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Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. 05, June 1885, No. 9
Author: Literary, The Chautauquan, Circle, Scientific
Language: English
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*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Chautauquan, Vol. 05, June 1885, No. 9" ***

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                            THE CHAUTAUQUAN.


                 VOL. V.        JUNE, 1885.       No. 9.


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


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

    The Mechanism of the English Language                  497
    Home Studies in Chemistry and Physics
        Chemistry of Organisms                             500
        Physics of Organisms                               503
    Sunday Readings
        [_June 7_]                                         504
        [_June 14_]                                        504
        [_June 21_]                                        505
        [_June 28_]                                        505
    The Heart Busy With Things About Us                    505
    Easy Lessons in Animal Biology
        Chapter III.                                       509
    Summer Homes for the City Poor                         514
    Learn to Enjoy People                                  517
    Our Ladies of Sorrow                                   517
    The Nicaragua and Panama Routes to the Pacific         518
    Geography of the Heavens for June                      520
    How to Win
        Chapter IV.                                        521
    The Catlin Paintings                                   524
    George Bancroft                                        526
    How Perseus Began To Be Great                          529
    Canada of To-Day                                       529
    Some American Museums                                  531
    Natural History and People of Borneo                   533
    The What-To-Do Club                                    536
    Criticisms                                             537
    Outline and Programs                                   539
    Local Circles                                          540
    The C. L. S. C. Classes                                545
    The Chautauqua University                              547
    Editor’s Outlook                                       549
    Editor’s Note-Book                                     551
    C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for June        553
    Course of Reading for 1885-6                           554
    Paragraphs from New Books                              555
    Talk About Books                                       556
    Books Received                                         557
    Special Notes                                          557
    Important to Members of the C. L. S. C.                558
    Chautauqua School of Languages, 1885                   558




To _us_ the unit of speech is the word; historically, the unit is the
sentence. It matters little which of the theories respecting the first
forms of speech we adopt; all such theories may be rejected, and still we
shall find it most reasonable to believe that man’s earliest utterances
were wholes, answering in value to our sentences. A revolution has been
effected and we have a _part of speech_ for our unit. We construct or
build our sentences out of pieces of different meaning and value. Our
simplest sentence has two of these pieces—a subject or noun, and a verb;
a long sentence may have a dozen or a score of pieces. The making of
sentences out of parts of speech is a kind of mechanics. The sentence
has its mechanism, of which we usually learn the science by analyzing
sentences. This analytical process yields what we call the principles
of syntax. It must be remembered, however, that we learn to talk before
we learn grammar, and that multitudes of people scarcely know any unit
except the sentence. Their vocabulary is a phrase-book, in which every
word has a fixed and unchangeable position. These persons abound in the
illiterate countries; in Italy, for example, the majority of the people
speak only in sentences having invariable forms; change the order of the
words and you become unintelligible to them. The same effect is produced
by employing a synonym for any word in any sentence. Our people are
usually more alert to variety in expression and catch meanings in forms
and arrangements to which they are unaccustomed.

A long sentence falls, when we take it apart, into two large pieces; the
subject and its belongings, and the predicate and its belongings. Each of
these large pieces breaks up into a number of small pieces. If we look
carefully at the average long sentence, we shall find that the parts are
held together by a systematic and habitual principle of arrangement,
and that this changes in passing from one language to another. French
says “a man good,” English “a good man.” Reverse the order of noun and
adjective in either language, and the sense is obscured for the average
hearer or reader. There is a number of these differences; and therefore
every language has its peculiar mechanism. In mechanical type languages
fall into groups. Greek and Latin, for example, use inflections to
connect the words with each other; English does not employ inflections
for this purpose. We have a few inflected forms, but we use them merely
because they have come down to us. Greek syntax is inflectional; our
syntax is said to be that of flat construction, or, as I prefer to say,
it is positional. The _place_ of a word determines its function and
relations in the sentence. This flat construction is found in other
tongues; but English abounds in it and depends upon it as a principle
of arrangement. When we say “proud men,” the hearer knows that the
adjective _proud_ describes the noun _men_. In Latin, the adjective
would have a termination to correspond in value to that of the noun, and
the two might be separated by several words. Our principle requires the
two to keep close together. If the adjective is to be modified, we may
reverse the order and write “Men proud of their country.” If, however,
the sentence is simple enough, the adjective may move to the other end
of the statement and become a predicate, as when we say, “Men in that
country are proud of their civilization.” These rules show the mechanics
of the adjective. We expect it to precede the noun or to follow it with a
dependent clause, or to follow, at an interval, the verb as a predicate.
Young writers will be helped in their work by remembering that these are
principles of mechanism—that they are building their sentences, and that
the parts have their proper place and order, just as wood, brick and
stone have in a building.

The foregoing illustrations are briefly stated to prepare the way for
a few suggestions respecting some special mechanical contrivances of
our language. A general principle in grammar acts as an aggressive and
conquering force; it extends its domain, insensibly and gradually, but
surely, as far as possible. In an inflectional age a tendency to increase
and perfect inflections is discovered; in a flat-construction age the
tendency to extend the domain of flat syntax is equally manifest. In
our language some constructions are common now, though at one time they
were scarcely allowed. This general observation is illustrated in the
flat construction of a modifying clause in the nature of a relative
pronoun clause. For example, “The man we saw” is a flat construction
which has invaded the territory of the relative pronoun. The sentence is
cut down from “the men _whom_ we saw.” Very little study has been given
to these encroachments and conquests; but they will amply reward the
careful student of them. The flat construction in the province of the
relative is one of our devices for reducing the use of _who_, _which_,
_whose_, _whom_ and _that_. These words occur so frequently in the speech
and on the printed page that we have quite unconsciously gone about
reducing their importance, and the results are so considerable as to
merit special attention. I have made some comparative studies, having
for their object something like accurate measurement of the change in
the use of this class of pronouns, since the year 1611, the date of the
English Bible of King James. Two great changes are easily discovered.
(1) The number of relative pronouns on a page has been reduced, on an
average, about one half. (2) The word _that_ has been almost pushed out
of the relative office. The devices by which the use of relatives has
been rendered unnecessary, are generally forms of the flat construction.
The ousting of _that_ from relative functions has been promoted by the
unconscious effort to dispense with the excessive repetition of the
word. When used as a conjunction, a demonstrative and a relative, its
repetition becomes tiresome to both writer and reader. A careful study
will show that present English employs _that_ very seldom as a relative,
and much less frequently than the English of the last century employed
it as a connective and a demonstrative. In the case of _that_ we see the
operation of a principle in architectural criticism. If a particular
architectural device becomes common, it becomes unfashionable. Its
frequency offends the taste and the offense is punished by a change.
Forty years ago the ordinary Greek column was used on small private
dwellings in many sections of this country. It became so disagreeable
to our taste that this column was for some time nearly out of use in
public buildings. _That_ is, like any piece in architecture, made so
common as to become unconsciously offensive. The fact brings out a
subtle principle of sentence mechanics—we require variety and dislike a
dreary uniformity in this kind of architecture. Good writing in English,
_readable_ English, will always respond in greater or less measure to
the unconscious demand of the English-reading mind. Most persons do not
know what is the offending element in a dreary sentence; they only know
that “the style” is tiresome, and that they can not interest themselves
in the reading. The good writer overcomes the difficulty by avoiding the
offending elements.

It will usually be found that the tiresome effect is produced by
repetition and uniformity. The pieces used may all be good; but we
do not like to see Greek pillars before every house along the road.
We tire of Gibbon’s periods, of Addison’s perfection, of Macaulay’s
stateliness. We can read a little of each with delight; for daily diet
we do not desire any of them. I will now give some of the results of
my comparative studies of relative pronouns in the English sentence.
I begin with the Bible of 1611. I notice first here that the Psalms
differ from other books of the Bible, and I suppose that the difference
arises from the superior directness of prayer. The same difference is
discoverable between the modern prayer and the sermon. In the Psalms
there is one relative in each ninety-five words, on the average; and
about four fifths of these are _thats_. In the _number_ of relatives,
the Psalms approach closely to modern parsimony; but in the use of
_that_ they exaggerate the practice of the sixteenth century. Many of
these _thats_ are used in a formula now seldom heard, of which “_he
that_” is a typical example. In St. Matthew’s record of the Sermon on
the Mount, there is one relative to each forty-four words; in St. John’s
gospel, chapters one to ten inclusive, there are two hundred and eleven
relatives, and one hundred and three are _thats_. The proportion of
relatives is one to each forty-six words. In the first six chapters of
I. Corinthians there are sixty relatives, and of these twenty-seven are
_thats_. The proportion is one relative in forty-five words. Combining
the results obtained by this counting in the New Testament, the result is
one relative for each forty-five words, and more than three sevenths are
_thats_. It is probably safe to assume that in the New Testament sentence
every forty-fifth word (on the average) is a relative pronoun, and that
three times in seven this relative is the word _that_. In the Psalms the
relative occurs not quite half so frequently, but four times in five
this relative is _that_. We should also remember that at least one form
of sentence architecture of which the relative _that_ is the conspicuous
piece has practically disappeared in modern English. “He _that_ dwelleth
in the secret place of the most high,” is a common syntax of the Psalms.
There are men who say and write “he who would be rich;” but it is an
archaic formula.

Let us turn to Shakspere. My counting here has not been as abundant
as I could wish, but I think the results are practically correct for
the plays. The selections are Richard III., first and second scenes,
and “Love’s Labor Lost,” first and second acts. The proportion is one
relative to each ninety-three words; and of these relatives _that_
appears a little more frequently than three times in seven. Shakspere
is, therefore, in this use of _that_ almost exactly like the New
Testament; while, like the Psalms, he is modern in his parsimonious use
of relatives. Readers with more leisure than myself may find interesting
employment in examining Addison and Samuel Johnson. In an idle hour I
fell upon a copy of Burton’s “Anatomy of Melancholy,” and found more
relatives and a larger proportion of _thats_ than in the New Testament.
In Samuel Johnson there are probably fewer relatives; his stately
Latinity avoided these mean little hinges of clauses. Since writing the
last sentences I have examined the first act of Shakspere’s “Hamlet,”
and I find a smaller proportion of relatives than I have found in any
work except modern poetry. I find but forty-eight relatives in the whole
act, and just half are _thats_. Another thing to note is that this act
contains a large proportion of flat constructions. A further examination
shows that the Plays differ much in the management of connective
apparatus for clauses. The elevated tone and strong emotion of “Hamlet”
account for infrequent use of the lifeless relative forms.

Before taking up any recent author, let me state as a general rule of
proportion that present English uses relatives less frequently than
the Psalms and Shakspere, and not quite half as frequently as the New
Testament. There is, however, one difference to be noted: English writers
have carried this reform somewhat farther than Americans have carried
it. It is still further to be noted that preachers and theological
writers usually have a good deal of biblical syntax, and therefore
employ relatives more freely than other writers. It is a convenient
place to mention the fact that in modern English of the best type,
ellipsis is more common than in older writers or inferior modern writers.
The old writers and their readers had more time than we have, and the
“economy of attention” was not in Shakspere’s day a recognized rule of
rhetoric. The inferior modern writer is afraid to trust an ellipsis to
the tender mercies of the critic, and spoils his sentences by trying
to say everything. Ellipsis is one of the chief places for art and
genius in writing. As a rule, American writers are in greater awe of the
grammarians than Englishmen are. We shall find, then, more relatives in
American than in English writers; we shall find more in sermons than in
other writings. Young ministers are often advised to cultivate a biblical
style. I must confess my inability to sympathize with efforts to employ
religion upon the unavailing task of continuing the use of dead words and
forms. If we are to write and speak in dead tongues as a religious duty,
let us go back to Greek, at least, if not to Hebrew. The truth is that we
ought to put the Bible into modern English, and so end the unprofitable
business of disagreeing about the claims of a biblical style upon the
pulpit. At present the contention is that in order to imitate the Bible
of 1611, preachers should use obsolete English.

Turning now to the usage of modern writing in the employment of
relative pronouns, let us begin with a modern Englishman. I select Mr.
Bagehot’s books, because in him we may hope to find the high-water mark
of this reform. Mr. Bagehot was an editor and a banker; he represents
the directness, force, and brevity of editorial and business writing.
His “Lombard Street” is a book on the financial arrangements of the
business public of England. It is therefore practical; but it is also
essentially scientific. In this book Mr. Bagehot employs, on the average,
one relative pronoun in one hundred and twenty-seven words. This is a
little more than one third as many as the New Testament employs. I call
this high-water mark; two thirds of the relatives have disappeared.
I am not sure of it, but I think Mr. Bagehot did not use _that_ as a
relative pronoun. I find that about _one fortieth_ of the relatives
in the American edition are _thats_; but it is probable that some of
them were put in by the American printers—unconsciously, of course—and
it is possible that all have a typographical parentage. In “Money and
the Mechanism of Exchange,” by Professor Jevons, I can not find a
relative _that_; there may be a few; but in this case, too, the edition
is American. Accepting, however, the count, let the readers measure
the change from the Psalms of 1611, in which eighty per cent. of the
relatives are _thats_, to Walter Bagehot, in whose “Lombard Street” only
about two per cent. of the relatives are _thats_. The relatives occur a
little more frequently in the book of Professor Jevons, just referred
to. By my count there is one relative in one hundred and thirteen words.
I have more carefully counted the relatives in the essays of Mr. James
Anthony Froude, and find one relative in each one hundred and twenty
words. I have only American editions of these essays, and in these
editions _that_ is employed as a relative in a very few cases. This use
of _that_ is so infrequent and so opposite to Mr. Froude’s ordinary
practice, that we may safely set it down as some one’s blunder—possibly
Mr. Froude’s, more probably the American printer’s. If we accept these
_thats_ as Mr. Froude’s, the per cent. of them is so small as to deprive
them of importance. I thought I had caught Mr. Froude’s secret when I
found that in his essay on Norway he apparently wrote “trout that” and
“fish that.” Mr. Froude is a mighty fisherman, and it was possible that
he might glorify the fish by a peculiar form of pronoun. But I turned to
the essay on “A Day’s Fishing at Cheney’s,” and found “fish which” and
“trout which.” This failure to find even a fanciful explanation leaves
nothing to be said except that “some one has blundered” into the relative
_thats_ of Mr. Froude. These three English writers—Bagehot, Jevons, and
Froude—probably represent very fairly the untheological writers of our

For a test specimen of theological writers, I turn to a volume of sermons
by the Rev. James Martineau. I have counted the relatives in three
sermons, “The Bread of Life,” “The Unknown Paths,” and “The Finite and
the Infinite in Human Nature.” The relatives occur more frequently than
in the non-theological writers. My count shows an average of one relative
in each ninety-three words. The use of _that_ is abundant. Out of one
hundred and seven relative words, thirty-one are _thats_. These sermons
were probably composed forty years ago, and represent an archaic type of
sermonic style, a style largely affected by that of the Bible of 1611.
I have noted without counting, that the sermons of Mr. Spurgeon contain
a higher proportion of relatives, and that this great preacher employs
_that_ with as much frequency as Mr. Martineau. Turning to American
preachers, I have taken up a recent sermon of Dr. John Hall, of New York,
and I find one relative in each sixty-five words, and of these relatives
more than one third are _thats_. Dr. Hall used in 1884 more _thats_ than
James Martineau used forty years earlier. But Dr. Hall is a preacher of
a very biblical type, and his choice of relatives is often dictated by
partial quotation of texts. Passing over to non-theological writers of
our time and country, let us take the general result of countings in
essays and books. The average number of relatives is about ten per cent.
greater than in contemporary English writers, and _that_ is relatively
employed about one fifth of the time. The importance of the reduction of
the use of relatives can not be properly appreciated without remembering
two or three conditions of their use. One fact is that there is seldom
any discernible rule which is followed in the choice of _that_ in place
of _which_. The example given from Mr. Froude’s practice—whether it is
his or his printer’s—illustrates the absence of any guidance by a rule.

_That_ has no longer any standing place in the relative ranks; it merely
relieves _which_ of a part of its work; and in English writers even
this supernumerary function has practically ceased to be filled by it.
A second condition of the use of relatives is much more important. It
has always been possible to build the best of English sentences without
relatives. A peculiarly animated sentence of any age will usually contain
no relatives. In Dr. John Hall’s sermon, the longest sentences and the
animated passages contain no relatives. When he drops into a relative,
we see that the exaltation of feeling is passing off, and the sermon
is sinking to a lower level of interest. It is apparently a law, then,
that relatives are more rarely found in animated, elevated and perfectly
clear English than in weaker and less emotional writing. A third fact
is that I find the relatives of a sermon, book, or essay, occurring in
groups. Often there are whole pages with none; then come three, four,
five or more in about as many lines. This grouping is almost as true of
the Bible as of modern English. In Dr. Hall’s sermon, fifty-six occur in
the first and least animated half of it, and only thirty-eight in the
second half of it, and one fifth of all the relatives of the discourse
occur in groups; take twenty-four printed lines out of the sermon, and
there will be left only about as many as Professor Jevons employs. The
effect of these groups deserves, I have thought, careful study; but the
results require more space than is now at command. A single example
from Mr. Froude will suffice to indicate the general conclusion. Within
thirty-six lines—taken in groups of from two to fourteen lines—Mr. Froude
uses twenty-five relatives—or one relative in each fourteen words, while
his general average is—as above stated—one in each one hundred and twenty
words. How shall we describe such a use of relatives? Plainly they are
not necessary. The only explanation I can think of is that it is a
careless habit. The relatived passages are the poorest and weakest, in
all the modern English I have examined. The groups of relatives are to me
very significant; they show that relative pronouns are unnecessary; the
ineffectiveness of the English where they occur shows that the relative
is obsolescent.

To compress this study into a small space I have omitted a number of
important facts. I pass to the conclusions (_a_) I have reached. (1)
The relative pronoun (_b_) being essentially an inflectional device, is
opposed by the tendencies (_c_) prevailing in English syntax—tendencies
to flat construction. If the reader will look at (_a_), (_b_) and
(_c_) in the preceding sentences, he will see specimens of the flat
construction. (2) _That_ is dead as a relative pronoun. Its use is a
mere carelessness. (3) In some of the so-called idioms for the relative
_that_, the word is not a relative at all, and the “idiom” itself is a
case of flat construction. In “All _that we_ know,” the relative usually
following the demonstrative _that_ has been omitted. (4) The so-called
compound relative _what_ is not a relative at all; in _our_ modern use it
is another flat construction to reduce the employment of _which_ and its
antecedent demonstrative. (5) I infer that the flat constructions ought
to be classified and studied in schools. The effect of such teaching and
study will be seen in a more vigorous English, and it will not be long
before we shall begin to say, “THE RELATIVE PRONOUN MUST GO.”



Director of the Chautauqua School of Experimental Science.


An organism is a structure endowed with life, and acting by means of
organs. Organic beings are of two kinds, vegetable and animal. Ordinarily
there is little difficulty in discriminating between them, but there
is a border line along which the two great kingdoms meet, which is as
shadowy and uncertain as that uniting, in distant view, the ocean and the
sky. It is usual to say that animals move their parts, and that plants
do not. The former have locomotion, the latter are stationary. Animals
have nerves and receive their food in cavities; plants do not. But the
most important distinction of all is that the vegetable world draws its
support from the mineral world, while the animal lives upon the vegetable.


Both animals and plants begin their existence with a single cell. Growth
consists in the enlargement and multiplication of cells. Here the
physiologist terminates his investigations, and the chemist begins.

His first step, however, results in the destruction of the organism. Of
him it is emphatically true, “He murders to dissect.” The moment that
chemistry seeks to determine the elementary character of an organic
substance, that substance ceases to have an organic form. In a sense,
therefore, there is no such thing as _organic_ chemistry. It is a
convenient term, however, for the study of the chemistry of substances
formed by life.

Until recently it has been supposed that the chemist could destroy
organic substances, but that he could not create them. This idea is no
longer held. A great number of the compounds formed by plants and animals
have been produced in the chemist’s laboratory, without the aid of vital

While it is undoubtedly true that many of the compounds found in plants
and animals are not _necessarily_ related to organisms, there are usually
some plain facts which differentiate organic compounds from inorganic.
Among these may be named the following: Organic substances are usually
composed of but few elements; oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen and carbon
constituting almost all their material. Ten other elements are very
sparingly distributed in them.

_Sixty-six_ elements enter into the formation of inorganic matter.

The _atomic_ structure of the former is very complex; that of the
latter is simple. For example: A molecule of the white of egg contains
222 atoms, while a molecule of salt has but two. Again, the compounds
of organic existences are innumerable. Inorganic compounds are
_comparatively_ few. The former are unstable, on account of the presence
of nitrogen, while the latter are fixed and quite permanent. The former
are also distinguished for the many examples of isomerism they furnish.
Isomeric compounds are those formed of the same elements in the same
proportions. Thus, camphene, the oils of bergamot, juniper, birch, black
pepper, lemon, cloves, turpentine, ginger, cubebs, orange, and many
others are isomeric, each one being composed of ten atoms of carbon and
sixteen of hydrogen. The difference in these volatile oils is supposed to
be due to a variation of the _arrangement_ of the atoms composing them.

Let us now briefly consider the


This is obtained from the air and earth. The former supplies carbonic
acid, and water in the form of vapor, through the stomata of the leaves;
these are little mouths or breathing pores, chiefly situated on the
under side of the leaf. They vary in number from one thousand to one
hundred and seventy thousand to the square inch. An apple-tree leaf of
average size has one hundred thousand pores. The old elm at Cambridge,
under which Washington stood while reviewing the Continental army, has
been estimated to produce a crop of seven million leaves, thus exposing
a surface of five acres, and therefore furnishing billions of stomata.
If the amount of carbonic acid gas in the air were much increased, all
higher forms of animal life would perish. If it were materially lessened,
vegetation would soon wither and die, involving the death of all animals,
from lack of food. Plants derive the element carbon from this gas.


According to Chevandier, an acre of beech forest annually absorbs three
and one half tons of carbonic acid gas, and from this eliminates about
one ton of carbon.

Most of the oxygen and hydrogen of plants is probably obtained from
the water absorbed by leaves and roots. Recent experiments indicate
that plants may sometimes absorb oxygen directly from the air. This is
especially true in the case of buds, as may be shown by the following

Cut twigs of willow, oak or apple just before the buds are to unfold, and
place the ends in a little holder containing a small amount of water, and
set this in a saucer; partially fill the saucer with quicksilver; over
the twigs invert a glass fruit jar filled with oxygen, so that its mouth
will be sealed by the quicksilver. The buds will unfold, and some of the
oxygen disappear, but if the jar be filled with hydrogen or nitrogen the
buds will decay. De Saussure,[1] by a somewhat similar experiment, proved
that oxygen is absorbed by the roots of plants.


Both gases and moisture are taken up and distributed through the cells
by osmose.[2] This may easily be shown; cut off the end of a carrot and
scoop out the central portion of the remainder, and place in the cavity
dry sugar; this will soon be converted into a syrup, and the sides of the
carrot will have perceptibly shrunk, from the passage of moisture out of
the cells to the sugar.

The mineral constituents of plants are all taken up by the roots in the
form of solution, water being the great carrier by which plants are

The following substances are invariably present in all agricultural
plants, and in many others, viz.: Potash, soda, lime, magnesia, oxide
of iron, chlorine, sulphuric acid, phosphoric acid, silicic acid, and
carbonic acid. The chemical composition of different specimens of the
same plant is found to be quite uniform.


Young plants first feed upon the store of nourishment placed in the seed,
either in cotyledons,[3] or around them. Soon the little roots acquire
the power to take their nourishment from the earth in which they are
imbedded. They absorb moisture and the materials in solution, which rise
through the latest formed wood as ascending sap, and in the cells of the
growing parts, especially the leaves, undergo the transformations which
convert inorganic into organic substances. Hales[4] calculated that the
force which impels the sap in a grapevine in summer time is five times as
great as that which drives the blood through the arteries of a horse.


Much of the water is evaporated. A large sunflower was found to exhale
twenty or thirty ounces during the day, but very little at night. After
the sap has been elaborated in the cells, under the influence of air
and light, it descends just under the bark, in the cambium layer, and
furnishes the material for the growth of cells and young buds, and
nourishes all growing parts of the plant. This process takes place
essentially in the earlier part of the season. In late summer and autumn
the circulation in the leaves is impeded by the deposition of mineral
matter, so that the plant or tree becomes gorged with the fluids which
are ready to flow again at the coming of spring. It is this supply which
is drawn upon in the “sugar bush.” A bucketful is often obtained from a
single maple tree in twenty-four hours.

The cambium layer, or mucilaginous material between the bark and wood,
hardens into cellular tissue and forms an annular growth. This is the
case in all exogenous plants. If a section be made of one of them its age
may be easily determined by counting the rings. The other great class
of plants called endogenous, has the growing masses distributed through
the stem. The common cornstalk is an illustration. Few things are more
surprising than the way in which different plants manufacture from the
same elements their


This is noticeable in grafting. I have seen a thorn bush having one
limb loaded with Bartlett pears. Now the material which ascended the
stem was distributed to all the branches, but the cells in some of
them manufactured it into thorn apples, while in this branch it was
transformed into delicious fruit.


No doubt plants have the powers to select various materials. Upon the
same acre of land a hundred different plants may feed and manufacture as
many varieties of products, sweet, bitter, sour, poisonous, nutritious,
fragrant, offensive, green, yellow, red, and so on through the entire
list. As has already been suggested, many vegetable products which are
quite diverse in character, are either identical or quite similar in
chemical composition. Starch, whether obtained from the potato, the
root of the carrot, the kernel of corn, the leaves of the cabbage, or
the cotyledons of the bean, is composed of six atoms of carbon, ten
atoms of hydrogen, and five atoms of oxygen. Sago, tapioca, bread fruit,
arrowroot, and scores of other plant products have the same proportions.
Woody fiber whether from the root, stem or branch, woven into cloth,
built into houses, twisted into rope, made into paper, used as fuel, or
manufactured into furniture, is C₆H₁₀O₅.

Slight variations in composition often produce marked differences. The
introduction of the least ferment into sugar (C₆H₁₂O₆) would break it up
into two deadly poisons, alcohol (2C₂H₆O) and carbonic acid gas (2CO₂—two
molecules of each). A slight addition of oxygen spoils all the sweetness
of the preserves.

The rhubarb manufactures oxalic acid, the grape tartaric acid, the apple
malic acid, the lemon citric acid, the oak tannic acid, from carbon,
hydrogen and oxygen, by simply varying the number of their atoms.

If we add one atom of oxygen (C₁₀H₁₆O) to the constituents of the
volatile oils previously mentioned, we form a new group comprising
camphor, wintergreen, spearmint, cinnamon, bitter almonds, and many

Notwithstanding the great uniformity in the composition of various
vegetable products, it is now well understood that one crop may restore
to land what another has removed, hence the modern agricultural doctrine


In southeastern Virginia you find many pine forests in which may be
traced the ridges of the corn rows. These fields were planted with corn
continuously, until the soil became so impoverished that it would not
yield a crop. They were then abandoned and allowed to grow up to pines.

A better system would have secured perpetual fertility. The soil of
England produces far more than formerly, even after the cultivation of
a thousand years. China furnishes a still more remarkable example of

The amount of the earth’s crust which is concerned in the support of life
is exceeding small. The natural tendency is constantly to diminish this.

Rains and rivers bear away the best of the soil and deposit it in the
lakes and seas. Some inhabitant of our earth in the far future, may
secure the benefit of these stores, when the beds of the present seas and
oceans shall have risen above the waters and become the continent.

Too much pressed by the demands of the present to even think of this, the
wise farmer endeavors to return to his soil what it has lost.

Growing crops are plowed under, fertilizers from the thronging cities
are spread upon his fields, the seaweed cast up by the waves yields
its potash, phosphorus, salt and iodine. The islands of the Pacific
contribute their vast stores of ammonia accumulated for ages in guano
beds; marl deposited in the estuaries of ancient geologic seas feeds
the cereals; and the limestone deposits are made to give verdure to
the grasses of a thousand meadows. In the meantime, nature has her
own processes of restoration. The crumbling of the rocks by frost,
their abrasion by water, the accumulation of humus by decay, and
various chemical influences conspire to convert the unproductive rocks
into fertile soil. It would seem that this intelligent forethought,
united with the beneficent processes of nature may secure perpetual
productiveness, to the end that the earth may continue to yield its
increase for the sustenance of the animal, for, as the Scriptures say,


Directly or indirectly all animals live on plants. We have roast lamb
for dinner to-day, but yesterday the lamb was browsing herbage. It is an
interesting fact that the nutritive qualities of bread are almost the
same as those of beef—each, in itself, is very nearly a perfect food.

[Illustration: LEAN MEAT.]

Great principles of economy regulate the use of these two articles, in
accordance with the scarcity and price of either. Man may live without
bread if he have meat, and vice versa, but his system demands one of
them, or its equivalent.

As in the cell of the plant, mineral substances become organized, so,
under the influence of animal vitality does vegetable material become
transformed into the constituents of a new organism. The great argument
against the doctrine that alcohol is a food, lies in the fact that it
does not undergo this transformation. It leaves the body as it enters it.
But beef-steak ceases to be steak, and bread is no longer the same; they
have become bone, tissue, nerve, and all that makes a human body

Most are familiar with the marvelous processes of mastication, digestion,
absorption and aeration, by which food is converted into blood freighted
with all that is essential to the nutrition of the human system.


Foods serve three great purposes—growth, restoration of waste,
and supply for heat. Whether vegetable or animal, they are of two
classes—nitrogenous and carbonaceous. The former consists of all seeds
and vegetable tissues, and flesh in animal foods. The latter comprises
the starch and sugar of vegetables, and fat in animals. Nature seems
to suggest the propriety of using both as food for man. His teeth are
adapted to the mastication of both, and the varied demands of different
seasons and climates furnish a not less conclusive argument in its favor.

It is not our design to discuss here the dietetics or even the chemistry
of food. There is, however, one branch of the subject that calls for
a passing remark—the value of foods for special purposes. As the
agriculturist is now carefully considering the adaptation of soils to the
various kinds of vegetation, and is also inquiring into the character of
those fertilizers that will continue and increase the growth-producing
qualities of his land, so the physiologist is seeking to discover the
special value of different aliments for all conditions of health and
disease. The problem is necessarily somewhat difficult, but the end is so
desirable—nothing less than human safety, comfort and development—that
it is one of the most worthy of all the questions of science. Wholesome
food, cheap food, and appropriate food for all classes and conditions is
its aim. What does the weary brain require? What will give strength to
muscle? How may the impoverished blood be enriched? How can vigorous,
symmetrical growth be secured to childhood and youth? These are vital
questions. Even when applied to the wants of the lower animals they are
of immense importance. What conditions are most favorable for fattening
cattle? What will give greatest strength and best sustain continuous

Note a simple instance of one result of such inquiry. In ascertaining the
food value of cottonseed, the revenue of our cotton crop is said to have
been doubled. In medical practice physicians are more and more inclined
to depend upon their knowledge of the principles of alimentation and
the adjustment of proper nourishment to the sick than upon artificial
stimulants or medicines.


We conclude this article on the chemistry of organisms, with the somewhat
humbling reflection that to all living beings there comes a time when
vitality yields to the power of those chemical forces, which resolve them
again to their original inorganic forms. It can not be that this was the
only and ultimate end contemplated by the Creator, in that sublime system
of arrangement for life, which began with the morning of creation and
ended with man. Nature is more than a cycle of change from dead matter to
vegetable form, thence to animal life, and thence back again to mineral

Solomon wrote: “The dust shall return to the earth as it was, and the
spirit shall return unto God who gave it;” and another has said: “There
remains the paramount duty of rendering worthy of survival that spiritual
part of our being which no merely physical power can destroy.”


A brief discussion of some _physical_ characteristics of organisms will
conclude our articles on “Home Studies in Chemistry and Physics.”

The abundance of metaphorical expressions even in common language,
indicates the numerous resemblances between the living and inorganic
worlds. Description and poetry are full of imagery. A metaphor implies
a resemblance between objects, a simile suggests it, and a comparison
states it.


Thus to the human mind, the different departments of nature seem to
reflect a light and beauty upon each other, even as the “earth-shine”
lights the moon in the absence of the sun. The sky is a dome; the groves
are temples; the sea moans and roars; the falling cataracts laugh and
shout, and the calm lake is the smile of the Great Spirit. “Language,”
says Dean Trench,[5] “is fossil poetry.” “Architecture is frozen music.”

Many of the forms of art and devices of human invention have been
suggested by Nature. The Doric column was borrowed from some stately tree
shaft. The ornamented capital of the Corinthian column was decorated by
carved copies of the graceful acanthus leaves. Gothic architecture found
its models in the tree tops of the arching forests.


Every experimenter in science is simply one who is inquiring of Nature
for her analogies, truths, forms, forces, and machines; and like the wise
and good mother that she is, she has granted many a pregnant suggestion
to the busy brains of discoverers and inventors.



Plants in their action illustrate many of the principles of natural
philosophy, as if directed by intelligence. Turn their roots upward
in the soil, and they will invariably turn down to the moisture. Bend
their stems to the earth and they will seek to mount upward. The young
sunflower greets the sun at his rising, and turns to behold his setting.
Unwind a twining vine, and wind it in an opposite direction, and it will
soon assert its right to assume its own method. Some plants shrink from
touch; others, like the Venus fly-trap,[7] hold out their open palms to
catch flies; many sleep; most seem to select special places, seasons,
and conditions. They seem almost, at times, to be possessed of moral
qualities. They adapt themselves to situations. If the season is dry,
they are sparing of moisture; if the soil is scanty, they penetrate
deeper for sustenance; if the winds are fierce, they grow strong by
struggle; if gashed or broken, they have “philters for healing;” if
pruned and chastened, they yield richer fruitage.


One can not help feeling that certain trees have a personality. They are
friendly with their shade. They are proud in their loftiness, confident
in their strength, satisfied in their usefulness.

Other plants are almost equally interesting. Flowers have long been
chosen to express the language of sentiment. Even the lowest forms of
vegetable life, like the algæ, the mosses and lichens, arrange their
parts with symmetry and beauty. Even the microscopic diatoms[8] are
exquisite in the perfection of their curves and markings.


Comparative anatomy long since showed us that there is great harmony in
the construction of animals. A few principles seem to govern in all.
For example: None violate the law of gravity with regard to the line of
direction’s falling within the base. They employ the lever, the inclined
plane, the pulley, and the mechanical means of applying power, precisely
as we do in machinery. The heart is a pump; the stomach is a churn; the
backbone has springs; the elbow is a hinge; the muscles are ropes; the
nerves are telegraph wires; the ear is a harp, the eye is a telescope.
The most perfect mechanism characterizes the construction of all the
animal kingdom, but one can do little more than suggest the interest of
this most fascinating subject.


_Ex._—S V is the sub-clavian vein; J is the jugular vein; D is the
thoracic duct, through which the chyle is poured into the blood.]


An ancient saying declares that “Poets are born, not made,” and classic
story informs us that Minerva sprang full armed from the head of Jove.
Something like this natural perfection appears in the occupations of
the lower orders of creation. Man is a creature of education, absolutely
unlimited in point of time in the possibilities of his development.
Other animals, within their own limited scope often attain an excellence
superior to his. Note the scent of the greyhound, the hearing of the cat,
the sight of the eagle. As artisans they have few apprentices, though
it must be confessed that some are better workmen than others, and they
are not without “bosses.” Observe a few of their trades. The brant-goose
is a navigator, which may have already found the pole. The heron is a
fisherman, who carries his torch upon his breast. Swallows are excellent
masons; so are wasps and the caddis fly.

There is a spider that is a diver; he makes his own bell and fills it
with air. The bee is a geometrician that never studied Euclid. The
ant is a political economist, who, like Joseph, lays up supplies for
a time of want. There is a “tailor bird.” There are hosts of hunters
among the carnivora. The nautilus is a “little sailor,” and weavers are
innumerable. Beavers unite the trades of lumbermen and civil engineers.
There are carpenters and paper makers, indeed, time would fail in the
attempt to mention all the occupations pursued in this busy world of
animate creation. Yet over all these the Almighty has given man dominion.
They are but organisms impelled to their appointed tasks by unreasoning
instinct, but, as Sir William Hamilton has said: “_Man_ is not an
organism, but an _intelligence_ served by organs.”

[Illustration: A BIRD’S HEAD.

_Ex._—The mandibles form a pair of scissors. The tongue is a spear.]

    NOTE.—Through the courtesy of Messrs. Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor
    & Co., of New York, the cuts in this article are taken from two
    of their excellent publications, Gray’s “Lessons and Manual of
    Botany,” and Hitchcock’s “Anatomy and Physiology.”



[_June 7._]

Courtesy is, strictly speaking, a Christian grace.… It is the offspring
of charity; and since it derives its being from divine grace; since it is
made the subject of divine command; since it is especially calculated to
smooth those little asperities which sometimes hinder even “the living
stones of the temple” from being so perfectly joined and so fitly framed
together as they should be; since it powerfully tends, likewise, to
remove the prejudices and to allay the enmity so generally entertained
by the world toward the church; above all, since, in combination with
other causes it may contribute to win souls to God, we surely ought not
to deem it unsuitable, but to make it … the subject of our particular
and attentive consideration.… While some professed disciples of Christ
seem to have substituted in the place of genuine courtesy a conformity
to the manners and habits of ungodly men, which very ill consists with
that simplicity of character which should distinguish the remnant of true
Israelites, there are others who, through an honest disgust toward the
impertinent fopperies of the world, and an ill-directed fear of becoming
infected with the same spirit of guile and hypocrisies, have even run so
far into the opposite extreme of churlishness as to be culpably negligent
of the mere forms of civilized society.

The courtesy of the world is an imposing form.… But the courtesy of
a Christian is not a mere form. It is not the phantasm of a feeling
which has no real existence. It is the outward expression of an inward
disposition, the conduct which a benevolent mind will on all occasions
instinctively prescribe. It is the natural and unconstrained operation
of unfeigned love. Let us but love our neighbor as ourselves, and it
will be morally impossible to violate the laws of courtesy; for love
worketh no ill to his neighbor. It will teach us cautiously to avoid
whatever might unnecessarily wound his feelings; it will dispose us
assiduously to study his inclination, ease, and convenience; it will
make us anxious to interpret his very looks, that we may even anticipate
his requests; it will enable us cheerfully to make a sacrifice of our
own gratifications with a view to his. All this is perfectly easy; it is
even delightful where love exists without dissimulation; but let this
heavenly principle be wanting, take away from the _form_ of courtesy the
_power_, and it becomes an arduous and irksome task, a yoke grievous to
be borne.—_Summerfield._[1]

[_June 14._]

I would not slight this wondrous world. I love its day and night. Its
flowers and its fruits are dear to me. I would not willfully lose sight
of a departing cloud. Every year opens new beauty in a star; or in a
purple gentian fringed with loveliness. The laws, too, of matter seem
more wonderful the more I study them in the whirling eddies of the dust,
in the curious shells of former life buried by thousands in a grain
of chalk, or in the shining diagrams of light above my head. Even the
ugly becomes beautiful when truly seen. I see the jewel in the bunchy
toad. The more I live, the more I love this lovely world; feel more its
Author in each little thing; in all that is great. But yet I feel my
immortality the more. In childhood the consciousness of immortal life
buds forth feeble, though full of promise. In the man it unfolds its
fragrant petals, his most celestial flower, to mature its seed throughout
eternity. The prospect of that everlasting life, the perfect justice yet
to come, the infinite progress before us, cheer and comfort the heart.
Sad and dissatisfied, full of self-reproach, we shall not be so forever.
The light of heaven breaks upon the night of trial, sorrow, sin; the
somber clouds which overhung the east, grown purple now, tell us the
dawn of heaven is coming in. Our faces, gleamed on by that, smile in
the new-born glow; we are beguiled of our sadness before we are aware.
The certainty of this provokes us to patience, it forbids us to be
thoughtfully sorrowful. It calls us to be up and doing.…

There is small merit in being willing to die; it seems almost sinful in
a good man to wish it when the world needs him here so much. It is weak
and unmanly to be always looking and sighing voluptuously for that. But
it is of great value here and now to anticipate time and live to-day the
eternal life. That we may all do. The joys of heaven will begin as soon
as we attain the character of heaven and do its duties. That may begin
to-day. It is everlasting life to know God, to have His Spirit dwelling
in you, yourself at one with Him. Try that and prove its worth. Justice,
usefulness, wisdom, religion, love, are the best things we hope for in
heaven. Try them on—they will fit you here not less becomingly. They
are the best things of earth. Think no outlay of goodness and piety too
great. You will find your reward begin here. As much goodness and piety,
so much heaven. Men will not pay you—God will; pay you now, hereafter,
and forever.—_Theodore Parker._

[_June 21._]

Let us do all the business we can.… If we can’t be a lighthouse, let
us be a tallow candle. Some one said, “I can’t be anything more than a
farthing rushlight.” Well, if you can’t be more, be that; that is well
enough. Be all you can. What makes the Dead Sea dead? Because it is
all the time receiving, never giving out anything. You go every Sunday
and hear good sermons, and think that is enough. You are all the time
receiving these grand truths, but never give them out. When you hear it,
go and scatter the sacred truth abroad. Instead of having one minister
to preach to a thousand people, this thousand ought to take a sermon
and spread it till it reaches those that never go to church or chapel.
Instead of having a few, we ought to have thousands using the precious
talents that God has given them.…

If God has not given us but half a talent, let us make good use of that.
When God told the people to take their seats by fifties, he told Philip
to get food for them. “What,” says Philip, “feed them with this little
loaf? Why, there is not more than enough for the first man.” “Yes, go
and feed them with that.” Philip thought that was a very small amount
for such a multitude of hungry men. He broke off a piece for the first
man, and didn’t miss it; a piece for the second man, and didn’t miss it;
a piece for the third man, and didn’t miss it. He was making good use of
the loaf, and God kept increasing it. That is what the Lord wants to do
with us. He will give us just as many talents as we can take care of.

There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the
Lord; but few of us willing to do little things. The mighty sermon on
regeneration was preached to one man. There are many who are willing
to preach to thousands, but are not willing to take their seat beside
one soul, and lead that soul to the blessed Jesus. We must get down to
personal effort—this bringing one by one to the Son of God. We can find
no better example of this than in the life of Christ himself. Look at
that wonderful sermon that he preached to that lone woman at the well of
Samaria. He was tired and weary, but he had time and the heart to preach
to her. This is but one of many instances in the life of the Master from
which we may learn a precious lesson. If the Son of God had time to
preach to one soul, can not every one of us go and do the same?…

“I commend you”—and in this connection, I want to tell you how the God of
all grace has kept us. For nearly twenty-one years he has watched over
me. He has watched over me and stood by me in the hour of temptation and
trial; he has brought light to me out of darkness; and he will do the
same with you. In leaving you, young converts, I would like to leave
with you two Ws—the one is Work, and the other is the Word; or, rather,
the first is the Word, and the other is Work. Go out and work for him,
and you will become strong Christians. There are two lives that you
want to lead. The one is your inner life, that the world knows nothing
of, that the wife of your bosom knows nothing of. That life is between
yourself and God; and if you don’t lead this aright, the outer life will
not be long right. Let me say to you, young converts, read your Bibles
and you will be strong. If you don’t, you will fall; and the men who
are now scoffing at this movement will say: “I told you you would fall
back again; the meetings have been only an emotional excitement; only a
sensation.” I pray that God Almighty may keep you. Just have those two Ws
before you—the Word and Work—and make that your banner.—_D. L. Moody._

[_June 28._]

What language, “Father, forgive them!” and, in the words, what an act,
greater than the most splendid miracles with which he marked his radiant
path through the world.…

“Forgive them!” Is it possible? With these words … he covers the guilty
heads of his murderers with the shield of his love, in order to secure
them from the storm of the well deserved wrath of Almighty God. With
these words, which must have produced adoring astonishment, even in
the angels themselves, he takes these miscreants in the arms of his
compassion, and bears them up to the steps of his Father’s throne, in
order to commend them to his mercy. For know, my readers, that the words
“Forgive them,” mean, in Jesus’s mouth, not merely, “Do not impute to
them the murderous crime they have committed upon me.” No, when he utters
“Forgive,” it comprehends something much more, and embraces the whole
register of sins. In his mouth it means, “Plunge their whole sinful life
into the depths of the sea, and remember no more their transgressions,
but consider these sinners henceforth as dear in thy sight, and act
toward them as such.”

There are individuals on earth for whom no one feels inclined to pray,
because they are too depraved. There are those who even dare not pray
for themselves, because their consciences testify that such worthless
creatures as they are can not reckon upon being heard. What a prospect
is here opened to people of this description! Ah, if no heart beats for
them on earth, the heart of the King of kings may still feel for them.
If among their friends not one is to be found to intercede for them,
yet, possibly, the Lord of Glory is not ashamed of bearing their names
before his Father’s throne. O, what hope beams on Calvary for a sinful
world! And if the great Intercessor appears there for a transgressor,
how does his intercession succeed? Though a whole world should protest
against it, his prayer saves whom he will. His voice penetrates the
heart of the eternal Father with irresistible power. His entreaties are
commands. Mountains of sin vanish before his intercession. How highly
characteristic and deeply significant is the fact that the Lord, with
this prayer, commences the seven expressions he uttered on the cross. The
words, “Forgive them!” show us not merely the heaven of loving kindness
which he carries in his bosom, but it also darts like lightning through
the gloom of the entire night of suffering, and deciphers the mysterious
position which the Holy One of Israel here occupies as Surety, Mediator,
and High Priest.…

… And yet the prayer for forgiveness raises its wing from the mount
of suffering and passes apparently through all those eternal and
unimpingeable statutes and limitations. It puts aside even Mount Sinai
and Ebal, and heeds not the cherub of the law, who keeps the gate of
paradise, and is enjoined to admit only the righteous. Careless of his
flaming sword, it soars with seemingly unheard-of boldness above the
brazen walls of the manifold menaces of the divine maledictions which
inexorably close against sinners the entrance to the mansions above, and
in a most striking contrariety with the indelible inscription over the
eternal sanctuary, “Him that sinneth against me will I blot out of my
book,” requests forgiveness and even admittance into the habitations of
the blessed children of God, for rebels, blasphemers, and murderers.—_F.
W. Krumacher._[2]



The eye may be trained so that it can detect the least flaw in a diamond;
the ear be so delicately attuned that the slightest variation in the
harmony will be perceptible, although there is no apparent attempt at
listening, and discord will have the same effect on the sensitive nerves,
as a blow on a fine strung instrument. The engineer can not see all the
working parts of his engine, so he is obliged to cultivate his ear until
each throb, plunge, and revolution is familiar to him, and the whole set
to a rhythmic movement, any change in which betokens disaster.

An eye quick to see, and an ear quick to hear may belong to a wide-awake,
successful business man; but in order to become a philanthropist, a wise,
energetic, live Christian, he must have a heart to feel. A father may see
that his children are poorly clad, may hear their cries of distress, but
if he has no heart to feel their needs, he will go off and leave them to
the care of charity, as so many fathers, and mothers too, have been known
to do.

This inclination to avoid cares, to shirk responsibilities, and to live
a purely selfish life, is the result of a defect in the cardiac region,
which might have been corrected in early youth.

The training of the heart begins at so early an age that it can not be
known with certainty just when the child is first acted upon by the
influences around it, and it is more easily misdirected than guided

An accomplished lady, of considerable literary fame, spent a great deal
of time in preparing a lecture on “Individual Sovereignty,” which was
to prove that children had rights that parents and guardians ought to
respect. The lecture was delivered but once, to a very small number of
people who, while full of admiration and respect for the lecturer, were
not in favor of putting her theories into practice, believing that a
monarchy such as she proposed would make the Land of Liberty a place that
grown people would want to get away from.

The great bond of brotherhood is sympathy. “Pity and need make all flesh
kin,” and “sympathy is especially a Christian’s duty.” But there is an
active sympathy and there is a passive sympathy; the one sits down and
broods over the calamities of life, wrings its hands, sheds tears, and
sighs over its own incapacity; while the other is up and doing all it can
to relieve the necessities of those perhaps less heavily burdened than

“It is not all of life to _live_,” nor all of life to _love_ either;
for some in their excessive fondness will allow those whom they might
control, to walk in evil ways and indulge in unlawful passions without
putting forth a restraining hand.

“I want John to have a good time,” says the indulgent mother. “I don’t
want Jennie to tire herself, or to soil her hands doing housework. What
else am I good for?” So John grows to be a selfish, disagreeable man,
and Jennie an ease-loving, self-satisfied woman, both with hearts
incapable of feeling any interest in anything that does not immediately
affect their physical comfort and well-being. Mothers, do not spoil your
children and destroy the foundations of character. Let them wait upon you
and do your errands; teach them to cultivate a self-sacrificing spirit,
to feel that it is no hardship to give up their own personal comfort in
order to secure the happiness of others. The sacrifices should not be all
on one side; and yet we have known mothers to give up their lives rather
than disappoint the children, who must have their wishes gratified at any

Exacting children should be made to wait upon themselves, and to practice
patience and self-denial; for the tyrannical spirit is fostered by unwise
timidity and forbearance, and many a passionate man and woman lives
to regret the lack of proper discipline in youth. But it lies within
ourselves to correct mistakes that may have been made in our training;
and it has been truthfully said, “Every person has two educations, one
which he receives from others, and one, more important, which he gives to

It is astonishing how much may be accomplished by one who is energetic
and persevering, careful to avail himself of all opportunities, and to
use all the spare time at his disposal. Ancient and modern histories and
biographies are full of illustrations showing the benefits conferred upon
mankind by certain individuals whose hearts were busy with the things
about them. It is interesting to read this record of General Gordon—or
“Chinese Gordon,” as he is familiarly called—whose valiant deeds have won
him undying fame:

From 1865 to 1875 Gordon lived at Gravesend, employed in the duty of
improving the defenses of the Thames. These were his six years of quiet
peace and beneficent happiness. “He lived wholly for others,” writes
his friend. “His house was school and hospital and almshouse, in turn;
was more like the abode of a missionary than of a commanding officer of
engineers. The troubles of all interested him alike. The poor, the sick,
the unfortunate, were ever welcome, and never did suppliant knock vainly
at his door. He always took great delight in children, but especially in
boys employed on the river or the sea. Many he rescued from the gutter,
cleansed them and clothed them, and kept them for weeks in his house.
For their benefit he established reading-classes, over which he himself
presided, reading to and teaching the lads with as much ardor as if he
were leading them to victory. He called them his ‘kings,’ and for many of
them he got berths on board ships. One day a friend asked him why there
were so many pins stuck into the map of the world over his mantlepiece;
he was told that they marked and followed the course of the boys on their
voyages; that they were moved from point to point as his youngsters
advanced, and that he prayed for them as they went, night and day. The
light in which he was held by those lads was shown by inscriptions in
chalk on the fences. A favorite legend was ‘God bless the Kernel!’ So
full did his classes at length become that the house would no longer
hold them, and they had to be given up. Then it was that he attended and
taught at the Ragged Schools, and it was a pleasant thing to watch the
attention with which his wild scholars listened to his words.”

The workhouse and the infirmary, writes another, were his constant
haunts, and of pensioners he had a countless number. Many of the dying
sent for him in preference to the clergyman, and he was ever ready to
visit them. His purse was always empty because of his free-handedness,
and he even sent some of his medals to the melting-pot in the cause of

When another appointment removed him from Gravesend, there was universal
regret. The local newspaper paid him the following graceful and sincere
tribute: “By general and continual beneficence to the poor, he has been
so unwearied in well-doing that his departure will be felt by numbers
to be a personal calamity. His charity was essentially charity, and had
its root in deep philanthropic feeling and goodness of heart; shunning
the light of publicity, but coming even as the rain in the night-time,
that in the morning is noted not, but only the flowers bloom and give
a greater fragrance. All will wish him well in his new sphere, and we
have less hesitation in penning these lines from the fact that laudatory
notice will confer but little pleasure upon him who gave with the heart
and cared not for commendation.”

Military glory pales before this display of missionary zeal.

In order to achieve any success the heart must be in the work, and from
this center of our being all true Christian culture must begin. Every one
can make his own destiny, and

    “Taught by time the heart has learned to glow
     For others good, and melt at other’s woe.”

It is good to indulge the habit of looking out of ourselves, to study the
ways and needs of others, and to keep the heart busy with things about
us—the trifles, as they are considered, which are apt to be overlooked or
made light of. For there is great danger that the small philanthropies
and courtesies of life will be neglected because of the large schemes
that are so absorbing. This kind of outlook requires, of course, a
certain amount of _insight_, or intuition, without which we can not bring
ourselves into sympathetic relations, or prove ourselves the friend of

Our home, the place where we spend the most of our time, should be the
field in which to exercise our best gifts, wherein we both sow and reap,
and which is left to us to brighten and beautify, or to darken and
disgrace. The heart renewed by grace is zealous of good works, fond of
home, and anxious to do its full duty therein. It has a word of cheer for
those who are cast down; it comforts the sick; speaks tenderly to those
in trouble; has patience with the erring; seeks out ways of interesting
the young; is mindful of the aged, and helpful to everybody.

    “A heart at leisure from itself,
     To soothe and sympathize,”

need never want for an opportunity; and it is often the small attentions,
the unconsidered trifles, that are most highly valued.

The heart that begins its labors in too wide a sphere will find it hard
to concentrate its interests, while a more gradual expansion will result
in more satisfactory work, and the strengthening of the magnetic current,
for on our personal magnetism depends, to a great extent, our influence
on those with whom we associate. What responsibilities rest upon fathers
and mothers, on sisters and brothers! How much good and how much evil
they can do in their special fields of operation! That son needs a little
wholesome correction from the father, a few kind words may be all that
is requisite, but the father is busy about other affairs, his heart is
interested in things outside of his family, and the boy slips downward
for want of a restraining hand. That girl would have turned out, oh! so
differently, if she had only had the right kind of a mother. Some boys
and girls are not fit to be left to themselves. They seem to be born
without any inward monitor, or strong moral sense. The germ may be there,
but it has never been properly cultivated.

At a school examination the question was put, “What is conscience?” But
one pupil could give the definition, “An inward monitor.”

“What is your idea of an inward monitor?” asked the inspector, and away
down at the lower end of the room a hand was stretched forth, and a voice
proclaimed, “It’s an iron-clad, sir!” So it is. Fortified to resist evil,
but to assist good; and a “tender conscience,” to keep up the nautical
figure, is the small convoy that supplies the soul with spiritual

A conscience alive to duty will serve as an electrical alarm to notify
us what is to be done and when and how we are to do it. If you have sick
neighbors, and can not conveniently call upon them yourself, send to
inquire how they are and in what way you can be of service. An offering
of fruit or flowers will often be most acceptable to invalids or their
families, who are cheered and sustained by the thought that other hearts
are sympathizing with them. Keep down your own sensitiveness, and learn
to make generous allowance for other people. Show that your zeal is not
of the offensive sort, that your politeness is deep and genuine, that
“out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,” and you will
always be on good terms with your neighbors, and with yourself.

There is a variety of ways of helping people, and no two people may be
helped in precisely the same way. The most deserving are the most modest,
and it may take considerable study and observation for you to discover
that Mrs. Needlewise, whose children always look so neat and well
dressed, would be thankful for the cast-off clothes which are taking up
the room in your garret, or which you give away recklessly just for the
sake of getting rid of them. Mrs. Needlewise would be offended at your
offering her the garments, but friendliness, and the exercise of a little
tact, will remove the barriers and enable you to relieve anxieties that
were a continual burden.

A dear, good woman whose heart was always open to the necessities of
those about her, was in her old age given to somewhat erratic impulses.
One morning, much to the mortification of her family, she seized the
coffee-pot and went into a near neighbor’s, a poor but proud little
woman, who would go without rather than beg. The old lady, in her sweet
way, said to the farmer’s wife that it was a pity to waste so much good
coffee, and she had brought it over for her to use. The gift was accepted
with a smile, and to please the old lady the coffee was used by the good
man of the house, who sent word that he had never tasted any quite so
delicious, and should be glad to be so favored again. It was the entering
wedge of neighborly kindness, and the beginning of better days for the
poor family whose fortunes at that period were at a low ebb. The right
kind of a lift at the right time will put human nature on its feet, and
reëstablish the foundations that were in danger of giving way.

O, the magnetizing power of love! beginning first with the love of
Christ, and then reaching out toward all our fellow-creatures! How
wide spreading, how far-reaching in its influences! Home missions,
foreign missions, small charities or large ones, incidental acts of
kindness, thoughtful consideration for the welfare of others, all that
a self-sacrificing spirit can do is done cheerfully and without hope of

A saintly young woman whose earthly pilgrimage ended at thirty-four, is
thus eulogized by the pastor of the church for which she labored lovingly
and assiduously: “She gave out so much to others that she has left
herself broken in fragments here and there, and you and I hold this or
that fragment so really that we are only hardly persuaded to acknowledge
that there is an end of her earthly life for a time. How simply, purely
and patiently that life was lived, you know.… Many and many a time have
I pointed to that life as an example of what people might do and might
be, if they would do as she did—be content ‘to live faithfully a hidden
life,’” Her mother says: “Her unselfish work and devotion were marvelous.
It is often said of her that she crowded more into her short life than is
done or experienced in the longest. She shone the brightest in her daily
life at home, always serving some one, forgetful of self. Her pure spirit
grew so fast that the frail body could not retain it; yet she faded so
slowly, so cheerfully and hopefully, that we hardly believed she could
not rally until the day before she left us. Our sunshine is gone, but the
radiance is still left in the memory of her sweet life.”

Blessed memory!

In this bright way she speaks of herself when laid aside from her sphere
of usefulness, and obliged to some extent to discontinue the literary
work which had proved so acceptable to the public and already given
her considerable fame as an author: “I’ve been occupied with turning a
corner, round which the landscape is different, and getting used to the
change. I suppose it has been coming on for a good while; at all events,
after some ten years of ruddy health and active exercise, I am not to
sweep any more for a while, not to walk, not to sing, read aloud, talk
much, not to hurry, not to get tired at anything.… Of course it is a
little queer and painful sometimes, because, particularly, my father is
always an invalid, and increasingly so. One dreads to be another anxiety.
But I have no real reason to fret. Something good will come of it, I will
expect. I am so thankful that I need not give up writing that I will not
mind the rest of my denials;” and then when her own health was declining,
and the sunset hour of her life was nearer than she thought, she closes
her letter with “Good night, dear. Health and God’s blessing!” and it was
a final “good night,” for word soon came of her entering into communion
with the saints above.

The more heart we put into our work, whether it be domestic drudgery,
the care of the sick, or “whatsoever the hand findeth to do,” the more
perfect and satisfactory it will be; and according to the measure with
which we serve others, is meted out to us the happiness we derive from
that service. The sending of a letter full of kindly thought and sympathy
has often brought a return far beyond the expectation of the sender. A
little gift, a token of good will, insignificant in itself, has spoken
volumes to the recipient, and brightened a day that was full of clouds.
To do no more than our duty does not fill the measure of Christian
usefulness. We would grieve if compelled to walk a narrow path, fenced
in on either side, and not allowed to look to the right or left, or to
pluck the fruits that lined the road; and God and his holy angels must
grieve when we neglect to turn out of our path to assist others, and make
excuses for the non-performance of heart service.

A young lady, very much interested in mission work, and an active worker
in a large school connected with a flourishing church, felt offended
at some of the officers of the school, and decided to send in her
resignation. Each Sunday she had been accustomed to place before the
children some text that they might carry with them through the week,
absorbing its teachings and principles so that they would be “wrought out
in living characters.”

All through the week her mind dwelt upon the injustice that she felt had
been done her, and she went to the mission school the following Sunday
fully determined to give up the work which had been her delight for so
many years. As she entered the room her gaze rested on the text which
stood out in bold lettering, as she had printed it the previous Sunday:

    “Even Jesus pleased not himself.”

The arrow struck home. It would never do to have that text uppermost when
she handed in her resignation, so she reversed the roll, and there in as
bold type appeared:

    “Jesus, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.”

There was no use trying to avoid the situation, or to escape the
responsibilities. The teacher’s work was there. She knew it; she felt it.

    “To doubt would be disloyalty;
     To falter would be sin;”

so she roused herself to greater endurance, put more heart into work, and
had the satisfaction of hearing it said that never since her connection
with the school had she given such a splendid lesson. The approval of her
own conscience was not the least of her compensations, and there is no
further talk of her giving up her position in the mission school.

We may be so situated that we can not do any great work in the world.
By temperament, by education, or by reason of ill-health we may be
restricted from carrying out our ambitious schemes, but there are none
so weak, so ignorant, or so poor that they can not do some good in the
world. The ladder that reaches to heaven is not composed of wooden rungs,
or of cold, senseless material, but God has made every human being so
dependent on his fellow-creatures that each one is lifted up by some one
above him, some busy heart that feels another’s need and reaches out;
and when there is no looking up nor reaching out there is no growth nor
spiritual attainment.

If you want to know people you must get near them; first go down to
their level, and then bring them up to yours, not waiting for any great
occasion, or a more direct revelation, but taking advantage of small
opportunities, and making your influence felt in quiet, unobtrusive ways.

“And when it is all over, and our feet will run no more, and our hands
are helpless, and we have scarcely strength to murmur a last prayer, then
we shall see that instead of needing a larger field we have left untilled
many corners of our single acre, and that none of it is fit for the
Master’s eye were it not for the softening shadow of the cross.”

  “It was only a cup of water, with a gentle grace bestowed,
   But it cheered a lonely traveler upon the dusty road;
   For the way was long and dreary, and the resting places few,
   And the sun had dried the streamlets and drank up the sparkling dew;
   None noticed the cup of water as a beautiful act of love,
   Save the angels keeping the record, away in that land above;
   But the record shall never perish, and the trifling deed shall live,
   For heaven demands but little from those who have least to give!

  “It was only a kind word spoken to a weeping little child,
   But the thread of its grief was broken, and the little one sweetly
   And nobody stayed to notice so tiny an act of love,
   Save the angels keeping the record in the wonderful book above.
   And she who had spoken kindly went on her quiet way,
   Nor dreamt such a simple action should count at the last great day.
   But the pitying words of comfort were heard with a song of joy,
   And the listening angels blessed her from their beautiful home on high.

  “It isn’t the world-praised wonders that are best in our Father’s sight,
   Nor the wreaths of fading laurels that garnish fame’s dizzy height;
   But the pitying love and kindness, the work of the warm caress,
   The beautiful hope and patience and self-forgetfulness;
   The trifle in secret given, the prayer in the quiet night,
   And the little unnoticed nothings, are good in our Father’s sight.”

There is always some one to smile at, somebody to give your chair to,
somebody to whom a book, a flower, or even an old paper, will be a boon.
These small attentions will open the way to confidence, will make it
possible that in need these friends will give you opportunities to help
them which, unless you had shown thoughtfulness and regard for them, they
could never have done. A quiet, sympathetic look or smile many a time
unbars a heart that needs help which you can give.




Though reptiles are generally regarded with aversion, there is much of
interest in their natural history, and even they may serve some useful
purpose. There are four genera, and about fifteen hundred species.
The respiratory organs are the same in all, and are such as belong
to air-breathing animals. With few exceptions they are carnivorous;
generally sluggish in their habits, and their sensations dull. Nearly all
the winter they are in a state of lethargy.

[Illustration: FLYING TOAD.]

AMPHIBIA.—There are several species of cold blooded amphibious
vertebrates which are properly neither fishes nor reptiles, but, having
some things in common with both, should be mentioned here. Their
respiration is most peculiar, as they have only gills when young, and,
when adult, lungs. In their immature state they are fish-like, but
develop no fins; and their limbs, when they at length have them, show
the same articulations as those of higher animals. These amphibia,
in the progress of their development undergo a series of remarkable
metamorphoses. They begin life as water-breathing larvæ. In some of the
lower orders the gills remain through life; others, when mature, have
lungs only. Aquatic Newts, two-legged Mud-Eels, Toads, and Salamanders,
are their representatives. The _Batrachia_[1] include the frog, a well
known, tailless amphibian. Its metamorphose is peculiar. The ova are
deposited in a jelly-like mass at the bottom of the water, and, if the
temperature is suitable, develop rapidly. In a few days very interesting
microscopic observations are possible. The embryo presents four distinct
appearances before leaving the egg, and five more before assuming its
complete organization. For a time it seems a soft-skinned, scaleless
fish, breathing only as fishes do, and having a long, flexible tail,
used as an oar. Then it develops the palmated hind legs, as assistants
in its locomotion, the caudal process diminishes, the forelegs protrude,
true lungs are developed, the wriggling tadpole is a frog; abjures
kinship with its still aquatic relatives, hops to the land, and enters on
pursuits befitting its new mode of life. The common frog is well known,
and we present one of a different family. It is distinguished by having
the ends of its toes dilated into discs, or suckers, by which it sticks
to the smooth bark, and is capable of its arboreal life. It is often
called the “flying frog” and the “tree frog.” The webbed feet are large,
and when spread out serve to bear up the body, as would paper kites of
the same size. But the animal does not fly. It is active, and leaps from
branch to branch expertly, and, when it wants to descend, by spreading
those fan-like feet, it comes down with less violence. Tree toads are
noisy little creatures, and seem to be ventriloquists, as their voices do
not indicate their true position. This deception, and their color, make
their capture more difficult.


ORDER I.—_Ophidia_,[2] or serpents, are oviparous, air-breathing
vertebrates, having round, tapering bodies. They crawl or glide on their
ventral surface. The serpent’s body is very flexible. Its numerous
vertebræ, concave in front, and hemispherically convex behind, are so
jointed as to allow a free horizontal motion. Its progress is usually
by lateral undulations, made practicable by the great number of the
vertebræ, attached flexible ribs, and muscles along the sides, specially
arranged for prompt action on the spinal column. The bones of the head
are loosely jointed, and movable, making the mouth very dilatable. The
sharp teeth are hooked backward, so that whatever is seized is likely to
go down the capacious throat. The entire skeleton and skin are so elastic
that objects much larger than the serpent, in its normal condition, can
be swallowed whole. Though without limbs, they perform with dexterity a
great variety of movements; creep, climb, swim, raise the body almost
erect, and spring from the ground. There are two classes, the poisonous
and the harmless. Of the former the Cobra, Copperhead, Viper, and
Rattlesnake are representatives. They have extensile fangs, and, along
the side of the upper jaw, a large gland, which secrets a poisonous
liquid that is injected through the hollow or grooved fangs into the
wounds they inflict. Harmless snakes have much the same structure, but
nothing of this special arrangement.

ORDER II.—_Lacertilia_[3] or lizards, are snakes with short legs, and
usually much quicker in their movements than most other reptiles. Most
species are harmless, though a few are said to be venomous, and, because
of them, all are dreaded. They differ much in appearance, some being
really beautiful, and others about as hideous as reptiles can be. There
are an immense number and variety of lizards, having some distinctive
characteristics. Several extinct species, as the Iguanadon,[4]
Megalosaurus,[5] Plesiosaurus,[6] and Ichthyosaurus,[7] are known only by
their gigantic fossils, casts of which may be seen in many of our college

ORDER III.—_Chelonia._[8] This name is derived from the Greek word for
tortoise. The class includes all the varieties of tortoises or turtles.
Tortoise means crooked, or twisted, and refers to the awkward manner
in which the limbs are twisted about when in motion. There are two
skeletons, the one external, including the viscera and the whole muscular
system, which is internally attached to it. The upper plate of this
covering, called the carapace, is more or less convex, and made up of
strong elastic plates. The lower, or plastron, is flat and smooth, being
apparently an extension of the sternum or breast bone. These plates are
joined together at their lateral edges, leaving anterior and posterior
openings through which the head and limbs are extended. When at rest,
these are usually under the covering. The head and neck are covered with
a rough, corrugated skin, and the horny upper jaw terminates in a strong,
hooked beak. They are usually distinguished as marine, fresh water,
and land turtles. The former are good swimmers, but their movements on
land are slow and awkward, and if turned on their backs they are quite
helpless. Some marine turtles are very large, being from four to six feet
in diameter, and weighing from 600 to 2,000 pounds. Usually they weigh
much less. All are oviparous, the female producing about one hundred and
fifty hard-shelled eggs at a time. For this purpose she cautiously comes
ashore, and, dextrously using her hind flippers, excavates a hole in the
sand, from a foot to eighteen inches in depth, lays her eggs, and, having
carefully covered, leaves them to be hatched by the heat of the sun. The
green, edible turtle is very valuable, and furnishes much wholesome and
delicious food. The “hawks-bill” is seldom used for food, but supplies
the greater part of the well known “tortoise shell” of commerce. There
are many other species, both marine and fresh-water, whose flesh or
shells are of considerable value. Soft Tortoises, Snappers, Mud-Turtles,
and Terrapins, all have some peculiar characteristic.

ORDER IV.—_Loricata._[9] This corselet or armor-covered family includes
Crocodiles and their allied species. Their upper parts are covered with
a corselet of bony plates set in the tough, leathery skin. The jaws are
long, and have many strong, conical teeth, fixed in sockets. The lower
jaw extends back of the cranium, and the upper is hinged and movable.
Crocodiles belong in tropical climates, are sluggish animals, and live
a long time if not destroyed by violence. Their legs are short but
powerful, and when on land they manage to wriggle, or drag, their immense
bodies along with considerable speed. They are found in India, and in
all the large rivers of Africa. The Gavial of the Ganges, the Crocodile,
and the Mississippi Alligator are closely related, though there are some
structural differences. Of whatever variety, whether of the Old World or
of the New, they are more numerous than desirable, not being noted for
either their beauty or usefulness.

CLASS III.—_Aves._[10] Birds furnish a delightful study, and their
leading characteristics are easily stated. Widely as they differ, they
all have a common type of structure, and are essentially alike in those
particulars that distinguish them from other orders in the animal
kingdom. They are all warm blooded, feathered, biped vertebrates, mostly
with wings fitted for flight, and with either webbed feet for swimming,
or claws for seizing, scratching, and perching.

[Illustration: ANATOMY OF A HEN.

_Ex._—A, cranium; B, cervical vertebræ; G, furcula, or merry thought; J,
sternum, or breast bone; H, cloaca, surrounded by the pelvic bones; E,
caudal vertebræ, terminating in plowshare bone; D, lumbar vertebræ, or
rump; C, F, dorsal vertebræ, to which the ribs are attached.]

There are several points of interest in the anatomy of a bird that may
be used to bring out general characteristics: (1) The long neck, with
vertebræ so adjusted as to allow great freedom of movement, makes the
head a convenient prehensile organ. (2) The skeleton is remarkably light.
It has fewer bones than other vertebrates; the thin skull bones, the
dorsal vertebræ, and bones of the feet being anchylosed.[11] They are
also harder, of lighter material, and filled with air, thus having the
greatest possible strength with the least weight. (3) To make respiration
sufficient during rapid flight, an abundant supply of air not only
inflates the lungs as in other animals, but fills little membranous sacs,
or cells, distributed through the body, and extends even into the wing
feathers. (4) The digestive apparatus differs materially from that of
either fishes, reptiles, or mammals. The æsophagus[12] before reaching
the sternum is dilated into a large sack, or crop, and serves as a first
stomach, in which the food is softened, and prepared for other digestive
organs. Below this is another slight enlargement, the walls of which are
thicker, and secrete gastric juice. Still further down, the canal is
enlarged into a third stomach, the muscular gizzard, in which the process
is completed. (5) There are no teeth set in the bone sockets, as their
weight would be inconvenient, but the mandibles are sheathed in a horny
case, which has sharp edges, and terminates in the beak, or bill.

[Illustration: NESTS OF BIRDS.]

Both genera and species are very numerous, but any two birds that can
be selected differ less in their anatomy than some reptiles of the same
order differ. The leading orders only of this class have been selected.
_Raptores_[13] (robbers). This is a mild term when used to indicate
the ferocity of most birds of prey which not only plunder but destroy.
They are almost constantly committing murderous assaults on their
weaker neighbors. This is their nature, and accords with their physical
structure. The strong hooked bill, powerful legs, feet armed with sharp
claws to seize and hold their victims, while the murderous beak is
tearing off bits of flesh, are some of their chief characteristics.
These murderers have representatives in nearly all countries, but as
civilization advances they become less numerous.

They are usually divided into three great families: Falcons, Vultures,
and Owls. The first includes all kinds of Hawks and Eagles. True falcons
reveal a predatory character, not only by their general structure as
described, but have a special arrangement for keeping their formidable
weapons in order. The continual sharpness of their claws is necessary,
and to maintain it they must be kept from coming in contact with hard
substances. To make this practicable, though they are not retractile,
like a cat’s claws, there not being sufficient integuments to cover them,
the bird has power to elevate their points when stepping or perching
on anything likely to dull them. Being very powerful and rapid flyers,
falcons were in former times tamed, and trained for catching other birds
and small game. Falconry, in the middle ages, was one of the principal
diversions of kings and noblemen, lords and ladies, and in later times
the same sport was practiced in England under the name of “hawking.”
The training of the birds was a profession, and there were teachers
who became proficient in it. The Eagle, king of birds, belongs to this
class; he is, perhaps, inferior in activity and enterprise, but is more
powerful, and his supremacy is undisputed. The Bald Eagle adorns our
American flag, and is a fit emblem of national sovereignty, though there
was, it is confessed, some ground for Franklin’s protest, “The bird has a
bad moral character, and does not get his living honestly.” The Gypætos,
or Vulture Eagle, is the largest bird of Europe, and often a terror to
the peasants near the Pyrenees and Swiss Alps. Its great strength, bold,
predatory habits, and impetuosity in pouncing on animals exceeding itself
in size, make it more formidable than most eagles are.

[Illustration: THE FLAMINGO.]

Vultures are cowardly, disgusting creatures, and feed mostly on putrid
flesh, yet they are useful scavengers in hot climates, devouring much
animal matter that would otherwise cause pestilence and death.

Owls are nocturnal birds of prey, and though seldom abroad except in the
darkness, or twilight, being often captured and confined, they are pretty
well known.

_Insessores_[14] (perching birds). This term is adopted as vaguely
descriptive of many species, of which no particular mention can be made.
They include our common singing birds and skillful nest builders. Some of
these build low, among the grass, others on branches of trees. Some are
solitary, and during the nesting season isolate themselves. Others, as
the “sociable weavers,” unite in building them cities, in which each pair
claims a private residence.

_Cursores_[15] (runners). Birds of this class run rather than fly, have
no keel on the breast bone, no well developed wings, and their feathers
are loosely put together, without the connecting barbs that strengthen
the wing feathers of others. But they have strong legs, and feet with
nails rather than claws. The Ostrich is most distinguished for its size,
strength, speed, and peculiar feathers. The Emeu and Apteryx belong to
the same class, the latter being tailless.

_Grallatores_[16] (waders). These aquatic birds are distinguished by
their very long, bare legs, also necks and bills of like proportions.
Herons, Storks, and Flamingoes are representatives.

The latter is a peculiar bird, common in some portions of America,
Southern Europe, Asia, and Africa. When walking erect it is about five
feet high, the body of a light color, and the wings red. When a number go
in single file, as such birds do, they appear like a company of British
soldiers in uniform. As their legs are quite too long for convenience
when incubating, they construct, of grass, rushes, and mud, a little cone
of sufficient height, make their nest on the top, and sit astride, the
long legs hanging down the sides. This also protects the eggs and young
from moisture in wet weather.

[Illustration: THE ALBATROSS.]

_Natatores_[17] (swimmers). Aquatic birds being keel breasted, with short
legs, webbed feet, and thin, light, warm covering, delight in swimming.
Some of these have also good flying qualities, as Wild Geese, Swans,
Sea-Gulls, and Petrels, which spend much time in skimming over the water,
either on or above the surface.

This family includes the wandering Albatross, which is among the largest
of the sea birds, having from ten to fifteen feet expanse of the wings,
and weighing from twenty to thirty pounds; yet it sustains itself in the
air for many hours together without any apparent difficulty. It is often
met far out at sea, and sailors have many superstitions respecting it.
Like all petrels and sea-gulls, the albatross makes its nest on crags and
cliffs along the coast, choosing places that seem inaccessible. To gather
the eggs of seafowls, which are esteemed a delicacy, and to capture
the birds themselves for the feathers, is one of the most perilous
employments. The adventurous fowlers are swung over precipices from five
hundred to a thousand feet above the sea, sustained simply by a rope,
that, by breaking, or slipping from the hands that hold it, must hurl
them to certain destruction.

CLASS IV.—_Mammalia_ (milk givers). Though there are some very low
species in this order, it reaches upward and includes the highest forms
of animal organization, all of what ever degree, that have the mammary
glands, and secrete milk for the nourishment of their young. There are
more than two thousand species of these in North America alone. They have
several distinguishing characteristics. The heart is four chambered,
having two auricles and two ventricles. They are warm blooded, the
blood having two kinds of corpuscles, the red predominating, and being
globular. The impure blood from the body pours into the right auricle,
passes to the right ventricle, and thence to the lungs. In the lungs,
which are spongy and full of air cells, it is supplied with oxygen from
the air freely circulating through them. Being thus changed to purer
arterial blood, it passes back through the left auricle to the left
ventricle, and, by a muscular action, is forced through the great aorta
and its innumerable branches to every part of the body. Mammals always
breathe by lungs enclosed in a membranous sack called the pleura. They
are viviparous, or produce their young alive, though some when in a very
immature, helpless state. They are for convenience subdivided:

ORDER I. _Monotremata._[18] These animals, the lowest of mammals, have
long, flattened beaks, webbed feet, and other bird-like characteristics.
But they are of little importance, few in number, and not widely
distributed, being confined mostly to Australia and Tasmania.

Belonging to this class is the Water-Mole, with a broad, duck-like,
horny bill. It lives on worms and vegetables, and burrows in the banks
of streams, having the opening to its quarters under the surface of the

ORDER II. _Marsupial_, or pouched animals. The young are brought forth
in a very premature state, but are immediately placed in a marsupium
or pouch under the abdomen, where, attached to the little teats, they
receive their nourishment. They are thus protected and carried by the
mother as long as such care is necessary. The opossum, the only native
marsupial of the United States, is about twenty inches long, exclusive
of the peculiar rat-like, prehensile tail, by which the animal often
suspends itself from the branches of trees. When in danger, it feigns
death as a way of escape—and can survive injuries that would be fatal to
most animals. They were once very numerous in this country, and though
destructive to fruit and poultry, are of some value. Their flesh is
used by some, and the skins are in demand, the hair or coarse fur being
wrought into felt.

ORDER III. _Edentata_[19] (toothless). Animals without incisors, and
having separate clawed toes, are included under this order. The chief
representatives are the Armadillos, Sloths and Ant-eaters.

Armadillos[20] are remarkable animals, with a covering of horny plates,
not unlike a tortoise shell, but arranged in sections in a way that
allows more freedom of motion. Some of the extinct species were of
gigantic proportions. A fossil armadillo found near the La Plate was as
large as a full grown rhinoceros.

The Sloths are natives of South America. They are covered with long,
coarse, gray-and-black hair, resembling the moss of the trees in which
they live, for these animals are arboreal, while the other members of the
order burrow.

Ant-eaters, of which there are several varieties, are covered with spines
like the hedge-hog. Even the long, rough tongue and palate are provided
with the sharp little spines with which they spear and hold their prey.
Their claws also are fitted for digging into the ant hills, where the
food is obtained. They are very inferior mammals, but have their place,
and are useful in destroying noxious insects.

The giant ant-eater of South America is much the largest of the genus,
and an animal of considerable strength. From its long, bill-like snout it
thrusts out its longer tongue, and the frantic ants, disturbed in their
quarters, on rushing out stick to it, and are rapidly swept into the
mouth. When sleeping, it is coiled up under its immense bushy tail and
looks more like a little heap of dried grass than an animal.

[Illustration: THE ANT-EATER.]

ORDER IV.—_Sirenia_[21] (sea cows), include the Manatee, found between
the Amazon and Southern Florida, and the Dugong, of India. They are
amphibious milk givers. In appearance and structure they are very unlike
most mammals. Their forelimbs resemble fins, having fingers or toes.
The hind legs are wanting, and the tail like that of a fish, but they
suckle their young, sometimes supporting them for the purpose with their

ORDER V.—_Cetacea_[22] (Whales). They are much the largest of mammals.
They live entirely in the sea, and have in general a fish-like
appearance. Their forelimbs are huge paddles, the others being only
rudimentary. But they produce their young well developed, and nourish
them with an abundance of rich, creamy milk. The amount of blood in a
large whale must be immense, the great artery being a foot in diameter,
every pulsation of the heart forces many gallons along the channels
prepared for it. A single whale, captured in 1884 by the crew of a New
London vessel, produced whalebone and oil worth $15,720, beside other
products of considerable value.

ORDER VI.—_Insectivora_ (insect eating). An order of small animals,
having well developed teeth, the molars remarkable for their sharp cusps;
and five-toed feet furnished with claws. The Mole, Hedge-hog and Shrew
are examples.

[Illustration: VARIETIES OF BATS.]

ORDER VII.—_Cheiroptera_[23] (wing handed). Bats are not generally
favorites, and are by many regarded with aversion. Their strange and
rather uncomely forms are seen on wing only in the dim twilight, as they
spend the day mostly in deserted buildings and gloomy caverns. In eastern
countries, where such receptacles of the dead are common, bats are often
found in sepulchers or catacombs, and are regarded as fit dwellers
with desolation and death. There are many species, with enough variety
in their appearance; and the study of their natural history softens
prejudice and reveals much of interest in their structure and habits.

ORDER VIII.—_Rodentia_[24] (gnawing animals). Animals of this order have
two large, chisel-like incisors in each jaw, and, separated from them by
a wide space, are the molar teeth. The incisors never cease growing from
the roots, but are constantly worn away by nibbling. The lower jaw moves
backward and forward. This order includes more than half of the known
mammals, and its representatives range from the equator to the poles.
Hares, Mice, Rats, Squirrels, and Beavers are among those best known.

ORDER IX.—_Ungulata_[25] (hoofed animals). An order of mammals most
valuable to man. They are grouped in two divisions, according to
the number of toes. The uneven-toed ungulates include the Elephant,
Rhinoceros and Horse. The elephant is marked by the prolongation of the
nose and upper lip into a trunk or proboscis, which is said to contain
over 40,000 muscles. It has no canine teeth, and incisors only in the
lower jaw. Elephants are found in Asia and Africa. There are two extinct
species, the mastodon and mammoth. The rhinoceros is a native of Africa
and India. It is an immense animal, covered by a hairless skin, which
lies in folds on the body. The nose bears one or two horns, which grow
sometimes three feet in length. The horse includes animals having one toe
upon each foot, upon which they walk. The family includes the Ass, Zebra
and Quagga.

The even-toed ungulates include all the _Ruminates_, or cud chewing
animals, with the Swine and Hippopotamus. The ruminants are remarkable
for their peculiar method of digesting their food. They possess a very
peculiar stomach, of four compartments. The food, mixed with saliva,
is swallowed and passes into a paunch where it is mingled with water,
and then forced into what is called the honey-comb stomach, a sack in
which the food is formed into cuds, and by a muscular arrangement is
forced back into the mouth to be masticated a second time before passing
directly into the third stomach or manyplies, where it is strained, and
then driven into the true stomach to be acted upon by the gastric juice
and assimilated.

The deer is a fine representative of the ruminant, with solid branching
horns. Like all ruminants it has two toes. There is a large class of
cud-chewers having hollow horns, which usually are not shed, as are the
solid horns. The Buffalo, Ox, Sheep, Goat and Antelope belong to this

[Illustration: OX SKELETON.

10, horns; 8, spine; A, cervical, B B, dorsal, C, lumbar, D, sacral,
and E E caudal vertebræ; F F, ribs; G, sternum and cartilages; R, ossa
innominata; H, scapula; I, humerus; K, radius; L, ulna; N, metacarpal; S,
femur; T, patella; U, tibia; V, hock; X, metatarsal; Y, small metatarsal;
P, sesamoids; Y, bones of tarsus, nine in number. Figures near Z: 1,
infero maxilla; 2, supero maxilla; 3, premaxilla; 4, nasal; 5, lachrymal;
6, frontal. Figures near letter M, bones of the carpus or knee, 1,
trapezium; 2, cuniform; 3, lunar; 4, scaphoid; 5, unciform; 6, magnum.
Figures near the letter Q, mark the three phalanges, or small bones of
the foot.]

The Giraffe, an inhabitant of Central Africa, and remarkable for its long
neck, is another ruminant. The camel also belongs here. The true camel
has two fatty humps upon its back; another species, called the dromedary,
has but a single hump. The camel has a peculiar modification of one
compartment of the ruminant stomach. The paunch is divided into cells
which hold supplies of water.

ORDER X.—_Carnivora_ (flesh-eaters). The distinguishing characteristics
of this order are sharp canine teeth, and one molar on each side in
the upper and lower jaw, longer and sharper than the rest; and feet
which are provided with toes, generally supplied with claws. According
to the modifications of the feet they are divided into _Pinnigrades_,
_Plantigrades_ and _Digitigrades_. The first have short, webbed feet
which they use as paddles for swimming, and are represented by Seals
and Walruses. These are amphibious mammals of a high order. They spend
much of their time in the water, and both the form and covering of their
bodies are adapted to their aquatic mode of life. They swim and dive
with the greatest facility. The soft woolly down, close to the skin, is
covered with a coat of long, smooth, shining hairs which lie close to the
body, offering no resistance to their passage through the water. Their
skins and oil are of considerable mercantile importance. The Plantigrades
include those animals which in walking place the sole of the foot flat
upon the ground. Such are Bears and Raccoons. The Digitigrades are those
which walk on the toes, as Weasels, Foxes, Dogs, Cats, Lions and Tigers.

ORDER XI.—_Primates_ are at the head of the animal kingdom. The
distinguishing characteristics of this class are the more erect carriage
of the body, a hand better adapted for use, its fingers being furnished
with nails, and a thigh free from the body. The order includes the
Lemurs, Monkeys, Apes and Man. The lowest division of the primates, the
lemurs, are small animals whose bodies are covered with hair. They have
a fox-like face, a pointed nose, large ears, and a long tail, and they
walk on all fours. The monkeys have long prehensile tails, and though
their hands can be used for grasping, the thumbs are not opposable. A
distinguishing mark is the number of teeth; they have thirty-six instead
of thirty-two, as the apes and man. Among the monkeys are the Baboon, the
Howling Monkeys, the Mandril, and the Sleepers of Africa and Asia.

The apes are more erect than the monkeys, have no tail, and have longer
arms. The division includes the Orang-Outang of Borneo and Sumatra, the
Chimpanzee, of Africa, and the Gorilla of Africa and Asia.

Man commands the highest physical development among the primates. In him
the partially erect position of the monkey and ape becomes complete. His
limbs are more nearly equal in length and more perfectly developed than
those of other primates, the skull is larger, the forehead more rounded,
and the brain nearly twice the size of that of the gorilla, the dentition
is more perfect, the teeth being regular and rarely protruding. The great
distinction between man and the lower primates is that of mind. He alone,
of all animals, possesses the power of articulate speech, of forming
abstract ideas, and of reasoning.

    _End of Required Reading for the Year 1884-85._



Who began it?

The germ theory.

This answer may be regarded as not strictly to the point, yet it is
certain that it holds the truth more nearly than any statement which
might give New York or Philadelphia as the first cause. By this
mysterious law, which from time to time we encounter in settling
precisely such questions, minds entirely remote and with no kinship of
faith or mutual purpose, felt the sudden moving toward action practically
simultaneous. A hint of things to come had been given half a dozen years
before, but full action waited for the Centennial year of 1876.

Up to this time summer rest, save for the rich, had been regarded as a
needless luxury. Increased knowledge of sanitary laws had demonstrated
that change of air might be as vital a necessity for poor as for rich.
But that this applied also to the lowest and most helpless classes had no
place save in the mind of a practical philanthropist here and there. Nor
had it yet become a part of the creed of such workers, and, far less, a
subject of common discussion among those who sought the most practical
methods of help, that the children were the ones to whom such help would
mean the most. Charity concerned itself chiefly with alleviation, and
looked in more and more hopeless dismay on the ever-increasing numbers of
this army of incapables. It was evident to all who walked through city
streets as August sunshine blazed on squalid home and reeking gutter,
and gaunt women and pale, unchildlike children came and went in noisome
street and alley, that something must be done, but what? A good woman
had opened a summer home for very young children on Staten Island, and
in 1873 transferred its management to the Children’s Aid Society on
the understanding that four thousand dollars should be collected to
insure its success. The founder, Mr. A. P. Stokes, at once gave half
the amount, and the rest was quickly made up, the headquarters for the
new home being made at Bath, Long Island, where the work still goes
on with largely increased facilities. Beginning with the rental of a
private house, in which every inch of space was so utilized that the
parlors became a sleeping room for twenty-four persons, and the carriage
house was so made over as to contain nearly sixty beds, it has grown
into one of the most efficient and beneficent of charities. A week is
given to each detachment, chosen most generally from the members of the
industrial schools under the direction of the Children’s Aid Society.
The children are abundantly fed, the dietary including milk, bread,
butter, oatmeal, fruits, vegetables, fish and meats. The salt water is
almost at the door, while on the other side are woods and wild flowers,
and the children change even in a week of such life, sometimes almost
beyond recognition. But there are objections to these homes, beautiful as
is their mission in many points, and a writer in the New York _Evening
Post_, after faithful examination of this and other summer homes, writes:
“Neither the excursions, which are only for a day, nor the seaside homes
quite reach the best results. What the pinched sufferers in alley-ways
and courts, garrets and basements need is to be sent to the country. It
is not enough to give them a day on the river, though that is good as
far as it goes. Even in seaside homes they are housed with children of
their own sort; they have the same conversation, the same plays, the same
depressing companionship with disease and want. What they need is to meet
the healthy life of the country; to make acquaintance with nature, to
learn the difference between a calf and a pig; to have a whole new set
of objects before their eyes and mind. The country is a bit of heaven to
such children. They catch a new life from it; they bring back into town a
better tone of mind, body and morals.”

Such had long been the conviction of a woman whose name is synonymous
with every advance that has been made in wise dealing with social
problems, and who, as she came and went in the narrow streets and
stifling heat of Philadelphia, yearned always more and more, to give
the children some hint of what lay almost within their reach, yet
inaccessible as the poles. At the meeting of Progressive Friends in
1876, one of the earliest addresses, and one of the most powerful in
its effects, made an impassioned appeal for an end of dreaming and
theorizing, and a life of action—action which should mean help to
every human soul in need of help. There was a flutter of interest and
excitement as the speaker ended, but no one made suggestion as to what
form such action might take. Great issues were apparently ended. To a
gathering made up in great part of veteran Abolitionists, any other
struggle seemed weak and puerile, and they looked doubtfully at one
another as the words ceased.

The wise woman saw her time, and when the afternoon meeting brought them
together, rose in her place, and in few words told what her eyes had seen
and her heart desired. A buzz of interest and of opposition was heard at
once. One and another stated objections; objections made by many since
then, but that have proved no obstacle to the progress of the work. Such
children would bring in their train, dirt, disease, vermin, foul language
and general demoralization for every child in the neighborhood who came
in contact with them.

“Such things are all possible, and may all be anticipated,” said the wise
woman, who had already in her own experience demonstrated that each and
all could be overcome, “but I think you will find that there are ways of
meeting them.”

Still objections were made, and a warm argument was under way, when a
Quaker wife whose eyes flashed from the shade of the close bonnet, and
whose voice held a ring not unknown even to Quaker gentleness, rose
before the debating broad-brims:

“I’m going to have two of those children, if I have to tie my own to a
tree,” she said, and said no more.

More was not needed. The tide had turned, and one and another volunteered
to open the doors and at least make an experiment. And now, curiously
enough, came a difficulty not even imagined; the difficulty of securing
children for the offered and waiting places. Fathers and mothers looked
with dark suspicion on the people who requested the loan of the children.

“Shure it’s none o’ mine ye’ll be gettin’,” said one of them. “Makin’ out
it’s for play ye’s want ’em, an’ settin’ them to work soon as our eyes is
off of ’em.”

“It’s not work I’ll have child o’ mine do, long’s I’ve hands that’ll
earn the bit an’ sup she’ll be takin’,” said another, and the children
themselves, hollow-eyed and haggard, watched the fracas with small
interest. The first who went out had to be compelled, as it were, to
come in to the feast, but never again were like measures necessary. The
good work went on with courage, even with glee. Baths, clean clothes,
plenty to eat, sweet air and sunshine did their work, and the dirty,
forlorn little wretches chosen in the beginning returned home, imploring
for longer time, and with a new sense of life born in them. Season after
season the same doors opened, and as the work grew, funds poured in;
a method formulated itself, and the management became a model for all
similar work elsewhere.

This is what had happened at one point, but the germ was not a single
one, and at another in the same state, another mind had felt the same
touch, and the same result had come. The project had been talked over
before it took positive form, and talked over with a woman, who, from the
upper chamber where long years had held her prisoner to pain, looked out
upon the world through others’ eyes, but with an insight that went to the
heart of all possibilities for help. The young minister who counted her
word as equivalent to the united force of a dozen elders, went home to
his flock among the Pennsylvania mountains—hard-working farmers from whom
quick response could hardly have been expected—and this is the letter he
wrote on a Sunday when he had spoken to them his first word of the wish
born a year before:

                                         “SHERMAN, PA., June 3, 1877.

    “MY DEAR MRS. L.:—The ball is set in motion. I took for my text
    this morning, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least
    of these, ye have done it unto me,” and made the practical
    bearing of my words the bringing out into our homes some of the
    waifs and outcasts from the city. One man stopped on his way
    home to say that he would take four. In another house there is
    a call for a mother and a baby, and so on through the town. The
    enthusiasm and response of my people have delighted me.

    “Next to get the money; then to tell the children. Must not two
    weeks in this pure mountain air be felt by them in after life? It
    seems to me that they are all but here.

    “Now may I have the introduction you promised me to Dr.
    Eggleston? I shall try for a pass over the road to go back and
    forth with the children myself, and perhaps I can arrange with
    some of these good people on the way to bring us a country lunch
    as the train comes along. Some good angel whisper it in the ear
    of a little one! Tell a tired mother there is life for her child
    in this fresh country air.

                                                   “WILLARD PARSONS.”

It was an unknown name then, but through Dr. Eggleston, then on the point
of sailing for Europe, interest was roused. The Erie Railway officers
proved that corporations have sometimes a soul, and full fares were
reduced to half fares, and half fares to quarter fares, and a pass was
given to Mr. Parsons, and on July 19th went out the first group of nine.
They were mere wraiths of children, crippled, in consumption, enfeebled
from whooping cough; each one stamped with disease and pinched and thin
for want of food. It was doubtful how they could bear the journey.

The children who swarmed out next day “to catch raspberries” proved
perfectly manageable, and when their two weeks ended, returned home
transformed from sad-eyed, prematurely old little figures, into live
children, loaded with gifts and crying to stay longer. The story has
become a familiar one, but it can never become tedious. The second group
gave less anxiety. The work was better understood. Seventeen boys and
girls, each wearing a blue ribbon bow as the badge of “country week”
children, gathered from all quarters, and all, delicate, half-starved,
suffering with hip-disease, asthma, and a dozen ailments, met at the Erie

The diary of the summer’s work runs over with small absurdities, with
pathos, with promise. Sixty in all shared the good provided for them at
a total cost of only one hundred and eighty-seven dollars and sixty-two
cents. But for New York as for Philadelphia, it was easier to get the
money than to get the children. Often a pale and care-worn child was
the breadwinner. “Sometimes the mother had a fear of separation, or the
feeble, childish hands must tend baby and do the housework while mother
goes out by the day. ‘It is harder for Jack than for any one else when
the baby comes,’ one mother said. ‘The care comes on him.’ Baby was in
her arms as she spoke, but Jack was close by, thirteen years old, under
size, and washing stockings at the tub!”

In many cases the children made friends for life, in a few the attachment
formed being so strong that adoption followed. For all of them was the
same experience; a fortnight or more of bliss and revelation and a
return, loaded down with bundles and boxes and bags of the things that
each one chose to gather.

That ticks had to be washed and straw burned after the occupation of many
of them, made no apparent difference, and even to-day, when it is all
an old story, and board must in many cases be paid, there is unfailing
consideration for the tastes and whims of the strangers. Now and then
there was fright and tears and long wails for mother, soon quieted. Now
and then rebellion and ingratitude; sometimes lying and petty thefts, but
all yielding to kindness.

In Philadelphia, to whose markets the farmers for miles about come in,
the children were in many cases able to keep up their acquaintance, and
were often found behind the stalls, in long talks with the friends
who now and then bundled them into the great Conestoga wagons and gave
them an unexpected country week. The work has grown at this point, as
in New York, beyond any expectation, and rooms and officers have both
become necessary, the modest reports giving small hint of the patient
labor bestowed. The work was long confined solely to children, with now
and then a worn-out mother smuggled in, but the same eyes that had seen
their needs were studying now into possibilities for the class just above
them—the working girls. Of all grades, from factory to store, all were
living on the least sum on which body and soul could be kept together,
and all needed quite as strenuously as the children, the change from
narrow, stifling homes to country air and sights. To accomplish this has
been far more difficult than the first undertaking, but has resulted in
a success quite as complete. The objections were natural. Children could
be disciplined and taught even in a week’s stay, but growing or grown
girls, probably pert, self-sufficient and generally unpleasant, were
quite another matter. It was impossible to say what airs they might not
put on, or what demands they might make, and quiet housewives turned in
dismay from even the thought of such inmates. The same woman who had
decided that her own children should be temporarily tied up rather than
to stand in the way of more needy ones, opened her doors again, not as
a charity, but on the lowest terms that could well be fixed, and half
a dozen girls came to her for a fortnight, each paying two dollars per
week, and finding such interest on the investment as no dollars of their
earning had ever known before. The girls were gentle, quiet, over-worked
and timid, and so far from putting on airs, required all the assurances
that could be given to make them willing to take the good before them.
Other doors opened at once, and the neighborhood soon found even more
interest in this phase than had attended work for the children. Girls in
many cases clubbed together, and it has been found, wherever attempted,
that three dollars per week for board and washing still leaves a margin
of profit for the entertainers. Home after home has sprung up by the
seashore or in the country proper; but the same objection applies to
massing girls together that has already been mentioned as affecting the
children. Numbers seem always to include inevitable demoralization, and
to develop unpleasant possibilities in even the most inoffensive, and
the conclusion is the same for both, that the best results follow where
private families open their doors and the workings of home life can be
part of the vacation experience. Hints have come in silent ways stronger
than any words, that have borne fruit in many lives. A new sense has been
born—a sense of the beauty of order and many a quiet virtue unknown to
the crowded and scrambling city life, and the lesson has as yet reached
but the alphabet.

It is not the intention of this article to describe any one work at
length, or to define more than the possibilities before us all. More
and more we have come to recognize that only in dealing directly with
the individual, can any efficient work be done, and this principle now
underlies the best that the Associated Charities has given us. Summer
rest is but a phase of the wide-reaching work, but not one holds a larger
significance. Two or three years ago the writer recorded one case, which,
while hardly typical, still shows what may lie in wait for the young soul
of whose possibilities we can never judge in full, and the story is given
again, as the best illustration of what a country week may mean.

Long ago in a dull, old street, making part of an equally dull and
colorless part of old New York, a very solitary child extracted such
amusement from life as forty feet of back yard could afford. He sat in
his small rocking-chair and listened to the talk about him, growing a
little paler, a little more uncanny all the time, till one day when a
country cousin appeared, and, horrified that anything so old and weazened
could call itself a boy, begged that he might go home with her.

There was infinite objection, but her point was finally carried, and
the child found himself suddenly in a country village, a great garden
about the house, a family dog and cat, a cow, an old horse, and all the
belongings of village life. Old-fashioned flowers were all about, and the
old-fashioned boy sat down in the path by a bed of spice pinks and looked
at them, his hands folded and a species of adoration on his face.

“Pick some,” said the cousin; “pick as many as you want.”

“Pick them?” repeated the old-fashioned boy. “I’m afraid to. Ain’t they

An hour later the seven years’ crust had broken once for all, and the
child, who had to be put to bed exhausted from his scrambles through
and over every unaccustomed thing, began to live the first day of real
child life. When the time came for his return he begged with such a
passion of eagerness, such storm of sobs and cries for longer stay
that the unwilling aunt and grandmother left him there, and finding
the transformation, when he did return, beyond either comprehension or
management, sent him back to the life he craved.

To-day he takes rank among American painters, though only heaven knows
how the possibility of such development found place in this strange
off-shoot of a Philistine race. But he counts his own birthday from the
hour when the first sense of sky and grass and flowers dawned upon him,
and he looked upon the garden that he thought truly God had planted.

Such revelation is the portion of few, but for all it comes in
degree. To aid such revelation is hardly a charity. Is it not rather
self-protection? Men and women in the slums are beyond much power of ours
for reconstruction or reformation, but the children can be influenced
still. And so let every one who looks with apprehension at the daily
criminal record, and wonders what should be done, remember that a very
small sum will be one means of giving a chance to some child born to
all evil, whose first sense of something better will come, not through
school or mission, but through the silent teaching unconsciously working
in them, through every breath of fresh air, every sight of blue sky and
sunshine, and green grass and trees. A “country week” may come from a
very small sum, but it is an investment on which interest is unending,
and whoever has once made it will find that the pleasure is not for the
child alone, and that life opens up more possibilities than had come even
to one’s deepest dreams.

For those who desire more specific knowledge than that afforded by the
story of the undertaking as a whole, it is sufficient to give one or
two details which will enable any one interested in further examination
of the matter to obtain reports and information from headquarters. For
Philadelphia these headquarters are at 1112 Girard Street, from which
the companies of children, registered and numbered, are sent out.
A letter addressed “Officers of the Country Week,” at this number,
will always receive prompt attention, the work having received formal
organization some years since, and owning a regular board of untiring
and devoted officers. They have come to include now not only children,
but tired shop-girls, young mothers worn with care, and working women
of all orders, and there is opportunity not only for those who are
willing to open their houses without charge, but also for those who must
cover expenses, the Board paying wherever necessary, a sum per child,
sufficient to cover these. For New York there is perhaps a trifle less
system, but a work equally beneficent, and for all information regarding
it, it is sufficient to address either “The Tribune Fresh Air Fund,” THE
TRIBUNE, Park Row, New York, or the Rev. WILLARD PARSONS, care of New
York _Tribune_.

Contributions or inquiries either will be welcomed, and matters are
now so perfectly systematized, that distance to be traveled proves
no obstacle, and even the remotest village on the lines of the great
railroads may have its share in this most beautiful and essential form of



There is one surpassing beauty of manner which, I think, might be
attained by cultivation—that of taking an interest in people who are
talking to you, with the subtile added charm of seeming at leisure to
enjoy them as long as they choose to stay.

With some it is natural. I was struck to-day with the sweet graciousness
of a young girl, ill dressed (for her) and very busy, who almost deceived
me into wasting ten extra minutes of her precious time, by the satisfied
air with which she sat down beside me in her parlor and welcomed my
inopportune appearance. It was not politic, to be sure, for getting her
cake making done, but, ah how politic for winning admiration!

Of the few whom I have remarked, in our busy American life, as possessing
this faculty supremely, one family had long lived abroad, and were
people of leisure. The look of content, and of being established for an
indefinite time, with which any one of them sat on the sofa before a dull
chance acquaintance, was an imprint, no doubt, of their idle life, but it
was also the imprint of an exquisite training. It was the quintessence of
the aristocratic manner.

We do not want gilded uselessness; far better remain as we are; busy,
even if chiefly for ourselves; but there are some who, in the midst
of hard work, have been wise enough to leave spare time in their plan
of life for casual meetings with their fellows. I think of two women,
both, as it happened, the main stay of churches—churches widely removed
in geography and opinion; both were responsible in the care of those
churches, and both entered with marvelous industry into the details and
into the drudgery of their work. I heard a servant say of one that she
had never known her to utter an impatient word when cards were handed
in; while her cordial ways won the hearts of all. The other, older
and poorer, and not versed in the ways of the world, it was even more
wonderful to see sitting hour after hour engrossed and pleased as one and
another used up her morning; though the standing puzzle among all who
knew her was, how she possibly found time for all she did.

This heartiness is more attractive to the small than to the great among
one’s friends; for those full of attractions themselves are not so apt
to be received with indifference. It is those modest as to their own
fascinations who are grateful for being made welcome and at home; the
shy girl just emerged from the school room to do her difficult part in
society, the old lady who is painfully conscious that she knows very
little about the topics of the day, the estimable young man of moderate
capacity. These must be tolerated—why should they not be made happy?

I know that I am playing with edged tools, advising an attempt that is
all too apt to end in affectation, even in deceit, an overdone aspect of
admiration which would disgust; but you can avoid that. Really, about
all you need is to deal strictly with yourself as you walk down stairs
to the parlor; force yourself to stop inwardly fuming that you are
interrupted, to accept the fact that this is not an interruption, but
probably a better occupation for you for twenty minutes than that from
which you were called, at any rate the inexorable duty of the moment, and
to be discharged as such. Instead of sitting half numb and self-absorbed,
talking only in the _rôle_ of a machine for receiving a caller, try at
once to throw yourself quite away from the life upstairs out into the
life of your visitor. The calls will consume a little more of your time,
will average a little longer, even in spite of waiting carriages, but
they will prove a recreation instead of a weariness, and you will gain
twenty friends where you now gain one.

A little girl once traveled in the stage-coach with Madame La Vert, and
the child’s indignant contradiction afterward: “She isn’t a fine lady at
all! She’s just like me, and I love her,” made plain in a sentence the
secret of her power.

Why is not this sympathetic treatment of others aimed at by all? Why
should the reigning belle be so nice with her tongue and her smile,
and the older woman, who probably feels the want of affection far more
keenly, be quite oblivious that this same winning kindliness which she
has so long ceased to exhibit, and has replaced by the dry manner of
formal endurance, would, perhaps as promptly as the wand of Cinderella’s
god-mother, transform some of these prim callers into life-long friends.



    Three sisters guard the lives of mortal men
      With care unvarying, from youth to age.
    Ever around us, though beyond our ken,
      Do they in silent ministry engage.
        Mysterious Trio—hand in hand, they go
        Through the sad realm of human pain and woe!

    Mother of Tears, of bitterness, and grief,
      Thou art, to-day, in many a silent room—
    Before thy steps, death stealeth, like a thief,
      And turns life’s sunshine into blackest gloom.
        When hearts are rent with unavailing prayer
        For life’s lost treasures, Mother, thou art there!

    Dark-browed and dreadful, Tenebrarum, thou!
      Bringer of unbelief, doubt, and despair,
    Mother of suicide, revenge, and gloom—
      With frenzied look, and maniac’s awful glare—
        When man is hated, and when God denied,
        Thou standest, mocking, at the wretch’s side!

    But thou, O Goddess, mild Mother of Sighs,
      Sweet source of pity, patient sorrow’s balm,
    At thy mild bidding all our anguish dies,
      And grief’s wild billows soften into calm.
        When human hearts bring sympathy and share
        The woes of others, Mother, thou art there!

    When the sad penitent laments in vain
      O’er wasted moments—thou dost hope restore—
    To the pale captive, and the child of pain,
      Thou bringest liberty and health once more!
        All generous deeds and tender charities
        Are in thy hands—O, blessed Mother of Sighs!



It is curious how often the first impression of experts has been
confirmed by the verdict of posterity. During one of his journeys of
inspection Peter the Great visited the mouth of the Volga River and
pointed out the advantages of fortifying a certain promontory which a
military commission, after long controversies, has now selected for the
site of a bombproof arsenal. The gold discoveries in Upper California
were predicted by Sir Francis Drake; those of the Ural by Baron Humboldt;
and after fifty years of coast surveys, mountain surveys, negotiations,
reports and counter reports, it seems now probable that two American
Republics will ratify the opinion of Don Rodrigo Contreras, who more than
three hundred years ago called the attention of the Spanish Government to
the advantages of the Nicaragua Lake system, and its navigable effluent,
as the rudiment of an inter-oceanic canal, and the superiority of that
route over those both of Darien and Panama—Tehuantepec having then not
yet entered into competition. This Rodrigo was the son-in-law of Davila
Pedrarias, the first governor of Panama, and in his coasting trips
between the landings of the southern isthmus had probably noticed a
circumstance which may yet turn the scales in the decision of the canal
problem, though it had escaped the attention of the routine sailors of a
latter age, and perhaps even of some professional engineers who confined
themselves to the comparison of altimetrical surveys.

The matter is this: Along the north shore of the Caribbean Sea the coasts
are deep and rocky, but further south, as the Cordilleras decrease in
elevation, the shore is lined with sandbanks, and can be approached only
through shallow estuaries, just as the coasts of the Mediterranean become
sandy at their southeastern extremity, the only point where the circle
of lofty coast ranges is broken by the delta of a swamp river—the depth
of the shore waters being apparently proportioned to the height of the
shore lands. Even single depressions in the chain of a long-stretched
coast range are often confronted by isolated sandbanks—as if a collapse
of the mountain walls had shoaled the littoral sea. But at Panama that
tendency is aggravated by another cause. For the last two hundred years
the line of the overland route has followed the Rio Chagres and its
western tributaries; the adjoining hill country became studded with
settlements, and, as usual in Spanish colonies, “civilization” led to
forest destruction and progressive aridity. The abundant rains of the
summer solstice, which were formerly absorbed by the not less exuberant
vegetation of a tropical coast region, now reach the valley in the form
of raging torrents, saturated with the mould of the treeless hill-slopes;
and the alluvium deposited at the river mouth has thus gradually formed
silt banks, against which the repeated improvements of the estuary have
proved only a temporary remedy. The Russians had a similar experience
with the port of Azof, once the best harbor in the basin of the Euxine;
but after the destruction of the inland forests the naked hills of the
Don revenged themselves by a hydra growth of dunes that defied all
expedients of human skill, and after diking and dredging away some ninety
million roubles, the government yielded to Nemesis and removed the
wharves to the harbor of Taganrog. In order to enable vessels of deeper
draught to enter the mouth of the Chagres, the canal itself would have
to be supplemented by a _channel mole_, a marine canal of nine miles,
protected by dikes which in their turn might become a source of peril
to sailing vessels approaching the estuary during the prevalence of the
frequent gales which make the headlands of the southern Caribbean so many

The Bay of San Juan de Nicaragua, on the contrary, is remarkably free
from storms, and the San Juan is not a swamp river. It is the effluent
of a chain of rockbound lakes, one of them of sufficient extent to
equalize the drainage of torrents from above, so that an overflow of
the San Juan could be caused only by the simultaneous rising of all its
lower tributaries, aided by a northwest gale that would drive the waters
of the lake toward the estuary. A conjunction of that sort occurred in
the summer of 1872, when the San Juan rose some twenty feet in as many
hours; but even then the river did not shoal its delta, but tore out a
new channel through Costa Rican territory, which now receives a lion’s
share of the outflow; but there is no doubt that an isolated mishap of
that sort can be remedied by a short-line canal from the coast to a point
above the divergence of the rival streams, or by the same means that
reclaimed the channel of the Mississippi at New Orleans. Further up all
serious difficulties cease. The rapids of the San Juan can be passed
by locks of moderate depth, the total difference between the level of
Lake Nicaragua and that of the Atlantic being hardly twenty-five feet.
The lake itself will need no improvements. Throughout its breadth of
seventy-five miles (three fifths of the distance from ocean to ocean)
it maintains an average depth of fifteen fathoms, has no dangerous
sandbanks, no driftwood islands, while its undercurrents secure it
against the danger of being shoaled by the floods of its affluents. The
project of locating the western terminus at Port Brito, on the Pacific,
would reduce the length of the canal proper to about twenty-eight miles,
and shorten the trip for vessels from our ports by nearly seven hundred
miles—the distance from Port Brito to Panama.

The question is, if all these advantages would justify the construction
of a second canal. For we need not delude ourselves with the fear—or
hope—that the Panama project would be abandoned; the _present_ interests
of the French stockholders, if not the name of Monsieur de Lesseps, is a
guarantee that their work will be completed. They have gone too far[A]
to retreat before the completion of a single rival; for on the other
hand it is equally sure that the Tehuantepec scheme has lost its last
hope of practical support, since even the promise of a monopoly could
hardly override the veto of Nature. It is enough to say that the Mexican
projectors admit that the proposed route through the lowest gap of the
Chimalapa Range would require the construction of _one hundred and forty
locks_—with the alternative of tunneling through thirty miles of granite
rocks—for we know how nearly a difference of fifteen locks defeated the
chances of the Wellington canal against its American rivals.

Nor should we, in this respect, underrate the advantages of the Panama
route. The distance from ocean to ocean is only forty-eight miles,
against one hundred and fifteen at Nicaragua, and two hundred and twelve
at Tehuantepec, and neither hills nor rocks oppose any obstacle that
could not be overcome by the conqueror of Suez. Yet there remains a
consideration which in connection with the result of other comparisons
must leave a preponderance of arguments in favor of Nicaragua. For three
fifths of the year the valley of the Rio Chagres is a reeking hotbed of
malaria,[B] and from Aspinwall to Panama only dreary sandhills alternate
with festering swamps. Nicaragua, on the other hand, is the healthiest
region between Chili and California, and offers scenic attractions
absolutely unequaled in any other part of the New World, and which can
hardly have been surpassed when the Mediterranean peninsulas were still
clad in the glory of their primeval forests. I visited the lake region
of Nicaragua in 1875, after having seen California, the West Indies,
and the highlands of Mexico, and only here I relinquished my doubt that
the international park of Switzerland had, after all, a transatlantic
rival. The harbor of San Juan is nearly a thousand miles from anything
an Anglo-American would call civilization, and since their Walker and
Spalding experiences the natives are, on the whole, rather inclined
to dispense with the patronage of enterprising foreigners; but, for
all that, the time is near when the islands of Lake Nicaragua will
be studded with international hotels. The luxuriance of the tropical
hill forests is equaled in the mountains of Oaxaca; the climate is
not superior to that of the northern Antilles; but the scenery of
the highlands, with their fourteen active volcanoes, would turn the
scales. Of the forty-six craters in the maritime Cordilleras, five are
eruptive and nine smouldering and smoking volcanoes, besides a score of
_infernillos_—smoking caves and fissures, opening in the rocks of the
foothills, as if the obstruction of the roof-chimneys had forced the
subterranean fires to break a vent through the basement of the Sierra.
And, moreover, these craters are, with few exceptions, of easy access
from both sides of the mountains, and at all seasons of the year. The
climate of Nicaragua enjoys the advantages of the real tropics. In
the western hemisphere that term is as ambiguous as the “beginning of
spring.” At Brownsville, Texas, nearly twelve hundred miles further south
than Naples, I have seen snowstorms that would appall a Shetlander; and
even in Mexico frosts are not confined to the upper tablelands. But the
traveler who reaches the fourteenth parallel has left the winter zone
behind. In Leon, near the northwest end of the lake system, he will
find butterflies in December, and when he sits down to his Christmas
dinner of sweetmeats and broiled bananas, mine host will introduce a
_caza-moscas_, or fly-brush boy. _Moscas_ of a larger variety also infest
the lagoons of the old town, but mosquitoes are rare, and further inland
unknown, for Leon is the gate city of the western highlands, one of its
suburbs being only a short distance from the foothills of the Cerro de
las Pilas, a naked peak whose summit affords a complete panorama of
the lake region and the coast range. In the north the Sierra Madre of
Honduras looms on the horizon like a white-crested cloud, flanked by the
blue ridge of the coast range, and the volcanic domes of the central
plateau which attains its maximum altitude in the uplands of Matagalpa.
But forty miles southeast of Leon the great tableland which stretches
in an almost unbroken line from Denver across Mexico and the highlands
of Central America is intersected by the basin of the Isthmus lakes;
and here, as if the disruption of the Sierra had opened a vent for the
furnaces of the nether world, volcanoes and hot springs are massed in
a way which to my knowledge is paralleled only in the Island of Java,
where a highland region of twelve hundred square miles is veiled with
the almost perpetual smoke of its burning mountains. About twenty miles
north of Las Pilas the continuity of the coast range is broken, and the
main chain seems to be segregated into numerous isolated mountain groups,
each of them crowned with two or three volcanic cones. At the end of the
cape which forms the breakwater of the sound known as the Estero Real
stands the volcano of Conseguina, the Vesuvius of the New World. In one
of its last eruptions it caused an inundation by completely obstructing
the outlet of the Rio Casco, and in 1835 it scattered its ashes as far
as La Guayra and Tehuantepec, _i. e._, over a circle fourteen hundred
miles in diameter. The head of the bay is begirt by the dolerite cliffs
of two other volcanoes, one of which fronts the shore with a sheer
precipice of 4,400 feet, rising from a pedestal of rock colonnades
with cavernous interspaces where trickling springs have generated a
rank vegetation of climbing evergreens. The same arrangement repeats
itself at the head of Lake Managua, where the volcano of Monotombo
rises in tower-like basalt cliffs to a vertical height of 7,400 feet.
Professor Vanhouten, of the canal survey, makes the highest point of the
peak 7,700—at all events a thousand feet more than the summit of Mount
Washington. The “South Dome” of the Yosemite, if my memory serves me
right, rises hardly 5,000 feet above the valley, and the granite front
of the “Captain” considerably less than 4,000, while the grandeur of the
basalt coliseum is yet doubled by the mirror of the Island Sea, as the
first colonists translated the Indian name of Lake Managua. The lake
is dotted with wooded islands which accompany the south shore into the
strait of Panalaya, and where that strait opens into the broad basin of
the lower lake, the islands, too, expand, two of them so much, indeed,
as to have mountain ranges, broad valleys and secondary lakes of their
own. Like all the higher ridges those island mountains culminate in
volcanoes; the steep peak of Ometepec rises to a height of 5,200 feet,
and gives its island the form of a pyramid. West, east, and north of
both lakes volcanoes rise above the shore mountains in all directions,
and northeast of Lake Managua not less than seven of them stand close
together, like the peaks of the Sieben-gebirge, on the upper Rhine. The
volcano of Chiltepec can be recognized by its cloven peak, the upper
part of the cone having collapsed during one of its eruptions; Tellica
and Santa Clara by the smoke trails of their ever-seething craters. The
“Hell of Mesaya,” sixty miles further south, has the deepest crater of
any known volcano, as Kilauea has the widest, and Stromboli the most
obstreperous. The upper two thousand feet of the cone form a mere shell,
and from the brink of the crater the spectator looks down into a dizzy
abyss of trachite cliffs, rent by vertical fissures, and now and then
veiled by the eruption of a smoke whirl. From the hills on the east
shore of the lake the prospect toward the peaks of the island mountains
affords views of marvelous and almost incomparable beauty. Yet all
along the shores of that lake land, with the exception of the richest
alluvial creek estuaries, can be bought for three dollars an acre, even
on flat topped bluffs and near rock springs in sheltered dells, more
inviting than the finest artificial parks. Thus far only camping British
sportsmen have now and then availed themselves of such opportunities,
though Nicaragua offers hunting grounds to the lovers of nearly every
kind of outdoor pastime and science. Geologists can watch the active
operations of the Titans that have transformed so large a portion of
our planet. Antiquarians can here find treasures, from the tomb of a
Toltec warrior to the monuments of a buried city; the neighborhood of
San Carlos and Mayagalpa is covered with ruins, and on the island of
Zapotera colossal idols rise like sphinxes from the ground and from the
debris of fallen temples. Naturalists can watch the jaguar and the tapir
in their native haunts, catch butterflies enough to stock a museum,
study the habits of five different species of quadrumana, including the
large Coaiti (_Lagothrix paniscus_), with his spider arms and strange,
flute-like cries, can visit the bat caves of Dipilta or the bird islands
of Bluefield’s Lagoon, that make Nicaragua a zoological epitome of the
American tropics, and offer a winter asylum to legions of feathered
refugees from the North.

In Nicaragua the rainy season ends in November, and the winters are dry
and pleasant, and far less capricious than in Florida, where sultry Gulf
winds so often alternate with very perceptible polar waves. Nicaragua
will become the winter rendezvous of American tourists. An international
highway, built by American engineers and American capital, would soon
aggregate North American settlements that would add to the charms of a
tropical garden-land a feeling of security which the traveler in other
parts of Spanish America must generally forego; villas, watering places,
and hotels for the accommodation of winter guests will spring up by
scores, and the canal will soon become something more than a thoroughfare
of international travel. The stockholders of such an investment could
well dispense with a formal protectorate, and the obstacle of the
Clayton-Bulwer treaty[C] is precisely analogous to the scruple which
no politician would blame Prince Bismarck for setting aside in the
Congo affair. In both cases England had for years the refusal of an
opportunity which she failed to improve, and in the unwritten by-laws of
international ethics the _iners non obstet_ is a rule which held good
even in the Black Sea controversy. Besides, the alternative of a French
monopoly and eventual protectorate in Panama may help to moderate the
opponents of the Monroe Doctrine.[D]

While Nicaragua will be visited for its own sake, Panama, like Vera Cruz
and Cayenne, will be shunned by northern travelers, though considerations
of proximity will secure it the inter-oceanic traffic of South America.
Vessels carrying tobacco from Brazil to Peru, or guano from Peru to
Caracas, will prefer the risk of the Chagres fever swamps to the certain
disadvantages of a voyage around the distant south cape of the continent.

Nicaragua will compete with Switzerland, Italy, and the winter resorts
of southern California, as well as with our transcontinental railways.
Panama will compete with Cape Horn.

[A] The Panama _Star and Herald_ reports that $68,000,000 of the total
appropriation of $120,000,000 have already been expended. The preliminary
surveys alone cost 7,000,000 francs. After the plan of Monsieur de
Lesseps the canal will be thirty feet deep, one hundred and twenty feet
wide, and about forty-six miles long.

[B] Panama (the city), too, is one of the unhealthiest spots on earth.
Two months ago (January 2, 1885) the wife of Monsieur Jules Dingler, the
Director-General of the Canal Company, succumbed to the same fever that
had cost the lives of all her children. Dr. Ferdinand Lahr, the Sanitary
Superintendent, died on the same day.

[C] Captain Bedford Pim, of the British navy, states various reasons that
would insure the tolerance, or even the coöperation of Great Britain. He
estimates the aggregate cost at $200,000,000, and believes that England,
under certain conditions, would assume one half of the demanded guarantee
of three per cent. interest.

[D] It is a curious fact that the originator of that doctrine is not
an American, but a British statesman. George Canning, on the eve of
his departure for Verona, having got an inkling of a South-European
federation for the purpose of assisting Spain in the reconquest of her
lost transatlantic possessions, postponed his trip and put himself in
communication with the American minister, in order to call the attention
of our government to the favorable opportunity for asserting the claims
of a counter alliance.



Western University of Pennsylvania.


    “’Tis by thy secret, strong attractive force,
     As with a chain indissoluble bound,
     Thy system rolls entire; from the far bourne
     Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round
     Of thirty years, to Mercury, whose disk
     Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye,
     Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze.”

Had our poet written his _Summer_ in 1781, the year in which Uranus was
discovered, instead of 1727; or could he have waited till 1846, his
“utmost Saturn wheeling wide his round of thirty years” would probably
have been changed and in beautifully flowing verse would have been
expressed the wonderful fact of “utmost Neptune, wheeling wide his round,
whose years could only be by four and sixty and one hundred told.” So
much in one respect had astronomy grown in a little more than a century.
But we could have no heart to blame our poet’s neglect of our “utmost”
planets, even had he known of their existence, since he was so evidently
in earnest in giving its due to our glorious orb, recognized to-day as
the source of all our light, and heat, and life.

    “From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
     CHILD of the SUN, refulgent Summer comes,
     In pride of youth, and felt through Nature’s depth;
     He comes, attended by the _Hours_
     And ever-fanning _Breezes_, on his way;
     While from his ardent look, the turning _Spring_
     Averts her blushful face; and earth and skies,
     All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.


    “When now, no more the alternate Twins are fired,
     And Cancer reddens with the Solar blaze,
     Short is the doubtful empire of the Night;
     And soon, observant of approaching Day,
     The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of Dews,
     At first faint-gleaming in the dappled East;
     Till far o’er Ether spreads the widening glow;
     And, from before the luster of her face,
     White break the clouds away.”

Had our poetic friend, Thompson, lived in Meadville or New York, instead
of London, he would not even on the 21st of June, have been so much
disposed to sing:

    “Short is the doubtful empire of the Night;”

for the shortest night of New York is over an hour longer than the
shortest night of London. But what were Meadville and New York in 1727?
June 21st is our longest day, in latitude 41° 30′, a little more than
fifteen hours from sunrise to sunset; the night, of course, a little
less than nine hours. On this day the sun reaches his northern limit,
23° 27′ 3.2″, and at 2:42 a. m. begins his southern journey; or, to put
it astronomically, the sun enters _Gemini_, and summer begins, on June
21st, at 1:42 a. m. On the 1st, sun rises at 4:31 a. m., sets at 7:24 p.
m.; on the 16th, rises at 4:29 a. m., sets at 7:32 p. m.; and on the 30th
rises at 4:33 a. m., sets at 7:34 p. m. Many persons judging from the
temperature will be inclined to think on the 21st that the sun must be at
midday directly above their head; but it will have an elevation of not
more than 73°.


Enters upon its last quarter on the 5th, at 6:56 p. m.; new moon on the
12th, at 5:34 p. m.; first quarter, 19th, at 8:40 a. m.; and full on the
27th, at 6:09 a. m. Farthest from the earth on the 28th, at 12:54 a. m.;
nearest the earth on the 13th, at 11:12 a. m. Greatest elevation, 66° 56′
25″, on the 13th; least elevation, 30° 2′ 40″, on the 27th. Rises on the
1st, at 10:15 p. m.; sets on the 16th, at 10:41 p. m.; and rises on the
30th, at 9:27 p. m.


Will be our morning star till the 27th, after which it will be evening
star till the end of the month. On the 1st it will rise at 3:34 a. m.,
or about one hour earlier than the sun, and can probably be seen by good
eyes. On the 16th, it will rise at 3:46 a. m.; and on the 30th, will set
at 7:51 p. m., or a few minutes after sunset, but will be too near the
sun to be visible. Its motion will be direct, amounting to 59° 50′. Its
diameter will decrease from 7″ to 5″. On the 5th, at 2:00 p. m., will be
48′ south of Neptune; on the 11th, at 10:57 a. m., 2° 57′ north of the
moon; on the 23d, at 11:00 p. m., 1° 41′ north of Saturn; on the 24th, at
3:00 a. m., in perihelion (nearest the sun); and on the 27th, at 10:00 a.
m., in superior conjunction with the sun.


Although she acts the part of an evening star, is rather “mild” this
month. She rises after the sun, and sets on the 1st, at 7:56; on the
16th, at 8:20; and on the 30th, at 8:33 p. m. Her diameter increases four
tenths of a second of arc; and she makes a direct motion of 40° 3′. On
the 7th, at 5:00 p. m., she is 1° 32′ north of Saturn; on the 13th, at
10:54 a. m., 5° 48′ north of the moon; and on the 26th, at 3:00 p. m., in


Has a direct motion of 22° 6′; his diameter remains constant, 4.4″,
during the month. Can be seen at the early dawn. He rises at the
following times: On the 1st, at 3:22; on the 16th, at 2:59; and on the
30th, at 2:33 a. m. On the 10th, at 6:00 p. m., 1° 29′ north of Neptune;
on the 10th, at 7:55 p. m., 3° 51′ north of the moon.


“Speaks for himself” every evening this month. On the 1st, he rises at
10:34 a. m., and on the 2d sets at 12:06 a. m.; on the 16th, rises at
9:50 a. m., and sets at 11:16 p. m.; and on the 30th, rises at 9:03 a.
m., and sets at 10:23 p. m. He has a direct motion of 4° 2′ 31″; and his
diameter decreases from 34″ to 31.6″. On the 17th, at 9:44 a. m., he is
3° 44′ north of the moon. It may interest the general reader to know that
while he is admiring, night after night, this beautiful body making its
way through the “lesser lights” of the heavens, that the astronomer is
laboring diligently to discover its properties and learn with exactness
its motions. From the last report of Prof. G. W. Hough, Director of the
Dearborn Observatory, Chicago, we find that “the disk of Jupiter was
observed on every favorable occasion, and micrometric measures made on
the principal spots and markings, including the great red spot first
remarked in 1878.” These observations were made principally with a view
to obtaining the time of revolution of the planet on its axis; and the
result of the observations from September 12, 1883, to June 11, 1884, a
period during which the planet made 660 revolutions, was a mean of 9h.
55m. 38.5s., which differs from the mean of five years’ observation by
1.5s.; the former mean being that much greater than the latter.


Will be evening star till the 18th; after which date, morning star till
the end of the month. On the 1st, rises at 5:40 a. m., and sets at 8:24
p. m.; on the 16th, rises at 4:47 a. m., sets at 7:31 p. m.; on the 30th,
rises at 4:00 a. m., sets at 6:44 p. m.; from which it will be seen that
except during the first part of the month it will be invisible to the
naked eye. Its diameter is 15.6″ and does not change to the amount of
one tenth of a second during the month. On the 7th, at 5:00 p. m., 1°
32′ south of Venus; on the 13th, at 1:19 a. m., 4° 3′ north of the moon;
on the 18th, at 6:00 p. m., is in conjunction with the sun; on the 23d,
at 11:00 p. m., 1° 41′ south of Mercury. This planet has also been the
subject of observation from the Dearborn Observatory, for the purpose of
detecting markings on the rings; but “nothing indicating a division in
the outer ring has ever been noticed.”


On the 1st, this planet rises at 1:10 p. m.; on the 2nd, it sets at
1:18 a. m.; on the 16th, rises at 12:12 p. m., and on the 17th, sets at
12:18 a. m.; on the 30th, rises at 11:18 a. m., and sets at 11:24 p. m.
Decreases in diameter two tenths of a second; and has a direct motion of
14″ 30′. On the 5th, at 1.00 p. m., it appears stationary; on the 19th,
at 10:15 a. m., is 55′ north of the moon; on same date, at 10:00 p. m.,
is 90° east of the sun.


Is a morning star throughout the month, and has a direct motion of 1° 0′
16″. Diameter increases from 2.5″ to 2.6″. It rises as follows: On the
1st, at 3:47; on the 16th, at 2:49; and on the 30th, at 1:56 a. m. On the
5th, at 2:00 p. m., is 48′ north of Mercury; on the 10th, at 6:00 p. m.,
1° 29′ south of Mars; on the 10th, at 7:49 p. m., 2° 21′ north of the
moon. The 26-inch equatorial of the National Observatory at Washington,
D. C., was during the past year chiefly employed in observations of the
satellites of Neptune, Uranus, Saturn and Mars.



President National W. C. T. U.


Thus far I have been trying to impress upon you the reasons why you
should cultivate individuality and independence in word and deed. I
have claimed that each one of you has a “call” to some specific work,
indicated by God’s gifts to you of brain, or heart, or hand. But I would
not have you only, or indeed chiefly, concerned with the evolution of
your powers for your own sake. If you acquire, let it be that you may
dispense; if you achieve, that others may sun themselves in the kind glow
of your prosperity. The people who spend all their strength in absorbing
are failures and parasites. It is alike the business of the sun and of
the soul to radiate every particle of light that they can muster. There
is reason to believe that this is precisely what they are for. And so,
having made sure of your light, strength and discipline, strike out from
the warm and radiant center of a self-poised brain and heart, into the
lives about you, and you will find that “What is good for the hive is
also good for the bee.” The luminous characters of history have done
this, always. Losing their lives in those of other men, they have found
them in the crest of the world’s gratitude and fame. What they have done
on a grand scale, we, from identical motives, may do on a small one.
Such natures are as different from those who cultivate their strongest
gift simply for their own sake, as a _lighthouse_ is different from a
_dark lantern_. “Self-culture” is much in vogue nowadays, and has for
its high priests some of the most incisive minds of this or any age.
But self-culture stops in the middle of the sentence I would fain help
you to utter. It says: “Make the most of your powers;” it does not say
“_for others’ sake_ as well as your own.” It claims that if we set the
candle of our gifts upon the candlestick of modern society, its light
will inevitably radiate according to its power of shining, and thus while
brightening ourselves we shall have done our utmost toward lighting up
the general gloom. But self-culture forgets that a candle is no type of
you and me. We are human spirit-lamps, whose rays should be directed and
intensified by the blow-pipe of an unceasing purpose; for we are all so
made that unless we _will_ to light up other lives, we can never do so to
the limit of our power. Self-culture is never base; it is often noble,
but it can never be the noblest aim of all.

Why is the memory of Mrs. Browning loved beyond that of almost any
poet who has sung? Because “the cry of the human” is so strong in that
wondrous voice of hers. Why is the name carved deepest on the republic’s
heart that of its martyr President? Because he gave their manhood back
to four millions of slaves, and lived and toiled for his people’s sake,
“with malice toward none, with charity for all.” Why was the lamentation
well nigh universal when under the sea flashed the telegraphic message,
“John Stuart Mill is dead?” Because this quiet thinker lived for other
men; because he “struck out from the center,” from himself, that pitiful
pivot on which so many human wind-mills turn, and measured, in the swift
flight of its benignant thought, the long radius between him and the
remotest circle of human need; because, more than any other philosopher
of his day, he labored for the time when “all men’s weal shall be each
man’s care.”

Nay, while I mourn, as I have seldom mourned for an historic character,
the cloud that early dimmed, for Stuart Mill, the Star of Bethlehem, I
will not, as a woman, withhold from his memory the tribute of my humble
gratitude. But while I speak of all these lives, shining like beacon
lights of our own day, I would not fail to point you in conclusion toward
a wide-armed cross upon a lonely hillside, while I repeat his words who
said, “And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me.” Dear girls,
CHRIST is the magnet of humanity, and she has found the best vocation,
and the highest, who brings most souls diseased within the healing
power of his immortal gospel. This is a work for which women have gifts
preëminent. The Saxon word for lady means “a giver of bread,” and is full
of beautiful significance, but America’s new century shall evolve another
meaning, freighted with greater blessing for humanity: lady, giver of the
bread of life! In later years we have had a revelation of our duty to
the ungospeled masses, the “elbow heathen,” as an evangelist has called
them, to the intemperate (who, as a rule, are quite beyond the hearing
of the pulpit’s voice), and to the dusky dwellers in the Zenana, whose
faces are misty with the unshed tears of generations passed in misery
and shame. Two thirds of the Church of Christ are women. By the freer
life and richer opportunity which you and I enjoy; by society’s growing
tolerance, not to say its kindly appreciation, of our activities; by the
heart transformed and the peace imparted through the gospel, the voice of
our Redeemer pleads for our consecrated service. I would not undervalue
the culture of the intellect, but would exalt the culture of the heart.

In all that has been written until now, I have simply tried to outline
the new horizon opened up to the gentler sex as the supreme outgrowth
of that civilization which He introduced, of whom history records the
significant fact that women were “last at his cross, first at his
sepulchre.” To attempt some delineation of the landscape enclosed by
that far-reaching horizon is my more difficult task in the chapters now
to follow. Many letters have come to me as a result of the articles thus
far; they bristle with questions and are eloquent with aspiration. Later
on I may ask space for a “symposium” with these “inquiring friends” in
the genial pages of our tolerant CHAUTAUQUAN. One speaking with authority
exhorts me to “Be practical—that’s what we want!” As if I hadn’t been!
But every mind is the prisoner of its own material and method. I can
but give of such things as I have; can only tell what life has told to
me. According to my own habits of thought, the sequence seems logical,
when I turn for a while from the presentation of the modern outlook for
women, with its opportunity and hope, to the _rationale_ of this new
horizon stretching so far away. Let us note the pathway that has led
up to this more hopeful point of view, asking the inevitable question,
“Why does that seem natural and fitting for a young woman to do and to
aspire to now, which would have been no less improper than impossible, a
hundred years ago?” Sweet friends, it is because _the ideal of woman’s
place in the world is changing in the average mind_. For as the artist’s
ideal precedes his picture, so the ideal woman must be transformed
before the actual one can be. In an age of brute force, the warrior
galloping away to his adventures waved his mailed hand to the lady
fair who was enclosed for safe keeping in a grim castle with moat and
drawbridge. But to-day, when spirit force grows regnant, a woman can
circumnavigate the globe alone, without danger of an uncivil word, much
less of violence. We shall never span a wider chasm than this change
implies. All our inventions have led up to it, and have in nothing else
wrought out beneficence so great as they have accomplished here, purely
by indirection. In brief, the barriers that have hedged women into one
pathway and men into another, altogether different, are growing thin, as
physical strength plays a less determining part in our life drama. All
through the vegetable and animal kingdoms the fact of sex does not widely
differentiate the broader fact of life, its environment and its pursuits.
Hence, the immense separateness which sex is called in to explain when
we reach the plane of humanity, is to be accounted for largely on other
purely artificial grounds. In Eden it did not exist, nor in the original
plan of creation, as stated in these just and fatherly words: “And God
said, ‘Let us make man in our own image, after our own likeness. Let
them have dominion.’ … So God created man in his own image, in the image
of God created he him, male and female created he them, and God blessed
them, and said unto them, ‘ … replenish the earth and subdue it … and
have dominion over every living thing.’” After the fall came the curse,
which was no part of the original design, and from which the gospel’s
triumph is releasing us, for there is “neither male nor female in Christ
Jesus.” I believe that the origin of evil came in with man’s supremacy
over one who was meant to be his comrade, and that Paradise regained will
come only when the laureate’s prophecy is realized:

    “Two heads in council, two beside the hearth,
     Two in the noisy business of the world,
     Two in the liberal offices of life;
     Two plummets dropped to sound the abyss of science
     And the secrets of the mind.”

The times when a new ideal is moulded, in church, state, or society, mark
the epochs of history. Amid what throes did Europe pass from that of
supreme authority in the church to the incomparably higher one of supreme
liberty in conscience; from the divine right of kings to the divine right
of the people. But there was to come a wider evolution of the same ideal,
namely, the coequal power of the copartners, man and woman, in working
out the problem of human destiny. This newest and noblest of ideals marks
the transition from physical force ruling, to spiritual force recognized.
The gradual adjustment of everyday occupation, custom and law, to this
new ideal, marks ours as a transition period. Those who have the most
enlargement of opportunity to hope from the change, will, in the nature
of the case, move on most rapidly into the new conditions, and this helps
to explain, I think, why women seem to be climbing more rapidly than
men, to-day, the heights of spiritual power, with souls more open to the
“skyey influences” of the oncoming age.

More women study to-day than men; a greater proportion travel abroad
for purposes of culture; a larger share are moral and religious. Half
of the world’s wisdom, three fourths of its purity, and nearly all its
gentleness, are to-day to be set down on woman’s credit side. Weighted
with the alcohol and tobacco habits, Brother Jonathan will have to make
better time than he is doing now, if he keeps step with Sister Deborah
across the threshold of the twentieth century. For the law of survival
of the fittest will inevitably choose that member of the firm who is
cleanliest, most wholesome, most accordant with God’s laws of nature
and of grace, to survive. To the blindness or fatuity which renders him
oblivious of the fact that the coming woman is already here, our current
writer of the W. D. Howells and Henry James school owes the dreary
monotony of his “society novel.” Not more “conventional” was the style
of art known as “Byzantine,” which repeated with barren iteration its
placid and colorless “type,” than are the dudesque pages of this pair
of literary martinets. The “American novel” will not be written until
the American woman, a type now to be found in Michigan, Madison, Boston,
Cornell, and other universities, shall have taken her place, twentieth
century product that she is, beside the best survivals of young men in
similar institutions, and wrought out the Home, the Church, the State
that are to be. Measuring each other on all planes, these life partners
will know each other’s value, and no appeal to the divorce court will be
made to relieve them, a few years after marriage, from an incompatibility
that has ripened into open war. Happy homes will dot the country from
shore to shore, in which both the man and the woman will do their best to
lift the world toward God.

“Self-knowledge, self-reverence, and self-control; these three alone lead
life to a sovereign power,” and these are fast becoming essential to any
ideal of womanly character which the modern age will recognize as the
product of its institutions. Of self-knowledge, these talks have said
much. Self-reverence I would fain help you to develop in your character
as a woman. If my dear mother did me one crowning kindness it was in
making me believe that next to being an angel, the greatest bestowment
of God is to make one a woman. With what contempt she referred to the
old Jewish formula in which the less refined sex rolled out the words,
“I thank thee, O God, that thou hast not made me a woman,” and with what
pathos she repeated the gentle prayer of the other, “I thank thee, O God,
that thou hast made me as it pleased thee,” with the pithy comment, “What
could have pleased Him better, I should like to know, than to make one
so rare, so choice, so spiritual as woman is?” Perhaps some of you may
have thought you wanted to be a boy, but I seriously doubt it. You may
have wanted a boy’s freedom, his independence, his healthful, unimpeding
style of dress, but I do not believe any true girl could ever have been
coaxed to be a boy. Reverence yourself, then, if you would learn one of
the first elements of “How to Win” in this great world race, with its
“go-as-you-please” terms, but its “Lucifer-may-take-the-hindmost” penalty
for failure.

What will the new ideal of woman _not_ be? She will never be written
down in the hotel register by her husband after this fashion: “John
Smith and Wife.” He would as soon think of her writing “Mrs. John Smith
and Husband.” Why does it not occur to any one to designate him thus?
Simply because he is so much more than that. He is a leading force in
the affairs of the church; he helps decide who shall be pastor. (So will
she.) He is perhaps the village physician, or merchant (so she will be,
perhaps—indeed, they are oftentimes in partnership, nowadays, and I
have found their home a blessed one). He is the village editor. (Very
likely she will be associate.) He is a voter. (She will be, beyond a
peradventure.) For the same reason you will never read of her marriage
that “the minister pronounced them _man_ and _wife_” for that functionary
would have been just as likely to pronounce them “husband and woman,” a
form of expression into which the regulation reporter will be likely to
fall one of these days, it being, really, not one whit more ridiculous
than the time-worn phrase, “man and wife.” The ideal woman of the future
will never be designated as “the Widow Jones,” because she will be so
much more than that—“a provider” for her children, “a power” in the
church, “a felt force” in the state. I think George Eliot is the first
woman to attain the post-mortem honor of having her husband called “her
widower,” John W. Cross having been thus indicated in English papers of
the period. A turn about is fair play, and the phrase is really quite
refreshing to one’s sense of justice. The ideal woman will not write upon
her visiting card, nor insist on having her letters addressed, to Mrs.
John Smith, or Mrs. Gen. Smith, as the case may be, but will, if her
maiden name was Jones, fling her banner to the breeze as “Mrs. Mary Jones
Smith,” and will be sure to make it honorable. She will not be the lay
figure made and provided to illustrate the fashions of Monsieur Worth and
lesser lights of the same guild, but will insist that the goddess Hygiea
is the only true modiste, and will dutifully obey her orders. As the
Louvre gallery proves that when men were but the parasites of the court
they too decked themselves with ear-rings, high heels, powdered hair and
gaudy garments, so the distorted figures in the detestable fashion plates
of to-day are the irrefutable proofs of woman’s fractional estate; but
this will not be so to-morrow, when she finds her kingdom—which is her
own true self. The ideal woman will cease to heed the cruel “Thus far and
no farther,” which has issued from the pinched lips of old Dame Custom,
checking her ardent steps throughout all the ages past, and will be
studious only to hear the kindly “Thus far and no farther” of God.

The ideal woman will play Beatrice to man’s Dante in the Inferno of his
passions. She will give him the clue out of materialism’s Labyrinth. She
will be civilization’s Una, taming the Lion of disease and misery. The
State shall no longer go limping on one foot through the years, but shall
march off with steps firm and equipoised. The keen eye and deft hand of
the housekeeper shall help to make its everyday walks wholesome; the
skill in detail, trustworthiness in finance, motherliness in sympathy,
so long extolled in private life, shall exalt public station. Indeed,
if I were asked the mission of the ideal woman, I would reply: IT IS TO
MAKE THE WHOLE WORLD HOMELIKE. Some one has said that “Temperament is
the climate of the individual,” but home is woman’s climate, her vital
breath, her native air. A true woman carries home with her everywhere.
Its atmosphere surrounds her; its mirror is her face; its music attunes
her gentle voice; its longitude may be reckoned from wherever you happen
to find her. But

    “Home’s not merely four square walls.”

Some people once thought it was, and they thought, also, that you might
as well throw down its Lares and Penates as to carry away its weaving
loom and spinning wheel. But it survived this spoliation; and when
women ceased to pick their own geese and do their own dyeing, it still
serenely smiled. The sewing machine took away much of its occupation;
the French and Chinese laundries have intruded upon its domain; indeed,
men, by their “witty inventions,” are perpetually encroaching on “woman’s
sphere,” so that the next generation will no doubt turn the cook stove
out of doors, and the housekeeper, standing at the telephone, will
order better cooked meals than almost any one has nowadays, sent from
scientific caterers by pneumatic tubes, and the debris thereof returned
to a general cleaning-up establishment; while houses will be heated, as
they are now lighted and supplied with water, from general reservoirs.

Women are fortunate in belonging to the less tainted half of the race.
Dr. Benjamin Ward Richardson says that but for this conserving fact it
would deteriorate to the point of failure. A bright old lady said, after
viewing a brewery, distillery and tobacco factory: “Ain’t I thankful that
the women folks hain’t got all that stuff to chew and smoke and swallow
down!” It behooves us to offset force of muscle by force of heart, that
what our strong brothers have done to subdue the material world for us,
who are not their equals in physical strength, may be offset by what we
shall achieve for them in bringing in the reign of “Sweeter manners,
purer laws.” For the world is slowly making the immense discovery that
not what woman does, but what she is, makes home a possible creation.
It is the Lord’s ark, and does not need steadying; it will survive the
wreck of systems and the crash of theories, for the home is but the
efflorescence of woman’s nature under the nurture of Christ’s gospel. She
came into the college and elevated it, into literature and hallowed it,
into the business world and ennobled it. She will come into government
and purify it, into politics and cleanse that Stygian pool as the
waters of Marah were cleansed; for woman will make homelike every place
she enters, and she will enter every place on this round earth. Any
custom, or traffic, or party, on which a woman can not look with favor
is irrevocably doomed. Its welcome of her presence and her power is to
be the final test of its fitness to survive. All Gospel civilization is
radiant with the demonstration of this truth:

    “It is not good for man to be alone.”

The most vivid object lesson on history’s page is the fact that his
deterioration is in exact proportion to his isolation from the home of
woman’s pure companionship. To my own grateful thought, the most sacred
significance of woman’s work to-day lies in the fact that she occupies
the outer circle in this tremendous evolution of the Christian idea of
home. Ours is a high and sacred calling. Out of pure hearts, fervently
let us love God and humanity; so shall we be Christ’s disciples, and so
shall we safely follow on to know the work whereunto we have been called.

    “’Tis home where’er the heart is,”

and no true mother, sister, daughter or wife, can fail to go in spirit
after her beloved and tempted ones, as their adventurous steps enter the
labyrinth of the world’s temptations. We can not call them back.

    “All before them lies the way.”

There is but one remedy; we must bring the home to them, for they will
not return to it. Still must their mothers walk beside them, sweet and
serious, and clad in the garments of power. The occupations, pleasures
and ambitions of men and women must not diverge so widely from each
other. Potent beyond all other facts of everyday experience is the
rapidly increasing similarity between the pursuits of these two factions
that make up the human integer. When brute force reigned, this rapport
was at zero. “Impediments to the rear,” was the command of Cæsar and the
rule of every warrior—women and children being the hindrances referred
to. But to-day there is not a motto more popular than that of the
inspired old German, “Come, let us live for our children;” and as for
women, “the world is all before them where to choose.”

No greater good can come to the manhood of the world than is prophesied
in the increasing community of thought and works between it and the
world’s womanhood. The growing individuality, independence and prestige
of the gentler sex steadily require from the stronger a higher standard
of character and purer habits of life. This blessed consummation, so
devoutly to be wished, is hastened, dear girlish hearts, by every prayer
you offer, by every hymn you sing, by every loving errand of your willing
feet and gentle hands. You are the true friends of tempted manhood,
bewildered youth and every little child. The steadfast faith and loyal,
patient work you are to do, will be the mightiest factor in woman’s
contribution to the solution of this Republic’s greatest problem, and
will have their final significance in the thought and purpose, not that
the world shall come into the home, but that the home, embodied and
impersonated in its womanhood, shall go forth into the world.

I have no fears for the women of America. They will never content
themselves remaining stationary in methods or in policy, much less sound
a retreat in their splendid warfare against the saloon in law and in
politics. The tides of the mother’s heart do not change; we can count
upon them always. The voice of Miriam still cheers the brave advance, and
all along the line we hear the battle cry: “Speak unto the children of
Israel, that they go forward.”



If you will enter the National Museum at Washington, and give your cane
or umbrella to the venerable gentleman at the stand, you will see some
wonderful old pictures. Turn abruptly to your right, cast a patriotic
glance at the clothing and camp furniture of the Father of his Country,
and a few steps will bring you into the museum lecture room, whose east,
south, and west walls are covered with quaint sketches of American
aboriginal life, mounted in the dingiest possible black frames. This is
the Catlin Collection, by far the most celebrated Indian paintings in the
world, since the dreadful fire in the Smithsonian Institution burned up
the Stanley portraits in 1864. A few words about this wonderful painter
would certainly interest you before you begin to look at his pictures.

George Catlin was born in Wilkesbarre, Luzerne county, Pennsylvania,
in 1796. His father was a lawyer, and, naturally, took every pains to
educate his son for that profession, sending him at last to Yale College
to finish his course. But that which has often happened to boys was
true in George’s case—he loved fishing and painting more than he loved
the bar. His law practice lasted two years, after which he established
himself in New York and Philadelphia as a portrait painter. In the year
1832 he saw a delegation of Indians from St. Louis, a town of 25,000
inhabitants, then headquarters for the Central Superintendency (see
painting 311), and was so overwhelmed by their appearance that nothing
could overcome his desire to visit them in their homes. Convinced
that the noble savage would rapidly decline before the advance of
civilization, and realizing as if by inspiration the value which a
pictorial history of the dying race would possess to future students of
primitive history, he set out alone for St. Louis, with pen and brush,
to accomplish this noble design. Here he became acquainted with Mr.
Chouteau, a gentleman thoroughly conversant with the Indian country and
character, who secured for the painter a free ride to the mouth of the
Yellowstone in a little, rude steamer called the “Yellowstone.”

He devoted eight years, from 1832 to 1840, to his enterprise, visiting
forty-eight tribes of Indians residing within British America, the United
States and Mexico. Speaking of these years in after life he says: “I
have seen them in their own villages, have carried my canvas and colors
the whole way, and painted my portraits from life as they now stand in
the gallery. Some of them have been taken while I have been paddling my
canoe, or leading my pack-horse through trackless wilds, even at the
hazard of my life.”

On his return to the East from this remarkable Odyssey, Mr. Catlin
exhibited his sketches, together with such a collection of weapons,
dress, ornaments and implements as it will never be possible to procure
again, in Philadelphia, New York and Boston, to great crowds of visitors.
The papers were filled with praises respecting it. The _United States
Gazette_ says: “There can be no mistake or exaggeration in pronouncing
the exhibition of these views of the scenery and natural history of the
western country the most important and interesting object for public
attention which has ever been offered to the eastern division of the
United States.”

Many of Mr. Catlin’s friends were anxious for the government or some well
founded institution to buy the collection, but nothing was accomplished.

In 1840 Mr. Catlin took his pictures abroad, prospects having been held
out to him of getting a handsome price for them. The Chancellor of the
Exchequer admitted the packages free of duty, and the whole was set up in
a room 106 feet long, in Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, London.

Numerous assemblages, comprising many of the distinguished members of
the fashionable and the literary world visited the entertainments and
listened to the lectures of Mr. Catlin.

It is just a little to be feared that the painter added to the genius of
the artist a modicum of the showman’s vanity, in support of which theory
the following is quoted from the London _Morning Post_: “This valuable
collection of portraits, landscapes, scenes from savage life, weapons,
costumes, and an endless variety of illustrations of Indian life, real
as well as pictorial, continues to attract crowds of spectators. We are
happy to find our prediction fully borne out by fact, that the exhibition
only required to be made known to the public to be fully appreciated.
The most pleasing attention is paid by Mr. Catlin and his assistants to
gratify the curiosity of visitors, to point out the peculiarities of the
various subjects through which they wander, and to explain everything
which strikes the eye and attracts the observer to inquire into its use
or meaning. During our visit on Saturday the company were startled by
a yell, and shortly afterward by the appearance of a stately chief of
the Crow Indians stalking silently through the hall, armed to the teeth
and painted to the temples, wrapped in a buffalo robe, on which all his
battles were depicted, and wearing a tasteful coronet of war eagle’s
quills. This personation was volunteered by a nephew of Mr. Catlin, who
has seen the red man in his native wilds, and presents the most proud
and picturesque similitude of the savage warrior that can be conceived.
His war-whoop, his warlike appearance and dignified movements seem to
impress the assemblage more strikingly with a feeling of the character
of the North American Indian than all the other evidences which crowded
the walls. Subsequently he appeared in another splendid costume worn
by the braves of the Mandan tribe, also remarkable for its costly and
magnificent head-dress, in which we see the ‘horns of power’ assume a
conspicuous place. The crowds that gathered around him on each occasion
were so dense that Mr. Catlin could scarcely find space to explain in
full detail all the costumes; but we are glad to find he is preparing a
central stage where all may enjoy a full and fair sight of ‘the Red Man,’
as he issues from his wigwam, clad in the peculiar robes and ornaments of
his tribe, to fight, hunt, smoke, or join in the dances, festivals, and
amusements of each nation.”

This, of course, smacks a little of Buffalo Bill, but it pleased the
Europeans amazingly. Mr. Catlin gave exhibitions in Waterloo rooms,
Edinburgh; in the Louvre, at Paris, where Louis Philippe gave him ample
space; and in many other European cities, occupying in all about eight
years. During this time he published “Manners and Customs,” etc.; “The
North American Portfolio;” “Eight Years’ Travels.” In 1861 he published a
little work on “The Breath of Life,” certainly the funniest serious book
we have ever read. In 1862 appeared “Last Rambles Among the Indians,” etc.

As many other people have done concerning their own handiwork, Mr.
Catlin overestimated the intrinsic value of his paintings and specimens,
and made the mistake of thinking that everybody would surely be as
enthusiastic as himself. The British government did not buy the
gallery. Even the platform and Mr. Catlin’s nephew could not save the
ship. In Belgium financial embarrassment overtook the painter and his
works. The whole material was likely to go under the hammer, when Mr.
Thomas Harrison, a wealthy Philadelphian, advanced the money and took
the collection as security, with the understanding that it could be
redeemed. This proving beyond Mr. Catlin’s means, all of the paintings
and specimens were transferred to Philadelphia and stored until Mr.
Harrison’s death, when his widow presented the entire gallery to the
National Museum, together with such dresses, etc., as time and moths had

Perhaps you have heard that the Washington pictures are not the
originals. The facts are these: After transferring his material in
Belgium to Mr. Harrison, Mr. Catlin traveled throughout North America,
and even in South America, making aboriginal sketches. This second
collection was exhibited for a time in the west corridor of the
Smithsonian. On his death, in 1872, the pictures were packed up and
stored in the Smithsonian building until 1876, when they were transferred
to the Philadelphia Exposition. They are now to be seen in the permanent
exhibition there.

Now for the pictures. A great American ethnologist says “Catlin is the
great American Indian liar;” another, quite as eminent, says that when he
showed one of these pictures to a Sioux Indian, the latter was affected
to tears at the recognition of a dear friend long deceased. Both were
right. Recently M. Achille Collin, a French sculptor, was employed
to produce several busts of celebrated Indians, from photographs and
portraits, for the New Orleans Exposition. Among them was Osceola,
whose portrait is in the Catlin gallery. Fortunately, the Museum has
also Osceola’s death mask. M. Collin found that Catlin had placed the
eyes too far apart, and had perpetrated several other little artistic
outrages, yet the sculptor was able to rectify these and to produce a
wonderful bust of the wily Seminole. In one sense everything is wrong in
these paintings, in another sense they are teeming with life and spirit.
A French critic said in the Paris _Constitutionnel_: “A professional
painter is perfectly lost in the presence of a nature new to him, in such
singular lands, such original colors of sky, foliage and men.” You must
know a language in order to appreciate its beauties, you must know Indian
life to appreciate Catlin. His images do not pose, they fly across the
canvas. M. Schindler, whose lifelike portraiture of fishes has given him
a world-wide reputation, and who has lived among the Sioux and painted
them, has the same admiration of these savage portraitures, whose shadowy
looks are ominous of their fast fading originals. A workman in the Museum
whose business it is to arrange Indian costumes says that in those things
which anybody can do, Catlin was careless; but in the arrangement of
dress, ornaments and weapons, which nobody now knows how to fix, he is an
invaluable guide. It may not be known to all that the numberless tribes
formerly living within our domain belonged to a few well defined stocks,
recognizable by language, institutions, and customs. East of the Rocky
Mountains, where most of these pictures were painted, were the Athapascan
of the north, the Algonquin and Iroquois of the east, the Cherokee and
Muskokee of the south, and the Dakotan of the west. In the great interior
basin were the Shoshones, and west of the Sierras the Flatheads, Chinuks,
and many other little known stocks.

The Algonkin stock is represented in Mr. Catlin’s gallery by portraits
and groups of Sacs and Foxes, Sheyennes, Blackfeet, Chippewas and
Ottawas, Crees, Menomonees, Pottawatomies, Kickapoos, Kaskaskias, Weeahs,
Peorias, Piankeshaws, Mohegans, Delawares and Shawnees.

The celebrated league of the Iroquois by representatives from the
following tribes looks down upon us as Oneidas, Tuscaroras and Senecas.

John Ross, a civilized and well educated chief, with four other
celebrated faces, represents the Cherokee stock. The great Muskogee or
Creek confederacy includes paintings of distinguished Creeks, Choktas,
Seminoles, and Yuchees. Most of the last two stocks were well instructed
by Protestant missionaries, previously to their transfer into the Indian
Territory. It is this fact alone which explains their steady increase
while so many other tribes have melted away. It was among the Dakotas,
however, that Catlin’s enthusiasm first took fire and increased most
fervently. In addition to the many landscape and hunting pictures, whose
scenes are laid in this romantic country, you will see staring at you
from these dingy frames, men and women of many Dakotan tribes, Kansas,
Osages, Ponkas, Omahas, Otoes, Missourias, Iowas, Mandans, Blackfeet
Sioux, Crows, Assiniboins, Winnebagos, and Sioux proper. A few Comanches,
Pawnee Picts, Weecos, Pawnees and Arikarees, Flatheads and Chinuks
complete the list.

Of all the tribes visited by Mr. Catlin, the Mandans awaken the most
lively interest, not only by their impressive ceremonies, but because the
whole tribe were extinguished by smallpox and suicide in 1837, excepting
about forty who afterward fell victims to their enemies.

Look along on the wall until you find the pictures numbered 504, 505,
506 and 507. In these, by a series of tableaux, the painter presents
to us the annual ceremony of initiation, called the Sun dance by the
modern Dakotas, and witnessed two years ago by Miss Alice Fletcher. This
ceremony continues four days and nights in succession, in commemoration
of the subsiding of the flood, and also for the purpose of conducting
all the young men, as they arrive at manhood, through an ordeal of
voluntary torture, which when endured entitles them to the respect of
the chiefs, to the privileges of going on war-parties, and of taking
a wife. The floor and sides of the medicine lodge are ornamented with
green willow boughs. The young men who are to do penance by torture lie
along the sides of the lodge, their bodies covered with clay of different
colors, their respective shields and weapons hanging over their heads.
In the middle of the lodge the medicine man prays to the Great Spirit
and watches the young men through their four days’ fast, preparatory to
the torture. Near the medicine man lies a scalping knife, and a bunch
of splints which are to be passed through the flesh of the novitiates
like belaying pins. The Buffalo dance takes place several times each day
outside the lodge in which the young men lie. The principal actors in
this dance are eight men with the skins of buffaloes around them and a
bunch of green willows on their backs. The evil spirit, Okeehedee, enters
the village from the prairie, alarming the women, who cry for assistance
and are relieved by the old medicine man. Okeehedee is at length disarmed
of his lance, which is broken by the women, and he is driven by them in
disgrace out of the village. On the fourth day of the festival the young
men are subjected to the torture, which in many forms amounts essentially
to this: Two gashes, parallel and near together, are cut quite through
the skin, either on the breast, back or arms, looking for all the world
like those on the sides of a sheep dressed for market. A wooden pin is
thrust from gash to gash, under the intervening strip of skin. One end
of a long and strong rawhide line is wrapped or belayed around this peg
securely. Now comes the tug of war, the problem always being either to
tear this peg out by breaking the strip of flesh or to see how much
pain the sufferer can stand. He is hauled up to the roof of the lodge,
suspended from an elastic sapling, or dragged around the camp; finally
having fastened the end of the line farthest from him to a post, he tugs
away with might and main until his flesh is torn loose.

Turn now away from this dreadful scene and take a look at the funny side
of Indian life. Here is a fellow whose eager haste after a buffalo ends
in being thrown on the monster’s back and taking a bison ride over the
prairie. There the clans contend nip and tuck for mastery in the ball
play. On this canvas a celebrated archer is showing how many arrows he
can shoot before the first one falls. Perhaps your delicate sensibility
will not enjoy the dog dance, where the Sioux braves are dancing up
grotesquely and biting off pieces of a heart taken raw and bleeding
from a dog. Well, here is a sham battle of Mandan boys, their school of
practice every morning at sunrise, and just there a prairie-dog village.
This picture, No. 337, is the celebrated Pipestone quarry on the Couteau
des Prairies, 300 miles northwest of the Falls of St. Anthony, on the
divide between the St. Peters and the Missouri. Here is where from time
immemorial the Indians have obtained for making pipes that beautiful red
steatite, which the mineralogists now call _catlinite_, after our hero.
There are many more just as strange and interesting stories hanging about
this dear old Smithsonian, and some day THE CHAUTAUQUAN may let you into
the secret. You notice here and there that the fatal pointer has gone
quite through the noble brave, and that accounts for solicitude about
your cane and umbrella at the beginning. You will find them at the door,
and don’t fail to reclaim them with your check.



George Bancroft is the Nestor of American men of letters. Born October
3, 1800, he received his early training at Exeter Academy, and graduated
at Harvard in 1817. He is now eighty-four years old, and his life
has touched every administration in the history of our nation except
Washington’s. What mighty changes have been wrought in the land since
George Bancroft, a manly youth, stepped forth from his _alma mater_ a
full-fledged graduate! Two generations have passed away and a third
is now on the stage of action. Webster, Clay, Calhoun and Benton had
not yet reached the zenith of their power. These men have passed
away, and another group, equally great, of whom Abraham Lincoln was
the central figure, became conspicuous leaders in the most thrilling
period of our history, and have passed away likewise. Indeed, there are
thousands of voters to-day who were born during the exciting events of
Lincoln’s administration. At the time George Bancroft graduated which,
in the general acceptation of the term, marked the commencement of his
life’s work, Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Blaine, Cleveland, and
Generals Sherman and Sheridan had not been born. Some of these have won
never-fading honors in events that have attracted the attention of the
whole world, and are numbered among our heroes. At that time Harvard was
a very different institution from what it is now; American literature was
in its infancy; Washington Irving had scarcely gained a recognition on
the other side of the waters.

Forty-five years ago Bancroft held a government office and secured for
Nathaniel Hawthorne an appointment in the Boston Custom House. Hawthorne
was then a literary man with some reputation, but his pen did not afford
him a livelihood. His great masterpieces were written during the next
quarter of a century, and twenty years have passed since the announcement
of his death cast a gloom over the literary world, while his friend and
benefactor still survives in the full vigor of his intellectual powers.

Macaulay and Bancroft were born in the same year; the former has been
dead nearly twenty-five years; the latter is giving finishing touches to
his great history, which merits a place with Macaulay’s and Gibbon’s.

George Bancroft’s father was the Rev. Aaron Bancroft, D.D., who as a
young man participated in the battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill, and
who in later years won an honorable name as a theologian and man of
letters, his “Life of Washington” attracting considerable attention in
Europe. The son inherited many of the admirable characteristics of the

After his graduation at Harvard, George Bancroft spent five years in
Europe, receiving a degree from the University of Göttingen, mastering
the principal modern languages, giving special attention to the study of
history, visiting the most important nations of the continent, and above
all communing with some of the greatest minds of the age. It was his rare
privilege to meet, and to enjoy the friendship of, such men as Wolf, the
distinguished classic scholar, Wilhelm von Humboldt, Goethe, Cousin,
Alexander von Humboldt, Chevalier Bunsen, Niebuhr, and others scarcely
less distinguished.

Returning to his native land in 1822, he spent one year as tutor of Greek
in Harvard, and afterward assisted in establishing a preparatory school
at Northampton. The subject of United States history already absorbed his
mind, and the next few years were spent in special study for his great

Bancroft has held a number of offices. In 1838 President Van Buren
appointed him collector at the port of Boston, and he discharged the
duties of the office with marked ability. In 1845 he entered President
Polk’s cabinet as Secretary of the Navy. A number of important events
of this administration are linked with his name. Through his influence
the naval academy at Annapolis was established, and he introduced many
needed reforms into the naval service. He ordered the United States fleet
to assist Captain Fremont in taking possession of California, and as
Acting Secretary of War he issued orders for the United States army to
march into Texas at the commencement of the Mexican war. In 1846 he was
appointed minister to England, and held the position for three years.
While in England unusual courtesies were extended to him, and every
facility was granted for carrying on his historical researches, official
state papers and many valuable private libraries being accessible. He
also visited Paris for the purpose of study, and received valuable
assistance from Guizot and Lamartine. In 1867 he was appointed minister
to Berlin and remained abroad a number of years, calling forth a special
commendation from President Grant for his wise diplomatic services.

Mr. Bancroft has done considerable literary work in addition to writing
his “History of the United States.” When a young man he published a
volume of poems; he has contributed a great many articles to magazines,
and has delivered a number of memorial addresses on prominent Americans.
In 1859 he prepared a paper on “Prescott” for the New York Historical
Society; also one on “Washington Irving.” In 1860 he delivered an address
in Cleveland at the unveiling of the statue of Commodore Oliver H. Perry,
and February 12, 1866, he delivered before the two houses of Congress a
memorial address on President Lincoln.

Bancroft is known most widely, however, as an historian, and his noble
history is a monument more durable than granite. He brought to his task
a mind philosophic in character, broad in grasp, impartial in judgment,
believing firmly in God’s superintending care, rich in scholarship, and
with enough of the imaginative and poetical to quicken and vivify all his
intellectual powers. He has bestowed nearly sixty years of conscientious
labor on this great historical work, the first volume of which appeared
in 1834, fifty years ago.

The historian requires peculiar talent for his work. He must have such
patience and energy as will enable him to carry on any research that
will throw light on the subject he is investigating; he must weigh all
evidence as coolly as the most unprejudiced judge; he must not assume
the part of an advocate until he has examined the subject from every
standpoint and reached an unbiased conclusion; he must grasp the real
ideas and principles that underlie the events and are hastening the
progress of civilization; he must have sufficient imagination to see the
events as real, and to make his readers see them as such; in addition, he
must have a copiousness of illustration and a fluency of language that
will enable him to present his subject in an attractive form. In short,
he must be a scholar, an explorer, a philosopher, and a rhetorician. Few,
if any, have possessed all these qualifications in a preëminent degree;
Bancroft certainly possesses them all in no small degree.

Gibbon will doubtless ever hold an honorable place as an historical
writer; and yet he attempts to account for the rapid spread of
Christianity entirely on human grounds, and refuses to recognize the
greatest force then at work in effecting changes among the nations of
the world. Macaulay well says of Gibbon: “He writes like a man who had
received some personal injury from Christianity and wished to be revenged
on it and all its possessors.” No such charge can be made against George
Bancroft. He is a firm believer in God, recognizes Christianity as the
most powerful factor in the progress of civilization, and continually
evinces his unfaltering belief in God’s superintending care over human
affairs. The opening paragraph of his address on President Lincoln may be
taken as his creed on God in history. Notice how clear his statement and
triumphant his faith:

“That God rules in the affairs of men is as certain as any truth of
physical science. On the great moving power which is from the beginning
hangs the world of the senses and the world of thought and action.
Eternal wisdom marshals the great procession of the nations, working in
patient continuity through the ages, never halting and never abrupt,
encompassing all events in its oversight, and ever effecting its will,
though mortals may slumber in apathy or oppose with madness. Kings are
lifted up or thrown down, nations come and go, republics flourish and
wither, dynasties pass away as a tale that is told; but nothing is by
chance, though men, in their ignorance of causes, may think so. The deeds
of time are governed, as well as judged, by the decrees of eternity.”

A quotation from his history will show his estimate of Christianity:

“To have asserted clearly the unity of mankind was the distinctive
character of the Christian religion. No more were the nations to be
severed by the worship of exclusive deities. The world was instructed
that all men are of one blood; that for all there is but one divine
nature and but one moral law; and the renovating faith taught the
singleness of the race, of which it embodied the aspirations and guided
the advancement.”[E]

Notice also this noble tribute to Christianity in his history:

“The colonists, including their philosophy in their religion, as the
people up to that time had always done, were neither skeptics nor
sensualists, but Christians. The school that bows to the senses as the
sole interpreter of truth had little share in colonizing our America. The
colonists from Maine to Carolina, the adventurous companions of Smith,
the proscribed Puritans that freighted the fleet of Winthrop, the Quaker
outlaws that fled from jails with a Newgate prisoner as the sovereign—all
had faith in God and in the soul. The system which had been revealed
in Judea—the system which combines and perfects the symbolic wisdom of
the Orient and the reflective genius of Greece—the system, conforming
to reason, yet kindling enthusiasm; always hastening reform, yet always
conservative; proclaiming absolute equality among men, yet not suddenly
abolishing the unequal institutions of society; guaranteeing absolute
freedom, yet invoking the inexorable restrictions of duty; in the highest
degree theoretical, yet in the highest degree practical; awakening the
inner man to a consciousness of his destiny, and yet adapted with exact
harmony to the outward world; at once divine and human—this system was
professed in every part of our widely extended country, and cradled
our freedom. Our fathers were not only Christians; they were, even in
Maryland by a vast majority, elsewhere almost unanimously, protestants.
Now the Protestant Reformation, considered in its largest influence on
politics, was the awakening of the common people to freedom of mind.”[F]

In a recent private letter to Dr. Buckley, of the _Christian Advocate_,
Bancroft uses these words quoted in that paper:

“Certainly our great united commonwealth is the child of Christianity;
it may with equal truth be asserted that modern civilization sprung into
life with our religion; and faith in its principles is the life-boat on
which humanity has at divers times escaped the most threatening perils.”

And again:

“The principles that govern human affairs, extending like a path of
light from century to century, become the highest demonstration of the
superintending providence of God.”[G]

But it is not necessary to multiply quotations illustrative of his faith
in the Deity. Throughout the whole of his writings he manifests a devout,
reverential state of mind, and keeps constantly before the reader the
idea that God is the great power back of those mighty movements that stir
the nations of the world.

The philosophic cast of his mind is clearly revealed in all his
discussions of causes and results. He firmly believes that “the problems
of politics can not be solved without passing behind transient forms to
efficient causes,” and he ever seeks to find the real origin of an event.
He dates the American Revolution back to the Reformation under Luther
and Calvin, and in relating the events that led to a separation from
the mother country he discusses with great clearness and elaborateness
three points essential to the proper understanding of the subject: In the
first place he speaks of the emancipation of the mind at the Reformation,
and the consequent birth of the idea of freedom. In the second place he
discusses the growth of this idea of freedom in the nations of Europe
and on this continent. In the third place he describes with wonderful
fairness the violent discussions that arose in England and in this
country when the colonists raised a protest against the tyrannies of the
mother country. Referring to the origin of our present liberty, he says

“The Reformation was an expression of the right of the human intellect to

He thus speaks of the influence of Luther and the Reformation: “At his
bidding truth leaped over the cloister walls and challenged every man
to make her his guest; aroused every intelligence to acts of private
judgment, changed a dependent, recipient people into a reflecting,
inquiring people; lifted each human being out of the castes of the middle
age, to endow him with individuality, and summoned man to stand forth as
man. The world heaved with the fervent conflict of opinion. The people
and their guides recognized the dignity of labor; the oppressed peasantry
took up arms for liberty; men reverenced and exercised the freedom of
the soul. The breath of the new spirit moved over the earth; it revived
Poland, animated Germany, swayed the north; and the inquisition of Spain
could not silence its whispers among the mountains of the Peninsula. It
invaded France; and, though bonfires of heretics, by way of warning,
were lighted at the gates of Paris, it infused itself into the French
mind, and led to unwonted free discussions. Exile could not quench it.
On the banks of the Lake of Geneva, Calvin stood forth the boldest
reformer of his day; not personally engaged in political intrigues,
yet, by promulgating great ideas, forming the seed-plot of revolution.…
Calvinism was revolutionary; wherever it came it created division.… By
the side of the eternal mountains and perennial snows and arrowy rivers
of Switzerland, it established a religion without a prelate, a government
without a king.… It entered Holland, inspiring an industrious nation
with heroic enthusiasm; enfranchising and uniting provinces; and making
burghers, and weavers, and artisans, victors over the highest orders
of Spanish chivalry, the power of the inquisition, and the pretended
majesty of kings. It penetrated Scotland, and while its whirlwind bore
along persuasion among glens and mountains, it shrunk from no danger,
and hesitated at no ambition; it nerved its rugged but hearty envoy
to resist the flatteries of the beautiful Queen Mary; it assumed the
education of her only son; it divided the nobility; it penetrated the
masses, overturned the ancient ecclesiastic establishment, planted free
parochial schools, and gave a living energy to the principle of liberty
in a people. It infused itself into England, and placed its plebeian
sympathies in daring resistance to the courtly hierarchy; dissenting
from dissent, longing to introduce the reign of righteousness, it invited
every man to read the Bible, and made itself dear to the common mind, by
teaching, as a divine revelation, the unity of the race and the natural
equality of man.”[I]

It is evident that Bancroft has studied the Reformation, not simply in
its outward political aspect, but so as to understand the different
shades of theological belief that influenced the minds of the great
reformers. His parallel between Luther and Calvin is a fine specimen
of composition, noted for its vigorous English, clear, discriminating
judgments, and polished style: “Both Luther and Calvin brought the
individual immediate relation with God; but Calvin, under a more stern
and militant form of doctrine, lifted the individual above pope and
prelate, and priest and presbyter, above Catholic church and national
church and general synod, above indulgencies, remissions and absolutions
from fellow-mortals, and brought him into immediate dependence on
God, whose eternal, irreversible choice is made by himself alone, not
arbitrarily, but according to his own highest wisdom and justice. Luther
spared the altar, and hesitated to deny totally the real presence;
Calvin, with superior dialectics, accepted as a commemoration and a seal
the rite which the Catholics revered as a sacrifice. Luther favored
magnificence in public worship, as an aid to devotion; Calvin, the
guide of republics, avoided in their churches all appeals to the senses
as a peril to pure religion. Luther condemned the Roman Church for
its immorality; Calvin for its idolatry. Luther exposed the folly of
superstition, ridiculed the hair shirt and the scourge, the purchased
indulgence, and dearly bought, worthless masses for the dead; Calvin
shrunk from their criminality with impatient horror. Luther permitted
the cross and the taper, pictures and images, as things of indifference;
Calvin demanded a spiritual worship in its utmost purity. Luther left
the organization of the church to princes and governments; Calvin
reformed doctrine, ritual, and practice; and, by establishing ruling
elders in each church, and an elective synod, he secured to his policy a
representative character, which combined authority with popular rights.
Both Luther and Calvin insisted that, for each one, there is and can be
no other priest than himself; and, as a consequence, both agreed in the
purity of the clergy.”[J]

While the rhetoric of Bancroft is not faultless, it certainly deserves a
place in our classic English. In the discussion of grave historical and
philosophical questions, his stateliness of expression and his dignity
of style challenge our admiration. His descriptions are very fine, and
suggest a mind keenly alive to the beautiful and the poetical; but
they do not reveal that spontaneity so characteristic of Irving, nor
that indefinable symmetry so noticeable in Hawthorne. If his style is
sometimes declamatory, I think it is generally in a connection such that
the cultivated taste will pronounce it admissible.

Thoroughly versed in the historic lore of this and other countries,
broad in his general scholarship, remarkably free from prejudice, an
uncompromising American, and yet not an American in a narrow and bigoted
sense, careful and systematic in his methods of labor and recreation,
unswerving in his belief in the superintending providence of God, George
Bancroft justly merits the high place of honor and esteem so willingly
accorded to him, and his noble example should be a never-failing source
of inspiration.

[E] Vol. III., p. 6.

[F] Vol. II., p. 177.

[G] Hist., Vol. II., p. 545.

[H] Hist., Vol. III., p. 183.

[I] Hist., Vol. III., p. 99.

[J] Hist., Vol. I., p. 212.

       *       *       *       *       *

of everything which you have to do. Know all its principles. If it be
a trade, know not only its rules, but the reasons for them. If it be
merchandise in raw materials, or in one or more manufactured articles,
be sure to learn the whole process, from the planting of the seed, or
the digging of the ore, to the completed fabric. Do this by observation,
conversation with the heads of departments, and with workmen in different
specialties. This was the plan of the late William E. Dodge.—_From Dr. J.
M. Buckley’s “Oats or Wild Oats.”_



     Fair Perseus slept upon enchanted ground,
     And to him came, but with no stir or sound,
     The goddess Pallas, whose clear, shining eyes
     Read all men’s hearts that are beneath the skies.

    “Many there be,” she cried, “who dwell at ease,
     Who neither do nor dare—art thou of these?
     Or dost thou to some glorious deed aspire?
     Hast thou a heart of clay, or soul of fire?”

     Then answered Perseus, vehement, “But I
     Would do great deeds, though for them I should die.
     Point me, O goddess, to the monster’s lair,
     And give me leave to show what I can dare!”

    “Nay,” said the voice divine, “thy stripling arm
     Must first set free from danger’s fierce alarm
     _Thy mother’s life!_” With this young Perseus woke,
     Nor knew the peril whereof Pallas spoke.

     But straight to Seriphus he hied with speed,
     To find his Mother Danæ in sore need,
     And rescuing her from danger and from dread,
     _Then_ went he forth to win the Gorgon’s head.

     O, sons and daughters of our happy land,
     Whose waking dreams are filled with actions grand,
     Ere yet in search of these afar you roam,
     Free every burdened heart that sighs at home!



An Abridged Translation for THE CHAUTAUQUAN, from the _Révue des deux

Canada, for so long a time apparently forgotten by her mother country,
came out from her isolation and again called back to herself the
attention of France by sending to the Exposition of 1855 specimens of
her products. In 1856 M. de Belveze, commander of the French frigate
“Capricieuse,” was sent into Canadian waters. His mission resulted in
the establishment of a French consulate, and the reduction of the tariff
which permitted the two countries to enter upon commercial relations.

From 1854 to 1862 material and intellectual progress here marched by the
side of great political progress. Public works, canals, and interior
colonization, all, during this time received a vigorous impulse.

There is no such thing as spontaneous generation in politics any more
than in natural history. Questions give rise to other questions, and the
philosophy of history shows them springing up, one after another, from
some mysterious source, obeying a sort of atavism, and producing often a
most unexpected result. Excitement over representation, fixed according
to the population of the country, gave birth to the confederacy. On
October 1, 1864, a conference assembled at Quebec, composed of delegates
from the maritime provinces, and from the Canadian government. After
a long and stormy session, during which threats of resorting to arms
were now and then heard, the cause of the confederation triumphed by a
large majority. A basis of federal union was submitted to the several
legislatures for ratification, and on July 1, 1867, the confederacy was
established in the midst of public rejoicings. They gave to the united
provinces the name of the Dominion of Canada. Lower Canada was called
Quebec, and Upper Canada Ontario.

The Legislature is composed of a Governor-general, a sort of a
constitutional viceroy, named by the crown; of a Senate, and a House
of Commons. The Senate consists of seventy-six members, appointed for
life by the crown, of whom twenty-four each are from Quebec and Ontario.
The House of Commons is representative, its members being elected for
five years. The Dominion now includes Ontario, Quebec, Nova Scotia,
New Brunswick, Prince Edward’s Island, British Columbia, Manitoba, and
the territory of the North-West, or Hudson’s Bay Territory. Thus it is
fulfilling the prediction of the great American statesman, William H.
Seward: “Canada is destined to become the seat of a great empire, the
Russia of North America, but a Russia with civilization more advanced
than the Russia of Europe.” An illustrated paper of the Dominion has
published a patriotic caricature representing the Canadian Gulliver
with a debonair and placid figure, without any implements save his own
gigantic arms and hands, seizing and swallowing the greater part of the
American continent, while a crowd of Lilliputians, armed to the teeth,
Turks, Yankees, Germans and Italians, survey him with an envious and
astonished air.

In order to develop her resources, and to open the way for immigration,
that her immense tracts of unused land may more rapidly become the
granary of the world, Canada is furrowing her domains with canals and
interlacing them with lines of railroads. The Grand Trunk railway,
traversing the country from Portland, Me., to Detroit, has been built,
with its Victoria bridge (one of the most noted structures in the world)
crossing the St. Lawrence opposite Montreal. Immense sums of money have
been spent in order to convert the St. Lawrence into a canal. And now she
is constructing a transcontinental road, which, binding the two oceans
from Port Moody to Halifax, will cross the entire confederation. They
expect to finish this route in 1886, and it is estimated that the journey
from Liverpool or Havre to Japan will be a thousand miles shorter by this
road than by the transcontinental routes of the United States.

Almost in the middle of the Dominion, at an equal distance from the pole
to the equator, lies the territory of Manitoba. There lived in 1869, a
population half nomadic, called the half-breeds, sprung from marriages
between the French Canadians and the Indians. They spoke the French
language, and professed the Catholic religion. After the delivery of
this country by the Hudson’s Bay Company to the Dominion, the government
determined to direct toward it a stream of English emigration. They sent
a governor and some surveyors to reside at Winnipeg, the capital. But
the natives warned them they might look for trouble if they attempted
to place, without consulting them, new inhabitants upon the land which
they and their ancestors, from time immemorial, had held and enjoyed.
The government was not to be frightened, and so the conflict came.
The half-breeds obliged the governor to leave, and constituted a
provisional government, with a president at its head. They then drew up
a declaration, of which the following is the preamble:

    “We, the representatives of the people, assembled in council at
    Fort Garry, November 24, 1869, after having invoked the God of
    nations, … solemnly declare, in the name of our constitution and
    in our own name, before God and men, that we refuse to recognize
    the authority of Canada, which pretends to have the right to
    command us and impose upon us a despotic form of government.”

Later, however, they changed their opinion, and entered into negotiations
with the federal government. But at the moment when all things had been
arranged without bloodshed, the English colonists, who were very numerous
around Lake Winnipeg, rose in insurrection against the half-breeds. The
president of the latter, Louis Riel, who took upon himself the _rôle_ of
dictator, had the leading mutineers seized, and their chief, named Scott,
was tried, condemned and shot. Far from establishing his authority, this
execution discouraged the natives themselves, and when two battalions
of militia under Col. Wolseley arrived on the ground, they were
welcomed as liberators by the half-breeds, and Riel, with his leading
accomplices, fled to the United States. A compromise was then effected,
and Manitoba was annexed to the Dominion as an autonomous province. It
sends to Parliament two senators and five representatives. Winnipeg
contains 30,000 inhabitants, and property has increased its value to an
extraordinary degree, as the following anecdote will show: A parishioner
of Archbishop Taché, obliged to leave the country, sought the archbishop,
and excusing himself for not being able to pay the rent of his church
pew, offered as part payment a small piece of land; “scarcely what would
pay for a low mass,” timidly said the poor man. Ten years later that land
brought $14,000.

In spite of the expenses occasioned by her canals and railroads, the
people of the Dominion are, perhaps, among all the tax-payers of the
civilized world, those upon whom the smallest rates are levied. There is
no standing army, only a simple militia of about 50,000 men. The total
expenses of government in 1884 amounted to $28,730,157. The receipts
for the same year were $36,800,000. The minister of finances, in making
out his estimates for the year 1885 placed them as follows: Expenses,
$29,811,639; receipts, $31,000,000, which were to be raised as follows:
Duties, $20,000,000; excises, $5,500,000; postoffice returns, $1,900,000;
public works, $3,000,000; interest on investments, $750,000; other
sources, $800,900. Duties on goods supply the source of two thirds of
all the receipts. In 1880 they adopted a very strict system, which,
without any distinction, exacts duties from English goods as from any
other nation. On the other hand, England has granted to them the right of
concluding treaties of commerce with foreign nations.

The only difference of opinion in regard to the question of tariff
existing between the two parties is that the liberals wish the laws of
entrance to be more moderate than the conservatives have made them, but
neither of them will adopt the cosmopolitan theories of European free
trade. The English compare protection to a bullet, Canadian tariff to
a museum of instruments of torture, and declare that in following the
example of the United States, the Dominion has forgotten the fable of the
frog which wished to become as large as an ox. The Canadians hold that
they shall do what they think best for their country, and that duties are
the taxes least inconvenient to raise; that they save national work; and
that they not only have made up the deficits of the past, but have put
into the treasury an excess, so they have been able to reduce them to the
amount of two and one-fourth millions dollars. The tariff for protection
has become a tariff for revenue.

Since 1853 especially, public instruction has made great progress.
These people who, under the patronage of the crown of England, have
realized the ideal conception of a conservative and Christian republic,
hold that public schools are among the luxuries of a young nation, and
do not hesitate to impose upon themselves heavy sacrifices, as they
believe they will result in good to their children. In the province of
Quebec alone, government expended during the year 1882-83, $350,000
for school buildings, while the contributions paid directly by the
people amounted to more than $2,000,000. In a population of 1,359,027
inhabitants, statistics show that there are 5,039 schools of different
grades; 7,211 professors and teachers, and 245,225 scholars, making an
average of one scholar for every six inhabitants. As to universities
and colleges, they do not come under the school regulations, but are
independent institutions, which, however, may receive appropriations
from the government on condition of making a report each year to the
superintendent. When in a school district there live a number of families
who profess a different religion from that of the majority, they have
the right to have for their children separate schools, under the care
of three officials, chosen by them. Thus Catholics and Protestants have
equal privileges, and everything is done to secure respect for religion,
independence to the citizen, and his active and constant interest in
educational matters. The circulars of the present superintendent, M.
Ouimet, define in clear terms the spirit of the school laws in Quebec:
“In our system of primary instruction we first teach the children the
catechism of true religion, in order that they may know how to serve
God; then the manuals of agriculture and of design, in order to put them
in condition to serve their country. _For God and country!_ Behold the
words which the Canadian legislature has inscribed on the walls of her
educational institutions. The state unites itself to the two systems of
religion in the matter of education, and does not authorize any school to
be atheistical, but demands of it to be Christian before it accords help.
It does not provide that one church shall be helped rather than another.
Full and entire liberty it demands, and from this comes perfect harmony
among the people.”

Religious liberty marches by the side of educational liberty. Each church
supports itself; the state no longer takes cognizance of clergy or
congregations, to protect them, to annoy them, or to persecute. They can,
as the citizens, found a university, a college, or a school.

Men such as Labelle and Racine have accomplished wonderful results in
planting in the most barren regions, at the peril of their lives, strong
and flourishing colonies. “Go west,” incessantly repeated Horace Greeley
to young Americans. “Go north, French Canadians and Catholics,” said
Father Labelle, with a prophetic foresight.

Canadian literature only dates back to 1840. Before that time it was made
up of songs. Such a literature was absolutely essential to the gay and
sociable race who consoled itself, in all its troubles, with stanzas.
There was a time when France held the government under control by her
songs. Did any Canadian patriot attract attention by some great deed?
At once a song was written. Was the question that of elections? They
addressed themselves to some crude poet, and sharp, malign couplets soon
overran the country. The festival of St. Jean Baptiste has furnished many
a contribution to this list, and Sir George Cartier owes in great part
his popularity to the fact that he composed one for the first banquet, in
1834. Often among the remote rural districts are found people possessing
magnificent tenor voices, which would make the fortune of an impressario
who would come from the other side of the water to look them up.

“We are yet amateurs,” said one of their writers to me. Without endorsing
this very modest judgment, one can but admit that up to the present time
our American cousins have been more occupied with making history than
with writing it. Action has absorbed thought. They have run, closely
pressed on all sides, to the conquest of political liberties. The books
which they published during their unsettled national history partook of
the character of the times, as the great work of Garneau will show, which
was a revelation to his countrymen, and was of more value to them than
an army, since it assured them of a nation’s faith and the certainty of
success. The greater part of the writers have been obliged to tax their
ingenuity for a livelihood, and too often politics, that deceptive siren,
keeps them from those severe studies which alone will bring talent to

In poetry, MM. Crémazie and Louis Fréchette have left behind them all
rivals. High inspiration, poetic fervor, appreciation of nature, and
love of country have made them true poets. One can not read without
emotion some of the productions of M. Crémazie. His patriotic songs,
which seem to have been breathed from the very heart of the country
itself, in a language harmonious and vibrating, do not for an instant
decline in interest or power. The verses of M. Fréchette are written in a
graceful style, and possess a youthful freshness. In history, MM. l’Abbé
Casgrain, Benjamin Sulte and Joseph Tassé have become distinguished. M.
Tassé, in his book “Canadians of the West,” tells of the pioneers of the
American continent, those who penetrated into the icy regions of the
pole, who crossed the Rocky Mountains, and spread over the fertile plains
of Mexico; and has shown that of them all the French in the Canadian
settlements were the only ones who treated the Indians honorably and
kindly, and who succeeded in winning their respect and affection.

The group of prose writers and romancers is increasing every day. One of
the best, without doubt, is M. J. C. Taché, the author of three legends,
each of which characterizes an epoch in the history of the Indians. M.
de Gaspé, with his “Ancient Canadians,” and M. Joseph Marmette, with his
historic romances have acquired a well merited reputation.

What, then, shall be the aim in the future of Canadian literature? To
acquire new strength and vigor without ceasing the study of the past;
to revive the glorious annals; to gather with a pious care its legends;
to identify itself also with the present; to paint the manners and the
contemporaneous social life; to note and to report the majestic symphony
of their land; never to lose sight of the thought of Carlyle, that the
universe is a temple as well as a workshop. Such will be the duty of
Canadian writers.

The Canadians through all the years since their country passed out of
the hands and the control of the French, have clung to them with great
affection, drawn by some profound and mystic instinct, by the lines of
heredity, the power of traditions, the religion of memory. They are not
ignorant of the fact that if they had remained united to France, they
would not now have, in all probability, their free social and religious
institutions; they would likely have formed an administrative colony
such as Algeria. They know that it was England who sent them, under hard
circumstances, perhaps, to the school of liberty, and to her they are
indebted for their prosperity, but they look to France still as their
mother country. Why should not that country give them some more solid
proof of its affection? While with South America the annual exchanges of
France are counted by the hundred million, and great numbers of French
people emigrate there, her total commerce with Canada does not exceed
$15,000,000, and it is with great difficulty that she has commenced to
send thither a few of her citizens. Why should not French emigration
direct itself toward a country where wages are good, the soil fertile,
where property offers itself to all, and where a welcome is awaiting
them? Why should not the French go to visit the Canadians and learn of
them how a people became and remain free?



Under this heading it is intended to give in successive numbers of THE
CHAUTAUQUAN descriptions of the principal Art Museums of our country:
The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New
York, the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts in Philadelphia, and the
Corcoran Art Gallery in Washington. We begin in the present number with
the Boston Museum.

In the year 1870 the trustees of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts were
organized under a charter from the Massachusetts legislature. It was not,
however, until 1876 that a building was erected in which the pictures,
casts, antiquities, engravings and objects of curiosity which formed the
nucleus of its present extensive collections could be exhibited to the

Up to the time when the first portion of the present building was
erected, the amateur or the student of the fine arts in Boston or its
neighborhood had been obliged to take a good deal of trouble, and to
spend much time, if he would see the few objects that existed there—in
public institutions or in private houses—in the domain of painting,
sculpture, antiquities, or in that of the minor arts—now classed together
in popular speech under the incorrect title of bric-a-brac.

Beside the permanent exhibition of the pictures which belonged to it, the
Athenæum Library had generously devoted some of its rooms every season
for several successive years to the exhibition of pictures painted by
American artists, an exhibition answering to those held yearly by the
National Academy of Design and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.
Beside these regular exhibitions, there had been many occasional ones of
importance, such as that of the Spanish pictures belonging to the Duc de
Montpensier, which gave to those of us who had not visited Europe, the
opportunity of seeing respectable specimens of the works of Zurbaran,
Herrera, Morales, Murillo, Ribalta and Velasquez. There was also in the
Athenæum a small but well selected collection of plaster-casts of antique
sculpture, so that for a long time this institution was an art center of
no little value and importance. The Athenæum was not, however, an art
institution, but a library, and the time came when the increase of the
library made it necessary to give up its art collections and devote all
its space to books.

The collections of the Athenæum were the most important, both in number
and in value, to be found in Boston, but there were many interesting
objects scattered about which it was felt would be of much greater
service to the community if they could be brought together under
one roof, and made to work in common for the education of the whole
community. The late Francis C. Gray had bequeathed to Harvard College his
large and valuable collection of engravings together with a fund for its
maintenance, and it was found that its usefulness, whether for purposes
of enjoyment or as a means of education was very much restricted by its
being so far away from the capital. Yet it had been impossible to find
a proper place for it in Boston, and it therefore remained shut up in
Cambridge. The Institute of Technology had formed, under the direction
of Prof. William R. Ware, a collection of architectural ornament, but
as this was lodged in the Institute building it could only be seen and
studied at such times as suited the convenience of the professors and
their pupils. The Social Science Association had called the attention of
the public to the need that existed of a large and complete collection of
casts of antique sculpture. But—what to do with such a collection, could
it be brought together?

In a city like Boston, a want so deeply felt could not long remain
unsatisfied, and the matter having been widely discussed, and a general
interest created in the public mind, the first steps were taken with
generous unanimity, and as has been stated, a charter was procured from
the legislature, the Museum was organized by the naming of trustees, and
the city having given a site, no difficulty was met with in raising a
subscription of $261,000 toward a building. The plans of Messrs. Sturgis
and Brigham, submitted in competition, were selected, and on the 3d of
July, 1876, one wing of the front of the building was opened to the
public. This was filled by the collections of the Athenæum, and by the
Gray collection of engravings, both permanently loaned to the Museum,
by the casts of antique sculptures purchased with funds bequeathed by
the late Charles Sumner, the Egyptian collections presented by Mr. C.
Granville Way, and valuable gifts from Mr. Lawrence and other persons.
The space at the disposal of the trustees was soon overcrowded, and in
1878 a fresh subscription of $126,000 having been raised, the front
was completed and opened to the public in 1879. At the present time
of writing the need is seriously felt for more room, and it is hoped
that the means may soon be provided for taking a third step toward the
completion of the original plan of the building.

The building containing the collections of the Boston Museum of Fine Art
is constructed of red brick and terra cotta on a basement of granite.
It stands in the new quarter of the city, and is built like all other
structures in that part of the city, on piles. It is rather ornate in its
character, and compared with its massive neighbor, Trinity Church, has
a somewhat effeminate look, but it is solidly built, and planned with
great good sense, and with a steady view to convenience. On entering,
the visitor finds himself in a large hall, in the center of which rises
an ample staircase conducting to the second floor. At the right and left
are doorways leading to the rooms containing the casts from antique
sculpture. By taking either of these doorways we can make the circuit
of the whole series of apartments, but as the present arrangement is
only temporary, awaiting the completion of the building for a logical
disposition of the material, it may be better to pass at once to the rear
of the hall, and taking the door at the left hand, enter


The contents of this room were chiefly collected between the years 1828
and 1833, by a Scotch gentleman, Mr. Robert Hay. After his death they
were purchased by Mr. C. Granville Way, of Boston, and presented to the
Museum in 1872. Several fine pieces of sculpture, collected in Egypt in
1835 by the late Mr. John Lowell, the founder of the Lowell Institute,
have been added to this room by the gift of Mr. Lowell’s heirs. The
valuable and interesting casts from bas-reliefs and statues are the gift
of General Charles G. Loring, the director of the Museum, to whose zeal
and efficiency the institution owes so much of its usefulness.

The room is finely lighted by large windows, and General Loring, who is
much interested in botany, generally keeps here a few fine specimens
of tropical plants, especially such as belong to Egypt. Thus, on the
occasion of my last visit, I had the pleasure of seeing there a fine
specimen of the papyrus plant waving its graceful fans in salute to
Pasht and Amenophis, hard by. The giant figure of Amenophis III., the
Memnon of the Greeks (1500 B. C.) is a cast from the granite original
in the British Museum. Near it is the statue of Pasht, the Cat-headed,
in black granite, with the cartouch of Amenophis III., and there are
also several blocks of red granite, probably portions of a throne, with
a few fragments of sculpture—the colossal head of a king, pieces of
the lid of a sarcophagus in green basalt, and two capitals cut out of
sandstone, showing the lotos and papyrus forms. In the center of the room
are several mummy cases, and in glass cases are disposed mummied heads,
skulls, hands and feet, with mummies of animals, the cat, the dog, the
dog-faced ape, the hawk and the ibis. In one of these cases is a hand
still bearing a ring on the fourth finger. The remaining cases contain
very interesting specimens of mummy-cloth of various dates and quality,
one of the most important being a robe of justification supposed to be
worn in the trial of the deceased before Osiris. It is sixteen feet in
length by six feet nine inches in width, and has a fringe. The remaining
contents of this room consist of various objects gathered from the
tombs and from the mummy cases in such number and variety as to make it
impossible to describe them in the narrow space at my command. But while
there can be no doubt as to the value of the collection as a means of
study in a field of wide interest and importance, it may be said, so far
as art is concerned, the Way collection is of less value than the Abbott
collection in the Historical Society of New York City. Each collection,
however, supplements the other in a most interesting way, and taken
together, they enable a student to make a fair beginning in the study of
Egyptian antiquity.


Opens directly from the Egyptian Room, and contains casts of archaic and
early Greek sculpture. Here will be found the Lions from the gate of
Mycenæ, the funeral slabs of Orchomenos, of Aristion, and of the soldier
of Marathon, the Dresden Pallas, the relief of Demeter, Persephone, and
Triptolemus, from Athens, and the so-called Leucothea, and the infant
Bacchus from the Villa Albani, with several interesting archaic reliefs
from the same collection. There have lately been added to the Museum a
number of the funeral slabs or _stele_ discovered at Athens and preserved
in the museum there, objects of great beauty and interest, properly
belonging, either in this room or in immediate connection with it, but
placed for temporary convenience, in the Roman and Renaissance Room. The
most important objects in this First Greek Room are the casts from the
sculptures of the eastern and western Pediments of the Temple of Minerva
at Egina, consisting of five figures from the eastern pediment and ten
from the western, arranged as they are believed to have been originally.
Passing from this room to


We find ourselves in the midst of a group of statues, most of them of
the Praxitelean type and making too sharp a contrast by their grace and
sensuous refinement to the hardness and severity of the contents of the
room just left. It must be remembered, however, that owing to the small
space at the command of the Museum authorities it has not been possible
to follow a strict chronological order, and we must therefore be content
for the present to follow the arrangement of the separate rooms. We have,
therefore, here, the casts from the Parthenon frieze, the Theseus and
the Fates from the eastern and the Ilissus from the western Pediment of
the same building, with the Torso of the Victory, also from the eastern
Pediment, together with several figures from the temple of the Wingless
Victory (Nikè Apteros) on the acropolis. But space fails us to enumerate
all the casts contained in the rooms devoted to antique sculpture; and
why attempt a mere catalogue? The Venus of Milo is here, and the lately
discovered Hermes with the infant Dionysus, the Niobe and her daughter,
the Ludovisi Mars, the Diana of the Louvre, the Apollo Belvidere, the
Eirene and Plutus, the Faun of Praxiteles, and the glorious mask of the
Ludovisi Juno. Indeed, we miss few works of prime importance, and there
are many casts here that can not be found elsewhere in America, and which
are yet essential to even a superficial study of the rise and progress
of Greek sculpture. Passing on, we come to the other rooms where are the
Laocoön, the Dying Gladiator, the younger Agrippina, the Sophocles, the
Demosthenes, the Menander, the Æsculapius, the Discobulus, the Silenus
and the infant Bacchus, and the Boy taking a Thorn from his Foot (the
Spinario), with many another famous and less famous work, enabling us to
carry on the study until the stream dies away to rise again in new beauty
in the art of the early Italian Renaissance. While no capital piece can
be said to be wanting to this collection there remain many pieces to be
added which are needed for fullness of knowledge, but every year sees
important acquisitions, and there can be no doubt, judging from the past
history of the Museum, that if the wished for addition to the building
could be made, the missing gaps in the sculpture would speedily be filled
up by gift. But before leaving the antique rooms we must mention the
two sarcophagi from Vulci, now deposited in the Museum, and which, it
is earnestly to be hoped, will become its property, since they are not
only deeply interesting in themselves, but have an added value from their
great rarity. They represent the bodies of two married pair reposing upon
the lids of the two sarcophagi, as on the marriage-bed. The finer of the
two groups is carved in alabaster, the other is in travertine; the one
in alabaster has a monumental beauty and sweet dignity that is surpassed
by nothing of the kind that exists, and considering its great beauty and
rarity it is said there is only one other example of this treatment of
the subject, and that is in the Vatican.

Crossing the Hall of Entrance, to which we have returned, we find
ourselves in the last of the antique sculpture rooms, where are placed
some of the most interesting of the Roman works just enumerated. Nothing
would be gained by an attempt to catalogue the rooms at present, as
their contents are likely to be changed at any time when the projected
enlargement of the Museum is carried out. The space in this portion of
the building, the addition built in 1879, answering to that occupied in
the older portion by the first and second Greek Rooms, is here thrown
into one large apartment filled with the


The principal object here is the cast of the Caryatid Portico of the
Pandroseion, one of the portions of the complex structure generally
called the Erechtheium, from the name of one of its parts dedicated to
the worship of Erechtheus. The Portico with its Caryatids is given here
of the full size of the original, and is so placed (until the great
court can be built in which these large objects are to be shown) that a
good view of it can be obtained from a considerable distance, while it
is well lighted by a large window at one side. The remaining objects in
this room are casts in great numbers from Greek and Roman architectural
ornament, from the ornament of the Italian Renaissance, from the
Alhambra, from the Gothic buildings of France, Germany and England,
the specimens from England including twelve out of the thirty angels
composing the so-called angel choir of Lincoln Cathedral. These figures
of angels playing on musical instruments are of the thirteenth century,
and are among the most beautiful works of their time. In this room again
we find it impossible to do justice to our subject; the variety is too
great and the range of artistic development covered by the example too
extensive to be dismissed in less than an entire article, and even that
would be insufficient. Turning to the right at the end of this room we
come to


Where the works of Michelangelo, Donatello, Ghiberti, Luca della Robbia,
and a few other such names meet us in some of their best works. Here is
the Lorenzo of Michelangelo with the statues of Day and Night, the David
of Donatello, the Cupid of Michelangelo with his unfinished bas-relief
of the Virgin and Child, the Mercury of John of Bologna, and various
bas-reliefs of the time with the singing boys of Donatello and those
of Luca della Robbia. Here, too, is the cast of the trial plate, “The
Sacrifice of Isaac,” made by Ghiberti in competition with Brunelleschi
and Donatello for the Florence Baptistery Gates, interesting in itself,
and in connection with that most important event in the history of modern

The last room on this floor is filled with specimens of Greek, Roman,
and Asia Minor pottery, with a sufficient number of examples of the
sculpture, pottery, and glass of Cyprus, a small but well-chosen group of
figurines from Tanagra, and the results of the late researches at Assos
by the members of the American Society of Archæology. This room is full
of interesting objects, but it is uncomfortably crowded and necessarily
ill-arranged. In the next article we shall describe the contents of the
second floor of the Museum.


Report of a lecture delivered March 7th in the National Museum of
Washington, D. C., by Mr. Wm. T. Hornaday, Chief Taxidermist of the

The island of Borneo is the home of the Head-hunter, the land of the
orang-utan, the Garden of the Sun, and perhaps even the sepulchre of the
missing link. There is a possibility of its being the cradle of a great
empire which shall be at the zenith of its glory when the greatness
of the United States shall have passed away, like that of Greece and
Rome, and Washington have become the Athens of America. The center of
human progress will probably eventually move into regions now peopled
by savages only, and the Kaffir or Dyak of the thirtieth century will
perhaps study the archæology of the Yankee with the same interest that we
now bestow upon the ruins of Carthage and Mycenæ.

Borneo is situated nearly in the middle of the Malay Archipelago. Its
greatest length is 850 miles, greatest width 630 miles, and its area is
192,000 square miles. The whole of New England, the Middle States and
Virginia could be set down in the evergreen forests, which everywhere
cover its surface, and still be surrounded by a wide belt of jungle.
The whole interior is very mountainous. The rivers and creeks are the
highways of Borneo, and other roads are practically unknown. Nothing
could be more arduous, and full of risk to life and limb, than overland
travel through such dense forests and over such rugged mountains as
confront the explorer at every step. The interior is practically an
uninhabitable wilderness. Even in this age of daring and persevering
travelers, no white man has ever crossed the island from one side to the
other. The interior is still a land of mystery, whence come marvelous
accounts of a race of men with tails, with detailed descriptions of their
appearance and habits, stories implicitly believed by many natives.
The climate of Borneo is what one would least expect, considering its
equatorial position. The temperature is very agreeable all the year
round. The mercury usually stands at 80° Fahrenheit in the morning, 88°
at midday, seldom reaching 90°, and never exceeding 93°. The annual
variation of temperature is only 24°—from 69° to 93°. Usually there are
about 200 rainy days in the year, and from 158 to 178 inches of rain.

The vegetation of Borneo is probably unsurpassed by that of any other
country in the world, either in luxuriance, economic value, or, the
possession of wonderful forms. On the spurs of Mount Kina Balu are found
four species of pitcher plants (Nepenthes), of marvelous size and form
and gorgeous colors. The largest pitchers of _Nepenthes rajah_ measure
thirteen inches in length, twenty in circumference, and hold five pints
of water. Among the curiosities of vegetation is the tapang tree, which,
in lieu of spur roots, throws out enormous slab-like buttresses. The
_cocoa_ palm bears a bountiful crop of nuts, which in turn yield oil and
a coarse kind of sugar. The _sago_ palm yields the valuable pearl sago
of commerce. The _areca_ palm produces the betel-nut, which, together
with a fresh pepper-leaf and a bit of moist lime, is in the mouth of
nearly every East Indian native in lieu of tobacco. The _nipa_ palm
yields salt, toddy, excellent syrup and sugar, and the leaves are made
into kadjangs for boat awnings and roofing material for houses. The
_gomouti_ palm produces the best toddy, and the cabbage is esteemed by
the natives as food. The _nibong_ palm is valuable for its timber. The
primeval forests are rich in timber trees, one of which, the _bilian_,
furnishes wood which seemingly never decays. Bamboo grows abundantly in
the interior, and is of great use to the natives.

Of the many fruits of the forest we can only refer to the durian. In size
and shape it resembles a roundish pineapple, and is set all over with
sharp conical spines, three fourths of an inch long, and stout enough to
pierce the hide of a rhinoceros. When the fruit is ripe, the pod opens of
its own accord. Although the smell of the pod is most offensive, we find
inside four or five large cells, in each of which are from three to five
horse-chestnuts, coated thickly with the most delicious paste that ever
tickled the palate of man.

The agricultural products consist of sago, gambier, rice, sugar-cane and
cotton, which is grown to a limited extent by the Dyaks. The cultivation
of coffee is now engaging the attention of enterprising English planters,
and may eventually become the most important industry of the island.

The whole island teems with animal life in great variety of forms. It
would appear, judging from the success of Mr. A. R. Wallace, to be a
paradise for the entomologist. This gentleman once collected seventy-six
species of beetles in one day, many of which were new and of remarkable
form, and during his stay of fifteen months in Sarawak he took over 500
species. There are a number of handsome species of butterflies, including
the magnificent _Ornithoptera Brookana_. This butterfly is eight inches
in width, and of a rich, velvety black color, on which is a broad band
of metallic green scales, resembling a humming-bird’s feathers. Of all
insects Borneo is richest in moths. At one place, on a mountain top, Mr.
Wallace took 200 specimens in a single night, representing 130 species.
In the same place he took in twenty-six nights 1,300 specimens of moths.

The fishes include quite a variety of fresh-water species, among which
may be mentioned the curious tree-climbing perch, the thread-fish, the
celebrated _gourami_, the jumping-fish, or _Periophthalmus_, which hops
about on land in search of small crustaceans stranded by the receding
tide; and the very rare and curious little fish known to icthyologists as
_Luciocephalus pulcher_. The Malays capture a great many fish in small
streams by poisoning the water with an extract made from the pounded
roots of the tuba plant, and either spearing or netting the fish when
they rise to the surface to breathe.

Among the reptiles, the most important is the crocodile, which attains
a maximum length of seventeen feet, and is very destructive to human
life. It seldom happens that a person escapes or is rescued, after
being seized in this burly reptile’s powerful jaws. Some years ago the
Sarawak government began a war of extermination against the crocodiles,
by offering a reward of 35 cents a foot for all killed in the Territory.
In 1878, 266 crocodiles were killed, and $738 paid out in rewards. I
discovered a crocodile’s nest containing fifty-five eggs. The native
crocodile hunters use hook and line. The hook, or _alir_, as it is called
by the Malays, is a simple contrivance made of wood, tied at the end
of a tough bark rope. Another saurian, the gavial, is found in Borneo.
It is not unlike that of the Ganges, called by Dr. Gray, _Tomistoma
schlegelli_. This species inhabits the headwaters of some of the rivers,
and is rarely seen. In the swampy forest near the coast, small reptiles
are very abundant. There are pythons in Borneo twenty-four feet long. Two
twelve-foot specimens were brought to me, and a monster python twenty
feet six inches long, I purchased alive in a cage, and put to death for
its skin and skeleton.

Notwithstanding the contrary opinion of many observers, I think it can
not be said with truth that Borneo is rich in bird-life. There are 392
species on the island. The finest bird is the argus pheasant. In life
its plumage has a soft, velvety richness which is never seen in a dry
specimen. These birds are extremely shy, and are taken by the natives
in snares. Hornbills of several varieties are numerous. A bird of great
commercial value is the swallow which builds the edible nest, so dear to
the palate of the Chinese mandarin. These nests are built in caves, and
are of a gelatinous substance resembling white glue. Their shape is like
a small soup ladle with a broad, flat handle about an inch long. There
are two kinds of nests, the white and the black, the former being most
prized. A picul (133 pounds) of these is worth from two to three thousand

Borneo is favored with a great variety of very interesting mammals. So
far as is at present known, there are ninety-six species, thirty-three
of which are not found elsewhere. In apes and monkeys the island is
especially rich. At the head of the list is the huge, red-haired
orang-utan, of which we will speak presently. Then comes the long-nosed
monkey, with its immense flabby proboscis. The _Nasalis_ is a large
species of monkey, found in the same localities as the orang, always
over the water, and usually in large troops. It is something marvelous
to watch a troop of monkeys, when terrified by an attack with firearms.
They head directly away from the danger, and gallop madly through the
tree-tops along the larger branches. Another interesting mammal is the
long-armed ape, _Hylobates concolor_. This animal is extremely wary, and
so rapid in its flight as to render pursuit exceedingly difficult. The
flying lemur is also found here. Another curious monkey is the tarsier,
a small, nocturnal animal. The krah, _Macacus cynomolgus_, actually
swarms in the low trees along the river banks. The clouded leopard, the
otter-cat, and civet cats of two species occur, and also several other
small members of the cat tribe. Two species of bear are found, the
smallest known. The Indian elephant occurs in the extreme northeastern
part of the island; also the rhinoceros and tapir. These three are very
rare. The thin-haired deer is very common in Sarawak Territory, and is
frequently noosed by the natives. The muntjac, or rib-faced deer, is
occasionally met. Wild hogs are very abundant and destructive. They
sometimes measure forty inches at the shoulder, and are good swimmers.
Many beautiful squirrels are found here, and also, remarkable bats, the
bear cat, otter, porcupines, and other small mammals which fall an easy
prey to the hunter-naturalist.

The orang-utan is found only in Borneo and Sumatra, but is more abundant
in the former island. It is most numerous in the Sarawak Territory. This
animal occupies the fourth highest place in the animal kingdom—first,
man; second, gorilla; third, chimpanzee; and fourth, orang-utan. This
name signifies “Jungle-man,” and is derived from two Malay words,
“orang,” man, and “utan,” jungle. The latter word is usually corrupted
into “otang” or “outang.” The animal itself is rare and difficult to
find. In August, 1878, I went on a hunting expedition for orangs to the
Sadong River, at the mouth of which I settled and commenced prospecting.
One day two men arrived from the headwaters of the Simujan River. They
said they had seen two _mias_ (orangs), and suggested that I should go up
to their village for a week or so. This I did, and was very successful,
taking thirty-one orangs during my first month. In my visit of three
months I secured forty-three orangs. Of these twenty-seven fell to my
rifle, the remainder being shot for me by natives. Our plan of hunting
was to paddle leisurely up and down the streams in a Malay sampan, or
dug-out canoe, and watch the tree-tops on both sides as far back as we
could see. I was armed with a Maynard rifle and field glass, while three
stout Malays or Dyaks furnished the motive power at the paddles. Once in
sight of an orang it was a comparatively easy matter to send a ball into
its breast. On one occasion, while paddling up the Simujan River on a
bright forenoon in September, the Malay suddenly exclaimed “Mias! Mias!
Tuan!” The other paddlers backed water at once, but we saw nothing until
the boat had been backed several yards. Then we espied simply the knee of
a large orang which was lying asleep on a branch about twenty feet above
the water, and twenty yards from us. Its body was completely hidden by
the foliage, so I stood up in the boat and fired at its leg to arouse
it. It started up instantly, growling hoarsely with pain and rage, and
started to swing away with a reach that was surprising in its length.
Fortunately, the water was deep; there were no screw-pines to hinder our
progress, and in a moment our sampan was directly under the old fellow,
who then climbed high into the tree-top to escape us. It was a huge
old mias chappin, the species with the expanded cheeks, long-haired,
big and burly. It growled savagely at us, and one of my Malays kept
saying, “Chappin! Mias Chappin! Fire, sir, fire! That’s Mias Chappin.
Big—big.” My companions were all intensely excited, but I knew the old
fellow was ours, and waited for a good shot. In a moment the opportunity
came, and I fired twice in quick succession at the orang’s breast. It
stopped suddenly, hung for a moment by its hands, then its hold gave
way, and it came plunging downward, snapped off a large dead limb on the
way, and fell broadside into the water, with a tremendous splash which
sent the spray flying all over us. As we seized the arms and pulled
the massive head up to the surface of the water, the old fellow gave a
great gasp, and looked reproachfully at us out of his half-closed eyes.
I will never forget the strange, and even awful sensation with which I
regarded the face of the dying monster. There was nothing in it in the
least suggestive of anything human, but I felt as if I had shot some grim
and terrible gnome or river-god—a satyr, indeed. It was a perfect giant
in size, larger than even the natives had ever seen before. Its head,
body and limbs were of grand proportions, and its weight could not have
been much, if any, less than 190 pounds. This individual is now in the
National Museum, to the extreme left of the group of orangs in the Mammal
Hall. The tallest specimen I secured measured four feet six inches, but
my largest one, that just described, measured half an inch less in height.

There are two species of orang found in Borneo: _Simia Wurmbii_,
characterized in the males by very broad, flat cheek calossities, and
_Simia satyrus_. English naturalists recognize a third species, _Simia
morio_, but without any tenable grounds for doing so.

Orangs in a state of nature are seldom if ever seen on the ground. At
night this animal builds a nest in the forks of a tree or on the top of
a small sapling, by breaking off a quantity of green boughs, and piling
them in the crotch. On these he lies upon his back, grasping with hands
and feet the largest branches within reach. Orangs are perfectly harmless
to human beings unless brought to bay on the ground. They are then as
fierce as tigers. Their food consists of wild fruits, particularly the
durian when in season, the tender shoots of the _Pandanus_, and the
leaves of certain trees.

Although the aboriginal inhabitants of Borneo are divided into several
tribes and scores of sub-tribes or clans, they may with reasonable
exceptions be described as one body, or sub-race, viz.: Dyaks. In general
terms, a Dyak may be described as a Bornean semi-savage, of Malay
extraction, with straight black hair, a yellowish brown complexion, and
smooth face of the Malay type. He is rather below medium stature, but
athletic, and of active and warlike disposition. He is usually clad
only in a bark loin-cloth, but sometimes wears a sleeveless jacket, and
particularly in war, on which occasions it is made of skins or padded
cloth. He is armed with sword and spear, and possibly the _sumpitan_ also
for blowing poisoned arrows. He invariably lives in the jungle, in a long
house-village set up high on posts. Although he has no religion whatever,
and worships nothing, he has profound regard for the rights of property,
respects his wife, and treats her and his children with the highest
consideration. His sustenance is rice, fowls, pigs and fruit grown by
himself, wild animals slain in the forest, and wild fruit, supplemented
by a few things which he receives in exchange for wax, gum, rattans and
gutta, although these are generally given for brass-wire, beads, cloth
and other ornaments. He has no written languages, builds no monuments,
makes no pottery, and only one kind of coarse cloth, carves rather neatly
in wood, and works but little in iron. His bearing is independent,
dignified, respectful. He is a trustworthy friend, but a dangerous foe.

In my judgment the aboriginal inhabitants of Borneo may be divided into
four great tribes: The Kyans, Mongol Dyaks, Land Dyaks and Sea Dyaks.
This classification differs very widely from any hitherto proposed.[K]

The Kyan tribe is numerically the greatest, probably exceeding a quarter
of a million. They are less civilized than the other tribes, are
exceedingly warlike and aggressive. They decapitate their slain enemies,
and keep the cleaned skulls as trophies.

The Mongol Dyaks inhabit northeastern Borneo. They have been greatly
influenced by contact with the Chinese, with whom they have intermarried.
In appearance they resemble the other Dyaks.

The Land Dyaks inhabit the country lying between the Sadong River and
the headwaters of the Sambas, extending southward to the Kapurce, and an
unknown distance beyond. They live inland, and differ in certain customs
from their neighbors, the Sea Dyaks. The Land Dyaks are the only people
in Borneo who burn their dead. The warriors, though brave, are not fond
of war for its own sake, nor are they possessed with an insatiable desire
for plunder, as are the Kyans, and formerly the Sea Dyaks also. Their
social customs closely resemble those of the Sea Dyaks.

The Sea Dyaks consist of seven clans, and occupy all the territory
between the Rejang and Sadong rivers, from the sea-coast southward to the
Kapurce. The Sarawak government estimates their number at 90,000, and the
Land Dyaks at 35,000. The color of a typical Sea Dyak is dark brown, with
a strong tinge of yellow. His hair is long and of a glossy black, and
falls on his shoulders in graceful locks.

The Dyaks are happy and contented. Their wants are few, their diseases
fewer, and their crimes fewer still. In hospitality, human sympathy and
charity, they are not outranked by any people living, as far as I know,
and their morals are as much superior to ours as our intelligence is
beyond theirs. If happiness is the goal of human existence, the Dyak
is much nearer to it than we. In this instance, at least, the highest
civilization has not evolved the most perfect state of society. Is it
possible that man reaches his highest moral development in a state
of savagery? Is it then really true that as we increase in civilized
intelligence, our capacities and propensities for wickedness increase
likewise, and if so, will this always be the case with mankind?

[K] For elaborate discussions of these tribes the reader must consult Mr.
Hornaday’s book, “Ten Years in the Jungle, with Rifle and Knife,” which
has been announced by its publishers, Messrs. Charles Scribner’s Sons, as
nearly ready for circulation.

       *       *       *       *       *

I am here because God has sent me to do a work that no other being could
do but myself. Had there not been room for me, God had not made me. Had I
not been needed in America, God had not placed me in America. Had I not
work in the nineteenth century, I had not been born.… I have a place—am
sent of God on a mission, and if I perform it God shall acknowledge that
I have done His will.—_From Sermons by Bishop Simpson._


The ordinary village fails to get the best out of life. A candid
examination of average boys or girls of the town or country, brought
up without the influence of outside advantages, too often reveals the
fact that they are not, in refinement, in resources or in thought, the
equal of city young people. There is a painful feeling that they are
narrow. Indeed, they feel this themselves, and complain that they have
“no opportunities.” At the same time the narrow life does not shield them
from temptation, and there are almost as many young men in America going
to ruin under the narrowing influences of country and town life as in the
whirl of cities.

Among women the influence is evident. They are, it is true, largely free
from the temptations of frivolity, extravagance and dissipation, but they
are subject to temptations of no light weight. Their few interests lead
them to gossiping, prying and criticising. Lines of class distinction are
drawn so painfully tight that their lives become narrow in sympathies
and associations. Very largely they lack independence of spirit to help
them dare untried lines of conduct. Many of our American villages and
“corners” are the most trying places in the land in which to live. Few
dare to try improvements, enthusiasm meets little or no response, ideas
travel slowly. Village life _looks_ ideal to one wearied by the rush and
wickedness of a city, but there is in it a peculiarly benumbing influence
which is all the more difficult to contend against because so silent in
its action. Yet there are two of the best conditions for high living
in the surroundings of town and country. There are leisure and quiet.
Anything which will impregnate this rare life with enthusiasm and energy
will furnish the happiest conditions for noble action and steady growth.

It is not an easy problem for a reformer in such a locality, but we
believe Mrs. Campbell in her “What-to-do Club” offers a solution which
will rarely fail among girls and women. “The What-to-do Club” is an
unpretending story, but it has a practical grip on this question. It
introduces us to a dozen or more village girls of varying ranks. One
has had superior opportunities; another exceptional training; two or
three have been “away to school;” some are farmers’ daughters; there
is a teacher, two or three poor self-supporters—in fact, about such an
assemblage as any town between New York and Chicago might give us. But
while there is a large enough company to furnish a delightful coterie,
there is absolutely no social life among them. The differences in
their opportunities they have exaggerated until they feel that their
interests are as unlike as those of Fijis and Bostonians. They look
at each other with curiosity merely, and all of them are bored by the
dullness of their lives. Mrs. Campbell puts a wise woman into their
midst. This woman’s experience has taught her that the barrier between
women of different sets is largely their ignorance of each other, their
belief that they have nothing in common. She finds something in common
for these girls. By a little tact, exerted at a village gathering, she
interests them in herself. A second stroke of policy finds them gathered
in her parlor and she clinches her work by giving them an insight into
practical employments—not pleasures, mind you—but work, for women at
home. The interest excited quickens them all. They become alert, capable,
quick-witted, and suddenly see in each other much of which they had
never before dreamed. The false barriers between women invariably fall
before a common interest. Show them how strangely their minds and lives
are alike and the sympathy of similarity makes friends of them. So the
girls of the “What-to-do Club” found, at any rate. Their meetings became
voyages of discovery. Their discoveries were El Dorados to many a one
of their number perplexed by the want of pin-money, or worse still, of
bread-money. Simple, practical, at-home occupations for leisure hours
was the first study, and it is marvelous what a number they found.
One young lady undertakes strawberry culture, and in a single season
clears, off a quarter of an acre, $154.65. Better still, her vigorous
out-of-door life transforms a pair of pale, hollow cheeks until they are
rosy and plump, and awakens healthful interest which soon makes a happy
heart out of a very discontented one. A half acre put into small fruits,
currants, raspberries and blackberries, opens the way for an active young
philanthropist to start a fund for a future kindergarten for her father’s
employés. It does more. It opens the young lady’s eyes to the dignity of
work, puts a bond of sympathy between her and the people who work for
her, and strengthens the common sense of her whole family. Our strawberry
girl tries poultry and finds it the most delightful of employments. It
pays her, too, one season’s work yielding a clear profit of $86.56 on
an expenditure of $73.40. Bees, with their fascinating history, their
exciting family affairs, their industrious honey making, and their clear,
unfailing profit came in for one young Busybody’s attention, and in a
single season this young merchant clears $113.94. One girl tries silk
worms and sends to the club this report of her summer’s work:

    One ounce of eggs                          $5 00
    Fixtures for cocoonery                      5 00
                                              $10 00

    36 pounds stifled cocoons at $1 per pound       $36 00
        Profit                                      $26 00

One of the best discoveries which the club makes is of the possibilities
in fruit canning, jelly making, and, best of all, fruit evaporating.
Like “Dorothy” of the “club,” when we read of the wonders of the latter
we burned to “live in an orchard and evaporate everything that grows.”
How wonderful it seemed to these girls to whom fruit preserving had been
bounded by the limits of the fruit closet and the demands of the table,
to put up jelly for market, to “take in” canning for people too busy to
do their own, to dry fruit in that wonderful evaporator, which would sell
in any market in the country.

It is not strange that these new ideas put into their lives new
possibilities. It showed them that there was something to do at home,
something which was more than a paying employment. For these out-of-door
interests are more. They are health-giving, awakening pursuits. The
girl that engages in such enterprises wins more than a few dollars; she
cultivates the business faculty and arouses a dormant independence which
makes a new creature out of her. This new interest in the lives of Mrs.
Campbell’s girls gave them an interest, at first in purely money making
enterprises, but it soon knit them into friends. Their friendship spread
until they found themselves reading, studying, planning, as one body. The
influence in the story energizes the community. It is, perhaps, quite
possible that in a real club we might meet with more discouragements, but
it is impossible that we fail entirely.

Town and country need more improving, enthusiastic work to redeem them
from barrenness and indolence. Our girls need a chance to do independent
work, to study practical business, to fill their minds with other
thoughts than the petty doings of neighbors. A What-to-do Club is one
step toward higher village life. It is one step toward disinfecting a
neighborhood of the poisonous gossip which floats like a pestilence
around localities which ought to furnish the most desirable homes in our

[L] The What-to-do Club. A Story for Girls. By Helen Campbell. Boston:
Roberts Brothers. 1885.



The “Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle,” with the general
Chautauqua movement, has had its share of criticism. Its advantages have
been pointed out, and sometimes magnified. Its managers have had their
attention called to the dangers and defects of the system. Personally, I
enjoy adverse criticism and the practical counsel which it has brought
quite as much as words of praise, for praise may paralyze effort,
while the goad of the critic is likely to stimulate both ingenuity and

The members of the C. L. S. C. have from the beginning been encouraged to
express freely to the Superintendent of Instruction their dissatisfaction
with either text-books or methods. As a result of this freedom, vigilance
has been promoted, and many improvements have been from time to time

The aims of the C. L. S. C. are unique. The provision of text-books
precisely adapted to these unique aims has been one of the ever-present
problems. If our readers were children in the school room, and daily
recitations were practicable, it would be easy to find suitable
text-books on every subject in the curriculum. If these readers were
chiefly high school or college graduates desiring advanced courses of
reading, it would be comparatively easy to provide standard works written
by specialists for specialists, and assuming on every page a large
measure of knowledge already possessed by the reader. If it were the aim
of the C. L. S. C. to study one subject at a time, and that for a long
time, exhaustively, from its alphabet to its “last word,” it would not be
difficult to find numerous text-books on that subject adapted to every
variety of capacity and attainment.

The C. L. S. C. is not, however, designed for school children, nor for
advanced readers, nor for specialists. It has enrolled but few names of
members under eighteen years of age. Its members are “out of school.”
It rejoices in thousands of college graduates, but these take up its
readings not for advanced study as post-graduates, but to review under
favorable conditions the scholastic studies of former years, and in some
cases, perchance, to make amends for carelessness and superficiality
during those years of unappreciated opportunity.

The C. L. S. C. is therefore a “school of reading at home” for college
graduates who desire, whatever the motive, to review the college
course, and for people who, having been deprived of early educational
opportunity, desire by a general course of reading to place themselves
in sympathy with the school and college world; to know something of the
educational courses now being pursued by their children; to test their
own powers by a survey of the varied field of letters, and thus by our
four years’ superficial course of reading prepare for special studies
further on. The C. L. S. C. aims to provide, therefore, first for the
four years’ general course, and afterward for the special studies.

The scope of the four years’ course is the usual college curriculum.
With this aim we began. To this aim we adhere. The success of the scheme
in promoting intellectual quickening and activity has been attested by
thousands who have tried it for several years.

Here lies the chief cause of our embarrassment. It is difficult
to provide books precisely adapted to the needs of our peculiar
constituency. The Superintendent of Instruction and the Counselors have
felt this from the beginning. Heavy and elaborate books discourage a
class which we are anxious to lure into the love of literature. Books
too much abridged fail to satisfy more mature minds. Old books may be
behind the times, or, although acknowledged to be standards, may not
for the reasons above given be fully adapted to our readers. As for new
books—every one knows how hard it is to secure them, and how easily a
flippant criticism may destroy the confidence of the uninitiated in
them. Notwithstanding these embarrassments we have tried to do our best,
providing old books where the council could agree upon them, and new
books where they seemed to be absolutely necessary.

It is not to be expected that any book, especially any new book, will
meet with universal approval. As for criticism—well, who knoweth the
ways of critics with the new books! Did not Samuel Taylor Coleridge say
of Burke’s essay on “The Sublime and the Beautiful,” “It seems to me a
poor thing?” Did not Horace Walpole call Goldsmith “an inspired idiot?”
Did not Dr. Johnson pronounce Fielding a “blockhead?” Does not Hume
affirm that “no page of Shakspere is without glaring faults?” Was not the
manuscript of Thackeray’s “Vanity Fair” rejected because the critic to
whom it was submitted pronounced it “without interest?”

Some books of the C. L. S. C. have excited unfavorable
criticism—religious books by those who do not care to read religious
books at all, and think it an impertinence to obtrude them upon the
general reader; certain scientific books because “not up to the times,”
or the critic being himself a scientific specialist is certain that the
views of our specialist are “unsound.”

Concerning one of the books on the list, a correspondent says:

    “It is useless—worse than useless; it is harmful. Its style is
    involved, obscure, bombastic, florid, ‘highfalutin’,’ diffuse,
    disfigured by straining after effect, by the effort for fine
    writing, and by many evil features carefully to be avoided.”

I do not quote the above as a specimen of classic English, but as
indicating the temper of the writer, whose letter is accompanied by
nineteen manuscript pages of closely written criticisms upon the
condemned volume.

Concerning this same book, a high authority in English to whom it was
submitted, has said: “It is a clear, compact, and readable statement of
the laws and principles of speech.” A Boston writer of ability had said:
“This little volume is the very best text-book for any one desiring to
perfect himself in the laws and principles of speech. It is grammar,
rhetoric and composition combined, and is doubly worth its price.” A
Philadelphia critic had said: “A better treatise could not be placed in
the hands of a student who has not been initiated into the intricacies
which make prose composition an intolerable bore to the young.”

Other and equally strong commendations of this book might be quoted,
commendations which were received from trustworthy authorities before
it was placed on our list. I submitted the volume to one of the best
literary critics in the country, who called attention to some errors
which needed correction. Owing to the illness of the author, or for
some other reason, his attention was not called to the corrections
required, and therefore numerous minor defects, which would have been
carefully remedied by its competent and scholarly author, appeared in
the new edition. Dr. Johnson made six thousand alterations in the second
edition of “The Rambler.” But for the oversight, for which I fear I must
acknowledge myself responsible, the volume under consideration would have
been thoroughly revised.

Many local circles have as leaders men of literary ability and
scholarship who, prepared for such wise service by the humility which
comes from years of educational experience, have pointed out these
defects, at the same time fairly representing the true value of the
book, and putting emphasis upon its admirable instructions which, by
hyper-criticism, may have been lost sight of.

Concerning another book on the course, a critic says:

    “As a close student of the classics for years past, I must say
    that I think there is very little scholarship displayed or
    employed in Prof. Wilkinson’s work on Greek literature.… Further,
    the arrangement is senseless, even harmful. Literature is a
    growth, and largely the reflex of the people’s life and thought.
    It must then be treated historically, and not in the topsy-turvy
    fashion of Prof. Wilkinson.”

The same writer proposed another series of works on ancient Greek
literature, as a substitute for the two volumes of Prof. Wilkinson. The
series he proposed, however, contained an amount of matter which would
prove utterly discouraging to our readers and which would cost ten times
as much as the more condensed work of Dr. Wilkinson. Besides all this,
the work of Dr. Wilkinson meets the object of the C. L. S. C.

When one gets into the world of criticism, he finds himself among
“doctors” who “disagree.” I have quoted one view of Dr. Wilkinson’s
text-books, presented by our unknown critic. Now for another. Dr. Howard
Crosby, of New York, a most finished scholar and close critic, and a
judge of both English and Greek literature, says: “Dr. Wilkinson’s Greek
course is clear, attractive, judicious in its treatment of the subject,
and fills a valuable place in literature.” Of the second volume, the same
scholar says: “The new volume is thoroughly attractive. It is fully up to
the high standard of the other.” Such commendation as this sustained our
earliest judgment of the works in question. Prof. Frieze, of the Latin
Department of the University of Michigan, says: “I have not yet seen the
‘Preparatory Latin Course in English,’ though I was favored with a copy
of the Greek. I have only to say that if the Latin equals the Greek it
can not fail to be a contribution to classical culture both for classical
and English scholars, of very great value. I have been delighted with
a perusal of Prof. Wilkinson’s critical notices, his own translations,
and his selections of the translations of others, and I sincerely
congratulate him on the admirable style in which he has presented the
matter, as well as the character of the matter itself, and the plan of
the whole work.”

Prof. A. C. Kendrick, D.D., head of the Department of Greek in the
University of Rochester, says:

    “The plan of the work is quite unique, yet certainly adapted to
    the wants of a large and increasing class of young persons in our
    country. Its execution seems to me very felicitous; it is marked
    by the taste and scholarship which were to be expected from its
    accomplished author.”

Dr. Alvah Hovey, President of the Theological Institution, writes to Dr.

    “In these latter days I do not often read a volume through from
    beginning to end without omitting a chapter, paragraph, or
    sentence. But I have read in this way your ‘Preparatory Greek
    Course,’ simply because it is so instructive and captivating a
    volume that I could not persuade myself to pass over any word of
    it unread.”

The Rev. A. P. Peabody, D.D., LL.D., late of Harvard University, writes:

    “I have looked through Mr. Wilkinson’s ‘Preparatory Greek Course
    in English,’ and am prepared to give it my warmest commendation.
    It supplies a need which is more and more felt from year to
    year, for two reasons, one for which I rejoice, the higher
    standard of culture that prevails in society at large; the
    other, inevitable, yet to me a subject of regret, the diminishing
    disposition on the part of well-educated people to study the
    classical languages.”

The Boston _Watchman_ adds to such commendations as the above the
following testimony:

    “The plan is an ingenious one, and is carried out with spirit. It
    need not be said that the fine literary taste and critical acumen
    of Prof. Wilkinson are shown to much advantage. Only by a fair
    trial can the practical worth of such a series be proved. We have
    found pleasure in reading the volume.”

In suggesting to Dr. Wilkinson the idea of this “After-school Series,” I
requested him:

1. To give in two volumes the substance of what the college boy in his
preparatory and college course would learn of Greek literature—not the
language, but the literature;

2. To put into his books as far as possible the method and spirit of
the college recitation room, discussing collateral topics, introducing
biographical and classical incidents, and employing illustrations from
modern life and literature; to put his individuality into the work, so
that teacher and pupils might be brought into friendly relations, and
thus something of the animation and enthusiasm of the recitation room be
enjoyed by solitary students.

It is Dr. Wilkinson’s attempt to realize this idea that produces the
impression upon one critic of the “uninstructive chattiness” of the
author. To a man who has just spent eight years in the study of the
classics, and who makes them a specialty, there may be some things in Dr.
Wilkinson’s book which are not instructive; to people for whom the book
was written, there is not an uninstructive page in the book. Perfection
in the recitation room may not be possible. Qualities in the _viva voce_
teacher which attract and delight and benefit one student may not so
favorably impress, and may sometimes almost annoy, another. A member of
the Circle writes (in reference, no doubt, to Dr. Wilkinson’s book): “One
author frequently converses, as it were, with the reader, telling him in
a friendly way of the many things he will relate after a while.… The book
has caused the Circle to be ridiculed, and I could not think it was not
without cause.”

I can readily see how a college graduate, just released from the
recitation room, with lofty ideals of scholarship, and with really a vast
amount of knowledge, might depreciate with a tone of contempt such a work
as that of Dr. Wilkinson. I can see, too, how that smile of contempt from
a scholar with local reputation might annoy and afflict less cultivated
people belonging to a local circle who, devoted to an institution, are
anxious that it and its text-books should receive the commendation
of cultivated men. Just such commendation Dr. Wilkinson’s books have
received. There may be now and then a slight tone of “chattiness.” There
may be too frequent “forecasting of plan and purpose,” but on the whole
the Professor’s work is admirably done, and has received the unqualified
approval of our best students, men and women of the highest culture,
eminent professors of Greek and Latin who fully understand and appreciate
the aim of the author. I can assure my correspondent that there is
nothing in Dr. Wilkinson’s books to cause the Circle or the books to be
“ridiculed” by any true scholar.

A recent university graduate, and I have no doubt a brilliant scholar,

    “I wonder if it is safe to hint that, while the Chautauqua Idea
    is a noble and praiseworthy one, it is possible that the working
    out of the Idea may be defective?… When the members of the Circle
    read so faithfully the works prescribed, giving in many cases
    time that can ill be spared, it is but just that the very best
    should be given them to study, that alone will be of profit to
    the members, and help them to grow.”

The same writer pleads for “vigorous supervision by scholars and
authorities on the respective subjects as the only thing that will enable
the Chautauqua Idea to be carried out in a way that will help, and make
them better and stronger in thought and life.”

This sentiment meets my heartiest approval. Indefatigably and
conscientiously have the Superintendent of Instruction and the Counselors
sought to do this very work for the readers who seek their direction.

It would surprise our friends to examine our budget of criticisms _pro_
and _con_, from all classes of people; from public school teachers,
college professors, ministers, post-graduates, classicists, scientists,
so called “self-made men,” and people who, professing to know almost
nothing, seek advice and offer counsel. We have diligently sought to
profit by the things which have been said.

Our readers must see the difficulties which encompass us; the wide
diversity of opinion concerning certain books, and the impossibility of
securing works which will receive universal approval.

There are persons who do not believe in popular education at all. A
recent correspondent, a man of immense wealth, wrote: “Mechanics and
sewing women should confine themselves to industrial education, and not
aspire to the knowledge of literature and art.” Would it be possible to
produce works on literature and art for the people which a man of that
type could approve?

An author of some pretensions, without much reputation in literary lines,
tried to place a work of his own on the list of the C. L. S. C. _in lieu_
of one on the same subject already adopted. Failing to win a place for
his own, he proceeded in another book savagely to criticise the preferred
volume. Would it be possible for this disappointed author to approve any
book on his specialty that might be placed upon our course?

A certain youthful professor in an American college sneered at the idea
of anybody enjoying the poetry of Homer or of Virgil unless he could
read it in the original. Would it be possible for this literary fop to
appreciate the books which seek to present the best thoughts of the old
authors in classic English?

Dear fellow-student: Feel free to offer criticisms which may be helpful
to the Board of Counsel. We do not modify our policy for every criticism
received. But we weigh conscientiously and carefully all that is said in
favor of or against the prescribed books. From year to year our course
has been modified. I stand ready at all times to accept the best books;
to abandon the best we have for anything better that may be placed within
our reach. And as our experience broadens, helpful criticisms multiply,
and authors understand our peculiar needs, we shall approach more and
more nearly to the ideals which now shine above us.

Do not, I beseech you, fail to protest against false, querulous and
impertinent criticisms, and against that hyper-criticism which delights
in nothing so much as in pointing out faults and defects, losing sight of
the great things in excessive eagerness to detect slight inaccuracies.

Remember that no book is placed upon the course that does not have the
personal approval of the best critics, and remember, moreover, that it
will never be possible to provide a book which is above criticism. As one
of our Counselors writes:

    “Good books have always been criticised upon some points
    adversely. Plato freely criticises Homer. Quintilian criticises
    Cicero. Cicero criticises Demosthenes. Addison criticises Milton.
    And in each instance no doubt real faults were pointed out. The
    most enlightened French critics used to pooh-pooh Shakspere. They
    did likewise with Dante.”

College students, with all their admiration for the professors under whom
they moved through four years of study, have some foibles and defects to
report and laugh at; but on the whole they honor the men who made them
and led them. The authors of our text-books are our professors. On the
whole they have done their work well. It is proper to note their faults
and avoid them, but in defending them, and in being proud of them, and in
rejoicing in the course of reading which they have provided, we have the
endorsement of wise, scholarly and experienced educators.

Finally, let us learn the characteristics of the true critic, and
according to the measure of our ability let us seek to possess them:

“A critic must have breadth, accuracy, sympathy, reverence, and love. He
must have no partialities, and no aversions. He must not be captious, but



_First Week_ (ending June 8).—1. “The Mechanism of English,” in THE

2. Sunday Readings for June 7, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Second Week_ (ending June 15).—1. “Easy Lessons in Animal Biology,” in

2. Sunday Readings for June 14, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Third Week_ (ending June 22).—1. “Home Studies in Chemistry,” in THE

2. Sunday Readings for June 21, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Fourth Week_ (ending June 30).—1. “The Heart Busy with Things About Us,”

2. Sunday Readings for June 28, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.



1. A Review Lesson—The History of Alexander.

2. Selection—“The Prayer of Agassiz.” By Whittier.

3. Reading—Story of “Perseus.” From “The Heroes.” By Charles Kingsley.
[See “Talk About Books,” in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for May, 1885; also poem in
present number.]


4. _Conversazione_—The Cause of the Trouble between England and Russia.

5. Selection—“Davie; an Epistle to a Brother Poet.” By Burns.

6. Critic’s Report.


1. Selection—Alcibiades. From “Plutarch’s Lives,” or from “The Young
Folks’ Plutarch.”

2. A Paper on Our Local Birds.

3. Recitation—“Pegasus in Pound.” By Longfellow.


4. Essay—Alchemy. [Beside giving definition and history, allusion
might be made to its introduction into fiction. See Goethe’s “Faust,”
Scott’s “Kenilworth” and “Antiquary,” Bulwer’s “Last Days of Pompeii,”
Hawthorne’s “Birth Mark,” Hoffman’s “Sand Man” in “Weird Tales,” and many
other works which these will suggest.]

5. A General Talk on the Rebellion in the Canadian Provinces.

6. A Paper on Richard Grant White.



1. A Paper on the Practical Education of American Girls.

2. A Character Sketch—Louis Agassiz.


3. Selection—“The Tragedy of the Night Moth.” By Carlyle.

4. A Sketch of “Edie Ochiltre,” the Beggar in Scott’s “Antiquary.”


5. Essay—The Parthenon; its History, Description, and Scattered Remains.

6. A Talk on Alaska.



1. A Report Presenting a Summary of the Year’s Work.

2. Selection—“Song of the Greeks.” By Thomas Campbell.


3. Essay—Science and Art in Housekeeping.

4. Recitation—The Dinner Hour. From “Lucille,” Part I., Canto II., 23d
and 24th stanzas.


5. A Paper on Schliemann’s Researches in Troy.

6. A Half-hour Good-by Social.

The following suggestions are also offered for the closing exercises:

A C. L. S. C. banquet followed by toasts.

A luncheon party and charades.

Readings connected with any part of the year’s work, illustrated by

An evening of games, such as “Characters” or “Twenty Questions,” in which
one of the company selects a character or an object, and is then to be
questioned by all the rest until they find out what he has in mind. The
questions must be asked in such a way that the reply can be “yes,” “no,”
or “I don’t know.” The company who can not guess rightly before the
twentieth question is to be considered dull.

“Throwing Light” is also interesting. One of the party begins to tell
a story, concealing all names. When any one thinks he knows what it is
about he raises his hand, takes up the story, and goes on with it until a
third is enlightened and proceeds with the narrative, and so on until it
is evident to all in the room.



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


1. OPENING DAY—October 1.

2. BRYANT DAY—November 3.

3. SPECIAL SUNDAY—November, second Sunday.

4. MILTON DAY—December 9.

5. COLLEGE DAY—January, last Thursday.

6. SPECIAL SUNDAY—February, second Sunday.

7. FOUNDER’S DAY—February 23.

8. LONGFELLOW DAY—February 27.

9. SHAKSPERE DAY—April 23.

10. ADDISON DAY—May 1.

11. SPECIAL SUNDAY—May, second Sunday.

12. SPECIAL SUNDAY—July, second Sunday.

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

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

15. COMMENCEMENT DAY—August, third Tuesday.

16. GARFIELD DAY—September 19.

       *       *       *       *       *

The great value in doing solid reading is that it enhances the value of
all other experience. A member of the class of ’87, writing from ROME,
ITALY, says: “I think the course for this year particularly interesting,
especially for our party, which is to spend the spring months among the
ruins of that noble capital, Athens.” The reading our friend has been
doing has recommended itself to her foreign friends, who have made many
inquiries about the course of reading, even wishing to be enrolled as
members of our great Circle. The teacher over seas, like the tourist,
finds benefit in the work. A member of the class of ’83, writing from
BULGARIA, says: “The time from six to seven in the morning is all that
I can spare from my other work, but it makes the day brighter to begin
it in this way, and so I read and study and think, and get charming
glimpses of home circles. _Next year_ I mean to have a circle here, and
hope to know enough of the language to put some of the best things into

On the home side of the Atlantic, circle life seems to be vigorous and
growing. The organizations of past years hold to the work, and many new
fields are opened monthly. At BROCKVILLE, ONTARIO, the “Island City”
branch of thirteen members was organized last October. A simple but very
effective method of work has been followed, that of appointing examiners
on each subject, different members being appointed from time to time, so
that all may be kept interested. They have had for president a college
graduate to help them over tough places in their classics, and a
practical chemist is proving the marvels of chemistry to them.

LIVERPOOL, NOVA SCOTIA, sends an encouraging word of the progress of
their circle, formed in 1883, and now boasting twelve active members. The
plan for the evening’s work in this circle is very good. Introductory
exercises of prayer, minutes of last meeting, roll call, responded to
by quotations, and a select reading, precede the evening drill, which
is an informal conversation on one or more of the C. L. S. C. studies,
conducted by a leader.——We quite agree with our friend at NIAGARA, who
thinks that Chautauquans ought to know that there are other places in
ONTARIO beside Toronto where circles are doing good work, and that their
town is one of them. If all the Ontario towns have as bright and brave
circles as Niagara, we most certainly hope we shall hear from them.
“In December, 1882,” so their history runs, “we formed a triangle,
with angles of various degrees of acuteness or obtuseness, but did not
commence work till January, and being three months behind time we found
the work rather heavy, but in proof of our zeal can report that not one
of us that year ever missed any of our fortnightly meetings. In October,
1883, we were joined by another member, not less acute, and ‘stood
four-square to all the winds that blow.’ We expected to form a real
circle, with all our angularities smoothed off, but find ourselves this
year with the original three, but from sickness and other reasons have
had our meetings sadly broken in upon, so that we need to use our motto,
‘Never be discouraged.’ So far we have all enjoyed the work. We all lead
busy lives, without our Chautauqua studies, but we hope that they will
give to our lives sweetness and strength, and breadth and power. Many
of us have done more reading each year than the course, but then such
reading is apt to be desultory, and the fact of studying with others
gives greater interest. We have generally kept the memorial days, and we
all hope to visit Chautauqua some time.”

A step has been taken in western MAINE to form a Chautauqua association.
AUBURN, LEWISTOWN and adjoining towns have many members of the C. L. S.
C. In March a meeting was held in Auburn, and after a banquet a motion
was passed providing for an associated circle of all the C. L. S. C.s of
Western Maine. True to the Chautauqua instinct, they are going to have
a summer meeting. MARANOCOOK is the chosen place, and June is the time.
Western Maine Chautauquans have the hearty good wishes of us all for a
delightful summer session. At their March meeting, these friends passed a
just and appreciative resolution of gratitude to Chancellor Vincent for
the happy thought that conceived the Chautauqua Idea, and the untiring
and well directed zeal that has made it so efficient.——At WOODFORDS,
MAINE, the “Arlington” circle of fourteen members held twenty-five
meetings during the winter. Such zealous work justifies their claim that
they possess the “enchanted number” for a circle. The Arlington proposes
a parlor entertainment for a near day.

GREENLAND N. H. has two very strong Chautauqua organizations, the
“Baketel” circle and the “Spare Minute Class.” Founder’s Day was
celebrated with great _éclat_ by these warm admirers of Chancellor
Vincent. A public meeting was held in the town hall, with exercises
of song, recitation, reading and tableaux. The last tableau was so
characteristic it deserves a description. It was “The Chautauquans at
Home,” and represented the entire local circle and spare minute class at
work. One was rocking the cradle and reading, another was at the ironing
table with an open book, and several were sewing and studying at the same
time. A happy close to the evening was a presentation to the honored
president of the circle, the Rev. O. S. Baketel, of an elegant easy chair.

Among the senior circles it is pleasant to be able to count in that of
NORTH GROTON, N. H. The secretary says: “The ‘Angle’ has kept silent
since 1882, thinking that only two was a small number to report as a
local circle, yet all this time we have met at every opportunity, for
reading and questioning. We had long wished for guidance in home study,
and the ‘course’ was eagerly taken as soon as heard of. This year two
earnest ’88s have joined us. With us ‘Chautauqua has come to stay.’
‘For,’ as Dr. Vincent said at Framingham, ‘goals yet grander wait our
winning on the mountains by and by.’”

And now we have a nautical circle. The first mate, so we imagine, has
sent us notes from the log-book, running over their whole course. Perhaps
their sailing may guide another crew: “We have read in THE CHAUTAUQUAN,
from month to month, many interesting reports from local circles, which
have been like fresh breezes to our own sails. One would judge from
reading that _success_ was stamped upon _all_ methods of circle work.
We have thought sometimes that a part of the unwritten history of such
work might be helpful. We suspect that—way back in the annals—some things
were undertaken that did not turn out just right, and a few chapters from
out that experience might save many a small boat from going to pieces in
dangerous waters. In general, the ‘Vincent’ circle, of WEST BRATTLEBORO,
VERMONT, has had fair sailing from port to port, set down on the C. L. S.
C. line of travel. Four years ago a few of us began floating, not knowing
enough ourselves of whither we were bound, to give a general invitation
for ‘all aboard.’ At last, reinforced, we tried to go in two separate
boats, which kept just near enough together, and just far enough apart,
to render such a division of the crew unnecessary, to say the least.
One year we failed to set sail soon enough, and came in late at every
port. This year we make one crew, under one efficient captain, a few
only compelled by circumstances, or preferring to go in their own little
skiffs. October 1, 1884, we set sail, and made directly for the shores
of Greece. Landing under the direction of two well chosen generals, we
scattered to spy out the land, bringing in such reports as we were able,
at the time appointed. On the evening of November 3d we gathered to do
reverence to the memory of one who had wished us ‘Godspeed.’ About that
time experiments in chemistry furnished us with illumination. Since the
observance of that memorial day, we have known that we were still landed
upon the shores of Greece, but reports concerning the country and its
people, past and present, have been few, for finding ourselves in danger
of forgetting, rather never having known, our ‘mother tongue,’ we have
spent some time in practice of the ‘art of speech,’ and, loyal to our
native land, we have observed some of its festivals, and repeated to each
other words from those we all delight to honor.”

For faithful work few circles can exceed that in FRANKLIN, MASS. The
circle numbers sixty-six members, nineteen of them being of the class
of ’88. Meetings are held fortnightly. Not one regular meeting has
been omitted since October 1, 1883. The president, although pastor
of a large church, has been absent but five times since the circle
was formed—November, 1882. The work done at these meetings is solid
review of past readings. “Founder’s Day” was observed by accepting an
invitation from the “Star” circle, FOXBORO, MASS., to visit them and
engage in a “Question Match” on Greek History, after which a bountiful
collation was served, and a social time enjoyed by all. Each heart felt
grateful to Chancellor Vincent for the C. L. S. C.——At ROCKPORT, MASS.,
the circle has fallen from fifteen to five, but the five faithful seem
to enjoy their work too well to need any commiserating. They are so
interested in their studies they actually don’t realize they have grown
smaller—a method of taking things which removes the stings from all
falls in fortune. The “Granite” circle turns each alternate meeting into
a Round-Table, and finds that the plan works capitally. The circle is
anticipating the pleasure of going in a body to Framingham Assembly this

MASSACHUSETTS is the banner State again. At COCHESETT twenty-four members
form a circle of “Plymouth Rocks.” The Longfellow memorial was their
first experience with special days; a successful experiment, too, we
judge, for they have decided to continue the plan for the remainder of
the year. Cochesett is an Assembly offspring—a child of Framingham, which
gave the first interest to its zealous founder.——The “Philomaths,” of NEW
BEDFORD, send greetings to all our fraternity. Since their reorganization
in October the circle has resolved itself into groups of six or seven,
which hold weekly round-tables for thorough study.——It is wonderful what
enormous interest some circles get on their investments. Here is the
“Bryant,” of WORCESTER, MASS., actually making 100 per cent. in less
than two years. In the fall of 1883 they began with twenty members,
to-day they number forty. Is it far-fetched to attribute something of
their success to the “question basket,” which forms an important part
of their program?——The “Alphas,” thirty-two in number, of ATTLEBOROUGH,
send us some capital hints for our programs. At a Greek evening recently,
ten of their number were selected to give brief descriptions of Greek
heroes—the rest of the company guessed the hero described. A half hour
was also spent at the Mardigras, and a friend, fresh from the carnival
scenes, described his experiences among the merry masqueraders. At an
hour of electrical experiments a very happy device was exhibited recently
before the circle. The electricity played over tin-foil, with grooves
an eighth of an inch apart, and through a stencil-like arrangement
showed to the surprise of the circle the illuminated letters, “C. L.
S. C.”——_The Saturday Union_, of LYNN, MASS., is doing most effective
work for the Chautauquans of its vicinity, and a strong body of workers
it has to serve. By a late issue we notice that there are in the
city six circles, and the list of Chautauquans, which appears with
their residences in the same paper, includes 114 names. This “goodly
companie” has given a course of lectures this winter; the seventh in
the course was on “Electricity”—and by a lady who, we are happy to say,
illustrated her talk by apparatus of her own making. Our Chautauqua
women! How proud we are growing of their ability, their pluck, their
womanliness!——NORTH BROOKFIELD’S circle has recently been favored by a
poem on “The Chautauqua Idea,” also by a woman.——It would be unjust to
allow a mistake, which found its way into last month’s “Local Circles,”
to go uncorrected. At the Longfellow celebration held by the Chautauquans
of Boston and vicinity, there were five hundred instead of fifty persons

The treasurer of the “Hall on the Hill” to be erected at Framingham
this year, paid a well deserved compliment to the “Clio” circle, of
PROVIDENCE, R. I., when he said that he wished there were more circles
like the “Clio.” These energetic friends took Chancellor Vincent at his
word last summer, when he promised to lecture for any circle which would
pledge $200 to the “Hall on the Hill.” They raised the money, had their
lecture, and are satisfied. Their hard work seems to have only whetted
their intellectual appetites, for they have had a long list of brilliant
talks by distinguished men in addition to regular circle work. By the
way, the New England branch of the class of ’87 was to hold a meeting
in Providence in April, and the “Clio” was to act as hostess. What was
done? A Providence neighbor of the “Clio” is the “Channing” circle of
twenty-five members. We notice that these Providence friends use a very
pretty and appropriate heading on their letter paper. At the top of the
sheet, in the corners, appear the names of president, vice president and
secretary, and below “Headquarters of the Channing Circle of the C. L. S.

A party of DANBURY, CONN., Chautauquans went abroad one night not long
ago to see “Athens in the Golden Age.” A delightful time these tourists
had. They made the passage of the Mediterranean Sea, and at Athens
visited the Acropolis, went to the Areopagus to listen to Pericles,
called on Xantippe, and did a hundred more interesting things, at last
coming home via “Plymouth Rock.” The “Nestors,” however, do much beside
travel. They have an excellent method of working the question box, which
is an inevitable part of their program. The questions are gathered just
before adjournment, and shuffled, each member drawing one. The first
exercise after roll call at the next meeting is the answering of these
queries. The imaginary trips which our Danbury friends like so well,
the “Alpha” circle, of NORWICH, makes a part of each evening’s work.
When they journeyed from Boston to New York they went with Howells in a
“Sleeping Car.” They have lived over, on paper, all the preparations for
the trip abroad, the life on the steamer, and have done the sight-seeing
of the British Isles. These tourists have enlivened their travels by many
a happy device. Once it was a _conversazione_, and again, in preparation,
perhaps, for their visit to Athens, a pronouncing match on Greek proper
names. What wonder they have had a phenomenal growth! Last year there was
not a circle in Norwich, now there are six. When the “Alpha” organized
last fall, it was with eleven members, to-day they have fifty. Nothing to
be surprised at, perhaps. It seems to have been “good growing weather”
for the C. L. S. C., throughout New England.——MERIDEN, CONN., has had
the common experience, the circle having increased to sixty-six members.
They have found the key to the mastery of the Greek names and chemical
terms. The pronouncing matches have unlocked the doors and the fortunate
Meridenites are able to talk glibly on their Grecian rambles. A second
circle, “Hanging Hills Class,” was organized last fall in Meriden. It has
grown to twenty members, who are doing superior work. This class observed
Longfellow’s Day appropriately. The ’89 outlook must be very promising in
Meriden.——“A small twig of the great New England branch,” the “Endeavor,”
of STRATFORD, calls itself, and a healthy fruit-bearing twig, if small,
we should call any circle that can double its membership, as it has done,
in less than a year.

A splendid move has been made by the Chautauquans of NEW YORK CITY. The
circles had never united there for public work until, April 9th, after
a deal of planning and much labor the various local circles in the
city, with one from JERSEY CITY, held a public meeting at the Broadway
Tabernacle. Chancellor Vincent was secured to deliver the address. A
large and enthusiastic audience, numbering about 1,200 persons, was
present. “School after School, or the Every-day College” was the theme
of the address. The friends who had prepared the meeting were more
than jubilant over the way the interesting lecture “took” among their
guests, and declared that though some of them had long been members
of the C. L. S. C. all of them received new vistas of the work. After
the lecture the Chancellor held a reception, at which the members of
the following New York circles were received by him: The “Garfield,”
“Irving,” “Unique,” “Spare Moment,” “Central,” “Park Avenue,” and the
“Round-Table,” of Jersey City.——BROOKLYN has a “Pierian” spring, at
which twenty-five devotees of the muses “drink deep” and joyously.
Essays, debates, recitations, quizzes, poems, and chemical experiments
are the draughts these friends draw from their well. So happy are
they in their festivities that another year they hope to see a sister
welling up by their side.——At RANDALL’S ISLAND, NEW YORK CITY, there
is one of those steady, hard-working circles, which by their fruits so
favorably impress the people who watch them. The “Excelsior” has been in
existence for two years and has a roll of seventeen persons. A program
full of good points is carried out at their regular sessions, which are
interrupted only by Memorial services. The secretary finds, he writes,
that the influence and example in regard to Chautauqua work is shown
by an increased attendance and membership.——When circles increase in
geometrical ratio—and a little over—year after year, it is not strange
that a time should come when the leader inquires “What _shall_ we do?”
At GLENS FALLS four graduates, eleven ’86s, twenty-three Pansies, and
fifty-nine Plymouth Rocks—ninety-seven in all—form the circle. It is
an unwieldy number to study together, but, writes the secretary, “We
are fearful that division into smaller circles will greatly lessen the
membership. We are considering for next year this plan: We shall have our
general meetings as at present and encourage the formation of sections
for special meetings, making the leaders of the sections, together with
the officers of the general circle, an executive committee.” The plan is
good, and if the monthly joint meetings are made “state occasions,” there
will be but little danger of the sections losing ground.——At TROY the
monthly meetings are conducted in an admirable way—not one of the least
of the secrets of their success is their habit of sending out cards with
the program, and some such stirring word as this:

    “We hope every member will be prepared with some facts on No. 6
    [“No. 6” was a _conversazione_ on “Our Territories”]. Let us make
    it a success. Our whole course is highly remunerative to one who
    reads. Make your hours count for profit. We have all the time
    there is. Not everything that comes to us and asks a little of
    our time should be granted audience or gratification.”

A similar plan is followed by the “Mettowee” circle, of GRANVILLE, N. Y.
A “Round-Table” on a recent program was, “What we have seen (mentally or
otherwise) during the past week.” If the Glens Falls people will make
their monthly meetings big enough to arouse the pride of the members
of the section, the result will not be doubtful.——SHUSHAN, N. Y., has
two circles. The younger of the two is reported as “fast becoming one
of the fixed and instructive institutions of the village,” a state that
the three-year-old circle of DEANSVILLE is already in, we surmise,
from the report of the work of its membership. The Deansville circle
holds an annual public meeting, at which an entertainment is provided
and refreshments served. Preparations are being made for this year’s
meeting.——A “Crescent” has appeared in KNOXBORO since the year 1885
began. Though so late in beginning that they are obliged to devote almost
all their time to the readings, and are too busy to prepare elaborate
programs, the interest has not flagged since the start. The “Crescent”
has ten members.——SYRACUSE has always been one of the most interesting
of the local centers of the C. L. S. C. Their graduates, of whom one is
the genial Secretary of Chautauqua, Mr. W. A. Duncan, have organized a
chapter of the “S. H. G.” They propose to hold monthly meetings, and to
pursue one of the special courses of study. The membership of this new
class is eleven now, and there will be yearly “more to follow.”——The
“Philomathean,” of LANCASTER, N. Y., opening with 10 members, has
grown to fifteen beside honorary and local members. Constant variety
in programs, no “set way,” and hard work have been the maxims of their

The “Broadway” circle, of CAMDEN, N. J., puts in after a program of
remarkably good timber, and the outline of their thorough organization,
this healthy testimony: “‘Broadway’ circle is busily engaged in promoting
this home study, and the older we grow the more we are able to discern
the many blessings derived from it; the more we read and study the books
the more does it stimulate our interest and thirst for knowledge.”——At
PHILLIPSBURG, N. J., the circle has met this year with a sad loss in
the death of Mrs. F. B. Holbert. Mrs. Holbert was a member of the class
of ’84, the president of the circle in Phillipsburg at the time of her
death, and a most zealous friend of the C. L. S. C. To her the circle
at Phillipsburg owes its existence.——At BRIDGEPORT a circle of eight
was organized in October, 1884. A faithful leader has helped to keep
them interested and alive, and already they write that a taste for solid
reading has been acquired by the members.——A local circle has been
organized at EAST ORANGE, with eighteen members. The favorite name,
“Alpha,” has been given the class. One of their late meetings of unusual
interest was the celebration of Longfellow’s birthday, at which, among
other exercises, we notice what must have been a particularly pleasing
number, “The Better Land,” illustrated by tableaux.

The genial, kindly associations of circles are one of their greatest
charms. How the kindly attention, the pleasant surprises kindle the
hearts and knit the affections! CARLISLE, PA., circle has recently
experienced all the delight of doing one of these pleasant deeds. The
birthday of their president, Dr. Whitney, was celebrated by a genuine
surprise. A game of chess at a neighbor’s was the bait which enticed
him from home, where, on his return, the Chautauquans of his circle,
thirty-one strong, greeted him with good cheer and good wishes. It
pays to slip into our Chautauqua life many of these pleasant little
affairs.——Several notices of Longfellow celebrations held by PENNSYLVANIA
circles reached us too late for the May issue of THE CHAUTAUQUAN. At
BETHLEHEM, where there is a “thoroughly congenial” circle of ten, the day
was appropriately observed. This circle has found a scheme of study which
it reports works very well for them. The time from 7:30 to 10:00 p. m. on
the evening of meeting is divided into half-hour periods. These periods
are all but one devoted to quizzes on the subjects laid down in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN outline, the extra period being given to a discussion of the
works of some well known author.——At PITTSBURGH the “Hiawatha” observed
the day with an excellent program, carried out before many friends. This
circle—fifteen in number—is one of last fall’s harvest. Their motto,
“Bound to Win,” tells the stuff they’re made of.——The wide-awake circle
at NEW WILMINGTON, PA., prepared a program covering Founder’s day, and
Longfellow’s, and reported a “royal good time” for their trouble. There
are twenty-four members in the circle; their unanimous verdict is: “The
C. L. S. C. has been a source of intellectual growth to us. And we have
been led by it to take a wider view of the possibilities of life.”——A
very good program of a Longfellow service comes from PLYMOUTH. We notice
an analytical study among the numbers, and would commend such services to
the circles as particularly profitable.——The LOCK HAVEN circle, at its
Longfellow evening, paid a high compliment to the circle at RENOVO, by
reading the program carried out by the latter on a previous evening, and
sending their greetings and congratulations to the Renovo Chautauquans,
that they have grown so strong and enthusiastic in but one year’s
readings.——We are always sorry to miss in geography, but we will “own
up;” we did in the April issue. The “Golden Flower” is not a Tennessee,
but a Pennsylvania blossom, and HATBORO is a Keystone town. The “Golden
Flower” has sent a series of really model programs recently.——From a
friend at GILMORE, PA., we learn of the “Foster Brook” circle. This
class was organized in October, 1882, with twenty-one members, but in
a few months its course was rudely broken by the death of one of their
young but zealous members, Mr. Henry Howe, of the class of ’86. The work
was again taken up, but February, ’84, Mr. H. F. Howe, father of the
former, and a member of the same class, was laid away by the side of his
son. Though so tried by sorrow our friends have bravely followed their
work, saddened, yet rejoicing.——It is an experience that many circles
have, we imagine, this of the TUNKHANNOCK circle, of finding that their
second year’s reading goes much more easily than the first, and that
they have time for many things in their circle which once they did not
have. One good thing that the “Tunkhannock” occasionally slips in is
important items of news from the secular press.——The “Mountaineers,” of
CLEARFIELD, is one of the many, many circles brought into the field by
Chancellor Vincent’s kindling fervor. It is an ’88 circle, and numbers
fifteen members. Reviews, readings, and conversation supplement the
programs of THE CHAUTAUQUAN. The reviews, particularly, they have found
valuable. Each book is taken up after being read, questions made out
on it, and answers given by the circle. Outlines of the books are also
sometimes prepared. This latter plan we do not remember to have noticed
in the reports before, but we know it to be a very effective method for
reviewing the facts or arguments in a book.——We rarely open our monthly
budget of letters without finding a WASHINGTON, D. C., representative.
This month we have a program from the “Wesley Chapel” circle, a good
one, of course, like all the Chautauqua work done in Washington. An
interesting item on it is “The Public Buildings of Athens,” illustrated
by photographs.

A MIDDLETOWN, MD., letter suggests a new way of managing a local circle.
“We are the ‘Mayflower’ circle, numbering five,” our friend writes, “As
we are active members of a literary society, which meets weekly, we
have no circle meetings, but talk over our readings, and Chautauqua in
general, when opportunities offer. We are earnest and interested, and
expect to enter upon next year’s work with increased knowledge, zeal, and

A bed of KENTUCKY Pansies is filling all the air of HARDINSBURG with
sweetest fragrance. “Of all the red letter days in our circle calendar,”
writes one of them, “Longfellow’s day is the brightest. We send you a
program of our last celebration, and a delightful evening we had carrying
it out. A year ago we thought we could not have another Longfellow’s
evening as pleasant as was that. We feel assured that the evening just
passed was more nearly what such an evening should be. In looking back
from this standpoint upon the past year, we are inspired for renewed
energies and work for the years to come.”——Another Pansy of Kentucky,
from BEWLEYVILLE, writes: “The C. L. S. C. has been of immense benefit
to me. My irregular habits of study and desultory reading, instead of
strengthening, had enervated my mind.… My CHAUTAUQUAN and books are a
great source of pleasure to some of my acquaintances who are not pursuing
the course.”

CHILLICOTHE, OHIO, has, in the Walnut Street M. E. Church, an
enthusiastic band of twenty-two workers, who report themselves as
“progressing finely.” At a recent meeting a lecture on the “Art of
Speech,” by the able Episcopalian rector of the city, was greatly enjoyed
by the class.

It must be that a millennium has reached the circle of ERIE, MICHIGAN. If
there is another circle in the country that can say as much, we should
like to know where they are and how they do it. The Eries are forty-five
in number, and though some of the members live six miles apart, and the
meetings are held at the houses, yet through all the past long and dreary
winter there was an average attendance of more than three fourths of
the membership. “And,” thus writes our correspondent, “each member is
expected to do whatever the committee may assign him. We never have a
failure. The program is always carried out to the letter.”——At CASNOVIA,
a circle of nine was organized in October last. Like nearly all our
students, they are extremely busy people, but yet thorough in their
work. They hold informal meetings for discussions and conversation on
the readings of the month.——The first of January a circle was organized
at MILFORD, Michigan, composed of twelve ladies, not all of them ’88s,
there being a sprinkling of graduates and seniors to give direction to
“Plymouth Rock” enthusiasm.——“One more Michigan circle” is heard of at
JONESVILLE. The circle started out with twelve members, and is keeping
up a working membership of nine. The meetings are very enjoyable, every
one taking part in the most interesting and informal way.——Last October a
wave of Chautauqua enthusiasm passed DUNDEE, Michigan, which resulted in
organizing a C. L. S. C. of six members. They call the new organization
“Longfellow’s” circle, and hope with the next year the numbers will
increase. The circle has observed all memorial days, which have proved of
great benefit and interest.——Evidently the “wave” has not left Michigan
yet, for we have just received a card telling of the organization and
election of officers of a new circle at GREENVILLE. Success to their
efforts.——A sample of the work which the C. L. S. C. helps the student
to do, the GRAND RAPIDS, Michigan, circle furnishes in a recent program.
The exercises included, in brief, papers which took “broad, quick views.”
Articles upon Thucydides, Socrates, Plato, Herodotus, Sappho, Greek
Mythology, British Association for the Advancement of Science, American
Soil, Life of Longfellow, and a review of Longfellow’s novel, “Hyperion.”
This circle has made a big stride since last year, its membership having
increased from twenty-three to thirty-seven.——The new pronoun which
troubled some of our students has been employed by a correspondent from
the circle at JACKSON, MICH. Perhaps his zeal to fill up this “long
felt want” in language will make more clear to our readers the use of
“thon.” These circle notes are very suggestive: “We meet weekly at the
home of one of the members, a system we have found to be an improvement
on that of meeting in a public hall. Chautauqua’s special sphere of
influence is in the home; it is here ‘thon’ expects to do work which
will be lasting, and eventually permeate every department of life. It
will then be easily understood why ‘thon’ should find home and its
associations a more congenial place of meeting than a public hall. Our
meetings are conducted much in the usual manner, except, perhaps, our
mode of managing a ‘discussion.’ To this feature we make special claim
as being the originators. The leader of these talks, whose duty it is to
‘keep the ball rolling,’ is, with the subject, chosen a week beforehand.
Each of the members is expected to inform ‘thonself’ on the topic thus
allotted, and to be prepared to give an opinion or ask questions. Richard
Grant White’s language articles, ‘The Art of Speech,’ and ‘The Temperance
Teachings of Science,’ have already been dealt with in this profitable
and interesting way.”

We are glad to be able to introduce INDIANA this month with a clipping
from a private letter to the lady here so honored:

                                                        “WABASH, IND.

    “I want to tell you how our local circle of the C. L. S. C.
    honored itself last night in deciding to be called the ‘Frances
    Willard’ circle, and, furthermore, to observe your birthday as
    a memorial day.… We have in our circle, as you may suppose, a
    number of ladies active in the work of the W. C. T. U. Our circle
    numbers thirty-two. It was organized in ’79, but never christened
    until last night. The vote on the name was unanimous.”

From ALBION, INDIANA a friend writes: “We have organized a circle here
consisting of twenty-four members. Prof. E. C. White, superintendent
of schools, is our leader; and is greatly interested in our circle and
its work. We meet each week, at the residences of the members, taking
them alphabetically. The majority of the teachers in our public schools
belong to the circle, and all the members are much interested in their
work.”——And still another from the same state, from FOWLER, says: “We
organized in October, 1884, with nine members; the circle now numbers
fourteen members, of four different classes. One item of each program
is a question drawer, questions to be taken from suggestions of the
weekly readings. If any question is not answered by the circle, it is
assigned to some member to be answered at the next meeting. I find this
stimulates all to read carefully, as no one can know just what part of
the week’s reading is to be investigated. This is a most interesting
feature, and we can get those to engage in this who will do nothing
else. We have two members living at a distance who are only present in
person occasionally, but always present in manuscript when on program,
so we call them our ‘paper members.’”——A Chautauqua circle was organized
at LIGONIER, Indiana, in October, 1884, with a membership of seventeen,
and named the “Ligonier Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.” In
it are represented three denominations. The programs are so varied as
to avoid monotony in the exercises. One night the committee gave topics
for brief essays, on another, questions to be answered at next meeting.
The members of the circle pronounce the prescribed course of study
excellent and interesting in its details, and feel grateful for a plan so
far-reaching and so beneficent in its results. Bryant’s, Milton’s, and
Longfellow’s days were observed by devoting to them and their works the
entire evening. A knot of cardinal and old gold ribbon constitutes the
circle’s badge. The circle is highly pleased with the motto “Let us be
seen by our deeds,” and many of the members express themselves satisfied
with their name, “Plymouth Rocks.”——We have received the list of names of
the members, fifteen in all, which form the circle of BROOKVILLE, Ind. We
are hoping to receive some of the Brookville circle’s experiences soon.

The “Peripatetics” of CHICAGO, ILL., is an organization formed last
fall. There are twelve members. The circle, we fear, is not using the
local circles’ reports right, if, when they read them, they feel almost
discouraged at the little they have accomplished. The whole spirit of
Chautauqua is, “what has been done can be done,” and our work is mainly
to show by actual example what has been done. The “Peripatetics” have
too many opportunities for doing superior work, living as they do, in
such a city as Chicago, to grow discouraged.——The death of Richard Grant
White has been a great loss to Chautauquans. His admirable “Studies in
English” had met the warmest reception, and when they were cut short
by his death all our readers felt they had met a personal loss. It was
this feeling that led a Chicago circle to add to their resolutions of
respect passed upon Mr. White’s death, a clause stating that as a feeble
expression of their regard and, as a token of respect to his memory,
their local circle be hereafter known as the “Richard Grant White.”——For
novel diversions, commend us to the “Alpha,” of QUINCY. This circle has
sandwiched a great amount of fun in with its solid work this winter,
nor has it been to the injury of the work. On College day they had a
sleigh ride, not long after a mock trial; they have introduced a paper,
the _Symposium_, which gives an opportunity for numberless hits, and on
Valentine’s day the _Symposium_ furnished the entertainment, each member
having sent to the editor an anonymous piece of poetry.——A circle was
organized in STERLING last October, and has now nine members. They have
no officers, and each meeting is conducted by the lady at whose house
it is held. Their informal way of doing things has some advantages. An
invalid member is mentioned, who, like many others, finds relief in
affliction by having something to do, and doing it religiously.

On one of the last evenings of September, a few Morrisonians met and
organized the “Alpha Society,” of MORRISON, ILLINOIS. They number
fifteen, and have accomplished much by the winter’s work. The plan
has been to take the outline of required reading, as laid down in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN, and prepare the lesson as thoroughly as possible by the use
of books and encyclopædias. At the meetings the class recites the lessons
learned the week before. Occasionally they have an essay, or select
reading.——A circle of twenty members was organized in JACKSONVILLE,
Ill., last October, with the Rev. H. E. Butler, pastor of Congregational
Church, as president. They have given special attention thus far to the
Greek course, enlarging the reading, and bringing in other authors as far
as possible. Now that the Greek is nearly finished the circle is bringing
chemistry into prominence.——The “Oakland” circle, of CHICAGO, Illinois,
was organized in February, 1884, and belongs to the “Pansy” class. It
has a good _constitution_, and hopes to survive till the graduation of
its members. This circle is composed entirely of ladies, among whom are
representatives of six churches in the South Division of the city. The
meetings, which are held semi-monthly at the houses of the members, are
well attended. Absent members are informed by postal cards of the place
of the next meeting, the parts assigned them on the program, and the
author from whom quotations are to be given. Those who are absent three
times in succession are expected to present a suitable excuse to the
society. At the close of the year a reception was given, to which each
member invited a gentleman friend. A fine literary and musical program
was rendered, and refreshments were served. The guests, among whom were
ministers, lawyers, army officers, and members of the Chicago Board of
Trade, were called upon to express their opinions of the C. L. S. C. A
most enjoyable evening was spent.

A flourishing circle has existed at PORTAGE, WISCONSIN, for three
years. It is only one of three, however, for last year the pastor of
the M. E. Church organized a circle which is still active, and this
year the Presbyterian pastor started a third. The _mother_ circle is
undenominational, as best becomes her position. One feature of this
circle’s year is its annual reception. Let the secretary tell how it
is managed: “We have heretofore held a reception at the close of each
year, to which were invited the people of the place presumed to be most
interested in education. The exercises have always been highly commended,
and our work well appreciated by those in attendance—indeed, we consider
our best missionary work has been done by this means—and many members
added through the instrumentality of a sugar-coated dose of hard work
(or its results, rather). Many people would attend a party, to whom a
literary meeting of any kind is a ‘delusion and a snare.’”



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


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

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

    _Treasurer_—Miss Carrie Hart, Aurora, Ind.

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

    _Executive Committee_—Officers of the class.

       *       *       *       *       *

After Commencement, what? More of the same sort, undoubtedly—of a better
sort, if possible. The members of the class of ’85 are now near enough
to the “finish” to arrive at some more or less mature conclusions as to
the future. They find that the word “commencement” is to be no misnomer,
and is not even to be criticised. For after four years of reading and
study the students find that they have not come to the end, but only
to the beginning. The matter selected for them has been so good, so
substantial, and really so inspiring, as a whole, that an immortal, if
not divine, sort of hunger for the best in literature, science, art,
philosophy, has been created in their minds, and they could hardly
stop if they desired. The aggregate amount of literary and scientific
information which has been acquired is really large, and much of it has
been retained as a permanent fund of knowledge, but this has proved to
be but a small part of the benefit that has been derived. Thousands of
people have just begun to find out how little they really know, and how
much they ought yet to learn, to satisfy their own ideas and notions as
to what is required to make one, not learned, indeed, but reasonably well
informed! And what they think they need to know, they feel sure that they
have now discovered how to learn, and have acquired habits of reading
and thinking which will make the processes easy and enjoyable, instead
of laborious and tiresome. They have already looked beyond bounds into
the green fields and pastures new of that which is best, most beautiful,
and grandest in the domain of thought, and suggestion, and philosophical
research and discovery, as brought out by poets, philosophers, statesmen
and philanthropists, and they are likely to pass through the Golden Gate
and out from the Temple on the hill into a still broader fraternity of
thought and action, whose limits will correspond with those of the world

       *       *       *       *       *

A breezy letter from the plains of Dakota contains the following: “I
have been studying entirely alone, and have found the course a blessing
that can not be valued. Here, quite removed from society, while winter
winds howl round my cabin home, I find help, companionship and pleasure
in the studies of the dear ‘Home College.’ The most attractive corner of
my little room is the one where my beloved books lie on the home-made
shelves. My little ones love them too, and there is scarcely a time when
I need help but what I can find it in my books.”

       *       *       *       *       *

One young lady from Massachusetts, who hopes to hear the “Chautauqua
Chimes,” writes: “I have a class of girls in Sunday-school, and want so
much the help I think I shall be able to find at Chautauqua. The course
has been just what I needed, and I know I have grown, mentally and
morally, since joining the C. L. S. C.”

       *       *       *       *       *

This from a gentleman in Kansas: “If health will permit I hope to be one
to enter in under the Arches among the ‘Invincibles.’ I must be one of
the oldest of the ’85s. I was fifteen days old at the battle of Waterloo,
and, if I am spared till my next birthday, I shall have arrived at the
bounds allotted to man in the Bible.”

       *       *       *       *       *

One ’85 writes: “I hope to receive my diploma at Chautauqua, but, I am a
busy mother with six children, and can not always plan so long ahead. I
have had the greatest pleasure and satisfaction in the course, for, with
a family of wide-awake boys and girls about me, I have found it is very
necessary to refresh myself and keep well informed on all subjects.”

       *       *       *       *       *

One enthusiastic lady from Texas writes: “I have gathered through four
years of delightful reading an intellectual bouquet, whose fragrance
I hope to wear about me when I pass, not only through the Arches at
Chautauqua, but when I pass through the ‘Beautiful Gates’ to the
Celestial City.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Another testifies: “I am one of the busy mothers and housekeepers who
pursue the C. L. S. C. course under numerous and varied difficulties, but
find my enthusiasm increasing as the four years draw to a close.”

       *       *       *       *       *

From Massachusetts: “I intend to still ‘press on’ after I graduate—in
fact, I hope always to be a Chautauquan.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Wisconsin contributes: “I like our motto and our name, and I love the C.
L. S. C. Though reading alone, it has always been an inspiring thought
that many thousands are reading the same course.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Another: “I regret that the course is so nearly finished, but the spirit
it has awakened within me has enabled me to ‘Press on, reaching after
those things which are before.’”


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


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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

The “Progressives” of New England are true to their name, and most
encouraging reports are received from circles and those who are studying
alone. A young man teaching school in a remote village in Connecticut
writes: “I feel far below the standard of our class, but am determined to
do the best I can, God helping me. Leisure moments are delightfully spent
in reading or meditation. Hope to complete the course in 1886, and then
go on with extra readings.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The class of 1886 is deeply bereaved by the removal to higher duties and
joys of a most worthy member, Mrs. Emma Webster Darling, wife of the Rev.
J. K. Darling, of Chelsea, Vermont. She died on the morning of Easter

       *       *       *       *       *

One of our busy workers, A. M. T., of Ontario, Canada, has made an
attractive little devotional book, “My Work, or Conditional Promises,”
for every day in the month.

       *       *       *       *       *

A young lady from Boston writes: “I have devoted to C. L. S. C. work
at least forty minutes every day since I have been a member, and would
gladly do more if time would allow.”

       *       *       *       *       *

From the snow hills of Maine comes this cheerful testimony: “I sometimes
envy people their riches, but am thankful for the C. L. S. C. every day
of my life, for I am a farmer’s daughter, and so situated that I am
debarred from the enjoyments of most young people, and would often be
very lonely were it not for the books of the C. L. S. C.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The Hopkinton tent, at Framingham, has been secured for headquarters, and
will be made comfortable. If the ladies of ’86 who contemplate visiting
Framingham next summer will remember that they are a “committee of
the whole” on decorations, the tent can doubtless be made homelike and
attractive at little expense. Bring something to brighten it, if only a
penny Japanese fan.


“_Neglect not the gift that is in thee._”


    _President_—The Rev. Frank Russell, Mansfield, Ohio.

    _Western Secretary_—K. A. Burnell, Esq., 150 Madison Street,
    Chicago, Ill.

    _Eastern Secretary_—J. A. Steven, M.D., 164 High Street,
    Hartford, Conn.

    _Treasurer_—Either Secretary, from either of whom badges may be

    _Executive Committee_—The officers of the class.

       *       *       *       *       *

The New England Pansies seem to be more active of late than their fellow
blossoms farther west. The following report of their reunion represents
something of their enthusiasm: The New England branch of the class
of 1887 C. L. S. C. held its spring meeting in the chapel of Union
Congregational Church, Providence, April 3d, 1885. About one hundred
members were present. After a short time spent in social intercourse, the
meeting was called to order by the president, the Rev. F. M. Gardner, for
Rhode Island. The C. L. S. C. study song was sung, which was followed by
the secretary’s report of the meeting in Boston; the minutes were duly
approved. It was voted that the committee on headquarters be increased by
the addition of Mr. Jeffers, of Pawtucket, and Mrs. Morrill, of Allston.
Mr. Gardner, in his own bright manner, gave some account of the efforts
of the committee in preparing for class headquarters at Lakeview, and
stated reasons why the plan suggested at the Boston meeting should be
postponed, though not abandoned. Inasmuch as several members of our
class have been afflicted by the loss of loved ones from their homes,
it was voted that a committee be appointed to present resolutions at
this meeting expressing the sympathy of the class with them in their
bereavement. The musical and literary exercises were opened with a fine
piano solo, which was followed by a pleasing quartette. Then an address
on “The C. L. S. C. _vs._ Social Pastimes,” by the Rev. N. T. Dyer, of
Middleboro, was delivered. Mr. Dyer being unable to be present because
of illness, Mrs. Dyer most creditably took his place. The address was a
convincing statement of the advantages of the C. L. S. C., and could it
be circulated among those not interested in the course, would undoubtedly
influence many to enroll in the Circle. Mrs. Emily C. Fletcher, of
Pawtucket, read a poem written for the occasion, from which we extract
the following, referring to the influence of the C. L. S. C.:

    “It has cleared the brow of discontent,
       Made happy the lowly one,
     Cheering the home and its social hall,
       Enliv’ning the tasks begun.

    “It takes from age the mournful thoughts,
       That often the heart will shroud,
     It lifts the life to a higher sphere,
       Silvering ev’ry dark cloud.”

After music, and an address on Lakeview, resolutions of sympathy to those
of the circle who had met with bereavements were adopted. The association
then adjourned, after which a delightful reunion was enjoyed by the

       *       *       *       *       *

Two members of the class of ’87 have recently left us for the “better
life:” Miss Grace F. Cook, who died March 22, at Vilas, Wisconsin, after
a protracted illness, and Mrs. Rev. E. S. Osborne, of Kingston, New York,
who died at her home, March 16th.


“_Let us be seen by our deeds._”


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

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

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

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

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

    Class badges may be procured of either President or Treasurer.

       *       *       *       *       *

Our circle in Ouray, Colorado, in the midst of the Rocky Mountains,
numbers ten. The picturesque spot where live these ’88s is about a day’s
journey from the railroad. They name themselves after the Indians,
“Uncompahgee,” who once wigwamed there. They have their “round-table,”
and keep up their weekly meetings.—Another circle, of three, has been
organized among the “Rockies,” at Gunnison, Colorado, and meets weekly.
Our ’88s have reached the Indian Territory. At Chouteau we have one hard
worker, who, having commenced in February, has nearly caught up with the
class.—At the confluence of the Missouri and Vermillion Rivers we have
an enthusiastic class of ten. Lawyers, teachers, journalists, milliners,
and busy wives, with a “Pansy” for the president, compose the class.
They conduct their class weekly, on the “conversational plan,” which
they claim affords grand opportunity for interchange of opinions and
sentiments.—A circle of five ladies and one lone gentleman compose the
“Clio,” of Clark, Dakota. So delighted are they that they never adjourn
for any other engagements.—The “Kankakee,” of Illinois, thirty-eight
regular and four honorary members, meets fortnightly. Their Shakspere
program was so full that a portion was postponed until the next meeting.
An honorary member has delighted them with an address upon “Water.”—The
twelve members of “Calumet,” Carthage, Ill., were favored with a visit
and instructive talk from Chancellor Vincent.—We were greatly surprised
to receive a letter from our old friend, the Rev. W. H. Hyatt, president
of our circle in Whiteland, Ind.—Ten young persons of Dubuque, Iowa,
compose the “Circle of Athens.” An excellent motto have they selected:
_Sapientiam petimus_. That their search for wisdom is eager is evinced by
the fact that they have in a most interesting manner pursued the studies
in spite of all allurements. The memorial days have been appropriately
observed, and Longfellow’s day celebrated by a banquet.—Seven constitute
“Alpha,” of Barnesville, Ohio. They began January 1, and have nearly
completed their studies. They expect to begin on time next year.—The
“Athena,” of Wanskuck, Providence, R. I., is composed of fifteen busy
people, who are delighted with the studies.—From the programs of the
“Hamilton,” of Lowell, Mass., we are satisfied that the forty members
are truly among our liveliest coming Chautauquans. They have largely
experimented in chemistry and electricity. This circle mourns the loss
of one of its best members in Mrs. Benjamin Robinson, who endeavored to
brave a New England storm, in order to attend one of the meetings, and
lost her life.—Seventeen regular and three honorary members represent
a circle in Joplin, Mo. Nothing but illness has caused an absence at
“roll call.” Once a week they follow Chautauqua program. Success has
marked their public as well as private meetings.—One from Maine has
taken fresh courage since reading Chancellor Vincent’s article in the
April CHAUTAUQUAN, “How to Work Alone.”—The “Riversides,” of Milford,
N. H. (eight members), have finished the year’s studies.—“Zeta Phi,” of
Buffalo, N. Y., are seven “zealous learners.” They observe all special
days, having essays upon given subjects.—A zealous lady of ’87 class
organized seven earnest and hopefuls into the “I. X. L.,” of Newport,
Ky.—Clamida (state not named) boasts of two enthusiastic circles. The
secretary of one strongly objects to our name, repudiating the idea that
we have anything in common with the “Pilgrim Fathers.” She is even tired
of a reference to their trials, and believes, with another, that the
“Pilgrim Mothers” are more worthy of “toasting,” closing with “Seriously,
why were we thus afflicted?”




I desire in this paper to make some very plain answers in a very plain
way to a question which has come to me in varying forms, from various
sources. It is a practical question, and concerns the possibilities of
that department of Chautauqua work which aims to bring the advantages
of the higher education within the reach of those large classes of our
population which have been hitherto debarred from them. Naturally, the
question originates with the very people whom the enterprise seeks to
aid, and strangely enough is shared by those whose culture and education
should have been a barrier to such a doubt.

Men who would gladly avail themselves of any real advantages for
education brought within their reach, and within their means, yet
unwilling to make the pecuniary outlay which the effort might involve,
until convinced that the correspondence system offers real advantages,
hesitate, and say: “We are favorably impressed with the idea as given in
your announcements, but are not sure that it can be put into practical
operation; before attempting the work it may demand, we are compelled to
ask, how is the work to be done? how can teaching by correspondence be
made practically successful? Show us the method, that we may understand.”
Still others, men of advanced education, of approved excellence of
judgment, men engaged in professional life, have said, “We concede that
education by the means you propose is possible under certain favorable
conditions, but we doubt the practicability of attempting by such a
means to cover the wide field of general education.” Straightway they
fall to instancing particular subjects as illustrations of the truth
of their statement. Now the proof of the pudding is in the eating; and
if this paper succeed in furnishing tastes of this particular pudding
which shall be palatable and shall create a favorable opinion as to the
worth of the whole, the service rendered to the cause will be valuable.
I propose, therefore, without invading the province of any of the gifted
teachers who act as Directors of the different Departments and Schools in
the Chautauqua School of Liberal Arts, as we shall hereafter call what
has been known as the University, to show, if possible, how a person
of good natural endowment, at the maximum of his mental strength, and
with earnest devotion to his work can acquire a knowledge of a language,
literature, or science by correspondence alone.

I will make three preliminary remarks. First, the student must bring
to this work the same earnestness that he gives to that pursuit of his
daily life upon which he has been or may be dependent for his livelihood.
Second, in the study of language by correspondence, the path marked out
by the experience of the ages is the path in which the correspondence
student must go. The gateway of that path is the grammar of the language;
and no student can pass through it till he possess the key which shall
unlock its bars. To own a grammar is therefore a necessity. I am ready
to believe that in oral teaching of a language, actual study of grammar,
as grammar, may be put over into the final years of the course, giving
the early years to the undisputed control of synthetic methods; but for
the correspondence student, a grammar is an essential. Third, the student
must be willing to follow the most minute directions of his teacher,
without question, no matter how simple or how difficult a matter their
performances may seem to be. To obey is the first essential to success.

Let us now look at a _method_ for learning a language or science. It is
not given as _the method_ in use in the schools, but only as a means of
showing that the thing proposed is possible. There should be for the
beginner four papers for every lesson; or four kinds of work to be done.

_First_—There should be a paper _stating principles to be learned_, and
adding complete references to the text-book upon which they are based,
that the student may add to his teacher’s dictum, the confirmation of
his own research. Let it be distinctly noted that this paper is _to
contain statements of principles to be learned_, and is not to be a mere
budget of directions to paragraphs and sections of a text-book. The
advantages to be gained by such a method of study are too obvious to need
elaboration here.

_Second_—There should be a paper giving abundant and apt illustrations of
those principles, derived from the best sources, adapted to the pupil’s
knowledge, and different from any which have been otherwise brought to
his notice. These illustrations of principles should be memorized by the
student and should form the basis of the paper containing the test of the
student’s work.

_Third_—There should be a paper giving examples for practice in these
same principles; examples for transliteration, phonic representation, or
translation in case of a foreign language, examples for experimentation,
classification, or analysis in case of a science or literature.

_Fourth_—There should be a paper of examination or question, for the
purpose of testing the student and revealing the character of the work he
has done. These questions should be framed with the utmost care and skill
of which the teacher is master, and should act as a quickening impulse
to the student. This paper should be in a sealed envelope, and should
not be opened till all the work of the other three papers has been done,
and the student feels that his lesson is learned. In addition to what
has been suggested, there should be required in the study of language,
as soon as the student can correctly pronounce, a regular exercise in
memorizing from some standard author, and daily repetitions aloud of
what is thus given to the memory. In the case of English, Latin, and
Greek, this seems to me indispensable. This last suggestion, it will be
noticed, contains a hint that the pronunciation of a language can be
taught by correspondence. It is a hint which I am prepared to assert as
a proposition, and to defend as far as the Latin and Greek languages are
concerned. The amount of matter given in the lesson should be enough to
require one week for its preparation by a student able to devote from
one to two hours daily to study.

When the papers of a lesson have been fully mastered, and the student
feels that all he can do upon it is done, the whole work should be at
once sent back to the teacher. Now, to guard against loss of time, such
as would occur were the student compelled to wait without work after he
has forwarded his lesson recitation to the teacher until the necessary
exchange by post has been made, two lessons should be sent out by the
teacher at the first assignment. This plan would wholly avoid what might
be costly delay where student and teacher were separated by the width of
the continent or the ocean.

As soon as the first recitation paper reaches the teacher’s hand, his
immediate duty is to forward the next lesson of the series, and so
regularly through the whole course of instruction. He will now at his
leisure examine the paper which has come into his possession, while the
student is engaged upon the second of his lessons. What shall be the
teacher’s work with this returned paper? Certainly not one of correction.
Now begins his real work of teaching. First, there must be a careful
and painstaking inspection of each line of the student’s work. Second,
every error must be plainly marked, so that the eye of the student
will not fail to observe it. Third, plain reference should be made to
those sections and paragraphs of the grammar or text-book which have
been violated. Fourth, a word of encouragement, advice, suggestion, or
warning should be added to each paper, drawn from the teacher’s wide and
varied experience, and which will be practically helpful to the pupil. It
must be carefully noted that in this treatment of the recitation paper,
the teacher has made no correction, has told nothing, but has simply
indicated errors, and thrown the student back upon his own resources to
correct his own work. This is one of the elements of true teaching.

The return of this critically marked paper to the student brings us to
consider another important process in this work, and that is the review
by the student of his first lesson work, or his second period of study
upon it. There has enough time elapsed since it was last in his hands
to have it come now with all the force of a new lesson, and to enable
him to look at it judicially. The critical investigation which follows
has a three-fold value. First, it is a review. Second, it is a means
for accurate self-test. Third, it is a monitor, under whose warning all
future lesson work is subjected to the careful scrutiny which the former
criticism suggests. Two things still remain to be done with the returned
lesson paper. One to make a separate classified list of the errors it
contained; the other to date it, file it, and lay it carefully away for
reference. The classified list of errors will serve as a check against
the commission of like errors, or an aid in detecting any that may have
been carelessly made. At first the list will be large, but after a little
it will grow less and less rapidly, till finally its utter lack of growth
will be the surest mark of the pupil’s excellence of attainment. Such
is an outline for a possible method of conducting educational work by
correspondence. It presents a method which I believe is practical, which
is drawn from an experience of years in the class room, and which is in
harmony with established principles of educational philosophy.

       *       *       *       *       *

A touching bit of experience has been sent us by a member of the class
of ’88. The writer had persuaded his son to join a circle, but, as he
writes, “He attended one meeting of the circle and came home very much
discouraged, declaring that he would not attend another meeting, urging
as his reasons that he compared unfavorably with others, and that he
would never be able to pronounce those horrid Greek names, etc. I tried
to encourage him and advanced several arguments trying to show him what a
great advantage this course of reading would be to him, but finally gave
it up, fearing if I urged him so strongly he would become disgusted. I
determined then to take the four years’ course of study myself, thinking
that by having the books in our home, and sometimes relating anecdotes,
incidents and historical facts gathered from these readings, that my boys
might become interested for themselves. It is impossible for me to give
my children the advantages of a liberal education, as my heart longs to
do, and by getting them interested in the C. L. S. C., I hope to make up
to them in some degree their loss of a college education.”



There is very general regret, at home and abroad, that the new
administration has removed Professor James Russell Lowell from the
office of American minister at the court of St. James. There is no
disposition to complain; but there is some natural wonderment. Mr. Lowell
was an ideal American diplomat; he represented worthily the people as
well as the government of the United States. It is no disparagement to
his successor to say that no other American can quite fill the place
Mr. Lowell has made for himself. It should be remembered that we,
fortunately, have very little proper diplomatic business anywhere in the
world; and whenever any serious negotiation is to be undertaken, it can
be done at Washington. Our important treaties are made in the national
capital; and our gravest foreign affairs are always directly administered
by the Secretary of State. Since Franklin it has seldom happened that a
minister has been entrusted with any grave duties or burdened with any
serious responsibilities. Even during the civil war Mr. Seward managed at
Washington the more serious business of the foreign department.

In this generation, we have had some successful foreign ministers;
but their success has in every case been in non-official or
extra-official lines. Mr. E. B. Washburne, our minister in Paris
during the Franco-German war, won a high reputation, not as a diplomat
of his country, but as an American minister entrusted, by an act of
international courtesy, with the rights and welfare of Prussians in
Paris. As the agent of the Berlin government during the war and siege,
Mr. Washburne endeared himself to the large German population of Paris by
his kindness, common sense, and energy in caring for a body of subjects
of a hostile country. No one but a typical American could have done this
work at all well. A man trained to diplomacy would have failed. It needed
a man who could put his character and American office into a breach made
by war, and devise means of providing for an extemporaneous necessity.
Most men would have failed; Washburne succeeded because he was a typical
American of the largest pattern—able, frank, tireless, resourceful.

In England, Mr. Lowell has, under different circumstances, developed a
new line of diplomatic representation. He has represented the character
and culture of the American people. The average politician supposes
himself to be the typical American; the fact that we are ashamed of
him is the sufficient proof that he is thoroughly mistaken. In what do
Americans broadly differ from most other, if not all other, peoples? Is
it not in this, that we are the great reading nation of the world? Our
culture goes down to the bottom and reaches out to the extremities of
our life. We have no class distinctions, no titled magnates, no rights
of birth-privilege; and in the school rooms of the land the rich and the
poor meet together, and our great newspapers go into the hands of both
rich and poor. We are not so distinctly a nation of commercial people
as we are a nation of people under an unexampled influence of general
culture. A Professor who was much more than a professor; a man of the
world who was also a man of books; an alert and quick, practical man who
was also a poet; a gentleman who was, first of all, manly; a diplomat
who was at home in a school room, could lecture on any literary theme,
could instruct the educated Englishman in the history of his own men of
letters; an American who knew Shakspere, Milton, Bunyan, the English
Bible, and every shred of English art and song and event by heart—such a
man has Mr. Lowell been in England. He was at home there on those levels
of life and heights of achievement which are common to us and Englishmen;
and his leadership there in literature and learning conferred honor
on us in the precisely most honorable things in our character as a
people. We simply are not philistines—hard dogmatists of dollars and
precedents—we are a thoughtful, informed, studious and brainy people who
despise wealth which is not held for the service of truth, well-being
and progress. No man could represent us so well as a poet, teacher,
essayist and scholar like Mr. Lowell. He could represent us at the level
of those ideals and achievements of which we are not ashamed. We despise
nothing so heartily as illiterate wealth; no other people on earth equal
us in contempt for the commerce which has only sordid aims and results.
The American merchant builds schools, museums, churches, asylums,
hospitals—if he does not we despise him.

The problem in selecting the best foreign representatives is to secure
men who will represent our national character. Our diplomacy is
unimportant. Such as we have to do can be carried on at Washington. We
want ministers abroad who will be typical Americans, whose conspicuous
position will display in them the best and truest results of our unique
social and political system. If they are honored abroad, as Mr. Lowell
has been in unusual ways and measure, the honor is given to us and
glorifies us. There is always a fool to say that our minister is more
English than American—simply because Englishmen respect him. It is a
poor kind of criticism, and fortunately there is less and less of it in
the press. We all stand better abroad, command more honest respect, are
better understood in our best characteristics, because James Russell
Lowell has represented us in London. May his successor succeed to the
full measure of this representative office.

The most distinguished honor ever conferred upon an American has come
to Mr. Lowell. The English press, representing the best public opinion
of that nation, invites him to remain., in England “as the unofficial
representative of American literature, learning, manners, and knowledge
of the world.” Nothing like that can be found in the long history of
diplomacy. “He has been,” says one great journal, “a sort of guest-friend
of England,” and it then describes him as “the most eminent American
of this generation,” and adds, “Englishmen of all ranks and stations
recognize in Mr. Lowell a faithful and jealous guardian of the interests
of his country, and a type of all that is best in its intellectual and
moral character.” There is not a word in all these encomiums which is not
a eulogy of the American people.


The disease called Asiatic Cholera is at home in India. It travels, at
long intervals, into Europe. There have been eight: or nine of these
visitations during the century. The disease travels with man and his
belongings; and since intercourse between Asia and Europe has become
more swift and abundant, there is a tendency to more frequent visits of
the dreaded scourge. In fact, however, this tendency has been overcome
by sanitary science. Until last year, cholera had not been in Europe for
sixteen years. It arrived the last previous time in 1866 and tarried into
the next year. During all the intervening years, there was cholera on the
Ganges, and an increasing flow of humanity between the two continents;
yet sixteen years elapsed between the visits. Last year cholera landed
from ships at Toulon and Marseilles in southern France, and produced
general alarm in Europe. It swept around all the European coasts of
the Mediterranean, and in the especially filthy towns caused a large
mortality. It has doubtless wintered in Europe, and its second year is
usually the worst. It can begin early and use the long summer for its
desolating work. This is the second summer. It is probable that cholera
will be a large feature of the health and mortuary reports of the year.
European travel will be restricted by the caution which the prevalence of
this disease inspires. American resorts for Americans will be unusually

Will cholera visit us? In previous European visits it has always looked
in upon us, sometimes the first, sometimes the second year. In 1866, it
did not come, but did come in 1867. But the visit of that year was less
baneful than any other we have had. In 1884, we escaped; can we escape in
1885? No doubt exists that we _can_. It is only a question of effective
quarantine. The faithful discharge of their duties by all health officers
at ports would exclude the unwelcome guest. And, at our principal port,
where the danger is greatest, there is good reason to believe that the
fidelity, wisdom and vigilance are equal to the emergency. Cholera is
more likely to penetrate to us by some little-used door; the front
gate will be securely guarded. At the smaller doors, there ought to be
no danger. But there _is_ danger, and it is probably too much to hope
that there will be adequate watchfulness. There is, even at New York, a
long line of accidents to be reckoned with. It would not be surprising,
however, if cholera got a foothold among us from the West Indies, landing
in some southern port.

If it comes, what then? It should not be very successful in its work of
death. It could be stamped out in any city with a well organized health
force. In New York, a few cases would not be cause for any alarm—not half
so much as if the cases were in some small and careless community. Still
it is most probable that if it effects a landing it will travel over the
country. We have had warning enough. It is a filth disease which can be
cornered and killed by cleanliness, if the cleanliness foreruns it. If we
wait to clean up filthy quarters in our towns until the disease arrives,
it will then be too late to clean. We shall have a good measure of the
sanitary condition of our cities, if the cholera visits them. It will do
its terrible work in the unclean quarters of unclean towns. It will not
stop there. Once established in a filthy quarter, cholera easily thrusts
its arms into adjacent clean places. If the long and loud warning has
been heeded, there will be little to fear from cholera. The cleanliness
of our towns will discourage and expel the intruder.

What can individuals do? Keep cool and in good health. All epidemic
diseases fix upon the infirm, the debilitated, and the fearful. The
mortality from cholera is only about one death for four cases. In some
epidemics of it, the rate is one in three cases; but among people who
are well fed and in fair conditions of comfort, and have proper care,
there are five chances of recovery to one of death. The high rate of
mortality in some towns results from want of care and medicine. Popular
rumor exaggerates the danger of death from cholera. It is a case of _ogne
ignotum pro magnifico_—we know so little about it that we magnify the
danger beyond all warrant of the actual facts. Some of our danger—perhaps
most of it—will come from the enthusiasm of the reporters. Last January
these enthusiasts discovered genuine Asiatic cholera in St. Louis. They
were sure of it. The evidence was perfect, they said. Of course there
never was, and never will be, a case of Asiatic cholera in St. Louis in
January. But after summer begins, the “Lo here” will begin to alarm the
timid. There are sure to be many false reports; the true one may be in
the bundle. Let us hope it will not be—and keep cool.

We hope that inland quarantines will not be resorted to if the disease
appears among us. They are useless as well as inhuman. They shut the
intruder out of the gate, and he crawls under the fence. If cholera
gets upon this continent, safety will be secured only by cleanliness of
streets and houses. Clean people may die in clean streets, but it will be
because there are unclean people in neighboring streets to receive and
breed the disease. Nor should the well fly from the sick. The nurses and
priests are safest in Italian cities. Those who fly, do so when it is
too late, and carry the disease with them. And, after all, cholera may
not visit us in 1885.


A very marked indication of the success of the Chautauqua Idea is the
increase of imitations of our work; and this runs parallel with an
increase of efforts to promote systematic culture among grown people. Dr.
Samuel Johnson used to say that he did all his hard study when he was a
boy, and he very properly lamented it. It is one of the strangest things
in modern civilization that, except among a small body of professors and
specialists, the world does its studying entirely in early life. If the
chance to study, or the compulsion to study, be wanting in the first
twenty years, the door is supposed to be shut forever. The Chautauqua
movement tried to expose the folly of this method, and to show that
persons whose education was neglected in youth may secure culture in
middle life, or even in old age. History gave us examples enough; but
Chautauqua has made thousands of new examples to illustrate the perfect
practicalness of adult study. The success of Chautauqua has drawn general
attention to the subject. A variety of plans for promoting the education
of adults are coming before the public. We do not regard any of them as
rivals; they will enlarge our public as well as make smaller centers of
such culture.

The members of the C. L. S. C. who have gone with us over the subjects
of this year will do well to look back over the road and see precisely
what they have gone over. They will probably notice that their study
and reading has not interfered with their regular pursuits and duties.
They have been able to add these studies to their customary tasks and
interests. It is a kind of gratuity, therefore, which they have received.
It is so much in addition to other results of annual effort. They will
further see that the amount of this study and reading is considerable.
Good method has made odd minutes yield a bulk which would require weeks
of consecutive and unbroken effort. The effect on the mind is better
and more permanent because the study has been continued through a year.
A college man of our acquaintance says that Professor Time does better
work than any of his colleagues. Our C. L. S. C. members have had the
instruction of Professor Time. Those who are finishing the course will
do well to remember that they have learned how to learn without a living
teacher. This is the best thing the C. L. S. C. has done for you—this
helping you to study alone. A power of this sort ought to be cultivated
and kept. The contents of any course of education should be small in
comparison with the attainments which it renders possible. This large,
broad, life-long self-education lies in the power to study alone without
the fear of a master or the ordeal of an examination before one. This
power colleges fail to give, and it is one of their weaknesses that they
can not give it. When the taskmaster stopped, Samuel Johnson said that
he stopped learning. We may doubt it, but in a sense Johnson was right.
If any reader has acquired the power to _go on alone_ by pursuing the
course, he has a rare piece of wealth, a capital which may produce the
widest and best culture.


The New York _World_ has done wondrously well to raise $30,000 by a
popular subscription for the setting up of the Bartholdi statue in New
York harbor. Our readers know that this colossal statue of “Liberty
Enlightening the World” is a present from the French people, but that
there has been no provision made for the cost of setting up the great
work of French art. Various attempts to raise the necessary $100,000 have
yielded but small results, and when the _World_ took hold of the matter
the failure had become a very disagreeable joke for the press. Other
newspapers have engaged in public enterprises. The New York _Herald_
sent a ship into the Arctic Ocean in search of the Pole. The New York
_Tribune_ maintains by the subscriptions of its readers a “Fresh-Air
Fund” which gives thousands of children an outing in the country during
the hot months. The enterprise of the _World_ is, if possible, more
praiseworthy, and its success in rescuing a lost cause is as honorable
as it is unexpected. The subscriptions have been made by people of all
conditions and fortunes, by boys and girls, by merchants, artists and
laborers. A popular interest in the subject has been created, a great
deal of information imparted, many mistakes corrected, and a popular
support secured for a work of art. The work is in the line of large and
healthy philanthropy, and the _World_ deserves unstinted credit. Let us
all hope that it will carry the cause through to entire success.

We are, as a nation, still poor in public statuary. We have some good
pieces and not a few failures. Perhaps many persons have feared that
the Bartholdi statue is another monstrosity. Let them take courage; the
_World_ has presented excellent evidence that the work is equal to its
mission. The French people are to have a small edition of it set up in
Paris, and eminent French critics are unsparing in their praise of it. Of
course we can not be too confident of the effect of a statue higher than
Trinity steeple or the pillars of the East River bridge, set up so as to
face the sea and meet the eyes of the world entering the harbor of New
York. On that point there is excellent artistic judgment in favor of the
success of the audacious conception of the artist. We may now regard the
plan as certain to be carried out at no distant day, and if it succeeds
it will be one of the wonders of the world. A statue rising to the
height of three hundred and seventeen feet above the waves—the familiar
figure of Liberty confronting the world in our chief American city—will
be a unique and impressive piece of art, if it be not an utter failure.
The _if_ is not a large doubt; only the small doubt which attends the
most perfect human work which is as yet untried. The _World’s_ popular
subscription had passed $35,000 when these lines were sent to press, on
the 28th of April.


A highly successful “Chautauqua Day” has been carried out at the New
Orleans Exposition, under the leadership of Prof. E. A. Spring, Prof. W.
F. Sherwin and the Rev. A. H. Gillet. An audience of over 5,000 people
met in Music Hall to hear Bishop Mallalieu on “The Relation of Chautauqua
to the Home and Society,” Prof. Sherwin on “The Story of Chautauqua,”
talks from Wallace Bruce and the Rev. Mr. Gillet, and music from the
Mexican Band. The great crowd was given Chautauqua badges and C. L. S.
C. circulars, and taught the Chautauqua salute—the latter in compliment
to Señor Payen, the leader of the Mexican Band, and the pet of the
Exposition. One of the audience remarked on leaving the hall: “I have
been at every day entertainment here since the beginning, and this has
been the most successful, the best managed, the most interesting occasion
there has been.”

       *       *       *       *       *

There has been an almost breathless attention given throughout the world
during the past month to the attitude of England and Russia. Words have
been weighed and steps measured with the nicest exactness. Affairs which
in other times would take up columns are given corners. The prevalent
opinion has been that war must come, though peace negotiations are being
vigorously pushed. Could war be held off twenty years it might be that we
should be so much wiser that arbitration might be made to prevail.

       *       *       *       *       *

The most active business which the United States Navy has had for
years was caused by the Isthmus troubles. Our treaty with New Granada
guarantees free and uninterrupted passage across the Isthmus. To secure
this a force of 500 men and four ships was placed at Aspinwall after the
insurgents had burned the city. They thence proceeded to Panama, which
they succeeded in restoring to order. Not an easy thing to do, with the
natives sympathizing generally with the rebels, and very suspicious of
the “Gringoes,” as they call us, and with the French determined to have
the credit of whatever restoration could be made.

       *       *       *       *       *

M. de Lesseps is firmly convinced of the advantages to America of the
Panama Canal, prophesying in a recent letter that it will reanimate our
merchant marine, will greatly enlarge our internal business, and make us,
in short, commercial kings. It can hardly be doubted that were any one
of the great schemes for interoceanic communication in operation, our
whole system of exchange would be modified and our business multiplied.
The chief question seems to be now, is the Panama Canal, Mr. Eads’s
Tehuantepec Ship Railway, or the Nicaragua Canal likely to be the best
for the United States?

       *       *       *       *       *

The recent conviction of two “saints” charged with polygamy is having a
wholesome effect. The law which makes such a decision possible in Utah
is the Edmunds bill, by which a man believing it right to have more than
one living or undivorced wife at a time maybe challenged as a juryman.
Under this law it is extremely difficult for a Mormon brought to trial
to escape sentence, and the sentence is such that the fear of it will
more than probably take a great deal of charm out of the doctrine of
“spiritual wives.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The biographical department of the scrap-book compiler has had great
opportunities to grow rich in anecdotes of General Grant this past month.
His prolonged illness and the wonderfully sustained interest and sympathy
of the public have led to many letters and stories getting into print
which otherwise might never have been known. All of this matter but shows
more and more clearly how just is our love and reverence for “our hero.”

       *       *       *       *       *

For the benefit of the international copyright there were held in New
York recently, on two afternoons, Authors’ Readings. A notable galaxy of
literary characters gathered on the stage. Among them were George William
Curtis, Professor Charles Carroll, Julian Hawthorne, Will Carleton,
W. D. Howells, the Rev. Robert Collyer, Prof. H. H. Boyesen, Bishop
Potter, Mark Twain, Edward Eggleston, Henry Ward Beecher, and others. The
audience which greeted the readers was large and appreciative.

       *       *       *       *       *

One of the most horrible accidents of the month of April was the
collapse of eight nearly completed tenement houses in New York City.
Twelve persons were injured in the fall. The investigation discloses a
deliberate intention on the part of the contractor to use the poorest
material obtainable, and a criminal—whether intentional or not—neglect on
the part of building authorities to prevent his plan. Indeed, contractors
who are honest in their work, state the commission cares more for
the fee which puts a contract through than for the material put into
the building. A vigorous public sentiment which would put a few such
criminals into State prison might prove beneficial.

       *       *       *       *       *

“Arbor Day” is extending its conquests. Its latest subject is none other
than the Province of Ontario, whose Minister of Education sends out a
communication to all teachers asking that in the interest of sanitation
and æsthetics the 8th of May be set apart as a holiday in every rural and
village school, for grading school grounds, laying out walks, and setting
out trees.

       *       *       *       *       *

Hon. B. G. Northrop, in a letter dated April 4th, writes: “Sixteen
states have adopted ‘Arbor Day,’ and to that result the article in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN, and extracts quoted from it, have greatly contributed.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The Bureau of Education sends out a pamphlet on “Arbor Day.” It will help
many a teacher to an interest in the scheme, and will tell him what trees
to select, how to plant them, and how to arrange a program suitable for
the holiday.

       *       *       *       *       *

The trouble which we have with foreign tongues sometimes enables us to
heartily appreciate the blunders of the foreigner who tries our English
tongue. We can not possibly make worse blunders with French than a late
number of the aristocratic _Révue des deux Mondes_, when in its attempts
to express in English the idea of a candidate favoring a railway it said,
“_My politic is railway_.”

       *       *       *       *       *

One might almost call Lord Tennyson’s verses on “The Fleet” the literary
sensation of the month. It is rather difficult to see just why the verses
deserve the unstinted ridicule American papers have given them. Certainly
they are tame, but Lord Tennyson is an old man—a man whom this generation
ought to honor for the noble pleasure he has left to it and to its
posterity. Were his lines much worse, courtesy demands that we remember
that with age comes decay.

       *       *       *       *       *

The new Minister of Education in Greece, where the four Gospels are used
as a reading book by the advanced classes in the primary department of
the public schools, proposes to introduce them into the higher schools.
The purity of the diction of the four Gospels makes them, regardless of
other considerations, most desirable reading for children who are just
forming their literary style.

       *       *       *       *       *

It is a sort of fashion which common sense people will be glad to
adopt—the run on plain food which London society is said to be having.
The Prince of Wales began it by cutting down every _ménu_ over which he
presided, and he has had a larger following than usual—both the people
who always follow and those whose good sense decides what they do, taking
up the custom. It would be a wise lesson for both dinner givers and hotel
keepers to learn that the quality of a dinner can not possibly depend
upon the number of dishes.

       *       *       *       *       *

Bringing out a successful novelty in flowers or vegetables, is to a
nurseryman what a bonanza mine is to a westerner, or a flowing well to
an oil producer. The present season has several: There is a new lettuce
with leaves like the oak, a red celery, a celery which blanches naturally
and bears leaves like an ostrich plume; a pansy with blossoms two and one
fourth inches in diameter; a zinnia round as a ball, and a mignonette
with spikes twelve to fifteen inches in length, and of pure white.
Perhaps the greatest novelty about the business this spring is the fact
that in the cities the safe deposit vaults are receiving thousands of
pounds of invaluable seeds for keeping—treasures quite as priceless to
the seedsmen as the jewels which repose beside them are to their owners.

       *       *       *       *       *

Another compliment to America! When M. de Lesseps, the new member of the
French Academy, was installed, in April, he delivered, it is said, the
shortest speech ever delivered by an incoming Academician. Thereupon
M. de Rénan complimented him on adopting the pithy, pointed style of

       *       *       *       *       *

We are very glad to introduce the Chautauqua Town and Country Club, a new
branch of the C. L. S. C., for the study of agriculture. Everybody is
expected to do something in this novel society of practical out-of-door
work. Everybody must raise a plant, or cultivate a bed, or care for
an animal. A well known Orange Co., N. Y., farm is to be the working
headquarters of the new organization, and its course of reading and
experiment is under the control of Mr. Charles Barnard. Chancellor
Vincent honors the organization with his supervision, a guarantee of
success, and the headquarters of the C. L. S. C. have been extended to
take in the business of the C. T. C. C. In July we hope to give our
readers a broader look at this charming club.

       *       *       *       *       *

We called attention recently to Dr. Warren’s entertaining theory of the
whereabouts of the garden of Eden. And now we have another explorer for
this land-one Moritz Engel, of Dresden, who locates it about seventy
miles southwest of Damascus. Herr Engel makes his theory almost as
entertaining and plausible as does Dr. Warren his.

       *       *       *       *       *

The article on the “Natural History and People of Borneo,” which
appears in this issue of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, is in reality an outline of
a book, “Ten Years in a Jungle,” written by Mr. Hornaday, and soon
to be published by Messrs. Scribner’s Sons. This work is to be fully
illustrated and furnished with maps, and will give much desirable
information on many of the points but lightly touched in the article.

       *       *       *       *       *

One of the most magnificent pieces of architecture in the world is about
to be erected in St. Petersburg as a votive chapel commemorating the
murder of the Emperor Alexander II., of Russia. It stands over the spot
where he fell, is to be erected by donations from the entire nation, will
cost $10,000,000, and will be completed, it is expected, in 1891.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. James Anthony Froude says in a recent article that the best histories
are those which are written by men who hate “moral evil” and love “moral
good,” and who are “afraid to tell lies” to defend their theories; as
examples, he mentions, Herodotus, Thucydides, Tacitus, and Carlyle.

       *       *       *       *       *

The readers of THE CHAUTAUQUAN are familiar with the _Chautauqua Assembly
Daily Herald_, the organ of the Chautauqua meetings. The forthcoming
volume will contain all the best things said on the Chautauqua platform
and in all the meetings during the coming session, with comments on the
great men who frequent Chautauqua during the months of July and August.
In short, it will depict in all its interesting details the unique life
of the great Assembly. This paper, with its nineteen issues, is the
necessary supplement to the THE CHAUTAUQUAN, just as the Assembly is the
supplement to the work of the year. Every reader of the C. L. S. C.,
every reader of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, every lover of Chautauqua should have
the _Assembly Daily Herald_. For rates and address see advertisement in
this impression.

       *       *       *       *       *

Evening High Schools are becoming a permanent feature in the school
system of a number of our large cities. They deserve the heartiest
support of educators and municipal authorities. In Cincinnati there is an
evening high school similar in requirements to the upper grade grammar
school; in St. Louis one which prepares students for the Polytechnic
school of Washington University; one in New York which, in 1883, had an
average attendance of 951 pupils; another in Boston which, in October
1884, enrolled 1,592 pupils. The character and the patronage are proofs
sufficient that such institutions are in demand. A late circular from the
Bureau of Education declares that “it is an institution which has come to
stay, and that it has a more important future than can now be understood.”

       *       *       *       *       *

A hopeful sign to temperance workers is the favor with which the
scientific temperance education bill has been meeting in the legislatures
of various states. During the winter of 1884-5 this bill became a law
in Nevada, Alabama, Wisconsin, Missouri, Maine, New Jersey, Oregon,
Nebraska, Pennsylvania, and Kansas, making in all fourteen states which
require instruction in public schools concerning the physiological
effects of stimulants and narcotics.


Inoculation for cholera is the latest preventive. A number of people have
tried it in Valencia, Spain, and with perfect success, the authorities
contend. Cholera virus is used. The patient becomes prostrated with a
tumor in about twenty-four hours, but usually recovers in a couple of
days. Certainly, if as sure as speedy, humanity has found a boon. It will
be wiser, however, to wait until the cholera attacks Valencia before
trusting too implicitly to inoculation for cholera.

       *       *       *       *       *

Unbounded curiosity has been displayed at the New Orleans Exposition,
over the “Woman’s Department.” In spite of fate Mrs. Julia Ward Howe and
her co-workers have succeeded in making it a success, and in getting a
fair representation of what women can do. They have a literary department
filled with scores of volumes written by women, a woman’s exchange,
samples of ten thousand kinds of fancy work, of course, and, better than
that, of engraving, wood-carving, drawing, silk culture and weaving; a
novel niche is made by a display of patents taken out by women, and by
blacksmith work and forging done by women. Could they transport a cottage
with its inmates and let the work of home-making go on day after day,
they would add the crown to their department.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton in the _North American_ makes the remarkable
statement that women have never been benefited by Christianity, but that
their elevation is altogether due to the spread of Teutonic respect
for noble women. One must naturally conclude that Mrs. Stanton has not
studied her history thoroughly. Her statements sound very much like an
attempt to build up a theory without respect to the facts in the case.
Certainly no fact is better established than that with the spread of the
doctrines of Christ came the elevation of women.


1. “De Saussure,” sō-sür, Horace Benedict. (1740-1799.) A Swiss
naturalist who traveled extensively and made valuable contributions
to science. Much of his time and attention were given to mountain
researches. He constructed the best hygroscope, the instrument which
indicates a change in the degree of moisture in the atmosphere. The
cyanometer, an instrument for measuring the degrees of blueness in the
sky, was also invented by him.

2. “Osmose.” The tendency of fluids, when placed in contact, to mix.

3. “Cotyledons.” The seed lobes which surround and nourish young plants.
Endogenous plants, or inside growers, such as Indian corn, have only
one cotyledon, while exogens, or plants that grow by making external
additions, have two, as seen in the young pea.

4. “Hales,” Stephen. (1677-1761.) An English clergyman who gave much time
to scientific study. He was the author of several works, among which was
a book on the physiology of vegetables, entitled “Statical Essays,” which
has been translated into several languages.

5. “Dean Trench,” Richard Chevenix. (1807-⸺.) A British clergyman.
In 1856 he was made Dean of Westminster, and in 1864 Archbishop of
Dublin. His publications are numerous, including poetical, theological,
philological, and historical works.

6. “Venus fly-trap,” or dionæa. This curious plant is a native of the
sandy bogs of North Carolina. It is a perennial plant, whose leaves grow
from its roots. In the midst of them there grows a leafless stem, about
six inches high, which terminates in a cluster of white flowers. The
long, slender leaves bear at their extremities a second leaf, which has
been compared to two eyelids joined at their bases; this leaf is fringed
with stiff, bristly hairs, and on the upper surface there are three very
delicate bristles on each side, so placed that a fly can not walk over
the leaf without touching one of them. As soon as touched the two parts
of the leaf instantly close over the victim and hold it in their embrace
until death follows, and the insect is partly absorbed. The sensitiveness
of the plant resides entirely in these bristles on the surface of the
leaves. The juice from the glands attracts the insects, and the plant
receives nourishment from their bodies, which are partly dissolved in a
liquid which exudes from the leaves.

7. “Nepenthes,” or pitcher plants. A genus of plants whose leaves form
receptacles for water. The plants are natives of the swamps in the
East Indies and Australia. The linear-lanceolate leaves have at their
extremities a long, spiral stem, at the end of which is attached an urn,
or pitcher, of narrow cylindrical form, from six to twelve inches long,
in the different species, which are of the same color as the leaves, in
some varieties, in others spotted with red, and still others are of a
blood red color. The pitcher is terminated by a lid which is sometimes
closed. The pitcher is always partly filled with watery liquid. Honey is
secreted around the mouth of the pitcher, and insects are found within
it, which have been lured by the honey. These are supposed to contribute
to the nourishment of the plant. For further description, see the
article on “Borneo,” in the present number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN. There are
some varieties of the pitcher plant found in the United States.

8. “Diatoms,” A species of microscopic plants belonging to the Algæ or
sea weeds, growing in both salt and fresh water. For a long time they
were thought to belong to the animal kingdom, and were classed among the
animalcules, as they had the strange power of secreting from the water
silicious shells. They grew in some places in such abundance as to form
large beds of their shelly remains, the material of which is used for
the polishing powders known under the name of tripoli. The species found
now are exactly like the fossils. Ehrenberg says: “Species are to be
found, in a living state, in situations where they have been propagated
from times far anterior to the existence of man.” They may be obtained
by allowing the water in which they grow to stand for a time, and then
pouring off all but the slimy part at the bottom. The diatoms may often
be seen to move a little in the water, from which it was supposed they
belonged to the animal kingdom. Professor Bailey describes one very
interesting species, as follows: “At one moment the needle-shaped
frustules lie side by side, forming a rectangular plate; suddenly one
of the frustules slides forward a little way, the next slides a little
also, and so on through the whole number. These motions are constantly
going on, and with such rapidity that the eye can scarcely follow them.
The cause of the motion is wholly unknown, but it is probably mechanical
and not vital.” One species in its growth takes on a fanlike appearance
and is exceedingly beautiful. Fossil diatoms have been found in all the
strata of rock formations. These with some of the minute creatures of the
animal kingdom have left greater records of themselves than most of the
higher forms of life. Extensive deposits of their silicious shells are
found in various parts of the world. The city of Richmond, Va., stands on
a layer of them which is eighteen feet in thickness.

ERRATA.—The first line of the second experiment, page 441 of THE
CHAUTAUQUAN for May, should read: “A body is buoyed up in water by a
force equal to the weight of the water it displaces.”


1. “Summerfield,” John. (1798-1825.) An American divine. He was born in
England, and moved to New York in 1821. He visited many of the large
cities, where his eloquence drew crowds to listen to his sermons. He
founded the American Tract Society.

2. “Krumacher,” Friedrich Adolph. (1768-1845.) An eminent German
theologian, pastor of the Reformed Church at Crefeld, and later pastor at
Bremen. He was the author of many works, both in prose and poetry.


1. “Batrachia,” bā-trāˈkĭ-ä.

2. “Ophidia,” ō-fidˈĭ-ä.

3. “Lacertilia,” lā-ser-tilˈĭ-ä.

4. “Iguanodon,” i-guāˈnō-don. This gigantic fossil reptile was discovered
in the year 1882, in the Wealden beds of Kent and Sussex, also in the
Isle of Wight, by Dr. Mantell. The enormous bones were very abundant,
and from a close study of them, it has been estimated that the extreme
length of the reptile must have been twenty-eight or thirty feet, of
which the head was three, and the tail thirteen feet. It stood higher
above the ground than any reptile now in existence. The teeth, which
bear a remarkable resemblance to the teeth of the American lizard, the
iguana, from which it was named, show that the animal was herbivorous.
It probably fed on the trees growing along the borders of swamps and
streams, and was able to lift its body for this purpose on its hind legs.

5. “Megˌa-lo-sauˈrus.” The word comes from the Greek, as do nearly all
the words in this list, and means great lizard. The bones found in the
rocks of the Oolite formation, the one next below the Wealden, show the
animal to have been terrestrial and carnivorous. It fed upon smaller
reptiles and the young of the larger orders. Its huge body was supported
on four large, strong legs, the hind ones being estimated to have had a
length of nearly six feet. The length of the animal must have been thirty
or forty feet. In the first estimates made of all these saurians, their
size was overestimated, the body of the iguanodon having been given as
seventy feet in length, and the megalosaurus as sixty or seventy feet.

6. “Pleˌsi-o-sauˈrus.” The word means like a lizard. It is a remarkable
fossil sea-reptile, which shows a long, snake-like neck, in which there
are thirty-three vertebræ, ten more than in the longest neck of any
bird. The body and head are comparatively short. Its whole length, when
living, was probably twenty-five or thirty feet. Buckland describes it
as follows: “To the head of a lizard it united the teeth of a crocodile,
a neck of enormous length, resembling the body of a serpent, a trunk
and tail having the proportions of an ordinary quadruped; the ribs of
a chameleon, and the paddles of a whale.” There were fifty teeth in
each jaw. Conybeare says of it: “That it was marine is evident from its
paddles; that it may have occasionally visited the shore, the resemblance
of its extremities to those of the turtle may lead us to conjecture;
its motion must have been, however, very awkward on land; its neck must
have impeded its progress through the water. May it not therefore be
concluded—since, in addition to these circumstances, its respiration must
have required frequent access to the air—that it swam upon or near the
surface, arching back its neck like the swan, and occasionally darting
it down at the fish which happened to float within its reach? It may,
perhaps, have lurked in shoal water along the coast, concealed among the
sea weed, and, raising its nostrils to the surface from a considerable
depth, may have found a sure retreat from the assaults of dangerous
enemies, while the flexibility of its neck may have compensated for the
want of strength in its jaws and its incapacity for swift motion through
the water, by the suddenness and agility of the attack which it enabled
it to make on every animal fitted for its prey which came within its

7. “Ichˈthy-o-sauˈrus” (fish-lizard). This animal, which also is known
only by its fossil remains, must have been about thirty feet long. It had
enormous eyes, a long and large head, a mouth armed with powerful teeth,
and a short neck. The body was fish-like in form, and the four paddles,
resembling those of a whale, were comparatively small. The tail was long
and gradually flattened toward the end; it was the principal organ of
locomotion. They were very active in their movements, and consequently
were dangerous enemies to all other animals living in the sea. Their food
consisted chiefly of fishes.

8. “Chelonia,” kē-loˈnĭ-ä.

9. “Loricata,” lŏrˌi-cāˈtä.

10. “Aves,” āˈvēs.

11. “Anchylosed,” angˈkī-losed. United; made fast; stiffened.

12. “Esophagus,” e-sofˈa-gus. The passage leading to the stomach, through
which the food and drink pass.

13. “Raptores,” rap-tōˈres.

14. “Insessores,” in-ses-sōˈres.

15. “Cursores,” cur-sōˈres.

16. “Grallatores,” gralˌ-lā-toˈres.

17. “Natatores,” natˈ-a-tōˈres.

18. “Monotremata,” monˈo-tremˈa-tä.

19. “Edentata,” ē-denˈta-tä.

20. “Armadillos,” ar-ma-dilˈlōs.

21. “Sirenia,” sī-rēˈni-ä.

22. “Cetacea,” sē-tāˈsē-ä.

23. “Cheiroptera,” kī-ropˈte-rä.

24. “Rodentia,” rō-denˈshĭ-a.

25. “Ungulates,” unˈgū-lates.

26. “Pinnigrades,” pinˈni-grades.

27. “Plantigrades,” plantˈĭ-grades.

28. “Digitigrades,” digˈi-ti-grades.

       *       *       *       *       *

Those who wish to carry on further the study of Animal Biology will find
a wide range of reading on the subject awaiting them. We append a list,
but are unable to give publishers and prices: “Comparative Zoölogy,”
by James Orton; “Methods of Study in Natural History,” by Agassiz;
“Principles of Zoölogy,” by Agassiz and Gould; “Elementary Biology,”
by Huxley and Martin; Wood’s “Illustrated Natural History;” Jones’s
“Animal Creation;” “Elements of Zoölogy,” by Holder; Packard’s “Zoölogy;”
Nicholson’s “Manual of Zoölogy;” “Winners in Life’s Race: or, The Great
Backboned Family,” by Arabella B. Buckley; “Life and her Children: or,
Glimpses of Animal Life from the Amœba to the Insects,” by Miss Buckley.

For special studies: Lyell’s “Antiquity of Man;” Blumenbach’s “Natural
History of Man;” Huxley’s “Elementary Lessons in Physiology;” “Sea-side
Studies in Natural History,” by Agassiz; Taylor’s “Half-hours at the
Seaside;” Dana’s “Corals and Coral Islands;” Duncan’s “Transformation
of Insects;” Packard’s “Guide to the Study of Insects;” Coues’s “Key to
North American Birds;” Jordan’s “Popular Key to the Birds, etc., of the
Northern United States;” “Birds of North America,” by Baird, Brewer and
Ridgeway; Baird’s “Mammals of North America;” Scammon’s “Marine Mammals
of North Pacific;” Coues’s “Fur-bearing Animals of North America;”
Huxley’s “Manual of Vertebrates;” “Tropical Nature,” by Wallace (a work
on reptiles); “Check List of North American Reptiles and Batrachians,” by
E. D. Cope; “Game Fishes of the United States,” by G. Brown Goode; “Blind
Fishes of the Mammoth Cave,” in “American Naturalist,” vol. vi., p. 6;
Holder’s “American Fauna;” Agassiz’s “Development of Osseous Fishes;”
Gunther’s “Introduction to the Study of Fishes;” Packard’s “Guide to the
Study of Insects,” also his “Half Hours with Insects;” Wood’s “Strange
Dwellings,” “Natural History,” and “Homes Without Hands;” Burmeister’s
“Entomology;” Lubbock’s “Ants, Bees, and Wasps;” McCook’s “Agricultural
Ants of Texas;” “Crustacea of the United States Exploring Expedition,”
by J. D. Dana; “The Lobster and Lobster Fishing,” by W. W. Wheildon;
“Barnacles,” by J. S. Kingsley; “The Cray Fish,” by Huxley; “Terrestrial
Air-breathing Mollusks of the United States,” by W. G. Binney; “Our Sea
Anemones,” by A. E. Verrill; “The Atlantic and Depths of the Sea,” by
Thompson; Leidy’s “Fresh Water Rhizopods;” Pritchard’s “Infusoria.”

Serial publications containing much matter in regard to these subjects
are _Popular Science Monthly_, _American Journal of Science_, _American
Naturalist_, _Smithsonian Contributions_, _Annals and Magazine of Natural
History_, and _Nature_.


Roman History and Latin Literature.

Studies in Italian History, Biography, and Art.

Political Economy.

Studies in Human Nature.

Studies in Robert Browning.


Philosophy, International Law, etc., etc.

The books for the course will soon be announced.

                                                        J. H. VINCENT.

NEW HAVEN, CT., April 27, 1885.


“Look there, my dearies!” and she pointed to a little blue and white
tea-pot on the high mantel-shelf above the hearth, on which they were
sitting. “Last night, when they’d taken Ben away, and I couldn’t finish
t’ psalm, and I couldn’t do much more praying than a little bairn thet’s
flayed and troubled in t’ dark night, I lifted my eyes to thet tea-pot,
and I knew t’ words thet was on it, and they wer’ like an order and a
promise—a’ in one; and I said, ‘There! thet’s enough, Lord!’ and I went
to my bed and slept, for I knew there ’ud be a deal to do to-day, and
nothing weakens me like missing my sleep.”

“And did you sleep, Martha?”

“Ay, I slept. It wasn’t hard wi’ t’ promise I’d got.”

Then Phyllis took a chair and stood upon it and carefully lifted down the
tea-pot. It was of coarse blue and white pottery, and had been made in
Staffordshire when the art was emerging from its rudeness, and when the
people were half barbarous and wholly irreligious—one of half a dozen
that are now worth more than if made of the rarest china, the “Blue
Wesley Tea-pot;” rude little objects, yet formed by loving, reverential
hands to commemorate the apostolic labors of John Wesley in that almost
savage district. His likeness was on one side, and on the other the
words, so often in his mouth, “In God we trust.”—_From “The Hallam
Succession,” by Amelia E. Barr._

       *       *       *       *       *

Discriminate in the use of AND and TO. Instead of saying “Go _and_ see
them before you leave;” “Try _and_ help him obtain a place;” “Come _and_
meet our friends at my house;” say “Go _to_,” “Try _to_,” and “Come _to_.”

Discriminate in the use of the word ARTIST. Keep _artist_ to designate
the higher order of workmen; as painters, sculptors, musicians,
architects, and the like. Don’t use it to designate barbers, laundrymen,
tailors, etc.

Discriminate in the use of BAD. Don’t say “I have a _bad_ cold;” say “a
_severe_ cold.” As colds are never _good_, we should not say they are
_bad_. We can have _slight_ colds, or _severe_ colds, but not _bad_ colds.

Discriminate between BAD and BADLY. Don’t make the mistake, so frequently
made, of saying “I feel very _badly_.” Use _bad_. _Badly_ is an adverb,
and should not be employed. One might as well say “I feel _happily_,”
instead of _happy_.

Discriminate between BALANCE and REMAINDER or REST. Don’t say “The
_balance_ of the library remained unsold;” “He spent the _balance_ of
the evening at home;” “The _balance_ of the money he left in their
keeping;” “We will now have the _balance_ of the toasts.” Use _rest_ or
_remainder_. Balance denotes the excess of one thing over another.

Discriminate in the use of DEPOT. The best critics contend that we should
not call a _railway-station_ a _depot_. A _depot_ is a place where goods
or stores of any kind are kept.

Discriminate between HAD RATHER and WOULD RATHER. Don’t say I _had
rather_ not do it; say I _would rather_ not do it.

Discriminate in the use of POLITE and KIND. Don’t say “your _polite_
invitation was received;” “You are very _polite_ in being so obliging;”
“They gave us a _polite_ reception.” Use _kind_.

Discriminate in the use of SUCH and SO. Don’t say, “_Such_ a handsome
bonnet;” “_Such_ a lovely girl;” “_Such_ a rough road.” Use _so_
handsome, _so_ lovely, etc.—_From “Discriminate.”_[M]

       *       *       *       *       *

ONE MEANS OF HELPING RUSSIA.—But there is no obstacle which can not
be overcome by energy, spirit of sacrifice, and courage. The Russian
despotism must and will be destroyed; for it is not permitted to the
stupid obstinacy of one, nor to the infamous egotism of a few, to
arrest the progress and light of a nation of a hundred million souls.
We can only wish the mode of execution of the unavoidable may be the
least disastrous, least sanguinary, and most humane. And there is a
force which can strongly contribute to this—it is the public opinion of
European countries. It is strange, but quite true; Russian governmental
circles are much more impressed by what is said about them in Europe than
by the wailing of all Russia from the White Sea down to the Euxine.—_From
“Russia Under the Tzars,” by Stepniak._

       *       *       *       *       *

THE GOLDEN PRIME OF ’49.—A knowledge of the characteristic features of
the mining days of 1849 is essential to a full appreciation of the good
sense and political wisdom shown by the miners as a class. Merchants,
mechanics, farmers existed but to supply the miners; and the gold of
the mines was the chief resource of California. Four fifths of the
able-bodied male population were living in the mineral belt, or were on
their way thither, when the working season of 1849 opened. Only four
years before there had been but five hundred Americans in California;
in February, 1848, but two thousand; by December, 1848, this number
had grown to six thousand; by July, 1849, to fifteen thousand; and by
December, 1849, to fifty-three thousand. Chiefly owing to the gold rush
of 1848-53 the center of population of the United States moved eighty-one
miles farther west. Within four years after the spring of 1849 the
population of the new state was 300,000, and more than $260,000,000 had
been dug from the gold fields.—_From Charles Howard Shinn’s “Mining

       *       *       *       *       *


      “Look on the Spirit as the rider! take
    The Body for the chariot, and the Will
    As charioteer! regard the Mind as reins,
    The Senses the steeds, and the things of sense
    The ways they trample on. So is the Soul
    The Lord that owneth spirit, body, will,
    Mind, senses, all; itself unowned. Thus think
    The wise!

      “He who is unwise drives with reins
    Slack on the neck o’ the senses; then they romp,
    Like restive horses of a charioteer.

      “He that is wise, with watchful mind and firm,
    Calms those wild Fire, so they go fair and straight,
    Like well trained horses of a charioteer.”

                                 —_Edwin Arnold’s “The Secret of Death.”_

       *       *       *       *       *

I picked our first berries for market, and from that time on we were
truly busybodies. We worked early and late, being careful to have dresses
short enough not to injure the vines. It was hard work for our bent,
weary backs, as it grew warm, but we knew it must be done. Mother, Janet,
Will and Pete did good service, and little Cecy cheered us from her wagon
under a neighboring tree.

In about five weeks the harvest was over, and after taking breath, we
counted our gains.


    Cost of plants (3,630)            $11 80
    Cost of picking                    10 25
        Total                         $22 05


    By 1,178 quarts of berries, at an average
      of 15c. per qt.                          $176 70
        Net profit on one quarter acre         $154 65

If we had to pay expenses of plowing, weeding, manure, etc., it would
have greatly lessened the profits. On the other hand the season was
backward, and the yield was not large, they tell me, in consideration of
the fine condition of the plants and the cultivation they received, which
was better than we could give a larger plot. At all events we set out
half an acre more the August after.—_From Helen Campbell’s “What-to-do

[M] Discriminate. A Companion to “Don’t.” A Manual for Guidance in the
Use of Correct Words and Phrases in Ordinary Speech. By Critic. New York:
D. Appleton & Co. 1885. Price, 30 cents.


A happy thought was carried into successful execution in the publication
of “The Hundred Greatest Men.”[N] The editor conceived the idea that a
“natural history of civilization ought to be, not so much a narration of
events, as a description of men and things,” and hence for many years
busied himself in making a collection of portraits and antiquities as a
preparation for his work. The great men of all ages have been grouped
into eight classes, and treated under the following divisions of the
book: Poetry, art, religion, philosophy, history, science, politics, and
industry. Introductions have been written for these different departments
by Matthew Arnold, Taine, Max Müller, Rénan, Noah Porter, Dean Stanley,
Prof. Helmholtz, J. A. Froude, and John Fiske. The general introduction
is by Emerson. Only those characters have been selected who have stood
the test of time without diminution of fame. A portrait accompanies each
sketch, and many of these have been obtained at great expense of time and
trouble. The sketches themselves are word-paintings of the character,
the life, and the times of the men, and the wonder is that in such brief
space so much information can be given. The volume is a veritable art

A story of much delicacy of touch, and with some strong delineation
of character, is “The Hallam Succession”[O] of Amelia C. Barr. The
placing of the story could hardly be more picturesque. Mrs. Barr opens
with English life of the first of the present century, carries us to a
plantation near New Orleans, through “Sam” Houston’s Texan struggles,
and finally to the long, low, verandahed house of a Texas plantation.
The varied setting gives the variety to a story of faithful love and
devotion. The many pleasing touches given in the descriptions of the
characters are the finest features of the book. A fair example is the
paragraph quoted on another page of this impression, which in its true
and delicate pathos is rarely equaled.

One or two selections taken from “The Harnt that Walks the Chilhowee,”
one of the eight stories that make up the volume, “In The Tennessee
Mountains,”[P] will show the style and aim of these unique writings,
which are just now attracting so much attention. This “harnt,” or ghost,
was supposed to be that of a poor, deformed little creature, who some
time before had been shot, and, as every one thought, killed. He himself
had been falsely accused of taking a man’s life. His death, however, had
been a mistake, and it was the real man who walked the mountain in search
of food. Simon Burney, an “uncouth and densely ignorant” mountaineer,
sought out the helpless, forlorn little specter, for whose capture
$200 reward had been offered, and said: “I ain’t a-goin’ ter help no
man break the law an’ hender jestice; but ef ye will go an’ stand yer
trial I’ll take keer of ye. An’ arter the jury hev done let ye off, ye
are welcome ter live along o’ me at my house till ye die.” And after
the trial and the clearance, this rough friend was as good as his word,
and “ungrudgingly gave of his best … and worked early and late that
there might be enough to divide.” “A prince could not have dispensed
hospitality with a more royal hand.” The author closes by saying: “The
grace of culture is, in its way, a fine thing, but the best that art can
do—the polish of a gentleman—is hardly equal to the best that nature can
do in her highest moods.” All of the stories are full of interest, and
show great love for humanity. The author, in a bright, cheery way, true
to the life which she represents, portrays the strong and noble natures
found in the lowest walks of life.

“A Book of Sermons,”[Q] by Bishop Simpson, will meet with a warm welcome
everywhere. To those who have heard him preach, who have listened to
his eager, impassioned words, and have been borne onward by the tide
of his eloquence, it may seem that to merely read the words—to have
them without the powerful influence, the magnetic personality, behind
them—is to possess the letter without the spirit. But such will be
happily surprised. The book bears witness that Bishop Simpson was a
great sermonizer, as well as a great speaker. By the aid of a little
imagination as one reads, he can see again the spare form, and the face
lighted up with enthusiasm and love; can hear the voice rapidly and
earnestly uttering the words which point out plainly and simply the way
of life. While, without this help, those who never heard him will find
great pleasure and profit in reading the book.

No one who knows Dr. Buckley but expects good things from his pen, and
he has given to young men a particularly useful volume in “Oats or
Wild-Oats?”[R] Advice is as difficult a thing to prescribe judiciously
as it is to take pleasantly. It is very liable to be insipid, preachy,
to lack _verve_ qualities, which young men particularly abominate; it is
very little of it readable. But these talks of Dr. Buckley’s abound in
readable qualities. They are directly to the point, and full of clear-cut
common sense. They advise young men in the practical matter of choosing
a profession, and in making a success of it. The talks come from a man
who, even if he “never worked a half day on a farm in his life,” has
observed and conversed with hundreds of farmers; who knows from what he
has heard and learned from their confessions to him just where they make
their business, social, intellectual, and religious mistakes; and who is
not afraid to express what he believes to be their dangers, and their
strong points. As with farming, so with all the trades and professions.
He knows his ground, and treats it in a tone a trifle blunt, perhaps, but
nevertheless full of force and conviction.

Mr. Marvin, an Englishman who for several years has lived in Russia,
and is thoroughly acquainted with the character, the policy, and the
wishes of that government, has, in writing “The Russians at the Gates
of Herat,”[S] tried to impress more deeply upon the English people the
necessity of immediate effort in order to secure themselves in the
possession of the entrance to India. The steady advance of Russia for
years past toward this empire has been carefully traced, and all the
treacherous devices by which she has gained ground are exposed. The
popular opinion that colossal mountain ranges lie between the Russian
possessions and India has been shown to be an error; the new route
over which they are passing is such that one could “drive all the way
four-in-hand.” “No surrender,” must be the motto of every Englishman
as regards Penjdeh, and “Hands off,” in respect to all places leading
directly to Herat, says the author. A careful study of this book will
give one a clear idea of this complicated movement.

The “Old Farm”[T] was one that had been for years without a tenant, for
its owner feared to lease it lest its old fashioned house and belongings
might not suit the new comer, and he would want it changed. At last one
was found willing, glad to take it just as it was. One bright October
day a business man from the great city, broken down in health, took
possession of it with his family. “A year of retirement and rest will
restore his vigor and save him for the future,” said the doctor. Very
soon the early tastes of the naturalist, for such he had been, awoke,
and the days were spent in seeking, gathering and studying specimens of
minute animal life, or “the other tenants of the farm,” as he called
them. The conversations held regarding them make up the main part of the
work. Spiders, moths, bees, wasps, and ants are among those described at
length; their history and habits are very accurately given. The blending
of the story with the natural history makes an exceedingly interesting

[N] The Hundred Greatest Men. With Portraits, reproduced from Fine and
Rare Steel Engravings. Edited by Wallace Wood, M.D. New York: D. Appleton
& Co. 1885. Price, $6.00.

[O] The Hallam Succession. A Tale of Methodist Life in Two Countries. By
Amelia E. Barr. New York: Phillips & Hunt. 1885.

[P] In the Tennessee Mountains. By Charles Egbert Craddock. Boston:
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Price, $1.25.

[Q] Sermons by Bishop Matthew Simpson. New York: Harper & Brothers,
Franklin Square. 1885.

[R] Oats or Wild-Oats? Common Sense for Young Men. By J. M. Buckley,
LL.D. New York: Phillips & Hunt. 1885. Price, $1.50.

[S] The Russians at the Gates of Herat. By Charles Marvin. With Maps and
Portraits. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. 1885. Price, 50 cents.

[T] Tenants of an Old Farm. By Henry C. McCook, D.D. Illustrated from
Nature. New York: Fords, Howard & Hulbert. 1885. Price, $2.50.


The Women of the Reformation. By Mrs. Annie Wittenmyer. New York:
Phillips & Hunt. Cincinnati: Cranston & Stowe. 1885. Price, $2.00.

Preparation for Reading Xenophon. By James M. Whiton, Ph.D., and Mary B.
Whiton, A.B. New York: D. Appleton and Company. 1885.

Assyriology; Its Use and Abuse. By Francis Brown. New York: Charles
Scribner’s Sons. 1885.

Elias Power, of Ease-in-Zion. By John M. Bamford. New York: Phillips &
Hunt. Cincinnati: Cranston & Stowe. 1885. Price, 85c.

Wondrous Love. A Collection of Songs and Services for Sunday-schools. By
Geo. F. Root and C. C. Case. Cincinnati: The John Church Publishing Co.,
74 West Fourth Street.

The _Century Magazine_, Vol. XXIX. New Series, Vol. VIII. New York: The
Century Co.

Composition and Rhetoric. By G. P. Quackenbos, LL.D. New York: D.
Appleton and Company. 1885.

The Spinning Wheel of Tamworth. By the Rev. W. A. Smith. New York:
National Temperance Society and Publishing House, 58 Reade Street. 1884.

The Secret of Death and Other Poems. By Edwin Arnold. Boston: Roberts
Brothers. 1885. Price, $1.00.

Delivered from Afar. By Ralph Roberts. New York: Phillips & Hunt.
Cincinnati: Cranston & Stowe. 1885. Price, $1.50.

A Child’s Garden of Verses. By Robert Louis Stevenson. New York: Charles
Scribner’s Sons. 1885.

Harriet Martineau. By Mrs. F. Fenwick Miller. Boston: Roberts Brothers.

Grammar of Old English. By Edward Sievers, Ph.D. Boston: Ginn, Heath &
Co. 1885.

Hygiene for Young People. By A. B. Palmer, M.D., LL.D. New York: A. S.
Barnes & Co. 1885.

Krusi’s Drawing Tablets. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1885.

Select Spelling and Pronouncing Lessons. New York; D. Appleton & Co.

Hygiene and Physiology. By J. D. Steele, Ph.D. New York: A. S. Barnes &
Co. 1885.

One of the Duanes. By Alice King Hamilton. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott
& Co. 1885. Price, $1.25.

Harriet Martineau’s Autobiography. Edited by Maria Weston Chapman.
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company. 1885.

Russia Under the Tzars. By Stepniak. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons.

Twenty-eight Breakfasts. By Emily Raymond. Toledo: Blade Printing and
Paper Co. 1885. Price, 10 cents.

Graded Review Questions. By W. M. Giffin and David Maclure. New York: A.
Lovell & Co., 16 Astor Place. 1885.

Leonard and Gertrude. By Pestalozzi. Translated and abridged by Eva
Channing. Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co. 1885.

Herbert Spencer’s Philosophy. Examined by James McCosh, D.D., LL.D. New
York: Charles Scribner’s Sons.

Redemption in Prophecy. By John G. Wilson. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott
& Co. 1885. Price, $1.25.

The Handy Companion. J. R. Holcombe & Co., Publishers. Cleveland, O.

Personal Traits of British Authors. By E. T. Mason. New York: Charles
Scribner’s Sons. 1885. Price, $1.50.

A Hand-Book of the United Brethren in Christ. By E. L. Shuey, A.M.
Dayton, O.: United Brethren Publishing House. 1885.

Anthè. By Mrs. G. W. Chandler. New York: Phillips & Hunt. Cincinnati:
Cranston & Stowe. 1885. Price, $1.00.

At the Sign of the Blue Boar. A Story of the Reign of Charles II. By Emma
Leslie. New York: Phillips & Hunt. 1885.

Life of Edward Thompson, D.D., LL.D., late a Bishop of the Methodist
Episcopal Church. By his son, Edward Thompson, M.A. Cincinnati: Cranston
& Stowe. 1885.


C. L. S. C. STATIONERY.—An entirely new design in stationery will be sold
at Chautauqua and other Assemblies this season. It is the only authorized
C. L. S. C. stationery. A new and uniform Chautauqua badge has also been
devised, and will be on sale at the various Assemblies. This badge bears
different emblematic designs, suitable for the different orders in the C.
L. S. C. It will take the place of all other badges, except the garnet
badge of the graduates, worn on Commencement day.—R. S. HOLMES.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the April issue of THE CHAUTAUQUAN we gave the credit of the
management of the School of Cookery at Lake de Funiak to Mrs. Emma P.
Ewing. We were wrong. Mrs. Ewing was not at the Florida Chautauqua,
but Mrs. Sophie W. Knight, of Grand Rapids, Michigan, was, and a very
delightful series of lessons in the art of cookery she gave.

       *       *       *       *       *

Chautauqua never fails to provide something new for its devotees. This
summer the novelty is a mineral spring. The waters have been in the
laboratory of an eminent chemist, and are pronounced rich in healthful

       *       *       *       *       *

ERRATA.—The name of L. W. Sabin appeared among the graduates in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN for February under Missouri; it should have appeared under

       *       *       *       *       *

TO THE CLASS OF ’88.—So much having been written _pro_ and _con_,
respecting our class name, it is proposed to have the entire class vote
for or against the name. The circles will send their vote, giving the
number in favor and against present name. Those who are not in circles
can send their votes as individuals. In order to insure insertion the
vote must be sent to the Rev. C. C. McLean, St. Augustine, Fla., before
the 1st of June.

       *       *       *       *       *

CHAUTAUQUA DAY AT OCEAN GROVE.—At Ocean Grove, N. J., arrangements have
been made to graduate all Chautauquans who have completed the course
of study and prefer to receive their diploma there; and the 29th of
July next has been set apart as a “Chautauqua day,” for the graduation
ceremonies and other exercises appropriate to the occasion. Chancellor
Vincent, Superintendent of Instruction, and other officers of the C. L.
S. C. will be present, and a large number of the pupils of the young
and vigorous “People’s College,” representing all parts of the country,
from the ocean to the Rocky Mountains, are expected to witness and
take part in the interesting exercises while enjoying the amenities of
that charming seaside town. There is, at Ocean Grove, a local circle
comprising a membership of nearly sixty. Many of the members are as full
of enthusiasm as our honored superintendent, with all his deep devotion
to the institution he has conducted to such a high degree of prosperity
and usefulness, can desire, and the necessary preparations for the
“Chautauqua day” will be made under its direction. The president of the
Ocean Grove Association, the Rev. Dr. E. H. Stokes, is also president of
the local circle. He is a zealous Chautauquan, and to his influence and
example must be attributed much of the zeal, industry and enthusiasm that
have made the local circle so interesting and profitable to members and
visitors. All members of the class of ’85 who can not go to Chautauqua
to receive their diplomas within the sacred shades of our beloved _alma
mater_, but may be able to make a visit for the purpose to Ocean Grove,
will be cordially welcomed, and it is suggested that they will do well to
give as early notice as practicable of their intentions in that regard.
Communications on the subject should be addressed to the Secretary of the
Ocean Grove Local Circle, Mrs. Lulu Pile Little.


The _Chautauqua Assembly Daily Herald_ will be printed in the grove at
Chautauqua, and issued as a morning paper in August, 1885. It will begin
Saturday, August 1, and continue every day for nineteen days. Nobody
can keep well informed on the Chautauqua movement without the _Assembly
Herald_. It will tell you nearly everything that is done. It will cost
$1.00 for the season, and it will contain stenographic reports of all the
scientific, philosophical, and other lectures delivered at the Chautauqua
meetings, together with elaborate reports of all meetings held there the
coming season. The price is very low. The _Assembly Daily Herald_ and
THE CHAUTAUQUAN at one time, $2.25. This offer is good only till August
1st. Members of the C. L. S. C. will find a great many valuable hints and
suggestions in the reports of meetings published in the _Assembly Daily
Herald_, also more than seventy splendid lectures. Some “local circles”
use the _Herald_ to assist them in conducting their work during the
winter months. Send in your names early, before the press of business is
upon us at Chautauqua.


LEWIS MILLER, _Pres’t._ J. H. VINCENT, D.D., _Sup’t of Instruction_.



WILLIAM M. HARPER, Ph.D., Principal. Professor in Baptist Union
Theological Seminary, Morgan Park, Illinois.

CHARLES R. BROWN, Professor in Newton Theological Institution, Newton
Center, Massachusetts.

DAVID A. M’CLENAHAN, M.A., Pastor of United Presbyterian Church, New York

J. J. ANDERSON, M.A., Professor in Theological Institute, Tuscaloosa,


1. _The Elementary Class_ will be made up of those who have no knowledge
of the language. It will make about sixty recitations, three each day
(one on Saturday).

2. _The Intermediate Class_ will be made up of those who have once
studied Hebrew, but desire to renew this study from the beginning. The
class will begin with the first principles, and the work will differ from
that of the Elementary Class rather in amount than in character.

3. _The Progressive Class_ is intended for those who have had training in
the elementary principles of Hebrew, but who wish to become familiar with
the details of the language.

4. _The Advanced Class_ will do work of an advanced character. It is
intended for those who are thoroughly familiar with the grammar of the
language, who have at command a large vocabulary, and who have read large
portions of the Hebrew Bible.

The members of the Intermediate, Progressive and Advanced Classes will be
divided into four Extempore sections, each of which will read, during the
four weeks, forty hours under the care of an instructor.

_I. Special Courses._

In the Chautauqua School of Hebrew, instruction will be given, if
desired, in the following special courses:

1. _Aramaic._—One hour a day with Professor William R. Harper, Ph.D.,
Morgan Park, Ill.

2. _Advanced Hebrew Grammar._—One hour a day with Professor William R.
Harper, Ph.D.

3. _Hebrew New Testament._—One hour a day with Professor J. J. Anderson,
of Tuscaloosa, Ala.

_II. Lectures._

In the various courses of lectures given at Chautauqua, during the
session of the Summer School, there will be a number bearing upon topics
relating to Old Testament study.

The principal of the school will, in addition, give a series of ten
studies on “Modern Criticism of the Hexateuch.”

_III. General Information._

Attention is invited to the following items:

_Time._—The Chautauqua School of Hebrew will open August 4th, at 2 p.
m., and continue until August 31st, at 12 m.

_Tuition Fee._—The tuition fee will be $10.00, payable to the Secretary
of the Chautauqua Assembly. This sum includes admission to the grounds.
Boarding can be obtained at from $4 to $6 per week.

_Books._—The books needed for the several classes will be furnished
at the opening of the school, or may be obtained in advance from the
American Publication Society of Hebrew, Morgan Park, Ill. Books for the
Special Courses must be ordered in advance.

_Correspondence._—Those who desire further information, are requested to
correspond with the _Principal_,

                                     WILLIAM R. HARPER, Morgan Park, Ill.


W. D. M’CLINTOCK, A.M., Director.

_Summer Term, 1885._


    1. Anglo-Saxon.

        (_a_) Beginners.—Sweet’s “Anglo-Saxon Primer.”

        (_b_) Advanced.—Sweet’s “Anglo-Saxon Reader,” and Lounsbury’s
        “English Language.”

    2. Essentials of English. Introduction of the Scientific Study of
    English Grammar.

        Ten lectures during Teachers’ Retreat.


    1. Shakspere, Hamlet. Four weeks.

    2. English Lyric Poetry. Studies in the Analysis and Criticism of
    Poetry. Two weeks.


    PROF. J. H. WORMAN, PH.D., Director.
    PROF. A. LALANDE, Associate, School of French.

The College of Modern Languages, under the direction of the distinguished
teacher and author, Dr. J. H. Worman, will open July 11th, and continue
in session for six weeks.

For full information concerning the COLLEGE OF MODERN LANGUAGES for the
coming season, address as follows: German, Italian, and Spanish, Dr. J.
H. Worman, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn., for French, Prof. A.
Lalande, Bridgeport, Conn.



For information concerning the “Academia of Latin and Greek,” see the
announcements in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for April and May, or address

                                                     EDGAR L. SHUMWAY,
                                                   Rutgers College, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 513 (illustration caption), “paletta” changed to “patella” (S,
femur; T, patella; U, tibia;)

Page 519, “nterspaces” changed to “interspaces” (cavernous interspaces
where trickling springs)

Page 521, “be” added (from which it will be seen)

Page 524, “Picadilly” changed to “Piccadilly” (Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly,

Page 528, “Calvanism” changed to “Calvinism” (Calvinism was revolutionary)

Page 534, “durion” changed to “durian” (we can only refer to the durian)

Page 541, repeated word “of” removed (a method of taking things)

Page 545, “gradest” changed to “grandest” (best, most beautiful, and

Page 548, “unfaverably” changed to “unfavorably” (he compared unfavorably
with others)

Page 558, “Chautauquo” changed to “Chautauqua” (printed in the grove at

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