The Chautauquan, February 1884

Transcriber’s Note: This cover has been created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

The Chautauquan.

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE. ORGAN OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE.

Vol. IV. FEBRUARY, 1884. No. 5.

Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

President—Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.

Superintendent of Instruction—Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven, Conn.

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

Office Secretary—Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.

General Secretary—Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.

Contents

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

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

REQUIRED READING
FOR THE
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1883-4.
FEBRUARY.

GERMAN HISTORY.

By Rev. W. G. WILLIAMS, A.M.

V.

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

SUMMARY OF GERMAN HISTORY FROM THE REFORMATION TO THE PRESENT TIME.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BATTLE OF LUTZEN—DEATH OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.

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

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

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

[End of German History.]

SELECTIONS FROM GERMAN LITERATURE.

ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT.

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

The Cataracts of the Orinoco.

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

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

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

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

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

HEINRICH HEINE.

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

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

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

To Matilda.

I was, dear lamb, ordained to be

A shepherd here, to watch o’er thee;

I nourished thee with mine own bread,

With water from the fountain head.

And when winter storm roared loudly,

Against my breast I warmed thee proudly;

Then held I thee, encircled well,

Whilst rain in torrents round us fell,

When, through its rocky dark bed pouring,

The torrent with the wolf, was roaring,

Thou fear’dst not, no muscle quivered,

E’en when the highest pine was shivered

By forked flash—within mine arm

Thou slept’st in peace without alarm.

My arm grows weak, and fast draws near

Pale death! My shepherd’s task so dear,

And pastoral care approach their end.

Into thy hands, God, I commend

My staff once more. O do thou guard

My lamb, when I, beneath the sward

Am laid in peace, and suffer ne’er

A thorn to prick her anywhere.

From thorny hedges guard her fleece,

May quagmires ne’er disturb her peace.

May there spring up beneath her feet

An ample crop of pasture sweet,

And let her sleep without alarm,

As erst she slept within mine arm!

I have been wont to bear my head right high,

My temper too is somewhat stern and rough;

Even before a monarch’s cold rebuff

I would not timidly avert mine eye.

Yet mother dear, I’ll tell it openly:

Much as my haughty pride may swell and puff,

I feel submissive and subdued enough,

When thy much cherished, darling form is nigh.

Is it thy spirit that subdues me then,

Thy spirit grasping all things in its ken,

And soaring to the light of heaven again?

By the sad recollection I’m oppress’d

That I have done so much to grieve thy breast,

Which loved me more than all things else, the best.

Prose Extracts From Heine.

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

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

The Lorelei.

I know not what it may mean to-day

That I am to grief inclined;

There’s a tale of a Siren—an old-world lay—

That I can not get out of my mind.

The air is cool in the twilight gray,

And quietly flows the Rhine;

On the ridge of the cliff, at the close of the day

The rays of the sunset shine.

There sits a maiden, richly dight,

And wonderfully fair;

Her golden bracelet glistens bright

As she combs her golden hair.

And while she combs her locks so bright,

She sings a charming lay;

’Tis sweet, yet hath a marvelous might,

And ’tis echoing far away.

The sailor floats down, in the dusk, on the Rhine

That carol awakens his grief;

He sees on the cliff the last sunbeam shine,

But he sees not the perilous reef.

Ah! soon will the sailor, in bitter despair,

To his foundering skiff be clinging!

And that’s what the beautiful Siren there

Has done with her charming singing.

FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER.

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

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

Extracts From Schleiermacher.

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

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

ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER.

A young man not understood.—Goethe.

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

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

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

READINGS IN PHYSICAL SCIENCE.

Abridged from Professor Geikie’s Primer of Physical Geography.

V.—THE SEA.
[Continued.]

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

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

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

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

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

THE INSIDE OF THE EARTH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SUNDAY READINGS.

SELECTED BY THE REV. J. H. VINCENT, D.D.

AM I NOT IN SPORT?
By JAMES WALKER, D.D., LL.D.
[February 3.]

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

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

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

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

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

[February 10.]

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

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

[A] Blackstone.

[February 17.]

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

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

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

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

[February 24.]

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

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

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

COMMERCIAL LAW.

By EDWARD C. REYNOLDS, Esq.

I.—LAW IN GENERAL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CONTRACTS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

READINGS IN ART.

GREEK ARCHITECTURE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ARCHITECTURE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BUILDINGS OF THE ROMANS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BYZANTINE ARCHITECTURE.

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

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

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

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

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

ROMANESQUE ARCHITECTURE.

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

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

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

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

SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE.

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

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

The Vaudois Teacher.

“Oh lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and rare,

The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty’s queen might wear;

And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with whose radiant light they vie;

I have brought them with me a weary way,—will my gentle lady buy?”

And the lady smiled on the worn old man through the dark and clustering curls

Which veiled her brow as she bent to view his silks and glittering pearls;

And she placed their price in the old man’s hand, and lightly turned away;

But she paused at the wanderer’s earnest call,—“My gentle lady, stay!”

“Oh lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer luster flings,

Than the diamond flash of the jeweled crown on the lofty brow of kings;

A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue shall not decay,

Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a blessing on thy way.”

The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her form of grace was seen,

Where her eyes shone clear, and her dark locks waved their clasping pearls between.

“Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou traveler gray and old,—

And name the price of thy precious gem, and my page shall count thy gold.”

The cloud went off from the pilgrim’s brow, as a small and meager book,

Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his folded robe he took.

“Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove as such to thee!

Nay, keep thy gold, I ask it not, for the Word of God is free.”

The hoary traveler went his way, but the gift he left behind

Hath had its pure and perfect work on that high-born maiden’s mind;

And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the lowliness of truth,

And given her human heart to God in its beautiful hour of youth.

Providence.

I know not what the future hath

Of marvel or surprise,

Assured alone that life and death

His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak

To bear an untried pain,

The bruised reed He will not break,

But strengthen and sustain.

No offering of my own I have,

No works my faith to prove;

I can but give the gifts He gave,

And plead His love for love.

And so beside the silent sea

I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from Him can come to me

On ocean or on shore.

I know not where His islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I can not drift

Beyond his love and care.

And thou, O Lord, by whom are seen

Thy creatures as they be,

Forgive me if too close I lean

My human heart on Thee.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

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

I know it is a sin

For me to sit and grin

At him here;

But the old three-cornered hat,

And the breeches and all that

Are so queer.

The mossy marbles rest

On the lips that he has prest

In their bloom;

And the names he loved to hear

Have been carved for many a year

On the tomb.

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

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

The Prisoned Nautilus.

This is the ship of pearl, which poets feign,—

Sails the unshadow’d main,—

The venturous bark that flings

On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings

In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,

And coral reefs lie bare,

Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;

Wreck’d is the ship of pearl!

And every chamber’d cell,

Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,

As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,

Before thee lies reveal’d,—

Its iris’d ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unseal’d!

Year after year behold the silent toil

That spread his lustrous coil;

Still, as the spiral grew,

He left the past year’s dwelling for the new,

Stole with soft step its shining archway through,

Built up its idle door,

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,

Child of the wandering sea,

Cast from her lap forlorn!

From thy dead lips a clearer note is born

Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!

While on mine ear it rings,

Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:—

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,

As the swift seasons roll!

Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, nobler than the last,

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast

Till thou at length are free,

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea.

“The Boys.”

Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?

If there has take him out, without making a noise,

Hang the Almanac’s cheat, and the Catalogue’s spite!

Old Time is a liar! We’re twenty to-night!

We’re twenty! We’re twenty! Who says we are more?

He’s tipsy,—young jackanapes! show him the door!

“Gray temples at twenty?” Yes! white if we please;

Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there’s nothing can freeze!

Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!

Look close,—you will see not a sign of a flake!

We want some new garlands for those we have shed,—

And these are white roses in place of the red.

We’ve a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told,

Of talking (in public) as if we were old:—

That boy we call “Doctor” and this we call “Judge;”

It’s a neat little fiction,—of course it’s all fudge.

That fellow’s the “Speaker,”—the one on the right;

“Mr. Mayor,” my young one, how are you to-night?

That’s our “Member of Congress,” we say when we chaff;

There’s the “Reverend” What’s-his-name?—don’t make me laugh.

That boy with the grave mathematical look

Made believe he had written a wonderful book,

And the Royal Society thought it was true!

So they chose him right in,—a good joke it was too!

There’s a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain,

That could harness a team with a logical chain;

When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire,

We called him “The Justice,” but now he’s “The Squire.”

And there’s a nice youngster of excellent pith,—

Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith;

But he shouted a song for the brave and the free,—

Just read on his medal, “My country,” “of thee!”

You hear that boy laughing?—You think he’s all fun;

But the angels laugh too, at the good he has done;

The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,

And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!

Yes, we’re boys, always playing with tongue or with pen;

And I sometimes have asked, shall we ever be men?

Shall we always be youthful, and laughing and gay,

Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?

Then here’s to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!

The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!

And when we have done with our life-lasting toys,

Dear Father, take care of thy children, The Boys.

Conscience.

Nature has placed thee on a changeful tide,

To breast its waves, but not without a guide.

Yet, as the needle will forget its aim,

Jarred by the fury of the electric flame,

As the true current it will falsely feel

Warped from its axis by a freight of steel;

So will thy Conscience lose its balanced truth,

If passion’s lightning fall upon its youth;

So the pure effluence quit its sacred hold,

Girt round too deeply with magnetic gold.

Go to yon town where busy science plies

Her vast antennæ, feeling through the skies,—

That little vernier on whose slender lines

The midnight taper trembles as it shines,

A silent index, tracks the planets march

In all their wanderings through the ethereal arch,

Tells through the mist where dazzled Mercury burns,

And marks the spot where Uranus returns.

So, till by wrong or negligence effaced,

The living index, which thy Maker traced,

Repeats the line each starry virtue draws

Through the wide circuit of creation’s laws.

Still tracks unchanged the everlasting ray

Where the dark shadows of temptation stray;

But, once defaced, forgets the orbs of light,

And leaves thee wandering o’er the expanse of night.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

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

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

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

Hunting a Theme.

Now I’ve a notion if a poet

Beat up for themes, his verse will show it;

I wait for subjects that haunt me,

By day or night won’t let me be,

And hang about me like a curse,

Till they have made me into verse.

…

Make thyself rich, and then the Muse

Shall court thy precious interviews;

Shall take thy head upon her knee,

And such enchantment lilt to thee

That thou shalt hear the life-blood flow

From farthest stars to grass-blades low.

In the Twilight.

Sometimes a breath floats by me,

An odor from dreamland sent,

That makes the ghost seem nigh me

Of a splendor that came and went;

Of a life lived somewhere, I know not

In what diviner sphere,

Of memories that stay not and go not,

Like music once heard by an ear

That can not forget or reclaim it,—

A something, so shy, it would shame it

To make it a show,

A something too vague, could I name it,

For others to know,

As if I had lived it or dreamed it,

As if I had acted or schemed it,

Long ago!

And yet, could I live it over,

This life that stirs in my brain,

Could I be both maiden and lover,

Moon and tide, bee and clover,

As I seem to have been, once again,

Could I but speak and show it,

This pleasure, more sharp than pain,

That baffles and lures me so,

The world should not lack a poet,

Such as it had

In the ages glad

Long ago!

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

Longing.

The thing we long for, that we are,

For one transcendent moment,

Before the present poor and bare

Can make its sneering comment.

Still, through our paltry stir and strife

Glows down the wished ideal,

And longing moulds in clay what life

Carves in the marble real;

To let the new life in, we know,

Desire must ope the portal;

Perhaps the longing to be so

Helps make the soul immortal.

Longing is God’s fresh heavenward will

With our poor earthward striving;

We quench it that we may be still

Content with merely living;

But, would we learn that heart’s full scope

Which we are hourly wronging,

Our lives must climb from hope to hope,

And realize the longing.

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

UNITED STATES HISTORY.

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

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

“There’s a Divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them as we will.”

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

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

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

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

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

THE ABORIGINES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE PERIOD OF DISCOVERY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[End of Required Reading for February.]

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

HIS COLD.

By FOLLIOTT SANFORD PIERPOINT.

“Who can abide his cold?”

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

Is it not hard to live one day,

When God His face has turned away,

When prayer is wingless, or her wing

Droops earthward like some weary thing?

Yet did no bent and broken light

Pierce the dark vault of utter night,

Of hope or memory no ray,

Who could abide His cold one day?

Summer and winter, sun and rain,

The soul needs for her golden grain—

Warm sun, warm rain, the ear to fill,

His cold, love’s selfishness to kill.

Come, winter, come, to kill dull pelf,

Love of His sweetness not Himself;

Till we can kiss His frowning face,

Unmeet our soul for summer grace.

But when the harvest-tide is nigh,

God grant His summer fill the sky,

God grant His harvest-rays be shed,

God grant His harvest-moon rise red.

Cold is the shore, and dark the tide,

Through which to His warm arms we glide

But if He then His face withhold,

Who can that day abide His cold?

Not in the winter be our flight!

Then need we most His summer light,

His presence felt, His angels near,

His bride to bless, His bread to cheer.

From strength to strength, from Thee to Thee,

Grant, Lord, our summer flight may be;

From veiled form and mystic grace

To splendors of Thine unveiled face.

THE TABLE-TALK OF NAPOLEON.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Napoleon alighted. “Take mine,” he said.

The man hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

By Prof. A. B. HYDE, D.D.

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

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

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

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

“He spake and loosed our heart in tears,

Our youth returned, for there was shed

On spirits that had long been dead,

The freshness of the early world.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, in the sea of life enisled,

With echoing straits between us thrown,

Dotting the shoreless, watery wild,

We mortal millions live alone.”

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

“With joy the stars perform their shining,

And the sea its long, moon-silvered roll;

Why? self-poised they live, nor pine with noting

All the fever of some differing soul.

Bounded by themselves and unregarding

In what state God’s other works may be

In their own tasks all their powers pouring,

These attain the mighty life you see.”

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

“Pine for force

A ghost of time to raise,

As if he thus might stop the course

Of these appointed nays.”

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

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

To Matthew Arnold hark

With both ears all avidity!

That Matthew—a man of mark—

Says “Cultivate Lucidity!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Resolve to be thyself! And know that he

Who finds himself, loses his misery.

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

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

Men called from chamber, church and tent,

And Christ was by to save.

He himself would gladly have been caught in the tide

Of love which set so deep and strong

From Christ’s then open grave.

Turning sadly away he says:

Now he is dead! Far hence he lies

In the lone Syrian town,

And on his grave, with shining eyes,

The Syrian stars look down?

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

Myriads who live, who have lived,

What are we all but a mood,

A single mood, of the life

Of the Being in whom we exist,

Who alone is all things in one?

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

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

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

But the majestic river floated on

Out of the mist and hum of that low land

Into the frosted starlight, and there moved

Rejoicing through the hushed Chorasmian waste

Under the solitary moon, till at last

The longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide

His luminous home of waters opens bright

And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars

Emerge and shine upon the Aral sea.

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

How sweet to feel, on the boon air,

All our unquiet pulses cease!

In his Summer Night,

The calm moonlight seems to say,

Hast thou, then, still the old, unquiet breast?

He turns to the

Heavens whose pure dark regions have no sign

Of languor, though so calm and though so great,

Yet so untroubled, so unpassionate!

A world above man’s head to let him see

How boundless might his soul’s horizon be;

How it were good to live there and be free.

In Kensington Gardens he says:

In the huge world that roars hard by

Be happy if they can!

Calm soul of all things! Make it mine

To feel, amid the city’s jar

That there abides a peace of thine

Man did not make and cannot mar.

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

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

Joy hath not found her yet, nor ever will,

Is it this thought that makes her mien so still?

Her features so fatigued, her eyes, though sweet,

So sunk, so rarely lifted save to meet

Her children’s? She moves slow; her voice alone

Hath yet an infantine and silvery tone,

But even that comes languidly; in truth,

She seems one dying in the mask of youth.

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

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

ESTIVATION, OR SUMMER SLEEP.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RECREATION.

By JAMES PAGET.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LUTHER.

By Mrs. S. R. GRAHAM CLARK.

Truth is eternal. He who dares

To sign its deathless scroll

Dares to live ever, linked to light,

While ages onward roll.

O dauntless hero! At thy grave

A world uncovered stands!

And o’er thy dust all christendom

Clasps loving brother-hands.

Our brother, ours! A land unborn

When thou didst wage thy fight—

We reap thy labors—race entailed—

And in thy praise unite.

Hail Germany! The world is bound,

By fetters wrought from truth—

Earth’s mightiest smith, upon thy breast

Was cradled in his youth.

ECCENTRIC AMERICANS.

By COLEMAN E. BISHOP.

IV.—THE MATHEMATICAL FAILURE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ASTRONOMY OF THE HEAVENS FOR FEBRUARY.

By Prof. M. B. GOFF.

THE SUN,

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

THE MOON.

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

MERCURY.

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

VENUS,

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

MARS

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

JUPITER

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

SATURN.

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

URANUS

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

NEPTUNE

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

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

THE SEA AS AN AQUARIUM.

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

By C. C. ANDERSON, M.D.

I.

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

“At his gills takes in,

And at his trunk lets out a sea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[To be continued.]

SPECULATION IN BUSINESS.

By JONATHAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WINE AND WATER.

By BENJAMIN W. RICHARDSON, M.D.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EIGHT CENTURIES WITH WALTER SCOTT.

By WALLACE BRUCE.

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

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

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

“Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,

They melted from the field, as snow,

When streams are swollen and south winds blow,

Dissolves in silent dew.

Tweed’s echoes heard the ceaseless plash,

While many a broken band,

Disordered, through her currents dash,

To gain the Scottish land:

To town and tower, to down and dale,

To tell red Flodden’s dismal tale.

Tradition, legend, tune and song,

Shall many an age that wail prolong;

Still from the sire the son shall hear

Of the stern strife, and carnage drear,

Of Flodden’s fatal field,

Where shivered was fair Scotland’s spear,

And broken was her shield!”

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

“Old Holyrood rung merrily

That night with wassail, mirth and glee;

King James within her princely bower

Feasted the chiefs of Scotland’s power;

This feast outshone his banquets past;

It was his blithest—and his last.”

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

“When Stanley was the cry—

A light on Marmion’s visage spread,

And fired his glazing eye;

With dying hand, above his head,

He shook the fragment of his blade,

And shouted ‘Victory!—

Charge Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!’

Were the last words of Marmion.”

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

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

“Quitted not their harness bright,

Neither by day nor yet by night;

They lay down to rest,

With corselet laced,

Pillowed on buckler cold and hard;

They carved at the meal

With gloves of steel,

And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.”

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

“Slow moved the Monk to the broad flag-stone,

Which the bloody cross was traced upon;

He pointed to a secret nook;

An iron bar the warrior took;

And the Monk made a sign with his withered hand,

The grave’s huge portal to expand.”

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

“Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,

Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land!”

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

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

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

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

“Where oft a hundred guests had lain,

And dreamed their mountain sports again.”

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

“Saxon, from yonder mountain high,

I marked thee send delighted eye

Far to the south and east, where lay,

Extended in succession gay,

Deep-waving fields and pastures green,

With gentle slopes and groves between;—

These fertile plains, that softened vale,

Were once the birthright of the Gael;

The stranger came with iron hand,

And from our fathers reft the land.

Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell

Crag over crag, and fell o’er fell.

Ask we this savage hill we tread

For fattened steer or household bread;

Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,

And well the mountains might reply,

‘To you, as to your sires of yore,

Belong the target and claymore!

I give you shelter in my breast,

Your own good blades must win the rest.’

Pent in this fortress of the north,

Think’st thou we will not sally forth,

To spoil the spoiler as we may,

And from the robber rend the prey?

Ay, by my soul! While on yon plain

The Saxon rears one shock of grain;

While, of ten thousand herds, there strays

But one along yon river’s maze,

The Gael, of plain and river heir,

Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.”

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

“Fast as the fatal symbol flies,

In arms the huts and hamlets rise;

From winding glen, from upland brown,

They poured each hardy tenant down.

The fisherman forsook the strand,

The swarthy smith took dirk and brand;

With changed cheer, the mower blithe

Left in the half-cut swath the scythe;

The herds without a keeper strayed,

The plow was in mid-furrow stayed,

The falconer tossed his hawk away,

The hunter left his stag at bay;

So swept the tumult and affray

Along the margin of Achray.”

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

“Twice have I sought Clan Alpine’s glen

In peace; but when I come again,

I come with banner, brand and bow,

As leader seeks his mortal foe.

For love-lorn swain, in lady’s bower,

Ne’er panted for the appointed hour,

As I, until before me stand

This rebel chieftain and his band!”

“Have then thy wish!” He whistled shrill,

And he was answered from the hill;

Wild as the scream of the curlew,

From crag to crag the signal flew.

Instant through copse and heath, arose

Bonnets and spears and bended bows;

On right, on left, above, below,

Sprung up at once the lurking foe;

From shingles gray their lances start,

The bracken bush sends forth the dart,

The rushes and the willow wand

Are bristling into axe and brand,

And every tuft of broom gives life

To plaided warrior armed for strife.

The whistle garrisoned the glen

At once with full five hundred men,

As if the yawning hill to heaven

A subterraneous host had given.

Watching their leader’s beck and will,

All silent there they stood and still.

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass

Lay tottering o’er the hollow pass,

As if an infant’s touch could urge

Their headlong passage down the verge,

With step and weapon forward flung,

Upon the mountain side they hung.

The mountaineer cast glance of pride

Along Benledi’s living side,

Then fixed his eye and sable brow

Full on Fitz-James; “How say’st thou now?

These are Clan Alpine’s warriors true;

And, Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu.”

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

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

BOTANICAL NOTES.

By Prof. J. H. MONTGOMERY.

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

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

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

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

C. L. S. C. WORK.

By Rev. J. H. VINCENT, D.D., Superintendent of Instruction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OUTLINE OF C. L. S. C. READINGS.

FEBRUARY, 1884.

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

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

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

3. German History and Selections from German Literature in The Chautauquan.

4. Sunday Readings for February 3, in The Chautauquan.

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

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

3. Readings in Physical Science and Commercial Law, in The Chautauquan.

4. Sunday Readings for February 10, in The Chautauquan.

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

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

3. Readings in Art, in The Chautauquan.

4. Sunday Readings for February 17, in The Chautauquan.

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

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

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

4. Sunday Readings for February 24, in The Chautauquan.

LOCAL CIRCLES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

C. L. S. C. ROUND-TABLE.

Held in the Hall of Philosophy August 9, 1883.

REPORTS AND QUESTIONS.

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

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

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

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

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

After a song Dr. Vincent said:

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

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

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

Dr. Vincent: That is a very refreshing report in every sense.

Dr. Hurlbut: I could tell you all about Island Park.

Dr. Vincent: Let us hear from that.

A gentleman: I could tell you about Monteagle.

Dr. Vincent: Let us hear it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miss Hudson: I can give a few facts.

Dr. Vincent: Please do so. Miss Myrtie Hudson, of Ann Arbor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Bridge: You have not spoken about New England.

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

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

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

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

1. FIFTY QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON “PHILOSOPHY OF THE PLAN OF SALVATION”—FROM CHAPTER 15 TO THE END OF THE BOOK.—2. FIFTY QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON “HOW TO GET STRONG AND HOW TO STAY SO.”

By A. M. MARTIN, General Secretary C. L. S. C.

I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

II.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAUTAUQUA NORMAL COURSE.

Season of 1884.

LESSON V.—BIBLE SECTION.

The World of The Bible.

By Rev. J. L. HURLBUT, D.D., and R. S. HOLMES, A.M.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SUNDAY-SCHOOL SECTION.

LESSON IV.—THE TEACHER’S WEEK-DAY WORK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

III. But how can all these things be accomplished?

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

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

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

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

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

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

LESSON V.—THE TEACHER’S PREPARATION.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.

DRESS AND INCOME

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

“Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy”

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

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

STEAM IS NOT AN ARISTOCRAT.

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

THE PRESENT POLITICAL OUTLOOK.

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

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

SPANISH BULL FIGHTS.

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

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

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

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

EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We heard the loosened clapboards tost,

The board-nails snapping in the frost;

And on us, through the unplastered wall,

Felt the light-sifted snow-flakes fall.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

C. L. S. C. NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS FOR FEBRUARY.

PHILOSOPHY OF THE PLAN OF SALVATION.

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

“War boldly with the Trojans, Diomed;

For even now I breathe into thy frame,—

…

Lo! I remove the darkness from thine eyes,

That thou mayst well discern the gods from men;

And if a god should tempt thee to the fight,

Beware to combat with the immortal race.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HOW TO GET STRONG.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So bends tormented Tantalus to drink,

While from his lips the refluent waters shrink.

Again the rising stream his bosom laves,

And thirst consumes him ’mid circumfluent waves.”—Darwin.

P. 50.—“La Ligne.” The line.

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

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

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

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

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

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

P. 87.—“Brougham.” See The Chautauquan for November.

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

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

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

P. 147.—“Bowdoin,” boˈdwin.

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

P. 176.—“Palmerston,” pāmˈer-ston. (1784-1865.) Prime minister of England.

“Thiers,” te-erˈ. (1797-1877.) French statesman and historian.

P. 193.—“Adipose tissue,” adˈi-pōse. The fatty matter distributed through the cellular tissues of the body.

NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS IN “THE CHAUTAUQUAN.”

GERMAN HISTORY.

P. 251, c. 1.—“Lutzen,” lŭtˈsen. A small town of Prussian Saxony, near Leipsic. The battle between Gustavus Adolphus and Wallenstein took place November 16, 1632. Napoleon defeated the allied Prussians and Russians here in 1813.

“Treaty of Passau,” pâsˈsow. A town of Bavaria, at the confluence of the Inn and Danube. This treaty was concluded in 1552 between Charles V., of Germany, and Maurice, of Saxony. It guaranteed religious freedom to the German Protestants until a diet should be summoned to arrive at a new settlement. In 1555 this diet was summoned at Augsburg, where peace was made and the princes left free to establish the Lutheran or Catholic faith.

“Pusillanimity,” pū-sil-la-nĭmˈi-ty. Weakness; cowardice.

P. 251, c. 2.—“Brabant,” brâ-bântˈ. One of the ancient divisions of the Netherlands, lying south of Holland.

“Aix-la-Chapelle,” aiks-lă-shă-pel. Called in German, Aachen; situated in Rhenish Prussia. This treaty was made in 1668. Louis gained by the war several strong towns in the Netherlands.

“Stahremberg,” stahˈrem-berg. This was the second invasion of Vienna by the Turks. It occurred in 1683.

“Sobieski,” sō-bi-ĕsˈki. (1629?-1696.) A Pole, educated in Paris. The Cossacks having risen against the Polish government he joined the army and so distinguished himself that he was given the chief command. The Turks invading the country, Sobieski made a record which caused him to be elected king upon the death of the monarch then ruling. His victory at Vienna freed all Europe from the fear of the Turks, and Sobieski was called the savior of christendom. His last years were embittered by civil and domestic troubles.

“Ryswick,” rizeˈwik.

“Spanish Succession.” By the death of Charles II., of Spain, the house then on the throne became extinct. His two brothers in-law, Louis XIV., of France, and Leopold I., of Austria, both claimed the throne for princes of their families. Charles in a second will had appointed Philip, the grandson of Louis XIV., as his successor, but Germany, England and Holland contested the will. The war lasted thirteen years. The allies gained several victories, but Philip secured the throne, although obliged to give up several provinces.

“Blenheim,” blĕnˈheīm. A village of Bavaria on the Danube. This battle took place August 13, 1704.

“Duke of Marlborough.” He commanded the English forces, while Prince Eugene led the Austrians.

“Frederick the Great.” (1712-1786.) During the forty-six years of his reign Frederick waged three important wars—the first and second Silesian wars and the Seven Years’ war. The cause of each was his claim to the province of Silesia. After the close of the third, in 1763, Frederick devoted himself to the restoration and improvement of his country. It is said that at his death he left to his nephew and successor, “a surplus of $50,000,000, an army of 220,000 men, a territory increased by nearly 30,000 square miles, and an industrious, intelligent and happy population of 6,000,000.”

P. 252, c. 1.—“Jena,” jēˈna, or yāˈnä; “Auerstädt,” öuˈer-stät.

“Rhine-Bund.” The confederation of the Rhine.

“Deutscher-Bund.” The German Confederation.

P. 252, c. 2.—“Zollverein,” zŏllˈver-eīn. A commercial league formed in Germany for the purpose of establishing a uniform rate of customs.

“Versailles,” ver-sailzˈ.

“Wallenstein,” vâlˈlen-stine. (1583-1634.) An Austrian general.

“Cuirassier,” kwē-ras-sērˈ.

P. 253, c. 1.—“Croats.” Inhabitants of Croatia, a province of Austro-Hungary.

“Gefreyter,” ga-friˈter. Corporal.

“Saxe-Lauenberg,” sax lowˈen-boorg. A German duchy.

“Saxe Weimar,” sax vīˈmar.

SELECTIONS FROM GERMAN LITERATURE.

P. 253, c. 1.—“Humboldt.” (1769-1859.) Humboldt has been one of the most expert and far reaching scientists of modern times. His love for research led him to explorations early in life. In 1790 he travelled through the principal countries of Europe, afterward publishing the discoveries made by him on this journey. After this, for some years he was employed in mining enterprises. In 1829 he joined an expedition to the Ural and Altai mountains. In 1799 Humboldt went to South America; on this journey he made extensive observations in various departments of science. The latter part of his life was spent at the Prussian court.

P. 253, c. 2.—“Orinoco,” Oˌrĭ-noˈco. Said to mean coiling snakes.

“Heine.” (1799-1856.) Heine was of Jewish parentage, but abandoned his religion and adopted the Lutheran. His first book on his travels in Italy was very successful. After this followed his first book of songs, which contained many pieces of rare beauty. It filled all Germany with enthusiasm. Heine spent his last years in great suffering, a victim to spinal disease.

P. 254, c. 1.—“Candide,” kŏnˈdēd. The hero of a novel bearing the same name, by Voltaire.

“Eldorado,” ĕl-do-rāˈdō. The gilded land. A name given to a land abounding in gold and other rich products. The Spanish conquerors of South America first applied the name to a region in South America which they reported to be filled with riches of every variety.

P. 254, c. 2.—“Dight,” dīt. To deck; to dress.

Storied windows richly dight,

Casting a dim, religious light.—Milton.

“Schleiermacher,” schleīˈer-mä-ker. (1768-1834.) One of the most influential theologians of modern times. His first published work, “Discourses on Religion,” startled all Germany. After this followed many volumes of sermons and religious writings which won him favor. In 1802 he became court preacher, and two years later went into the university at Halle as a preacher and professor; afterward he became a pastor at Berlin.

“Dialectician,” dī-a-lek-tĭshˈan. One who is versed in logic.

“Romanticism,” ro-mănˈti-cĭsm. Romantic, fantastic, or unnatural ideas or feelings.

P. 255, c. 1.—“Schopenhauer,” shoˈpen-howˌer. (1788-1860.) He studied in the German universities, and afterward devoted himself to philosophical studies. His works on the will are the best known.

“Zoöphytes,” zōˈo-fit. “Mollusca,” mol-lŭsˈca. “Annelida,” an-nĕlˈi-da; “Arachnida,” a-răchˈni-da. “Crustacea,” krus-tāˈshe-a; “Pisces,” pīsˈsēz; “Reptilia,” rep-tilˈi-a; “Aves,” āˈvēs; “Mammalia,” mam-māˈli-a.

P. 255, c. 2.—“Bellum omnium contra omnes.” War of all against all.

READINGS IN PHYSICAL SCIENCE.

P. 255, c. 2.—“Foraminifera,” fo-rămˌi-nĭfˈe-ra.

P. 257, c. 1.—“Hot Springs.” These are in reality Artesian wells, the water rising from great depths. In some places the warm water is utilized, as in Würtemberg, where manufactories are warmed by the water sent through them in pipes. The water is usually pure and the temperature quite uniform. Among the most famous examples of hot springs are those of Arkansas—fifty-seven in number—those of Virginia, and the geysers of Iceland.

“Wells of Bath.” Bath is the chief town of Somersetshire, England, and takes its name from its baths. The springs which furnish these are four in number, and discharge nearly 200,000 gallons of water a day.

Many interesting examples of changes in level might be noted. Scotland in less than an hundred years has been raised from 15 to 20 feet. As distinctly have the coast lines been traced, says Hugh Miller, as “between two contiguous steps of a stair, covered the one by a patch of brown, the other by a patch of green, in the pattern of the stair-carpet.” In Norway and Sweden a rising has been proven to be going on in the northern part, and a sinking in the southern part.

SUNDAY READINGS.

P. 259, c. 2.—“Cervantes,” cer-vânˈtēs, sä-a-veˈdrä. (1547-1616.) A Spanish author. The work referred to is “Don Quixote.” Of it a writer in the American Cyclopædia says: “In this work Cervantes hit the vulnerable point of his age. The common sense of the world had long rebelled against the mummeries of knight errantry, and the foolish books that still spoke of chivalry of which not a vestige remained. People who had smiled when the idea presented itself to their minds, burst out in laughter when Cervantes gave it the finishing stroke.” Beside “Don Quixote,” Cervantes wrote several satires, dramas and stories.

“Knight-errantry,” nītˈ ĕr-rant-re. The character, manners and adventures of wandering knights.

“Butler,” Samuel. (1612-1680.) An English poet. He led an uneventful life, being employed at different times as amanuensis or secretary to men of high standing. When fifty-one years of age he wrote Hudibras, his “fine satire.” The hero, Sir Hudibras, is said to have been drawn from Sir Samuel Luke, a Puritan officer. The poem ridicules by satire and exaggeration the actions, severity, morals and dress of the Puritans. It was never entirely finished. Butler was very popular with Charles II., and his court for a time, but finally died in poverty.

COMMERCIAL LAW.

P. 260, c. 1.—“Inhibition,” ĭn-he-bĭshˈun. Restraint, hinderance.

“Judicature,” jūˈdi-ca-tūre. The administration of justice.

P. 260, c. 2.—“Common-law.” According to the American Cyclopædia, common-law in the United States means the entire English law, including even the foreign elements intermingled with it, in distinction from the civil law generally received among European nations, and from the canon law, except so far as adopted in the ecclesiastical courts of England. Burrill defines it as “the unwritten law, or that body of customs, rules and maxims which have acquired their binding power and the force of law, in consequence of long usage, recognized by judicial decisions, and not by reason of statutes now extant.” Of its origin, Sir Matthew Hale says it is as “undiscoverable as the head of the Nile.”

“Norman-French.” The language of Normandy, a former northwestern province of France. By the Norman conquest (1066) Norman French became the language of the court and of equity in England.

READINGS IN ART.

The “Readings in Art” are compiled and condensed from “Architecture, Classic and Early Christian,” by T. R. Smith and G. Slater.

P. 262, c. 1.—“Archaic.” Old; ancient; characterized by antiquity or obsoleteness.

“Mausoleums,” mau-so-lēˈums. A tomb or monument. From Mausoleus, king of Caria, to whom Artemisia, his widow, erected a stately monument.

“Votive offerings.” From Latin votum—a vow. A tablet, picture, or anything dedicated by the vow of the worshipers. “Additional embellishments of flowers and votive garlands.”—Motley.

“Doric.” There are several different accounts of the origin of the Doric order. It is stated that Dorus, a king of Achaia, built a temple in Argos, and this was found by chance to be in that manner which we call Doric. Some say the arrangement of the order was that of a primitive log hut. It is so called from Doris. Beside the Doric temples mentioned here there are fragments of this style of architecture to be seen in the temple of Theseus at Athens, in the Propylæa on the Acropolis, in the temple of Zeus at Olympia, and in various other localities in Greece and southern Italy. The form of the Doric building was the same as in the Ionic and Corinthian.

“Ictinus,” ic-tiˈnus. He was the architect of several Doric temples; the Parthenon, the temple of Apollo at Phigalia, and the one at Eleusis. No details of his life are known.

“Rock.” This rock is the Acropolis.

“Entablature,” “cella,” “pediment.” See notes in The Chautauquan for November.

“Flat pitch.” A roof that has less than the usual elevation in the center.

P. 262, c. 2.—“Stylobate,” styˈlo-bāte. Literally a basement to a column. It is synonymous with pedestal, but is applied to an uninterrupted and unbroken base, while pedestal is an insulated support.

“Entasis,” ĕnˈta-sĭs. A gentle, almost imperceptible swelling of the shaft of a column.

“Ionic.” This style of architecture was so called from Ionia, where it took its rise. Its origin is not certain. A writer says: “The explanation of Vitruvius is that the Ionian colonists, on building a temple to Diana, wished to find some new manner that was beautiful. Following the method which they had pursued with the Doric (proportioning the column according to the dimensions of a man), they imparted to this the delicacy of the female figure.” The distinctive feature in the three orders is the capital of the column. In the Doric this is very simple; a curved moulding, round like the shaft, is surmounted by a large square block or abacus. In the Ionic the capital has two scroll-like ornaments, called volutes. There are more mouldings used, and the proportions are more slender. Asia Minor contains numerous remains of Ionic architecture. The Erectheium at Athens is the best known. The temple of Diana was included among the seven wonders of the world, as was the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, another Ionic temple recently discovered.

“Vestiges.” Latin, Vestigium. Marks of the foot on the earth. Tracks, traces, signs. “What vestiges of liberty or propriety have they left.”—Burke.

“Corinthian.” Vitruvius says of this order that it was arranged “to represent the delicacy of a young girl whose age renders her figure more pleasing and more susceptible of ornaments which may enhance her natural beauty.” The Corinthian capital is the most ornamented of the three orders. It is generally formed of various arrangements of acanthus leaves, and is much larger and more showy than the others. The monument of Lysicrates at Athens is the best example of this style.

“Cyclopean,” cy-clo-pēˈan. Pertaining to a class of giants, who had but one eye in the middle of the forehead. They were said to inhabit Sicily, and to be assistants in the workshops of Vulcan, fabled to be under Mt. Etna.

P. 263, c. 1.—“Jupiter Capitolinus.” This temple was built in the early days of Rome, and is said to have derived its name from the builders discovering, during the excavation, a freshly bleeding head (caput). According to the interpretation of the sages this sign indicated that the place should become the head of the world. The temple was dedicated to Jupiter as king of the gods. From it the hill on which it was situated took its name of the Capitoline.

“Appian Way.” The way or road from Rome to Brundusium, constructed partly by Appius Claudius, B. C. 313.

“Q. Metellus Macedonicus,” me-telˈlus măc-e-dŏnˈi-cus.

“Roman.” In the ground plan of Roman architecture there is a great difference from the Egyptian and Greek styles. The first employed the ellipse, the circle, the octagon, and combinations of these various forms in their plan, while the rectangle was the almost inevitable form in the two latter. Instead of the massive blocks of stone of former buildings, the Romans used small stones cemented with a cement of extraordinary power. They could build anywhere and of anything. The roofs were arched and in domes; the openings almost invariably arches; the columns and ornaments were generally varieties of Greek styles.

“Tetra style.” Having a portico of four columns in front. Tetra is the Greek word for four.

“Vitruvius,” vi-trūˈvi-us. See notes in The Chautauquan for October.

“Pseudo peripteral,” sūˈdō pe-rĭpˈte-ral. A peripteral temple had a single row of columns all around it. The variation of the style which existed in this temple led to its being called pseudo, or falsely peripteral.

“Maison Carrée,” mā-zong kăr-rā. The Square House, as the name signifies, is a beautiful Corinthian temple, of rectangular form. The temple was built when all France was under the rule of Rome. Although the Square House was injured in the wars of the middle ages, it has been restored, and is now used as a museum.

“Nimes,” neem. A city of France, about sixty miles northwest of Marseilles.

“Baalbec,” bâlˈbek.

P. 263, c. 2.—“Flavian.” The emperor Vespasian, who began the Colosseum, belonged to the house of Flavius, hence the name.

“Esquiline,” esˈqui-line; “Cœlian,” cœˈli-an.

“Pantheon,” pan-theˈon. Meaning all the gods. “In the year B. C. 27, on the occasion of the victory of Actium, when universal peace was declared, the great edifice was dedicated to all the gods, and figures of these in gold, in silver, in bronze, and in precious marbles were placed in niches within it, and hence the name Pantheon.” It is now a Christian church dedicated to the Virgin and All Saints, and is called the Rotunda.

P. 264, c. 1.—“Santa Sophia.” The church was not dedicated to a saint, but to the spirit of wisdom (sophia is the Greek for wisdom), the second person in the Trinity.

“Procopius.” See notes on “Greek History” in The Chautauquan for November.

“San Vitale,” san ve-tâˈlā.

SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE.

P. 264, c. 2.—“Vaudois,” vō-dwâ. A religious denomination called sometimes the Waldenses, founded in the twelfth century, in Italy.

P. 265, c. 1.—“Nautilus,” nâuˈti-lŭs. A mollusk having a coiled univalve shell of many chambers. As the animal grows new chambers are continually formed, and the parts vacated are partitioned off into air-tight chambers by thin, smooth plates.

P. 265, c. 2.—“Triton,” trīˈton. A marine deity in Greek mythology, having the form of a man above, and of a fish below, and bearing a conch-shell trumpet.

P. 266, c. 1.—“Antennæ,” an-tĕnˈnæ. A projection on the head of an insect; a feeler.

“Vernier,” vërˈni-er. A small movable scale, sliding along the fixed scale of an instrument, and subdividing its divisions into more minute parts.

UNITED STATES HISTORY.

P. 267, c. 2.—“Esquimaux,” ĕsˈke-mō; “Algonquins,” al-gonˈkins; “Iroquois,” ĭr-o-kwoizˈ; “Mobillians,” mo-beelˈli-ans; “Dacotas,” da-koˈtas.

P. 268, c. 1.—“Erickson,” ĕrˈik-son; “Terra incognita,” unknown land.

P. 268, c. 2.—“Amerigo Vespucci,” â-mā-rēˈgo ves-pootˈche; “Ponce de Leon,” poneˈdā lā-oanˈ; “Fernando Cortes,” fer-nanˈdo kor-tĕsˈ; “Tabasco,” ta-băsˈco; “Montezumas,” mon-te-zuˈma.

BANQUET TO CHAUTAUQUA TRUSTEES.
GIVEN BY THE CITIZENS OF JAMESTOWN, N. Y.

In the parlors and dining hall of the Sherman House in Jamestown, N. Y., on Wednesday evening, January 9th, the Chautauqua Trustees assembled for a banquet, preparatory to their annual meeting.

After an hour or more of social personal greeting the company, about fifty in number, filed into the dining hall and took the places indicated on their cards of invitation at the tables beautifully adorned with fruits and flowers.

Ex-Governor R. E. Fenton, of New York, acting as presiding officer of the evening, took his place at the head of the table, having on his right President Lewis Miller, Vice President F. H. Root, Esq., and others, and on his left Prof. J. H. Worman and other members of the Chautauqua Board of Trustees. At the other end of the main table were Robert N. Marvin, Esq., Dr. J. H. Vincent, Dr. J. T. Edwards, Rev. W. G. Williams, of Jamestown, Mr. Clem Studebaker, of Indiana, and distinguished residents of several other states.

After more than two hours spent at a most sumptuous repast (eleven courses were on the bill of fare), the rarest delicacies of Southern climes being lavishly provided, as well as the more common edibles of our colder northern soil and streams, Ex-Governor Fenton, rising in his place, gave the guests of the hour words of warmest greeting. [We give a condensed report of remarks offered.] He said: “We welcome you, gentlemen, not so much because of what you are at your homes, although that is, no doubt, a matter of congratulation from neighbors and friends, not so much as representatives of a great religious denomination whose membership is numbered by the millions—I speak of the various branches of Methodism, whose institutions are confessedly based upon religious intelligence and conviction, and therefore a subject of congratulation. We welcome you, gentlemen, mainly because you have come to the shores of our beautiful lake and founded an institution elevating in its influence, purifying in its character; which has found its way through the sunny South, along the shores of the lakes, around and over the plains, and over the mountains, even to the Pacific Coast. Stopping not there, you have found your way to the islands of the seas, and to the peoples in the countries beyond the seas. If I should say less than this, Mr. Flood, who speaks through more than thirty-five thousand monthly Chautauquans, would spring to his feet. I might say more, but, gentlemen, this enterprise is carried forward not alone by Methodists, for, in a catholic spirit, you have opened the doors to all denominations and all people and invited them to join you, and those who aspire to or desire to witness genuine moral and intellectual progress. And, gentlemen, we welcome you to our town. We should be glad, had it not been for the inclemency of the weather, to have shown you the social and public progress of our people. I might speak of our nine churches always well-filled on the Sabbath day and at other seasons when opened, and of one denomination about to build another church with a capacity three times as large as the old one.

“We should be glad to have you look at our manufacturing interests, to see how extensive they are, to visit our grand Union School building. We should be glad to introduce you to our merchants, and have you see all that we are doing—these things, the result of the enterprise and industry of our people. We have no princely fortunes here, but we are prospering, and though we have had but little time to go abroad, yet we promise you, gentlemen of Chautauqua, that a portion of our leisure days, increasing as the years go by, shall be devoted to visiting you in the summer season at Chautauqua. [Applause.] And now I ask you all to drink (water) to the health of Dr. Vincent, who, by his great devotion, great abilities and organizing power, with the calm judgment and wise counsels of President Miller, have done so much to make Chautauqua a success.” [Long continued applause.]

Dr. Vincent said substantially:

“Gentlemen of Jamestown:—You have listened, as have we, the representatives of the Chautauqua movement, to the kind words of your fellow-townsman, and it is a source of very great regret to me that I was not apprised in advance, of the fact that I was expected to deliver a speech on this occasion; otherwise I should have talked less to my fascinating friend, Mr. Marvin, beside me, and eaten less, so that I might be in better shape to speak.

“Governor Fenton has said something about the Chautauqua Idea. It is an ‘enterprise’ which has a future, a destiny which I think will transcend all the attainments and achievements of the past. And those of us who are engaged in this movement, and have watched it from its very beginning, and who know something of the dreams of those who look out into the future, are more likely to promise large things than those who simply watch it from the outside. We may be disappointed. Chautauqua may stand still one of these days and become a plain little village on the lake. It will never be what Jamestown is, but it depends upon Jamestown, as a representative city, for much of the support, and of the sympathy which all such enterprises demand. We have been tempted to think that from Jamestown we have had comparatively little sympathy. I say tempted, for the temptation has never had the slightest effect upon my mind; but once in awhile it has been said: ‘Jamestown, at the other end of the lake, fancies that you may build up an organization at the northern end of the lake that will interfere with interests at the south end.’ Frivolous indeed as these suggestions were, they were strong enough to secure utterance and cause trifling annoyance. As I recall the history of Chautauqua, I remember that we have had pretty much the whole of Jamestown present again and again at our great Assembly gatherings. So far as the citizens of Jamestown are concerned, we have never had for a moment any serious doubt of their confidence in the enterprise, and their willingness to aid us as far as they can, and there is not the slightest reason for misunderstanding or rivalry, but every reason for mutual faith and coöperation. [Applause.] And I should not be surprised, gentlemen, if, in years to come, the boys of Jamestown would go up to Chautauqua to the best boys’ school on the continent [applause], and meet there the best teachers from the best institutions, both of America and Europe, teachers qualified not only to communicate knowledge to the boys there assembled, but qualified to develop manhood and high ideals of character and true intellectual strength and physical culture. A gentleman said to me in the East the other day, ‘What we need in America to-day is a first-class school for boys, a school of the very highest order, in which intellect, manners, body, heart, social faculties, and all, shall be symmetrically developed,’ and I have confidence that, within a very few years, just such a school will be planted at Chautauqua; and when I think of the larger institution, for which we now have a charter from the state legislature, an institution which will bring its students from all parts of the United States, I see a number of colleges constituting a university crowning those heights, and commanding large sections of land on both sides of this lake, and awakening a new and increased enthusiasm, not only about the lake of Chautauqua, but all over the land, in the great cause of popular education. [Applause.]

“Now, I do not betray any great plans which have already been devised, but I give utterance to dreams and hopes which I know exist in the minds of a great many Chautauqua workers, when I say that the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, reaching as it does fifty thousand families in all parts of this land, is silently gaining a constituency which will be increased in less than five years to one hundred thousand, and which, in the course of ten years, will number two hundred thousand men and women, the most of them parents, who will be looking about for a place in which to educate their children; and if this city, increasing in wealth, increasing in culture, increasing in enthusiasm in the great educational work, will only lay hold of the largest conceptions concerning the Chautauqua of the future, the sums of money which in the future you may be induced to contribute to the founding of this enterprise will receive response from one hundred thousand homes all over the land, and the grandest endowments possessed by any institution on the continent in the near future for the Chautauqua University. [Applause.] For here is a little fact, of which you need but to be reminded for a moment, that to-day in the houses of the C. L. S. C. are growing up boys and girls, coming from the farms and from the villages, who are to handle the millions in the next twenty-five years. And when Tom comes from the field and goes into business and makes his money, and remembers the new interest awakened in him by his father and mother, he is inspired by a public spirit, he looks at the half million, more or less, which he is disposed to contribute, and the institution which he will help will be his father’s and mother’s Alma Mater, and his own Alma Mater, and we may expect in this way the largest and grandest endowments of any institution on the continent. I have been drinking strongly of this cold water, and it always makes me feel like talking, and I thank you for the privilege given me of expressing the dreams which come to my mind of the institution which you have so greatly honored, and whose annual meeting brings us together so pleasantly to-night.” [Long continued applause.]

Governor Fenton:—“I want to introduce to you one of our citizens representing the great manufacturing industries of our city, a gentleman who can talk well about them. I call upon Mr. William Hall.”

Mr. Hall said: “Mr. Chairman, I am afraid that you have raised the expectations of our friends in this announcement. I never made any pretensions to an ability to talk, never made any pretensions to eloquence, and, really, if I ever had, the speech to which you have just listened would have completely blotted out anything that I might have been tempted to say; but this much I can say, I can make a plain statement, that I have always felt the greatest sympathy myself for the enterprise which has been founded upon our lake. Yet it is true, that, busied by the cares of the new enterprises, I may at times have forgotten to express those feelings and show that sympathy—but it has always been present in my heart. I dare not step out into the world, to speak concerning Chautauqua, but I can speak of its effect upon the people in my factories, with whom I daily associate, and in whose interests I feel the liveliest interest. Many have come from foreign shores to make their homes here. They have vague ideas of the efforts and blessings which they are to strike in this American soil, and everything influences and turns their thoughts, views, feelings and aspirations. Some of them have never owned a bit of land in the world. They are now inspired with self-respect in finding themselves in possession of a better home, and I am looking to see what this influence coming from Chautauqua will be upon them. They can not attend Chautauqua as much as I would like to have them. The Chautauqua meetings come in a busy season. But they do go up there as often as they can, and they are influenced. They do judge of the American character. They get large aspirations by listening to those speakers. They come home, and it is amusing and instructive to hear them talk over what takes place up there. They speak very largely of Dr. Vincent. There is no man in my factory who attends there but thinks Dr. Vincent is the greatest man. They say: Dr. Vincent was as great a man as any he introduced. I am glad he is becoming popular on account of the influence he can exert upon them and their children who are to be the future inhabitants of this town. They are to hold in their hands the destinies of wide reaches of this country, and it is important that they should come under good influences. I do not know of better influences than those coming down to us from Chautauqua, and though we cannot be at Chautauqua, our hearts are there, and our sympathies are there with you, and, Doctor, when you throw the pebble in the pool, I may not follow the pebble in its fall, but I hear the waves ripple by my door.” [Applause.]

Governor Fenton: “The people of Jamestown all recognize and admire the devotion of President Miller of Chautauqua. Only one thing we cannot fully understand why he should live in Akron instead of Jamestown.” [Laughter and applause.]

Lewis Miller, Esq., spoke briefly: “Akron is in Ohio. [Applause.] It is the place of my birth.” He gracefully acknowledged the good will of the citizens of Jamestown in honoring the Chautauqua Board by this banquet and reception. The management hopes ever to conduct the affairs for which they are associated to the advantage of the local interests about the lake, and, while Chautauqua was not organized for the purpose of merely benefiting this local circle about the lake, yet we expect its influence will extend until it reaches the uttermost parts of this country and possibly of others. [Applause.]

Governor Fenton called upon Rev. W. G. Williams, of Jamestown, to speak.

Mr. Williams said: “I certainly had not the remotest idea that Governor Fenton would ask me to say a word. I can bring a very competent witness here at my side who will testify that at nine o’clock the last possibility of a speech in me vanished; and yet it gives me great pleasure to corroborate the words of others representing Jamestown, as to the excellent character of this city of which we are residents. I suppose I ought to call myself a resident now, though I have only been here about a year. I have been greatly pleased with all the evidences of prosperity commented on by the speakers before me, and I want to say just a word in reference to one point mentioned by Dr. Vincent in his remarks—the lack of sympathy on the part of this town with Chautauqua. I had seen the situation as an outsider, being a resident of another town, and had heard the remark made quite frequently, and now residing nearly a year in Jamestown, and having carefully observed the facts, I want to bear testimony to the strongest sympathy of the people in Jamestown with the work in Chautauqua, and also to the fact that this sympathy is growing. I believe that Dr. Vincent in looking forward to that future of achievement will find that Jamestown will not lack, but will always be ready with appreciation of the work.”

Referring to his religious and ecclesiastical connections in Jamestown, Mr. Williams said: “We are enlisted as Methodists with our Baptist, Presbyterian, and Congregational brethren. We are orthodox in Jamestown, I believe, trying to do an orthodox work, and in this we are working in sympathy and in coöperation with Chautauqua, and I join with others in extending a hearty welcome, representing, if I may, the churches of the town to these gentlemen, who come to represent a great institution at Chautauqua.” [Applause.]

Gov. Fenton told a story about Dr. Flood’s failing to obtain an original story from a notable writer, at the other end of the lake, and about his own recommendation of a novel which was substituted therefor.

Dr. Flood said:—“Gov. Fenton takes proper credit for ‘Lavengro’ appearing in The Chautauquan. There is a gentleman who makes his home, during the summer season, at the head of the lake, and there was a time when the lower end came to the rescue of the upper end. A gentleman had guaranteed to furnish an original story, but when the time came for the work to begin, he failed, and I failed to pay the thousand dollars. Governor Fenton, anxious, doubtless, for the reputation of the upper end of the lake, did suggest that I ought to examine ‘Lavengro.’ I went to George Borrow and borrowed. I borrowed generously, and I do not doubt in the least but the one hundred and seventy-five thousand readers of The Chautauquan were quite as well pleased with ‘Lavengro’ as they would have been with the original story, unless our friend, President Miller, would have been better pleased with the other story, because it was to be on the greenback line and opposed to monopolies.

“The Chautauquan was born in two cities; in Jamestown and Meadville. It is a little remarkable, but nevertheless a fact, the three states that furnish the most subscribers to The Chautauquan, New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio, are the three states associated with the birth of the magazine. It got its name in Ohio. The name was given when Doctor Vincent and I were riding in the cars in Ohio. The magazine was printed first in Meadville, Pa., and it was shipped to Jamestown, from which point the first number was mailed to subscribers, after which the offices were removed to Meadville. I am gratified that the citizens of Jamestown have at last been awakened from a sort of Rip Van Winkle sleep on this question of Chautauqua, and have, with a sort of exclamation point at this banquet, met the Board of Trustees and the management of Chautauqua with a very hearty and cordial reception.

“This is the line where we cross from the first decade into the second decade of Chautauqua history.” Here the speaker told a laughable incident connected with a dissolute fellow who disturbed a Free Methodist watch-meeting by an untimely blowing of a horn and the exclamation, “My name is Gabriel, and I come once in a hundred years.” [Laughter.] “Now, Mr. President, our name is Chautauquans, and to Jamestown we come for the first time in ten years. We hope to come more frequently in the future.” [Applause.]

Governor Fenton introduced Mr. Marvin, who, after a little pleasantry, spoke concerning the idea broached by Dr. Vincent. “It has been said that the citizens of Jamestown have not manifested quite as much warmth of feeling toward the Chautauqua association which you have founded upon this lake, and which is in such a prosperous condition. This is not true. We have been in sympathy with you. Our heart’s feelings have been with you, though I am free to say, perhaps we have not sufficiently manifested it. We are glad to have you present on this occasion, and we hope in the future that we may make ourselves known to you more strongly than in the past. [Applause.] But I should say that, strictly from a business point of view, there is not that wealth in Jamestown that many of you think. But few of our citizens are wealthy. Many are well-to-do, but what they have is so invested in their various enterprises that they have not that ready money to invest in outside operations. Perhaps this fact has controlled to some extent the monied interests which otherwise would have gone to assist you at Chautauqua.

“Now gentlemen, we rejoice that you have come to the shores of the lake. We rejoice that you have founded that city in the woods, and we hope to bear stronger proofs of our sympathy hereafter.”

Dr. J. T. Edwards, of Randolph, being introduced humorously referred to the royal furnishings of the banquet, the superabundance of which might make, as Dr. Holmes has wittily said, many families happy. Looking upon the delicious oysters he had been reminded of two speakers at a feast in Egg Harbor—one was classic and made references to Brutus and Cassius and other men unknown to the lowly oystermen—the other by one who swinging his arms and with loud voice exclaimed: “Fellow-citizens, the last time I had the pleasure of visiting your town, I came to the conclusion that the Egg Harbor oysters were superior to those of Saddle Rock.” [Laughter and applause.] This was saying the right thing in the right place, and at once took hold of the Egg Harbor oystermen. We can not always do it.

Becoming more serious, the speaker said he believed this to be the best age of the world, and Chautauqua a grand achievement resting on this beautiful lake, more like the beautiful Windermere than any he had elsewhere seen, made classic by the writings of Coleridge and Wilson, and others. I extend my congratulations also on this occasion, and feel myself to be present with these citizens of Jamestown.

Dr. J. H. Worman being introduced by ex-Governor Fenton, said: “In a large place in the city of Berlin, among the many paintings in the gallery of the king there is one that attracted my attention when I was a boy. It is a coronation scene of King William IV. He is in the act of taking from the people their promise of being faithful to him. And to-night as Dr. Vincent spoke to you of the promise that had come to him from this side, I was reminded of that picture, and I see now in place of the king coming to ask his subjects their faith, this leader of Chautauqua standing before me asking your fealty for the good work begun upon this lake; and, as was written under the picture in letters that are never to be effaced, crowned by many a jewel: ‘This yes is mine’—so I see written upon your hearts in undying language, the promise to Chautauqua and its honored leader, a Yes for the support of that enterprise, that it may never die so long as civilization has a home on this lake.” [Long continued applause.]

At a late hour the company separated for their homes and places of entertainment, all being impressed with the genuine friendship of the citizens of Jamestown for the Chautauqua Assembly.

CHAUTAUQUA TRUSTEES.

The annual meeting of the Trustees of the Chautauqua Assembly was held in the gentlemen’s parlors of the Sherman House, Jamestown, N. Y., January 9th and 10th, Lewis Miller, Esq., President of the Board, in the chair. There were present Vice President F. H. Root, of Buffalo, Dr. J. H. Vincent, Mr. Clem Studebaker, of Indiana, Dr. J. T. Edwards, Revs. J. Leslie, H. H. Moore, and a number of others. The old board of officers was reëlected with this exception: Mr. W. A. Duncan, of Syracuse, was elected trustee and secretary of the Assembly and superintendent of the grounds. Mr. Duncan is a leading Congregationalist of Syracuse, N. Y. He is a man of fine business tact, of indefatigable industry, of executive force, and a thorough Christian gentleman. Mr. Duncan has had large experience in the management of Chautauqua matters, having been Dr. Vincent’s right hand man for several years, and will enter upon his work under the most auspicious circumstances. Dr. Vincent outlined his work for the summer of 1884, but the details of his plans were not arranged so that he could inform the board who the lecturers would be on any given days in August next. The finances of the Assembly were found to be in a more satisfactory condition than some trustees had expected. Taken all in all the business of the Assembly is in a healthy condition, and the program for the coming season promises to be an unusually brilliant one. A number of new cottages will be erected when the spring opens, the facilities for reaching the grounds will be improved, and the hotel accommodations will be excellent and at prices to suit the purses of all visitors. The business transacted was of a routine character, but the results will be apparent the coming summer in the improved condition of the grounds and public buildings at Chautauqua.

C. L. S. C. GRADUATES.

The following list of graduates of the Class of 1883 appears according to states. It has been prepared with great care by the office secretary, Miss Kate F. Kimball.

Maine.

Anderson, Nancy Elizabeth

Bartlett, Mrs H B

Deering, Mary E

Gammon, Josie E

Haight, Mrs Emma C

Littlefield, Pauline D

Munger, Annie R

Palmer, Annie L

Plummer, Mary Eliza

Poole, John William

Shapleigh, Miss Annie E

St. Clair, Ashley Orbun

Stetson, Josiah Walter

Russell, Maria J

New Hampshire.

Abbot, Emily H

Abbot, Charles W

Adams, Frank E

Adams, Mary T

Bales, Miss Mary Louise

Barclay, Belle C

Bishop, Channing

Bishop, James M

Bishop, Margaret A

Bragdon, Frederick Augustus

Brook, Jennie B

Bryant, Jenny A

Buttrick, Mrs Laura A

Byam, Mrs Rosette M

Center, Marion E

Everett, Charles Fitch

Hitchcock, Mrs Hiram

Sanborn, Ella F

Sanborn, Lizzie E

Thompson, Henry S

Thompson, Mary C

Tibbets, Mrs Jane N

Tibbets, Lucy W

Vermont.

Anderson, Fayette S

Carleton, Nellie R

Cobb, Mrs Lymna H

Collins, Mrs Carrie F

Macomber, Candace Worth

Rood, Eliza Nears

Todd, Helen M

Woodard, Mary Sophia

Massachusetts.

Adams, Mrs Rebecca J

Allbe, Edward Payson

Allen, W Isadore

Balch, Julia Norris

Ballou, Sarah H

Barber, Sara J

Barlow, Maria A

Barlow, Susie Gordon

Barrett, Clifford M

Beard, Mrs Augusta M

Bigelow, Lettie Selma

Blancher, Mary Adams

Bosworth, Mrs Luthera E

Brainard, M Llewellyn

Butters, M Belle

Campbell, Eliza F

Carr, Geneva E

Clark, Alice M

Coates, Arthur B

Comey, M Emma

Conant, Mrs Charlotte J

Coolidge, Mrs Sarah Isabella

Cutler, Mrs Leonard

Day, Edward

Deane, Anna L

Dight, Alexander

Dight, Mrs Georgia J Ingalls

Dodge, Fred Howard

Downe, Mrs Mary A

Drew, Miss Mary Eliza

Eberle, Lydia Eaton

Ellis, Miss Clara M

Fairfield, Lizzie W

Farnham, Clara Charlotte

Fisk, Ella W

Fisk, Sarah E

Fletcher, Mrs Agnes B

Fraser, John Crane

French, Addie E M

Full, William

Gardner, Annie Hazeltine

Gates, Miss Lauretta Maria

Hagen, Hattie S

Hale, Helen S

Haskell, Mrs Ella L

Haskins, Mrs Leander M

Hayes, Cordelia W

Hills, Miss Helen M

Ingraham, H A

Jewett, Annie R

Jones, Anna Maria

Josselyn, Abbie P

Kendall, Ina C

Knight, Annie Adams

Lane, Rosie A

Le Baron, Mrs Sara E

Lee, Laura Ella

Little, Eliza A

Longhead, Mary E

Macy, Ida

Mason, Myra C (Mrs E B)

Matthews, Maria

Maynard, Sarah M

Mitchell, Emma Josephine

Morey, Miss Kate

Morrell, Susan A

Morse, Miss Hattie F

Noon, Alfred

Oakman, Fannie W

Oaks, Fred Leslie

Orne, Mary E C

Plummer, Sarah C

Poole, Benj Franklin

Porter, Mrs Angeline M

Pratt, Ellen M

Prior, Clara T

Ray, Harlan E

Root, Amelia N

Ryder, Cecelia N

Sadler, Carra Virginia

Sears, Mrs C W

Snow, Alice Marcella

Spilsted, Ellena S

Smith, Anna Willis

Stanley, John W

Stewart, Caroline W

Swett, Mrs M Angie

Thayer, Mrs Louise S

Tilden, Miss Chestina

Tilden, Cora B

Tilden, Elizabeth T

Tobey, Martha

Warner, Miss Isabel

Warner, Mrs Isabelle A

Whitaker, Mrs Helen S

Whiting, Jennie M

Whiting, Mary A

Whiting, Waldo B

Winslow, Arthur Francis

Wight, Mary F

Woodman, Emma N

Rhode Island.

Abbott, Emma L

Barrows, Miss Ann M

Fish, Jennie Oliver

Manchester, Emma L

Olney, Lizzie Elzina

Owen, Celia W

Phillips, Mary A

Potter, Amelia

Connecticut.

Adams, Henry M

Bond, Sara Moody

Botsford, Mrs Carrie A

Clark, Agnes L

Danforth, Sarah A

Gibbs, Sarah L

Goddard, Katherine A

Greene, Miss M Wilhemene

Griswold, Nellie P

Holmes, Harriet E

Hotchkiss, Henry E

Johnson, Mrs Truman

Jones, Mrs Emma F

Kerr, Ella Esther

Kerr, M Agnes

Lockwood, M Emma

Mead, Hannah H

Mead, Mrs Whitman L

Minor, Katie E

Morgan, Hattie J

Rice, Fannie L

Roberts, Emily

Shekleton, Joseph Wilson

Stoddard, Sarah Gilbert

Towne, Luella Frances

Treat, Clarence Bell

Williamson, Mrs H L

Wood, Rev Melvin C

New York.

Abell, Mary L

Abbott, G Elliott

Agard, Eaton J

Avery, Mary S

Babcock, Anna W

Bain, Arvilla E Morse

Bannister, Miss Alice G

Barnhart, Jeremiah

Bartlett, Miss Clara A

Beal, Letta M

Bean, Clarence H

Bedell, Ada M

Bell, Richard E

Benedict, Clara J

Bennett, Mrs Hattie C

Blowers, Mrs De Ann J

Blythe, Adell

Boardman, Stella

Boomhour, Clara A

Botsford, Mary H

Bowen, Kate C

Bowers, Abraham H

Bradley, Mary E

Brady, Edwin C

Bramley, Mary E

Brower, Mrs Carrie L

Brown, Ellen S

Burnett, Frederick J

Burnett, Lida

Burns, Mary A

Burnell, Miss Sarah

Bush, Arthine A

Carter, Bella C

Chase, Satie L

Chriswell, Emma J

Clark, Edwin H

Clark, Mary E

Clawson, E Augusta

Clawson, E Gertrude

Common, Lizzie

Conger, Mrs Charlotte

Cooper, Charles J

Corbett, Mary T

Corbett, Sophia C

Crane, Elizabeth W

Cronise, Mrs Dora A

Cross, Phebe A

Curtis, Jennie Norton

Curtis, Miner

Curtiss, Clara E

Davis, Miss Sarah J

Day, Franklin

Deane, Harriet Eliza

De Lano, Mary

Dennison, Mrs Elizabeth A

Dennison, Minnie E

Derby, Orville P

Donnan, Mrs Wm A (Matilda)

Drake, Miss E E

Dransfield, Lizzie B

Dunning, Anna G

Dunning, Floyd M

Ecker, Miss Rose E

Eddy, Elmora E

Elmore, Arthur B

Emigh, Annie

English, Mrs Frank P

Evarts, Martha J

Ewell, Mrs Carrie F

Farrar, Rev Hubbard C

Farrar, Mrs Rev H C

Fenton, Ellen

Field, Mrs M B

Flint, Mrs Chas A

Foster, Mary Celinda

Frederick, Anna B

Freeman, Nettie B

Frisbee, Ettie H

Frost, James S

Galbraith, Martha J

Geer, Louise E

Genung, Adriana B

Gese, Mary E

Gifford, Joseph C

Gillett, Edward C

Goodell, Mrs Ella C

Goodwin, Eliza Steele

Gould, Julia N

Gould, Louis Agassiz

Gould, Lydia E Wakeman

Grant, Emeline N

Grant, Maria L

Griffiths, John D

Halbert, Susan Frances

Hadley, Mrs A Irene

Hale, Emily J

Hall, Mrs E G W

Hall, J Duane

Hallock, Henry Tuthill, M D

Hamilton, Mrs J Lucelia

Hammond, E Eleonora

Hancock, Emily S

Hart, Miss A M

Hart, Miss Hattie A

Haviland, M Alice

Hawkins, Edna

Hawley, Helen A

Haydock, Minnie M

Hayward, Mrs Adele

Healy, Mrs Dorus

Hearn, Mrs Juliet

Hedges, Mrs S C

Heist, Ellen N

Holland, Julia Bryant

Holmes, Richard

Honeywell, J R

Hopkins, Elisha B

Hopkins, Sarah W

Horton, Mary D

Hughes, Emma

Hughes, Mary E

Hull, Miss Rachel J

Hunt, Hester A

Hunt, Mrs Minerva J

Hurn, Mrs John M

Hurst, M Emma

Hutchinson, Mrs Anna Eliza

Hutchinson, Arthur

Jackson, William

Jennings, Carrie F

Johnson, Mary E G

Jones, Celia J

Jones, Delia

Jump, Mrs J B

Kantz, Matie J

Karr, Miss Ella Austie

Karr, Margaretta Ayres

Kennedy, Eva H

Keyes, Harriet H

Kimball, Miss Marie A

King, Maria

Kirk, Anna E

Kirk, Lizzie L

Kirk, Susie A

Lamphier, Miss Anna M

Lamphier, Miss L Jennie

Lathrop, Hattie A

Leffingwell, Jane E

Leonard, Lucy

Lestie, Hannah Gibson

Letterman, Kate

Lewis, Mrs Daniel

Lindsley, Lillian E

Longwell, Elizabeth J

Longwell, Mary

Losee, Jennie A

Lowe, Harriet A P

Luetchford, Carrie C

Luetchford, Marian A

Lyman, Mary A

Lyon, Rosa B

Macadam, Minnie

MacDonald, Josephine

Mapes, Miss Josie

Martin, Mrs Hannah R

Martin, Helen M

Martin, Jennie E

Mathews, Eleanor M

Matthews, Belinda

McCullough, Miss Harriet E

McKenna, John T

McWharf, J Morton, M D

Mead, Amelia J

Mekeel, Margaret Dimon

Mills, Mary

Mellinger, Agnes W

Merriam, Belle A

Merwin, Mary A

Mills, Agnes W

Mills, Louise Payne

Monroe, Josaphine

Montgomery, Isabella C

More, Mary

Morgan, Camelia M

Morse, Elzina

Murphy, Emma Hyall, A M

Murray, Adda Hurd

Newton, R G

Niles, Miss Katie C

Niles, Mary R

Norris, L Alice

Otis, Elizabeth G

Pangborn, Lucia E

Parker, James Wilson

Parsons, Miss Lucy A

Payne, Satie D

Peck, A L

Perrine, Miss M J

Phelps, Julia A

Phillips, Mrs Florrie E

Pierie, Jennie M

Pinneo, M E Bingham

Piper, George John

Platt, Mrs Mary J

Pool, Helen Emma

Powell, Caroline A

Powell, Mary A

Powers, S L

Pratt, Hattie S

Pratt, Mary B

Prentice, Eliza A

Redhouse, Mrs Sarah Petty

Reed, Erminia Kate

Reed, Mary L

Reed, Phebe A

Reeves, Miss Ella D

Robbins, Fannie J

Robertson, Mrs Lizzie M

Robinson, Rena Wiltse

Romeo, Mrs John

Rorrison, Clara M

Roup, Barna C

Savage, Helen C

Sawyer, Mrs Walter W

Scofield, Helen

Scott, Mrs Wm

Seymons, Joseph Lucius

Seymour, Eliza Ann

Shattuck, George Sidney

Shaw, Mrs McKendres

Short, Mrs Belle F

Sibley, Margery J

Simon, Joseph E

Skiff, Mrs Ellen M

Smith, Anna L

Smith, Miss Clarissa

Smith, Edson L

Smith, Frank

Spencer, S Amelia

Spicer, Mary C

Staats, Anna Kellogg

Stebbins, Lulu A

Steelman, Mrs Mary B

Stevens, Mrs Sarah P

Stewart, M Belle

Stickney, Ella M

Stillman, Carrie Elliott

Stoddard, Miss Frances M

Stone, Addie H

Stone, George Bryant

Strong, Julia

Strong, Mrs M Francena B

Sykes, Perlio A

Taylor, Eliza Jeannette

Thornell, Helen M

Thornell, Miss Mary J

Titus, Mary Louisa

Tompkins, Sophia Vanderbilt

Trott, Lois E

Tuttle, Edwin Jr

Twining, Emma A

Twining, Mary E

Upton, Mrs Frank S

Vanderpoel, Mrs Mary E

Vaughan, Jennie A

Villefen, Zilpha

Walker, Charles Eugene, M D

Walter, Ella R

Ward, Miss Jennie L

Ware, Miss Minnie

Ware, William T

Wark, Eleanora

Warren, Miss Juliette

Washburn, Wm H

Webber, Julia D

Webber, Alice L

West, Mrs Emma Case

White, Mrs Mary V W

Whitlock, Betsey A

Whitney, Emma E

Wildman, Fidelia D

Williams, Elizabeth S

Willis, Mary Angell

Wirt, Ella Louise

Wood, Mary L

Wray, Miss Mary H

Wright, Mary Emily

New Jersey.

Angle, John Wesley

Ashton, Mary

Baird, Miss Maggie J

Baker, Abram

Baker, Mary Estelle

Baldwin, Annie M

Baldwin, Sarah Marinda

Brackett, Mrs Addie

Canfield, Carrie

Carman, Emily F

Carpenter, Jeannette

Chase, Eliza E

Chevallier, Carrie E

Chevallier, Julia Augusta

Collins, Emma C

Collins, Sarah E

Cook, Miss Anna M

Corwin, Rachael Crary

Davis, Anna Sheppard

Dougall, Mary Agnes

Downes, Adelaide T

Downes, Maria A

Downes, Mary W

Eddy, Harriet E

Ferris, Ella L

Franklin, Mrs C H

Freeman, Miss Minnie C

Fulton, Joseph

Hait, Mary Hasbrouck

Harrison, Miss Mary A

Heazelton, Anna M

Hudson, Emma L

Hunt, Mrs N Adeline

Ingling, Elizabeth C

Ingling, Wm H

Jackson, Sarah Fulton

James, Rettie F

Jones, Stephen H

Kirby, Ida H

Kitchell, Clifford C

Kitchell, Lizzie F

Lippincott, Mary R

Locke, George R

Luckey, Hattie L

McMurtry, Fannie A

Minch, Emma M

Morris, Mrs Lydia H

Morse, Silas Ruttilus

Mulliner, Mary R

Newell, Augusta S

Nichols, Anna Lavinia

Parker, Miss Lizzie

Peck, Mrs S O, Jr

Pudney, Cassie S

Richmond, S Luther

Robertson, Emma J

Rowland, Rachel D

Sayre, Laura B

Schuyler, Erwin H

Schuyler, Isabel V

Scott, Mrs Lucy A

Shipman, Wm H

Smith, Harry G

Stanton, Mrs L Loisanna T

Strong, Rachel H

Thompson, Sallie H

Van Alstyne, J

Wallace, Miss Sarah

White, Mary

White, Edmund C

Wilkins, Anna K

Pennsylvania.

Adams, Anna M

Agnew, Mary Jane

Annos, Mrs Fannie B

Askin, Alfred H

Austin, Frank A

Baker, Carrie E

Baker, Mattie A

Barnetson, Edwin

Barrett, Mamie Gertrude

Beach, Hessie Cecil

Beale, Mary Rosalie

Benney, William M

Black, Mrs Emma F

Black, Mrs A M

Bradley, Rev J Wharton

Bradley, Mrs Minnie R

Browning, Miss Laura C

Buchanan, Mattie A

Bunn, Mary R

Burns, Miss Sarah

Byles, Mrs Martha J

Clemens, Henry Sweitzer

Cole, Alice L

Coles, Mary E

Collier, Nettie A

Comly, Elizabeth F

Crawford, H Emma

Crawford, Mrs J Lynn Johnston

Culbertson, Miss J A

Cummings, Mrs E J

Daggett, Ida B

Dale, Anna M

Deens, Anna

Dinsmoor, Alice A

Dorand, Miss A J

Drown, Belle

Drury, Ann Elizabeth

Easterbrooks, Susie G

Easton, Mrs Ida Lois

Edwards, Jonathan

Elliott, Miss Maggie

Emerson, Mrs Carrie B

Emig, Flora A

Emig, Mary J

Esler, Anna P

Fentemaker, Chas D

Frick, Bella R

Fulton, Mrs S C

Galbraith, Margaret E

Gates, Mrs Augusta Hillier

Gehman, Abram E

Gibbon, Mary G

Gilliford, Alice L

Goetz, Rev George

Griffith, Emily M

Hack, Adelia M

Harris, Mrs Abbie E

Haynes, Mrs J T

Haynes, Jennie

Hench, Annie E

Herring, Miss Bella

Hershey, —

Hines, Thomas Bryson

Holloway, Lida M

Hulburt, Chas A

Hulburt, Mary C

Jewett, Mary E

Jones, Miss H Frances

Jones, Jared Emory

Kennedy, Mary J

Kernick, E M

Kernick, Mrs Lizzie A

Kerr, Miss Ella A

Kingsley, Flora

Kirk, Mercie Ann

Kirker, Mrs F H

Kirkland, Alfred Potter

Landsrath, Mrs Emily B

Laughlin, Rebecca P

Lenhart, Lyde A

Line, Albert Allan

McGeary, Wm S

McKee, Miss Mary

Moorhead, Hattie

Murdough, Lucinda H

Murrmann, Adam

Mushiltz, J H

Nutting, Louisa M

Parker, Esther, M A, N S

Parsons, John W

Patterson, Mrs A C

Patterson, Julia

Payne, Mrs E C

Peiffer, Hattie E

Perkins, Georgie

Philpot, Miss Sallie

Poppino, Anna M

Poppino, Sadie L

Pratt, Mrs A D

Ripley, Ossie L

Searle, K F

Shaffer, William H

Starkweather, Amelia M

Strayer, Emma S

Sherwood, William S

Smith, Julia A

Smith, Mrs Lillie E

Smith, Maggie A

Snyder, Hallie S

Taggart, Mary A

Taylor, Mrs Mary L

Thorpe, Lizzie A

Tull, Hannah

Vail, Anna L

Van Camp, Albert

Vera, J Adams

Wachter, Mrs Flora A

Wallace, Maria J

Warden, Mary E

Warner, Vinnia A

Watkins, Mrs M A

Watts, Edwin L

Weaver, Mattie R

Weiser, William Franklin

West, Clara Cloud

West, Louise

Wharton, Mrs Fanny B

Wheeler, Mrs C S

Wheelock, DeForest A

Wiley, Hallis

Williams, Rev Geo L

Winters, Robert S

Wyckoff, Miss Oriana

Youngs, Sidney M

Delaware.

Maloney, Anna

Morris, Wm Thos

Maryland.

Belt, William H S

Cargell, John Marcus

Cromwell, Thos Anna Sallers

Kern, Miss Anna

Kern, Miss J Causin

Kerr, Lizzie L

Lemmon, Y Ella S

Thomson, Bessie G

Trump, Lizzie

Trump, Mrs Sarah C

Waite, Mary M

District of Columbia.

Brown, Mrs Carrie E C

Brown, Olippard B

Graham, Euphemia E

Graham, Octavia

Hamilton, Frank

Hayes, Annie M

Lacy, Anderson P

Lehman, Harriet P

Longan, Martha C

McLean, Marion J

Olcott, Mindwell Griswold

Porter, Carrie

Robinson, Emily

Walker, Addie Lucy

Walker, Geo Harold

Wise, Huldap J

Virginia.

Harrison, Margaret Norwood

Kindred, Mary Tinsley

South Carolina.

Hinton, Edmund

Deal, Celia Emma

Georgia.

Bunn, Porcia M

Oliver, Mrs Sarah P

Roy, Mrs J E

Sengstacke, Rev J H H

Florida.

Harward, Miss Jennie E

Thompson, Jay J

Waterman, Miss Grace G

West Virginia.

Atkinson, George Wesley

Fleming, Melissa

Faulkner, Mattie V

Kendall, Mrs Roanna L

Moss, Harry P

Tavennes, Emma B

Watkins, Wm

Wayman, John Francis

Wilding, George Cleaton

Young, Miss Ella

Ohio.

Allen, Maria L

Alsdorf, Mrs Allie

Ballard, Florence

Ballard, Laura W

Ballard, Miss Lucy B

Barber, Mrs E L

Barber, Gershon M

Beckwith, Ellen C F

Beecher, Alice M

Beswick, Alexander M

Bethel, John Clemens

Bownocker, Wm A

Brown, Miss Clara J

Brown, Mrs Martha A

Brown, Miss Mary J

Brown, Mrs Vinolia A

Bushnell, Ellen Willes

Camp, Alice Brown

Camp, Hortense

Canfield, Pauline Emerson

Cannon, May T

Casler, Ellen J E R

Chase, Sylvia L

Chesbrough, Isaac M

Christianas, Alice

Cist, Charles M

Clark, Ardelia

Clark, Luetta

Cooke, Mary A

Cottrell, Miss Mattie E

Craine, Maud S

Crawford, Robert Sampson

Curtis, Albert W

Davies, Richard R

Donaldson, Annie

Dunaway, Mary E

Dunlap, Rev Geo W

Dunlap, Henrietta L

Earle, Mary H

Edgar, Maggie B

Etheridge, Annie M

Fleet, Ruth B

Frazer, Orrin F

French, John M

French, Richmon Elroy

Fritz, Benj F

Gee, Susan Scott

Hall, Miss Kate

Hamilton, Lucinda E

Heald, Theodocia C

Henderlick, Miss Kate

Hine, Mary A

Hitchcock, Miss Ann C

Holcomb, J DeLos

Hulburt, Mrs Carrie C

Hulburt, Julia

Hull, Mrs Kate P

Humphrey, Charlotte

Humphrey, Orleia F

Hurley, Miss Florence

Hutchinson, Ophelia Head

Irwin, Elizabeth A

Jeffrey, Mrs Josephine A

Jenning, Alice

Jennings, Juliet Wallace

Jordan, Mrs Lucy

Joyce, Carrie W

Keller, Mrs Lide J

Kemble, Emma J

Kemmerlein, Amelia

Kent, Eugene E

King, Miss Mary M

Knapp, Mrs S G

Knox, Janet

Kolbe, Julia Clara

Lakeman, Clifford F

Laurie, Clara A

Laurie, Fannie S

Lingo, Harry H

Longnecker, Mrs J M

Lyman, Susan Elizabeth

McClelland, Harriet A

McConnell, Anna

McCoy, Lillian

McCreary, Jennie

McGowan, Mary

McVay, Emma C

Mann, Mrs Rosella M P

Matteson, Mrs H E

Mayes, Lucy K

Meeker, Mrs L C

Miller, Emily H

Millikin, Mattie R

Mixer, Chas A

Moore, Miss Carrie M

Moore, Jennie H

Moore, Miss Lizzie

Nordyke, Callie E

Norris, Carrie E

Ober, Reuben H

Parrett, Anna D L

Parrott, Alice Maude

Parsons, Mrs Loverne E

Pennell, William W

Perkins, Mary A

Pixley, Elmira Adaline

Pratt, Harriett S

Pritchard, T C

Ranney, Luther Kelsey

Reed, Emma J

Reid, Mrs Alma

Roath, Katie M

Rogers, Julia A

Rood, Alice Stone

Saxton, Josephine

Scott, Mrs Emma H

Sherwin, Clara N

Sholes, Mrs Adelia J

Simons, Cynthia A

Smellie, Alice A

Smith, Laura Pease

Smith, Mrs Jacob A

Smith, Wm H

Smith, Corinthia M

Snyder, L M

Stone, Clara E

Stone, Harlan M

Taggart, R D

Taneyhill, Charles Wesley

Thayer, Mrs H N

Turpin, Sallie H

Twaddle, Mrs Sabra A

Walker, Frank Baker

Walker, Alma E

Weitzell, Mrs M A

Welty, Rachel

West, Fannie E

West, Mary L

White, Mrs Maria J

Wigton, Mattie M

Williams, Evan A

Wilcox, Jennie E

Wood, Mary E H

Wright, Kate M

Yeagley, Lafayette

Young, Elizabeth J

Ziegler, Mrs R J

Indiana.

Allis, Mrs J M

Arnold, Eva

Baker, Mrs D H

Baylor, Adelaide

Beckett, Millard Julian

Birdsell, Emma A

Blair, Jesse Harvey

Bowman, Jennie

Chantler, Mary E

Claypool, Mrs J H

Coulter, Mrs Anna Richards

Curtiss, Geo Lewis

Curtiss, Mary

Donnohue, M Josephine

Elder, Harriet E

Emery, Mrs A W

Forrest, Ruth Angell

Forest, William H

Foulke, Hattie E

Foulke, Lizzie E

Francis, George

Frazer, Harriet D

Furnas, Walton C

Hanna, Rebecca

Harris, Emma Burnett

Holloway, Martha A

Hubbard, Martha O

Hull, Mrs G W

Langsdale, Mary E B

Latham, Mabel

Lemen, Mrs J R

Lemen, Jno R

Liddell, Elizabeth M

Matthews, Sarah A

McHenry, Lula M

McIntosh, Mrs Leon

Merrifield, Kate E

Moore, Jennie A

Palmer, Jessie Dana

Patterson, Florence

Plumer, Jane

Poindexter, Bertha F

Sering, Eliza B

Simmons, Belle

Smith, Elvira A

Spain, M Ella

Stewart, Mrs M E

Stout, Lelia E

Talburt, Carrie B

Taylor, Ida

Thompson, Phebe C

Tingley, Mrs Ellen K

Tompkins, Sabra A

Towers, Josiah M

Treatman, Alice Amelia

Tuttle, Ellen Eunice

Van Slyke, Mrs W M

Van Slyke, Rev W M

Watts, Margaret A

Weeks, Harvey Russell

Williams, Carrie R J

Williams, Drue T

Illinois.

Banks, Alma E

Bonnell, Mary L

Bridges, Flora

Brown, Miss Margaret

Calder, Mrs Laura A

Carpenter, Mrs Josie E

Carson, Elizabeth

Cassell, Mrs Mary L

Chamberlain, Isadore

Chase, Emma

Clark, Mrs Mary L

Cook, Florence E

Crane, Mrs Richard T

Dennis, Lucy A

Dike, Julia C

Dungan, George Wesley

Fitch, Georgia

Frazier, Mrs Ennie

Graves, Mrs Mary Brooks

Hall, Lydia A

Haller, Mary A S

Hemenway, Eliza M

Higgins, Mrs Mary E

Hunter, Thomas C

Hurst, Nannie R

Joslyn, Mrs Mary

Kean, Anna Rebecca

Keever, Emily Vernera

Knowles, Wiley

Lewis, Carrie N

McKillop, Katie K

Metcalf, Ella R

Metcalf, Henry K

Miller, Mrs A F

Miller, Ruth Lee

Moore, Charles Saeger

Nelson, Delia J

Neville, Mary E

Nixon, Mrs Ruth P

Oliver, Fanny E

Osburn, Mrs Sarah E

Paddock, Mrs Ella M

Parmenter, Mary A

Payne, Miss Agnes S

Perkins, Martha A Steele

Poore, Anna C

Rexford, Alma Zerniah

Richmond, Bel Garido

Rietmann, Miss Greda S

Sanburn, Althea O

Slack, Rev Charles

Slack, Mary

Spray, Mary A

Stewart, Olivia

Swezey, Ida T

Trott, Mrs Augusta J

Veech, Grace A

Wallace, Wm

Walton, Sarah Isabel

Warren, Benjamin

Waterbury, M Julia

Welty, Mrs Gertrude B

Wessling, Christian

West, Abbie

Wilson, Mrs Josephine M

Yocum, Kate

Kentucky.

Bailey, Henry Webster

Bailey, Mrs Lucy

Earle, Mary Jane

Fields, John Clarence

Schaal, John G

Shouse, Mrs Vassie Rucker

Standish, Mary E

Tennessee.

Havey, Mrs Delia E

Latting, Bettie B

Latting, Emma L

Milton, Louisa R

Pepper, John R

Rawlings, Miss L

Shumand, Lizzie Allen Frank

Alabama.

Silsby, Edwin C

Silsby, Nettie B

Mississippi.

Calhoon, Mrs Sallie John

Lamkin, Miss Augusta

Wisconsin.

Adair, Alzina M

Alden, Violet M

Bellis, Mrs Adelaide

Bowes, Mary E W

Boynton, Roxanna

Brown, Elizer Adeline

Brown, Frances Lillie

Christie, Jennie M

Cowan, Mrs Alice Ayer

Denniston, Mrs Margaret

Dodson, Mrs Lizzie Abbott

Dodson, Lizzie S

Doney, Sarah J

Drake, Clara Belle

Foss, Nellie

Ford, Edna H

Hillman, Amanda F

Hooley, Samuel H

Jenkins, Mary J

Macnish, Mrs Sarah

Millard, Mrs William

Moe, Miss Amelia A

Morris, Lucy E

Ozame, Ray A

Rhodes, Kittie Clyde

Rogers, Mrs Viola J

Pickard, Emma A

Rounds, Flora C

Sears, Nancie D

Sedgwick, Mrs Estelle J

Skewes, Emma

Smiley, Caroline M

Stair, Caroline M

Talbot, Jane Crandall

Ward, Minerva C

Whittemore, Sarah C

Williston, Clara H

Minnesota.

Blakeley, Ellen L

Clary, Anna L

Clary, Smith B

Culver, May E

Downer, A T

Fitz, J Henry

Gould, Rossa Anna

Hanson, Anna Adeline

Houpt, Mrs Charles Henry

Hoy, Mrs Emma C

Lathrop, Charlotte E

McEwan, Janet C Smith

Page, Zena B

Stinchfield, Miss Abbie

Stinchfield, Mattie J

Stone, Ella B

Teitsworth, George Wilson

Tompkins, T G

Trowbridge, Noble A

Van Valkenburgh, Kate M

Wilberton, Mrs Sarah D

Michigan.

Bell, Helen M

Campbell, Emma Pengra

Cartwright, Susan M

Cawley, Sarah C

Chambers, Phebe

Cole, Lela

Comstock, Addie A

Cook, Mrs E H

Cooley, Miss Hattie A

Eldridge, Miss Carrie L

Ely, Minnie Owen

Finster, Mrs H C

Firman, Adella Curtis

Floyd, Myrtle Jessie

Giddings, Kate Isabel

Greene, Emma R

Greene, Jas W

Hood, Mrs Cyrus J

Hubbard, Mabel E

Johns, Emma C

Kendrick, Mrs Minnie A

Kesling, Marcia C West

La Fleur, Mrs Fred

La Fleur, Fred C

Laidlow, Mrs T W

Lovell, Miss A

Lyman, Allie R

Major, Libbie L

Mallory, Mrs Rosie E

McIlwain, Mrs Alexander

Metcalf, Joseph W

Metcalf, Miss Lizzie

Millis, Frank

Morgan, Miss Libbie

Morgan, Mary Elizabeth

Murray, Mrs C Adelia

Nash, Mary E

Osborn, Annette J

Potter, Mrs Kate E

Rice, Emma

Robson, Adda Grace

Rollins, Fred E

Rowe, Mary A

Russell, Mrs Abbie M

Schenck, Linna A

Sigler, Mrs H F

Sinclair, Lizzie C

Smith, Mrs H Darsen

Sparling, John G

Sparling, Anna Maria

Steere, Grace E

Stevens, Anna E

Tillson, Minnie Bennett

Toncray, Josephine E

Travis, Clara

Turrell, C W

Van Auken, Mrs M Antoinette

Woodhams, Nettie F

Yale, Mrs Sarah A

Iowa.

Alcott, Sarah E

Barclay, Mrs Belle C

Beall, Ennie

Beall, Randolph S

Bean, Samuel M D

Bingham, Mary Upham

Bowman, Mary A

Brooks, Anna B

Brownell, Mrs Julia Emeline

Cheesman, S Madeleine

Cooper, Emma P

Cowles, Mrs Alice S

Davidson, Mrs Jas

Gillespie, Esther L

Grout, Angie B

Hawkinson, Hattie J

Harris, Rachel S

Hetherington, Sue W

Hill, Ellen D A

Hoyt, Mrs S C

Huntoon, Mrs Emma M

Karr, Mrs Anna W

Lawrence, Mrs Abbie Orilla

Lorang, Mrs Wilma

Manwell, Mrs C H

Marvin, Mary M

Maxwell, Edith A

May, Rev Eugene

McCartney, Alice Cary

McIntyre, Mrs Hattie A

McKinley, Rev Russell A

Merriman, Mrs Isa M

Moseley, Ettie D

Neally, Mrs Martha H

Newman, Frank E

Nve, Mrs Ada M

O’Bryan, Amelia C

Pollock, Mrs Mary G L

Price, Theresa M

Rutledge, Cyrus Felton

Schooley, Laura

Smith, Mrs Sarah B

Stever, Juliet H

Tatham, Florence Adelia

Tatham, Cora Louise

Thomas, Annie M

Wallace, Eva

Waterbury, Mary L

Watts, Mrs Eliza A

Weaver, Annie E

Wolfe, Frederick C

Wolfe, Elvira J

Missouri.

Bourne, Mrs Anna R D

Bradford, Mrs Geo H

Burrell, Arthur S

Cox, Thomas S

Hayden, Miss Carrie J

Henderson, David Rees

Keach, Mrs Julia M

Kibbey, Francis Marion

Langhoun, Mamie

Martin, Oliver M

Purmort, Mrs Emeline Clark

Stephens, Margaret M

Wohlberg, John

Woods, Mary Agnes

Louisiana.

Williams, G B

Dakota Territory.

Davis, Rose A

Dresbach, Annie E

Hood, Angie C

Hood, Benjamin F

Hughes, George Thomas

Miller, Mrs Ella V

Small, Abbie M

Smith, Burton W

Stanley, Chas H

Stevens, Mrs C B

Wilder, Frances Durand

Nebraska.

Edmundson, Elizabeth

Kansas.

Bradbury, Jennie E

Hill, Miss Rebecca

Holmes, Mrs Alice B

Johnson, Mrs Abbie C

Sickner, Mrs A W

Stoddard, Mrs Addie S

Watson, Clara A

Texas.

Armstrong, Ramsey C

Bell, A C

Edwards, Thos Geo

Starr, Georgie Mehaffey

Watkins, Georgie Isham

Colorado.

Cooper, Mrs Anna M

Washington Territory.

Strobach, Placie Howard

California.

Allen, Mrs L M

Austin, Almira L

Barrows, Edward C

Bennett, Mrs A G

Burritt, Alice, M D

Carrick, Mary A

Chapin, Mrs Alice E

Chapman, M A

Crane, Mrs E T

Curtis, Wm Tontes

Gafney, Mrs Lucy M

Gardiner, Mrs Anna J

Gosbey, Mrs Sarah F

Greathead, Mrs Estelle H

Hunt, Mrs Jno W L

Huse, Alice Redman

Lacklison, Ellen

Lakin, Mrs Mary E

Lynds, D M

McBride, Miss Mattie

McCowen, Mary E P

McKee, Minnie Hubbard

Merriam, Bessie Broughton

Merritt, Harriet J

Miller, Mrs Mira E

Minard, Clara Cheeney

Muzzy, Miss Sarah

Polhemus, Lucretia E

Pond, N Flotilla Watson

Reynolds, Emily M

Russell, Mrs Caroline B

Stone, Miss Henrietta

Stratton, Dr C C

Summers, Mrs J H

Thompson, Miss Gertrude H

Walker, Cornelia

Wallace, May Frances

Walton, Mrs Sarah E

Warboys, Mrs Jennie

Wells, Alice M

Wood, Emma Alfaretta

Wrench, Mrs Lydia M

Wythe, Dr Joseph H

Province of Ontario.

Annand, James

Barnett, Kate H

Chubbuck, Charles Edward D

Donogh, John Ormsby

Ellis, Robert B

Frost, Maria E

Greene, Rev Josius

Hughes, Annie A

Keith, Mary

Langille, Adalena D

Law, Arminda Myrtal

Lawe, John W

McLeay, Jno A

Peake, William Henry

Philp, Rev Joseph

Strachan, Richard

Wilson, Charles James

China.

Bainbridge, Miss Lisle

TALK ABOUT BOOKS.

Köstlin’s “Life of Luther”[C] is really an important contribution to our biographical literature. The fourth centennial has just been celebrated in all Protestant countries, and much valuable information given to the people from the pulpit and the press. The Reformation and the principal agent God used to accomplish it are now discussed as they have not been before for five centuries—yet the subject is by no means exhausted. This latest book from the pen of a learned German so well qualified, and thoroughly furnished for his work, will be read with unusual interest by thousands whose attention has recently been directed to the life and time of the great reformer. The Professor, whose larger work in two volumes is a classic, has also wrought well in this, and given us a real biography that presents its subject fairly. All essential facts are freely admitted, even when disparaging, and any one by attentive reading will gain a better knowledge of Luther, of his homes and his friends. The author, who did his work well, doubtless appears to better advantage in his own vernacular than in the translation, which, though creditable as very plain English, might be improved by re-casting some sentences, and by a little more careful proof reading.

“The Old Testament Student” is a well filled, ably conducted monthly magazine, published at Chicago for the “American Institute of Hebrew,” subscription price, $2.00. It can hardly fail to be useful to all Bible students, particularly those who desire a more thorough acquaintance with the original.

“Mottoes of Methodism”[D] is an unassuming but beautiful little volume, and would be found a real treasure in any Christian family. It is simply a selection of brief suggestive passages from the prose writings of John, and the poetry of Charles Wesley; harmonized with a passage of Scripture for each day of the year. Some other title, we think, as “Themes for Daily Meditation,” “Helpful Suggestions from Reliable Sources,” would better indicate the character of the book, which is intensely evangelical, but, in no sense, distinctively Methodistic.

[C] “Life of Luther.” By Julius Köstlin, with illustrations from Authentic Sources, translated from the German. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. 1883.

[D] “Mottoes of Methodism.” Selected and arranged by Rev. Jesse T. Whitley. New York: Phillips & Hunt. Cincinnati: Walden & Stowe. 1883.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

“Judith; a Chronicle of Old Virginia.” By Marion Harland. Illustrated. Philadelphia: Our Continent Publishing Co. New York: Fords, Howard and Hurlburt. 1883.

“Mexico and The Mexican; or Notes of Travel in the Winter and Spring of 1883.” By Howard Conkling. With illustrations. New York: Taintor Brothers, Merril & Co. 1883.

“Suggestions to China Painters.” By M. Louise McLaughlin. Cincinnati: Robert Clarke & Co. 1884.

“Oregon; The Struggle for Possession.” By William Barrows. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1884.

Royal Baking Powder. Absoloutely Pure

This powder never varies. A marvel of purity, strength and wholesomeness. More economical than the ordinary kinds, and can not be sold in competition with the multitude of low test, short weight, alum or phosphate powders. Sold only in cans. Royal Baking Powder Co., 106 Wall Street, New York.

Transcriber’s Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 253, “mutally” changed to “mutually” (were mutually exerted)

Page 272, repeated word “in” removed (given anonymously to the world in 1849)

Page 273, “carniverous” changed to “carnivorous” (the Lepidosiren was carnivorous)

Page 287, “inclosng” changed to “inclosing” (inclosing black, shining grains)

Page 293, “pre-presided” changed to “presided” (Dr. Hurlbut presided there)

Page 298, “north” changed to “south” (three on the south, bordering on the Mediterranean)

Page 298, “Napolean” changed to “Napoleon” (Napoleon’s battles were fought)

Page 304, “app led” changed to “applied” (here it is applied to man’s reason)

Page 305, “Ornioco” changed to “Orinoco” (P. 253, c. 2.—“Orinoco,”)

Page 313, “Reid, M lma” changed (as a best guess) to “Reid, Mrs Alma”

Page 313, “Russell, Mrs Abbie M” moved from end of list to correct place in alphabetical order