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Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. V, March 1885
Author: Literary, The Chautauquan, Circle, Scientific
Language: English
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                 VOL. V.       MARCH, 1885.       NO. 6.

Officers of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

_President_, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio. _Chancellor_, J. H. Vincent,
D.D., New Haven, Conn. _Counselors_, The Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.,
the Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.; Prof. W. C.
Wilkinson, D.D.; Edward Everett Hale. _Office Secretary_, Miss Kate
F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J. _General Secretary_, Albert M. Martin,
Pittsburgh, Pa.


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

    Temperance Teachings of Science; or, The Poison Problem
        Chapter VI.—Subjective Remedies                       311
    Sunday Readings
        [_March 1_]                                           314
        [_March 8_]                                           315
        [_March 15_]                                          315
        [_March 22_]                                          315
        [_March 29_]                                          316
    Studies in Kitchen Science and Art
        VI. Cabbages, Turnips, Carrots, Beets and Onions      316
    The Circle of the Sciences                                320
    Home Studies in Chemistry and Physics
        Fire—Physical Properties                              323
    The Mohammedan University of Cairo                        327
    As Seeing the Invisible                                   329
    National Aid to Education                                 329
    A Trip to the Land of Dreams                              333
    The Homelike House
        Chapter III.—The Dining Room                          335
    Mexico                                                    338
    Two Seas                                                  339
    New Orleans World’s Exposition                            340
    Geography of the Heavens for March                        342
    How to Win                                                343
    Notes on Popular English                                  345
    The Chautauqua School of Liberal Arts                     348
    Outline of Required Readings, March, 1885                 350
    Programs for Local Circle Work                            350
    Local Circles                                             351
    The C. L. S. C. Classes                                   356
    Questions and Answers                                     357
    The Trustees Reorganize Chautauqua                        358
    Editor’s Outlook                                          360
    Editor’s Note-Book                                        362
    C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for March          365
    Notes on Required Readings in “The Chautauquan”           367
    Talk About Books                                          369
    Paragraphs from New Books                                 370
    Special Notes                                             372







“Deeprooted evils can not be abolished by striking at the

The history of the temperance movement has demonstrated the sad futility
of palliative remedies. We have seen that the malady of the poison vice
is not a self-limited, but a necessarily progressive evil. The half-way
measures of “restrictive” legislation have resulted only in furnishing
additional proof that prevention is better, because less impossible, than
control.[A] The regulation of the poison traffic, the redress of the
unavoidably resulting mischief, the cure and conversion of drunkards, in
order to be effectual, would impose intolerable and never ending burdens
on the resources even of the wealthiest communities, while the advocates
of prohibition would forestall the evils both of the remedy and the

But we should not overlook the truth that, in our own country at least,
the poison plant of intemperance springs from a composite root. In
southern Spain, under the dominion of the Saracens,[2] the poison vice
was almost unknown during a series of centuries.[B] The moral code and
the religion of the inhabitants discountenanced intemperance. The virtue
of dietetic purity ranked with chastity and cleanliness. An abundance
of harmless amusements diverted from vicious pastimes. Under such
circumstances the absence of direct temptations constituted a sufficient
safeguard against the vice of the poison habit; but in a country like
ours the efficacy of prohibition depends on the following supplementary

1. INSTRUCTION.—In the struggle against the powers of darkness light
often proves a more effective weapon than might or right. Even the
limited light of human reason might help us to avoid mistakes that have
undoubtedly retarded the triumph of our cause. We must enlighten, as
well as admonish our children, if we would save them from the snares of
the tempter; among the victims of intemperance, even among those who can
speak from experience and can not deny that their poison has proved the
curse of their lives, only a small portion is at all able to comprehend
the necessary connection of cause and result. They ascribe their ruin to
the spite of fortune, to the machinations of an uncharitable world, to
abnormally untoward circumstances, rather than to the normal effects of
the insidious poison. Intoxication they admit to be an evil, but defend
the moderate use of a liquor as infallibly injurious in the smallest
as in the largest dose; they underrate the progressive tendency of
their vice and overrate their power of resistance; they cling to the
tradition that alcohol, discreetly enjoyed, may prove a blessing instead
of a curse. We must banish that fatal delusion. We must reveal the true
significance of the poison habit before we can hope to suppress it as
a life blighting vice. Our text-books should be found in every college
and every village school from Florida to Oregon. Every normal school
should graduate teachers of temperance. The law of the State of New York
providing for the introduction of primers on the effects of alcoholic
beverages was attacked by one of our leading scientific periodicals,
with more learning than insight, on the ground that the physiological
action of alcohol is as yet obscure even to our ablest pathologists,
and therefore not a fit subject for a common school text-book. The same
objection might be urged against every other branch of physiology and
the natural history of the organic creation. “Every vital process is a
miracle,” says Lorenz Oken,[3] “that is, in all essential respects an
unexplained phenomenon.” A last question will always remain unanswered
wherever the marvelous process of life is concerned, but our ignorance,
as well as our knowledge, of that phenomenon has its limits, and in
regard to the effects of alcoholic beverages it is precisely the most
knowable and most fully demonstrated part of the truth which it behooves
every child to know, but of which at present nine tenths of the adults,
even in the most civilized countries, remain as ignorant as the natives
of Kamtschatka who worship a divinity in the form of a poisonous
toadstool. A boy may be brought to comprehend the folly of gambling
even before he has mastered the abstruse methods of combination and
permutation employed in the calculus of probable loss and gain. We need
not study Bentham[4] to demonstrate that honesty is an essential basis
of commerce and social intercourse. By the standard of usefulness, too,
temperance primers might well take precedence of many other text-books.
Our school boys hear all sorts of things about the perils encountered by
the explorers of African deserts and Arctic seas, but next to nothing
about the pitfalls in their own path—no room for the discussion of
such subjects in a curriculum that devotes years to the study of dead
languages. Is the difference between the archaic and pliocene form of a
Greek verb so much more important than the difference between food and

With such a text as the monster curse of intemperance and its impressive
practical lessons, a slight commentary would suffice to turn thousands of
young observers into zealous champions of our cause, just as in Germany a
few years of gymnastic training have turned nearly every young man into
an advocate of physical education. The work begun in the school room
should be continued on the lecture platform, but we should not dissemble
the truth that in a crowded hall ninety per cent. of the visitors have
generally come to hear an _orator_ rather than a teacher, and enjoy
an eloquence that stirs up their barrenest emotions as much as if it
had fertilized the soil of their intelligence, just as the unrepentant
gamesters of a Swiss watering place used to applaud the sensational
passages of a drama written expressly to set forth the evils of the
gambling hell. Enthusiasm and impressiveness are valuable qualifications
of a public speaker, but he should possess the talent of making those
agencies the vehicles of instruction. The great mediæval reformers, as
well as certain political agitators of a later age, owe their success to
their natural or acquired skill in the act of stirring their hearers into
an intellectual ferment that proved the leaven of a whole community—for
that skill is a talent that can be developed on a basis of pure common
sense and should be more assiduously cultivated for the purposes of our
reform. A modern philanthropist could hardly confer a greater benefit on
his fellow-citizens than by founding a professorship of temperance, or
endowing a college with the special condition of a proviso for a weekly
lecture on such topics as “The Stimulant Delusion,” “Alcoholism,” “The
History of the Temperance Movement.”

Pamphlets, too, may subserve an important didactic purpose, and in the
methods of their distribution we might learn a useful lesson from our
adversaries, the manufacturers of alcoholic nostrums, who introduce
their advertisements into every household, by publishing them combined
with almanacs, comic illustrations, note-books, etc., _i. e._, not only
free, but winged with extra inducements to the recipient, and often by
the special subvention of druggists and village postmasters—till quack
annuals have almost superseded the old family calendars with their
miscellanies of pious adages and useful recipes. Could we not retrieve
the lost vantage ground by the publication of temperance year-books,
compiled by a committee of our best tract societies and distributed by
agents of the W. C. T. U.—with inspiring conviction to emulate the zeal
stimulated by a bribe of gratuitous brandy bottles?

Popular books must above all be _interesting_, and with a large plurality
of readers that word is still a synonym of entertaining. A German
bookseller estimates that the romances of Louisa Mühlbach have done more
to familiarize her countrymen with the history of their fatherland than
all historical text books, annals and chronicles taken together, and we
should not despise the aid of the novelist, if he should possess the
gift of making fiction the hand-maid of truth, and the rarer talent of
awakening the reflections as well as the emotions of his readers, for all
such appeals should prepare the way for the products of the temperance
press proper, by which we should never cease to invoke the conscience and
the reason of our fellowmen.

2. PROSCRIPTION.—That union is strength is a truth which asserts itself
even at the expense of public welfare, and in favor of those who combine
to thwart the purposes of the law or prevent the progress of needed
reforms. To the cabals of such adversaries, against whom the influence
of moral suasion would be powerless, we should oppose weapons that would
strike at the foundation of their strength, namely, the most effectual
means to diminish the number of their allies. Many of those who are
callous to the stings of conscience would hesitate to defy the stigma of
public opinion; others who are proof against all other arguments would
yield if we could make it their commercial interest to withdraw their aid
from the enemies of mankind.

That the prescription of alcohol for remedial purposes will ultimately
be abandoned, like bleeding, blue-pill dosing and other medical
anachronisms, is as certain as that the Carpathian peasants will cease
to exorcise devils by burning cow dung, and we can somewhat promote the
advent of that time by patronizing reform physicians in preference to
“brandy-doctors,” as Benjamin Rush[5] used to call them, and by classing
alcoholic “bitters” with the prohibited beverages. It is mere mockery to
prohibit the sale of small beer and permit quacks to sell their brandy
as a “digestive tonic,” and obviate the inconveniences of the Sunday
law by consigning their liquor to a drug-store. Does the new name or
the admixture of a handful of herbs change the effects of the poison?
We might as well prohibit gambling and permit musical lottery drawings
under the name of sacred concerts. Till we can do better we should permit
druggists to sell alcoholic bitters only on the certified prescription
of a responsible physician, all such prescriptions to be duly registered
and periodically reported to the Temperance Commissioner of a Board of
Health. Nostrum-mongers[6] will probably continue to fleece the ignorant
to the end of time, but they must cease to decoy their victims by
pandering to the alcohol vice.

3. HEALTHIER PASTIMES.—There is no doubt that a lack of better pastimes
often tends to promote intemperance. In thousands of our country towns,
equidistant from rural sports and the amusements of the metropolis
_ennui_ rather than ignorance[C] or natural depravity leads our young
men to the dram shop, and in recognizing that fact we should not delude
ourselves with the hope that reading-rooms alone could remedy the
evil.[D] The _craving after excitement_, in some form or other, is an
instinct of human nature which may be perverted, but can never be wholly
suppressed, and in view of the alternative we would find it cheaper—both
morally and materially—to gratify that craving in the comparatively
harmless way of the Languedoc[9] peasants (who devote the evening hours
to singing contests, trials of skill, round dances, etc.), or after
the still better plan of the ancient Greeks. Antiquity had its Olympic
Games, Nemean and Capitoline arenas, _circenses_, and local festivals.
The Middle Ages had their tournaments, May days, archery contests, church
festivals and guild feasts. The Latin nations still find leisure for
pastimes of that sort—though in modified, and not always improved, forms;
but in Great Britain, Canada and the United States, with their six times
twelve hours of monotonous factory work, and Sunday laws against all
kinds of recreations, the dreariness of existence has reached a degree
which for millions of workingmen has made oblivion a blest refuge, and
there is no doubt that many dram-drinkers use alcohol as an anodyne—the
most available palliative against the misery of life-weariness. We would
try in vain to convert such men by reproofs or ostracism. Before we can
persuade them to renounce their excursions to the land of delirium the
realities of life must be made less unendurable. They know the dangers
of intemperance, but consider it a lesser evil.[E] They know no other
remedy. Hence their bitter hatred of those who would deprive them of that
only solace. Shall we resign such madmen to their fate? I am afraid that
their type is represented by a larger class than current conceptions
might incline us to admit. Let those who would verify those conceptions
visit a popular beer garden—not as emissaries of our propaganda, but
as neutral observers. Let them use a suitable opportunity to turn the
current of conversation upon a test topic: “Personal Liberty,” “The
Sunday Question,” “Progress of the Prohibition Party.” Let the observer
retain his mask of neutrality, and ascertain the views—the private
views—of a few specimen topers. Do they deny the physiological tendencies
of their practice? The correlation of alcohol and crime? They avoid such
topics. No, nine out of ten will prefer an unanswerable or unanswered
argument; the iniquity of interfering with the amusements of the poor,
with the only available recreations of the less privileged classes. Take
that away and what can a man do who has no better pastimes, and can not
always stay at home? What shall he do with sixteen hours of leisure?

The question then recurs: How shall we deal with such men? How reclaim
them sufficiently even for the nobler purposes of the present life, not
to speak of higher aims? How save them from the road that leads down to
death? A change of heart may now and then work wonders, even the wonder
of a permanent reform; but we have no right to rely on constant miracles,
and for thousands in sorest need of help there is only one practical
solution of the problem: Let us provide an opportunity of better
pastimes—_not as a concession to our enemies, but as the most effectual
method to counteract the attraction of their snares and deprive them of
the only plausible argument against the tendencies of our reform_. We
need not profane the Sabbath by bull-fights. We need not tempt the poor
to spend their wages on railway excursions or the gambling tables of a
popular summer resort. But we should recognize the necessity of giving
them once a week a chance for outdoor amusements, and unless we should
prefer the Swedish compromise plan of devoting the evening of the Sabbath
to earthly purposes, we should adopt the suggestion of the Chevalier
Bunsen,[10] and amend the eight hour law by a provision for a _free
Saturday afternoon_. Half a day a week, together with the evenings of the
long summer days, would suffice where the means of recreation are near at
hand. Even the smallest factory villages could afford a little pleasure
ground of their own, a public garden with a free gymnasium, a footrace
track, ball ground, a tennis-hall or nine-pin-alley, for the winter
season, a free bath, and a few zoölogical attractions. In larger towns
we might add free music, a restaurant managed on the plan of Susanna
Dodds, M.D.,[F] and perhaps a museum of miscellaneous curiosities. Such
pleasure resorts should be known as _Temperance Gardens_. They would
redeem as many drunkards as all our prisons and inebriate asylums taken
together; they would do more: they would _prevent_ drunkenness. And above
all, they would accustom the working classes to associate the name of
Temperance with the conceptions of liberality, manliness, cheerfulness,
and recreation, instead of—well, their present misconceptions. We might
arrange monthly excursions, and the happiest yearly festival would be a
Deliverance Feast; an anniversary of the day when the city or village
decided to free itself from the curse of the poison traffic. Like some
of the Turner halls[11] of the German gymnasts, temperance gardens could
be made more than self-supporting by charging a small admission fee to
the spectator-seats of the gymnasium, and selling special refreshments at
a moderate advance on the cost price. The surplus might be invested in
prizes to stimulate competition in such gymnastics as wrestling, running,
and hammer throwing (“putting the club,” as the Scotch highlanders call
it), with reserved days, or arenas, for juvenile competitors. In winter
we might vary the program by archery, singing contests, and trials of
skill in various domestic fashions, with an occasional “spelling bee”—at
least for those who could be trusted to consider it a pastime, rather
than a task, for the purpose of recreation should not be sacrificed even
to considerations of utility. In regard to athletics, that apprehension
would be superfluous; the enthusiasm of gymnastic emulation has exerted
its power at all times and among all nations, and needs but little
encouragement to revive in its old might. It would make the Temperance
Garden what the Village Green was to the archers of Old England, what
the palæstra was to the youth of ancient Greece. It would supersede
vicious pastimes; it would regenerate the manhood of the tempted classes,
and thus react on their personal and social habits; they would satisfy
their craving for excitement in the arena, they would learn to _prefer
mechanical to chemical stimulants_.[G] Physical and moral vigor would go
hand in hand.

The union of temperance and athletic education has, indeed, been
the ideal of many social reformers, from Pythagoras to Jean Jacques
Rousseau,[12] and the secret of their failure was a mistake that has
defeated more than one philanthropic project. They failed to begin their
reform at the basis of the social structure. He who fears the hardships
of such a beginning lacks, after all, true faith in the destiny of his
mission. Perseverance and uncompromising loyalty to the tenets of our
covenant is to us a duty, as well as the best policy, for as a moral
offense treason itself would not be more unpardonable than doubt in the
ultimate triumph of a cause like ours. There is a secret which almost
seems to have been better known to the philosophers and patriots of
antiquity than to this unheroic age of our own, namely, that in the arena
of moral contests a clearly undeserved defeat is a step toward victory.
In that warfare the scales of fate are not biased by a preponderance of
gold or iron. Tyrants have reached the term of their power if they have
made deliverance more desirable than life; the persuasive power of Truth
is increased by oppression; and if the interests of a cause have become
an obvious obstacle in the road of progress and happiness the promoters
of that cause have to contend with a law that governs the tendencies of
the moral as well as the physical universe, and inexorably dooms the
unfit to perish.[H] The unmasked enemies of mankind have no chance to

And even where their disguises still avail them amidst the ignorance of
their victims we should remember the consolation of Jean Jacques Rousseau
in his address to the Polish patriots: “They have swallowed you, but you
can prevent them from assimilating you.” Our enemies may prevent the
recovery of their spoil; they may continue to devour the produce of our
fields and of our labor, but we do not propose to let them enjoy their
feast in peace; whatever their gastric capacity, it will be our own fault
if we do not cause them an indigestion that will diminish their appetite.
“All the vile elements of society are against us,” writes one of our
lecturers, “but I have no fear of the event if we do not cease to agitate
the subject,” and we would, indeed, not deserve success if we should
relax our efforts before we have secured the coöperation of every friend
of justice and true freedom.

It is true, we invite our friends to a battle-field, but there are times
when war is safer than peace, and leads to the truer peace of conscience.
The highest development of _altruism_ inspires a devotion to the welfare
of mankind that rewards itself by a deliverance from the petty troubles
and vexations of daily life; nay, all personal sorrows may thus be sunk
out of sight, and those who seek release from grief for the inconstancy
of fate, for the frustration of a cherished project, for the loss of a
dear friend, may find a peace which fortune can neither give nor take
away by devoting themselves to a cause of enduring promise, to the
highest abiding interest of their fellowmen. At the dawn of history
that highest aim would have been: security against the inroads of
barbarism. In the night of the Middle Ages: salvation from the phantoms
of superstition. To-day it should be: deliverance from the curse of the
poison vice.

That deliverance will more than compensate all sacrifices. Parties, like
individuals, are sometimes destined to conquer without a struggle; but
the day of triumph is brighter if the powers of darkness have been forced
to yield step for step, and we need not regret our labors, our troubles,
nor even the disappointment of some minor hopes, for in spite of the long
night we have not lost our way, and the waning of the stars often heralds
the morning.


[A] “All past legislation has proved ineffectual to restrain the habit
of excess. Acts of Parliament intended to lessen, have notoriously
augmented the evil, and we must seek a remedy in some new direction, if
we are not prepared to abandon the contest or contentedly to watch with
folded arms the gradual deterioration of the people. Restriction in the
forms which it has hitherto assumed, of shorter hours, more stringent
regulation of licensed houses and magisterial control of licenses,
has been a conspicuous failure. For a short time after the passing of
Lord Aberdare’s act, hopes were entertained of great results from the
provisions for early closing, and many chief constables testified to the
improved order of the streets under their charge; but it soon appeared
that the limitation, while it lessened the labor of the police and
advanced their duties an hour or so in the night, was not sufficient to
reduce materially the quantity of liquor consumed, or the consequent
amount of drunkenness.”—_Fortnightly Review._

[B] “The western Saracens abstained not only from wine, but from all
fermented and distilled drinks whatsoever, were as innocent of coffee as
of tea and tobacco, knew opium only as a soporific medicine, and were
inclined to abstemiousness in the use of animal food. Yet six millions
of these truest sons of temperance held their own for seven centuries
against great odds of heavy-armed Giaours, excelled all christendom
in astronomy, medicine, agriculture, chemistry and linguistics, as
well as in the abstract sciences, and could boast of a whole galaxy of
philosophers and inspired poets.”—_International Review_, December, 1880.

[C] “Education is the cure of ignorance,” says Judge Pitman, “but
ignorance is not the cause of intemperance. Men who drink generally
know better than others that the practice is foolish and hurtful.”
“It is not the most earnest and intelligent workers in the sphere of
public education that make their overestimate of it as a specific for
intemperance. While they are fully sensible of that measure of indirect
aid which intellectual culture brings to all moral reforms, they feel how
weak is this agency alone to measure its strength against the powerful
appetite for drink.”

[D] “In a primitive state of society field sports afford abundant
pastimes, our wealthy burghers find indoor amusements, and scholars
have ideal hunting grounds of their own; but the large class of our
fellow-citizens, to whom reading is a task rather than a pleasure,
are reduced to the hard choice between their _circenses_[7] and their
_panes_[8]. Even the slaves of ancient Rome had their saturnalia, when
their masters indulged them in the enjoyment of their accumulated
arrears of happiness; but our laborers toil like machines, whose best
recreation is a temporary respite from work. Human hearts, however, will
not renounce their birthright to happiness; and if joy has departed this
life they pursue its shadow in the land of dreams, and try to spice the
dry bread of daily drudgery with the sweets of delirium.”—_International
Review_, December, 1880.

[E] “But beside their excitative influence, strong stimulants induce a
lethargic reaction; and it is for the sake of this after effect that many
unfortunates resort to intoxication. They drink in order to get drunk;
they are not tempted by the poison-fiend in the guise of a good, familiar
spirit, but deliberately invoke the enemy which steals away their
brains.”—_International Review_, December, 1880.

[F] Author of “Health in the Household.”

[G] “I can not help thinking that most of our fashionable diseases might
be cured _mechanically instead of chemically_, by climbing a bitter-wood
tree, or chopping it down, if you like, rather than swallowing a
decoction of its disgusting leaves.”—_Boerhave._

[H] “The ultimate issue of the struggle is certain. If any one doubts
the general preponderance of good over evil in human nature, he has only
to study the history of moral crusades. The enthusiastic energy and
self-devotion with which a great moral cause inspires its soldiers always
have prevailed, and always will prevail, over any amount of self-interest
or material power arrayed on the other side.”—_Goldwin Smith._[13]



[_March 1._]

Repose now in thy glory, noble founder. Thy work is finished; thy
divinity is established. Fear no more to see the edifice of thy labors
fall by any fault. Henceforth beyond the reach of frailty, thou shalt
witness from the heights of divine peace, the infinite results of thy
acts. At the price of a few hours of suffering, which did not even reach
thy grand soul, thou hast bought the most complete immortality. Banner of
our contests, thou shalt be the standard about which the hottest battle
will be given. A thousand times more alive, a thousand times more beloved
since thy death than during thy passage here below, thou shalt become the
corner-stone of humanity so entirely, that to tear thy name from this
world would be to rend it to its foundations. Between thee and God there
will no longer be any distinction. Complete conqueror of death, take
possession of thy kingdom, whither shall follow thee, by the royal road
which thou hast traced, ages of worshipers.

       *       *       *       *       *

The essential work of Jesus was the creation around him of a circle of
disciples in whom he inspired a boundless attachment, and in whose breast
he implanted the germ of his doctrine. To have made himself beloved “so
much that after his death they did not cease to love him,” this was the
crowning work of Jesus, and that which most impressed his contemporaries.
His doctrine was so little dogmatical that he never thought of writing it
or having it written. A man became his disciple, not by believing this or
that, but by following him and loving him. A few sentences treasured up
in the memory, and above all, his moral type, and the impression which
he had produced, were all that remained of him. Jesus is not a founder
of dogmas, a maker of symbols; he is the world’s initiator into a new
spirit.… To adhere to Jesus in view of the kingdom of God, was what it
was originally to be a Christian.

Thus we comprehend how, by an exceptional destiny, pure Christianity
still presents itself, at the end of eighteen centuries, with the
character of a universal and eternal religion. It is because in fact the
religion of Jesus is in some respects the final religion. The fruit of
a perfectly spontaneous movement of souls, free at its birth from every
dogmatic constraint, having struggled three hundred years for liberty
of conscience, Christianity, in spite of the fall which followed, still
gathers the fruits of this surpassing origin. To renew itself it has only
to turn to the Gospel. The kingdom of God, as we conceive it, is widely
different from the supernatural apparition which the first Christians
expected to see burst forth from the clouds. But the sentiment which
Jesus introduced into the world is really ours. His perfect idealism is
the highest rule of unworldly and virtuous life. He has created that
heaven of free souls, in which is found what we ask in vain on earth,
the perfect nobility of the children of God, absolute purity, total
abstraction from the contamination of this world, that freedom, in short,
which material society shuts out as an impossibility, and which finds
all its amplitude only in the domain of thought. The great master of
those who take refuge in this ideal kingdom of God is Jesus still. He
first proclaimed the kingliness of the spirit; he first said, at least
by his acts, “My kingdom is not of this world.” The foundation of the
true religion is indeed his work. After him there is nothing more but to
develop and fructify.

“Christianity” has thus become almost synonymous with “religion.” All
that may be done outside of this great and good Christian tradition will
be sterile. Jesus founded religion on humanity, as Socrates founded
philosophy, as Aristotle founded science. There had been philosophy
before Socrates and science before Aristotle. Since Socrates and
Aristotle, philosophy and science have made immense progress; but all has
been built upon the foundation which they laid. And so, before Jesus,
religious thought had passed through many revolutions; since Jesus it
has made great conquests; nevertheless it has not departed, it will not
depart from the essential condition which Jesus created; he has fixed for
eternity the idea of pure worship. The religion of Jesus, in this sense,
is not limited. The church has had its epochs and its phases; it has shut
itself up in symbols which have had or will have their day; Jesus founded
the absolute religion, excluding nothing, determining nothing, save its

Whatever may be the transformations of dogma, Jesus will remain in
religion the creator of its pure sentiment; the Sermon on the Mount will
never be surpassed. No resolution will lead us not to join in religion
the grand intellectual and moral line at the head of which beams the name
of Jesus.—_Renan._[1]

[_March 8._]

Were you ever made to see and admire the all sufficiency of Christ’s
righteousness, and excited by the spirit of God to hunger and thirst
after it? Could you ever say, my soul is athirst for Christ, yea, even
for the righteousness of Christ? Oh, when shall I come to appear before
the presence of my God in the righteousness of Christ; oh, nothing but
Christ! nothing but Christ! Give me Christ, O God, and I am satisfied!
My soul shall praise thee forever. Was this, I say, ever the language of
your hearts? And after these inward conflicts, were you ever enabled to
reach out the arm of faith and embrace the blessed Jesus in your souls,
so that you could say, _My beloved is mine, and I am his?_ If so, fear
not, whoever you are—hail, all hail, you happy souls! The Lord, the Lord
Christ, the everlasting God is your righteousness. Christ has justified
you, who is he that condemneth you? Christ has died for you, nay, rather
is risen again, and ever liveth to make intercession for you. Being now
justified by his grace, you have peace with God, and shall ere long be
with Jesus in glory, reaping everlasting and unspeakable redemption
both in body and soul. For there is no condemnation to those that are
really in Christ Jesus. Whether Paul or Apollos or life or death, all is
yours if you are Christ’s, for Christ is God’s! … Oh think of the love
of Christ in dying for you! If the Lord be your righteousness, let the
righteousness of your Lord be ever in your mouth.… Think of the greatness
of the gift, as well as of the giver! Show to all the world in whom
you have believed! Let all by your fruits know that the Lord is your
righteousness, and that you are waiting for your Lord from heaven! Oh,
study to be holy, even as he who has called you, and washed you in his
own blood, is holy! Let not the righteousness of the Lord be evil spoken
of through you. Let not Jesus be wounded in the house of his friends; but
grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ
day by day. Oh, think of his dying love! Let that love constrain you to
obedience! Having much forgiven, love much.—_Whitefield._[2]

[_March 15._]

But in proportion to the exaltation of the soul, and also in proportion
to its purity and spirituality—the very opposite extreme or condition;
in proportion to the impressibleness and moral sensibility of a man’s
spiritual nature, he has direct communion with God, as friend with
friend, face to face. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God.” There are thousands of instances—they occur in every church where
there are eminent Christians—of men and women who come to such a state
of spiritual purity and spiritual openness that they talk with God as
friend with friend. There is the direct operation of the Spirit of God
upon their soul. Not that they less than any others are blessed by the
spirit that applies the Word; not that they less than any others are
subject to the indirect operations of nature and society; but there is,
over and above these, also, for those that are able to take it, this
direct inspiration of God’s soul. Whether it be by thought, I know not;
or whether it be by moral feeling, I know not. “The wind bloweth where it
listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it
cometh and whither it goeth; so is every one that is born of the spirit.”
I do not know the mode of divine agency; but of the fact that the human
soul in its higher spiritual relations is open; that there is nothing
between it and God, as it were; that it palpitates, as it were, under the
conscious presence of God, and is lifted up to a faith and a truth that
are not possible to it in its lower realms—of that fact I have no more
doubt than I have of my own existence.

There is such a thing yet as walking with God; there is such a thing yet
as being under direct divine inspiration. I do not think there is such
a thing yet as _authoritative_ inspiration. Apostles are over and gone.
Prophets have had their day. It is _individual_ inspiration that exists
now. It is authoritative only for the soul to which it comes, not lifting
that soul up into authority, and enabling it to say “Thus saith the Lord”
to any other soul. But I believe that still the divine Spirit works upon
the individual heart, and teaches that individual heart as a father
teaches a child.

Blessed are they that need no argument; and blessed are they whose
memories take them back to the glowing hours of experience, in which they
have seen the transfigured Christ; in which to them the heavens have been
opened; in which to them the angels of God not only have descended upon
the ladder, but have brought the divine and sacred presence with them.
Many a couch of poverty has been more gorgeous than a prince’s couch;
many a hut and hovel has been scarcely less resplendent to the eye of
angels than the very battlements of heaven. Many that the world has not
known; who had no tongue to speak, and no hand to execute, but only a
heart to love and to trust—many such ones have had the very firmament of
God lifted above them, all radiant. There is this truth in the Spirit
of God that works in the hearts of men directly, and in overpowering
measure. Blessed be God, it is a living truth; and there are witnesses of
it yet.—_Beecher._

[_March 22._]

Jesus Christ, in his dying discourse with his eleven disciples, in the
14th, 15th, and 16th chapters of John (which was, as it were, Christ’s
last will and testament to his disciples, and to his whole church), often
declares his special and everlasting love to them, in the plainest and
most positive terms, and promises them a future participation with him
in his glory in the most absolute manner, and tells them, at the same
time, that he does so to the end that their joy may be full. John xv:2:
“These things have I spoken unto you that my joy might remain in you, and
that your joy might be full.” See also, at the conclusion of the whole
discourse, chapter xvi:33: “These things have I spoken unto you, that in
me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of
good cheer; I have overcome the world.” Christ was not afraid of speaking
too plainly and positively to them; he did not desire to hold them in the
least suspense. And he concluded that last discourse of his with a prayer
in their presence, wherein he speaks positively to his Father of those
eleven disciples, as having all of them savingly known him, and believed
in him, and received and kept his word; and that they were not of the
world; and that for their sakes he sanctified himself; and that his will
was that they should be with him in his glory; and tells his Father that
he spake these things in his prayer, to the end that his joy might be
fulfilled in them: verse 13. By these things it is evident that it is
agreeable to Christ’s designs, and the contrived ordering and disposition
Christ makes of things in his church, that there should be sufficient and
abundant provision made, that his saints might have full assurance of
their future glory.

The apostle Paul, through all his epistles, speaks in an assured strain;
ever speaking positively of his special relation to Christ, his Lord, and
Master, and Redeemer; and his interest in, and expectation of, the future
reward. It would be useless to take notice of all places that might be
enumerated. I shall mention but three or four. Gal., ii:20: “Christ
liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the
faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” Phil.,
i:21: “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” II. Tim., i:12:
“I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that he is able to keep
that which I have committed unto him against that day.” II. Tim., iv:7,8:
“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which
the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me at that day.” … It further
appears that assurance is not only attainable in some very extraordinary
cases, but that all Christians are directed to use all diligence to
make their calling and election sure; and are told how they may do it.
II. Peter, i:5-8. And it is spoken of as a thing very unbecoming of
Christians, and an argument of something very blamable in them, not to
know whether Christ be in them or no. II. Cor., xiii:5: “Know ye not your
own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you except ye be reprobates?”
And it is implied that it is an argument of a very blamable negligence
in Christians, if they practice Christianity after such a manner as to
remain uncertain of the rewards, in I. Cor., ix:26: “I therefore so
run, not as uncertainly.” And to add no more, it is manifest that for
Christians to know their interests in the saving benefits of Christianity
is a thing ordinarily attainable, because the apostles tell us by what
means Christians (and not only apostles and martyrs) were wont to know
this. I. Cor., ii:12: “Now we have received, not the spirit of the world,
but the Spirit which is of God, that we might know the things which are
fully given to us of God.” And I. John, ii:3: “And hereby do we _know_
that we know him if we keep his commandments.” And verse 5: “Hereby
_know_ we that we are in him.” Chapter iii:14: “We _know_ that we have
passed from death unto life.” … Verse 19: “Hereby we _know_ that we are
of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before him.” Verse 24: “Hereby
we _know_ that he abideth in us, by the spirit which he hath given us.”
So chapter iv:13, and chapter v:29, and verse 19.—_President Edwards._[3]

[_March 29._]

Who has an understanding so exalted, so richly gifted, as to be able
to say what love is! Should I say it is a dew, I merely describe
its refreshing power. Should I say it is a star, I but describe its
loveliness. Should I say it is a storm, I but describe the impossibility
of restraining it. Should I say it is a ray of the sun, then I but
describe its hidden source. Should I say it is produced in the utmost
depths of the soul, when the breath of heaven unites with the heart’s
blood of the new man, that it is the breath of the soul, still I should
not have represented it, for I should but have said what it is in itself,
not what it is to others. Should I say it is the light of the sun, that
gives life and color to all creatures, still I should not have truly set
it forth, for I should but have said what it is for others, not what it
is in itself. Should I say it is a ray of the seven colors in a pure drop
of water, still I should not have described it, for it is not so much a
form as an odor, and a savor, in the depths of the human heart. Who has
such a lofty understanding, such deep thoughts, as to be able to say what
love truly is! The Scripture says—it is a flame of the Lord.[I] Yes it
is a flame, steady, bright, and pure; a flame which lights up and warms,
and shines through the heart into which it has entered, and then falls
on other hearts, and the more light and warmth it gives to others, the
brighter and stronger it burns in our breast.

But love, says the apostle, is greater than faith and hope, for beyond
that limit where faith and hope depart, love still remains.… For as the
door in this poor temporal life was but a little gate that did not always
stand open, but was often shut by a strong gust of wind; in eternity the
poor little gate will become a mighty portal, whose doors stand open
night and day, which no storm-wind will ever close, through which the
soul will freely pass into the heart of God and all his creatures. O,
since in this life love has made us so rich, though but a little brook,
which, when the sun shone fiercely, was almost dried up, how rich will
it not make us when the little brook has become the stream, yea, the
ocean, when it flows forth from the heart of God, in full spring-tide,
and sin no more builds a barrier in the heart of the creature, and there
will be a free and sacred giving and receiving between heaven and earth,
and among all that is in heaven and upon earth! O, who has so exalted an
understanding that he can truly say what love is!—_Tholuck._[4]


[I] Canticles, viii:6, German version.




THE CABBAGE is a native of Europe, and grows wild along the sea coasts
of England. The wild plant lives for two years, has fleshy leaves, and
is so different from the cabbages of the garden as not to be recognized
as their parent. Under cultivation this one species of plant (_Brassica
oleracea_[1]) has produced the Savoy, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower,
borecole,[2] etc. A more wonderful plant and a more useful one is seldom
found in the whole range of the vegetable kingdom. The Romans did much
to extend the culture of the cabbage. In Scotland it was not generally
known until the time of Cromwell. Much improvement has been made in
American sorts of cabbages within the past fifty years. In the wild state
the cabbage has a hard, woody stalk, but the fine specimens in market
have only a small stem, bearing a large, compact head, of closely folded

The first essential in the successful growing of cabbage is the
right kind of soil. It should be a sandy loam, with a gravelly, and
not a clayey subsoil. Soil that is naturally wet must be thoroughly
underdrained before being devoted to cabbage growing. The importance
of an abundance of well rotted manure can not be too fully impressed
upon the mind of any person contemplating the production of excellent
cabbages. Much that may be here said concerning the preparation of
the soil for growing cabbages applies with equal force to the other
vegetables treated in this article. Earliness is one of the leading
points to be gained in raising most garden crops. It is the man with the
first load of cabbages that gets the best price in the market. There is a
great deal of stress to be placed upon the proper selection of seed, but
seed is not all. The young plants of the earliest sorts must be fed, and
they require this food at an early stage in their growth, when chemical
changes are only slowly going on in the soil. In other words, early crops
need a far larger amount of manure for their satisfactory growth than
crops started in midsummer, when the soil is rapidly yielding up its food
elements. Early crops need to grow in cool spring weather, and therefore
should be abundantly supplied with food in an available form. Mr. Gregory
says in his excellent pamphlet on “How to Grow Cabbages,” “If the farmer
desires to make the utmost use of his manure for that season, it will be
best to put most of it into the hill, particularly if his supply runs
rather short; but if he desires to leave his land in good condition for
next year’s crop, he had better use part of it broadcast. My own practice
is to use all my rich compost broadcast, and depend on guano, phosphates,
or hen manure in the hill.” This view of heavy manuring is confirmed
by Mr. Henderson, in his “Farm and Garden Topics,” when he says: “For
the early cabbage crop it should always be spread on broadcast, and in
quantity not less than one hundred cart loads or seventy-five tons to the
acre.… After plowing in the manure, and before the ground is harrowed,
our best growers in the vicinity of New York sow from four to five
hundred pounds of guano, or bone dust, and then harrow it deeply in.”
The best sorts of cabbages for the early crop are: The Jersey Wakefield,
which has a head of medium size, close, and of a deep green color;
Early York, smaller, but quite early; Early Winningstadt, later, but an
excellent sort. Among the best late kinds may be named: Large Flat Dutch,
American Drumhead, Drumhead Savoy, and the Red Dutch. The last mentioned
is largely used in pickling.

The young plants are obtained from seeds in various ways, determined by
the numbers desired. When large quantities are needed for the early crop,
the seed is sown in a hot-bed or green-house, about February 1st, for the
latitude of New York City, and transplanted into other heated beds near
March 1st. In this way fine plants may be obtained by the first of April.
Many of the large cabbage growers prepare the soil, mark it in rows, and
drop the seed in the hills where the plants are to grow. In this way
much labor is saved, and there is the advantage of having several plants
in each hill, to guard against losses from cut-worms. Cabbages quickly
respond to good culture, and repay in large measure for every stirring of
the soil, either with the hoe or the horse cultivator.

The most troublesome insect enemy is probably the Cabbage-worm, which
in some localities has destroyed the whole crop. The mature insect
deposits its eggs upon the under side of the cabbage leaves. These eggs
soon hatch, and the green caterpillars begin their destructive work. No
poisonous substances can be applied without endangering the lives of
those who may afterward eat the cabbage. Hot water (160 degrees) has
proved effective in killing the worms, while not doing injury to the
plants. Flea-beetles have done some damage, as also the Cabbage-bug.
After the crop is grown the cabbages may be kept by burying them in
trenches, heads down. Three facts need to be kept in mind: Repeated
freezing and thawing cause rot; excessive moisture also induces decay;
and a dry air withers the head and destroys the flavor. About a foot of
earth is usually a sufficient covering.

Cabbage in the many forms it is presented upon the table is a most
wholesome and agreeable article of food. The farmer’s garden is not
complete without a full crop of cabbages. Any heads that are not needed
for the family table can be fed with profit to the farm live stock.
Poultry in particular, need some green food daily through the winter
season, and a cabbage now and then satisfies this natural craving.

TURNIPS.—The garden turnips belong to the same genus (_Brassica_) with
the cabbages, and are therefore closely related to them. The turnip is
supposed to be a native of England and other parts of Europe. It is not
known when this plant was first introduced into cultivation, and its wild
state is unknown. At the present time it forms one of the prominent crops
in all countries adapted to its growth.

The remarks made under the subject of cabbages concerning the free use
of manure need not be repeated here. Turnips grow freely upon a rich and
mellow soil, kept clean of all weeds. They do not require as fertile a
soil as cabbages, and when the earth is very rich, there is sometimes
an excessive growth of tops, without a corresponding development of the
roots. It is not necessary to say that cabbages are grown for their many
thick leaves, while turnips are raised for their roots. Plants as a whole
have many places for the storing up of nourishment. Sometimes it is in
the stems, as in the potato; in other cases the leaves or roots serve as
a store-house of accumulated substance. The plant makes these deposits,
to be drawn upon at some future time, either for further growth of the
same plant or for the early development of another. The root crops, for
example, are naturally plants of two year’s duration. The first season
is spent in gathering and storing up substance in a large root. During
the following year the starch, sugar, oil, etc., is withdrawn and used in
the production of a flower-stalk, upon which the crop of seeds is finally
borne, and after this the plant dies.

Turnips are mainly grown as a second crop, following early potatoes, etc.
The soil should be made fine and rich before the seed is sown. Rutabagas
may be sown from the 15th of June until the 15th of July. Yellow Stone,
Aberdeen, White Cowhorn and Strap-leaved Red-top are sown in the order
named, and from July 15th to the 1st or 10th of September. The seed is
sown in drills, wide enough apart to admit of horse cultivation. The
thinning of the plants in the row is of great importance. This work is
best done with a hoe, the workman chopping out the turnips and leaving
the plants about four to six inches apart in the row. In garden culture
the rows need not be so far apart. It is very essential to keep the weeds
down and the soil frequently stirred. The harvesting is simple. When
growth is completed the roots are pulled, then the tops cut off and the
turnips placed in root cellars or pits.

Turnips have an important place in a carefully planned system of farming.
The root crop is a means of securing a large amount of most wholesome
food for live stock, and at the same time it cleans the soil from weeds
and prepares it for the growth of succeeding crops.

The leading insect enemy of young turnip plants is the Turnip-fly. If the
seedlings can be protected until they get a good start in life there is
no further trouble. Equal parts of wood ashes and land plaster scattered
over the young turnip leaves is a good remedy. Air-slaked lime is also
employed in the same manner.

THE CARROT.—The wild carrot, _Daucus Carota_,[3] is a native of Europe
and has become naturalized in this country to such an extent as to be
ranked among the worst of weeds. The cultivated carrot was introduced
into England by the Dutch, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth (last half
of the sixteenth century), and has since been much improved and quite
generally grown. In its native or wild state the root is small, woody,
and of very little value as an article of food. All of our so-called
“root plants” in the wild state store up only sufficient food in the
root to meet the wants of the plant the coming season. This tendency
to accumulate has been developed under cultivation, and an excess is
stored up, which is appropriated by man. The plant has enjoyed more
favorable conditions for growth and been relieved in great part of the
struggle for existence that is constantly going on among wild plants. All
cultivated plants are living unnatural lives, being favored in various
ways, and when they are left to shift for themselves either die or drift
back, generation after generation, to the old original form from which
the ancestors were forced to depart. No plant is a better illustration
of this fact than the carrot. If left for only a few years, the fleshy
rooted plants of the garden degenerate into the coarse, woody-rooted
weeds of the pasture or hedge-row. We can not pass this point without
endeavoring to enforce the importance of keeping up all the most
favorable conditions of growth for garden vegetables, and carefully
selecting seed of plants that show the least tendency to degenerate.

The plot for growing carrots should be nearly level, otherwise heavy
rains may wash the seeds and young plants out of place. The soil should
be deep, rich and mellow. Carrots are no exception to the rule that root
crops flourish under high culture. When the barnyard fails to supply
sufficient manure, it is well to use guano, superphosphates, and other
quick acting fertilizers. If the soil is heavy, it is best to sow the
seed in ridges made by a plow, thus enabling a horse-weeder to pass
between the rows and not injure the young plants coming through the
surface. Use seed not over one year old, and it is well to sow some
radish seed with it, to come up first and show the rows, thus aiding in
the early cultivation of the soil. It is of the greatest importance to
keep the weeds down until the carrots get a good start. About six weeks
after sowing, that is, the middle of July, thin the plants, leaving them
four or five inches apart in the row. The carrots are dug and stored
like most root crops. If grown in large quantities, most of the labor
of getting the roots out of the soil is performed by horses. Carrots
keep well in long piles, six feet wide at the bottom, and of any length.
Ventilating holes need to be left at frequent intervals along the ridge
of the covered heap. There are several varieties of carrots, some of
them being earlier than others, while the size and general shape varies
greatly. The Long Orange, Short Horn, Early Horn and White Belgian are
among the leading sorts. Market gardeners are now favoring the shorter
sorts, the endeavor being to get them turnip-shaped, and thus save much
labor in digging the roots.

BEETS.—The species _Beta vulgaris_,[4] the parent of our common beets,
is a native of Egypt, and grows wild along the Mediterranean Sea at the
present day. The name is from the Celtic word _Bett_, meaning _red_, the
prevailing color of most beets. This garden vegetable has been generally
grown for six hundred years, and during that time has undergone many
important changes. Long ago the beet arrived at a state of perfection
beyond which it is not easy to pass. The Mangold-Wurzel[5] and Sugar
Beets are derived from another species. These are grown very extensively
in Europe and are worthy of far more attention by American farmers. The
Swiss Chard is another species of the genus _Beta_, largely grown in some
countries for the leaves, which only are used. They are stripped off and
used like spinach. The soil best adapted to the growing of beets is a
rich, sandy loam, rather light than otherwise. It should be thoroughly
pulverized by deep plowing, harrowing, etc., until a fine, mellow bed is
prepared for the seeds. The seeds are sown in rows, and the soil should
be pressed firmly upon them. For early beets the sowing may be done so
soon as the ground can be worked. The late sorts may be sown in July. As
soon as the plants are above ground a push-hoe should be passed close
to the rows. A few days later the beets need to be thinned to five or
six inches in the row. The removed plants make excellent greens. The
remaining work until harvest time is keeping the soil free from weeds
and loose by frequent hoeing. The rake is better than the hoe, if it is
used frequently and no weeds get large. Beets should be harvested before
frosts injure them. Handle carefully and store in a place where the
temperature is uniformly a few degrees above freezing.

The Egyptian is among the best early sorts; it has a dark blood color,
and much resembles a flat turnip in shape. The Long, Smooth, Blood Beet
is considered as ranking first for general family and market uses.

The Mangold-Wurzels are coarse beets of large size, grown as a field crop
for live stock. The White Sugar is a Mangold, free from much of the red
coloring matter of the red sorts. These larger varieties of beets are
very extensively grown in Europe for the manufacture of sugar, and it
would add to our agricultural wealth if they were more frequently a part
of a well planned system of rotation of crops in America. It may not pay
for us to make beet sugar, but the use of the roots as a wholesome winter
food for stock is profitable.

ONIONS.—The onion (_Allium cepa_[6]) has been cultivated from early
times, and its native country is unknown. As it is mentioned in sacred
writings it is supposed that its home is in the far East. Onions thrive
best on old ground, especially if it is a light, sandy loam. The onion
field should be nearly level, clear of weeds, and liberally supplied with
the best well-rotted manure; guano and superphosphates are excellent for
onions. Deep plowing is not necessary. The amount of seed to be used
depends upon the kind of onions desired. If they are to be pulled for
early market, more seed is required than when they are to attain their
full growth.

There are many varieties of onions grown from seeds. The Yellow Danvers,
White Portugal and Weathersfield Red are well known sorts, representing
the three prevailing colors. Onions are largely grown from sets, that is,
bulbs that have ripened while quite small, and when set out grow and form
large onions. The small size and early maturity are due to sowing the
seed thick. From thirty to forty seeds are sown to each inch of the row.
The sets are mature when the leaves begin to wither, and are then removed
and dried. In planting the sets they are placed in rows about four inches

The “Potato Onion” or “English Multiplier” is propagated by offsets. An
onion of this class, if planted in the spring, will produce a cluster
of small ones around it. These small onions will grow into large ones
the next season. There are several sorts of onions that bear clusters
of small bulbs upon the tops of the flower stalks, in place of seed
pods. The “Tree,” “Top,” and “Egyptian” onions are of this class. These
bulblets, when planted, produce large bulbs, and these latter, when set
out the following season, throw up stalks bearing bulblets.

Onions are ready for harvesting as soon as the leaves droop and become
dry. The bulbs should be well cured and placed in a dry, cool, storage
room. The crop is sometimes badly injured by smut, especially when onions
have been grown upon the same soil for many years. The onion maggot
causes some destruction. Guano and unleached ashes, when scattered over
the bed, have both proved of value.

The above is only a brief consideration of five of the leading garden
vegetables. The first four, namely: Cabbages, turnips, carrots and
beets, are to a great extent farm crops, well suited for live stock. The
composition of these is as follows:

  Cabbage     14.3           2.5        0.7           7.1            1.6
  Turnips      8.5           1.0        0.15          5.8            0.8
  Carrots     14.1           1.3        0.25          9.6            1.0
  Beets       18.5           1.0        0.1           9.1            0.8

The turnips contain the least dry substance, and the cabbages are far the
richest in albuminoids. The carrot leads in starch, sugar, etc., followed
closely by the beets. There is very little poetry in any of the five
vegetables here briefly described, though they may enter into the daily
food of those who think of lofty things and write in the most elegant
style. They are the humble, unobtrusive toilers in the gardens of the


There are two laws underlying the preparation of all vegetables for the
table; the first is, cook until tender; the second is, do not cook until
mushy and the juice extracted. By overlooking the first you are left
with a rank, tough, indigestible dish; by overlooking the second with
one watery, and—worst of all culinary adjectives—juiceless. A time-table
regulating the exact number of minutes which each vegetable shall be
cooked can not be perfectly exact. Not rules, but judgment must decide
the limit of time. However a table of approximations may be of service to
amateur cooks whose experience has not yet taught them that essential of
successful cookery.

CABBAGE.—When young, requires an hour; winter cabbage, double that time.

TURNIPS.—When young, three quarters of an hour; winter turnips, two hours.

CARROTS.—When young, three quarters of an hour; winter carrots, two hours.

BEETS.—When young, three quarters of an hour; winter beets, four hours.

ONIONS.—When young, one hour; winter onions, two hours.

The temperature at which vegetables should be cooked is a point
of great importance. A little reflection should easily settle the
question, however. When young vegetables are tender, the juices are
easily withdrawn, continued stewing or soaking extracts all the flavor
and strength; when old they become tough, and only long stewing will
make them tender and bring out the juices. By putting young vegetables
into cold water we extract the juice before they begin to cook, and by
the time they become tender they are tasteless; but by putting winter
vegetables into cold water they are gradually softened, and by the time
they are cooked tender the juice is fully developed; hence the reason for
the rule which cooks have formulated: Put all young, green vegetables
into salted boiling water; all dried and winter vegetables into cold

Add to your regard for these first principles a nice skill in draining
all the water from your cabbage, turnips, carrots, beets and onions, and
that most delicate of all cookery arts—the art of seasoning—and you can
not fail of toothsome entrées[1] and salads.

_Cabbage Salad or Slaw._—Remove from a firm, fresh cabbage the outer
leaves and slice fine. The simplest dressing is of sugar, salt and
vinegar. Mayonnaise[2] dressing may be prepared by taking the beaten
yolks of six eggs and into them beating, drop by drop, two tablespoonfuls
of salad oil; now alternate with every few drops of two tablespoonfuls
of salad oil, small quantities of vinegar until two tablespoonfuls of
vinegar have been used. Beat into this mixture, which should be very
smooth, one saltspoonful of salt and half as much cayenne pepper, set in
a cold place until wanted. A cooked mayonnaise dressing is made by adding
to each tablespoonful of boiling vinegar, the beaten yolk of an egg, and
cooking until stiff. Remove the mixture and stir in an ounce of butter.
When cool, season it with salt, pepper and mustard; then add sweet cream
until it is of the desired consistency.

_Hot Slaw_ is prepared by stewing chopped cabbage until tender, and then
adding a dressing of vinegar, butter, salt and pepper.

_Pickled Cabbage._—Chop, not too fine, a fresh cabbage, and season it
with white mustard seed, salt and pepper. Now pack this firmly into a
jar and add cold vinegar. Cloves should be sprinkled over the top to
prevent mould. Or, pack a layer of chopped cabbage alternately with a
layer of chopped onions, and having salted, allow it to stand for about
twenty-four hours. A dressing of one pint of vinegar, one cup of sugar,
and one teaspoonful each of ground mustard, black pepper, cinnamon,
turmeric, mace, allspice, and celery seed is made for each head of
cabbage and half dozen of onions, by scalding the vinegar and adding
sugar and spices. Into this dressing pour the cabbage and onions. Allow
them to simmer for half an hour, then put into jars.

_Boiled Cabbage._—Quarter a cabbage from which the outer leaves have been
removed, and which has been examined carefully for insects and slugs.
Boil until tender. Drain well, being careful to press out the water.
Boiled cabbage may be chopped, and a tablespoonful of butter, pepper and
salt stirred in, or it may be served with white sauce or drawn butter.
White sauce is made by cooking together one ounce of flour and two ounces
of butter, and, after adding a pint of milk allowing the mixture to
simmer slowly. Season with salt and pepper. Drawn butter differs from
white sauce only in having water or broth in place of the milk. Cabbage
may be boiled in water taken from the pot in which corned beef or pork is
being cooked. This seasons it nicely.

_Stewed Cabbage._—Chop cabbage fine and stew until tender. When “done”
add sweet milk sufficient for a dressing and allow it to cook for ten
minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Marion Harland gives this recipe
for a stewed “stuffed cabbage:” “Choose for this purpose a large, firm
cabbage. When perfectly cold bind a broad tape about it, or a strip of
muslin, that it may not fall apart when the stalk is taken out. Remove
this with a thin, sharp knife, leaving a hole about as deep as your
middle finger. Without widening the mouth of the aperture excavate the
center. Chop the bits you have taken out very small; mix with some cold
boiled pork or ham, or cooked sausage-meat, a very little onion, pepper,
salt, a pinch of thyme, and some bread crumbs. Fill the cavity with this,
bind a wide strip of muslin over the hole in the top, and lay the cabbage
in a large sauce-pan with a pint of ‘hot liquor’ from boiled beef or ham.
Stew gently until very tender. Take out the cabbage, unbind carefully,
and lay in a dish. Keep hot while you add to the gravy, when you have
strained it, pepper, a piece of butter rolled in flour, and two or three
tablespoonfuls of rich milk or cream. Boil up and pour over the cabbage.”

_Baked Cabbage._—The cold boiled cabbage left over from dinner is very
nice baked. Chop it fine and add a dressing made of beaten eggs and milk
and seasoned with salt and pepper. Put it into a buttered baking dish,
and having strewn the top with bread crumbs or rolled crackers, bake it

_Fried Cabbage._—Another excellent dish to be prepared from cold boiled
cabbage is fried cabbage. Chop the cabbage fine and stir in a little
melted butter, two beaten eggs, a little cream, pepper and salt, and cook
until slightly brown.

_Boiled Turnips._—Boil until tender and drain dry. After mashing them
smooth, being careful to rub away all hard lumps, stir in a tablespoonful
of butter and season with salt and pepper. If it is preferred to cut them
in slices, they are nice served with white sauce or drawn butter as a
dressing. A little vinegar added to the dressing is by many considered
an improvement. Young turnips are nice served whole with either of these

_Stewed Turnips._—An excellent way of warming over boiled turnips is to
add sufficient milk to them to stew thoroughly, and then to season with
pepper and salt.

_Baked Turnips._—Cold boiled or sliced turnips may be “done over” by
putting them into a baking-pan, covering with bread crumbs, moistening
with milk, and then baking in the oven. Freshly boiled turnips, sliced
thin, may be cooked in the same way.

_Boiled Carrots._—If carrots are small and young they may be boiled
whole, but if they are large they should be split into two or three
pieces; when cooked they may be served with butter, salt and pepper, or
with white sauce, like sliced boiled turnips.

_Mashed Carrots._—Boiled carrots are very nice mashed with a large
spoonful of butter, a little cream, and seasoning of pepper and salt
worked into them. Serve as you would mashed potatoes.

_Fried Carrots._—Cold boiled carrots, or those which have been parboiled,
may be sliced and fried brown in butter. They must be seasoned, of
course, with pepper and salt.

_Stewed Carrots._—Parboil carrots for three quarters of an hour. Put them
into a stew-pan and pour on them a teacupful of broth with seasoning of
pepper, salt and butter, and stew until they are tender. A little cream
and a lump of butter may be added and the whole allowed to boil up.

_Boiled Beets._—In preparing beets for the kettle they should be washed,
but not cut. When done, rub off the skin and slice. Butter, pepper and
salt should be added for seasoning. If you like a dressing of vinegar
put a tablespoonful of butter into half a cup of vinegar, add pepper and
salt, and boil before turning upon the beets.

_Baked Beets._—Slice your beets and place in a baking pan with butter,
pepper and salt. Allow about twenty minutes longer for baking than
boiling. This method preserves much of the juice of the vegetable which
is lost in boiling.

_Stewed Beets._—Parboil your beets until nearly done, rub off the skin
and slice. Into your stew-pan pour enough milk to cover the beets, add a
little butter, salt and pepper, and simmer slowly until they are done.

_Boiled Onions._—Onions may be laid in cold water half an hour before
cooking. Boil them in two waters until tender. When cooked, drain
carefully and serve with butter, salt and pepper. Boiled onions are nice
with a dressing of drawn butter.

_Baked Onions._—Choose large onions for baking, and after peeling boil
for an hour. Drain them thoroughly and about each wrap a piece of
buttered tissue paper, bake them until they are quite tender, then remove
the paper and brown in the oven, basting with butter. Serve them with
drawn butter.

_Stewed Onions._—Onions which have been parboiled may be stewed in milk
sufficient to cover. When done, a dressing of hot cream and butter,
seasoned with salt and pepper, may be poured over them; or they may be
chopped fine, and the cream, butter and seasonings be stirred in.

_Fried Onions._—Slice into small strips and fry in butter, taking care to
brown them evenly. Season with salt and pepper. Onions sliced thin and
fried in hot fat are called _Saratoga onions_.



In the science of material things, mechanics takes account of forces
that act on masses from without; physics, of those that act from within,
or which, in some way, modify the condition of the bodies themselves.
Both branches were, till recently, included in the vaguely comprehensive
term “Natural Philosophy,” and the partial separation observed in modern
treatises and text-books gives a little more distinctness to the facts
presented. Under the former the earth is contemplated as a planet,
obedient to the universal law of gravitation, and moving regularly in
its orbit. The mechanism of the system is complete; the measure and
adjustment of all the parts perfect.


As a physical science, considers the earth apart from the solar system
with which it is connected, and takes account of its materials and
structure, and the forces that unite them. Its position in the group is
about midway between mechanics and chemistry, being closely allied to
other natural sciences, while its phenomena are occasionally varied by
both mechanical and chemical agents.


Treats of the earth’s exterior physical features; of its form—an oblate
spheroid—of its surface, oceans, continents, seas, lakes and rivers,
hills, mountains, valleys and plains; of soils made from previously
existing organic or inorganic substances, the detritus of rocks
containing various minerals and small particles of decomposed vegetable
matter. The materials of this outer covering of the earth are from many
different sources, and variously constituted. From the finest grains of
sand, clay, and loam, to pebbles, boulders, and fragments of enormous
dimensions, they are mingled apparently without any fixed order or
proportions; sometimes but slightly covering the solid rock, at others
piling it up in ridges and hills of considerable height. In this surface
formation are included ancient sea-beaches, lake and river terraces,
deltas, deposits of sand and clay, with vast beds of marls, peat and
calcareous tufa,[1] all the progressive accumulations since the present
order of things began. In some of these deposits, more recent than the
Drift[2] period, fossils are abundant and very full of interest. In New
Zealand the bones of a bird[3] were found which exceed in bulk those of
the largest horse, and are now in the museum of the College of Surgeons,
London. The bird when alive was eleven or twelve feet high.

Less than a century ago what might have been a fossil elephant was found
imbedded in ice on the coast of Siberia, and in such a perfect state of
preservation that the people fed their dogs on its flesh. The animal was
well covered with hair, and adapted to a cool climate, a representative
of an extinct race. How it was imbedded, or how long it had been
preserved in that condition, no one knows.

In Great Britain are found fossils of the rhinoceros and hippopotamus,
of elephants, tigers, hyenas and giant elks, all of which are extinct
species. The United States is especially prolific in the remains of huge
mammals. The mastodon and megatherium were doubtless indigenous to this
country. The latter had a thigh bone three times as large as the largest
elephant, and the cavity through which it passed, indicates a spinal cord
an inch in diameter. These largest skeletons were found in Georgia and
South Carolina. Those of the mastodon are numerous, and found in many
different places. Physiographic geology is a study intensely interesting,
and of great practical importance, as it bears directly on many of the
industries of life; but this general notice is sufficient.


The ultimate particles of material bodies, of which we know but little,
exert such force or influence on each other as to decide the character of
the mass; even if the atoms are identically the same in substance they
may come together in a way to secure different results. The bulk of the
solid part of the earth is rock, but all rock is not the same. We find
several species of granite, of limestone, and sandstone, a long list. But
the whole may be divided into two classes, stratified and unstratified.
Whatever the two classes seem to have in common, they are not of the same
origin. The first occur in layers or strata, others are crystalline and
massive. The loose materials, such as sand, clay and gravel, that have
accumulated at the bottom of the pond or lake, are found arranged in beds
or parallel layers. The streams carry the materials from the highlands,
and they are at length deposited in the basin, and when hardened become
stratified rocks. As this process is still going on, and recently
formed strata are found approaching the consistency of stone, it is but
reasonable to conclude that all rocks of this class, being formed in like
manner under the water, are of aqueous origin. They are further classed
according to certain peculiarities, either of material or formation.

_Gneiss_, abundant in all parts of New England, is a kind of stratified
granite, of about the same materials, but splits readily into slabs that
are used both for building purposes and flagging stones.

_Mica slate_ resembles gneiss, has the same minerals, but more mica, and
is of a more slaty structure, and the glistening particles of mica abound
in it.

There are several other kinds of slate, named from the minerals that
predominate in them, or the purposes for which they are mostly used.
Roofing slate of excellent quality is extensively quarried in Maine,
Vermont and Massachusetts.

_Quartz_ rock consists mainly of quartz, but often has more or less mica.
_Sandstone_ is of kindred formation, the principal part of which is
quartz, reduced to sand, and the grains more or less firmly united. In
both the colors are various.

_Conglomerate_ consists of water-worn pebbles of various kinds and sizes
cemented together, and sometimes making a strong, compact rock.

_The limestone formations_ are extensive in nearly all countries. In
their structure some are very compact and break with a smooth surface.
Those capable of a fine polish are called marble, the more common uses
of which are well known. The purest crystalline limestone is used in
sculpture; the best quality being obtained from Carrara, Italy, and that
called Parian from the island Paros.

_Chalk_, a useful formation, is a carbonate of lime. In some caves the
dropping of calcareous water forms stalactites, which hang from the
roof like immense icicles, and are often extended till they meet the
accumulations below, called stalagmites, and form beautiful columns. Of
the more than seven hundred crystals from this source alone, and of the
many other varieties of minerals having much in common, and yet enough
that is peculiar to distinguish them, no mention can be made. A careful
reader and close observer will gather from familiar objects a fund of
information of great value.

The parallel strata mentioned are not always horizontal, but sometimes
nearly, if not quite perpendicular. Occasionally a ledge broken quite
through separates, and the rock on one side of the fissure is either
elevated or depressed, making what is called a fault.

The fissures crossing a bed of rock are often filled with a mineral
entirely different from the rock itself. In some cases where the vein is
small the foreign substance may have come in from above or laterally,
deposited from water as in the case of stalactites. The larger fissures
were evidently filled with the melted material thrust up from beneath.

The unstratified rocks are in masses, without fossils of animals or
plants, and of igneous origin. Some of this class were probably formed
later, and by the melting of secondary rocks, but most of them by the
gradual cooling of the central mass containing the melted minerals
embodied in them.


Treats of the forces that move things on or beneath the earth’s surface.
The Drift shows not a little confusion. Things are evidently in an
abnormal condition, and strangely mixed. Some of the disturbing causes
are obvious. Currents of the atmosphere and ocean have done much, but are
not sufficient to account for all the phenomena. Boulders brought from
ledges north of the great western lakes, are found scattered over all the
western states, some much battered on the passage, others bearing only
marks of long exposure to the elements. Deep furrows have been plowed
in the rocks and hill tops over which they passed, at an elevation of
thousands of feet above the level of the sea. Currents of water could
never have lifted such huge masses from the lower to higher levels, or
transported them any such distances. Icebergs or glaciers have evidently
moved over the whole Drift region with fragments of rocks and pebbles
frozen into their lower surface, that, like huge rasps, both cut away and
polished the hardest rocks, at the same time bearing forward the boulders
and whatever else chanced to be held in their cold embrace. There are
other footprints of many and very great changes that have been wrought.
Though many persons have erroneous impressions of the inequalities on the
earth’s surface, the height of the loftiest mountains being but little
when compared with the earth’s diameter, yet there is evidence that the
normal condition has not been preserved. Large districts have, even
within the historic period, been lifted far above their former level,
and others sunk as much below. New islands have appeared in the midst
of the sea, while others have sunk out of sight. Multitudes now live on
what was once the bed of the sea, “in which were things innumerable,
great and small beasts;” and ships sail over territory once covered with
the habitations of living men. Rocks of immense thickness have been
broken and the parts lifted into a vertical position, and many such great
changes have taken place. What wrought them? It is safe to say that
at least two forces have been operating, the one more gradual than the
other. The cooling of the internal mass must cause contraction, which, in
a globe of such dimensions, would be sufficient to break the strongest
rocks constituting its shell. This force, when properly directed, might
lift the rocks, and even throw them back on other strata of more recent
formation. Then the expansive force of the gases within, when raised to
their highest tension, is enough to cause earthquakes, and pour through
the partially opened craters, or where the barriers are made less secure,
floods of lava that are in time changed into rocks of that peculiar
class. The vent will be found where the crust above the struggling giant
is weakest, whether that be on the mountain top where the rocks had been
shoved up into a vertical position, or at the bottom of the sea.

The dynamics of geology suggest problems of no ordinary interest, but our
narrow limits forbid even a statement of them.


Is that branch of geology that treats of mineral substances, and teaches
how to distinguish and classify them according to their properties. This
is a wide field for investigation, and so fruitful that the temptation to
linger in it is strong. Mining and work with the products of the mines
engage the industry of so many that it would be especially pleasant to
study with them a subject of such general interest. We relinquish that
privilege, in order to state two or three things that seem thoroughly
established by what is found written in the book of nature, and are in
perfect accord with God’s later scriptures, the Bible, when rightly

1. The first fact is the great age of the earth. Processes are plainly
indicated that must have required not only thousands, but millions of
years for our planet, before man, made in the image of God, entered
it as the theater of his responsible activities. The facts of the
carboniferous[4] period alone discredit, and utterly overthrow the theory
which limits the days of creation to six of twenty-four hours each. The
Bible gives the order of the successive creations, but does not fix the
age of the things created. The word translated day often means an _age_
or an indefinite number of years, as is seen by referring to the places
where it is found. Give it this well established meaning in the first
chapter of Genesis, and all is plain. There was time for millions of
races of inferior creatures to live and die before the divine plans and
works were consummated, and the earth became a suitable abode for the
human race.

2. The second great fact is that all things were made on a plan, and in
some connection. There are no isolated objects or superfluous parts in
the physical world. The number may be countless, and the forms given them
reveal an endless variety, but each has its connections, and all the
parts are necessary to a perfect whole.

3. Another lesson is learned from the mute witnesses, which is that,
while a long succession of races of animals, for which the earth,
in its different stages of progress was a fit abode, existed, each
higher in rank than its predecessor, the several races had distinctive
characteristics, as the _radiates_, _mollusks_, _articulates_, and
_vertebrates_. A lower species, when its purpose is served, becomes
extinct, and is succeeded by a higher.


By analyzing compound and compounding simple substances, discovers their
elementary properties, the forces that are resident in matter, and the
laws that govern them. It demonstrates by experiments the affinity of
ultimate particles, and of gases of unlike kinds for each other, an
affinity which produces homogeneous compounds, often very unlike the
elements that unite in forming them. The chemist has much to do with
physical objects, but in handling them his appropriate business is to
consider the changes produced by chemical attraction in all bodies,
whether solid, liquid, or gaseous.


Is an ancient science, suitable for schools of all grades, and not for
primary and intermediate departments alone. The child can treasure many
of the facts that, if held in the memory, will be of use to him as he
advances in years and knowledge, but his geography will benefit him
little unless it is studied when his faculties are more mature. One who
despises this study as beneath him, knows nothing yet of the important
science as he ought.


Has many things in common with both astronomy and geology, as it
discusses the physical condition of the earth and its relations as a
member of the solar system; describes its great natural divisions of
land and water; and takes account of dynamic forces, such as aerial and
oceanic currents, that are constantly causing important changes. The
whole exterior structure of the earth, the phenomena of rain and dew,
fog, frost, and snow, are geographical questions, to be discussed with
special reference to the general laws or principles involved. It shows
unity in the midst of diversity, and constancy of phenomena in the midst
of apparent changes.


Treats of the form and size of the earth, of the construction of globes
to represent it; determines the latitude and longitude of places on its
surface, and all geographical problems pertaining to numbers, distances,
and magnitudes.


Describes, in a general way, the countries and nations of men as they
are politically divided, defines their boundaries, and to some extent
characterizes their social and civil institutions. A great advance has
been made in this branch during the present century. People respecting
whom little was known, have come into the family of nations. The maps
have been changed, and generally in a way that indicates the rapid
progress of civilization. Asia has been so thoroughly explored that our
general knowledge of the country may be regarded as nearly complete. No
great _terra incognita_ remains in that quarter, though fuller and more
precise knowledge respecting the people in some parts is yet much to be
desired. The interior of Africa is still but partially known, though the
work of discovery has been pushed forward with considerable enterprise,
and a host of explorers have struggled to penetrate the mystery that
enveloped, for ages, that great division of the globe. The Upper Nile
country has been explored far beyond the region assigned on the maps to
the “Mountains of the Moon,” and all know the intense anxiety that is
to-day felt for the safety of General Gordon and his little garrison,
still shut up in Khartoum.

The study of geography, rightly pursued, is remunerative, full of
inspiration, and as intensely interesting as any in the whole circle of
physical sciences.


Is scientific discourse about life and vital forces. We give it a high
position in the circle, since vitality is superior to either chemical
or mechanical laws, suspending or modifying them for the production of
organized structures of plants and animals. Even _vegetable biology_
confronts us with that mystery of mysteries, life, which is quite
inexplicable. We can only say it is a peculiar, indefinable something,
necessary to the existence of such organisms, and without which they soon
sink in ruinous decay.

The living germ is the determining power that shapes the organic body,
and every germ will have its own body. Under no possible culture can the
acorn develop into an animal. It will produce an oak, a tree of its own
species, and nothing else can grow from it. So also of the animal germ.
The form or kind is as determinate while the embryo is yet in the egg, as
it will ever be. The life once begun in everything that lives and grows,
there is a power that takes hold of the elements nature has in store for
it, and, by a most wonderful transformation, works them up into its own
body; and this power of assimilation must forever distinguish it from all
lifeless inorganic matter.

The mystery deepens when we notice that living things exist in
generations. The plant has seed in itself for the production of another
plant. It has life in itself, and power to vitalize its successors. The
products of the field and the forest grow and mature, then wither and
decay; but they have successors of the same kind.

So human beings exist in successive generations. One generation passeth
away, and another cometh, and so the race lives on. While alike in their
power of assimilation and reproduction, there is a wide difference
between the vegetable and the animal. They have not the same organs,
and do not subsist on the same food. The plant is constantly consuming
carbonic acid, and giving out oxygen, while animals consume the oxygen,
and restore to the atmosphere carbonic acid. The difference of their
physical structure, and their different relations to inorganic matter,
suggest a wide difference in the “bios” or life, that animates them.
Just what that difference is, no one can tell. It is a question for
which science furnishes no answer. In his physical organization man
differs but little from the lower animals. In this he is brother to the
beasts that perish, having the same nature, needs, and liabilities. If
he is “fearfully and wonderfully made,” so are they; in agility and
strength many of them far surpass him. His peculiarities of form and
structure do not secure, and, it may be safely said, were not intended
to secure physical superiority, but rather to fit the organization
for the indwelling of the rational soul, that is his distinguishing


Has been made the subject of much diligent research and study. Some facts
respecting the physical elements and structure of the sun and planets
have been ascertained with reasonable certainty, but much is still in
doubt. Assuming that the essential properties of matter are the same
everywhere, we may tell with assurance of what the sun and stars are
made, provided all solar and stellar phenomena are explained by physical
laws that are understood, and in operation around us. This has been done
in part, but not so as to harmonize the views of all astronomers. Since
the use of the spectroscope[5] results have been more satisfactory, and
on some questions of much interest, conjecture and theory have given
place to certainty. By the decomposition of sunbeams or pencils of solar
light, the refracted rays show the presence of several distinct chemical
elements. Finding by a qualitative analysis that there is iron, copper,
zinc, nickel, sodium, and other terrestrial substances in the solar and
stellar spectra, we know that they enter into the composition of those
celestial bodies. But in what proportions or combinations they exist is
not known.


Who has not seen a shooting star? For a moment the bright objects dart
through greater or less spaces in the heavens, and then disappear. Those
of inferior size give but little light, and are seldom seen unless
the eye is, at the time, directed toward the space they traverse.
Occasionally one flames out with such brilliancy as to light up, for a
moment, the whole heavens. These are called meteors—a name quite proper
for both classes, and only the very ignorant suppose any of them to be
real stars. They come singly, two or three in an hour, or in showers,
such as were witnessed in 1833. When of such size that they strike the
earth before being consumed by their intense heat, they are aerolites,
or meteoric stones. Great masses of these are found in different places,
and show such a peculiar combination of their chemical elements as to
distinguish them from all other stones; and mineralogists generally
conclude they were not formed on the earth. Whence they come is not
certainly known. That they were formed by an aggregation of their
materials in our atmosphere seems incredible. Nor were they thrown off
by some great convulsion, from the moon, with force sufficient to carry
them beyond the attraction of that body. Perhaps most astronomers now
believe, on what they think sufficient evidence, that the celestial
spaces are occupied by innumerable small bodies moving round the sun,
of whose nature and orbits nothing is certainly known. The earth,
it is supposed, while making its annual circuit, must be constantly
encountering them, and, as in passing rapidly through the upper region
of the atmosphere they take fire and burn, the shooting star or meteor
is simply the light of that flame. The mechanical production of heat,
now well understood, shows why they burn. The rapid motion of the earth,
especially if it be duplicated by that of the minute body striking
through its atmosphere, would generate heat sufficient to quite consume
the meteoroids; so that generally their solid substance is dissipated
before they reach the ground. Sometimes the heated aerolite explodes when
in such proximity to the earth that the fragments fall before they are


That most interesting atmospheric phenomena, the Aurora Borealis, though
so familiar, has never been fully explained. It is rarely seen in
equatorial latitudes, but increases in frequency and brightness as we go
north, even to the arctic circle.

In this latitude all observers may at times notice two distinct forms of
the aurora. The one, as we often see it, has a cloud-like appearance,
with a soft radiance permeating it, and seems a vast, irregular patch
of mellow light, ever changing, and at times showing a slightly reddish
or purple tinge. It is more frequently seen near the northern horizon,
having the form of a beautiful arch, the ends of the segment apparently
resting on the horizon, and the middle, or crown, a few degrees above
it. The other takes the form of streamers, reaching far up toward the
zenith. Gently curved, like the celestial sphere on which they are
projected, they are not stationary, but almost constantly in motion,
but soon resuming their former position, spreading themselves out like
immense flags, with their numerous silken folds, ever dancing, quivering,
undulating, as if stirred by some gentle breeze, though all else seems in
calm repose. To say that the phenomena are electrical, would, probably,
not be the whole truth, though evidence is not wanting that the aurora
is in some way connected with the electricity and magnetism of the
earth and its atmosphere. Practical telegraphists testify that during a
brilliant display of “northern lights” such strong, irregular currents of
electricity pass along the wires that it is difficult to send a dispatch;
at other times the currents are so strong that they can communicate
without the battery.

There is, perhaps, about as much against the theory of a purely
electrical origin, as in its favor, and, on the whole, we conclude
that the Aurora Borealis is one of the things respecting which modern
observations have suggested more difficulties than modern science is yet
able to explain.



Director of the Chautauqua School of Experimental Science.


Clearness, accuracy, and brevity are the essentials of good definition.
That it is no easy task to combine these, every teacher realizes.

Perhaps it is near the truth to say that fire is that operation in
nature which at the same time evolves heat and light. The _operation_
is, at the present time, supposed to be a certain vibration of ethereal
or more solid substances. All matter is in motion. Whence this motion
was first derived no philosopher can tell, unless he goes back to that
primal source of both matter and motion, which in the beginning created
the heavens and the earth, and said, “Let there be light, and there was

Prof. James Dwight Dana[1] declares that the first act of creative power
must have been heralded throughout the universe by a flash of light. Thus
the geologist unites with the scriptural narrator, in the statement that
light and heat belonged to the first day of creation, although scoffers
for a long time ridiculed the idea that light could exist without the sun.

All space is supposed to be filled with a substance called ether, and
that it permeates even solid material. When, for any reason, the natural
motion of the molecules of matter is much increased, these molecules
have the power of imparting their vibration to the ether in contact with
them, and that in turn may produce vibrations in other substances, and if
these vibrations come in contact with the nerves of touch, there follows
the sensation of warmth or heat. If the vibrations of the ether are
still more rapid, when they fall upon the retina, we have the sensation
of sight, and we call the agent light. Heat and light, then, are the
same. In one instance the vibration is capable of affecting one set of
nerves, and in the other, two sets of nerves. The heat-vibration can be
discovered by the sense of touch alone, but the light-vibration may be
detected both by the eye and the touch.

This variation in sensations, when produced by the same cause, may be
illustrated as follows: Apply some salt to the tongue, and place some
also in a wound, the two sensations are entirely unlike. Again, the
vibrations of a body may be so slow that we can discover them by touch,
as showing resistance, or so rapid that they are reported to the ear
as a shrill sound, or they may be increased so intensely as to evolve
heat, and if still more increased in rapidity, affect the eye as light.
The spectrum affords us still another illustration of this truth. Pass
through a prism a single ray of light, lo, it appears on the screen in
all the colors of the rainbow. Nor is this all; _between_ the bright
colors, and _beyond_ the violet and the red are invisible lines, and the
various parts of the spectrum, although all are produced by the one ray,
are capable of creating quite different results. If one should place
a delicate thermopile below the red color, it at once reports heat,
although the eye sees nothing there. The beautiful colors of the spectrum
flash their light into the eye, raise the temperature of the thermometer
and affect chemical transformations, while, still more wonderful, the
dark lines above the violet, though unseen and not indicated by the
thermopile, act upon the sensitized plate of the photographer with
decided chemical force. Thus changes in vibrations as to rapidity, length
and direction make changes in the resulting sensations.

Light-waves are always heat-waves, and heat-waves may, by increasing the
rapidity of the vibrations, become light-waves. It will be observed that
three of our senses are close akin. Hearing, feeling (as regards warmth)
and seeing are all produced by vibrations. It is quite in accord with the
doctrine of modern science to believe that the morning stars did “sing
together,” for light is essentially rhythmic, and to senses adapted to
the perception of their harmonies, the sunbeams would make music. The
various colors of the spectrum differ solely in the wave-lengths of their
vibrations. The red corresponds to low pitch in music and the violet to
high pitch. As the vibrations of air striking upon the ear increase in
rapidity, the sound rises in the scale. There is this difference between
the ear and the eye—the former, if trained, can detect all the tones in a
chord of music, while the latter, however cultivated, can not discern the
varied colors blended in white light.

There must be sixteen vibrations in a second to produce a continuous
sound. When these vibrations reach thirty-eight thousand in a second they
become inaudible.

Eisenlohr[2] informs us that the red color in the spectrum has four
hundred and fifty-eight trillion vibrations in a second, and extreme
violet seven hundred and twenty-seven trillions. The former yields 37,640
waves in an inch, and the latter 59,750 waves in the same space. Now
mark another beautiful analogy between sound and sight. In looking at
the spectrum we can not discern the light or heat below the red color,
because the waves are so slow. Ascending the gamut of color, the rapidity
of the vibrations increases, until just _beyond_ the violet it becomes so
great that the eye can detect no color.


_Ex._—The boy on the insulated stool is repeatedly struck with some furry
substance, like a tiger skin. He becomes highly electrical and capable of
emitting sparks.]

The same fact is discovered in the world of sound—beginning with
vibrations which are too slow to be heard at all, we ascend the scale
eleven octaves, when the vibrations become so rapid as to be inaudible.
Complete darkness may be caused by either too slow or too rapid
vibrations of light and heat, and utter silence by the same conditions in
the sound waves.


These are five in number: The sun and stars, chemical action, percussion,
friction and electricity. Stars are suns, but at a vast distance from our
earth, the nearest being twenty trillions of miles away. To other systems
they doubtless perform the offices of suns. Being so remote, however,
although of myriad number, their influence upon our earth is hardly
appreciable, and will not, therefore, be here considered.

[Illustration: GEISSLER’S TUBES.[3]

_Ex._—This tube is filled with rarefied gases. Platinum wires convey the
electric current through the tube, revealing curious striated sections of
brilliant light, varying in shape and color, with the variety of gas and
the degree of rarefaction.]

Our sun is an immense reservoir of energy. It is difficult to conceive
its size. It would require twelve hundred thousand of our globes to
equal it in volume. More than one hundred such worlds as ours might be
strung upon the line forming its diameter. The sun has been for ages
throwing off its vibrations of heat and light. Thousands of years before
fires were kindled on hearthstones this form of energy, according to
the modern doctrine of the correlation of forces, was locked up in the
tropical vegetation of the coal periods, and in the great deposits of
coal preserved for future use. The same anticipatory benevolence which
projects on its journey the friendly ray of the north star, forty-three
years before the mariner’s eye can see it, provided fuel for man
thousands of years before it was needed.

This energy of the sunbeam reappears in the summer warmth of our
dwellings in winter, in the expansion of steam, in the blow of the trip
hammer, and throbs even in the pulsations of the human heart.

The cells of all plants need the force of the sun’s rays to separate the
carbon from the oxygen contained in the carbonic di-oxide absorbed by
the rootlets and stomata of the leaves. Thus the great luminary builds
the forests and clothes the earth with verdure. “All flesh is grass,”
and therefore to the forces of the sun’s vibrations we must trace not a
little of animal growth and strength. The sun gives out more heat than it
would if six tons of coal were burnt on every square yard of its surface
every hour. Sir John Herschel[4] declares that its light is equal to that
of one hundred and forty-six calcium lights, each one formed of a ball
of lime equal to the sun in bulk; yet even a small calcium light is so
dazzling that the eye can not look steadily at it.

The careless expression sometimes heard when the moon shines brightly,
“It is as light as day,” is a striking hyperbole, for it would require
eight hundred full moons to equal the brightness of daylight.


_Ex._—A file is made part of the circuit, and as the wire conducting the
electricity is rubbed along the file, the circuit is alternately formed
and broken, and sparks follow each breaking of the circuit.]

Of all forms of paganism, that of the Fire Worshipers[5] seems least
unreasonable, for the sun is even now, to us, the best symbol of
beneficence and unfailing energy. After thousands of years it shows
no diminution of power, and although the imagination can conceive the
possibility of its destruction, the most accurate scientific observations
have not discovered the slightest indications of its lessening influence.
“His going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the
ends of it; there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.”


In a preceding article the chemistry of fire has been considered at
some length. It only remains to mention briefly a few of the physical
phenomena attending it. When elements unite by the force of affinity,
it is supposed that their atoms rush together, and that their motion is
converted into heat.

In the case of the galvanic battery the impetuous movement of the atoms
toward the poles becomes electricity. We have constantly recurring
instances in nature of that great truth that energy, though constantly
disappearing is never lost, but reappears under new manifestations and a
new name. It may for a time remain dormant, and anon become perceptible,
as in the case of latent heat. For example, in mixing five pounds of
water at a temperature of 212° Fahrenheit, and five pounds of ice, seven
hundred and fifteen units of heat disappear in melting the ice, and the
aggregate temperature of the mass is proportionally lower than that of
the substances united. But upon their returning to their former state,
this latent heat reappears as sensible heat.

In chemical action producing fire, the uniting materials are usually
converted, first, into a gaseous form, but there are some exceptions.
The most interesting is the following: When a few flakes of iodine are
placed upon a fragment of phosphorus, the atoms of the two elements
rush together with great energy, producing spontaneous combustion, and
liberating sufficient heat to burn the superfluous iodine, with the
evolution of beautiful violet fumes.

The mechanical action in flame is full of interest. Its brightness always
seems to depend upon the incandescence of solid particles. This can
easily be seen in an ordinary lamp. A piece of cold porcelain inserted in
a flame will cool the incandescent carbon, and it will be deposited as

The Bunsen[6] burner clearly proves that the brilliancy of our lights
depends upon the incandescence of the carbon. This is a contrivance for
passing jets of air through a flame, so that the intimate mixing of the
oxygen of the air with the carbon will cause the immediate combustion
of the latter. This results in converting it instantly to invisible gas
(CO₂) before incandescence, and consequently the Bunsen flame, while it
is intensely hot, emits but a feeble light.

Any _physical_ change that facilitates the movement of atoms seems to
increase the intensity of chemical action.


_Ex._—The rods are first placed near together, then as the circuit is
formed they are drawn apart, and the electric light is formed between

An instructive experiment illustrating the characteristics of different
kinds of flame may be performed as follows: Place near each other a small
alcohol lamp and a piece of paraffine candle; when lighted observe the
two flames. The three cones in each can be easily discerned, the _candle_
burns with a much brighter light, showing it to be richer in incandescent
carbon. Insert in each flame a piece of fine wire or narrow strip of
glass, either of these will be much more quickly heated by the alcohol
lamp, because its flame is richer in hydrogen. If a glass jar which is
cold be placed over each, a film of vapor (H₂O) will gather on that
covering the alcohol lamp with greater rapidity than on the other. If the
jars remain over the flames until they are extinguished by the lack of
oxygen, more carbonic anhydride (CO₂) will be formed from the combustion
of the alcohol.


When a blow is arrested by an object, the _motion_ is converted into
heat. The ancient flint-lock gun and the percussion-cap fire-arm both
illustrate this fact. In the former, the descending flint struck out the
spark, and in the latter the cap is exploded by the arrested hammer.
The stroke of a cannon ball is attended with a flash. If the world were
suddenly stopped in its course, heat enough would be generated to set
it on fire. Nitro-glycerine and dynamite are exploded by percussion.
Familiar illustrations of this scientific truth meet us in everyday life.
It has even passed into a proverb with a moral application, that “hard
cracks make the sparks fly.” A novel effect of percussion may have been
noticed when a fall upon the ice has resulted in a mechanical disturbance
of the optic nerve which revealed whole constellations of stars never yet


It is a spirited sight to watch the operation of sharpening tools upon a
grindstone or emery wheel run by steam. Showers of sparks are produced by
the friction. We often observe the same phenomenon when the brakes are
applied to rapidly revolving car wheels. Rails are heated by the friction
of the passing train. You may have had the misfortune, while riding, to
have one of your carriage wheels become set, caused by the box of the
hub, and the axle becoming so heated by friction as to “unite” their
surfaces. All machinery requires constant watching and lubrication to
prevent undue friction and serious wearing.

Mills have not unfrequently been set on fire by rapidly revolving belts
coming in contact with the woodwork. When the whale, frantic with the
pain of the harpoon, darts away with lightning speed, the sailors are
compelled to dash water over the spinning wheel on which the rope is

In all these instances motion is transformed into heat.


Galvanic, frictional, magnetic, thermal and animal electricity are all
capable of producing heat. The first also produces an intensely brilliant
light. We have long been acquainted with the “Voltaic arc”[7] of the
galvanic battery, but less familiar are the magnificent manifestations
of frictional electricity. Dynamo-electric machines are of comparatively
recent construction, and their object is to convert mechanical energy
into that of electric currents, and vice versa.

A striking application of galvanic electricity is frequently seen in
the discharge of gunpowder and other explosives, by making the electric
current pass through a small platinum wire which is in close contact with

Electric energy is propagated in waves, and this wire, being so small, is
incapable of transmitting them all at once, so they beat upon it until
their repeated blows cause it to become red hot, and the material in
contact is thus ignited.

Perhaps the grandest illustration of this action was seen in blowing up
the rocks of Hell Gate[8] in the East River, and thus opening a safe
passage for the commerce of the world. The tiny finger of a little child,
the daughter of the engineer, at a given signal, pressed the key that
closed the circuit, and, like Æolus,[9] when he struck the rock, set free
the mighty elements of destruction.

This same principle, viz.: that resisted motion becomes heat and light,
is seen in both the Brush and the Edison electric lights. In the former,
electric currents pass along wires to carbon points, shaped like a
crayon, and covered by a film of copper, and separated by a distance
of about one half inch. The air between is a non-conductor, and here
the flame is formed. In the Edison light, however, the two conducting
wires enter a glass globe, from which the air is excluded. Here they are
connected with a spiral wire about as large as a knitting needle, and
three-quarters of an inch in length. When the electricity is turned on,
this spiral glows with an intensely brilliant white light.


_Ex._—If we hold a pipe stem or rod of glass in one hand and a copper
wire in the other, and apply the ends of these to a flame, the wire will
convey the sensation much more quickly to the hand than the other. This
shows that solids differ as to conducting power.]

A marvelous illustration of the relation between electric and sound
vibrations is found in the telephone and microphone. The former is
becoming a household necessity; the latter, though not so well known, is
not less wonderful. It brings to our ear the tick of a watch miles away,
and through it the walking of a fly sounds like the tramp of a horse.


Heat is distributed by radiation, conduction, and convection. By the
first we mean that heated bodies have the power of projecting from
themselves, by means of the ether, their own vibrations. Thus the sun is
constantly distributing its light and heat in all directions. Conduction
takes place where the molecules of a substance nearest a fire first
become heated and then impart their motion to the remainder of the mass,
somewhat as in a row of suspended ivory balls, the first of which, when
struck, transmits its motion from ball to ball, the last one flying off.

Convection takes place in liquids and gases. Here the particles in
contact with the heated body becoming lighter by expansion, rise, and are
followed by others, thus forming a current.


_Ex._—Fill a tube nearly full of water, applying a flame to the upper
part of the tube. The water at this point will readily boil, while that
in the lower part of the tube remains cool, showing that water is a poor
conductor, and that liquids must be heated by convection.]

The process of warming a room illustrates the three methods of heat
distribution. The heat passes through the stove by conduction, away from
it by radiation, and to the remote parts of the room by convection.


They are four in number. Rise of temperature, expansion, liquefaction,
evaporation. The first indication of the presence of heat is discovered
by an elevation in temperature. Though man is not a reliable thermometer,
he would be able, ordinarily, even if blind, to chronicle the progress
of the sun, from horizon to horizon, by the increasing and decreasing
warmth. The little thermometer placed beneath the tongue of the invalid
gives reliable report of the combustion going on within his system. We
see a thousand illustrations of the expansive effects of heat, many of
which are familiar to all. The exceptions are more interesting than the
rule, and less known, the ordinary rule being that heat expands and cold
(absence of heat) contracts. Water _contracts_ by cold until it reaches
the temperature of 39°, and then _expands_ with great violence until
congelation is completed, at 32°. A British officer in Quebec filled a
twelve inch shell with water, and closed the fuse hole with a wooden plug
securely driven in with a mallet. Upon being exposed to intense cold the
plug was projected a distance of several hundred feet, and a long tongue
of ice was found protruding from the opening.

It is supposed that sufficient heat would convert all solids first into
liquids, and then into gases. In the process of distillation, if we wish
to retain its products, we combine both heating and cooling.

The knowledge of the melting and vaporizing point of substances is of
immense value. We are enabled thus to drive off and secure the various
ingredients entering into many complex substances. A notable instance
is seen in the means used to secure the rich and varied products of


These are not the only measurers of heat. We have the pyrometers, used
for ascertaining the temperature of extremely hot bodies, and the
thermo-electric pile, an apparatus which constitutes the most delicate
test for heat which has been devised. It will detect heat in the body of
a fly walking near it.


_Ex._—Place a small amount of water, colored with ink, in a flask, and
apply heat. The water will be vaporized, and in passing through the
tube, which is surrounded by another tube containing cold water, it is
condensed as a colorless liquid.]

Thermometers are of three kinds, as to the materials used. They are air,
alcohol, and mercurial. In each case the contraction and expansion of
these respective substances are made to register variations of heat and
cold. They are of three kinds, as to their system of grading—Réaumur’s,
the Centigrade, and Fahrenheit’s. The first two make zero the freezing
point; the last makes 32°. The boiling point of Réaumur’s is 80°, the
Centigrade 100°, and Fahrenheit’s 212°. Once more changing the basis of
classification, we find thermometers divided into three classes, with
reference to the purposes they serve. The ordinary thermometer records
the degree of heat or cold at the moment of observation. The differential
thermometers can be made of two ordinary thermometers, by wrapping a
piece of cloth around the bulb of one; these would show at any given
moment whether it was growing warmer or colder. If it is growing warm,
the column of mercury in the thermometer with the covered bulb will
stand lower than the other, as the cloth prevents the heat reaching the
quicksilver as readily as in the other. If it is higher than in the
other, the weather is growing colder, as the cover prevents the heat from
going off as rapidly as from the other. The third class, the registering
thermometer, is so called because it marks the extremes of temperature.
Without going into detail, it is perhaps sufficient to say that a minute
bar of steel is placed on top of the column of mercury, and remains at
any point to which it is pushed, thus recording the greatest degree of
heat during any given interval of time. Somewhat similar in arrangement
is the alcohol thermometer, marking the greatest degree of cold. It will,
of course, be understood that almost all apparatus is greatly varied to
serve special purposes. The limits of our article will preclude further
discussion of fire in relation to light, although the subject of both
physical and physiological topics is full of fascination and value.

_End of Required Reading for March._

The most important question for the good student and reader is not,
amidst this multitude of books which no man can number, how much he shall
read. The really important questions are, first, what is the quality of
what he does read; and, second, what is his manner of reading it. There
is an analogy which is more than accidental between physical and mental
assimilation and digestion; and, homely as the illustration may seem,
it is the most forcible I can use. Let two sit down to a table spread
with food; one possessed of a healthy appetite, and knowing something
of the nutritious qualities of the various dishes before him; the other
cursed with a pampered and capricious appetite, and knowing nothing
of the results of chemical and physiological investigation. One shall
make a better meal, and go away stronger and better fed, on a dish of
oatmeal, than the other on a dinner that has half emptied his pockets.
Shall we study physiological chemistry and know all about what is food
for the body, and neglect mental chemistry, and be utterly careless as
to what nutriment is contained in the food we give our minds? Who can
over-estimate the value of good books, those ships of thought, as Bacon
so finely calls them, voyaging through the sea of time, and carrying
their precious freight so safely!—_Prof. W. P. Atkinson._



Years ago I had taken pains to gain all accessible information concerning
the most celebrated, and certainly also the largest, university in the
entire Mohammedan world. In 1871 when in Cairo a number of days, through
lack of a proper guide and full knowledge of this important institution,
I left the city without seeing it. I was determined this time, therefore,
to make sure of a visit to it, and to see carefully, with my own
eyes, this marvel of the Mohammedan faith. The University is located
in a mosque, and is, in fact, the one chief business of the mosque
itself. Religion—such as it is—is the fundamental feature of all Moslem
education. Not a science is taught in any school of Mohammedanism which
does not begin with the Koran, and again come back to it. Whether law
or medicine or geometry—in fact, whatever is communicated to the young,
the first and ever predominant lesson imparted with it and through it
is, that the Koran is the fountain of all science. Very naturally, then,
the school is a part of the service of the mosque. This idea is not new.
It is an oriental habit. We find proofs even in the Scriptures that the
church was God’s first school. In ancient Egypt the temple, the palace,
and the school were the perfected trinity in every city, and often the
temple and the school were so closely enclosed that no careful observer
could tell where one began and the other ended. The same idea re-appears
in the arrangements which Charlemagne made for the higher education of
the Frankish empire. The school was often located under the palace and in
close connection with the chapel roof, and was called _scholia palatina_,
or the school of the palace. At first the object seems to have been that
the emperor’s children and other children of the court might have the
best opportunity for learning; but very soon the limits became broader,
and all who wanted to learn could have every advantage, within close
distance of both church and palace.

The approach to the University of Cairo is a narrow street, with
open booths on either side, where the artisans ply their crafts in
full view of every passer-by. Three industries take the lead of all
others—book-selling, book-binding, and hair-shaving. The nearest street
to the University bears the name of the Street of the B, and such it
may well be called. The Mohammedan has always a shaven head. He wears a
great turban, of white or some other color. Green is the most infrequent
shade, for that indicates that the wearer is a descendant of the prophet
Mohammed. Not one hair is allowed under that turban. When it gets a
little long the barber must shave the pate as clean as an ostrich egg.
All along a part of the street leading to the University the barbers sit
on the floors their shops, and shave the heads of their customers. The
one to be shaved does not sit in a chair, but simply stretches out full
length on the floor and puts his head in the lap of the barber, who also
sits on the floor, with his feet doubled up under him. Then begins the
process of shaving. It is a most lowly operation. No paper is used during
the process, the barber getting rid of the shaved hair and soap by wiping
the razor on his customer’s face until the entire tonsorial feat is
finished and an ablution of cranium and face is in order. In addition to
the barber shops there are probably not less than twenty-five book shops,
as many binderies, and a good number of stationery stalls. These are all
of modest dimensions, but are well stocked with everything that a student
needs that is to say, a student of the Mohammedan order.

Between the point where the street ends and the University enclosure
proper, there is a large fore-court. Here one sees such a medley of all
forms of life and strange habits, in connection with study, that he can
never forget it. It is the place where no serious study goes on, but
where the news is discussed and conversation enjoyed. Even the barbers
have spilled over into this court, for I saw a number of them busily
shaving the heads of outstretched students. One of them, seeing a Frank
scanning his work, stopped a moment, and holding up his razor from the
pate which he had nearly made bald again, asked me if I did not want
to be shaved too. I thanked him—but had not time. Imagine a half-dozen
students lying about in Mead Hall, in Drew Seminary, near the doors of
Drs. Butts, or Strong, or Miley, or Crooks, or Upham, and having their
heads shaved by busy barbers, who sit flat on the marble floor and
relieve the crania of their theological patrons of their last capillary
endowment! Then think of students munching at a crust of dark bread or a
pomegranate, or some edible, good or poor, according to his resources.
Some students have families, and here the children come and play about
them, at times when their fathers are not busy with their books. So far
as I could see, there was no formal studying in this great fore-court.
Perhaps there were a hundred persons in it, lying, sitting, walking.
Some alone with their meditations, others entertaining a group of eager
listeners, and gesticulating with oriental realism. Only one class had
the appearance of any work, a group of boys. One of the number displeased
his teacher, whereupon the latter beat him smartly with his fist until
the little fellow’s eyes swam in tears; my blood fairly boiled at the
teacher’s cruelty. I thought I was already in the University proper, but
this was a serious error. The institution was yet to come; I was only
approaching the great establishment.

I had no sooner touched the threshold of the great central hall than
a man met me, and, with a most polite salaam, informed me that I must
now put on slippers. He was a magnificent specimen of a well developed
Egyptian—tall, muscular, grave, yet pleasant, and only answering such
questions as were put to him. Unlike the European guides in blue and
brass, those of Africa have no stereotype speeches which they hurl
at you, as they have done at the thousands before you. In a moment
four pairs of soft slippers, of yellow sheepskin, were brought to my
companions and myself, and the wary hands which brought them slipped
them on over our boots and tied them on with red strings. We were now to
enter upon the holy stone floor of the great hall of Mohammedan learning,
and only holy dust must fall upon that tessellated floor, and then only
with softest touch. Here was a scene which baffles all description. The
hall was about two hundred and fifty feet long and two hundred wide.
All the classes were reciting, engaged in work, or listening to the
professor. Every one who recited did it loudly. I stood beside one of
the theological professors and watched his method. His class numbered
forty students, whose various physiognomies showed that they had come
from every part of the broad Mohammedan world. The professor sat squat
on the floor, with his bare feet doubled up about him. There is no craze
as yet among Mohammedans for only young teachers. This man, like many
others, had long since passed beyond middle life. His heavy gray beard
and very dark face were lighted up by as keen a pair of black eyes as
ever became diamonds, when they saw in his young days the prophet’s torch
in Mecca, or in vision beheld the curtain drawn aside which hides the
Moslem paradise from human sight. The forty students sat about him in a
circle, yet in such way that all were before him at once. He was one of
the circle, in fact, and as he taught he swayed to and fro, and looked
off into the distance as if in reverie, and then again at his class, and,
with an intensity that only an Arab possesses, he burned his ideas into
the very brain of the students. He sat at the foot of a stone pillar, and
leaned against it at intervals, when his weary form needed a little rest.

This theological professor had the method of all. He held a thin book in
his hand which seemed to be his own brief, and, after reading snatches
from it, he gave a comment or explanation of it, and then had one student
and then another repeat what he had said. Our American infant class
method of teaching verses, and having them committed to memory while the
class are together, and then repeating them, so that the teacher can
see that the work is well and surely done, is precisely the method of
both elementary and advanced education in this greatest university of
the Mohammedan world. The brief of this theological professor was merely
his collection of definitions, and these were committed to memory on the
spot. Some of the students had sheets of tin, something smaller than the
sheets of roofing tin with which we are familiar in the United States. On
these they wrote in ink, with reed styles, and with such dexterity that a
whole page was filled in a very short time. What was written on these tin
slates was taken away, and designed to be committed to memory, when that
process was not finished during the session of the class.

Now the entire floor of this immense hall was covered with classes
at work. No teacher or student sat in a chair. There was not even a
footstool in the entire University. The professors and students formed
little or large groups all over the immense space, no class interfering
with another, and each going on with its work as if alone, and yet not a
partition or a curtain dividing the groups at study. I saw only a little
eating here, an occasional student slily making a lunch of new dates, the
fruit with “gold dust” on it, now just in from the country.

I could not help noticing the various ages of the students. Some were
really very advanced in years. They were waked up very late in life.
Something had broken loose under their twenty-five yards of cotton cloth
which they call a turban, and they had come down the Nile with the rise,
or had been wafted from the Darfur sands, and were going to study. They
could do more, and be more, when they went back again. Here, too, was
the old-time idea. The notion that a university is a thing for the young
alone is a modern affair. The old conception was, it was everybody’s
place—the _universum_ of men as well as studies. In Mohammedanism, as in
Christianity, when once the passion for learning strikes one, the years
count nothing. The person in the fifties or even in sixties is just as
apt to be overwhelmed, swept on, by the learning frenzy as though he were
only eighteen and smitten by other inspirations.

The entire number in attendance at this greatest University of the
Mohammedans is about thirteen thousand. Some calculations place it at
fifteen thousand. They come from every part of the world where the
cimetar of Mohammed and his successors has drawn blood, and where the
crescent now floats. Each part of the large hall has its nation, where
the students are grouped territorially. Here, in one place, are the
Benguelese, from southwestern Africa; in another place are the Algerines,
from the sound of the Mediterranean surf. Yonder are only Thracians, from
south of the Balkans. This group, as black as your hat, consists entirely
of Nubians. Another is made up solely of natives of Zanzibar. These
divisions reach into nearly all the Asiatic and African lands. There are
Afghanistaneze and others from still farther east, from the very heart of
India, and even from the far Pacific islands. One has only to see these
collections of students, massed around a teacher of their own language
and nationality, to become convinced of the broad field of Mohammedanism
and the mightiness of the effort needful to uproot it.

Poverty! That is no name for the condition of the students. They come to
Cairo from the far-off regions, impelled by some passion bordering on
that for learning, living on a little crust and fruit, having no sleeping
place at night save the space of the sacred mosque which serves as a
university, never paying a piastre for all the instruction of years, and
looking forward with earnest longing to the time when they can leave
again and impart to their native villages, or the very desert wastes, the
wisdom which they have gained in the shades of the great hall of learning
in the Cairo of the caliphs. There is a dash of self-seeking in their
coming hither. When the tocsin of war is sounded, there is no exemption
from conscription save learning. He who has once entered the doorway is
safe from the conscription list. Were an attack made on the very citadel
where Mohammed Ali put to death every plotting Mameluke—except one, who
leaped upon his faithful Arab steed and plunged safely into the depths
below—nothing could touch him. He has come to the fountain of knowledge,
and Mars has no claim upon him. At the present time the number of
students is not so large as usual, for there is no fear of a war, except
such as the English are fighting and holding themselves responsible for.
I looked carefully at the kind of food which these students ate, and in
all cases it was of the simplest quality. Some were taking their solid
dinner, and it was nothing more than a rude bowl of lentil soup or a flat
cake of pounded grain. The clothing in most cases betokened the same
poverty. The slippers were of rude construction, such as fifteen cents
would buy, and even these are to be worn at the general prayer, which
begins the day for all the students, only to be laid aside during the
later hours. The habit is a loose black, or other colored robe, which
has become threadbare by long usage. I am sure I saw many students, and
professors as well, whose entire dress could not have cost five francs
apiece. This dress they have on, moreover, is the whole scope of their
wardrobe. When they get another suit it will probably be when they reach
home again, and enter upon their calling for life.

The professors get no salary. They have passed through various stages
of learning, and when once they have committed every word of the Koran,
and perhaps some of the more noted commentaries on it to memory, and
have given other proofs of aptness at teaching, they are declared able
to instruct. But they get no pay for teaching. Neither the University
treasury pays them, nor does the student do it. Their instruction is
positively gratuitous. Now, if by copying the Koran or other book, or
by private teaching in families, or by doing some outside manual work,
they can be supported, well and good. But for sitting squat on the sacred
marble floor and teaching students the holy laws, and all the holy
sciences that come from them, there must be no itching palm. This is the
one place, and only one, so far as I can recall, where I have been where
there has been no call for backsheesh.

How, then, is this immense establishment supported? I answer, that many
students are sustained, and so permitted to remain at the University,
by the funds of the institution. The treasury, instead of taking care
of the professor, goes rather to keeping the student from starvation.
There are many endowments which have fallen into the hands of the state
which constitute a large part of this treasury. Education has always been
an attractive investment, and many Mohammedans have left sums of money
for this purpose, and so the University of Cairo owes a good part of
its wealth to this source. Again, when funds fall from certain causes,
into the treasury of the state—perhaps property for which there are no
heirs—it is devoted to this purpose. The building and all its belongings,
and all really needy students are thus provided for. Out of the three
hundred professors and other teachers, only one is paid a salary. He
is the general director, or rector, and his salary amounts to 10,000
piastres, or about five hundred dollars of our money.

Of one thing I was very careful to make inquiry. I mean as to the bearing
of this institution on the propagation of Mohammedan ideas. In all
descriptions I had become familiar with concerning the great purpose
of the students, the thought was made predominant that the students
went away with a missionary zeal, and became intense propagators of
the faith throughout their lives. The Rev. Mr. Harvey, of that noble
cause and magnificent institution for Egypt, the United Presbyterian
Mission, from the United States, was a very kind escort during my visit.
He has been many years a resident of Cairo, and is very familiar with
every form of Mohammedan life, and he informs me that this zeal for the
Moslem faith does not exist, that the students do not go away with it,
and never exhibit it, except in rare cases, in later life. Their stay
in the University may be long. They may be three or four or five years,
and if no way to work opens they may spend most of their life there,
but whenever they do leave, sooner or later, they go off not simply as
teachers of theology, but as jurists, mathematicians, or professional
men of other callings, and religion is less in mind than secular work.
Even when they go out as imams, or priests, that profession carries
with it certain functions which belong both to the town clerk or the
district judge, and hence the priesthood is absorbed in certain legal and
administrative functions which eclipse the sacred office altogether. As
to a burning zeal to disseminate Mohammedanism, it does not exist. It has
no unquenchable love for itself, and is only continuing its own means of
propagation because of something better. That something better is at its
doors, and is beginning to thread the labyrinths of the Dark Continent.
In due time Christianity will do for Africa what it has done for Europe,
and is this day doing for the half of Asia.

The darkest feature of my visit to the University was the absence of
women. Alas! you never see the Mohammedan woman in these oriental
lands, save with veiled face and hesitant step. Only yesterday I saw
a handsome carriage being driven along one of the principal Cairene
streets, preceded by a gaily dressed herald, who cried, “Make way, make
way,” as is the fashion here still. The silken curtains were drawn,
but the occupants were two ladies. They must live in the dark. In the
mosque they must sit in the lofty spaces, far back behind the wooden
screen work, and even then be veiled. The very small girls, who trip
about with little rattling and tinkling bells around their ankles, are
hardly old enough to learn the way to the next street before the veil is
drawn over their face, and only their little eyes are permitted to look
out. In the multitudes which I saw at the University, both as students
and teachers, there was but one woman. She was probably the wife of a
professor, and had come merely to bring the learned man his dinner, and
then slip back again to the dark rear room of the house misnamed a home,
and await his coming, and be the menial still to prepare his evening
meal. Mohammedanism has no place for woman in its educational system. Its
best interpretation of her office is that she is simply man’s slave. But
the better day is coming, and may it soon be here, when the right of all
women, in all these oriental countries, to the highest and the largest
knowledge, shall be recognized as equal to that of any men beneath the
shining sun.



    To stand at the post of duty
    Whether we rise or fall,
    If this be a place of beauty,
    Or the homeliest lot of all.

    To walk with a soul undaunted
    In the God appointed way,
    Whether with praise enchanted,
    Or in shadow land it lay.

    The good of the world’s bestowing
    Is vanishing as the air,
    And its loftiest honors throwing
    A burden of ceaseless care.

    But to live as always seeing
    The invisible source of things
    Is the blessedest state of being,
    In the quietude it brings.

    For in all of the strife and clamor,
    And the evil that is done,
    We know that the Lord will finish
    The good that he hath begun.

    And we need not grope in blindness
    Because of the dreadful days,
    But sure of the Infinite kindness
    May stand in the certain ways.

    Oh! for a strong uplifting
    And a courage that will stand
    While the Judge of the earth is sifting
    The peoples of every land.

    Oh! Earth so full of the glory
    Reflected from above,
    We wait for your finished story,
    In the faith of a deathless love.




U. S. Senator from Illinois.

Having ascertained the extraordinary fact, from a close analysis of
tabulations of authoritative statistics furnished by the Census and
Education Bureaus, that, assuming the cost of educating a child in
Mississippi, Tennessee, and West Virginia to be equal to such cost in the
New England states, every one hundred adults in the former pay more to
educate the children in those states than is paid by the same number of
adults in any one of the latter, let us explore a little further for the
reasons underlying that fact.

It might naturally be asked: How can these calculations be correct, when,
for example, we learn from the report of the Commissioner of Education
that Massachusetts pays annually for each child enrolled in her schools
$15.44, while Mississippi pays but $3.38?

There are several factors which aid in bringing about this result.
Some of these can be exactly ascertained; others of them, for want of
statistics, can not.

In the first place, the $15.44 per scholar which Massachusetts pays
amounts to but $4.98 per capita of her adult population, while the $3.38
per scholar that Mississippi pays amounts to $2.12 per capita of her
adult population. Hence the real difference, so far as the payers of the
cost are concerned, is only $2.86 per capita.

Another cause of this difference or inequality is the fact that
Massachusetts pays her teachers, on an average, about $49.06 per month,
while Mississippi pays hers only $30.07. While this doubtless affects
the efficiency and equality of the education, it does not necessarily
indicate a less number of pupils.

Still another cause lies in the fact that while the length of the
school year is in Massachusetts one hundred and seventy-seven days, in
Mississippi it is but seventy-seven days.

And still another may grow out of the larger proportion of teachers
employed in Massachusetts than in Mississippi, for we find that while in
the former, one teacher is employed for every 35.7 enrolled scholars, in
the latter, one is employed for every 42.5.

These items enable us to understand why there are differences between the
amounts paid in the two states, and what those differences are that exist
under the present order of things.

We perceive, therefore, that while a strict scrutiny may bring to
light the facts that the education in the one state or section is more
efficient, the terms of school attendance longer, and the amount paid for
school purposes more liberal than in the other, yet this in no wise tends
to invalidate the statistics heretofore presented, nor to affect the
argument based thereon. Although it may be true that Massachusetts spends
more than $15.00 per scholar while Mississippi spends less than $3.50, it
is also true that the latter has forty-eight pupils enrolled in school
to every one hundred adults, while the Bay State has but thirty-three;
and that while it costs the adults of the Northern state but $4.98 each
to pay this $15.44, a similar service, similarly compensated, for its
enrolled scholars would cost the adults of the Southern one $9.70 each.

The fact, then, that this remarkable inequality in the cost of educating
the children of the different localities in the Union does exist, can not
be successfully controverted; and that there is no method of equalizing
the burden save by government aid can not be truthfully denied.

The time has gone by when it could be said that Mr. A., who is poor in
this world’s goods, but surrounded by a full household of ruddy youths,
must provide for their education from his own depleted pocket, just
as Mr. B., who is rich, and has but a single child, provides for its
instruction out of his plethoric pocket.

The principle is now fully acknowledged that it is the duty of the state
or government—of the people, as a body-politic—to bear this burden, and
thus to equalize it. This is the principle upon which our common school
system is founded, which, notwithstanding the tax it imposes, is even
now looked upon by the people as one of our most important institutions,
second only to the republican basis on which our government is founded.

To bring this vital institution as near to perfection as is possible,
to distribute its benefits as equally as possible, to render the tax as
light as is consistent with efficiency, and to bring the burden to bear
as equally as is practicable on all sections and localities, should be
one great aim of our Federal legislation.

All the great nations of Europe are beginning to throb with the divine
impulse which is first seen in the great, questioning eyes of the
speechless babe. Some of them have lain for long centuries encrusted
in the densest ignorance, and awake but sluggishly to a realization of
the tremendous national power, which others have long since discovered,
embedded in the education of the masses. Thus Russia, with her
population of 78,500,000, although almost exhausting herself with
wars for territorial aggrandizement, has awakened to the necessity of
granting to her schools $9,000,000 annually—a mere pittance for such
a nation, yet containing the germ of higher promise. So also Austria,
with her population of 22,144,244, is slowly stirring. Education there
is now made obligatory, and in 1881 she supplemented prior national aid
to it by a grant of $6,500,000. Italy, in 1882, with a population of
28,000,000, gave like aid to the extent of $6,200,000, beside providing
school buildings and other necessary desiderata—previous aid having
borne good fruit in a marked decrease of illiteracy. Prussia, with a
population of 27,251,067, is fortunate in the possession of endowed
schools with regular incomes. Yet she gave national aid to education
to the extent of $10,000,000 in 1881, and $11,458,856 in 1882. France,
with a population of some 37,000,000—independent of the millions of
dollars expended for a like purpose annually by her departments and
communes—gave in 1881-2 to the extent of $22,717,880 for the education
of her masses. Little Belgium, with a population of but 5,403,006—about
one twelfth of ours—in 1882 gave national aid to education to the extent
of about $4,000,000; for she perceives, as a direct consequence of
periodical aid of this character, that Belgian illiteracy is surely and
rapidly decreasing, while in like ratio her prosperity is increasing.
Great Britain is similarly alive to the necessity for government aid to
elementary schools. Such aid was given by her in 1882 to those in England
and Wales, whose united population is 25,968,286—less than half the
number we boast—to the extent of £2,749,863, or—roughly calculating at
five dollars to the pound—nearly $14,000,000. This, too, in a land that
is also rich in well endowed universities, colleges, grammar schools,
and other institutions of learning. Such aid was also given in 1882-3
to elementary schools in Scotland, whose population is but 3,734,370,
to the extent of £468,512, or, say $2,342,560; and to Ireland, with a
population of 5,159,839, to the extent of £729,868, or, say $3,648,340.
Thus, in addition to the great educational advantages arising from
the numerous well founded and amply endowed educational institutions
for the various grades and classes of the British people that have
long existed in England and Wales, Scotland and Ireland, we find the
government of the United Kingdom aiding elementary instruction to the
extent of about $20,000,000 in one year—the combined population being
but 34,862,495 souls; the United States, with a larger population, is
without the advantages either of such national aid or such endowed
schools as those countries possess. Even the colonies of Great Britain
are equally impressed with the importance and essential necessity of
general public education. Taking as an example that one of her colonies
with which our relations are most intimate—the province of Ontario. Its
population comprises but 1,913,460 souls, yet the amount expended there
upon education in 1880 reached $3,414,267. A similar ratio of expenditure
to the total population—counting the latter at 55,000,000—would call for
nearly $100,000,000 in the United States.

But while it may be of interest to note what other peoples and other
governments are doing toward the advancement of general education within
their borders, and while the contrast with that which is done, or fails
to be done, in the same direction in the United States, furnishes food
for instruction and ultimate benefit, yet it by no means follows that
this nation, destined, as every one of its citizens proudly believes,
to march in the van of the world’s civilization, is to limit its aims,
its labors, its appropriations in the furtherance of education—the
prime factor in all civilization—by the standards of other nations. The
rather should the comparison, while it may for the moment bring to our
cheeks the blush of shame, act as a stimulus to higher effort and larger
expenditure, if necessary on our part to reach that preëminent position
of prosperity, power, and enlightenment, of which the intellectual
alertness of our people and the genius of our institutions give abundant

In considering this subject we must not fail to remember that among the
nations of the world ours stands alone in this: that here the sovereignty
is in the people. An ignorant sovereignty is a tyrannical sovereignty,
whether held by the many or the few. Its capabilities for good can
alone be drawn out by education. That Liberty sits enthroned in this
land is due solely to education and that proper spirit of freedom and
independence in thought and action which is begotten of education. As has
been well said by another: “We have gained all that we possess by reason
of the education of the individual, and we hold it upon the same tenure.
What we hold for ourselves we hold for mankind, and we hold it for both
upon the same condition by which it was gained, and that is the continued
and universal education and development of the people.”

Every child born in this great republic is born with the inherent right
to be educated. He is born heir to that popular sovereignty which, upon
coming of age, he is entitled to exercise. The coming responsibilities
rest upon him from his very cradle up. He has an absolute right to such
an education as will enable him to properly meet them. His parents who
brought him into the world weighted with such responsibility, did it
with the implied obligation on their part to give him that education
without which his birth would be either a mockery or a crime. As with the
parents, so with the state-local, and so with the state-national. If the
parents fail in meeting this obligation it becomes a binding obligation
upon the state-local, and if the state-local fails the obligation
devolves upon the nation.

Again, the obligation of every parent in this republic to educate his
children so as to enable them in due time to intelligently and wisely
exercise the great power of the franchise, implies the obligation on his
part to give them, up to that point, _equal_ educational advantages.
By a parity of reasoning it logically follows that in case of failure
by parent or state-local—whether from inability or other cause—the
obligation to secure to all children within its domain not only
facilities, but equal facilities, for the attainment of a sufficient
education to enable them to cast an intelligent ballot, rests upon the
nation. Nor does this obligation cease when such equal facilities are
provided. It goes further. It extends, if necessary, to the compulsion
of those children to avail themselves of the facilities which the nation
provides for their education.

That it is the right, then, of every American child to have a rudimentary
education, and that it should be equal to that of every other American
child, seems clear; and that where, through any cause, that child fails
to get such education, it is the duty of the national government to
enable him to gain it, seems equally manifest.

To what extent, and from what resources, the nation should grant this
educational aid to its children, and through what channels and upon what
basis the distribution of that aid should be made, are subjects that will
now command our attention.

The burden of educating the children of the nation is a heavy one—a fact
perhaps not as fully realized by our rulers and legislators as it ought
to be. From the report of the Commissioner of Education, 1882-3, it
appears that the estimated real value of sites, buildings, and all other
school property in all the states and territories, is $216,562,197. That
of course is the existing “school plant” as it may be termed; but to get
such a “school plant”—utterly insufficient as it may be—has been more
or less burdensome. From the same authority it appears that the amount
imposed and expended for common school purposes, in all the states and
territories for 1880, was $91,158,039; a large sum, yet after all but
little more than half the amount absolutely needed in order to provide
adequate school facilities for all entitled thereto.

A careful and conservative estimate founded upon all attainable data
will show that not less than $160,000,000 annually must be provided to
secure the education of all the children of our country of lawful age. Of
this amount, provision, as we have seen, is already made in the various
states and territories to the extent of over $90,000,000 annually. Of the
various measures relating to the subject of national aid to education
that have been urged upon the attention of Congress, none has ventured to
appropriate a larger annual sum[J] than $50,000,000. Should Congress at
any time make an appropriation of that amount, there would still be an
annual deficiency of some $20,000,000.

It is not at all certain that our national legislators have considered
the magnitude of the subject with which they are to deal, nor that they
have all investigated it with that degree of care and seriousness which
it plainly deserves and even demands at their hands.

Every one, without controversy, admits the importance of educating
our children; and without doubt, every one of our legislators has not
only a warm and friendly feeling for this work, but also a willingness
to do something to afford it national aid. But with how many of them
is this a willingness without a formed and definite purpose? It were
almost better that the importance of such education should be a disputed
point—that a storm of controversy should arise and shake them in its
throes, forcing them to lay hold of the very horns of the sacred altar
of education—rather than that the dead, arid level of inert concession
should bring forth nothing save a deceptive mirage. It is time to wake up
to the fact that government aid in the line of education means nothing
unless it be in the form of an annual appropriation of sufficient amount
to produce tangible results.

Do our legislators appreciate the significant fact that of the
$91,158,039 expended on the public schools in the thirty-eight states
and nine territories and the District of Columbia during 1882, more than
one quarter of that entire expense was borne by the three states of
Illinois, Ohio, and Iowa? That nearly one third of that great expense was
borne by and expended in the four states of New York, Ohio, Illinois and
Pennsylvania? That more than one half of it was borne by and expended
in the six states of New York, Ohio, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Iowa and
California? That nearly two thirds of it all was borne by and expended in
the nine states of California, Missouri, Indiana, Iowa, Massachusetts,
Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New York?

Of what practical avail, then, is the bill[K] which passed the United
States Senate on the 7th of April last, so far, at least, as the amount
to be appropriated is concerned? It proposes to appropriate a total
amount of $77,000,000. That amount certainly sounds well and looks
generous at first sight. But how is it appropriated? Let us see.

This $77,000,000 that looks so large and adequate, is to be scattered
over the whole country, and over a period of eight years, thus:

The first year, $7,000,000—which is much less than Illinois alone gives
in one year for her own children; the second year, $10,000,000—which
is much less than Massachusetts and Iowa together give in one year for
their own children; the third year, $15,000,000—which is much less than
Ohio and Pennsylvania together give for one year’s schooling of their
own children; the fourth year, $13,000,000—or about what Massachusetts,
Indiana, and Wisconsin together give a year for such purposes; the
fifth year, $11,000,000—or less than New York alone gives in one year;
the sixth year, $9,000,000—very little more than Ohio alone gives;
the seventh year, $7,000,000—or only a trifle more than Missouri and
California together give in a year; and the eighth year, $5,000,000—or a
trifle over what Indiana gives, and less than Iowa gives, in one year!

Now, if such appropriations as these are not absurdly inadequate, what
are they?

They are limited to eight years, and during those eight years the mean
average annual appropriation is less than $10,000,000. Think of it for
a moment. An amount ($9,625,000) appropriated by Congress to cure the
illiteracy of the whole nation—only $1,057,325 more than Illinois now
spends in a year for educational purposes; only $1,361,755 more than
Pennsylvania spends, and only $804,086 more than is spent by Ohio; while
it is $1,797,593 less than the state of New York expends in a single year
within her borders for like purposes!

Take the exact figures of the census returns, and the amount actually
needed is easily ascertained for that year—though it must be remarked
that the amount needed is not remaining the same, nor diminishing, but
increasing every succeeding year. The school population in 1880 was
16,243,822. To educate that population required an assumed average
annual expenditure of not less than $10 each, or $162,438,220. The real
expenditure was but $91,158,039. Hence there was in that year a necessity
for an expenditure of at least $72,085,783 more than was actually

But let us examine the statistical facts a little more closely. It is
true that the school population then was 16,243,822, but it is also
true that of that number only 10,013,826 were enrolled in the public
schools, and of these again only 6,118,331 took advantage of their
opportunities for instruction by daily attendance at those schools.
Here, then, we find that the $91,158,039 was expended in educating the
6,118,331 children who daily attended school, and that the actual average
cost per scholar, therefore, was $14.90, and not $10. We discover also,
that while 6,118,331 children were in daily attendance at the public
schools, 3,895,495 children on the rolls of such schools were not in
daily attendance, and that 6,229,996 other children of school age had
not even the opportunity or facilities for any such education! It is
plain, therefore, that had the 10,125,491 children of school age in the
two latter classes—those who failed to take advantage of the school
opportunities offered them, and those who had no such opportunities
at all—been compelled, as they should be (except in case of sickness
or other very sufficient cause), to daily attend public schools, then
instead of the $91,158,039 actually expended in such schools that year,
there should have been expended $242,027,855 that year, in order to give
all children of school age an equal educational chance. In other words,
the expenditure, as compared with the necessities of the case, left a
deficit for that one year of $150,869,816.

Now it is to make up for the deficiencies in the school facilities
already provided in the states and territories, that Congressional
legislation and national aid is proposed. But it would puzzle the
combined mathematicians of all countries and ages to demonstrate that
an annual deficiency of $150,000,000, or more, can be made up by an
expenditure of $77,000,000, dribbled out in annual sums varying from
$5,000,000 to $15,000,000, during eight successive years.

While, however, to meet the necessities of the case fully and absolutely
would call for enormous annual appropriations, yet as the utmost
conservatism and moderation should govern all experimental legislation
involving large appropriations, so in legislating upon this subject
it were safer to adopt the basis and estimate of least requirement
heretofore given, and adopt $50,000,000 as the amount that should be
annually appropriated for this important purpose.

It is to be kept in mind, also, that an annual appropriation to this
extent need not add one dollar to the burden of taxation now borne by the

In this connection it is not necessary to discuss any of the questions
relating to the methods of raising our national revenue. Whatever
differences of opinion there may be touching those methods or means,
it must be conceded that our nation, under the present system and
laws, holds a high and even commanding position among the civilized
governments of the world, and that our people are enjoying more than
an average degree of prosperity. It is our duty to use every effort to
advance to still higher prosperity. In the meantime, however, any bill
appropriating national aid to education should be based upon our present
condition. Our revenue now exceeds our expenditures per annum by fully
the amount ($50,000,000) sought to be appropriated by the bill referred
to. Hence its enactment would not add one dollar to the taxes already
imposed. It follows, then, that should Congress be asked to support a
measure making annual appropriation of $50,000,000, derived from the
internal revenue taxes and the sale of public lands, for school purposes,
opposition to such a measure on the pretext that it would impose
additional burdens upon the people would be flimsy and without force,
and only transparently veil an opposition to increased facilities for
educating our children.

If our children are to be provided with adequate facilities for proper
and necessary instruction, the burden must be imposed in some form; and
none can be devised that will bear more equally upon all, and be felt as
little as this.

It is an old truism that “every rose hath its thorn.” The advance of
civilization and knowledge has its drawbacks as well as its advantages.
This is manifested very distinctly in one direction in our own country.
The rapid invention and introduction of labor-saving machinery has had
a very marked tendency to draw the laboring population from the rural
districts, and congregate it at the manufacturing centers. This, although
it may be attended with many important advantages, has some very serious
disadvantages, and is, perhaps, in part the cause of the serious contests
we have seen of late years between capital and labor. It increases the
population of the cities, and proportionately decreases that of the rural
districts, and, as a consequence, increases the cost of living, as it
advances the price of property in the cities. It also tends very largely
to increase the power and influence of corporations, monopolies, and
other associations of this kind. The single item of transportation is
vastly enlarged by this fact, and thus is increased the necessity for,
and the power of, the railroads of our country. The effect of bringing
together at these manufacturing centers large bodies of employés is, that
for self-protection, combinations of labor, as against the encroachments
of capital, are formed. Irritation and contests follow.

It is from these facts that we are confronted with one of the most
difficult problems forced upon any nation for solution—a problem which
thus far seems to be beyond the reach of legislation.

To check the advance of scientific and inventive genius, or to stop the
progress of knowledge, is neither desirable, practicable, nor possible.

The only possible solution of this perplexing problem would seem to
lie in the education of the masses, and thus elevating the laboring
population as nearly as may be to the educational level of the
capitalists—the rural districts to the educational level of the cities.
By adequate national and state legislation, very marked and important
progress in this respect may be secured. Should the government adopt
the policy of adequate national aid to education, its distribution
according to the number of persons under twenty-one years of age would
perhaps be the best basis for such distribution at the start, but future
experience and more exact knowledge would, no doubt, enable the remedy
to be applied, in due time, more exactly to our needs. At present the
statistics of illiteracy are not sufficiently definite and thorough
to take them as a reliable guide in determining the basis for the
distribution of so large an amount of funds.

One means, however, of meeting the difficulty named—one possible step
toward the solution of this puzzling problem—is certainly within our
reach. Educate the masses, elevate the laboring and producing population,
and bring them up as nearly as possible to the educational plane already
reached by those who hold and wield the moneyed power.

Education increases our wants and demands; increase in demand brings
increase in supply; and this of necessity increases the demand for labor.

Economy on the part of the nation as well as the individual is a correct
principle, and holds good in all states and conditions of life, but we
must not forget that it is a relative term. For the individual who can
neither read nor write to expend money for books and writing materials
is a useless expenditure; but would you count that an extravagance on
the part of him who can do both, so long as he keeps within his wants
and means? What constitutes the difference in the application of the
principle to the two cases? _Education._

The pioneer farmer may have spent a life of patient toil on his farm,
satisfied to live in his log cabin, with possibly a single room, a
puncheon floor, and a clapboard door, unable to read or write—an
upright, honest man, and probably as nearly contented as it falls to the
lot of mortals to be. But mark the change! His sons and daughters are
growing up toward manhood and womanhood; the free school has invaded
his neighborhood; and they attend it. How soon it affects the household
arrangements, manners, dress, and everything about the family! What
has wrought the change? Education. Their wants, and what are now their
necessities, are greatly increased. What follows? The desire to meet and
supply these wants brings increased effort and industry for the purpose.
And every family thus advanced in its views of what is necessary to
comfort and happiness increases to the same extent the demand upon the
producer and manufacturer, and thus widens the field of labor. Hence the
solution of this great and knotty problem is to be reached chiefly by the
education of the masses—by raising them toward educational equality with
the wealthy.

There are many who delight in picturing the days of primitive simplicity,
when wants were few and easily supplied; but is there one of these
moralizers who would willingly go back to them? “Strict economy as
gauged by our means” is a correct maxim everywhere and at all times.
But civilization and enlightenment are progressive, and no laws save
such as would trample under foot the inalienable rights of the people to
“life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” can check that progress.
We must therefore either foster the comparatively few more fortunate
and energetic of our people, or we must endeavor by appropriate and
legitimate and adequate legislation to link together and advance
the entire mass. The noblest work of man is the elevation of his
fellowman, and the grandest work in which a government can engage is the
enlightenment of its people. But these can alone be accomplished by the
aid of the great lever: Education.


[J] And that bill was introduced by myself.

[K] S. 398, 1st Session XLVIIIth Congress.



It is strange how soon we all turn into redoubtable adventurers, after
the “soft dews of kindly sleep” have fallen. Not Marco Polo, fresh from
the glories of the Cathayan court; nor Orellana, with his glittering
lies about Dorado; nor Hans Pfaali, big-mouthed with the wonders of his
voyage to the moon; not even Baron Munchausen himself, could tell more
astonishing tales, than can the prosiest among us on his return from

Dreams were believed by the ancients to be vehicles of supernatural
communication with mortals. Homer says that they come from Jove; Mohammed
tells us that Allah sends them; and according to Job, “God speaketh in
dreams.” Milton, on the other hand, pictures Satan, “squat like a toad
close at the ear of Eve,” assaying by his devilish art to reach the
organs of her fancy, and with them to forge phantoms and dreams. So
deep-seated was the belief in the supernatural origin of night visions,
that the law of ancient Rome required those who dreamed of public affairs
to report to the augurs, so that an authoritative interpretation might be
promptly given to the rulers. There was hardly a governor or general of
antiquity, but had a number of professional augurs in his retinue; and
the course of events was often modified by the meanings they attached to
their patrons’ dreams. Professor Creasy has written a unique volume on
the “Fifteen Decisive Battles of History,” and has suggested another, on
the dozen or more “Decisive Love Affairs.” As many fateful dreams could
easily be selected, around which, as on a pivot, the destiny of the
world has seemed to turn. The most ludicrous, and in many cases wicked
interpretations were given to dreams; and Cato—himself an augur—said it
was strange how two augurs could meet without laughing in each other’s

Even at the present day belief in the prophetic character of dreams is
widely prevalent, and many lists of “interpretations” are in circulation
among the credulous. When Rory O’More assured us that dreams go by
contraries, he followed current superstition. Tears are supposed
to indicate joy, and laughter, woe. Dream of the dead, and you may
expect tidings of the living; dream of the living, and unlooked for
danger—perhaps death—is imminent. Many of the interpretations printed in
the “guide books” are, however, exceedingly natural, as, for instance,
that visions of gold foretoken wealth, and orange blossoms, marriage.

Let us place in contrast with such fanciful absurdities a tabulation
of some of the veritable indications of dreams, as made by a modern
scientist. Lively dreams, according to Dr. Winslow, are a sign of the
excitement of nervous action; soft dreams, of slight irritation of the
brain, often in nervous fever announcing the approach of a favorable
crisis; frightful dreams, of determination of blood to the head; dreams
of blood and red objects, of inflammatory conditions. Visions of rain and
water are often signs of diseased mucous membranes and dropsy; distorted
forms frequently point to disorder of the liver. Dreams in which the
patient sees any part especially suffering indicate diseases of that
part. Dreams about death often precede apoplexy, which is so connected
with determination of blood to the head. The nightmare, with great
sensitiveness, is an indication of determination of blood to the chest.

To adequately define dreaming must ever be a difficult, if not an
impossible task. Professor Wilson, of Edinburgh, has graphically outlined
peculiarities which distinguish dreams from the imaginings of wakeful
hours and from the hallucinations of madness. The current of thought
that rushes through the sleeper’s mind is quite free from the control of
his will. Dr. Rush has called a dream a transient paroxysm of delirium,
and delirium a permanent dream; but the dreamer’s intellect is withdrawn
from almost all relation to external objects; while the lunatic holds
communication by all his senses with the world about him. But while
sleep has thus closed “the five gateways of knowledge” to the dreamer,
he still hears and sees and feels and smells and tastes. An imaginative
person, on visiting Niagara Falls, can afterward reproduce it graphically
in memory; but his most vivid mental picture seems pale and hopelessly
inaccurate when the scene is revisited. The visions of our sleep, on the
contrary, are among the most vivid of our life, and where the objects
have been seen before, the most accurate. “The main difference,” says Dr.
Smith, “between our sleeping and waking thoughts appears to lie in this,
that in the former case the perceptive faculties of the mind are active,
while the reflective powers are generally asleep. Thus it is that the
impressions of dreams are in themselves vivid, natural, and picturesque,
occasionally gifted with an intuition beyond our ordinary powers, but
strangely incongruous and often grotesque; the emotion of surprise or
incredulity, or of unlikeness to the ordinary course of events, being in
dreams a thing unknown.”

Of the vividness of impressions made in dreams, illustrations are
plentiful. Dr. Abercrombie first told the often quoted story of the
English army officer whose susceptibility was so remarkable that “his
friends could produce any kind of dream they pleased by softly whispering
in his ear.” On one occasion they led him, in this way, through a long
quarrel, which threatened to end in bloodshed. Just as the dreamer was to
meet his enemy a pistol was handed to him; he fired it off in his sleep,
was awakened by the report, and repeated to his laughing friends the
fancies they had whispered to him a moment before. A well authenticated
case is on record of a young Englishman who, at the age of twenty-eight,
through disease, lost the power of speech for four years. He dreamed
that he fell into a cauldron of boiling beer, and in his agony and
fright shrieked for help. Of course, he at once awoke, and from that
moment the use of his tongue was fully recovered. A bottle filled with
warm water, which touched the feet of Dr. James Gregory after he had
fallen asleep, produced an awful vision of a bare-footed tramp over the
hot crater of Mount Ætna, through clouds of sulphurous vapors, and amid
spurtings of scalding lava. Because of a blister on the head of Dr. Reid,
he “positively endured all the physical torture of being scalped, while
dreaming that he had fallen into the hands of a party of red Indians.” A
lady dreamed that a man entered her chamber, and tightly clasped her left
hand in his without offering her further violence or uttering a word of
explanation. She remonstrated with him in vain; she shrieked for help,
but could not make herself heard; then began a desperate struggle with
the imaginary stranger, which culminated in awaking the sleeper—but not
in releasing her hand, which, to her great alarm, was still held as in a
vise. Summoning all her will-power, she rose from her couch and crossed
the room, and it was only when she attempted to light a lamp that she
discovered that she was holding her own hand with the other, which had
become numb by the tightness of the grasp.

Indefinite expansion of time—or, rather, a total ignoring of the
limitations of time—is another peculiarity in dreaming. It has been
demonstrated that a man can dream in detail the events of years, and
consume in the act of dreaming only a small fraction of one minute.
“I sometimes seemed to have lived for seventy or one hundred years in
one night,” says De Quincy, the prince of dreamers: “nay, I sometimes
had feelings representative of a millennium passed in that time.” Dr.
Macnish, from whose delightful essays several of these illustrations have
been taken, within an hour dreamed that he made a voyage, remained some
days in Calcutta, returned home, then took ship for Egypt, visited the
cataracts of the Nile, Cairo, and the Pyramids; “and, to crown the whole,
had the honor of an interview with Mehemet Ali, Cleopatra, and Alexander
the Great!” A gentleman dreamed that he had enlisted as a soldier,
performed many military duties, deserted, been apprehended, carried back,
tried, condemned to be shot, and at last led out for execution. His eyes
were blindfolded; after an interval of awful agony he heard the rattle
of the fatal musketry, and awoke—to find that “a noise in the adjoining
room had at the same moment produced the dream and awakened him.” We
have, perhaps, all, though in less degree, had similar experience of the
rapidity of thought in dreaming.

There is hardly any limitation to the fancy of the dreamer; he may even
lose his identity, and for the nonce personate Cæsar, or Cromwell, or
the King of the Cannibal Islands. It is said, however, that no man or
woman ever dreamed that he or she belonged to the other sex; although
the strange notion that the dreamer is a fish, or beast, or bird, is not
infrequent. Usually, however, “we are somewhat more than ourselves in our
dreams.” The tired school girl cries herself to sleep over some difficult
arithmetical task, dreams, perhaps, that her teacher assists her, and
wakens with the correct “answer” in her mind. So Condorcet successfully
pursued his most intricate calculations in his dreams; and Benjamin
Franklin has acknowledged his indebtedness to his midnight visions for
the solution of many grave political problems which had hopelessly
taxed his reason during his waking hours. An austere philosopher, who
ordinarily seemed to be destitute of risibility, tells us that in one
dream he could compose a whole comedy, witness its performance, relish
its jests, and laugh himself awake.

But to the marvels of Dreamland there is no end. “Strange it is,” says
the poetical essayist, “when regal Mab rides forth, drawn by a team of
little atomies across men’s noses as they lie asleep, galloping through
lovers’ brains, and over courtiers’ knees, and lawyers’ fingers, and
soldiers’ necks, and ladies’ lips!” Strange, indeed, and blessed as
strange. Let us thank God for our dreams. They are the great levelers of
life. The cruel distinctions of wealth and blood are forgotten, and our
personal disadvantages are set aside. The bashful stutterer talks with
the grace and fire of Demosthenes, and the wasted invalid regains his
pristine vigor. In dreams

    “The child has found its mother,
       And the mother finds her child,
     And dear families are gathered,
       That were scattered o’er the wild.”

The poor drudge who toils wearily through twelve long hours for the mere
necessities of life, can at night sit on a golden throne and dispense
royal favors. The ambitious soldier can fight bloodless contests, and win
empires, without staining his soul with the crimes of a Napoleon.

And if the dreams of the mass of mankind be so full of wonders, what must
be those of the giants of intellect and passion? What exquisite sensuous
delight must have thrilled the poet Coleridge during his vision of Xanadu
of Kubla Khan, when the mere fragmentary strains that he then heard sung
are so beautiful! How wild and spectral, how awfully magnificent, were
the dreams of Albrecht Dürer, judged by the allegorical pictures in which
he has attempted to reproduce them! If to read of the visions of a Bunyan
or a De Quincy thrills us, what must it have been to experience them—to
have floundered with Pliable in the Slough of Despond, and stood with
Christian on the Delectable Mountains—to have been “grinned at, stared
at, chattered at,” by thousands of alligators such as the “Opium-eater”
describes, or to have with him “sunk fathoms deep in Nilotic mud.”

Physiologists have made many curious and valuable observations bearing on
our subject. They have found that when a sleeper dreams, the brain swells
greatly, and becomes red in color, while the brain of the dreamless
sleeper is “pale, shrunken, and bloodless;” they have shown that, from
physical causes, he that sleeps on his left side will have visions of
fantastic incongruities, while the dreams of the slumberer who reclines
on his right side will at least be logical and self-consistent; they
have divided “the exciting causes of dream-images into peripheral and
central stimulations”—that is, into those caused by muscular movements
or positions, and by the hygienic condition of the various organs of
the body, and those which originate somewhat mysteriously, in the

After all, however, very little is known of the true philosophy of
dreaming; and perhaps the quaint fancy of Sir Thomas Browne may not be as
utterly absurd as at first it seems—that this life is but a dream, and
that death will be an agreeable awaking to our real life, whose past is
now forgotten only because we are now asleep.




    Iss was gar ist,
    Trink’ was klar ist,
    Sprich was wahr ist.

    —_German Dining Room Motto._

The central work-room of the house is the kitchen. There labor is
continuous. There three times a day, year in and year out, the meals
must be cooked, and the pots and pans washed. Slovenly work there tells
all over the house. An ill-regulated kitchen involves poor cookery and
waste, and cheapens the most artistically arranged dining room. But the
importance of good, careful and intelligent cookery hardly comes within
the limits of this article.

It behooves us, however, to insist upon it that the room where so much
of the necessary work of home is carried on, should be airy, sunny,
cheerful, well stocked with the implements essential to the lightening of
kitchen labor, and adapted in every way to the comfort of its occupants.

A good farmer supplies himself with tools and machines for his farm work;
but his wife often toils with cracked stove, green wood, and a scant
supply of kettles and pans, when only a slight outlay would save her many
weary steps and much worry of mind.

The kitchen should have painted walls that can be readily washed. Indeed,
every surface in the room should be washable. There should be plenty
of closet room, a large sink, a large work-table, comfortable chairs,
at least one easy chair, a shelf for books, and room in the window for
a few plants if desired. A picture or two would not be out of place if
protected by glass, nor an occasional motto—like the charge to the German

    “Köchin, denk’ an deine Pflicht,
     Vergiss du heut’ das Salz ja nicht.”

Or the admirable rules for home living which Dr. Watts wrote for children:

    “I’ll not willingly offend
        Nor be easily offended;
     What is ill I’ll strive to mend,
        And endure what can’t be mended.”

There are many small houses where either kitchen or sitting-room has to
serve also as dining room. Any sensible woman can make shift to get along
comfortably in this way and eat her bread and honey with the queen in the
kitchen when necessity compels, so long as she has neatness and despatch
for hand-maidens. One large, light room is often far better than two
small dark ones; but where a room does double duty there can hardly be
unity in the arrangement and furnishing.

To my question, “What is of most importance in the dining room?” a
man made answer, “the kitchen,” and a woman, “the outlook.” No doubt
the provision of wholesome and abundant food for her family is the
housewife’s first duty, but while fully endorsing the masculine paradox,
we must not ignore the woman’s plea for a cheerful outlook.

If possible, the dining room should have as good a view as the house
affords. Let it look out on the orchard, the sea shore, or the distant
hills, rather than the stable or the clothes line. The view of a
terraced, box-bordered garden, of a tulip bed and apple blooms, as seen
from an old-fashioned country house dining room is one of the sweet
memories which childhood has stored up for the enrichment of my coming
years. Three times a day the household gathers here to take the goods
the gods provide them, and then, if ever, they should enjoy a little
leisure, and be in the mood to appreciate the best of the out-of-door
world that surrounds them. A good view is better than pictures or
stained glass for a dining room; but when a good view is out of reach
and an unsightly one is unavoidable, then stained glass comes to our
aid. If that darkens the room too much, ground or cathedral glass panes
can transmit the light, surrounded by a border of color. That would be
over-leaping the obstacle; but it can be quietly set aside by means
of a pretty sash or half-sash curtain of Madras muslin or any pretty,
thin, colored curtain material. A curtain is a simpler, franker,
and consequently better solution of this difficulty than any of the
pasted-on, semi-translucent, paper cheats that simulate stained glass

    “In faint disguises that could ne’er disguise.”

Let honest poverty hold up his head and hang up a width or two of ten
penny Turkey-red calico by the aid of button rings and a brass wire,
so that it can be drawn across the lower sash, and if the color be in
keeping with the room, it will look better than anything more pretentious
and less true. Good stained glass, such as Mr. Tiffany or Mr. La Farge
devise, is very beautiful, but like Adolphus’s tea-pot, it has to be
lived up to throughout the room, and so is more expensive than in its
first cost. The fine view, however, involves no extra outlay, and beside
adding good cheer to that which the housewife spreads upon her board, it
is no inconsiderable factor in the table-talk of the year, helping not a
little in the entertainment of guests.

The dining room should also be conveniently near the kitchen, either in
point of fact, or made practically near in the case of a basement kitchen
by a “lift” or dumb waiter. The kitchen should not open directly into the
room, or all the kitchen odors will abide there. An intermediate pantry
or entry way shuts off many of the smells of cooking, and a small slide
through which dishes can be passed serves to the same end, as it obviates
the necessity of keeping the door ajar while food is carried back and

How to light the dining room is a question of some importance. There
should be light enough to show the table to advantage, but it should be
possible to darken the room with shutters or blinds in the inevitable
summer warfare with flies. A room looks better, artistically, where the
light enters from but one side. Cross lights are the artist’s abhorrence.

In city houses a conservatory built out on one side gives a pleasant
suggestion of the woods and out-of-doors, and at the same time gives
the right effect of light and shade to the room. Kerosene lamps are not
ornaments to the dining or tea table. They are cumbersome, malodorous,
and their room is better than their company. A chandelier over the table,
burning gas or holding lamps, is the easiest and cheapest arrangement,
but not the most picturesque. The prettiest light of all, and probably
the most expensive, as the prettiest things are apt to be, is given by
wax candles from tall candlesticks. Four of these judiciously arranged on
the table will give an abundance of light for those seated about it, if
additional light be provided for the rest of the room by a lamp on the
sideboard or in side sconces.

A dining room should not be too warm. It is an old boarding house trick
to so heat the dining room as to take away all appetite for food. The
room should, in fact, be kept a little cooler than the rest of the
house, partly because the lower temperature provokes appetite, and in
part because on leaving the table it is natural to feel a sensation of
chilliness, the blood of the body being called aside to the business of
digestion, so that it is comfortable after eating to step into a room a
few degrees warmer than that in which one has been seated.

The color of the dining room depends upon its size, exposure, and upon
whether it must do double duty as sitting room, or library. Dark, rich
furniture and wall-hangings have been the rule for dining rooms for
many a year. The larger the room, the more elaborate, rich and dark can
be the furnishing, but a dark room that hardly gets a glimpse of sun
throughout the year must be made sunny by plenty of yellow in woodwork,
or walls; bright, sunny pictures with gilt frames; and by the glitter of
brass or of the pretty, yellow English ware with which the china shops
are aglow this year. For rich wall effects Japanese or leather paper is
good, Lincrusta better, the latter being a comparatively new material,
in substance something like linoleum, washable and very durable (so the
manufacturers assert), having figures raised upon it, and coming in good
designs and colors. With elaborately decorated walls, plain curtains
are called for. Where the walls are to be furnished freely with oil
paintings, let the pictures supply the decoration, and let the walls be
as unobtrusive as possible—only ensuring that they are of a good back
ground color; sage, olive-green, olive-brown, or dull red, in paint or

Family portraits, if good, are not out of place in the dining room;
but poor, old photographs in bungling, black walnut frames should be
preserved in the private apartments of those who value them. They are
never decorative; nor are pictures popularly known as dining room
pictures much more pleasing. The effigy of a silver salver of leaden hue
loaded with fruits of all climes, with a decanter of wine and a half
empty glass, of fishes hanging by their gills, or dead ducks, each from
one web-footed leg, is not nearly so attractive as a good portrait,
landscape, _genre_ picture or flower painting, however good practice the
manufacture of such studies may be in the art schools. I know a dining
room where, outrivaling some amateurish fruit painting, an engraving
after Rosa Bonheur of a shepherdess with her sheep has been a daily
delight for years, and another where the only picture space in the room,
that directly over the mantel shelf (the walls being darkly paneled), is
filled with a water color copy of Sir Joshua’s “Angel Choir” that seems
fairly to light and hallow the air around it, like the glories round the
heads of saints.

An over-mantel is appropriate in the dining room if anywhere, as it
affords shelf room for choice china or glass that ought to be seen. A
little ingenuity can go a great way in dressing up a commonplace shelf
so that it shall have dignity and importance. I have known one to have
a very aristocratic air which was only an adaptation of part of a
four-post bedstead, graceful, slender posts standing on either side of
the fireplace, built up with shelves of varying width and length.

If books in every room are a prime necessity, as our model home-maker
assures us, then there should be at least one book-shelf in each room.

“Pray what is that book-shelf for?” asks the visitor while seated at the
dinner table in “The Poet’s House,” which Mr. Scudder has described for
us. “Books of reference,” said Stillwell, promptly. “It’s extraordinary
how many little questions come up for discussion at the table, questions
of dates, of names, of quotations. So I keep a dictionary, a book
of dates, a brief biographical dictionary, a dictionary of poetical
quotations, and one or two other such books at hand. It is the sideboard
to our mental feast. We don’t keep everything we possibly need on the
table itself.” And others beside poets would find such a shelf of great

There should be at least a square of carpet in the dining room under the
table, not only for warmth and the look of comfort, but to prevent the
noise of chairs scraping over the bare floor. In other rooms small rugs
scattered here and there may suffice, though one large rug is always more
restful to the eye, but a table around which a family gathers, either in
dining or sitting room should for these obvious reasons always stand
upon carpet. Where the floor is carpeted throughout and a crumb-cloth or
drugget used, pains should be taken in the selection of the latter to get
the colors in harmony with those of the carpet. Cheap druggets as a rule
are so glaring and crude in color that any carpet that respects itself
loses tone at once, and appears thoroughly commonplace when forced into
association with the blowzy things. The patient seeker, however, may be
rewarded in his search by finding a “Bocking” or drugget that shall be
as thoroughly becoming to his carpet as is the tidy morning apron to
the neat-handed Phyllis who wears it. Since the days of King Arthur the
round table has been held the most delightful for social and hospitable
purposes. With a small family there is a cosiness about a round table
that is very charming, but when one is forced to enlarge the circle a
small, round table can not be expanded to the required circumference. A
solid table seven feet long and four feet wide will seat six comfortably,
and eight without crowding, and is of delightful dimensions to sit about
of an evening, when work or study is toward. If such a table be used (an
Eastlake table, our furniture dealers would call it, since Mr. Eastlake
inveighed so severely against what he styled the “telescope” table) there
should be two side tables made four feet long which could be of service
in the room, standing against the wall, but on occasion could be used to
enlarge the dining table. H. J. Cooper, an authority on house-furnishing,
after speaking of Mr. Eastlake’s objections and suggestions, says:

“We do not find, however, any great revolution in the matter of expanding
dining tables, and are inclined to think their great convenience will
prove a barrier to any wide-spread reform.”

A good table should be polished, not varnished, and protected when not in
use by a substantial cover.

Side tables are serviceable when one’s space or purse will not allow of
a sideboard, but sideboards are useful articles of furniture, and look
better when made of the same wood as table and chairs. They should be
simple of construction, with straight rather than curved lines, smooth
surfaces, and with drawers easily get-at-able and lightly pull-out-able.

The sideboard should hold the table linen for daily use, the daily silver
and cutlery, teacups and saucers. If, in addition, it can find room for a
convenient box of biscuits, pot of ginger, or any simple refreshment for
the late worker who likes a bite before going to bed, so much the better
will it serve its purpose as a sideboard. Our grandmothers kept here
decanters and wine glasses, but in these days of the W. C. T. U. wine is
seldom found standing out boldly in sight in the dining room. In addition
to the sideboard a small table or a butler’s tray should be ready to hand
to hold dishes or food that must be used in the table service.

Cabinets for the display of china, closets let into the chimney for the
safe keeping of nice glass, should feel themselves at home here, while
plaques and old china plates seem to belong of right to the dining room,
and can be arranged over doors by means of a tiny balustrade, or on the
frieze, or as over-mantel decorations, while choice cups and saucers can
fill the cabinet spaces. In the breakfast room, where I am now writing
(not my own), I have just counted fifty-nine pieces of glass or pottery
which hang on the wall or stand exposed on sideboard, mantel or shelves,
besides the tiles of the fireplace, two small cabinets, each holding
a half dozen rare and precious Japanese cups and saucers protected by
glass, and two large cabinets filled to overflowing with specimen china,
and yet the room does not seem at all overstocked with ceramic treasures.

Growing plants are charming dining room ornaments, but will only thrive
where a minimum of gas and furnace heat and a maximum of sunshine and
fresh air is supplied, with regular attention as to water and shower
baths. They are sure, however, to reward painstaking care.

Decorative china and plants, however, are luxuries, though less or more
within the reach of all. A screen, though usually looked upon as a
luxury, is in the dining room almost a necessity, and it can be bought or
manufactured at home for a nominal sum. Many a guest has been well nigh
martyred at table with a fire in the rear and sunlight to the fore, whose
meals might have been made a delight by a careful adjustment of shades
and blinds and the judicious intervention of a screen between chair and
grate. Doors must needs be left open as servants pass back and forth, and
a screen between the mistress’s chair and the door may save her from many
an annoying influenza.

A thick, white cloth of felt or Canton flannel should be spread over the
table before it is “set.” This not only protects the polish of the table
top, but makes the linen cloth lie much better, and appear to the best

Table linen should, so far as possible, be spotless. Fine damask is
costly, but a clean, coarse cloth looks better than a fine one soiled and
tumbled. It is true that table linen is worn more by washing than by use.
Still it must be washed—at least that is the American theory. I have sat
at a table in Saxony where the table linen bore the date of more than
a century before, but there the wash was perhaps a semi-annual affair,
and a breakfast cloth was made to serve from Easter till July, breakfast
being only a simple meal of a roll and a cup of coffee.

We can lay down no further rule for the changing of table linen. It is
perhaps better to keep breakfast and dinner cloths separate, the finer
for dinner, that being the more formal meal; tea and luncheon can be
served, if one wishes, without table cloth. If care be taken to lay a
carving cloth or napkin under the meat platter, or a tea cloth where tea
or coffee are to be poured, breakfast and dinner cloths can be kept fresh

Some writers more nice than wise sneer at napkin rings, implying that
no table linen should be used more than once without washing. But there
are few families of any size that can afford such lavish laundry work.
A family of six would require twenty-one dozen napkins in constant use,
if given out fresh each meal. When the same napkin must serve for more
than one meal, a napkin ring is the simplest and surest way of securing
each person his own. Of course rings are only for family use, not for the
transient guest, and they would be out of place at a dinner party.

Table cloths should be done up with a suspicion of starch, not enough to
stiffen them, but with only so much as will make them iron well. Heavy
linen looks and wears better than light. Large napkins are for dinner
use. Delicate doilies of fine drawn linen work or silk embroidery are
laid under finger bowls to protect the choice china plates on which the
bowls rest. This doily should be laid to one side with the bowl, it
should not be used as a fruit doily. I have seen an absent minded man
roll up in a crumpled heap one of these delicate lace affairs costing
five dollars, perhaps, and then carelessly wipe hands and moustache with
it, while the mistress of the house looked on with an assumed placidity
which spoke volumes for her powers of self-control.

The finger bowl is not an elegant affectation, but is a genuine comfort
where fruit or sweets are served. Fruit napkins should be used to save
large damask ones from stains.

If the first requirement for a well ordered table is cleanliness in
damask and dishes, the second is tidiness and regularity of arrangement.
If mats are placed under hot dishes let them lie on the square, and let
the plates be put on at regular intervals, and in a straight line. A
hotel waiter who flings plates and plated ware at the table by a dextrous
twirl of the wrist is no model for the home table setter. Spoons for soup
and dessert should lie to the right of the plate, knives above, forks
to the left; this is the time honored usage, and it makes the labor of
serving dessert easier if all knives, spoons and forks to be used during
the meal are laid at the first by each plate. Tumblers stand to the right
a little above the plate, butter-plates in a corresponding position to
the left. Avoid the use of what are popularly known as “individual”
dishes upon the table, such as butter plates, salt cellars, sauce plates,
and so forth. This is another hotel fashion that should not find its way
into the home. It is better to use a larger plate and take a greater
variety of food upon it. The little butter dishes are really needed
only with warmed plates; and beans, peas, corn, and other vegetables in
separate dishes, about a dining plate, make a table look very untidy,
and make extra and unnecessary work for the dishwasher. An English lady
who visited me a year ago took home to London with her as an American
curiosity a set of butter plates which, so she writes, she has not yet
found opportunity to use, not having had any American visitors.

Steel knives are better, and where meats are to be served are more
desirable in every way than plated ones, the latter being a device to
save the labor of “scouring” with Bristol brick.

Flowers or fruit are never out of place upon the dining room table; a
showy _épergne_ is not necessary, for a pretty growing plant always makes
a good center piece, and a single rose in a slender glass adds flavor to
the best cooked meal. My grandmother of blessed memory used to say that
the simpler the meal the more pains should be taken to serve it daintily.
Broiled salt pork and baked potatoes, according to her theory, could be
so bravely set out upon the table as to make a meal fit for gods and men.
A parsley bed is of special service in decking out a simple dinner, and
celery tops are not to be despised.

The heads of the household should face each other from the ends and
not the sides of the table, if the meals are served English fashion,
vegetables and meat being placed upon the table. No table can be set
with any air of elegance when the meat platter or the tea equipage stand
in the middle of one side. It makes comparatively little difference,
however, when meals are served _à la Russe_, that is with meats and
vegetables placed at side tables and passed by servants, while only
fruit, bon-bons and ornamental dishes appear upon the board. The latter
fashion seems to be obtaining in America, and an intelligent diner-out
remarked in my hearing the other day, that fifty years hence no meats at
all would be carved at table. This Russian fashion is pretty and wholly
luxurious, as it removes all possible demands for service or helpfulness
from those seated at table, and devolves it all upon servants. The
fashion requires more and better trained servants than most of us have at

The bane of modern entertainments is the enormous number of courses
that style makes essential. Women with but one or two servants at the
most feel called upon to give luncheon or dinner parties, and course
follows course, many of them sent away scarce tasted, and the home
silver and china not sufficing for the occasion, must be eked out by
borrowing or by expeditious washings between the courses. The giving of
such entertainments by persons of moderate means exhausts nerves as well
as purse. Let us wisely give up aping rich people’s ways, and aim for
simplicity in our table service.

Colored table ware is cheerier upon the table than white. Very pretty
English or American sets can be obtained at low prices. The Canton china
(willow pattern) comes in good shapes, is of good color and standard
design, and single pieces can always be bought to replace what has been
broken, but

    “Porcelain by being pure is apt to break,”

Or at least to chip at the edges, and for every-day use pretty crockery
is good enough unless a painstaking and cautious hand wields the
dish-mop. The more covered with decoration (design and color being good)
the prettier will be the effect of the ware when in use.

It is not at all necessary to have all the dishes upon the table of the
same style and pattern. Harlequin sets can often be brought together
so as to combine harmoniously, and pretty single pieces can be bought
marvelously cheap. Amateur painted china is generally too costly for
daily use, and when good should be treated with respect.

Plain silver is on the whole better for plain livers than that which is
more elaborately ornamented, and absolutely plain solid silver forks
and spoons can never be out of taste, and can easily be kept tidy with
whiting. Electro-silicon and patent cleaners of that ilk injure silver
and are ruinous to plated ware.

The beauty of silver and pottery depends first upon their form and
adaptation to use; secondly, upon their decoration. Delicate chasings
and thin _repoussé_ work are naturally as appropriate to silver as good
shapes and _flat_ decoration are to earthen ware.

As to glass, there is a crystal craze at present, and “hob-nail” glass
glitters on all tables. Miss Lucy Crane, in her lecture on “Form,” says
(and I quote freely because her words are timely):

“As the beauty of glass consists in its transparency and lightness, and
its capability of being twisted or blown or moulded into a multitude of
delicate forms, it early occurred to the manufacturing mind that if made
thick and solid, and cut into facets it would resemble crystal; and thus
it has come to be a fixed idea that hard glitter is its most valuable
quality, so it is made inches thick, and pounds heavy, to enhance its
brilliancy; and being one of the most fragile of substances, it must
be engraved with people’s crests and monograms as if it were intended
to carry down the name of the family for generations to come! Being of
its nature transparent, it must be rendered opaque of set intention by
coloring matter, and then painted and gilded! Since at its strongest
glass can never be anything but fragile, at least let it keep the beauty
belonging to fragility; since it is naturally transparent, let the light
be seen streaming through it, sometimes delicately tinted, sometimes
iridescent, and, instead of being cut, let it be blown and twisted into
the thousand delicate shapes to which it easily lends itself, and of
which in the Venetian glass of a bygone day, and in its present revival,
there are such delightful examples.”

I saw last evening a handful of flasks on their way to the laboratory,
whose soap bubble effects were far more beautiful than all the cold
glitter of all the “hob-nail” ware that Sandwich has ever produced.

In a boarding house it may economize labor to set the table over night,
but it is pleasanter and more homelike to have it set fresh and clean
with the morning light; beside, to have the dining table clear of an
evening is often a great family convenience.

The dining room affords grand opportunity for the domestic artist. The
bread board, bread and carving knife handles, salad fork and spoon,
all offer employment to the carver’s tool, to say nothing of cabinet,
sideboard and over-mantel. Tiles for tea pot rests and all sorts of
china call for the decorator’s skillful brush, while tea cloths and
coseys, doilies, mats, centerpieces and carving cloths all await the
embroiderer’s needle.

Arise, my young readers, and take your tools in hand, for home work is
the fairest adorning of the homelike house.


Mexico is a country reaching from the Gulf on its eastern coast to the
Pacific Ocean, almost 2,000 miles, with a breadth varying from 140 to
750 miles. The whole territory of Montezuma, at the time of the Spanish
conquest, was not less than 1,600,000 square miles, more than one half
of which has been obtained by the United States by purchase, enforced
treaties, or otherwise. The plains on the coast are low, marshy, and in
the summer and autumn malarial diseases are very prevalent. Strangers
can visit the place with safety only about four months in the year, when
severe northern gales cool the heated atmosphere and dissipate the seeds
of disease.

There are 6,000 miles of coast line, but, considering its extent, it does
not furnish many good harbors.

The main body of the land is an elevated plateau, traversed by chains
of mountains, some of which are of extraordinary height. The eastern
Cordillera, or chain, that runs nearly north from the initial point has
an elevation of 6,000 feet, the western nearly 10,000. Traversing the
longitudinal range, there are several cross ranges containing some of
the highest volcanoes on the continent. They are all quiescent now, and
none of them have been active during the present century. There are not
many lakes, and none that are very large. The basins of some, though of
sufficient extent, are so arid, and evaporation is carried on so rapidly
that the water in them has, at times, quite disappeared. Neither are the
rivers of much importance as thoroughfares. The Rio Grande, forming the
boundary between Mexico and Texas, is the longest (1,500 miles), but
navigable only for a short distance. Those in the mountain region are
impetuous torrents, larger near their source than afterward, as they lose
more by absorption, in passing through arid portions of the table-lands,
than they gain by drainage, except in the rainy season. After plowing
deep furrows, and cutting out immense ravines among the foot hills of the
mountains, some are partly exhausted, drawn into reservoirs and canals
constructed for purposes of irrigation, and spread out into sluggish
bayous, of no great depth, before they reach the sea. The lack of
navigable streams has been seriously felt.

Climate, other things being equal, decides the flora of a country, and in
this respect Mexico has many advantages. Were the country level from the
Gulf to the ocean, it would have mostly a tropical climate, and produce
only the vegetation of the tropics. But, rising in successive stages to
a height of 19,720 feet, the temperature changes with the elevation,
and a large portion enjoys the climate of the temperate zones. The
low lying region near the coast, called the “hot country,” has a rich
soil, a humid atmosphere, and abundant rains, that perpetually nourish
a rank tropical vegetation. At an elevation of 3,000 feet we reach a
delightful zone where the extremes of heat and cold are unknown, the
temperature ranging from fifty to eighty-six degrees. Here the forms
of vegetable life, mingling those of the lower and upper regions, have
a charming variety. Crossing this wide belt, with its luxuriance in
things of surpassing beauty and usefulness, and advancing gradually
till the mountains begin to show their rugged forms, at an elevation of
8,000 feet a colder climate is reached, with a corresponding change in
the vegetation that now ranges from the corn, barley, and other useful
cereals and hardier fruits to the cryptogamia of the mountain top. Take
it all through, from coast to mountain, it is quite safe to say Mexico
has a flora not excelled by any other country of the same dimensions. And
it has increased with the advance of civilization. Many plants, flowering
shrubs, and fruit-bearing trees that were not indigenous, but successive
contributions from the Old World, have a vigorous growth, and produce
abundantly. Apples, pears, peaches, cherries, oranges and grapes, with a
variety of choice East India fruits, are widely distributed through the
country. In the coast region, and to an elevation of about 1,500 feet,
they have cotton, cocoanuts, cocoa, cloves, vanilla, nutmegs, peppers,
and other spices of commerce, beside the fruits of nearly all tropical
countries of the east and west. Higher up they have sugar, coffee,
indigo, rice, tea, bananas, and an abundant supply of edible roots, such
as yam, arrow-root, sweet potato, and all the fruits of America, Central
Asia, and Barbary.

From a partial catalogue of the productions of the country there is
evidence that its agricultural possibilities are very great. Nearly
all fruits and grain, indeed, nearly all plants that grow, are either
indigenous to the country or may find a congenial home within its limits.
Some parts of the upland require irrigation to make them productive,
and, if the dry season is prolonged, water must be stored in basins for
the use of stock. The neglect of this, especially where the land has
been long cleared, causes barrenness, and gives the country a desolate

The agriculture of the country has never been of a high order, though the
Aztecs, at the time of the Spanish invasion, were an agricultural people,
and about as well acquainted with the arts and processes of husbandry
as most nations of the East were at that day. Having incorporated in
their communities the shattered remains of the old Tolteck tribes they
had acquired considerable civilization, and were not, as the invaders
supposed, rude nomads, or even herdsmen, but cultivators of the soil,
and fixed in the possession of their estates. Theirs was not a skillful
husbandry, since necessity, mother of inventions, had not greatly
improved either their methods or their instruments. They had no plows,
harrows, or cultivators, but used hoes, knives, and sickles made of
copper. In planting, the earth was loosened with a hoe or stick, and the
seed, when dropped, covered with the foot.

The present state of agriculture, though much improved, is still very
inferior, and the production, reported in the last census, $177,451,985,
might, from the same areas, be greatly increased. Before the recent
advent of railroads those far in the interior had no adequate means for
exporting the excess of their products, and little inducement to raise
more than they needed to consume.

Mexican forests furnish in abundance nearly, if not all, the useful
timber trees of the north, and those valuable woods that grow only in the
tropics. Some sixty varieties used for timber are mentioned, and twenty
suitable for the finest style of interior finishing and furnishing.

The mines of Mexico have long been famous, and are not surpassed in
richness by those of any other country in the world. Early in the
fifteenth century the inhabitants had accumulated wealth from that
source, and the glitter of their gold led the avaricious Spaniards to
undertake the conquest of the country. Just how long the mines had been
worked before the invaders came is not known. After a change of owners,
and the improved methods they adopted, the product was greatly increased,
and ever since, though subject to many interruptions on account of
political disturbances, it has been larger than in any other country
except the United States. The Spanish settlers at once engaged in working
the mines of Tasco, Pachuca, Zacatecas, and Guanajuato. Cortes selected
for himself and worked the gold mines of Techuantepec, and the silver
mines of Zacatecas, that were found productive. The mine at Real del
Monte, near the city of Mexico, has yielded largely, and enriched several
successive owners. And the principal vein at Guanajuato, noted for its
richness, is described as ten yards wide, and has been worked a distance
of more than eight miles. In the early part of this century the annual
product of these mines exceeded twenty-five million dollars, and they
seem inexhaustible. The whole of the gold and silver taken from the mines
of Mexico up to 1870 was estimated at $4,200,000,000. The seven principal
mines of San Luis Potosi are said to be very productive, and the whole
of Sinaloa abounds in silver mines. In Sonora there are one hundred and
forty-four operated, chiefly producing gold, and a much larger number in
which, though productive, work is suspended. Many large mining districts
are simply located, and their development delayed, awaiting more ready
means of access to them. That country alone, probably, could furnish
the world a full supply of the precious metals for centuries, or until
they become as plenty and cheap as they were in Jerusalem in the time
of Solomon’s reign. Mexico has not only mines of gold and silver, but
the country abounds in other minerals of no less importance. Iron, tin,
copper, lead, mercury, cinnabar, and nearly all the known metals are more
or less abundant. Coal is found in three or four districts, but to what
extent, or of what quality we are not informed. The products of the coal
fields, and their rich quarries, and of the oil belts, can be but little
known till their facilities for transportation are improved.

The roads constructed as thoroughfares of travel and commerce will modify
the industries of the country through which they pass. Mining and stock
raising, already extensive, will be increased. Farming and farms, such
as we have in the States, will be common, and, as the resources of the
country become better known, many enterprising men will be attracted to
the Mexican plateaux; society will improve, the reign of superstition
will cease, and a free government for an intelligent Christian people,
though for a time struggling against chronic tendencies to revolution,
will become established, and strong as it is liberal.

Mexico encourages immigration, but, naturally enough, prefers those
of the Latin race, as more like the native population. Still, having
friendly relations with the United States, and greatly improved
opportunities for intercourse, prejudices will be overcome, barriers that
have hindered immigration taken down, and perfect liberty of conscience
proclaimed through all the land, to all the inhabitants thereof.



    Are not those wild steeds champing on the beach,
      Rearing and splashing on the lonesome shore,
    The main land seeking frantic’ly to reach,
      Their white manes gleaming like the frost wreaths hoar?

    Steeds of the sea are they that tireless ever
      Beat with their sounding hoofs the hard sea sand,
    Lashed onward by the blast, with fierce endeavor
      They vainly seek the quiet of the land.

    Type of that wild unrest that fills the soul:
      The waves of longing, mad desire, and strife,
    Whose undertone of sorrowfullest dole
      Is the sad voicing of the sea called Life.

    A type and yet unlike—there is a shore
      Where the wild sea forgets the tempest’s breath,
    And rests in lullful silence evermore
      Upon the wide, white, shining strand of death.

    O perfect peace! O blessed mystery!
      Where waves of longing cease their gainless quest,
    And on the still sands of eternity
      Do melt away in an eternal rest.



London and Paris, Vienna, Philadelphia and New Orleans share the honor of
having been selected as sites for the grandest displays of which modern
civilization is capable. This far-away city of the Southeast was selected
in view of the fact that it is the great metropolis of a vast and rapidly
developing portion of the Union, and to emphasize the fact that the time
has come when the past, with its mistakes and antagonisms should be left
behind, and also to encourage the rising industries of the entire South.
The general government did well when it extended most generous financial
aid to the enterprise. And should further need of such assistance be
developed, it is to be hoped that enough will be supplied to make the
Exposition a complete success.

The formal opening took place on December 16, 1884, by the President of
the United States. True, he was not present, and yet the touch of his
fingers set in motion the engine that drives a thousand whirling gears
and pulleys. Fifty years ago it would have taken President Jackson a
month to travel from Washington to New Orleans, but now, quicker than
the revolving planet turns upon its axis, the President, standing in his
office in Washington, executes his will in a city a thousand miles away.
This world used to be twenty-four thousand miles in circumference, and it
took six months to make a voyage around it. Now it has become so small
there are no distant lands; we are all neighbors, and crowded at that,
and thought, which is a part of man and the best part, travels round the
world in the twinkling of an eye. It is a great thing to live on so small
a world in such an age as this. Nowhere do such thoughts more forcibly
impress themselves upon the observer than in a World’s Exposition, for
here, side by side in friendly rivalry, are the people and productions
of almost all the nations of the earth. The Chinaman is here with his
hideous gods and all sorts of queer things, from ivory chopsticks to the
most elaborate porcelains. The men of Japan are found wherever there is
an honest dollar to be made. They bring things to show and to sell. With
their thin lips and sharp pointed noses, and keen, bright eyes, they
remind one of the shrewdest types of Yankee peddlers. Nobody expects to
get the better of one of these Yankees from the land of the rising sun.
Their ingenuity is surprising, and their powers of imitation are nearly
equal to those of the Chinese. With the inspiration which comes with
Christianity, it is safe to predict that a future of great promise is
the portion of this nation. The ubiquitous Turk is here with the same
articles, or their duplicates, that he has had in every exposition, and
which he is gradually introducing into state fairs. These institutions
of the present age must greatly stimulate the small industries of the
Turkish Empire, though some people have thought the Turks at Philadelphia
were, for the most part, born in Ireland, and these of New Orleans are
supposed to be native Creoles, but still they sell olive wood paper
weights, paper cutters, work boxes and trinkets of various sorts, said
olive wood having the reputation of coming from Jerusalem, and, to
support the reputation, being inscribed with divers Hebrew letters which
the sellers are unable to decipher. Of course the European nations are
represented, but not to so great an extent as at Philadelphia, and not
so fully as will be the case a month later. The foreign countries best
represented are our next door neighbors. Here is Jamaica, true to its
past and present, with an exhibition of all sorts of rum, from thirty
years old and less, in bottles and barrels of all shapes. It is put
up with a nicety and even elegance which would be worthy of something
better. Then she sends sugar and molasses, dye woods, coffee, cocoa,
and skins dressed and undressed, with samples of varied workmanship
in several departments. Mexico sends the military band of the Eighth
Regiment of cavalry, more than fifty pieces, and it does credit to that
Republic. There is an air of Spain about all the productions of Mexico,
whether it be the crude ore from her mines of gold and silver, or the
richly caparisoned saddles, which in beauty and comfort are unsurpassed.
Honduras, both Spanish and British, Guatemala, and Central America, add
largely to the extent and attractiveness of the display. No one can
carefully study the exhibits of these four last named countries without
being profoundly impressed with the idea that they must possess a wealth
of undeveloped resources which will, in the near future, attract the
attention of the civilized world. It is manifest that they have a soil of
exuberant fertility, and a climate that is free from the cold rigors of
the north and even from all dangers of frost, and that all circumstances
offer the promise of the maximum of results for the minimum of toil and
capital. It seems as if a good many of the physical conditions of the
Garden of Eden were still retained by these favored countries.

Nearly, if not quite all the states of our Union are represented, though
it is to be regretted that some of them, especially Massachusetts and
Pennsylvania, are deserving of severe criticism for the very meager
displays which they offer. The people of Massachusetts will have
more cause for shame than pride when they visit the spot where their
activities and achievements should be fairly and fully set forth. There
is no excuse for such a failure. Even little Rhode Island does better
than her proud neighbor. It is a Rhode Island Harris-Corliss engine
that drives the machinery, and the same State sends one of the grandest
locomotives that ever ran on rails. Connecticut, the land of notions and
wooden nutmegs, makes a fine show of her thread manufactures. The whole
process, from preparing the raw cotton to selling the thread in spools,
is displayed before the eyes of the admiring spectators. Not a few of the
Southern people are led to ask, as they see the thread making and, close
beside it, the weaving of cotton cloth, why should we send the cotton
we raise to the North, especially to the most distant eastern corner of
the North, and after the people there have made it into thread and cloth
bring the same cotton back again? Why pay them for transporting it both
ways and also for manufacturing it? It is well for them that they are
asking such questions. When people begin to inquire it is a sure sign
that they are getting ready to act. Soon we may expect to find them
making their own cloth and thread where the cotton is grown.

The great West is here in full force, the states west of the Mississippi
being especially prominent. It is not long since Kansas and Nebraska were
both included within the limits of “The Great American Desert,” on whose
sandy soil it was said not even grass could grow. But now from those same
arid plains come the best of corn and wheat, and all the other cereals,
with fruits and vegetables that are truly surprising. Such potatoes as
Oregon and Colorado send need at least such hills as those in which
eastern farmers raise similar crops. Think of potatoes ten inches long,
six inches wide, and four thick. But time and space would alike fail to
specify the abundance and variety of the horticultural and pomological
products of the West, this including all west of the Alleghenies, and
especially west of the Father of Waters.

One of the most important sources of national prosperity, growth, and
riches is to be found in our mineral deposits. Here we see rich specimens
of almost every known mineral, and all found within our own borders.
Within the list are tin, zinc, copper, silver, gold, iron and coal, with
unnumbered others; but these mentioned are the principal, and these are
the factors which enter largely into all problems of modern progress
and civilization; they add to the riches, if not the wealth of any
people; and wisely used, they will add to the wealth as well as riches.
The central and eastern portions of the Union abound in coal and iron;
these give strength and stability to the enterprise and industry of a
people. The Rocky Mountain range, in all its length, from its outlying
spur reaching through Alaska to Behrings Strait on the north, to the
Mexican border on the south, is full of gold and silver. These deposits
excite the ambition and stimulate the energies of the people; and it is
sure that the fact just stated will help the American people to find a
solution to the disgusting problem presented by Mormons. The heart of the
Rocky Mountains will not always be dominated by the most virulent enemies
of all that is truly American and Christian. The forests, with the
endless variety of woods they produce, never made a better showing than
at this Exposition. From Maine to California, and from Florida to Dakota,
various woods gathered from the plains, the mountains and the swamps show
the abundant supply with which the country is provided. The specimens are
prepared so that the trunk of the tree, with the bark covering it, the
wood showing the grain polished, and varnished and unvarnished, can all
be seen at a glance.

To most people of middle age or beyond, the collection of machinery is
peculiarly interesting. Young people have no personal knowledge of the
extraordinary progress of invention within the last twenty-five or thirty
years. Thirty years ago and men and women were reaping the ripened grain
just as the Greeks and Romans did 700 B. C., and just as the servants of
Boaz did on the plains of Bethlehem 1100 B. C., and, in fact, just as
Noah and his family did when they raised the first crop after they left
the ark. But there has been a revolution in the implements of husbandry.
A crooked stick is no longer used as a plow, but in the place of the
stick are plows of all shapes and sizes, gold mounted and nickel plated,
as ornamental as a parlor piano. The rude hoe is superseded by all
sorts of cultivators. Planting is done by machinery, elaborate, exact,
scientific and elegant. The great Daniel Webster when asked as to the
best way to hang a scythe replied the best way he had ever found (and
he was brought up on a farm) was to hang it over the limb of a tree. If
he could see these mowers and the many other machines to make hay, he
would conclude that he had reached the millennium as far as hay making
is concerned. So, too, the sickle has given way to the machinery drawn
by a span of horses, that can almost do the work required on a trot.
The machine reaps, gathers up and binds the bundles. Not long ago all
threshing was done by tying two straight sticks together with a string,
the best string was an eelskin dried and tanned, and then the farmer, in
dust and solitude, would pound away at the straw laid out upon the barn
floor; but here is a machine that will thresh and winnow wheat as fast
as six men can toss in the bundles to the man who feeds, and it will
take as many more to remove and stack the straw. And so it is with the
whole business of farming. What is true of the processes is equally true
of almost every other manual industry. It is a revelation of wonders to
walk about amid these exhibits of machinery, and remember that to all
intents and purposes the results we behold are the achievements of the
last fifty, and in most cases of the last thirty years. And it is equally
remarkable that most of these inventions are the offspring of American

It is most natural for every thoughtful person to ask, how is this and
why? The ready and superficial answer is that “Necessity is the mother
of invention,” and that the American people, by the conditions of life
surrounding them, have been compelled to invent. But surely such an
answer can not be considered satisfactory. There are two events in modern
times that no philosopher, physicist, ethnologist or theologian has up to
this time fully measured, and much less has been able to estimate their
relation to the future of humanity. The first of these events is the vast
migration of the peoples of the Old World to the New, by which, within
the last sixty years 12,000,000 of human beings, most of them young men
and women, have left Europe to make their homes in the United States.
God only knows the importance and significance of this movement. The
second marvelous event of these days in which we live is the sweep and
triumph of invention. It is worth considering that the steam power of the
United States represents more than the entire muscular force of all the
able-bodied men in the world. And the improvements in machinery represent
immeasurable conquests of mind in the realm of matter. It does not take
omniscience to apprehend, to some extent, the fact that these things must
affect the destiny of the whole family of mankind. With such thoughts as
these in mind one walks amid these minute or ponderous contrivances for
the application of power, with something of the reverence and wonder felt
by Moses when he stood in the presence of the bush that burned but was
not consumed. It is evident that God, the Eternal Ruler of all things, is
in the midst of these “flying wheels.”

One of the most interesting exhibits is that made of the live stock. The
spirited, clean-limbed trotting stock of Kentucky is here. The little
Shetland ponies are side by side with the vast Normans. Some of the full
grown ponies are so small that a strong man could easily toss one of them
to his shoulders, but a Norman that weighs more than 2,000 pounds is
altogether a different creature. The Clydesdales may be good for draft
horses, but their enormous fetlocks so disfigure their feet and legs as
to make them appear homely and uncouth. The Normans and Percherons do
not have this disfigurement. They are magnificent in size, some of them
black and glossy as anthracite coal, others are deep bay, almost a rich
mahogany color, others are dapple gray, from very dark to very light, and
two of them are as white as milk. To any one who loves horses this show
is worth the travel of a thousand miles. It would make the heart of Rosa
Bonheur glad to walk through the stables; and if the finest of the horses
could be grouped together under her artistic eye she would have all she
could wish for one of her famous pictures. These, or such as these, Job
had in mind when he wrote: “Thou hast given the horse strength, thou hast
clothed his neck with thunder. He mocketh at fear and is not affrighted,
he rejoiceth in his strength.”

Nothing less, in every praiseworthy point, is the exhibit of horned
cattle. Short Horns, Herefords, Devons, Jerseys, Holsteins, Galloways,
vie with each other in size and beauty. One ox weighs 2,990 pounds, and
many of them exceed 2,000 pounds. They are thoroughbreds, or carefully
crossed, and it is doubtful if finer specimens could be obtained, even
in the original habitats of the respective breeds. But I need not write
of jacks and jennies, of mules, and sheep, and hogs, they are all here,
after their kind, and worthy of admiration for the perfection they
display as the result of painstaking skill.

The educational interests are variously represented, and many of the
cities and educational societies, and even private or denominational
schools find space to show the methods and results of each. The
Freedman’s Aid Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church makes a
creditable display. The same is true of the American Missionary Society,
and of several Roman Catholic institutions. The facts, however, seem to
show that comparatively little progress has been made in the science
of education in the last twenty years. Whether we have reached the
ultimatum, so far as methods are concerned, is the question. The child
is yet to be born who knows his letters without being taught them.
The capital of each, at start, is nothing, and only one thing can be
learned at a time, and the human brain is only capable of a certain
amount of work. These are some of the limitations a good many educators
are inclined to overlook, and yet they will continue to confront all
practical people as long as the world stands. Would it not be well, at
about this time, for visionary people, with all sorts of educational
vagaries, to halt for a little while and inquire if a thorough, plain,
fundamental education is not the desideratum for the great majority of
the youth of every land. A good part of modern education partakes of
the frivolous character of the times. Substantial, honest, common-sense
education is vastly better than the illusions and flippancies of
sentimental theorists.

Speaking of the Freedman’s Aid Society as above, reminds one that the
colored people are admitted to participate in the Exposition. Well, the
world moves. We are not where we were twenty-five years ago. We are
coming up out of the wilderness. Shall we come “full as the moon, clear
as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?” Yes, if we come in
God’s order. No, if we do not. It always pays to do right. It never
pays to do wrong. No curse ever comes causeless. It is sometimes worth
remembering that the 7,000,000 colored people in the United States own
on an average property to the amount of $14, and it is not long since
they started with nothing. They will send some missionaries to Africa,
but most of them will live and die with us, and where we are buried there
will they be buried. It is time we recognized the fact that our God is
their God. Let us all rejoice that they have a place in the World’s
Exposition in New Orleans. We need them, they need us. Why not recognize
our brotherhood with them, and then together consecrate ourselves to the
glorious task of making this land the first and foremost of all the world
in the possession and exemplification of all Christian, and manly, and
patriotic graces? And why not join all forces, North, South, East and
West in one sublime and divinely led effort to carry the untold blessings
of education, morality, freedom, and Christianity to all peoples who
still sit amid the shadows of tyranny, superstition, poverty and
ignorance? This World’s Exposition will reach its highest and grandest
legitimate possibilities just in proportion as it shall help forward
these desires of all good men and these plans and purposes of the World’s



Western University of Pennsylvania.


In the early ages of the world eclipses were regarded as alarming
deviations from the established laws of nature, presaging great
calamities, as famines, pestilences and earthquakes; and among heathen
and superstitious peoples, as evidence of the displeasure of the Deity,
or deities. Herodotus tells of an eclipse of the sun occurring in 585 B.
C., which put an end to a battle between the Medes and Lydians, who were
so terrified by the day turning suddenly into night, that the contending
armies ceased fighting and concluded a peace which was cemented by a
twofold marriage. Another total eclipse of the sun occurred on March 1,
557 B. C., which so terrified the defenders of the Median city Larissa,
that they withdrew from its walls, thus permitting it to fall into the
hands of its besiegers, the Persians.

Among the Hindoos, it is imagined that the moon, as it covers from sight
the face of the sun, is a huge dragon which devours our luminary, and can
only be compelled to disgorge and then driven away “by the beating of
gongs and rending the air with discordant screams of terror and shouts of

An eclipse of the moon, March 1, 1504, was employed by Columbus to obtain
provisions for himself and his starving companions. Having been wrecked
on the coast of Jamaica, the natives refused him supplies. Knowing that
an eclipse of the moon was about to take place, he informed them that the
Great Spirit was displeased with them on account of their ill-treatment
of the Spaniards, and would manifest his displeasure by shutting out the
light of the moon. When the eclipse occurred, the Indians, terrified by
the sight, hastened to him with abundant supplies, beseeching him to
intercede with the Great Spirit in their behalf.

At the present day we look upon these wonderful events as the results of
natural causes, whose operations have long since been explained. We have
learned that an eclipse of the sun is merely the moon coming between the
earth and the sun, thus shutting off from the former all or a portion
of the light of the latter; that this event may occur as often as five
times, and never less than twice in one year; that it can only occur at
time of new moon; that it occurs only in limited portions of the earth
at any one time, and hence, that although happening so often, for any
given place it is a comparatively rare event—especially the last two of
the three kinds, _partial_, _annular_, and _total_; and that the portion
of the earth affected by a total eclipse does not exceed 170 miles in
diameter; or, in other words, the width of the moon’s shadow, when it
falls perpendicularly on the earth’s surface, is not more than 170 miles.
We have learned, also, that an eclipse of the moon is occasioned by the
earth coming between the moon and the sun; that this event can not occur
more than twice in any one year, and may not occur even once; that it
happens always at full moon; that it can be seen in all parts of the
earth where the moon is above the horizon at the time of the occurrence;
and for this reason, although it only happens in the ratio of 29 to 41 as
compared with eclipses of the sun, yet there are more lunar than solar
eclipses visible in any given place.

During the present month we shall have two eclipses, one of the sun and
one of the moon.


Will be eclipsed on the 16th, first contact taking place in longitude
136° 49.3´ west and latitude 13° 25.3´ north, at 8:26 p. m., Washington
mean time; and the last contact in longitude 32° 58.3´ west and latitude
49° 0.8´ north, at 1:22 a. m. on the 17th. The central eclipse will
begin in longitude 156° 39.5´ west and latitude 35° 54.5´ north at 9:48
p. m., and end in longitude 15° 4.6´ west, latitude 71° 24.1´ north, at
12:00, midnight. The path of the central eclipse in North America will
be about 35 miles wide, and will take a northeasterly course from a
point near Cape Mendocino on the western coast of California, and will
embrace Weaverville, Cal., Idaho and Boise cities in Idaho; Bannock City
and Gallatin, Montana; cross the boundary line between the United States
and the British Possessions in longitude about 105° west; pass through
the central part of Hudson’s Bay; cross Hudson Strait, Davis’s Strait,
and Greenland, ending as above in longitude 15° 4.6´ west, latitude
71° 24.1´ north. As this is an annular eclipse, the shadow of the moon
being too short to reach the earth, parties located in the path named
will see the edge of the sun like a bright ring around the dark shadow
of the moon. Persons outside of this path will see the sun more or less
eclipsed, dependent on their position. The beginning and end of the
eclipse at a number of places in the United States is given below, in
the local time of the cities mentioned: Bangor, Me., begins at 12:48 p.
m., ends at 3:23 p. m.; Concord, N. H., begins at 12:32 and ends at 3:07
p. m.; at Montpelier, Vt., lasts from 12:26 to 3:03 p. m.; Boston, Mass.,
from 12:36 to 3:09 p. m.; Providence, R. I., from 12:33 to 3:05 p. m.;
Hartford, Conn., from 12:25 to 2:58 p. m.; New York, 12:17 to 2:50 p.
m.; Trenton, N. J., 12:13 to 2:45; Pittsburgh, Pa., 11:38 a. m. to 2:18
p. m.; Wilmington, Del., from 12:07 to 2:40 p. m.; Charleston, S. C.,
from 11:37 a. m. to 2:04 p. m.; Columbus, Ohio, 11:20 a. m. to 2:01 p.
m.; Detroit, Mich., 11:21 a. m. to 2:04 p. m.; Indianapolis, Ind., 11:02
a. m. to 1:45 p. m.; Chicago, Ill., 10:55 a. m. to 1:40 p. m.; Jefferson
City, Mo., 10:24 a. m. to 1:09 p. m.; Lawrence, Kan., 10:07 a. m. to
12:52 p. m.; Omaha, Neb., 10:04 a. m. to 12:51 p. m.; St. Paul, Minn.,
10:26 a. m. to 1:13 p. m.; Des Moines, Ia., 10:18 a. m. to 1:04 p. m.;
Janesville, Wis., 10:47 a. m. to 1:33 p. m.; Santa Fé, New Mex., 8:59 to
11:49 a. m.; Wheeling, W. Va., 11:32 a. m. to 2:13 p. m.; Washington, D.
C., 11:58 a. m. to 2:31 p. m.; Louisville, Ky., 11:03 a. m. to 1:44 p.
m.; Denver, Col., 9:10 a. m. to 12:01 p. m.; Bismarck, Dakota, 9:44 a.
m. to 12:33 p. m.; New Orleans, La., 10:28 a. m. to 1:08 p. m. Our usual
notes for the sun are as follows: Rises on the 1st at 6:33; on the 16th,
at 6:09; and on the 30th, at 5:45 a. m.; and sets on the corresponding
days at 5:51, 6:10 and 6:22 p. m. respectively. Spring begins on the 20th
at 5:21 a. m.; northward movement, 12° 6´.


Will be partially eclipsed on the 30th, entering the earth’s shadow at
9:50 a. m. and leaving it at 1:02 p. m. Magnitude of the eclipse, .886.
As the moon does not rise with us on this date till between 6:00 and 7:00
p. m. it is evident that the eclipse will not be visible in the United
States. It will be visible, however, in the western Pacific Ocean, Asia,
and the eastern portions of Europe and Africa. On the 1st, moon rises at
6:42 p. m.; on the 15th, at 5:29 a. m.; and on the 31st, at 7:39 p. m. It
presents the following phases: Last quarter, 8th, 1:46 p. m.; new moon,
16th, 12:28 p. m.; first quarter, 23d, 12:15 p. m.; full moon, 30th,
11:32 a. m. Farthest from earth, 9th, 3:12 p. m.; nearest earth, 23d,
3:54 p. m.; least elevation, 9th, 30° 17´ 23´´; greatest elevation, 23d,
66° 41´ 16´´ (in latitude 41° 30´ north).


Has a direct motion of 52° 59´ 4´´; increase in diameter, one second; on
7th, at 9:00 a. m., 1° 3´ south of Mars; 13th, at 1:00 p. m., in superior
conjunction with the sun; 16th, at 8:02 p. m., 1° 37´ south of the moon;
28th, at 4:00 a. m., nearest the sun. On the 1st, 16th and 30th, rises at
6:23, 6:26 and 6:22 a. m. respectively; and sets on same days at 4:51,
6:16 and 7:42 p. m. Can be seen with naked eye on the last few evenings
of the month.


Continues as morning star throughout the month, but makes little display,
both on account of her distance from us and her proximity to the sun. Her
diameter diminishes from 10.6´´ to 10´´, and her time of rising is as
follows: On the 1st, 6:02 a. m.; on the 16th, 5:51 a. m.; on the 30th,
5:36 a. m.; on the 6th, at 6:00 a. m., she is farthest from the sun; on
15th, at 1:42 p. m., 3° 32´ south of moon; 27th, at 10:00 p. m., 36´
south of Mars. Her motion is direct and equals 37° 23´ 30´´.


Rises on the 1st at 6:32 a. m. and sets at 5:24 p. m.; on the 16th, rises
at 6:00 a. m. and sets at 5:28 p. m.; on the 30th, rises at 5:33 a. m.,
sets at 5:25 p. m. Motion direct and amounts to 22° 25´ 38´´; diameter,
4.2´´; on 7th, at 9:00 a. m., 1° 3´ north of Mercury; 16th, at 12:50 a.
m., 2° 34´ south of moon; 27th, at 10:00 p. m., 36´ north of Venus.


Lessens his diameter two seconds, and makes a retrograde motion of 2°
56´. On 27th, at 9:57 a. m., is 4° 40´ north of the moon. He rises on the
1st at 4:42 p. m. and sets on the 2d at 6:07 a. m.; rises on the 16th at
3:35 p. m. and sets on the 17th at 5:09 a. m.; rises on the 30th at 2:34
p. m. and sets on the 31st at 4:10 a. m.


As a telescopic object, is still improving, and his time of setting
permits him to be viewed with less than usual inconvenience. On the 2d he
sets at 1:44 a. m.; on the 17th at 12:49 a. m.; and on the 30th at 11:55
p. m., affording thus all the evening for observations. On the 7th, at
3:00 p. m., he is “in quartile,” or 90° east of the sun; on 22d, at 10:28
a. m., 3° 56´ north of the moon.


Retrogrades 1° 12´ 23´´; his diameter remains at 3.8´´; on 2d, at 11:59
a. m., he is 1° 6´ north of moon; 21st, at 3:00 a. m., in opposition to
the sun (on the other side of the sun from the earth); 29th, at 7:05 p.
m., 1° 13´ north of moon; sets on the 1st at 7:31 a. m.; on the 16th, at
6:30 a. m.; on the 31st, at 5:30 a. m. Morning star till the 21st; after
that evening star.


With his diameter of 2.6´´ moves some 44´ 46´´ of arc in his orbit,
which is not so slow after all when we consider that his average
absolute motion is 3.36 miles per second, and that his aggregate for
the 31 days of this month is a little less than nine million miles. His
right ascension on the 1st is 3 hours, 15 minutes, 18 seconds, and his
declination 16° 17´ 57´´ north. He sets on the 1st at 11:33 p. m.; on the
16th at 10:29 p. m.; and on the 30th at 9:43 p. m.—an evening star.



President National W. C. T. U.


Long ago, and long ago it was, in the days when I used proudly to write
“School Teacher” after my name, I bought a certain book for the express
purpose of reading it to “the girls I’ve left behind me.” The book is one
beloved by train boys, of which they and other venders have sold so many
that the latest “dodgers” read, “Twentieth thousand now in press.” It is
sensible in matter, attractive in style, and goes by the enticing name of
“Getting on in the World.” Naturally enough it was written in Chicago,
and like most “Garden City” notions, is “a success.” But the trouble
with this volume was that it didn’t fill the bill. I wanted to read it
to “my girls,” to stir up their pure minds by way of remembrance that
“life is real, life is earnest,” and the rest of it. But as I scanned
its bright and pleasant pages I found out—what do you think I found? Why,
that with the light of a new dispensation blazing in upon him, and the
soprano voices of several million “superfluous women,” crying, “Have you
no _work_ for me to do?” this honored author had written never a word
about creation’s gentler half! His book contained 365 pages, but if you
had read a page each day, all the year round, you wouldn’t have found out
at last that such a being as a woman was trying to “get on” in this or
any other world. Not a bread-winning weapon had he put into the hand of
the neediest among us, nor had he, even in a stray chapter or “appendix,”
taken us off by ourselves and drawn us a diagram of “our sphere.”

I was so pained by this that I wrote Prof. Matthews (the gifted author,
and my personal friend), asking him why he had thus counted out the women
folks in his book upon success in life. I even ventured to hypothecate
his reason, saying to him:

    “DEAR SIR:—I do not think you did this with malice aforethought,
    or from lack of interest in our fate, but simply and only
    because, like so many of our excellent brethren, you ‘done forgot
    all about us,’ as _Topsey_ would say.”

Whereupon came a prompt and gracious reply, with the frank and manly

    “You guessed aright. I simply forgot to speak of women.”

Now, you perceive, it set me thinking—this obliquity of mental vision,
which had led a writer so talented and wise to squint thus at the
human race, seeing but half of it. I recalled the fact that, into most
families, are born girls as well as boys; nay, as many an over-burdened
_pater familias_ can testify, they come not unfrequently in largely
superior, if not exclusive numbers. Having, also, at a remote period of
my history, belonged to the same helpless fraternity, I was haunted by
the wish that I might write a sequel to the Professor’s excellent book,
talking therein to girls and women about success in life. Perhaps my
time has come; perhaps, in the generous pages of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, whose
editor is so tolerant of the “strong minded” sisterhood, I have the
largest audience that has yet consented to listen to my “views.” Anyhow,
I mean, in these newly acquired pages to talk to girls of “How to Win” in
something besides the sense treated of in books of etiquette and fashion
magazines, or systematically taught in dancing schools.

And now, my dears, if you are patient and my small assistant keeps me in
lead pencils, I shall try to show that if every young woman held in her
firm little hand her own best gift, duly cultivated and made effective,
society would not explode, the moon would not be darkened, the sun
would still shed light. Somehow, dear girls, when I see an audience of
young men, they remind me of a platoon of soldiers, marching with fixed
bayonet, to the capture of their destiny. An assembly of young women,
on the other hand, recalls a flock of lambs upon a pleasant hillside.
They frisk about and nibble at the herbage and lie down in the sun,
while above them soars the devouring eagle of their destiny, sweeping
in concentric rings through the blue air, and ready to pounce down upon
them, while the meek little innocents turn their white faces upward and
mildly wonder “what that graceful creature is up yonder?” They remind me,
too, of the reply given by a bright young friend of mine to the solemn
exhortation that she should “make the most of life.”

“Humph!” she exclaimed with a rueful grimace, “I have no chance, for life
is busy making the most of me!”

The trouble is, we women have all along been set down on the world’s
program for a part so different from the one we really play upon its
stage. For instance, the program reads: “Woman will take the part of
Queen in the Drama of Society,” but often times, before the curtain
falls, the stage reveals her as a dressmaker, a school teacher, perchance
that most abused of mortals, a reformer! The program reads: “This august
actress will be escorted to the stage by Man, her loyal and devoted
subject, to whom has been assigned the part of shielding her from the
glare of the footlights, and shooting anybody in the audience who dares
to hiss.” But, alas! ofttimes the stage reveals her coming in alone,
dragging her own sewing machine, while her humble and devoted subject,
with tailor’s goose in one hand and scissors in the other, indicates by
energetic pantomime his fixed intention to drive her speedily behind
the scenes. The program, my beloved innocents, attires you all in
purple and fine linen and bids you fare sumptuously every day, but not
infrequently the stage reveals you attired in calico gowns, and munching
your hard-earned crackers and cheese. The world’s theory furnishes
every young lady that draws breath, with a lover, loyal and true, but
the world’s practice shoots him on the battlefield, or poisons him with
alcohol and nicotine until he can only “rattle around” through life in
the place God meant him to fill within home’s sacred sanctuary. It is
just this discrepancy that I complain of, and the generous age we live
in is complaining of it with a thousand tongues, so that “the logic of
events” that happen, instead of events that ought to happen, is impelling
toward nobler fortunes that phenomenal creature whom a French author has
called “the poor woman of the nineteenth century.”

Naturally enough, in thinking over the “case,” I contrast your aims in
life with what were once my aims, your outlook upon life with mine. The
other day—a rainy one, you may be sure—I brought from the vasty deep of
the family garret some of my girlish journals, which I was curious to
compare with the diary of a friend and former pupil at Evanston. Let me
give you a few parallel passages because of the lesson they teach. My
pupil (aged sixteen) writes thus:

    “Was registered this day a member of the Freshman class in the
    Northwestern University. The president advises me to take the
    classical course, and I’ve made up my mind to try it.”

From mine at fifteen years I read:

    “Caught a blue jay in my trap out in the hazel thicket. I knew he
    wasn’t “game” and let him go. The school house in our district is
    finished at last. A graduate of Yale College, and former tutor at
    Oberlin, is to be our teacher. I shall attend regularly, visiting
    my traps on the way.”


    “Sister and I got up long before light to prepare for the first
    day at school. We put all our books in mother’s satchel; had a
    nice tin pail full of dinner. I study arithmetic, geography,
    grammar, reading and spelling, which takes up every minute of my
    time. Stood next to Pat O’Donahue in spelling, and Pat stood at
    the head.”

From my pupil’s diary, a few months later, take this extract:

    “I am thinking seriously about my future. Perhaps this is
    premature, for I am only in my freshman year, but I have just
    about decided that I’ll study medicine.”

From mine, at a similar age (you see precocity was not among my failings):

    “Sister was sick, and I brought out all my little bottles of
    sugar, salt and flour. Besides these medicines, I dosed her with
    pimentoes and poulticed her with cabbage leaves, but she grew no
    better, quite fast, so mother called another doctor. Dear me, if
    I were my brother, instead of being only a girl, we’d soon see
    whether I’ve a talent for medicine or not.”

From my young friend I quote again:

    “I am greatly interested in the question for debate in our
    literary society this week, especially as I am chief disputant on
    the affirmative. It reads as follows: _Resolved_, That the votes
    of women are needed to help put down the liquor traffic.”

From mine:

    “It is election day and my brother is twenty-one years old. How
    proud he seemed as he dressed up in his best clothes and drove
    off with father to vote for John C. Fremont, like the sensible
    ‘Free Soiler’ that he is! My sister and I stood at the front
    window and looked out after them. Somehow I felt a lump in my
    throat, and then I couldn’t see their wagon any more, things
    looked so blurred. I turned to Mary, and she, dear little
    innocent, seemed wonderfully sober, too. I said: ‘Wouldn’t you
    like to vote as well as Oliver? Don’t you and I love the country
    just as well as he, and doesn’t the country need our ballots?’
    Whereupon she looked scared, but answered, ‘Of course we do,
    but don’t you go ahead and say so, for then we should be called
    strong minded.’”

From my pupil at seventeen I quote once more:

    “The recent articles by members of the ‘Women’s Congress,’ some
    people would call radical, but they express precisely my opinions
    on the dress question. It is time for me to assume the garb of a
    young lady, but upon two things I am determined: First, I will
    never trail my garments on a filthy pavement while I live. If I
    am the only young lady in this university, who, when she walks,
    wears walking costume, I will still be true to my individual
    sense of cleanliness and taste. I will also carry the jewel of an
    _unpunctured ear_ through life, though, by so doing, I oblige Mr.
    Darwin to confess ‘a missing link’ between me and my evolutionary

Finally, from mine:

    “This is my seventeenth birthday, and the date of my martyrdom.
    Mother insists that at last I _must_ have my hair ‘done up woman
    fashion.’ She says she can hardly forgive herself for letting me
    ‘run wild’ so long. We had a great time over it all, and here I
    sit, like another Samson, ‘shorn of my strength.’ That figure
    won’t do, though, for the greatest trouble with me is that I
    never shall be shorn again! My ‘back hair’ is twisted up like a
    corkscrew; I carry eighteen hair-pins; my head aches, my feet
    are entangled in the skirt of my new gown. I can never jump over
    a fence again so long as I live. As for chasing the sheep down
    in the shady pasture, it’s out of the question, and to climb to
    my ‘Eagle’s Nest’ seat in the big burr oak would ruin this new
    frock beyond repair. Altogether, I recognize the fact that ‘my
    occupation’s gone.’”

My readers smile at this, but they may be assured there are such blots
upon the page where it was written, as briny drops alone can make.

You see, dear friends, from this contrast I have drawn, showing a glimpse
of past and future in two eager, young lives, how fast this world is
getting on. What is the difference in the outlook of your life that
is, and mine that used to be? Let us consider: I was a daring sort of
girl; you are the sort of girls who dare. I had aspiration; you have
opportunity. I breathed an atmosphere laden with old time conservatisms,
from which my glorious mother’s liberality of soul was my one safety
valve of deliverance. But you are exhilarated by the vital air of a new
liberty. “The world is all before you, where to choose.” If I required
but little of myself, it was because the world required so little of
me. No college of first rank in east or west—save noble old Oberlin and
generous Antioch—could have been coaxed to count me in when she made up
her jewels. Briefly, public opinion proposes to give you a chance. It
proposed to let me shirk for myself. It means to put a shield in your
left hand and a sword in your right. It let me go forth, as best I could,
to beat the air with unarmed hands, or to sharpen my weapons on the field
and in plain sight of the enemy.

Society set before me very few incentives, and commended to me only the
passive virtues. Indeed, she never really bestirred herself on my behalf
at all, save that she ceased not in story and poem, by sermon and song
by precept and example, and (most cogently of all) by setting no other
hope before me to ground me, so far as she was able, in the philosophy
that sustained the illustrious _Micawber_. “Now my daughter,” thus
was she wont to speak, “do you but be docile and obedient, as a young
woman should, and something, something very particular indeed will most
assuredly turn up.”

But I learned early to distrust a Mentor who took so little cognizance
of the imperious ardor of my youth; who was so stupidly oblivious of the
varied possibilities in brain and hand and heart, and so I began early
to follow out my own devices as to a plan of character and work. Would
that the generous impulse of your enthusiasm, guided by your broader
opportunity, might

    “Give me back the wild pulsation
       That I felt before the strife,
     When I heard my days before me,
       And the tumult of my life.”

More anon.

EVANSTON, January 31, 1885.



I have from time to time recorded such examples of language as struck
me for inaccuracy or any other peculiarity; but lately the pressure of
other engagements has prevented me from continuing my collection, and
has compelled me to renounce the design once entertained of using them
for the foundation of a systematic essay. The present article contains a
small selection from my store, and may be of interest to all who value
accuracy and clearness. It is only necessary to say that the examples are
not fabricated; all are taken from writers of good repute, and notes of
the original places have been preserved, though it has not been thought
necessary to encumber these pages with references. The italics have been
supplied in those cases where they are used.

One of the most obvious peculiarities at present to be noticed is
the use of the word _if_ when there is nothing really conditional in
the sentence. Thus we read: “If the Prussian plan of operations was
faulty, the movements of the crown prince’s army were in a high degree
excellent.” The writer does not really mean what his words seem to imply,
that the excellence was contingent on the fault; he simply means to make
two independent statements. As another example we have: “Yet he never
founded a family; if his two daughters carried his name and blood into
the families of the _Herreras_ and the Zuñigos, his two sons died before
him.” Here again the two events which are connected by the conditional
_if_ are really quite independent. Other examples follow: “If it be true
that Paris is an American’s paradise, symptoms are not wanting that there
are Parisians who cast a longing look toward the institutions of the
United States.”

Other examples, differing in some respects from those already given,
concur in exhibiting a strange use of the word _if_. Thus we read: “If a
big book is a big evil, the ‘Bijou Gazetteer of the World’ ought to stand
at the summit of excellence. It is the tiniest geographical directory we
have ever seen.” This is quite illogical; if a big book is a big evil,
it does not follow that a little book is a great good. “If in the main I
have adhered to the English version, it has been from the conviction that
our translators were in the right.” It is rather difficult to see what
is the precise opinion here expressed as to our translators; whether an
absolute or contingent approval is intended. For the last example we take
this: “… but if it does not retard his return to office it can hardly
accelerate it.” The meaning is, “This speech can not accelerate and may
retard Mr. Disraeli’s return to office.” The triple occurrence of _it_ is
very awkward.

An error not uncommon in the present day is the blending of two different
constructions in one sentence. The grammars of our childhood used to
condemn such a sentence as this: “He was more beloved but not so much
admired as Cynthio.” The former part of the sentence requires to be
followed by _than_, and not by _as_. The following are recent examples:
“The little farmer (in France) has no greater enjoyments, if so many, as
the English laborer.” “I find public school boys generally more fluent,
and as superficial as boys educated elsewhere.” “Mallet, for instance,
records his delight and wonder at the Alps and the descent into Italy
in terms quite as warm, if much less profuse, as those of the most
impressible modern tourist.” An awkward construction, almost as bad as
a fault, is seen in the following sentence: “Messrs ⸺ having secured the
coöperation of some of the most eminent professors of, and writers on,
the various branches of science.…”

A very favorite practice is that of changing a word where there is no
corresponding change of meaning. Take the following example from a
voluminous historian: “Huge pinnacles of bare rock shoot up into the
azure firmament, and forests overspread their sides, in which the scarlet
rhododendrons sixty feet in _height_ are surmounted by trees two hundred
feet in _elevation_.” In a passage of this kind it may be of little
consequence whether a word is retained or changed; but for any purpose
where precision is valuable it is nearly as bad to use two words in one
sense as one word in two senses. Let us take some other examples. We
read in the usual channels of information that “Mr. Gladstone has issued
invitations for a full-dress Parliamentary _dinner_, and Lord Granville
has issued invitations for a full-dress Parliamentary _banquet_.” Again
we read: “The government proposes to divide the occupiers of land into
four categories;” and almost immediately after we have “the second
class comprehends…”: so that we see the grand word _category_ merely
stands for _class_. A writer recently in a sketch of travels spoke of a
“Turkish gentleman with his _innumerable_ wives,” and soon after said
that she “never saw him address any of his _multifarious_ wives.” One
of the illustrated periodicals gave a picture of an event in recent
French history, entitled “The National Guards Firing on the People.” Here
the change from _national_ to _people_ slightly conceals the strange
contradiction of guardians firing on those whom they ought to guard.

Let us now take one example in which a word is repeated, but in a rather
different sense: “The grand duke of Baden sat _next_ to the emperor
William, the imperial crown prince of Germany sitting _next_ to the grand
duke. _Next_ came the other princely personages.” The word _next_ is used
in the last instance in not quite the same sense as in the former two
instances; for all the princely personages could not sit in contact with
the crown prince.

A class of examples may be found in which there is an obvious incongruity
between two of the words which occur. Thus, “We are more than doubtful;”
that is, we are _more than full_ of doubts: this is obviously impossible.
Then we read of “a man of more than doubtful sanity.” Again we read of
“a more than questionable statement;” this is I suppose a very harsh
elliptical construction for such a sentence as “a statement to which
we might apply an epithet more condemnatory than _questionable_.” So
also we read “a more unobjectionable character.” Again: “Let the Second
Chamber be composed of elected members, and their utility will be _more
than halved_.” To take the _half_ of anything is to perform a definite
operation, which is not susceptible of more or less. Again: “The
singular and almost excessive impartiality and power of appreciation.”
It is impossible to conceive of _excessive impartiality_. Other recent
examples of these impossible combinations are, “more faultless,” “less
indisputable.” “The high antiquity of the narrative can not reasonably
be doubted, and almost as little its _ultimate_ Apostolic _origin_.”
The ultimate origin, that is the _last beginning_, of anything seems
a contradiction. The common phrase _bad health_ seems of the same
character; it is almost equivalent to _unsound soundness_ or to
_unprosperous prosperity_. In a passage already quoted, we read that the
czar “gave _audience_ to numerous _visitors_,” and in a similar manner a
very distinguished lecturer speaks of making experiments “_visible_ to a
large _audience_.” It would seem from the last instance that our language
wants a word to denote a mass of people collected not so much to hear
an address as to see what are called experiments. Perhaps if our savage
forefathers had enjoyed the advantages of courses of scientific lectures,
the vocabulary would be supplied with the missing word.

_Talented_ is a vile barbarism which Coleridge indignantly denounced;
there is no verb _to talent_ from which such a participle could be
deduced. Perhaps this imaginary word is not common at the present;
though I am sorry to see from my notes that it still finds favor with
classical scholars. [Webster says: “This word—which is said to be of
American origin—has been strongly objected to by Coleridge and some other
critics, but as it would seem, upon not very good grounds, as the use of
_talent_ or _talents_ to signify mental ability, although at first merely
metaphorical, is now fully established, and _talented_, as a formative,
is just as analogical and legitimate, as _gifted_, _bigoted_, _turreted_,
_targeted_, and numerous other adjectives having a participial form, but
derived directly from nouns, and not from verbs.”—ED. THE CHAUTAUQUAN.]

_Ignore_ is a very popular and a very bad word. As there is no good
authority for it, the meaning is naturally uncertain. It seems to
fluctuate between _wilfully concealing_ something and _unintentionally
omitting_ something, and this vagueness renders it a convenient tool for
an unscrupulous orator or writer.

The word _lengthened_ is often used instead of _long_. Thus we read that
such and such an orator made a _lengthened_ speech, when the intended
meaning is that he made a _long_ speech. The word _lengthened_ has its
appropriate meaning. Thus, after a ship has been built by the Admiralty,
it is sometimes cut into two and a piece inserted; this operation, very
reprehensible doubtless on financial grounds, is correctly described
as _lengthening_ the ship. It will be obvious on consideration that
_lengthened_ is not synonymous with _long_. _Protracted_ and _prolonged_
are also often used instead of _long_; though perhaps with less decided
impropriety than _lengthened_.

A very common phrase with controversial writers is, “we _shrewdly_
suspect.” This is equivalent to, “we _acutely_ suspect.” The cleverness
of the suspicion should, however, be attributed to the writers by other
people, and not by themselves.

The simple word _but_ is often used when it is difficult to see any shade
of opposition or contrast such as we naturally expect. Thus we read:
“There were several candidates, _but_ the choice fell upon ⸺ of Trinity
College.” Another account of the same transaction was expressed thus: “It
was understood that there were several candidates; the election fell,
_however_, upon ⸺ of Trinity College.”

The word _mistaken_ is curious as being constantly used in a sense
directly contrary to that which, according to its formation, it ought to
have. Thus: “He is often mistaken, but never trivial and insipid.” “He
is often mistaken” ought to mean that other people often mistake him;
just as “he is often misunderstood” means that people often misunderstand
him. But the writer of the above sentence intends to say that “He often
makes mistakes.” It would be well if we could get rid of this anomalous
use of the word _mistaken_. I suppose that _wrong_ or _erroneous_ would
always suffice. But I must admit that good writers do employ _mistaken_
in the sense which seems contrary to analogy; for example, Dugald Stewart
does so, and also a distinguished leading philosopher whose style shows
decided traces of Dugald Stewart’s influence.

I should like to ask why a first charge is called a _primary_ charge, for
it does not appear that this mode of expression is continued. We have, I
think, second, third, and so on, instead of _secondary_, _tertiary_, and
so on, to distinguish the subsequent charges.

Cobbett justly blamed the practice of putting “&c.” to save the trouble
of completing a sentence properly. In mathematical writings this symbol
may be tolerated because it generally involves no ambiguity, but is
used merely as an abbreviation, the meaning of which is obvious from
the context. But in other works there is frequently no clue to guide
us in affixing a meaning to the symbol, and we can only interpret its
presence as a sign that something has been omitted. The following is an
example: “It describes a portion of Hellenic philosophy; it dwells upon
eminent individuals, inquiring, theorizing, reasoning, confuting, &c.,
as contrasted with those collective political and social manifestations
which form the matter of history.…”

A recent cabinet minister described the error of an Indian official in
these words: “He remained too long under the influence of the views which
he had imbibed from the board.” To imbibe a view seems strange, but to
imbibe anything from a board must be very difficult. I may observe that
the phrase of Castlereagh’s which is now best known, seems to suffer from
misquotation; we usually have “an ignorant impatience of taxation;” but
the original form appears to have been, “an ignorant impatience of the
relaxation of taxation.”

The following sentence is from a voluminous historian: “The _decline_
of the material comforts of the working classes, from the effects of
the Revolution, had been incessant, and had now reached an alarming
_height_.” It is possible to ascend to an alarming height, but it is
surely difficult to decline to an alarming height.

“Nothing could be more one-sided than the point of view adopted by the
speakers.” It is very strange to speak of a point as having a side;
and then how can _one-sided_ admit of comparison? A thing either has
one side or it has not; there can not be degrees in one-sidedness.
However, even mathematicians do not always manage the word _point_
correctly. In a modern valuable work we read of “a more extended point
of view,” though we know that a point does not admit of extension. I
suppose that what is meant is, a point which commands a more extended
view. “Froschammer wishes to approach the subject from a philosophical
standpoint.” It is impossible to _stand_ and yet to _approach_. Either he
should _survey_ the subject from a _stand_-point, or _approach_ it from a

A large school had lately fallen into difficulties owing to internal
dissensions; in the report of a council on the subject it was stated that
measures had been taken to _introduce more harmony and good feeling_. The
word _introduce_ suggests the idea that harmony and good feeling could be
laid on like water or gas by proper mechanical adjustment, or could be
supplied like first-class furniture by a London upholsterer.

A passage has been quoted with approbation by more than one critic from
the late Professor Conington’s translation of Horace, in which the
following line occurs:—

    After life’s endless babble they sleep well.

Now the word _endless_ here is extremely awkward; for if the babble never
ends, how can anything come after it?

To digress for a moment, I may observe that this line gives a good
illustration of the process by which what is called Latin verse is often
constructed. Every person sees that the line is formed out of Shakspere’s
“After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well.” The ingenuity of the
transference may be admired, but it seems to me that it is easy to give
more than a due amount of admiration; and, as the instance shows, the
adaptation may issue in something bordering on the absurd.

The language of the shop and the market must not be expected to be very
exact: we may be content to be amused by some of its peculiarities. I can
not say that I have seen the statement which is said to have appeared in
the following form: “Dead pigs are looking up.” We find very frequently
advertised, “_Digestive_ biscuits”—perhaps _digestible_ biscuits are
meant. In a catalogue of books an “Encyclopædia of Mental Science” is
advertised; and after the names of the authors we read, “invaluable,
5_s._ 6_d._;” this is a curious explanation of _invaluable_.

The title of a book recently advertised is, “Thoughts for those who are
Thoughtful.” It might seem superfluous, not to say impossible, to supply
thoughts to those who are already full of thought.

The word _limited_ is at present very popular in the domain of commerce.
Thus we read, “Although the space given to us was limited.” This we can
readily suppose; for in a finite building there can not be unlimited
space. Booksellers can perhaps say, without impropriety, that a “limited
number will be printed,” as this may only imply that the type will be
broken up; but they sometimes tell us that “a limited number _was_
printed,” and this is an obvious truism.

Some pills used to be advertised for the use of the “possessor of pains
in the back,” the advertisement being accompanied with a large picture
representing the unhappy capitalist tormented by his property.

Pronouns, which are troublesome to all writers of English, are especially
embarrassing to the authors of prospectuses and advertisements. A wine
company return thanks to their friends, “and, at the same time, _they_
would assure _them_ that it is _their_ constant study not only to
find improvements for _their_ convenience.…” Observe how the pronouns
oscillate in their application between the company and their friends.

In selecting titles of books there is room for improvement. Thus, a
_Quarterly Journal_ is not uncommon; the words strictly are suggestive of
a _Quarterly Daily_ publication. I remember, some years since, observing
a notice that a certain obscure society proposed to celebrate its
_triennial anniversary_.

A few words may be given to some popular misquotations.

“He that runs may read” is often supposed to be a quotation from the
Bible; the words really are, “He may run that readeth,” and it is not
certain that the sense conveyed by the popular misquotation is correct.

A proverb which correctly runs thus: “The road to hell is paved with good
intentions,” is often quoted in the far less expressive form, “Hell is
paved with good intentions.”

“Knowledge is power” is frequently attributed to Bacon, in spite of Lord
Lytton’s challenge that the words can not be found in Bacon’s writings.

It seems impossible to prevent writers from using _cui bono?_ in the
unclassical sense. The correct meaning is known to be of this nature:
suppose that a crime has been committed; then inquire who has gained
by the crime—_cui bono?_ for obviously there is a probability that
the person benefited was the criminal. The usual sense implied by the
quotation is this: What is the good? the question being applied to
whatever is for the moment the object of depreciation. Those who use the
words incorrectly may, however, shelter themselves under the great name
of Leibnitz, for he takes them in the popular sense; see his works, vol.
v., p. 206.

The _Times_, commenting on the slovenly composition of the queen’s
speeches to Parliament, proposed the cause of the fact as a fit subject
for the investigation of our _professional thinkers_. The phrase suggests
a delicate reproof to those who assume for themselves the title of
_thinker_, implying that any person may engage in this occupation just as
he might, if he pleased, become a dentist, or a stockbroker, or a civil
engineer. The word _thinker_ is very common as a name of respect in the
works of a modern distinguished philosopher. I am afraid, however, that
it is employed by him principally as synonymous with a _Comtist_.

The _Times_, in advocating the claims of a literary man for a pension,
said, “He has _constructed_ several useful schoolbooks.” The word
_construct_ suggests with great neatness the nature of the process by
which schoolbooks are sometimes evolved, implying the presence of the
bricklayer and mason rather than of the architect.

[Dr. Todhunter might have added _feature_ to the list of words abusively
used by newspaper writers. In one number of a magazine two examples
occur: “A _feature_ which had been well _taken up_ by local and other
manufacturers was the exhibition of honey in various applied forms.” “A
new _feature_ in the social arrangements of the Central Radical Club
_took place_ the other evening.”]—_Macmillan’s Magazine._



Beyond the “Inner Circle,” which leads to the “Upper Chautauqua,” we come
to the Uppermost Chautauqua—the University proper, with its “School of
Liberal Arts,” and its “School of Theology.” Here we find provision made
for college training of a thorough sort. Students all over the world
may turn their homes into dormitories, refectories, and study rooms, in
connection with the great University which has its local habitation at
Chautauqua. Thus “hearers” and “recipients” in the Assembly, “readers” in
the C. L. S. C., “student readers” in the “inner circle”—the “League of
the Round-Table,” may go beyond, even to the School of Liberal Arts, the
_bona fide_ College of Chautauqua.

Chautauqua exalts the college. She believes that the benefits of a
college training are manifold.

1. The action by which a youth becomes a college student—the simple going
forth—leaving one set of circumstances and voluntarily entering another,
with a specific purpose—is an action which has educating influence in
it. It is a distinct recognition of an object and a deliberate effort
to secure it. The judgment is convinced, the will makes a decision,
and corresponding action follows. We have the thought, the aim, the
standards, the resolve, the surrender, and the embodiment of all in an
actual physical movement. There must follow these activities a reflex
influence on the youth himself. It becomes a “new birth” in his life.
He has gone to another plane. His everyday conduct is modified by it.
He looks up and on. According to the standard he has set, the idea he
entertains of education, and the motives which impel him will be the
subjective effects of his action—the real power of his new life.

2. There is educating power in the complete plan of study provided in
the college curriculum, covering as it does the wide world of thought,
distributed over the years, with subdivisions into terms, with specific
assignments of subjects, with a beginning and an ending of each division,
and many beginnings and endings, with promotions according to merit, and
final reviews, recognitions, and honors. There is great value in the
enforced system of the college. It tends to sustain and confirm new life,
begun when the student made his first movement toward an institution.

3. The association of students in college life is another educating
factor. Mind meets mind in a fellowship of aim, purpose, and experience.
They have left the same world; they now together enter another world.
They look up to the heights and to the shining of crowns which await the
gifted and faithful. They are brothers now—one “alma mater” to nourish
them. They sing their songs—songs which, although without much sense,
have power to awake and foster sympathy. Even a man of sense loves to
listen to them. He laughs at the folly, and, though himself a sage,
wishes he were one of the company of singers. The laws of affinity work
out. Soul inspires soul. Memories grow apace. Attachments that endure,
adventures seasoned with fun or touched with sadness, absurdities,
failures, heroisms, triumphs, are crowded into the four years, and like
fruitage of bloom and fragrance from a conservatory may go forth to
bless many an hour of wandering, of sorrow, of reunion, of remembrance,
in the later years. There was something pathetic in the return of the
famous Yale College class of 1853 to their alma mater two summers ago.
As they wandered about the scenes of their youth, under the old elms,
through recitation rooms and chapel, singing the old songs, reviving
the old friendships, recalling faces to be seen no more, no wonder that
tears fell down furrowed cheeks from eyes unused to weep. Is there any
stronger or sweeter friendship than that born under the ivied towers and
spreading elms of college hall and campus?

In college mind meets mind in the severe competition of recitation and
annual examination. The bright boy—one of a small class at home, who
had it all his own way there—now finds a score or more of leaders whose
unvoiced challenge he is compelled to accept, and how he does knit
his brow, close his eyes, summon his strength, school his will, force
his flagging energies, and grapple problems that he may hold his own,
outstrip his rivals, and win prize and place for the sake of his family’s
fame and for his personal satisfaction!

There is nothing that so discovers to a youth the weak points of his
character as the association of college life. There are no wasted
courtesies among students. Folly is soon detected, and by blunt speech,
bold caricature, and merciless satire exposed. Sensitiveness is cured
by ridicule, cowardice never condoned, and meanness branded beyond the
possibility of concealment or pardon. College associations stimulate the
best elements in a man, expose weak and wicked ones, and tend to the
pruning and strengthening of character.

4. Then there is in college life association with professors and tutors,
and this is, I confess, sometimes of little value, as when teachers are
mere machines, but in it, at its best, are distinguishing benefits.
When teachers are full men, apt men, and enthusiastic men—as college
professors, and for that matter all teachers ought to be—the place of
recitation soon becomes a center of power. Tact tests attainment, exposes
ignorance, foils deceit, develops strength, indicates lines of discovery,
and inspires courage. A living teacher supplies at once model and motive.
He has gone on among the labyrinths, and up the steeps of knowledge;
has tried and toiled and triumphed. He sought and he _is_. And now by
wise questioning, by judicious revelation, by skillful concealment, by
ingenious supposition, by generous raillery, by banter, by jest, by
argument and by magnetic energies, the teacher stirs the student into
supreme conditions of receptivity and activity. Such teachers make the
college. As President Garfield said: “Give me an old school house, and
a log for a bench. Put Mark Hopkins on one end, and let me, as student,
sit on the other, and I have all the college I need.” When an institution
is able to employ men of superior knowledge, power, and tact, students
must be trained, and all their after lives affected by the influence.
For memory magnifies the worth of a true teacher, and the hero of the
college quadrennium becomes a demigod through the post-graduate years. A
dozen men of this mold, if once they could be gotten together, would make
a college the like of which has not yet been seen on the planet. Shall
Chautauqua one of these days find them?

5. The college life promotes mental discipline. It drills, and drills,
and draws out. It compels effort, and effort strengthens. It provides a
system of mental gymnastics. What was difficult at first, soon becomes
easy, until severer tests are sought from the very delight the student
finds in concentration and persistency. Thus development takes place in
the varied faculties of the soul. The student acquires power to observe
with scientific exactness, to generalize wisely from accumulated data,
to project hypotheses, to watch psychical processes, to reason with
accuracy, to distinguish between the false and the true, both in the
inner and the outer world; to grasp protracted and complicated processes
of mathematical thought; to trace linguistic evolutions—remembering,
analyzing, philosophizing; to study the students of the ages, and the
products of their genius in art, poetry, jurisprudence, and discovery,
in the facts of history and the great principles of sociology. All the
powers employed in this manifold work during the college term are trained
and thus prepared for work after the college term is ended. It is not so
much the amount of knowledge acquired during the four years, as it is the
power at will ever after to acquire knowledge, that marks the benefits of
the college course.

6. With discipline comes the comprehensive survey of the universe. The
college outlook takes the student backward along the line of historical
development. It shows him the heights and the depths, the manifold
varieties and inter-relations of knowledge. It gives him tools and the
training to use them, and a glance at the material on which he is to use
them. The student through college is a traveler, sometimes examining in
detail, sometimes superficially. He gives a glance and remembers; he
takes notes and thinks closely. He sees the all-surrounding regions of
knowledge, and although he may make but slight researches in particular
lines, he knows where to return in the after years for deeper research
and ampler knowledge.

7. College life leads to self-discovery. It tests a man’s powers, and
reveals to him his weakness. It shows him what he is best fitted to do,
and the showing may not be in harmony either with his ambitions or his
preconceived notions. A boy born for mercantile pursuits, who comes out
of college a lawyer or preacher, proves that the college failed to do its
legitimate and most important work for him. Professors who merely glorify
intellectual attainment, and who neglect to show students their true
place in the world, are little better than cranks or hobbyists. College
life is the whole of life packed into a brief period, with the elements
that make life magnified and intensified, so that tests of character may
easily be made. It is a laboratory of experiment, where natural laws and
conditions are pressed into rapid though normal operation, and processes
otherwise extending over long periods of time are crowded to speedy
consummation. Twenty years of ordinary life, so far as they constitute
a testing period of character are, by college life, crowded into four
years. A boy who is a failure then, would, for the same reasons, be a
failure through the longer probation, unless the early discovery of
peculiar weakness may be a protection against the perils which this
weakness involves. Therefore it is a good thing for a youth to subject
himself thus early to a testing, for from it may come self-discovery,
when latent powers may be developed, and impending evils avoided.

Of other advantages of educational institutions I shall not now speak.
They are manifold. Our youth of both sexes, whatever their callings in
life, would do well to seek these advantages. Therefore parents, primary
teachers, and older persons who influence youth, should constantly place
before them the benefits of college education, and inspire them to reach
after and attain it. Arguments should be used, appeals made, assistance
proffered, that a larger percentage of American youth may aspire after
college privileges, or at least remain for a longer term in the best
schools of a higher grade. Haste to be rich, restiveness under restraint
during the age of unwisdom, inability to regulate by authority at home
the eager and ambitious life of our youth, together with false, mercenary
notions of parents, who “can not afford to have so much time spent by
the young folks in studying, because they must be doing something for
themselves”—these are some of the causes of the depreciation and neglect
of the American college—a neglect lamentable enough, and fraught with
harm to the nation.

Chautauqua lifts up her voice in favor of liberal education for a larger
number of people. She would pack existing institutions until wings must
be added to old buildings, and new buildings be put up to accommodate
young men and maidens who are determined to be educated.

Chautauqua would exalt the profession of the teacher until the highest
genius, the richest scholarship, and the broadest manhood and womanhood
of the nation would be consecrated to this service.

Chautauqua would give munificent salaries and put a premium on merit,
sense, tact, and culture in the teacher’s office. She would turn the
eyes of all the people—poor and rich, mechanics and men of other, if
not higher degree, toward the high school and the college, urging house
builders, house owners, house keepers, farmers, blacksmiths, bankers,
millionaires, to prepare themselves by a true culture, whatever niche
they fill in life, to be men and women, citizens, parents, members of
society, members of the church, candidates for immortal progress.

To promote these ends the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle was
organized. By its courses of popular reading it gives a college outlook
to the uncultivated, and exalts the higher learning. It is, as I have
elsewhere said, a John the Baptist preparing the way for seminary and

The managers of the Chautauqua movement, however, recognize the fact
that there are thousands of full-grown men and women who are at their
best intellectually, and who, with some leisure and much longing,
believe they could do more than read. They want to study; to study in
downright earnest; to develop mental power; to cultivate taste; to
increase knowledge, to make use of it by tongue and pen and life. There
are tens of thousands of young people out of school by necessities
commercial and filial, who are awakened to the power within and the
possibilities beyond. They believe they could learn a language, and
enjoy the literature of it. They believe they could think and grow,
speak and write. They are willing, and eager to try. Out of minutes they
could construct college terms. They have will enough, heart enough,
brain enough to begin, to go on, to go through, and all this, while
the everyday life continues with its duty for this hour and for that.
They believe that into the closely woven texture of everyday, home and
business life, there may be drawn threads of scarlet, crimson, blue and
gold, until their homespun walls become radiant with form and color
worthy to decorate the royal chamber—the chamber of their king, God the
Father of earnest souls.

Chautauqua denounces the talk of certain rich men about the “poor
having their place,” and that it would be “better for working people to
confine themselves to work, or at best to understand subjects bearing
entirely on their everyday duties in field or shop, and let science and
literature alone.” Chautauqua would make working men cultivated, and give
them recreation from manual toil in realms of wonder, taste, science,
literature and art. Chautauqua would spread out over the lot of the
toiler a dome, vast, radiant, rich and inspiring.

Therefore the Chautauqua School of Liberal Arts has been organized,
and chartered with full university powers, for non-resident pupils,
who, by correspondence with competent instructors, may study what they
please, when they please, and as they please, eliciting suggestion, and
giving answer and thesis, taking all the time they need, passing final
examination in writing in the presence of witnesses, and having their
examination papers subjected to the scrutiny of competent and impartial
critics. When, after the required standard in the several departments
which constitute the college course has been attained, whether in four,
or ten, or fourteen years, the successful candidate shall have his
diploma and his degree; and through this window he has constructed out
of all these fragments of time—fragments picked up from dusty floor and
pavement, from mine, and field, and shop—through this window the light
shall shine in its beauty, and people shall see what genius, industry and
persistent will can do with the cast away fragments of spare moments and
random opportunities.

I have thus described the “Upper Chautauqua.” By reason of the action
of the Board of Managers, elsewhere reported, the plan of gradation is
slightly changed from that laid down in the previous article on the
“Upper Chautauqua,” and the following successive steps are found in the
scheme of the Chautauqua University:

1. The ASSEMBLY, including the summer meetings, the “Platform,” “the
American Church Sunday-school Normal Course,” the “School of Languages,”
and the “Teachers’ Retreat.”

2. The CIRCLE, embracing the “C. L. S. C.”

3. The “INNER CIRCLE,” to which they belong who, having seven seals on
their diploma, are members of the “League of the Round-Table.”

4. The “UNIVERSITY CIRCLE,” with its “School of Liberal Arts,” and the
“School of Theology.”

NEW HAVEN, CONN., February 6, 1885.


MARCH, 1885.

_First Week_ (ending March 8).—1. “College Greek Course,” from page 187
to 216.

2. “Chemistry,” chapters IX and X.

3. “The Circle of the Sciences,” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

4. Sunday Readings for March 1 and 8, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Second Week_ (ending March 16).—1. “College Greek Course,” from page 216
to 239.

2. “Chemistry,” chapters XI, XII and XIII.

3. “Temperance Teachings of Science,” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

4. Sunday Readings for March 15, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Third Week_ (ending March 24).—1. “College Greek Course,” from page 239
to 260.

2. “Chemistry,” chapters XIV and XV.

3. “Home Studies in Chemistry and Physics,” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

4. Sunday Readings for March 22, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Fourth Week_ (ending March 31).—1. “College Greek Course,” from page 260
to 284.

2. “Chemistry,” chapters XVI and XVII.

3. “Studies in Kitchen Science and Art,” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

4. Sunday Readings for March 29, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.



1. Blackboard illustration and full explanation of the Greek theater,
special attention being given to the arrangement of the stage. If
preferred, charts or pictures can be substituted for the blackboard. As
aids to this work Donaldson’s “Greek Theater,” containing charts and
illustrations, and Mahaffy’s “Classical Greek Literature” will be found
very helpful.

2. Essay—George W. Cable and his Works.


3. Selection—“The Gorgon’s Head,” found in Hawthorne’s “Wonder Book.”
This story can be read “turn about” by the members. Reference is made to
the headless Gorgon, on page 210 of “College Greek Course.”

4. Essay—Shrove Tuesday, or Mardi Gras, as observed in New Orleans.

5. A Paper on Great Salt Mines and Springs.

6. Critic’s Report.


1. Essay—Sir Humphrey Davy.

2. Selection—“An Account of Sappho.” By Addison.

3. A Paper on Canadian Winter Sports.


4. A Half-hour’s Quiz on the Readings of the Month.

5. Essay—The Life of Euripides.

6. Question Box.


1. Fifteen Minutes’ Talk on Balloons and their Uses.

2. Selection—“On Great Natural Geniuses.” By Addison.

3. Character Sketch—Ignatius Loyola.

4. A Paper on the Athenian Orators.


5. General Conversation on the News of the Day.

6. The Questions and Answers for the Month in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.



1. Roll call—Quotations from Greek Authors.

2. A Map Exercise. Trace Philip’s conquering march, as indicated by
Demosthenes in his third Olynthiac oration.

3. Essay—Demosthenes.


4. An Analysis of Tennyson’s “Princess.”

5. A Paper on the Famous Women of Greece.


6. Debate—Resolved, that the effects of the modern theater compare
unfavorably with those of the ancient.


       *       *       *       *       *

It may not be amiss to follow our programs—which are intended to be
merely suggestive—with a very short exposition of our program-philosophy.
It is not a heavy philosophy; indeed, it is so simple that we half
suspect we may be laughed at for calling it a philosophy at all, but
its principles, we believe, are true and useful; as such we offer
them. According to our ideas there are four subjects which should be
represented on each C. L. S. C. program; first in the list and in
importance is the week’s or month’s reading, its prominent features, its
suggestions, its facts, its practical lessons; second, the world’s work
of to-day, not merely its events of public interest, its schemes and
disasters, but its science, invention, art, literature, morals, social
life, civilization, its men and its manners; to follow both exercises and
clinch what has been suggested, “good talk” ought to be an invariable
part of each evening’s work. Take care that talk, free, genial,
interested talk, follows every performance, or every program, and be sure
that always

                  “Music dwells
    Lingering and wandering on as loth to die.”

These are the four elements necessary to a good program. As to how they
shall be treated we have also a theory. Its first principle is let
everything be well done; while thorough, do not go astray in dates and
statistics, but go to the point which you desire to make. Then be bright
and interesting, the third essential in each performance. Withal, suit
your theme and your treatment of it to your audience. Let the subject be
of common interest, the matter neither so commonplace as to seem puerile
nor so technical as to be “over the heads” of your auditors. Such is our
program-philosophy. A better you will undoubtedly formulate by practicing



“_We Study the Word and the Works of God._”—“_Let us keep our Heavenly
Father in the Midst._”—“_Never be Discouraged._”


    1. OPENING DAY—October 1.

    2. BRYANT DAY—November 3.

    3. SPECIAL SUNDAY—November, second Sunday.

    4. MILTON DAY—December 9.

    5. COLLEGE DAY—January, last Thursday.

    6. SPECIAL SUNDAY—February, second Sunday.

    7. FOUNDER’S DAY—February 23.

    8. LONGFELLOW DAY—February 27.

    9. SHAKSPERE DAY—April 23.

    10. ADDISON DAY—May 1.

    11. SPECIAL SUNDAY—May, second Sunday.

    12. SPECIAL SUNDAY—July, second Sunday.

    13. INAUGURATION DAY—August, first Saturday after first Tuesday;
    anniversary of C. L. S. C. at Chautauqua.

    14. ST. PAUL’S DAY—August, second Saturday after first Tuesday;
    anniversary of the dedication of St. Paul’s Grove at Chautauqua.

    15. COMMENCEMENT DAY—August, third Tuesday.

    16. GARFIELD DAY—September 19.

Regularity is necessary to permanency. Whatever undertaking we desire
to make a permanent success, we must make regular; whatever we wish
to do successfully, we must do regularly. A tiresome, prosaic quality
we are apt to consider it, and one which restricts our freedom. The
regular return of small duties often makes them annoying, yet in large
affairs regularity adds dignity and strength. It is essential for the
establishment of any institution. A trite truth this may be, but trite
truths are not always applied, and it is for the application of this
homily to local circles that we sue.

It is most desirable that your local circle should become durable.
Not a club, to which you can run in as you have leisure, or which can
be adjourned for other engagements; which shall run this winter, and
“perhaps,” “if nothing happens,” go on next winter. Not at all. There
is a higher idea embodied in the plan. The true ambition of each member
of a circle should be to make it _the_ literary association of the
community, the leader in practical ideas, clear thinking, intelligent
talk and refined manners; but to reach this goal the circle meeting must
be considered too valuable to be omitted for any occasion whatever. Its
object is equal to that of any institution in the town. If you wish to
develop this idea, to establish your circle, to secure for it recognition
as a well founded organization, regularity in meeting and attendance
must be secured. It is true that a social or religious event sometimes
happens for which courtesy seems to demand an adjournment. In such a
case it is quite possible to select another night. The one idea upon
which we would insist is that the circle be considered and conducted
as a permanent institution, that it be made the intellectual center of
your life. How wonderful an impetus to thought and culture is such an
organization, only those who lack its influence can tell. Some of the
earnest letters which come to us from time to time give a suggestion of
what a circle might be to lone readers. Is there not, indeed, in this
delightful letter from BULGARIA, a hint of the real value of a circle,
a value which we so often fail to appreciate? It comes from an old
Chautauqua friend—Miss Lenna A. Schenck, now a missionary at LOFTCHA,
BULGARIA: “How gladly would we report to you from this out-of-the-way
corner of the earth the organization of a flourishing local circle. But,
alas! alas! we can not boast of even a triangle or a straight line, only
a point, a mere dot, but a thoroughly loyal one, keenly enjoying the good
things of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, that most welcome and highly prized of all the
white-winged friends that come to us by mail. Though so few in number, we
keep the vesper hours and the memorial days, and begin each day happily
by devoting the time from six to seven in the morning to Chautauqua
reading, and so we are inspired by glimpses of charming circles away in
the homeland, and by memories of delightful summers with our blessed
alma mater, Chautauqua herself. Before another year rolls round, we
hope to have at least a local triangle here at Loftcha, and perhaps a
Bulgarian translation of some of Chautauqua’s best ‘ideas.’ Many things
might be said of our new home and new work, but we remember the delicate
suggestion given in the November ‘Local Circle,’ that ‘no one could stay
very long,’ so with heartful greetings to the class of ’83 and to all
good Chautauquans the world over, we bid you adieu.”

Are not such friends of Chautauqua the prophecy of a time when the
work shall encircle the earth? Each month brings signs of its growth.
Particularly do we notice this month the spread of the work in CANADA.
The press is particularly friendly to the movement in the Provinces;
for example, the _Educational Weekly_, of TORONTO, quotes the _Globe_
of that city as saying: “The Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle
is now pretty well known. It has been in operation since 1878, and
has done a great deal of good. The yearly reunions at Chautauqua have
come to be very pleasant and very profitable. We understand that a
similar summer resort is to be instituted in Canada, in connection with
the reading circles already established in the Dominion. We wish the
enterprise all success.” Much of the interest in Toronto is undoubtedly
due to the hearty work of Mr. E. Gurney, and Mr. Lewis Peake, president
and secretary of the “Central” circle. This circle has recently had the
pleasure of hearing a lecture on “Athenian Literature” from Professor
Hutton, of the University College. LONDON has also a very flourishing
circle, dating from the fall of 1883, when it was organized with a
membership of about forty. It is a most healthy sign of growth, when
reorganization finds a circle larger than when it disbanded. The
“Central” circle had this fortune. They began the present year with a
membership of forty eight. Their plans have been most happy; the vesper
services in the Chautauqua song books are used at every meeting, and
quotations as responses to roll call; chemical experiments are performed
for them by a professor of practical chemistry, who is a member of the
circle, and their programs are full of variety. So important to them
is their circle that they made Christmas the occasion of a special
meeting, at which they used the Christmas vesper and praise service
which appeared in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for December. The service was followed
by an address and several entertaining exercises. This is exactly the
work which enhances the value of the circle, both for the members and
for the community. It raises a circle to the point where it becomes the
medium through which all extra social occasions may be observed. It makes
it not only a reading club, but a factor in the social, religious and
intellectual life of a community.

At DARTMOUTH, NOVA SCOTIA, we learn from a local paper, there is also
an energetic circle. They have done good work in introducing the C. L.
S. C. to the public, securing a notice of a public vesper service, an
explanation of the work they are doing, mention of the circles in the
vicinity, and following their information by announcing their next
meeting with a cordial invitation to the public to be present.

In November last two new circles were formed in MAINE. A “Pine Tree”
circle, of twenty-seven members, coming from DOVER and FOXCROFT.
These beautiful villages are closely connected by covered bridges—the
Piscataquis river flowing between, though it is a hard matter for a
stranger to see where one begins or the other ends, so much like one
village are they. A friendly way to live, is it not? These classmates
have evidently learned what Thackeray found out in London long ago—that
“A man ought to like his neighbors, to be popular with his neighbors. It
is a friendly heart that has plenty of friends.” But we all learn that in
the C. L. S. C. The second is the “Simpson” circle at AUBURN, where the
Rev. G. D. Lindsay is president. Sixteen enthusiasts make up the circle
which, so far, finds the work suggested in THE CHAUTAUQUAN sufficient for
its needs.

One of the most interesting and prosperous, though not largest of
Chautauqua circles, is the “Baketel” circle, at GREENLAND, N. H. It
is named in honor of its founder and leader, Rev. O. S. Baketel, an
old Chautauquan of the class of ’82. The organization is very simple.
The leader prepares the program for each evening, and the members come
promptly. No inflexible rule is adhered to, but as much variety given
as possible. That the plan is most successful we know from a recent
letter from a friend, in which he says of the work: “Our members vary in
age from eighteen years to fifty-three, and none are more enthusiastic
than the oldest ones. It makes one of the most interesting gatherings
ever brought together in the community, and is furnishing help to some
whose advantages in early life were very limited. Every member feels
like exclaiming ‘All hail C. L. S. C.’”——The “Webster” C. L. S. C.,
of FRANKLIN, N. H., is enjoying its second year of existence. A good
interest was maintained throughout last year, and they began this year’s
work promptly in October, with twenty-two active members. To them
the dining room table has revealed its wonderful power to stimulate
sociability and “good talk.” They have discovered its genial ways, how
it will always stretch to make room for more and still more, and how it
seems to be always saying: “Stretch out your arms; don’t mind just how
you sit. I shield your position, I am here to help you all, to bring you
close together, to hold your books, to forbid your parting, to compel you
to be a circle.” Indeed, we are glad the “Webster” circle has learned the
virtues of a dining room for study and for friendliness. Maybe if they
but analyzed their devotion to their circle that stout, wooden friend
would deserve not a little of the honor, and perhaps, too, it has helped
not a little in bringing in the children, which, they write, are crowding
into the Chautauqua work until the circle boasts even grandchildren.

The “Clio” club of twenty members at NEWPORT, VT., kindly remembers THE
CHAUTAUQUAN with one of the programs used at a recent public meeting.
The dainty, tasseled souvenir they send us bears a list of exercises of
unusual richness and variety.

MASSACHUSETTS is getting her circles into the press. Scarcely a paper
from within her borders comes to our sanctum which does not contain
at least one item of Chautauqua import. The _Melrose Journal_ of
MELROSE reports the organization of a circle of fifteen members in that
city.——The _Woburn Journal_ notices the work of the circle there in a
very appreciative notice: “The fortnightly meetings of the First Woburn
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle are being well attended and
the exercises are very profitable intellectually and the students are
doing good work. Two weeks ago the Rev. Charles Anderson gave a very
interesting talk on Prof. Schliemann’s recent explorations in Mycenæ,
and Hissarlik, the supposed site of ancient Troy. At some meeting in
the near future the Rev. A. E. Winship, a true Chautauquan, connected
with the ‘New West Education Commission,’ a thorough scholar and a
very interesting speaker, will lecture on ‘Literary Clubs’ before
the members of the circle.”——The _Saturday Union_, of LYNN, speaks of
the thorough work their circle is doing in chemistry.——The _Ipswich
Chronicle_ highly commends the Milton memorial held by the “Masconomo”
circle of that city. By the way, the name of this circle brings back
an interesting bit of early Massachusetts history. It was the Indian
Masconomo, or Masconnomet—from whom the circle is named—who, in 1638,
“sold his fee in the soil of Ipswich” for £20, to John Winthrop, Jr. And
here was established the town which the Indians called Agawan (“fishing
station”), and to which the white men gave the name of Ipswich.——The
_Salem Gazette_, too, gives notices of two branches of the C. L. S. C. in
that city. About forty members are in each of these societies.——Several
new circles we have the pleasure of adding to our visiting book. At
MERRIMAC a circle of seventeen members has been formed, with the happy
title of the “Hale” circle. The first circle, so far as we know, which
has honored itself by assuming the name of our esteemed counselor. They
should be glad they waited; so good a name does honor to anybody, and
ought to be an omen of future prosperity.——The “Eaton” circle, named in
honor of the Rev. G. F. Eaton, begins life with seventy members. Its home
is WALTHAM—city of watches. If the spirit of the town is to be the spirit
of the circle, wonderful results will certainly be forthcoming.——Last
October a few of the many students in the C. L. S. C. in WORCESTER
organized a local circle. By the perseverance of these few, others
have been persuaded to take the course, until the circle numbers about
sixteen. They have taken the name of the “Warren” local circle, in honor
of Bishop Warren.——At PROVINCETOWN a company of ten, five ladies and
five gentlemen, met on the evening of the sixteenth of December last,
to form a local circle. The meetings have occurred every week since;
the circle has adopted the name of “Mayflower.” The meetings are full
of interest, and the members are busy trying to make up the reading of
the past months. All are members of the class of ’88 except one, who
belongs to the class of ’85.——SOUTH GARDEN reports a circle organized a
year ago, but which has never been noticed in THE CHAUTAUQUAN before.
It is a “Pansy” class—all the fifteen members belonging to the class
of ’87.——“Not Chautauquans for four years only, but Chautauquans for
life,” the friends at HOLBROOK subscribe themselves. Their motto grew
out of the ardor of a lady member of the circle who, when at a recent
meeting something was said about a four years’ course, said: “I shall
not consider that I have finished the course at the end of four years. I
for one am going to be a Chautauquan as long as I live.” A right royal
motto, is it not?——The WAKEFIELD circle sends a program of a meeting in
which we are glad to notice that present affairs go side by side with
discussions of Grecian history and art and literature. The subjects for
essays include a “Review of Current Affairs in Massachusetts,” “The
Pension Problem,” etc. The history that is making certainly deserves our
attention, as well as the history of the past.——NORTH CAMBRIDGE also
sends the program which they prepared for the January meetings of the
“Longfellow” circle. In addition to their regular work, they added the
novel feature of a talk on newspaper work, from a practical newspaper
man.——The last of this month’s Massachusetts reports contains a most
capital hint. AUBURNDALE is the home of a flourishing circle, which
among its other good features has a constitution. One of the articles of
this constitution is the suggestion which it will please us to have you
all ponder. It reads: “A short report of the condition of our society
shall be forwarded twice a year to THE CHAUTAUQUAN.” Do you all take
the hint? Perhaps one secret of this energetic article is the nearness
of Auburndale to Framingham—so near is it that all the members of the
circle went to the Assembly last year. To Massachusetts, too, belongs the
honor of the following merry Chautauqua feast, of which a friend from
Providence, R. I., has written us: “Spending a few days in ROCKLAND,
MASS., I was invited to visit the ‘Sherwin’ Chautauqua Circle, and being
a true-blue member of the ‘Clio’ C. L. S. C. of Providence, I was joyful
in accepting. The exercises were of a most novel and interesting kind,
and unusually pleasing to me, as I was an old acquaintance of Prof.
Sherwin. Since this society was instituted, some two years ago, but one
representative of the posterity of the circle has been born, and the
members of this enterprising circle showed their appreciation of Prof.
Sherwin’s noble work in the good cause by naming this gift after him.
An elegant gold lace pin had been made to order, with the initials C.
L. S. C. neatly engraved upon it, and that evening the presentation was
made. After Chautauqua greetings had been exchanged, the baby Sherwin
was called for, and made his appearance, riding on his mother’s arm, as
wise and dignified in behavior as a youthful Solon. One of the frolicsome
Chautauqua dames then read the following formal rhyme:

    “‘There were some fair dames of Chautauqua,
     Their possessions were lovely to see,
     Between you and me;
     They had jewels of gold,
     Of value untold,
     These elegant dames of Chautauqua;
     But children were few,
     You scarce find one or two
     In the homes of these dames of Chautauqua.
     And sad were the dames of Chautauqua
     When they read of the Gracchus,
     Of Cupid and Bacchus,
     The lesson seemed filled up with mocking.
     They longed for a son,
     So the gods sent them one,
     Full of frolic and fun,
     Sent a son to these dames of Chautauqua.
     Then what joy in the circle Chautauqua!
     What pæans were sung,
     And Chautauqua bells rung,
     To welcome the lad of Chautauqua!
     Straight they gave him a name,
     Sherwin Burrill the same—
     These frolicsome dames of Chautauqua!
     Now, they badge him with gold,
     So that when he is old,
     They can still claim their son of Chautauqua.’”

At SOUTH MANCHESTER, CONN., a most encouraging increase of members
has taken place. Last year the circle numbered twenty, this year
forty-eight. Such growth is full of promise for the future, and yet it
is the inevitable result of enthusiastic members and carefully prepared
programs.——The new circle at MANSFIELD CENTER, CONN., numbers ten
members. They are expecting a lecture on chemistry soon, from Prof.
Washburn, of the North Mansfield Agricultural College.——The “Newfield” C.
L. S. C. of WEST STRATFORD, CONN., has recently received the following
pleasant letter from “Pansy:”

                                    CARBONDALE, PA., January 6, 1885.

    _Dear Friends of ’87_:

    My word of greeting to you must commence with an apology. The
    letter from your secretary found me immersed in work. The holiday
    season brings upon me a heavy pressure of care, in addition to
    the usual routine. From the almost hopeless mass of unanswered
    letters which I have just overturned on my study table, that of
    your secretary emerges, so I seize it and make a beginning. What
    shall I say? I might congratulate you on being members of that
    great literary circle, which verily seems destined to reach out
    its long arms and encircle the world—but to what purpose would
    this be?

    You already know by experience all, and more than I could tell
    you of its advantages, and its far reaching influences.

    What then, shall I, in this moment of time, say to you who are
    classmates of mine? Shall I hope that you may be able to pass
    the Golden Gate and join in the class song of the ’87s, and
    receive your diploma from the hands of the Chautauqua chief,
    and enjoy all the delights of Commencement day? That indeed I
    heartily wish. I hope to be there and to clasp hands with you,
    and give and receive greeting.

    But I am conscious while I write, of a higher, stronger, holier
    hope than that, even that every member of your circle and of all
    the great Chautauqua Circle may finally pass the Golden Gate
    that leads to the palace of the King, and receive from him the
    greeting “well done, good and faithful servants,” and receive
    from his hands the crowns laid up for those who are “called, and
    chosen, and faithful.”

    Oh, to be sure of passing safely through the ordeal of
    examination by the Judge!

    When I think of the immense enthusiasm of the C. L. S. C., I
    am glad. I believe in enthusiasm. I believe in the Chautauqua
    Literary and Scientific Circle. Yet I wonder, often, whether we,
    as Christians, can not learn something from the eagerness of many
    scholars who are not of the royal family, and yet are eager to
    learn all they can, about our Father’s handiwork in earth and air
    and sky.

    I am writing longer than I meant. I only wanted to say this: Let
    us make sure of clasping hands at last in our Father’s house.

                           Yours in His name,

                                           MRS. G. R. ALDEN.—“PANSY.”

Desiring to promote the interests of the C. L. S. C., the Chautauqua
circles of Rhode Island, numbering about twenty-five, have united and
formed the “Rhode Island Chautauqua Union,” with the following officers:
President, Prof. John H. Appleton, A.M., of Brown University; first vice
president, the Rev. J. Hall McIlvaine, pastor of the Union Congregational
Church; second vice president, Hon. Thos. B. Stockwell, A.M., Rhode
Island State Commissioner of Public Schools; third vice president, Levi
W. Russell, A.M., Principal of Bridgham School; secretary and treasurer,
Wm. D. Porter, D.D.S., all of Providence. There have been three new
circles formed this year in PROVIDENCE, R. I., one of them bearing the
popular name of “Vincent.” “Hope” circle, formed in 1882, is still
in a flourishing condition. They were favored last month with a very
interesting and instructive address by Prof. Appleton, on “The Value of
the Study of the Natural Sciences.” The executive committee arrange the
order of exercises and find the monthly programs in THE CHAUTAUQUAN of
great benefit. The circle has now about seventy members, and most of them
belong to the C. L. S. C.——Another newly organized circle of Providence
is the “Esmeralda Bachelor” circle. It numbers twenty members, all
gentlemen, and they give as the only excuse which it seems to us could
be at all valid for forming a circle of bachelors, that they can get
more young men into their club by restricting its membership. “Whittier”
circle, of the same city, has been reorganized, and a most pleasant item
comes to us from them. On the birthday of the beloved poet, the circle
sent to him as a souvenir a paper weight of serpentine, from a quarry in
Newburg, Mass. It had been cut into a design of oak leaves and acorns.
Their remembrance brought back a kindly response from Whittier.——A newly
organized circle also exists at RIVER POINT, R. I. It was formed in
October last, and numbers thirty-five. Their plan is that laid out in THE

The NEW YORK circles are doing wonderfully energetic work. At JORDAN
there is a new and growing organization of twenty-four members.——At
MEDINA, one of thirteen, which has already begun to scatter seed,
some of it so far away as the Pacific coast, where our Medina members
believe they will soon have an offshoot.——The “Wolcott” C. L. S. C. has
been organized at WOLCOTT, with over thirty members, who write most
enthusiastic words of the benefits they have already received.——At
BROCTON the veteran circle, composed of members of the S. H. G. and C.
L. S. C., held a delightful Milton memorial.——At ROCHESTER, the circle
which is connected with the Academy of Science in that city, wins this
appreciative notice from a local paper: “Public sentiment in favor
of the Chautauqua movement is spreading with marvelous rapidity. Such
certainly is the fact in regard to the circle in this city. There are
now upward of forty members enrolled, and beside these a large number
of persons attend the semi-monthly meetings who have not yet identified
themselves with the regular work. The practical benefit derived from
this course of home study becomes more apparent as it is investigated,
constantly confirming the wisdom of its founders in setting in motion a
plan for the intellectual and moral elevation and culture of thousands
who have only spare minutes for such an object.”——At GLENS FALLS, not
long ago, Chancellor Vincent greeted his C. L. S. C. pupils, delivering
his lecture on “That Boy and His Friends,” before them, and meeting
them afterward at a reception.——At OCEAN GROVE, the circle under Dr.
Stokes’s genial management is doing admirable work. A delightful social
was recently held by the circle at the Sheldon House.——The MARION circle
has reorganized this year, strong and hopeful as ever. Says a member:
“The ‘Inner Chautauqua’ is taking a deeper hold upon us year by year,
and we propose that our connection with the C. L. S. C. shall continue
indefinitely. We are trying to extend the knowledge of it by distributing
the ‘Popular Educational Circular,’ by inserting an occasional item in
our village paper relating to the doings of our circle, as well as by
personal conversation with our friends and acquaintances.”——The circle at
CARMEL has also been reorganized, with seventeen members. Their programs
show excellent work.——At SANDY HILL, during the holidays, a special
meeting commemorated the season. Among the exercises was a poem on “The
Triumph of our Language,” which deserves special mention.——The BROOKLYN
circle, of Hansom Place M. E. Church, has increased its membership to
over one hundred. It owes to the Rev. George E. Reed, its president,
the large increase. Having outgrown the capacities of private parlors,
they have met lately in those of the church, where, while losing some
of its more social elements, there is a far better opportunity for map
display and the general working of the monthly class. Following out the
assignment of an instruction committee, they find no lack of willing
participants. One of the most popular exercises is the five minutes’
essay on some person or incident connected with the current reading.
In good hands, the information condensed is of the most direct kind,
and at its conclusion an opportunity is given the class to ask any
questions relevant to the topic. All this is clear knowledge, and has
proven one of the most agreeable of their methods.——At FORT PLAIN, the
circle carried out on Bryant day a highly enjoyable program. That this
circle is enthusiastic, the fact that some of its members come from four
miles away, is a proof.——A second New York circle which has enjoyed a
visit from Chancellor Vincent, and had the pleasure of tendering him
a reception, is that at CHATHAM. Several new members have joined the
circle there, the result of the inspiring talk which the Chancellor gave
them.——The “Ionian” circle of BURLINGTON, N. Y., is winning friendly
attention from the local press, its meetings being noticed, and its
exercises commended.——The “Vincent” circle, of TROY, invariably sends out
to its members, on its announcements of monthly meetings, some bit of
inspiring thought. On the January program we find this sentence, useful,
we suspect, for other than Troy readers: “Remember this: In proportion as
you put thought and work into these monthly meetings, in that proportion,
with high interest, will you draw out in enjoyment and profit.”

The local circle of BRIDGEVILLE, PA., was organized November, 1881, with
a membership of thirteen. During the intervening three years there have
been many changes, but the good work has been steadily going forward.
The circle reorganized October, 1884, with eight members, and has taken
up the work of the year with increased vigor, the meetings being well
attended and very interesting. The monthly meetings are held in the
village church, though none of the members live in the village, some
having to travel the distance of two miles to attend the meetings.——At
READING, the “Cleaver” circle has been reorganized, with double its old
membership. Their program they make very interesting, by introducing
variety into the exercises.——Nine ladies and gentlemen formed last fall
the “Castelian” circle, in PHILADELPHIA. Happy are they to have a large
map of Greece. What a treasure it is to a circle these days!

The “Meridian” circle, of WASHINGTON, D. C., has been having a feast of
good things. How can it help it? It lives in Washington, and Washington
offers peculiar advantages to literary and scientific clubs, not only
on account of its immense professional library and large scientific
collections in the Smithsonian Institution and National Museum, but
also through the _personnel_ of these institutions and of the many
other scientific bureaus of the government, who, making literature or
science their daily vocation, afford a large field from which to draw
essayists and experimentalists of a high order. “Meridian” circle has
been fortunate in availing itself of these advantages. Last year, during
the course in vegetable biology, they had an evening’s instruction in
the microscopic examination of bioplasm, by Dr. D. S. Lamb, the eminent
anatomist of the United States Medical Museum, who had charge of the
autopsy of President Garfield. This year, at their last meeting in
November, they had an essay from Mr. Lee Shidy, of the United States
Coast Survey, on “The Tides,” a most interesting subject, and most
interestingly and ably illustrated and explained.

A seven-years-old circle certainly deserves a warm corner by THE
CHAUTAUQUAN’S fireside. Most cordially do we grant it, for we mistrust
that a circle so experienced will be unusually good company, and will
be able, too, to give us some suggestions of value. It is the “Trojan,”
of TROY, OHIO, which claims this rare distinction, and we believe we
are not wrong in saying that their history will be of great interest
to all. The ‘Trojan’ circle was organized with a large membership in
1878. Eight members graduated in 1882, five of them being at Chautauqua
that season. In the fall of that year the circle increased greatly,
and has been growing in interest ever since. Now it numbers thirty-two
members. Their plan of work is as follows: They open with singing, and
responsive reading from ‘Chautauqua Songs.’ At roll call each member is
expected to respond with a Bible verse. The questions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN
on the week’s lesson are asked, and also original test questions from
some or all of the members, on the readings. Sometimes the circle reads
alternately from one of the text-books, or from THE CHAUTAUQUAN. They
always have a critic, and a committee of two that gives a digest of the
topics of the times, often in the form of questions, which thus makes
a pleasant _conversazione_. Memorial days are faithfully remembered
and made interesting and attractive by essays, readings, recitations,
and music.——At PERRYSBURG, OHIO, ten persons are in the circle, which
has been in existence for about four years. One entertaining feature
is novel. Occasionally a paper of interesting general news is added to
the program. The question box, too, is made a feature of each evening,
a practice which is always worth all the work it takes. Memorial days
find pleasant observance, the Milton memorial being celebrated with
peculiarly pleasing exercises. The circle is rejoicing in their readings,
considering them of great benefit.

MICHIGAN advances with a goodly list of new circles this month. At
PETOSKEY there are fourteen members formed into a circle. These friends
have the invigorating influence of the Bay View summer Assembly to help
their work.——At HUDSON, a delightful company of thirty-five has formed
the “Carleton” circle, the name being given, of course, in honor of the
popular poet, Will M. Carleton, whose birthplace and early home were in
Hudson. Round-Tables with genuine “at home” feeling, recitations, select
readings, question box, queries, criticisms and quotations make the
meetings full of life and variety. The program for an evening is always
published in the local papers at least two weeks beforehand, and a report
of each meeting is slipped in after each session, so that the people
can not forget the existence of the C. L. S. C. At an early meeting
our friends are going to take a trip to Naples and return.——Strong
organizations have been formed at both KALAMAZOO and SAUGATUCK. At the
former place the “Burr Oak” circle has twenty members, and at the latter,
a lovely town about two miles up the Kalamazoo River, the circle, though
small, is growing. The use which they make of our columns seems to us
very good. “THE CHAUTAUQUAN is our ‘guide and counselor,’ and though we
do not follow closely its outline for local circles, yet we never prepare
a program without its aid.”——In the land of the arbutus, at TRAVERSE
CITY, the “Arbutus” circle, of twenty members, has been organized. A
pretty monogram has been designed for them, and it is to be printed
upon the sermon paper which the members use for essays and reviews.
These contributions are then to be bound in paper covers and filed. An
interesting collection it will certainly make. The growth of our language
has been furnishing this circle with some interesting topics.

The “Vincent” local circle of LAFAYETTE, IND., has entered upon its
fourth year, with forty members, three of whom are C. L. S. C. graduates,
but remain active in the work. The president, Prof. Craig, and vice
president, Prof. Thompson, both of Purdue University, are thoroughly
interested in the work. The program is prepared a month in advance. They
are following the suggestions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, largely. The success of
their lecture course last winter left the society with funds sufficient
to rent a room, centrally located, for the regular meetings. The vice
president, a Professor of Art, recently presented the circle with a terra
cotta medallion of Dr. Vincent, his own work. It has been handsomely
framed and hung in their room.

From SHELDON, ILL., a friend writes: “We have a local circle of about
twenty-five members and great interest is taken in the exercises. We
usually follow your program. Not having started until after October 1st,
and having been delayed in obtaining our books, has thrown us behind
some, still we are making up lost ground better than expected.”——At CRETE
a circle has started off with twenty-six members—many of them young
people, to whom the course has been just what they needed.——ABINGDON also
has a society of twenty-three members. Several readers have been there
in past years, but not until now has there been a circle. The chemistry
readings are furnishing an excellent opportunity for experiments, and the
Abingdon circle are fortunate in having a college laboratory to resort to
for experiments.

The circle of the Franklin Avenue M. E. Church, MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA,
has been formed two years and has not reported until now to THE
CHAUTAUQUAN. They have an interesting class of nineteen members, who are
all very zealous in the work. The circle meets every Monday evening to
review the week’s work, which they are studying after the plan laid out

The circles of MINNESOTA, and, indeed, of the entire north-west, are
requested to send a note to Mr. E. P. Penniman, ST. PAUL, MINN., stating
whether they will coöperate in a plan for securing a C. L. S. C. day
at either the Red Rock camp ground, Lake Minnetonka, or at White Bear
Lake. The six circles of St. Paul, those of Minneapolis, Hudson, and
Stillwater, have signified their willingness to help carry out this
excellent idea. Such a day would be an event of greatest interest
and value to the circles in that locality; it would arouse flagging
enthusiasm, would give every one present a fund of new ideas, and would
spread the plan of home reading in many homes where it is unknown.

We are very much pleased to hear from BLOOMFIELD, IOWA, of a circle,
organized in 1882, but which has not before been introduced to our
circles. Since its organization its membership has increased from six
to fifteen members. The memorial days are observed and much social life
enjoyed by the circle which promises that at no late day there will be
more than one organization of the C. L. S. C. in their city.

A late number of _The Daily Register_, of MOBILE, ALABAMA, contains an
essay on “The Character of Milton,” which was read before one of the
circles of that city at a recent meeting. Had we space we should gladly
reprint this excellent paper. Mobile has two societies reading the
Chautauqua course, and we hope that we shall soon receive full reports
from them.

A great deal of energy is displayed by the DESOTA, MISSOURI, circle.
Few issues of the _Jefferson Watchman_ come out without a notice of its
meetings. A late number says: “The members of the C. L. S. C. are again
busily engaged in their work after their holiday vacation. Two meetings
have already been held in the new term, both of which were enjoyable and
instructive, and the reading of ’85 is well under way. The number of
members is about the same as last term, as none after becoming interested
in the work seem to have the least inclination to drop out of the circle,
but on the contrary become more and more interested and enthusiastic. The
program for the next meeting will be found in another part of this paper.”

KANSAS quite equals Missouri, however, in its enterprising readers. A
letter from a reader at WAKARUSA remarks of their circle: “We number but
eight members, and are so scattered that our circuit embraces several
miles, but having adopted the name ‘Olympian,’ we hope in time to carry
off a double prize, one for intellectual attainments, the other for
physical prowess exhibited in combat with Kansas mud. Though we have
difficulties and discouragements even in our own little circle, we
are yet resolute and enthusiastic. At present the Round-Table is the
principal feature of our meetings.”——Quite as interesting is a live
report from WYANDOTTE: “Although we have not been reported for nearly
a year, our circle is not dead, but the interest is increasing, and we
are doing better work than ever. Our membership numbers twenty-five,
with twenty subscribers to THE CHAUTAUQUAN. In 1884 we held forty-seven
meetings, and had an average attendance of twelve. With us, as with
nearly all other circles, the great difficulty is to keep from having too
much of a sameness in our programs. Thus far we have had good success by
giving a committee charge of the literary work, which reports performers
and programs a week in advance for regular meetings and three weeks for
memorial meetings. We sometimes vary the exercises by devoting an entire
evening to one subject. We endeavor to have all roll calls answered with
quotations, and stimulate inquiry by having a question box, the contents
of which are discussed at each meeting. We observe all memorial days,
and they are a never failing source of interest. On Milton memorial
the biography of Milton was given by the circle, each member taking up
the history where the former one stopped. Each member read a favorite
selection from the author, and the variety of selections indicated a
variety of taste. We make good use of the Chautauqua songs, and find that
the singing of them renders a meeting so much the more interesting, and
there is, too, a bond of union in a stirring song. Our members have taken
the liberty of naming this circle the ‘Pansy’ circle, as nearly all of us
are members of the ‘Pansy’ class.”

We are sorry to “skip” the wide space between Kansas and California, and
gladly stop at NORDHOFF, CAL., where we find the “Ojai” circle, which
was organized last October. Although they are only seven, they are all
in earnest and full of the Chautauqua spirit. They meet once each month,
at the homes of the members. They are all busy people, but are glad to
_make_ time for the C. L. S. C. reading, which they find adds a charm to
busy lives. They hope to be able to persuade many of their friends to
join them.



“_Press on, reaching after those things which are before._”


    _President_—J. B. Underwood, Meriden, Conn.

    _Vice President_—C. M. Nichols, Springfield, Ohio.

    _Treasurer_—Miss Carrie Hart, Aurora, Ind.

    _Secretary_—Miss M. M. Canfield, Washington, D. C.

    _Executive Committee_—Officers of the class.

    Class badges may be procured of either President or Treasurer.

       *       *       *       *       *

A very pretty program comes to us from a loyal “Invincible” of Toledo,
Ohio, the Rev. H. M. Bacon, the president of the “Bryant” circle of that
city. The program contains a six months’ outline of work. It bears the
mottoes, the dates of regular meetings, and the memorial days. A kind of
C. L. S. C. calendar which we imagine any once having had would find it
hard to do without.

       *       *       *       *       *

Miss Kimball writes our secretary, Miss Canfield, of Washington, that the
Invincibles—true to their name—are making a splendid record, and that
the class standing is excellent. She says: “I think the Invincibles may
well be proud of their record. The prospect is that the class will stand
fully as high, in proportion to its size, as any of the other classes.
Of course we can not expect the actual number of graduates to reach that
of other classes, as the whole recorded membership is much smaller.” Let
this encouraging news help us to “press on,” and, classmates, see to it
that all members of your local circles, who rightfully belong with the
’85s, have their memoranda completed and sent in by the first of July.

       *       *       *       *       *

Of those who expect to receive diplomas at Chautauqua, forty-one,
representing fifteen states, Canada and the District of Columbia, have
responded to the request to send their names to the secretary. Let us
hear from you all, that the list for “roll call” may be complete.

       *       *       *       *       *

One ’85, who writes he lives alone with his brother “away out in the
backwoods of California,” regrets he can not be present at Chautauqua,
but hopes to receive his diploma at Monterey. From the Atlantic to the
Pacific the pulse of the C. L. S. C. is beating strong and steady.


“_We study for light, to bless with light._”


    _President_—The Rev. B. P. Snow, Biddeford, Maine.

    _Vice Presidents_—The Rev. J. C. Whitley, Salisbury, Maryland;
    Mr. L. F. Houghton, Peoria, Illinois; Mr. Walter Y. Morgan,
    Cleveland, Ohio; Mrs. Delia Browne, Louisville, Kentucky; Miss
    Florence Finch, Palestine, Texas.

    _Secretary_—The Rev. W. L. Austin, New Albany, Ind.

       *       *       *       *       *

    “For light!” and “with light!” as the words we repeat,
       Yet fuller and deeper the message they bring;
     Still through every volume each line that we meet
       In undertone earnest our motto shall ring.

    “For light” do we ponder the history vast
       Which spreads through the ages its sunshine and shade,
    “With light” for the present, we come from the past,
       With lessons whose impress we can not evade.

    “For light” must we study the many-hued lines
       Which Greece with her delicate pencil has traced;
     While Rome with her pride and her grandeur combines
       To deepen the picture no time can efface.

    “For light” at the portals of Nature we wait—
       Descend to her rocks and mount up to her stars—
     Her atoms diffuse and her gases collate,
       Yet learn, as her secrets she slowly unbars,

     How, filling, pervading, encompassing all,
       Still law—mighty law—through all systems doth reign;
     The world and the atom respond to its call,
       The dewdrop and ocean are bound by its chain.

    “For light,” above all, when our vesper has chimed,
       We bathe in the beams of an unsetting Sun;
     When thus up the ladder of prayer we have climbed,
       “With light” shall be blessed many thousands through one.

    “For light!” and “with light!” ’tis for this we would live,
       O fling our glad banner abroad to the sky!
     Truths won for ourselves unto others we give,
       Till light never-clouded shall greet us on high.

    ALICE C. JENNINGS, Class of ’86.


“_Let us be seen by our deeds._”


    _President_—The Rev. A. E. Dunning, D.D., Boston, Mass.

    _Vice Presidents_—Prof. W. N. Ellis, 108 Gates Avenue, Brooklyn,
    N. Y.; the Rev. Wm. G. Roberts, Bellevue, Ohio.

    _Secretary_—Miss M. E. Taylor, Cleveland, Ohio.

    _Treasurer_—Miss M. E. Taylor, Cleveland, Ohio.

    All items for this column should be sent, in condensed form, to
    the Rev. C. C. McLean, St. Augustine, Florida.

       *       *       *       *       *

Badges for the Class of ’88 sold only by Mrs. Rosie M. Baketel,
Greenland, N. H. Price, 15 cents each.

       *       *       *       *       *

All members who have interesting items of class news should send them
promptly to the Rev. C. C. McLean.

       *       *       *       *       *

The following circles of the Class of ’88 have been formed, viz.:
“Janes,” Brooklyn, N. Y., sixty-two members; “Vincent,” Wyoming, Iowa,
over twenty members; “Washington Avenue,” Milwaukee, Wis., fourteen
members. In Collamer, Ohio, there was organized a circle four years
ago. It has enjoyed active vitality ever since, and is now doing most
efficient work in astronomy. Aroused by the last Chautauqua Assembly,
nearly thirty organized a new circle. All are of the Class of ’88, except
one of ’82, one of ’83, and five of ’86. The latter includes an old lady
in her 81st year, who is not only beautiful in character, but, seemingly,
as bright in intellect as in the meridian of life. This circle favors a
change in motto; one suggests “Perfect in principle, in practice pure.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The Florida Chautauqua is now in session at Lake de Funiak, and closes
March 9th. The program is varied and interesting. We hope to report a
good increase in the Class of ’88 at the close of the Assembly.

       *       *       *       *       *

IOWA.—I am enrolled in the C. L. S. C. army, “Class of ’88.” Not until
the middle of this month (December) was I able to commence my reading.
The prescribed course I think grand, and I can but feel grateful for a
plan so far reaching, and so full and beneficial in its results. Our
class motto is excellent. I am a busy farmer, but I shall make known the
advantages of the “Chautauqua University.”



General Secretary C. L. S. C.


1. Q. Who was the third member of the great tragical triumvirate of
Greece, Æschylus and Sophocles being the other two? A. Euripides.

2. Q. When was Euripides born, and what noted battle took place the year
of his birth? A. 480 B. C., in the year of the battle of Salamis.

3. Q. Where were the closing days of Euripides spent? A. At the court of
the king of Macedonia.

4. Q. Who are two of the translators of Euripides? A. R. Potter, who
has made a metrical translation, and T. A. Buckley, who has produced a
version in prose.

5. Q. From what play of Euripides are the most of the extracts presented
by our author taken? A. From the “Alcestis.”

6. Q. Under what title has Robert Browning rendered a version of
“Alcestis?” A. “Balaustion’s Adventure.”

7. Q. Who was Alcestis? A. The wife and queen to Admetus, king of Pheræ,
in Thessaly.

8. Q. By grace from Apollo, on what condition was Admetus granted the
privilege of not dying? A. On condition of his being able to find some
one who would agree to die in his stead when his turn should come.

9. Q. Who became the required substitute? A. Alcestis, the wife of

10. Q. After her death by whom was she brought back to life and restored
to her husband? A. By Heracles.

11. Q. From what drama of Euripides does our author take a celebrated
chorus, in part eulogistic of Athens? A. The “Medea.”

12. Q. Who stands alone as representative to us of Greek comedy? A.

13. Q. What two comedies of Aristophanes retain for us more interest than
perhaps any other of his works? A. “The Frogs” and “The Clouds.”

14. Q. Who were the especial targets of these two comedies respectively?
A. Euripides of the “Frogs” and Socrates of the “Clouds.”

15. Q. Who is first in fame among ancient lyric poets? A. Pindar.

16. Q. What does Sappho remain to this day in general estimation among
those entitled to adjudge her just rank, from the various trustworthy
indications that survive? A. The foremost woman of genius in the world.

17. Q. What is the only complete poem that has come down to us from
Sappho? A. The “Hymn to Aphrodite.”

18. Q. On what does the fame of Simonides chiefly rest? A. On his

19. Q. What is the most celebrated, perhaps, of all the epigrams of
Simonides? A. That on the Spartan Three Hundred who fell at Thermopylæ.

20. Q. What is the great name in Greek idyllic poetry? A. Theocritus.

21. Q. What two other pastoral poets are associated with Theocritus, in a
kind of parasitic renown? A. Bion and Moschus.

22. Q. From what two idyls of Theocritus does our author give
presentations? A. The “Death of Daphnis,” and the “Festival of Adonis.”

23. Q. Who is first among the masters of eloquence? A. Demosthenes.

24. Q. The name of what other orator is associated with that of
Demosthenes? A. Æschines.

25. Q. What are the most celebrated of Demosthenes’s public orations? A.
The “Olynthiacs,” the “Philippics,” and the oration on the “Crown.”


26. Q. Why is chlorine a substance of very great commercial importance?
A. On account of its extensive use as a bleaching agent.

27. Q. Of what common article is chlorine an important constituent? A.

28. Q. What are the three most striking properties of chlorine? A. Its
noticeable weight—greater than that of the air—its greenish color, and
its exceedingly irritating odor.

29. Q. In connection with what two principal properties does chlorine, as
a chemical agent, manifest its activities? A. Its affinity for hydrogen
and its affinity for the metals.

30. Q. Of what may the substance known as bleaching-powder be spoken in a
general way as consisting? A. Of lime saturated with chlorine.

31. Q. When was bromine first recognized as an elementary substance, and
by whom discovered? A. In the year 1826, by Balard, a French chemist.

32. Q. Where does the substance bromine occur? A. In the brine of the
ocean, and in the water of mineral springs, united with certain metals in
the form of bromides.

33. Q. To what does bromine show very decided resemblances, in its
chemical relations? A. To chlorine, having affinities for the same
substances, only less in intensity.

34. Q. In what processes is bromine an important substance? A. In the
processes of photography.

35. Q. In what form has bromine had a very wide and beneficent use, as a
remedial agent? A. In the form of potassic bromide.

36. Q. What is the other member of the chemical family to which it may be
said chlorine and bromine belong? A. Iodine.

37. Q. Where are all these three elements found? A. In sea water.

38. Q. From what source is iodine obtained? A. From sea weeds.

39. Q. To what are the chemical characteristics of iodine throughout
closely allied? A. To those of chlorine and of bromine, only in general,
iodine may be said to have weaker chemical affinities than either of the
other two.

40. Q. What are two of the principal uses of iodine? A. In photographic
processes, and as a remedial agent.

41. Q. What remarkable statement is made of fluorine? A. That is has
never been known to be produced isolated, that is, in a separate or
uncombined form.

42. Q. What property above all others is characteristic of fluorine? A.
Its striking affinity for silicon.

43. Q. With what substance is fluorine never known to form any compound?
A. With oxygen, which can be said of no other element.

44. Q. What are three considerations upon which the importance of oxygen
depends? A. The surpassing abundance of the substance itself, the
great number of compounds into which it enters, and the activity of its
chemical powers.

45. Q. To whom is the first discovery of oxygen usually attributed? A.
Dr. Joseph Priestly, an English clergyman and student of natural science.

46. Q. What is the most prominent compound of oxygen? A. Water.

47. Q. What are some of the remarkable properties of sulphur? A. The ease
with which it melts; the readiness with which it takes fire and burns in
the air; the striking blue flame produced when it burns; the choking and
disagreeable odor attendant upon its combustion; and its burning when in
the pure form without leaving any ashes.

48. Q. From what localities is the principal supply of sulphur for
commerce obtained? A. From the volcanic districts of the island of Sicily.

49. Q. What is said as to the number of elements with which sulphur
combines? A. It combines in simple form of union with a majority of the
elements known.

50. Q. What are three important compounds of sulphur? A. Sulphuretted
hydrogen, sulphur di-oxide, and sulphur tri-oxide.


On the thirteenth of January the Chautauqua Board of Trustees held
its annual meeting in the elegant rooms of the Young Men’s Christian
Association of the city of Pittsburgh, to prepare the way for the next
great Assembly. Mr. Lewis Miller, Dr. J. H. Vincent, Messrs. F. H. Root,
Jacob Miller, E. A. Skinner, W. A. Duncan, Dr. J. T. Edwards, Rev. J.
Lester, Rev. H. H. Moore, and most of the trustees were present, but as
usual, of the twenty-four members, letters of apology were received from
a few who were detained at home by sickness or urgent business matters.
Those present, however, were fully prepared to go forward and meet the
responsibilities of the hour. Dr. T. L. Flood, editor of THE CHAUTAUQUAN,
and Judge Holt, attorney for the corporation, were present to look after
their respective departments.

As they came together for deliberation the trustees felt the inspiration
of a history of grand successes, of a present satisfactory, and of a
future full of hope. Hence the boldness of their plans, and the energy
with which they were carried into effect. Chautauqua has a constituency
which is of inestimable value, in the prayers and sympathies of many
thousands of people who have never seen those beautiful grounds.

Wherever the Board of Trustees hold their annual meetings a lively
interest is created, especially among press reporters and in the C.
L. S. C. part of the community. In this respect Pittsburgh surpassed
any other place ever visited, Jamestown and Cleveland not excepted. On
reaching the city it was found that a reception had been arranged by the
alumni and members of the Chautauqua Circle, to be held in Christ Church
on the evening of the 13th, and that an elaborate program of exercises
had been provided. The Rev. Mr. Williams, of the Pittsburgh _Christian
Advocate_, occupied the chair. Music was furnished by Hamilton’s Junior
Orchestra. Dr. Hirst, pastor of Christ Church, delivered, in chaste and
eloquent language, an address of welcome. Prof. Holmes, Registrar of
the Chautauqua University, in reply, spoke at length, explaining its
aims and method of operation. President Miller followed in his happiest
vein, and made clear the point that the educational scheme of the Circle
was well suited to meet the constant and progressive changes ever going
forward in society. On being introduced, Dr. Vincent was received by the
great audience with a storm of applause. In his own usual taking way he
unfolded the principles embraced in the Chautauqua Idea. We deal mostly,
he said, with the mature mind that is athirst for knowledge. We make use
of practical methods to supply the great want of the day, which is a
rational society.

Dr. Flood, editor of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, was presented and spoke for a few
moments. The music was fine, the speaking the happiest, and after the
formal exercises had closed a season of free social intercourse followed.
The power Chautauqua had exerted upon the city of Pittsburgh appeared
in the great number present, who rose to their feet as witnesses; and
most of the cities of the nation could produce like evidence of its
popularity and influence.

The lavish expenditures of money which have been made upon buildings
at Chautauqua in the past have created such facilities for work of all
kinds that at present nothing further is required in that direction.
This was a satisfaction not only to those who have heroically carried
heavy financial burdens, but to those who have regretted that they were
able to give only their sympathies to the cause. The brief address made
by President Miller to the Board of Trustees consisted of a brief and
cheery review of the past and a hopeful glance into the future. There is,
he said, much yet to be done, sacrifices to be made, for Chautauqua is
yet in its infancy, and its enlarged work from year to year will demand
increased attention. Secretary Duncan in his annual report informed
the trustees that during the past year his receipts had exceeded his
expenditures by nearly ten thousand dollars, and that this sum had been
used as far as it would go to liquidate the floating debt.

The following written report was presented by Chancellor Vincent:

“For the first time in the history of the Chautauqua Assembly I present
to the Board a formal report. This has hitherto seemed to me unnecessary,
and you have generously accepted a verbal statement in lieu of a full,
official communication. I no longer thus tax your generosity, but under
a keen conviction that an important crisis has arrived in our history, I
beg leave to lay before you the following statements and suggestions:

“The Chautauqua movement is a marvel even to its projectors. However
all-embracing may have been the original conception of our noble
president, Mr. Miller, when he proposed a summer gathering in the grove
at Chautauqua, the gradually unfolding scheme has been a source of
surprise and delight to the world of curious and interested observers.

“Chautauqua in its various departments is a unit. However diverse the
outward forms, the name which marks them all proves them one. The
‘Chautauqua Assembly,’ the ‘Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle,’
the ‘Chautauqua School of Languages,’ the ‘Chautauqua Teachers’ Retreat,’
the ‘Chautauqua Young Folks’ Reading Union,’ the ‘Chautauqua School of
Theology,’ the ‘Chautauqua University’—all are but developments of the
radical idea of Chautauqua, which is popular and symmetrical education;
education for all people; education in all lines, according to varied
tastes, needs and opportunities.

“Our constituency is as broad as are the aims of the institution:
Sunday-school and other Christian workers, day school teachers, students
of language, ministers of the gospel, citizens who mold the nation,
mothers who mold citizens by making homes—these all, and all beside
who seek knowledge, character and usefulness, are the people for whom
Chautauqua was organized.

“With this wide reach of purpose it was necessary that Chautauqua should
project the lines of its intention in plans and departments, that the
world might see its magnitude, and that the full territory it proposes
to occupy might be preëmpted. Until this projection was made, the
Chautauqua Idea was irrepressible. And now Chautauqua with its variety
of departments is not like a mere pile of buildings, with additions,
lean-tos, unrelated edifices, and other after-thoughts, the results of
unmanageable ingenuity. It is a growth and development, a provision
according to the highest law, to meet the necessities which called it
into existence.

“In this growth of twelve years there have been no unnecessary additions.
To have omitted any of them would have made Chautauqua less than it
is; and to have made Chautauqua less than it is would have been a
mistake—almost a disaster. Because of the broad and varied provisions now
included in the Chautauqua movement, it will be greater and stronger for
all time to come.

“It would not have been easy to organize these departments at first under
a single charter. The separate schemes under separate constitutions came
into being. Each is stronger to-day because of the relative independence
of its origin. The time may have come, I think the time has come, for an
external union of departments which have all along been practically one.
No antagonism between them has ever seemed to me possible, but there is a
way of preventing even the seeming or fear of such antagonism.

“At the first meeting of the Board of Trustees of Chautauqua University,
I proposed the appointment of a committee whose business it should be to
bring into complete external unity all departments of Chautauqua. This
committee has never acted. I now renew the proposal, with some practical
hints looking toward this result.”

Dr. Vincent then presented several suggestions designed to harmonize the
various Chautauqua interests.

The report continues:

“The financial condition of Chautauqua is a subject to which I have
heretofore given little attention. I trusted implicitly to the wisdom of
the Board, whose large ideas of the Chautauqua work, whose enthusiasm in
it, and whose generous courtesy toward me, have caused them to give me
the largest liberty, and to treat with great gentleness what they have
sometimes felt to be excessive expenditure.

“My dreams and aspirations concerning the development of Chautauqua
have led me to plan largely, and to spend liberally, that the attention
of great-hearted men might be attracted to our work, the sympathy of
progressive educators secured, and the great centers of influence
in pulpits, colleges and newspapers be commanded in the interest of
Chautauqua. A careful analysis of these expenditures will show that there
has been no extravagance, although a greater economy might have been

The report of Dr. Vincent closed with the following words:

“Trusting that you will see your way clear to coöperate in the plans
proposed, and commending our great institution to him who is the ‘Master
of Assemblies,’ this report is respectfully submitted.”

The report of Dr. Vincent was submitted to a special committee, which
presented the following report, which was adopted as below:

The special committee to which was referred the report of the
Superintendent of Instruction, begs leave respectfully to report:

1. That we recommend to the Board to reorganize the union of the several
associations, schools, and departments of the Chautauqua Assembly,
the Chautauqua School of Theology, the Chautauqua University, and the
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, under a single organization to

2. (This article calls for necessary legislative action.)

3. The work of the new organization shall be carried on under the
following departments:


        _a._ The Summer meetings at Chautauqua;
        _b._ The Sunday-School Normal Department;
        _c._ The School of Languages;
        _d._ The Chautauqua Teachers’ Retreat;


    Chautauqua University,” and with powers as provided in its

    IV.—THE CHAUTAUQUA SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY, with purposes and powers
    as in its charter;


4. There shall be three committees, of three persons each, appointed
by the Board, to coöperate with the Chancellor in the management of
the above departments. Persons may be eligible to appointment on these
committees who are not members of the Board.

These committees shall be:

    _a._ A Committee on Assembly;
    _b._ A Committee on C. L. S. C., the C. S. L. A., and C. S. T.;
    _c._ A Committee on the Chautauqua Press.

5. We approve of the recommendation of the Superintendent of Instruction,
of the establishment of the “Chautauqua Press,” as a part of the
“Chautauqua University.”

6. The income from the general membership fees in the Chautauqua Literary
and Scientific Circle, in the Chautauqua School of Liberal Arts, and in
the Chautauqua School of Theology, with such annual appropriations as
may be made by the Board to these departments, shall constitute their
fund respectively, out of which all expenses of each of these departments
shall be paid annually; the surplus in the department treasury of the C.
L. S. C., of the C. S. L. A., and of the C. S. T., from year to year,
shall be paid to the treasurer of the Assembly Board. There shall be two
assistant treasurers, one to have charge of the funds of the C. L. S. C.,
and the other of the funds of the C. S. L. A. and of the C. S. T., both
of whom shall make an annual report to the Board.

7. We recommend that the Superintendent of Instruction in the Assembly
Board shall hereafter be known as “The Chancellor of the University.”

8. It shall be the duty of the Chancellor of the University to arrange
and conduct the program of the Chautauqua Assembly; to engage speakers,
teachers, leaders of music, and such other assistants as the program may
require; to conduct the affairs of the C. L. S. C., the C. S. L. A., and
the C. S. T.; he shall submit a report to the meeting of the Board in
January of each year, which shall contain a statement of his expenditures
in the several departments during the preceding year, and an estimate of
the probable expenses for the year ensuing.

9. The duties of the other officers shall be those specified in the
by-laws as already adopted by the Assembly, the Chautauqua School of
Theology, and the University, or as may be hereafter adopted.

       *       *       *       *       *

As it has been abundantly demonstrated that this section of the lake is
rich in natural gas, it may be expected that as the season opens the
work of development will commence. Chautauqua has also an inexhaustible
mineral fountain, which many have found not only a pleasant beverage, but
rich in health-giving qualities.

Appearances indicate that the next Assembly will be of the first
importance. Many will probably meet J. B. Gough—the hero of a thousand
platforms—for the last time. Dr. Deems is to come among us once more, and
the original Fisk Jubilee Singers will be there, and they have no equals
in reproducing the fast vanishing songs of the plantation.



The Greek drama, which is now before our C. L. S. C. students in its
English rendering, presents many interesting aspects to the modern mind.
We are well aware that this statement will surprise some readers; but
let them consider a few facts. Is it not a remarkable thing that the
Greek drama, which the world will not suffer to be forgotten, was all
produced in the space of about half a century? And compare the fact with
our own history, noting that English drama of the imperishable type
is all gathered into a single brilliant period, of which Shakspere is
the central light in dramatic poetry. Æschylus was born in 525 B. C.,
Sophocles in 495, and Euripides in 480. The three are nearly on a level
in merit, Æschylus having the more force, and his compeers in dramatic
fame more of the refinements of art. They are not three Shaksperes in
one constellation, but three orbs whose combined light is less than that
of our English poet. No one has satisfactorily explained why the tragic
drama should so isolate itself in the centuries of a people; but it may
be said to be a rule that if a people produce a great drama at all, this
choice fruit will appear only in a single period. But since Greece and
England are the only nations having a great tragic stage—for we do not
reckon the French drama as in the first rank—the rule has no well-defined
value. It is remarkable, too, that the great epic poets are more numerous
than the great masters of tragedy. Greece, indeed, is known to us for
one epic and three tragic poets; but every great people before ours has
had a respectable epic poem, whereas in most nations tragic poetry is
rare or inferior. The great tragedies are so few that one may easily know
them and prize them. No other form of literature presents us with so few

Another good aspect of the drama in Greece is that it came in the period
of the full-flowering of Greek egotism, or if the phrase is happier,
of Greek patriotism. Here, too, we may find an analogy in the England
of Shakspere. The age of Elizabeth is easily fixed upon as that of
self-satisfied British patriotism. It is also true that alike in the
Athens of the dramatists and the London of Shakspere there was the stir
and bustle and heroic energy of national life. It is not to be overlooked
that the dramatists of Greece, like the literary statesmen of England
were in public life. They sought and held office; and, indeed, they, like
Socrates, were soldiers besides. Æschylus fought at Marathon, Salamis,
and Platæa, the three great battles of his country. Shakspere did not do
his work on the Avon, but in the din of London, and many a thing which
surprises us in his plays may be explained by the close and uninterrupted
contact of the dramatist with the active men of his time. He learned, for
example, all his law phrases in convivial association with lawyers, much
as he learned scripture by hearing the prayer-book read in the churches.
(He always quotes the prayer-book, never the Bible.) So in Athens, our
statesmen-dramatists lived in the full press of life, and their drama
reflects the opinions and proverbs of their day. Men of the lamp could
not have caught the spirit and attitude of the Athenian mind toward the
problems of life which underlie the Greek plays. The just-enough and not
too much or too little of philosophy—the mean between dogmatic theology
and crude irreligion—the man of the world, and he alone, can hit. We may
safely reason that while many forms of literature can be best wrought by
men out of the world, some forms seem to require their producers to be
in the world and of the world; and among these, the drama is especially
reserved to men who combine practical experience with erudition, and also
possess the indescribable mystery of genius. The student will be well
repaid for his pains who struggles to understand the spirit—a strange
one to us—which is peculiar to the Greek drama, the singular aspects
and functions of religion, and the mode in which it is apparently held
fast by the tragic poet, who is also a man of the world. There are also
profitable studies to be made of those glimpses of unchanging human
nature which the tragedies afford us. One theory is that we study old
classics in order to know an older and extinct type of mankind: a truer
view is that the virtues and vices of the elder man are simple and
undisguised by social varnish. In any case, the student who understands,
for example, the woman Medea, has a useful lesson in “the proper study of


Almost every interest of the country is represented at New Orleans this
winter. Every prominent manufactory, all leading trades, the great
branches of commerce, and particularly educational institutions have
exhibits of more or less importance. The eye of the country is turned
southward. Whatever is worthy our civilization has been collected there
for study. In educational matters many departments have been given
position, that they may be studied by the eager learner; for people are
eager to know the world’s work. You see it in their keen observation of
the displays made throughout the long galleries, and their quick notice
of the comparative merits of the exhibits. To them the work from the
Indian schools, from the colored people, from the far away territories,
and from foreign lands are studies in comparative civilization. Every
sign of advancement is quickly seized upon; and in no department is more
eagerness to know manifested by visitors than in the “Chautauqua Alcove.”

Chautauqua and the C. L. S. C. have a very good representation in the
south gallery of the government building, under the general supervision
of Prof. E. A. Spring, a member of the faculty at Chautauqua. This
exhibit is attracting a great deal of attention. All members and friends
of the C. L. S. C. who may visit the Exposition are earnestly and
cordially invited to visit the Chautauqua exhibit. An idea of Prof.
Spring’s work may be obtained from a few extracts from a letter received
from him in the holidays:

                       CHAUTAUQUA ALCOVE, NEW ORLEANS, LA., Dec. 26, ’84.

    There is a large placard up in this exhibit, as follows:

                       U. S. BUREAU OF EDUCATION.

                           CHAUTAUQUA ALCOVE.

    _Any one of the sixty thousand of the members of the C. L. S. C.
               who may be here is requested to register._

    I give everybody one of a little handful of Spare Minute Course
    circulars that I brought with me. I have given out about a
    hundred—and had conversations, some of them with evident
    conviction—in German, French, English, and the language of signs.
    By help of my Italian, I have tried to talk to some of the many
    Mexicans here, but did not get deep enough to broach the C. L. S.

    I had yesterday and to-day considerable talk with the intelligent
    gentlemen representing the French Republic school system—M.
    Buisson and his assistant. General Eaton says that the brother
    of this Mons. Buisson is the genius of education in France. They
    expressed themselves as much interested in the scope of the noble
    Chautauqua plans.

    The principal and seven lady teachers from Normal, Ill., just
    left me. They will come again, to learn more of Chautauqua. Some
    Texas gentlemen, one of whom, Prof. Hogg, I have long known as a
    fellow member of the National Educational Association, have been
    here again to-day, to say that they would be here to see me with
    about two hundred teachers from Texas at noon to-morrow.

    Dr. Mitchell was here this afternoon.

    On Saturday, the 27th, I was all ready for the two hundred
    teachers, who advanced in a body with a banner, and I gave them a
    regular lecture on Chautauqua and its out-reachings.

    Then I said my friend, Prof. Hogg, had seen me model in
    Philadelphia, in 1879, at convention of the National Educational
    Association, where he read a paper on “The Education of the
    Hand, the Head, and the Heart,” and he had asked me to show this
    company of teachers some clay modeling, so I would occupy a few
    minutes in that, as it was one of the methods in the Chautauqua
    plan to train the hand by clay, and through that educate the
    head; and if the hand and the head were truly educated, as they
    ought to be, the heart should be developed too. So, laying out
    a colossal head in relief, I made a few remarks as to the value
    of a little easy practice of clay modeling in schools; and then,
    turning to the board with clay on it, I worked eighteen minutes,
    and made a head of “an American Teacher.”

    General Eaton came to me after their vote of thanks, and as soon
    as they had gone—in the most congratulatory frame. “Chautauqua
    could afford to pay you two months’ work for that!” he said,
    shaking me by the hand. Two of the class of ’86 C. L. S. C., from
    Lockport, Dr. Mitchell, Mons. Buisson and a few others expressed
    themselves as much interested.

    I was glad to find I had so many “Spare-minute” circulars—and
    I must have given out seventy-five or one hundred yesterday,
    beside one hundred to the Texans, generally accompanied with a
    conversation of more or less length.

    All this in the midst of busy work and good progress in the
    mechanical embellishment of our alcove. It will be very
    attractive when completed, and I have so planned that I can work
    at it all along, adding new features from day to day.

    It is very interesting, how near to people’s hearts and inner
    lives I sometimes get in these little talks. It is a plan that
    touches the aspirations and longings of many a true soul. I wish
    sometimes that words could be instantaneously photographed. It is
    impossible for me to write as fully as I should like.

    Our only CHAUTAUQUAN (November) with one copy of the C. L. S. C.
    circular, with its cut of the Hall, has done good service.

    I very much hoped that Dr. Vincent could manage to come here.
    Many people have asked, the first thing, if Dr. Vincent is to
    be here. Every state should have a Chautauqua headquarters—this
    alcove will get them all ready for it.

    _Monday morning._—Damp, muddy, discouraging to many people. The
    car drivers have struck and the hour’s ride, long and tiresome at
    best, is now cut off. Hundreds of teachers who have been pouring
    into New Orleans these last days of their holiday, are prevented
    from seeing and learning by this four or five miles of mud before
    they reach the Exposition. There have been great hindrances all
    along to the completion of the Exposition, and many grumblers.
    But I have never been discouraged! Everything from the first
    start has been delightful. When the roof leaked, I moved some
    things away, told the roofer, and it was at once mended. When it
    came on a hard storm night before last, I laid down on the floor,
    rolled in my Kansas blanket, and liked it so well that I shall
    camp out here in the Chautauqua precincts; at any rate, till
    there is some comfortable conveyance away.

    More anon.

                         Ever yours faithfully,

                                                    EDWARD A. SPRING.


Winter undoubtedly has its hygienic value; and a part of this value
we get without effort. It is not only a comfort to be freed from the
annoyances of insect life, but it is also a gain for health that many
of the atmospheric impurities are removed by frost. But to get the
largest value from winter as a frost cure, we need to avail ourselves
of the system of healthful and invigorating amusements which prevail in
Canada, and have made that country famous. That portion of our population
which is employed out-doors in winter is, _pro tanto_, undoubtedly the
most healthy. For the rest of us the only possible equivalent is winter
sports. It is unfortunately true that the variable character of our
weather precludes us from exact imitation; but our inventive genius ought
to be equal to the task of bridging over the soft places in our winters.
In Canada, the long and comparatively equable winter makes it a simple
thing to provide healthy and innocent amusements which may be enjoyed
as regularly as any business is carried on. It is not to be forgotten,
however, that the Canadians are the only people in the world who know
how to keep warm out-doors as well as in-doors. They have learned to
perfection this art, for lack of which our out-door employments are
more or less dangerous. Our laborer does not keep warm in winter, and
his “colds” become consumption. In Canada, young girls accomplish in
this respect what stout men fail to do among us; they keep warm whether
they are flying in sleighs or on toboggans. These forms of enjoyment
are well organized; there are toboggan clubs, and “society” means some
form of winter sport. The miserable imitation called “roller-skating,”
which is alarming thoughtful people in many of our villages, is only a
craze, a temporary insanity; the winter sports of Canada are a national
institution. The physical and moral wholesomeness of the roller-skating
rink is more than doubtful. The moral and physical healthfulness of
the sports by which Canadians make winter a season of joy, can not be

On the average, our winter in the United States is not a healthful
and invigorating season to us. We lose the greater values and expose
ourselves to special dangers. We live in-doors, with a temperature ten
degrees too high. We shut in with us invisible plagues which breed
diphtheria and other diseases. We are enfeebled by refraining from
exercise and breathing unwholesome air in our houses. We come to the
spring weaker than we were when winter began. We have moped by hot fires
and breathed vitiated air, when we ought to have been out in the winter
blast, using our muscles and filling our lungs with the clean winds. Two
or three conditions seem wanting for a reform of these habits. One is the
art of keeping warm in the cold air; another is a keener sense of the
value of winter exercise, and a third is some devices by which the “soft
spells” of weather shall not arrest our sports nearly every week.


This word is a demonstrative pronoun and a conjunction; and in some
idiomatic phrases it is also a relative pronoun. By idiomatic phrases,
we mean that use has constructed certain forms of expression which
are wholes, though consisting of several words. _All that we know_ is
an idiomatic phrase; use and habit have welded the words together. In
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, there grew a habit of using
_that_ very freely as a relative pronoun. The Bible of 1611 is full of
illustrations of this habit. During the present century this use of
_that_ has been by the best writers gradually restricted, and at present
the rule for _that_ as a relative pronoun, probably, is about as stated
above—the word is used, as a relative, only in idiomatic expressions.
The history of this word would make a very interesting chapter. We have
in the foregoing statement merely suggested one line of change in its
use, and we call attention to this change for a particular reason. Among
the excellent books published by Appleton & Co. is a reprint Cobbett’s
English Grammar, and in this reprint Mr. Ayres, the editor of it for
this republication, lays down in his introduction, and illustrates by
significant bracketing in Cobbett’s text, a new rule for the use of the
relative _that_. This new rule is, in substance, that the restrictive
relative is _that_—_who_ and _which_ being coördinating relatives. This
proposed reform is unfortunately timed. By a progress in use which has
been unobtrusive, and unaided by dogmatism, the number of _thats_ on a
printed page has been reduced to tolerable proportion. If we accept the
new rule we shall not only go back to excessive use of _that_, but we
may even increase the evil of too much _thating_. The word fills two
important functions in present good use; to add the office of expressing
all the restrictive uses of the relative pronouns, would probably
increase _thating_ so as to render an English page unsightly. Take a
sentence: “He said that that man that that boy said that he saw was not
that man that that boy thought that he saw.” Mr. Ayres tries to show
that certain sentences which contain _who_ and _which_ as relatives are
ambiguous in meaning, and that the substitution of _that_ would make
the meaning clear. As to such sentences, we may say that if they are
really ambiguous in sense, the remedy is to reconstruct them. It is
not necessary to use _that_ to pull them out of their obscurity. It is
easy, however, to show that a detached sentence might mean something
which it does not mean. The meaning of a text is helped out by the
context. Aphorisms usually have not context auxiliaries, and usually are
ambiguous; but the ordinary use of language is to express our meaning by
paragraphs rather than by single sentences. Every ellipsis furnishes an
opening for the entrance of small criticism; and ellipsis is one of the
large facts of English writing.

In short, the critic of ambiguous sentences will have abundant employment
on the best writers, if he is allowed to break off any sentence from its
yoke-fellows in the paragraph. We advise our readers not to make haste
to adopt the rule of Mr. Ayres. The important question is: How do good
writers employ the word _that_ in their books? The answer is that good
English writers employ the word as a conjunction and as a demonstrative;
and as a relative only when phrase idiom compels such use. In this
country, the practice is to use _that_ a good deal as a relative; but
there has been a great decline in this use of it, especially during
the last thirty years. At the present time our best writers seem to be
following the English practice. We hope that Mr. Ayres will not succeed
in turning reform backward. With _who_ and _which_ to employ as relative
pronouns—and occasional help from _that_, _what_, and _as_, in idioms—the
English language is not poor. We need not recall the restrictive _that_
from its honorable retirement.


The death of this versatile French writer removes from modern literature
another of the few French literary men who are known all over the
world. About was born in 1828, and has enjoyed a cosmopolitan fame
since 1860. His literary work had the charm of contemporary interest,
and at the same time the merit of philosophical breadth and insight.
He gained fame at home in a way our men of letters would not travel,
by writing a Dictionary of Railroads. He was equally interesting and
instructive whether he wrote a novel or a political pamphlet; for in
both, Edmund About’s personality was in the foreground. He was not an
egotist, however, in his books, but his _I_ was a modest one which rather
relieved others of responsibility for his opinions, than obtrusively
forced the author upon our admiration. He had a keen zest for current
thought and fact; and, though our sensationalist newspaper men would not
fellowship him, he was one of the best editors of his age. He was always
an editor—even when he wrote the railroad dictionary—and his political
pamphlets are among the best presentations of questions and situations.
He saw the heart of a current issue, and with easy grace and perfect
poise he described it from the point of view of a modern cosmopolitan
gentleman. His “Roman Question” was, in its day, equally intelligible,
interesting, amusing and illuminating in Paris, London, Vienna or New
York. He described the situation under the Pope as King of Rome, setting
out in full relief those peculiarities of the Roman situation which were
picturesquely illogical for all men of the world. He had a marvelous
power of suggestion. The first sentence of the “Roman Question” is like
this—we do not attempt to recall the exact words or figures: “There are
in the States of the Church 1,366,328 souls, _not counting the little
Mortara boy_.” The last clause referred to a charge that priests at Rome
had stolen a Jewish boy and were making a good Catholic of him against
the will of his family. The incident made a great uproar at the time, and
About recalled to the mind of the reader the whole story, and, without
expressing an opinion, attracted the sympathy of his Protestant readers
by the mere allusion. Probably his books contain more examples of strong,
suggestive allusions to recent or contemporary events, than those of any
other writer; and it was always his special art to allude _only_, leaving
his reader to his own opinion. The delicacy of his touch and the fine
flavor of his criticism were remarkable, even in this age of keen and
witty French writers. He became editor of the _XIX. Siecle_ (century),
after the war with Germany; but he had always been a journalist in some
form, and more than one paper had its editions suppressed by Napoleon
III. because they contained the fine but biting satire of About. Some
years ago (in 1870, we believe) he was blackballed in the French Academy,
but he was recently elected to that august body. He died before he was
installed in his academic chair.


We regret exceedingly that a serious illness makes it impossible for
Mr. Richard Grant White to furnish his usual paper to the present issue
of THE CHAUTAUQUAN. Another month Mr. White will probably be able to
continue his articles.

       *       *       *       *       *

The glimpse we are getting, even at this early day, of the Chautauqua
program for 1885, is very inviting. The regular School of Science will be
under the charge of Prof. Edwards, president of Chamberlain Institute,
Randolph, N. Y., and that of Pedagogy, under Dr. Dickinson, secretary
of the board of education, Boston. Such people will be present as John
B. Gough, Dr. Deems, Miss Willard, Mrs. Livermore, Bishop Foster, Dr.
Boardman, of Philadelphia; Dr. G. P. Hays, of Denver, who will organize
a school of Christian work; the Schubert Quartette, of Chicago; the
original Fisk Jubilee Singers, for two weeks, and Miss Henninges, the
noted singer of Cleveland, O. A very superior organist, Prof. Isaac V.
Flagler, has been engaged for the entire Chautauqua season.

       *       *       *       *       *

The alarm which the recent terrible earthquake in Spain has caused has
led to the compilation of some interesting figures relative to the number
of shocks which have occurred in late years. Between 1872 and 1883 no
less than 364 earthquakes are recorded as occurring in Canada and the
United States, not including Alaska. Of these the Pacific slope had 151,
the Atlantic coast 147, and the Mississippi valley 66. Thus it appears
that an earthquake occurs about once in every twelve days somewhere in
the United States and Canada, and about once a month on the Atlantic
coast. These are exclusive of the lighter tremors which do not make
an impression on observers, but which would be recorded by a properly
constructed seismometer, an instrument designed to detect the slighter

“Just about twenty years ago,” writes Dr. Felix Oswald in a recent
letter to THE CHAUTAUQUAN, “when I was stationed at Sidi Belbez, in
western Algiers, I had a conversation with a half-civilized Sheik, who
had visited our camp and seemed to take a good deal of interest in the
portrait of a _mitrailleuse_ (”Gatling gun“) that had been photographed
together with a group of Zouave artillerists. After scrutinizing the
picture and comparing it with the original, he clutched his head, as if
stunned by his emotions. ‘Where do they teach such things?’ he inquired,
and then suddenly burst out: ‘What a pity that education and Gatling guns
can not be had at home!’ For North America, at least, THE CHAUTAUQUAN
seems to have solved one of those problems.”

       *       *       *       *       *

In a yellowish, time-worn volume bearing the title, _The Allegheny
Magazine, or Repository of Useful Knowledge_, issued in Meadville, Pa.,
on July 4, 1816, we find in a paper on Chautauqua the following: “The
tradition among the Seneca Indians is, that when their ancestors first
came to the margin of this [Chautauqua] lake and had reclined their weary
limbs for the night, they were roused by a tremendous wind which suddenly
and unexpectedly brought the waves upon the shore to the jeopardy of
their lives. The aboriginal history as handed down from father to son
further represents that in the confusion of the scene a child was swept
away by the surge beyond the possibility of recovery. Hence the name of
the lake _Chaud-dauk-wa_; the radix from which this is formed signifying
_a child, or something respecting a child_. The word is usually spelled
_Chautauqua_; but, according to the pronunciation of the venerable
Cornplanter, whose example is the best authority, it should be written
_Chaud-dauk-wa_, the two first syllables of which are long, and the
consonant at the end of each is to be distinctly sounded.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. Francis Murphy, the apostle of temperance, who, by the way, is
engaged to speak at Chautauqua next season, is a very useful and popular
man in Pittsburgh, Pa. Mr. Murphy has recently been invited to become the
pastor of a People’s Church which leading citizens of Pittsburgh propose
to establish. He is a powerful man with the masses, and his method of
“Gospel-Temperance” is a wise one. By his efforts tens of thousands of
drinkers, drunkards and saloon keepers have been led to become better
men. We shall watch the new departure in Pittsburgh with a great deal of

       *       *       *       *       *

Bishop Hurst has discovered in Cairo, Egypt, the next largest university
to Chautauqua in the world. His rich article on the “Mohammedan
University,” in this impression, fixes the number of students in
attendance at about 15,000. The C. L. S. C. numbers more than 60,000, and
the class of 1888, organized this school year, will reach nearly, if not
quite, 20,000 members.

       *       *       *       *       *

The recent terrible explosions in London have set us to counting up the
similar outrages which have been perpetrated of late in England. In 1881,
attempts were made to blow up the armory at Salford, the Mansion House,
London, the Lord Mayor’s private apartment, the barracks at Chester, the
Central Police Station at Liverpool, and the Town Hall at Liverpool.
The activity of the dynamiteurs was checked about this time by the
vigilance of the police, and nothing further was done until March 15,
1883, when the Local Government Board offices in Westminster, near the
House of Parliament, were nearly destroyed by an explosion of dynamite.
In 1884, attempts were made to shatter three railway stations in London,
explosions occurred in Scotland Yard and at St. James Square and under
London Bridge. Already, in 1885, there have been an explosion on a London
underground railway, and the outrages in Westminster Palace and the Tower.

       *       *       *       *       *

What shall we do? How shall we treat these outrages? We can do nothing.
To be sure it is a shameful list of cowardly, ineffectual deeds. Yet
they deserve more pity than rage. It is a sad thought, that in rich,
cultured, high-bred old England, there can exist a class so weak, cruel,
and miserable that it tries to right its wrongs by methods more horrible
than those of war.

       *       *       *       *       *

A very suggestive scene took place recently in the Arkansas Assembly.
Engrossing and enrolling clerks were to be elected. The members brought
up the names of several ladies, discussing their ability, beauty, and
claims to recognition, in most eloquent terms. After a long and amusing
discussion, both positions were filled by ladies. This move gives to
the self-supporting women of Arkansas a new outlook. The possibility of
securing such positions will incite hundreds of women to prepare for
clerkships, which if not found in the legislature will surely be found
elsewhere, as the peculiar ability of women for such work is recognized.

       *       *       *       *       *

The legislature of Georgia, at its past session provided a similar
opportunity for the women within its borders. Eight to ten clerks have
been regularly employed each session to assist the clerk of the lower
house of the legislature. Of its own accord the House directed that
women be hereafter employed to fill these positions. This was done, and
the bills engrossed by them are said to have been remarkably neat and
accurate. This ready sympathy for the women who must earn their bread,
and manly effort to make places for them, is very characteristic of the
generous southern heart.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Assembly at Lake de Funiak, Florida, will be in session when this
number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN is on its way to our subscribers. The opening
takes place on February 18. It is the first attempt at planting the
Chautauqua Idea so far south, but after its fashion it is sure to take
root. The preparations made by Mr. Gillet and his associates give promise
of a good program. We expect an account of the meeting for the April

       *       *       *       *       *

Two big schemes to attract patronage have of late come before the
country. At the time the New Orleans Exposition seemed to stagger under
its load of expense, and money was absolutely necessary, the Louisiana
Lottery tried to get control of the Exposition. General Grant’s
embarrassment was seized upon by the incorrigible Barnum, who proposed
buying the invaluable curiosities and relics of the General, to display
in his summer pilgrimages through the country. It makes a person of
taste blush to think of this impudence, to remember that there is a very
large class of people who are willing to drag into advertising the most
dignified and sacred institutions in the country.

       *       *       *       *       *

The commercial side of Chautauqua Lake does not often reveal itself in
the educational work which finds its center there. The beautiful country
which forms the setting for the fair lake has, however, more than one
most interesting industry. Just now ice cutting is at its height. There
is a transit company which packs dressed meats, eggs, butter, and other
perishable articles, at Chicago. When these refrigerator cars start from
that city, ice is placed in the cars, which is expected and found to keep
the stores in fresh condition, as far as Salamanca; here the cars must
be replenished, and it is to these storehouses that the ice which is now
being cut from the lake is sent. The company employs men and teams near
the lake to cut the ice, and the process is a very interesting one.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. Edmund Yates, the editor of the London _World_, has been committed
to prison for four months for allowing in his columns a bit of gossip
connecting in an injurious statement the name of a young woman with
that of a young nobleman. It is a refreshing sign of the times. Popular
sentiment has tolerated an immense amount of personality, of curiosity,
and of absolute impudence in the social columns of newspapers. Mr.
Yates’s punishment will emphasize the fact that the public is not so
depraved as editors often consider it. By the way, how like is this
affair to that earlier one of Mr. Yates’s, when he was turned out of the
Garrick Club for publishing a disrespectful paragraph about Thackeray, a
fellow-member. It is to be hoped that Mr. Yates will soon learn that it
is a mean thing to make one’s bread by selling a friend’s peculiarities
or a neighbor’s mistakes and sins.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Christian revolt of the Jews of Bessarabia, and the establishment
of the “National Jewish Society of the New Testament,” was discussed by
Bishop Hurst in the January issue of this magazine. The founder of this
new sect, Rabinowitz, has been since found dead at his home in Kishenev.
It is believed that he was murdered. The Christian authorities believe
that it is the work of the orthodox Hebrews, and it is not improbable
that such is the case. Apostasy in religion very rarely receives from
men Gamaliel’s advised treatment, and unless the law can secure safety
for these reformers, there is but little chance that they will escape
the fate which all the history of the past teaches us that religious
fanaticism believes to be the just and only treatment.

       *       *       *       *       *

It is gratifying to know that in all probability the $250,000 required
for the pedestal of the Bartholdi statue will soon be in the hands
of the committee. The difficulty in raising the money has revealed a
new side of American generosity. The financial agent of the pedestal
committee probably explained it, when he said recently: “The American
people are peculiar about these matters. You touch their sympathies
and sensibilities, and money flows like water. For flood or fire
sufferers you can raise a million dollars in forty-eight hours and have
a million more advanced for emergencies by bankers who know that it
will be promptly replaced by willing givers. But we haven’t got along
to the appreciation of art—of great masterpieces like the Bartholdi
statue—and so it was hard to raise money for it. In France, under similar
conditions, the fund would have been raised in a week.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Apropos of the above a step that is being taken in many cities and towns
of late, will undoubtedly do much to cultivate among us the lamented lack
of “appreciation of art.” It is the establishment of city and village
art museums. Worcester, Mass., has had $25,000 left to her, recently, to
invest in an art museum. Smaller sums have been raised in several other
towns. A good opportunity to study art thoroughly may be secured to any
village by a donation of $1,000. Casts, photographs, engravings, and a
few standard works are sufficient to cultivate correct ideas, and lay
the foundation of knowledge. It is the only way in which to raise the
standard of taste in the villages remote from the few cities of America
which boast art museums.

       *       *       *       *       *

The question of the date of the birth of Elizabeth Barrett Browning
interested the readers of the C. L. S. C. some time ago. The year alone
was ascertained. If any one was troubled that we were unable to answer
the query exactly, the answer of Mr. Robert Browning to a lady asking for
the date of Mrs. Browning’s birth may be of some consolation: “I know
neither the day, month, nor year of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s birth.
It is a subject upon which I have never had the slightest curiosity.”

       *       *       *       *       *

One of the most active public men of the last generation has been
Schuyler Colfax. He has been prominent, both as a political leader and
as a public speaker. Mr. Colfax’s life of a little more than sixty years
was immensely busy. He made his career, beginning as errand boy and
clerk in his grandfather’s store. After he was eighteen years of age
he took up the study of law, then launching out as a journalist, and
finally, at twenty-five, entering the world of politics as secretary of
the Whig National Convention, to which he had been sent as a delegate.
When the new Republican party was started, Mr. Colfax was sent as a
representative to Congress, and from that time he was closely identified
with his party, serving particularly as Speaker and Vice President.
He was of that large class of industrious, quick witted men who make
themselves indispensable in whatever relations they are placed.

       *       *       *       *       *

The “Imperial Dictionary” promises to be the rival of all the old
standard dictionaries among scholarly people. Its form is four good
sized volumes, which signifies that the English language grows and
grows, and that words need fuller explanation. Mr. Gilder, editor of
_The Century_, explained to us, when on a recent pleasant visit to the
_Century_ offices, that the “Imperial Dictionary” was built on “Webster’s
Dictionary” in England, and that scholarly men had devoted ten years to
the task. Now the Century Company have more than two hundred scholars
engaged in making improvements on the English edition. It will be seven
years before the new American edition will be ready for the market.

       *       *       *       *       *

A timely and practical department of the Chautauqua University is the
School of Journalism. This school is under the able direction of H. W.
Mabie, one of the editors of the _Christian Union_. The demand for such
schools is great, and the fact that all the work between teacher and
pupil in this new undertaking will be conducted by correspondence, is an
additional argument in its favor. The plan is briefly this: Three courses
of study, with supplementary readings for those who have time for them,
have been prepared; theses are expected on subjects assigned, and these
will be criticised with special reference to vigorous style; constant
correspondence will furnish needed help and hints. The plan is a wise
one, its director is able, and there is no doubt but there are numerous
young men and women to whom it will open the long desired way out of the

       *       *       *       *       *

One of the most romantic spots of American history is that of the Florida
Chautauqua. Ponce de Leon’s famous quest for the Fountain of Youth lay
through this region, and Lake de Funiak itself is fabled to be one of the
springs by which the old knight encamped. Perhaps here he plunged into
the clear waters and vainly waited to see himself changed to vigorous
youth again. However that may be, the road he laid out is a thoroughfare
for Florida travelers to-day, and about the clear lake still hangs the
tradition that it is the fabled Fountain of Youth. Ten miles from Lake de
Funiak is a second spring which still bears the gallant Spaniard’s name.
It will be a rare opportunity for dreaming over those early adventures
that visitors to Lake de Funiak will have.

       *       *       *       *       *

The proposed new word, “Thon,” which was suggested in the program in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN for January as a suitable subject for an essay, seems to have
caused our readers some trouble. A word of explanation may help them. We
have no pronoun of the singular number and common gender in English. The
absence of such a word leads to many awkward circumlocutions. To obviate
this trouble Mr. C. C. Converse, a lawyer, has compounded the word
_thon_, from _that_ and _one_—declined: nominative _thon_, possessive
_thons_, objective _thon_. Its use is evident. In this sentence is an
example: If George or Anna will meet me I will go with _thon_. The word
has been much discussed and much amusement is caused by using it—a
practice which, however, demonstrates the need we have for such a word.
Prof. March, of Lafayette College, writes: “I do not know that any other
vocable would have so good a chance for this vacancy.” Prof. Norton, of
Harvard, says: “Such a pronoun would undoubtedly be a convenience, did it
exist. The difficulty lies in it being _yours_. All forms of speech have
grown, and I do not recall an instance of the use by a civilized race of
any word, not a noun or a verb, deliberately invented by a philologer,
however ingenious.”



Articles on Euripides may be found in the following works: Mahaffy’s
“Classical Greek Literature;” Blackwell’s “Introduction to the Classics;”
“Studies of the Greek Poets,” by J. A. Symonds; Encyclopædia Britannica;
“Phœton,” _Fraser’s Magazine_, vol. xlv, p. 488; “Sea Studies” (J.
A. Froude), _Fraser’s Magazine_, vol. xci, p. 541; “Vindication of
Euripides,” _National Quarterly_, vol. xix, p. 1.

P. 188.—“The Raging Hercules.” One of the most precious remains of
Euripides, full of tragic pathos. While Hercules is absent from home,
Lycos, tyrant of Thebes, persecutes his father, wife and children. As
they are about to be put to death, Hercules returns and a scene of
vengeance follows, and Lycos is the one to suffer death.

“Balaustion,” ba-lausˈti-on.

“Sicilian Expedition.” See “Brief History of Greece,” page 31.

P. 191.—“Mistress.” Artemis.

P. 192.—“I-olˈcos.” An ancient town in Thessaly, the place from which the
Argonauts set sail.

“Stygian barge.” The Greek’s view of the world entered immediately after
death is given in the following quotation from Seemann’s “Classical
Mythology:” “It was supposed to be a region in the center of the earth,
with several passages to and from the upper world. Through it flowed
several rivers—Co-cyˈtus, Pyˌri-phlegˈe-thon, Achˈe-ron and Styx. The
last of these encompassed the lower world several times, and could only
be crossed by the aid of Charon, the ferryman, who was depicted as a
sullen old man with a bristling beard. The Greeks, therefore, used to
place an obolus (small copper coin) in the mouths of their dead, in order
that the soul might not be turned back by Charon for lack of money. On
the farther side of the river the portals were watched by the dreadful
hell-hound Cerberus, a three-headed monster, who refused no one entrance,
but allowed none to leave the house of Pluto. All souls on reaching the
lower world had to appear before the tribunal of Minos, Rhadamanthus, and
Æacus. Those whose lives had been upright were then permitted to enter
Elysium, where they led a life of uninterrupted bliss; while those who on
earth had been criminal and wicked were consigned to Tartarus, where they
were tormented by the Furies and other evil spirits. Those whose lives
had not been distinctly good or bad remained in the Asphodel Meadow,
where, as dim shadows, they passed a dull, joyless existence.”

P. 194.—“Koré,” kōˈrā. Persephone or Proserpine, the wife of Pluto.

P. 195.—“Moirai,” moyˈrī.

P. 197.—“Strophe.” In Greek tragedy, in its highest development, there
was a group of persons, composed of both sexes, who constituted the
chorus. When the actors paused the chorus sung or spoke, accompanied by
solemn music, moving from one side of the stage to the other. The time
of this movement was adapted to the stanzas, so that one, called the
strophe, was given as they passed in one direction, and the next, the
antistrophe, as they passed back.

“Daughter of Pelias.” Alcestis.

“Seven-chorded shell.” Tradition tells that the first lyre was made by
Mercury, out of the shell of a tortoise, which he caught a few hours
after his birth. Lyres were employed in recitations of epic poetry, and
consisted of a tortoise shell sounding bottom, from which arose two
horns, joined near the top by a transverse piece of wood, to which the
upper ends of the strings, usually seven in number, which were stretched
perpendicularly from the bottom, were fastened.

“Carnean feast.” One of the great national festivals of Sparta, held in
honor of Apollo, who had for a surname Carneus, which was derived by some
from Carnus, a son of Jupiter and Latona, and by others from Carnus, a

P. 199.—“Lustral bath.” In their early history the only rite of
purification observed by the Greeks was that of ablution in water, but
afterward sacrifices and other ceremonies were added. These were used to
purify individuals, armies and states, and to secure the blessing of
the gods. The word lustral is derived from the Latin verb _lustro_ and
signifies to purify by means of propitiatory offerings.

P. 200.—“Othrys.” A range of mountains in Thessaly.

“Pythian’s sake.” Apollo’s sake.

P. 205.—The lines at the top of the page, spoken by Hercules, contain
the same sentiment that runs all through “Rubáiyát,” the poem written
by Omar Khayyám. Compare the extracts from this book given in the “Talk
About Books,” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for February, 1885, with these stanzas.
To further show the similarity in thought, we select one stanza from the

    “Waste not your hour, nor in the vain pursuit
       Of this and that, endeavor and dispute;
     Better be jocund with the fruitful grape
       Than sadden after none, or bitter fruit.”

P. 206.—“Asclepian train,” as-cleˈpi-an. Train of physicians, who are
often called the descendants of Æsculapius, the god of the medical art.

P. 210.—“Gorgon.” A terrible winged woman, who dwelt with her two sisters
on the borders of Oceanus, the river that flowed around the ancient
world. She was beheaded by Perseus, who accomplished the perilous task by
the help of Hermes and Athena.

P. 211.—“Son of Sthenelus,” sthenˈe-lus. Euristheus, who assigned to
Hercules his twelve labors.

P. 212.—“Electra.” Daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. On the return
of Agamemnon from the Trojan war, Clytemnestra and her paramour murdered
him. When her young brother, Orestes, had grown to manhood, Electra
excited him to avenge the death of Agamemnon, and assisted him in slaying
their mother.

P. 213.—“Medea.” The wife of Jason, the Argonautic hero.

“Pieria,” pi-eˈri-a. A narrow strip of country along the southeastern
coast of Macedonia.

“Harmonia.” Daughter of Mars and Venus, and wife of Cadmus.

P. 216.—In connection with the chapter on Ar-is-tophˈan-es, the following
works may be read: Mahaffy’s “Classical Greek Literature” (readings
will be found in this book on all the characters mentioned in “College
Greek Course”), “Aristophanes,” _National Quarterly_, vol. iii, p. 70:
_Fraser’s Magazine_, vol. xii, p. 222.

P. 219.—“Creon.” Cleon is meant, the “leather-seller” who for six years
was the most influential man in Athens. He took command of the forces at
Sphac-teˈri-a, during the Peloponnesian war, and fulfilled the promise
he had boastingly made, that he would capture the Spartans within twenty
days if the Athenians would send him against them.

P. 220.—“Tableaux vivants,” tä-blō vē-väⁿᵍ. Living representations, in
which persons are grouped as in pictures. We frequently use only the
first of these French words.

“Sophˈist.” The Sophists were the leading public teachers in Greece
during the fifth and fourth centuries B. C. In its original sense, the
word meant a wise man, and as such could properly be applied to Socrates.
But in his day, as a class, they were “ostentatious imposters, flattering
and duping the rich for the sake of personal gain.”

P. 225.—“Rhea.” The wife of Saturn, and the great goddess of the world.

“Hebrus.” The principal river in Thrace.

P. 226.—Readings on Pindar will be found in Talfourd’s “History of Greek
Literature,” _National Quarterly_, vol. xxxii, p. 203; _London Magazine_,
vol. ii, p. 60.

Readings on Sappho, _The Atlantic_ (T. W. Higginson), vol. xxviii, p. 83;
_Harper’s Magazine_, vol. lvi, p. 177; _Appleton’s Magazine_, vol. vi, p.

Readings on Simonides, _Westminster Review_, vol. xxxii, p. 99; _Fraser’s
Magazine_, vol. ii, p. 52.

P. 228.—“Dithyrambics,” dith-y-ramˈbics. Originally songs in honor of
Bacchus; later, any poems written in a wild and enthusiastic manner.

“The Ivy-clad Boy.” Bacchus.

“Bromius.” One of the surnames of Bacchus, signifying the shouter.

“Eriboas.” See index of “College Greek Course.”

P. 229.—“Prophet of Nemea’s strand.” Jupiter.

“Orchomenus,” or-komˈe-nus. An ancient and powerful city of Bœotia.

“Minˈyans.” An ancient Greek race, said to have migrated from Thessaly.
Their ancestral hero, Minyas, is said to have been a son of Neptune.

P. 230.—“A-glaiˈa,” “Eu-phrosˈy-ne,” “Tha-liˈa.” The names of the Graces.

“A-soˈpi-chus.” See index to “College Greek Course.”

“Cle-o-dāˈmus.” Usually written Cleodæus. A descendant of Hercules, who
made an unsuccessful attempt to lead the Heraclidæ back into their own
land, the Peloponnesus. Temenus, his grandson, succeeded in the attempt.

“Bellerophon.” A Corinthian, who obtained possession of the winged horse,
Pegasus, who rose with him into the air, whence by means of arrows he
killed the Chimæra, a fire-breathing monster which had three heads, one
that of a lion, one of a dragon, and one of a goat. It had made great
havoc in Lycia and the surrounding countries. Afterward he conquered
the Solymi, a warlike race inhabiting the mountains of Lycia, and the
Amazons, a mythical, warlike race of females.

P. 232.—“Typhon.” A monster who wished to acquire the sovereignty of gods
and men, but who was subdued, after a fearful struggle, by Jupiter, and
confined in a Cicilian cave. He begot the winds.

P. 233.—“Phalˈa-ris,” B. C. 570. A cruel and inhuman tyrant of
Agrigentum, who was put to death in a sudden outbreak of popular fury.
He is said to have burned alive the victims of his cruelty, in a large
brazen bull.

P. 240.—“A-donˈis.” A beautiful youth beloved by Venus. He died from a
wound which he received from a wild boar. The grief of the goddess was
so great that the gods of the lower world allowed Adonis to return to
the earth for six months every year. In this myth the death of the youth
every year probably represents winter, and his return, summer.

“Cypris” and “Cyth-e-reˈa.” Venus.

P. 241.—“Arethusa.” The nymph of the famous fountain of Arethusa, on the
island of Ortygia.

P. 242.—“Meles.” A small stream in Ionia, on the bank of which Homer is
said to have been born.

“Pegassean fountain.” The inspiring well of the muses on Mt. Helicon,
said to have been formed from a kick given by Pegasus. It is sometimes
called the Hippocrene.

“Daughter of Tyndarus.” Helen of Troy.

“Son of Thetis.” Achilles.

“Eros.” Cupid.

“Al-ciˈdes.” Hercules.

“Orpheus.” See C. L. S. C. Notes in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for November, 1884.
Eurydice is the wife of Orpheus, instead of Proserpine, as there stated.

P. 244.—“Daphnis.” A Sicilian hero, son of Mercury, and a nymph. A Naiad
fell in love with him and made him swear he would never love another. But
he met and loved a princess, and the Naiad smote him with blindness. He
besought his father for help, and the latter removed him to the abode of
the gods, and caused a fountain to gush forth on the spot whence he was
taken up.

“Thirsis.” A herdsman who laments the death of Daphnis.

“Priapus.” Son of Bacchus. One of the divinities presiding over
agricultural pursuits.

P. 245.—“Gălˈin-gale.” A rush-like, or grass-like plant, often called

“Ly-caˈon’s son.” Pandarus. One of the commanders in the Trojan war.

P. 246.—“Cicala,” si-cāˈlä. Usually written cicada. The locust.

P. 247.—“Dilettanteism,” dil-et-tanˈte-ism. Admiration of the fine arts.

P. 251.—“Golˈgi.” A Sicyonian colony, inhabiting a town of the same name
in Cypris.

“Idalium.” A town of Cypris.

P. 253.—For supplementary reading on Demosthenes see Talfourd’s “History
of Greek Literature;” The _North American Review_, vol. xxii, p. 34; _New
York Review_, vol. ix, p. 1; _National Review_, vol. xii, p. 99.

P. 255.—“Ignatius Loyola,” ig-naˈsheus loi-oˈla. (1491-1556.) A Spaniard;
the founder of the Society of Jesus. He served as page in the court of
Ferdinand and Isabella, and later engaged in the wars against the French
and the Moors. He was severely wounded in battle, and was made lame.
His thoughts were then turned toward a religious life. Long fasts and
scourgings often brought him near to death. He attended the University
of Paris, where he took the master’s degree at the age of forty-three.
Afterward he gathered a few followers about him as the nucleus for his
society, which in a short time became so famous.

P. 270.—“Margites.” A poem ascribed to Homer, which holds up to ridicule
a man who pretended to know many things, and knew nothing well.

P. 275.—“Milo.” A Roman of daring and unscrupulous character. He was
impeached for bribery and for interfering with the freedom of elections,
and Cicero undertook his defense.

P. 278.—“Cyrcilus.” The stoning of this man and his family occurred when
the Athenians, under Themistocles, retreated from their city to Salamis,
after learning that Thermopylæ was in the possession of the Persians.

P. 281.—“Laocoön.” While the Trojans were debating whether they should
receive the wooden horse into the city, Laocoön, a priest, rushed forward
and warned them not to do it, and struck his spear into its side. As a
punishment, Minerva sent two monstrous serpents, which crushed him and
his two sons to death.

P. 282.—“Bema.” A raised place, from which an orator addressed public


P. 77.—“Champs de Mars,” Shäⁿᵍ duh Mars. Field of Mars. The name given
to the place devoted to military exercises in France. It is an extensive
parade ground, about 3,000 feet long and 1,500 feet wide, lying on the
left bank of the Seine. There are four rows of trees on each side, and it
is entered by five gates. It was finished in 1790, and in their eagerness
to have it ready for the first great feast of the French Revolution, on
July 14th, of that year, 60,000 volunteers, men and women, worked night
and day for two weeks, and completed it in time. At this feast the king
swore allegiance to the constitution. The Champs de Mars has been the
scene of many great historic events. The World’s Fair of 1867 was held

P. 78.—“Academy of Science.” This was organized in France in 1666. In
1795 it, with four other academies, viz.: the French Academy, Academy
of Painting and Sculpture, Academy of Belles Lettres, and the Academy
of Moral and Political Science, was revived in a new form, under the
name of the _Institut National_. This institution is the most important
of its kind in the world. These academies now have the same relation
to the _Institut_ that colleges bear to a university. In the Academy
of Science at present there are sixty-three members and one hundred
corresponding members. It bestows an annual prize of about $2,000, for
the most important astronomical observation, a prize of nearly $600
for productions on natural science, and other rewards for inventions,
discoveries, and improvements. Its sessions are all held in public, and
are much frequented.

P. 80.—A free translation of the note at the bottom of the page: Having
attained an altitude of 22,960 feet, he still wished to go higher, and
so disburdened himself of all the objects which he could in any way do
without. Among these objects was a chair of white wood, which chanced to
light in a thicket, very near a young girl who was tending some sheep.
Great, indeed, was the astonishment of the shepherdess! The sky was
clear, the balloon invisible. What else could she think of the chair than
that it had come from Paradise? The only objection that could be raised
against the conjecture was the rudeness of its construction. The workmen
in the higher world, said the incredulous, could not be so unskillful.
The discussion was still going on, when the papers, in publishing all
the particulars of the aerial voyage of Gay Lussac, announced, among the
natural results of the ascent, this which up to this time had seemed a

P. 85.—“Scheele,” shāˈleh.

P. 91.—“Litmus paper.” Paper that has been prepared for use as a test
for acids and alkalies. Litmus is a blue coloring matter, extracted from
lichens which are found along the rocky coasts of the Mediterranean, and
other tropical lands. They are largely used for dyeing purposes, and when
prepared with potash or soda, they produce litmus. A strong infusion
of litmus is made with boiling water, and a little sulphuric acid is
added. Unsized paper is dipped into this infusion, which gives it a blue
color. The application of any acid will change the blue to red, and then
the blue color may be immediately restored by immersing the paper in an
alkali. So delicate a test is it, that the paper has to be preserved in
closely stoppered bottles, to prevent the access of acid fumes.

P. 94.—“Berthollet,” ber-to-lā.

P. 100.—“Balard,” bā-lār.

P. 101.—“Liebig,” leeˈbig.

P. 107.—“Varech,” vărˈek; “Barilla,” ba-rilˈla.

P. 108.—“Courtois,” koor-twä.

P. 114.—“Nicklès,” nē-klā.

P. 115.—“Puy Maurin,” pwe-mō-raⁿᵍ; “Hauy,” ä-we.



1. “Boerhave,” bōrˈhäv, Hermann. (1668-1738.) A Dutch physician. He gave
much attention to the distinction between mind and matter, and condemned
the doctrines of Epicurus, Hobbes and Spinoza. He published several works
on the study and practice of medicine, and held the chair of chemistry,
botany, and medicine in Leyden University.

2. “Saracens.” The Mohammedan people who, coming from Mauritania, invaded
Europe in the early part of the eighth century. In Spain they took the
name of Moors. They applied to all unbelievers in Mohammedanism the name
Giaours (jour) as a term of reproach.

3. “Lorenz Oken.” (1779-1851.) A German naturalist, and the author of
several works. He was professor of medical science for a time at Jena,
and editor of the celebrated periodical, _The Isis_, devoted to natural
science. At the time of his death, he held the position of professor of
natural science in Zurich, Switzerland. A statue has been erected to his
honor in Jena, Germany.

4. “Bentham,” Jeremy. (1748-1832.) An English writer on politics and
jurisprudence. In opposition to Blackstone’s views, he wrote “Fragments
on Government.” His numerous literary works were more kindly received in
France than in England. One of his latest works was the “Art of Packing,”
that is, of arranging juries so as to obtain any verdict desired. He
wrote a book on the “Defense of Usury,” showing the impolicy of placing
restraints upon dealings in money.

5. “Benjamin Rush.” (1745-1813.) A celebrated American physician, one
of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. During the ravages
of the yellow fever, in 1793, he distinguished himself by rendering
extraordinary services, and his history of that epidemic is a valuable

6. “Nostrum Mongers.” Sellers of quack medicines.

7. “Circenses,” sir-senˈsēs. A Latin term, meaning race-courses. Here it
can be translated recreations.

8. “Panes,” paˈnēs. Bread, means of subsistence.

9. “Languedoc,” langˈgue-dock. A name applied during the middle ages to
a province in the south of France, which is now divided into several
departments, among which are Aude, Hérault, and Upper Garonne.

10. “Bunsen,” Christian Karl, Baron von, generally known as Chevalier
Bunsen. (1791-1860.) One of the most distinguished statesmen and scholars
of Germany. Through the favor of Niebuhr, who was Prussian minister at
Rome, he was appointed secretary to the Prussian embassy at that court,
where he remained twenty years, and then succeeded Niebuhr as minister.
Later he was sent as Prussian embassador to England. He was highly
esteemed by Frederick William III. and Frederick William IV., both of
whom frequently took him into their counsel. He was one of the most
zealous workers in bringing about the union of the German states. His
widow has published the “Memoirs of Bunsen.”

11. “Turnerhalls.” Gymnasia which were established throughout Germany
through the enterprise of Friedrich Ludwig Jahn, in the latter part of
the eighteenth century, for the purpose of fitting young men to endure
the fatigues of war.

12. “Jean Jacques Rousseau.” (1712-1778.) One of the most eloquent French
writers and singular characters of his age. He was denounced on account
of his subversive theories and the immoralities of his life. His erratic
social and political teachings are redeemed in part by the strong desire
he had to increase the happiness of the laboring classes.

13. “Goldwin Smith.” (1823-⸺.) An English author, and a warm friend to
the federal government during the civil war. Coming to the United States
in 1868, he became professor of English history in Cornell University.


The selection given in THE CHAUTAUQUAN as a Sunday Reading for October 5,
1884, was from Gotthold’s “Emblems.” The note on Gotthold was crowded out
of the C. L. S. C. Notes. Many inquiries have been made concerning him;
for this reason we insert the following:

“Christian Scriver, a Lutheran clergyman and writer of devotional works
in the seventeenth century, the contemporary and friend of Spener,
was born at Rendsburg, in Holstein, January 2, 1629. His childhood
was spent under the care of a widowed mother in the trying period of
the Thirty Years’ War; but a wealthy merchant—a brother of Scriver’s
grandmother—finally made provision for his needs. After suitable
preparatory studies, Scriver became a private tutor, and in 1647 entered
the University of Rostock. In 1653 he was archdeacon at Stendal, and in
1667 pastor at Magdeburg, with which position he combined other offices,
_e. g._, that of a scolarch, and finally of a senior in the government of
the church. He refused to leave Magdeburg in answer to repeated calls to
Halberstadt, to Berlin, and to the court of Stockholm, but in advanced
age was induced to accept the post of court preacher at Que Dinburg. In
1692 he suffered an apoplectic stroke, and on April 5, 1693, died. He had
been married four times, and had had fourteen children born to him, but
he outlived all his wives and children except one son and one daughter.

“The name of Scriver has lived among the common people through the
publication of his ‘Seelenschatz’ (Magd. and Leipsic, 1737, Schaffhausen,
1738, sq., five parts in two vols., folio), a manual of devotion which
he dedicated to ‘the Triune God,’ and which deserves high commendation.
Another work deserving of mention is Gotthold’s ‘Zufällige Andachten’
(first edition 1671, and often), a sort of Christian parables, 400 in
number, which are based on objects in nature and ordinary occurrences
in life. The ‘Siech. u. Siegesbette’ describes a sickness through
which he passed, and the aids and comforts derived from God’s goodness
in that time. Prittius has published a work of consolation entitled
‘Wittwentrost,’ from Scriver’s literary remains.”

For Scriver’s life see Prittius’s preface to the “Seelenschatz;”
Christmann’s “Biographie” (Nuremburg, 1829): Hagenbach’s “Wesen u. Gesch.
d. Reformat.,” vol. iv; “Evanganlisch Protestanitismus,” vol. ii, 177
sq.; Herzog’s “Real-Encyklop,” s. v.

       *       *       *       *       *

1. “Renan,” rŭh-näⁿᵍ. (1823-⸺.) A French philosopher, who has published
several treatises on comparative philology, and translations of
scriptural books with critical introductions, and has written much for
periodicals. He was sent at the head of a scientific commission to
explore Tyre and Sidon, Lebanon and other localities, and made many
interesting discoveries.

2. “Whitefield,” George. (1714-1770.) The founder of Calvinistic
Methodism. He set the example of preaching in the open air, and at
one time is said to have addressed 60,000 persons at Moorfields. He
quarreled with Wesley on the subject of predestination, but afterward was
reconciled to him, although he never agreed with him in doctrine. He made
several visits to the United States.

3. “President Edwards,” Jonathan. (1745-1801.) Son of Jonathan Edwards,
the divine. He was president of Union College, Schenectady, N. Y. His
complete works were published in two volumes.

4. “Tholuck,” tōˈlook. (1799-1877.) A German divine. In 1826 he was
called to the University of Halle, as professor of theology, where he
spent the remaining years of his life.


1. “Brassica oleraceæ,” brasˈsi-ca ō-ler-aˈse-ē.

2. “Bore-cole.” A variety of cabbage, not having its leaves packed into a
firm head, but loose and curled.

3. “Daucas carota,” dauˈcus ca-roˈta.

4. “Beta vulgaris,” bēˈta vul-gāˈris.

5. “Mangold-Wurzel.” Commonly written mangel wurzel.

6. “Allium Cepa,” alˈli-um sēˈpa.


1. “Entreés,” oⁿᵍˈtrā. The first course of dishes served on the table.

2. “Mayonnaise,” māˈyon-naise.


1. “Tufa.” A kind of volcanic sandstone, composed of pulverized volcanic
rocks. It is formed whenever a shower of rain accompanies the fall of
cinders, during the eruption of a volcano.

2. “Drift period.” The name applied to the time in which that remarkable
bed of earth, gravel, and stones of all dimensions, was deposited. It has
puzzled all geologists to account for this formation, which is the lowest
of the three groups of the superficial covering of the earth, and no
completely satisfactory theory has yet been advanced.

3. The large New Zealand bird described was called the moa.

4. “Carboniferous period.” Coal age. By careful study it has been found
that in the progress of the earth’s development a number of great ages
have existed—each distinguished from the others by some marked change.
That of coal plants is placed by geologists as the fourth age, counting
upward from the lowest formation. It was remarkable for the alternate low
elevation of the land above the sea level, and its submergences; and also
for the luxuriant growth of vegetation, which, under the great pressure
and heat to which it was subjected while the surface was submerged, was
changed into coal.

5. “Spectroscope.” The name given to the apparatus used for the study of
the spectrum. “When a ray of sunlight admitted through an aperture in a
dark room is concentrated upon a prism of rock salt”—or glass—“by means
of a lens of the same material, and then after emerging from the prism
is received on a screen, it will be found to present a band of colors,
in the following order: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and
violet.”—_Ganot_. This band is called the spectrum. That there are other
but invisible lines than those mentioned in the spectrum, is proven by
the use of the thermopile, oftener called thermomultiplier, mentioned
in the article on “Home Studies in Chemistry.” This is a complicated
instrument used for detecting minute differences in the degrees of
heat; its description without an accompanying illustration would be
of no benefit to any one. So delicate is it that the heat of the hand
held at a distance of three feet is sufficient to deflect the needle.
The spectroscope is composed of three telescopes, mounted on a common
foot, whose axes converge toward a glass prism. One of the telescopes is
movable, and can be adjusted so as to give the observer the clearest view
of the spectrum. The ray of light is admitted through the telescope and
falls upon the prism, which decomposes it, and the spectrum is formed on
the opposite side of the prism. In the telescope which the observer uses
a powerful magnifying glass is placed. The third telescope is used for
measuring the relative distances between the lines.


1. “James Dwight Dana.” (1813-⸺.) An American geologist and mineralogist;
the author of several works on these and other sciences. He went out as
mineralogist and geologist appointed by the United States Government with
the exploring expedition sent to the Southern and Pacific Oceans in 1838,
and returned in 1842. For the next fourteen years he was busily engaged
in preparing for publication the reports of this exploration. These were
published by the government and formed valuable records. For many years
he was one of the editors of the _American Journal of Science and Arts_.
He has been elected to membership in several learned European societies
and royal academies.

2. “Eisenlohr,” iˈzen-lore. (1799-1872.) A German physicist. He was a
Heidelburg student, and in 1819 removed to Mannheim, where he became
a teacher of mathematical and physical science in the lyceum. He was
afterward a professor at Carlsruhe. A Manual of Physics is his chief work.

3. “Geissler’s tubes,” ghīceˈler. The spectrum of any gas can be best
obtained by placing the gas in these tubes, and then passing the electric
current through. If the gas is hydrogen, the spectrum will consist of a
bright red, a green, and a blue line. Each gas casts its own spectrum.
In this way the spectroscope aids in the analysis of substances. The
different spectra formed reveal the elements.

4. “Sir John Herschel.” (1792-1871.) An English astronomer. His
great enterprise was his expedition to the Cape of Good Hope to take
observations of the heavens in the southern hemisphere. He remained
there four years. His published results of his observations furnish one
of the most valuable works on astronomy. He did not confine his studies
to astronomy alone, but gave great attention to the subject of the
atmosphere. He held that from eighty to ninety miles above the earth a
perfect vacuum exists, and that three fourths of all the atmospheric
air lies within four miles from the earth’s surface. His studies in
meteorology were also very valuable, as well as his important discoveries
in photography. Among his published works are: “Essays, from the
_Edinburgh_ and _Quarterly Reviews_, with Addresses and Other Pieces,”
“Physical Geography,” and “Familiar Letters on Scientific Subjects.”
Herschel held various positions of honor in his lifetime, being at one
time president of the Royal Astronomical Society, and afterward Master of
the Mint for five years. He was one of the eight foreign associates of
the French Academy of Sciences.

5. “Fire Worshipers.” A Persian sect which worships fire as an emanation
of the divine being. “Fire worshipers” is the English name for the
Guēˈbers (also called Ghēˈber or Giaours—jours). They call themselves
_Beh Din_, “those of excellent belief.” The Arabs completed the conquest
of Persia in the seventh century, and the great mass of the nation
adopted the faith of the conquerors. Those who refused to do so were
subjected to persecution. Some of them took refuge in the wilderness
of Khorasan, and others in Kohistan. The latter in the ninth century
emigrated to India and settled in the neighborhood of Surat. Their
descendants still inhabit the same region, and are called Parsees. The
descendants of those who remained in Persia have gradually decreased in
numbers and sunk into ignorance and poverty, though still preserving a
reputation for honesty, chastity, industry, and obedience to law superior
to that of the other Persians. They are estimated to number about 7,000.

6. “Bunsen Burner.” In this burner, at the lower end of the hollow stem
through which the gas passes, there is a lateral orifice which admits the
air necessary for combustion. This orifice can be made larger or smaller
by means of a diaphragm which is used as a regulator. If a moderate
amount of air enters, the gas burns with a luminous flame, but if a
strong and steady current is admitted, the carbon is rapidly oxidized,
the flame loses its brightness, and burns with a pale blue light,
scarcely perceptible, and with intense heat.

7. “Voltaic Arc.” A most beautiful effect, obtained from the electric
light. At the terminals of a battery, pieces of charcoal are connected
and placed in contact until the current causes them to become
incandescent. Then they are separated about the tenth of an inch, and
it is found that a luminous, exceedingly brilliant arc connects the two

8. “Hell Gate.” The name of a narrow channel between Long Island and
Manhattan Island. Until recently the numerous reefs made it impassable
for large ships and dangerous for small ones. In 1851 the first efforts
were made to open the channel, by submarine blasting. In 1876, after
many vain attempts, the work was carried to a successful issue. The
total amount of money expended by Congress for this work since 1868 was

9. “Æolus.” A descendant of the founder of the Æolian race. He became
the ruler of certain islands in the Tyrrhenian Sea, which from him were
called the Æolian Islands. He is said to have taught his subjects to use
sails on their ships, and to have foretold the nature of the winds that
were to rise. Homer said of him that Jupiter had given him rule over the
winds. This led to his being regarded as the god of the winds, which he
was supposed to keep shut up in a mountain.


It would be difficult for a biography of Sydney Smith, that man who
always took short views of life, hoped for the best, and put his
trust in God, to be other than interesting. Mr. Reid’s biography[L]
is so interesting that the reader quite forgets to criticise. It is a
many-sided sketch of the brave hearted dominie. It tells his history, to
be sure, but one gets a very good idea of many of his associates as well;
it tells his route through life, and as a happy idea adds descriptions
and illustrations of the various localities in which he lived, as they
are to-day. There is just enough quotation from the reverend Sydney
to give pith to the sober, clear narrative of the writer, and just
enough of the “Times” to keep one in sympathy with his age. Several
letters and essays never before printed appear in the volume. Mr. Reid,
we are pleased to see, presents the courage, the unfailing hope, and
the abundant common sense of his subject as characteristics of more
importance than his wit.

It is moderate praise of the book[M] produced by Mrs. Mitchell to
say that all lovers of art and its history will find it a valuable
acquisition to their libraries. The author has chosen the historical
method of presenting her subject, and begins with Egyptian sculpture,
passes on to Chaldean, Assyrian, and Persian; then to that of Phœnicia,
Asia Minor, and Greece, and ends with works of the Italian masters.
Feeling that “description can not by any possibility supersede the sight
of the artistic creations,” she has freely illustrated the book with
accurate representations of many of the great masterpieces. There can
be no work better suited for the use of those who desire to acquire a
knowledge of this branch of art.

M. Gaillard has added one more to the many books already issued for
the purpose of teaching “French Conversation.”[N] The system he has
adopted differs from all the others in this respect: questions alone are
given, to which the scholar is to frame his own answers. A clue to the
words needed in the replies, and to the construction of the sentences
and idioms will be found in the questions. Thus the memorizing of set
sentences which never will fit in anywhere save in the recitation room,
is avoided, and the pupil is obliged to think for himself instead of
merely observing how the words are used by others. Theoretically the plan
is a good one. As a text-book for common use in schools and elsewhere, we
doubt, somewhat, its feasibility.

No tourist to the White Mountains can afford to do without Mr. Drake’s
book.[O] The last edition of it is prepared expressly for their use, and
contains in the form of an appendix a complete guide-book. One of the
covers is provided with a pocket, within which is placed a map of the
White Mountains, and one of Vermont and New Hampshire. This pocket will
also prove convenient for carrying memoranda. The book contains many
fine illustrations, is printed from large, clear type, and is handsomely
bound. And as one sees in word pictures the scenery of the mountains, and
is delighted with racy little incidents of travel, and with anecdote, or
is thrilled with some perilous adventure, he can not help saying that
author, artist, and publisher have all done their part toward making an
attractive book.

It was a good idea to publish a dictionary of the “Women of the Day.”[P]
Miss Hays has undoubtedly put an immense amount of labor into the neat
little volume which she has just sent out to the world. However, the
publication has been too soon. More labor is needed to make the book as
useful as it ought to be. More than once her biographies of the best
known women are incorrect, as when she located Marion (which name, by
the way, she spelled Mari_a_n) Harland’s present home at Newark, N. J.,
a place she left years ago. Again, in some of the sketches the work is
poorly arranged. Why should Miss Willard’s whereabouts in 1878 be tacked
on at the end of the article, after it had been brought up to 1882,
instead of being inserted in its proper order? For all that, it is a very
useful work. It will be of great help to the general reader interested in
eminent women.

A valuable series of “Outlines” of the Philosophy of Hermann Lotze has
been undertaken by Prof. Ladd, of Yale College. A leading philosopher
of Germany, Lotze’s works have been sealed to all English readers,
save those who were able to overcome philosophical German. This series
will furnish an opportunity long desired by those interested in German
thought to make themselves familiar with Lotze’s ideas. “Outlines of
Metaphysics”[Q] is the first work issued.

Mrs. Jackson’s “Ramona”[R] takes rank at once in the highest class of
fiction. The fascination in its pages holds one from beginning to end,
and he closes the book with much the same impression as if he had just
returned from a day’s exquisite enjoyment of wild and rugged mountain
scenery. The characters possess an individuality such as is found in
those drawn by Dickens, and the fine shaping of plot and incident recalls
George Eliot’s “Romola.” The story of “Ramona” has to do with Indian life
in Southern California and Mexico, and is of historical interest. As one
reads of the wrongs cruelly inflicted upon the noble _Alessandro_ and the
heroic Christian spirit with which he endured them all to the bitter end,
there comes a sense of shame that under American laws, base, unprincipled
men could commit such deeds of plunder and violence with impunity. The
character of _Ramona_ is unique. Her devoted love for _Alessandro_, the
gladness with which she accepted the life of deprivation and danger at
his side, and the development, through heavy sorrows, of her deep, true,
womanly nature, give the book a richness of color and a depth of pathos
seldom met.

In “Dorcas,”[S] a story of anti-Christ, the lives and sufferings of
the early Christians in Rome are depicted. Dorcas and her friends
hid themselves away for many long months in the Catacombs, to escape
persecution. In two instances while there, the miracle of bringing the
dead back to life occurred, one of those restored being Marcellus, the
affianced husband of Dorcas, a young Roman nobleman who was put to death
for accepting the Christian religion. The accession of Constantine gave
them their freedom. The book affords a good study in the high style of
its diction and the purity of its language. It is valuable, too, for its
record of the customs of those days, and for its historical incidents.

Students of English who enjoy theories about words and expressions will
find in “Elements of English Speech”[T] a full measure of them, most
ingeniously supported. The book is in no way suitable for readers who are
unacquainted with Latin, Greek, French, and German, but for those who
have dabbled a little in each it will furnish interesting reading, and
some ideas of real value.

The house of D. Appleton & Co. is publishing some excellent text-books.
Among these is “Elements of Geometry,”[U] a work on plane and solid
geometry. The arrangement of the book, its admirable fitness to the needs
of the pupils just beginning the sciences, and its abundant exercises
make it a very satisfactory work for teachers.——In their series of
“Science Text-Books,” “Elements of Zoölogy,”[V] by C. F. & J. B. Holder,
is one of the most entertaining, practical, and, beside, thorough,
elementary works on animal biology we have ever seen. The illustrations
are excellent.——A capital “Second Reader” is “Friends in Feathers and
Fur, and Other Neighbors.”[W] We like the idea of giving the young folks
good, clear type.——But best of all is “Appleton’s Chart Primer,”[X] a
pretty little book with numbers of beautifully colored pictures for color
lessons, and a cover so brilliant that it will make it a pleasure for
little ones to learn their lessons.

A new edition of “The Water Babies,”[Y] abridged by J. H. Stickney has
been issued. It is a delightful fairy story for land babies. Little Tom,
a poor chimney sweep who belonged to a very cruel master, went one day to
work in a grand house. Coming down the wrong chimney, he found himself
standing opposite a large mirror in a very beautiful room in which a
little, sick girl was lying. The sight of himself in the glass, black
and impish, and the screams of the little girl frightened him so that
he jumped from the window, caught the branches of a tree, slid to the
ground and ran for his life, pursued by different members of the family,
who supposed him to be a thief. They could not catch him, however, and
soon gave up the attempt. Two or three days after his body was found in
a stream of water, and all the people thought him dead. But they were
mistaken; that body was only the old covering of Tom; he had been changed
into a beautiful water baby, whose life in that fairy land is told in a
very fascinating manner, showing that there, also, little folks ought to
work for the good of others.

The “Water Babies” is one of a series of “Classics for Children,” a
series arranged on the sensible idea that children can be taught to enjoy
good literature, as they are taught to read. Among the other works which
have appeared in this course are a “Primer and First Reader,”[Z] Scott’s
“Lady of the Lake,”[AA] and Kingsley’s “Greek Heroes.”[AB] Others are in

“Which: Right or Wrong?”[AC] is an interesting story centering about the
Framingham Assembly. It gives some bright pictures of life there, and
teaches some excellent lessons.

“The Mentor”[AD] is a very neat little book written for the use of men
and boys who wish to appear to good advantage in cultivated society. It
treats of personal appearance, manners at the dinner table and in public,
conversation, odds and ends, calls and cards, and closes with a chapter
answering the question, “What is a Gentleman?” It contains a number of
quotations from eminent authors.

A beautiful device is that of “The Guest Book,”[AE] in which the hostess
may record the coming and the going of her guests. It contains short,
beautifully illustrated selections concerning hospitality, from prominent
writers, with blank pages left between for autographs, incidents, and
sketches relating to pleasant calls and visits. In the hands of every
woman who loves to entertain her friends it will prove a treasure-house
of pleasant memories.

Not often are our social foibles “taken off” more pointedly than in “The
Buntling Ball.”[AF] It is a really clever, and withal sprightly, satire
on some of the vulnerable points of New York society. _Mrs. Buntling_,
wife of a “potentate in pork,” returning from Europe, issues invitations
for a ball. She has obtained a list of “all the names considered of
decisive note,” and, regardless of the fact that she knows none of them
issues a general invitation. The fact that everybody comes is one of
the sharpest points in the play. Choruses are introduced in true Greek
drama style, and the “Knickerbocker young men,” “maneuvering mammas,”
“wall-flowers,” “gossips,” “Anglo-maniacs,” etc., carry on dialogues with
the principal characters, in which they give the whole philosophy of New
York society, in the frankest manner and in all sorts of happy, sprightly
verse. The mystery of its authorship has been turned to good account by
the publishers, who offer a prize of $1,000 to the successful guesser.

Marion Harland, in writing “Eve’s Daughters,”[AG] has done a noble
work for women. The book must exert a good influence wherever it goes,
and do much toward breaking down the barrier of false modesty and
ignorance in regard to herself, that woman, too often, has taken pride in
rearing. It begins with the life of the baby girl and follows her as the
representative of her sex, through all the years down to old age. Strong,
plain, helpful things are said, and said only as a brave, womanly woman
can say them, in regard to the physical life of women. Every mother ought
to read the book, and read it with her daughters.

“Memories of the Manse”[AH] is a quiet little picture of the life, home,
family, and parish of a Scotch minister who lived, a number of years
ago, in Glenarran. The rugged outlines of the stern character belonging
to that northern people are well drawn, and dashes of color, showing
the tender and loving side of human nature, appear here and there,
brightening up the scene. The experience of the eldest son, who was “a
clever lad, and had just returned after working his way through college,
wearing a wonderfully clerical dress and air, an eye-glass, and a highly
comfortable opinion of himself,” only to find that he was ridiculed
instead of admired by his former associates, and his honest surprise at
his unpopularity furnish a touch of humor to the whole work.

The books which Samuel Smiles has put upon the market are eminently
valuable to boys and men who are in trades. He has done much to dignify
labor and to show how essential is brain and thrift and education to
manual labor. In his late volume, “Men of Invention and Industry,”[AI]
the material is particularly good. It is fresh, and the stories of
successful men give a grip to the book which is very effective. The lack
of literary finish of which some complain in Mr. Smiles’s work is but a
minor matter when we think of the serious purpose, the earnest desire to
show how handicrafts may be developed, and how great opportunities lie
in the way of mechanics to benefit society and to attain distinction.
Among his men of invention and industry are Phineas Pett, the English
ship builder; John Harrison, the inventor of the marine chronometer, and
Frederick Koenig, inventor of the steam printing machine. A digression
from the main object of the book is the chapter on “Industry in Ireland,”
but it is a pleasing digression. The abundant resources which Mr. Smiles
shows to exist in Ireland, will be surprising to many readers. Her
fisheries, her iron, coal and clay beds, her linen industries, and her
ship building are well described. The development of these resources he
justly concludes to be the solution of the “Irish trouble.”

Mr. Harrison, in giving to the public the life and literary works[AJ] of
the author of “Home Sweet Home,” has met a want that many persons have
felt, to know something more of this author. No trouble has been spared
in gathering the data for the biography, and much valuable information
has been given to the world which, but for his efforts, might have been
lost. He has, however, entered so fully into details as frequently to
detract from the interest of the work. The circumstances under which
“Home Sweet Home” was written, are given.


[L] A Sketch of the Life and Times of the Rev. Sydney Smith. By Stuart J.
Reid. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1885.

[M] A History of Ancient Sculpture. By Lucy Mitchell. New York: Dodd,
Mead & Company. Price, according to binding, $12.50, $18.00, or $25.00.

[N] French Conversation. By J. D. Gaillard. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

[O] The Heart of the White Mountains. By Samuel Adams Drake. Illustrated
by W. Hamilton Gibson. New York: Harper & Brothers, Franklin Square.

[P] Women of the Day. A Biographical Dictionary of Notable
Contemporaries. By Frances Hays. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.

[Q] Outlines of Metaphysics. Dictated Portions of the Lectures of Hermann
Lotze. Translated and edited by George T. Ladd. Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co.

[R] Ramona. By Helen Jackson. (H. H.) Boston: Roberts Brothers. Price,

[S] Dorcas, the Daughter of Faustina. By Nathan C. Kouns. Author of
“Arius the Libyan.” New York: Fords, Howard and Hurlbert. 1884.

[T] Elements of English Speech. By Isaac Bassett Choate. New York: D.
Appleton & Co. 1884.

[U] Elements of Geometry. By Eli T. Tappan, LL.D. New York: D. Appleton &
Co. 1885.

[V] Elements of Zoölogy. By C. F. & J. B. Holder, M.D. New York: D.
Appleton & Co. 1884.

[W] Friends in Feathers and Fur, and Other Neighbors. By James Johonnot.
New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1885.

[X] Appleton’s Chart Primer: Exercises in Reading at Sight, and Language
and Color Lessons For Beginners. By Rebecca D. Rickoff.

[Y] The Water Babies. By Charles Kingsley. Edited and abridged by J.
H. Stickney. Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co. 1884. Mailing price, 40 cents.
Introduction, 35 cents.

[Z] Primer and First Reader. By E. A. Turner. Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co.

[AA] The Lady of the Lake. By Sir Walter Scott. Edited by Edwin Ginn.
Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co. 1885.

[AB] The Heroes; or, Greek Fairy Tales for My Children. By Charles
Kingsley. Edited by John Tetlow. Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co. 1885.

[AC] Which: Right or Wrong? By M. L. Moreland. Boston: Lee and Shepard,
Publishers. 1883.

[AD] The Mentor. By Alfred Ayers. New York: Funk & Wagnalls. 1884.

[AE] The Guest Book. Designed and illustrated by Annie F. Cox. Boston:
Lee and Shepard. New York: C. S. Dillingham, 618 Broadway. 1885.

[AF] The Buntling Ball. A Græco-American Play. New York: Funk & Wagnalls.

[AG] Eve’s Daughters. By Marion Harland. New York: Charles Scribner’s
Sons. 1885.

[AH] Memories of the Manse. By Anne Breadalbane. Troy, N.Y.: H. B. Nims &
Co. 1885.

[AI] Men of Invention and Industry. By Samuel Smiles, LL.D. New York:
Harper & Brothers. 1885.

[AJ] John Howard Payne. By Gabriel Harrison. Illustrated. Philadelphia:
J. B. Lippincott & Co.


Daddy Darwin’s Dovecote. A Country Tale. By Juliana Horatio Ewing.
Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1885. Price, 35 cents.

Flatland. A Romance of Many Dimensions. By A Square. Boston: Roberts
Brothers. 1885. Price, 75 cents.

Memoirs of the Rev. David Brainard. Based on the Life of Brainard
prepared by Jonathan Edwards, D.D. Edited by J. M. Sherwood. New York:
Funk and Wagnalls. 1885.


is surprising to see for what foolish causes men hang themselves. The
most silly repulse, the most trifling ruffle of temper, or derangement
of stomach, anything seems to justify an appeal to the razor or the
cord. I have a contempt for persons who destroy themselves. Live on, and
look evil in the face; walk up to it, and you will find it less than
you imagined, and often you will not find it at all; for it will recede
as you advance. Any fool may be a suicide. When you are in a melancholy
fit first suspect the body, appeal to rhubarb and calomel, and send for
the apothecary; a little bit of gristle sticking in the wrong place, an
untimely consumption of custard, excessive gooseberries, often cover the
mind with clouds and bring on the most distressing views of human life.…
The greatest happiness which can happen to any one is to cultivate a love
of reading. Study is often dull because it is improperly managed. I make
no apology for speaking of myself, for as I write anonymously, nobody
knows who I am, and if I did not, very few would be the wiser—but every
man speaks more firmly when he speaks from his own experience. I read
four books at a time; some classical book, perhaps, on Monday, Wednesday,
and Friday mornings. The “History of France,” we will say, on the
evenings of the same days. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, Mosheim
or Lardner, and on the evenings of those days, Reynolds’s Lectures or
Burns’s Travels. Then I have always a standard book of poetry, and
a novel to read when I am in the humor to read nothing else. Then I
translate some French into English one day and retranslate it the next;
so that I have seven or eight pursuits going on at the same time, and
this produces the cheerfulness of diversity, and avoids that gloom which
proceeds from hanging a long while over a single book. I do not recommend
this as a receipt for becoming a learned man, but for becoming a cheerful
one.—_From Reid’s “Life and Times of the Rev. Sydney Smith.”_

       *       *       *       *       *

SCENES ON A STAGE COACH.—The views of the mountains as the afternoon wore
away, grew more and more interesting. The ravines darkened, the summits
brightened. Cloud-shadows chased each other up and down the steeps, or,
flitting slowly across the valley, spread thick mantles of black that
seemed to deaden the sound of our wheels as we passed over them. On one
side all was light, on the other all gloom. But the landscape is not all
that may be seen to advantage from the top of a stage coach.

From time to time, as something provoked an exclamation of surprise or
pleasure, certain of the inside occupants manifested open discontent.
They were losing something where they had expected to see everything.

While the horses were being changed, one of the insiders, I need not say
it was a woman, thrust her head outside of the window, and addressed
the young person perched like a bird upon the highest seat. Her voice
was soft and persuasive. “Miss!” “Madam!” “I’m so afraid you find it
too cold up there. Sha’n’t I change places with you?” The little one
gave her voice a droll inflection as she briskly replied: “Oh, dear,
no, thank you; I’m very comfortable indeed.” “But,” urged the other,
“you don’t look strong; indeed, dear, you don’t. Aren’t you very, _very_
tired, sitting so long without any support to your back?” “Thanks, no; my
spine is the strongest part of me.” “But,” still persisted the inside,
changing her voice to a loud whisper, “to be sitting alone with all those
men!” “They mind their business, and I mind mine,” said the little one
reddening; “besides,” she quickly added, “you proposed changing places, I
believe!” “Oh!” returned the other, with an accent impossible to convey
in words, “if you like it.” “I tell you what, ma’am,” snapped the one in
possession, “I’ve been all over Europe alone, and was never once insulted
except by persons of my own sex.”—_From Drake’s “Heart of the White

       *       *       *       *       *

EVERY MAN HAS HIS PRICE.—It is a curious trait in human nature, that
each individual places the highest value on himself; treats the world
as if it were only in existence on his account, looks upon himself as
if he were the central point round which all things turn—and that yet,
in spite of this universal self-appreciation, so many persons make
themselves the slaves of others, or of some insignificant desire of
their own. This contradiction in the human mind, this inordinate pride
of men in combination with ignorance of their own true value, this
insatiable self-seeking in connection with so contemptible a depreciation
of themselves, is so common that we are only astonished that thoughtful
persons, perceiving it in others, are not thereby led to discover it in
themselves.… Every man has a price at which he sells himself. What is
thy price? Hast thou ever weighed what thou art really worth? Go into
thy chamber and devote some moments of earnest thought to an examination
of thyself, and try to discover for what earthly good thou wouldst be
likely to give thyself away. Look no farther back than the last year;
pass in review thy secret thoughts and silent wishes even of the last
few weeks only! Ah! a short while will no doubt suffice to show thee thy
weak points, which, had they been assailed by any tempter, would soon
have revealed to thee at what price thou wouldst have sold thy goodness,
thy Christian principles, thy heaven on earth, thy eternal prospects.
Thou shudderest? Thou wouldst rather not look into thyself? But if thou
valuest thy goodness, thy Christian principles, thy heaven on earth, thy
eternal prospects, ah, shrink not from this self-investigation?—_From
Zschokke’s “Meditations on Life, Death, and Eternity.”_

       *       *       *       *       *

teaching history must be determined in the main by the object aimed at.
If the object is to deposit in the mind the greatest number possible
of historical facts, there is perhaps no better way than to confine
the instruction to drill upon the contents of a manual by question and
answer, with frequent examinations in writing. Such a method would
probably be effective in two ways; it would give learners positive
knowledge, or the semblance of it, and it would pretty certainly make
them hate history. I do not hesitate to say that the ultimate purpose of
school instruction should be to incite an interest in history, and to
create a love for historical reading.

A word may be here most conveniently said on the subject of chronology.
A few dates should be well fixed in the memory; they should be
carefully selected by the teacher, and some explanation given of their
significance. But “a few,” you will say, is a little indefinite. Of
course, opinions will differ as to the number of indispensable dates in
any history, though there might be a general assent to the principle of
requiring the pupil to commit as few as possible. Of the two hundred and
fifty dates given in “Smith’s Smaller History of Greece,” I insist on
fifteen, and I think the number might be reduced to ten. But if learners
are properly taught, they will, of course, be able to determine a great
many dates approximately.

Remembering that you must make history interesting, to that end use all
available means to produce vivid impressions. This is a trite remark,
but it will bear repeating. Casts, models, coins, photographs, relief
maps, may not be at your command, but maps of some sort you must have.
Historical instruction, without the constant accompaniment of geography,
has no solid foundation—“is all in the air.”—_From “Methods of Teaching

       *       *       *       *       *

THE COMING OF LUTHER.—The events of the sixteenth century have been too
often regarded as constituting a break in history. But to the eye of
thought reviewing the course of history, the continuity remains unbroken.
Luther was but the child of the ages preceding; the Protestant revolution
was the natural and orderly sequence of a long course of preparation.
It was indispensable indeed for a time that men should regard the
Reformation as breaking with the past, in order that they might estimate
more deeply the meaning of the truth which had been revealed to them, and
secure its firmer establishment. In the turmoil of an age of transition
it is not always given to the leaders to discern the route by which
they have been led. Luther entered upon the inheritance of Wycliffe
and of Huss, and still further was he indebted to the spirit of German
mysticism. But his greatness was also peculiarly his own. He was not so
much a theologian as a man who afforded in his own rich nature, unveiled
so completely before his age, the materials for theology. His life was
a type of humanity for his own and succeeding ages. He lived through
the religious experience of the Mediæval dispensation before he came
to his knowledge of a higher birthright. Viewed from the standpoint of
a formal theology, he is full of inconsistencies and contradictions,
and even dangerous errors. But regarded simply as a man, with his rich
endowment of human instincts and yearnings, to which he gave the freest,
most unguarded expression, he was in himself a revelation of the human
consciousness in its freshness and simplicity, with which a complete
theology must come to terms. It is because the explosive utterances
of his vigorous, tumultuous nature have been weighed as if they were
carefully formed, dogmatic statements, that Luther has been so often
misunderstood by Protestant as well as by Roman Catholic writers.—_From
Allen’s “Continuity of Christian Thought.”_[AL]

       *       *       *       *       *

NATURAL RESOURCES OF IRELAND.—Ireland is a much richer country by
nature than is generally supposed. In fact, she has not yet been
properly explored. There is copper ore in Wicklow, Waterford, and Cork.
The Leitrim iron ores are famous for their riches; and there is good
ironstone in Kilkenny, as well as in Ulster. The Connaught ores are mixed
with coal beds. Kaolin, porcelain clay, and coarser clay abound; but it
is only at Belluk that it has been employed in the pottery manufacture.
But the sea about Ireland is still less explored than the land. All
around the Atlantic’s seaboard of the Irish coast are shoals of herring
and mackerel, which might be food for man, but at present are only
consumed by the multitudes of sea birds which follow them.—_From Smiles’s
“Men of Invention and Industry.”_


[AK] The Pedagogical Library. Edited by G. Stanley Hall. Vol I. Methods
of Teaching History. Second Edition. Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co. 1885.

[AL] The Continuity of Christian Thought. By Alexander V. G. Allen.
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1884. Price $2.00.


We have been asked the meaning of the term the “geography of the
heavens.” Professor Hiram Matteson, in his excellent little treatise
entitled “The geography of the heavens,” makes in his preface the
following explanatory remarks: “I have endeavored to teach the geography
of the heavens in nearly the same manner as we teach the geography of
the earth. What that does in regard to the history, situation, extent,
population, and principal cities of the several kingdoms of the earth,
I have done in regard to the constellations; and I am persuaded that
a knowledge of the one may be as easily obtained as of the other. The
systems are similar. It is only necessary to change the terms in one
to render them applicable to the other. For this reason I have yielded
to the preference of the publisher in calling this work ‘Geography
of the Heavens,’ instead of _Uranography_, or some other name more
etymologically apposite.”

       *       *       *       *       *

It will be noticed from Chancellor Vincent’s article on “The Chautauqua
School of Liberal Arts,” found in this impression of THE CHAUTAUQUAN,
that the Sunday-school Normal department of Chautauqua will hereafter be
known as “The American Church Sunday-school Normal Course.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Messrs. L. Prang & Co. have begun to send out valentines of as much
beauty and artistic merit as their Christmas and Easter cards. Those of
the present season have been of rare beauty—the coloring of many of them
is exquisite.

       *       *       *       *       *

The following, clipped from the text-book of the Chautauqua Musical
Reading Union noticed in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for February, will be of
interest to many of our music-loving readers:

The aim is not so much to give technical instruction in the science,
as to invite the wider outlook which is so important in real musical
culture. No person receives any pecuniary benefit from this organization,
but the labor is freely given in the hope of benefiting others. The books
required will be furnished from the Boston office at a discount from the
retail prices, or they may be ordered through any local bookseller. Local
circles may be formed in cities, towns, or small villages, greatly to the
advantage of all who thus associate themselves. Scarcely anything can be
conceived that will yield more delightful entertainment, together with
improvement of mind and heart, than such a local circle as may be formed
in connection with the C. M. R. C. All who are really in earnest about
the improvement of the musical taste of the community in which they live,
should exert every effort to bring about such an organization. For plans
and information as to how these circles may be made successful, address
the director, who will gladly furnish suggestions, and will send list of
prices at which the required books will be furnished. _Please enclose
stamp for reply._ A fee of fifty cents will be required to defray the
expense of registration, correspondence, etc., which amount, with the
name and postoffice address _plainly written_ (including county and
state), should be forwarded at once, directed to W. F. Sherwin, Director
C. M. R. C., New England Conservatory, Boston, Mass. Certificates will
be given for each course, and a diploma upon the completion of the four.
A “round-table” will be held (_à la_ C. L. S. C.) each year during the
Chautauqua Assembly. For price list of books and any other information,
address as above.

       *       *       *       *       *

The following special course in physiology is announced:

    Wonders of the Human Body. A. Le Pileur. $1.25.
    Physiology for Practical Use. James Kinton. $2.15.
    Mental Physiology. W. B. Carpenter. $3.00
    The Foundation of Death. Axel Gustafson. $2.00.


In list of C. L. S. C. graduates which appeared in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for

    Pettit, Harriet L., California, instead of _Pennsylvania_.
    Arann, the Rev. J. M., not _Araun_.
    Hon, George V., not _How_.
    Hoerner, George P., not _Hoemer_.


To the list of graduates in the class of 1884:

    Black, Jennie L.             Pennsylvania.
    Burgess, Miss Anna E.        Ohio.
    Carter, Anna B.              California.
    Carter, Emily B.             California.
    Chamberlin, Lydia L.         Massachusetts.
    Clark, Miss Annie            Rhode Island.
    Coleman, William H.          Ohio.
    Horsman, Mrs. George         Wisconsin.
    Holden, Mrs. Sarah K.        Canada.
    Jones, Mrs. E. J.            Ohio.
    Marsh, Miss Susanna          Dakota.
    Millar, Mrs. Lizzie L. S.    Minnesota.
    Safley, Agnes E.             Minnesota.
    Scott, Mrs. Lucie M.         New York.
    Walker, Ezra L.              Ohio.
    Weaver, the Rev. Wm. C.      Pennsylvania.

       *       *       *       *       *

The following persons passed a creditable examination in the Advanced
Normal Course of 1884 at Chautauqua:

    Miss Fannie L. Armstrong, Hempstead, Texas.
    Mrs. A. W. Briggs, Elma, Erie Co., N. Y.
    Mr. O. W. Bowers, McLallen’s Corners, Pa.

       *       *       *       *       *

At Lakeside, Ohio, Assembly, the following passed an Advanced Normal

Mrs. Abby A. Parish, Brooklyn Village, Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 316, “made” changed to “make” (all diligence to make their calling)

Page 316, “lotty” changed to “lofty” (such a lofty understanding)

Page 317, repeated “der” removed (the under side of the cabbage leaves)

Page 319, “entreés” changed to “entrées” (toothsome entrées)

Page 331, repeated “mon” removed (for common school purposes)

Page 341, “What is true of the processes of the is equally true of almost
every other manual industry” changed to “What is true of the processes is
equally true of almost every other manual industry”. The revised sentence
at least makes some sort of sense, but it’s possible that words are in
fact _missing_ from the original.

Page 348, repeated “of” removed (Yale College class of 1853)

Page 350, “invarible” changed to “invariable” (an invariable part of each
evening’s work)

Page 367, “Calvanistic” changed to “Calvinistic” (The founder of
Calvinistic Methodism.)

Page 368, “cuurse” changed to “course” (The first course of dishes)

Page 368, “on” changed to “in” to match article title (Home Studies in

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