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Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, February 1884, No. 5.
Author: Literary, The Chautauquan, Circle, Scientific
Language: English
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                            THE CHAUTAUQUAN.


                VOL. IV.      FEBRUARY, 1884.      No. 5.

Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

_President_—Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.

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

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

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

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


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

    German History
        V.—Summary from the Reformation to the Present Time      251
    Selections from German Literature
        Alexander von Humboldt                                   253
        Heinrich Heine                                           253
        Friedrich Schleiermacher                                 254
        Arthur Schopenhauer                                      255
    Readings in Physical Science
        V.—The Sea (continued)                                   255
    Sunday Readings
        [_February 3_]                                           257
        [_February 10_]                                          258
        [_February 17_]                                          258
        [_February 24_]                                          259
    Commercial Law
        I.—Law in General                                        260
    Readings in Art                                              262
    Selections from American Literature
        John G. Whittier                                         264
        Oliver Wendell Holmes                                    265
        James Russell Lowell                                     266
    United States History                                        267
    His Cold                                                     269
    The Table-Talk of Napoleon                                   269
    Matthew Arnold                                               270
    Estivation, or Summer Sleep                                  273
    Recreation                                                   274
    Luther                                                       275
    Eccentric Americans
        IV.—The Mathematical Failure                             275
    Astronomy of the Heavens for February                        278
    The Sea as an Aquarium                                       279
    Speculation in Business                                      281
    Wine and Water                                               283
    Eight Centuries with Walter Scott                            284
    Botanical Notes                                              287
    C. L. S. C. Work                                             287
    Outline of C. L. S. C. Readings                              288
    Local Circles                                                288
    The C. L. S. C. in the South                                 292
    C. L. S. C. Round-Table                                      292
    Questions and Answers                                        294
    Chautauqua Normal Course                                     297
    Editor’s Outlook                                             300
    Editor’s Note-Book                                           302
    C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for February          304
    Notes on Required Readings in “The Chautauquan”              305
    Banquet to Chautauqua Trustees                               307
    C. L. S. C. Graduates                                        310
    Talk About Books                                             314



_Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1883-4_.





The present and last of this series of readings in German history
includes an outline of the historical changes and great events of the
period of nearly four hundred years since the Reformation. Though
condensed to a very great degree, it furnishes the reader a survey of
that important period, and will afford him a helpful basis for his future
study of the history of Germany. The reading closes with a selection from
the pen of the poet and historian, Schiller, descriptive of the battle of
Lutzen, where Gustavus Adolphus, that greatest character and hero of the
Thirty Years’ War, met his fate.


From the death of Luther, 1546, to the end of the century the struggle
continued. Now and then there came a brief pause to the general strife,
such as followed the Treaty of Passau, or the Religious Peace of
Augsburg, but it was soon renewed by the tyranny or treachery of the
Catholic powers, whose hatred of the followers of Luther and of the
spirit of protestantism did not abate till Europe had passed through
the most terrible and disastrous war of history. This was the thirty
years’ war, dating from 1618 to 1648, and involving not only the whole
German Empire, but also the principal states of Europe. Seldom, if ever,
has there been known such depletion of population and resources. It was
finally brought to an end by the peace of Westphalia, when the worn-out
and impoverished states subscribed to a treaty which gave comparative
toleration in Germany. Under its conditions, in all religious questions
Protestants were to have an equal weight with Catholics in the high
courts and diet of the empire. The Calvinists were also included with the
Lutheran and Reformed creeds in this religious peace. By its termination
of the religious wars in Europe the peace of Westphalia forms a great
landmark in history.

The seventeenth century, from the thirty years’ war on to its close,
might not inappropriately be called the period of pusillanimity in
Germany. Public buildings, schools and churches were allowed to stand as
ruins while the courts of petty princes were aping the stiff, formal,
artificial manners of that of the French monarch, Louis XIV. The latter
seeing the weakened state of the empire seized the opportunity to enlarge
his own kingdom at the expense of Germany. He laid claim to Brabant and
many of the fortresses of the frontier fell into the hands of the French.
His ambition was only checked by the intervention of Holland, England and
Sweden, and the war terminated by the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. Meanwhile
the Turks in alliance with the Hungarians marched with an army of 200,000
up the Danube and encamped around the walls of Vienna. There is good
evidence that they were aided and abetted in this invasion by Louis XIV.
The Emperor Leopold fled, leaving his capital to its fate. But the little
guard of 13,000 men under Count Stahremberg held the fortifications
against the invader’s overwhelming force till Duke Charles of Lorraine
and the Elector of Saxony with their armies, and still another army of
20,000 Poles under their king John Sobieski came to their relief. The
Turkish army was routed and driven into Hungary. All this time Louis,
like an eager bird of prey, was watching Germany. Finally, in 1688, two
powerful French armies appeared upon the Rhine. The allied states at last
saw their imminent danger and rallied to resist and drive back the common
foe. Louis resolved to ruin if he could not possess the country; so he
adopted a course than which a more wanton and barbarous was never known,
even in the annals of savagism. Vines were pulled up, fruit-trees cut
down, and villages burned to the ground. Multitudes of defenseless people
were slain in cold blood, and 400,000 persons beggared. Germany, aroused
at last, now entered with vigor into the war with France, and carried
it on till both sides were weary and exhausted. It was concluded by the
Treaty of Ryswick.

The eighteenth century dawned, still to witness Germany the arena of war.
Indeed from earliest history her soil, especially along the Rhine, had
been the battle-ground of Europe. This time it was the war of the Spanish
succession, whose tangled episodes and details we can not undertake to
follow. It will be remembered by the student of history for its great
battle of Blenheim, where the allied armies under the Duke of Marlborough
and Prince Eugene defeated and routed the French. Louis XIV. was now old,
infirm, and tired of war, and hence consented to a treaty of peace, which
was concluded March 7, 1714.

The century now begun witnessed the rise of Prussia out of the German
chaos and the wonderful and brilliant career of Frederick the Great. It
also saw the stronger and more enlightened reigns of Maria Theresa and
Joseph II. in Austria.

Though the wars never ceased, breaking out again in one quarter while
peace was being concluded in another, yet the century as a whole gave
prophesy of a coming better state of affairs.

The grandfather of Frederick the Great had founded the university of
Halle in 1694, and in 1711 an academy of science was established in
Berlin upon a plan drawn up by the philosopher Leibnitz. Frederick
William I., father of Frederick the Great, though coarse and brutal in
his nature, had the wisdom to see the importance of German education and
of breaking off from the established custom of imitating French manners
and life. He accordingly established four hundred schools among the
people, and by the vigor and economy of his reign contributed to the
development of the character and individuality of his people. Frederick
the Great and his rival, Maria Theresa, possessed greater elements of
personal character and intelligence than their predecessors, and hence
gave to their subjects, if not a more liberal form, at least a higher
order of government. Contemporary with these was the beginning of that
literary bloom which, by the genius of Lessing, Herder, Klopstock,
Goethe and Schiller, gave to Germany a glory surpassing all she has ever
achieved, either by war or statesmanship.

We have now reached, just before the beginning of the nineteenth century,
the time of the French Revolution. It was a time that required great
political prudence on the part of the rulers in Germany. Unhappily the
successors of Frederick the Great and Joseph II. were incompetent to
their responsibilities. That great military genius that rose out of the
turmoil and chaos of the revolution in France is soon marching through
Germany, and on the 6th of August, 1806, Francis II., the last of the
line, laid down his title of “Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire of the
German nation” at the feet of Napoleon. Thus, just a thousand years after
Charlemagne the empire of his founding passed away. It had culminated
under the Hohenstauffens, and for a long time before its formal burial
had existed in tradition rather than in fact. Truly may it be said that
Germany was as far as ever from being a nation at the beginning of our

From 1806 to 1814 Germany underwent the humiliation of subjection to
the power of Napoleon. By a succession of victories, such as Jena and
Auerstädt, he cowed the spirit of the German princes and proceeded
to construct the famous “Rhine-Bund” which made him protector over a
territory embracing fourteen millions of German inhabitants, and imposed
upon the states and principalities included conditions the most exacting
and disgraceful. Prussia and Austria, which held out at first, were
also compelled by force of his victorious armies to yield, and Napoleon
dictated terms to all Germany. He marched in triumph into Berlin and
Vienna; he changed boundaries, levied troops, prescribed the size of
their standing armies at will, and when he set out on his campaign
against Alexander of Prussia 200,000 previously conquered Germans marched
at his command. Such was the abject state of Germany during those years
when it seemed that all Europe must bend before the insatiate conqueror.
But in the year 1813 the spirit of liberty began to live again. The
revival began, however, not with the princes, but in the breasts of the
people. The works of the great German authors were becoming familiar to
them and were producing their effect. Klopstock was awakening a pride in
the German name and race; Schiller was thrilling the popular heart with
his doctrine of resistance to oppression, whilst the songs of Körner
and Arndt were inspiring courage and hope. All classes of the people
participated in the uprising, and within a few months Prussia had an army
of 270,000 soldiers in the field ready to resist the power of France.
This was the beginning of the turn in the tide of affairs which led in
1815 to the overthrow of Napoleon at Waterloo, and gave liberation to

The remaining history of the present century is that of the Confederation
formed in 1815 and lasting till 1866; of the North German Confederation
which succeeded the above, and continued to the establishing of the
present empire in 1871, as a result of the Franco-Prussian war; and of
the new empire to the present time. The confederation of 1815, known as
the “Deutscher Bund,” embraced a part of Austria, most of Prussia, the
kingdoms of Bavaria, Würtemberg, Saxony and Hanover, the electorate of
Hesse-Cassel, a number of duchies, principalities and free cities; in all
thirty-nine states.

When in 1866 the “Bund” was dissolved and the North German Confederation
formed, Austria was excluded, and Prussia assumed the headship of
the new compact which embraced the states north of the Main. The term
Germany, from 1866 to 1871, designated the new Confederation, and the
four South German States, Bavaria, Würtemberg, Baden and Hesse Darmstadt.
The four latter had been made independent states, but were united with
the North German Confederation by the Zollverein, and by alliances
offensive and defensive.

The late war between France and Germany belongs to the history of
the present generation. Its great events and changes to Germany are
within the memory of many of our readers. It will be longest remembered
because of its association with the formation of the present empire.
While the siege of Paris was yet in progress (January 1871) the spirit
of enthusiasm became so great, and the desire for national unity so
strong, that the various sovereign states, as well as the members of
the Confederation determined on a revival of the empire. At their joint
instance, in the great hall of Louis XIV., at Versailles, King William
of Prussia received the imperial crown with the title of German Emperor.
Under this new empire the whole German nation, Austria alone excepted,
is united more closely than it has been for more than six hundred years,
or since the Great Interregnum. It is not too much to say that the last
decade has been the brightest and most prosperous in German history.
The new empire has made possible and developed a feeling of patriotism
which could not exist while the race was divided into fifty or more
separate states. It was the complaint of her greatest poet, Goethe,
that there was no united Germany to awaken pride and patriotism in the
German heart. That condition of things is now done away by the present
national government, which, though retaining many of the imperial
features of the past, has, at the same time, embodied some of the more
liberal governmental ideas of the present age. Such, for instance, is the
election by direct universal suffrage and by ballot, of the Reichstag,
one of the two legislative councils of the empire. The German name was
never more respected and honored throughout the world than it is to-day;
not alone for her eminent position among the powers of Europe, but for
her high rank in the empires of art, philosophy and science. Her great
universities are admired wherever in the world there is appreciation
for scholarship, industry and genius. If the present has any right to
prophesy it must be that the coming years contain for Germany less of
wars and dissension, more of peace, coöperation and unity.


“At last the fateful morning dawned, but an impenetrable fog, which
spread over the plain, delayed the attack till noon.… ‘God with us!’ was
the war cry of the Swedes; ‘Jesus Maria!’ that of the Imperialists. About
eleven the fog began to disperse, and the enemy became visible. At the
same moment Lutzen was seen in flames, having been set on fire by command
of the duke, to prevent his being outflanked on that side. The charge was
now sounded; the cavalry rushed upon the enemy, and the infantry advanced
against the trenches.

“Received by a tremendous fire of musketry and heavy artillery, these
intrepid battalions maintained the attack with undaunted courage, till
the enemy’s musketeers abandoned their posts, the trenches were passed,
the battery carried and turned against the enemy. They pressed forward
with irresistible impetuosity; the first of the five imperial brigades
was immediately routed, the second soon after, and the third put to
flight. But here the genius of Wallenstein opposed itself to their
progress. With the rapidity of lightning he was on the spot to rally his
discomfited troops; and his powerful word was itself sufficient to stop
the flight of the fugitives. Supported by three regiments of cavalry,
the vanquished brigades, forming anew, faced the enemy, and pressed
vigorously into the broken ranks of the Swedes. A murderous conflict
ensued.… In the meantime the king’s right wing, led by himself, had
fallen upon the enemy’s left. The first impetuous shock of the heavy
Finland cuirassiers dispersed the lightly mounted Poles and Croats,
who were posted here, and their disorderly flight spread terror and
confusion among the rest of the cavalry. At this moment notice was
brought to the king, that his infantry was retreating over the trenches,
and also that his left wing, exposed to a severe fire from the enemy’s
cannon posted at the windmills, was beginning to give way. With rapid
decision he committed to General Horn the pursuit of the enemy’s left,
while he flew, at the head of the regiment of Steinback, to repair the
disorder of his right wing. His noble charger bore him with the velocity
of lightning across the trenches, but the squadrons that followed could
not come on with the same speed, and only a few horsemen, among whom
was Francis Albert, Duke of Saxe-Lauenberg, were able to keep up with
the king. He rode directly to the place where his infantry were most
closely pressed, and while he was reconnoitering the enemy’s line for
an exposed point to attack, the shortness of his sight unfortunately
led him too close to their ranks. An imperial Gefreyter, remarking that
every one respectfully made way for him as he rode along, immediately
ordered a musketeer to take aim at him. ‘Fire at him yonder,’ said he,
‘that must be a man of consequence.’ The soldier fired, and the king’s
left arm was shattered. At that moment his squadron came hurrying up,
and a confused cry of ‘the king bleeds! the king is shot!’ spread terror
and consternation through all the ranks. ‘It is nothing, follow me,’
cried the king, collecting his whole strength; but overcome by pain,
and nearly fainting, he requested the Duke of Lauenberg, in French, to
lead him unobserved out of the tumult. While the duke proceeded toward
the right wing with the king, to keep this discouraging sight from the
disordered infantry, his majesty received a second shot through the
back, which deprived him of his remaining strength. ‘Brother,’ said he,
with a dying voice, ‘I have enough! look only to your own life.’ At
the same moment he fell from his horse, pierced by several more shots;
and abandoned by all his attendants, he breathed his last amidst the
plundering bands of the Croats. His charger flying without its rider, and
covered with blood, soon made known to the Swedish cavalry the fall of
their king. They rushed madly forward to rescue his sacred remains from
the hands of the enemy. A murderous conflict ensued over the body, till
his mangled remains were buried beneath a heap of slain. Bernard, Duke
of Saxe-Weimar, gave to the bereaved Swedes a noble leader in his own
person; and the spirit of Gustavus led his victorious squadrons anew.

“The sun was setting when the two lines closed. The strife grew hotter as
it drew to an end; the last efforts of strength were mutually exerted,
and skill and courage did their utmost to repair in these precious
moments the fortune of the day. It was in vain; despair endows every one
with superhuman strength; no one can conquer, no one will give way. The
art of war seemed to exhaust its powers on one side, only to unfold some
new and untried masterpiece of skill on the other. Night and darkness
at last put an end to the fight, before the fury of the combatants was
exhausted; and the contest only ceased, when no one could any longer
find an antagonist. Both armies separated, as if by tacit agreement; the
trumpets sounded, and each party claiming the victory, quitted the field.”

    [End of German History.]



    After every deduction has been made he yet stands before us as a
    colossal figure not unworthy to take his place beside Goethe as
    the representative of the scientific side of the culture of his
    country.—_Encyclopædia Britannica._

The Cataracts of the Orinoco.

The impression which a scene makes upon us is not so deeply fixed by the
peculiarities of the country as by the light, the clear azure or the deep
shade of low lying clouds, under which hill and river lie. In the same
way descriptions of scenes impress us with more or less force according
as they harmonize with our emotions. In our inner susceptible soul the
physical world is reflected true and life-like. What gives its peculiar
character to a landscape, to the outline of the mountain range which
borders the dimly distant horizon, to the darkness of the pine forest, to
the mountain stream which rushes madly between overhanging cliffs? They
all stand in strange mysterious relations with the inner life of man,
and on these relations rest the nobler share of enjoyment which nature
affords. Nowhere does she impress us more strongly with consciousness of
her greatness; nowhere does she speak more powerfully to us than under
the Indian heavens. If I venture here to describe that country may I hope
that its peculiar charm will not remain unfelt? The memory of a distant
richly-endowed land, the glimpse of a luxuriant, vigorous plant-life
refreshes and strengthens the mind as the restless worn spirit finds
pleasure in youth and its strength.

Western currents and tropical winds favor the voyage over the peaceful
straits which fill up the wide valley between America and western Africa.
Before the coast appears one notices that the waves foam and dash
over each other. Sailors who were unacquainted with the region would
suspect shallows to be near, or fresh water springs, such as are in
mid ocean among the Antilles. As the garnet coast of Guiana draws near
there appears the wide mouth of a mighty stream. It bursts forth like a
shoreless sea and covers the surrounding ocean with fresh water. The name
Orinoco which the first discoverers gave to the river, and which owes
its origin to a confusion of language, is unknown in the interior of the
country, for the uncivilized inhabitants give names to only those objects
which might easily be mistaken for others. The Orinoco, the Amazon, the
Magdalena are called simply the river, in some cases perhaps, the great
river, the great water, when the inhabitants wish to distinguish them
from a small stream.

The current which the Orinoco causes between the continent of South
America and the island of Trinidad is so powerful that ships which
attempt to struggle against it with outspread sails are scarcely able to
make any headway. This desolate and dangerous place is called the Gulf
of Sorrow; the entrance is the Dragon’s Head. Here lonely cliffs rise
tower-like in the raging flood. They mark the old, rocky isthmus which,
cut off by the current, once joined the island of Trinidad and the coast
of Venezuela.

The appearance of this country first convinced the hardy discoverer,
Colon, of the existence of the American continent. Acquainted with
nature as he was he concluded that so monstrous a body of fresh water
could only be collected by a great number of streams, and that the land
which supplied this water must be a continent and not an island. As the
followers of Alexander believed the Indus, filled with crocodiles, was a
branch of the Nile, so Colon concluded that this new continent was the
easterly coast of the far away Asia. The coolness of the evening air, the
clearness of the starry firmament, the perfume of the flowers borne on
the breeze, all led him to believe that he had approached the garden of
Eden, the sacred home of the first human beings. The Orinoco seemed to
him one of the four streams which are said to flow from Paradise, and to
water the plants of the newly-planted earth.

This poetical passage taken from Colon’s diary has a peculiar interest.
It shows anew how the fancies of the poet are in the discoverer as in
every great human character.


    Heine had all the culture of Germany; in his head fermented all
    the ideas of modern Europe. And what have we got from Heine? A
    half-result, for want of moral balance, and nobleness of soul,
    and character.—_Matthew Arnold._

    In spite of the bitterness of spirit that pervades all his
    writings he possessed deep natural affections. His mother
    survived him, and although almost entirely separated from him
    for the last twenty-five years, he often introduces her name in
    his works with expressions of reverence.—_Translated by E. A.

    Heine left a singular will, in which he begged that all religious
    solemnities be dispensed with at his funeral.… He added that this
    was not the mere freak of a freethinker, for that he had for the
    last four years dismissed all the pride with which philosophy had
    filled him, and felt once more the power of religious truth. He
    also begged forgiveness for any offence which, in his ignorance
    he might have given to good manners and good morals.—_Translated

To Matilda.

    I was, dear lamb, ordained to be
    A shepherd here, to watch o’er thee;
    I nourished thee with mine own bread,
    With water from the fountain head.

    And when winter storm roared loudly,
    Against my breast I warmed thee proudly;
    Then held I thee, encircled well,
    Whilst rain in torrents round us fell,
    When, through its rocky dark bed pouring,
    The torrent with the wolf, was roaring,
    Thou fear’dst not, no muscle quivered,
    E’en when the highest pine was shivered
    By forked flash—within mine arm
    Thou slept’st in peace without alarm.

    My arm grows weak, and fast draws near
    Pale death! My shepherd’s task so dear,
    And pastoral care approach their end.
    Into thy hands, God, I commend
    My staff once more. O do thou guard
    My lamb, when I, beneath the sward
    Am laid in peace, and suffer ne’er
    A thorn to prick her anywhere.

    From thorny hedges guard her fleece,
    May quagmires ne’er disturb her peace.
    May there spring up beneath her feet
    An ample crop of pasture sweet,
    And let her sleep without alarm,
    As erst she slept within mine arm!

    I have been wont to bear my head right high,
    My temper too is somewhat stern and rough;
    Even before a monarch’s cold rebuff
    I would not timidly avert mine eye.
    Yet mother dear, I’ll tell it openly:
    Much as my haughty pride may swell and puff,
    I feel submissive and subdued enough,
    When thy much cherished, darling form is nigh.
    Is it thy spirit that subdues me then,
    Thy spirit grasping all things in its ken,
    And soaring to the light of heaven again?
        By the sad recollection I’m oppress’d
        That I have done so much to grieve thy breast,
        Which loved me more than all things else, the best.

Prose Extracts From Heine.

The French are the chosen people of the new religion, its first gospels
and dogmas have been drawn up in their language; Paris is the New
Jerusalem, and the Rhine is the Jordan which divides the consecrated land
of freedom from the land of the Philistines.

When Candide came to Eldorado, he saw in the streets a number of boys who
were playing with gold nuggets instead of marbles. This degree of luxury
made him imagine that they must be the king’s children, and he was not a
little astonished when he found that in Eldorado gold nuggets are of no
more value than marbles are with us, and that the school-boys play with
them. A similar thing happened to a friend of mine, a foreigner, when he
came to Germany and first read German books. He was perfectly astounded
at the wealth of ideas which he found in them; but he soon remarked that
ideas in Germany are as plentiful as gold nuggets in Eldorado, and that
those writers whom he had taken for intellectual princes, were in reality
only common school-boys.

The Lorelei.

    I know not what it may mean to-day
    That I am to grief inclined;
    There’s a tale of a Siren—an old-world lay—
    That I can not get out of my mind.

    The air is cool in the twilight gray,
    And quietly flows the Rhine;
    On the ridge of the cliff, at the close of the day
    The rays of the sunset shine.

    There sits a maiden, richly dight,
    And wonderfully fair;
    Her golden bracelet glistens bright
    As she combs her golden hair.

    And while she combs her locks so bright,
    She sings a charming lay;
    ’Tis sweet, yet hath a marvelous might,
    And ’tis echoing far away.

    The sailor floats down, in the dusk, on the Rhine
    That carol awakens his grief;
    He sees on the cliff the last sunbeam shine,
    But he sees not the perilous reef.

    Ah! soon will the sailor, in bitter despair,
    To his foundering skiff be clinging!
    And that’s what the beautiful Siren there
    Has done with her charming singing.


    He was an admirable dialectician, and did more than any other
    writer to promote in Germany a sympathetic study of Plato. Yet
    there is a touch of Romanticism in the vague, shadowy and mystic
    language in which he presents the elements of Christian thought
    and life.—_Sime._

    Wilhelm Von Humboldt says that Schleiermacher’s speaking far
    exceeded his power in writing, and that his strength consisted
    in the “deeply penetrative character of his words, which was
    free from art, and the persuasive effusion of feeling moving in
    perfect unison with one of the rarest intellects.”—_American

Extracts From Schleiermacher.

TRUE PLEASURE.—Pleasure is a flower which grows indeed of itself, but
only in fruitful gardens and well cultivated fields. Not that we should
labor in our minds to gain it; but yet he who has not labored for it,
with him it will not grow; whoever has not brought out in his own
character something profitable and praiseworthy, it is in vain for him
to sow. Even he who understands it best can do nothing better for the
pleasure of another than that he should communicate to him what is the
foundation of his own. Whosoever does not know how to work up the rough
stuff for himself, and thereby make it his own, whosoever does not refine
his disposition, has not secured for himself a treasure of thoughts,
a many sidedness of relations, a view of the world and human things
peculiar to himself—such a man knows not how to seize the proper occasion
for pleasure, and the most important is assuredly lost for him. It is
not the indolent who finds so much difficulty in filling up the time
set aside for repose. Who find vexation and ennui in everything? From
whom are we hearing never ending complaints about the poverty and dull
uniformity of life? Who are most bitter in their lamentations over the
slender powers of men for social intercourse, and over the insufficiency
of all measures to obtain joy? But this is only what they deserve; for
man cannot reap where he has not sown.

THE ESTEEM OF THE WORLD.—We all consider what is thought of us by those
around us as a substantial good. Trust in our uprightness of character,
belief in our abilities, and the desire that arises from this to be more
intimately connected with us, and to gain our good opinion, everything of
this kind is often a more valuable treasure than great riches. Of this
the indolent are quite aware. If men would only believe in their capacity
without the necessity of producing anything painstaking and really
praiseworthy! If they would only agree to take some other proof of their
probity and love of mankind than deeds! If they would only accept some
other security for their wisdom than prudent language, good counsel, and
a sound judgment on the proper mode of conducting the affairs of life!
Instead of rising to a true love of honor, such men creep amidst childish
vanities, which try to fix the attention of mankind by pitiful trifles
and to glitter by shadowy appearances; instead of attempting to reach
something really noble, they rest only on external customs; the mental
disposition that arises from this is their virtue, and their governing
passion is what they regard as understanding.


    A young man not understood.—_Goethe._

    German philosophers have as a rule been utterly indifferent to
    style, but Schopenhauer’s prose is clear, firm and graceful, and
    to this fact he owes much of his popularity.—_Sime._

Our inductive science ends with the questions—“Whence?” “Wherefore?” We
observe facts, and classify them; but then follows a question respecting
the substance that lies behind the facts? What do they express? What is
the Will of which they are the Representation?—If we were isolated from
the world around us, we could not answer the question. But we are not so
isolated. We belong to nature, and nature is included in ourselves. We
have in ourselves the laws of the world around us. We find in our own
bodies the mechanical laws, and those of the organic life manifested in
plants and animals. We have the same understanding which we find working
around us in the system of nature. If we consisted only of the body and
the understanding, we could not distinguish ourselves from nature. If
we know what is in ourselves, we know what is in nature. Now what do we
find controlling the facts of our own natural life? An impulse which we
may call the Will to live. We often use the word Will in a complex sense,
as implying both thought and choice; but in its purest, simplest sense,
as the word is used here, it means the impulse, or force, which is the
cause of a phenomenon. In this sense, there is a Will from which the
movements within the earth and upon its surface derive their origin. It
works continuously upward from the forms of crystals, through the forms
of zoöphytes, mollusca, annelida, insectia, arachnida, crustacea, pisces,
reptilia, aves, and mammalia. There is one Will manifested in the growth
of all plants and animals. That which we call a purpose when viewed as
associated with intellect, is, when regarded most simply, or in itself,
a force or impulse—the natural Will of which we are now speaking. It is
the Will to live—the mighty impulse by which every creature is impelled
to maintain its own existence, and without any care for the existence of
others. It is an unconscious Egoism. Nature is apparently a collection of
many wills; but all are reducible to one—the Will to live. Its whole life
is a never-ending warfare. It is forever at strife _with itself_; for it
asserts itself in one form to deny itself as asserted in other forms. It
is everywhere furnished with the means of working out its purpose. Where
the Will of the lion is found, we find the powerful limbs, the claws,
the teeth necessary for supporting the life to which the animal is urged
by his Will. The Will is found associated in man with an understanding;
but is not subservient to that understanding. On the contrary, the
understanding or intellect is subservient. The Will is the moving power;
the understanding is the instrument.

This one Will in nature and in ourselves serves to explain a great part
of all the movements of human society. Hence arise the collisions of
interest that excite envy, strife, and hatred between individuals or
classes. Society differs from an unsocial state of life in the forms
imposed by intelligence on egoistic Will, but not in any radical change
made in that Will. Thus etiquette is the convenience of egoism, and law
is a fixing of boundaries within which egoism may conveniently pursue
its objects. The world around us, including what is called the social
or civilized world, may seem fair, when it is viewed only as a stage,
and without any reference to the tragedy that is acted upon it. But,
viewed in its reality, it is an arena for gladiators, or an amphitheater
where all who would be at peace have to defend themselves. As Voltaire
says, it is with sword in hand that we must live and die. The man who
expects to find peace and safety here is like the traveler told of in
one of Gracian’s stories, who, entering a district where he hoped to
meet his fellow-men, found it peopled only by wolves and bears, while
men had escaped to caves in a neighboring forest. The same egoistic Will
that manifests itself dimly in the lowest stages of life, and becomes
more and more clearly pronounced as we ascend to creatures of higher
organization, attains its highest energy in man, and is here modified,
but not essentially changed, by a superior intelligence. The insect world
is full of slaughter; the sea hides from us frightful scenes of cruel
rapacity; the tyrannical and destructive instinct marks the so-called
king of birds, and rages in the feline tribes. In human society, some
mitigation of this strife takes place as the result of experience and
culture. By the use of the understanding, the Will makes laws for itself,
so that the natural _bellum omnium contra omnes_ is modified, and leaves
to the few victors some opportunities of enjoying the results of their
victory. Law is a means of reducing the evils of social strife to their
most convenient form, and politics must be regarded in the same way. The
strength of all law and government lies in our dread of the anarchic
Will, that lies couched behind the barriers of society and is ready to
spring forth when they are broken down.


Abridged from Professor Geikie’s Primer of Physical Geography.



The sea is full of life, both of plants and animals. These organisms die,
and their remains necessarily get mixed up with the different materials
laid down upon the sea floor. So that, beside the mere sand and mud,
great numbers of shells, corals, and the harder parts of other sea
creatures must be buried there, as generation after generation comes and

It often happens that on parts of the sea bed the remains of some of
these animals are so abundant that they themselves form thick and
wide-spread deposits. Oysters, for example, grow thickly together; and
their shells, mingled with those of other similar creatures, form what
are called shell banks. In the Pacific and the Indian Oceans a little
animal, called the coral-polyp, secretes a hard limy skeleton from the
sea water; and as millions of these polyps grow together, they form great
reefs of solid rock, which are sometimes, as in the Great Barrier Reef
of Australia, hundreds of feet thick and a thousand miles long. It is by
means of the growth of these animals that those wonderful rings of coral
rock or coral islands are formed in the middle of the ocean. Again, a
great part of the bed of the Atlantic Ocean is covered with fine mud,
which on examination is found to consist almost wholly of the remains of
very minute animals called foraminifera.

Over the bottom of the sea, therefore, great beds of sand and mud,
mingled with the remains of plants and animals, are always accumulating.
If now this bottom could be raised up above the sea level, even though
the sand and mud should get as dry and hard as any rock among the hills,
you would be able to say with certainty that they had once been under
the sea, because you would find in them the shells and other remains of
marine animals. This raising of the sea bottom has often taken place in
ancient times. You will find most of the rocks of our hills and valleys
to have been originally laid down in the sea, where they were formed
out of sand and mud dropped on the sea floor, just as sand and mud are
carried out to sea and laid down there now. And in these rocks, not
merely near the shore, but far inland, in quarries or ravines, or the
sides and even the tops of the hills, you will be able to pick out the
skeletons and fragments of the various sea creatures which were living in
the old seas.

Since the bottom of the sea forms the great receptacle into which the
mouldered remains of the surface of the land are continually carried, it
is plain that if this state of things were to go on without modification
or hindrance, in the end the whole of the solid land would be worn away,
and its remains would be spread out on the sea floor, leaving one vast
ocean to roll round the globe.

But there is in nature another force which here comes into play to retard
the destruction of the land.


It may seem at first as if it were hopeless that man should ever know
anything about the earth’s interior. Just think what a huge ball this
globe of ours is, and you will see that after all, in living and moving
over its surface, we are merely like flies walking over a great hill. All
that can be seen from the top of the highest mountain to the bottom of
the deepest mine is not more in comparison than the mere varnish on the
outside of a school globe. And yet a good deal can be learnt as to what
takes place within the earth. Here and there, in different countries,
there are places where communication exists between the interior and
the surface; and it is from such places that much of our information on
this subject is derived. Volcanoes are among the most important of the
channels of communication with the interior.

Let us suppose that you were to visit one of these volcanoes just before
what is called “an eruption.” As you approach it, you see a conical
mountain, seemingly with its top cut off. From this truncated summit a
white cloud rises. But it is not quite such a cloud as you would see on
a hill top in this country. For as you watch it you notice that it rises
out of the top of the mountain, even though there are no clouds to be
seen anywhere else. Ascending from the vegetation of the lower grounds,
you find the slopes to consist partly of loose stones and ashes, partly
of rough black sheets of rock, like the slags of an iron furnace. As you
get nearer the top the ground feels hot, and puffs of steam, together
with stifling vapors, come out of it here and there. At last you reach
the summit, and there what seemed a level top is seen to be in reality a
great basin, with steep walls descending into the depths of the mountain.
Screening your face as well as possible from the hot gases which almost
choke you, you creep to the top of this basin, and look down into it.
Far below, at the base of the rough red and yellow cliffs which form its
sides, lies a pool of some liquid, glowing with a white heat, though
covered for the most part with a black crust like that seen on the
outside of the mountain during the ascent. From this fiery pool jets of
the red hot liquid are jerked out every now and then, stones and dust are
cast up into the air, and fall back again, and clouds of steam ascend
from the same source and form the uprising cloud which is seen from a
great distance hanging over the mountain.

This caldron-shaped hollow on the summit of the mountain is the crater.
The intensely heated liquid in the sputtering boiling pool at its bottom
is melted rock or lava. And the fragmentary materials—ashes, dust,
cinders, and stones—thrown out, are torn from the hardened sides and
bottom of the crater by the violence of the explosions with which the
gases and steam escape.

The hot air and steam, and the melted mass at the bottom of the crater,
show that there must be some source of intense heat underneath. And as
the heat has been coming out for hundreds, or even thousands of years, it
must exist there in great abundance.

But it is when the volcano appears in active eruption that the power
of this underground heat shows itself most markedly. For a day or two
beforehand, the ground around the mountain trembles. At length, in a
series of violent explosions, the heart of the volcano is torn open,
and perhaps its upper part is blown into the air. Huge clouds of steam
roll away up into the air, mingled with fine dust and red hot stones.
The heavier stones fall back again into the crater or on the outer
slopes of the mountain, but the finer ashes come out in such quantity,
as sometimes to darken the sky for many miles round, and to settle down
over the surrounding country as a thick covering. Streams of white hot
molten lava run down the outside of the mountain, and descend even to the
gardens and houses at the base, burning up or overflowing whatever lies
in their path. This state of matters continues for days or weeks, until
the volcano exhausts itself, and then a time of comparative quiet comes,
when only steam, hot vapors, and gases are given off.

About 1800 years ago, there was a mountain near Naples shaped like a
volcano, and with a large crater covered with brushwood. No one had ever
seen any steam, or ashes, or lava come from it, and the people did not
imagine it to be a volcano, like some other mountains in that part of
Europe. They had built villages and towns around its base, and their
district, from its beauty and soft climate, used to attract wealthy
Romans to build villas there. But at last, after hardly any warning,
the whole of the higher part of the mountain was blown into the air
with terrific explosions. Such showers of fine ashes fell for miles
around, that the sky was as dark as midnight. Day and night the ashes
and stones descended on the surrounding country; many of the inhabitants
were killed, either by stones falling on them, or from suffocation by
the dust. When at last the eruption ceased, the district, which had
before drawn visitors from all parts of the old world, was found to be
a mere desert of grey dust and stone. Towns and villages, vineyards
and gardens, were all buried. Of the towns, the two most noted were
called Herculaneum and Pompeii. So completely did they disappear, that,
although important places at the time, their very sites were forgotten,
and only by accident, after the lapse of some fifteen hundred years,
were they discovered. Excavations have since that time been carried on,
the hardened volcanic accumulations have been removed from the old city,
and you can now walk through the streets of Pompeii again, with their
roofless dwelling houses and shops, theaters and temples, and mark on
the causeway the deep ruts worn by the carriage wheels of the Pompeians
eighteen centuries ago. Beyond the walls of the now silent city rises
Mount Vesuvius, with its smoking crater, covering one half of the old
mountain which was blown up when Pompeii disappeared.

Volcanoes, then, mark the position of some of the holes or orifices,
whereby heated materials from the inside of the earth are thrown up to
the surface. They occur in all quarters of the globe. In Europe, beside
Mount Vesuvius, which has been more or less active since it was formed,
Etna, Stromboli, and other smaller volcanoes, occur in the basin of the
Mediterranean, while far to the northwest some volcanoes rise amid the
snows and glaciers of Iceland. In America a chain of huge volcanoes
stretches down the range of mountains which rises from the western margin
of the continent. In Asia they are thickly grouped together in Java and
some of the surrounding islands, and stretch thence through Japan and the
Aleutian Isles, to the extremity of North America. If you trace this
distribution upon the map, you will see that the Pacific Ocean is girded
all round with volcanoes.

Since these openings into the interior of the earth are so numerous over
the surface, we may conclude that this interior is intensely hot. But we
have other proofs of this internal heat. In many countries hot springs
rise to the surface. Even in England, which is a long way from any active
volcano, the water of the wells of Bath is quite warm (120° Fahr.). It
is known, too, that in all countries the heat increases as we descend
into the earth. The deeper a mine the warmer are the rocks and air at its
bottom. If the heat continues to increase in the same proportion, the
rocks must be red hot at no great distance beneath us.

It is not merely by volcanoes and hot springs, however, that the
internal heat of the earth affects the surface. The solid ground is made
to tremble, or is rent asunder, or is upheaved or let down. You have
probably heard or read of earthquakes; those shakings of the ground,
which, when they are at their worst, crack the ground open, throw down
trees and buildings, and bury hundreds or thousands of people in the
ruins. Earthquakes are most common in or near those countries where
active volcanoes exist. They frequently take place just before a volcanic

Some parts of the land are slowly rising out of the sea; rocks, which
used always to be covered by the tides, come to be wholly beyond their
limits; while others, which used never to be seen at all, begin one by
one to show their heads above water. On the other hand some tracts are
slowly sinking; piers, sea walls, and other old landmarks on the beach,
are one after another enveloped by the sea as it encroaches further and
higher on the land. These movements, whether in an upward or downward
direction, are likewise due in some way to the internal heat.

Now when you reflect upon these various changes you will see that through
the agency of this same internal heat land is preserved upon the face
of the earth. If rain and frost, rivers, glaciers, and the sea were to
go on wearing down the surface of the land continually, without any
counterbalancing kind of action, the land would necessarily in the end
disappear, and indeed would have disappeared long ago. But owing to the
pushing out of some parts of the earth’s surface by the movements of the
heated materials inside, portions of the land are raised to a higher
level, while parts of the bed of the sea are actually upheaved so as to
form land.

This kind of elevation has happened many times in all quarters of the
globe. As already mentioned most of our hills and valleys are formed of
rocks, which were originally laid down on the bottom of the sea, and have
been subsequently raised into land.

This earth of ours is the scene of continual movement and change. The
atmosphere which encircles it is continually in motion, diffusing heat,
light, and vapor. From the sea and from the waters of the land, vapor is
constantly passing into the air, whence, condensed into clouds, rain and
snow, it descends again to the earth. All over the surface of the land
the water which falls from the sky courses seaward in brooks and rivers,
bearing into the great deep the materials which are worn away from the
land. Water is thus ceaselessly circulating between the air, the land,
and the sea. The sea, too, is never at rest. Its waves gnaw the edges of
the land, and its currents sweep round the globe. Into its depths the
spoils of the land are borne, there to gather into rocks, out of which
new islands and continents will eventually be formed. Lastly, inside the
earth is lodged a vast store of heat by which the surface is shaken, rent
open, upraised or depressed. Thus, while old land is submerged beneath
the sea, new tracts are upheaved, to be clothed with vegetation and
peopled with animals, and to form a fitting abode for man himself.

This world is not a living being, like a plant or an animal, and yet you
must now see that there is a sense in which we may speak of it as such.
The circulation of air and water, the interchange of sea and land; in
short the system of endless and continual movement by which the face of
the globe is day by day altered and renewed, may well be called the Life
of the Earth.





[_February 3._]

    “As a madman who casteth firebrands, arrows, and death, so is the
    man who deceiveth his neighbor, and saith, ‘Am I not in sport?’”
    Proverbs xxvi, 18:19.

It is incalculable how much pain is inflicted, and how much injury is
done, without anything which can properly be called malicious intent, or
deliberate wrong. Thus there are those who, like the madman mentioned
in Scripture, will cast firebrands, arrows, and death, and then think
it a sufficient excuse to say, “Are we not in sport?” Let it be that
they _are_; I think it will not be difficult to show that this will not
excuse, or do much to palliate, the conduct in question. I think it will
not be difficult to show that men are answerable for the mischiefs they
do from mere wantonness or in sport, and that it is wrong-doing of this
description which makes up no inconsiderable part of every one’s guilt.

It is to little or no purpose to be able to say that such offences do
not originate in conscious malice, for, as has just been intimated,
the same is true of a large proportion of acknowledged crimes. It is
seldom, very seldom, that men injure one another from hatred, or for the
sake of revenge—because they find, or expect to find, any pleasure in
the mere consciousness of inflicting pain. Men injure one another from
wantonness, or want of consideration; or, more commonly still, because
the carrying out of their policy, or their prejudices, or their sport,
happens to interfere with the interests and comfort of others, and,
though really sorry for this, they are not prepared to give up either
their policy or their prejudices, or their sport to spare another’s
feelings. Wars are waged and conquests made, mourning and desolation
spread through a whole country, in the wantonness of honor, or to gratify
an insatiable ambition; but without anything which can properly be called
malice, either in the first movers or immediate agents. Men opposed to
each other in politics or religion will allow this opposition to go
to very unjustifiable lengths, even to the disturbing of the peace of
neighborhoods, and the breaking of friendships and family connections;
and all this, to be sure, must give rise to a great deal of ill-will and
hot blood; but it does not originate in malice, properly so called—in
positive malice toward anybody. Likewise a rash and improvident man may
bring incalculable mischief on all connected with him, involving them in
pecuniary difficulties, or committing and paining them in other ways, and
yet be able to allege with perfect truth that he did not mean to do them
any harm; that, so far from being actuated by malice, he feels nothing
and has felt nothing but the sincerest affection for the very persons
whom he has injured, and most affection, perhaps, for those whom he has
most injured. But why multiply illustrations? The whole catalogue of the
vices of self-indulgence and excess—black and comprehensive as it is—has
nothing to do with malicious intent; that is to say, these vices do not
find any part of their temptation or gratification in ill-will to others,
or in the consciousness of causing misery to others. And yet who, on this
account, denies that they are vices, or that they are among the worst of

The moral perplexity existing in some minds on this subject may be traced
to two errors: making malice to be the _only_ bad motive by which we
can be actuated, and confounding the mere _absence of malice_ with
that active principle of benevolence, or love of our neighbor, which
Christianity makes to be the foundation and substance of all true social

How unfounded the first of these assumptions is, appears generally from
what has been said; but the same may also be shown on strictly ethical
grounds. We must distinguish between what is simply _odious_, and what
is immoral. The malignant passions when acted out by animals are odious,
but they are not immoral, because they are not comprehended in that light
by the agent. The reason why the malignant passions are immoral in man
is that he knows them to be immoral; and accordingly any other passion,
which he knows to be immoral, becomes for the same reason alike immoral
to him as a principle of conduct. Hence it follows that, though not
actuated by malice, we may be by some other motive equally reprehensible
in a moral point of view, though not perhaps as odious—by the love of
ease, by vanity or pride, by unjust partialities, by inordinate ambition,
by avarice or lust—dispositions which have nothing to do with malice, but
yet are felt and acknowledged by all to be bad and immoral.

[_February 10._]

Moreover, the tendencies of modern civilization are to be considered in
this connection. Times of violence are gradually giving place to times of
self-indulgence and fraud; and the consequence is that now, where one man
is betrayed into vices of malevolence and outrage, twenty are betrayed
into those of frivolity, licentiousness, or overreaching. I go further
still. Suppose a man actuated by none of these positively bad motives;
nay, suppose the injury done to be accidental and wholly unintentional,
this will not in all cases justify the deed. The question still arises
whether the injury done, supposing it to be wholly unintentional, might
not have been foreseen, and ought not to have been foreseen; for, where
the well-being of others is concerned, we are bound not only to mean no
harm, but to take care to avoid everything which is likely to do harm;
and negligence in this respect is itself a crime. So obviously just
is this principle, so entirely does it approve itself to the reason
and common sense of mankind, that we find it everywhere recognized, in
some form or other, in the jurisprudence of civilized countries. “When
a workman flings down a stone or piece of timber into the street, and
kills a man, this may be either misadventure, manslaughter, or murder,
according to the circumstances under which the original act is done. If
it were in a country village, where a few passengers are, and he calls
out to all people to have a care, it is misadventure only; but if it were
in London, or other populous town, where people are continually passing,
it is manslaughter, though he gives loud warning; and murder, if he knows
of their passing and gives no warning at all, for then it is malice
against all mankind.”[A]

Equally groundless is the second of the above mentioned assumptions, to
wit: that of confounding the mere _absence of malice_ with the active
principle of benevolence itself or that love of our neighbor which
Christianity makes to be the foundation and substance of all true social
virtue. There is nothing, perhaps, which more essentially distinguishes
worldly propriety and legal honesty from Christian virtue than this,
that they stop with negatives. They are content with avoiding what is
expressly forbidden, not reflecting that this, at the best, only makes
men to be _not bad_; it does not make them to be good. Besides, if we
take this ground, if we allege the absence of all anger and resentment,
we bar the plea that we were hurried into the act by the impetuosity
of our passions—a plea which the experience of a common infirmity has
always led men to regard as the strongest extenuating circumstance of
wrong-doing. If we have given pain to a fellow creature, it is stating an
aggravation of the fault and not an excuse, to say that we did not do it
in passion, but in cold blood; and worse still, if we say that we did it
in sport. What! find sport in giving pain to others? This may consist, I
suppose, with the absence of what is commonly understood by malice; but I
utterly deny its compatibility with active Christian benevolence, or with
what indeed amounts to the same thing, a kind, generous, and magnanimous
nature. Were I in quest of facts to prove the total depravity of man, I
should eagerly seize on such as the following: The shouts of heartless
merriment sometimes heard to arise from a crowd of idlers collected
around a miserable object in the streets; a propensity to turn into
ridicule, not merely the faults and affectations of others, but their
natural deformities or defects; jesting with sacred things, or practical
jests, the consequences of which to one of the parties are of the most
serious and painful character; and the pleasure with which men listen to
sarcastic remarks though causeless and unprovoked, or to wit the whole
point of which consists in its sting. Not that the doctrine of universal
and total depravity is actually proved even by such conduct, for happily
the conduct itself is not universal; to some it is repugnant from the
beginning; and besides, even where it is fallen into, I suppose it is to
be referred in a majority of cases to a love of excitement, rather than
to a love of evil for its own sake. Still I maintain that the conduct
in question, however explained, is incompatible, or at any rate utterly
inconsistent, with thoughtful and generous natures.

[A] Blackstone.

[_February 17._]

Still, many who would not think entirely to excuse the conduct in
question can find palliations for it and extenuating circumstances, some
of which it will be well to examine.

In the first place it is said that the sport is not found in the
sufferings of the victim, but in the awkward and ludicrous situations
and embarrassments into which he is thrown. Now I admit, that, if these
awkwardnesses and absurdities could be entirely disconnected with the
idea of pain, they might amuse even a good mind; but as they can not be
thus disconnected—as all this is known and seen to be the expression
of anguish either of body or mind, or to be the consequence of some
natural defect or misfortune, or some cruel imposition on weakness or
good nature—I affirm as before, that he whose mirth is not checked by
this single consideration betrays a want of true benevolence, and even
of common humanity. Neither will it help the matter much to say that the
pain and mortification are not known, are not seen, or at least _are not
attended_ to; that this view of the subject is entirely overlooked, the
mind being wholly taken up with its ludicrous aspects. For how comes it
that we have so quick a sense to everything ludicrous in the situation
and conduct of others, but no sense at all to their sufferings? Our
hearts, it would seem, are not as yet steeled against all sympathy in
the sufferings and misfortunes of our neighbors, provided we can be made
to apprehend and realize them; and this is well; but why _so slow_ to
apprehend and realize them? If, though directly before our eyes, the
thought of them never occurs to our minds; if we can say, and say with
truth, that while we enjoy the sport it never once occurred to us that
it was at the expense of another’s feelings, though this fact was all
the time staring us in the face—does it not at least betray a degree of
indifference or carelessness about the feelings of others, which is only
compatible with a cold and selfish temper? Put whatever construction you
will, therefore, on this kind of sport, it argues a bad state of the
affections; for either its connection with the pain and mortification
of others is perceived, and then it is downright cruelty; or it is not
perceived, and then it is downright insensibility.

Another ground is sometimes taken. There are those who will say, “We
cannot help it. Persons of a constitution less susceptible to the
ludicrous, or less quick to observe it, may do differently, but we
cannot.” Obviously, however, reasonings of this sort, if intended as a
valid excuse, betray a singular and almost hopeless confusion of moral
ideas. They cannot help it? Of course they do not mean that they would
be affected in the same way by the same thing, under all circumstances
and in all states of feeling. Let the coarse jest be at the expense of a
parent, or of a sister; or let its tendency be to bring derision on an
office, a cause, or a doctrine which we have much at heart; or let it
offend beyond a certain point against the conventional usages of what
is called good society—and, instead of provoking mirth, it provokes
indignation or contempt. All they can mean, therefore, is simply this:
Their sense of the ludicrous is so keen, that, when not restrained
by some present feeling of justice, humanity, or decorum, it becomes
irrepressible. Undoubtedly it does; but this is no more than what might
be said of the worst crimes of sensuality and excess. What would you
think if a sordid man should plead, that being sordid by nature, and not
having any high principle or feeling to restrain him, he cannot help
acting sordidly? Does he not know that it is this want of high principle
and feeling which constitutes the very essence of his sin? We have
shown that to find sport in what gives pain, argues a bad state of the
principles and affections. Manifestly, therefore, it is to no purpose
to urge as an excuse, that in the existing state of our principles and
affections we can not help it; for the existing state of our principles
and affections is the very thing which is complained of and condemned.

It may be contended, as a last resort, that this state of mind is
consistent, to say the least, with amiable manners, companionable
qualities, and good nature. But if herein is meant to be included real
kindness of heart, or the highest forms of generosity and nobleness of
soul, I deny that it can be. There is no necessity of trying to make it
out that men of this stamp are worse than they really are. Unquestionably
they can and often do make themselves agreeable and entertaining,
especially to those who are not very scrupulous about the occasions of
their mirth, and feel no repugnance to join in a laugh which perhaps they
would hesitate to raise. Good-natured also they may be, if nothing more
is meant by this than the absence of an unaccommodating, morose, and
churlish disposition; for there are two sorts of good nature, the good
nature of benevolence, and the good nature of ease and indifference. The
first will not consist, as we have seen, with wrong-doing from wantonness
or in sport; but the last may; yet even when it does, not much credit can
accrue from this circumstance. Worthy of all honor is that good nature
which springs from genuine kindness and sympathy, or a desire to make and
to see everybody happy; but the same can hardly be said of what often
passes for good-nature in the world, though it is nothing but the result
of an easy temper and loose principles.

[_February 24._]

Still, I can not but think that a large majority of those who sometimes
look for sport in wrong-doing have enough of humanity and of justice to
restrain them, if they could only be made to understand and feel the
extent of the injury thus occasioned. Take, for example, jesting with
sacred things. Its influence on those who indulge in it is worse than
that of infidelity, for it destroys our reverence, and it is harder to
recover our reverence, after it has been lost, than our convictions.
Nay, it is often worse than that of daring crime; the latter puts us in
opposition to religion, but it does not necessarily undermine our respect
for it, or the sentiment on which the whole rests. Consider, too, its
effect on others. The multitude are apt to mistake what is laughed at
by their superiors for what is ridiculous in itself. In France it was
not the sober arguments of a knot of misguided atheists, but the scoffs
and mockeries and ill-timed pleasantries in which the higher classes
generally shared, which destroyed the popular sense of the sanctity of
religion; and when this great regulative principle of society was gone,
it was not long before the mischief came back, amidst scenes of popular
license and desperation, “to plague the inventors.” And so of cruel
sports. In reading the Sermon on the Mount, you must have been struck
with the fact that, while he who is angry with his brother is only said
to be in danger of the judgment, “whosoever shall say, thou fool, shall
be in danger of hell fire.” But, on second thoughts, is this anything
more than a simple recognition of what we all know to be true; that
hatred does not inflict half so deep or bitter a feeling of wrong as
scorn? Much is said about the disorganizing doctrines and theories of
the day, but, bad as these are, they are not likely to do so much to
exasperate the poor against the rich, and break down the bulwarks of
order and law, as the conduct of some among the rich themselves. The time
was when the few could trample with indifference on the interests and
feelings of the many, and make sport of their complaints with impunity,
but that time has passed away.

One word also on those cruel sports where animals, and not men, are
the sufferers. Cruelty to animals is essentially the same feeling with
cruelty to a fellow-creature, and in some respects it is even more
unbecoming. Man is as a god to the inferior races. To abuse the power
which this gives us over the helpless beings that Providence has placed
at our mercy, is as mean as it is inhuman. If we would listen to the
pleadings of what is noble and generous in our natures, it would be as
impossible for us needlessly to harm an unoffending animal, as it would
be to strike an infant or an idiot. Shame on the craven who quails before
his equals, and then goes away and wreaks his unmanly resentments on a
creature which he knows can neither retaliate nor speak! Besides, we may
suppose that there are orders of beings above us, as well as below us.
Look then at our treatment of the lower animals, and then ask yourselves
what we should think, if a superior order of beings should mete out to
us the same measure. What if in mere wantonness, or to pamper unnatural
tastes, they should subject us to every imaginable hardship and wrong?
What if they should make a show, a public recreation, of our foolish
contests and dying agonies? Nay, more; what if it should come to this,
that in their language a man-killer should be called a _sportsman_ by way
of distinction?

But I must close. We have it on the authority of the Bible, and we read
it in the constitution of man, that there is “a time to weep and a time
to laugh.” There will also be ample scope for the legitimate action of
caustic wit, so long as there are follies to be shown up, pretenders to
be unmasked, and conceit and affectation to be taught to know themselves.
But, in the serious strifes of the world, the ultimate advantages of this
weapon, though wielded on the right side, are more than dubious. “The
Spaniards have lamented,” it has been said, “and I believe truly, that
Cervantes’ just and inimitable ridicule of knight-errantry rooted up,
with that folly, a great deal of their real honor. And it was apparent
that Butler’s fine satire on fanaticism contributed not a little, during
the licentious times of Charles II., to bring sober piety into disrepute.
The reason is evident; there are many lines of resemblance between truth
and its counterfeits; and it is the province of wit only to find out the
likenesses in things, and not the talent of the common admirers of it
to discover the differences.” At any rate we can shun the rock of small
wits who think to make up for poverty of invention by a scurrility and
grimace, who think to gain from the venom of the shaft what is wanting in
the vigor of the bow. We can imitate the example of those among the great
masters of wit in all ages, who have ennobled it by purity of expression
and a moral aim; so that, in the end, virtue may not have occasion to
blush, or humanity to mourn, for anything we have said or done. Take any
other course and we are reminded of the confession which experience wrung
from the lips of the wise man: “I said in my heart, go to now, I will
prove thee with mirth; therefore enjoy pleasure; and behold this also
is vanity. I said of laughter, it is mad; and of mirth, what doeth it?”
“Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is




It perhaps would be well for us to take a glance at the origin of the law
which we are about to consider in its practical applications. In all our
business relations, and in fact in our general conduct, so far as that
term would apply to one as a member of a community and a citizen, we are
controlled in our action by absolute, and in some instances possibly,
by arbitrary regulations or laws, with which perhaps we may be wholly
unfamiliar, but which are none the less binding and positive in their
exactions because we have neglected to familiarize ourselves with their

It is a rule of law, that ignorance of it excuses no one. For this reason
ignorance is never pleaded in court as an answer to civil or criminal
allegations of any sort. This rule presupposes a knowledge of the law on
the part of every citizen. While, strictly speaking, this is impossible
and in reality but a fiction, any other provision would be fraught
with danger. Although, through the observance of this rule, doubtless,
hardships are occasioned—as in fact must result from the enforcement of
any law, however wise—it is notwithstanding that, a very necessary and
strictly proper presumption. Were it to be otherwise, any attempt to
enforce obligations against dishonest parties or to punish crime would
prove ineffectual, because recourse would always be had to this defense.
Thus all law would be a nullity.

There is fortunately a safe rule to be adopted as a guide for our
conduct, which in the main, if strictly obeyed, will obviate the seeming
hardship. Notwithstanding the fact that all inhibitions do not involve
an absolute wrong or right, that all enforcements of law are not with
justice, yet if a strict standard of right and honorable dealings
characterize individual action and conduct, for those who adopt such
a course there is but slight possibility that there is any especial
oppression in store.

But wrong doing exists. The remedy is existing law. What is it, which as
such we are to obey, and which we may safely designate as the principle
of personal protection?

The nucleus of the now voluminous laws of our country was the well
established laws, customs and usages of the American colonies of Great
Britain, when their independence was secured. At that time the laws of
Great Britain had become so generally interwoven into our judicature as
well as into our business customs and relations, that the introduction
of a wholly new system of laws would have proved disastrous, even if it
could have been accomplished.

Since, in part, law is the outgrowth of customs and ways, as we shall
see, to have attempted the engrafting of a wholly new system would
have been equivalent to an attempt to change at once the habits and
characteristics of a people.

The familiarity of the colonists with the then existing law, and its
adaptability to the then commercial transactions, made it a desirable
nucleus—already for our people, with which they might inaugurate a system
of their own.

This, then, was accepted as the common law of the country at that time.
But however well adapted the then existing laws may have been to the
wants of the people and commerce, ever changing conditions of life
and ever increasing business complications rendered additions and new
provisions necessary. These changes were made necessary and were fostered
by statute law.

Statute law is the result of the deliberations of legislative assemblies.
Each state has its own legislature and statute law, as has the national
government. The general government being the superior power, its laws
must be recognized as superior to state laws, that is, there can be no
state law inconsistent with the laws of the national government. The
state legislatures and national congress have power to make laws, and
whatever is declared by these bodies to be the supreme law of the land,
for the government of the individual and the protection of property,
providing it does not conflict with the provisions of the national and
state constitutions respectively, must be obeyed as such.

This then is statute law: An enactment regarding the rights of persons
or property, passed by representatives of the people in legislature

When a question has arisen concerning which statute law has no
provisions, or some regular enactment is so worded that its meaning is
doubtful and extremely liable to be misunderstood, to compensate for the
lack in the one instance and to interpret properly the intention of the
law makers in the other, we resort to the common law, fairly said to be
“the accumulated wisdom of centuries.” Analogy will lead us to conclude,
and correctly, that this is the conservative element of the system—the
origin of which we have previously alluded to in part—to which we would
add the customs and usages which have, since our recognition as an
independent people, received the sanction of our courts, and to become
acquainted with which reference must be made to the published reports of
the courts, known as the “U. S. Reports,” “Maine Reports,” etc.

That the common law may remain to a great extent unchangeable, much
respect is paid to the decisions of the courts, by others than those by
which they were enunciated, for it has ever been deemed better that a
precedent be respected, even if it be not the soundest law, than to have
what might seem to be better logic at the expense of a varying precedent.
Then we conclude, that though legislatures be radical in the change of
existing laws, yet in the task of applying or interpreting such laws, so
changed, courts are generally very conservative. It will thus be seen
that the rights of the people are not liable to be unwarrantably abridged
or destroyed by any uncertain movement of a day.

By referring to our national and state constitutions, our readers will
see that the powers of both national and state governments are divided
into three departments, known as the executive, legislative and judicial,
each of which is distinct from the others, although they work in harmony
in the enactment and enforcement of the laws. The courts come under the
head of that last named, and their duties have been demonstrated to be
“to define, declare and apply the laws.”

Of this common and statute law a very essential part is that which
is applicable to business, or commercial law, or, as it is generally
denominated in the books, the “Law-Merchant.” Much of the law bearing
upon this subject is the old common law, with the enlargements consequent
upon an increased commercial activity. Here it is that we find many of
the customs and usages of merchants gradually merging into recognized
law. The three “days of grace” allowed on all commercial paper is but a
common illustration of this, similar in origin to many customs in all
departments of trade, which might easily be cited, and which were in
their inception of very limited significance, but which have continually
been receiving a more extended recognition, until we find them clothed
with all the insignia of authority.

These customs and usages we shall have occasion to give more extended
explanations as we touch upon the several sub-divisions of our topic.
There are a few technical words which we shall find it convenient to use.
Prof. Greenleaf clearly expresses the reason for this, as follows:

“A great deal of the language of every art or science or profession
is technical (indeed, technical means belonging to some art), and is
peculiar to it, and may not be understood by those who do not pursue the
business to which it belongs. This is as true of the law as of everything
else.… A good instance of this is in those words which end in _er_ (or
_or_) and in _ee_. As for example, promisor or promisee, vendor and
vendee, indorser and indorsee. These terminations are derived from the
Norman-French, which was for a long time the language of the courts
and of the law of England. And it might seem that we had just as good
terminations in English, in _er_ and _ed_, which mean the same thing. But
this is not so. Originally they meant the same thing, but they do not
now, for both _er_ and _ee_ are applied, in law, to persons, and _ed_ to
things, so that we want all three terminations. For example, indorser
means the man who indorses; indorsee the man to whom the indorsement is
made; but the note itself we say is indorsed. So vendor means the man who
sells, vendee the man to whom something is sold, and the thing sold is

In regard to the phrase “presumption of law,” to which we may have
occasion to refer. The significance of this phrase is this: Under certain
conditions, without absolute proof of the matter concerning which some
conclusion is sought, the law will presume to interpret the intention
or acts of persons. For instance, regarding criminal procedure, one is
presumed to be innocent until he is proved to be guilty. Presumptions
prevail only when proof is lacking.


A contract has been aptly defined to be “an agreement to do or not to do
some particular thing.” It may be verbal or in writing. If the conditions
of a contract, whether verbal or written, be expressly stated and agreed
upon, it is then termed an expressed contract. If on the other hand there
are no well defined and specific agreements regarding the undertaking
or the consideration to be paid for its accomplishment, it is called an
implied contract.

The conditions of an expressed contract must be strictly complied with,
and the parties to it are bound to faithfully observe the same, however
onerous may be the burden, while the conditions of an implied contract
not being agreed upon specifically, are such as custom may dictate.
As an illustration of this: A agrees to pay B two dollars per day for
labor. This is expressed, so far as the rate of wages is concerned; but
the number of hours that shall be taken to constitute a day’s work is
not agreed upon, and must be determined by implication. As a result, the
question would be settled by the custom in such matters which obtained in
the place where the contract was made. Or, if A engages B to undertake
the building of a cottage, with no stipulations regarding the wages to
be paid, B when the work is completed can recover for his compensation
whatever is proved to be the usual and customary remuneration paid men
in the same business and possessed of equal skill. The enforcement of
obligations is no less strict when the standing of the contract is
implied than when expressed, after determining what the obligations of
the parties are.

The elements of a contract are parties, consideration, subject matter,
mutual assent and time.

PARTIES.—Two or more competent persons may make a legal contract.
Competent persons, it will be observed. What constitutes competency?
Generally, legal age and sound mind; while minority, insanity, idiocy,
intoxication and coverture are said to be the conditions of incompetency.
With the exception of a few states where females become of age at
eighteen, the legal age is twenty-one years. A consideration of the
conditions of incompetency will sufficiently explain the requisites of
competency negatively. Minors, or those who have not attained legal
age, or infants as the law denominates them, are considered incompetent
because of inexperience, and a fair presumption that unprincipled
parties might take unfair advantage of them, and lead them into business
complications which a riper experience would disapprove. The contracts of
a minor approved by him when he becomes of age are binding, however; so
that it will be observed, such contracts are not absolutely void, only
voidable at the discretion of the minor. If an infant makes a transfer
of real estate he may, on reaching his majority, compel the purchaser
to reconvey the property, by returning to him the purchase money. The
law would not permit him to retain the purchase price and compel the
re-transfer, because it is not the policy of the law to assist the
minor in his fraudulent purposes, but only to protect him from the
impositions of those skilled in wicked devices. There are some contracts
which an infant can not disclaim, viz.: such as are for necessaries.
It is something of a question to determine what are necessaries; but
the minor’s fortune and social position must be the guide, for where
sufficient food and clothes might be all that would be termed necessaries
for one, for another by fortune more favored, “equipage, dress and
entertainments” would be considered just as essential.

UNSOUND MIND.—Insanity, or a mind deranged; idiocy, or the lack of
a mind; intoxication, or a mind so beclouded as to be incapable
of understandingly judging of the merits of an ordinary business
transaction; a mind in any one of these conditions is unsound, and its
possessor an incompetent.

Coverture, or marriage, by the common law made woman an incompetent
party, and she was thus precluded from legally contracting. By statutory
enactments nearly all of the states have changed this, so that a married
woman may now do business, contract debts as though unmarried, and
also hold property in her own right. The ancient barbarous theory that
marriage ought to annul a woman’s right to property in her own name and
almost deny her individual existence is nearly a relic, an error almost
of the past.

CONSIDERATION.—Any consideration is sufficient to sustain a contract,
provided it be not illegal, or that which is prohibited by law; immoral,
or that which contravenes the moral law; and provided the contract was
born of good faith, and not tainted by fraud. A contract into which any
element of fraud has entered receives no countenance at the law. However
favorable stipulations may seem, a fraudulent intent, proved, will
nullify the contract.

THE SUBJECT MATTER, or that concerning which the contract is made must
not be illegal, immoral or impossible. The reasons for this are apparent,
since it would controvert the very object of legal rights and public
policy if an illegal or immoral undertaking were permitted to enter
into a contract as a thing to be done and as a recognized right to be
enforced; or, if a stipulation were permitted to stand, which called for
the doing of that which is impossible.

Mutual assent is an essential element. “It takes two to make a trade.”
There must be an agreement of minds between contracting parties as to
what is to be done, and how, and in consideration of what; and this
agreement must be at the same time, or to state it in a legal fashion,
“minds must meet.”

The time stated for the performance of a contract should be agreed upon.
In case it is not, then it must be accomplished within a reasonable time.

What is a reasonable time must be determined by the special circumstances
of each individual case. It is with this as with other elements of a
contract if not fully understood and agreed upon, the assistance of
customs and usages must be invoked to settle the disputed point.

STATUTE OF FRAUDS.—This is an old English statute, adopted, slightly
modified, by the several states. It requires the following contracts to
be in writing: For the conveyance of real estate; lease of land for more
than one year; in consideration of marriage; to answer for the debt,
default or wrongful act of another; not to be performed within one year;
for the sale of personal property of a certain value (by most states
placed at fifty dollars), unless the sale be by auction, or part of the
purchase money be paid, or part of the goods delivered at the time of

       *       *       *       *       *

It is well that every man should be in a state of moral union with
others; he must have one or more men to whom he can communicate the
inmost feelings of his being, heart, and the reasons of his conduct;
there should be nothing in him which is not known to some one else. That
is the true meaning of the divine saying, “It is not good that man should
be alone.”—_Schleiermacher._



Greek architecture seems to have emerged from a state of archaic
simplicity in the sixth century before the Christian era. All its finest
creations were between that date and the death of Alexander the Great in
333 B. C.

In the days of their greatest refinement the Greeks sought rather to
adorn their country than their homes. If there were palatial residences,
they were more perishable, and have decayed or been destroyed, leaving
few remains to tell of their former grandeur. We know their architecture
almost exclusively from the ruins of their public buildings, and mostly
from temples and mausoleums. The Greek temple was peculiar, and made
little or no provision for a congregation of worshipers. The design was
largely for external effect. A comparatively small room or cell received
the image of the divinity, and another room behind it seems to have
served as a treasury for votive offerings. But there were no surrounding
chambers, halls or court yards. The temple, though within some precinct,
was accessible to all, and, being open to the sun and air, invited the
admiration of the passer-by. Its most telling features and best sculpture
were on the exterior. The columns and the superstructure which rested on
them must have played a very important part in their temple architecture.

There were in Greece three distinct manners, differing mostly in the
manner in which the column was treated. These are called “orders;” and
are named Doric, Ionic and Corinthian. Each of these presents a different
series of proportions, mouldings and ornamentations in the column used,
though the main form of the structure is the same in all. The column and
its entablature being the most prominent features of the building, have
come to be regarded as the index or characteristic, from an inspection of
which the order can be recognized, just as a botanist recognizes plants
by their flowers.

From a study of the column all the principal characteristics of the
different orders are ascertained. The column belonging to any order is,
of course, always accompanied by the use throughout the building of the
appropriate proportions, mouldings and ornaments belonging to that order.

The Doric temple at Corinth is attributed to the seventh century B. C.
This was a massive structure, with short, stumpy columns, and strong
mouldings, but presenting the main features of the Doric style in its
earliest, rudest form. The most complete Greek Doric temple was the
Parthenon—the work of the architect Ictinus. It is selected for our
purpose of illustration, because on many accounts the best, and many of
our readers have seen the plate representing it. The Parthenon stood
on the summit of a lofty rock, within an irregularly shaped enclosure,
entered through a noble gateway. The temple itself was of perfectly
regular plan, and stood quite free from all dependencies of any sort. It
consisted of the _cella_, or sacred cell, in which stood the statue of
the goddess, and behind it the treasury chamber. In both these there were
symmetrical columns. A series of columns surrounded the building, and at
either end was a portico eight columns wide and two deep. There were two
pediments of flat pitch, one at each end. The whole rested on a basement
of steps. The building, exclusive of the steps, was 228 feet long by 101
feet wide, and 64 feet high. The columns were 34 feet 3 inches high,
and more than 6 feet in diameter at the base. The marble of which this
temple was constructed was of the most solid and durable kind, and the
workmanship in all the parts that remain shows great skill and care in
the execution. The roof was probably of timbers covered with marble
tiles; but all traces of the frame work have entirely disappeared, and
hence the mode of construction is not known. Nor do authorities agree as
to what provision was made for the admission of light. It seems probable
that something like the clere-story of a Gothic church was used to light
the Parthenon.

This wonderful structure was Doric, and the leading proportions were as
follows: The column was 5.56 diameters high. The whole height, including
the stylobate or steps, might be divided into nine parts, of which two go
to the stylobate, six to the column, and one to the entablature.

The Greek Doric order is without a base; the shaft of the column springs
from the top step, and is tapering, not in a straight line, but with a
subtle curve, known technically as the entasis of the column. This shaft
is channeled usually with twenty shallow channels, the ridges separating
one from another being very fine lines.

The Parthenon, like many, if not all Greek buildings, was profusely
decorated with colored ornaments, of which nearly every trace has now
disappeared, but which must have contributed largely to the beauty of the
building as a whole, and must have emphasized and set off its parts.

The most famous Greek building in the Ionic style was the temple of
Diana, at Ephesus. This magnificent temple was almost totally destroyed,
and the very site was, for centuries, unknown, till the energy and
sagacity of an English architect enabled him to discover and dig out
the vestiges of the building. Fortunately sufficient traces of the
foundation remained to render it possible to make out the plan of the
temple completely. From the fragments he was able to restore on paper the
general appearance of the famous temple, which must be very nearly, if
not absolutely correct. The walls of this temple were entirely surrounded
by a double series of columns with a pediment at each end. The whole was
of marble and based on a spacious platform of steps.

The Corinthian order, the last to make its appearance, was almost as much
Roman as Greek. It resembles the Ionic, but the capitals are different,
the columns more slender, and the enrichments more florid.

The plan or floor disposition of a Greek building, always simple, was
well arranged for effect, and capable of being understood at once. All
confusion, uncertainty or complications were scrupulously avoided.
Refined precision, order, symmetry and exactness mark the plan as well as
every part of the work.

The construction of the walls of Greek temples rivaled that of the
Egyptians in accuracy and beauty of workmanship; though the wall was
evidently not the principal thing for effect with the Greek architect,
as much of it was overshadowed by lines of columns, which form the main
feature of the building.

The Corinthian order is the natural sequel to the Ionic. Had Greek
architecture continued till it fell into decadence, this order would have
been its badge. As it was, the decadence of Greek art was Roman art, and
the Corinthian order was the favorite order of the Romans.


The Etruscans, at an early day, inhabited the west coast of Italy,
between the rivers Arno and Tiber. At the time of the founding of
Rome as a city, they were a civilized people and showed considerable
architectural skill, and their arts had a very great influence on Roman
art. The remains of several Etruscan towns show that their masonry was of
what has been called a Cyclopean character—that is, the stones were of an
enormous size. The massive blocks being fitted together with consummate
accuracy, much of the masonry endures to the present day. The temples,
palaces and dwelling houses which made up the cities so fortified, have
all disappeared, and the only structural remains of Etruscan art are
tombs—some cut in live rock, and some detached structures. These built
of heavy stones and arched securely, still exist as monuments of the
science and skill of those early builders. They were acquainted with
and extensively used the true radiating arch, composed of wedge-shaped
stones. From them the Romans learned to construct arches, and combined
the arch with the trabeated or lintel mode which they copied from the
Greeks. Hence arose a style distinctively Roman.

The largest Etruscan temple of which any record remains was that of
Jupiter Capitolinus, at Rome, one of the most splendid temples of

The last of the classical styles of antiquity is the Roman. This seems
rather an amalgamation of several other styles than an original,
independent creation. It was formed slowly, and is harmonious, though
uniting elements widely dissimilar.

The Grecian artist was imaginative and idealistic in the highest degree.
He seemed to have an innate genius for art and beauty, and was eager
to perpetuate in marble his brightest conceptions of excellence. The
stern, practical Roman, realistic in every pore, eager for conquest,
was dominated by the idea of bringing all nations under his sway, and
of making his city the capital of the world. At first he looked with
disdain on the fine arts, in all their forms, and regarded a love for the
beautiful, whether in literature or art, as an evidence of effeminacy.

For nearly five hundred years there was very little architectural taste
displayed in the buildings at Rome. All public works, as the Appian Way,
bridges and aqueducts bore the utilitarian stamp. Their best buildings
were of brick or the local stone, and there is little evidence that
architecture was studied as a fine art until about 150 B. C.

After the fall of Carthage, and the destruction of Corinth, when Greece
became a Roman province—both which events occurred in the year 146 B.
C.—Rome became desirous of emulating the older civilization which she had
destroyed. She had, by her conquests, immense wealth, and expended much,
both privately and publicly, in erecting monuments, many of which, more
or less altered, remain to the present day.

The first marble temple in Rome was built by the consul Q. Metellus
Macedonicus, who died 115 B. C. From that period Roman architecture
showed a wonderful diversity in the objects to which it was applied. Not
only tombs, temples, and palaces, but baths, theaters, and amphitheaters,
basilicas, aqueducts and triumphal arches were planned and built as
elaborately as the temples of the gods.

Under the emperors the architectural display reached its full
magnificence. The boast of Augustus, that he found Rome of brick, and
left her of marble, expresses in a few words the great feature of his
reign, and of that of several of the succeeding emperors.

Though the most destructive of all agencies—hostile invasions,
conflagrations, and long ages of neglect—have done their utmost to
destroy all vestiges of Imperial Rome, there still remain relics enough
to make the city of the Cæsars, after Athens, the richest store of
classical architectural antiquities in the world.


The temples in Rome were not, as in Greece and Egypt, the structures
on which the architect lavished all the resources of his art and his
science. They were, in a general way, copies of Greek originals, and did
not equal the models after which they were fashioned, nor greatly honor
the metropolis of the world. Few remains of them exist. The Church of
Santa Maria Ezizica was once a heathen temple, and after some necessary
changes, used for Christian worship. This was tetrastyle, with half
columns around it, and of the kind called by Vitruvius pseudo-peripteral.
A few fragmentary remains of other temples are found in Rome, but there
are much finer specimens in some of the provinces. The best is the Maison
Carrée at Nêmes. This was probably erected during the reign of Hadrian.
There is a portico in front, while the sides and rear have columns
attached. The details of the capitals and entablature are almost pure

At Baalbec, the ancient Heliopolis in Syria, not far from Damascus,
are the ruins of another magnificent, provincial Roman temple. It was
built in the time of the Antonines, and must have been of very extensive
dimensions. At the western end of an immense court, on an artificial
elevation, stand the remains of what is called the Great Temple. This
was 290 feet long by 160 feet wide, and had 54 columns supporting its
roof, only six of which now remain erect. Their height, including base
and capital, is 75 feet, and their diameter at the base 7 feet. They are
of the Corinthian order, and above them rises an elaborately moulded
entablature, 14 feet in height. The most striking feature of these
buildings is the colossal size of the stones used in their construction.

Among the most remarkable public buildings, whether in the mother city,
or in the provinces, were the Basilicas, or halls of justice, used also
as commercial exchanges. These were generally oblong, covered halls,
divided into three or five aisles by rows of columns. At one end was a
semi-circular recess, the floor of which was raised considerably above
the level of the rest of the floor, and here the presiding magistrate had
his seat.

Although the Romans were not particularly interested in dramatic
representations, they were passionately fond of shows and games of all
kinds. Hence they built many theatres and amphitheatres in all their
cities and large towns. The most stupendous fabric of the kind that was
ever erected was the Flavian amphitheater or Colosseum, whose ruins
attest its pristine magnificence.

“Arches on arches, as if it were that Rome, collecting the chief trophies
of her line, would build up all the triumphs in one dome.” It was oblong,
620 feet in length, and 513 feet wide. It was favorably situated between
the Esquiline and the Cœlian hills, and admirably planned for the
convenience of the vast audiences, estimated at from 50,000 to 80,000.
Recent excavations have revealed the communications that existed between
the arena and the dens, where the wild animals, slaves, and prisoners
were confined. The external façade is composed of four stories, separated
by entablatures that run completely round the building, without a break.
The three lower stories consist of a series of semi-circular arched
openings, eighty in number, separated by piers with attached columns in
front of them, the Doric order being used in the lowest story, the Ionic
in the second, and the Corinthian in the third.

From these meager facts the reader must imagine the magnificence and
grandeur of the Colosseum, or seek for fuller information in works of
ancient art. Nothing can give us a more impressive idea of the grandeur
and lavish display of Imperial Rome, than the remains of the huge Thermæ
or bathing establishments. These belong mostly to the Christian era.

Agrippa built the first, A. D. 10, and thence to 324 A. D., no less than
twelve of these vast establishments were erected by different emperors,
including Constantine, and bequeathed to the people. The baths of
Caracalla and Diocletian are the only ones that remain in any state of
preservation, and were probably the finest and most extensive of them all.

There is one ancient building in Rome more impressive than any other—not
only because of its better state of preservation, but because of the
dignity with which it was designed, the perfection of execution, and the
effectiveness of the mode in which the interior is lighted—the Pantheon.
It is the finest example of a domed hall that is left. It has the
circular form with a diameter of 145 feet, and a height to the top of the
dome of 147 feet. The magnificent dome is enriched with boldly recessed
panels, and these covered with bronze ornaments.

The domestic architecture of the Romans at an early day was rich, but few
traces of it remain. The buildings were of two kinds; the _insula_, or
block of buildings, containing a number of buildings, and the _domus_, or
detached mansion.

Their buildings, in the first centuries rude, came, in time, to have a
very decided architectural character. We gather from them that daring,
energy, readiness, structural skill, and a not too fastidious taste were
characteristics of Roman architects and their works.


Constantine the Great, who had encouraged the erection of houses of
Christian worship in Rome and other parts of Italy, exerted a marked
influence on architecture when he removed the seat of empire from Rome to
Byzantium, and called the new capital Constantinople. He rebuilt the city
that was almost in ruins, though not deserted. The people were largely
of the Greek race, and had Greek ideas of architecture. Hence a new
development of the church building differing somewhat from the style of
the basilicas soon showed itself.

In Byzantium buildings of most original design sprang up, founded, it
is true, on Roman originals, but by no means exact copies of them. The
most difficult problems of construction, particularly of roofs, were
successfully met and solved.

What course the art ran during the two centuries between the refounding
of Byzantium and the building of Santa Sophia, we can only infer from
its outcome. But it is certain that to attain the power of designing
and erecting so great a work as Santa Sophia, the architects of
Constantinople must have greatly modified and improved the Roman practice
of building vaults and domes.

The first church dedicated to Santa Sophia by Constantine was burnt
early in the reign of Justinian; and, in rebuilding it, his architects
succeeded in erecting one of the most famous buildings in the world,
and one which is the typical and central embodiment of a distinct and
strongly marked, well-defined style. Its distinctive feature is the
adoption of the dome in preference to the vault, or timber roof, as the
covering of the walls. In this grand edifice, one vast flattish dome
dominates the central space. This dome is circular in form and the space
over which it is placed is square, the sides of which are occupied by
four massive semi-circular arches of 100 feet span each, springing from
four vast piers, one at each corner. The triangular spaces in the corners
of the square, so enclosed, and the circle or ring resting on it, become
portions of the dome, each just sufficient to fit on one corner of the
square, and the four uniting at their upper margin, to form a ring. From
this ring springs the main dome that rises to a height of 46 feet, and is
107 feet in clear diameter. Externally this church is less interesting,
but its interior is of surpassing beauty, and is thus eloquently
described by Gilbert Scott: “Simple as is the primary ideal, the actual
effect is one of great intricacy, and of continuous gradation of parts
from the small arcades up to the stupendous dome which hangs with little
apparent support, like a vast bubble, over the centre; or, as Procopius,
who witnessed its erection, said, ‘as if suspended by a chain from
heaven.’” The type of church of which this magnificent cathedral was the
great example, has continued in eastern Christendom to the present day
with but little variation. Between Rome and Constantinople, well situated
for receiving influences from both those cities, was Ravenna,—and there
a series of buildings, all more or less Byzantine, was erected. The
most interesting of these is the church of San Vitale. It recalls Santa
Sophia, and its structure, sculpture, carving and mosaic decorations are
equally characteristic and hardly less famous.

We need only mention one other magnificent specimen of this style
of architecture, more within the reach of ordinary travelers, and
consequently better known. It can be studied easily by means of almost
numberless photographic representations—St. Marks, at Venice. It was
built between the years 977 and 1071, it is said, according to a design
obtained from Constantinople.


This term is used to indicate a style of architecture founded on Roman
art, which prevailed in Western Europe before the rise of that known as

Under this general name, if applied broadly, many closely allied local
varieties, as for example, the Lombard, Rhenish, Saxon, and Norman, can
be conveniently included. After the removal of the Roman capital to
Byzantium, and the incursion of the Northern tribes, the spectacle of
Europe was melancholy in the extreme.

Nothing but the church retained any semblance of organized existence;
and when, at length, order began to be restored from a chaos of universal
ruin, and churches began to be built in Western Europe, the people looked
to Rome as their ecclesiastic center.

Where the Romish church had influence, the architecture had the Roman
type; and, where the Eastern church prevailed, it adhered closely to the
Byzantium models. This style, with local varieties, still obtains in
most parts of Europe, and, to some extent, in American church building.
An architect of genius and taste may successfully combine different
orders; but most who attempt it fail. To succeed well, a good degree of
originality is needed.



    Who, that reads poetry at all, has not read and admired
    “Snow-Bound?” “That exquisite poem has no prototype in English
    literature unless Burns’ ‘Cotter’s Saturday Night’ be one, and
    it will be long, I fear, before it will have a companion piece.
    Out of materials of the slightest order, really common-place,
    Mr. Whittier had made a poem that will live, and can no more be
    rivaled by any winter poetry that may be written hereafter, than
    ‘Thanatopsis’ can be rivaled as a meditation on the universality
    of death. The characters of this little idyl are carefully
    drawn.… Everything is naturally introduced, and the reflections,
    which are manly and pathetic, are among the finest that Mr.
    Whittier has ever written. ‘Snow-Bound’ at once authenticated
    itself as an idyl of New England life and manners.”—(Abridged)
    _R. H. Stoddard._

The Vaudois Teacher.

  “Oh lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and rare,
  The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty’s queen might wear;
  And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with whose radiant light
                                                                they vie;
  I have brought them with me a weary way,—will my gentle lady buy?”

  And the lady smiled on the worn old man through the dark and clustering
  Which veiled her brow as she bent to view his silks and glittering
  And she placed their price in the old man’s hand, and lightly turned
  But she paused at the wanderer’s earnest call,—“My gentle lady, stay!”

  “Oh lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer luster flings,
  Than the diamond flash of the jeweled crown on the lofty brow of kings;
  A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue shall not decay,
  Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a blessing on thy way.”

  The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her form of grace
                                                                was seen,
  Where her eyes shone clear, and her dark locks waved their clasping
                                                          pearls between.
  “Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou traveler gray and old,—
  And name the price of thy precious gem, and my page shall count thy

  The cloud went off from the pilgrim’s brow, as a small and meager book,
  Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his folded robe he took.
  “Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove as such to thee!
  Nay, keep thy gold, I ask it not, for the Word of God is free.”

  The hoary traveler went his way, but the gift he left behind
  Hath had its pure and perfect work on that high-born maiden’s mind;
  And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the lowliness of truth,
  And given her human heart to God in its beautiful hour of youth.


    I know not what the future hath
      Of marvel or surprise,
    Assured alone that life and death
      His mercy underlies.

    And if my heart and flesh are weak
      To bear an untried pain,
    The bruised reed He will not break,
      But strengthen and sustain.

    No offering of my own I have,
      No works my faith to prove;
    I can but give the gifts He gave,
      And plead His love for love.

    And so beside the silent sea
      I wait the muffled oar;
    No harm from Him can come to me
      On ocean or on shore.

    I know not where His islands lift
      Their fronded palms in air;
    I only know I can not drift
      Beyond his love and care.

    And thou, O Lord, by whom are seen
      Thy creatures as they be,
    Forgive me if too close I lean
      My human heart on Thee.


    As in the case of Hood, the fun in Holmes is always jostling the
    pathos. After some comic picture or grotesque phrase or quick
    thrust, the reader comes suddenly upon a stanza of perfect beauty
    of form with the gentlest touch of natural feeling. To illustrate
    this, it may be pardonable to quote even from so well known a
    poem as “The Last Leaf:”

        I know it is a sin
        For me to sit and grin
        At him here;
        But the old three-cornered hat,
        And the breeches and all that
        Are so queer.

        The mossy marbles rest
        On the lips that he has prest
        In their bloom;
        And the names he loved to hear
        Have been carved for many a year
        On the tomb.

    The last stanza is a pearl so perfect that one can not conceive
    it as having been _made_; it seems that it must have been
    created.—_Francis H. Underwood._

    It is difficult to imagine the time when any of the
    characteristic poems of Holmes will slumber on the shelves
    of antiquaries. They must be eternally new to the new
    generations, because they are founded in nature, constructed
    with art, animated by the noblest qualities of intellect
    and feeling—uniting the wit of Heine with the freshness of
    Beranger—and are finished as few poems have been finished since
    the odes of Horace.—_Scribner’s Monthly._

The Prisoned Nautilus.

    This is the ship of pearl, which poets feign,—
        Sails the unshadow’d main,—
        The venturous bark that flings
    On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
    In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,
        And coral reefs lie bare,
    Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

    Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
        Wreck’d is the ship of pearl!
        And every chamber’d cell,
    Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
    As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
        Before thee lies reveal’d,—
    Its iris’d ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unseal’d!

    Year after year behold the silent toil
        That spread his lustrous coil;
        Still, as the spiral grew,
    He left the past year’s dwelling for the new,
    Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
        Built up its idle door,
    Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

    Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
        Child of the wandering sea,
        Cast from her lap forlorn!
    From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
    Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
        While on mine ear it rings,
    Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:—

    Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
        As the swift seasons roll!
        Leave thy low-vaulted past!
    Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
    Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast
        Till thou at length are free,
    Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea.

“The Boys.”

    Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?
    If there has take him out, without making a noise,
    Hang the Almanac’s cheat, and the Catalogue’s spite!
    Old Time is a liar! We’re twenty to-night!

    We’re twenty! We’re twenty! Who says we are more?
    He’s tipsy,—young jackanapes! show him the door!
    “Gray temples at twenty?” Yes! white if we please;
    Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there’s nothing can freeze!

    Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!
    Look close,—you will see not a sign of a flake!
    We want some new garlands for those we have shed,—
    And these are white roses in place of the red.

    We’ve a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told,
    Of talking (in public) as if we were old:—
    That boy we call “Doctor” and this we call “Judge;”
    It’s a neat little fiction,—of course it’s all fudge.

    That fellow’s the “Speaker,”—the one on the right;
    “Mr. Mayor,” my young one, how are you to-night?
    That’s our “Member of Congress,” we say when we chaff;
    There’s the “Reverend” What’s-his-name?—don’t make me laugh.

    That boy with the grave mathematical look
    Made believe he had written a wonderful book,
    And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was _true_!
    So they chose him right in,—a good joke it was too!

    There’s a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain,
    That could harness a team with a logical chain;
    When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire,
    We called him “The Justice,” but now he’s “The Squire.”

    And there’s a nice youngster of excellent pith,—
    Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith;
    But he shouted a song for the brave and the free,—
    Just read on his medal, “My country,” “of thee!”

    You hear that boy laughing?—You think he’s all fun;
    But the angels laugh too, at the good he has done;
    The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
    And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!

    Yes, we’re boys, always playing with tongue or with pen;
    And I sometimes have asked, shall we ever be men?
    Shall we always be youthful, and laughing and gay,
    Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?

    Then here’s to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!
    The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!
    And when we have done with our life-lasting toys,
    Dear Father, take care of thy children, THE BOYS.


    Nature has placed thee on a changeful tide,
    To breast its waves, but not without a guide.
    Yet, as the needle will forget its aim,
    Jarred by the fury of the electric flame,
    As the true current it will falsely feel
    Warped from its axis by a freight of steel;
    So will thy CONSCIENCE lose its balanced truth,
    If passion’s lightning fall upon its youth;
    So the pure effluence quit its sacred hold,
    Girt round too deeply with magnetic gold.
    Go to yon town where busy science plies
    Her vast antennæ, feeling through the skies,—
    That little vernier on whose slender lines
    The midnight taper trembles as it shines,
    A silent index, tracks the planets march
    In all their wanderings through the ethereal arch,
    Tells through the mist where dazzled Mercury burns,
    And marks the spot where Uranus returns.
    So, till by wrong or negligence effaced,
    The living index, which thy Maker traced,
    Repeats the line each starry virtue draws
    Through the wide circuit of creation’s laws.
    Still tracks unchanged the everlasting ray
    Where the dark shadows of temptation stray;
    But, once defaced, forgets the orbs of light,
    And leaves thee wandering o’er the expanse of night.


    It is not necessary to say that Lowell is the first poet of
    the time, or of the country, although it would be possible to
    maintain that proposition with strong reasons; but it will be
    conceded, we think, by most who have the capacity of appreciating
    poetic genius, that in some of his strains he reaches a note as
    lofty and clear and pure as any this generation has produced, and
    has written what will have long life in the world, and be hoarded
    by the wise as treasures of thought and expression.—_Boston

    The wisdom and wit and insight and imagination of the book are as
    delightful as they are surprising. The most cynical critic will
    not despair of American literature, if American authors are to
    write such books.—_G. W. Curtis._

    The moving power of Mr. Lowell’s poetry, which we take to be its
    delicate apprehension of the spiritual essence in common things,
    is, in some of his poems, embodied in the fine organization of a
    purely poetic diction; in others, in the strong, broad language
    of popular feeling and humor; and we enjoy each the more for the
    presence of the other.—_The Spectator_ (London).

Hunting a Theme.

    Now I’ve a notion if a poet
    Beat up for themes, his verse will show it;
    I wait for subjects that haunt me,
    By day or night won’t let me be,
    And hang about me like a curse,
    Till they have made me into verse.
    Make thyself rich, and then the Muse
    Shall court thy precious interviews;
    Shall take thy head upon her knee,
    And such enchantment lilt to thee
    That thou shalt hear the life-blood flow
    From farthest stars to grass-blades low.

In the Twilight.

    Sometimes a breath floats by me,
      An odor from dreamland sent,
    That makes the ghost seem nigh me
      Of a splendor that came and went;
    Of a life lived somewhere, I know not
      In what diviner sphere,
    Of memories that stay not and go not,
      Like music once heard by an ear
    That can not forget or reclaim it,—
    A something, so shy, it would shame it
      To make it a show,
    A something too vague, could I name it,
      For others to know,
    As if I had lived it or dreamed it,
    As if I had acted or schemed it,
      Long ago!
    And yet, could I live it over,
      This life that stirs in my brain,
    Could I be both maiden and lover,
    Moon and tide, bee and clover,
      As I seem to have been, once again,
    Could I but speak and show it,
      This pleasure, more sharp than pain,
      That baffles and lures me so,
    The world should not lack a poet,
      Such as it had
      In the ages glad
              Long ago!

[The following exquisite lines are suggestive, and in strong contrast
with the familiar rollicking stanzas in the serio-comic “Biglow Papers.”]


    The thing we long for, that we are,
    For one transcendent moment,
    Before the present poor and bare
    Can make its sneering comment.

    Still, through our paltry stir and strife
    Glows down the wished ideal,
    And longing moulds in clay what life
    Carves in the marble real;
    To let the new life in, we know,
    Desire must ope the portal;
    Perhaps the longing to be so
    Helps make the soul immortal.

    Longing is God’s fresh heavenward will
    With our poor earthward striving;
    We quench it that we may be still
    Content with merely living;
    But, would we learn that heart’s full scope
    Which we are hourly wronging,
    Our lives must climb from hope to hope,
    And realize the longing.

       *       *       *       *       *

The world is impatient of distinction; it chafes against it, rails at
it, insults it, hates it; it ends by receiving its influence, and by
undergoing its law. This quality at last inexorably corrects the world’s
blunders, and fixes the world’s ideals. It procures that the popular poet
shall not finally pass for a Pindar, nor the popular historian for a
Tacitus, nor the popular preacher for a Bossuet.—_Matthew Arnold._


“Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth, in order, a
declaration” of such things as pertain to our national history, even as
they testify to us who were contemporary with the events narrated, it
seems good for me also to write, not because what may be here recorded
will be new to the readers, but rather to call to remembrance things that
were known, but are partially forgotten; and possibly to put them in such
form that the tenure by which they are held may hereafter be more secure.

If greatly interested in the annals of other nations, whether ancient or
modern, and ready to gather instruction alike from their excellencies
and defects, their failures and successes, the American citizen should
certainly find special interest in the history of his own country.
Whatever else fails to interest him, a freeman, worthy of his heritage,
will carefully study the elements of strength or weakness, security or
danger of our institutions. Knowing, as he must, that the events that
pass in succession before him are not causeless, or without meaning, he
both inquires for their source, and hears their prophecy of the future.
When others see but happenings and accidents, the more thoughtful
recognize a guiding, controlling hand, and confess

    “There’s a Divinity that shapes our ends,
     Rough-hew them as we will.”

American, or United States history is luminous from its earliest dawn.
Unlike other histories in the prescribed course, as the Greek and Roman,
reaching back to such remote antiquity as to become quite lost in the
shadowy past, ours has none of that “mythological period;” no age in
which nymphs and dryads, fauns and satyrs, gods and demi-gods are
introduced as actors. The annals of the earliest American civilization
record not legends and fables, but facts, things of actual occurrence and
thoroughly attested by those who knew well whereof they affirmed. Those
introduced as sages and heroes, challenging our admiration for the wisdom
of their counsels and valor of their deeds were not myths, of whose very
existence there is doubt. Great men, indeed, they were, and worthy of all
the honors received; yet, but men, and subject to the limitations and
liabilities of our common manhood.

We do not deify those to whom we are most indebted, or surround honored
names with the flowers of rhetoric. The praise that is merited is
bestowed as it is due to the truth.

The pioneers in the settlement of the continent, by laying the
foundations of our free institutions, and starting their communities
toward the advanced civilization now enjoyed, conferred on us lasting
obligations; but in regard to many of them “they builded better than they
knew.” Often they were rude, narrow, superstitious and mistaken, though
earnest, manly and sincere; their best eulogy is to tell the story as it

The sources of reliable information on which we may draw are so
abundant there can be no want of material. The only embarrassment is
from the riches in possession. To make the most judicious selection
for a succinct yet coherent, suggestive narration is a task of no
ordinary difficulty. The country itself first demands some notice,
before we speak of its inhabitants and their institutions. The domain
of the great American Union is now nearly four times as large as at
the close of the Revolutionary war. The thirty-nine sovereign states,
District of Columbia, and eight large organized territories occupy an
area of 3,280,572 square miles, with a reserve of 600,000 square miles
of unoccupied or sparsely inhabited territory, from which we know not
how many states may be made after the population has been sufficiently

The commonwealth, not including Alaska, is bounded north by the British
possessions in America, from which it is partly separated by the great
northern lakes, Superior, Huron, St. Clair, Erie and Ontario, with the
St. Clair, Niagara and St. Lawrence rivers; east by New Brunswick, the
Atlantic Ocean, and the Gulf of Mexico; south by the Gulf of Mexico
and the Mexican border; west by the Pacific Ocean. The greatest length,
from the Atlantic to the Pacific is 2600 miles; the greatest breadth,
from Maine to Florida, 1600 miles. The frontier line toward British
America measures 3,303 miles, and the coast line 12,909 miles. With
such possessions, stretching across the continent from ocean to ocean,
and over 25° in latitude, having exhaustless resources, a climate
sufficiently varied, a free government, and just laws, we may well say
the future of the nation is full of promise.


But little account can or need be given of the savage tribes inhabiting
the continent when it first became known to the civilized world.

Men multiplied on the earth and spread themselves widely over its
habitable portions for ages, during which, in their dispersion, little
was known by the clans of each other, or of the world beyond their local
habitations. The few imperfect records made were not lasting, and the
generations following often lost all knowledge of their own origin.

In most European countries the once uncultured savage tribes either
improving, through their own exertions, escaped by degrees from the
effete barbarisms of their ancestors, or when overcome by foes of
superior intelligence, they profited by their subjugation, and, accepting
the better civilization of their conquerors, became important factors in
the provincial governments that were established. These carried with them
a little legendary knowledge. The earliest historians, as Herodotus and
others, recorded many of their legends that were mere fancies—unauthentic
fabrications relating to their pre-historic days.

We have no such mythical elements in American history, particularly in
the history of the United States. The first inhabitants (wild men of the
forest) were possibly as rude and superstitious as any in the Orient.
But the North American Indians of our region were never, unless in a few
exceptional cases, made integral parts of the new communities established
in the country. When friendly relations were sought they made treaties,
retiring from the grounds they sold; and, when subject to hostile attack,
they fell or fled before the invaders. Without letters or art, the rude
monuments they left had little significance. Their few oral traditions
did not descend to them from days very remote, and their origin is
wrapped in mystery. From what branch of the human family their ancestors
came, or by what route they reached the continent, is not known.

If all the tribes had a common origin in this country it evidently must
have been very remote, as they were found widely different in language
and other tribal peculiarities. Some resemblance may be traced, but only
by long separation and different modes of life could members of the same
family become so dissimilar.

The number of Indians previous to the settlement of the country by
European colonists can only be estimated. It was great, and they spread
over most parts of the continent. That it was overestimated is probable.
Not much given to planting or building, but living principally by the
chase, and on what the earth produced without tillage, they were more or
less nomadic in their habits, and the bounds of their habitation not well
defined. Yet, as tribes, they appropriated lands, and counted at least
the number of their warriors who could go out to battle.

The great nations—the Esquimaux, Algonquins, Iroquois, Mobillians and
Dacotas seem to have been confederacies, each made up of several tribes,
usually acting together in war; but, in peace, content to occupy their
own hunting grounds. But a small number of all the Indians now on the
continent are within the bounds of the United States, and the number is
growing less. That the wild men of the forest vanish before the advancing
hosts of civilization is doubtless true. The whole number at present
in all the states and territories, including Alaska, probably does
not exceed 200,000, much the larger number being women and children;
a pitiable remnant of the one hundred and fifty-two tribes of warlike
men, whose braves were a terror to their foes. The Cherokees, Creeks,
Choctaws, Chickisaws, now in the Indian Territory, with the remnants of
tribes that remain on small reservations in the states, in all about
50,000, are in a more hopeful condition. They have already a good degree
of civilization, and many of them cordially accept the teachings and
institutions of Christianity. They have their homes, schools, ministers
and churches. They practice the industries of civilized life, and in
their moral and religious habits are scarcely inferior to their white
neighbors. These may in time take their places as states in the Union,
or personally become citizens of other states, as they elect. If they
do not, extinction seems to be inevitable. They may receive, as they
should, kind and liberal treatment. But to remain very long wards of the
government, retaining a distinct nationality in the midst of powerful
and rapidly increasing communities, from whom they are separated by no
sufficient natural boundaries, is simply impossible. The only hope for
them is in citizenship, collectively or personally obtained.

The physical character of the country will be best understood when spoken
of in connection with the political divisions. It presents as much
variety as any other great section of the globe. There is both beauty
and grandeur. The intelligent beholder from other shores is impressed
with the vastness of what he sees. There are great prairies, plains and
forests—with trees the largest in the world; great lakes, rivers and
cataracts; magnificent mountain ranges, abounding in scenery as grand as
the eye need look upon. It was just the place in which to found a great
empire, and build institutions to last for ages.


The last half century has thrown much light on the question of discovery;
and evidence is conclusive that it dates at least six hundred years
before the first European settlement at Jamestown, Va., in May, 1607. In
1001 Lief Erickson, an Icelandic captain, with a small company of daring
Norsemen, sailed from Greenland, reached Labrador, and, in the spirit of
adventure, coasted as far south as Massachusetts, where they remained
a year. Thorwald, a brother of the last named hero, made a voyage a
year later to Maine and Massachusetts, where he died. In 1005 and 1007
there came larger crews from the same region, and made more extended
explorations, but apparently with no well defined object in view. Those
Norsemen, from the extreme northwestern part of Europe, were a rough
race of dangerous pirates—bold, hardy, but ignorant navigators, known
and dreaded by the countries they visited as the terrible “sea kings” of
that age. Rovers over all seas to which they found access, they explored
unknown lands for plunder, not for settlement. Nothing valuable resulted
from their discoveries. For centuries all knowledge gained by them was
lost, and nothing was known in Europe of their voyages. The very name,
Vinland, given to the country in Iceland, was for ages lost. And the
more intelligent efforts, afterward made, were in no way suggested, so
far as we know, by even vague rumors of what these sea robbers found.
The continent discovered by accident, was, through ignorance, never
made known to the civilized world; and so, for centuries, remained the
_terra incognita_; and the real discovery of such untold value to the
race was reserved for those of more intelligence, who purposely, at
great sacrifice, and guided by scientific principles, sought the western
hemisphere, of whose existence they were confident.

Christopher Columbus, born at Genoa, Italy, in 1435, was carefully
educated, and interested in maritime matters from his youth. Mandeville,
the traveler, had proclaimed the earth a sphere, or round, and had given
his reasons. Columbus not only had faith in the astronomical discovery,
but sought to turn his knowledge to some practical account. He argued,
conclusively, that the world being round, if there were no intervening
lands to hinder sailing westward over the open seas, he would much easier
than by the known route, reach the spice lands of the East Indias. That
was the object of his search, and when, after seventy-one days sailing,
land was sighted, the anxious voyagers supposed their end was gained.
He first stepped ashore, unfurled their flag, and finding the place an
island, named it San Salvador. Three or four other islands of the group
were added to his discoveries during the voyage; but the main land was
not visited, and from a misconception as to the size of the earth,
supposing it to be only 12,000 or 14,000 miles in circumference, they
supposed the fertile, salubrious isles then discovered were near the
coast of India, and so named them the West Indias.

Columbus made a second voyage, discovered several more islands, and
established a colony at Hayti, his brother being governor. After an
absence of three years he returned to Spain, to find himself suspected,
accused, and the victim of a relentless persecution. His enemies not
only stripped him of his merited honors as a discoverer, but to further
compass his disgrace, sent him from his colony he had revisited a
prisoner in chains. Though soon released and fully vindicated, the
balance of his days were clouded. It remained for posterity to rescue
his name from oblivion. Though the less deserving Florentine, Amerigo
Vespucci, by his craft and the dullness of the times, succeeded in
attaching his name to the continent, we still heartily sing “Hail
Columbia,” in memory of the real discoverer, while many towns, counties
and cities perpetuate the honored name.

Within ten years after the death of Columbus the principal islands of the
West Indias were explored, and settlements were commenced. The excitement
becoming intense not only in Spain, but in the western states of Europe,
adventurers increased. In 1512 a Spaniard, rich and well advanced in
years, left Porto Rico, touched at San Salvador, and in due time came
in sight of an unknown land that seemed, as they entered it, a place of
beauty; he named it Florida, or land of flowers. This, too, was supposed
another island, more beautiful than any before discovered. A landing
was effected, and the country claimed for the King of Spain. The coast
was explored for many leagues, some valuable information gained, and
the adventurers sailed back to Porto Rico. Afterward Ponce, the aged
explorer, was sent to found a colony, and be its governor. In 1521 he
again landed, but his right to rule was contested by the Indians, who
were found in a state of bitter hostility. They at once made a furious
attack. Many of the Spaniards were killed, and Ponce De Leon, wounded by
an arrow, was carried back to Cuba to die.

In 1519 Fernando Cortes landed at Tabasco, and began the conquest of
Mexico. As that section of the continent is without the limits of the
United States, we avoid a detailed statement of his progress, marked by
the unexampled rapacity and cruelty of the invaders. Tens of thousands
of the unoffending—many of them unarmed—inhabitants were not slain in
battle, but massacred in their streets and homes.

The lust of gold, rather than ambition, was the ruling passion, and the
treasures of the Montezumas failed to satisfy it. Drenched in the blood
of her citizens, Mexico became a Spanish province. The Spaniards bore
the christian name, and sadly disgraced it. The appalling scenes of
treachery, cruelty and bloodshed they enacted are scarcely equaled in the
annals of savage warfare. To turn from them is a relief.

    [End of Required Reading for February.]

       *       *       *       *       *

If a man wish to make his way in the world, he must bestir himself and
work his brains; if he wish to rise to honor and place, he must bend his
back to the golden load. If he prefer to enjoy the delights of home, with
children and grandchildren round his knees, let him follow an honest
trade in peace.—_Schiller._



    “Who can abide his cold?”

    “Pray that your flight be not in the winter.”

    Is it not hard to live one day,
    When God His face has turned away,
    When prayer is wingless, or her wing
    Droops earthward like some weary thing?

    Yet did no bent and broken light
    Pierce the dark vault of utter night,
    Of hope or memory no ray,
    Who could abide His cold one day?

    Summer and winter, sun and rain,
    The soul needs for her golden grain—
    Warm sun, warm rain, the ear to fill,
    His cold, love’s selfishness to kill.

    Come, winter, come, to kill dull pelf,
    Love of His sweetness not Himself;
    Till we can kiss His frowning face,
    Unmeet our soul for summer grace.

    But when the harvest-tide is nigh,
    God grant His summer fill the sky,
    God grant His harvest-rays be shed,
    God grant His harvest-moon rise red.

    Cold is the shore, and dark the tide,
    Through which to His warm arms we glide
    But if He then His face withhold,
    Who can that day abide His cold?

    Not in the winter be our flight!
    Then need we most His summer light,
    His presence felt, His angels near,
    His bride to bless, His bread to cheer.

    From strength to strength, from Thee to Thee,
    Grant, Lord, our summer flight may be;
    From veiled form and mystic grace
    To splendors of Thine unveiled face.


At St. Helena, when Napoleon had time to remember his early youth, he
said to Montholon:

“What recollections of childhood crowd upon my memory. I am carried back
to my first impressions of the life of man. It seems to me always, in
these moments of calm, that I should have been the happiest man in the
world with an income of twenty-five hundred dollars a year, living as the
father of a family with my wife and son, in our old home at Ajaccio.… I
still remember with emotion the minute details of a journey in which I
accompanied Paoli. More than five hundred of us, young persons of the
first families in the island, formed his body-guard. I felt proud of
walking by his side, and he appeared to take pleasure in pointing out to
me the passes of our mountains which had been witnesses of the heroic
struggle of our countrymen for independence. The impressions made upon me
still vibrate in my heart.… Religion is the dominion of the soul. It is
the hope of life, the anchor of safety, the deliverance from evil. What
a service has Christianity rendered to humanity! What a power would it
still have did its ministers comprehend their mission!”

       *       *       *       *       *

Napoleon’s hand-writing was of a most unintelligible character. “Do you
write orthographically?” he asked his amanuensis one day at St. Helena.
“A man occupied with public business can not attend to orthography. His
ideas must flow faster than his hand can trace. He has only time to
place his points. He must compress words into letters, and phrases into
words, and let the scribes make it out afterward.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“The rapid succession of your victories,” said Las Cases to Napoleon,
“must have been a source of great delight to you.” “By no means,”
Napoleon replied; “those who think so know nothing of the peril of our
situation. The victory of to-day was instantly forgotten in preparation
for the battle which was to be fought on the morrow. The aspect of danger
was continually before me. I enjoyed not one moment of repose.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“Tents,” said Napoleon, “are unhealthy; it is much better for the soldier
to bivouac in the open air, for then he can build a fire and sleep with
warm feet. Tents are necessary only for the general officers, who are
obliged to read and consult their maps.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“My extreme youth when I took command of the army of Italy,” Napoleon
remarked, “made it necessary for me to evince great reserve of manner,
and the utmost severity of morals. This was indispensable to enable me
to sustain authority over men so greatly superior in age and experience.
I pursued a line of conduct in the highest degree irreproachable and
exemplary. In spotless morality I was a Cato, and must have appeared such
to all. I was a philosopher and a sage. My supremacy could be retained
only by proving myself a better man than any other in the army. Had I
yielded to human weaknesses I should have lost my power.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Napoleon sent the celebrated picture of St. Jerome from the Duke of
Parma’s gallery to the Museum at Paris. The duke, to save his work of
art, offered Napoleon two hundred thousand dollars, which the conqueror
refused to take, saying: “The sum which he offers will be soon spent; but
the possession of such a masterpiece at Paris will adorn that capital for
ages, and give birth to similar exertions of genius.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“Different matters are arranged in my head,” said Napoleon, “as in
drawers. I open one drawer and close another as I wish. I have never been
kept awake by an involuntary pre-occupation of the mind. If I desire
repose I shut up all the drawers, and sleep. I have always slept when I
wanted rest, and almost always at will.”

       *       *       *       *       *

While at Milan, Napoleon had just mounted his horse one morning, when
a dragoon, bearing important dispatches, presented himself before him.
Napoleon gave a verbal answer and ordered the courier to take it back
with all speed.

“I have no horse,” the man answered. “I rode mine so hard that it fell
dead at your palace gates.”

Napoleon alighted. “Take mine,” he said.

The man hesitated.

“You think him too magnificently caparisoned and too fine an animal,”
said Napoleon. “Nothing is too good for a French soldier.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“Pavia,” said Napoleon, “is the only place I ever gave up to pillage. I
promised that the soldiers should have it at their mercy for twenty-four
hours; but after three hours I could bear such scenes of outrage no
longer, and put an end to them. Policy and morality are equally opposed
to the system. Nothing is so certain to disorganize and completely ruin
an army.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“I have,” said Napoleon, “a taste for founding, not for possessing. My
riches consist in glory and celebrity. The Simplon and the Louvre were,
in the eyes of the people and of foreigners, more my property than any
private domains could possibly have been.”

       *       *       *       *       *

To General Clark, on the death of his nephew, at Arcola, Napoleon wrote:
“Your nephew, Elliott, has been slain upon the battlefield. That young
man has several times marched at the head of our columns. He has died
gloriously, and in the face of the enemy. He did not have a moment’s
suffering. Where is the _reasonable man_ who would not envy such a death?
Where is he who, in the vicissitudes of life would not give himself up to
leave in this manner a world so often ungrateful?”

       *       *       *       *       *

Napoleon had no tendencies to gallantry. Madame de Stäel once said to
him: “It is reported that you are not very partial to the ladies.” “I am
very fond of my wife, Madame,” was the laconic reply.

       *       *       *       *       *

“The English,” said Napoleon, “appear to prefer the bottle to the society
of their ladies; as is exemplified by dismissing the ladies from the
table and remaining for hours to drink and intoxicate themselves. If
I were in England I should decidedly leave the table with the ladies.
If the object is to talk instead of to drink, why banish them. Surely
conversation is never so lively nor so witty as when ladies take a part
in it. Were I an Englishwoman I should feel very discontented at being
turned out by the men to wait for two or three hours while they were
drinking. In France, society is nothing unless ladies are present. They
are the life of conversation.”

       *       *       *       *       *

A lady of rank once said to him, “What is life worth if one cannot be
General Bonaparte?” Napoleon answered her wisely: “Madame! one may be a
dutiful wife and the good mother of a family.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Traveling through Switzerland, Napoleon was greeted with such enthusiasm
that Bourrienne said to him, “It must be delightful to be greeted with
such demonstrations of enthusiastic admiration.” “Bah,” replied Napoleon;
“this same unthinking crowd under a slight change of circumstances would
follow me just as eagerly to the scaffold.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Speaking of the Theophilanthropists, Napoleon said, “They can accomplish
nothing; they are merely actors.” “What!” was the reply; “do you thus
stigmatize those whose tenets inculcate universal benevolence and the
moral virtues?” “All moral systems are fine,” rejoined Napoleon. “The
Gospel alone has shown a full and complete assemblage of the principles
of morality, stripped of all absurdity. It is not made up, like your
creed, of a few commonplace sentences put into bad verse. Do you wish to
find out the really sublime? Repeat the Lord’s Prayer. Such enthusiasts
are only to be met with the weapons of ridicule; all their efforts will
prove ineffectual.”



A man of letters, eminent in England, deserves, on visiting these shores,
our brotherly attention. Nothing so holds us in fellowship with the
people of “the little mother-land” as our reading their literature, and
their reading ours, without translation. Their writers and speakers
are thus our true kinsfolk, nearer to us than French or German can be.
Mr. Arnold, known well rather than widely, has position among English
thinkers of our day, such as demands for the readers of THE CHAUTAUQUAN
a reasonable understanding of him and his work. His essays and addresses
are published in seven volumes by MacMillan & Co. His poems, in two or
three volumes, are had from the same house. He came to this country
partly to visit and partly to deliver a few lectures. Mr. Arnold was born
at Christmas of 1822, in Laleham, where his father was privately fitting
students for the universities. His father, Thomas Arnold, eminent as
clergyman and historian, is still more famed as teacher. At Rugby school
his pupils loved and honored him. He understood the good and evil of
English boys, and with wonderful skill he trained them in sound learning,
and moulded them to pure and generous character. Gaining from him the
tone of manly sentiment, many of his “Tom Browns” have been blessings to
their generation.

Matthew was his eldest son. Another, Delafield Arnold, early worn out
in the educational work of India, was buried on his homeward voyage, at
Gibraltar, while his devoted wife went to a grave under the solemn shadow
of the Himalayas.

In Matthew’s boyhood the family home was fixed at Fox How, near the abode
of the poet Wordsworth. Here in his vacations the father studied, and
Matthew could see Coleridge, Southey, and Wordsworth, the “Lake Poets.”
To Fox How, haunt of the muses, a crowd of distinguished visitors made
streaming pilgrimage, and here the lad who early “seemed no vulgar boy,”
could absorb the deep things of reason and the sweet things of song. He
deeply revered these men under whose shadow he sat as a boyish listener.
Of his father he says: “We rested till then in thy shade, as under the
boughs of an oak. Toil and dejection have tried thy spirit, of that we
say nothing. To us thou wast still cheerful and helpful and firm.”

After Wordsworth’s death he says of the dear and venerable man to whom
his eyes in young weariness had often turned for refreshment:

    “He spake and loosed our heart in tears,
     Our youth returned, for there was shed
     On spirits that had long been dead,
     The freshness of the early world.”

In 1840, having prepared under his father, he was elected a scholar at
Baliol College, Oxford, and four years later he gained a prize for an
English poem. The next year he was made a Fellow of Oriel College. In
1846 he became private secretary of Lord Lansdowne, and so remained
for several years. He also—after his marriage, in 1851, with Frances
Wightman, daughter of an eminent jurist—served as Her Majesty’s Inspector
of British schools. In 1857 he was with sharp competition chosen
Professor of Poetry at Oxford. The term of office is ten years. Finding
himself in later years growing alien from poetic composition (“these lips
but rarely frame them now”), he allowed the place to pass to Principal
Shairp, a man more distinguished as a critic than a producer of poetry.
Mr. Arnold still gives an occasional poem, oftenest on simple themes,
as the death of his terrier, “Geist,” or his canary, “Matthias.” His
“Westminster Abbey,” on the death of Dean Stanley, is grand as an anthem.
He is now heard chiefly in essays, critical and æsthetic, and educational
or other addresses. He is of noble presence and kindly, earnest face,
over which his rich, full hair, now sable-silvered, parts and clusters.
He is no orator, speaking low and slowly, but the charm of his personal
appearance, the beauty of his thought, the clear incisive force of his
silvery rhetoric make him to cultivated audiences ever welcome. Take
him for all in all, he is so felt to-day and sure to be so read and
felt hereafter, that some study of him as thinker and poet may be both
instructive and entertaining.

Of his lectures in this country the best was on Emerson, whom he prized
as “the friend and aid of those who wished to live in the spirit.”

His first stir of thought was from Wordsworth, not young Wordsworth, the
flush “high-priest of man and nature and of human life,” but from the
venerable laureate, when his utterances began to have “the sweetness, the
gravity, the beauty, the languor of death.” The lofty energy which Arnold
inherited from his father was seriously impaired by the contemplative
egotism of his father’s friend. At the time when impressions deep and
lasting were easily made on his young mind, Goethe, critic and artist
of many generations, went to his grave. “Knowest thou,” says Carlyle,
“no prophet even in the vesture, environment and dialect of this age?
I know him and name him Goethe. In him man’s life begins again to be
divine.” Goethe had at first held the principles of Rousseau. Later he
announced with the serenity of a Brahmin and the authority of a Delphic
oracle, that the chief end of man is “to cultivate his own spirit.”
This utterance fell like a gospel on Arnold’s ear. He began to expound
and enforce it, striving to engraft it on literary society and to embody
it in the English national life. To him we owe that sense of the word
“culture” which is so hard to state, and other terms and phrases, as
“perfection, sweetness and light,” “harmonious development,” and the
like. A better English pleader for the new “development” could hardly
have been found. Clear and graceful in statement, gentle under criticism,
patient under reproof and witty in reply, his one defect is in not doing
what both the sacred and the profane oracles enjoin as the first thing in
culture—to understand himself. Let us trace his ideas and doctrines in
politics, in education, in religion, and in poetry.

His view of the human race is that we are utterly separate, “enisled,”
each forever by himself as in “the unplumbed, salt, estranging sea.”

    “Yes, in the sea of life enisled,
       With echoing straits between us thrown,
     Dotting the shoreless, watery wild,
       We mortal millions live _alone_.”

It follows from this isolation (which is in one sense true) that no man
can be his brother’s keeper. A strong-lunged islander can _call_ to his
fellow, but nothing more. With this view of the “environment” the first
duty ever to be taught and ever rehearsed is _endurance_. Patience under
an order of things that “man did not make and can not mar,” is a teaching
traceable through all his poetry and prose. Then comes in many a pleasing
form the lesson of “self-centering.”

    “With joy the stars perform their shining,
       And the sea its long, moon-silvered roll;
     Why? self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
       All the fever of some differing soul.
     Bounded by themselves and unregarding
       In what state God’s other works may be
     In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
       These attain the mighty life you see.”

In the “hopeless tangle of our age,” to which he is keenly alive, and
to explore which is a task of misery and distress, “alone, self-poised,
henceforward man must labor.” “No man can save his brother’s soul, nor
pay his brother’s debt.” As man is thus set apart from his fellow,
“self-culture,” “self-perfecting” are his duty and his chief concern.
By culture Mr. Arnold means the development of every capacity and power
enfolded within us, and the adapting of ourselves perfectly to the
island, larger or smaller, of our Crusoe life. This culture is gained not
by unions, coöperations, or harangues “with tremendous cheers.” It is of
one’s self and for one’s self, save as the wind may waft the odors of one
“islet” to another. Culture must come by patient personal effort. Here
Mr. Arnold looks back longingly to feudal times, and even beyond. The
evil communications of the present corrupt good manners. He seems to say
“_any_ former times are better than these,” and to

    “Pine for force
       A ghost of time to raise,
     As if he thus might stop the course
       Of these appointed nays.”

Such a doctrine can never come well into politics. It is too
remote—unsystematic, not to say fastidious. Pure as Arnold’s motives
are known to be, he is too dainty to serve in a party, even that of Mr.
Gladstone. He scouts “equality,” and prefers benevolence to democracy.
As a result, the “sweetness and light” shed from his “islet” is little
regarded by the masses, being about as effective as an aurora borealis.

_Punch_ sums up Arnold’s discourses to the laboring classes—and all other

    To Matthew Arnold hark
    With both ears all avidity!
    That Matthew—a man of mark—
    Says “Cultivate Lucidity!”

In education Mr. Arnold’s efforts have been steady and sincere. To him,
among others, is due the successful entrance of young women in England
upon higher study, so that Cambridge and Oxford are now beset by troops
of young ladies who must some day effect entrance. He inherits from his
father an educational zeal. His pleadings for literature in courses
of study as against the exclusive pursuit of physical science and the
“practical” branches, has been earnest and eloquent. He holds that, to
know ourselves and the world, we must know the best that has been thought
and said in the world. The study of belles-letters may be so conducted
as to yield only a smattering of benefit, but it may be made a very
serious and critical search after truth. What has been done by civilized
nations, and what manner of people they were, is as well worth knowing as
chemistry or geology.

Examining a young man on the meaning of “Canst thou not minister to a
mind diseased?” he received as explanation, “Can you not wait upon the
lunatic?” He asks whether to know the products of the combustion of wax
is better than to understand Shakspere? He is sure that man’s need of
beauty in truth, and of acquaintance with the general human mind demands
the study of literature, and that for this study the best of all is the

Few will question, most teachers will accept, his educational doctrines.

Mr. Arnold explains that to attain perfect culture, we must be perfectly
religious, and for this, we must properly understand the Bible. This
brings us to look at his darkened side. He is an _evolutionist_ in
religion; that is, he holds that as the ages roll on, new religions
unfold in newness of vigor and meaning, while the old decay and
disappear. He tells us that to-day poetry is the true religion. In our
time “every creed is shaken, every dogma questioned, every tradition
dissolving.” “The strongest part of our religion to-day is its
unconscious poetry, for poetry attaches its emotion to the _idea_, and
all else is illusion.” Poetry has the highest truth, and the highest

“Be ye perfect,” said the Great Teacher, and this, says Mr. Arnold, is a
harmonious development of all sides of our humanity; a thing not found
in our broken world. Therefore he calls the orthodox belief a failure;
the working classes will have nothing to say to it. He will fix it for
them. He takes out of it all its facts and leaves only its tone and its
ideas—its poetry. The scheme of Christianity has never been understood
until now a select few have grasped it.

“There is an enduring power, not ourselves, which makes for
righteousness”—that is his cloudy piety. The “method” and “secret” of
Jesus were commendable; the “method” was repentance, the “secret” was
peace; but the Christian religion rests on the assumption of a Personal
Ruler, “this cannot be verified.” Even the resurrection St. Paul poorly
understood. It is in fact “rising to that harmonious conformity with the
real and the eternal which is life and peace until it becomes glory.”
Even the doctrine of the Trinity Mr. Arnold can speak of as “a fairy-tale
of the three Lord Shaftburys,” a phrase that Ingersoll might quote. One
can see—and it is a sad sight—how his religious views have been spoiled
by a vain philosophy. How reassuring to know that Mr. Moody, preaching
Jesus and the Resurrection at Oxford, in Arnold’s sight, found the
working classes (and others) glad to hear. Where he had said,

    Resolve to be thyself! And know that he
    Who finds himself, loses his misery.

Many are learning “Deny thyself” and in finding the Savior, losing their

This gifted disbeliever has longings that he cannot quite conceal. He
does not believe Jesus divine, yet he seems to yearn for faith in him,
such as his father had, and such as was easy when

    Men called from chamber, church and tent,
    And Christ was by to save.

He himself would gladly have been caught in the tide

    Of love which set so deep and strong
    From Christ’s then open grave.

Turning sadly away he says:

    Now he is dead! Far hence he lies
    In the lone Syrian town,
    And on his grave, with shining eyes,
    The Syrian stars look down?

At last we seem to find this scholar and poet, Christian born and
Christian bred, sinking into the pantheism of heathenism, such as our
missionaries confront in India.

    Myriads who live, who have lived,
    What are we all but a mood,
    A single mood, of the life
    Of the Being in whom we exist,
    Who alone is all things in one?

Through all Mr. Arnold’s utterances there seems a certain air of
condescension. To the masses, “the un-Hellenic public,” he seems to look
from his own “islet” and say, “Cultivate your own spirit;” “Cherish light
and sweetness,” and to add, “Look at me and aspire to your own best
self.” This looks like a delicate self-worship, such as was in Goethe,
and thither “self-culture” easily leads.

In Mr. Arnold as poet one finds enough to admire and enjoy. His first
volume of poems was given anonymously to the world in 1849. It made
some stir. We thought another of the immortals was among us, and so it
proved. He followed in song the same who were his masters in culture,
striving, “Wordsworth’s sweet calm, and Goethe’s wide and luminous view
to gain.” He took up poetry seriously, for he thought that “poetry is the
impassioned expression in the countenance of all science,” “the breath
and finer spirit of all knowledge.” To him poetry is no idle warbling,
but an intense criticism of life in which he works from sense of duty.
In all his poems one finds dignity and grace of spirit, something of
Goethe’s spiritual unrest, and of Wordsworth’s healing balm found in
communion with nature.

Thus, after Rustum in desperate fight has unknowingly slain his son
Sohrab, (who has disclosed himself in his last moments) with how quiet
dignity does the Oxus move on, leaving on its bank Sohrab in his gore,
and Rustum in his hot agony and blinding tears!

    But the majestic river floated on
    Out of the mist and hum of that low land
    Into the frosted starlight, and there moved
    Rejoicing through the hushed Chorasmian waste
    Under the solitary moon, till at last
    The longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
    His luminous home of waters opens bright
    And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars
    Emerge and shine upon the Aral sea.

He comes to nature, not to bring anything, but to seek rest and
refreshment. Byron pours out upon nature, as in Childe Harold, the
“sparkling gloom” of his own spirit. Coleridge, as in the Hymn at
Chamouni, fills nature with his own lofty rapture. Arnold’s poems all
show how he asks of nature, not pleasure or exaltation—only relief. By
the lake he says:

    How sweet to feel, on the boon air,
    All our unquiet pulses cease!

In his Summer Night,

    The calm moonlight seems to say,
    Hast thou, then, still the old, unquiet breast?

He turns to the

    Heavens whose pure dark regions have no sign
    Of languor, though so calm and though so great,
    Yet so untroubled, so unpassionate!
    A world above man’s head to let him see
    How boundless might his soul’s horizon be;
    How it were good to live there and be free.

In Kensington Gardens he says:

    In the huge world that roars hard by
        Be happy if they can!
    Calm soul of all things! Make it mine
    To feel, amid the city’s jar
    That there abides a peace of thine
    Man did not make and cannot mar.

Nowhere in all his pictures of nature, given in the most musical of
English and in style flowing, bright and tender, do we find the deep
gladness of Wordsworth, or the organ-toned joy of Milton. To each, as his
heart is, nature gives. Arnold, sad, unbelieving, self-absorbed, looking
at his own shadow, sees the beautiful and sings it, as he finds it, but,
“life is wanting there.” As our human race appears in his poems, the men
of to-day are of small account. “There has passed away a glory from the
earth.” He has little to say of hope, so much in his eye is the past
better than any possible future. Even his favorite metres are of Greek
pattern. Admitting that the Pagan world, worn and weary, was revived
by Christianity, he thinks this is in its turn “outworn,” and men are
waning now. Therefore he goes to olden time for heroes, for Prometheus
and Pericle, Tristam and Rustum. His only poem truly dramatic, a complete
work of art, is The Sick King in Bokhara. The elements of the story
bring out his genius, and he puts forth the best effort of his mind and
art. Here are that dignified self-poise, that unrest akin to remorse
that frames so strangely with the calm of helplessness, that lip-curling
criticism and that transparent simplicity of which we have been speaking.
All is brilliant in setting and rich in color. All his poems we might
read (and we should then all the more watch for new ones) but in none
shall find the whole of Mr. Arnold as we find it in this.

How beautiful is this from Tristam. It is Iseult after the death of her
husband and rival, living with her children, as in a fading, misty,
moon-lit dream:

    Joy hath not found her yet, nor ever will,
    Is it this thought that makes her mien so still?
    Her features so fatigued, her eyes, though sweet,
    So sunk, so rarely lifted save to meet
    Her children’s? She moves slow; her voice alone
    Hath yet an infantine and silvery tone,
    But even that comes languidly; in truth,
    She seems one dying in the mask of youth.

Mr. Arnold does not attain to the first rank of either men or poets, but
there is a charm about him and his poetry. Too bad it is that he has
not the joy and nerve that come of Christian faith “which worketh by
love.” He would diffuse sweetness and light indeed. But is his poetry,
_as poetry_, the worse for his lack of faith? Its plaintive utterance
of the sadness of a soul whose wants are proudly shut from their true
satisfaction, will long be read by those who strive to still the _heart_
with supplies from the _intellect_ and to make genius serve for Living
Bread. No English poet has made the soul-hunger so attractive, or given
airy negatives in forms and colors so fascinating.

       *       *       *       *       *

It is often found that those feelings which are best, noblest, and most
self-denying, are exactly those which lead to a disastrous issue. It
is as if, by the command of a higher and wiser power, man’s fate were
intentionally brought into variance with his inner feelings, in order
that the latter might acquire a higher value, shine with greater purity,
and thus become more precious by the very privations and sufferings
to him who cherishes such feelings. However benevolent may be the
intentions of Providence, they do not always advance the happiness of the
individual. Providence has always higher ends in view, and works in a
preëminent degree on the inner feelings and disposition.—_Humboldt._


By the REV. J. G. WOOD, M.A.

I have already mentioned that the peculiar condition which we term
hibernation is one which can be produced by heat as well as by cold, and
that the bat passes into that state daily throughout summer. The name,
therefore, is not sufficiently definite. The German naturalists more
properly use two distinct terms, and employ the words “winterschlaf,” _i.
e._, winter sleep, and “sommerschlaf,” or summer sleep.

In order to maintain the same construction in the terms, I will call the
summer sleep by the name of Estivation. This word is scientifically more
correct than summer sleep, because, as I have already mentioned, the
condition in question is not real sleep, but a kind of trance.

As Estivation is produced in consequence of the withdrawal of food by
heat, we must naturally look for it within the tropics. Many of the
lower vertebrates are subjected to Estivation, but, as far as is known,
no mammal estivates. It has been said that the Taurde, or Madagascar
hedgehog, does so, but it is evidently a mistake. It is really one of
the hibernators, like our own hedgehog; and though it assumes the trance
condition in June, that month is the beginning of winter in Madagascar,
and not in the middle of summer, as in England.

I will only take two examples of true Estivation, one from Africa and the
other from America. The first is the well known Lepidosiren, or mud-fish,
a creature which has long been an enigma to zoölogists, as no one could
say definitely whether it were a fish or a reptile. Professor Owen,
however, states that the structure of its organs of smell proves that it
is a true, though rather anomalous, fish. It is found in many parts of
Africa, and inhabits the banks of muddy rivers, being plentiful in the

Nowadays, the systematic naturalists have changed its name and called it
Protopterus, giving the old and equally appropriate name of Lepidosiren
to an allied species which is found in the Amazon river and its
tributaries. I have, however, retained the original name, and see no
sufficient ground for altering it.

It is brownish grey in color, and eel-like in shape, but has four
curious rudimentary limbs, apparently useless for locomotion, though
they are seldom without movement. They are, in fact, soft single rays
of the pectoral and ventral fins, which represent the limbs of beings
more highly organized. Each ray carries a narrow strip of membrane along
nearly the whole of its length.

Along part of the back there is a very soft fin, extending over the tip
of the tail, and returning on the under surface of the body as far as the
base of the hind limbs. The body is always covered with viscous slime,
insoluble in water, and the creature seems to be able to secrete it as it
is wanted.

Essentially predacious, it does not possess rank after rank of teeth,
such as we see in the pike, and the wolf-fish, and the like, but is
endowed with a most remarkable dental apparatus.

Instead of separate teeth, there is in each jaw what may be called a
tooth-ribbon. Suppose that we imagine the dental matter, instead of being
made into separate teeth, to be rolled out into a continuous ribbon, then
“pleated” into folds like those of a ruff, and so set in the jaws. Then
let us imagine the projecting edge of each tooth-ribbon to be as sharp as
that of a chisel, and we can realize the formidable apparatus with which
the mouth is armed.

These details are here briefly given, because without them the history of
its estivation could not be understood.

That the Lepidosiren was carnivorous had long been known, but no idea
was formed of its voracity until some living specimens were successfully
reared in the Crystal Palace. One of them was placed in the large water
basin which then adorned the center of the tropical department at the
north end of the Palace, but which may now be seen in the open air
between the Palace and the water tower.

Though confined in a tank, it contrived to escape into the basin, and
straightway began to make havoc among the gold-fish. It swam gently under
them, rose with open jaws, caught the fish just behind the pectoral fins,
bit out a piece, its ribbon-like teeth cutting through scale, bone, and
flesh, as if they had been shears, and sank out of sight with its prey.
It never bit the same fish twice, and as long as it could find fish,
declined to eat anything else.

As this mode of feeding involved a gold-fish for each mouthful, Mr. F. W.
Wilson, who was then in charge of the Natural History Department of the
Crystal Palace, had the tank emptied, and fenced off a portion with wire
grating, so that the Lepidosiren could not get at the fish. The creature
was then fed with frogs, which I have seen it eat; and by reason of the
perpetual supply of food, it grew so fast that it attained a length of
thirty inches and weighed six pounds and a quarter, a very giant of
Lepidosirens, which seldom exceed eighteen inches in length.

It lived for more than three years, and might have grown to a much larger
size, but for the neglect of an attendant who forgot on one winter night
to keep up the fire which warmed the water, and in consequence this
interesting creature was found dead next morning.

Here then we have a carnivorous being of more than ordinary voracity, and
requiring a constant supply of fish. But, during the rainless summer, the
water is rapidly evaporated under the sun’s rays, the fish die, and the
muddy bed of the river becomes as dry and nearly as hard as brick. What
then is the Lepidosiren to do?

By Divine Providence, the heat which withdraws its food acts upon it
as cold acts upon hibernating animals in this country. As soon as the
drying-up process has begun, the Lepidosiren wriggles itself into the mud
while it is still soft, and by dint of turning round and round, makes a
sort of chamber, the sides of which are preserved from collapsing by the
slime which it pours from its body.

It then doubles itself up sideways in a most curious fashion, wrapping
the membranous tail over its head so as to cover it entirely. The body
is not coiled in a circle, as might be imagined, but the two inner sides
(mostly the left) are pressed closely against each other, so that the
animal occupies a wonderfully small space. The dimensions of the chamber
are soon contracted by the weight of the superincumbent mud, until at
last there is scarcely the eighth of an inch of free space round the body.

In this curious refuge the Lepidosiren passes into a state of Estivation.
The mud is gradually dried, and then baked under the fierce rays of a
tropical sun. But the Lepidosiren lies motionless and unconscious until
the next rainy season refills the river, dissolves the hardened mud, and
sets the creature free to resume its predatory life.

Were it not for the Lepidosiren, the inhabitants of these countries would
often be hardly pressed for food. But they search the dry bed of the
river, dig up the buried estivators and live on them. So here we have
Estivation as well as hibernation, indirectly beneficial to man. I may
mention that most of the Lepidosirens which have been kept alive in this
country were brought while still buried in their mud cells.

There is little difficulty in finding the hidden Lepidosirens, as the
aperture through which they entered the mud seems almost invariably to
remain open, its smooth and slime-polished sides leaving no doubt as to
its identity.

I have possessed for more than four years a large lump of dry Nile mud,
a hole in one of its sides showing that a Lepidosiren ought to be inside
it. This morning I carefully cut it open, and there found the inhabitant,
doubled up, with its tail over its head just as when it gave itself up
to slumber more than twenty years ago. I expected to have seen a nearly
spherical chamber, but found that the cell is cylindrical, and only just
large enough to hold the creature.

The slime with which the cell is lined has been hardened into a papery
consistence, and is, in fact, about as thick as the paper on which this
account is printed. When a piece is torn off and held in the flame of a
spirit lamp, it takes fire and it gives out a very nauseous odor, like
that of a beetle’s wing case when similarly burned. This thick coating of
slime is only to be found in the cell itself, and surrounding the body of
the animal. I imagine that the Lepidosiren must deposit many successive
coats of slime after it has taken up its position. These cells are
technically named “cocoons.”

As some time elapses between the falling of the rain, when the creature
awakes, and the dissolving of the cocoon, there must be some peculiar
structure of the respiratory organs. Otherwise, the Lepidosiren, being a
fish, and breathing by gills, must die before it can reënter the water.

This structure is of a most unexpected character. The creature has
rows of gills on either side of its head, and with these it breathes
while it is in the water. The swimming-bladder, however, is modified
so as to act as a substitute for a lung. A branch of the artery which
supplies the gills is diverted to the swimming-bladder, and as there is
a communication between the interior of the swimming-bladder and the
external air, the creature is able to aerate its blood sufficiently to
sustain life until it can assume its normal fish life.

I may here mention that these African and American Lepidosirens, together
with the Australian Ceratodus are especially interesting as being one
only living survivor of a vast family which in bygone ages were extremely

The Ceratodus is a comparatively new discovery, and came on naturalists
by surprise. Until lately the only known examples of this fish were to
be found in the earlier secondary rocks, and when it was announced that
living specimens had been found, the discovery could hardly be believed.
However, there the Ceratodus is. It looks like a resuscitated fossil, and
is to our known fishes what the tree-fern is to our present vegetation.

There is another interesting point about this object, showing how
Estivation is connected with Scripture.

The mud of which the cocoon is made is the same as that which the
Israelites, while in captivity, were forced to make into bricks. It is so
tenacious, that although merely dried by the Egyptian sun, it is so hard
that I was obliged to employ mallet, chisel, saw, and butcher’s knife,
while making the necessary sections.

Occasionally the difficulty was increased by vegetable fibers which had
become mixed with it, and which bound it together just as the cow-hairs
bind builder’s plaster when honestly made. The Egyptians mixed straw with
the clay of which their bricks were made, so as to strengthen it, and
in order to secure a supply of such straw they did not reap their corn
near the ground as we do, but cut off the ears close to the stem, leaving
the stubble to be cut separately. The reader will remember that one of
the grievances of the captives was, that instead of being supplied with
straw, as formerly, they had to cut and fetch the stubble for themselves,
and yet were forced to deliver the same number of bricks daily.

So here is my lump of Nile mud acting as a link representing nearly four
thousand years between the Christian world of the present day, and the
long-perished Egyptian dynasty of the Pharaohs.

Now we will pass to the opposite side of the world.

In tropical America, as in tropical Africa, the rivers are dried up in
the summer, and the mud which forms their banks and bed is baked as
hard as that of the Nile and other African rivers. Many of these rivers
are inhabited by a fish (_Callicthys_) popularly called the Hassar, or
Hardback. The latter name is given to it in consequence of two rows
of hard, narrow scales on each side of the body. There are four long,
flexible tentacles on the upper lip. It is not nearly so large as the
Lepidosiren, seldom exceeding eight inches in length. Its color is
greenish brown.

Unlike the Lepidosiren, which can not travel on dry ground, the Hassar
is as good a walker as the Climbing Perch, a fish which not only leaves
the water and traverses dry land, but can ascend the trunk of trees.
All rivers have some portions deeper than others, “holes” as we call
them in our rivers at home. So, when the process of drying up is nearly
completed, the river is converted into a ravine along which “holes” or
pools are seen at irregular distances.

As long as the holes are capable of containing water, the Hassar makes
its way to them over the dry ground. But, in process of time, even the
pools are dried up, and just before this happens, the Hassar works its
way into the mud, and acts after the manner of the Lepidosiren. The
analogy between the two fishes is made still more remarkable, inasmuch as
they both furnish food to man during the time of Estivation.

The Hassar has a further interest in being one of the few fishes which
make nests and watch over their young. Our sticklebacks do this, but
whereas with the stickleback the double task of making the nest and
guarding the young is relegated to the male, with the Hassar the latter
duty is shared by the female. It begins the task of nest-making almost as
soon as it escapes from its cocoon, so as to insure plenty of time for
nest-making, egg-hatching, and rearing the young.

The American Alligator, which, like the Hassar, is deprived of food when
the rivers and swamps have been dried, allows itself to be buried in the
mud, and there awaits the return of rain.

A curious instance of this habit occurred some years ago. A party of
travelers had halted on a piece of hard, level ground, lighted a fire
and began to cook their dinner. But that dinner was spoiled, for before
the cooking was completed the ground began to heave and swell, and out
burst the head of an alligator. The unfortunate reptile was estivating
exactly under the spot where the fire had been placed, and where it
would have remained asleep until the next rainy season, had it not been
disturbed.—_London Sunday Magazine._



There are some rules regarding active recreations which it is well for
all to observe: for all, at least, who must work, or who wish to work as
well as play.

First, recreations should not only be compatible with the business or
duty of life, but absolutely and far subordinate; and this, not only
in kind, but in number and quantity. Their utility, and, sometimes,
even their only justification is that they may increase the power and
readiness for work; beyond this they should not be allowed to pass.

Then, they should chiefly exercise the powers which are least used in the
work; and this, not only for pleasure but for utility. For there are few
daily occupations which provide sufficient opportunities for the training
of all the powers and dispositions which may be usefully employed in them
and of which the full use, though not necessary for an average fitness,
may be essential to excellence in the business of life. They, therefore,
that work chiefly with their minds, should refresh themselves chiefly
with the exercise of their muscles; manual workers should rather rest and
have some study, or practice some gentle art, or strive to invent; or,
for one more example, they whose days are spent in money speculations
and excitement had better try to be happy in passionless thinking, in
listening to sweet sounds, in quiet reading, and so on.

It adds to the utility of every recreation if its events can be often
thought of with pleasure; so that the mind may be sometimes occupied
with them not only in careful thinking, but in those gaps or casual
intervals of time in which, both during and after work, it is apt to
wander uselessly. Especially is this true of mental recreations; they
may thus prolong their happiness and their utility from day to day or
year to year; as often as they are remembered the mind may be refreshed
far more than it is in the mere vacancy of thought. And there may be
as much refreshment in looking forward; as, for example, in planning a
good holiday, or at the best, in trying, by the light of either faith or
science, to anticipate the final decision of the doubts which now beset
us, or the wonders that will be revealed, or the new powers that will be
exercised in the far distant future.

It is an excellence in recreations if they lead us to occupy ourselves in
pursuits which give opportunities of gaining honest repute and personal
success. Competition is good in all virtuous pleasures as well as in
all work; the habit of being in earnest and of doing one’s best may be
strengthened in recreations, and then employed in its still better use in

And in agreement with this it is a great addition to the happiness and
utility of a recreation if it enables us to do or to acquire something
which we may call our own. In this is a part of the advantage which any
one may find in giving part of his spare time to some study, some branch
of art, some invention or research which may be recognized, at least
among his friends as being, in some sense, his own. The study itself
must be the first and chief refreshment, but its pleasure is enhanced if
with the knowledge or the skill which it attains there is mingled some
consciousness of personal property.

Similarly, and for a like reason, the happiness of a recreation is
increased if it leads us to collect anything; books, sketches, shells,
autographs, or whatever may be associated with the studies or the active
exercises of spare times or even with those of business. I think that
none who have not tried it can imagine how great is the refreshment
of collecting and of thinking, at odd moments, of one’s specimens and
arranging and displaying them. There are few good recreations, few daily
occupations with which something of the kind may not be usefully mingled.

Cricket matches, rowing matches, foot ball, and the like, are admirable
in all the chief constituent qualities of recreations; but besides this,
they may exercise a moral influence of great value in business or in any
daily work. For without any inducement of a common interest in money,
without any low motive, they bring boys and men to work together; they
teach them to be colleagues in good causes with all who will work fairly
and well with them. They teach that power of working with others which
is among the best powers for success in every condition of life. And by
custom, if not of their very nature, they teach fairness; foul play in
any of them, however sharp may be the competition, is by consent of all,
disgraceful; and they who have a habit of playing fair will be the more
ready to deal fair. A high standard of honesty in their recreations will
help to make people despise many things which are far within the limits
of the law.

And, for one more general rule, it is an excellent quality in recreations
if they will continue good even in old age. I think the experience of men
would confirm this by the instances they see of unhappy rich old men who
have retired from business and have no habitual recreations. None seem so
unhappy as do some of these.

They used to enjoy the excitement of uncertainty in their business; now,
everything is safe and dull; then, mere rest after fatigue was happiness;
now, there is no fatigue, but there is restlessness in monotony; they
used to delight in the exercise of skill and in the counting of its
gains; now, the only thing in which they had any skill is gone; they have
no work to do, and they do not know how either to play or to rest.

It is well, therefore, that all should prepare for the decline of power
in recreations, as well as in much graver things. There are many that do
not lose their charm or their utility as we grow older. One is in the
refreshment of collections; for there are many whose value constantly
increases as they become older, and with all of them the pleasure is
enhanced the further we can look back in the memory of the events
associated with each specimen, and can recollect the difficulty of
obtaining it, and the joy of first possession. Or, there may be a change
of active recreations; the elderly cricketer may take to golf and become
sure that it is in every way the better of the two; the old hunting
man may ride to cover more cautiously. Or, with less activity, there
may be the happiness of reading or meditation, of music, or any of the
fine arts; these, if they have been prudently cultivated, do not become
wearisome in old age. If these and other like things fail, it may be a
sign that it is time to leave off work; but so long as a man can work, so
long will he be right if he will spend some of his leisure times, wisely
and actively, in recreations; they may make him both more fit to do his
work, and, at the last, more fit to leave it.—_The Nineteenth Century._



    Truth is eternal. He who dares
      To sign its deathless scroll
    Dares to live ever, linked to light,
      While ages onward roll.

    O dauntless hero! At thy grave
      A world uncovered stands!
    And o’er thy dust all christendom
      Clasps loving brother-hands.

    Our brother, ours! A land unborn
      When thou didst wage thy fight—
    We reap thy labors—race entailed—
      And in thy praise unite.

    Hail Germany! The world is bound,
      By fetters wrought from truth—
    Earth’s mightiest smith, upon thy breast
      Was cradled in his youth.




We do not often hear those who declare that “education does not educate,”
trying to account for the failure charged against existing school
systems. Are the alleged defects to be found in the unfit nature of
the things studied, or in methods of study, or both? One of the chief
exercises—indeed _the_ chief, in common schools—depended upon for mental
development is numbers. Is the study of arithmetic worthy the place
it holds in that regard? Does it do more than to cultivate a special
faculty? Is that faculty one of the most important in the human mind?
Is it related intimately to understanding, and does its culture imply a
stimulation of the reasoning powers?

Answers to these questions would doubtless be colored by the mental
characteristics or experience of the individual answering. To some minds
mathematics is a general stimulant; to others only a useful tool; to
still others, a stumbling block and an offense. Some one has declared
that while all specialties followed exclusively, are narrowing in their
influence on the mind, the two specialties which lead straightest toward
imbecility are music and mathematics. This was probably the conclusion
of a mind which could not master the extraction of the cube root, and
did not know “Yankee Doodle” from “Old Hundred.” Oliver Goldsmith said
“Mathematics is a study to which the meanest intellect is competent.”
He remembered many floggings because of the multiplication table, and
hardly had patience to count change for a sovereign. If we appeal to
first-rate examples of achievement in music and mathematics—say to
a Mozart and a Newton—we shall find well-balanced minds; but on the
other hand we may be confounded by finding prodigies in these lines
who possess mean intellects otherwise. Blind Tom and Zerah Colburn are
illustrations. Zerah Colburn had mathematics in “the natural way.” His
parents in Vermont were poor and ignorant; the father appears to have
been both selfish and stupid, but the mother was rather a shrewd Yankee
woman. If there was any special gift in the family it was for hard work
and sharp trading—rather commonplace gifts in New England. Out of this
unpromising stock came Zerah in 1804. One day, when he was six years old,
he flashed out a mathematical meteor, a revelation. His father overheard
him reciting in his play the multiplication table, having never learned
it. Examination showed that he knew it all and more too; was, in fact,
himself a walking, frisking multiplication table. He answered instantly
the product of 13×97—1261. The gift seemed to have descended on him then
and there miraculously; the fact probably was that it had always been
there, but he had been too dull to exercise it until the whim struck the
little animal.

The event created a sensation, which, inside of a year, was felt both in
America and Europe. The popular wonder with which the child’s performance
was received very speedily turned the head of his stupidly cunning
father; he dropped his farm tools and rejecting all the offers of wealthy
gentlemen to give the boy a complete education, set out to exhibit the
prodigy through the land as a show. Thereafter, so long as both lived,
the father was the evil genius of the son.

At the outset of their wanderings, President Wheelock, of Dartmouth
College, offered to take the child and give him a thorough education,
but the father declined the offer, not including even a honorarium for
himself. In Boston a committee of wealthy gentlemen, headed by Josiah
Quincy, offered to raise $5,000, one-half to be given to the father, the
other moiety to be devoted to Zerah’s education, under their direction.
The father acceded to this, but for some reason, when the contract of
indenture was drawn, it was different in the important particular that
the father and son were to be _permitted_ to exhibit the lad publicly
until the proceeds should amount to $5,000, when the sum was to be
apportioned as before stipulated. This arrangement the father very
properly rejected, and the negotiations failed. Wrong versions of this
affair were published, imputing to the father the rejection of the
genuine benefaction first proposed. That these reports injured him and
their success thereafter wherever they went, the son always asseverated.

They now went on “a starring tour” through the country, meeting with
varied success, and in the early spring of 1811 returned to Vermont with
about $600 as the proceeds thereof. The elder Colburn gave $500 of this
to the mother, which, for the next twelve years, was all he contributed
to the family support—the family then consisting of six children under
fourteen years of age.

From the first Zerah’s performance was confounding to all spectators.
Mathematically, nothing seemed impossible to this child of six years.
Being asked, “What is the number of seconds in 2,000 years?” he readily
and accurately answered 63,072,000,000. Again, “What is the square of
1,449,” he answered, 2,099,601. More intricate calculations based on
concrete facts, were equally easy, as “Suppose I have a corn-field in
which are seven acres, having seventeen rows to each acre, sixty-four
hills to each row, eight ears on a hill, and one hundred and fifty
kernels on each ear, how many kernels in the corn-field?” The answer,
9,139,200 kernels, came readily. Asked what sum multiplied by itself will
produce 998,001, he replied in four seconds, 999; and in twenty seconds
produced the correct answer to “How many days and hours have lapsed
since the Christian era began?” viz.: 661,015 days, 15,864,360 hours.
He gave the answer to this: What is the square of 999,999×49×25; the
answer requires seventeen figures to express it. Being asked what are the
factors of 247,483 he made this reply: “941 and 263, and these are the
_only_ factors.” How could he know that?

These operations seemed the automatic action of mental power allied to
instinct rather than to reason. The child had had absolutely no education
in numbers and could neither read nor write; he would scarcely interrupt
his infantile play to make his calculations. It was not till the spring
of 1811 that he learned the names and the powers of the nine digits when
written, and this he learned from a stranger who seemed to take this
much more interest in his education than his father had ever taken.
He was at this time a bright, playful, healthy boy. He answered mere
puzzling questions with more than the ordinary shrewdness of his age, as,
“Which is the greater, six dozen dozen or half a dozen dozen?” “Which is
greater, twice twenty-five or twice five-and-twenty?” “How many black
beans make six white ones?” He answered quickly, “Six—if you skin ’em.”
During his calculations he would twist and contort like one in St. Vitus’
dance. If asked, as he often was, his method of calculation, he would cry
at the annoyance of attempting to explain.

In April, 1811, father and son went to England, the child then being six
and a half years old. The father tried (in vain, of course) to induce
his wife to put their five little ones out in care of the neighbors
and go abroad with him! Then, as at all other times, she seems to have
monopolized the wit of the family. The same one-sidedness may have been
detected in other families, for aught I know to the contrary.

In England he at first created a marked sensation. His receptions were
attended by wondering multitudes, among them being members of the
nobility and royal family and distinguished scientists and literati.
Among his achievements at this time was to multiply the number eight
by itself up to the sixteenth power, giving the inconceivable result,
281,474,976,710,656. He extracted the square and cube roots of large
numbers by a flash of his genius. It had been laid down by mathematicians
that no rule existed for finding the factors of numbers, but at the age
of nine Zerah made such a rule; it was nearly as difficult to understand
as his performance, however. Under this formula he gave the factors of
171,395, viz.: 5×34279; 7×22485; 59×2905; 83×2065; 35×4897; 295×581;
413×415. “It had been asserted,” he says, “by a French mathematician that
4294967297 is a prime number; but the celebrated Euler detected the error
by discovering that it is equal to 641×6,700,417. The same number was
proposed to this child, who found out the factors by the mere operation
of his mind.”

The father was now happy. He was in the enjoyment of means and
distinction through his child, all of which, with the usual conceit
of a father, he arrogated to himself as the due reward of merit for
having been the prodigious progenitor of so remarkable a child. Various
money-making enterprises were started in connection with the “show,” from
which others seemed to derive as much benefit as the father. Sir James
Mackintosh, Sir Humphrey Davy (inventor of the safety lamp) and Basil
Montague became a committee to superintend the publication of a book
about the child; but though several hundred subscribers were obtained,
many of whom paid in advance, the work was never published. A meeting
of distinguished gentlemen was held to devise a scheme for his special
education, which should develop his genius into a prodigy of matured
intellectual powers, such as the world had never conceived. But all these
plans were defeated by two circumstances—the boy’s general incapacity and
the father’s special rapacity.

The “show business” seemed to be the elder Colburn’s forté and he took
the boy on exhibition to Scotland and Ireland, and finally to Paris
(1814). Here, too, the extraordinary interest in his extraordinary
faculty resulted in a project for his proper education—La Place, the
author of “Méchanique Celeste,” and Guizot, the historian, being
conspicuous in his interest. It resulted in his being given a scholarship
in the Lyceum by order of Napoleon, just then back from Elba on his
little excursion to re-resubjugate the world; this intervention in behalf
of the boy being one creditable act of his brief restoration, at least.
The lad showed his gratitude to his imperial patron by ardently assisting
in the entrenchments thrown up to resist the attack of the allied armies
on Paris after the defeat at Waterloo.

The London admirers, spurred by pique at the French interest in and
control of the boy, and by the father’s importunities, set about raising
a purse to bring Zerah back and educate him in England. In furtherance
of the enterprise, the father took his boy from the Lyceum and brought
him to London in February, 1816. But this scheme fell through, owing,
it is charged, to dissatisfaction with the father’s demand of a large
endowment to himself as well as for the child; and soon both were living
in poverty, unheeded and deserted.

In a fortunate moment the Earl of Bristol interested himself in young
Colburn and made a provision of $620 a year for his education at
Westminster school, where he was regularly entered, being then a few days
over twelve years old. Here he spent two years and nine months. Though
he made creditable progress in languages he disappointed those who had
built expectations on his peculiar powers, by revolting against higher
mathematics. It was found, in fact, that his special faculty was less
susceptible of discipline than is the ordinary mathematical power of
other youth.

But, I am gratified to state, the young Yankee made a stubborn resistance
to the British form of white slavery in the school known as “fagging;”
and what with his own obstinacy and the old man’s constant harassing the
school authorities with remonstrances, the rule was suspended in the case
of Zerah—probably the first and last case of such an alarming innovation
on good old brutal British customs. Having won this emancipation the old
father submitted with equanimity to being hooted off the “campus” with
cries of “Yankee.”

But the elder Colburn next quarreled with his generous patron, and took
the boy from school. We may venture to doubt if this was after all a
great privation to the lad. The curriculum of Westminster school the
first four years consisted of Latin and fagging; the next four years
of Greek and fagging. They had made it elective in Zerah’s case to
the extent of omitting the fagging, taking away the live part of the
curriculum and leaving him only the dead. Zerah himself tells us that the
same time which was thus spent in linguistic body-snatching if spent in
the French seminary would have afforded an excellent general education.
This fatuity regarding dead languages has been since well maintained in
English high schools and colleges, and, what is more remarkable, has been
pretty faithfully imitated in higher institutions in America.

Thrown on their own resources again, they found the novelty of Zerah’s
performance had worn off, and he did not “draw.” The father now conceived
the brilliant plan of making an actor of the boy. After four months’
training by Kemble, he appeared on the stage at Margate, with a little
success; went with strolling companies through England and Ireland
during four months more, and then returned to London and ended the
histrionic career. Next Zerah was prompted by the fond father to attempt
play-writing, but as he says himself, his compositions “never had any
merit or any success”—though this is substantially his opinion of all his
own efforts through life.[B] Extreme poverty followed, almost the only
means of subsistence being genteel begging from former friends. The last
and kindest of these was at length worn out, and directed his footman to
slam the door in the poor boy’s face when he presented himself on some
alleged errand from his father.

Zerah in his autobiography, subsequently written, speaks of these dark
days with sorrow, but without one word of complaint of his father;
indeed, the memoir seems to have been written more for the purpose of
vindicating the father’s name than to do himself justice. He constantly
laments that the mysterious faculty had been given him, and attributes to
it and to his own general incapacity, all the misfortunes and sufferings
of his father and himself. He called his gift “a peculiarly painful
circumstance which destroyed all pleasing anticipations, blasted every
prospect of social happiness, and after years of absence consigned
the husband and father to a stranger’s grave.” Poor boy! He must have
suffered more than he confesses. He hints at their want, his disgust
with asking charity, the alienation of friends, and, above all his
afflictions, he chafes at his idleness; and he naively sums up the whole
experience as one of “comparative unhappiness!” How did Dickens ever miss
these unique studies from real life?

A situation as usher in a school was now obtained for young Zerah (ætat
17) and he soon after set up a school on his own account. This was
probably the first legitimate money he ever earned, and he mentions
the chance, poor as it was, with more satisfaction than he does any
of the achievements of his genius. It was far better than depending
on patronage—which seems to have galled his pride. Before anything
could come of school teaching, however, the father and son went off to
other cities on a begging expedition. The usual humiliation and misery
followed the undertaking, and they returned to London, where the young
man reopened his school. Here, in 1824, his father died of consumption
brought on by want and anxiety. One of Zerah’s biographers has said of
the father: “Unhappily he had from the first discovery of his son’s
extraordinary gifts, worked upon them with mercenary feelings, as a
source of revenue. It is true he had a father’s love for his child, and
in this respect Zerah, in the simple memoir of his own life, does his
parent more than justice; but still it was this short-sighted selfishness
which made him convert his child’s endowments into a curse to him, to his
friends, and to Zerah himself. His expectations had been lifted to such
a pitch that nothing could satisfy them. The most generous offers fell
short of what he felt to be his due; liberality was turned in his mind to
parsimony, and even his friends were regarded as little short of enemies.
Such a struggle could not always last. His mind was torn with thoughts of
his home and family, neglected for twelve years; of his life wasted, his
prospects defeated; of fond dreams ending at last in failure, shame, and

After the death of his father, Zerah’s course of life was not less
vacillating and unsuccessful, however, so it seems that his failures were
not altogether due to his father’s bad counsels. He remained a while in
London, making astronomical calculations and doing other mathematical
work, as chance offered it. Aided by his old benefactor, Lord Bristol, he
at last set out to seek his mother and family. She had done better alone.
“During the long absence of her husband, with a family of eight children,
and almost entirely destitute of property, she had sustained the burthen
with indomitable energy. She wrought with her own hands in house and
field; bargained away the little farm for a better one; and as her son
says, ‘by a course of persevering industry, hard fare and trials such as
few women are accustomed to, she has hitherto succeeded in supporting
herself, beside doing a good deal for her children.’” Lucky for the
family that one of them was not a genius. Mathematics, however, seems to
be a form of monomania from which her sex is generally exempt. In fact,
in the long list of eccentric Americans from which I can choose subjects
for this series of sketches, I fear there is not to be one eccentric
woman. This can be taken as complimentary to the sex or not, according as
the reader regards eccentricity.

Our arithmetical prodigy, now twenty years old, went to teaching a
country school for a living, and at last fetched up in that other safe
retreat of preaching the gospel. He followed this vocation with more
persistence and credit than he had brought to any other of his numerous
professions, though on his own modest representation he was not much of a
preacher. His last venture was to become professor of—not mathematics—but
languages in the “Vermont University” at Norwich. In this situation
his life terminated, March 2, 1840. He plaintively, but in a somewhat
pedantic style, sums up his career as follows:

“Perhaps it has fallen to the lot of very few, if any individuals, while
attracting curiosity and notice, to receive at the same time so many
flattering marks of kindness, and it is not unfrequently a sorrowful
reflection to him that after all the sympathy and benevolence shown
by the liberal and scientific, certain unforeseen and unfortunate
causes have prevented and still prevent his reaching and sustaining
that distinguished place in the mathematical literature of the age to
which, on account of the singular gift bestowed on him, he seemed to be
destined. Now, after possessing that talent twenty-two years, he feels
unable to account for its donation, and is unaware of its object.”

Some facts regarding this singular gift may furnish suggestions to those
who think upon educational matters.

1. His peculiar faculty was _arithmetical_, not generally mathematical.
He had little or no taste for higher mathematics: those which, like
geometry and surveying, appeal to the perceptions, those which,
like algebra, appeal to the imagination, and those which, like pure
mathematics, appeal to the analytical reasoning powers, he disliked.
His gift was natural, rudimentary and unreasoning, and as he reached
adult life it passed from him, either because he outgrew it or lost it
by over-use or disuse. Constant and long continued practice in mental
calculation brought the possessor of this special mathematical gift,
as he says, neither intellectual growth nor better capacity for mental
application. In fact, the more he used it the stupider he grew.

May we infer from this that arithmetic is a primitive, rudimentary
and low branch of mathematics, having little or no relation to the
perceptions of childhood, the imagination of youth and the reasoning
powers of the matured mind, and hence of little or no value for the
purpose of mental exercise and stimulation?

2. His whole process was that of _multiplication_, and its inversion
(division). He seems not to have practiced addition, which is in reality
the rudiments of multiplication, or its converse, subtraction, which
is only the long process of division. In the multiplication of large
numbers, which so astounded people, he performed mentally several
operations to get the result.

May we infer from this analysis—arithmetic being assumed to be the most
unintellectual form of mathematics—that multiplication is the least
valuable part of arithmetic?

If psychologists should grant these inferences to be sound, it remains
the duty of teachers to address themselves to improving the teaching
of the multiplication table, as the weak spot in all our primary
education in numbers. Something can be done, perhaps, to idealize the
multiplication table, and to make instruction in it concrete, objective,
rational. Can not a child be shown why or how six times seven make
forty-two? If arithmetic is so abstract, arbitrary and barren of ideas
that this can not be done, were it not better to cease compelling the
miniature mind to repeat year after year such stale and silly truisms
as, “twice two are four,” etc., under the absurd expectation that some
prodigious mental outburst must result from it in some mysterious manner?
Why not substitute for this endless repetition “Eiry eiry, ickery Ann,
fillisy follisy, Nicholas John,” to accomplish the same result?

Some good teachers, here and there, are working on the problem of how to
make arithmetic educational as well as useful. A person who has lively
recollections of days and weeks and months wasted on the dead-lift of
memorizing the multiplication table, as an achievement by the side of
which all subsequent labors of life were easy, will find comfort in the
perfect uselessness of Colburn’s wonderful genius for multiplication
without effort.

But it _was_ a wonderful faculty. What if a man were born with _all_ his
faculties expanded to the same degree! Shall education and inherited
progress yet produce minds as nearly infinite in every power as Zerah
Colburn’s was in one? Is there, _is_ there an educational method which
can take the shackles off all the faculties?

If not, may there be somewhere a life in which the mind, let out of
the strait earthly house of its tabernacle and freed from the sore
limitations of physical nature may reach that acme in all its functions?
Some of the operations of mind in a condition of suspended physical
existence seem to suggest this as a probability for even common-place
natures, as occasionally do such splendid exhibitions of a single faculty
in so weak a nature as Zerah Colburn’s.

[B] Another expedient adopted to keep the wolf from the door was to ask
subscriptions to the yet unpublished and unwritten memoir of the lad. As
he had by this time been able to formulate the method by which he made
his mental computations, the father advertised to impart the secret of
Zerah’s mysterious power to any one who would subscribe for ten copies of
the memoir at eight dollars the copy.




As is evidenced by the continually lengthening days, is making its way
northward. On the first it rises at 7:10 and sets at 5:18; on the 15th,
rises at 6:54 and sets at 5:34; and on the 29th, rises at 6:35 and sets
at 5:51, giving from the 1st to the 29th of the month an increase of one
hour and eight minutes. The sun is “slow” during the entire month; that
is, it does not reach the meridian until after noon; for example, on the
1st, when the sun is on the meridian, a good time-piece says it is about
fourteen minutes after noon. On the 1st, day breaks at 5:32, and evening
twilight ends at 6:56.


On the 4th, at 12:49 a. m., the moon enters her first quarter; on the
10th, at 11:40 p. m., is full; on the 18th, at 10:04 p. m., enters her
last quarter; and on the 26th, at 1:27, is again new. On the 1st, 15th
and 29th respectively, she reaches the meridian at 3:55 p. m., 3:14 a.
m., and 2:41 p. m. She is nearest to the earth at 3:54 on the evening of
the 4th, and most distant at twelve minutes after three on the morning of
the 18th. She reaches her greatest elevation, 67° 31′ latitude 41° 30′,
on the 6th.


Only early risers need expect to see Mercury this month, as he is a
morning star, rising as follows: On the 1st at 5:54 a. m.; on the 13th,
on which day also he reaches his greatest western elongation (26° 12′),
at 5:41 a. m., or about 76 minutes before sunrise, and on the 29th at
5:49 a. m. On the 26th, at 7:00 a. m., he is farthest from the sun. His
diameter diminishes from 8.4″ on the 1st to 5.6″ on the 29th.


As intimated last month, continues to be an evening star, making every
evening an increasingly handsome display in the western heavens, her
diameter growing from 12.8″ on the 1st to 14.6″ on the 29th. Her motion,
which is from west to east, amounts during the month to 31° 51′ 37″ of
arc. Her time of setting, on the 1st, 15th and 29th, is as follows: 7:54,
8:26 and 8:57 p. m., respectively. On the 29th, at 10:07 a. m., she will
be in conjunction with, and 32′ south of the moon.


Will present nothing particularly new. His retrograde motion still
continuing, he will rise earlier each evening, and, of course, set
earlier the following morning. Thus, on the 1st, he rises at 4:51 p. m.;
on the 15th, at 3:35 p. m.; and on the 29th, at 2:23 p. m. He sets on the
mornings immediately following these dates at 7:29, 6:23 and 5:15; or, on
the first date about twenty minutes after, and on the latter date about
one hour and twenty minutes before sunrise; during the month taking his
place as an evening star. His motion amounts to 9° 7′ 11″ of arc, and as
he is going farther from the earth, his diameter grows smaller, being
15″ on the first, and only 13.2″ on the last of the month. On the 10th,
at 4:40 a. m., he is 9° 43′ north of the moon, and a little east of the
nebula _Præsepe_ in _Cancer_.


Will be evening star throughout the month, and continue his retrograde
motion from a point about twenty minutes west of _Præsepe_ on the 1st, to
7 hours 48 minutes 35 seconds right ascension on the 29th. He will rise
on the 1st at 3:56; on the 15th at 2:53; and on the 29th at 1:52 p. m.,
and will set on the 2d at 6:30; on the 16th at 5:29; and on March 1st
at 4:30 a. m. On the 9th, at 5:39 a. m., he will be 5° 45′ north of the
moon. Of the four satellites, or moons, revolving around Jupiter, three
are so near as to be eclipsed by him at each revolution. Roemer, a Danish
astronomer, observed, however, that when the earth and Jupiter were on
opposite sides of the sun, these eclipses occurred, as he estimated,
about twenty-two minutes later than the time predicted by the tables. As
the earth in this position was some one hundred and eighty-six millions
of miles farther away from Jupiter than when Jupiter and the earth were
on the same side of the sun, the discovery was made that the discrepancy
in time was occasioned by the fact that light must have time to travel;
and later and more accurate investigations afford us the truth that it
takes light sixteen minutes and forty seconds to cross the earth’s orbit,
or eight minutes and twenty seconds to come from the sun to the earth;
and hence, that it travels about 180,000 miles per second. These eclipses
occur frequently every month, and can be observed with telescopes of
quite moderate power.


This planet will be evening star throughout the month, setting as
follows: On the 2d, at 2:28 a. m.; on the 16th, at 1:33 a. m.; and on the
29th, at 12:41 a. m. Its direct motion amounts to 41′ 32.1″ of arc. On
the 3d, at 9 a. m., it is stationary. On the 5th, at 7:34 a. m., 1° 18′
north of the moon. On the 22d, at noon, it is “quartile,” being 90° east
of the sun. It can be found near the _Hyades_, a little north, at any
time this month. Its diameter decreases from 18″ on the 1st, to 17.2″ on
the 29th.


Makes a retrograde motion of 55′ 47.1″, and retains the same diameter,
namely, 3.8″. It will be morning star, rising however, early enough to
be viewed in the evening. For example, on the 1st, at 9:00 p. m.; on
the 15th, at 8:02 p. m.; and on the 29th, at 7:04 p. m. It will set as
follows: On the 2d, at 9:10 a. m.; on the 16th, at 8:14 a. m.; and on the
29th, at 7:18 a. m. On the 13th, at 7:44 p. m., it will be 3° 18′ north
of the moon. On the 29th can be found nearly on a line between _Beta_ and
_Eta_ in the constellation _Virgo_, and from _Beta_ about one-third of
the distance between these two stars.


Will be evening star during the month, rising on the 1st at 11:24 in the
forenoon, and setting next morning at 1:14; on the 15th, rising at 10:29
a. m., and setting on the 16th at 12:19 a. m.; and on the 29th, rising at
9:35 a. m., and setting at 11:25 the same evening. Its diameter is 2.6″.
Motion direct, amounting to 16′ 56″ of arc. On the 4th, at 6:33 a. m.,
is 11′ north of the moon; and on the 7th, at 9 a. m., is 90° east of the
sun. Rises about forty-eight minutes earlier than Saturn.

       *       *       *       *       *

Whoever wishes to perform something noble, if he would produce some great
work, collects quietly and perseveringly the mightiest powers into the
smallest space.—_Schiller._


A lecture delivered at the Monterey Assembly, Pacific Grove Retreat,
California, 1883.



It is said of Milton that in two short lines of poetry he made four
mistakes in Natural History. He said of a whale:

    “At his gills takes in,
     And at his trunk lets out a sea.”

Now, in the first place, the whale has no gills; second, he takes in
air instead of water; third, he throws out expired air; fourth, the
water “spouted” is thrown up by the force of expiration, not out of the
animal’s body, but water that may lie between the “blow-hole” and the
surface of the sea.

I am not so sure but Milton made more than four mistakes in these
lines. For whoever starts out on a wrong premise will follow a line of
mistakes continually. Nevertheless, mistakes attentively observed may be
profitable. We learn by mistakes. Unsuccessful experiments are mistakes
of a kind—something wrong in the formula. The first aquarium I tried to
start I made more mistakes than Milton made in his two lines. I made
mistakes the second trial, and the third, and a dozen more times. And
when I have succeeded in some instances, it was by accident, and to-day
I can not tell why I sometimes failed, or why I sometimes succeeded. I
have the consolation, however, of company in this respect. One of the
most successful managers of aquaria says that he would give very much if
he knew how to grow some of the higher marine algæ as one grows plants in
a garden. Occasionally he has succeeded, but he confesses it was not by
skill, but by chance.

I propose, therefore, that for a little while we consider the sea as an
aquarium—a place adapted to the growth of animals and plants. Our subject
is somewhat large, I must confess, but if we can see and understand how
these things live and grow in the ocean we must be able to grow them in
our parks, and possibly in our houses. For what Nature does on a grand
scale may also be done in a small way; and principles that govern the
successful growth of plants and animals in a bottle of sea water must be
the same that govern the fauna and flora of the Pacific Ocean.

In order then to study and understand these things it will not be
entirely necessary to make a trip to the equator, to the poles, or to
travel around the world.

It has been a favorite theory with Henry D. Thoreau and John Burroughs,
those genial and poetical lovers and observers of nature, that we need
not rove all over the earth, as is the custom of many, to see this
curiosity or that, or to observe nature in her secret recesses, but that
we only have to sit down in the woods or by the sea-shore, and everything
of interest will come round to us. The little town of Concord was a whole
world in miniature to Thoreau. Everything worth finding could be found
there. And so to John Burroughs, is the juniper forest of the Hudson, a
show case, with the whole world inside. “Nature,” he says, “comes home
to one most when he is at home; the stranger and traveler finds her a
stranger and a traveler also.”

I think we may infer from this theory of our charming philosophers rather
a poetical interpretation. They would urge a careful observation and
study of phenomena in and near the places where we live, rather than
gadding up and down the earth in search of novelties. If we familiarize
ourselves with every day common objects and events of plants, animals,
and other operations in nature, we shall then always be at home when
nature calls, whether on one side or the other of the world.

I have heard of a good old lady who, when nearing the end of her earthly
existence, said she did not mind the dying if she could only breathe.
Now this goodly person had doubtless spent all the years of her life
without observing the fact that every plant or animal however small or
simple in structure must have, if nothing else, the organs for breathing,
and when that function is suspended or destroyed, life ceases. The
respiratory organs may be reduced to a single cell, wall, or membrane.
The forms of these organs, however, are exceedingly variable, elaborate,
and sometimes complicated.

In the sea, plants and animals have a compensatory relation to each
other. The plant exhales oxygen and the animal exhales carbon. That is to
say, the carbonic acid which is mixed mechanically with the water coming
in contact with the cell, wall, or membrane, covering the plant, the atom
of carbon is appropriated, freeing the two atoms of oxygen, which in turn
are appropriated by the animal.

Not only is this process of breathing compensatory and reciprocative—an
interchange of commodities—the plant giving two atoms of oxygen for one
of carbon, and the animal bringing its single but equally valuable atom
of carbon for two atoms of oxygen, but without this interchange, neither
could plant or animal live, and our world of life would become as dead as
the moon is supposed to be.

The process of breathing is so common that we seldom think about it,
unless there is an interference in some way. Each one of us sitting
quietly in this room would breathe about 1000 times in an hour, requiring
over 100 gallons of air to sustain the proper supply of oxygen for the
blood. During this time we have taken from the air a certain amount
of oxygen and have returned to it an equal amount of something else,
which we call carbon oxide, or carbonic acid gas. The oxygen has burned
the effete material which is cast out of the blood in the process of
breathing, and it is returned to the atmosphere as a kind of coal. The
fundamental principle is the same in animals that breathe water as those
that breathe air, only the apparatus is different. Animals that breathe
water have a fine capillary network of blood-vessels spread out on gills,
branchia or projections arranged so that the water shall pass rapidly
over them, and thus the carbon is carried away and the oxygen taken into
the circulation.

Animals that breathe air through lungs have little air cells, so very
small that a human lung is said to contain 600 millions of them; and
these lie in contact with the capillary circulation of the lung which
receives the oxygen and gives out the carbon. Some air-breathers have no
lungs, but merely spiracles or minute holes in the body through which the
air enters, coming in contact with the circulation.

In all cases, whatever the form, size, or character of the animal
the object is to bring the air in contact with the circulation that
oxygen may be received in exchange for the burnt material—the carbon
oxide—which, when once formed, is poisonous, and must be expelled from
the animal.

Now if we look over the earth we shall find immense deposits of coal.
Here in the United States we have nearly 200,000 square miles of coal
deposits. In other countries there is a like proportion of these carbon
deposits, such as petroleum, bitumen, and paraffine. Then there are great
forests and other vegetable growth. These have stored up the carbon
set free by the animal, and have kept the air comparatively free from
carbonic acid gas, which but for the vegetables would in a little while
have rendered our atmosphere unfit for animal use. What is true of the
air in this respect is also true of the sea.

Thus it comes about that by the process of breathing, principally, we
have the immense coal fields, the wide spread forests, and the herbage
that covers almost the entire globe. For in the air and the water
there exist the germs of animal and vegetable life so profusely, so
universally, that the proper conditions of heat and light will develop
contemporaneously, both the organic kingdoms. If we should take ten
drops of water from the middle of the Pacific Ocean, near the surface,
and add them to a small tube, say two ounces, of water that had been
deprived of life by boiling, and kept sealed for a number of years, and
place the tube in favorable conditions, we should in a few days see a
little universe spring, as it were, into existence. There might not be a
great variety of forms, but who can say that there might not be enough to
populate or re-populate some world just entering into the conditions of
such life as our earth contains, or some other world that had suffered a
reverse, or cataclysm, by which all life was destroyed.

Mr. Lloyd, Superintendent of the Birmingham Aquarium, says he kept for
eight years a bottle of sea water, well corked and covered with paper,
and that when he opened it the water was perfectly clear, free from
smell, and of the same appearance as when taken from the sea. But when
exposed for eight days to light in a window an abundance of microscopic
plants and animals began to grow, and soon covered the sides of the
bottle, and darted about in the fluid.

Having occasion some ten months ago to use some sea-water, I brought
to my house a demijohn full and placed it on the north side where the
sun seldom shines, and where it is nearly always cool; although the
temperature sometimes goes as high as 75° and 80° Fahrenheit in the
afternoons. There was no particular effort to exclude light and air; the
cork fitted loosely, and the wicker work was not unusually close. And
yet, whenever I have examined this water it is clear and free from smell,
and there are no plants or animals growing in it. But by exposure of a
small quantity to the light and warmth of a window, these have rapidly
developed. It is a fact, then, easily demonstrated in our own rooms and
houses, that by excluding light from water and keeping it in a cool place
we can arrest the growth of organisms. This is the case with springs.
The microscope fails to discover germs in spring water until it has been
exposed to the light for some time.

Acting on hints of this kind, Mr. Lloyd has constructed aquaria with two
reservoirs—one in a dark, cool place, quite large—the other in a light
and warm place, favorable to the growth of plants and animals. By means
of pipes these two reservoirs are connected so that a circulation can
be set up between the light and dark portions. A pump may be used to
force the water from the dark reservoir into the other, using vulcanite
or rubber of some kind for sea water, instead of such oxidizable metals
as brass, tin, lead, etc. The most convenient temperature is about 60°

Thus, by exchanging the waters of these two reservoirs, as occasion
requires, we shall be able to regulate an aquarium so as to keep many
kinds of plants and animals in a healthy, growing condition.

The best aquaria are those where the water is never changed, but ever
circulated in the manner I have indicated. Water that has once been made
clear and good, and maintained plants and animals, is better than any
water newly brought from the sea. It must be remembered that evaporation
takes place from the surface of an aquarium more or less according to the
heat and dryness of the air. At a temperature of 60° in an ordinary dry
air, such as occurs some miles inland, the evaporation from a surface of
water six inches square would be about three drops in twenty-four hours.
Some very warm, dry days it would be two or three times that much. This
waste must be made up by adding occasionally some distilled water.

An aquarium must be kept free of decaying matter. If once formed the
sooner it is got rid of the better, for it will poison all creatures that
come within its influence. The larger the dark reservoir the better. It
can not be too large, but should be not less than four or five times
larger than the reservoir in which the plants and animals are kept.
Any dead matter then will quickly be burned at a low temperature—for
oxygenation by means of the dark reservoir means no more nor less than
the burning up of the effete and decaying particles thrown off by plants
and animals.

It might be profitable for me to tell now how I didn’t succeed with the
first aquarium I undertook.

It was a fine, large structure, capable of holding some twenty gallons.
The sea water was procured, and at low tide a friend went with me to
help carry an assortment of plants and animals. We had read a good deal
about the compensatory properties of these two kingdoms; how the plants
exhale oxygen and inhale carbon, and how the animals inhale oxygen and
exhale carbon, and thus preserve the equilibrium and the purity of the
water. Well, we had good luck in searching tide-pools, and the turning
over of rocks; and we returned loaded with snails, crabs, sea-anemones,
sea-urchins, clams, abelones, date fish, real fish, sea worms (with
beautiful red branchia), and sea weeds, an extensive variety of red,
green and brown, only one or two of which would grow, as I have since
learned, even in the most successful aquarium yet known. There are many
other things that I have forgotten. We had rock-work and sand, and
pebbles of beautiful colors, and a great many _iridea_, a rainbow-colored
sea weed. We intended to imitate one of the beautiful tide-pools we had
seen, and astonish our friends with a little bit of the sea, snatched up
and transported to our quiet room, away from the fog and wind and chill
of the ocean shore. We would willingly have brought the tide and some
waves, if they could have been dwarfed to the dimensions of our tank.
With these and a few other things we might have succeeded, and kept our
aquarium as long as Robert Warrington kept his in London, with unchanged
water, during a period of eighteen years.

But in eighteen hours our animals were all dead or dying; and although
the plants were in proportion—that is, we had an equilibrium—they were
almost equally in as bad a condition as the animals. First the water
began to turn cloudy. We looked at our books for light, but they were
equally obscure. Then we perceived a smell, somewhat like canned oysters,
and this smell grew till it permeated the whole house. We suspected
something wrong, so we emptied the aquarium, filtered the water, threw
away the decaying matter, and put the things in again. But the “muddy
vesture of decay” had covered the stones and entered the crevices, and
in a few hours more we had to cast the contents away. The fact is, as I
have learned since, we had a large number of bruised, broken and bleeding
organisms from the handling in transfer, that the whole ocean’s waters
could not save or heal, much less the little tank of twenty gallons.
There were no waves to carry away the dead matter, no oxygen in the water
to burn it, so it had to be breathed over and over again until the blood
was poisoned and the animal died, because it could breathe such water no
longer. And the plants began to fade and decay because their blood was
also poisoned.

Now let us turn and consider for a moment Nature’s aquarium—the sea. It
covers two-thirds of the earth’s surface, and it has been explored to
the depth of eight miles at places, without finding bottom. The average
depth, however, is about 2½ miles. All this immense mass of salt water
is inhabited with a fauna and flora in a state of nature. That is, the
hand of man has done nothing in the way of taming or cultivating them.
They are absolutely wild, whilst a large part of the earth is subject
to man’s dominion, and he was commanded to subdue it. The herbs and the
trees of the field “shall be for meat,” and his “dominion over the fish
of the sea, and over the fowl of the air,” pronounced at creation, is, as
yet, but partially accomplished. The sea and the air remain as mysteries
unsolved, and as powers unconquered. The cyclone and the tidal wave are
evidences of the untamableness of these elements. “He bindeth up the
waters in thick clouds, and the cloud is not rent under them,” was the
language of some thirty-five centuries ago, and it is equally as true and
expressive to-day.

Although the sea is inhabited at all depths, according to the best
knowledge we have at present much the largest part lies beyond daylight.
Light only penetrates a few fathoms—all below is darkness. This is the
great, deep, cool reservoir from which the upper strata is constantly
renewed by a circulation about which we, as yet, know but little. How
is this circulation kept up? Who has charge of “the doors of the sea?”
Who has “entered into the springs of the sea,” or “walked in search of
the depth?” We have some knowledge in regard to these questions. The
investigations of such men as Edward Forbes, Sir William Thompson, Dr.
Wm. B. Carpenter, Lieut. M. F. Maury, Darwin, Kane, and a host of other
scientific explorers equally as wise and industrious, have solved many
mysteries in regard to the great ocean of salt water, and that lighter
ocean of air that surrounds the earth.

Many years ago Maury wrote some striking and impressive sentences in his
“Physical Geography of Sea,” such as the following:

“Our planet is invested with two great oceans; one visible, the other
invisible; one underfoot, the other overhead; one entirely envelops it,
the other covers about two-thirds of its surface. All the water of the
one weighs about four hundred times as much as all the air of the other.”

Then again in reference to the Gulf Stream he says: “There is a river
in the ocean; in the severest droughts it never fails; in the mightiest
floods it never overflows; its banks and its bottom are of cold water,
while its current is of warm. The Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and
its mouth is in the Arctic Seas. Its current is more rapid than the
Mississippi or the Amazon, and its volume more than a thousand times
greater. Its waters are of an indigo blue. They are so distinctly marked
that their line of junction with the common sea water may be traced by
the eye. Often one-half of the vessel may be perceived floating in Gulf
Stream water, while the other half is in common water of the sea, so
sharp is the line and such the want of affinity between those waters, and
such, too, the reluctance, so to speak, on the part of those of the Gulf
Stream to mingle with the littoral waters of the sea.”

We have all read and doubtless thought a great deal about this wonderful
stream; how England and the shores of the continent are warmed by
this water. But there are other streams equally important, if not so
distinctly marked. Every ocean and sea has its current or currents. As
the waters are warmed by the rays of the sun, they expand and flow away.
But these streams are not very deep, and the Gulf Stream is shallow
compared with the dark, cold current that moves below it, but in an
opposite direction.

    [To be continued.]



As a commercial term the word which heads this article stands for one
of the marked tendencies of the times. Speculation is not a new thing.
Words in the book of Proverbs suggest that the practice may have been
rife twenty-five hundred years ago. “He that maketh haste to be rich
shall not be innocent,” said the wise king; and it was his testimony
that, even then, there was “nothing new under the sun.” But it is safe
to say that seldom in history has a spirit of speculation so potent and
wide-spread appeared among a people as in our own land in recent years.
We often advert to a period in France. It was when John Law deluded
himself, was deluding the people with his gigantic financial schemes.
The “Mississippi Bubble” arose before the eyes of men, a fascinating
thing, and grew larger and larger. Then everybody seemed seized with the
fever of speculation. In 1719 it reached its height. All France was in
a ferment, and every one bent on getting speedily rich. From all parts
of the kingdom, and from other countries, people crowded into Paris to
speculate in the enterprises of Law, who was the idol of the populace,
with more than regal power. The disastrous results to the French nation
flowing from the popular mania of that day are a matter of history, whose
lessons may be pondered. Our country has seen no epoch which could match
that in France of over a century and a half ago. There has been here no
equal national convulsion resulting from the same cause. But the spirit
of speculation to-day is in the air all over the land. We have seen it
grow and widen; we have seen communities agitated by it, and suffering
from its work; we have seen operations of a speculative nature carried
on by our bold and skillful men of affairs, whose magnitude would have
astounded the fathers; and mischievous consequences of speculation we
have seen which were felt in every part of our country. Bishop Butler’s
idea that insanity is not only an affliction of individuals, but likewise
at times of communities, has abundance of historical facts to stand upon.
It is hardly exaggeration to say there have been times when certain of
our communities were beside themselves with the mania of speculation.
The time was, and not very long ago, when a millionaire in America was
almost unknown; now men with a million of money are common enough, and
those with their hundred millions are likely soon to be so. These great
fortunes, we understand, were acquired for the most part by fortunate
speculation. This new western world has presented such a field for
speculation as was never known elsewhere, and of the multitudes who have
entered it, some have had success.

The word speculation is a broad one, and covers an immense class of
transactions. It may do, for a general definition, to say that it means
the risking of money with the hope of gain. The element of contingency
enters into all veritable speculation. The speculator assumes a risk;
he makes a venture; he takes a chance. He may be entirely confident of
gaining, but there is a possibility of his losing. The man who buys a
piece of real estate, or any commodity, expecting that it will rise in
value and he will make money by selling at a higher figure, speculates.
The man who invests money in some undeveloped enterprise, believing it
will prove a “bonanza,” speculates. The man who, in our stock and produce
exchanges, deals in “futures,” and “options,” and “margins,” calculating
upon a contingent rise or fall in the market to return him the amount of
his venture increased, speculates. The man who risks his money in “pools”
at the horse race or rowing match, hoping to double it, the man who tries
his luck on the gaming table, hoping to win, speculates. In making this
classification, however, the writer would not, of course, be understood
as making these different transactions named in a moral point of view
the same. Distinctions will presently be made which it is hoped to the
reader’s mind will be clear.

The great arena of operations in the line of speculation in our land is
found in the Exchanges and Boards of Trade of the cities. These have
become numerous, and of various kinds, and the growth of some of them
has been prodigious. We now have stock exchanges and produce exchanges,
cotton exchanges and oil exchanges and coffee exchanges. Thirty years
ago the Chicago Board of Trade was just making a beginning, and feeble
enough it was at the start. It is now by far the greatest exchange for
produce in the world, and in the year 1882 not less than three billion
dollars’ worth of business was here transacted. A seat in the New York
Stock Exchange costs thirty thousand dollars; and it has been shown that
the yearly transactions of this wonderful mart, represented in dollars
and cents, are but little less than three times “the taxable valuation
of all the personal property in the United States.” Our exchanges have
become marts of speculation. The business now done in them, aside from
that which falls properly into the speculative class, is inconsiderable.
They are not, simply or chiefly, places to which producers bring their
products for sale, and where men buy commodities, and sell at a fixed
advance, which pays for the trouble of handling them. For the most part,
those who trade here buy and sell calculating upon a rise or fall in
the market which shall yield them a gain. Their gain is a contingent
matter; they run the risk of a loss. This is speculation. It is a fact
well understood that, in by far the greater part of the transactions in
our exchanges, there is no veritable buying and selling of merchandise,
the buyer paying the price demanded and receiving his purchase. The
buyer neither pays for nor receives his purchase. His purchase is not
a purchase. With a hundred or two dollars he buys merchandise to the
value of thousands. The fact is, he pays, not for the commodity, but for
a chance to make money from a rise in the price of the same; and his
money goes to insure the one through whom he operates against loss from
fluctuations in the market. On the other hand, the sale of the seller
is not a sale. He sells what he has never seen and never bought. It
is a chance he sells; and if fortune has favored him, he receives the
difference between the price of the commodity at the time of buying and
the time of selling. This is speculation, and something more. To one who
had just come out of a Rip Van Winkle sleep and knew nothing of customs
which in recent years have come into being in our land, there are things
which would be decidedly puzzling. The present production of petroleum
is estimated at about sixty thousand barrels a day; but in the different
oil exchanges of the country nearly one hundred times this amount is
daily bought and sold. Our farmers all together produce only one-fifth
the number of bushels of grain per year as reported as changing hands
in the Chicago Board of Trade; and the hogs of trade here are easily
twice as many as the whole land affords. In the New York Stock Exchange
stocks and bonds are daily bought and sold more by a million dollars’
worth than exist; and the statement has been made that “when the cotton
plantations of the South yielded less than six million bales, the crop on
the New York Cotton Exchange was more than thirty-two millions.” It was
from expressions in the speeches of General Butler upon finance that we
formed the phrase “fiat money;” and it would seem that fiat wheat, and
fiat pork, and fiat cotton, and fiat stocks, and fiat oil abound in the
exchanges of our cities.

It may be well, for the sake of the uninitiated, to attempt an
explanation of certain terms in common use in connection with modern
speculation. A man is “long on the market”—signifies that his buying
has been in excess of his selling. He has oil, or grain, or whatever
the article of merchandise may be, on hand—though perhaps not in fact;
he has bought more than he has sold. A man “sells short”—means that
he sells more than he has bought; he has an amount of merchandise to
deliver in excess of what he has purchased. The trading in “options” has
played an important part in the transactions of our exchanges. “Options”
are of two kinds; buyers’ options and sellers’ options. In the case of
the former, a man engages to take at a stipulated price merchandise to
a certain amount, within a specified time; while the seller’s option
binds one to deliver merchandise as aforesaid. The term “futures” in
significance is not essentially different from “options.” “Puts” and
“calls” are speculative terms which have become very familiar. A person
thinks there is to be a decline in the market. He pays to another a
sum agreed upon for the privilege of “putting” so much of an article
in trade, or disposing of it to him at a price named, within a certain
time—a privilege he may, or may not use, as he sees fit. Or, he believes
the market will advance; and he pays for the privilege of “calling” or
taking so much merchandise, as aforesaid. Buying and selling “on margins”
is very common. In some exchanges the most of the business done is of
this class. The method is easily understood. A man wishes to buy for
speculation, a thousand barrels of oil. He pays into his broker’s hands a
hundred dollars, more or less, and the broker buys the oil. The hundred
dollars is a “margin.” The phrase of trade is “putting up margins.”
The margin is the broker’s security. In case the market falls, and the
oil remains on his hands, it secures him from loss. So much for the
vocabulary and methods of speculation.

But there is an aspect of this large question which must not be
passed by. What is to be said of speculation regarded from a moral
point of view? Unquestionably there is such a thing as legitimate
speculation—speculation which is not to be condemned as morally wrong.
The man who invests money in some commodity, paying for and receiving
it, with the hope that he will be the gainer from its rise in value, it
is right to call a speculator, but not right to call an immoral one.
But there is another kind of speculation. A careful consideration of
some of the practices set forth in this article should convince the
candid that, though there are many good men engaged in them, they can
hardly be justified in the light of the moral law. With regard to the
character of gambling there is no controversy. Every one admits its
immorality. And gambling is a broad genus; its species are many. This
excellent definition has been given of it: “The art or practice of
playing a game of hazard, or one depending partly on skill and partly on
hazard, with a view, more or less exclusive, to a pecuniary gain.” The
old Romans prohibited gambling, not on account of its immoral character
and influence, but because its tendency was to render the people too
effeminate; and for the same cause at first, laws against gambling were
enacted in Great Britain. But in our own land the law forbids gambling of
various forms because it is felt to be a vice, wrong and demoralizing.
We have laws against lotteries and against betting. These, and other
practices, are generally recognized as species of this vice. But our
courts have decided that other things come under the same head, as to
whose character there is not the same general consent. By judicial
decision the person who takes a chance in a “grab-bag” at a church fair
gambles; and in a most unequivocal manner, in the courts of different
states, the opinion has been given that certain popular forms of
speculation are gambling. Our judges have repeatedly said that those who
speculate on “margins,” or trade in “options,” and have to do with “puts”
and “calls,” gamble; and it is difficult to see how the decision can be
gainsaid. Some people may be able easily to see that buying and selling
“on margins” is not playing a game of chance for money; that taking an
“option” is not like buying a ticket in a lottery; and that the method
known as “puts and calls” is not very much the same as betting; but there
are many thinking people who have not the ability.

Just an allusion may be made to a practice of modern speculation, of
which some one has forcibly and truthfully spoken as “exaggerated
gambling.” It is what is known as “cornering the market.” Speculators
by forming a combination gain a control of the market, and force it up
and down to serve their own interests. In this way immense fortunes
have been made. The writer’s limits do not allow of his entering into a
discussion of the methods employed. Heartless, cruel, wicked, are mild
terms to apply to this “exaggerated gambling.” It is true that, by this
cornering of the market, men are “squeezed” and fleeced and ruined who
are not themselves scrupulous as to their methods; but the effects of
the pernicious practice often do not stop with these men. Great corners
in grain markets, by raising the price of bread-stuffs, have resulted
in untold suffering among the poor, and affected in a most unhappy way
the whole country. In 1879 there were two famous corners which will not
soon be forgotten, a corner in wheat, and the “Armour pork corner.” As a
result of these, the price of pork was more than doubled, flour advanced
two dollars a barrel, and there was a general decided rise in value of
the necessaries of life. Millions of money were made, but the loss to the
country was immense, and the suffering occasioned incalculable. It was
estimated, in a report made to a state legislature, that the syndicate
which manipulated the wheat corner was the occasion of a loss to the
public in different ways of not less than three hundred millions. As yet
there is no punishment by the law of the enormity of which these cases
are illustrations.

A final word can hardly be omitted with regard to the effects of
speculation in general upon those engaged in it, and upon communities
where the spirit is rife. Even those who are so hardened that they are
unable to see that certain peculiar forms of it are immoral and wrong, as
is claimed, will hardly deny that speculation is a pursuit which is to be
censured on other grounds. The excitement of it is neither physically,
mentally, nor morally healthful. It has a fascination which is dangerous;
to break away from it comes to be like the Ethiopian’s changing his skin,
or the leopard’s his spots. The cases are sadly frequent where it unfits
one for the enjoyment of home, the pleasures of society, the duties
of the citizen and the Christian. And in a multitude of cases it has
brought those absorbed in it to the mad-house and to an untimely grave.
The judgment of the candid and reflective must be that “making haste
to be rich,” even by ways confessedly proper, is not best. Moreover,
terms too strong can hardly be used in speaking of the harmful effects
upon a community of a spirit of speculation filling the air. There is
seen a feverish condition of things which is not well. Regular business
is neglected; duties are passed by; the action of others is blindly
and rashly followed. And it is always the case that, sooner or later,
to by far the greater number who give way to the spirit and embark in
the glittering speculative schemes, there comes disaster. Communities
could easily be pointed out in whose condition of prosperity strikingly
reversed one might read: “The demon of speculation hath done this.”



What has science said and what is she saying in more modern times on the
question of fact in relation to strong drink and its effect on the world
of life? Let us take some of her more salient teachings first.

In the year 1725 she spoke to the government of this country, stating
that “the fatal effect of the frequent use of several sorts of distilled
spirituous liquors upon great numbers of both sexes is to render them
diseased, not fit for business, poor, a burthen to themselves and
neighbors, and too often the cause of weak, feeble, and distempered
children, who must be, instead of an advantage and strength, a charge
to their country.” Twenty-nine years later, she spoke again through
the mouth of one of her most approved servants, the first inventor of
ventilators, Dr. Stephen Hales. Through this illustrious philosopher she
explained that strong liquors, though called spirituous, are so far from
refreshing and recruiting the spirits, that, on the contrary, they do, in
reality, depress and sink them, and extinguish the natural warmth of the

You will see from these evidences, which could be largely multiplied,
that long ago science spoke strongly by her best speakers on matters of
fact relating to the use of strong drinks. You will note, moreover, that
her utterances in that respect are very urgent against strong drinks. At
the same time you will with fairness reply, “All that is true; but the
argument is so far against excessive use.” We all admit that argument;
doctors admit that universally; statesmen admit it; statisticians prove
that; clergymen who are not abstainers express that; nay, the very
sellers of strong drinks, the gentlemen who sell wholesale, and the
publicans who dispense for the gentlemen, they, too, admit the solemn,
unanswerable truth, that strong drink kills. We therefore need no sphinx
to inform us of what is universally admitted. This, however, we do want
to know. We desire to be informed what is to be said by science on the
moderate use of these agents. Let abuse of them go to the wall; let use
stand forth alone, and let us hear what place this strong drink holds in
relation to man and animals—what place it holds in nature—what good it is
for man—what bad, when it is used in moderation. Let us have the for and

The request is justice itself. There can be no objection whatever to put
the answer of science to the “for” as well as the “against.”

Let us begin by looking at the interpretations of science in her latest
teachings as to the nature of strong drinks. On this point all are now
agreed who speak scientifically. For many ages wine was looked upon as a
distinct drink, as a something apart altogether from water. Strong wine
will take fire; water will quench fire. Wine has a color and sparkles in
the glass; water is colorless and clear as crystal. Wine has taste and
flavor and odor; water is tasteless and odorless. Wine is the blood of
the grape, and in some respects seems akin to the blood of man; water is
of all things least like blood. Wine when drunken makes the face flush,
the eyes sparkle, the heart leap, the pulses sharp, the veins full;
water when drunken does none of these acts, and seems to do nothing but
respond to the natural wish for drink. Wine makes the lips and tongue
parched and dry, the drinker athirst; water keeps the lips and tongue
and stomach moist, and quenches the thirst of the drinker. Wine when it
is taken, sets all the passions aglow and dulls the reason; bids men
enjoy and reason not; water creates no stir of passion, and leaves the
reason free. Wine makes for itself a first and second and third and
fourth claim on the drinker, so that the more of it he takes the more of
it he desires; it is overwhelming in the warmth of its friendship; water
sates the drinker after one draught; makes no further claim on him than
is just consistent with its duty; leads him never to take more and more;
and has no seeming warmth in its friendship. Wine multiplies itself into
many forms, which appear to be distinct; it is new, it is old; it is
sweet, it is sour; it is sharp, it is soft; it is sparkling, it is still;
water is ever the same. Wine must be petted and cherished, stored up in
special skins and special caves, styled by particular names, praised
under special titles, and heartily liked or disliked, like a child of
passion; water, pshaw! it is everywhere; it has one name, no more; it
has one quality; it hurries away out of the earth by brooks and rivulets
and rivers into the all-absorbing sea, where it is undrinkable; or it
pours down from the clouds as if the gods were tired of it; it is no
child of passion! Let the cattle, and the dogs, and the wild beasts alone
drink water. Let the man have the overpowering drink, the blood of the

Alas! for this poetic dream. Science, poetic, too, in her way, but
passionless, destroys in those crucibles of hers, which men call
laboratories, this flimsy dream. There she tells that, when one or two
disguises are removed, even blood is water; as to wine, that is mere
dirty water—sixteen bottles or cups or any other equal measures of water,
pure and simple, from the clouds and earth, to one poor bottle or cup of
a burning, fiery fluid which has been called ardent spirit, or spirit of
wine, or alcohol, with some little coloring matter, in certain cases a
little acid, in other cases a little sugar, and in still other cases a
little cinder stuff.

It is a pitiful fall, but it is such, and science not only declares it,
but proves it so to be. A pitiful let-down, that men throughout all
ages who have called themselves wine-drinkers have been water-drinkers
after all; that men who have called themselves wine merchants have been
water merchants; that men who have bought, and still buy, wines at
fabulous prices have been buying, and still are buying, water. A dozen of
champagne, bought at a cost of five pounds ten shillings, very choice—I
am speaking by the book—consisted, when it was all measured out, of
three hundred ounces, or fifteen pints of fluid, of which fluid thirteen
pints and a half were pure water, the rest ardent spirit, with a little
carbonic acid, some coloring matter like burnt sugar, a light flavoring
ether in almost infinitesimal proportion, or a trace of cinder stuff.
Science, looking on dispassionately, records merely the facts. If she
thinks that five pounds ten shillings was a heavy sum to pay for thirteen
pints and a half of water and one pint and a half of spirit, she says
nothing; she leaves that to the men and women of sentiment and passionate
feeling, buyers and sellers and drinkers all round.



Twenty-eight years have passed since the battle of Bosworth, where the
bitter struggle between the Houses of York and Lancaster ceased with
the defeat and death of Richard the Third. We now come to the three
best-known poems of Sir Walter, viz.: “Marmion,” “The Lay of the Last
Minstrel,” and the “Lady of the Lake,” all grouped together in their
relation to history between the years 1513 and 1560.

It is beyond the scope and purpose of our plan to consider the beauties,
defects or literary characteristics of these poems. We are constrained to
consider them merely as links in the great historic chain. It may occur
to the reader that they have less to do with actual history than the
novels which we have considered; but, as the clear Scottish Lakes framed
in rugged mountains, reflect every outline of rock, forest and shrub,
so these poems framed and set in solid historic facts, reflect clearly
the minutest features of the social feudal life in the reigns of James
the Fourth and James the Fifth of Scotland. It is in fact the peculiar
province of poetry, in all ages, to preserve the domestic habits and
every-day happenings of the people. It would not be rash to assert that
the real life of England and Scotland is better revealed in their ballads
and poems than in their chronicles and histories.

“Marmion” opens about the commencement of August, and concludes with the
battle of Flodden, the 9th of September, 1513. It will be remembered that
Henry the Eighth, at this time, was on the English throne. He sailed
to France in July with a gallant army, where he formed the siege of
Terouenne. During his absence the Scottish King, James the Fourth, urged
by the French Queen, gathered an army to invade the north of England.
He was distinguished for his romantic chivalry, and when the beautiful
Princess of France called him her knight, sent a ring from her own
finger, and requested him “to ride three miles on English ground for
her sake,” the gallant king thought that he could not in honor decline
the request. His fantastical spirit led to his ruin. He met the English
forces at Flodden under the Earl of Surrey, and the Scottish forces were
defeated. It was one of the bravest and fiercest struggles recorded in
Scottish or English history. The battle commenced about four o’clock in
the afternoon and when night came it was still undecided. The Scottish
center kept its ground, and the King fought hand to hand with a bravery
and courage worthy of a better cause. The English lost five thousand,
and the Scotch ten thousand of their bravest soldiers. During the night
the Scottish army drew off in silent despair, when they knew that their
King and bravest nobles lay dead upon the field. Or as Scott poetically
expresses it:

    “Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,
     They melted from the field, as snow,
     When streams are swollen and south winds blow,
     Dissolves in silent dew.
     Tweed’s echoes heard the ceaseless plash,
     While many a broken band,
     Disordered, through her currents dash,
     To gain the Scottish land:
     To town and tower, to down and dale,
     To tell red Flodden’s dismal tale.
     Tradition, legend, tune and song,
     Shall many an age that wail prolong;
     Still from the sire the son shall hear
     Of the stern strife, and carnage drear,
     Of Flodden’s fatal field,
     Where shivered was fair Scotland’s spear,
     And broken was her shield!”

In the description of this battle Scott is true to the minutest points of
history, and throughout the entire poem we breathe the atmosphere of the
feudal ages. His sketch of James the Fourth at Holyrood is a contribution
to historical portraiture. His words seem like side-lights thrown upon
the king’s character, until the chivalry and weakness of the man are
presented in living embodiment.

    “Old Holyrood rung merrily
     That night with wassail, mirth and glee;
     King James within her princely bower
     Feasted the chiefs of Scotland’s power;
     This feast outshone his banquets past;
     It was his blithest—and his last.”

The night of revelry in Edinburgh, preceding the direful battle, may
have suggested to Byron the grand poetic description of the “beauty and
chivalry” convened in Belgium’s capital the night before the battle of
Waterloo. The tradition to which Scott alludes of the ghastly midnight
proclamation at the market cross of Edinburgh, summoning the king by
name, and many of his nobles and principal leaders, to appear before
the tribunal of Pluto within the space of forty days, found indeed sad
realization. The description of “Edinburgh after Flodden,” a poem by
Robert Aytoun, completes the picture, and, in lyrical power, is not an
unworthy postscript to the vigorous canto which finds its culmination in
the last words of the English knight:

    “When Stanley was the cry—
     A light on Marmion’s visage spread,
     And fired his glazing eye;
     With dying hand, above his head,
     He shook the fragment of his blade,
     And shouted ‘Victory!—
     Charge Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!’
     Were the last words of Marmion.”

“The Lay of the Last Minstrel” is related in time to the middle of the
sixteenth century; and the scene is laid in the border country of England
and Scotland. It is sometimes claimed that poetry is not so much the
outgrowth of monastic and studious seclusion as of stirring circumstances
which inflame the imagination. Whether this is true or not, the principle
finds proof in the border country of Scotland—a land of turmoil, poetry
and song. On the English side of the border were strong and stately
castles; on the Scottish side they were constructed for the most part on
a limited scale. A few fortresses, like those of Jedburgh and Roxburgh,
rivaled the Southron defences; but, after the usurpation of Edward the
First, the Scots no longer attempted to defend their borders by strong
places; they relied upon their own courage, and acted upon the familiar
words of Douglas, that “they preferred to hear the lark sing than the
mouse squeak.” In fact many of the strongest fortresses were torn down,
and utterly demolished, that the enemy might not obtain a footing in the
country. The south of Scotland was reduced to a waste desert. Even as
late as the invasion of Cromwell the borders were left in this desolate
condition. The Hall of Cessford, or of Branksome, was on the largest
scale of the border fortresses in Scotland, but could not be compared
with the baronial castles of the northern families of England.

The poem opens with a description of the customs of Branksome Hall, how
nine and twenty knights, with as many attendant squires with belted sword
and spur on heel,

    “Quitted not their harness bright,
     Neither by day nor yet by night;
           They lay down to rest,
           With corselet laced,
     Pillowed on buckler cold and hard;
           They carved at the meal
           With gloves of steel,
     And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.”

That verse is worth a volume of history in emphasizing the irregular
life of the time and place where every man’s charter was his sword. In
the description of William of Deloraine and the holy monk digging up the
grave of the wizard, Michael, Scott reveals the superstition of the times:

    “Slow moved the Monk to the broad flag-stone,
     Which the bloody cross was traced upon;
     He pointed to a secret nook;
     An iron bar the warrior took;
     And the Monk made a sign with his withered hand,
     The grave’s huge portal to expand.”

The adventure with the strange knight on his return, the gathering of the
clans by the beacon light, the English forces drawn up before the castle,
and the decision of the battle by the conflict of single champions, are
all true to the spirit of the times. Everything is so weird and wild
that even the dwarf, the book and magic charms do not seem entirely out
of place in the story. We must remember that it is a land of tradition—a
land aglow with the deeds of the Douglas and the Percy; and those
interested in the Border History will be well repaid by reading carefully
the notes accompanying the poem. It was a labor of love to the author,
for it relates intimately to the valley of the Tweed. Here and there
throughout the poem his enthusiasm breaks out for “the land of brown
heath and shaggy wood—land of the mountain and the flood.” It would seem
like sacrilege not to quote the familiar lines:

    “Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
     Who never to himself hath said,
     This is my own, my native land!”

It is no wonder that Scott struck the chords of the national heart in
this production, for it embodies so much of that unwritten history which
had an oracle at every fireside.

As “Marmion” furnished us with a picture of James the Fourth, so the
“Lady of the Lake” gives us a portrait of his son James the Fifth. He is
said to have been handsome in person, and devoted to military exercises.
He inherited his father’s love for justice, “was well educated, and like
his ancestor, James the First, was a poet and musician.” His first care
on taking the government was to restore the border country, of which
we have just spoken, to something like order. He seized the principal
chieftains and imprisoned them. He executed Adam Scott, known as king of
the border, and John Armstrong, a free-booting chief, to whom the whole
border country paid tribute. He thoroughly subdued these warlike chiefs,
and it passed into a proverb, that “he made the rush bush keep the cow;”
or, in other words, that cattle might remain safely in the fields without
a guard.

He proceeded in the same manner against the Highland chiefs, and reduced
the mountain country to a degree of quiet unknown for generations. Some
of his acts are pronounced cruel by historians, but, in those bitter
times, he was compelled to consider the welfare of the whole nation, and
was compelled to be cruel in order to be kind.

James the Fifth also resembled his father in wandering, now and then,
about Scotland in the dress of a private person. Many pleasing incidents
are related of these royal visits in disguise, and the king in this
way readily discovered the actual sentiments and feeling of the common
people. Scott presents him in the “Lady of the Lake” in this character,
after a long chase through the Highlands, which leaves him alone in the
deep wilds of the Trosachs. His adventure in the disguise of Snowdoun’s
knight, or James-Fitz-James, is doubly interesting as it presents a
trait of the monarch’s character. The world likes true stories. It never
outgrows the question of the child: Did it really happen? This is one of
the marked features of these poems and romances. When we rise from the
reading of Scott’s works we have in our minds something more than a mere
story. We have not only the human qualities of love and friendship, but
also the characteristics and features of the times, or the presentation
of some well-known personage. The sketch of James-Fitz-James, from the
time when he meets Helen Douglas near the margin of the Lake to the
eventful day, when Snowdoun’s knight is revealed to her at Stirling
Castle as Scotland’s King, is the faithful delineation of a real
personage. He is not lifted into a realm of mere fancy, but everything is
real and substantial about him. He is conducted to the island home which
shelters the outlawed Douglas; around the walls hang trophies of the war
and chase; spears, broadswords and battle-axes garnish with rude tapestry
the sylvan hall; he sleeps upon the mountain heather, in the room

    “Where oft a hundred guests had lain,
     And dreamed their mountain sports again.”

There is another character in the poem drawn true to life; that of
the bold mountain chieftain Roderick Dhu, an outlawed, desperate man,
representative of the Gaelic leaders driven back into their mountain
fastnesses. In the harsh treatment which they received alike from kings
and nobles, they found ready excuse for depredation. Scott puts this idea
with great force in the lines of the Gaelic warrior:

    “Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
     I marked thee send delighted eye
     Far to the south and east, where lay,
     Extended in succession gay,
     Deep-waving fields and pastures green,
     With gentle slopes and groves between;—
     These fertile plains, that softened vale,
     Were once the birthright of the Gael;
     The stranger came with iron hand,
     And from our fathers reft the land.
     Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell
     Crag over crag, and fell o’er fell.
     Ask we this savage hill we tread
     For fattened steer or household bread;
     Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,
     And well the mountains might reply,
     ‘To you, as to your sires of yore,
     Belong the target and claymore!
     I give you shelter in my breast,
     Your own good blades must win the rest.’
     Pent in this fortress of the north,
     Think’st thou we will not sally forth,
     To spoil the spoiler as we may,
     And from the robber rend the prey?
     Ay, by my soul! While on yon plain
     The Saxon rears one shock of grain;
     While, of ten thousand herds, there strays
     But one along yon river’s maze,
     The Gael, of plain and river heir,
     Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.”

The poem also reveals the old Highland custom of gathering the clans by
the cross of fire, and there is nothing more dramatic in descriptive
verse than the journey of that flaming cross, as it passes from hand to
hand, calling the mourner from the house of death, and stopping midway
the joyous marriage procession:

    “Fast as the fatal symbol flies,
     In arms the huts and hamlets rise;
     From winding glen, from upland brown,
     They poured each hardy tenant down.
     The fisherman forsook the strand,
     The swarthy smith took dirk and brand;
     With changed cheer, the mower blithe
     Left in the half-cut swath the scythe;
     The herds without a keeper strayed,
     The plow was in mid-furrow stayed,
     The falconer tossed his hawk away,
     The hunter left his stag at bay;
     So swept the tumult and affray
     Along the margin of Achray.”

The personal bravery of the Gael and Saxon is well presented in the
mountain march, and we venture a long quotation, which finds apology not
only in its strength and beauty, but also in the fact that it reveals the
character of the King and the Highland chief. The Saxon says:

    “Twice have I sought Clan Alpine’s glen
     In peace; but when I come again,
     I come with banner, brand and bow,
     As leader seeks his mortal foe.
     For love-lorn swain, in lady’s bower,
     Ne’er panted for the appointed hour,
     As I, until before me stand
     This rebel chieftain and his band!”

    “Have then thy wish!” He whistled shrill,
     And he was answered from the hill;
     Wild as the scream of the curlew,
     From crag to crag the signal flew.
     Instant through copse and heath, arose
     Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
     On right, on left, above, below,
     Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
     From shingles gray their lances start,
     The bracken bush sends forth the dart,
     The rushes and the willow wand
     Are bristling into axe and brand,
     And every tuft of broom gives life
     To plaided warrior armed for strife.
     The whistle garrisoned the glen
     At once with full five hundred men,
     As if the yawning hill to heaven
     A subterraneous host had given.
     Watching their leader’s beck and will,
     All silent there they stood and still.
     Like the loose crags whose threatening mass
     Lay tottering o’er the hollow pass,
     As if an infant’s touch could urge
     Their headlong passage down the verge,
     With step and weapon forward flung,
     Upon the mountain side they hung.
     The mountaineer cast glance of pride
     Along Benledi’s living side,
     Then fixed his eye and sable brow
     Full on Fitz-James; “How say’st thou now?
     These are Clan Alpine’s warriors true;
     And, Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu.”

The entire poem is so true to fact and scenery that it forms to-day a
poetic guide-book to the country about Loch Katrine. The description of
sunset upon the lake, the deep recesses, the lone mountain passes, the
dashing cataracts, impart life, vigor and reality; and every line reveals
the spirit and bravery of highland life.

We have been tempted to give an analysis of the plot of the poem, and
to quote some of the noble passages which Scott speaks through the
honest lips of Helen Douglas and her faithful Malcolm; but it would
have taken us aside from the main purpose of our historic relation. The
events of these poems, as related to the world’s history, are trifling
and insignificant, when compared with the far-reaching policy of Louis
the Eleventh, which formed the frame work of our last paper; and are in
no way prophetic of the great events that follow in the reign of Queen
Mary and Queen Elizabeth, depicted in “The Monastery,” “The Abbott” and
“Kenilworth;” but the rude life of these warlike days has passed into the
world’s poetry, and the reader will trace, through the three poems which
we have considered, the devoted faith of manhood and the abiding love of
womanhood; ay more, perhaps discover a wholesome moral, which ought not
to be unheeded in these days of broadening civilization.



ON THE TERMS ANNUAL AND BIENNIAL.—There is certainly much ambiguity
between the terms annual and biennial. Those plants which germinate in
the spring and die in the autumn are not very different from those which
vegetate in the summer or autumn and flower and die in the succeeding
spring or summer; nor indeed can I see much between them and plants
like _Agave_, which live in a barren state for many years, and then
flower once and die. It seems to be only a question of time required
to concentrate the requisite energy to produce flowers and fruit. True
annual plants may be divided into winter annuals and summer annuals. The
former usually store up nutritive matter in the autumn to supply the
flowering state in the spring; differing in this from summer annuals.
But this is not constantly the case. The _Agave_ is many years doing
this. Although this plant flowers only once, we of course ought to have a
term to distinguish it from the annuals. There are also the plants which
produce stoles rooting at the end, such as the sympodes of _Fragaria_;
in that case the plants are truly perennial. But see such plants as
_Epilobium_, where the buds at the end of stoles alone remain alive
during the winter, and produce the plants of the succeeding year; what
are we to call these? We usually denominate them perennial. Then how
separate them from those which are not aërial, but go through the same
course? Then come such plants as _Orchis_, where a new tuber is formed
by the side of the old one each year, usually at a very short distance
from it, but sometimes at some considerable distance, as in _Herminium_;
and the tuber which has flowered dies. The tuber is therefore a winter
annual. Of course all these ought not to be confounded with the true
perennials, where the same root lives and flowers at least several years
in succession. DeCandolle’s terms, _mono-_ and _poly-carpic_ will not do;
for they convey another idea. _Mono-_ and _poly-tocus_, as suggested by
A. Gray, are better, but here we do not distinguish between _Agave_ and
_Brassica_. And he has not attempted to distinguish these from _Orchis_
(except by calling them perennial, as we all do), or _Orchis_ from
_Fragaria_. Here is a subject of much interest for those to study who pay
attention to such matters.—_Journal of Botany._

       *       *       *       *       *

There is a strange plant with a curious flower growing in the damp
valleys of New Granada, called _Masdevallia chimaera_. It is one of the
unique productions of the vegetable kingdom. This plant has a dense
cluster of thick leaves; the slender flower stems creep along and flower
under the moss or leaves. The flower cup is divided into three lobes, and
is whitish in color, with irregular spots of pink. So fantastic is this
flower that a writer in _La Nature_ says: “In looking at this strange
flower one sees the colors of a nocturnal bird, the form of a large
spider in the middle, with two small, piercing black eyes.”

       *       *       *       *       *

TREES OF LAKE CHAD.—Dr. Nachtigal, in his “African Journeys,”
describes some curious trees that grow in the region of Lake Chad. The
butter-tree, called in that country _toso-kan_, bears a green, round
fruit, ripening into yellow, about as large as a small citron. This
fruit consists of a nut resembling a horse-chestnut in color and in
size, and a palatable, fleshy, smooth-skinned covering like a plum.
The nut affords an oil, which solidifies under a slight decrease of
temperature, and is used throughout North Africa as a substitute for
butter. The _Parpia biglobosa_, of the same region, a leguminous plant,
furnishes an excellent food in its seeds, which are eatable while
still unripe. The ripe seeds contain a thick, saffron-colored marrow,
inclosing black, shining grains. The meal made from them forms, when
mixed with water or milk, a pap, which has a sweet and pleasant taste
at first, but soon cloys. Relieved with sour milk or tamarind-juice, it
forms a dish healthful and enjoyable to all. The wool-tree is the third
characteristic tree of the country. It rises straight up, with thick,
horizontal branches arranged in whorls, one above the other, and derives
its name from its fruit, which bursts like pods of cotton, and discloses
a similar mass of fibers, lustrous and soft as eider-down. This “wool”
is used in stuffing cushions and mattresses and for the wadding-armor of
heavy cavalry. It has the valuable property of never becoming so compact
but that it can be restored to its original volume by a short exposure
to the sun. The tree is a favorite place of refuge for the negroes in
time of danger. Taking their children and goods up with them they secure
an excellent natural fortress among the whorls of its limbs.—_Popular
Science Monthly._

       *       *       *       *       *

Peach leaves curl and wither because of a fungus growth upon their
surfaces. This vegetable parasite often ruins the first crop of leaves
and unless they are replaced by a new growth early in the summer the tree
is injured, often permanently.

C. L. S. C. WORK.


Memorial Days for February: “Special Sunday,” February 10. Read Psalm
xix—an exquisite poem about the Works and the Word of God. “Longfellow
Day,” Wednesday, February 27.

       *       *       *       *       *

The office will send out free to all members of the Circle, within a few
weeks, a copy of “Memorial Days of the C. L. S. C.,” with readings for
those days.

       *       *       *       *       *

Required Readings for February: “Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation,”
by J. B. Walker, completed; Chautauqua Text-Books—No. 21, “American
History,” No. 24, “Canadian History;” “How to Get Strong, and How to
Stay So;” Required Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN in “American History and
Literature,” “Physical Sciences,” “Commercial Law,” “Arts, Artists and
their Masterpieces,” with “Sunday Readings.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Concerning the life of Milton, the following information is received
from a distinguished Professor of English Literature in one of the great
universities of America: “The book you ask for is ‘Milton,’ by Mark
Patterson, B.D., Rector of Lincoln College, Oxford. It is in the ‘English
Men of Letters’ series, edited by John Morley. It is pleasantly written,
interesting, animated, and to the point. A very large work is the
‘Life of Milton in connection with the History of the Times,’ by David
Mason, M.A., LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature in the
University of Edinburgh.”

       *       *       *       *       *

In the organization and conduct of Local Circles, there are developed
many ingenious and useful schemes, devices, exercises, etc. I shall
always be glad to receive suggestions from persons who devise and test
such novelties of method.

       *       *       *       *       *

A California friend writes: “There are doubtless many reading the C.
L. S. C. Course who have not the advantage of Local Circles, and who,
beside, have no friends who are interested in the work with whom they
might correspond. Why would it not be a good plan to form a C. L. S. C.
Correspondence Circle for such as wish to improve themselves in that
way?” Persons desiring such correspondence may send their names, with
postoffice addresses, to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

Members of the C. L. S. C. in Plymouth, Massachusetts, have sent a
fragment of Plymouth rock, which is to be attached with great care to the
banner-staff of the C. L. S. C. Our correspondent says: “Perhaps it would
be of interest to members of the C. L. S. C. in general to know that the
rock is said by geologists to have been brought here from the far north
during the glacial period, and is the only one of its kind on the coast.”
Our correspondent adds: “Our Circle received with much pleasure your
proposal for the C. L. S. C. picnic at Plymouth in 1884, and are ready to
enter into any plan which you may suggest.” We hope to have that picnic
in June.

       *       *       *       *       *

A New England woman writes: “I know mothers with from four to six little
children, who take the Chautauqua course, and find that economized time
is a gain in all things, while their homes are as scrupulously tidy, and
their social relations as well sustained, as if they had not undertaken

       *       *       *       *       *

An old lady 68 years of age dreads “the _examination_ of the C. L. S. C.”
Does she not know, or will not some one tell her that, while we desire
thoroughness of work, and while we do provide a university course with
rigid examinations for those who are qualified to attempt it, the C.
L. S. C. does not require any “examination” whatever? It requires the
reading of certain books, and the statement to the central office that
they have been read. It also desires the filling out of certain memoranda
which are not in any sense examination papers. Let us encourage the
fearful, that they may join the Circle, prosecute the readings, catch the
inspiration, receive the diploma, and continue through the coming years
to read the appointed books!

       *       *       *       *       *

A distinguished educator and personal friend of other years, resident in
Kingston, Jamaica, writes: “I think I have hit on the way to introduce
reading matter into the homes of our peasantry. In some districts where
a minister or intelligent schoolmaster will take hold of the affair, I
get a number of people, (from ten to twenty) to subscribe one shilling
(twenty-five cents) each. With this money I send for a number of
illustrated monthly papers, costing with postage, two shillings each
_per annum_. These are circulated among the subscribers, each keeping
the paper a week. In the course of the year I get the reading of what
would otherwise have cost ten shillings to secure. Many that could not be
induced to pay two shillings for the exclusive use of one would venture
upon one shilling for the privilege of reading many papers.”

       *       *       *       *       *

D. Lothrop & Co. consent to make an edition of “The Hall in the Grove”
at seventy-five cents, binding it in strong manilla cover, for the use
of the C. L. S. C., which decision enables us to retain “The Hall in the
Grove” on our list.

       *       *       *       *       *

A good housewife writes: “My fall work out door is about done. My corn is
all gathered, and the two pigs are ready for killing. As soon as it is
colder I shall be ready to go to work in earnest. You would laugh to see
me at work in the garden, about my potatoes and onions, and then coming
in, getting dinner and making my toilet, taking my embroidery and sitting
down to earn a few cents beside what I can raise. Agriculture, science
and art, are in reality connected. Then there is a basket of Christmas
gifts yet to make for the Sunday-school children, by myself, and I have
just done re-papering a small room that I may read, write, and work with
comfort. I buried my aged husband September 23. He was nearly 84 years
old. We were nearly forty years married.”

       *       *       *       *       *

All new Circles should report at once to the C. L. S. C. office,
Plainfield, N. J.; and if any of the members know of Circles not
reported, please send names and address of the officers at once. We are
anxious to get all the Local Circles on our list.

       *       *       *       *       *

The number of class 1884 enrolled was about 7,000; motto, “Press
forward—He conquers who wills;” badge old gold. Class 1885 numbers about
6,000; the president writes that the motto will probably be, “We press
on, reaching after those things which are before;” badge lavender. Class
1886 numbers over 14,000; motto, “We study for light to bless with
light;” badge white. Class 1887 numbers about 12,000 at present, and
“still they come;” motto, “Neglect not the gift that is in thee;” badge



The required readings for February include “Philosophy of the Plan of
Salvation,” from chapter xv to the end of the book; “How to Get Strong
and How to Stay So,” by William Blaikie; Chautauqua Text-Books, No. 21,
American History, No. 24, Canadian History, and the Required Readings in

       *       *       *       *       *

_First Week_ (ending February 8).—1. “Philosophy of the Plan of
Salvation” from chapter xv, to section 6, page 187.

2. “How to get Strong,” the first four chapters.

3. German History and Selections from German Literature in THE

4. Sunday Readings for February 3, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Second Week_ (ending Feb. 15).—1. “Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation,”
from page 187 to chapter xvii.

2. “How to Get Strong,” from chapter v, to chapter ix.

3. Readings in Physical Science and Commercial Law, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

4. Sunday Readings for February 10, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Third Week_ (ending February 22).—1. “Philosophy of the Plan of
Salvation,” from chapter xvii, to the supplementary chapter.

2. “How to Get Strong,” from chapter ix, to “The Abdominal Muscles,” on
page 218.

3. Readings in Art, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

4. Sunday Readings for February 17, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Fourth Week_ (ending February 29).—1. “Philosophy of the Plan of
Salvation,” from page 259 to the end of the book.

2. “How to Get Strong,” from page 218 to the end of the book.

3. History of the United States and Selections from American Literature,

4. Sunday Readings for February 24, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.


=Ontario= (Picton).—The Picton branch of the C. L. S. C. held its second
meeting for 1883-84 on the evening of November 19. We start on the new
year with an increased membership of twelve, and also with a greater
degree of enthusiasm in the prosecution of our studies. Our membership
now reaches thirty-nine, representing the classes of ’84, ’85, ’86, ’87.
The program for the evening’s entertainment consisted of selections
bearing on the life and character of Martin Luther; two papers, one on
art, condensed from THE CHAUTAUQUAN, the other on the lives of Philip
and Alexander; an interesting and animated conversation on the works of
Oliver Wendell Holmes, and quotations from the same, which were given
by most of the members; the quotations in the November number of THE
CHAUTAUQUAN on Grecian history, singing of selections from Chautauqua
songs, and a solo by one of our members, which closed a very interesting
and instructive entertainment.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Maine= (Calais).—When the news of the C. L. S. C. movement, and the
advantages it offered for home study reached Calais, it was hailed
with delight by three teachers, who enrolled themselves as members of
the class of ’83. These kept up the work till last year, when they
were joined by seven members of the class of ’86. During the winter
and spring we held informal meetings monthly at the houses of the
members. We received so much benefit from these that, in September, we
met and organized a Local Circle. Our officers consist of a president,
vice-president, secretary and treasurer, with an executive committee of
three, whose duty it is to prepare programs for the meetings. We hold our
meetings fortnightly in the parlor of the Congregational Church, which
a good friend rented for us. We now number about thirty members, and a
good deal of enthusiasm is shown in the work. Our programs consist of the
questions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, readings from some of the authors studied,
papers on important events and persons considered, etc.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Vermont= (West Brattleboro).—The Pansy branch of the C. L. S. C. was
organized on the evening of September 13, with officers consisting of
president, secretary and executive committee, chosen for three months. By
commencing thus early we were enabled to have the books on hand, and be
in complete working order by October 1. We began with twelve names, and
have since increased the list, until we now have enrolled sixteen regular
and eleven local members, all of class ’87, and who have entered upon the
Course with an earnest purpose to do their best to cultivate “the gift”
that is in them. We have as yet settled upon no definite plan for our
weekly meetings, but have been experimenting to find what exercises were
best fitted to our needs and capacities. We have had at different times
reading from THE CHAUTAUQUAN, essays, one minute oral reports on subjects
previously assigned, quotation exercises, question boxes, etc. Bryant’s
memorial day was also appropriately observed. We always close with
the song so familiar and dear to all who have heard it in the Hall of
Philosophy, “Day is Dying in the West,” followed by prayer. November 21
was a “red letter day” in our annals, because it was then our privilege
to listen to a lecture by Dr. Vincent. The members of both our local
circles, numbering about seventy-five persons, sat in a body in the hall,
and the “salute” was given heartily. After the lecture the Doctor was so
kind as to improvise an informal reception, and give us a short address
concerning our C. L. S. C. work, together with the pleasure of a personal
meeting with him, and we parted feeling grateful for the renewed courage
and ardor with which we shall continue the year’s reading, and for the
increased opportunities for culture that have been made possible to us by
the founder of the C. L. S. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts= (Lowell).—On the evening of September 26, 1883, about
twenty persons met in the vestry of the Eliot Church and formed a local
circle. Some have left, while others have joined. We have now thirteen
local members and ten regular members. We adopted the “Proposed plan for
a Local Circle,” given in the Chautauqua Text-book No. 2, with slight
changes. Our meetings are held on Monday evenings, every two weeks. They
are very interesting and profitable. There are four other local circles
in Lowell, and we intend to hold union meetings on the memorial days.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts= (West Haverhill).—About twenty from this vicinity were
privileged to attend the Assembly at Framingham, Mass. Of course we came
home all aglow with enthusiasm for the C. L. S. C. Early in October we
held a public meeting, thus adding some new names to our list. We now
have a membership of twenty-five. Our meetings are well attended and
interesting. We start out on this year of work with fresh courage and
hope, and with strong faith in the C. L. S. C. as a means of blessing to
all who engage in its work.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Massachusetts= (New Bedford).—The pastor of the Allen Street M. E.
Church of this city suggested the formation of a local circle to a few
young people of his parish last fall. He proposed that a meeting should
be held in the vestry of the church every two weeks for a review of study
and for mutual benefit. He called an organization meeting on the first
of October, and when the evening was over there were thirty-three names
enrolled. He presented a constitution which was adopted. A president,
secretary, treasurer and committee of instruction were elected. This
committee of instruction consists of the officers and three ladies. One
of these persons, with any two members of the circle whom he or she may
select, arranges the program for each meeting. We have had four regular
meetings, each of which has been attended by from forty to sixty
persons—members of the Circle and their friends. Each evening we have
had original papers on topics suggested by the study, tests, suitable
poems, songs, etc. We have now forty-two members, ranging in years from
fourteen to fifty. It was a little undecided at first what we should
call ourselves, but it seemed like such an earnest band of workers,
some one suggested we should be the “Philomaths.” We all praise the
Chautauqua movement for the precious advantages it offers to all “lovers
of learning.”

       *       *       *       *       *

=Connecticut= (Westville).—Our circle was formed in January, 1883.
Although we had lost three months’ study, the year’s work was finished
before July. We review all our reading in our meetings, held once in
two weeks, the members taking turns in conducting the reviews, and
dividing an evening’s work between three or four. We started with seven,
all regular members, and now number fourteen, ten of whom are regular
members. We enjoy our Chautauqua meetings very much, and as none of us
like to miss them, we have a good attendance.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New York= (Brooklyn).—We have lately organized a circle in the midst
of this great city, which is the outcome of many informal meetings of
resident members of the class of 1887. The proposition to form ourselves
into an organized branch of the grand Chautauqua Circle was received with
uproarious applause, and the manner in which every member lent his aid
in arranging the details, bespoke the individual enthusiasm in the work.
The program for our next meeting is as follows: Opening exercises; essay,
“The Persian Wars;” remarks by the president on collateral themes; essay,
“The Establishment of the Athenian Democracy;” speech by the treasurer
upon subjects of his own choice; questions and answers; essay, “The Age
of Pericles;” concluding exercises, which are very entertaining.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New York= (Mount Kisco).—The Mount Kisco C. L. S. C. was organized
in October, 1882. We meet in the rooms of the Lyceum, bi-monthly. The
circle is made up of ten members, all enthusiastic, ardent workers in the
field of science and literature. We recite, in concert, the answers to
the questions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, the leader reading the questions. The
readings for the last two weeks are then discussed. We try to make our
meetings quite informal, believing that restraint will thus be avoided.
Our officers consist of a president, vice-president and secretary.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New York= (Greenwich).—Our class of ’86 have semi-monthly meetings.
During October and November we used the questions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. One
of our members gave the geography of Greek History from a large map, and
others read from American Authors, Demosthenes’ Orations, etc.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New York= (Newark Valley).—On October 17 we organized a local circle of
the C. L. S. C., and though our regular members number but twelve, yet
we have some very interesting and instructive meetings; upon the whole
a very enthusiastic club. Our plan is briefly this: We meet once in two
weeks, and after a Chautauqua song, and prayer, have two or three essays
and recitations; then general class exercises in Greek History, or the
current subject, a question box, and free criticisms.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Pennsylvania= (Canonsburg).—Although Canonsburg had what we would call
a flourishing circle last year, we gave it no christening. We had a
membership of twenty-five. We purchased the Geological Charts, which were
a great help to the imagination in filling up the incredible proportions
of those monsters of past ages. While we were studying astronomy we had
the pleasure and profit of hearing a lecture on “The planet Jupiter,” by
Professor McAdam, of Washington College. After the lecture the Professor
kindly joined the class in the yard, and spent an hour in tracing the
constellations. The examination papers were promptly answered. The year
closed with an ice cream supper, when we spent the evening socially, and
sang many of the Chautauqua songs. September 19 we organized for another
year’s work with fifteen members. One of our members on going to Alabama
organized a circle there. Others who have left us are still reading. We
open our meetings with Scripture readings and roll call, at which each
member responds by a motto. We use the questions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, and
recite the Required Reading by topic. We play the Chautauqua Games, and
we would say to all circles, “Get games.” At the close of each meeting a
few minutes are allowed for criticisms, in which all take part.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Pennsylvania= (Ridley Park).—At the call of a few of our literary loving
people last spring, a preliminary meeting relative to the establishment
of a local circle was held at the Ridley Park Seminary, and at least
forty people assembled to hear the explanation of the principles embodied
in the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, as given by Mr. Wm.
Curtis Taylor, a gentleman to whom our people are much indebted for
their present literary inspiration. At a second meeting held a week
or two following, a permanent organization was effected and officers
elected. This circle, while it centers at Ridley Park, is not exclusively
confined to this place, but extends a halo as it were around a circuit
of probably ten miles. We are even represented in Philadelphia and
Wilmington, Delaware. Holding our meetings but once a month, and having
our membership so thoroughly scattered, we have found it a good plan to
establish what we term sub-circles, which hold their meetings about once
a week. These are presided over by chairmen appointed by our president,
and comprise at this time three sub-circles—Ridley Park, Sharon Hill,
and Philadelphia. At our last meeting, November 6, to each of these
was assigned some question for consideration, upon which one of their
members is expected to write an essay, and the sub-circle itself be
prepared to answer any questions propounded by the other sub-circles on
its particular subject. For example, the Ridley Park sub-circle which has
been assigned the subjects of History and Art, will be prepared to answer
whatever questions may be asked by the members of the other circles.

       *       *       *       *       *

=New Jersey= (Newark).—At a meeting held October 8, a local circle was
organized, called the “Central,” composed of about thirty members. The
meetings are held fortnightly, the exercises being varied from time
to time. In part they consist of essays and reading of short extracts
from the best authors, varied by discussions as to the best methods of
pursuing the appointed studies. An executive committee of five, appointed
by the president, holding the office for one year, determine the nature
of the exercises and make the necessary appointments. There are at least
four local circles in the city.

       *       *       *       *       *

=District of Columbia= (Washington).—At the earliest moment “Union”
C. L. S. C. reorganized for their third year of study. Nearly every
member was present, and there were a number of new recruits. One of
the circle gave a graphic description of a visit to Chautauqua, of
its surroundings and methods of work, thus creating an enthusiasm and
a determination among the members to do thorough work and win their
diplomas by honest endeavor. When they come to Chautauqua, as they will
in 1885, they wish to feel that they can justly and proudly march through
the Arches—true Chautauquans. The circle meets every Thursday evening
at the residence of one of the members, and the exercises are opened by
singing the Chautauqua songs as found in the _Assembly Herald_, with
organ accompaniment, after which the subject of the lesson is discussed
in a conversational way, by questions and answers and by essays by the
members. As all are working members and realize that application is
profitable, our meetings seldom lack in interest.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Maryland= (Baltimore).—The “Eutaw” branch of the C. L. S. C. held its
November meeting in the cheerful parlors of the church parsonage, Rev. H.
R. Naylor, D.D., and family as hosts. The exercises opened with singing
and prayer. The president of the branch, after a few explanatory remarks,
stated that the occasion was especially significant and interesting
in that Miss Bessie G. Thomson, a member of our circle, had completed
the required course of Reading, and had received her diploma to that
effect, and would deliver before the Circle a valedictory address. After
the address our president favored the circle with a conversazione upon
the value of an education, abounding in apt quotations and valuable
suggestions. This was followed by Bryant memorial readings. The very
pleasant entertainment closed by a display of pictures of travel by one
of our number who has recently returned from Europe.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Ohio= (Athens).—Our local circle held its first meeting this year, on
October 1, with twenty members present. The leaven is working gradually,
and each year we are able to record a number of new members, as well as
an increased enthusiasm among the older ones. “The Irrepressibles” are
well represented, but this term might, with propriety, be applied to
all our members, as they have fairly won it by indefatigable zeal and
industry. We have lost two of our members during the last year; one has
removed to another part of the state, the other has gone to join the
school above. Mrs. Alice S. Sloane was a member of the class of ’84, and,
although an invalid at the time of taking the course, never ceased to
keep up her reading until within a few months of her death. Her interest
in the work was remarkable in one so afflicted, and whenever opportunity
offered itself, she urged upon others the importance of accepting the
advantages offered in this course.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Ohio= (St. Mary’s).—Our C. L. S. C. was organized the first week in
October, 1882. We commenced with seven members, but one of whom had been
at Chautauqua during the summer. One was a graduate of the class that
year. At the close of the year we numbered fourteen. Attendance good.
In alphabetical order each one takes charge of the exercises for the
afternoon, asks the questions in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, and calls upon each
member for a view of the topic assigned them in the Required Reading,
these topics having been given out at the previous meeting. We keep the
Memorial Days, and must say our members are quite enthusiastic in the
work. We have had no lectures, etc., as yet, but hope to some time in the

       *       *       *       *       *

=Indiana= (Brazil).—We have organized a C. L. S. C. at this place with
about twenty members, and the prospect is that several more will unite
with us. There is an unusual degree of interest manifested. We call our
circle the “Philomathean.” This is the first circle ever organized here,
though a few of the members have been reading for two and three years.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Illinois= (Carlinville).—We have an enthusiastic local C. L. S. Circle
at this place of fifteen members, five of whom belong to the general
Circle, and to the class of ’84. We elect president, vice-president and
secretary every two months; critic and question committees serve for one
month. The latter furnish questions requiring verbal answers, or papers,
as case may be. At roll call each responds with items of news quotations,
or something of interest, short. Bryant’s Day roll call was responded to
by a quotation from his writings by each. On Luther’s memorial day each
one had something to say of him. We derive much profit and pleasure from
every part of the course, and think it most admirably arranged.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Illinois= (Rushville).—The “Vincent” branch of the C. L. S. C. meets
semi-monthly, and we are happy to say that our interest is unabated. This
is our second year, and although we have lost several members by removal,
and two have taken up a collegiate course, we still have an enthusiastic
membership of fifteen. We have a president, vice-president, secretary
and treasurer. Our order of exercises varies. At our last meeting we had
read Dr. Talmage’s lecture on “Happy Homes,” delivered at Chautauqua.
Some of our members took the _Daily Herald_ during the Assembly, and we
have laid in store many good lectures which will be read at the circle
during the winter. We advise all members to take the _Herald_ another
year if they want to enjoy what is next best to going to Chautauqua—that
is, hearing all about it. The items from other local circles are read
with great interest.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Illinois= (Yorkville).—The local circle of our town was reorganized
this year with thirty members. The officers consist of a president and
secretary, both of whom hold office for a period of one month. The
president appoints a teacher for each branch of study, and critics on
language and pronunciation are appointed for each meeting. Every one
feels a deep interest in the work.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Michigan= (Decatur).—For two winters some ladies of our town have had
a class for the study of history, the members thinking they could not
take the time necessary for the Chautauqua course. The meetings were
pleasant and instructive, but during the past summer one and another of
the class, and some not belonging to it, determined to take the C. L.
S. C. readings. Accordingly a “Pansy” circle was organized October 1.
Various reasons prevented our meeting again for nearly three weeks, but
since that time we have had regular weekly meetings. They are not weakly,
however, for with most of the circle the readings have been studies.
Our president, who by the way is a member of the class of ’84, and has
studied alone for three years, tells us that we do more studying than any
circle she has known. We have ten members and two “local members,” and
hope for additions to our number. We think the “Chautauqua Idea” a grand
one. May it run the wide world through.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Wisconsin= (Milwaukee).—The “Delta” circle, of this city, reorganized
October 2. Last year we numbered but sixteen, and this year we have
enrolled over thirty, of whom twenty-five are regular members of the
C. L. S. C. Our officers consist of a president, vice-president and
secretary, elected annually; also a referee, elected monthly, who
is expected to be able to settle doubtful questions in regard to
pronunciation, etc. Meetings are held once a week at the homes of the
members. We follow the outline of studies published in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.
Our exercises consist generally of a review of the week’s reading,
conducted by a leader who is appointed two weeks in advance, and who
assigns topics, allowing one week for preparation. We try to make our
meetings as informal and conversational as possible. It is at the
pleasure of the leader to vary the exercises as much as he chooses. Our
last evening was devoted to political economy, the leader having arranged
for a discussion on “Free Trade versus Protection,” in which six members
participated. The interest in the circle is constantly increasing.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Wisconsin= (Elkhorn).—At the close of last June the local circle at
Elkhorn seemed at its lowest ebb. Owing to removals, sickness, and other
reasons, only two remained out of the six who started in January, 1882,
who were able to attend the regular meetings, and when one of them
removed in September to Milwaukee, the remaining member almost forgot
our class motto, “Never be discouraged,” for among her acquaintances
there was apparently but little interest in the C. L. S. C., and she
seemed doomed to plod on alone. In October, without any _great_ effort
on the part of any one, there sprang into being a full-fledged local
circle of nine members. This circle had been in existence under the name
of the “Elkhorn Mutual Improvement Society,” for two years, and some
good work had been done in English History and Literature, but now an
inspiration seized the members to take up the C. L. S. C. studies, and
the society was reorganized without a change of name, and retaining the
old constitution nearly intact, into a C. L. S. C. local circle. Some of
the members entered upon the studies with misgivings, lest they should
not be able to do the work, but so far the work has been easier than was
anticipated, and the circle, as a whole, is doing it enthusiastically
and thoroughly. The main cause of this renewal of interest in the C.
L. S. C. may be fairly traced, I think, to the influence of the Monona
Lake Sunday-school Assembly, whose sessions at Madison last August were
attended by two members of the “Mutual Improvement Society.”

       *       *       *       *       *

=Wisconsin= (Milwaukee).—The C. L. S. C. is booming here. The “Bay View”
local circle recently organized by Rev. B. F. Sanford has thirty members,
and has live meetings. This one and one on the south side are part of the
result of Dr. Vincent’s late visit.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Iowa= (Muscatine).—The local paper of Muscatine says: There is probably
no town of its size where so much genuine literary taste abounds in
society, as in Muscatine. Last evening, the third Chautauqua circle
was organized with a membership of twenty-five, and the other two are
flourishing like green bay trees. It will be said by the cynic that these
organizations lack true _cultus_ and real literary taste, the cultivated
man and woman having little occasion to put themselves under an arbitrary
discipline to compel the prosecution of their reading or study, and
feeling little sympathy for a movement that violates the sacred privacy
between author and reader, and refusing to submit their literary tastes
to the procrustean exercise of any man’s dictation. We have heard these
things said against the Chautauqua system, but if a tree is to be known
by its fruits, there can be but one opinion of an organization that is
rearing so many youth of our land of both sexes in the cultivation of
their mental powers and graces, informing them in history, philosophy
and art, bringing them betimes to the streams of pure literature, and
accomplishing them so thoroughly in their wide range of study as to make
them authorities everywhere by reason of the universality and accuracy of
their attainments. It is thus that we find the advanced Chautauquans whom
we have the honor to meet, and so are they impressing themselves upon the
whole country.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Dakota= (Yankton).—Our circle of ten or twelve members has had an
existence of something more than a year. Our meetings, held once in two
weeks, are intensely interesting and instructive, and each member seems
enthusiastic in appreciation of the work. The interest has been such
that one of our most difficult problems has been how to condense the
discussion of the various points of interest in our studies, in order to
close at a reasonable hour.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Dakota= (Faulkton).—The former president of the C. L. S. C. work in
Muscatine (Iowa) has removed to Dakota. The following notice from the
Faulkton (Dakota) _Herald_ proves that Chautauqua has not been forgotten:
Last Friday evening a goodly number assembled at the residence of Major
J. A. Pickler to discuss the advisability of forming a Chautauqua circle
in Faulkton, and all appeared to be highly interested in having a society
here. After some few remarks the Chautauqua circle was organized with
Mrs. J. A. Pickler, president.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Kansas= (Leavenworth).—This is our second year. We organized in March,
and although five months behind, we succeeded in completing the first
year’s work; but were thereby compelled to double the lessons and omit
the observance of the Memorial Days, and the following of the admirable
plan laid down in THE CHAUTAUQUAN; but are now marching ahead with the
class of ’86, and find the enthusiasm somewhat increased. Our meetings
are conducted on the conversational plan, being led by one of the best
instructors, a former Professor in our public schools. We find it
more interesting to assign portions of the lesson to each member for
discussion. We appoint a critic at each meeting, and at the close of
the lesson he brings his criticisms before the circle. On Memorial Days
we briefly discuss the life of our character, and give our individual
opinions in regard to his characteristics, and each member gives a
selection or quotation from one of his works. This is the fourth year for
one of our members, who, before the organization of the circle, pursued
the course alone.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Nebraska= (Omaha).—Early in September a temporary organization of the
C. L. S. C. was effected in our city, and the objects and requirements
of the course were explained by an old Chautauquan. Shortly after,
Dr. Vincent visited us, and by special request addressed the would-be
Chautauquans, arousing the intelligent enthusiasm of a large number
of listeners. A meeting was called at an early date, at which time
the circle was permanently organized, officers elected, constitution
and by-laws adopted, books ordered, and the “Omaha” C. L. S. C. was
ready for work. By the help of several old Chautauquans the ’87s are
greatly encouraged. The entire membership are highly pleased with
the course of study, and are determined to complete the course. The
program committee is appointed monthly, thereby affording great variety
in the order of exercises. Thus far in our work we have profitably
used individual recitations, concert drills, essays, conversations,
round-tables, readings, addresses, spelling matches, etc. So great has
been the interest shown, that notwithstanding regular meetings are held
semi-monthly, extra meetings have been demanded. The committee aims to
secure thorough and systematic reviews at each meeting of all subjects
studied, and are meeting with admirable success in this attempt. The
Chautauqua University is gaining power and popularity in the “Gate City,”
and other circles are being organized in our midst.

       *       *       *       *       *

=California= (Vallejo).—The circle of the Chautauqua University formed
in this town is progressing finely. Meetings are held regularly, and the
studies of the previous week are profitably and thoroughly discussed.
From the nature of the work, and the interest manifested in the same,
there is every assurance that our circle, which now numbers seven, will
increase. Did the people but know the advantages, the real, genuine
benefits to be derived through the C. L. S. C., I have no hesitancy in
saying that we would not only have the above number of members, but that
number of circles in the town.


The local circle reports from the south are so encouraging that we can
not refrain from devoting an extra corner to them alone. Most zealously
must the friends of the movement have worked to have produced such
abundant results. Circles have been reported this year from:—

Hardinsburgh, Kentucky; president, Miss Anna L. Gardiner; secretary, Miss
Anna R. Bassett.

Jackson, Tennessee; president, Rev. F. P. Flanniker; vice-president, B.
S. McClaren; secretary, T. J. Porter.

Murfreesboro, Tennessee; secretary, H. H. Clayton, Jr.

Richmond, Virginia; chairman, Wm. M. Coulling.

Memphis, Tennessee; secretary, E. M. Schwalmeyer.

Oxford, Mississippi; secretary, Miss Mattie E. Dennis.

Also from the following places, though officers are not given: Fort Worth
and Bonham, Texas; Petersburgh, Virginia; Slaughterville, Kentucky;
Spartansburg, South Carolina.

Two circles from Washington, D. C.; secretary of one is Frank P. Reeside,
1219 D. Street, S. W.; of the other, Miss Nettie Love. Making _seven_
circles now reported as at work in Washington, D. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

In Independence, Missouri, there is a circle of forty-seven members.

       *       *       *       *       *

From Nashville a lady writes: “The ‘Nashville’ local circle of the C.
L. S. C. was organized at the rooms of the Y. M. C. A. the latter part
of September, with a membership of about twenty. We have had three very
interesting meetings, consisting of essays, lectures, questions on the
lessons, etc. We meet every two weeks at the Y. M. C. A. rooms. We intend
to give all the time we can to the work. All the members are deeply

       *       *       *       *       *

The secretary of a new circle in Salem, North Carolina, says: “We
organized a circle in Salem on November 3, consisting of twenty-eight
members, which has since increased to thirty-two. A president,
vice-president and secretary were appointed. These officers, with
a committee of two on instruction, are to arrange programs for
entertainment at the monthly meetings of the circle. For the first
meeting of the circle the program consists of reviews, in the form of
questions given to each member, readings and recitations, also music. We
began the readings in October, and have divided ourselves into a number
of small circles for the more careful study of the weekly readings. So
far we greatly enjoy the readings, and hope to derive profit from them,
both in the increase of knowledge and improvement of literary taste.”

       *       *       *       *       *

A gentleman who writes to Dr. Vincent from Richmond, Virginia, says in
regard to the C. L. S. C.: “I believe there is a great field here, and
that one with time to devote to it could do a great deal of good. I
have every reason to believe that the leading paper here would do all
in its power to help forward such a work, and I think that some of the
Professors at the Richmond College would be willing to deliver a course
of lectures. My idea is that by having numbers of little circles—or
rather segments—formed in different parts of the city, a large, general
circle could be formed, such general circle to meet once in two weeks
for the purpose of hearing lectures, etc. The smaller societies could of
course meet every week in their own localities, for discussion of the
course being read. I think there is a desire for something of this kind
in the minds of a great many people here, and I have very ambitious ideas
as to the future of such a society. I would like quite a large number of
C. L. S. C. circulars for distribution here as soon as possible.”

       *       *       *       *       *

A circle of ’87s was organized in September at Jackson, Tennessee.
Thirty-five members, two ministers, two lawyers, two editors, eleven
teachers, merchants, etc. The circle has about as many ladies as
gentlemen, and holds a meeting every Monday evening from 7:30 to 10
o’clock, at a private residence. The studies for the week are taken up
in order. Essays, discussions, lectures, query box, music, declamations,
etc., constitute the program. Each exercise is limited to fifteen
minutes, and every member prepares his exercise as he desires. Some have
drawn maps of Greece at its different historical stages. One evening
each month is devoted especially to some study which has been completed.
American Literature was first Monday in December. Mark Twain, Hawthorne,
Longfellow, Holmes and Whittier were treated by lectures and discussions.


Held in the Hall of Philosophy August 9, 1883.


DR. VINCENT: There are persons in this world who unite in purely literary
and intellectual enterprises. The union creates a sort of literary
friendship. There are people who unite in sympathy, loving a common
object, sharing in sorrow, sharing in joy, creating a friendship full of
sentiment. There are people in this world who are united in practical
efforts. They have a common aim. They agree upon a method; they coöperate
for the result, and this is practical friendship.

The charm of the C. L. S. C. is found in this, that it is a union in
intellectual and literary activity, a union in affection, a union in
practical aim and service. It aims to do three things:—To cultivate the
intellect, to cultivate the heart, and to develop the executive forces of
our natures. By this three-fold bond we are united as members of the C.
L. S. C. We meet this glad day in this beautiful grove, under the play
of this charming sunshine; we meet to remember, we meet to rejoice, we
meet to resolve. And as the years go by may our memories grow sweeter,
our rejoicing more intense, and our resolves stronger. And as we meet
from year to year “to study the words and the works of God,” let us try
“to keep our Heavenly Father in the midst.” The blending of the mottoes,
felicitous only as a blending of mottoes, does not express the whole
theological truth I would convey.

Mr. Robertson said, in writing one of his charming letters to his
brother, “I have through all these years been seeking God, and I am just
awakening to the fact that all these years it is God who has been seeking
me.” We need not try to keep our Heavenly Father in the midst. In the
boundlessness of his grace, he is glad to come into the midst and here
to abide, and if we have any longing of heart after him, however feeble
it may be, it is because he is already there, breathing into us his own
life, and giving to us a measure of his own joy. Let us pray to him.

We thank thee, our Father, that through the year thou hast been with
us, and that thou hast guided us; that in hours of prosperity thou hast
held us, and in hours of sorrow thou hast given us comfort. And on this
beautiful afternoon, in this sacred place, we meet and make mention of
thy name and of thy love. We thank thee for thy great kindness to us. We
confess our great sinfulness against thee, and our utter unworthiness
before thee. We ask for the gifts of grace which thou art ready to
bestow, and we open our hearts by the leadings of thy spirit, that thy
spirit may enter in and abide with us.

Bless the homes we represent; bless the circles of which we are members;
bless the vast sweep of the circle with which we are connected, and may
all the members of our fraternity have thy presence and thy grace. And
with all their seeking, may they seek spiritual power, and seeking, may
they find. Enlighten our understanding with thy wisdom, inspire our
hearts with thy love; strengthen our wills with all holy purposes. Bring
us after these reunions, and after the separations, after all the joys
and sorrows, the gains and the losses of human life, into thine own
immediate presence, and we shall praise thee, the only God, Father, Son
and Holy Ghost. Amen.

After a song Dr. Vincent said:

Is any body here from Monteagle? Are any here who were present this year
at Lakeside, Monona Lake, Lake Bluff, Ocean Grove? Have we any one here
who could make us a brief report of the C. L. S. C. work at any of these
assemblies? Where is Dr. Hurlbut? Kansas Assembly—Dr. Hurlbut presided

DR. HURLBUT: I would state that we recognized the C. L. S. C. at Kansas,
and we had a very pleasant time. When we called for the members of the C.
L. S. C. to have a meeting I found but five, but we had a Round-Table.
And the next day we had twenty present, and when we came to the day for
the recognition of the members of ’83, we found three members of the
class. We marched the three members of ’83 in procession, and took them
down to the tabernacle and made a speech to them. We had a number of
Round-Tables, and distributed the circulars, and a great many people said
that they were going to join. This was in Ottawa, Kansas.

On the afternoon of graduation an address was delivered by Dr. G. P.
Hays, an old Chautauquan, who delivered an admirable address. In the
evening we had a camp fire, and though there were only about twenty
members present, we had a fine camp fire. We had a good place to hold it,
and we gave notice that we would admit no one but members of the C. L. S.
C., but we made an exception that any who wished to join, or if they had
any friends whom they wished to represent, or if there were any members
of the C. L. S. C. in the towns where they lived, they might come. We
made a procession three hundred strong by actual count, all interested
in the C. L. S. C., to a greater or less degree. We had some interesting
addresses. Mr. Hatch, a member of the C. L. S. C. of that city, made a
very interesting address, and Dr. Hays spoke, and one or two others from
the places around, and we had a few solemn words from Prof. Sherwin, and
a few more solemn words from Prof. Beard. At the close of the camp fire
we found that the C. L. S. C. stock had gone up above par. People wanted
to know all about it. One old gentleman from the country came up to the
president and said that he did not know any thing about this C. L. S. C.
that we were talking about, but he was going to join if it did not cost
more than a dollar, and he joined that night. You will find that the next
year there will be over two hundred members of the C. L. S. C. present.

DR. VINCENT: That is a very refreshing report in every sense.

DR. HURLBUT: I could tell you all about Island Park.

DR. VINCENT: Let us hear from that.

A GENTLEMAN: I could tell you about Monteagle.

DR. VINCENT: Let us hear it.

A GENTLEMAN: There were some sixteen or eighteen of the C. L. S. C.
present. We did not have very many meetings, but we met once or twice and
agreed to form a procession and give Dr. Vincent a welcome when he came.
This we did. We met in a body and called on him, and had a very pleasant
talk from him.

DR. VINCENT: That was not all that was done by the C. L. S. C. at
Monteagle. I was greeted very warmly by the C. L. S. C. members at
Monteagle. I found Monteagle literally a very high place, something over
2000 feet above the sea. To my surprise there were more than twenty
members of the C. L. S. C. at our Round-Table. Going up the mountain on
the railway a young gentleman came to me and introduced himself. He said,
“I am a member of the C. L. S. C., and my sister is a member. She is on
the train, and very anxious to see you.” I saw her, and found her to be
an enthusiastic C. L. S. C. She knew all about the Memorial Days, and
knew all about everything in connection with the C. L. S. C. work, the C.
L. S. C. column, the news from the various states, the mottoes, and all
the special directions that had been given. She had read all the reading
for the year and much on the Seal Course. I think she had completed the
White Crystal Seal. She said she was all alone in the town where she
lived. She had done everything that was required, even to the buying a
badge, and wearing it, and observing the five o’clock hour. She said that
next year there would be a large number from her town.

I am always afraid of obtruding Chautauqua on these other centers, lest
they suggest that Chautauqua be a little more modest. I therefore do not
allow the name to be used too much.

DR. HURLBUT: In Kansas, I know that one person wrote to a newspaper
and said that there was one evil that ought to be nipped in the bud.
He said that this evil was the peddling around of Chautauqua ideas by
professionals through the country.

DR. VINCENT: I am always sensitive about speaking too much of Chautauqua.
At Lakeside I made my first speech without naming Chautauqua, and I did
the same at Framingham, until others came to me and said that I need not
be so particular, that they considered themselves in some degree a part
of Chautauqua. I found the same spirit at Monteagle. I did not see a
thing, or hear a syllable at Monteagle, that did not indicate a hearty
sympathy with the Chautauqua work. I never was more royally treated.

At one Round-Table on errors of speech they criticised several of
my mispronunciations, and what was the worst of it, when I sent for
Webster, Webster sustained those southerners. They got an idea that I
rather enjoyed the pointing out of my errors. We had a good time in the
correction of errors in speech. We had also a recognition speech. We
formed in procession, one graduate of ’83, and I had the satisfaction of
extending the right hand of fellowship to the one in the procession at
that service.

Mr. Van Lennep told me that they kept up their Round-Tables every day
until the close of the Assembly, and that they numbered seventy strong
and raised a fund of $500 toward building a hall of philosophy at
Monteagle. (Applause.)

This is a sort of reunion meeting; for songs, for questions, for
statements of difficulties, and for reports. Are there any large local
circles represented here? Is there a local circle of one hundred members
represented here to-day? Let the leader of that circle stand up and raise
the hand. Are there any? Mr. Martin, of Pittsburgh, has such a circle.

MR. MARTIN: I would say that we have a circle in Pittsburgh that has
enrolled something like seven or eight hundred members altogether.
Occasionally one or two hundred of them will drop out, so we do not claim
that we have a circle quite up to that number all the time. We have
fifty-four graduates enrolled as a sort of executive committee to keep
up our Local Circle movement. We have monthly meetings, and also have
numerous weekly meetings in different parts of the city. These weekly
meetings are usually reported to the central circle, and the members
attend more or less at our monthly meetings.

As an alumni association, we have got up on a little higher plane, and
during the past year we held three meetings. Our first meeting was a
reunion and banquet at one of the leading hotels. Our second meeting
was a very enthusiastic one, conducted by the members of the alumni
association in the eastern part of our city. At our last and final
meeting we had Bishop Warren to address us. We had one of the largest
churches in the city filled, and charged an admission fee as well. We
felt rich. We have a fund of about $60 to start with next year. We expect
to bring a large number of ’83 members into our alumni association. We
are still enthusiastic over the C. L. S. C. We were enthusiastic five
years ago, have been every year since, and propose to continue to be
enthusiastic as long as the C. L. S. C. exists. (Applause.)

DR. VINCENT: That is good. Is there any one here who can make some
report from Monterey Circle? They had an unusual time last year. Is Miss
Hudson present? Although she has not been at Monterey, she has been
in communication with the Monterey people. Would you object to make a
statement as you have it?

MISS HUDSON: I can give a few facts.

DR. VINCENT: Please do so. Miss Myrtie Hudson, of Ann Arbor.

MISS HUDSON: I have received quite enthusiastic reports from Monterey.
There were present in July twenty-five members to graduate. I do not know
how large the class was through the state, but they had about that number
present. The exercises held were in the hall, which was beautifully
decorated for the occasion. An address was delivered and the diplomas
were given out by Dr. Stratton, our president of the branch of the
Pacific coast. He was one of the graduates of ’83. Dr. Wythe, the author
of our book on biology, was also one of the graduates.

I have received this message from there to-day, that the book, “The Hall
in the Grove,” has been of very great value in their work, and they want
to make the suggestion, that it would be a good idea to have this book
read by members in the first year, instead of the fourth year.

DR. VINCENT: The suggestion of having “The Hall in the Grove” read in the
first year instead of the fourth year is a very good one.

MRS. BARLOW, of Detroit: I would like to speak in behalf of “The Hall in
the Grove.” I was a graduate of ’82. We have a large circle in Detroit,
but I do not know the membership, because I have not been able to attend
very frequently. Our president of that circle, Mrs. A. L. Clark, who
has been president for five years, died this summer. I suppose that she
intended to come to Chautauqua this year. I waited here some minutes,
thinking some one else from Detroit would speak of her. I wish you could
know what a work she did in Detroit, what an influence she had in the
community of young people, not always among the wealthy, but among those
in the stores, and those who had no other way of cultivation. No one
knows how much they owe to Mrs. Clark.

About “The Hall in the Grove.” I have tried in our neighborhood for four
years to organize a local circle, but have failed. But this last summer
I had two copies of “The Hall in the Grove” which I have circulated very
industriously, and I hope to organize a circle in October.

DR. VINCENT: I intended to speak at the proper time, concerning Mrs.
Clark, this devoted worker. There is no woman in connection with our
Circle who has done more hearty work. I have received from many members
of the Circle tributes to her worth and work.

MRS. BARLOW: Mrs. Clark had a very large class of colored adult people
that she taught every Sabbath in the Y. M. C. A. room. They would have
filled almost any house. A great many of them have been converted, I have
no doubt, from her work.

DR. HURLBUT: I had the privilege last winter in Washington City of
visiting a circle composed entirely of colored people, and I thought I
should like to make a little mention of that circle. It was a circle of
between thirty and forty people of color. They met at a private house, a
handsome residence, with every thing about it in the finest taste. The
exercises that night in that circle impressed me wonderfully. From the
conversation that I had with the members I learned that some of them
were teachers in the city of Washington, and one was a member of the
Washington Board of Education. Another had read five times as much as
we required on geology last year. One of the city teachers read a paper
of great interest. Every person connected with the circle belonged to
what we call the African race. I never in my life was impressed with the
earnestness, thoroughness, efficiency and downright energy in the C. L.
S. C. work of any class of people more than I was on that occasion with
that of these members in Washington City.

MR. BRIDGE: You have not spoken about New England.

DR. VINCENT: At Framingham, Mass., we have an Assembly which opens
immediately after the close of Chautauqua Assembly, and this year a
little before the close. Last year we had four hundred and forty recorded
members present at that Assembly, and the sales of the books are reported
as being double what they were the year before. And I believe the
prospects for this year are much more brilliant.

After various announcements Dr. Vincent said: Turn to the nineteenth
number. We must sing “Day is Dying in the West,” or it would not seem
natural. The other evening we omitted it, and a few of us came back and
sang it.

After the song, the Round-Table was dismissed with the benediction by
Rev. Mr. Alden.





1. Q. What was the difference between the dispensation under the Old
Testament and the one under the New? A. The first was a preparatory
dispensation, its manifestations, for the most part, being seen and
temporal; the second was a perfect system of truth, spiritual in its
character and in the methods of its communication.

2. Q. What difference would there be in the methods adapted to move men’s
nature under different dispensations? A. The same methods under all
dispensations would be necessary, varied only to suit the advancement
of the mind in knowledge, the difference existing in the habits and
circumstances of men, and the character of the dispensation to be

3. Q. What would be an essential requisite under any dispensation, after
the way for its introduction was prepared? A. Such manifestations of God
to men as would produce love in the human heart for the object of worship
and obedience.

4. Q. According to the constitution which God has given the soul, what
must it feel before it can feel love for the giver of spiritual mercies?
A. It must feel the want of spiritual mercies; and just in proportion
as the soul feels its lost, guilty and dangerous condition, in the same
proportion will it exercise love to the being who grants spiritual favor
and salvation.

5. Q. What is the only possible way by which man could be made to hope
for and appreciate spiritual mercies, and to love a spiritual deliverer?
A. To produce a conviction in the soul itself of its evil condition, its
danger as a spiritual being, and its inability, unaided, to satisfy the
requirements of the spiritual law, or to escape its just and spiritual

6. Q. What does the degree of kindness and self-denial in a benefactor,
temporal or spiritual, create? A. The degree of affection and gratitude
that will be awakened for him.

7. Q. At the advent of Jesus how was the moral law generally applied
by him? A. It was applied to the external conduct of men, not to the
internal life. If there was conformity to the letter of the law in
external manners, there was a fulfillment, in the eyes of the Jew and the
Gentile, of the highest claims that God or man held upon the spirit.

8. Q. How did Jesus apply the divine law? A. He taught that all wrong
thoughts and feelings were acts of transgression against God, and as such
would be visited with the penalty of the divine law. Thus he made the law
spiritual and its penalty spiritual.

9. Q. What does Jesus declare to be the consequence of these spiritual
acts of transgression against God? A. Exclusion from the kingdom and
presence of God, a penalty which involves either endless spiritual
suffering, or destruction of the soul itself.

10. Q. What was then necessary in order that man’s affections might be
fixed upon the proper object of love and obedience? A. That a spiritual
God should, by self-denying kindness, manifest spiritual mercy to those
who felt their spiritual wants, and thus draw to himself the love and
worship of mankind.

11. Q. In order to the accomplishment of this end, without violating the
moral constitution of the universe, what would be essentially necessary?
A. That the holiness of God’s law should be maintained.

12. Q. What does Jesus uniformly speak of as being necessary previous
to accepting him as a Savior? A. That the soul should feel the need of

13. Q. What is the testimony of the Scriptures as to God manifesting
himself in self-denying kindness for mankind? A. The testimony of the
Scriptures is that God did thus manifest himself in Christ as suffering
and making self-denials for the spiritual good of men.

14. Q. What would be impossible for a human soul, exercising full faith
in the testimony of the Scriptures as to his needs and his ransom by
Christ, not to do? A. Not to love the Savior.

15. Q. Previous to the introduction of Christianity, in what efforts had
all the resources of human wisdom been exhausted? A. To confer upon man
true knowledge and true happiness.

16. Q. What are two insuperable difficulties which would forever hinder
the restoration of mankind to truth and happiness from being accomplished
by human means? A. First, human instruction, as such, has no power to
bind the conscience; and, second, truth, whether sanctified by conscience
or not, has no power to produce love in the heart.

17. Q. To what are the laws which govern physical nature analogous? A. To
those which the Gospel introduces into the spiritual world.

18. Q. Men can not love God for what he truly is, unless they love him
as manifested how? A. As manifested in the suffering and death of Christ

19. Q. To deny the divine and meritorious character of the atonement is
to shut out what from the soul? A. Both the evidence and the effect of
God’s mercy.

20. Q. What is the influence of faith in Christ upon the moral
disposition of the soul? A. It assimilates the moral feelings of man to
God, and produces an aversion to sin.

21. Q. What is the influence of faith in Christ upon the moral sense,
or conscience of believers? A. By faith in Jesus Christ the conscience
is not only guided by a perfect rule, but it is likewise quickened and
empowered by a perfect sense of obligation.

22. Q. What is the influence of faith in Christ upon the imagination? A.
It controls and purifies the imagination of believers.

23. Q. What would a religion from heaven be designed ultimately to bless?
A. The whole world.

24. Q. What does the best good of mankind as a family require? A. That
they should be the instruments of disseminating this religion among

25. Q. What is the great principle by which the operation of spreading
this religion would be carried on? A. The principle of self-denial,
or denying ourselves the ease and pleasure of selfishness in order to
perform acts of benevolence.

26. Q. How does the Gospel of Christ possess all the characteristics
of a universal religion? A. It is adapted to human nature; not to any
particular country or class of men, but to the nature of the race.

27. Q. In the instructions of Christ to regulate the conduct of men, how
were their lives to be spent? A. In efforts to impart those blessings
which they possessed to their brethren of the human family who possessed
them not.

28. Q. In what did Christ teach the principle of self-denial? A. By his
precepts, by his example, and especially by his identifying himself with
those in need.

29. Q. What is faith in Jesus Christ therefore directly designed
and adapted to do and to produce? A. To strengthen men’s benevolent
affections, and to produce in believers that active desire and effort for
the good of others which will necessarily produce a dissemination of the
light and love of the Gospel throughout the whole habitable world.

30. Q. What are three of the most important means of grace? A. Prayer,
praise and preaching.

31. Q. In order that men may receive the greatest benefit from prayer,
what is essential? A. That there should be strong desire and importunity
in prayer.

32. Q. In order to offer acceptable prayer, what should men possess? A. A
spirit of faith and dependence upon Christ.

33. Q. What are two important means to impress the mind with religious
truth? A. Music and poetry.

34. Q. Among the means which God appointed to disseminate his truth
throughout the world, what holds a first and important place? A. The
living preacher.

35. Q. What is the agency of God in carrying on the work of redemption
and giving efficiency to its operations? A. The Holy Spirit.

36. Q. What is evidence to the world of the divine efficacy and power of
the doctrines of the gospel system? A. Its effects in restoring the soul
to moral health.

37. Q. The discussion of religious subjects for the past few years,
both in Europe and America, has been mainly between what two classes?
A. Between those who believe in the divine authority of the Christian
religion as a rule of duty, and those who believe in the authority of
conscience and reason as the highest guides of man.

38. Q. How does each class receive the Messiah and his teachings? A. One
as of God, and the other as of man.

39. Q. In what light and as what means does one view consider a written
revelation? A. In the light of the moral wants of man, and as adapted and
necessary means in order to human development.

40. Q. What proposition is attempted to be proven in this connection?
A. That a written revelation is a demand of man’s moral constitution,
without which his moral culture is impossible.

41. Q. What is a first fact connected with this inquiry? A. Man is a
cultivating and a cultivable being, and he is the only being created that
possesses the double capability to receive and to impart culture.

42. Q. What are three endowments by which men are particularly
distinguished from irrational beings? A. Written language, faith and

43. Q. What fact is fairly settled in reference to man aiding himself by
a written language? A. That without aiding himself by a written language
man can not ascend even to the first stages of civilization.

44. Q. In what way only can the character of God be known? A. Only by
faith; and it is the character of God that is the element of moral

45. Q. Upon what does the character of conscience in all religious duties
depend? A. Upon faith.

46. Q. What is said of reason, faith and conscience without revealed
truth? A. Without revealed truth reason has no data, faith is false, and
conscience is corrupt.

47. Q. As there can be no moral culture with a false faith and a corrupt
or dead conscience, what is a moral necessity in order to the culture of
the human soul? A. Revelation of objective truth, rendered efficient by
the perceived presence and authority of God.

48. Q. What is the conclusion reached as to how the moral culture of the
soul must be accomplished? A. By a system of truth, revealed objectively
in written language, by divine authority; and that the Christian
Scriptures contain that system of truth.

49. Q. In view of the reasonings and facts presented by the author, to
what conclusion is it his opinion unprejudiced readers should come? A.
That the religion of the Bible is from God, and divinely adapted to
produce the greatest present and eternal spiritual good of the human

50. Q. Of what does he consider the demonstration conclusive? A. That
the Gospel is the only religion possible for man in order to perfect his
nature and restore his lapsed powers to harmony and holiness.


1. Q. What proportion of men either erect or thoroughly well-built will
be seen among those usually passing a given point on Broadway, in New
York? A. Scarcely one in ten.

2. Q. What is said of the training ordinarily had by farmers, merchants,
mechanics and laborers, who constitute a very great majority of
Americans? A. No one of the four classes has ordinarily had any training
at all aimed to make him equally strong all over.

3. Q. What is said of regular exercise among the great majority of the
women of this country? A. No regular exercise is common among the great
majority of the women of this country which makes them use both their
hands alike, and is yet vigorous enough to add to the size and strength
of their shoulders, chests and arms.

4. Q. What is the character of the popular sports and pastimes of
boyhood and youth to supply the lack of inherited development? A. Good as
these sports are, as far as they go, they are not in themselves vigorous
enough, or well enough chosen to remedy the lack.

5. Q. What does a leading metropolitan journal say an inquirer will
see by standing at the door of almost any public or private school or
academy at the hour of dismissal? A. He will see a crowd of under-sized,
listless, thin-faced children, with scarcely any promise of manhood to

6. Q. What is stated in reference to the play-grounds of our cities
and towns? A. It is not a good sign, or one that bodes well for the
future, to see them so much neglected; and many of our large cities are
wretchedly off for play-grounds.

7. Q. What description is given of the physical appearance of the
majority of the girls in any of our cities or towns, as seen passing to
and from school? A. Instead of high chests, plump arms, comely figures,
and a graceful and handsome mien, you constantly see flat chests, angular
shoulders, often round and warped forward, with scrawny necks, pipe-stem
arms, narrow backs, and a weak walk.

8. Q. What does a distinguished surgeon say as to the ability to endure
protracted brain-work without ill result? A. It is not brain-work that
kills, but brain-worry.

9. Q. What does our author state there ought to be in every girls’ school
in our land, for pupils of every age? A. A system of physical culture
which should first eradicate special weaknesses and defects, and then
create and maintain the symmetry of the pupils, increasing their bodily
vigor and strength up to maturity.

10. Q. What is the first thing most women should do in order to get
health and strength and the bloom of perfect physical development? A. The
first thing is to bring up the weaker muscles by special effort, calling
them at once into vigorous action, and to restore to its proper position
the shoulder, back, or chest which has been so long allowed to remain out
of place.

11. Q. What is the next step after the symmetry is once secured? A. Then
equal work for all the muscles, taken daily, and in such quantities as
are found to suit best.

12. Q. In our Christian lands what do we find in regard to the fathers
and mothers of the great men? A. We find that the great men have almost
invariably had remarkable mothers, while their fathers were as often
nothing unusual.

13. Q. What does our author say as to the means of getting a vigorous and
healthy body kept toned up by rational, systematic, daily exercise, by
every girl and woman? A. The means of getting it are so easily within the
reach of all who are not already broken by disease, that it is never too
late to begin, and that one hour a day, properly spent, is all that is
needed to secure it.

14. Q. Had the lungs and also the muscles of the man had vigorous daily
action to the extent that frequent trial had shown best suited to that
man’s wants, of what is there very little doubt? A. That a large majority
of the ailments would be removed, or rather would never have come at all.

15. Q. What is well nigh essential to attain success and length of
service in any of the learned professions, including that of teaching? A.
A vigorous body.

16. Q. To win lasting distinction in sedentary, in-door occupations
which tax the brain and the nervous system, what does all professional
biography teach? A. Extraordinary toughness of body must accompany
extraordinary mental powers.

17. Q. What are all that people need for their daily in-door exercises?
A. A few pieces of apparatus which are fortunately so simple and
inexpensive as to be within the reach of most persons.

18. Q. What appliances can be readily fitted up for the home gymnasium?
A. A horizontal bar, a pair of parallel bars, or their equivalent for
certain purposes, a pair of pulling-weights, and a rowing-weight, to
which may be added a pair of dumb-bells.

19. Q. What may be accomplished with these few bits of apparatus? A.
Every muscle of the trunk, nearly all those of the legs, and all those of
the arms, can, by a few exercises so simple that they can be learned at a
single trying, be brought into active play.

20. Q. To what extent should these articles of the home gymnasium be
used? A. Every member of the family, both old and young, should use them
daily, enough to keep both the home gymnasium and its users in good
working order.

21. Q. What is said of the shaping power of teachers with children in
school? A. When children are with their teacher in school is almost the
best time in their whole lives to shape them as the teacher chooses, not
morally or mentally only, but physically as well.

22. Q. With what should prompt and vigorous steps be taken to acquaint
every school teacher in this country? A. With such exercises as would
quickly restore the misshapen, insure an erect carriage, encourage habits
of full breathing, and strengthen the entire trunk and every limb.

23. Q. What did President Eliot of Harvard say a few years ago of
a majority of those coming into that university? A. That they had
undeveloped muscles, a bad carriage, and an impaired digestion, without
skill in any out-of-door games, and unable to ride, row, swim or shoot.

24. Q. What do both the physician and experience tell us rest the tired
brain? A. Nothing rests a tired brain like sensible physical exercise,
except, of course, sleep.

25. Q. When exposure to out-of-door air is associated with a fair share
of physical exertion, what does Dr. Mitchell say it is an immense
safeguard against? A. The ills of anxiety and too much brain work.

26. Q. In a country like ours, where the masses are so intelligent,
concerning what does our author consider the ignorance of the people as
marvelous? A. As to what can be done to the body by a little systematic
physical education.

27. Q. Of what do few people seem to be aware on this subject? A. That
any limb, or any part of it, can be developed from a state of weakness
and deficiency to one of fullness, strength, and beauty, and that equal
attention to all the limbs, and to the body as well, will work like
results throughout.

28. Q. What course of exercise with many has resulted in largely reducing
superfluous flesh with fleshy people? A. Vigorous muscular exercise,
taken daily and assiduously.

29. Q. What contributes to keeping some people thin? A. Most thin people
do not keep still enough, do not take matters leisurely, and do not rest
enough; while, if their work is muscular, they do too much daily in
proportion to their strength.

30. Q. What is the character of the physical exercises the late William
Cullen Bryant continued up to the last year of his life? A. Immediately
after rising he began a series of exercises performed with dumb-bells,
a pole, a horizontal bar, and a light chair swung around his head,
continued for a full hour and sometimes longer.

31. Q. What does a former business associate of Mr. Bryant, who knew him
intimately, say of his health? A. “During the forty years that I have
known him, Mr. Bryant has never been ill—never been confined to his bed
except on the occasion of his last accident. His health has always been

32. Q. What two classes of men are there in our cities and larger towns
that more than almost any others need daily and systematic bodily
exercise in order to make them efficient for their duties, and something
like what men in their line ought to be? A. The police and firemen.

33. Q. What are some of the ways of developing the muscles of the leg
below the knee? A. Walking, and at the same time pressing hard with the
toes and the soles; running on the soles and toes; hopping on one foot;

34. Q. What are some of the methods of developing the muscles of the
front thigh? A. Holding one foot out, either in front or back, and then
stooping down wholly on the other; jumping, fast walking and running.

35. Q. What exercise is especially recommended for strengthening the
sides of the waist? A. Hopping straight ahead on one foot, and then on
the other.

36. Q. What kind of a walk does a man usually have who is not strong in
the abdominal muscles? A. A feeble walk.

37. Q. What is said of the development of men generally above the waist?
A. It is not an uncommon thing, especially among Englishmen, to find a
man of very strong legs and waist, yet with but an indifferent chest and
shoulders, and positively poor arms.

38. Q. With the use of what can the muscles above the belt be nearly all
thoroughly developed? A. With the use of dumb-bells.

39. Q. What is a simple method for improving the ordinary grip of
the hand? A. Take a rubber ball in the hand, or a wad of any elastic
material, even of paper, and repeatedly squeeze it.

40. Q. What will expand the chest? A. Anything which causes one to
frequently fill his lungs to their utmost capacity, and then hold them
full as long as he can.

41. Q. What practice of breathing is a great auxiliary to enlarging the
lung room? A. The practice of drawing air slowly in at the nostrils until
every air-cell of the lungs is absolutely full, holding it long, and then
expelling it slowly.

42. Q. Beside light gymnastic exercises in school, what should a teacher
insist upon with his pupils? A. He should insist upon the value of an
erect position in school hours, whether the pupils be standing or sitting.

43. Q. What care should be taken in regard to school chairs? A. That they
should have broad and comfortable seats, and that the pupil never sits on
a half of the seat or on the edge of it, but far back on the whole of it.

44. Q. What weight of dumb-bells should be used in ordinary exercises
with them by pupils? A. Dumb-bells of a pound each would be fit for
pupils under ten years of age. For older pupils the same work with two
pound bells will prove generally vigorous enough.

45. Q. What are some of the daily exercises recommended for girls and
women? A. The use of dumb-bells, walking, riding, and, with girls,

46. Q. Beside these things, what ought a girl or woman to determine to do
while sitting? A. To sit with the head and neck up, trunk erect, and with
the shoulders low.

47. Q. How ought every man in this country whose life is in-door to
divide his time? A. So that come what may he will make sure of his hour
of out-of-doors in the late afternoon, when the day’s work is nearly or
quite done.

48. Q. What two things ought consumptives to determine to do when
sitting? A. To sit far back on the chair, and to sit at all times upright.

49. Q. To what does a great German anatomist attribute the principal
cause of pulmonary diseases? A. To the breathing of foul air.

50. Q. What is it far from uncommon for delicate persons to do who take
good care of the small stock of vigor they have? A. To outlive sturdier
ones who are more prodigal and careless.


Season of 1884.


_The World of The Bible._


Upon a map of the world mark out a section between 42° and 27° north
latitude, and 54° and 12° east longitude (Greenwich). This will include a
rectangle having the Black Sea on the north; the Caspian and Persian Gulf
on the east, the Sinaitic peninsula on the south, and Rome on the west; a
section of 1050 miles north and south, by 2400 east and west; an area of
2,520,000 square miles, about two-thirds the size of the United States.
Within these limits were transacted all the events of Bible history. This
area should be considered in connection with two maps, overlapping each
other in the center, those of the Old Testament, and the New Testament

I. The Old Testament world will embrace the lands between 54° and 31°
east longitude, or from the Nile to the Persian Gulf; and between 42° and
27° north latitude, or from the Black Sea to the Red Sea.

1. Observe the location of the following _Seas_, and draw such portions
of them as are included in the map. 1. The Caspian, in the northeast
corner. 2. The Persian Gulf, southeast corner. 3. The Red Sea, on the
south. 4. The Mediterranean Sea, on the west. 5. The Black Sea on the
north. 6. The Dead Sea, due north of the eastern arm of the Red Sea.

2. Locate the following _Mountain Ranges_: 1. Mount Ararat, the nucleus
of the mountain system, situated between the Caspian, Black, and
Mediterranean. 2. The Caspian range, branching from Ararat eastward, and
following the border of the Caspian Sea. 3. Mount Zagras, running from
Ararat southeasterly, toward the Persian Gulf. 4. Mount Lebanon, from
Ararat southwesterly, toward the Red Sea. (Anti-Lebanon, the mountains
of Palestine, Mount Seir and Mount Sinai, are all parts of this great
range.) 5. Mount Taurus, from Ararat westward, following the northern
shore of the Mediterranean.

3. Next draw the important _Rivers_, nearly all following the line of
the mountain ranges. 1. The Araxes, from eastward into the Caspian Sea.
2. The Tigris, called in the Bible Hiddekel, from Ararat, following the
Zagras Mountain, into the Persian Gulf. 3. The Euphrates, from Ararat
westward to Mount Taurus, then southward, following the course of
Lebanon, then southeasterly through the great plain, until it unites with
the Tigris. 4. The Orontes, between two parallel chains of the Lebanon
range northward into the Mediterranean. 5. The Jordan, between the same
chains of Lebanon southward into the Dead Sea. 6. The Nile, in Africa,
northward into the Mediterranean.

4. This world has its great Natural Divisions, somewhat like those of the
United States. 1. The eastern slope, from Mount Zagras eastward to the
great desert. 2. The central plain, between Zagras and Lebanon. 3. The
Mediterranean Slope, between Lebanon and the great sea.

5. These natural divisions suggest the arrangement of the _Lands_.
1. Locate the lands of the eastern slope; Armenia, Media, Persia. 2.
The lands of the central plain, as follows: Between Mount Zagras and
the river Tigris. Assyria and Elam; between the Tigris and Euphrates.
Mesopotamia and Chaldea; the great desert. Arabia; between the desert and
Lebanon, Syria. 3. The lands of the Mediterranean; Egypt, the wilderness,
Palestine, Phœnicia, Asia Minor, though the last does not appear in Old
Testament history.

6. Locate the following cities, and name the Bible events associated
with them. 1. Eden, the original home of the human race, probably at the
junction of the Tigris and Euphrates. 2. Babylon, the capital of Chaldea,
on the Euphrates. 3. Shushan, or Suza, the capital of Persia, and the
place of Esther’s deliverance. 4. Nineveh, on the Tigris, the capital of
Assyria. 5. Haran, in Mesopotamia, a home of Abraham. 6. Damascus, the
capital of Syria. 7. Jerusalem, in Palestine. 8. Tyre, in Phœnicia. 9.
Memphis, on the Nile, in Egypt.

II. _The New Testament World._ This extends from Asia Minor to Italy, and
from the Black Sea to Mount Sinai, between the same parallels as the last
map, and from 12° to 42° east longitude; and represents the lands of the
eastern Mediterranean.

1. Upon this map locate five _Seas_. The Mediterranean; Dead Sea; Black
Sea; Ægean Sea (between Asia Minor and Europe); Adriatic Sea, between
Greece and Italy.

2. Locate also five _Islands_. Cyprus, in the northeastern corner of the
Mediterranean; Crete, south of the Ægean; Patmos, in the Ægean; Sicily,
southwest of Italy, and Melita, now Malta, south of Sicily.

3. Arrange and bound the lands by their continents. 1. African lands.
Egypt, Libya, and Africa proper. 2. Asiatic lands. Palestine, Phœnicia,
Syria, Asia Minor. 3. European lands. Macedonia, Greece, Illyricum, Italy.

4. Locate definitely the provinces of Asia Minor, which may be
arranged thus: Three on the north, bordering on the Black Sea. Pontus,
Paphlagonia, Bithynia; three on the west, bordering on the Ægean Sea.
Mysia, Lydia, Caria; three on the south, bordering on the Mediterranean;
Lycia, Pamphylia, Cilicia; four in the interior; north, Galatia; east,
Cappadocia; south, Pisidia; west, Phrygia; central, Lycaonia.

5. Notice the location of several important _Cities_. Alexandria, in
Egypt; Jerusalem, in Palestine; Damascus and Antioch, in Syria; Tyre,
in Phœnicia; Tarsus, in Cilicia; Ephesus, in Lydia; Philippi and
Thessalonica, in Macedonia; Athens and Corinth, in Greece; and Rome, in

6. Notice with regard to the New Testament world. 1. There were many
lands, yet but one government, the Roman Empire. 2. There were many
tongues, yet one language everywhere spoken, the Greek. 3. There were
many races, but one people found everywhere, the Jews. 4. There were many
religions, yet no deep-seated belief, and consequently, everywhere a
hunger for the Gospel.



I. _Its Necessity._—The teacher’s purpose is the conversion and spiritual
education of the scholar; a purpose too great to be compassed in the
session of the Sunday-school. Consider the following facts:

1. _The brief time which the Sunday-school affords; a half hour_ to the
lesson; fifty-two half hours in a year; less than one school week of the
secular school. What progress could be expected from a year’s study, in
which the school time is only a week?

2. _The difficult subjects of Sunday-school teaching_; upon themes which
are the loftiest contemplated by the human mind; worthy of the ablest
intellects; yet to be simplified to the understanding of childhood and
youth by the teacher.

3. _The lack of preparation on the part of the pupil._—The teacher
can not take for granted _any_ study at home by the class, but must
supplement their absolute neglect by his own increased diligence and

4. _The natural aversion of the scholar’s heart to the teacher’s
efforts._—The pupil does not desire to be saved and to learn about
salvation; all his unregenerate nature is hostile to the subject, and the
teacher has dull hearts as well as unprepared minds to contend against.

5. _The intervening time of a week between the sessions of the school_ is
sufficient to efface even what impression is produced by the lesson.

With all these hindrances it is plain that the teacher who is to succeed,
must supplement his Sunday with week-day work.

II. The next question is, _What shall the week-day work of the teacher
be?_ Our space forbids more than a mere outline.

1. _A daily study by the teacher of teaching methods_, in order to best
employ the brief time at command for actual work. It is said Napoleon’s
battles were fought in detail in his own mind before even the enemy were
in sight, and his force, will and genius were sufficient to carry out the
details. A study of the methods employed by the best secular teachers
would furnish means for planning all the details of any Sunday half hour.

2. _A daily study of the lesson itself._—The teacher’s preparation will
occupy another lesson in this series; but when once that art has been
learned, a part of the teacher’s week-day work should be to practice it

3. _A daily watching the methods of life of the class of society from
which one’s pupils come._—If they are children or youth or adults, if
from the lower, middle or higher walks of society, the teacher should
know the influences which surround the life and the methods which govern
it, in order to rightly fit the teaching to the life.

4. _A sedulous scrutiny of the face of every child met in daily
life._—Such care will prevent ever passing a scholar of the class without
notice, and will reveal the workings of the child heart, and give an
insight into child nature that will be of great value.

5. _A careful listening to the conversation of children, and entering
into conversation with them whenever practicable._

6. _Earnestly seeking an interest in the things which are of interest to
the pupil._—It will furnish a common ground of meeting in the class on
Sunday. _Community of interest will result._

7. _Daily seeking contact with the pupil, either personal or by some
means which will recall the teacher to the pupil’s mind._—If the teacher
is daily present with the pupil there is hope that the teacher’s
influence and teachings will be also.

8. _Daily endeavoring by all means in the teacher’s power to render the
pupil’s daily life pleasanter._

III. But how can all these things be accomplished?

1. By a regular attendance on the weekly teachers’ meeting. That is an
essential part of a teacher’s week-day work.

2. By systematic visiting of pupils in their homes. This will insure an
acquaintance which could in no other way be obtained.

3. By cultivating the reading habit in the pupil. How? By giving some
good weekly paper or magazine which you have finished; by loaning good
books; by interesting the family in such organizations as the Chautauqua
Literary and Scientific Circle.

4. By inviting pupils to entertainments, to the teacher’s home in winter,
and to the woods and fields in summer.

5. By establishing little class Normal classes, and teaching some of the
many interesting things parallel to the general work of the Sunday-school.

This brief outline may serve as a nucleus for thought by the student, and
may suggest a general plan, of which the details can be wrought out by
the individual teacher.


I. _The Necessity of Preparation._—All that was adduced in the last
lesson to show the importance of the week-day work, might well be
repeated as arguments for the preparation of the lesson.

1. _It is necessary from the limitation of time._—The teacher must study
his subject thoroughly, in order to employ to the utmost that precious
half hour of the lesson.

2. _It is necessary from the nature of the subjects._—No one should
venture to instruct upon the all-important, the profound, the difficult
themes of the Gospel, who has not given them special and intense thought.

3. _It is necessary from the condition of the pupil._—Because the scholar
is unprepared, careless, unthinking, the teacher must be alert, able,
equipped. Any one can teach a genius, but it requires a genius to teach a

II. _The general aims of preparation._—In the teacher’s study of the
Scripture three aims should at all times be kept in view.

1. _His first aim should be to interpret the meaning of the Word._—We
should study, not to interject into the Scriptures our own views, or the
doctrines of our school of thought, but to ascertain what God meant in
the Book, to learn “the mind of the Spirit.”

2. _His second aim should be to satisfy the needs of his own spiritual
nature._—No man can feed others unless he has himself been fed. Let the
teacher fill his own heart with the Word of life, and then he will be
able to inspire his class with hunger for the truth.

3. _His third aim should be to supply the needs of his class._—He is
a teacher as well as a learner, and must ever study with the full
knowledge of his scholar’s needs, seeking in the lesson for that which is
especially fitted for them and can be adapted to them.

III. _The Departments of Preparation._—(We condense here the outline of
Dr. Vincent, in the “Chautauqua Normal Guide.”) There are five lines
of investigation and preparation to be followed by the teacher; not
necessarily in this order, but embodying these departments.

1. _The Analysis of the Lesson-Text._—The teacher who seeks to know the
contents of the lesson will find them under the following seven elements.
1. The _time_ to which the lesson belongs, year, period, relation to last
lesson, etc. 2. The _places_ referred to in the lesson, or where its
events occurred; their location, history, associations. 3. The _persons_,
who they were; what is known of them; the characters displayed. 4. The
_facts_ or _thoughts_ of the lesson; facts if historical; thoughts if
ethical or doctrinal, as the Epistles. 5. The _difficulties_ encountered
in the explanation of the lesson, whether in its statements, or their
relation to other parts of Scripture. 6. The _doctrines_ or general
principles taught. 7. The _duties_ inculcated in the lesson or to be
drawn from it.

2. _The Collation of Parallel Passages._—Every text which will shed light
upon a fact or a thought in the lesson should be searched. Spurgeon says:
“The best commentary on a passage of Scripture is the spirit of God;” and
that it reveals itself in the parallel passages.

3. _The Exploration of the Lesson-Text_, for its central topic; the
underlying spiritual thought which runs through it and is to be presented
from it.

4. _The Adaptation of the Lesson to the Class._—This subject receives
more full and suggestive treatment in Lesson vii. The teacher must
prepare his lesson with the condition and characteristics of his pupils
in his mind.

5. _The Preparation of the Teaching Plan._—The teacher should know not
only what he is to teach, but _how_ he is to teach it; in what order of
thought; with what opening sentences, illustrations, application, and
closing utterances.

IV. _Hints on Preparation._—1. Begin early in the week, as soon after the
teaching of the last lesson as possible. 2. Read the lesson often; at
least once each day, and thoughtfully. 3. Pray much over the lesson; for
by communion with the Author of the Word we enter into knowledge of the
Word. 4. Use all the helps accessible, in the line of commentaries, Bible
dictionaries, etc. 5. Study independently, using the thoughts of others
to quicken your own thought, and not in place of it. 6. Talk with others
about the lesson, in the family, in the teachers’ meeting, and in social
life. 7. Do not expect to use all your material. All the knowledge gained
will add power to the teaching of that portion of the knowledge imparted.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ART OF READING.—I used to believe a great deal more in opportunities
and less in application than I do now. Time and health are needed, but
with these there are always opportunities. Rich people have a fancy for
spending money very uselessly on their culture because it seems to them
more valuable when it has been costly; but the truth is, that by the
blessing of good and cheap literature, intellectual light has become
almost as accessible as daylight. I have a rich friend who travels more,
and buys more costly things than I do, but he does not really learn more
or advance farther in the twelvemonth. If my days are fully occupied,
what has he to set against them? only other well occupied days, no more.
If he is getting benefit at St. Petersburg he is missing the benefit I
am getting round my house and in it. The sum of the year’s benefit seems
to be surprisingly alike in both cases. So if you are reading a piece
of thoroughly good literature, Baron Rothschild may possibly be as well
occupied as you—he is certainly not better occupied. When I open a noble
volume I say to myself, “now the only Crœsus that I envy is he who is
reading a better book than this.”—_Philip G. Hamerton._



Dress is fast becoming a science. Particularly is this true of the dress
of women. The modern fashion magazine with its suggestions and plans,
shows how nearly dress is a formulated science. All this is right and
necessary. When used rightly there is no weapon in a woman’s hands
more powerful than effective dressing. It makes even a plain woman
attractive, and a fair one doubly so. It gives her a peculiar influence
which every earnest, true-hearted woman should seek rather than avoid.
To be effective, dress must be studied. But the thought which women
give to dress leads them often to give it undue importance, to make it
a paramount object rather than a means to influence. Most especially
is this true among a large class of self-supporting women and wives of
salaried men. The old charge of Polonius:

    “Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
     But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy”

is often literally carried out by them, and in many cases this class
dresses in a more costly style and with more taste than any other in the
community. Nor is it mere outside show. They do not wear silk dresses and
coarse boots, nor velvet mantles and no gloves. Their wardrobe is almost
invariably complete and in taste. They are sensibly, neatly and richly
dressed women. They have studied and mastered the science of dressing
well. They live within their incomes, too; but in almost every case their
salaries give them nothing but food and raiment. At the end of a year,
beyond their wardrobes and the amount of rather questionable prestige
which their good clothes have given them in a certain circle—rarely a
circle which is superior to their own—they have nothing, and here lies
the wrong. No matter how small an income may be it ought to be so used
that it will do more. If for a year’s work we have simply the necessaries
of life, we have achieved small success. But few people put their money
where it yields substantial return; few devote a fair portion of their
earnings to increase the value of their work or to multiply implements of
work. We rarely find persons who devote a fair amount of their salaries
to charities, but we do often find salaries of from six hundred to one
thousand dollars yielding seal-skin sacks and velvet gowns. Are such
garments consistent with the steady course of self-culture which every
person should pursue, or with the tithe which every moralist, not to say
Christian, should devote to the world of woe about us? Common sense tells
us that we can not live like the wealthy unless we are wealthy.

It is among the salaried class particularly that this evil exists.
Perhaps the cause springs from the way in which they earn their
livelihood. Money comes to them regularly and surely; they see no reason
why it should cease, and so give less attention to strict economy than
the man whose success depends upon the care and thrift with which he
lives. Their future promotion depends upon their faithfulness, not upon
their economy, so that often a man of moderate salary keeps a more
expensive establishment than a man of moderate wealth. In the latter
case future business advancement depends upon the amount he can save to
invest, in the former simply upon his sticking to his work. Salaried
people too often live like school boys upon their annual allowance.
Whatever the cause, there is a large class of people among us much
inferior to what they might be, both in usefulness and ability, simply
from the wholly selfish expenditures of their incomes.


One of the careless outcries of dissatisfied persons is that the “rich
are growing richer and the poor poorer.” This is half true. The rich
are growing richer—and so, too, are the poor. The wealth of the world
has been enormously increased, and all classes have profited by it.
Even paupers fare better at public expense than they did fifty years
ago. Steam has multiplied the world’s wealth. The increase is most
conspicuous in the bank accounts of the rich. But the poor live in
better houses, have better food and clothing, and get a good many things
once considered luxuries. Doubtless some who cry “the poor are growing
poorer,” have an honest fear that the tendency of things is to crush down
into bitter poverty all but the few rich. They see the growth of large
fortunes, but they fail to see the greater growth of general wealth, nor
do they stop to figure out the problem. For example: Suppose Vanderbilt
has $150,000,000. Then suppose it divided among 50,000,000 of people.
We should get just _three dollars apiece_! Suppose that the very rich
of the country are equal in wealth to twenty Vanderbilts—a very large
estimate. Then, their united wealth, if distributed, would give us only
_sixty dollars apiece_! That is the most we could get out of dividing up
the big piles of wealth. Any one sees that it would not pay to divide.
The rich have not a great deal of our money in their pockets—if they
have any. For, an honest inquiry will show that the general average of
wealth, and of all that wealth brings to us, is higher by a much larger
proportion than that sixty dollars apiece represents. The worst view we
can possibly take of it is that we have paid sixty dollars apiece, out of
a vast increase in wealth, to men who have managed great enterprises that
have enriched us all. _Perhaps_ these men have taken it all for nothing.
Nobody believes it; but suppose they have. Then we have still obtained
a great gain at small cost. We get, on the average, twice as much for
our labor as people did fifty years ago. We live in more comfort than
people used to do. We are not growing poorer. We raise here no question
of monopolies. Our point now is that the poor are not growing poorer, but
richer—that there is no such tendency at work in modern society as the
one honestly feared by many—this piling up of all wealth in few hands.
Steam is not an aristocrat, but a plain Republican who impartially helps
us all when we help ourselves.


In a very few months we shall know the names of the presidential
candidates, one of whom, in all probability, will be the next chief
executive of the nation. The Republican National Convention has been
called to meet in Chicago June 3, next. The calling of other conventions
will soon follow. In a short time we shall have the candidates, and
then will ensue a contest of which it is safe to predict that it will
be close, exciting, and warmly fought. In contemplating the present
political situation, we see it is little different from that of 1880.
Less change has come in the quadrennium than might have been anticipated.
The same two great parties confront each other, and their apparent
relative strength is much the same as it was when last in the national
arena they measured swords; it can hardly be said that there is greater
likelihood of the success of either than there was four years ago. For
years there has been no little talk about the old parties having done
their work, and the time having come for them to die and new parties to
succeed them; and yet, we enter the presidential campaign of 1884 with
the two old parties in the field as influential as ever. Small progress,
if any, has been made during the past four years in the work of bringing
new parties to strength and prominence. The supersession of the parties
which for so many years have been competitors for the reins of government
is a thing of the future still, and seems a thing not of the near future.
Of the new political organizations which from time to time have arisen,
it is to be said that, generally, their strength is evidently waning
rather than increasing. Some of them, in state elections, have held the
balance of power and been important factors, but there is no probability
that such will be the case in the approaching presidential contest.
The influential parties of the past are the influential parties of the
present. One of them is to win in November next, and both now appear
with about the same chances of success as in 1880.

The fall elections of 1882 gave great confidence to the Democratic party.
Their ticket in New York received 192,000 majority, in Pennsylvania
40,000, and in Massachusetts 14,000. They had some grounds certainly for
the assurance that in the next presidential fight they would wrest from
their opponents the power which had been theirs for more than a score
of years. But the situation has taken on a decidedly changed aspect.
From the state elections of October last, indeed, Democrats might still
derive courage and hope. They carried Ohio, and showed much greater
strength in Iowa than in former years; though, to be sure, causes for
these results of a local and temporary character were not wanting. But
the November elections served to render the prospects more dubious.
In New York the Republicans elected their candidate for Secretary
of State by 17,000 majority; in Pennsylvania their state ticket was
carried by a majority of 16,000; and in Massachusetts Mr. Robinson was
elected Governor over General Butler by a majority of 10,000. Virginia
was carried by the Democrats; but this Democratic victory, it is well
argued by a keen political writer, is to prove a real blessing to the
Republicans by breaking the complications of their party with “Mahoneism”
and repudiation. All things considered, then, neither party can be seen
to have gained since the last presidential election, and to stand a
better chance of success than four years ago. The “Solid South” is still
solid. Not an electoral vote from the states once in rebellion will be
given to the Republican candidates. Among many doubtful things, this at
least is certain. The solid vote of the South is secure in the hands of
the Democrats. In addition to this, they will need, to win, forty-five
electoral votes from the North. If they are successful in securing these,
the next incumbent of the presidential office will be a Democrat. The
result of the approaching contest, since party issues of account are now
notably wanting, must turn very much upon the character of the party
candidates and the personal and official conduct of the representatives
of the two parties at Washington in the intervening time. From what has
been seen in New York, Pennsylvania, and other states, it is evident
that there is a very large and growing body of voters in the land who
will not be fettered to party, whether right or wrong. They claim the
right to turn their backs upon their party when its action becomes
offensive, and take an independent position. These “independents” hold
the balance of power at the present time. They can give New York and
Pennsylvania to either party; they can fix the result of the presidential
election. If good behavior on the part of party leaders and the choice of
unexceptionable candidates will secure their votes, it will certainly be
good policy to make use of the measures.


There are found, even where we have the best civilization, some degraded
classes who delight in cruel, bloody sports, in witnessing scenes
most revolting to persons of humane feelings and better culture. But
desperadoes, pugilists, and other fighting men, with those who have a
fiendish satisfaction in the sufferings and blood of the dumb animals
they torture, are counted alien from our Christian civilization. Their
characters and their crimes are detested by all good citizens. But when
deeds of cruelty and blood are not only endured and condoned, but raised
to the dignity of national sports, it shows a state of society that can
hardly be called civilized. Ancient Rome had her gladiatorial shows for
the gratification of those eager to witness the bloody spectacle. The
tournaments of chivalrous knights in the mediæval times, who slew each
other as an exhibition of their strength and skill, were of the same
character. In Spain and Portugal even to the present day bull fights are
a national amusement, in which nearly all classes find pleasure. Our
attention is just now called to this. A suggestive note from a gentleman
of culture and refined sensibilities, says: “A king of Spain brought home
a young wife, whose first duty was to give the signal for the beginning
of a bull fight. The same monarch is visited by a German prince, in whose
honor these brutalities are perpetrated on a more magnificent scale than
usual.” And so it is. Alas for European civilization in the nineteenth

The preparation for these sports is extensive. The ring is of vast
dimensions, in the center of which is a pit, or wide area, sunk in
terraced granite, with galleries rising on all sides, sufficient to seat
at least ten thousand people who usually crowd the place on Sabbath
afternoon. The fighters and their assistants are trained to their
business, and handle their weapons skillfully. Some are mounted on horses
with long slender spears, used simply to torture and exasperate, but to
inflict no deadly wound. The “killer” is a swordsman on foot, who baffles
and confuses the bull, drawing his attention this way and that, playing
his red cloak before his eyes, and watching his opportunity to plunge
the sword to the hilt into the neck of the animal. They are well paid,
and often amass large fortunes. But no verbal account of a bull tourney
can present the rapid changes, the dangers and escapes, the skill, the
picturesqueness, and the horror of the actual thing. The acts, brilliant
or repulsive, occur in rapid succession, presenting only glimpses of
dramatic, ghastly pictures, which fade out instantly to re-form in new
phases. The poor, gaunt, dilapidated horses used are a cheap contribution
to the occasion, and forced into position to be killed by the horns of
the bull, as he, in turn, is doomed to die by the sword of the killer,
with not the slightest chance to survive the bloody fray. A fierce,
powerful bull has been known to kill five horses in ten minutes. The
first rush against a horse is a sight horrible to witness. You hear the
horns tearing the tough hide, crashing the ribs, dragging the entrails
from the quivering body. When two or more of the poor animals are
struggling on the earth in the ring, now reeking with blood, others, with
bandaged eyes, and hideously gashed sides, are spurred and goaded on to a
similar fate. A witness tells of seeing “a horse and rider lifted bodily
on the horns, and so tossed that the horseman was flung from his saddle,
hurtled over the bull, and landed solidly on his back, senseless.” The
grooms bore him off white and rigid, but the eager spectators heeded
him not. They were wildly cheering the bull’s strength and prowess.
Occasionally a man is horribly mangled, killed in the ring, or maimed for
life; so a surgeon attends in the ante-room, and (alas! the mockery,) a
priest is at hand, with his holy wafer for the last sacrament in case of
any accident to a good bull-fighting Catholic. Yet things so unutterably
repulsive are witnessed with apparent delight by richly dressed Spanish
gentlemen and ladies of the highest rank.

The performance, as at present maintained, is far below that of
other days, when the nation had more vigor. The dumb animals are, by
arrangements in the ring, put to a much greater disadvantage, and the
necessity for great dexterity and courage no longer existing, the class
of fighting men do not, in these respects, compare well with their

Spain, once a powerful nation, having a class—not numerous—of highly
cultivated citizens, and a literature by no means despicable, has
fallen into a sad condition, neither respected nor feared as formerly.
The brutal sports in which she delights could never be introduced or
tolerated in really refined society, or by cultured people, but when
retained as a relic of earlier barbarism they have an educating force,
and nurture to still greater strength the evil passions that made
them possible. Some things among us may have a dissipating, if not
demoralizing, tendency, and should be abandoned. Our voice is not against
all amusements. Innocent recreations are healthy. Our minds and bodies
need them. Only let them be suitable, and of an elevating tendency.


The list of C. L. S. C. graduates of the class of ’83 is published in
this number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN—1300 strong. The states represented
are California, Maine, Virginia, Florida, Tennessee, Pennsylvania,
Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Minnesota, Maryland, Iowa, Illinois,
Georgia, Indiana, Michigan, Kansas, Rhode Island, Wisconsin, New
Jersey, Texas, Vermont, West Virginia, Connecticut, Missouri, District
of Columbia, New Hampshire, Colorado, Dakota, Kentucky. Canada is also
represented, and in far-away China there is one graduate. The members
are from thirteen different denominations: Methodist, Presbyterian,
Congregational, Episcopal, Baptist, Christian, United Presbyterian,
Reformed, Unitarian, Universalist, Friends, Roman Catholics, Seven Day
Baptists. In its ranks are teachers, housekeepers, ministers, lawyers,
clerks, students, mechanics, farmers, merchants, dressmakers, milliners,
music teachers and stenographers.

       *       *       *       *       *

The presidential campaign for 1884 was opened in December by the
Republican National Committee fixing June as the time, and Chicago as the
place for holding the National Convention. Chautauqua was discussed as
a proper place for this convention to meet. The _Graphic_, of New York,
furnished a number of good illustrations of the hotels, steamboats, and
lines of railroads with which the Lake is favored, but these attractions
were not strong enough—the atmosphere of the place is not the kind
political conventions breathe. To be sure, President Grant and President
Garfield both honored themselves and Chautauqua by visiting the Assembly,
but a national political convention, even of the Republican type,
would find “water, water, everywhere,” and nothing stronger to drink.
Chautauqua is dead as a place for holding a national political convention.

       *       *       *       *       *

James Russell Lowell, our Minister to England, enjoys so excellent a
reputation in that country, that people who ought to know better, are
beginning to talk about his “Un-Americanism.” It is a foolish business.
Mr. Lowell is an American of the Americans. But Americanism does not
consist in a capacity for getting the ill-will of foreigners, or in
abusing them when one lives abroad. Mr. Lowell worthily represents the
people of the United States among the English people, and the honors paid
to him in choosing him to unveil the statue of Fielding, and electing
him Rector of the University of Glasgow, are honors paid to this nation.
There is no place for the petty jealousy of his growing popularity in
England. It is a thing to be proud of. The author of the “Biglow Papers”
will always be known on both sides of the ocean as a Yankee of the

       *       *       *       *       *

Somebody has said of the “House of Representatives,” “it is too big for
business, too big for harmony, too big for economy, too big for any
practical purpose whatever,” and the prospect is that it will be larger,
rather than smaller. Speaker Carlisle found it almost unwieldy when he
organized the four hundred and one members into committees. We venture
the assertion that no officer in the United States Government in his
official capacity passes through a more trying ordeal than the Speaker
of the House. He must face his work every day of the session, in the
hall where he presides; and as for ambition and jealousy, tact and skill
in manipulation, the representatives of the people are so well along in
all these things that to ask one man to appoint this company to places
on committees, and then to legislate for the people, is too much. A new
method of appointing committees ought to be adopted.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr George Ticknor Curtis has rendered the American public a valuable
service in his two volumes on the life of James Buchanan, published by
the Harper Brothers. If this material had been precipitated upon the
public mind in the dark days of the civil war, it would have been as
fuel to the flame of public passion, or if it had come to light even
during the years immediately after the war, the result would have
been much the same. Mr. Buchanan’s task during the last days of his
administration was a hard one. He was expected to both _wait_ and to be
in a _hurry_ in discharging his duties as President; besides, it required
more than human sagacity to determine what would be the wisest course
for his administration to pursue. The time when he vacated the White
House, and Mr. Lincoln went into it, makes a joint in American history
which must be studied as with a microscope, if the student would reach a
correct judgment of the men who acted and the events that transpired. The
correspondence which passed between Mr. Buchanan and several members of
his old cabinet, after he retired to private life is like the glare of an
electric light turned on those turbulent times. By these letters one can
read his way out of the heretofore inexplicable darkness of those caverns
of history.

       *       *       *       *       *

John Brown, of Ossawatomie fame, has been glorified in poetry and song.
There has been a bewitching charm about his name to a multitude of
people, and the events of the past decade have contributed largely to
this spell. As we settle back into our normal condition and study the
naked facts of his history, we are led to wonder how the man exerted such
a tremendous influence over his countrymen. If it be true that Sherman,
Doyles and Wilkinson, with others, whom Brown and his men murdered, had
entered into a conspiracy to destroy the Browns, this did not justify
John Brown and his men for murdering them in cold blood. Not even in
warfare would such heartless butchery be defensible. It may yet appear
that the endorsement which the American people gave to John Brown, and
the glory they have attached to his memory were unworthily bestowed, and
that the people were misled. The close study of American history as made
between 1858 and 1865 may put a new face on many of our biographical and
national stories of men and events.

       *       *       *       *       *

John Pender, a member of the English Parliament, compliments the Western
Union Telegraph Company, in a speech on the government assuming control
of telegraph lines, in these words: “I have thought it desirable to
refer to my visit to America, and say something about the Western Union
system, because it is a system which is, probably, in its efficiency,
only to be compared with our own system in England, which is worked by
the Government, with this difference, that being worked as a private
enterprise, and being stimulated more or less by competition, I think
the Western Union has shown greater results during the last ten years
than our system has under government management. I think the science of
electricity has received more encouragement and been more developed,
and the reduction of rates has, during that time, also been greater in
America than in England; and, altogether, I think it would be well if our
Government took a leaf out of the book of the Western Union Company.”

       *       *       *       *       *

December the sixteenth was John G. Whittier’s birthday. He is now
seventy-six years old. In Haverhill, Massachusetts, a thrifty
manufacturing town, Mr. Whittier spent his boyhood, in a lonely farm
house half hidden by oak woods, with no other house in sight of it. He
says, on stormy nights

    “We heard the loosened clapboards tost,
     The board-nails snapping in the frost;
     And on us, through the unplastered wall,
     Felt the light-sifted snow-flakes fall.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The London (England) _Chronicle_ speaks the following sensible words
concerning the new honor conferred on Tennyson: “It will seem very
strange for us to have to think of Alfred Tennyson as Lord Tennyson,
and he is too aged, and his life-impression too decidedly fixed, for
the changed name to get established. Just as we speak of Shakspere, and
Wordsworth, and Bulwer Lytton, and Browning, so we shall think and speak
of Tennyson. A poet’s proper crown is not a peerage, but a nation’s
admiration and love, and the world’s uplifting by his words of trust and
hope, his visions of the perfect, the beautiful, and the true, his subtle
readings of human hearts and motives. England, and the English speaking
races of the world, crowned Tennyson long ago, and the peerage crown
seems but a little thing, only needing a passing word.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Among the many “happy ideas” hit upon in connection with the C. L. S.
C., that of Memorial Days deserves prominent place and mention. Several
of these days are named for men whose genius and literary greatness have
received the world’s recognition. These days are not memorials to the
cold letters that spell the names of Milton, Addison, and Shakspere,
but to genius and greatness in literature as represented by them. And
the design is not to keep in memory a mere literal sign, a name, but to
pay our homage to the literary or other merit with which the name is
associated. And this with the ulterior view of kindling aspirations and
inspirations in our own minds and hearts.

       *       *       *       *       *

Seventy-five million dollars are invested in the rubber business of this
country, of which $30,000,000 are in the boot and shoe manufacture.
The annual products are $250,000,000, made by 15,000 persons at 120
factories. Thirty thousand tons of raw rubber are used each year. The
forests along the equator, which Humboldt declared inexhaustible, are
dwindling, and the rapid increase of cost of rubber (from 50 cents to
$1.25 per lb. in six years) is leading to search for cheaper substitutes.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Rev. Dr. John Hall says: “The churches of New York cost $3,000,000
per year; the amusements $7,000,000; the city government $13,000,000. It
is not an extravagant demand that the churches should have more money.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Ella A. Giles, in _The Nation_, furnishes a description of a seminary
for colored girls in Atlanta, Ga., under the auspices of the Baptist
Home Missionary Society. Here is a testimony she jotted down in one of
their meetings: “Dis chile didn’t do no teachin’ in vacation,” said a
big mulatto woman, with great pomposity. “’Twan’t ’cos she didn’t know
’nuff, ’xactly, nor ’cos there wasn’t heaps dat needed to be teached. On
every side ignorant niggers is as thick as flies. But my _preferment_ was
doin’ suthin’ else fur my blessed Savior. Needn’t think I didn’t work for
Jesus, my young sisters. I tell ye I worked mighty hard! I visited heaps
o’ sick niggers, an’ I ’low I wan’t lazy. Don’t win ye no crown jes to
go an’ _look_ at sick folks, unless ye _do_ suthin’ fur um. I feel like
as if my stomach was light and freed from bile, ’cos I nussed the sick,
an’ puttin my shoulder to the wheel, didn’t look back like Lot’s wife
and turn unto a pillow of salt, but minded my blessed Lord an’ Savior
an’ visited the sick—fur to please Jesus. I likes dis yeah school. Laws!
I’s mo’n fifty years ole or thar-’bouts, an’ till I kum yeah I nebber
know’d dat workin’ fur Christ meant nussin’ sick folks an’ goin’ to see
the widowers an’ childless in affliction, an’ keepin’ unspotted from de

       *       *       *       *       *

One cold day in December, from the City Hall steps in New York City,
the Rev. Henry Kimball gave away two cheeses, cut in pound chunks, two
barrels of crackers, a barrel of turnips, a barrel of hominy done up in
brown paper pound packages, and five bags of Indian meal. One hundred and
twenty women, seventy little girls, and a colored man came to get their
baskets filled. “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

       *       *       *       *       *

At a meeting of naturalists held recently in New York, Prof. D. Cope, of
Philadelphia, alluded to the small provision that is made for original
research in this country, and the stress that is on almost all original
investigators to throw themselves away as teachers in order to gain
a livelihood. It is important that we have original investigation in
science, but capitalists must furnish the money to defray the expenses.
But because a man or woman turns to teaching rather than investigation,
they do not throw themselves away. Teaching is as high and honorable a
calling as investigating nature’s laws.

       *       *       *       *       *

A new feature lately introduced in the public schools of New Haven is
called “newspaper geography.” The pupils are in turn required to find on
the map places referred to in the paper.

       *       *       *       *       *

The South Carolina Legislature has passed a bill declaring unlawful all
contracts for the sale of articles for future delivery. Speculation
in cotton never received a harder blow than this. If some of our
legislatures in northern states, say New York, Pennsylvania and Illinois,
should adopt such a law, and then enforce it, what a torpedo it would be
among speculators in oil and grain, and stocks of all kinds.

       *       *       *       *       *

One of the students in the University of Berlin, Germany, is 69 years of
age. The aged members of the C. L. S. C. find themselves in the fashion.
Our motto is a good one: “Never be discouraged,” not even in old age.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Woman’s Christian Temperance Union celebrated its tenth anniversary
on December 23. We are told that this organization numbers 100,000
members, and that they are scattered all over the land. Here we find the
cause of the stir and hubbub in the country on the temperance question.
It began in the Ohio crusade, among the women. They used prayer and
religious songs and earnest entreaties, flavored with the spirit of
Christianity, and they have won; yes, they have won the grandest victory
of which mention is made in history for temperance and our unfortunate
fellow men. Celebrate the return of the anniversary of the crusade. Do it
with songs and shouts of joy, and continue to work till the end.

       *       *       *       *       *

We find the following summary of an interview with Whittier in the
_Sun_: “Whittier said that Hawthorne, Emerson, Longfellow, and himself
had always been friends. There were no jealousies, and each took a pride
in the work and successes of the others. They would exchange notes upon
their productions, and if one saw a kindly notice of the other it was
always cut out and sent to him. Hawthorne was by the others regarded
as the greatest master of the English language. Whittier describes
himself as unlike any of the rest, for he never had any method. When
he felt like it he wrote, and neither had the health nor the patience
to revise his work afterward. It usually went as it was originally
completed. Emerson wrote with great care, and would not only revise
his manuscript carefully, but frequently reword the whole on the proof
sheets. Longfellow, too, was a very careful writer. He would lay his
work by and then revise it. He would often consult with his friends
about his productions before they were given to the world. ‘I was not so
fortunate,’ says the Quaker poet. ‘I have lived mostly a secluded life,
with little patience to draw upon, and only a few friends for associates.
What writing I have done has been for the love of it. I have ever been
timid of what I have penned. It is really a marvel to me that I have
gathered any literary reputation from my productions.’”

       *       *       *       *       *

So large a number of the complete sets of THE CHAUTAUQUAN for 1880-1881
have been received by us that we withdraw the offer made in the January
issue of the magazine.

       *       *       *       *       *

The prospect is good that we shall have erected at Chautauqua in the
spring about six new cottages, to be used by the School of Languages.
They will be located on the new land recently purchased by the
Association. This will introduce public buildings on that part of the
grounds, and make the lots for private cottages more desirable. The
outlook on the Lake from this point is one of the finest to be found
between Jamestown and Mayville.



P. 177.—“Diomedes,” diˈo-meˌdes. A legendary hero of the Trojan
war—second in bravery to Achilles. Much space is devoted by Homer in
the _Iliad_ to his exploits. He was a favorite of Minerva, and from her
received the gift of immortality. In his combats with the Trojans he
spared neither gods nor men, if Minerva assisted him. For this reason
Minerva speaks to him:

    “War boldly with the Trojans, Diomed;
     For even now I breathe into thy frame,—
     Lo! I remove the darkness from thine eyes,
     That thou mayst well discern the gods from men;
     And if a god should tempt thee to the fight,
     Beware to combat with the immortal race.”

P. 179.—“Clemens of Alexandria.” One of the early Christian fathers, who
lived at the close of the second and beginning of the third centuries.
Educated in the heathen philosophy, he was converted to Christianity,
and became a presbyter in the church. Clemens wrote much, using the
scientific methods of the philosophers in his exposition of the doctrines
of Christianity. His principal themes were exhortations to the heathen to
abandon idolatry, and treatises on Christian and Greek literature.

“Minucius Felix,” Marcus. A native of Africa, but he came to Rome, where
he successfully practiced law until he was converted. He is said to have
been renowned for his eloquence. His most important work for Christianity
was _Octavius_, a dialogue between a Christian and a heathen upon the
merits of their respective religions.

P. 187.—“Reductio ad absurdum.” Reducing to an absurdity.

P. 189.—“Petrifaction,” pĕtˌri-făcˈtion. Turning into stone of an animal
or vegetable substance.

P. 199.—“Zeleucus,” ze-leuˈcus. A law-giver among the Locrians (see
Grecian History), who lived about 660 B. C. His laws were eminently
severe, but were observed by his people for a long time. Zeleucus is said
to have come to his death because a transgressor of one of his own laws.
He had decreed that no one should enter the senate house armed, on a
penalty of death. In a time of great excitement in war Zeleucus broke the
decree. It was remarked to him, and immediately he fell on his sword, in
vindication of the law.

P. 222.—“Daguerreotype,” da-gĕrˈo-tīp. So called from Daguerre, the
discoverer of this method of taking pictures.

P. 230.—“Permit me to write the ballads of a nation, and I care not
who makes her laws.” The idea is said to have originated with Andrew
Fletcher, of Saltoun, who wrote: “I knew a very wise man that believed
that if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care
who made the laws of a nation.”

P. 241.—“Modus operandi.” Manner of operation.

“Die.” The piece of metal on which is cut a device to impress on coins,
medals, etc.

P. 254. “Socinian.” Lælius Socinus was an Italian theologian (1525-1562).
His study led him to doubt certain doctrines, among them that of the
Trinity. His nephew, Faustus, who by his skeptical spirit had made
himself very obnoxious to the church, decided in 1574 to become a
religious reformer, and from the manuscripts of his uncle he elaborated
what was called the Socinian system. The negations of the system include:
The Trinity, the deity of Christ, the personality of the devil, the
native and total depravity of man, the atonement and eternal punishment.
It affirms that Christ was a divinely appointed man, and that in the
imitation of his virtues we find our salvation. The American Cyclopædia
says of the former use of this term: “The name Socinian, which is so
often given to those who hold Unitarian opinions as a term of reproach,
was for a century the honorable designation of a powerful and numerous
religious body in Poland, Hungary and Transylvania.… The Racovian
catechism, so called from its place of publication (Raków, in Poland),
compiled mainly from the writings of Socinus, is still the text-book
of faith and worship in many Hungarian and Transylvanian churches.”
Unitarianism is now the term applied to the doctrines of Socinianism.

P. 258.—Translation of Latin in foot-note: The constant presence of
Christ in the heart brings pleasant communion, gracious consolation, much

P. 260.—“Subjectively.” By “moral light revealed subjectively” is meant
the light or truth which is natural, or in the mind of every subject or
thinker, and opposed to the light which comes _objectively_, or through
an object, as, in this case, the light which comes from the Bible.
Subjective and objective are terms of mental philosophy, of common use,
and applied generally to certainty or truth. “Objective certainty,” says
Watts, “is when the thing is true in itself; subjective when we are
certain of the truth of it. The one is in things, the other in our minds.”

P. 266.—“Logos,” loˈgos. The _word_, literally. In ancient thought it
had two significations, one philosophical, where it meant the reason,
or that principle which regulates the affairs of the world; the other
theological, referring, as in the Gospel of St. John, to a distinct
person which both creates and redeems; here it is applied to man’s reason.

P. 273.—“Lacon.” The author of Lacon was Caleb Colton, an English writer,
born in 1780. He was educated at Cambridge and received a vicarage in
1818, but soon became so dissipated as to utterly ruin his prospects. He
was obliged to flee to America on account of debts incurred in gambling,
but afterward went to France, where in 1832 he committed suicide. “Lacon,
or Many Things in Few Words,” is a collection of maxims, and is best
known of his writings.


P. 19.—“Navvy.” Short for navigator, formerly slang, but now a recognized
term applied to those employed in excavating canals, making dykes and
like work.

“Longshoremen.” Said to be abbreviated from _along shore men_. “The Slang
Dictionary” says that all people who get their livings by the side of the
Thames below bridges are called Long Shore folk. The particular class to
which Mr. Blaikie refers is that of laborers employed about wharves.

P. 25.—“Tom Brown of Rugby.” The hero of the story, “Tom Brown’s School
Days,” by Thomas Hughes.

“Hares and Hounds.” A game sometimes called “paper hunt.” A team of any
number of players is formed, from which one is chosen as the hare. To him
is given a start of a few minutes called “law.” He starts off with a bag
of cut paper called “scent,” which he scatters as he runs. When “law”
is up the hounds or remainder of the team start in pursuit, following
“scent” as closely as possible. The game continues until the hare is run
to the ground or the players baffled.

P. 27.—“Turners.” During the time that Napoleon controlled Prussia
Friedrich Jahn, a German patriot, conceived the idea of forming schools
in which the young men should be trained in gymnastic exercises and in
patriotic sentiments, in order that eventually they might drive the
French from the country. These schools were called _Turnvereine_. The
first one was established in 1811, and when in 1813 the country was
called to arms, the Turners rendered signal service. Though for a time
prohibited in Germany, they were afterward reorganized and have been
introduced into various countries.

P. 41.—“Tantalus.” A character of Greek mythology, who, having given
offense to the gods, was punished in the lower world by confinement in a
river where the water always recedes from his lips, and the branches over
his head, laden with fruit, withdraw from his hand.

    “So bends tormented Tantalus to drink,
     While from his lips the refluent waters shrink.
     Again the rising stream his bosom laves,
     And thirst consumes him ’mid circumfluent waves.”—_Darwin._

P. 50.—“La Ligne.” The line.

“Dumas,” düˌmäˈ. French novelist and dramatist. (1803-1870.)

P. 53.—“Sebastian Fenzi,” se-băsˈtian fentˈse.

P. 62.—“Nathalie,” nâ-ta-lēˈ; “Farini,” fâ-rēˈnē.

P. 81.—“Periauger,” pĕrˈi-auˌger. One of several forms of the word
pirogue. A kind of canoe formed out of a tree trunk.

P. 85.—“Choate,” chote. (1799-1859.) Choate was sixty years of age when
he died, instead of fifty-five.

P. 86.—“O’Connell.” (1775-1847.) The Irish statesman.

P. 87.—“Brougham.” See THE CHAUTAUQUAN for November.

“Canning.” (1770-1827.) A British statesman.

P. 135.—“Double-first.” In the English universities one who wins the
highest honors in both the classics and mathematics is said to win “a

P. 136.—“Mazzini,” mät-seeˈnee. (1805-1872.) An Italian patriot and
revolutionist. He early devoted himself to bringing about the unity of
Italy, then divided and oppressed by Austria. In 1831 he was banished,
thereupon he formed a political organization to secure the liberty of
Italy and union of the states. In every way he worked to gain his ends.
In 1849 he assisted Garibaldi in his struggles for Italy’s freedom, and
later directed an insurrection in northern Italy. Mazzini was the author
of several works. Carlyle says of him: “I have had the honor to know M.
Mazzini for a series of years, and I can, with great freedom, testify to
all men that he, if I have ever seen one such, is a man of genius and
virtue—a man of sterling veracity, humanity and nobleness of mind.”

P. 147.—“Bowdoin,” boˈdwin.

P. 156.—“Thwart.” A nautical term applied to the bench of a boat, on
which the rowers sit.

P. 176.—“Palmerston,” pāmˈer-ston. (1784-1865.) Prime minister of England.

“Thiers,” te-erˈ. (1797-1877.) French statesman and historian.

P. 193.—“Adipose tissue,” adˈi-pōse. The fatty matter distributed through
the cellular tissues of the body.



P. 251, c. 1.—“Lutzen,” lŭtˈsen. A small town of Prussian Saxony, near
Leipsic. The battle between Gustavus Adolphus and Wallenstein took place
November 16, 1632. Napoleon defeated the allied Prussians and Russians
here in 1813.

“Treaty of Passau,” pâsˈsow. A town of Bavaria, at the confluence of the
Inn and Danube. This treaty was concluded in 1552 between Charles V.,
of Germany, and Maurice, of Saxony. It guaranteed religious freedom to
the German Protestants until a diet should be summoned to arrive at a
new settlement. In 1555 this diet was summoned at Augsburg, where peace
was made and the princes left free to establish the Lutheran or Catholic

“Pusillanimity,” pū-sil-la-nĭmˈi-ty. Weakness; cowardice.

P. 251, c. 2.—“Brabant,” brâ-bântˈ. One of the ancient divisions of the
Netherlands, lying south of Holland.

“Aix-la-Chapelle,” aiks-lă-shă-pel. Called in German, Aachen; situated in
Rhenish Prussia. This treaty was made in 1668. Louis gained by the war
several strong towns in the Netherlands.

“Stahremberg,” stahˈrem-berg. This was the second invasion of Vienna by
the Turks. It occurred in 1683.

“Sobieski,” sō-bi-ĕsˈki. (1629?-1696.) A Pole, educated in Paris. The
Cossacks having risen against the Polish government he joined the army
and so distinguished himself that he was given the chief command. The
Turks invading the country, Sobieski made a record which caused him to
be elected king upon the death of the monarch then ruling. His victory
at Vienna freed all Europe from the fear of the Turks, and Sobieski was
called the savior of christendom. His last years were embittered by civil
and domestic troubles.

“Ryswick,” rizeˈwik.

“Spanish Succession.” By the death of Charles II., of Spain, the house
then on the throne became extinct. His two brothers in-law, Louis XIV.,
of France, and Leopold I., of Austria, both claimed the throne for
princes of their families. Charles in a second will had appointed Philip,
the grandson of Louis XIV., as his successor, but Germany, England and
Holland contested the will. The war lasted thirteen years. The allies
gained several victories, but Philip secured the throne, although obliged
to give up several provinces.

“Blenheim,” blĕnˈheīm. A village of Bavaria on the Danube. This battle
took place August 13, 1704.

“Duke of Marlborough.” He commanded the English forces, while Prince
Eugene led the Austrians.

“Frederick the Great.” (1712-1786.) During the forty-six years of his
reign Frederick waged three important wars—the first and second Silesian
wars and the Seven Years’ war. The cause of each was his claim to the
province of Silesia. After the close of the third, in 1763, Frederick
devoted himself to the restoration and improvement of his country. It is
said that at his death he left to his nephew and successor, “a surplus
of $50,000,000, an army of 220,000 men, a territory increased by nearly
30,000 square miles, and an industrious, intelligent and happy population
of 6,000,000.”

P. 252, c. 1.—“Jena,” jēˈna, or yāˈnä; “Auerstädt,” öuˈer-stät.

“Rhine-Bund.” The confederation of the Rhine.

“Deutscher-Bund.” The German Confederation.

P. 252, c. 2.—“Zollverein,” zŏllˈver-eīn. A commercial league formed in
Germany for the purpose of establishing a uniform rate of customs.

“Versailles,” ver-sailzˈ.

“Wallenstein,” vâlˈlen-stine. (1583-1634.) An Austrian general.

“Cuirassier,” kwē-ras-sērˈ.

P. 253, c. 1.—“Croats.” Inhabitants of Croatia, a province of

“Gefreyter,” ga-friˈter. Corporal.

“Saxe-Lauenberg,” sax lowˈen-boorg. A German duchy.

“Saxe Weimar,” sax vīˈmar.


P. 253, c. 1.—“Humboldt.” (1769-1859.) Humboldt has been one of the most
expert and far reaching scientists of modern times. His love for research
led him to explorations early in life. In 1790 he travelled through the
principal countries of Europe, afterward publishing the discoveries made
by him on this journey. After this, for some years he was employed in
mining enterprises. In 1829 he joined an expedition to the Ural and Altai
mountains. In 1799 Humboldt went to South America; on this journey he
made extensive observations in various departments of science. The latter
part of his life was spent at the Prussian court.

P. 253, c. 2.—“Orinoco,” Oˌrĭ-noˈco. Said to mean coiling snakes.

“Heine.” (1799-1856.) Heine was of Jewish parentage, but abandoned his
religion and adopted the Lutheran. His first book on his travels in
Italy was very successful. After this followed his first book of songs,
which contained many pieces of rare beauty. It filled all Germany with
enthusiasm. Heine spent his last years in great suffering, a victim to
spinal disease.

P. 254, c. 1.—“Candide,” kŏnˈdēd. The hero of a novel bearing the same
name, by Voltaire.

“Eldorado,” ĕl-do-rāˈdō. The gilded land. A name given to a land
abounding in gold and other rich products. The Spanish conquerors of
South America first applied the name to a region in South America which
they reported to be filled with riches of every variety.

P. 254, c. 2.—“Dight,” dīt. To deck; to dress.

    Storied windows richly _dight_,
    Casting a dim, religious light.—_Milton._

“Schleiermacher,” schleīˈer-mä-ker. (1768-1834.) One of the most
influential theologians of modern times. His first published work,
“Discourses on Religion,” startled all Germany. After this followed many
volumes of sermons and religious writings which won him favor. In 1802 he
became court preacher, and two years later went into the university at
Halle as a preacher and professor; afterward he became a pastor at Berlin.

“Dialectician,” dī-a-lek-tĭshˈan. One who is versed in logic.

“Romanticism,” ro-mănˈti-cĭsm. Romantic, fantastic, or unnatural ideas or

P. 255, c. 1.—“Schopenhauer,” shoˈpen-howˌer. (1788-1860.) He studied in
the German universities, and afterward devoted himself to philosophical
studies. His works on the will are the best known.

“Zoöphytes,” zōˈo-fit. “Mollusca,” mol-lŭsˈca. “Annelida,” an-nĕlˈi-da;
“Arachnida,” a-răchˈni-da. “Crustacea,” krus-tāˈshe-a; “Pisces,” pīsˈsēz;
“Reptilia,” rep-tilˈi-a; “Aves,” āˈvēs; “Mammalia,” mam-māˈli-a.

P. 255, c. 2.—“Bellum omnium contra omnes.” War of all against all.


P. 255, c. 2.—“Foraminifera,” fo-rămˌi-nĭfˈe-ra.

P. 257, c. 1.—“Hot Springs.” These are in reality Artesian wells,
the water rising from great depths. In some places the warm water is
utilized, as in Würtemberg, where manufactories are warmed by the water
sent through them in pipes. The water is usually pure and the temperature
quite uniform. Among the most famous examples of hot springs are those
of Arkansas—fifty-seven in number—those of Virginia, and the geysers of

“Wells of Bath.” Bath is the chief town of Somersetshire, England, and
takes its name from its baths. The springs which furnish these are four
in number, and discharge nearly 200,000 gallons of water a day.

Many interesting examples of changes in level might be noted. Scotland
in less than an hundred years has been raised from 15 to 20 feet.
As distinctly have the coast lines been traced, says Hugh Miller,
as “between two contiguous steps of a stair, covered the one by a
patch of brown, the other by a patch of green, in the pattern of the
stair-carpet.” In Norway and Sweden a rising has been proven to be going
on in the northern part, and a sinking in the southern part.


P. 259, c. 2.—“Cervantes,” cer-vânˈtēs, sä-a-veˈdrä. (1547-1616.) A
Spanish author. The work referred to is “Don Quixote.” Of it a writer
in the _American Cyclopædia_ says: “In this work Cervantes hit the
vulnerable point of his age. The common sense of the world had long
rebelled against the mummeries of knight errantry, and the foolish books
that still spoke of chivalry of which not a vestige remained. People
who had smiled when the idea presented itself to their minds, burst out
in laughter when Cervantes gave it the finishing stroke.” Beside “Don
Quixote,” Cervantes wrote several satires, dramas and stories.

“Knight-errantry,” nītˈ ĕr-rant-re. The character, manners and adventures
of wandering knights.

“Butler,” Samuel. (1612-1680.) An English poet. He led an uneventful
life, being employed at different times as amanuensis or secretary to
men of high standing. When fifty-one years of age he wrote _Hudibras_,
his “fine satire.” The hero, Sir Hudibras, is said to have been drawn
from Sir Samuel Luke, a Puritan officer. The poem ridicules by satire and
exaggeration the actions, severity, morals and dress of the Puritans. It
was never entirely finished. Butler was very popular with Charles II.,
and his court for a time, but finally died in poverty.


P. 260, c. 1.—“Inhibition,” ĭn-he-bĭshˈun. Restraint, hinderance.

“Judicature,” jūˈdi-ca-tūre. The administration of justice.

P. 260, c. 2.—“Common-law.” According to the _American Cyclopædia_,
common-law in the United States means the entire English law, including
even the foreign elements intermingled with it, in distinction from the
civil law generally received among European nations, and from the canon
law, except so far as adopted in the ecclesiastical courts of England.
Burrill defines it as “the unwritten law, or that body of customs, rules
and maxims which have acquired their binding power and the force of law,
in consequence of long usage, recognized by judicial decisions, and not
by reason of statutes now extant.” Of its origin, Sir Matthew Hale says
it is as “undiscoverable as the head of the Nile.”

“Norman-French.” The language of Normandy, a former northwestern province
of France. By the Norman conquest (1066) Norman French became the
language of the court and of equity in England.


The “Readings in Art” are compiled and condensed from “Architecture,
Classic and Early Christian,” by T. R. Smith and G. Slater.

P. 262, c. 1.—“Archaic.” Old; ancient; characterized by antiquity or

“Mausoleums,” mau-so-lēˈums. A tomb or monument. From Mausoleus, king of
Caria, to whom Artemisia, his widow, erected a stately monument.

“Votive offerings.” From Latin _votum_—a vow. A tablet, picture,
or anything dedicated by the vow of the worshipers. “Additional
embellishments of flowers and _votive_ garlands.”—_Motley._

“Doric.” There are several different accounts of the origin of the Doric
order. It is stated that Dorus, a king of Achaia, built a temple in
Argos, and this was found by chance to be in that manner which we call
Doric. Some say the arrangement of the order was that of a primitive
log hut. It is so called from Doris. Beside the Doric temples mentioned
here there are fragments of this style of architecture to be seen in the
temple of Theseus at Athens, in the Propylæa on the Acropolis, in the
temple of Zeus at Olympia, and in various other localities in Greece and
southern Italy. The form of the Doric building was the same as in the
Ionic and Corinthian.

“Ictinus,” ic-tiˈnus. He was the architect of several Doric temples; the
Parthenon, the temple of Apollo at Phigalia, and the one at Eleusis. No
details of his life are known.

“Rock.” This rock is the Acropolis.

“Entablature,” “cella,” “pediment.” See notes in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for

“Flat pitch.” A roof that has less than the usual elevation in the center.

P. 262, c. 2.—“Stylobate,” styˈlo-bāte. Literally a basement to a column.
It is synonymous with pedestal, but is applied to an uninterrupted and
unbroken base, while pedestal is an insulated support.

“Entasis,” ĕnˈta-sĭs. A gentle, almost imperceptible swelling of the
shaft of a column.

“Ionic.” This style of architecture was so called from Ionia, where it
took its rise. Its origin is not certain. A writer says: “The explanation
of Vitruvius is that the Ionian colonists, on building a temple to
Diana, wished to find some new manner that was beautiful. Following the
method which they had pursued with the Doric (proportioning the column
according to the dimensions of a man), they imparted to this the delicacy
of the female figure.” The distinctive feature in the three orders is
the capital of the column. In the Doric this is very simple; a curved
moulding, round like the shaft, is surmounted by a large square block
or _abacus_. In the Ionic the capital has two scroll-like ornaments,
called volutes. There are more mouldings used, and the proportions are
more slender. Asia Minor contains numerous remains of Ionic architecture.
The Erectheium at Athens is the best known. The temple of Diana was
included among the seven wonders of the world, as was the Mausoleum of
Halicarnassus, another Ionic temple recently discovered.

“Vestiges.” Latin, Vestigium. Marks of the foot on the earth. Tracks,
traces, signs. “What vestiges of liberty or propriety have they

“Corinthian.” Vitruvius says of this order that it was arranged “to
represent the delicacy of a young girl whose age renders her figure
more pleasing and more susceptible of ornaments which may enhance her
natural beauty.” The Corinthian capital is the most ornamented of the
three orders. It is generally formed of various arrangements of acanthus
leaves, and is much larger and more showy than the others. The monument
of Lysicrates at Athens is the best example of this style.

“Cyclopean,” cy-clo-pēˈan. Pertaining to a class of giants, who had but
one eye in the middle of the forehead. They were said to inhabit Sicily,
and to be assistants in the workshops of Vulcan, fabled to be under Mt.

P. 263, c. 1.—“Jupiter Capitolinus.” This temple was built in the early
days of Rome, and is said to have derived its name from the builders
discovering, during the excavation, a freshly bleeding head (_caput_).
According to the interpretation of the sages this sign indicated that the
place should become the head of the world. The temple was dedicated to
Jupiter as king of the gods. From it the hill on which it was situated
took its name of the Capitoline.

“Appian Way.” The way or road from Rome to Brundusium, constructed partly
by Appius Claudius, B. C. 313.

“Q. Metellus Macedonicus,” me-telˈlus măc-e-dŏnˈi-cus.

“Roman.” In the ground plan of Roman architecture there is a great
difference from the Egyptian and Greek styles. The first employed the
ellipse, the circle, the octagon, and combinations of these various forms
in their plan, while the rectangle was the almost inevitable form in the
two latter. Instead of the massive blocks of stone of former buildings,
the Romans used small stones cemented with a cement of extraordinary
power. They could build anywhere and of anything. The roofs were arched
and in domes; the openings almost invariably arches; the columns and
ornaments were generally varieties of Greek styles.

“Tetra style.” Having a portico of four columns in front. Tetra is the
Greek word for four.

“Vitruvius,” vi-trūˈvi-us. See notes in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for October.

“Pseudo peripteral,” sūˈdō pe-rĭpˈte-ral. A peripteral temple had a
single row of columns all around it. The variation of the style which
existed in this temple led to its being called _pseudo_, or falsely

“Maison Carrée,” mā-zong kăr-rā. The _Square House_, as the name
signifies, is a beautiful Corinthian temple, of rectangular form. The
temple was built when all France was under the rule of Rome. Although
the Square House was injured in the wars of the middle ages, it has been
restored, and is now used as a museum.

“Nimes,” neem. A city of France, about sixty miles northwest of

“Baalbec,” bâlˈbek.

P. 263, c. 2.—“Flavian.” The emperor Vespasian, who began the Colosseum,
belonged to the house of Flavius, hence the name.

“Esquiline,” esˈqui-line; “Cœlian,” cœˈli-an.

“Pantheon,” pan-theˈon. Meaning _all the gods_. “In the year B. C. 27, on
the occasion of the victory of Actium, when universal peace was declared,
the great edifice was dedicated to all the gods, and figures of these in
gold, in silver, in bronze, and in precious marbles were placed in niches
within it, and hence the name Pantheon.” It is now a Christian church
dedicated to the Virgin and All Saints, and is called the Rotunda.

P. 264, c. 1.—“Santa Sophia.” The church was not dedicated to a saint,
but to the spirit of wisdom (_sophia_ is the Greek for wisdom), the
second person in the Trinity.

“Procopius.” See notes on “Greek History” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for November.

“San Vitale,” san ve-tâˈlā.


P. 264, c. 2.—“Vaudois,” vō-dwâ. A religious denomination called
sometimes the Waldenses, founded in the twelfth century, in Italy.

P. 265, c. 1.—“Nautilus,” nâuˈti-lŭs. A mollusk having a coiled univalve
shell of many chambers. As the animal grows new chambers are continually
formed, and the parts vacated are partitioned off into air-tight chambers
by thin, smooth plates.

P. 265, c. 2.—“Triton,” trīˈton. A marine deity in Greek mythology,
having the form of a man above, and of a fish below, and bearing a
conch-shell trumpet.

P. 266, c. 1.—“Antennæ,” an-tĕnˈnæ. A projection on the head of an
insect; a feeler.

“Vernier,” vërˈni-er. A small movable scale, sliding along the fixed
scale of an instrument, and subdividing its divisions into more minute


P. 267, c. 2.—“Esquimaux,” ĕsˈke-mō; “Algonquins,” al-gonˈkins;
“Iroquois,” ĭr-o-kwoizˈ; “Mobillians,” mo-beelˈli-ans; “Dacotas,”

P. 268, c. 1.—“Erickson,” ĕrˈik-son; “Terra incognita,” unknown land.

P. 268, c. 2.—“Amerigo Vespucci,” â-mā-rēˈgo ves-pootˈche; “Ponce
de Leon,” poneˈdā lā-oanˈ; “Fernando Cortes,” fer-nanˈdo kor-tĕsˈ;
“Tabasco,” ta-băsˈco; “Montezumas,” mon-te-zuˈma.



In the parlors and dining hall of the Sherman House in Jamestown, N. Y.,
on Wednesday evening, January 9th, the Chautauqua Trustees assembled for
a banquet, preparatory to their annual meeting.

After an hour or more of social personal greeting the company, about
fifty in number, filed into the dining hall and took the places indicated
on their cards of invitation at the tables beautifully adorned with
fruits and flowers.

Ex-Governor R. E. Fenton, of New York, acting as presiding officer of the
evening, took his place at the head of the table, having on his right
President Lewis Miller, Vice President F. H. Root, Esq., and others, and
on his left Prof. J. H. Worman and other members of the Chautauqua Board
of Trustees. At the other end of the main table were Robert N. Marvin,
Esq., Dr. J. H. Vincent, Dr. J. T. Edwards, Rev. W. G. Williams, of
Jamestown, Mr. Clem Studebaker, of Indiana, and distinguished residents
of several other states.

After more than two hours spent at a most sumptuous repast (eleven
courses were on the bill of fare), the rarest delicacies of Southern
climes being lavishly provided, as well as the more common edibles
of our colder northern soil and streams, Ex-Governor Fenton, rising
in his place, gave the guests of the hour words of warmest greeting.
[We give a condensed report of remarks offered.] He said: “We welcome
you, gentlemen, not so much because of what you are at your homes,
although that is, no doubt, a matter of congratulation from neighbors
and friends, not so much as representatives of a great religious
denomination whose membership is numbered by the millions—I speak of the
various branches of Methodism, whose institutions are confessedly based
upon religious intelligence and conviction, and therefore a subject
of congratulation. We welcome you, gentlemen, mainly because you have
come to the shores of our beautiful lake and founded an institution
elevating in its influence, purifying in its character; which has found
its way through the sunny South, along the shores of the lakes, around
and over the plains, and over the mountains, even to the Pacific Coast.
Stopping not there, you have found your way to the islands of the seas,
and to the peoples in the countries beyond the seas. If I should say
less than this, Mr. Flood, who speaks through more than thirty-five
thousand monthly CHAUTAUQUANS, would spring to his feet. I might say
more, but, gentlemen, this enterprise is carried forward not alone by
Methodists, for, in a catholic spirit, you have opened the doors to all
denominations and all people and invited them to join you, and those who
aspire to or desire to witness genuine moral and intellectual progress.
And, gentlemen, we welcome you to our town. We should be glad, had it not
been for the inclemency of the weather, to have shown you the social and
public progress of our people. I might speak of our nine churches always
well-filled on the Sabbath day and at other seasons when opened, and of
one denomination about to build another church with a capacity three
times as large as the old one.

“We should be glad to have you look at our manufacturing interests, to
see how extensive they are, to visit our grand Union School building. We
should be glad to introduce you to our merchants, and have you see all
that we are doing—these things, the result of the enterprise and industry
of our people. We have no princely fortunes here, but we are prospering,
and though we have had but little time to go abroad, yet we promise you,
gentlemen of Chautauqua, that a portion of our leisure days, increasing
as the years go by, shall be devoted to visiting you in the summer season
at Chautauqua. [Applause.] And now I ask you all to drink (water) to the
health of Dr. Vincent, who, by his great devotion, great abilities and
organizing power, with the calm judgment and wise counsels of President
Miller, have done so much to make Chautauqua a success.” [Long continued

Dr. Vincent said substantially:

“Gentlemen of Jamestown:—You have listened, as have we, the
representatives of the Chautauqua movement, to the kind words of your
fellow-townsman, and it is a source of very great regret to me that I
was not apprised in advance, of the fact that I was expected to deliver
a speech on this occasion; otherwise I should have talked less to my
fascinating friend, Mr. Marvin, beside me, and eaten less, so that I
might be in better shape to speak.

“Governor Fenton has said something about the Chautauqua Idea. It is an
‘enterprise’ which has a future, a destiny which I think will transcend
all the attainments and achievements of the past. And those of us who are
engaged in this movement, and have watched it from its very beginning,
and who know something of the dreams of those who look out into the
future, are more likely to promise large things than those who simply
watch it from the outside. We may be disappointed. Chautauqua may stand
still one of these days and become a plain little village on the lake.
It will never be what Jamestown is, but it depends upon Jamestown, as a
representative city, for much of the support, and of the sympathy which
all such enterprises demand. We have been tempted to think that from
Jamestown we have had comparatively little sympathy. I say _tempted_,
for the temptation has never had the slightest effect upon my mind; but
once in awhile it has been said: ‘Jamestown, at the other end of the
lake, fancies that you may build up an organization at the northern
end of the lake that will interfere with interests at the south end.’
Frivolous indeed as these suggestions were, they were strong enough to
secure utterance and cause trifling annoyance. As I recall the history
of Chautauqua, I remember that we have had pretty much the whole of
Jamestown present again and again at our great Assembly gatherings. So
far as the citizens of Jamestown are concerned, we have never had for a
moment any serious doubt of their confidence in the enterprise, and their
willingness to aid us as far as they can, and there is not the slightest
reason for misunderstanding or rivalry, but every reason for mutual faith
and coöperation. [Applause.] And I should not be surprised, gentlemen,
if, in years to come, the boys of Jamestown would go up to Chautauqua to
the best boys’ school on the continent [applause], and meet there the
best teachers from the best institutions, both of America and Europe,
teachers qualified not only to communicate knowledge to the boys there
assembled, but qualified to develop manhood and high ideals of character
and true intellectual strength and physical culture. A gentleman said
to me in the East the other day, ‘What we need in America to-day is a
first-class school for boys, a school of the very highest order, in
which intellect, manners, body, heart, social faculties, and all, shall
be symmetrically developed,’ and I have confidence that, within a very
few years, just such a school will be planted at Chautauqua; and when I
think of the larger institution, for which we now have a charter from the
state legislature, an institution which will bring its students from all
parts of the United States, I see a number of colleges constituting a
university crowning those heights, and commanding large sections of land
on both sides of this lake, and awakening a new and increased enthusiasm,
not only about the lake of Chautauqua, but all over the land, in the
great cause of popular education. [Applause.]

“Now, I do not betray any great plans which have already been devised,
but I give utterance to dreams and hopes which I know exist in the minds
of a great many Chautauqua workers, when I say that the Chautauqua
Literary and Scientific Circle, reaching as it does fifty thousand
families in all parts of this land, is silently gaining a constituency
which will be increased in less than five years to one hundred thousand,
and which, in the course of ten years, will number two hundred thousand
men and women, the most of them parents, who will be looking about for a
place in which to educate their children; and if this city, increasing
in wealth, increasing in culture, increasing in enthusiasm in the
great educational work, will only lay hold of the largest conceptions
concerning the Chautauqua of the future, the sums of money which in
the future you may be induced to contribute to the founding of this
enterprise will receive response from one hundred thousand homes all over
the land, and the grandest endowments possessed by any institution on the
continent in the near future for the Chautauqua University. [Applause.]
For here is a little fact, of which you need but to be reminded for a
moment, that to-day in the houses of the C. L. S. C. are growing up boys
and girls, coming from the farms and from the villages, who are to handle
the millions in the next twenty-five years. And when Tom comes from the
field and goes into business and makes his money, and remembers the new
interest awakened in him by his father and mother, he is inspired by a
public spirit, he looks at the half million, more or less, which he is
disposed to contribute, and the institution which he will help will be
his father’s and mother’s _Alma Mater_, and his own _Alma Mater_, and
we may expect in this way the largest and grandest endowments of any
institution on the continent. I have been drinking strongly of this cold
water, and it always makes me feel like talking, and I thank you for the
privilege given me of expressing the dreams which come to my mind of the
institution which you have so greatly honored, and whose annual meeting
brings us together so pleasantly to-night.” [Long continued applause.]

Governor Fenton:—“I want to introduce to you one of our citizens
representing the great manufacturing industries of our city, a gentleman
who can talk well about them. I call upon Mr. William Hall.”

Mr. Hall said: “Mr. Chairman, I am afraid that you have raised the
expectations of our friends in this announcement. I never made any
pretensions to an ability to talk, never made any pretensions to
eloquence, and, really, if I ever had, the speech to which you have
just listened would have completely blotted out anything that I might
have been tempted to say; but this much I can say, I can make a plain
statement, that I have always felt the greatest sympathy myself for the
enterprise which has been founded upon our lake. Yet it is true, that,
busied by the cares of the new enterprises, I may at times have forgotten
to express those feelings and show that sympathy—but it has always
been present in my heart. I dare not step out into the world, to speak
concerning Chautauqua, but I can speak of its effect upon the people in
my factories, with whom I daily associate, and in whose interests I feel
the liveliest interest. Many have come from foreign shores to make their
homes here. They have vague ideas of the efforts and blessings which they
are to strike in this American soil, and everything influences and turns
their thoughts, views, feelings and aspirations. Some of them have never
owned a bit of land in the world. They are now inspired with self-respect
in finding themselves in possession of a better home, and I am looking
to see what this influence coming from Chautauqua will be upon them.
They can not attend Chautauqua as much as I would like to have them. The
Chautauqua meetings come in a busy season. But they do go up there as
often as they can, and they are influenced. They do judge of the American
character. They get large aspirations by listening to those speakers.
They come home, and it is amusing and instructive to hear them talk
over what takes place up there. They speak very largely of Dr. Vincent.
There is no man in my factory who attends there but thinks Dr. Vincent
is the greatest man. They say: Dr. Vincent was as great a man as any he
introduced. I am glad he is becoming popular on account of the influence
he can exert upon them and their children who are to be the future
inhabitants of this town. They are to hold in their hands the destinies
of wide reaches of this country, and it is important that they should
come under good influences. I do not know of better influences than those
coming down to us from Chautauqua, and though we cannot be at Chautauqua,
our hearts are there, and our sympathies are there with you, and, Doctor,
when you throw the pebble in the pool, I may not follow the pebble in its
fall, but I hear the waves ripple by my door.” [Applause.]

Governor Fenton: “The people of Jamestown all recognize and admire the
devotion of President Miller of Chautauqua. Only one thing we cannot
fully understand why he should live in Akron instead of Jamestown.”
[Laughter and applause.]

Lewis Miller, Esq., spoke briefly: “Akron is in Ohio. [Applause.] It is
the place of my birth.” He gracefully acknowledged the good will of the
citizens of Jamestown in honoring the Chautauqua Board by this banquet
and reception. The management hopes ever to conduct the affairs for which
they are associated to the advantage of the local interests about the
lake, and, while Chautauqua was not organized for the purpose of merely
benefiting this local circle about the lake, yet we expect its influence
will extend until it reaches the uttermost parts of this country and
possibly of others. [Applause.]

Governor Fenton called upon Rev. W. G. Williams, of Jamestown, to speak.

Mr. Williams said: “I certainly had not the remotest idea that Governor
Fenton would ask me to say a word. I can bring a very competent
witness here at my side who will testify that at nine o’clock the last
possibility of a speech in me vanished; and yet it gives me great
pleasure to corroborate the words of others representing Jamestown, as to
the excellent character of this city of which we are residents. I suppose
I ought to call myself a resident now, though I have only been here about
a year. I have been greatly pleased with all the evidences of prosperity
commented on by the speakers before me, and I want to say just a word
in reference to one point mentioned by Dr. Vincent in his remarks—the
lack of sympathy on the part of this town with Chautauqua. I had seen
the situation as an outsider, being a resident of another town, and had
heard the remark made quite frequently, and now residing nearly a year
in Jamestown, and having carefully observed the facts, I want to bear
testimony to the strongest sympathy of the people in Jamestown with the
work in Chautauqua, and also to the fact that this sympathy is growing. I
believe that Dr. Vincent in looking forward to that future of achievement
will find that Jamestown will not lack, but will always be ready with
appreciation of the work.”

Referring to his religious and ecclesiastical connections in Jamestown,
Mr. Williams said: “We are enlisted as Methodists with our Baptist,
Presbyterian, and Congregational brethren. We are orthodox in Jamestown,
I believe, trying to do an orthodox work, and in this we are working in
sympathy and in coöperation with Chautauqua, and I join with others in
extending a hearty welcome, representing, if I may, the churches of the
town to these gentlemen, who come to represent a great institution at
Chautauqua.” [Applause.]

Gov. Fenton told a story about Dr. Flood’s failing to obtain an original
story from a notable writer, at the other end of the lake, and about his
own recommendation of a novel which was substituted therefor.

Dr. Flood said:—“Gov. Fenton takes proper credit for ‘Lavengro’ appearing
in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. There is a gentleman who makes his home, during the
summer season, at the head of the lake, and there was a time when the
lower end came to the rescue of the upper end. A gentleman had guaranteed
to furnish an original story, but when the time came for the work to
begin, he failed, and I failed to pay the thousand dollars. Governor
Fenton, anxious, doubtless, for the reputation of the upper end of the
lake, did suggest that I ought to examine ‘Lavengro.’ I went to George
Borrow and borrowed. I borrowed generously, and I do not doubt in the
least but the one hundred and seventy-five thousand readers of THE
CHAUTAUQUAN were quite as well pleased with ‘Lavengro’ as they would have
been with the original story, unless our friend, President Miller, would
have been better pleased with the other story, because it was to be on
the greenback line and opposed to monopolies.

“THE CHAUTAUQUAN was born in two cities; in Jamestown and Meadville. It
is a little remarkable, but nevertheless a fact, the three states that
furnish the most subscribers to THE CHAUTAUQUAN, New York, Pennsylvania
and Ohio, are the three states associated with the birth of the magazine.
It got its name in Ohio. The name was given when Doctor Vincent and
I were riding in the cars in Ohio. The magazine was printed first in
Meadville, Pa., and it was shipped to Jamestown, from which point the
first number was mailed to subscribers, after which the offices were
removed to Meadville. I am gratified that the citizens of Jamestown
have at last been awakened from a sort of Rip Van Winkle sleep on this
question of Chautauqua, and have, with a sort of exclamation point at
this banquet, met the Board of Trustees and the management of Chautauqua
with a very hearty and cordial reception.

“This is the line where we cross from the first decade into the second
decade of Chautauqua history.” Here the speaker told a laughable incident
connected with a dissolute fellow who disturbed a Free Methodist
watch-meeting by an untimely blowing of a horn and the exclamation, “My
name is Gabriel, and I come once in a hundred years.” [Laughter.] “Now,
Mr. President, our name is Chautauquans, and to Jamestown we come for the
first time in ten years. We hope to come more frequently in the future.”

Governor Fenton introduced Mr. Marvin, who, after a little pleasantry,
spoke concerning the idea broached by Dr. Vincent. “It has been said
that the citizens of Jamestown have not manifested quite as much warmth
of feeling toward the Chautauqua association which you have founded upon
this lake, and which is in such a prosperous condition. This is not true.
We have been in sympathy with you. Our heart’s feelings have been with
you, though I am free to say, perhaps we have not sufficiently manifested
it. We are glad to have you present on this occasion, and we hope in the
future that we may make ourselves known to you more strongly than in the
past. [Applause.] But I should say that, strictly from a business point
of view, there is not that wealth in Jamestown that many of you think.
But few of our citizens are wealthy. Many are well-to-do, but what they
have is so invested in their various enterprises that they have not
that ready money to invest in outside operations. Perhaps this fact has
controlled to some extent the monied interests which otherwise would have
gone to assist you at Chautauqua.

“Now gentlemen, we rejoice that you have come to the shores of the lake.
We rejoice that you have founded that city in the woods, and we hope to
bear stronger proofs of our sympathy hereafter.”

Dr. J. T. Edwards, of Randolph, being introduced humorously referred to
the royal furnishings of the banquet, the superabundance of which might
make, as Dr. Holmes has wittily said, many families happy. Looking upon
the delicious oysters he had been reminded of two speakers at a feast in
Egg Harbor—one was classic and made references to Brutus and Cassius and
other men unknown to the lowly oystermen—the other by one who swinging
his arms and with loud voice exclaimed: “Fellow-citizens, the last time
I had the pleasure of visiting your town, I came to the conclusion that
the Egg Harbor oysters were superior to those of Saddle Rock.” [Laughter
and applause.] This was saying the right thing in the right place, and at
once took hold of the Egg Harbor oystermen. We can not always do it.

Becoming more serious, the speaker said he believed this to be the best
age of the world, and Chautauqua a grand achievement resting on this
beautiful lake, more like the beautiful Windermere than any he had
elsewhere seen, made classic by the writings of Coleridge and Wilson,
and others. I extend my congratulations also on this occasion, and feel
myself to be present with these citizens of Jamestown.

Dr. J. H. Worman being introduced by ex-Governor Fenton, said: “In a
large place in the city of Berlin, among the many paintings in the
gallery of the king there is one that attracted my attention when I was
a boy. It is a coronation scene of King William IV. He is in the act
of taking from the people their promise of being faithful to him. And
to-night as Dr. Vincent spoke to you of the promise that had come to
him from this side, I was reminded of that picture, and I see now in
place of the king coming to ask his subjects their faith, this leader of
Chautauqua standing before me asking your fealty for the good work begun
upon this lake; and, as was written under the picture in letters that are
never to be effaced, crowned by many a jewel: ‘This yes is mine’—so I see
written upon your hearts in undying language, the promise to Chautauqua
and its honored leader, a YES for the support of that enterprise, that
it may never die so long as civilization has a home on this lake.” [Long
continued applause.]

At a late hour the company separated for their homes and places of
entertainment, all being impressed with the genuine friendship of the
citizens of Jamestown for the Chautauqua Assembly.


The annual meeting of the Trustees of the Chautauqua Assembly was held in
the gentlemen’s parlors of the Sherman House, Jamestown, N. Y., January
9th and 10th, Lewis Miller, Esq., President of the Board, in the chair.
There were present Vice President F. H. Root, of Buffalo, Dr. J. H.
Vincent, Mr. Clem Studebaker, of Indiana, Dr. J. T. Edwards, Revs. J.
Leslie, H. H. Moore, and a number of others. The old board of officers
was reëlected with this exception: Mr. W. A. Duncan, of Syracuse, was
elected trustee and secretary of the Assembly and superintendent of the
grounds. Mr. Duncan is a leading Congregationalist of Syracuse, N. Y. He
is a man of fine business tact, of indefatigable industry, of executive
force, and a thorough Christian gentleman. Mr. Duncan has had large
experience in the management of Chautauqua matters, having been Dr.
Vincent’s right hand man for several years, and will enter upon his work
under the most auspicious circumstances. Dr. Vincent outlined his work
for the summer of 1884, but the details of his plans were not arranged so
that he could inform the board who the lecturers would be on any given
days in August next. The finances of the Assembly were found to be in
a more satisfactory condition than some trustees had expected. Taken
all in all the business of the Assembly is in a healthy condition, and
the program for the coming season promises to be an unusually brilliant
one. A number of new cottages will be erected when the spring opens,
the facilities for reaching the grounds will be improved, and the hotel
accommodations will be excellent and at prices to suit the purses of all
visitors. The business transacted was of a routine character, but the
results will be apparent the coming summer in the improved condition of
the grounds and public buildings at Chautauqua.


The following list of graduates of the Class of 1883 appears according
to states. It has been prepared with great care by the office secretary,
Miss Kate F. Kimball.


    Anderson, Nancy Elizabeth
    Bartlett, Mrs H B
    Deering, Mary E
    Gammon, Josie E
    Haight, Mrs Emma C
    Littlefield, Pauline D
    Munger, Annie R
    Palmer, Annie L
    Plummer, Mary Eliza
    Poole, John William
    Shapleigh, Miss Annie E
    St. Clair, Ashley Orbun
    Stetson, Josiah Walter
    Russell, Maria J

_New Hampshire._

    Abbot, Emily H
    Abbot, Charles W
    Adams, Frank E
    Adams, Mary T
    Bales, Miss Mary Louise
    Barclay, Belle C
    Bishop, Channing
    Bishop, James M
    Bishop, Margaret A
    Bragdon, Frederick Augustus
    Brook, Jennie B
    Bryant, Jenny A
    Buttrick, Mrs Laura A
    Byam, Mrs Rosette M
    Center, Marion E
    Everett, Charles Fitch
    Hitchcock, Mrs Hiram
    Sanborn, Ella F
    Sanborn, Lizzie E
    Thompson, Henry S
    Thompson, Mary C
    Tibbets, Mrs Jane N
    Tibbets, Lucy W


    Anderson, Fayette S
    Carleton, Nellie R
    Cobb, Mrs Lymna H
    Collins, Mrs Carrie F
    Macomber, Candace Worth
    Rood, Eliza Nears
    Todd, Helen M
    Woodard, Mary Sophia


    Adams, Mrs Rebecca J
    Allbe, Edward Payson
    Allen, W Isadore
    Balch, Julia Norris
    Ballou, Sarah H
    Barber, Sara J
    Barlow, Maria A
    Barlow, Susie Gordon
    Barrett, Clifford M
    Beard, Mrs Augusta M
    Bigelow, Lettie Selma
    Blancher, Mary Adams
    Bosworth, Mrs Luthera E
    Brainard, M Llewellyn
    Butters, M Belle
    Campbell, Eliza F
    Carr, Geneva E
    Clark, Alice M
    Coates, Arthur B
    Comey, M Emma
    Conant, Mrs Charlotte J
    Coolidge, Mrs Sarah Isabella
    Cutler, Mrs Leonard
    Day, Edward
    Deane, Anna L
    Dight, Alexander
    Dight, Mrs Georgia J Ingalls
    Dodge, Fred Howard
    Downe, Mrs Mary A
    Drew, Miss Mary Eliza
    Eberle, Lydia Eaton
    Ellis, Miss Clara M
    Fairfield, Lizzie W
    Farnham, Clara Charlotte
    Fisk, Ella W
    Fisk, Sarah E
    Fletcher, Mrs Agnes B
    Fraser, John Crane
    French, Addie E M
    Full, William
    Gardner, Annie Hazeltine
    Gates, Miss Lauretta Maria
    Hagen, Hattie S
    Hale, Helen S
    Haskell, Mrs Ella L
    Haskins, Mrs Leander M
    Hayes, Cordelia W
    Hills, Miss Helen M
    Ingraham, H A
    Jewett, Annie R
    Jones, Anna Maria
    Josselyn, Abbie P
    Kendall, Ina C
    Knight, Annie Adams
    Lane, Rosie A
    Le Baron, Mrs Sara E
    Lee, Laura Ella
    Little, Eliza A
    Longhead, Mary E
    Macy, Ida
    Mason, Myra C (Mrs E B)
    Matthews, Maria
    Maynard, Sarah M
    Mitchell, Emma Josephine
    Morey, Miss Kate
    Morrell, Susan A
    Morse, Miss Hattie F
    Noon, Alfred
    Oakman, Fannie W
    Oaks, Fred Leslie
    Orne, Mary E C
    Plummer, Sarah C
    Poole, Benj Franklin
    Porter, Mrs Angeline M
    Pratt, Ellen M
    Prior, Clara T
    Ray, Harlan E
    Root, Amelia N
    Ryder, Cecelia N
    Sadler, Carra Virginia
    Sears, Mrs C W
    Snow, Alice Marcella
    Spilsted, Ellena S
    Smith, Anna Willis
    Stanley, John W
    Stewart, Caroline W
    Swett, Mrs M Angie
    Thayer, Mrs Louise S
    Tilden, Miss Chestina
    Tilden, Cora B
    Tilden, Elizabeth T
    Tobey, Martha
    Warner, Miss Isabel
    Warner, Mrs Isabelle A
    Whitaker, Mrs Helen S
    Whiting, Jennie M
    Whiting, Mary A
    Whiting, Waldo B
    Winslow, Arthur Francis
    Wight, Mary F
    Woodman, Emma N

_Rhode Island._

    Abbott, Emma L
    Barrows, Miss Ann M
    Fish, Jennie Oliver
    Manchester, Emma L
    Olney, Lizzie Elzina
    Owen, Celia W
    Phillips, Mary A
    Potter, Amelia


    Adams, Henry M
    Bond, Sara Moody
    Botsford, Mrs Carrie A
    Clark, Agnes L
    Danforth, Sarah A
    Gibbs, Sarah L
    Goddard, Katherine A
    Greene, Miss M Wilhemene
    Griswold, Nellie P
    Holmes, Harriet E
    Hotchkiss, Henry E
    Johnson, Mrs Truman
    Jones, Mrs Emma F
    Kerr, Ella Esther
    Kerr, M Agnes
    Lockwood, M Emma
    Mead, Hannah H
    Mead, Mrs Whitman L
    Minor, Katie E
    Morgan, Hattie J
    Rice, Fannie L
    Roberts, Emily
    Shekleton, Joseph Wilson
    Stoddard, Sarah Gilbert
    Towne, Luella Frances
    Treat, Clarence Bell
    Williamson, Mrs H L
    Wood, Rev Melvin C

_New York._

    Abell, Mary L
    Abbott, G Elliott
    Agard, Eaton J
    Avery, Mary S
    Babcock, Anna W
    Bain, Arvilla E Morse
    Bannister, Miss Alice G
    Barnhart, Jeremiah
    Bartlett, Miss Clara A
    Beal, Letta M
    Bean, Clarence H
    Bedell, Ada M
    Bell, Richard E
    Benedict, Clara J
    Bennett, Mrs Hattie C
    Blowers, Mrs De Ann J
    Blythe, Adell
    Boardman, Stella
    Boomhour, Clara A
    Botsford, Mary H
    Bowen, Kate C
    Bowers, Abraham H
    Bradley, Mary E
    Brady, Edwin C
    Bramley, Mary E
    Brower, Mrs Carrie L
    Brown, Ellen S
    Burnett, Frederick J
    Burnett, Lida
    Burns, Mary A
    Burnell, Miss Sarah
    Bush, Arthine A
    Carter, Bella C
    Chase, Satie L
    Chriswell, Emma J
    Clark, Edwin H
    Clark, Mary E
    Clawson, E Augusta
    Clawson, E Gertrude
    Common, Lizzie
    Conger, Mrs Charlotte
    Cooper, Charles J
    Corbett, Mary T
    Corbett, Sophia C
    Crane, Elizabeth W
    Cronise, Mrs Dora A
    Cross, Phebe A
    Curtis, Jennie Norton
    Curtis, Miner
    Curtiss, Clara E
    Davis, Miss Sarah J
    Day, Franklin
    Deane, Harriet Eliza
    De Lano, Mary
    Dennison, Mrs Elizabeth A
    Dennison, Minnie E
    Derby, Orville P
    Donnan, Mrs Wm A (Matilda)
    Drake, Miss E E
    Dransfield, Lizzie B
    Dunning, Anna G
    Dunning, Floyd M
    Ecker, Miss Rose E
    Eddy, Elmora E
    Elmore, Arthur B
    Emigh, Annie
    English, Mrs Frank P
    Evarts, Martha J
    Ewell, Mrs Carrie F
    Farrar, Rev Hubbard C
    Farrar, Mrs Rev H C
    Fenton, Ellen
    Field, Mrs M B
    Flint, Mrs Chas A
    Foster, Mary Celinda
    Frederick, Anna B
    Freeman, Nettie B
    Frisbee, Ettie H
    Frost, James S
    Galbraith, Martha J
    Geer, Louise E
    Genung, Adriana B
    Gese, Mary E
    Gifford, Joseph C
    Gillett, Edward C
    Goodell, Mrs Ella C
    Goodwin, Eliza Steele
    Gould, Julia N
    Gould, Louis Agassiz
    Gould, Lydia E Wakeman
    Grant, Emeline N
    Grant, Maria L
    Griffiths, John D
    Halbert, Susan Frances
    Hadley, Mrs A Irene
    Hale, Emily J
    Hall, Mrs E G W
    Hall, J Duane
    Hallock, Henry Tuthill, M D
    Hamilton, Mrs J Lucelia
    Hammond, E Eleonora
    Hancock, Emily S
    Hart, Miss A M
    Hart, Miss Hattie A
    Haviland, M Alice
    Hawkins, Edna
    Hawley, Helen A
    Haydock, Minnie M
    Hayward, Mrs Adele
    Healy, Mrs Dorus
    Hearn, Mrs Juliet
    Hedges, Mrs S C
    Heist, Ellen N
    Holland, Julia Bryant
    Holmes, Richard
    Honeywell, J R
    Hopkins, Elisha B
    Hopkins, Sarah W
    Horton, Mary D
    Hughes, Emma
    Hughes, Mary E
    Hull, Miss Rachel J
    Hunt, Hester A
    Hunt, Mrs Minerva J
    Hurn, Mrs John M
    Hurst, M Emma
    Hutchinson, Mrs Anna Eliza
    Hutchinson, Arthur
    Jackson, William
    Jennings, Carrie F
    Johnson, Mary E G
    Jones, Celia J
    Jones, Delia
    Jump, Mrs J B
    Kantz, Matie J
    Karr, Miss Ella Austie
    Karr, Margaretta Ayres
    Kennedy, Eva H
    Keyes, Harriet H
    Kimball, Miss Marie A
    King, Maria
    Kirk, Anna E
    Kirk, Lizzie L
    Kirk, Susie A
    Lamphier, Miss Anna M
    Lamphier, Miss L Jennie
    Lathrop, Hattie A
    Leffingwell, Jane E
    Leonard, Lucy
    Lestie, Hannah Gibson
    Letterman, Kate
    Lewis, Mrs Daniel
    Lindsley, Lillian E
    Longwell, Elizabeth J
    Longwell, Mary
    Losee, Jennie A
    Lowe, Harriet A P
    Luetchford, Carrie C
    Luetchford, Marian A
    Lyman, Mary A
    Lyon, Rosa B
    Macadam, Minnie
    MacDonald, Josephine
    Mapes, Miss Josie
    Martin, Mrs Hannah R
    Martin, Helen M
    Martin, Jennie E
    Mathews, Eleanor M
    Matthews, Belinda
    McCullough, Miss Harriet E
    McKenna, John T
    McWharf, J Morton, M D
    Mead, Amelia J
    Mekeel, Margaret Dimon
    Mills, Mary
    Mellinger, Agnes W
    Merriam, Belle A
    Merwin, Mary A
    Mills, Agnes W
    Mills, Louise Payne
    Monroe, Josaphine
    Montgomery, Isabella C
    More, Mary
    Morgan, Camelia M
    Morse, Elzina
    Murphy, Emma Hyall, A M
    Murray, Adda Hurd
    Newton, R G
    Niles, Miss Katie C
    Niles, Mary R
    Norris, L Alice
    Otis, Elizabeth G
    Pangborn, Lucia E
    Parker, James Wilson
    Parsons, Miss Lucy A
    Payne, Satie D
    Peck, A L
    Perrine, Miss M J
    Phelps, Julia A
    Phillips, Mrs Florrie E
    Pierie, Jennie M
    Pinneo, M E Bingham
    Piper, George John
    Platt, Mrs Mary J
    Pool, Helen Emma
    Powell, Caroline A
    Powell, Mary A
    Powers, S L
    Pratt, Hattie S
    Pratt, Mary B
    Prentice, Eliza A
    Redhouse, Mrs Sarah Petty
    Reed, Erminia Kate
    Reed, Mary L
    Reed, Phebe A
    Reeves, Miss Ella D
    Robbins, Fannie J
    Robertson, Mrs Lizzie M
    Robinson, Rena Wiltse
    Romeo, Mrs John
    Rorrison, Clara M
    Roup, Barna C
    Savage, Helen C
    Sawyer, Mrs Walter W
    Scofield, Helen
    Scott, Mrs Wm
    Seymons, Joseph Lucius
    Seymour, Eliza Ann
    Shattuck, George Sidney
    Shaw, Mrs McKendres
    Short, Mrs Belle F
    Sibley, Margery J
    Simon, Joseph E
    Skiff, Mrs Ellen M
    Smith, Anna L
    Smith, Miss Clarissa
    Smith, Edson L
    Smith, Frank
    Spencer, S Amelia
    Spicer, Mary C
    Staats, Anna Kellogg
    Stebbins, Lulu A
    Steelman, Mrs Mary B
    Stevens, Mrs Sarah P
    Stewart, M Belle
    Stickney, Ella M
    Stillman, Carrie Elliott
    Stoddard, Miss Frances M
    Stone, Addie H
    Stone, George Bryant
    Strong, Julia
    Strong, Mrs M Francena B
    Sykes, Perlio A
    Taylor, Eliza Jeannette
    Thornell, Helen M
    Thornell, Miss Mary J
    Titus, Mary Louisa
    Tompkins, Sophia Vanderbilt
    Trott, Lois E
    Tuttle, Edwin Jr
    Twining, Emma A
    Twining, Mary E
    Upton, Mrs Frank S
    Vanderpoel, Mrs Mary E
    Vaughan, Jennie A
    Villefen, Zilpha
    Walker, Charles Eugene, M D
    Walter, Ella R
    Ward, Miss Jennie L
    Ware, Miss Minnie
    Ware, William T
    Wark, Eleanora
    Warren, Miss Juliette
    Washburn, Wm H
    Webber, Julia D
    Webber, Alice L
    West, Mrs Emma Case
    White, Mrs Mary V W
    Whitlock, Betsey A
    Whitney, Emma E
    Wildman, Fidelia D
    Williams, Elizabeth S
    Willis, Mary Angell
    Wirt, Ella Louise
    Wood, Mary L
    Wray, Miss Mary H
    Wright, Mary Emily

_New Jersey._

    Angle, John Wesley
    Ashton, Mary
    Baird, Miss Maggie J
    Baker, Abram
    Baker, Mary Estelle
    Baldwin, Annie M
    Baldwin, Sarah Marinda
    Brackett, Mrs Addie
    Canfield, Carrie
    Carman, Emily F
    Carpenter, Jeannette
    Chase, Eliza E
    Chevallier, Carrie E
    Chevallier, Julia Augusta
    Collins, Emma C
    Collins, Sarah E
    Cook, Miss Anna M
    Corwin, Rachael Crary
    Davis, Anna Sheppard
    Dougall, Mary Agnes
    Downes, Adelaide T
    Downes, Maria A
    Downes, Mary W
    Eddy, Harriet E
    Ferris, Ella L
    Franklin, Mrs C H
    Freeman, Miss Minnie C
    Fulton, Joseph
    Hait, Mary Hasbrouck
    Harrison, Miss Mary A
    Heazelton, Anna M
    Hudson, Emma L
    Hunt, Mrs N Adeline
    Ingling, Elizabeth C
    Ingling, Wm H
    Jackson, Sarah Fulton
    James, Rettie F
    Jones, Stephen H
    Kirby, Ida H
    Kitchell, Clifford C
    Kitchell, Lizzie F
    Lippincott, Mary R
    Locke, George R
    Luckey, Hattie L
    McMurtry, Fannie A
    Minch, Emma M
    Morris, Mrs Lydia H
    Morse, Silas Ruttilus
    Mulliner, Mary R
    Newell, Augusta S
    Nichols, Anna Lavinia
    Parker, Miss Lizzie
    Peck, Mrs S O, Jr
    Pudney, Cassie S
    Richmond, S Luther
    Robertson, Emma J
    Rowland, Rachel D
    Sayre, Laura B
    Schuyler, Erwin H
    Schuyler, Isabel V
    Scott, Mrs Lucy A
    Shipman, Wm H
    Smith, Harry G
    Stanton, Mrs L Loisanna T
    Strong, Rachel H
    Thompson, Sallie H
    Van Alstyne, J
    Wallace, Miss Sarah
    White, Mary
    White, Edmund C
    Wilkins, Anna K


    Adams, Anna M
    Agnew, Mary Jane
    Annos, Mrs Fannie B
    Askin, Alfred H
    Austin, Frank A
    Baker, Carrie E
    Baker, Mattie A
    Barnetson, Edwin
    Barrett, Mamie Gertrude
    Beach, Hessie Cecil
    Beale, Mary Rosalie
    Benney, William M
    Black, Mrs Emma F
    Black, Mrs A M
    Bradley, Rev J Wharton
    Bradley, Mrs Minnie R
    Browning, Miss Laura C
    Buchanan, Mattie A
    Bunn, Mary R
    Burns, Miss Sarah
    Byles, Mrs Martha J
    Clemens, Henry Sweitzer
    Cole, Alice L
    Coles, Mary E
    Collier, Nettie A
    Comly, Elizabeth F
    Crawford, H Emma
    Crawford, Mrs J Lynn Johnston
    Culbertson, Miss J A
    Cummings, Mrs E J
    Daggett, Ida B
    Dale, Anna M
    Deens, Anna
    Dinsmoor, Alice A
    Dorand, Miss A J
    Drown, Belle
    Drury, Ann Elizabeth
    Easterbrooks, Susie G
    Easton, Mrs Ida Lois
    Edwards, Jonathan
    Elliott, Miss Maggie
    Emerson, Mrs Carrie B
    Emig, Flora A
    Emig, Mary J
    Esler, Anna P
    Fentemaker, Chas D
    Frick, Bella R
    Fulton, Mrs S C
    Galbraith, Margaret E
    Gates, Mrs Augusta Hillier
    Gehman, Abram E
    Gibbon, Mary G
    Gilliford, Alice L
    Goetz, Rev George
    Griffith, Emily M
    Hack, Adelia M
    Harris, Mrs Abbie E
    Haynes, Mrs J T
    Haynes, Jennie
    Hench, Annie E
    Herring, Miss Bella
    Hershey, ⸺
    Hines, Thomas Bryson
    Holloway, Lida M
    Hulburt, Chas A
    Hulburt, Mary C
    Jewett, Mary E
    Jones, Miss H Frances
    Jones, Jared Emory
    Kennedy, Mary J
    Kernick, E M
    Kernick, Mrs Lizzie A
    Kerr, Miss Ella A
    Kingsley, Flora
    Kirk, Mercie Ann
    Kirker, Mrs F H
    Kirkland, Alfred Potter
    Landsrath, Mrs Emily B
    Laughlin, Rebecca P
    Lenhart, Lyde A
    Line, Albert Allan
    McGeary, Wm S
    McKee, Miss Mary
    Moorhead, Hattie
    Murdough, Lucinda H
    Murrmann, Adam
    Mushiltz, J H
    Nutting, Louisa M
    Parker, Esther, M A, N S
    Parsons, John W
    Patterson, Mrs A C
    Patterson, Julia
    Payne, Mrs E C
    Peiffer, Hattie E
    Perkins, Georgie
    Philpot, Miss Sallie
    Poppino, Anna M
    Poppino, Sadie L
    Pratt, Mrs A D
    Ripley, Ossie L
    Searle, K F
    Shaffer, William H
    Starkweather, Amelia M
    Strayer, Emma S
    Sherwood, William S
    Smith, Julia A
    Smith, Mrs Lillie E
    Smith, Maggie A
    Snyder, Hallie S
    Taggart, Mary A
    Taylor, Mrs Mary L
    Thorpe, Lizzie A
    Tull, Hannah
    Vail, Anna L
    Van Camp, Albert
    Vera, J Adams
    Wachter, Mrs Flora A
    Wallace, Maria J
    Warden, Mary E
    Warner, Vinnia A
    Watkins, Mrs M A
    Watts, Edwin L
    Weaver, Mattie R
    Weiser, William Franklin
    West, Clara Cloud
    West, Louise
    Wharton, Mrs Fanny B
    Wheeler, Mrs C S
    Wheelock, DeForest A
    Wiley, Hallis
    Williams, Rev Geo L
    Winters, Robert S
    Wyckoff, Miss Oriana
    Youngs, Sidney M


    Maloney, Anna
    Morris, Wm Thos


    Belt, William H S
    Cargell, John Marcus
    Cromwell, Thos Anna Sallers
    Kern, Miss Anna
    Kern, Miss J Causin
    Kerr, Lizzie L
    Lemmon, Y Ella S
    Thomson, Bessie G
    Trump, Lizzie
    Trump, Mrs Sarah C
    Waite, Mary M

_District of Columbia._

    Brown, Mrs Carrie E C
    Brown, Olippard B
    Graham, Euphemia E
    Graham, Octavia
    Hamilton, Frank
    Hayes, Annie M
    Lacy, Anderson P
    Lehman, Harriet P
    Longan, Martha C
    McLean, Marion J
    Olcott, Mindwell Griswold
    Porter, Carrie
    Robinson, Emily
    Walker, Addie Lucy
    Walker, Geo Harold
    Wise, Huldap J


    Harrison, Margaret Norwood
    Kindred, Mary Tinsley

_South Carolina._

    Hinton, Edmund
    Deal, Celia Emma


    Bunn, Porcia M
    Oliver, Mrs Sarah P
    Roy, Mrs J E
    Sengstacke, Rev J H H


    Harward, Miss Jennie E
    Thompson, Jay J
    Waterman, Miss Grace G

_West Virginia._

    Atkinson, George Wesley
    Fleming, Melissa
    Faulkner, Mattie V
    Kendall, Mrs Roanna L
    Moss, Harry P
    Tavennes, Emma B
    Watkins, Wm
    Wayman, John Francis
    Wilding, George Cleaton
    Young, Miss Ella


    Allen, Maria L
    Alsdorf, Mrs Allie
    Ballard, Florence
    Ballard, Laura W
    Ballard, Miss Lucy B
    Barber, Mrs E L
    Barber, Gershon M
    Beckwith, Ellen C F
    Beecher, Alice M
    Beswick, Alexander M
    Bethel, John Clemens
    Bownocker, Wm A
    Brown, Miss Clara J
    Brown, Mrs Martha A
    Brown, Miss Mary J
    Brown, Mrs Vinolia A
    Bushnell, Ellen Willes
    Camp, Alice Brown
    Camp, Hortense
    Canfield, Pauline Emerson
    Cannon, May T
    Casler, Ellen J E R
    Chase, Sylvia L
    Chesbrough, Isaac M
    Christianas, Alice
    Cist, Charles M
    Clark, Ardelia
    Clark, Luetta
    Cooke, Mary A
    Cottrell, Miss Mattie E
    Craine, Maud S
    Crawford, Robert Sampson
    Curtis, Albert W
    Davies, Richard R
    Donaldson, Annie
    Dunaway, Mary E
    Dunlap, Rev Geo W
    Dunlap, Henrietta L
    Earle, Mary H
    Edgar, Maggie B
    Etheridge, Annie M
    Fleet, Ruth B
    Frazer, Orrin F
    French, John M
    French, Richmon Elroy
    Fritz, Benj F
    Gee, Susan Scott
    Hall, Miss Kate
    Hamilton, Lucinda E
    Heald, Theodocia C
    Henderlick, Miss Kate
    Hine, Mary A
    Hitchcock, Miss Ann C
    Holcomb, J DeLos
    Hulburt, Mrs Carrie C
    Hulburt, Julia
    Hull, Mrs Kate P
    Humphrey, Charlotte
    Humphrey, Orleia F
    Hurley, Miss Florence
    Hutchinson, Ophelia Head
    Irwin, Elizabeth A
    Jeffrey, Mrs Josephine A
    Jenning, Alice
    Jennings, Juliet Wallace
    Jordan, Mrs Lucy
    Joyce, Carrie W
    Keller, Mrs Lide J
    Kemble, Emma J
    Kemmerlein, Amelia
    Kent, Eugene E
    King, Miss Mary M
    Knapp, Mrs S G
    Knox, Janet
    Kolbe, Julia Clara
    Lakeman, Clifford F
    Laurie, Clara A
    Laurie, Fannie S
    Lingo, Harry H
    Longnecker, Mrs J M
    Lyman, Susan Elizabeth
    McClelland, Harriet A
    McConnell, Anna
    McCoy, Lillian
    McCreary, Jennie
    McGowan, Mary
    McVay, Emma C
    Mann, Mrs Rosella M P
    Matteson, Mrs H E
    Mayes, Lucy K
    Meeker, Mrs L C
    Miller, Emily H
    Millikin, Mattie R
    Mixer, Chas A
    Moore, Miss Carrie M
    Moore, Jennie H
    Moore, Miss Lizzie
    Nordyke, Callie E
    Norris, Carrie E
    Ober, Reuben H
    Parrett, Anna D L
    Parrott, Alice Maude
    Parsons, Mrs Loverne E
    Pennell, William W
    Perkins, Mary A
    Pixley, Elmira Adaline
    Pratt, Harriett S
    Pritchard, T C
    Ranney, Luther Kelsey
    Reed, Emma J
    Reid, Mrs Alma
    Roath, Katie M
    Rogers, Julia A
    Rood, Alice Stone
    Saxton, Josephine
    Scott, Mrs Emma H
    Sherwin, Clara N
    Sholes, Mrs Adelia J
    Simons, Cynthia A
    Smellie, Alice A
    Smith, Laura Pease
    Smith, Mrs Jacob A
    Smith, Wm H
    Smith, Corinthia M
    Snyder, L M
    Stone, Clara E
    Stone, Harlan M
    Taggart, R D
    Taneyhill, Charles Wesley
    Thayer, Mrs H N
    Turpin, Sallie H
    Twaddle, Mrs Sabra A
    Walker, Frank Baker
    Walker, Alma E
    Weitzell, Mrs M A
    Welty, Rachel
    West, Fannie E
    West, Mary L
    White, Mrs Maria J
    Wigton, Mattie M
    Williams, Evan A
    Wilcox, Jennie E
    Wood, Mary E H
    Wright, Kate M
    Yeagley, Lafayette
    Young, Elizabeth J
    Ziegler, Mrs R J


    Allis, Mrs J M
    Arnold, Eva
    Baker, Mrs D H
    Baylor, Adelaide
    Beckett, Millard Julian
    Birdsell, Emma A
    Blair, Jesse Harvey
    Bowman, Jennie
    Chantler, Mary E
    Claypool, Mrs J H
    Coulter, Mrs Anna Richards
    Curtiss, Geo Lewis
    Curtiss, Mary
    Donnohue, M Josephine
    Elder, Harriet E
    Emery, Mrs A W
    Forrest, Ruth Angell
    Forest, William H
    Foulke, Hattie E
    Foulke, Lizzie E
    Francis, George
    Frazer, Harriet D
    Furnas, Walton C
    Hanna, Rebecca
    Harris, Emma Burnett
    Holloway, Martha A
    Hubbard, Martha O
    Hull, Mrs G W
    Langsdale, Mary E B
    Latham, Mabel
    Lemen, Mrs J R
    Lemen, Jno R
    Liddell, Elizabeth M
    Matthews, Sarah A
    McHenry, Lula M
    McIntosh, Mrs Leon
    Merrifield, Kate E
    Moore, Jennie A
    Palmer, Jessie Dana
    Patterson, Florence
    Plumer, Jane
    Poindexter, Bertha F
    Sering, Eliza B
    Simmons, Belle
    Smith, Elvira A
    Spain, M Ella
    Stewart, Mrs M E
    Stout, Lelia E
    Talburt, Carrie B
    Taylor, Ida
    Thompson, Phebe C
    Tingley, Mrs Ellen K
    Tompkins, Sabra A
    Towers, Josiah M
    Treatman, Alice Amelia
    Tuttle, Ellen Eunice
    Van Slyke, Mrs W M
    Van Slyke, Rev W M
    Watts, Margaret A
    Weeks, Harvey Russell
    Williams, Carrie R J
    Williams, Drue T


    Banks, Alma E
    Bonnell, Mary L
    Bridges, Flora
    Brown, Miss Margaret
    Calder, Mrs Laura A
    Carpenter, Mrs Josie E
    Carson, Elizabeth
    Cassell, Mrs Mary L
    Chamberlain, Isadore
    Chase, Emma
    Clark, Mrs Mary L
    Cook, Florence E
    Crane, Mrs Richard T
    Dennis, Lucy A
    Dike, Julia C
    Dungan, George Wesley
    Fitch, Georgia
    Frazier, Mrs Ennie
    Graves, Mrs Mary Brooks
    Hall, Lydia A
    Haller, Mary A S
    Hemenway, Eliza M
    Higgins, Mrs Mary E
    Hunter, Thomas C
    Hurst, Nannie R
    Joslyn, Mrs Mary
    Kean, Anna Rebecca
    Keever, Emily Vernera
    Knowles, Wiley
    Lewis, Carrie N
    McKillop, Katie K
    Metcalf, Ella R
    Metcalf, Henry K
    Miller, Mrs A F
    Miller, Ruth Lee
    Moore, Charles Saeger
    Nelson, Delia J
    Neville, Mary E
    Nixon, Mrs Ruth P
    Oliver, Fanny E
    Osburn, Mrs Sarah E
    Paddock, Mrs Ella M
    Parmenter, Mary A
    Payne, Miss Agnes S
    Perkins, Martha A Steele
    Poore, Anna C
    Rexford, Alma Zerniah
    Richmond, Bel Garido
    Rietmann, Miss Greda S
    Sanburn, Althea O
    Slack, Rev Charles
    Slack, Mary
    Spray, Mary A
    Stewart, Olivia
    Swezey, Ida T
    Trott, Mrs Augusta J
    Veech, Grace A
    Wallace, Wm
    Walton, Sarah Isabel
    Warren, Benjamin
    Waterbury, M Julia
    Welty, Mrs Gertrude B
    Wessling, Christian
    West, Abbie
    Wilson, Mrs Josephine M
    Yocum, Kate


    Bailey, Henry Webster
    Bailey, Mrs Lucy
    Earle, Mary Jane
    Fields, John Clarence
    Schaal, John G
    Shouse, Mrs Vassie Rucker
    Standish, Mary E


    Havey, Mrs Delia E
    Latting, Bettie B
    Latting, Emma L
    Milton, Louisa R
    Pepper, John R
    Rawlings, Miss L
    Shumand, Lizzie Allen Frank


    Silsby, Edwin C
    Silsby, Nettie B


    Calhoon, Mrs Sallie John
    Lamkin, Miss Augusta


    Adair, Alzina M
    Alden, Violet M
    Bellis, Mrs Adelaide
    Bowes, Mary E W
    Boynton, Roxanna
    Brown, Elizer Adeline
    Brown, Frances Lillie
    Christie, Jennie M
    Cowan, Mrs Alice Ayer
    Denniston, Mrs Margaret
    Dodson, Mrs Lizzie Abbott
    Dodson, Lizzie S
    Doney, Sarah J
    Drake, Clara Belle
    Foss, Nellie
    Ford, Edna H
    Hillman, Amanda F
    Hooley, Samuel H
    Jenkins, Mary J
    Macnish, Mrs Sarah
    Millard, Mrs William
    Moe, Miss Amelia A
    Morris, Lucy E
    Ozame, Ray A
    Rhodes, Kittie Clyde
    Rogers, Mrs Viola J
    Pickard, Emma A
    Rounds, Flora C
    Sears, Nancie D
    Sedgwick, Mrs Estelle J
    Skewes, Emma
    Smiley, Caroline M
    Stair, Caroline M
    Talbot, Jane Crandall
    Ward, Minerva C
    Whittemore, Sarah C
    Williston, Clara H


    Blakeley, Ellen L
    Clary, Anna L
    Clary, Smith B
    Culver, May E
    Downer, A T
    Fitz, J Henry
    Gould, Rossa Anna
    Hanson, Anna Adeline
    Houpt, Mrs Charles Henry
    Hoy, Mrs Emma C
    Lathrop, Charlotte E
    McEwan, Janet C Smith
    Page, Zena B
    Stinchfield, Miss Abbie
    Stinchfield, Mattie J
    Stone, Ella B
    Teitsworth, George Wilson
    Tompkins, T G
    Trowbridge, Noble A
    Van Valkenburgh, Kate M
    Wilberton, Mrs Sarah D


    Bell, Helen M
    Campbell, Emma Pengra
    Cartwright, Susan M
    Cawley, Sarah C
    Chambers, Phebe
    Cole, Lela
    Comstock, Addie A
    Cook, Mrs E H
    Cooley, Miss Hattie A
    Eldridge, Miss Carrie L
    Ely, Minnie Owen
    Finster, Mrs H C
    Firman, Adella Curtis
    Floyd, Myrtle Jessie
    Giddings, Kate Isabel
    Greene, Emma R
    Greene, Jas W
    Hood, Mrs Cyrus J
    Hubbard, Mabel E
    Johns, Emma C
    Kendrick, Mrs Minnie A
    Kesling, Marcia C West
    La Fleur, Mrs Fred
    La Fleur, Fred C
    Laidlow, Mrs T W
    Lovell, Miss A
    Lyman, Allie R
    Major, Libbie L
    Mallory, Mrs Rosie E
    McIlwain, Mrs Alexander
    Metcalf, Joseph W
    Metcalf, Miss Lizzie
    Millis, Frank
    Morgan, Miss Libbie
    Morgan, Mary Elizabeth
    Murray, Mrs C Adelia
    Nash, Mary E
    Osborn, Annette J
    Potter, Mrs Kate E
    Rice, Emma
    Robson, Adda Grace
    Rollins, Fred E
    Rowe, Mary A
    Russell, Mrs Abbie M
    Schenck, Linna A
    Sigler, Mrs H F
    Sinclair, Lizzie C
    Smith, Mrs H Darsen
    Sparling, John G
    Sparling, Anna Maria
    Steere, Grace E
    Stevens, Anna E
    Tillson, Minnie Bennett
    Toncray, Josephine E
    Travis, Clara
    Turrell, C W
    Van Auken, Mrs M Antoinette
    Woodhams, Nettie F
    Yale, Mrs Sarah A


    Alcott, Sarah E
    Barclay, Mrs Belle C
    Beall, Ennie
    Beall, Randolph S
    Bean, Samuel M D
    Bingham, Mary Upham
    Bowman, Mary A
    Brooks, Anna B
    Brownell, Mrs Julia Emeline
    Cheesman, S Madeleine
    Cooper, Emma P
    Cowles, Mrs Alice S
    Davidson, Mrs Jas
    Gillespie, Esther L
    Grout, Angie B
    Hawkinson, Hattie J
    Harris, Rachel S
    Hetherington, Sue W
    Hill, Ellen D A
    Hoyt, Mrs S C
    Huntoon, Mrs Emma M
    Karr, Mrs Anna W
    Lawrence, Mrs Abbie Orilla
    Lorang, Mrs Wilma
    Manwell, Mrs C H
    Marvin, Mary M
    Maxwell, Edith A
    May, Rev Eugene
    McCartney, Alice Cary
    McIntyre, Mrs Hattie A
    McKinley, Rev Russell A
    Merriman, Mrs Isa M
    Moseley, Ettie D
    Neally, Mrs Martha H
    Newman, Frank E
    Nve, Mrs Ada M
    O’Bryan, Amelia C
    Pollock, Mrs Mary G L
    Price, Theresa M
    Rutledge, Cyrus Felton
    Schooley, Laura
    Smith, Mrs Sarah B
    Stever, Juliet H
    Tatham, Florence Adelia
    Tatham, Cora Louise
    Thomas, Annie M
    Wallace, Eva
    Waterbury, Mary L
    Watts, Mrs Eliza A
    Weaver, Annie E
    Wolfe, Frederick C
    Wolfe, Elvira J


    Bourne, Mrs Anna R D
    Bradford, Mrs Geo H
    Burrell, Arthur S
    Cox, Thomas S
    Hayden, Miss Carrie J
    Henderson, David Rees
    Keach, Mrs Julia M
    Kibbey, Francis Marion
    Langhoun, Mamie
    Martin, Oliver M
    Purmort, Mrs Emeline Clark
    Stephens, Margaret M
    Wohlberg, John
    Woods, Mary Agnes


    Williams, G B

_Dakota Territory._

    Davis, Rose A
    Dresbach, Annie E
    Hood, Angie C
    Hood, Benjamin F
    Hughes, George Thomas
    Miller, Mrs Ella V
    Small, Abbie M
    Smith, Burton W
    Stanley, Chas H
    Stevens, Mrs C B
    Wilder, Frances Durand


    Edmundson, Elizabeth


    Bradbury, Jennie E
    Hill, Miss Rebecca
    Holmes, Mrs Alice B
    Johnson, Mrs Abbie C
    Sickner, Mrs A W
    Stoddard, Mrs Addie S
    Watson, Clara A


    Armstrong, Ramsey C
    Bell, A C
    Edwards, Thos Geo
    Starr, Georgie Mehaffey
    Watkins, Georgie Isham


    Cooper, Mrs Anna M

_Washington Territory._

    Strobach, Placie Howard


    Allen, Mrs L M
    Austin, Almira L
    Barrows, Edward C
    Bennett, Mrs A G
    Burritt, Alice, M D
    Carrick, Mary A
    Chapin, Mrs Alice E
    Chapman, M A
    Crane, Mrs E T
    Curtis, Wm Tontes
    Gafney, Mrs Lucy M
    Gardiner, Mrs Anna J
    Gosbey, Mrs Sarah F
    Greathead, Mrs Estelle H
    Hunt, Mrs Jno W L
    Huse, Alice Redman
    Lacklison, Ellen
    Lakin, Mrs Mary E
    Lynds, D M
    McBride, Miss Mattie
    McCowen, Mary E P
    McKee, Minnie Hubbard
    Merriam, Bessie Broughton
    Merritt, Harriet J
    Miller, Mrs Mira E
    Minard, Clara Cheeney
    Muzzy, Miss Sarah
    Polhemus, Lucretia E
    Pond, N Flotilla Watson
    Reynolds, Emily M
    Russell, Mrs Caroline B
    Stone, Miss Henrietta
    Stratton, Dr C C
    Summers, Mrs J H
    Thompson, Miss Gertrude H
    Walker, Cornelia
    Wallace, May Frances
    Walton, Mrs Sarah E
    Warboys, Mrs Jennie
    Wells, Alice M
    Wood, Emma Alfaretta
    Wrench, Mrs Lydia M
    Wythe, Dr Joseph H

_Province of Ontario._

    Annand, James
    Barnett, Kate H
    Chubbuck, Charles Edward D
    Donogh, John Ormsby
    Ellis, Robert B
    Frost, Maria E
    Greene, Rev Josius
    Hughes, Annie A
    Keith, Mary
    Langille, Adalena D
    Law, Arminda Myrtal
    Lawe, John W
    McLeay, Jno A
    Peake, William Henry
    Philp, Rev Joseph
    Strachan, Richard
    Wilson, Charles James


    Bainbridge, Miss Lisle


Köstlin’s “Life of Luther”[C] is really an important contribution to our
biographical literature. The fourth centennial has just been celebrated
in all Protestant countries, and much valuable information given to the
people from the pulpit and the press. The Reformation and the principal
agent God used to accomplish it are now discussed as they have not been
before for five centuries—yet the subject is by no means exhausted. This
latest book from the pen of a learned German so well qualified, and
thoroughly furnished for his work, will be read with unusual interest
by thousands whose attention has recently been directed to the life and
time of the great reformer. The Professor, whose larger work in two
volumes is a classic, has also wrought well in this, and given us a real
biography that presents its subject fairly. All essential facts are
freely admitted, even when disparaging, and any one by attentive reading
will gain a better knowledge of Luther, of his homes and his friends. The
author, who did his work well, doubtless appears to better advantage in
his own vernacular than in the translation, which, though creditable as
very plain English, might be improved by re-casting some sentences, and
by a little more careful proof reading.

“The Old Testament Student” is a well filled, ably conducted monthly
magazine, published at Chicago for the “American Institute of Hebrew,”
subscription price, $2.00. It can hardly fail to be useful to all Bible
students, particularly those who desire a more thorough acquaintance with
the original.

“Mottoes of Methodism”[D] is an unassuming but beautiful little volume,
and would be found a real treasure in any Christian family. It is simply
a selection of brief suggestive passages from the prose writings of John,
and the poetry of Charles Wesley; harmonized with a passage of Scripture
for each day of the year. Some other title, we think, as “Themes
for Daily Meditation,” “Helpful Suggestions from Reliable Sources,”
would better indicate the character of the book, which is intensely
evangelical, but, in no sense, distinctively Methodistic.

[C] “Life of Luther.” By Julius Köstlin, with illustrations from
Authentic Sources, translated from the German. New York: Charles
Scribner’s Sons. 1883.

[D] “Mottoes of Methodism.” Selected and arranged by Rev. Jesse T.
Whitley. New York: Phillips & Hunt. Cincinnati: Walden & Stowe. 1883.


“Judith; a Chronicle of Old Virginia.” By Marion Harland. Illustrated.
Philadelphia: Our Continent Publishing Co. New York: Fords, Howard and
Hurlburt. 1883.

“Mexico and The Mexican; or Notes of Travel in the Winter and Spring
of 1883.” By Howard Conkling. With illustrations. New York: Taintor
Brothers, Merril & Co. 1883.

“Suggestions to China Painters.” By M. Louise McLaughlin. Cincinnati:
Robert Clarke & Co. 1884.

“Oregon; The Struggle for Possession.” By William Barrows. Boston:
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1884.

       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: ROYAL BAKING POWDER

    Absolutely Pure.]

    This powder never varies. A marvel of purity, strength and
    wholesomeness. More economical than the ordinary kinds, and can
    not be sold in competition with the multitude of low test, short
    weight, alum or phosphate powders. _Sold only in cans._ ROYAL
    BAKING POWDER CO., 106 Wall Street, New York.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 253, “mutally” changed to “mutually” (were mutually exerted)

Page 272, repeated word “in” removed (given anonymously to the world in

Page 273, “carniverous” changed to “carnivorous” (the Lepidosiren was

Page 287, “inclosng” changed to “inclosing” (inclosing black, shining

Page 293, “pre-presided” changed to “presided” (Dr. Hurlbut presided

Page 298, “north” changed to “south” (three on the south, bordering on
the Mediterranean)

Page 298, “Napolean” changed to “Napoleon” (Napoleon’s battles were

Page 304, “app led” changed to “applied” (here it is applied to man’s

Page 305, “Ornioco” changed to “Orinoco” (P. 253, c. 2.—“Orinoco,”)

Page 313, “Reid, M lma” changed (as a best guess) to “Reid, Mrs Alma”

Page 313, “Russell, Mrs Abbie M” moved from end of list to correct place
in alphabetical order

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, February 1884, No. 5." ***

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