,
caused the names of the Thebans to be struck from the roll, and
declared war against them upon the spot.

10. Q. What celebrated battle was fought soon after in Bœotia between
the Lacedæmonians and the Thebans? A. The battle of Leuktra.

11. Q. Previous to this time how had Hellenic armies been drawn up in
order of battle? A. In parallel lines.

12. Q. What plan did Epaminondas adopt on this occasion? A. He massed
upon the center a greater force than his opponent, and concentrated a
superior number upon the right wing.

13. Q. What is said of the adoption of this arrangement of the forces
of an army afterward by military leaders? A. It was afterward largely
adopted by military leaders, and by its successful application some of
the greatest battles of the world have been gained by such generals as
Frederick of Prussia and Napoleon.

14. Q. What was the result at the battle of Leuktra? A. The right wing
of the Spartans was completely driven back to their camp, and the
remainder of the army sought safety by retreat.

15. Q. Following immediately upon the defeat at Leuktra what occurred
in the Peloponnesus? A. A great revolution broke out against Sparta.

16. Q. What movement was next undertaken by Epaminondas? A. He invaded
the Peloponnesus with the Thebans and their allies, and approached
almost to the very gates of Sparta.

17. Q. What is said of the appearance of an enemy before Sparta? A.
Full six hundred years had elapsed since the first establishment of
the Dorians in Lacedæmon, and this was the first time in all that long
period that they had seen an enemy in their territory.

18. Q. What two enterprises did Epaminondas now execute which had
formed the special purpose of his expedition? A. The re-establishment
of Messenia and the consolidation of the Arkadians.

19. Q. Within what space of time had this complete change of affairs
occurred in the Peloponnesus? A. Within a space of eighteen months from
the time the Thebans were insultingly driven from the national congress
by Sparta.

20. Q. On the north what conquest was made by Pelopidas about the same
time? A. He invaded Thessaly, and subdued the greater part of the

21. Q. What were the terms of the permanent league into which the two
states of Athens and Sparta now entered? A. That the command both on
land and sea should alternate between Athens and Sparta for periods of
five days.

22. Q. Notwithstanding this league what was the ruling city in Hellas?
A. Thebes.

23. Q. What countries in Greece acknowledged Thebes as ruler and obeyed
her? A. Macedonia, Thessaly, most of the countries between Thermopylæ
and the isthmus, and most of the Peloponnesus.

24. Q. About the end of the year 368 B. C., what battle was fought
between the Spartans and Arkadians during the absence of Epaminondas
from the Peloponnesus? A. What the Spartans called “The Tearless

25. Q. What does Diodorus say of the slain? A. Ten thousand men were
slain, without the loss of a single Lacedæmonian.

26. Q. At the instance of Pelopidas, in 366 B. C., what declaration was
made by the Persian king in regard to Thebes? A. Thebes was declared
the head city of Hellas, and any city refusing to admit her leadership
was menaced with instant compulsion by Persian force.

27. Q. How was this declaration received by the allies of Thebes? A.
They collectively refused to adhere to the royal decree.

28. Q. What occurred to Pelopidas while in the execution of his duty as
envoy to Thessaly in his efforts to have the supremacy of Thebes there
recognized? A. He was seized and detained as prisoner by Alexander of

29. Q. After he had been released through the efforts of Epaminondas,
what was the result of an engagement of the forces of Pelopidas with
those of Alexander of Thessaly? A. The army of Alexander was routed at
the battle of Kynos Kephalæ, but Pelopidas was slain.

30. Q. About the middle of 362 B. C., for what purpose did Epaminondas
march again into the Peloponnesus? A. In order to strengthen the
adherents of the Thebans and to put down their numerous opponents.

31. Q. What celebrated battle was fought between the forces under
Epaminondas and the allied army opposed? A. The battle of Mantineia.

32. Q. What was the result of the engagement? A. The whole army in
opposition to Epaminondas was driven from the field.

33. Q. What was the fate of Epaminondas? A. He received a wound in the
breast from the thrust of a spear which proved mortal.

34. Q. What is the character of the opinions that have been uniformly
expressed, both in ancient and modern times concerning Epaminondas? A.
There has ever been for him only praise and admiration.

35. Q. After he fell what prevailed for twenty-five years in Greece? A.
Political anarchy, ending only in the Macedonian supremacy.

36. Q. Following the advice of Epaminondas what did the Thebans at once
do after the battle of Mantineia? A. They made peace with the enemy.

37. Q. Where did the Spartan king, Agesilaus, soon after die? A. On
the march toward home from Egypt, where he unsuccessfully attempted an
expedition against the Persian empire.

38. Q. What three islands and city revolted from Athens and her
confederacy which led to the three years’ “social war” from 358 to
355 B. C.? A. The islands of Chios, Kos and Rhodes, and the city of

39. Q. What war was carried on in Greece for the ten years from 355 to
346 B. C.? A. The second Sacred War.

40. Q. During this war what desecration was committed by the Phokian
general Philomelus? A. The sanctuary of the Delphian temple was seized
and robbed of its treasures.

41. Q. What noted king of Macedonia first took part in Hellenic affairs
during the second Sacred War? A. Philip.

42. Q. What was the result of an engagement by the forces of Philip
with the Phokians? A. He became master of Thessaly, and proclaimed
himself the avenger of the Delphian god, and the defender of the
insulted Hellenic religion.

43. Q. By whom was the advance of Philip into Hellas repelled? A. By
the Athenians, who occupied Thermopylæ in opposition to Philip.

44. Q. What renowned orator attempted to arouse the Athenians to oppose
the advance of Philip in his efforts to reduce all Hellas to his sway?
A. Demosthenes.

45. Q. Where does the criticism of the modern world and that of the
grandest orators of France and England unanimously place Demosthenes?
A. At the head of orators.

46. Q. By what name are the most famous of the orations of Demosthenes
known? A. The Philipics.

47. Q. What decisive battle was fought in 338 B. C. between the
Macedonian army and the Athenians and their allies? A. The battle of

48. Q. What was the result of this battle? A. The Greeks were
conquered, and the Sacred Band of the Thebans to a man fell in this
battle as they stood in a solid phalanx, not one of the three hundred
yielding a foot.

49. Q. To whom was the chief credit of this victory due? A. To the
youthful Alexander, the son of Philip.

50. Q. At a congress of Hellenic cities Philip soon after convened at
Corinth to what position was he chosen? A. General-in-chief of all

51. Q. What was the geographical position of Macedonia before its
enlargement through the conquests of Philip? A. It was an exclusively
inland country lying between two mountain ranges on the north side of
the great Kambunian chain.

52. Q. What is said of the language of the Macedonians? A. It was
widely different from that of the Thracians on the east and the
Illyrians on the west, and was so nearly akin to the Hellenic that the
latter tongue was easily acquired by them.

53. Q. In the earliest times how were the inhabitants of Macedonia
divided? A. Into a variety of independent tribes, each of which had its
own king or chieftain.

54. Q. According to tradition who were the real founders of the
greatness of Macedonia? A. Fugitives from Hellas, belonging to the
royal Herakleid line of Argos, who are supposed to have arrived in the
country during the seventh century before Christ.

55. Q. Who was the first Macedonian sovereign of real historic
importance? A. Amyntas.

56. Q. Mention three other sovereigns of Macedonia before Philip. A.
Alexander, Perdikkas, and Archelaus.

57. Q. Who was the father of Philip? A. Amyntas II.

58. Q. What mode of life did the immediate predecessors of Philip seek
as much as possible to approach? A. The Attic mode of life.

59. Q. What is said in regard to King Archelaus? A. That he introduced
many social improvements after Hellenic models, and was much attached
to the youthful Plato and his teacher Sokrates.

60. Q. At the age of fifteen where was Philip taken as a hostage? A. To

61. Q. How long did he remain there? A. Three years.

62. Q. Though a hostage how was he welcomed? A. He was honorably and
cordially welcomed, received a scientific and oratorical training, and
studied philosophy.

63. Q. Almost from the beginning of his reign what income did Philip
receive from the gold-producing regions of Mount Pangæus? A. According
to Diodorus a yearly income of one thousand talents.

64. Q. How did this income compare with that received by the Athenians
and the Spartans? A. It was greater than that which the Athenians and
the Spartans obtained in the very acme of their power.

65. Q. What steps did Philip take to make his army more efficient? A.
He reorganized the army and effected a complete transformation in their
armament and accomplishments.

66. Q. What was the most formidable part of the army as organized by
Philip? A. The Macedonian phalanx.

67. Q. What was the principal weapon of the soldiers serving in the
phalanx? A. A long pike called the sarissa, twenty-one feet in length.

68. Q. After his return from Corinth in 337 B. C. what did Philip do
in regard to the invasion of Asia? A. He made so many preparations for
his intended expedition into Asia that he exhausted his accumulated

69. Q. What steps did he take in the spring of 336 B. C. to begin
hostilities against the Persians? A. He sent to Asia a portion of the
Macedonian army, under Parmenio and Attalus, to begin hostilities at
once until he assumed command of the expedition.

70. Q. What was the result of a quarrel that occurred about this time
between Philip and one of his wives, Olympias, the mother of Alexander?
A. Olympias went to her brother, the King of Epirus, and Alexander soon
followed her, and expressed strong resentment at the treatment of his

71. Q. In what way did Philip seek to reconcile the parties to this
quarrel, and at the same time ally himself to the King of Epirus? A.
By giving the King of Epirus his daughter by Olympias, Kleopatra, in

72. Q. How were the nuptials celebrated? A. With many splendid and
costly entertainments.

73. Q. During the festivities how did Philip come to his death? A.
As he was walking toward the door of the theater he was suddenly
assassinated by Pausanias, one of the body-guard of the king.

74. Q. At what age did Philip die, and how long was his reign? A. He
died at the age of forty-seven, after a reign of twenty-three years.

75. Q. Who succeeded him to the throne? A. His son, Alexander the Great.

76. Q. When was Alexander born? A. In July, 356 B. C.

77. Q. What is said of Alexander and the Iliad? A. One of the first
books that he read was the Iliad, to which he became devotedly
attached, and a copy of which, corrected, as it is said, by Aristotle,
he carried with him in his military campaigns.

78. Q. What was the effect of the reception of the news of the death
of Philip at Athens and elsewhere? A. There was an outbreak, caused
especially by Demosthenes, who represented his death as holding forth
new hopes of freedom to the city. There was also much disturbance in
other Hellenic cities.

79. Q. When Alexander was informed of this crisis of affairs what
steps did he take? A. He hastened to Hellas with a considerable army,
reaching there within two months of the death of his father.

80. Q. What action was taken by a common council of the Greeks that
Alexander assembled at Corinth? A. The council gave him, as it had done
to Philip two years before, the hegemony of the expedition against
Asia. The Lacedæmonians alone stood aloof, refusing all concurrence.

81. Q. After his return to Macedonia, where did Alexander next go to
secure his domains? A. Into Thrace and bordering regions where he
subdued the tribes and brought them under his subjection.

82. Q. In the meantime what Hellenic city revolted from the rule of
Alexander? A. Thebes.

83. Q. What followed Alexander’s immediate march from the north to
Thebes? A. The city was taken after a desperate resistance, six
thousand of the inhabitants slain, thirty thousand sold into slavery,
and the houses leveled to the ground.

84. Q. Upon his return to Macedonia what did Alexander institute? A.
Magnificent sacrifices to the gods, and scenic contests in honor of the
god Zeus and the Muses.

85. Q. Who was now upon the throne of the Persian empire? A. Darius

86. Q. When did Alexander commence his invasion of Asia? A. In the year
334 B. C.

87. Q. What was the size of the Macedonian army that Alexander led into
Asia? A. Thirty thousand infantry and forty-five hundred cavalry.

88. Q. Where did he first encounter the Persian army? A. At the river

89. Q. What was the result of the engagement that followed? A. The army
of Alexander forced the passage of the river in the face of the enemy
and entirely routed the Persian forces.

90. Q. What followed Alexander’s march through Asia Minor? A. Many
cities surrendered without opposition, and the others he reached he

91. Q. As he was marching further into Asia, who now advanced to meet
Alexander? A. Darius himself with an immense army equipped in great

92. Q. Where did the hostile armies encounter each other? A. On the
plains of Issus.

93. Q. What was the result of the battle there fought? A. The Persians
were completely routed with great loss, and Darius saved himself only
by precipitate flight.

94. Q. What two cities refused to submit to Alexander, and were taken
by him only after prolonged sieges? A. Tyre and Gaza.

95. Q. Into what country did Alexander next march, and what great
commercial city did he there found? A. Into Egypt, where he founded

96. Q. Where did Alexander again encounter the Persian army, and with
what results? A. On the plains of Arbela, eastward of the Tigris. The
immense army of the Persians was either cut to pieces, captured, or
dispersed, and no subsequent attempt was made to gather together a
large regular force.

97. Q. What two great capitals of Persia now surrendered to Alexander
without a struggle? A. Babylon and Susa.

98. Q. Into what region did Alexander further extend his conquests? A.
Into India.

99. Q. Upon his return from India, when and where did Alexander die? A.
At Babylon in the year 323 B. C.

100. Q. What became of the countries subdued by Alexander after his
death? A. The empire was subjected to protracted civil wars, and was
subsequently separated into numerous small kingdoms.


1. Q. As soon as the English colonists landed on American shores, at
Jamestown and Plymouth, for what purpose did they begin to think of the
establishment of schools of sound learning? A. In Virginia, for the
purpose of educating the Indians, and in Massachusetts Bay for the
supply of church pastors.

2. Q. Until politics began to interest the colonists in a vital manner,
what formed the bulk of the issues of the press? A. Religious books and

3. Q. What was the first book written and printed in New England? A.
The Bay Psalm Book.

4. Q. Of all the theological writers of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, who were the most voluminous? A. Increase Mather and his son
Cotton. The publications of the former numbered eighty-five, and of the
latter no less than three hundred and eighty-two.

5. Q. What is the chief monument of the industry and scholarship of
John Eliot, the “Apostle to the Indians?” A. His translation of the
entire Bible into the Indian tongue. This appeared in two parts, the
New Testament in 1661, and the whole Bible in 1663, and was the labor
of the unaided Eliot.

6. Q. What are the names of three minor writers of the seventeenth
century? A. Capt. John Smith, Gov. John Winthrop, and Michael

7. Q. Upon what work does the reputation of Jonathan Edwards as
philosopher and theologian chiefly rest? A. His great treatise on the
“Freedom of the Will,” written about the middle of the eighteenth

8. Q. Who were the principal leaders in the eighteenth century of the
school of philosophy which Edwards shaped? A. Samuel Hopkins, Nathaniel
Emmons and Timothy Dwight.

9. Q. What is one of the most remarkable of the names of great
Americans in the eighteenth century? A. Benjamin Franklin, who was a
master in whatever branch of learning he touched.

10. Q. What is one of the best known of Franklin’s works? A. Poor
Richard’s Almanac.

11. Q. What are the names of three minor writers of the eighteenth
century? A. William Stith, David Brainerd and John Woolman.

12. Q. Of what character was a large part of the books and pamphlets
written during the revolutionary period? A. It was necessarily of
temporary interest, and of little value as literature.

13. Q. In what particular did George Washington excel as a writer? A.
As a letter writer.

14. Q. What are some of the most noted productions of Thomas Jefferson?
A. Notes on Virginia, his Correspondence, and the Declaration of

15. Q. What was the Federalist? A. It was a collection of essays
published periodically, and arguing in favor of the Constitution of the
United States adopted in 1789, and was the concerted work of Alexander
Hamilton, James Madison and John Jay.

16. Q. What work of Thomas Paine has always had a wide circulation
chiefly among the lower classes? A. The Age of Reason. It advocates a
pure deism, but its method of criticism and temper of attack are now
generally repudiated by more scholarly writers of the same school.

17. Q. Who was the first American poet to attain eminence? A. Philip
Freneau, a Huguenot by descent and a New Yorker by birth.

18. Q. Who was the first American novelist and what was his first work?
A. Charles Brockden Brown, and his first work called “Wieland” was
printed in 1798.

19. Q. For what are the histories written during the last century
chiefly useful? A. As authorities for later writers.

20. Q. Who were two biographical writers of the last century? A.
William Wirt, who wrote a readable life of Patrick Henry, and Chief
Justice John Marshall, who prepared a standard life of Washington.

21. Q. What was incident to the beginning of the present century being
marked by a considerable controversial excitement among the New England
clergy? A. The spread of Unitarian views in and around Boston.

22. Q. Who were the Unitarian leaders in this controversy? A. William
Ellery Channing, the Henry Wares, father and son, and Andrew Norton.

23. Q. By whom were the conservative Congregationalists championed?
A. By Noah Worcester, of Salem, and Moses Stewart and Leonard Woods,
professors in the theological seminary at Andover.

24. Q. What is the principal theological work that has appeared since
Edward’s famous treatise? A. The “Systematic Theology” of Charles
Hodge, professor in Princeton Seminary.

25. Q. What two college presidents have devoted much thought and
ability to mental science? A. Mark Hopkins, of Williams, and Noah
Porter, of Yale.

26. Q. What two names are prominent in the literature of Church
history? A. Dr. Philip Schaff and Prof. W. G. T. Shedd.

27. Q. To whom is the term “the Knickerbocker writers” applied? A. To
certain authors who began to write soon after the beginning of the
century, who were for the most part residents of New York, and who were
in some cases descendants of the old Dutch stock.

28. Q. What are the names of four prominent writers included under this
head? A. Washington Irving, James Kirke Paulding, Joseph Rodman Drake,
and Fitz-Greene Halleck.

29. Q. What are the names of five poets made celebrated by single
pieces? A. Francis Scott Key, Samuel Woodworth, John Howard Payne,
Albert G. Greene, and William Augustus Muhlenberg.

30. Q. What are the titles of the pieces for which they are celebrated?
A. “The Star Spangled Banner,” “The Old Oaken Bucket,” “Home, Sweet
Home,” “Old Grimes is Dead,” and “I would not live alway.”

31. Q. What eminent name connected the earlier and later days of our
literature? A. William Cullen Bryant.

32. Q. Who are termed the five great American poets? A. William Cullen
Bryant, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Greenleaf Whittier, Oliver
Wendell Holmes, and James Russell Lowell.

33. Q. Who was an entirely original figure in American literature? A.
Edgar Allen Poe.

34. Q. What are the names of ten persons prominent as orators during
the present century? A. Webster, Calhoun, Clay, Everett, Choate,
Seward, Sumner, Winthrop, Garrison, and Phillips.

35. Q. What are the names of five prominent American historians of the
present century? A. Richard Hildreth, George Bancroft, John G. Palfrey,
William H. Prescott, and John Lothrop Motley.

36. Q. What three names are eminent in the literature of Arctic travel?
A. Elisha Kent Kane, Charles F. Hall, and Isaac I. Hayes.

37. Q. Who was the first writer of American fiction whose works were
extensively read? A. James Fenimore Cooper.

38. Q. What American author has James Russell Lowell called the
greatest imaginative writer since Shakspere? A. Nathaniel Hawthorne.

39. Q. What work has had the greatest success of any American book? A.
Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” a novel directed against
slavery. Between five and six hundred thousand copies have been sold in
this country alone, and it has been forty times translated.

40. Q. Who is the most distinguished of American essayists? A. Ralph
Waldo Emerson.

41. Q. Give the chief among standard editions of Shakspere that have
been edited in this country. A. Those of Richard Grant White and Horace
Howard Furness.

42. Q. Who are the authors of three notable histories of the late civil
war? A. Horace Greeley, Alexander H. Stephens, and Dr. John W. Draper.

43. Q. What recent American author attained eminence as a writer of
travels, of novels, and as a poet? A. Bayard Taylor.

44. Q. What two poets are the chief American kindred of the English
pre-Raphaelites? A. Walt Whitman and Joaquin Miller; but their kinship
is one of nature and not of imitation.

45. Q. Who was the originator of a popular dialect poetry of the time,
which has found a troop of imitators? A. John Hay.

46. Q. What author has found a special field in novels of pioneer
life in the uncivilized outposts of Western civilization? A. Edward

47. Q. Who is called the best of American writers of juveniles? A.
Louisa May Alcott.

48. Q. Give the names of three prominent humorists. A. Charles Farrar
Browne, Henry W. Shaw, and David R. Locke.

49. Q. What American writer has devoted the greater part of his
literary life to the production of biographies? A. James Parton.

50. Q. Who has enjoyed the acquaintance of more English and American
authors than any other of our writers? A. James T. Fields.



Ten years ago the First Assembly offered to the world the Chautauqua
Idea. It promised an almost ideal summer life, where health and
thought and brotherly love should abound. Ten years have passed, and
now the question is, has the scheme been carried out? Is the Assembly
a practical idea, and is it a permanency? The answers are most
decided. The original plan has not only been put into practice, but,
when enlarged an hundred fold, has been proven practicable. Is it a
permanency may be a harder question, but the tenth Assembly has, we
believe, in many ways proven it so. First, the character and growth of
all departments of Chautauqua work show them to be needed institutions,
and necessary institutions, as a rule, become permanent. The steady,
healthy growth of the different branches of work shows how enduring
is the Idea; the Normal department increased its alumni this year to
over 1,200; its plans for future work are much more elaborate than ever
before, its course of study much superior. The annual report from the
School of Languages shows a steady increase. Over two hundred full
tickets were sold in the school this year, and twenty-six different
states were represented.

The Teachers’ Retreat for 1883 shows a great increase over previous

In 1879 there were enrolled 15 members.

In 1880 there were enrolled 133 members.

In 1881 there were enrolled 105 members.

In 1882 there were enrolled 76 members.

In 1883 there were enrolled 223 members.

The C. L. S. C. has reached the enormous membership of nearly 50,000.
Besides the advance in the different schools, the attendance at the
Assembly was unprecedented. In the earlier years of an institution
this might mean very little—a boom, and nothing more—but in the tenth
year, when the place has become well-known, it does mean a great deal.
These people, too, were not all new friends. Chautauqua has been able
to keep its old friends, while every season it has added hosts of new
ones. The whole exterior showed it. When streets are lighted by the
electric light, and houses are built on stone foundations, lathed and
plastered, and furnished with modern improvements, a town has reached a
period of durability. Things are built to stay. Chautauqua puts up no
more shanties. It has become a city, not of a day but for all time.

The genuine hearty enthusiasm which animates the workers and friends
of the movement is, to us, a most excellent reason for believing the
institution lasting. There is a feeling among many that enthusiasm
is a weakness, a quality not exactly in good form, not in keeping
with cultured minds. This is a mistake. Enthusiasm, combined with
good sense and industry, is the best equipment for any enterprise. As
Emerson says, “A man is at his best when enthusiastic,” and we believe
Chautauqua is most successful when most enthusiastic—most sure of
permanence because capable of always inspiring others with enduring

The great Assembly opens its doors to every one, but few realize the
real value of the idea, or appreciate the conditions of society which
make feasible such an idea. Said an eminent German, after having
studied the Assembly thoroughly: “You Americans do not appreciate this
wonderful plant of yours. In my country we could not have a Chautauqua;
no other country under the sun could support such an institution. It is
peculiarly American.” We do not appreciate the Idea. It is too ideal
for the practical minds of the day. But though we may not grasp its
full meaning, the Tenth Assembly has proven that people are beginning
to understand the practicability, the breadth, and the permanence of
the Chautauqua Idea.


Necessity is a word which in its use depends on circumstances. What
is necessary to a people in one age may not have been to their
ancestors a generation earlier. Time was when the masses of men were
not required to act with intelligence of their own, but to follow the
decree of the privileged few or obey the behest of the autocratic
individual. Illustrations of such a state of society remain. They are
to be found wherever the autocracy or oligarchy, whether political or
ecclesiastical, continues its sway.

Under such conditions it is easily seen that the only education
required is obedience, blind and unquestioning. All that goes beyond
this only makes the individual unhappy and embarrasses authority.
Hence, since her ambition has been absolute power, the wisdom of that
favorite motto of the Romish church, “keep the people in ignorance,” a
motto which she has done her best to put in practice.

But our age and civilization have fallen upon other conditions.
Obedience is still required, and indeed ever must be, but it is no
longer with eyes tight shut, but open; and we are not only encouraged,
but by the very conditions of society, are required to ask questions
concerning the very grounds of obedience. Something has taken the
place of infallible Church and infallible State. That something is
enlightened conscience and educated judgment.

In this country the corner-stone of whose stability and permanence must
rest on obedience born of intellectual and moral enlightenment, some
things have become, and daily are becoming more and more apparent. It
is apparent that universal education of a certain kind, a kind that
includes to no small degree both head and heart, must go with universal
suffrage. It is neither treason nor heresy to say that in the light of
experience and of the signs of the times, neither our common schools
on the one hand, nor our academies, colleges and universities on the
other, are competent to meet and provide for all the educational
needs of the American people. Too much can not be said in praise of
these institutions. They have been the conservators of our national
ideas in the past. But we are growing, and citizenship means higher
responsibilities and higher obligations than aforetime. The common
school which fits a man for the transactions of ordinary business and
prepares the foundation for a higher development, does a great work;
but the man who settles down to life without further inspiration and
opportunity can hardly be fitted for the higher work and duties of the
home and society. Whence then comes, or can come, this inspiration
and better preparation? Thus far in our history it has come through
the seminary and college. But it is evident that not more than one
in twenty of the American youth can have these higher advantages.
Reduce the expense to the minimum and there are still insurmountable
barriers in the way. It needs no argument, therefore, to show that
an organization with the plans, aims and methods of the _Chautauqua
Literary and Scientific Circle_ has a mission which bears the sanction
of necessity. The wide gap between the common school and the college
must be filled, and only can be filled by that which brings the means
of education to the home; to the youth learning his trade, to the man
or woman in the midst of daily duties and employments. The demand is
for that which will fill the atmosphere about life with aspiration and
the spirit of inquiry. It is for that which will furnish suggestions, a
plan and a guide to lead the inquiring mind. Precisely this is the C.
L. S. C. Here is its mission and here its _necessity_—and the necessity
likewise of all kindred similar organizations which are yet to spring
up and follow in her course.


It is strange how sometimes an opinion altogether untenable, which
some one has broached, is taken up by others, and comes in time to be
accepted as true by a considerable number. It was some twenty-five
years ago that a Miss Delia Bacon published an elaborate argument whose
end was to show that not William Shakspere, but Lord Francis Bacon,
was the author of the immortal plays which bear the former’s name. She
first gave her discovery—unquestionably of the highest importance, if
correct—to the world in a magazine article; but afterward embodied
it in quite a large volume, to which Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote an
introduction, though he did not accept the writer’s theory. This was
the beginning of a controversy which is still alive. Perhaps the
number has never been very large of those who believe that the glory
of Shakspere belongs to Bacon; but there have always been some to
entertain the preposterous notion, from Miss Bacon to Mrs. Henry Pott.

The latter lady has recently issued a book which has excited some
interest. The title—somewhat drawn out—is, “The Promus of Formularies
and Elegancies (being private notes, _circa_ 1594, hitherto
unpublished) of Francis Bacon, illustrated and elucidated by passages
from Shakspere.” Mrs. Pott’s undertaking is one more in the line of
Miss Delia Bacon. By a comparison of the Bacon notes, in forms of
expression and thought, with passages of the Shakspere tragedies and
comedies, she endeavors to verify the theory that the great English
philosopher—author of the “Novum Organum,” and characterized by Pope
as “the greatest, wisest, and meanest of mankind”—is also author of
the works accorded to the Bard of Avon. That she succeeds in her task
she herself evidently entertains no doubt, but probably not many will
agree with her. She finds correspondences and similarities in passages
compared where her readers will try in vain to find them; and it is
putting the matter mildly to say that her undertaking is a great

Considerable ingenuity and much enthusiasm have been shown by advocates
of the theory which makes Lord Bacon the author of the works of
Shakspere; but the theory is an absurd one, with nothing whatever to
support it. The internal evidence, contained in the works of the two
authors, not only gives the theory no support, but is alone enough
to a sane mind completely to demolish it. The whole cast of Bacon’s
mind, as shown by his known writings, was as unlike as it could be to
that of the person who wrote the Shakspere dramas and sonnets. And
what other evidence is adduced by those who would have us transfer to
another the laurels of the man who was easily the greatest mind in all
literature? None whatever. The truth is, it is the improbability from
the nature of the case—or, as some would say, the impossibility—that
such a person as William Shakspere, the son of a Stratford yeoman,
with limited educational opportunities, whose youth was by no means
promising, should have produced the works to which for two centuries
his name has been attached, which is at the bottom of the theory which
gives the authorship to another. This, and nothing else, originated
the idea, and keeps it alive. We are told that to believe in Shakspere
as the author of these works, universally acknowledged as unapproached
and unapproachable, is to believe a miracle. “Whence hath this man
this wisdom?” it is asked, as was asked of the Divine Man; and we
are reminded that the stream never rises higher than the fountain.
Shakspere could not have produced the works—the power was not in him,
it is reasoned, but the wise Bacon might have done it; therefore people
search for the wherewithal to substantiate an assumption giving the
authorship to the latter. But we must believe the miracle; there is no
escape. Did Milton write the “Paradise Lost,” and Lord Bacon the “Novum
Organum?” Is the Iliad the work of Homer? It is just as certain that
the Shakspere writings were the offspring of Shakspere’s genius. We
admit the marvel, but there is no setting aside of the fact. And when
we are asked to explain how this man could have acquired the power to
produce these prodigies of human genius, we can only say, the Maker
gave it to him.


The C. L. S. C. received special attention at the summer Assemblies.
By referring to the reports published elsewhere in this number, our
readers will learn how the Chautauqua spirit spreads, and how the
organization is being strengthened in all parts of the land.

       *       *       *       *       *

Recent Presidents of the United States have shown their taste for
recreation very positively. Ex-President Grant was fond of good horses
and rapid driving; ex-President Hayes visited colleges during the
commencement season, and loved his farm as a quiet retreat; President
Arthur turns from his arduous labors to the rod and line and long
journeys, such as he has made to Florida and the West during the past

       *       *       *       *       *

We can supply complete sets of the CHAUTAUQUA ASSEMBLY DAILY HERALD
for 1883, for $1.00, postage paid by us. Also complete sets of THE
CHAUTAUQUAN of volume two and three.

       *       *       *       *       *

Prophecies are numerous from newspaper men as to who will be the
candidates for the presidency in 1884. Ex-Secretary Blaine is reported
as having turned his attention to literature, and announces that he
is not a candidate; Mr. Tilden has retired to the privacy of Gramercy
Park; ex-Secretary Windom, it is said by the wise ones, went out of
the succession when he failed of a re-election to the Senate. Reports
are rife in influential political circles that the Secretary of War is
likely to be one of his martyred fathers’ successors, but time alone
will show us the true successor.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE CHAUTAUQUAN opens the fourth volume in a new dress. Our printer
does the work on copper-faced type, prepared with especial reference to
the neat and attractive typographical appearance of the magazine.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. A. M. Sullivan, in a recent number of the _Nineteenth Century_,
discusses “Irish Emigration as a remedy for Irish trouble in Ireland.”
He says: “Of the group of dynamite conspirators who stood in the dock
at Newgate the other day—men whose frightful purpose was to bury London
in ruins—not one was born on Irish soil. All were the sons or grandsons
of men swept away from ‘congested districts,’ and sent or driven to
America ‘for the good of those who went, and of those who were left
behind.’ Whoever has recently traveled in America must have been struck
with the fact that animosity toward England often displays itself more
strongly in the second and third generations of Irish Americans than in
the men who were actually driven forth.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The present administration is not all-powerful in a certain kind of
its political movements. The Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Folger,
was defeated for Governor of New York in the election last fall, and
recently Mr. Chandler, Secretary of the Navy, failed of an election to
the United States Senate in the New Hampshire Legislature.

       *       *       *       *       *

Chautauqua grows in favor with the public. The Ohio State Teacher’s
Association held their annual convention there in July last, and with
social gatherings, lectures, and discussions on live questions, in
the educational world, they made it an interesting and profitable
session. The Pennsylvania State Teacher’s Association will hold their
convocation at Chautauqua Lake for 1884. It is an endorsement of
Chautauqua when large bodies of educators go from their own States
into another to hold their most important gatherings. The National
Teacher’s Association met at this center once, and the Ohio people have
been there twice. It is this sort of gatherings that the Chautauqua
authorities are especially pleased to welcome to the parks, public
buildings, and all the privileges of the classic groves.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Royal Humane Society, in its recently issued report, gives the
following advice to swimmers and bathers: “Avoid bathing within two
hours after a meal. Avoid bathing when exhausted by fatigue, or
from any other cause. Avoid bathing when the body is cooling after
perspiration. Avoid bathing altogether in the open air if, after having
been a short time in the water, it causes a sense of chilliness with
numbness of the hands and feet. Bathe when the body is warm, provided
no time is lost in getting into the water. Avoid chilling the body by
sitting or standing undressed on the banks or in boats after having
been in the water. Avoid remaining too long in the water; leave the
water immediately if there is the slightest feeling of chilliness.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The West promises to set a good example to the East in more than
one question of morals. The case deserving of mention now is where
Governor Crittenden, of Missouri, and Governor Glick, of Kansas, and
their Attorney-Generals, notified the two prize-fighters, Slade and
Mitchell, that even training for a prize-fight would send them to the
State prison. This so alarmed them that they quit the United States
and went to Mexico. The laws of the older States are as severe on this
brutal practice as those of Missouri and Kansas, but the laxity in the
enforcement of the laws is the only license that prize-fighters find to
justify their training in New York, Boston, and other old cities. Some
of our authorities could profitably “go West” to study how to enforce
civil law.

       *       *       *       *       *

Dr. John Roche, an English physician who has had remarkable
experiences, gives as his conclusion that cholera is purely and simply
a specific fever, only inferior in its ravages to yellow fever, and
closely allied to it. Cholera has a period of incubation varying from
two to fourteen days; prone to attack the enervated and those subject
to depression from any cause. It is contagious, and liable to occur
periodically about every ten years in some parts of India. It seems to
have visited the British Isles about every sixteen years, and as the
period has elapsed since the last outbreak, it is more than likely to
occur this year. Those persons who indulge in no enervating habits,
and take nothing internally which would arrest the secretions nor too
drastically stimulate them, and partake of nothing which is highly
fermentable, may safely feel that they are cholera-proof during an

       *       *       *       *       *

“The Old South Lectures for Young People” is a pleasing and successful
plan for teaching the History of America. Lectures are held Wednesday
afternoon at the “Old South Meeting House,” Boston, and the subjects
illustrate well the tenor of the meeting. Thus for September the topics
are “Franklin,” “How to Study American History,” “The Year 1777,”
“History in the Boston Streets.”

       *       *       *       *       *

In the C. L. S. C. Commencement report the Lutheran has been omitted
from the list of denominations represented in the class of ’83.

       *       *       *       *       *

On Sunday, the ninth day of September, the steamship “Nevada” landed
682 Mormons at New York, being the fourth company that has been brought
over this year. H. H. Evans, the secretary, said that there were in
the company 269 British, 106 Swiss and Germans, 284 Scandinavians, and
23 returning missionaries. “Every emigrant,” he added, “paid his or
her passage over. No aid is afforded them by the Mormon Church. The
majority have a little money with them, enough to establish themselves
in America. They will locate in sixteen towns in Utah. All we do is
to protect them while traveling from Liverpool to Utah. Some of these
immigrants have been years laying up money to pay their passage to this
country.” One of the Mormon immigrants did not go through to Utah. Her
name is Regina Andersen. She is a Swedish woman, spinster, thirty-five
years of age, and is afflicted with blindness. Her brother Leander and
her sister Anna, who live in Philadelphia, had heard of her intention
to go to Utah and were at Castle Garden to intercept her before the
“Nevada” arrived. They insisted upon talking with their blind sister,
and soon succeeded in persuading her to abandon the Mormon proselytes
and prepare to go with her relatives to Philadelphia. The Mormon
missionaries were strongly opposed to the woman leaving the party,
but the matter was brought before Superintendent Jackson, and the
woman was permitted to go to Philadelphia with her brother. She had
prepaid her passage to Salt Lake and did not receive her money back. In
conversation with a reporter the woman appeared not to know anything
about the peculiar institution of the Mormon Church—polygamy. Congress
could quite as consistently, and with better results to the country,
enact a law to prevent this kind of emigration, than the one they have
leveled against the Chinese. Why not meet Mormonism at New York harbor
and prevent this infamous traffic in human lives?

       *       *       *       *       *

The Rev. Henry A. Powell, in his Congregational church in Williamsburg,
on a Sunday in September discussed “The sorrows of the Free Thinkers
as revealed at their recent convention,” from this suggestive text:
“The show of their countenances doth witness against them.” He stated
that over their platform were hung the pictures of Thomas Paine, R.
G. Ingersoll, and D. M. Bennett—Paine author of a book against the
Bible—Ingersoll, dispenser of blasphemy—Bennett, who not long since
served a term in the penitentiary for sending foul literature through
the mails. “How much better than such visionary wanderings is the old
story of a living Father in heaven, of a Savior who suffered on the
cross, and angel visitants to lead us from the life mortal to the life

       *       *       *       *       *

We call the attention of our readers to the notice elsewhere
in this number of the “Chautauqua School of Languages,” the
different departments of which are to be organized into schools of
correspondence, so that students may, at their homes, study Hebrew,
German, French, etc., by corresponding with competent teachers. This
is a rare opportunity for members of the C. L. S. C., or any others
who desire, to study the languages, but are denied the privileges of
the schools. Next month we shall introduce the “Normal Work” into THE
CHAUTAUQUAN, in a few initial chapters, from the pens of Rev. Dr.
Hurlbut and Prof. R. S. Holmes, and thus extend to our readers through
the year the privilege of pursuing this course, which is a main feature
of the summer assemblies.

       *       *       *       *       *

The telegraph operators have by their strike provoked a general
discussion in the press of the telegraph system of the country, besides
exciting the attention of Postmaster-General Gresham, who promises to
discuss in his annual report to Congress the practicability of the
general government assuming control of all telegraph lines as it does
of the postal service. It ought to work as well in the United States as
it does in England. Mr. Fawcett, Postmaster-General of Great Britain,
reports that “the number of telegraph messages sent in the United
Kingdom during the last year was 32,092,026.” Mr. Fawcett says that it
has been decided that as soon as the necessary increase of plant can be
made, the minimum charge for inland telegrams will be reduced from 24
to 12 cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

A correspondent says, under date of September 9: “The last spike on the
Northern Pacific Road was driven this afternoon on the Pacific slope of
the Rocky Mountains, 2,500 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, and 800 miles
from the Pacific, and 91 years after the idea of a highway from the
Lakes to the Pacific was first suggested by Thomas Jefferson.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Analogous to the Normal Class Bible work of the Chautauqua University
is a new movement in Russia. An organization called the _Stundists_
bind themselves to devote an hour (_stunde_) every day to the study of
the Bible. The society has grown to immense proportions, and is said to
have reclaimed whole villages from drunkenness and crime.

       *       *       *       *       *

Keshub Chunder Sen, the famous leader of the Brahmo Somaj, is about to
visit Europe and America again, to preach a new development of faith,
in which Hinduism and Christianity are to be combined. Little good, we
fear, will result from the Baboo’s advocacy of an eclectic system; for
his adherents will be content to stop in that dim twilight instead of
advancing into the full glory of the divine day. The teaching of the
leader himself seems latterly to have degenerated into ceremonialism,
and he attributes marvelous influence to external things; while some of
his followers are giving themselves up with the wildest enthusiasm to
perfect a sacred dance of a complex kind, organized with rotating rings
of participants dressed in garbs of varied hue. All this mummery is a
sad disappointment for those who hoped that Chunder Sen might destroy
heathenism besides purifying it.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Louisville _Courier_ of August 9, referring to the great
Exposition, speaks thus of one of the exhibitions: “Last night the
electric railway was in operation, and the locomotive with two
cars attached made the tour of the park. To-day it will be running
constantly, and visitors will see what is the latest achievement of
science. It is an event of extraordinary interest. It is the practical
demonstration of the power of electricity applied as a motor. Without
fire or smoke, with no visible agent to propel it, moved by an unseen
and even as yet an almost unknown influence, it follows the path marked
out with all the celerity and certainty demanded by the most cautious
and practical.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The directors of the Western Union Telegraph Company have made
a concession to their employes by issuing the following order:
“Commencing to-day (September 1), seven and a half hours actual service
in this office during week nights will constitute a day’s work, or,
in other words, the hours of the night force will be from 5:30 p. m.
till 1:30 a. m., allowing thirty minutes for lunch. Sunday service
will be paid for the same as other over-time services, at the rate of
one-seventh of a day’s pay for each hour. All payments for over-time,
including Sunday service, or for a fractional part of a month, will be
based upon the number of week days in the month.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Professor Bell is reported as saying in a recent conversation that
there are more than 500,000 telephones in use in the United States, and
the manufacturers are unable to supply the demand so as to keep abreast
of orders. He said that the progress of the telephone would have been
greater but for the opposition of the telegraph companies, who regarded
it as, in part, a competitor instead of an ally. In other countries
the telegraph companies had very generally adopted the telephone as an
auxiliary, especially at city branch offices and at small offices in
the country.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lord Chief Justice Coleridge, of England, is in this country, a guest
of the American bar. English judges may be aristocrats, but they are
generally above corruption. It is to be hoped that American ideas of
judicial dignity and honor will be raised by what they may observe in
this chief of the English bench.

       *       *       *       *       *

Not a few Americans were astonished at the display of local
manufactures which Ireland exhibited in the Boston “Foreign Art and
Industrial Exhibition.” Among the objects were bog-wood ornaments,
hair ornaments, furniture, marbles, sculpture, etc. The variety of
work suggests that in the not distant future the distressed country
will have manufactures and arts to employ its people. Its resources
are particularly fitted to certain arts. Thus few countries boast so
great a variety of marbles; its clay is particularly suitable for
modeling: osiers grow readily on its soil, and the natural woods are
incomparably fine. With these industries developed, and a system of
railroads through the country, much would be done toward settling the
Irish question.

       *       *       *       *       *

When a woman marries, and learns that in the race of life she is
better qualified to earn the family living than her husband, it will
be helpful to have a precedent at hand by which to govern her husband.
Here is one, taken from the communication of a successful working
woman to a Boston exchange. She says: “I am a milliner, and have made
between $1,500 and $2,500 a year in my business for some time past. I
married four years ago. My husband is kind and good looking, but he
never learned any trade, had no profession and could not average $500
a year. I loved him, however, but I saw that it would not do to depend
upon him, so I kept on with my business. After a time I think he got
a little lazy, and as we were both away during the day, we could not
keep house and got sick of boarding. Finally I proposed that he should
keep house and I would run the business and find the money. We have
now lived very happily in this way for two years. My husband rises and
builds the fire, gets breakfast, and I leave at 7:45 for my place of
business. He does the washing, ironing, and cleaning, and I do not know
of any woman who can beat him. He is as neat as wax, and can cook equal
to any one in town. It may be an isolated case, but I think the time
has now come when women who have husbands to support should make them
do the work; otherwise they are luxuries we must do without.”


Q. What is the meaning of boycotting?

A. Boycott was the name of an Irish landlord whose tenants refused to
gather his crops, and endeavored to prevent his doing it. To withhold
help and patronage, or in any way to obstruct or hinder the business of
another—a meanness that is despicable—is to treat him as the tenants
treated Mr. Boycott.

Q. Was General Grant the author of the expression, “We have met the
enemy and they are ours?”

A. The above is very like to Cæsar’s “_veni, vidi, vici_,” and as a
general’s report of a great victory just won, is remarkable for its
comprehensive brevity. The words, though in harmony with the character
and sayings of General Grant, were not, if used, original with him, but
should be credited to Commodore Perry.

Q. Why was the son of Edward III. called the Black Prince?

A. Because of his black armor.

Q. Was Alexander of Macedon, who informed the Greeks before the battle
of Platea of the intended attack, their ally?

A. Not openly; but secretly he was, or the information would not have
been given.

Q. Where is the mountain lake Shawangunk?

A. The Shawangunk (Shon-gum) mountain is properly a continuation of the
Appalachian, or Allegheny chain in New York. Like the Adirondacks and
Catskills, south of the Mohawk, also outliers of the chain, it seems
separated by intervening lands of lower elevation, and the relationship
is shown by similarity of the geological formation. Look for the lake
in the same region. It is probably small, and may not be found on most

Q. Was it not Leonidas who, before the battle of Thermopylæ, said,
“The Persians are so numerous that their arrows will darken the sun?”

A. No. Those words may intimate fear of the overwhelming force of the
enemy, and the Greek historian does not mention their author, but says
that on hearing them, a brave Spartan replied: “All the better, as we
will then fight in the shade.”

Q. Which construction? “Thus were music and poetry born in the same
family, and we shall notice how that they have clung to each other,” or
“how they have clung?”

A. The latter is preferred. The conjunctive particle is not needed,
and though occasionally thus used by a good writer, only encumbers the

Q. Who was Caius Cestius?

A. A wealthy Roman citizen of the Augustan age, a client of Cicero, of
not much distinction, though rich. A part of his estate was employed in
building for him a fine mausoleum, which remains to the present day,
though most of the contemporaneous surrounding structures have long
been in ruins. Near it lie the ashes of Keats and Shelly. After the
death of Keats, Shelly wrote of his friend: “He lies in the lovely,
romantic cemetery of the Protestants of Rome, near the tomb of Caius
Cestius, and within the mossy walls and towns, now mouldering and
desolate, which formed the circuit of ancient Rome. The cemetery is an
open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies.
It might make one in love with death to think of being buried in so
sweet a place.”

Q. Can you give the date of Mrs. Browning’s birth in 1809?

A. We can not. No records now at hand give the day or month. It is
not best to be greatly troubled over our want of information on the
subject, as it is quite safe to conclude she was “well born” some time
during the year mentioned. Many other eminent writers have gone into
history with the same uncertainty as to the day of their birth.

Q. In whose hands was the government of the United States from 1783 to

A. Nominally in the Continental Congress—a kind of quasi central
government. Practically in the hands of the colonists and their
legislators. The war was ended and the United States acknowledged a
free, sovereign, and independent nation. But they were, as yet, united
only by the “articles of confederation” adopted in 1778; a bond of
union that was soon found inadequate to secure a strong, permanent
government amidst the perils that threatened the new republic. The
regulation of commerce, the adjustment of difficulties between
States, and the public defense were not sufficiently provided for.
Congress could devise and recommend measures, but had little power
to legislate, even on subjects that concerned the whole. There was
still more need of an efficient executive department. Feeling that the
articles of confederation were, in the changed state of the country,
no longer sufficient, the leading statesmen wisely framed, and the
country adopted the American Constitution, giving us a strong central
government, with the least possible surrender of rights by the States
thus united.

Q. Was there any reason for calling Alexander the Great a Greek?

A. Alexander was not a Greek, though educated by Greek teachers, and,
as other Macedonians, using the Greek language. Macedon was not a part
of Greece, but held Greece as a dependency, and used her power in
expelling the Persians.

Q. After the confusion of tongues and the dispersion of mankind, into
what families lingual were they divided?

A. Into _Shemetic_, _Hametic_, and _Japhetic_. The descendants of Shem
peopled central Asia, particularly the parts about the Euphrates.
The dialect or language called Aramaic prevailed in their northern
and northeastern territory, the Arabic in their southern, and in
their central and western the Hebrew. These are cognate languages,
and profitably studied in connection. The descendants of Japheth
spread over Europe and the northwest of Asia. Those of Ham occupied
the southern part of the globe, particularly Africa. The languages
spoken in these sections, respectively, may also be grouped together,
and, however different, give evidence of a common origin. The general
division into the above three classes has been found convenient, though
the patronymics are used only to indicate remote origin and kinship.



Instead of indicating the sounds of the vowels in the Greek and Latin
names given in the notes, we follow the plan of Webster’s Unabridged
Dictionary, giving rules for pronouncing the vowels and consonants.
As the two principal marks ([= ][) ]) are in Greek and Latin used
differently from what they are in English, indicating the _quantity_
instead of _quality_, it will be found less confusing to adopt this


1. Any vowel at the end of an accented syllable, and _e_, _o_, and _u_,
at the end of an unaccented syllable, have the long English sound.

2. _A_, ending an unaccented syllable, has the sound of _a_ in
_father_, or in _last_.

3. _I_, ending a final syllable, has the long sound. At the end of an
initial unaccented syllable it varies between _i_ long and _i_ short
(like _i_ in _pin_). In all other cases _i_, ending an unaccented
syllable, is short.

4. _Y_ is like _i_ in the same situation.

5. _Æ_ and _æ_ like _e_ in the same situation.

6. If a syllable end in a consonant the vowel has the short English

7. _E_, in final _es_, like _e_ in Andes.


1. _C_, before _e_, _i_, _y_, _æ_, _œ_, is pronounced like _s_; before
_a_, _o_, and _u_, and before consonants, like _k_.

2. _G_, before _e_, _i_, _y_, _æ_, and _œ_, or another _g_ followed
by _e_, has the sound of _j_; before _a_, _o_ and _u_, and consonants
other than _g_, the hard sound.

3. _Ch_ is like _k_, but is silent before a mute at the beginning of a

4. Initial _x_ is like _z_.

5. _T_, _s_, and _c_, before _ia_, _ie_, _ii_, _io_, _iv_, and _ev_,
preceded immediately by the accent, change into _sh_ and _zh_; but when
the _t_ follows _s_, _t_, or _z_, or when the accent falls on the first
of the vowels following, the consonant preserves its pure sound.

6. Initial _ph_, before a mute, is silent.

P. 1—“Autonomy,” au-tŏn´o-my. The word is formed from the Greek
words for _law_ and _self_ and means a law unto one’s self, or

P. 1—“Koroneia” or Coronea, cor=´=o-ni´a.

P. 2—“Antalkidas,” an-tal´ci-das.

P. 2—“Phœbidas,” phœb´i-das. A Lacedæmonian of whom nothing of
importance is known save his part in the seizure of Thebes. Phœbidas
was slain in battle by the Thebans in 378.

P. 2—“Leontiades,” le-on-ti´a-des; “Ismenias,” is-me´ni-as;
“Pelopidas,” pe-lop´i-das; “Mellon,” mel´lon; “Charon,” ka´ron;
“Gorgias,” gor´gi-as; “The´o-pom´pus.”

P. 3—“Hegemony,” he-gĕm´o-ny. Leadership. Formed from the Greek word
for guide or leader.

P. 3—“Polymnis,” po-lym´nis.

P. 3—“Sparti,” spar´ti; the sown-men. The dragon from which these
ancestors of the Theban patricians sprung guarded a well near the site
of the Cadmeia. The men whom Cadmus had sent there to draw water had
been killed by the monster, and in return Cadmus had slain it, sowing
its teeth as Minerva advised. Fearing the armed men which sprang forth
he caused a quarrel among them, in which all but five were slain.

P. 3—“Kadmus,” cad´mus. The mythical founder of Thebes, the son of a
king of Phœnicia and the brother of Europa.

P. 3—“Simmias,” sim´mi-as. The two principal speakers, besides
Socrates, in Plato’s “Phædon” are Simmias and his brother.

P. 3—“Tarentine,” ta-ren´tine; “Spin´tha-rus.”

P. 3—“Grote.” (1794-1871.) An English historian, famous chiefly for his
History of Greece.

P. 4—“Lysis,” ly´sis. An eminent philosopher driven out of Italy about
510 B. C., during the persecution of the Pythagorean club. He spent
the remainder of his life in Thebes, where he was held in the greatest

P. 4—“Pythagorean Brotherhood,” pyth´a-gō´re-an. See p. 119, Vol.
1, Timayenis. As a political and social power the brotherhood died out
before the death of Pythagoras, though the sect still lived and kept up
their religious observances.

P. 4—“Kadmeia,” cad-me´a.

P. 5—“Polybius,” po-lyb´i-us. (204-122 B. C.) A Grecian historian.

P. 6—“Leuktra,” luke´tra; “Mantineia,” man´ti-nei´a; “Megalopolis,”
meg=´=a-lop´o-lis; “Kleombrotus,” kle-om´bro-tus; “Agesilaus,”
a-ges-i-la´us; “Kithæron,” ci-thæ´ron; “Naxos,” nax´os; “Chabrias,”

P. 7—“Timotheus,” ti-mo´the-us. The son of the famous general Conon.

P. 7—“Tegyra,” te-gy´ra; “Harmost,” har´most; “Orchomenus,”
or-chom´e-nus; “Polemarch,” pōl´e-march.

P. 8—“Chæroneia,” chær´o-ne´a.

P. 8—“Eurotas,” eu-ro´tas. The largest river of Laconia.

P. 9—“Zacynthus,” za-cyn´thus. Now Zante; called by Homer the “Woody

P. 9—“Korkyra,” cor-cy´ra. Now the island of Corfu, one of the Ionian
islands belonging to the nomarchy Corfu of the kingdom of Greece.

P. 9—“Periplus,” pĕs. A rare word from the Greek, meaning to sail
around a sea or coast.

P. 9—“Iphikrates,” i-phic´ra-tes.

P. 9—“Poseidon,” po-si´don. The Neptune of Roman mythology, the god of
the sea.

P. 9—“Helike,” hel´i-ce; “Bu´ra.”

P. 10—“Kallias,” cal´li-as. An Athenian family famous through several
generations for its wealth.

P. 10—“Autokles,” au´to-cles; “Kallistratus,” cal-lis´tra-tus.

P. 10—“Bœotarch,” bœ-o´tarch. One of the chief civil officers of Bœotia.

P. 10—“Xenophon,” xen´o-phon.

P. 11—“Philo-Laconian.” Friendly to Laconia.

P. 12—“Ephors,” ěf´or.

P. 14—“Helikon,” hel´i-con.

P. 14—“Kopais,” cop´a-is. The largest lake of Greece.

P. 14—“Kreusis,” creu´sis. The harbor of the city of Thespiæ.

P. 14—“Krissæan,” cris-sæ´an; “Thespiæ,” thes´pi-æ.

P. 16—“Deimon,” dei´mon; “Sphodrias,” spho´dri-as.

P. 16—“Kleonymus,” cle-on´y-mus. The dearest friend of Archidamus, the
son of Agesilaus.

P. 17—“Ægospotami,” æ´gos-pot´a-mi.

P. 17—“Peiræus,” pi-ræ´us. The principal harbor of Athens, situated
about five miles southwest of the city.

P. 18—“Archidamus,” ar-chi-da´mus.

P. 18—“Pheræ.” A city of Thessaly, the site of the modern Velestino.

P. 18—“Ægosthena,” æ-gos´the-na.

P. 19—“Aristotle,” ar´is-to-tle.

P. 19—“Epiknemidian,” e-pic´ne-mid=´=ian; “O-pun´tian.” The inhabitants
of Eastern Locris were divided into two tribes: the Locri Epicnemidii,
inhabiting the northern and the Locri Opuntii the southern part.

P. 20—“Panarkadian,” pan-ar-ca´di-an. Belonging to all Arcadia.

P. 20—“Tegea,” te´ge-a; “He-ræ´a.”

P. 21—“Dorians,” do´ri-ans; “Lacedæmon,” lac´e-dæ=´=mon; “Kephisus,”
ce-phi´sus. There are four rivers in Greece which bore this name. One
the chief river of Bœotia, two in Attica (one of which is its chief
river, and the one here referred to), and a fourth in Argolis.

P. 22—“Phliasians,” phli-a´si-ans; “Helots,” hē´lots, or hĕl´ots;
“Kinadon,” cin´a-don.

P. 22—“Periœki,” per-i-œ´ci. From the same derivation we have the word
“periecians,” or “periœcians,” meaning those who dwell on the opposite
side of the globe, in the same parallel of latitude.

P. 22—“Ithome,” i-tho´me. A strong fortress had stood on the mountains
for centuries.

P. 23—“Peltasts,” pel´tasts; “Pol´y-phron”; “Pol´y-do´rus.”

P. 24—“Larissa,” la-ris´sa.

P. 24—“Pharsalus,” phar-sa´lus, now “Phersala.” Chiefly celebrated for
the battle fought there between Cæsar and Pompey in 48 B. C.

P. 24—“Aleuadæ,” a-leu´a-dæ; “Amyntas,” a-myn´tas; “Krannon,” cran´non;
“Eurydike,” eu-ryd´i-ce; “Perdikkas,” per-dic´cas; “Pausanias,”

P. 25—“Alorus,” a-lo´rus; “Oneium,” o-nei´um.

P. 26—“Pammenes,” pam´me-nes. A Theban general, and a friend of

P. 26—“Dyonysius,” di´o-nys´i-us.

P. 28—“Susa,” su´sa. The Shushan of the Old Testament; the winter
residence of the Persian kings.

P. 28—“Rescript.” The answer of the Roman emperor when consulted on any
question was called the _rescript_.

P. 29—“Drachmæ,” drăch´mæ. A silver coin of the Greeks, worth about
eighteen cents.

P. 30—“Chersonese,” cher´so-nese´; “Chalkidike,” chal-cid´i-ce.

P. 30—“Byzantium,” by-zan´ti-um. Now Constantinople.

P. 31—“Kynos Kephalæ,” cy´nos ceph´a-læ.

P. 31—“Magnesians.” The inhabitants of Magnesia, the most easterly
portion of Thessaly. It contained the two mountains, Ossa and Pelion.

P. 31—“Phthiotæ,” phthi-o´tæ.

P. 32—“Ænianes,” æ´ni-a´nes. An ancient race originally near Ossa, but
afterwards in Southern Thessaly.

P. 32—“Pallantium,” pal-lan´ti-um; “A´se-a.” Towns of Arcadia.

P. 33—“Isidas,” is´i-das.

P. 34—“Kephisodorus,” ce-phis´o-do´rus; “Gryllus,” gryl´lus;
“Euphranor,” eu-phra´nor; “Mænalian,” mæ-na´li-an.

P. 35—“Tripolitza,” tre-po-lit´sa.

P. 36—“Diodorus,” di´o-do´rus. A contemporary of Cæsar and Augustus.
He wrote “The Historical Library,” consisting of forty books, not half
of which are extant.

P. 37—“Iolaidas,” i-o-la´i-das.

P. 38—“_Status quo._” The state in which.

P. 39—“Tachos,” ta´chos; “Nectanabis,” nec-tan´a-bis.

P. 39—“Kyrene,” cy-re´ne. The chief city of Cyrenaica, in Northern

P. 40—“Klerouchi,” kle-rou´chi.

P. 41—“Thebe,” the´be; “Timoleon,” ti-mo´le-on.

P. 42—“Amphiktyonic,” am-phic´ty-on´ic.

P. 43—“Kirrhæan,” cir-rhæ´an; “Delphi,” del´phi.

P. 43—“Magnetes,” mag-ne´tes. The same as the Magnesians.

P. 43—“Perrhæbians,” per-rhæ´bi-ans; “Athamanes,” ath´a-ma´nes;
“Dolopes,” dol´o-pes.

P. 44—“Philomelus,” phil´o-me´lus; “Thracidæ,” thra´ci-dæ; “Pyth´i-an.”

P. 45—“Onomarchus,” on´-o-mar´chus.

P. 46—“Illyrians,” il-lyr´i-ans; “Pæonians,” pæ-o´ni-ans; “Eupatridæ,”
eu-pat´ri-dæ; “Lykophron,” lyc´o-phron. The brother-in-law of
Alexander, and his assistant in his murder.

P. 47—“Æschines,” æs´chi-nes. The Athenian orator.

P. 47—“Kleobule,” cle-o-bu´le; “Gylon,” gy´lon.

P. 47—“Bosporus,” bos´po-rus. Literally the _ox-ford_. The name given
to any straits by the Greeks, but particularly to that uniting the Sea
of Azof with the Black Sea. The country on both sides this latter was
called Bosporus. Its cities became important commercial centers, and
from them large supplies of corn were annually sent to Athens. It was
in this country that Gylon made his money.

P. 47—“Demochares,” de-moch´a-res.

P. 48—“Aphobus,” aph´o-bus; “O-ne´tor.”

P. 48—“Palæstra,” pa-læs´tra. In Greece a place for wrestling was
called _palæstra_.

P. 48—“Plato.” The philosopher. After having been instructed by
the best teachers of his time Plato became a follower of Socrates.
After the death of the latter he traveled in many countries, seeking
knowledge, and at last returned to Athens to open a school in
his garden, near the academy. Here Plato taught and wrote almost
continuously until his death, about 348 B. C. His works have come
down to us very complete and perfect. They are mainly in the form
of dialogues, Socrates being one of the chief characters. His most
important doctrines are the existence of the soul before entering the
body, its independence of the body, and its immortality.

P. 48—“Isokrates,” i-soc´ra-tes. (436-338 B. C.) One of the ten Attic
orators. He was carefully educated, but as he was too timid to come
forward as an orator, he devoted himself to teaching the art and
writing speeches for others. Although he took no part in public affairs
he loved his country, and despairing of its freedom after the battle of
Chæroneia, he took his own life. His style was artificial and labored,
but exercised immense influence upon oratory at Athens.

P. 49—“Isæus,” i-sæ´us. One of the ten Attic orators. Instructed by
Lysias and Isokrates. We have no particulars of his life. Eleven of
his orations in existence are remarkable for their vigor and purity of

P. 49—“Thucydides,” thu-cyd´i-des. (471?-400?) The historian. Little
more is known of his life than is related by Timayenis (vol. i., p.
337). The accounts of his death are uncertain. The work which gives him
his place in history is his account of the Peloponnesian war.

P. 49—“Lysias,” lys´i-as. (B. C. 458-378.) An Attic orator. When a
youth, Lysias emigrated to a colony in Italy, where he finished his
education. After the defeat of the Athenians in Sicily he returned to
Athens, but only to be imprisoned as an enemy of the government. He
escaped, and on the overthrow of the tyranny of the thirty tyrants
went back to Athens, where he wrote speeches. Only thirty-five are now
extant, but they are said to be specimens of the best Attic Greek.

P. 49—“Bema,” be´ma. The Greek for the stage on which speakers stood.

P. 50—“Phalerum,” pha-le´rum. The most easterly of the harbors of

P. 50—“Eunomus,” eu´no-mus; “Perikles,” per´i-cles; “Satyrus,”

P. 50—“Euripides,” eu-rip´i-des. (B. C. 480-406.)

P. 50—“Sophocles,” soph´o-cles. (B. C. 495?-406). The chief of the trio
of Greek dramatists. In 468 he defeated Æschylus in a dramatic contest.
His character is said to have been that of a complete Greek, combining
symmetry of person, skill in music and gymnastics, self-possession,
genius, taste. Only seven of his dramas have been preserved.

P. 51—“Dionysius of Halicarnassus.” A rhetorician who came from
Halicarnassus, a city in Asia Minor, about B. C. 29. His most ambitious
work is a history of Rome in twenty-two books.

P. 52—“Herodotus,” he-rod´i-tus.

P. 53—“Phokion,” pho´ci-on.

P. 54—“Olynthians,” o-lyn´thi-ans.

P. 55—“Perinthus,” pe-rin´thus. An important town in Thrace on the

P. 55—“Chares,” cha´res.

P. 56—“Amphissa,” am-phis´sa. Now Salona; though destroyed by Philip,
it was afterward rebuilt.

P. 56—“Elateia,” el´a-te´a. Its ruins still exist near the town of

P. 58—“Solon,” so´lon; “The-og´nis;” “Alkaeus,” al´ce-us; “Pindar,”

P. 59—“Æschylus,” Æs´chy-lus. The great tragic poet. The Athenians
called Æschylus the father of tragedy because of the changes he made
in the representation of plays. He introduced a second actor, provided
scenic effects, gave his actors better costumes, and introduced
new figures into the choral dances. Only seven of his plays are in

P. 59—“Iktinus,” ic-ti´nus. A contemporary of Phidias and Pericles, and
the architect of the Parthenon or temple of Minerva, on the Acropolis.

P. 59—“Polygnotus,” pol´yg-no´tus.

P. 59—“Aristophanes,” ar´is-toph´a-nes. The great comic poet of Athens,
born about B. C. 444, but of whose private life almost nothing is
known. His comedies are a series of caricatures on Athenians and their

P. 61—“Skardus,” skar´dus; “Ber´mi-us;” “Kam-bu´ni-an;” “Ægæ,” Æ´gæ;

P. 62—“Thermaic,” ther-ma´ic. See _Sinus Thermaicus_ on map.
“Pisistratidæ,” pis´is-trat´i-dæ.

P. 62—“Strymon,” stry´mon. The boundary between Thrace and Macedon down
to the time of Philip. “Archelaus,” ar´che-la´us.

P. 63—“_L’Etat, c’est moi._” “The State, it is I.”

P. 63—“Orestes,” o-res´tes; “Aëropus,” a-er´o-pus.

P. 65—“Nichomachus,” ni-chom´a-chus.

P. 66—“Argæus,” ar-gæ´us; “Amphipolis,” am-phip´o-lis.

P. 67—“Mantias,” man´ti-as; “Pangæus,” pan-gæ´us.

P. 68—“Anthemus,” an´the-mus.

P. 69—“Potidæa,” pot´i-dæ´a; “Thasians,” tha´si-ans.

P. 69—“Neoptolemus,” ne´op-tol´e-mus; “Molossi,” mo-los´si; “Æakidæ,”
æ-ac´i-dæ; “Samothrake,” sam´o-thra´ce.

P. 70—“Sarissa,” sa-ris´sa.

P. 71—“Phalangites,” fal´an-gī-tes; “Hypaspists,” hy-pas´pists;
“Hetæri,” het´æ-ri.

P. 72—“Paulus Æmilius,” pau´lus æ-mil´i-us. (B. C. 230-160.) A Roman

P. 74—“Pagasæ,” pag´a-sæ. Now Volo; also, the Pagasæan Gulf is now the
Gulf of Volo.

P. 76—“Charidemus,” char-i-de´mus.

P. 78—“Dionysia,” di-o-nys´i-a. A festival in honor of the god Bacchus,
celebrated in Athens in the spring, and with greater splendor than any
other festival of the god.

P. 78—“Choregus.” The Greek word for a leader of the chorus.

P. 78—“Apollodorus,” a´pol-lo-do=´=rus.

P. 79—“Kritobulus,” crit-o-bu´lus.

P. 81—“Phalækus,” pha-læ´cus; “Tenedos,” ten´e-dos.

P. 82—“Elaphebolion,” el´a-phe-bo=´=li-on. The Greeks divided their
year into twelve lunar months.

P. 84—“Prytaneium,” pryt-a-ne´um. The common hall of the Senate, in
which they met daily.

P. 86—“Parmenio,” par-me´ni-o. Of whom Philip said “I have never been
able to find but one general, and that is Parmenio.”

P. 86—“Attalus,” at´ta-lus.

P. 88—“Leonnatus,” le´on-na´tus.

P. 89—“Ambrakiot,” am-bra´ci-ot.

P. 90—“Eurymedon,” eu-rym´e-don.

P. 91—“Leonidas,” le-on´i-das. The hardy habits of self-denial which
Alexander displayed were attributed by him to the teachings of the
austere Leonidas.

P. 91—“Lysimachus,” ly-sim´a-chus.

P. 93—“Hæmus,” hæ´mus; “Triballi,” tri-bal´li.

P. 94—“Onchestus,” on-ches´tus; a town a little south of Lake Copias.

P. 94—“Lychnitis,” or Lychnidus, lych´ni-tis; “Kleitus,” clei´tus.

P. 94—“Glaukias,” glau´ki-as. The king of one of the Illyrian tribes.

P. 95—“Phœnix,” phœ´nix; “Proch´y-tes;” “Ephialtes,” eph´i-al´tes.

P. 95—“Sinope,” si-no´pe. The most important of all the Greek colonies
on the Black Sea in Asia Minor.

P. 95—“Diogenes,” di-og´e-nes.

P. 96—“Artaxerxes,” ar´tax-erx´es; “Mne´mon;” “O´chus;” “Bagoas,”
ba-go´as; “Codomannus,” cod-o-man´nus.

P. 97—“Abydos,” a´by-dos. It was from Abydos to Sestus that Leander
swam to Hero.

P. 98—“Philotas,” phi-lo´tas; “Har´pa-lus;” “Er´-i-gy´i-us” (ji´yus).

P. 99—“Zeleia,” ze-li´a.

P. 99—“Arrian,” ar´ri-an, (100-170 A. D.) A native of Bithynia. One of
the best writers of his time. He strove to imitate Xenophon, attached
himself to the philosopher Epictetus, as Xenophon to Socrates; wrote
the lectures of Epictetus to correspond to the Memorabilia. His best
work is a history of Alexander’s Asiatic expedition, which, both in
style and matter, is similar to the Anabasis. He wrote numerous other
works, many of which are lost.

P. 100—“Justin.” Lived in the third or fourth century. Justin left a
history of the Macedonian empire, compiled from a work now lost by
Trogus Pompeius, who lived in the time of Augustus.

P. 100—“Granicus,” gra-ni´cus; “Skepsis,” scep´sis; “Adrasteia,”
ad´ras-ti´a; “Pri-a´pus;” “Pa´ri-um;” “A-ris´be.”

P. 101—“Meleager,” me´le-a´ger; “Nikanor,” ni-ca´nor.

P. 101—“Arrhibæus,” ar´rha-bæ´us; “Ag´a-thon.”

P. 101—“Baktrians,” bac´tri-ans. The warlike inhabitants of Bactria, a
northeast province of the Persian Empire.

P. 101—“Paphlagonians,” paph=´=la-go´ni-ans. A district on the north of
Asia Minor between Bithynia and Pontus.

P. 101—“Hyrkanians,” hyr-ka´ni-ans. Hyrcania, the country of these
people, is on the southern and southwestern shores of the Caspian Sea.

P. 101—“Arsites,” ar-si´tes; “Spith´ra-da´tes;” “Ar-sam´e-nes.”

P. 103—“Demaratus,” dem´a-ra´tus; “Drop´i-des.”

P. 104—“Lysippus,” ly-sip´pus.

P. 104—“Sardis.” One of the most famous cities of Asia Minor. This
citadel had always been considered impregnable from its situation.

P. 105—“Miletus,” mi-le´tus.

P. 106—“Tralles,” tral´les; “Lycia,” lyc´i-a; “Pam-phyl´i-a;”
“Pi-sid´i-a;” “Gordium,” gor´di-um; “San-ga´ri-us;” “Phrygia,”

P. 108—“Mesopotamia,” mes´o-po-ta´mi-a.

P. 108—“Sogdiana,” sog´di-a´na. The northeastern portion of the Persian
Empire, including portions of the present country of Turkestan and

P. 109—“Gates of Kilikia.” See on map, p. 108, _Pylæ Kikiliæ_,
“Amanus,” a-ma´nus.

P. 110—“Beylan,” bā´lan.

P. 112—“Kardakes,” car´da-ces.

P. 113—“Seleukis,” se-leu´cis.

P. 116—“Kœle-Syria,” cœl´e-syr´i-a. Hollow Syria. The name given to the
valley between the two ranges of Mount Lebanon, in the south of Syria,
and bordering on Palestine.

P. 117—“Persepolis,” per-sep´o-lis. A treasure city of the Persians
situated on the north of the river Araxes.

P. 119—“Pelusium,” pe-lu´si-um; “Hephæstion,” he-phæs´ti-on.

P. 119—“Apis,” a´pis. The name given to the Bull of Memphis, worshiped
by the Egyptians as a god. There were certain signs by which the
animal was recognized to be the god: he must be black, a white, square
mark must be on his forehead, etc. When found he was worshiped with
greatest honors. Gradually the bull came to be regarded as a symbol,
and Apis was identified with the sun.

P. 119—“Kanopus,” ca-no´pus.

P. 119—“Pharos.” The island is mentioned by Homer. Alexander united it
to his new city by a mole. Ptolemy II. built a lighthouse here. Hence
we have the name Pharos often given to such buildings. The translators
of the Septuagint are said to have been confined here until they
finished their task.

P. 119—“Mareotis,” ma-re-o´tis.

P. 120—“Ammon.” Originally an Ethiopian god, afterward adopted by the
Egyptians. The Greeks called him Zeus Ammon, and the Romans, Jupiter
Ammon. The god was represented under the form of a ram, and this
seems to indicate that the original idea in the worship was that of a
protector of flocks.

P. 121—“Arbela,” ar-be´la; “Gaugamela,” gau-ga-me´la.

P. 123—“Albanians.” These people came from Albania, a country on the
west of the Caspian and in the southeast of Georgia.

P. 123—“Karians,” from Karia; “Menidas,” men´i-das.

P. 124—“Bessus,” bes´sus.

P. 125—“Aretas,” ar´e-tas.

P. 127—“Curtius,” cur´ti-us. The Roman historian of Alexander the
Great. Nothing is known of his life. His history is fairly reliable.

P. 128—“Eulæus,” eu-læ´us. The Old Testament Ulai, rises in Media, and
uniting with the Pasitigris, flows into the Persian Gulf.

P. 128—“Pasitigris,” pa-sit´i-gris.

P. 129—“Tænarus,” tæn´a-rus. Now Cape Matapan.

P. 131—“Drangiana,” dran´gi-a´na; “Ar´a-cho´si-a;” “Ge-dro´si-a;”
“Par´o-pa-mis´i-dæ;” “Seistan,” sā-stan´; “Candahar,” can-da-har´;
“Zurrah,” zur´rah.

P. 132—“Ecbatana,” ec-bat´-a-na.

P. 135—“Dioskuri,” di´os-cu´ri. Literally the sons of Jupiter. The
heroes Castor and Pollux.

P. 136—“Oxyartes,” ox´y-ar´tes.

P. 137—“Telestes,” te-les´tes; “Phi-lox´e-mus;” “Bukephalia,”
bu´ce-pha-li´a; “Akesines,” ac´e-si´nes; “Hyd-ra-o´tes;” “Hyph´a-sis.”

P. 139—“Arabitæ,” ar´a-bi´tæ; “O-ri´tæ;” “Ich´thy-oph´a-gi.”


The “Brief History of Greece” has not been annotated as the
pronunciation of the Greek and Latin names is marked, and its foot
notes are sufficient.


P. 9—“Sandys,” săn´dĭs.

P. 11—“Magnalia Christi Americana.” The great deeds of Christ in

P. 14—“Fox.” (1624-1690.) The founder of the sect of the Quakers.

P. 14—“Ipswich,” ips´wich, “Ag-a-wam´.” The latter was the first name
given to Ipswich.

P. 15—“Yale Library.” These forty books have increased to over 112,000,
exclusive of pamphlets.

P. 18—“Hopkinsianism,” hop-kins´i-an-ism.

P. 20—“Philomath,” phil´o-math. A lover of learning.

P. 21—“Brainherd,” brā´nerd.

P. 25—“Publius,” pŭb´li-us.

P. 27—“Freneau,” fre-nō´.

P. 27—“Huguenot,” hū´ge-not. Diminutive of Hugo, a heretic and
conspirator. The name was afterwards given to the French Protestants of

P. 27—“Columbiad,” co-lŭm´bi-ad.

P. 28—“DeFoe,” de-fō´. (1661?-1731.)

P. 30—“Hollis professorship.” Established in 1721 by Thomas Hollis.
Being a Baptist, he required that the candidate for the professorship
should be of orthodox principles.

P. 31—“Trinitarian,” trĭn-i-ta´ri-an. Pertaining to the Trinity.

P. 31—“Arian,” ā´ri-an. A follower of Arius, who held Christ to be a
created being.

P. 36—“Schaff,” shäf.

P. 36—“Swedenborgian,” swē-den-bôr´gi-an.

P. 39—“Pseudonym,” sū´do-nĭm. A fictitious name.

P. 39—“Salmagundi,” săl-ma-gŭn´dĭ. Originally a mixture of
chopped meats, fish with pepper, etc.; hence, a medley, a _pot-pourri_.

P. 42—-“Granada,” gra-na´da; “Al-ham´bra.”

P. 45—“Guildford,” gil´ford.

P. 46—“Marco Bozzaris,” mar´cō bot´sä-ris. A Greek patriot, born in
1790, killed at Missolonghi in 1823.

P. 46—“Buccanneer,” bŭc´ca-neer´.

P. 47—“Muhlenburg,” mu´len-berg.

P. 47—“Hadad,” hā´dăd.

P. 48—“Thanatopsis;” than-a-top´sis. A view of death.

P. 49—“Phi Beta Kappa Society.” A prominent Greek letter society,
founded in the College of William and Mary in 1776.

P. 49—“Verplanck,” ver-plănk´.

P. 51—“Lope de Vega,” lo´pā da vā´gä. (1562-1635.) A Spanish poet
and dramatist.

P. 52—“Bruges,” brüzh.

P. 54—“_Morituri Salutamus._” Literally, We about to die, salute you.

P. 54—“Aftermath,” aft´er-măth. The second crop of grass mown in a

P. 54—“Outre-mer.” Beyond the sea.

P. 54—“Hyperion,” hy-pe´rĭ-on; “Kavanagh,” kav´a-näh.

P. 61—“Launfal,” laun´fal.

P. 63—“Baudelaire,” bō-de-lar.

P. 67—“Göttingen,” get´ting-en.

P. 70—“Barneveld,” bar´ne-vĕlt.

P. 72—“Mohicans,” mo-hi´cans.

P. 74—“Surinam,” soo-rĭ-nam´. Dutch Guiana.

P. 76—“Thoreau,” tho´ro.

P. 78—“Aurelian,” au-re´li-an; “Ju´li-an;” “Ze-no´bia.”

P. 78—“Yemassee,” ye-mas-see´. The Yemassees were the tribe of Indians
afterwards called Savannahs.

P. 78—“Beauchampe,” bō´shŏn´.

P. 81—“Potiphar,” pot´i-phar.

P. 84—“Audubon,” aw´du-bon; “Agassiz,” ăg´a-see; “Guyot,” gē´o´.

P. 87—“Pre-Raphaelites,” pre-răph´a-el-ītes. Following the style
before the time of Raphael.

P. 89—“Improvisatori,” im-prŏ´vi-sa-tō´ri. Those who compose

P. 92—“Rossetti,” ros-sĕt´ee.

P. 94—“_Toujours amour._” Always love.

P. 94—“Piatt,” pī´at.

P. 103—“Azarian,” az´a-ri´an.

P. 103—“Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen,” h-a-jal-mer h-a-jorth bo-yay-sen.

P. 110—“Litterateur,” lē-tā´rä-tur. A literary man.



P. 1, c. 1—“Clovis,” klō´vis; “Charlemagne,” shar´le-mān´;
“Rudolphus,” roo-dŏl´fus; “Swabian,” swa´bī-an; “Hohenstaufen,”
ho´en-stow´fen; “Westphalia,” west-phā´lĭ-a.

P. 1, c. 1—“Maes.” The Flemish name for the Meuse.

P. 1, c. 1—“March,” or “Morawa.” A river of Austria. Its position as
a boundary of Hungary, and proximity to Vienna, have often made it of
historical importance.

P. 1, c. 1—“Mur,” or “Muir,” moor.

P. 1, c. 2—“Prosna,” pros´na; “Nieman,” nee´man.

P. 1, c. 2—“Teutoburg,” toi´to-boorg. A range of mountains in Western
Germany, about eighty miles in length. It was in this forest that the
German Arminius defeated the Romans in A. D. 9.

P. 1, c. 2—“Erz,” erts. The Erzgebirge, or Ore Mountains, are on the
boundary between Bohemia and Saxony, extending about 100 miles. There
are several granite peaks in the range. These mountains have long been
famous for their mineral products of silver, tin, iron, cobalt, copper,
etc. Coal is found also and porcelain clay.

P. 1, c. 2—“Riesen,” ree´zen. Giant mountains. A continuation of the
Erzgebirge, lying east of the river Elbe. The range extends about
seventy-five miles. It is of the same geological formation as the Erz.

P. 1, c. 2—“Weser,” We´ser; “Vistula,” vist´yu-la.

P. 1, c. 2—“Magyar,” mod´jor. A tribe which came from the far East.
In 887 they came into Hungary and soon conquered it and the adjoining
country. For one hundred years their conquests were extended, but at
last they consolidated the power within their own country. The Magyars
possessed an independent kingdom until the present century, but now
constitute one of the two leading divisions of the Austro-Hungarian
monarchy. The Emperor of Austria is the King of Hungary.

P. 1, c. 2—“Turanians,” tu-ra´ni-ans. The tribes of the Turanians are
the Finns, the people of Siberia, the Tartars, the Mongols, and the

P. 1, c. 2—“Aryan,” är´yan. The tribes speaking the Germanic, Slavic,
Celtic, Italic, Greek, Iranian, and Sanskrit languages belong to this

P. 1, c. 2—“Teutonic,” teū-ton´ic. The Teutonic dialects were the
languages spoken by the ancient Germans, so-called from one of the
tribes, the Teutons.

P. 1, c. 2—“Pytheas,” pyth´e-as. He is said to have made two voyages,
one to Britain and Iceland, another to the northern coast of Europe.

P. 1, c. 2—“Tuisko,” too-is´ko. The German legends describe the god as
a gray-haired man, clad in skins of animals, and with a scepter in his
right hand.

P. 2, c. 1—“Tacitus,” tac´i-tus. (A. D. 55-117.) A Roman historian. His
histories of the condition and customs of the Britains and Germans are
trustworthy accounts, written in a clear and concise style. A history
of Rome is his most ambitious work.

P. 2, c. 2—“Suetonius,” swe-to´ni-us. A Roman historian, living in the
latter half of the first century. His writings were very voluminous.

P. 2, c. 2—“Kělt,” or “Cělt.” A race of Asiatic origin, which in
very early time passed into Europe and gradually worked their way to
the present countries of France, and Great Britain. The Irish, Welsh,
and the Scotch of the Highlands are descendants of the Celts.

P. 2, c. 2—“Eagle.” From the time of Marius the eagle was the principal
emblem of the Roman Empire, and the standard of the legions. In the
fourteenth century the Germans adopted it, and afterwards Russia. The
arms of Prussia bear the black eagle, those of Poland bore the white.

P. 2, c. 2—“De Moribus Germanorum.” Treatise concerning the customs of
the Germans.

P. 2, c. 2—“Titus.” (A. D. 40-81.) Roman Emperor. Titus had
opportunities of observing the Germans when he was young, being
military tribune in Germany.

P. 2, c. 2—“Wō´dan,” The same as Odin, Wuotan, and Wotan. See “Notes
on Scandinavian Literature,” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for April.

P. 2, c. 2—“Hertha,” also written Ærtha, or Nerthus. As goddess of the
earth Hertha was believed to bring fertility. In the spring festivities
were held to celebrate her arrival, all feuds were suspended and the
greatest rejoicing prevailed.

P. 2, c. 2—“Runes.” The Norsemen had a peculiar alphabet of sixteen
letters, or signs. It was not used as we use our alphabet; indeed, as
the word _rune_ (mystery) signifies, its meaning was known to but few.
The letters were carved on rocks, stones, utensils, etc. Also, as in
the case alluded to, on smooth sticks for divination. A mysterious
power was supposed to reside in these characters.

       *       *       *       *       *

The article on “Air,” in the Physical Science series, is abridged
from the “English Science Primer on Physical Geography,” by Archibald
Geikie. The clear, simple style of the article make annotations
unnecessary. The same is also true of the paper on “Political Economy.”


P. 6, c. 2—“Archæology,” är-chæ-ŏl´o-gy. The science of antiquities.

P. 7, c. 1—“Guadaloupe,” gaw´da-loop´. An island of the West Indies.

P. 7, c. 2—“Owen.” (1807-1860.) An American geologist. He made
geological surveys of several States of the West and published reports
of his labors.

P. 8, c. 1—“Lamartine,” lä-mar-ten´. (1790-1869.) A French poet. After
several years of writing and travel Lamartine, in 1835, was chosen a
member of the Chamber of Deputies. Here his oratory won him laurels.
He was a Liberalist, and in 1848, during the establishment of the
republic, Lamartine’s eloquence and boldness prevented open attack
upon the aristocracy. He occupied several positions under the new
government, but finally retired to literary work.


P. 11, c. 1—“Glyptics,” glyp´tics. Carving on precious stones.

P. 11, c. 1—“Bas relief,” bä-re-leef´. “Michael Angelo,” me-kĕl
an´ja-lo. (1474-1562). The Italian painter and sculptor.

P. 11, c. 2—“Lapidary,” lăp´i-da-ry. One who cuts, polishes, and
engraves stones. “Vitreous,” vĭt´re-ous, glassy; “Ter´ra cot´ta;”
“Chryselephantine,” chrys´el-e-phănt´ine; “To-reu´tic;” “Ar´ma-ture.”

P. 12, c. 1—“Galvano-plastique,” gal-vā´no-plăs-teek;
“Băs´so-rē-liē´vo;” “Stiacciato,” stē-ät-chä´to;
“Mezzo-relievo,” mĕd´zo-re-liē´vo; “Al´to-re-liē-vo;”

P. 12, c. 1—“Renaissance,” rŭh-nā´sŏngs´. The awakening or
new birth, that took place in architecture, literature, and the fine
arts from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century. Men’s minds during
the middle ages had been under the influence of the church. Freedom of
thought and action became almost extinct. Reaction revived all branches
of art and literature, producing the period called the “Renaissance.”

P. 12, c. 1—“Polycleitus,” pol´y-clei´tus. A Greek sculptor who lived
about 430 B. C. His statues of men are said to have surpassed those of
Phidias. The Spear Bearer was a statue so perfectly proportioned that
it was called the canon or rule.

P. 12, c. 2—“Vitruvius Pollio,” vi-tru´vi-us pol´li-o. A Roman
architect who served under Cæsar. His treatise on architecture is a
compendium of Greek writers on the subject.

P. 12, c. 2—“Mem´phis.” Meaning the abode of the good one. Once the
most magnificent city of Egypt, the capital of the kingdom, and
residence of several Egyptian deities. It is only of late that its site
has been known.

P. 12, c. 2—“Cheops,” kē´ops.

P. 12, c. 2—“Renan,” ree´nan. A French orientalist, author and critic.

P. 12, c. 2—“Mariette,” mä=´=re=´=[)et]´. French Egyptologist.

P. 12, c. 2—“Ghizeh,” jee´zeh, or gee´zeh. A village of Egypt three
miles from Cairo. The three great pyramids are but five miles from

P. 12, c. 2—“Amosis,” a-mo´sis; “A-mu´nothph;” “Thoth´mo-sis;”

P. 13, c. 1—“Karnak,” kar´nak. A modern village of Egypt, in which has
been found a portion of the ruins of Thebes.

P. 13, c. 1—“Mem´non.” A statue of a hero of the Trojan war. It is
called musical because at sunrise a sound comes from it like the twang
of a harp string. It has been conjectured that this tone was caused by
the expansive effect of the sun’s rays upon the stone.

P. 13, c. 1 “Ram´ses;” “Tu´rin.”

P. 13, c. 1—“Osiris,” o-si´ris. One of the chief divinities of the

P. 13, c. 1—“Louvre,” loovr; “Abou Simbel,” â-boo-sim´bel; “Coptic,”

P. 13, c. 2—“Edfou,” ed´foo´; “Denderah,” den´der-äh.

P. 13, c. 2-“Hadrian,” ha´drĭ-an, or Adrian. (76-138.) Roman Emperor.

P. 13, c. 2—“Botta,” bot´ä; “Mo´sul.”

P. 14, c. 1—“Sarcophaguses,” sar-cŏph´a-gŭses. Literally the word
means _eating flesh_, and was named from the peculiar kind of limestone
used by the Greeks for making coffins which consumed the body in a
short time. Now a coffin or tomb made from stone of any kind.

P. 14, c. 1—“Cambyses,” kam-bī´sēz. The second king of Persia,
and probably the Ahasuerus mentioned in Ezra.


P. 14, c. 2—“Sandys.” The extract here given is taken from the
dedication of one of Sandys’s works to Prince Charles, afterward
King Charles I. The work bears the ambitious title, “A Relation of a
Journey begun in A. D. 1610; Four Bookes containing a description of
the Turkish Empire, of Egypt, of the Holy Land, of the remote parts
of Italy and Islands adjoining.” Of this work a traveler of the times
says, “The descriptions are so faithful and perfect that they leave
little to be added by after-comers, and nothing to be corrected.”

P. 15, c. 2—“Mogul,” mo-gūl´. A person of the Mongolian race.

P. 15, c. 2—“_Cæteris paribus._” Other things being equal.

P. 15, c. 2—“Boyle,” boil. (1626-1691.) An Irish chemist and
philosopher. He has been called the inventor of the air pump, and by it
he demonstrated the elasticity of the air. His charity and philanthropy
gave him the reverence of his associates and his philosophical
experiments placed him among scientists. He has been called “the great
Christian philosopher.”

P. 15, c. 2—“Bodleian,” bōd´le-an. Pertaining to Sir Thomas Bodley,
who founded a celebrated library in Oxford in the sixteenth century.

P. 15, c. 2—“Văt´i-can.” An assemblage of buildings in Rome,
including the Pope’s palace, museum, library, etc.

P. 16, c. 1—“Edwards.” This selection is taken from Edwards’s treatise
on the “Religious Affections.”


The grades of the written examination are given upon the standard of
100. The three receiving 98⅔ in the full-course list are entitled to
the prizes. No prizes are given to those passing only on the lessons of
the first series, but their standards are given showing good work.


    Lillian Aldrich, box 79, Madisonville, O.                    92⅔
    Edna Amos, 10 Brighton Street, Cleveland, O.                 92⅔
    Helen Archbold, box 16, Titusville, Pa.                      96
    James H. Archbold, box 16, Titusville, Pa.                   95⅓
    Bessie Barrett, care C. S. Barrett, Titusville, Pa.          84⅔
    Grace E. Barrett, care C. S. Barrett, Titusville, Pa.        92
    Mary E. Bray, Parker’s Landing, Pa.                          95⅓
    Irma Campbell, Hartfield, Chautauqua County, N. Y.           85⅓
    Lizzie Cary, Conneautville, Pa.                              82
    Phrania Chesbro, Harrisville, Pa.                            94
    Nell Clark, Union City, Pa.                                  95⅓
    Carrie Dithridge, Tionesta, Forest County, Pa.               93⅓
    Mary Dithridge, Tionesta, Forest County, Pa.                 97⅓
    Rachel Dithridge, Tionesta, Forest County, Pa.               78⅔
    Carrie M. Dixon, box 213, Titusville, Pa.                    94
    Daisy A. Doren, 307 East Sixth Street, Dayton, O.            98⅔
    Elsie Downs, box 195, Chautauqua, N. Y.                      92⅔
    Mary E. Ensign, Madison, O.                                  90
    Alice R. Eaton, Titusville, Pa.                              96
    Louise Folley, 101 South Sixth Street, Lafayette, Ind.       96⅔
    Anna Funnell, care Mrs. J. McAllister, White Hall, Ill.      93⅓
    Emma G. Guernsey, Oil City, Pa.                              87⅓
    Florence Guernsey, Oil City, Pa.                             95⅓
    Mamie A. Guernsey, Canton, Bradford County, Pa.              98⅔
    Claire Hammond, Oil City, Pa.                                91⅓
    Albert J. Harris, 530 South Division Street, Buffalo, N. Y.  74
    Inez Harris, box 1159, Bradford, Pa.                         73⅓
    May Herrick, Chautauqua, N. Y.                               78⅔
    Hattie K. Horr, Sidney, O.                                   96
    Edith D. Hunter, Mill Village, Erie County, Pa.              94
    Helen E. Irwin, Tampa, Fla.                                  95⅓
    Blanche Jackson, Collins Center, Erie County, N. Y.          88⅔
    Dora E. Jackson, Collins Center, Erie County, N. Y.          80⅔
    Willie Johnson, Girard, O.                                   74
    Cora B. Jones, Greenfield, Pa.                               90
    Florence A. Jones, Greenfield, Pa.                           96
    Florence E. Keller, Titusville, Pa.                          84⅔
    Grace J. Kirkland, Dewittville, N. Y.                        96
    Jessie Leslie, Chautauqua, N. Y.                             90
    Fannie E. Lowes, Canonsburg, Pa.                             97⅓
    Clair Metcalf, box 1194, Bradford, Pa.                       79⅓
    Nellie M. Norris, West Farmington, O.                        98⅔
    Herbert Russell, Mansfield, O.                               96⅔
    Alma J. Schofield, Hartfield, N. Y.                          79⅓
    Clyde Simmons, Oil City, Pa.                                 78⅔
    Mary A. Sixbey, Mayville, N. Y.                              96
    Julia A. Tifft, care S. E. Tifft, Titusville, Pa.            93⅓
    Mary L. Turrill, Cumminsville Street, Cincinnati, O.         83⅓
    Harry B. Vincent, Pottsville Pa.                             72


    Edna Amos, 10 Brighton Street, Cleveland, O.                 97½
    William F. Amos, 10 Brighton Street, Cleveland, O.           97½
    Annie Archbold, box 16, Titusville, Pa.                      91⅔
    Percy Barlow, 88 Mayberry Avenue, Detroit, Mich.             97½
    Carrie Bradley, Titusville, Pa.                              79⅙
    Bessie Burwell, Mercer, Pa.                                  80⅚
    Ellis J. Chesbro, Harrisville, Pa.                           99⅙
    Jessie Clauson, Rutland, Vt.                                 95⅚
    Jessie Galey, Pollock P. O., Pa.                            100
    Helen M. Guernsey, Canton, Pa.                               95
    Claire Hammond, Oil City, Pa.                               100
    Maud Harkins, Chautauqua, N. Y.                              82½
    Willie M. Hill, Liverpool, O.                                91⅜
    Louie Hogan, West Monterey, Pa.                              81⅔
    Grace Holmes, Union City, Pa.                                88⅓
    Clara Irwin, Tampa, Fla.                                     95⅚
    Cora B. Jones, Greenfield, Pa.                               99⅙
    Hudson Layton, 269 Liberty Street, Pittsburgh, Pa.           70
    Winnie Maguire, Pittsfield, Pa.                              90
    Mabel Metcalf, Bradford, Pa.                                 83⅓
    Ettie Niles, Flushing, Mich.                                 98⅓
    Carrie Perkins, Dunkirk, N. Y.                               82½
    Herbert Russell, Mansfield, O.                              100
    Grace Vance, New Wilmington, Pa.                             75⅔
    Nellie Vance, New Wilmington, Pa.                            81⅔
    Bessie S. Williams, 221 N. Juniper, Philadelphia, Pa.        97½
    Nellie Wood, Kansas, Ill.                                    96⅔
    Lovie Yingling, Pollock P. O., Pa.                          100
    _No name_ on a successful paper.                             85


    Russell Armor, Bradford, Pa.
    Gracie Bosley, Bradford, Pa.
    Miner D. Crary, Sheffield, Pa.
    Carrie Darling, Spartansburg, Pa.
    Eva Hall, Brockton, N. Y.
    Ralph Harris, 530 South Division Street, Buffalo, N. Y.
    Gracie Jones, Greenfield, Pa.
    Nina Jones, Princeton, Ky.
    Carlie F. Kittridge, Geneseo, N. Y.
    Robert Kittridge, Geneseo, N. Y.
    Hattie Miner, Deposit, N. Y.
    Grace L. Smith, Union City, Mich.
    Emily E. Spear, Spring Mills, N. Y.
    Annie Taylor, Chautauqua, N. Y.
    Willie F. Walworth, 107 Public Square, Cleveland, O.


Absolutely Pure.]

This powder never varies. A marvel of purity, strength and
wholesomeness. More economical than the ordinary kinds, and can not be
sold in competition with the multitude of low test, short weight, alum
or phosphate powders. _Sold only in cans._ ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO., 106
Wall Street, New York.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Aterisks in the list below
indicate a space or smudged letter.

Page 4, “temperture” changed to “temperature” (same temperature as the)

Page 8, “skepic” changed to “skeptic” (Christian or skeptic)

Page 10, “*ruths” changed to “truths” (truths. It is)

Page 11, “bass” changed to “bas” (his statue, or bas)

Page 13, the small-capital III. was changed to all-captials to match
the rest of the usage in the text (of Amunothph III., previously)

Page 14, as above, B. C. was changed to B. C. twice to reflect majority
of usage in text. (560 B. C.) (331 B. C.)

Page 15, “varietyt” changed to “variety,” (with such variety,)

Page 16, “pay” changed to “day” (day. Thus it is)

Page 17, “the of” changed to “of the” (a vivid picture of the)

Page 19, the first column ends midline with the words:

    indissolubly, and the first line of the couplet:

The next column does not have either a couplet or an indentation
indicating a new paragraph. It simply goes with the sentence. This was
retained as printed.

Page 22, “Moliere” changed to “Molière” (and brought Molière)

Page 26, “ot” changed to “to” (Athenæum to witness the)

Page 27, “ther*” changed to “there” (no fear that there)

Page 28, “Chautauqna” changed to “Chautauqua” (present at Chautauqua)

Page 35, “slaves” changed to “Slavs” (the eastern Slavs there)

Page 36, “portecochére” changed to “portecochère” (_portecochère_, were

Page 36, “inerests” changed to “interests” (these objects and interests)

Page 37, “wlll” changed to “will” (yet their conversation will)

Page 37, “Frauenkircho” changed to “Frauenkirche” (Opera House, the

Page 37, “eopy” changed to “copy” (copy a picture in)

Page 39, “deficiences” changed to “deficiencies” (his personal

Page 52, “ora*ors” changed to “orators” (prominent as orators)

Page 56, “Adriondacks” changed to “Adirondacks” (the Adirondacks and

Page 58, “Pherae” changed to “Pheræ” (“Pheræ.” A city of Thessaly)

Page 61, “We´ser;” changed to (“Weser,” We´ser;) to match rest of
entries in section.

Page 61, “bearer” changed to “Bearer” (The Spear Bearer was a)

Page 61, “Michæl” changed to “Michael” (“Michael Angelo,”)

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